#do you even KNOW nakamura?

[t-u-i-t-c]

nightmare scenario

[viktortittiforov]

on the subject of old ships DO YOU remember our old drrr ship. mikado x aoba. i still have fanarts saved somwhere i think

YEAHHHHH ofc i remember!!! also kida x mikado for me ahahaha oh man :") i still have a tender spot for these ships too......... never 4get

(also the fact that toyonaga toshiyuki voiced both mikado and yuuri is NOT lost on me lol I WONDER IF IT'S A COINCIDENCE THAT I IMPRINTED ON BOTH OF THESE CHARACTERS HMMMMM)

[schwarzeneggr]

this is how i learned to draw kisses. worse than a "learn to draw manga" book written by a white guy. this guy is going to eat the other guys face. despite everything it still is the yaoi that made me smile when i was facing unrelentless childhood violence and trauma and it still makes me smile unironically. Im not even mocking it. pointing the obvious flaws with all the love in my heart still intact

[defmaybe]

Promise

12 Days of Christmas: Day 2, December 26th, 2024

LE SSERAFIM’s Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader

8.8k words

Christmas Masterlist

A/N: This is actually my first time writing about a guy being dominant lol.

—

Ambition.

It’s not really a far-fetched concept for anyone. To aim higher has always been an innate trait in humans. Kazuha is nothing short of that, perhaps having the quality even more than a lot of people.

So, it breaks your heart to say no to her.

“Kazuha, I really can’t. I’m sorry,” you say, despondent in your response. “The solos have never been in our plan.”

She sighs, as if she has already known the outcome of her request. But her eyes remain determined, staring straight into yours. 

She’s not going anywhere.

Kazuha’s personality is nothing short of resolute. Motivation, determination, diligence—she has it all. These are reflected in the over-time practice sessions every single day. The time she pours into perfecting the dance choreographies is unreal. And it really shows on the stage, it really shows.

She stands up, her long, muscular legs come into your view. They’re beautiful, and you can just spend all day looking at them, but that’s going to be postponed for now. There’s the puzzle of guessing her mind right in front of you.

“Is there anything else I can do to convince you? More practice? Better stage perform–”

“No, Zuha, I’m so, so sorry about this, but we’ve never been a vocal group, really. You’ll have to under–”

“I don’t want to be remembered as just another member of this group. Please, this is important to me. I’ll do anything, please,” she pleads.

It’s your turn to sigh. She won’t let up, will she? Your fingers tap onto the handle of the chair restlessly, unable to find a solution for this woman.

“I just can’t find a solution for you right now, Zuha. If you really want that, you’ll have to find your own way, alright? I’m sorry.” You’re trying to sound stern, but there’s only regret within the words.

She takes a step towards you, resting her hands on the table. Her shirt falls down slightly to give way for you to her faint cleavage. Your breath hitches slightly.

“Please?” she pleads, one last time. That slight view of her breasts is giving her the upper hand in this.

Don’t.

You find your mouth latching onto Kazuha’s tits, tasting the sweat after her practice. She cries and cries in euphoria, spurring you on. Your hands roam around her body, feeling her otherworldly tight abs, her supple ass—one that you’ve been wanting to bury your face into. Your fingers then find their place inside her cunt, nudging her sensitive spot deep within.

Don’t

“You know, Kazuha, I found your ambition–” you say, standing up to match her tall height. Still, you have to look up slightly to match her eyes. “–admirable. It’s one of your best qualities. It really breaks my heart to say no to you.”

“Thanks, boss,” she scoffs, looking down with despondency. The fire in her eyes died down. “I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

Kazuha then walks away, crestfallen. Her strides are aimless and disinterested. The view of her back is displayed to you. 

With your eyes, you start to strip her, piece by piece—from her shirt, her pants. She’s in just her underwear now. Your cock starts to grow at the mental image you create inside your head. 

You slowly unlock her bra, fully revealing her toned back. Her body warmth emanates into you. You reach for her pert breasts, making her moan as your fingers graze her hard, brown nipples. But you don’t stop just there. Your frisky fingers wander down into her panties. You found out that she shaves, and she’s already fucking wet for you. Then, you plunge your fingers into her soaked cunt, rewarding you with an airy moan from Kazuha. You nib on her ears softly, bringing out another whimper from her.

Without any patience left, you strip down her last garment, making her bare in front of you, and you can tell that she’s as aroused as you are. Her dripping cunt is finally coming into your view. Her body is yours. She’s yours.

Don’t.

You’re snapped back into reality, though. Back to watching her, almost leaving the room. You have to take your chance. 

Now.

“I’m not done yet, Zuha,” you order, sounding serious for the first time. It gets over you. Lust gets over you.

She stops, looking back at you. Her breath hitches as she sees the newfound determination inside your eyes. There’s something about you, and she can feel it.

“Yes, boss?”

“Let’s say for tomorrow, you wear something–different, something that is a bit more–provocative, and we’ll see what happens.”

Kazuha furrows her brows, giving you a puzzled look. “P–Provocative?”

You only nod, expressionless, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating so damn fast right now. “Provocative, Zuha.”

“A–And wh–what will I get in return?” Kazuha asks, her voice starts to shake. Her confidence is faltering.

You smile back at her unsure expression. She’s going to get what she wants—a chance to have the spotlight on her own. You’re going to get what you want—her.

“You know how this goes, Zuha. You know how this goes.”

“I–I d–don’t know. D–Do I really need to do this? I mean–I want to have that solo–”

“I’ll be in the practice room tomorrow, make sure to follow my instructions,” you say, stern and confident.

The words linger within her mind. “I–fuck–fine, boss,” and she gives in to you.

“Don’t ruin it, Zuha.”

—

You couldn’t sleep last night.

Kazuha is stuck in your head. Your mind replays the event that might happen—you having a mind-breaking sex with her. Your cock twitches with anticipation, expecting her cunt to wrap around it like a vice. Hell, you might get to fuck her tight ass even. You’ve seen it. You lost count of how many times you’ve watched that Perfect Night dance practice video. The cinematographer did know their job.

“Mmm, that felt so good, boss.”

How in the fuck did you stay assertive like that in the room? That wasn’t you at all. Though, at least it opened a new door for you.

You’re getting to watch Nakamura Kazuha in her tightest, smallest clothes she’s ever going to wear, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be off by sunset.

—

Kazuha opens the door into the practice room to find you already there, dealing with work, among other things.

You give her a faint smile, satisfied with the way she composes herself for today.

She’s wearing a tight-fitted sports bra, one that shows you the curve of her firm chest. You’d love to put your hand on them, kneading, nibbling her taut nipples through the thin fabric. Her hair is freed, swaying with her strides. Below, her shorts are so damn strained that you can see the outline of her soon-to-be drenched panties. You’re going to use your mouth to take it off, while your hands grip on her muscular thig–

“Hey, boss,” Sakura snaps you back into reality. Standing beside her is Eunchae, smiling brightly.

“Shit–fuck–,” you mumble to yourself. “Uh, hi, girls.”

“Yeah, I noticed it too,” Eunchae says to you, voice barely above a whisper. “She probably forgot to do her laundry.”

“Who–Who?” Fuck, you sound like a goddamn owl doing this.

“Zuha, she’s wearing something that’s a bit–exposing, isn’t she?” Sakura says, smiling.

“Bet she must be so damn embarrassed,” Eunchae adds with a giggle. You can feel your cheeks starting to grow hotter.

“Uh, y–yeah, she must’ve been–”

“Alright, girls, let’s start the practice,” the instructor shouts, clapping her hands.

Sakura and Eunchae giggle at each other before walking away from you.

“See ya, boss.”

“See ya.”

—

As the practice goes on, you can’t help but popping up from your work to watch Kazuha now and then. Just like last night, your length starts to grow, and you’re doing your best to use your laptop to hide the tent in your pants.

(The work is actually a façade, really. If you could just stare at Kazuha for the whole practice, you wouldn’t have risked straining your back carrying your laptop down from the top floor.)

Her movements are nothing short of strong and sensual. She’s committed, showing no signs of relenting. She has always been this determined. Every kick, every sway, every arch, she gives it all.

When she bends down, you have a magnificent view of her supple ass, so juicy. You wish you could’ve put your face in it, tasting her sweat dripping down her tightness. 

When she arches, you have a splendid view of her small tits under that damn tight sports bra. You wish you could’ve sucked on them, tasting her sweat dripping down her valley. You wish you could’ve made her moan erratically in your embrace.

Your bulge is screaming under your tight pants. It aches to be freed, aches to be inside of your employee’s ass, aches to be thrusted into her mouth.

The other women don’t seem to notice, still focusing on the practice. Thank god.

—

As the practice comes to an end, you’re struggling to hide your raging erection under your slacks. It’s time to approach her for the next step, so you stand up and walk towards Kazuha, who is all drenched in her sweat. Her creamy skin shines against the lights in the practice room. She’s stretching to cool down herself, while all the other members and the instructor are already leaving the room.

“So,” you begin the conversation.

“So,” Kazuha repeats. “How did I do?”

You try to compose yourself. “You did well, Kazuha. Committed as always.”

She smiles. It’s a genuine one. “Thanks, boss.”

You continue, “Now, about the solo comeback we’ve talked about.” You sit next to her. You can feel her body warmth close to you. Maybe you’re sitting a bit too close to her. Her expression is unreadable. Maybe she’s expecting something from you.

“Yeah? Is it done?”

“Let’s say–we’re halfway there.”

Kazuha’s breaths speed up a little. She’s anxious.

“Halfway?”

“Halfway, yes.”

“Go ahead, boss. Tell me what to do,” Kazuha says, slightly apprehensive, but she still has her ground. Her fiery eyes bore into yours.

Here goes nothing.

Your hands make a soft contact with her knees. You hear her breath hitch softly. Her eyes weaken. You can feel the apprehension building up within her loins. Her body jolts.

“B–Boss,” she stutters, before she brings her hand atop of yours, putting some force on it. Your movement is halted.

“A–Are you sure that I have to do this?”

You should stop.

You gulp, unsure whether to have this woman go your way or let your lust take over.

Do the right thing.

The image of Kazuha’s body, all sweaty, atop of yours, moving back and forth on your cock, materializes in your head. Her nasty, salty fluid falls onto your naked body. Her pungent aroma fills your nostrils, and it’s driving you insane. Her small breasts rest above you, and you can’t help but give them a taste.

You should stop.

Kazuha mouth’s create a suction around your cock. Your wails echo through the practice room. You grip onto the back of her head, harshly pressing it into your hardness. She gags and gags. Her eyes become watery. Her grips on your thighs grow harsher, and it’s going to draw blood out of you.

Do the right thing.

You’re lavishing Kazuha’s cunt with unmatched hunger. She cries out in ecstasy. You keep attacking her sensitive nub with your tongue. Your fingers are knuckles deep within her, applying pressure on the spot that makes her moan even louder. Her taste is salty, yet so addictive. She tastes so fucking good.

You should stop.

You’re gripping onto her waist, thrusting into her wet cunt repeatedly. “Yes, yes, right fucking there, boss. Please, please, please don’t ever fucking stop,” Kazuha sobs. Wet sounds vibrate through the practice room. The reflection of you two in the mirror only fuels the fire. You bring your hands onto her firmness, playing with her taut nipples. She keens, and it’s one of the best things that you’ve ever heard from her.

Do the right thing.

But you give in.

“How far can you go, Zuha?” You keep your composure. Please make it work. Your heart rate spikes, but your breathing is still saying the opposite. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.

“I–” She stares blankly into your eyes. You can feel that the gears in her brain are turning quickly. Yes or no. Yes or no.

“Stand up, Zuha,” you order and get up from your sitting position. She looks around, trying to find solace in the objects in the room. She’s unsure.

“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself, before getting up. She’s a bit taller than you, but with the power you’re holding, it’s like you’re six-feet tall.

“Stand against the mirror,” you say, sternly, pointing to the reflective wall. She hesitates for a bit before complying with your command.

You walk towards her until you’re just a breath away from her. You kneel. Her cunt is right in front of your face. She’s pervading your nostrils, and you’re so damn happy to make her your air.

“A–are you going to eat me out, b–boss?” Kazuha asks nervously. Her hands are trembling.

“How much do you want this, Zuha?” you ask her back. Your hands are closing in on her tight waistband already. You want to eat her pussy so fucking bad.

“I–I don’t know.”

You let the silence hang in the air for a moment, contemplating your next move. Maybe you should stop just here. Just say no to her request, and act like this never happened. 

But the show has to go on.

“I’ll go slowly, okay?”

“O–Okay, boss.”

You slowly peel down her shorts, slowly revealing her black panties underneath. They’re already drenched with her sweat. God, if you could just give it a taste. You can feel the urge to stick out your tongue. Her creamy thighs are slowly exposed to you, but you can’t just yield to temptation that easily. You have to go slow.

The outline of her puffy cunt can be seen through the dark fabric. She looks so fucking delicious from the outside. You find yourself closing in the distance between your filthy tongue and her pungent, drenched folds.

“Boss, p–please don’t tease me,” Kazuha hisses. Her thighs are shaking from the uncompromising anticipation. You can see sweat running down her toned legs. “If you’re going to do it, just fucking do it.”

And you break.

You yank her shorts down, making her body jolt in shock. 

“Kick it off,” you order her, and she kicks her shorts away in the boiling lust. It’s just her underwear now, before your tongue can taste her nectar. You’re drooling at the sight of the trace of her pussy. Fuck, you’re not waiting anymore.

Hastily, you grab onto her panties’ waistband before pulling it off in a quick swoop, rewarding you with an airy moan. And there it is, the treasure you’ve been seeking. Her clean-shaven cunt already glistens. Her juice shines under the room’s lights. Her scent is so damn addictive. It’s pungent. It’s musky. It’s tart, and you can’t help but–

“Ah! Fuck!” Kazuha rasps as your tongue finds its place on her cunt. It echoes through the empty practice room. Her body turns rigid. Her hands grip onto your head harshly, pushing you into her pussy even harder.

The first taste of her cunt feels salty—a combination of her sweat and her juice. You’re lapping it up relentlessly. You’re revelling in it—the way she moans, the way she tastes, and the way she just fucking keens. It’s all so perfect.

She curses and curses a variety of profanities. Her face displays pure ecstasy and a glint of embarrassment, but your only goal right now is to make her falter. You keep lapping and lapping on her cunt, tasting her nectar without yielding.

Her eyes are lit up with raging fire, fluttering in bliss. Her hands grip onto your head harshly. It's almost drawing blood from your poor scalp. Her cries only climb in volume and frequency, more demanding. It grows louder and higher with each lapping of your tongue.

You double your efforts, eating her cunt out faster and faster hungrily. Her rasps become harsher. You close your eyes and take in her scent through your nose. It’s musky. It’s tart. And you swear that it’s a fucking aphrodisiac for you.

And if it’s not enough, your hands grab onto her firm ass, suffocating yourself with her pungent cunt. She lets out a gasp, and you swear that you’ve never been any more feral like this in your whole fucking life.

Her ass feels so meaty, a product of her consistent squat routines. You do nothing but give them a squeeze and a grab, bringing out endless wails from her thin lips.

Then, an idea pops up in your filthy head.

“Turn around, Zuha.”

“Wh–What, boss?”

“I’m gonna eat your ass.”

She complies quickly, showing her tight ass in front of your face. It’s heaving. She’s expecting. And without a word, you bury yourself in between her supple cheeks. Your tongue immediately plants atop of her asshole.

“Godddd~” Kazuha grunts, her voice low and harsh. The sweat running down her tightness combining with her juice makes up an even better taste. You’re basking in them—her taste, her aroma, her moans, her sounds.

Her body spasms in a bliss. Her hips jerk against the practice room wall, painting it with her salty sweat on her meaty thighs.

And if that isn’t already enough, you drive your fingers deep into her. They’re hugged by her tight walls, before you’d curl them to make her cry even more.

“Fuckkk~” she groans, deeply. She uses her hands to grip onto the back of your head. You’re pressed into her ass even stronger. Her moans start to get frenzy, and that drives you even wilder.

“B–Boss, please, I–I’m gonna cum,” Kazuha screams, echoing over the room. Her entire body turns more rigid, sucking the life out of your dirty mouth.

“Hgnngn.” Kazuha can only form unintelligible sounds at this point. Any lilt in her voice is now replaced by primal grunts and moans.

And she cums. Her frame becomes stiff, gushing out clear liquid out of her plump pussy onto the wooden floor. Her entire body spasms and writhes against the wall, painting it with her sweat. Your mouth goes through the entire ride of her orgasm, feeling her high, savoring her precipice.

As her orgasm dies down, what comes out of her mouth are indescribable groans and guttural whimpers. Her body becomes limped after the mind-breaking orgasm she just experienced.

“Fuck, I–I’ve never thought–” she pauses to catch her breath, trying to make sense of the situation. Her head is hanging from her neck. Her body rests on the mirror weakly. Her boss just gave her one of the best orgasms of her life. “–I’ve never thought that it could be this good with a person.”

You wipe your mouth, getting a taste of her salty squirt remaining on your hand. “My pleasure, Zuha.”

“Guess–Guess I should–I should return the favor, huh?”

You stand up. Even if she’s towering over you by mere inches, you feel like the ball is in your court, and you are going to do whatever you please with it.

“Kneel.”

She slowly gets down. Her eyes lock with yours, filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You aren’t sure what’s filling her mind right now. Lust? Disgust? You can only guess.

You let it go on, anyway.

Her slick forehead shines against the room lights. Her hands start to unbuckle your tight jeans, slowly freeing your cock from its fabric cage. As the first barrier goes down, she watches your covered erection anxiously. Her breathing accelerates. Her hands tremble. She’s unsure, but what is she unsure about?

“B–Boss,” Kazuha stammers.

“Yes, Zuha?” you say, looking down to meet her eyes.

“Wh–What if I don’t do well?”

“I don’t mind, really. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Sure, you’d love to have power over her, but not to the point where it leaves her in dread.

“Thanks, boss,” she answers, before grabbing onto the edge of your boxers. She slowly pulls it down to reveal your hardness. It springs free. She’s watching it in awe, taking in the image of your stiff cock.

She starts slowly, stroking your cock from the base. Your breath becomes shorter.

“Are you okay, boss?”

“J–Just go on, Zuha.”

Kazuha then plants her lips on the tip of your cock, making your body shudder in pleasure. She’s coating you in her saliva. She’s making you go wild.

“Fuck.”

Kazuha lets out a giggle before taking in more of your length, starting from the whole tip. There’s determination in her eyes, the eagerness to make you cry out her name in bliss.

She doubles her efforts, second by second. She takes in more and more of your thick cock into her filthy mouth, and you start to reach her throat. It feels so fucking good. Your breathing grows more erratic. You can almost moan in pleasure, if it’s not her teeth that keep getting in the way. They keep grazing your cock, and it’s the only thing that stops you from crying her name out.

“Z–Zuha, shit, fuck, y–your teeth.”

She suddenly pulls back from the act, leaving you lost in the sudden absence of your high. Her hand detaches from you.

“Yes?” she asks, drool leaks out the edge of her mouth.

“Fuck.” You try to catch your breath, trying not to collapse onto the floor. “Y–Your teeth, it keeps grazing my cock.”

“Oh,” Kazuha utters. “Should we just–try something else?”

You stare into her eyes. Her expression is unreadable, but you need an upper hand in this. She’s going to suck your cock.

“Do it again, Zuha. Suck my cock again.” Your voice is commanding. You swear that you’ve never been this assertive before in your life. “Without the teeth.”

She looks up at you. There’s anxiety in her eyes. There’s the fear of letting you down.

“S–Sure, boss.”

She moves her gorgeous face towards your cock again. This time, she makes sure to wrap her lips around her teeth. And at the first contact, you cry out her name. It feels so fucking good.

“Fuck, Z–Zuha.”

She only smiles with the tip of your cock in her mouth. She stays there for a while, giving your tip licks and licks to make you whimper in rapture. Her hands stroke along your length. Her eyes look up at you, she knows she’s having a lead.

Kazuha then takes more and more of you and seconds go by, slowly. You watch as your length disappears into her mouth and her name leaves yours.

She takes your cock in so deep you start to hear her gag. Her eyes start to flutter in discomfort. She’s still trying to look up at you, as her hands go to your testicles. She’s squeezing them.

“God, fuck!”

Her saliva does wonders to the experience, making you suck a sudden every chance you have. It’s hard to resist not pushing her fully onto your cock right now, making her take its length fully.

“K–Keep doing that, Zuha. Keep fucking doing that.”

With encouragement, she then pushes herself fully onto your cock. You are now inside her mouth, and the image is nothing short of phenomenal. Saliva is leaking out of her. Her eyes are blinking rapidly. Tears are running down her cheeks. She’s making unintelligible sounds around your cock, choking on it, sputtering on it. It’s a cacophony. She’s submitting herself to you, and you’re loving every second of it.

“So eager to please, don’t you?” you have to ask. Your hands land on the back of her head softly.

She only let out a hum as a reply. Her mouth is too full of your cock to say anything. It’s huge for her. She’s cock-drunk now.

Finally catching the wind of your dominance over her, you sneer, “Never know that you’re quite a slut, Zuha.” You grip her by the hair, slowly pulling her off your thick cock. She chokes and sputters on the way out. God, what a sight.

As her mouth leaves your cock, you finally get to see her face fully. Black streaks run down from her eyes. Her lips are swollen. She’s drooling. 

“What a cockslut,” you utter, still holding onto her hair. A smile forms on her face. She’s fucking happy to be dominated like this.

“Anything for you, boss. You promised me a solo~” she says sultrily (and drunkenly from your cock), giving the tip of your length a lick as she finishes her words. Your body shudders.

“G–God, Zuha,”

Without another word, she dives onto your glistened dick again, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Her teeth graze your cock slightly, though.

“Sh–Shit, your teeth, Zuha, y–your teeth.”

She quickly complies, covering her hard teeth with her lips. She’s fucking you with her mouth properly again. She bobs her head up and down slowly, trying to catch the rhythm. Pleasure shoots through you like a bullet. And with the way she’s looking up at you so damn submissively, you swear you can cum right here and now.

She starts to find her tempo, quickening her strokes. She’s going up and down your cock faster. Her hands find themselves on your exposed thighs. Fuck, they’re cold from the air conditioners, and it makes your body tremble in the sensation.

The wet sound of her sucking your cock echoes through the room. Your hands, again, find themselves on the back of her head, pushing her into your cock relentlessly. Your fingers run through her soft hair, feeling her silk.

“Fuck, s–such a willing slut for your boss, don’t you?”

Kazuha only lets out a low groan affirmatively. She’s still aiming to pleasure her boss. Her career is at stake, after all, and you’re rejoicing in the way her mouth moves up and down your cock like this.

And you can feel it, the inevitable. It’s building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside her warm mouth. You can’t resist it anymore.

“Z–Zuha, gonna cum.”

She only makes muffled sounds into your cock, too busy sucking your length to say anything, and you’re so damn happy that she’s willing to go this far for you.

“Take all of it, alright? Be a good girl for me,” you groan out. Your mind is so lost in the pleasure Kazuha is giving you.

She can only nod, still bobbing her head without any care. She’s giving you a damn good blowjob, and you start to lose control of yourself.

You’re close. Your muscles grow more tense. Your cock twitches inside her mouth. Your grip on her head becomes harsher and harsher, determined to make her take all of your hardness.

“Gonna–Gonna cum.”

You break. You push Kazuha onto your cock harshly, making her nose hit your pubic bone. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of semen into her mouth, emptying your balls inside her. She’s damn eager to take it all. She’s gripping onto your thighs tightly. Your scent is filling up her nostrils, making her eyes flutter in unbridled lust. Gagging sounds come out of her mouth.

“Goddamn–fuck!”

Your vision turns white. Your cock twitches violently inside her mouth. Cum is leaking out of your tip into her warm cavern. You’re painting the insides of her mouth white. You’re damn ecstatic. What a fucking ride that is.

Successive spurts grow softer, from shots into drizzles. Kazuha is still determined to take it all. Her hands snake up to squeeze your tight ass, pressing you forward to bury yourself further in her mouth.

“F–Fuck, Zuha.”

She smiles, before finally pulling herself off of your cock. She takes a small gulp, signaling that cum is going down her slutty throat. You watch in awe. She then opens her mouth, tongue hanging open, no trace of cum left inside. Fuck, she drank all of you.

“What’s next, boss?” she asks, wiping the remnants of cum off her face. Her face is a mess, but she’s ready for another round.

Not you, though.

“Wait a sec.” You then sit on the wooden floor, looking into the mirror. Kazuha rests beside you.

“Gotta wait for this little guy to be ready again, huh?” she asks, touching your now-flaccid cock.

“We can talk.”

She then rests her head on your shoulder, faint black streaks can be seen on her face. You can feel her body warmth emanating onto you.

“So.”

“So?” you ask.

“So, I have a question for you,” says Kazuha. Her voice is weak, clearly tired from the oral action she gave you. You two make eye contact in the reflection.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you decide to become our manager?”

“Well–” you pause, trying to recollect the complete picture. You just keep forgetting it “–I kind of wanted to become an idol, you know?”

She lets out a soft chuckle. “But?”

You can’t help but to laugh along with her. “Yeah, my body isn’t really up for the task.” You then pat your out-of-shape tummy softly on your shirt.

“I’d like to be remembered, just like you,” you continue, sighing along the way. “To live among the stars, all that stuff.”

It starts to pour out now, your story. Despite the earlier dominance, you feel vulnerable with her. You’re showing your heart to one of your employees.

Kazuha laughs again. “It’s not all confetti and flowers, boss.”

“I know, I know,” you say, somewhat understanding her life after a few years of observation from afar. “All of you have gone through a lot, and I’ll forever admire you guys for that.”

“Thanks, boss,” she replies. Her hand moves down to play with your cock again. “Still not there, huh?”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. “It’ll take some time, Zuha.”

“Ask me something, then,” she says. 

You let the silence hang in the air, trying to think of a question. It’s difficult, especially when you’re naked down from your waist like this.

You were about to ask her the same question she had asked you, but you’ve asked her that already. She loves Blackpink, hence her idol aspirations. She's an INFP, used to be an INTP. Her eyesight gets worse with time. What’s left to be asked?

“You know, I was so scared when that interviewer asked me about my type,” she says, her hands caressing your body. Your mind is brought to that interview, the one she–

“I was so afraid that the fans would reject me just because I said ‘men or women’.”

You can only sigh.

“It seemed like they didn’t, Zuha,” you shoot her a smile, holding her hand gently, as if you didn’t fuck her throat senseless mere minutes ago. “Don’t give much fuck about those people.”

She lets out a giggle. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

The conversation goes on for a few more minutes. At first, it was simply a time killer, waiting for your soft cock to get hard again. But as it flows, you feel like you get to know Kazuha more and more.

Slowly, your arousal returns, and Kazuha seems to notice that. It twitches in the expectation of another round.

“Oh, look at him~” she says softly. Her hand is drawn to touching you gently. You can’t help but giggle as she caresses your hard cock.

“Stand up, Zuha,” you command. You’re trying to sound stern, but the exchange earlier just softens your voice.

She complies immediately. Her toned legs are displayed elegantly in front of you. You stand up with her, taking the full view of her body on the way.

What a banger body.

“What’s next, boss?” Her words seem to want you to get this over with, but the small smile plastered on her face seems to say otherwise.

You pause, thinking for some witty response as you unbutton your shirt, revealing your out-of-shape body. You clearly have been eating too much. It’s a bit embarrassing.

What’s next?

“I want your bra off, Zuha.” Well, that’s far from witty.

“Thought you’d never ask that,” Kazuha playfully scoffs before taking off her tight sports bra. Her small breasts come into view, along with the taut nipples proudly sitting atop of them. She can’t wait for what’s next, so do you. The bra is then thrown away onto the floor. Her naked body stands proudly in front of you.

She’s nothing short of unreal—the pert breasts, the firm abs, the glistened pussy. She’s sculpted by a deity. And without a word, you push Kazuha onto the mirror, drawing out an airy moan from her. You press your body against hers, while her back is pressed against the wall.

She sucks a sudden. Her hands are trembling against the mirror. Her eyes are closed, enamored in the expectations of you inside of her cunt.

“F–Fuck, boss.”

“I know, Zuha. Now if you’d bend over for me.”

She quickly follows your orders, flipping her body around so that her back faces you. Your cock is pressed against her ass. You let out a hum in satisfaction.

You draw a line with your finger down her spine, making her suck in the air. Sweat from the earlier activity still lingers on her back. Her body quivers in pleasure. She’s submitting to you now.

“Goddd~” Kazuha groans. She’s at the mercy of your touch.

Your finger runs down the middle of her back, down her sculpted arch, to the ridge of her tight ass. She screams, as your finger makes contact with the outer of her puckered hole.

“Fuck!” Her whole body shakes erratically, overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re giving her. Her breathing grows restless.

“Slut,” you whisper the demeaning word into her ear. You’d argue that it fit her, with her being a whimpering mess under your touch.

You circle your finger around her asshole, heightening her moans. You feel the creased patch of skin on your finger, letting out a satisfied hum, but that’s not your main course. You then draw your finger down, touching her wet heat. Kazuha sucks a sudden, before you push your finger into her. 

Her cunt welcomes you easily. You swear that the wail coming out of her mouth is one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. You watch her face become contorted in the mirror. She’s lost in the bliss you’re giving her.

You slowly push yourself into her pussy, burying yourself in the wet heat. Kazuha’s body shakes with pleasure. You insert your whole finger into her, before touching a rough patch inside her.

That’s where you make her collapse.

You curl your finger to touch her sensitive spot, and as expected, Kazuha lets out a sharp, sudden moan. Her legs are barely holding her up. She’s faltering, and you’re enjoying every second of it.

“F–Fuckkk~”

You double your efforts, stimulating where she needs the most. Your finger is engulfed by her tight, wet heat. She feels warm. You’re loving the way she feels around you. You’re loving the way she submits to you. You’re loving the way she fucking keens from your finger inside her. Fuck, you need even more.

You quicken the pace, and it is making her quiver uncontrollably. How she’s shuddering around you, how she moans. It’s just unreal for you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You couldn’t have found a better woman in your life who you’d find as angelic as Nakamura Kazuha.

“Goddamn it, Kazuha. You’re doing so fucking well for me,” you say, playing with her inner walls recklessly. She’s shaking under you. The sound of it is spurring you on. The smell of it is making you go feral. The sight of it is making you feel the power you’ve never felt before in your life.

“G–Gonna c–cum, boss,” she utters, mustering up any energy left to say it. Her eyes are rolling upwards now.

Then, you regretfully withdraw your finger out of her. The engulfing wet heat is now missing from your fingers. She groans in disappointment.

“What the fuck?” Her expression is on the line of anger.

You smirk at her through the reflection, sucking your finger lewdly. She’s salty. Still, that doesn’t seem to lighten up her mood.

“Goddamn it, you’re fucking insufferable,” she sneers, still pissed off by your sudden absence. You have other plans, at least.

“Stand still for me, please,” you say with unwavering calmness, getting a hold of her waist. You’re fucking her properly.

Her expression changes, realizing your next action. “Oh,” she utters.

And for the first time, you plunge yourself into her, feeling the way her tight, wet cunt hugs your cock. It feels so fucking ecstatic. The sensation pierces through your entire body like a spear. She keens loudly, and so do you. It echoes around the room that’s yours.

“Fucking hell–” you give her ass a harsh spank, she wails in the concoction of pain and pleasure “–you’re so fucking tight, Zuha.”

“Th–Thanks, boss,” she replies, as you slowly push your hardness inside her to the hilt. “Y–You’re big too.”

You chuckle, and you swear that it’s the most wicked laugh you’ve ever let out. Your thighs press against her ass, before you drag your hips back. Her tightness around you is making your cock throb, and you thrust back into her cunt. You grunt loudly, and so does she.

“Nghhh~” Kazuha groans, as you find your rhythm in plowing her pussy. You start fucking her properly this time with your cock, pounding into her with no abandon. She feels so good around you.

No words can describe the feeling of fucking Kazuha’s cunt. It’s something beyond your comprehension—the tightness of her alone, the power you’re holding over her, the sounds of her guttural grunts and groans and moans and whimpers. It’s just nothing short of unreal.

“D–Don’t you dare–ah–fucking pull out th–this time, boss,” she commands, trying to sound as stern as possible. Though, it comes out weakly, just like her limp body right now.

“What if I do, huh?” And you give her ass another loud spank. She whimpers. Her resolve falters. Her posture almost collapses.

“Hgngnn.” She can only let out a whimper as you kiss the vanilla skin of her neck. She’s salty from the sweat lingering on her body. Her scent pervades your nose violently. You swear that she’s like an aphrodisiac to you. It’s driving you feral. Her skin shines under the room's light beautifully, and you only wish you can just stay with her like this forever.

“B–Boss,” she mewls, her voice weak and lost.

“Yes, Zuha?” You’re still ramming into her with reckless abandon. Her tight cunt hugs your length perfectly, coaxing the cum out of your balls.

“Gonna–Gonna cum.”

You say nothing but upping your ante, pressing her harder into the mirror. Her tits are splayed on the wall. Her walls contract for you, drawing breathless moans out of your lips. Both of your mouths hang open in bliss. You both want this.

“Cum for me, Zuha, but don’t think this is over yet.” You give her rear another slap. The skin clashes against your hand. She wails, as you lean in for a whisper, “There’s another hole to be filled.”

“Hhgnn,” she grunts under the weight of your promise. Her arms go limp, both hanging just beside her pliant body. Her mind is filled with nothing but your cock inside her pussy.

And she cums for the second time today. Her walls contract around your cock, gripping you like a vice. She lets out a guttural groan from the depth of her lungs. Her right cheek is pressed against the mirror, painting it with her slick sweat.

“Fuck! Goddd~” she shouts loudly from the force of her violent orgasm. You relentlessly fuck her through the forceful orgasm, pulling groans and grunts out of her as much as possible.

Her orgasm subsides, leaving her shaking body as the evidence of it. Her pussy is still contracting around your cock. You slow down, and the other plan comes into play.

You pull your hard length out of her cunt. You’re all glistening in her juice now. It’s strange. You usually cum a lot faster than this. Though, with Kazuha, it’s like you can just go on and on forever.

You insert your fingers inside her pussy, making her entire body tremble in shock once more. You’re trying to gather her slick juice to smear your cock with any lubricant you can find. Your bottle is too far away from you right now (about fifteen floors away, under your table). The wetness of her cunt is really helping you here.

“What a slut,” you sneer at her, as she whimpers in response to the degrading name. “Look at you, all wet for me.”

“P–Please, boss,” she pleads, her voice shaken with unrelenting desire. Her body is trembling with unbridled anticipation.

“Please what, Zuha?”

“Please f–fuck my ass, I–I need it,” she whines, and you couldn’t be happier to fulfill her wish.

You rest your tip at the entrance of her ass—teasing, playing with her. She whines at the act, as if she really wants your cock inside her ass so fucking bad (she does). Your cock in all glistened in her slick juice, ready to fuck her rear hole raw.

And slowly, and carefully, you push your cock into her tightness, inch by inch. Her body trembles as you find yourself inside her once more. She cries out in bliss. The lubricant definitely helps.

“F–Fuck, nghhh.”

You respond to her moans by pushing ever further into her ass. Your body presses onto her more and more, feeling her damp back, gathering her sweat on your body. The warmth around your cock is just too much. She grips you like a vice. 

“Goddamn it, Zuha. Is this your first time in the ass?” you grunt. Your voice is raspy.

“Nghhh, n–no, boss. This is my second time, b–but I–I’ve never cum from that,” she whines. Her hands are pressed against the mirror harshly. You’ll have to be more gentle if you don’t want to break this expensive reflective wall.

You keep pushing and pushing, and finally, you are buried deep up to the hilt. The tightness of her ass is just unreal. A loud moan escapes your lips. Fuck, she’s tight, too tight.

You stay inside the depth of her ass for a few more seconds, feeling yourself inside of her tight ass. You’re hoping that she’s at least enjoying this a little bit.

She does, after all, moaning and writhing like that.

“You love this, don’t you, Zuha? You love having my cock inside your ass like this,” you taunt her, rewarding you with breathless whimpers and moans out of her lips.

“I–I love it, b–boss,” she answers, stuttered and shaken. The sensation is just too much for her. Your hands snake up her body to her small breast, a pair that’s unforgettable for you. You decide to give her nipples some soft treatment with your filthy hands, rubbing them between your fingers.

“Look at you, your nipples are all hard for me.” You run the sides of your fingers up and down her nipples, feeling them between your digits. She lets out guttural grunts and groans in pleasure. “What a goddamn slut.”

“Nghhn.”

After what feels like an eternity inside her ass—so warm, so tight—you draw your hips backwards. Her walls are grazing your cock, making the retreat so damn ecstatic. You pull back until half of your cock is out of her puckered hole, before pushing yourself back in. You let out primal moans with it.

“God, fuck!”

Her ass feels so tight, so right.

You start to find your pace in ravaging Kazuha’s ass. You set the rhythm in fucking her properly. The room reeks of sex, no matter how big it is. The only thing filling your nostrils right now is the smell of Kazuha’s sweat and something that screams her.

Your hands are still kneading Kazuha’s small breasts enthusiastically. Touching them fills you with unbridled joy. They feel so–soft, so–firm in your hands, as you plow into her ass with no abandon.

“Fucking love these tits, Zuha,” you utter. The words come out before you can suppress it. Your mind is filled with the sensation of fucking her ass and groping her tits. “So–soft, so–small.”

“Nghhh, th–thanks, boss,” she cries out, her voice feeling like she’s unable to make sense of what’s going on anymore. It’s just too overwhelming for her. Your cock inside her ass, your hands on her breasts, your smell, your grunts. It’s too much she might have hit the third peak of the day.

Her eyes flutter in bliss—that’s what you see in the mirror. She keens, and you love the way she does it. Her voice reeks of complete submission for you. Her smell is driving you insane. It’s making your grunts more raw, more primal, more animalistic.

You reach out to grab her face. You’re trying not to make it harsh. You don’t want to hurt her. Her moans are interrupted with a gasp. She’s shocked at the sudden contact on her face. She definitely is.

You move in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy, unrefined. There’s no tenderness in it, no romance, no lovey-dovey bullshit. Your hands are still freely groping Kazuha's breasts like they’re yours (they’re yours). Your tongue invades her mouth, gathering her taste. She’s definitely salty—all the sweat and such.

She finally catches the tempo of the kiss, finally holding on her own. Your tongues are now intertwined in a battle for dominance, trying to taste each other as much as possible. The sound of kissing rings inside your head. It’s far from romantic. It’s sloppy. It’s primal. It’s raw.

“Mmmph, fuck,” she utters as you’re still ramming into her ass. Occasional moans into your mouth can be heard. She finds pleasure in it, and you’re happy that she does.

And you pull back. A string of saliva is still connecting your mouths together. It’s vulgar. It’s obscene. That fits. You rest your forehead on Kazuha’s. It feels so intimate. You’re so close to her. You can feel the warmth emanating from her, see her sweat running down, see her pores, and you can only think to yourself: fuck, she really is an angel.

“I’ll get that solo for you, Zuha,” you say, forehead touching hers. Your mouth feels empty without her tongue. It feels great having her inside your mouth.

“B–Better keep th–that promise, boss,” she replies, voice barely holding itself together.  “I’ll fucking join aespa if it’s an empty one.”

You let out a chuckle. She definitely won’t do it, but it’s not like you’re flippant. 

“Sure. It’d be suck to lose another member,” you answer her with a smile. You’re trying to make it as sincere as you can.

You keep pounding into her ass, chasing both of your orgasms. Your hands roam down back to her small, slutty waist. Her breathing grows frantic. You can see the goosebumps on her arms. She’s close. She’s close.

“F–Fuck, a–again, gonna cum again,” she rasps. Her voice is barely holding itself together. Her walls contract around your cock.

Her dam breaks. Her nectar leaks out of her cunt onto the floor. Some of it spills onto your cock, some spill onto your feet. She lets out a primal grunt, spurring you on to fuck her ass with‌ even more roughness. You plow her puckered hole through her orgasm. She’s sensitive, but you don’t fucking care. You couldn’t care any fucking less. You have to cum inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass.

You buck your hips into Kazuha with reckless abandon. Fuck the other women if they’re going to hear this. You’re more than willing to let them know who owns this angel. It’s you. It’s you. Your hands roam over every curve and contour of her body, feeling her smooth skin on your hand. You know it’s hyperbolic, but she’s nothing short of perfection.

Her moans remain guttural and raw. They’re echoing through this practice room, and you’re damn sure that no sounds can be as ethereal as that. Her body, god, her body, you are going to keep dreaming about it forever. Her ass feels utterly divine. She wraps your cock in a way that’s so damn flawless, and it’s like she was made for your cock and your cock only.

You can feel it. The rising current inside you. It runs through your body. It’s electric. It’s going to burst. You’re going to cum inside your employee’s ass, and you couldn’t have found any better situation to be in.

“Here’s what I’m going to do, Zuha,” you order. Your voice couldn’t be stronger than this. Your grips on her waist tighten. “I’m going to fucking cum inside your ass, and you’re going to take it like a good girl you are, alright?”

“Nghhngn, y–yes, boss,” she groans, her voice breaking into pieces. She’s broken already.

It’s there, that familiar feeling inside your loins. You quicken and quicken your pace, pounding into Kazuha’s ass with an unmatched aggression. Your cock is throbbing inside her, so ready to explode. Your breathing is erratic. It’s all culminating in this. You’re going to cum.

“Gonna–Gonna cum,” you grunt, thrusting into her as fast as you can. It’s there. It’s right fucking there.

“Fuck!”

You lose yourself for the second time of the day, this time inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass. You can see stars. White spurts paint the inner walls of her. Your body convulses, shaking in bliss. You grunt loudly. Your cock twitches inside her rear hole. The way she keens rings inside your ear as she feels the cum paint her walls. Fuck.

Your cock keeps shooting ropes and ropes of cum into her ass. It feels utterly divine, the way her ass hugs your cock so damn tightly. You press Kazuha against the wall, trapping her in your embrace, forcing her to take all of your cum. She screams in pure pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you groan, as you slowly come down from the earth-shattering orgasm you just had. Both of you are panting in exhaustion. It was tiring. It was mind-breaking.

You drag your spent cock out of her tight ass. Both of you groan in oversensitivity. Cum slowly leaks out of her ass. You’re all limp, and so is she.

Kazuha still can’t seem to catch her breath. She turns around to face you, face all flushed, mouth hanging open before slowly retreating onto the floor. She’s exhausted, and so are you.

You look down to face her. Your hands are resting on the wall, trying to hold you up with all the forces they have left. Your cock is all sore from the act, and you’re going to need a good sleep after this.

“God,” she utters, smiling. “That was–that was fun, huh?”

“Y–Yeah, that was fun,” you reply with a chuckle. The mood lightens up. The lust earlier is now replaced by comfort. You feel the air thinning. It’s not as tense as before.

You sit down next to Kazuha, head resting on the mirror. The trace of her body can be seen on the wall. It’s imprinted, dirty. You don’t really care. Let the staff see it.

You look around the room, trying to cool down from the debauchery, before Kazuha rests her head on your shoulder. You feel the unfamiliar warmth from her head. It’s–comforting.

“Promise me you’ll get me that solo.” She brings up her pinky finger.

It wasn’t supposed to be much more than a currency. Robotic. Mechanical. Transactional. Though, as you experience through it, you somehow find retreat in it. The act, even if as rough as it was, brings out the side you’ve never seen in her, and something you thought you’d never shown to anyone else. It’s weirdly comforting to you. And maybe, just maybe, the two of you might look forward to another encounter where you fuck her brainless again, and you might learn a few more things about her, and she’d share more of her with you, being each other’s solace against the world.

“I promise.”

—

[xshadowdelta]

FORMER MANAGER

PART 4: Like a tulip.

Kazuha x Male Reader (4K length)

Your hands were gripping the steering wheel of the car tightly, you were still in disbelief at everything that was happening, as if some divinity up there was playing with you for fun, and its enjoyment involved seeing you suffer every fucking moment of the day.

The red light of the traffic light forced you to brake and stop the car for a few seconds. You looked out of the corner of your eye towards the passenger seat, there she was, sitting looking out the window while the fingers of her hands played between them, showing a clear sign of nervousness. Kazuha Nakamura had become, without foreseeing it, the biggest headache of your entire life.

It's not that you had gotten used to sexual encounters with your former Iz*One members, but after what had happened in the last few days, you wouldn't have been surprised if a few more had arisen or even were going to arise in the future, since they seemed to be competing for you or something, something you hadn't been able to figure out yet.

But this totally escaped logic and compromised you enormously, you had in your car an idol whom you had never had under your tutelage, whom you did not know at all, and who had made you an irrational request, to say the least. 

“Can you have sex with me the same way you have sex with Chaewon unnie?”

That phrase kept echoing inside your head. Despite your attempt to hide that 'professional opinion' session, it seemed that Kazuha had perfectly realized what you had done in that practice room.

You didn't even have time to make an excuse or a lie, you had been hunted in such an obvious way that denying it would only complicate this situation even more.

Before you could realize it and without even having accepted her request, you were already leaving the Hybe compound, but with more company than the one you entered with, thanking the gods that your company vehicle had completely opaque window glass.

Neither of you had spoken a single word during the journey, which made the atmosphere feel even more tense and heavier than it would normally be. You wanted to start a conversation or ask a question, but the words just wouldn't come out of your mouth.

“Turn right on that street.” She commented, pointing her finger in the right direction.

And this was another big problem: your destination place. You had really gotten into the car without a fixed direction in your mind. Should you take an idol to your house? Was that right? And what would happen if someone saw you on the street and treacherously took a photo? Could it be camouflaged as part of a television program? Was a hotel suitable? You didn't believe it, but if so, it must be one suitable for celebrities, something you couldn't afford.

You parked the car, following another signal from the girl, in one of the free spots and got out, going around it to reach the passenger door, doing a complete sweep of the area, and opening the door once there was not a single living being. in your range of vision.

Kazuha quickly left and, taking some keys out of her bag, opened the door of one of the buildings, giving you way and successfully completing the first checkpoint.

He called the elevator, and you both went up, still in pure silence. You looked at her through the elevator mirror automatically, she looked back at you through the mirror and blushed, she quickly looked away.

She left in terror when the elevator opened its doors again, yes, taking one of your hands, practically dragging you after her. Your nerves increased when you felt the softness of her hand, wasn't it crazy? Now you were behaving as if you were still a teenager going through puberty.

You entered the interior of one of the apartments, which looked large and spacious from the inside despite only seeing the hall for the moment. "Where are we?” You heard your own voice for the first time in a long time, wondering why she had brought you to that place.

“It's LE SSERAFIM's bedroom.” She answered, taking off her shoes.

Knowing where you were scared you to death, you were in unstable territory. Stepping into that apartment had to be the closest you're going to get to a war camp, with too many people who could come and go at any moment and catch you in the middle of the action.

“The rest of the members are very busy and won't come until the evening, and our staff doesn't usually barge in without warning.” It was certainly relaxing to know that, but still, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at any moment. Kazuha unexpectedly took your hand again and dragged you down the main hallway of the apartment, passing by the living room and the kitchen until you entered one of the bedrooms.

The bedroom itself was quite simple, some large beds pushed together, a small desk with a chair decorated with clothes and various junk on top, and a closet built into the wall. You diverted your gaze to the corners and blind spots of the room in search of possible cameras, it wouldn't be the first time that after recording one of those home realities they forget to remove them.

The girl was quick to turn on the light in the room and close the window despite it being broad daylight, seeking to create a more intimate and safe environment.

You turned around, looking around at the entire bedroom, paying special attention to the pile of clothes scattered on the desk chair. She noticed this and, embarrassed, ran there to put all those clothes in the closet in a disorderly manner.

“Sorry, Chaewon unnie and I were a little late this morning.” Great, so this bedroom also belonged to Chaewon.

“Kazuha-ssi, I think you've rushed into all this, I... we shouldn't be here. I'm flattered, really, but I don't think you're aware of what this means."

She walked towards you and took your hands in hers, looking into your eyes with that look that begged you.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time, but I didn't know how. I'm too shy to approach some other random guy and propose this kind of thing out of the blue.” You laughed inside yourself, what she was saying had nothing to do with the spontaneous request she made to you. “I wanted to wait for the right moment and the right person.” Her fingers caressed the palms of your hands.

“I'm definitely not that person.” The expression on your face became more serious now. "You are!” She snapped loudly, making you step back in surprise. “I mean, I know Chaewon unnie very well. She wouldn't have done anything like that with you if she didn't have complete trust and deep respect for you, and that's more than enough for me.”

“But that's not how it should work, you shouldn't do this with some random guy you don't know at all like me, it should be with someone you love, someone you love from the bottom of your heart.” “You sound like the protagonist of a kdrama.” A small smile now graced her face. “Look, it's not that I'm a virgin, nor an expert, but I'm enough of an adult to know that I can have sex without commitment with whoever I want.”

The truth is that she was not wrong, perhaps you had seen too much fiction lately, after all, the vast majority of humans today had sexual relations guided more by vice and lust than by love.

You still had time to run out of there, you knew that she had nothing against you, she would never tell what she knew, and she loved Chaewon too much to harm her dear unnie. This was never about blackmail, just a favor, no one was forcing you to do anything.

That's what you told yourself internally over and over again.

‘This is not right.’

'Why don't my legs react?'

'I have to get out of here as soon as possible.'

'Fuck, she's beautiful.' Wait, what?

You stared at her for the first time in all this time, indeed, she was pretty and beautiful to look at, like a flower blooming in a beautiful meadow surrounded by huge green trees and a bright sun.

She was also attractive, you could see how well trained her body was. Her legs looked toned, and the lower part of her abdomen that did not cover her shirt was better worked than yours. She had an aura of tenderness and sensuality around her that was difficult to find.

Suddenly, in a burst of bravery, Kazuha raised her hands to your face, holding your cheeks to give you a small kiss on the lips. You wanted to resist, you really did, but who knows if, in order not to hurt her, you reciprocated that kiss by taking her waist with your hands.

“Everything you say is true, but also believe me when I say I want you to fuck me, oppa." She whispered against your lips.

"Kazuha, you're asking too much of me." Your lips were now moving unconsciously over hers.

"I don't think so." She chuckled, bringing one of her hands to your bulging crotch, gently caressing that area of your pants. She stood on her tiptoes to bring her mouth closer to your ear. "Don't you want to know how flexible I can be?” That whisper hit you squarely. It would have been a K.O. if we were in a boxing match. Your skin crawled just thinking and imagining certain scenarios, and the bulge in your crotch only grew under the touch of her delicate hand.

You let out a sigh, you sounded defeated, and you actually were. How could you be so fucking weak? Why were you trapped in a spiral of sex with gorgeous girls with beautiful bodies? And why were you martyring yourself for it when anyone would sign with their own blood to take your place? You didn't have the answer to any of those questions.

“Lie on the bed.” Despite your obvious annoyed tone, Kazuha's smile did not fade but rather widened, and she followed your instructions.

Immediately the Japanese idol was lying on her back, with her legs dangling from the edge of the bed, undoing the button on her jeans and slowly lowering them to your delight.

You knelt on the floor right in front of the bed, between her legs, starting to touch her thighs and going down her legs at the same time as her pants were going down.

You noticed how her skin stood on end under your hands, it burned, and you verified it with your own lips when you leaned your head over Kazuha's body, spreading a few kisses on the part of her abdomen that the shirt did not cover.

Her toned abs contracted as she felt your lips on them, your hands joined hers on either side of her legs, finishing off her pants in a single pull.

Your kisses marked a downward path towards the girl's panties while your hands took the opposite route, going from her legs to her hips, moving upwards slowly caressing every centimeter of skin.

A new piece of clothing was recognized as the next enemy, as your hands fisted the hem of her shirt. She understood quickly, and with an agile and quick movement, she slid the garment over her head and threw it away, landing somewhere on the floor of the room.

You kissed her pussy over the fabric of her panties making her moan, and then your tongue began to create lines of saliva before starting to move as if it were a normal cunnilingus.

Even though the panties continued to act as a barrier between your tongue and her pussy, the caresses you provided were felt on her body in a remarkable way, proof of this were the moans that Kazuha expelled from her mouth.

Her pussy was getting wetter due to the excitement, starting to leak down her thighs and even going through her panties, as your tongue began to enjoy the taste of the girl's intimacy.

You sat up a little and jumped on the bed, being careful with her delicate body so as not to hurt her, remaining on top of her, and going directly to kiss and lick her neck as an attack.

Her moans became noticeable again, with an increase in volume and much closer to your ears. However, she was a fighter, and although she seemed to be completely under your control, she managed to take off your shirt and expose your torso, which she did not hesitate to touch and caress.

You ceased the attack on her neck, moving back a little, allowing her to kiss your bare skin, causing you to sigh occasionally. You crouched over her again, kissing her lips deeply, taking her cheeks in your hands.

“Condoms?” You asked the instant the kiss broke.

She pointed out the nightstand next to the bed, and you jumped out of the bed again to approach the designated piece of furniture, opening it and finding a box of condoms still sealed.

You were opening it as you walked back, placing yourself in the starting position, facing her between her legs. You looked up and could see that there was no longer a trace of her panties.

You smiled, finally opening the package of condoms, taking one between your fingers, and placing it on the mattress. You needed both hands free to finish undressing completely. 

Kazuha sat up slightly on the bed so she could look directly at your now-naked cock, opening her mouth shocked by its size and almost reflexively opening her legs wider, giving you a much better view of her wet and shiny entrance.

You placed one knee on the bed, bringing your penis closer to her vagina, one hand holding your dick firmly and the other gripping one of the young girl's pale thighs.

"Wait! The condom…OH!” Her words were interrupted by a violent moan.

She was right, you hadn't put on the condom yet, but you didn't need it for the idea you had in mind, which consisted of rubbing the folds of her pussy with your cock over and over again without actually inserting it inside.

That game seemed to take its toll on Kazuha, who was now trying to silence her sounds by putting both hands over her mouth and allowing you to play with her intimate area to your pleasure.

Your penis soon became well lubricated after being rubbed mercilessly by the wetness of the Japanese pussy, at which point you decided that it was now possible to start the real action.

Now you wrapped your penis in the latex of the condom to bring it closer to the female entrance again, this time with the intention of entering her. You looked one last time into Kazuha's eyes, waiting for one last step back that never came, quite the opposite in fact.

She placed her hands on her thighs, separating her legs as much as she could, leaving you amazed at her incredible flexibility and increasing your excitement as you witnessed that move.

The tip of your penis made contact with her vagina, making you both moan slightly, moans that increased as more inches entered her cavity.

As you expected, Kazuha's insides felt tight, although you had to admit that it was less than you had originally imagined, because the truth is that most of your cock entered without any problem. You gave her a few seconds for her insides to adjust to your size before you started moving.

You started to move slowly, moving in and out slowly and careful not to hurt her, but she seemed to be enjoying it.

“God, you're stretching me so much... It feels so good.”

That gave you the green light to increase the pace, your hips moved faster, introducing you deeper into her. At this point, her pussy was already able to swallow the entire length of your penis without problems.

Kazuha's moans quickly turned into pleas, letting her get carried away by excitement and asking you to go even further.

“AH! Please…more… AH…MORE!”

She raised one of her legs to your shoulder, leaving her foot at the height of your head, leaving the other still resting on the bed. That only deepened your attacks against her even more.

You wrapped your closest hand around the thigh of her leg that was hanging from you, and your other hand went behind her head, grabbing the back of her neck, bending over her, and moving at a hard and incessant pace.

Kazuha's intense moans were only stopped when your lips joined hers in a kiss, just as intense as the clash between your hips. Everything was so intense that tiredness immediately began to appear in you.

After a few more minutes of fun, you wanted to change positions, now lying on your back on the bed, motioning to the girl to sit on your lap with her back to you.

You kissed the back of her neck and her back as she got into position, turning her head for a moment and demanding another kiss on the lips that you didn't deny her.

She raised her body enough so that in one quick movement your cock entered deeply inside her again, causing a sensation of incredible pleasure in both of you.

The girl placed both hands on your thighs to begin jumping on your penis, again and again, without stopping and emitting sweet and erotic moans for each thrust that your cock gave her as it lowered her body.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her back, causing a small cry of surprise from her and causing her back to collide with your chest.

You once again had control of the situation, you once again imposed the rhythm of the penetrations to your liking and what was best for you.

From this position, you were once again able to attack Kazuha's neck at will, which for some reason had become one of your favorite regions of her body, and she seemed to love it too.

Your bodies were totally immersed in the heat of the moment, eager for each other's contact, roaring for sex, and sweating from the furious action, the temperature of the room had risen some degrees since you entered through the door.

Once again the idol raised her legs, surrounding them with her own arms, preventing them from falling, thus making your attacks clean and direct against her pussy, which you began to notice how it contracted, squeezing your cock against its walls, making you moan louder.

“Shit, Kazuha, your pussy...”

“Please don't stop now! I’m so close!”

Listening to the girl's request and with the aim of releasing yourselves sexually as soon as possible, you gave everything you had left, placing your hands on her butt and attacking her frantically, feeling how after some hard thrust you came brutally, filling the condom with your cum.

“AH! YES! OH GOD! AAAAAAAAAH!”

That liberating scream was followed by her body arching over yours, your hands quickly rising to her hips, pressing her against your body again, and leaving both of you gasping noticeably trying to recover from the intense orgasms.

Kazuha leaned her head back with her body resting on top of yours, trying to compose herself from the tremendous ecstasy you had made her feel. She turned her head to look into your eyes, just inches from your face.

“Now I can understand Chaewon unnie.” She murmured, offering you a soft smile, trying to hide her tired expression.

You, on the other hand, did not hide it at all, you continued searching for air almost desperately, and the fact of having her on top of you did not help, but the truth is that you were not going to complain about it.

“You are definitely very flexible.” You spoke, making her laugh softly, and then kissed her lips, passing your arms around her stomach area, surrounding and hugging her, lying there for a few minutes.

.

.

.

You left the group's apartment after making sure that Kazuha was in good condition. She said goodbye to you very happily, with her eyes giving off a special shine and giving you a small kiss on the cheek, making you both blush.

You drove back to your own house, a little rest wouldn't hurt to clarify all your ideas, but with a firm decision. You had to end your sexual encounters with idols immediately. That was obvious, but would you be able to cut it short? You assumed only the future would know for sure.

You entered your apartment, tired, extremely tired, but you still managed to find the energy to move your butt to the bathroom and get into the bathtub for a long half hour that left you almost as good as new.

You were now wearing your two-piece pajama with a shirt and pants, walking around the living room while drying your damp hair with a towel. You heard the sound of the doorbell, it seemed that the delivery man you had contacted had arrived to deliver your dinner. You put the towel aside, and with your hair still a little wet and messy that fell on your forehead, you approached the door.

You opened the door, but, to your surprise, the person on the other side was not who you expected. A young girl with black hair tied up in a bun, somewhat taller than average and with a slim but very elegant figure.

That girl seemed very familiar to you, the fact that she was wearing sunglasses late at night made it a little more difficult for you to recognize her, but you quickly realized it.

“Wonyoung…”

The sudden sound of a slap echoed throughout the house, silencing you. Your left cheek turned a reddish color at the same time as a burning sensation began to sting. Your face was now looking to the side due to the unexpected slap that the young woman had given you.

You took a step back, trying to stabilize your body so as not to fall, and directed one of your hands to the affected area of your face. Your eyes were wide open, as was your mouth, you didn't know what was happening, unable to understand anything.

When you returned to this world, you looked towards the door again, finding yourself facing the wall of the hallway.

You ran out of your apartment, finding Wonyoung a few meters later walking towards the exit of the building.

"Hey! Jang Wonyoung! What the hell do you think..."

You grabbed her arm, applying some force, without excess, to make her turn towards you, but your words fell into the void when you glimpsed her red face and how some tears formed a path from her eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses until they ended up on her chin.

She didn't say anything, you could only hear her weak crying and sobs that penetrated your soul and stabbed directly into your heart.

Still confused, you loosened your grip on her arm, and with that she got rid of you, setting off on her way again, but this time you didn't follow her, you stayed there, absorbed, with no other possibility than to see her back moving further and further away.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.4k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: eek series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

i mean, im not that surprised he’s sexy as hell

that’s actually crazy

imagine hiding your son for five years 😶😶 how can you be ashamed of that

doesn’t he literally have a girlfriend?? himari nakamura??

        ↳ yep for almost two years now

       ↳ wonder how she’s holding up i’d be pissed, unless she knew 

rich people are always shady as fuck

You don’t even know how many comments you’ve read. Staying up practically the entire night, busying yourself with the endless scrolling of people who have not a single clue of how your life actually is. Meddling in your business and acting like the shit they’re spouting on the internet is okay. 

They ranged from positive (sort of) to extremely personal and negative. 

i bet she just did it for the child support 

i wonder if he’s actually the dad, women like that lie and lie just cuz the dad is rich as fuck

i feel so bad for that boy

Bad? Why would they feel bad for him? You’ve given everything you can and then some to ensure Koji’s safety and innocence. You’ve never put him in harm’s way, difficult situations, hit him, nothing. Of course you’ve raised your voice, but every parent does. Why are these reasons suddenly acting like they know a fucking thing or two? This is insane. 

The only positive ones you see are praising your son for how cute he is, how much he looks like Satoru, and how he’ll probably get everything he wants. That’s not true, you’re not going to spoil your kid and you’re sure as hell not letting Satoru do it either; he’s humble, that’s how you want him to be. Still, you do feel uneasy at strangers on the internet for talking about your baby like this, in reference to a photo none of you knew was taken. 

And you still don’t know who took it. 

That’s what infuriates you the most. Because who in their right mind would do that? Who thinks they’re that fucking entitled to chime in on your personal business—your family. 

When you find them, you swear on everything you’re punching them. 

Your head hangs low, the hood of your sweatshirt pulled tight, shielding your face as you step into the café. You keep your gaze down, avoiding the eyes of the baristas and patrons scattered around. The familiar hum of the espresso machine feels deafening today.

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe no one cares.

But you know better.

That damn image, plastered across every TV screen and newsfeed yesterday, is still burned into your mind. Why do people even care this much? You’re beyond pissed off. Who in their right mind thinks they have the right to invade your personal life like that? To turn your family into fodder for the public?

Maybe no one will say anything. Who even watched the news anyway? 

More people than you think, actually. You keep moving, but Hana has other plans.

“Y/N!” Her voice cuts through the noise like a whip, and before you can react, she grabs your forearm, dragging you into the storage room in the back.

“Hey, what the—” you start to protest, wincing as her grip tightens, but she doesn’t care. She whirls around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You were on the news yesterday!”

Your stomach churns at the reminder, and your jaw clenches tightly. You pull your hood down, resigning yourself to the conversation you were hoping to avoid. “I know that already,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest.

“Koji’s father is multi-billionaire Satoru Gojo?!” Her voice rises in pitch, and she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Is that for real? You’ve been hiding this?!”

You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Yes, Hana. It’s real. Koji’s father is Satoru Gojo. Can we not do this right now?”

But Hana doesn’t back down, her wide eyes searching your face for answers. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re doing this right now! You’ve been sitting on this—” she throws her hands up, “—while the rest of us thought you were just, like, a regular single mom? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!” you hiss, your voice rising then lowering, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Do you think I wanted this to come out? Do you think I wanted his world to invade mine?”

Hana softens slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Okay, fair. But you should’ve told me, at least. I mean, I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t tell anyone for a reason and I don’t owe anyone anything,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “And now it’s everywhere. Do you know how terrifying that is? For me? For Koji?”

Hana sighs, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, okay. I get it. This whole thing’s a mess. But what are you going to do now? I mean, the story’s out. People are gonna talk, Y/N. A lot. Especially if it involves a man like him.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling. “I just want to protect my son.”

Hana nods, her expression softening further. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re gonna need a plan. And.”

“Hana, I—“ you’re really trying not to snap at her, really. But she’s pushing every button you have right now and your patience is running extremely low. Don’t snap, she’s just worried.  “I know what to do, thank you. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t meddle in my business too. We’re friends, yes, but understand right now that I’m going through a lot of shit and don’t need to be told what to do and when to do it. So get off my back.”

Hana blinks, a little caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Her mouth slightly agape, clearly not having expected your outburst. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, her expression shifting between hurt and something close to understanding. She straightens, her arms falling from where they’d been crossed over her chest. “Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—” she begins, her voice softer now, but you cut her off.

“I know,” you say, your voice quieter but still firm. “I know you’re trying to help, Hana. And I’m grateful, I am. But right now, I need to handle this on my own. I need space. Can you give me that?”

She nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I get it. I’ll back off. Just—if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. You know that, right?”

You exhale, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Hana offers you a small, tentative smile before stepping aside, giving you the room you so desperately need. As she moves to leave, she hesitates at the curtains, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth, Y/N…I think you’re handling this a lot better than you think you are.”

You don’t respond, just nod in acknowledgment, and she disappears back into the front of the café. Alone in the small back room, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

Better than I think, huh? You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. It doesn’t feel that way. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said this probably won’t be that bad; not a big deal. But hell, it was huge. You hate unnecessary attention, especially attention from hundreds, if not thousands of random strangers. You’re recalling the incident from earlier when you dropped Koji off at school. Mr. Ito stopping you once more and confessing his surprise to you. In his words, “I didn’t know Koji had such an…esteemed father.”

You held back a slew of insults, keeping it classy, as always. But as the days go on and the more shit that seems to be happening to you, you’re getting this close to breaking that. It’s the way he, everyone else, and even Hana seems so…shocked. The lingering glances from other parents at drop-off, the whispers in the hallways. It’s the way their surprise feels so…palpable. You get it, in a way. Satoru Gojo is larger than life—powerful, wealthy, and untouchable in a way most people only dream of. But still, the shock in their eyes stings more than it should. Did they think you weren’t of caliber to bag a man like Satoru? Did they think a man like that wouldn’t even dream of having a child with a woman like you? It feels a tad bit insulting. Actually, scratch that—it feels like a slap in the face.

The implications gnaw at you, poking at insecurities you’d rather not acknowledge. This is exactly why you hate social media. You’re already growing too conscious of the comments people are making—caring too much and it was just revealed. And the worst part? You can’t even fully blame them. Satoru’s world is one you’ve never truly belonged to. You’re not the glossy, magazine-cover type, and you don’t have the pedigree or connections his circle would expect. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean Koji is any less precious because of it.

 You sigh, rubbing at your temples. If only these people could see you for who you truly are—if they could see the strength it takes to raise a child on your own, to hold your head high even when the world tries to tear you down. But no, all they see is the scandal and the drama, their curiosity morphing into judgment. Sure, you made mistakes—big and bad ones. But you’re doing all this in order to make up for those mistakes. And sure, Satoru doesn’t 100% forgive you—you’re not sure he ever will—but you don’t think he would agree with these kinds of comments being made. Right? 

You huff. Let them talk, you think bitterly, though the tightness in your chest betrays the confidence you’re trying to muster. Let them all talk, they know nothing. 

The minutes feel like hours. Unsure of how long you’ve exactly been here. Equally nervous about looking at your phone to check.

“Oh my god, look. It’s her.”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

“I wonder if she’ll give us pointers.”

“You’re insane.”

The conversation doesn’t fly over your head. t’s like they want you to hear, voices loud enough to penetrate the usual clatter of the café. You swear, they’re practically aiming their words right at you. Your grip tightens around the rag in your hand, knuckles going white as you scrub the already spotless table. The motion is a little too aggressive, the poor table bearing the brunt of your simmering frustration. Your jaw clenches, brows knitting together as you try—desperately—to keep your temper in check. Jaw clenching and brows knitting together, you’re counting down to ten and back.

One…two…three… you recite in your head, attempting to steady your breath. It’s an old habit—one you learned a while back from you’re therapist, one you’ve relied on in situations like this, but today it feels like it’s barely working. Four…five…six.

You glance up, just for a second, and immediately regret it. The group of girls sits near the window, leaning into each other as they giggle, their eyes darting your way. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. One of them, a blonde with an annoyingly perfect smile, nudges her friend and whispers something, sending the others into another fit of laughter. Your fingers flex around the rag, itching to throw it across the room. Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe. They’re not worth it. But it’s hard to ignore the knot tightening in your chest, the sting of humiliation creeping in despite your best efforts. Because you know exactly what they’re laughing about, what they’re whispering about. It’s not just idle curiosity—it’s judgment, plain and simple. And maybe, just maybe, if this were any other day, you’d let it roll off your back. But today? After everything that’s happened? After seeing your son’s face plastered on screens and hearing people dissect your life like it’s a soap opera? You toss the rag onto the table, standing up straighter as you look their way. They immediately quiet down, eyes widening like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice calm but carrying just enough edge to make them squirm.

The blonde fidgets, her confidence faltering under your gaze. “Oh, um, no, we were just…”

“Enjoying your coffee?” you finish for her, forcing a tight smile. “Good. Let me know if you need anything else.” Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk behind the counter, the satisfaction of their stunned silence doing little to ease the weight in your chest. Nine…ten… You exhale slowly, trying to let it go, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s going to be a long day.

—-

The walk back home with Koji feels like you never want to use your senses again. It feels like a marathon you never signed up for, every step heavier than the last. The pounding in your head has escalated into a full-blown migraine, the sharp pain clawing at the edges of your skull. You clench your teeth, trying to hold it together, willing the tears pricking at your eyes to stay put. Koji chatters beside you, his small hand in yours, his voice a muffled hum against the overwhelming throb in your head.

 So much has changed within just the span of a week and none of it feels good. You like change, but not like this. Not the kind of change that’s so spontaneous and out of nowhere that it makes you dread the littlest things. The kind of change where you feel like every way you turn, it’s a dead end. Every thought spiraling into another reminder of how much you’ve lost control, or of how much you never had it to begin with. The kind of change that you never fucking asked for in the first place. The kind of change where you feel like a ticking timebomb. A simple walk home feels like an obstacle course. The sound of Koji’s innocent laughter, once a balm to your soul, now feels like a weight pressing down on you, a reminder of how fragile your balance is.

This change doesn’t come with warnings or instructions. It doesn’t let you adjust, and doesn’t give you the chance to prepare. It just dumps its baggage on your doorstep and forces you to deal with it, whether you’re ready or not. And right now, you’re not.

The last thing you want to do is blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially your son. You glance down at him, his bright eyes scanning the world around him with that endless curiosity only a child can have. His tiny fingers grip yours with a trust that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the storm brewing inside you. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Koji’s voice is soft, his head tilted as he looks up at you with concern.

You force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you manage, squeezing his hand gently. “Just tired.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and resumes his animated recount of the day’s events. You let him talk, his voice a small distraction from the noise in your head. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One breath at a time. For him, if not for yourself.

You wonder to yourself how many more times you can continue repeating that phrase to yourself, like a broken record spinning endlessly in your mind. Shouldn’t you be allowed to do some things on your own? Something that isn’t tied to the constant grind of making sure Koji has everything he needs, of shielding him from a world that feels more hostile every day? Everything you do is for him—every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of biting your tongue when you want to scream. It’s all for him. 

But what about you?

The thought is bitter, curling in your chest like smoke. It feels selfish even to entertain it, but the exhaustion is suffocating. How long has it been since you’ve done something just because you wanted to? Since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about what you need, instead of what everyone else expects of you? Is it selfish? Is this not how a good mother thinks?

The doubt gnaws at you, persistent and sharp. 

Not like you’d know the answer to that question. Your mother—a woman you rarely ever want to think about—never gave you the guidance for situations like this. You have no inspiration, nothing. You’re doing everything free-handed. She didn’t leave you with blueprints for moments like these, no voice in your head to tell you what’s right, what’s wrong, or even what’s okay. She was a void, an absence, and that absence shaped you more than you’d like to admit.

And now here you are, trying to be everything for your son that she wasn’t for you. But it feels like you’re fumbling in the dark, building something fragile with trembling hands. There’s no instruction manual for this, no map to follow. You’re doing everything on the first try, improvising as you go. Every decision feels like a gamble. Did you do enough today? Did you do too much? Did you make the right call, or are you setting him up for something you can’t even see coming? The uncertainty is exhausting.

You glance at Koji, his small hand still tucked safely in yours, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. He’s so blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside you, and that’s how it should be. He deserves that innocence, that security. But the weight of always being the strong one, the reliable one, is starting to crush you. How much longer can I keep this up? The question whispers in your mind, and you hate it. You hate that you’re even asking it, hate that it makes you feel weak. But the truth is, you’re tired.

And you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you’re not.

You focus on Koji again, his small frame silhouetted against the afternoon light of the day. He trusts you implicitly, and looks at you like you’re the answer to everything. And the weight of that trust makes you want to cry and scream in equal measure. How can I possibly live up to that?

They never said motherhood was easy. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. Maybe this is what being a mother really is—second-guessing everything, carrying the weight of your own past, and still showing up every day, trying your best. 

You don’t know if that’s enough. But it’s all you have.

It seems like you’re in for a surprise every second of the day.

Satoru, much to your own dismay and confusion, is perched against your apartment door; waiting for you again. Like a magnet, Koji runs into his lower half, hugging his father with all the strength his five-year-old body will allow. 

“Hey, little man. I’m happy to see you.” Satoru smiles wholeheartedly, patting Koji’s back with gentle ease.

“Hi, Papa! I missed you.” His voice is muffled by Satoru’s clothing.

The older man laughs, relishing in the moment for another second, before opening his light azures. His eyes look like they’re darting all around you, as if making sure you’re okay. Standing up, he shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you mutter, walking up closer. Arms crossing. 

He nods. “I know, I–I should’ve told you. But this was urgent and I knew you were busy at work.”

A hum is all you offer, unlocking your apartment door and stepping in. The semi-warmth envelops you like a worn blanket. Finally, in the comfort of my own home. Even if it is just for a little bit before you’re off again. 

“Call off his babysitter.”

You look back, watching him close your door and lock it. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Koji runs off to his room, presumably to play with his toy collection. Leaving the two adults alone. Biting your lip, attempting to come up with something to say—or what to say first. Luckily, he beats you to it. “I want you two to spend the night at mine, don’t go to work. I’ll pay you whatever you miss out on. I know you saw the leak and I’m working on figuring out who the hell did it. But until then, I’m a little concerned for your guys’ safety, so stay at mine until we figure things out long-term.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the resolute earnestness in his voice. The Satoru you know isn’t usually this serious, this concerned. It’s disarming—attractive, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “This is my home, Satoru,” you finally say, your voice quiet but firm. “I can’t just up and leave because of a leak. And I can’t run every time something like this happens. That’s not a long-term solution either.”

“I get that,” he says, stepping closer. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s about Koji. Someone took that photo, and I don’t know who, or how, or what their intentions are. Until I do, I can’t take chances.”

“And I get that, but I can’t just—sleep at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just…weird.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he exhales out. “You think something’ll happen? It won’t. I'm doing this for Koji and you because I care. Not because reviving something that’s long-ended is my priority.” 

“It’s not about that,” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself. You close your eyes for a second, exhaling sharply, trying to rein in your frustration. “It’s just... complicated, Satoru. You showing up like this, offering to fix things with money, with solutions I didn’t ask for, for problems I never wanted—it’s overwhelming.”

He takes another step closer, his presence filling the small entryway. “You think I don’t understand that?” His voice softens but carries an edge of urgency. “Y/N, I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I know this is all... messy. But I can’t sit around and pretend I’m okay with you and Koji being here while someone out there is bold enough to invade your privacy like that. I’m trying to protect you. You can’t keep pushing me away like this, you said you wanted to make things better.”

“I know, but—”

“Then stop it. Stop arguing, complaining, whatever. You’re not going to keep me out of Koji’s life any longer, or yours. They already posted another damn picture of you today at work.”

What? You blink your eyes, widening them. You don’t even want to see the photo evidence, gulping down the weird lump that forms in your throat. What the fuck is going on with my life right now? You hesitate, biting your lip. His words chip away at your defenses, but the walls you’ve built don’t crumble that easily. “And what happens if we go to your place? What’s next? You swoop in, play hero, and then leave us when this blows over?”

His jaw tightens, the faint hurt flashing in his eyes almost imperceptible. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, arms crossing tightly over your chest, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the weight of the conversation. “That’s what you always do, Satoru. You show up when it’s convenient for you, and when it’s not, you disappear.”

The words hang heavy in the air, stinging both of you. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not leaving you this time,” he says quietly, lifting his eyes back to yours. “Not until I know you two are safe. I’m not running, Y/N. Not from this. But you have to stop trying to keep me at arm's length, I’m trying my best to help.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading yet determined. You hate how convincing he can be when he’s like this. How he makes you question your own resolve. “Please,” he adds, his voice dropping. “Just for a little while.”

The conviction in his voice is startling, and it makes something inside you waver. You’re tired, too tired to keep arguing, too tired to keep carrying everything on your shoulders. It’s true, you’re feeling yourself pushback on him. He deserves this—time with Koji, protecting him, and more. It’s just so hard breaking from the fragile bubble you built for your son and you. Satoru’s presence is like a sharp knife, waiting to just poke through it with ease, to get to his family.“Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight. Koji and I will come to your place for tonight.”

Relief washes over his features, but he doesn’t smile. He nods, stepping back to give you space. “That’s all I’m asking.”

As you turn away to gather what you need for the night, you catch a glimpse of Koji peeking out from his room, his eyes wide with curiosity. You put on a smile for his sake, but deep down, you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest. This isn’t just about staying at Satoru’s place. It’s about what this means—what it could mean—and the part of you that still isn’t sure you’re ready to face it.

The inside of Satoru’s Mercedes is spacious, but asphyxiating. Koji in his car seat in the back, watching something on his tablet. This is the first time you’ve been in the car with Satoru since way long ago. It’s nostalgia, but sickening at the same time. You remember how he would place his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Or how he likes to rest his hand on the gearstick, or his elbow on the middle console. 

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when he brushes against your arm as he reaches for the temperature controls, adjusting the heat. It’s a small, thoughtless gesture, but it sends an involuntary jolt through you. You glance out the window, pretending to admire the blurred city lights instead of acknowledging the memories flooding back. The hum of the car engine fills the silence, an uncomfortable contrast to the weight of everything left unsaid. Koji giggles at something on his tablet in the backseat, his innocence a stark reminder of why you’re here and why you can’t let your emotions take over.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice breaks the quiet, calm yet cautious.

“Fine,” you reply quickly, too quickly. You keep your eyes glued to the window, your arms crossed as if to shield yourself from the proximity.

He stops at a red light, leaning back in his sight. He’s a pro at side-eyeing you as you’re faced away. Seeing the way your hands ball into small fists. Nervous. Your foot is tapping on the floor. Thinking. And if he looks closer at your chest, he’ll notice how it’s rising up and down a little more quickly than normal. 

Oh. 

He clears his throat, looking forward as the light turns green. Focus on driving, focus on driving. He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze flickering toward you now and then, like he’s reading every shift in your posture, every flicker of hesitation. It’s infuriating how well he knows you, even now. You glance at Koji briefly before turning your gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as the car moves. The nostalgia you felt earlier morphs into a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how easily Satoru slips into the role of a doting father, as if the years of his absence never happened.

You need to get a better hold of your jealousy. 

“You’re quiet,” Satoru says, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look at him.

He hums, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “Long day, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the road. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to face him. “The right thing to do? Since when have you ever cared about the right thing, Satoru?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales deeply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I care now. Now that you’ve granted me that option,” he says quietly.

You want to scoff, to throw his words back at him, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. Something raw, unguarded. The way he gets out those snark remarks angers you, but only further solidifies the weight of your actions, and the fact that things will never be the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When the car finally pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse building, Koji’s excitement is palpable.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Koji exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks around.

Satoru chuckles, stepping out of the car and opening the back door to unbuckle Koji. “Wait till you see the view, buddy.”

You follow them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel like you’re being pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind—one of complications and heartbreak. Satoru presses the button for his floor, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just for one night.”

You don’t respond, staring straight ahead as the elevator begins its ascent. But deep down, you know it’s never just one night with Satoru. 

“No running.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

You place Koji and your bags on one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching your son rush to his father’s living room. Satoru follows him, hands on his hips. “Hey buddy, bought some toys for you. Do you want to play with them? You like Spiderman, right?”

If possible, Koji’s eyes light up even more with excitement. Gasping and squealing, nodding his head furiously. “I love Spiderman! Mama threw me a Spiderman birthday last time.”

Satoru hums. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

You freeze at Satoru's words, your hand halfway to unpacking one of Koji’s bags. His tone is light, almost wistful, but it feels like a loaded statement—one that stings more than you’d like to admit. You glance over at him and Koji, your son practically bouncing on his toes as Satoru kneels to pull out a neatly wrapped box from a hidden cabinet. “Here you go,” Satoru says, handing it to Koji. “I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

Koji tears into the wrapping with glee, revealing a Spiderman action figure set. He gasps, clutching the box to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Papa! This is so cool!”

Your heart twists at how easily Koji has taken to calling him that. It’s like Satoru’s sudden presence is a gift he didn’t realize he’d been missing. And yet, for you, it’s a reminder of the years of absence—of the birthdays and milestones Satoru missed. “Please, don’t spoil him too much,” you mutter, finally unpacking Koji’s things and setting them on the counter.

Satoru looks over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong with a little spoiling? He deserves it.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “What he deserves is consistency.”

His smirk falters, standing back up to his full height and coming over to you. Keeping his voice level calm, in case Koji decides to listen in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. 

Satoru narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you busy yourself with Koji’s things. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Don’t read into it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further—not yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, folding his arms as he observes you. “Y/N, you can’t be the angry one in this situation. I thought you understood that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m just—” you let out a big breath, looking up at him once more. “I’m tired. Forgive me if I’m not overly happy right now.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his posture relaxing slightly, though the tension in the room lingers like a heavy fog. “I’m not trying to add onto that, I’m just trying to be here for my son.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m snapping. All you can offer is a nod, reaching into your bag, and grabbing a change of clothes. “I…I’m gonna go shower, watch him please.”

Satoru nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to the living room where Koji is engrossed in his toys. “Of course. Take your time.”

You offer a small, tight-lipped smile before retreating down the hall, clutching the clothes in your hands like a lifeline. Once you’re inside the bathroom, the door clicks shut behind you, and the weight of everything crashes down. Leaning against the counter, you grip the edge tightly, your knuckles turning white as you take slow, measured breaths. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you hardly recognize—tired, frazzled, and barely holding it together. The faint hum of Koji’s laughter echoes down the hall, grounding you for a moment. At least he’s happy. That’s what matters.

The shower is a welcome escape. The hot water cascades over your skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tension from your conversation with Satoru. You let your head fall forward, droplets sliding down your face, mingling with the tears you didn’t realize had started to fall. You didn’t mean to snap at him. He’s trying, you know that. But the past doesn’t let go so easily, and the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, fear, hope—leaves you feeling unsteady. And you feel angry at yourself for letting your emotions slip through, getting the best of you. You’re surprised Satoru hasn’t been more outwardly rude to you, short, or even snappy. It seems like he’s taking this all better than you are, and once again, that bitter jealousy of yours is shining through. How he can just handle things so smoothly—at least that’s what it seems like. But he’s used to all this: the spotlight, public eye, attention. You just wish things could’ve been handled…differently. 

Everything feels like a domino effect, starting all with that dreaded day at the grocery store. How so much has changed. 

 By the time you step out, you feel a fraction lighter, though the knot in your chest remains. You towel off, change into your clean clothes, and take a moment to steel yourself before heading back into the fray.

When you return to the living room, you find Satoru sitting cross-legged on the floor with Koji, holding up a miniature Spiderman figure. Koji is giggling, animatedly explaining an intricate story about how Spiderman saves the day. Satoru glances up as you walk in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. We’re just working on a top-secret mission over here. No big deal.”

Koji looks up too, beaming. “Mama! Papa’s playing Spiderman with me! He’s really good at the voices.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms, even as your heart aches a little at the sight. “Sounds like you two are having fun.”

Satoru nods, his expression soft. “We’re a good team.”

You stand there for a moment, watching them, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders once more. Maybe this is what Koji needs. Maybe this is what you need. But trusting him again…that’s the hardest part.

That night, eating dinner at Satoru’s long dining table, the same one where you faced his parents, it all feels strange, to say the least. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates echoes faintly in the vast dining room, filling the silence between the three of you. Koji hums to himself as he picks at his plate, occasionally glancing at his father to tell him some small details about his day or ask about the toys he’d gotten earlier. Satoru engages him with ease, his tone light and playful, but you can see the flickers of something deeper behind his smiles—guilt, maybe, or a desperate need to make up for lost time.

And then there’s you, sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, your appetite wavering as your mind keeps drifting back to the last time you sat here. That memory is sharp and vivid, like an old wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But Koji’s laughter brings you back down to Earth. Looking up from your plate of food to the sight before you. Father and son, son and father, family. They look so alike, you don’t think you can ever get over the blatant resemblance. Satoru’s genes are just very strong. You wish Koji could’ve inherited a few more things from you. You place a hand on your lower stomach, as if a physical touch will make the strange abundance of butterflies flying around in there to go away. 

It’s strange, this setup. Domestic in a way you never thought you’d experience with him again. But it’s also…nice. 

It feels whole, like this is how things should be. Would’ve been had you not held your tongue for so long. And you’re starting to think to yourself how much you like this sight. How it’s making you feel at home.

But this isn’t your home. However, you think you can pretend for just one night. 

“You’re not eating much,” Satoru says, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of concern.

Your eyes widen at him, realizing you’ve been caught staring and quickly looking back down. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Just sleepy, I guess.”

“I bet,” he says, and while his tone is conversational, his gaze lingers on you, searching for something beneath your calm facade.

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, stabbing at a piece of vegetable on your plate. You don’t want to talk about your day or your worries or the mounting anxiety sitting heavy in your chest. Not here, not now.

Koji interrupts before Satoru can press further, his voice bright and full of excitement. “Papa, can we watch a movie after dinner? Mama too!”

Satoru grins, lightly pinching his cheekbone. “Of course, buddy. What movie are we watching?”

Koji claps his hands together, listing off a couple of titles before settling on one of his favorites. You manage another smile, this one a little more genuine, as you watch the way Satoru effortlessly makes Koji light up. For a moment, the tension eases, and you let yourself focus on Koji’s joy. Maybe this is enough for now. Maybe that’s all you need to get through the evening.

But as you glance at Satoru across the table, his eyes catching yours for a brief second, you’re reminded of how fragile this truce feels. Of how much history lies between you, threatening to resurface at any moment.

Koji picks Spiderman, of course. You’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times now, maybe more. You can practically recite the lines perfectly. The movie plays on, the familiar dialogue flowing like background noise to your swirling thoughts. You’ve seen this scene so many times—the hero’s triumphant swing through the city, the bad guy’s dramatic monologue, the moments of comic relief Koji always laughs at—but tonight, it feels different. There’s an added layer of tension sitting heavy between you and Satoru.

The living room feels unusually cozy, the dimmed lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Koji wiggles in his spot, clutching a Spiderman plush as he stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, thoroughly engrossed. You, on the other hand, are trying not to let your exhaustion bubble over. Koji sits between you two, Satoru’s arm over his little shoulders. Satoru’s arm rests casually behind Koji, but every so often, as he adjusts his position, his fingers graze your shoulder—a light, fleeting touch that feels far too deliberate to be accidental. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems entirely focused on the movie, his face relaxed, a small smirk tugging at his lips during one of Koji’s excited reactions. So, you ignore it. But you do shift slightly, creating just enough distance to break the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Koji laughs out loud at a particularly funny scene, leaning against Satoru’s side. “That’s so cool, Papa! I wanna do that someday!”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a Spiderman costume, and you can be the hero of the city.”

Koji beams at him, his excitement is contagious. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to appreciate this dynamic, the way Satoru fits so naturally into Koji’s world. You hate to admit it, but this is what Koji’s been missing—what you’ve been missing, too, in some small, buried way. Satoru’s hand once again brushes your shoulder during his next adjustment, that buried part of you is quickly overshadowed by the reminder of why this dynamic fell apart in the first place.

Luckily, Koji is already showered and dressed for bed in his matching red set. So as the movie progresses, nearing its end, so does his sleepiness. You along with him. Koji’s head begins to droop as the credits start to roll, his little body leaning further into Satoru’s side. His eyelids flutter with each blink, his earlier excitement now replaced by the slow pull of sleep. Satoru’s about to make a remark, before looking over at you and seeing your body slumped over on the other side. 

The scene feels peaceful in a way he hadn’t anticipated—a rare moment of quiet amidst the chaos that’s been your guys’ lives lately. Koji’s soft breathing grows steadier, his small body completely leaning into Satoru’s side now, one hand clutching his Spiderman plush while the other hangs limply at his side. Satoru glances down at his son with a faint smile, brushing Koji’s hair out of his face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He looks over to you next, ready your head resting on your hand. Your expression is soft, lips parted slightly as you drift into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring. Satoru looks at the clock; 9:00pm.

For a moment, he just watches you both. Koji, who looks so much like him it’s almost uncanny, and you, the woman who’s somehow always managed to throw him off balance without even trying. He sighs softly, shaking his head at the scene before him. For a split second, he feels a shadow—a ghost from the past appears beside Koji. A baby girl who would’ve been seven by now.The baby girl who never got the chance to grow up. In that fleeting, haunting moment, he imagines her sitting there too, nestled beside her brother, giggling at Spiderman’s antics. He can imagine her features. She would’ve looked so much like you, it’s painful.

His chest tightens, and he has to look away, focusing on a random corner of the room as he fights to steady his breathing. It’s not fair—to her, to Koji, or to you. And yet, here he is, caught in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens, unable to let go of a past that feels like it happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday. The glimpse is gone as soon as it comes, to which he’s thankful for because he is not crying right now. With a small grunt, he stands up and carefully moves Koji into his arms. Adjusting the boy and making sure he’s not waking up, he walks him over to the spare bedroom.

Satoru moves quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor as he cradles Koji in his arms. The boy’s head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his small body relaxed and completely unaware of the careful handling. The weight of his son in his arms, the warmth of Koji’s tiny form, is a stark reminder of everything he’s been missing. He pushes the door to the spare bedroom open gently, trying not to disturb the silence of the house. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a calm glow across the room. Satoru places Koji carefully on the bed, tucking him in with the same gentle movements he’s always used. He watches for a moment as the boy shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

For a second, Satoru just stands there, hands lingering at Koji’s side as if unsure of when to leave. It’s as if the past week—no, the past years—are catching up to him in this very moment. He never thought he'd be here, standing in a room like this, watching his son sleep under a roof that used to feel so distant. His chest tightens, but he refuses to let himself feel the weight of it. Not yet. Not with Koji so close. With one last look, he slowly pulls away, stepping back into the hallway and quietly closing the door behind him. The house feels colder as he moves through it, but this time, it’s not because of the empty spaces or the lingering tension. It’s because, for the first time in years, he’s truly trying to figure out where he fits in all of this.

And it’s a lot harder than he ever expected.

He walks back to the living room, your body now completely lying on your side. His lips purse as he stands before you, unsure if he should wake you or move you himself. Would that be okay? Is he crossing some boundary of yours if he touches you fully and intentionally?

Satoru stands there for a moment, studying you as you sleep. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your body curls slightly into the pillow, creates a sense of peace in the room, but also a sense of tension in him. The pull to reach out, to make sure you’re comfortable, is strong. But he hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts about boundaries, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, especially when everything already feels so fragile between the two of you. He watches for a few more seconds, the quiet of the room making everything feel so... still. He doesn’t know how he got here, standing in the middle of the room, feeling so torn. Part of him wants to just go ahead and make sure you’re properly tucked in, like he did with Koji. But that other part of him continues to wonderf if that’s overstepping, if his presence, even now, feels intrusive. Satoru exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he decides to attempt to recreate his actions for Koji; it’s the least he can do.

He bends his knees slightly, hands reaching out. But just as his fingertips graze your bare arms, you’re jolting up and awake. Head swiveling around, eyes barely open and bleary. “What’s happening? Where’s Koji?”

Satoru freezes, his fingers hovering in the air as your voice cuts through the stillness. His eyes flick to you, wide and disoriented from the abruptness of your awakening. "Y/N?" He murmurs, his voice low and hesitant, almost as if he's unsure whether you’re fully awake. "Koji’s in the other room, he’s asleep."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your thoughts are jumbled, disoriented from the deep slumber you’d just woken from. “I— I didn’t hear him... when did he go to bed?”

Satoru, still crouched by your bedside, lets out a soft sigh, his expression softening. "I put him down a few minutes ago. He was out before the movie ended." He pauses for a second, watching you carefully, his hand still lingering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "You were really tired, so I thought I'd handle it."

You blink, the fog in your mind barely beginning to clear. Slowly, you nod, still trying to process everything in the haze of your exhaustion. “Thank you.” The words come out quieter than you expect, but there’s something in your voice that surprises both of you.

Satoru’s gaze lingers for a moment, a mix of concern and relief flashing in his eyes. He stands up, backing away from the bed slowly. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly, hands running through his hair as he takes a step toward the door. “But you should go to bed. You can sleep with Koji or um—in my bed if you want.”

You stare at his figure, the weight of the situation still pressing down on you. There’s so much 

happening, so much you didn’t expect, and yet… for some reason, having him here, like this, almost feels normal. You rub your temples, trying to stave off the headache forming. 

“I’ll sleep out here, of course,” he quickly adds on, realizing the small, but accidental hinting.

You raise an eyebrow at his quick backpedaling, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's been a long time since you shared any sort of space with him—especially under these circumstances. But the way he’s stumbling over his words, trying so hard to make things comfortable, it makes you wonder if maybe he’s not as composed as he likes to act. “Thanks,” you murmur, rubbing your temples again. The migraine's intensity is growing, and it's all you can do to keep your emotions in check. You hadn’t expected this—any of it. Satoru’s presence here, offering you comfort in his own odd way, only complicates everything more. You never asked for this kind of help, but you can't deny the relief it brings. “I’ll sleep with Koji.”

Satoru’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his expression softening as if he’s weighing his words carefully, trying not to overstep. He knows you’re not the type to ask for help. Hell, you hardly ever accept it when it’s offered. But tonight is different. Tonight is full of a thousand unspoken things. The lingering tension, the awkwardness of it all, and the confusing emotions between you two. It’s all too much, too quickly, and yet you feel the pull of something familiar—a bond you haven’t felt in years. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Almost like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of permission or reassurance, something that lets him know you’re okay. His presence, his concern for Koji, it’s all so overwhelming in its own way.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens just having him this close, even if it is just in the same house. “I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. The last thing you want to do is drag him back into your life fully. But he’s already here, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you're too tired to argue. "You don’t have to stay out here." The words hang in the air for a beat.

You take this moment to rise from the couch, wiping your eyes once more. “Where is he?”

“Spare room,” he points.

You nod, more to yourself than to him, and retreat to the spare room. The migraine pounds in the background of your mind. Mind still riddled with sleep, you accidentally bump your shoulder into the wall, footsteps faltering. He moves faster than you anticipated—expected, his hands finally making contact with your upper arms; stablizing you. His touch itself feels reminiscent.

His grip on your arms is steady, firm—just like it used to be. You catch your breath for a moment, not expecting the familiarity of his touch to feel so grounding. For a split second, you’re taken back to moments from the past, the memories of simpler days when his touch brought comfort instead of tension. You want to pull away, to remind yourself that things aren’t the same anymore. But you’re too tired, too worn out, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into the stability he’s offering without question.

"Careful," Satoru’s voice is quiet, but there's a soft edge to it, like he’s genuinely concerned. His hands stay on your arms, not pulling away immediately, as if waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re okay.

You blink, the haze of sleep making everything feel just a little more surreal. "I’m fine," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, but it lacks conviction. Your body feels heavier than it should, and your mind seems to be swimming in fog.

He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, his fingers give a slight squeeze, a small, unspoken reassurance. "You sure? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"I’m just... tired," you say, the words slipping from your lips before you even realize. You wince internally, but it’s too late to take them back now. There’s no point.

Satoru nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway, but the way his eyes linger on you makes something in your chest tighten. It’s like he’s still trying to figure you out, still trying to read you after all these years. He always was good at that. Without saying much more, he gently guides you to the door of the spare room, a hand hovering above the small of your back; his touch still light but firm. He’s not pushing you, just there, a quiet presence in the storm. "Get some rest. I’ll be nearby, just in case."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and frustration well up inside you. "Thanks," you murmur, finally able to pull away from his grip and step into the room.

Before you close the door, you glance over at him, standing there in the hallway, his figure outlined by the soft glow from the living room. "Good night," you add, your voice a little softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that you can’t quite place. After a beat, he says quietly, "Good night, Y/N."

And then, with one last look, he walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of the room. The door clicks softly behind you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small sense of peace—fragile, uncertain, but there all the same.

Satoru has taken the liberty of getting Koji dressed and ready for school. Shushing his son with quiet murmurs so you won’t wake up. He’s a little surprised, but you must be that tired. Satoru usually wakes up earlier than most, having went to go check on you two, but getting shocked to see his son using the bathroom instead and saying something about how “Mama’s still sleeping, I have school.”

He’s a smart kid—a very smart kid. He guided Satoru the entire ride, remembering the name of his school and which streets to use. You raised him well. He parks his car in the lot, it stands out like a sore thumb among the civics, corollas, and trucks.

Carrying Koji in his arms towards the boys classroom. “Excited, buddy?”

“Mhm!” 

Satoru smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you.” Koji gratefully responds.

“No need to thank me, Koji. It’s my job.”

Satoru can feel the lingering stares and hushed whispers as he walks down the hallway to his son’s class. Ignoring it like a pro and focusing on one thing and one thing only. As they approach his room, Mr. Ito is standing outside like usual. As soon as the man sees the two, his eyes visibly widen before playing it off with a cough of his throat. “Good morning, Koji. Gojo.”

Satoru remembers the guy as the one from the cafe. That one. He nods in understanding, setting Koji down and crouching with him. “Have a fun day, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Papa.” Koji kisses his cheek and rushes inside happily. 

 "Morning," Satoru replies coolly, standing tall as he watches Koji run off to join his classmates. "I trust Koji’s been good?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ito replies quickly, his smile tight, the words coming out a little too fast. "He’s been a delight to have here. Very bright."

Satoru nods, but his eyes never leave Mr. Ito’s. "Glad to hear it."

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between them, but Satoru isn’t in the mood for small talk. He could read the teacher’s discomfort, and he’s not about to play into it. After all, it’s not like they’re friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Ito shifts on his feet, and Satoru can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, something that will smooth over whatever awkwardness hangs in the air. “So, where’s Ms. Y/N today?”

Satoru’s brows tick, arms crossing. “At home.”

Mr. Ito nods, clearly trying to gauge whether there’s more to the story, but Satoru doesn’t give him any openings. He’s not in the mood to entertain questions about you, not now, not here, especially not from someone like him. "Ah, I see," Mr. Ito mumbles, his voice trailing off as he shuffles his feet again. "I just thought... well, with everything that’s been going on, I expected to see her here, too."

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though his expression remains calm, just a hint of warning in his tone. "She’s handling things on her own. We’re both doing fine. You don’t need to worry about it. You have a class full of children to teach."

The other man hides his displeasure behind a stiff nod. “Right, right. Just wondering, that’s all.”

“Don’t have to, she already has a man for that.”

Satoru wonders why he’s being do damn weird right now. Possesive almost. You two aren’t together, but the way this guy is asking about you, it’s slightly setting him off. Who does he think he is worrying about you?

Mr. Ito falters, his smile fading as Satoru’s words hang heavy in the air. "Right, of course," he mumbles, clearly taken aback. He shifts on his feet, his eyes darting to the ground before locking back onto Satoru. "Just asking, I mean… it's just a lot going on, you know?"

Satoru’s gaze hardens, the protective instinct that rises within him catching him off guard. He takes a slight step closer to Mr. Ito, his tone deliberately neutral but carrying an edge. "You don’t need to worry about her. She’s got it covered."

There’s a flicker of something in Mr. Ito’s eyes—something that hints he’s about to say something else, but he swallows it down, nodding stiffly instead. "Yeah, of course." He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I’ll… I’ll get back to the class."

Satoru stands still for a moment, his posture rigid, a sharp edge in his expression as he watches Mr. Ito retreat. He doesn't know why it bothered him so much. The guy wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. But the way he was asking about you—like he had any right to—made something inside Satoru twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man didn’t belong in your world, that he had no place prying into your life.

Satoru finally exhales, shaking his head. Whatever. It was just a teacher.

With one last glance at the classroom door, he turns and heads back to the school doors. There's no reason to overthink this. It’s just… odd. He can’t let it get to him.

You wake up that day to a lone bed. Groaning to yourself as the sunbeams spray across your face and momentarily blind you. Hand reaching out for the space next to you. Instead, you see a note saying: dropped koji off, i’ll be back around noon to grab some lunch. sleep up

Instantly, your eyes widen, springing up out of bed. Reaching for your phone, the time reads 11:30pm. “Shit!” you curse to yourself, rushing out the door and to your bag still on the chair from last night. You dig in for your work clothes, changing right there and then and praying to the gods that Satoru doesn’t walk through this door. Brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, putting some moustirzer and sunscreen on, all of it takes way too long. By the time you’re done and messily putting your shoes on, it’s twelve. Four hours after you were supposed to be at work. Hana’s going to kill me.

Grabbing your bag with rough and rushed movements, you’re sprinting to the door at this point. Out of breath and already conjuring up a sorry apology for Hana. you reach the doorhandle, flinging it open. But as soon as you do, you come to an abrupt stop.

Because standing before you is a woman, a woman you’ve seen before on Satoru’s lock screen. The same woman who kissed the lips that you used to. Arms crossed and a nasty scowl forming on her face as she eyes you up and down in a criticizing way. 

Finally, she scoffs out. 

“Do you know who I am?”

a/n: they so cute

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[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

love languages ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

pjo boys x reader (ft. percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, nico di angelo, will solace, ethan nakamura) backtrack: "hype boy", newjeans inspiration: I love thinking about love languages (little disclaimer that these are all obviously just my opinion)

percy jackson

giving: acts of service

how many times has this guy risked his life to save the world? percy jackson is a true hero, always putting himself in harm’s way to protect those around him, such as when he chose the prophecy to protect nico. he always takes risks to protect his loved ones, and he constantly puts others’ needs above his own.

receiving: quality time

I guess I based this off of percy spending a bunch of time with rachel before last olympian. but demigods are in constant danger, and percy would cherish every moment he spends with his partner because, unfortunately, you never know when it could be the last. I also thought about acts of service, since he was really grateful when annabeth and grover wanted to go with him on that quest in lightning thief.

jason grace

giving: acts of service

jason’s a giver. he literally joined the fifth cohort to bring back their glory. he sacrificed himself for piper (rest in peace jason, you deserved better) and his whole life has been about serving camp jupiter and later, camp half-blood too.

receiving: physical touch

this might be kind of controversial. I just think jason’s been in such a strict, intense environment since he was a toddler that he’s definitely touch-starved. he probably melts at any physical contact with his partner. I also thought about words of affirmation because he’s always been held to such high expectations, he’d really need someone just telling him they love him.

leo valdez

giving: gift giving

lowkey I put gift giving because too many people were getting acts of service. but genuinely I think leo would love making little trinkets and machines and giving them to his partner. he’s not great at being vulnerable with words or touch, so he shows his love through little actions. similarly, acts of service is also definitely a love language of his; think of everything he did to help calypso after all, even though I hate that ship.

receiving: words of affirmation

this is probably the one I’m most certain about. let’s be honest, leo’s been through so much shit, he’s been called so much shit, that he just needs someone to appreciate and love him and tell him that. plus, he’s so used to rejection that one “I love you” will send him into a spiral for days on end.

frank zhang

giving: physical touch

not entirely sure about this one, I need to reread heroes of olympus. but I bet frank would give the best hugs. you’d feel so safe and warm wrapped up in frank’s arms, and I feel like he’d be the most likely to be physically affectionate with others out of pretty much all the riordanverse characters.

receiving: words of affirmation

the second one I’m most certain about. frank is quite sensitive and definitely needs praise. not needs as in he’s an attention seeker, but needs as in he blushes bright red and smiles super wide when someone praises him. it just makes him feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

luke castellan

giving: acts of service

luke is like the embodiment of the statement “a hero would sacrifice you for the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world for you”. he did everything that he did in order to build a better world; I genuinely believe he thought what he was doing was right for the greater good. and he brought back the titan lord and fought a war for a cause he believed in--what lengths would he go to to protect his partner?

receiving: words of affirmation

luke’s never received any sort of praise or recognition; it’s part of why he resented the gods so much in the first place. if he could have someone with him just to pick him up when he’s down, to encourage him and shower him with praise and love, he’d be so happy. although I like to think he’s a touch-starved baby who’s really clingy with his partner too.

nico di angelo

giving: quality time

nico’s not a talker, he’d much rather listen or sit in silence with his partner. spending a lot of time with his partner would let nico feel closer to them. there’s a special sort of connection and understanding that comes from shared experiences. acts of service was also another contender. nico would do everything for those he loves. take bianca, for example, and how hard nico tried to bring her back in battle of the labyrinth.

receiving: physical touch

another touch-starved one. he was taken out of time for seventy years, came back and lost his sister in like five days, went through two wars, had to deal with coming to terms with his sexuality; the poor guy has been through tartarus and back (literally). poor nico. someone give him a hug. I also thought about words of affirmation, since nico constantly struggles with being isolated and would probably really benefit from some reassurance and support.

will solace

giving: acts of service

I mean, he’s literally a healer. he does everything for others. enough said, really. he puts others’ wellbeing first, and in the process sometimes overlooks himself and his own needs. which leads to. . .

receiving: acts of service

will is so used to people taking care of him that he never asks for help when he needs it. the little things, like helping him out when he’s tired, is the way to his heart. no one’s ever really looked out for him since he arrived at camp half-blood, and he had to take over the apollo cabin when he was barely a teenager. it’d be nice for him to have someone take care of him for a change.

ethan nakamura

giving: acts of service

I don’t know why so many characters have acts of service as a giving love language. maybe it’s because they’re heroes and fight and do stuff for their respective causes, so naturally they give off a giving or take-action vibe? but anyway, ethan fought and gave his life in order to gain his mother--and himself, honestly--more recognition. he takes action for those he cares about and always wants to defend his beliefs and help his friends, even though his ways may be a little questionable.

receiving: words of affirmation

really similar to luke. ethan’s always been undervalued and overlooked. he just needs validation and support. encouragement and praise would help him finally feel acknowledged, accepted, and valued.

I wanted to post this on valentine's day but I got too excited

divider by @cafekitsune

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!

[rosiesmuts]

Muse

Le Serrafim Kazuha

4,000 Words

A/N: KazuhaSmuts?

Kazuha Nakamura. Fuck. The gorgeous idol your new muse, her beauty transcending what the camera can capture, able to take your breath away with those curves and bright smile. A consummate professional, striking poses without needing direction, a sense for it without experience, the pictures coming out flawless.

Even in basic jeans and a t-shirt, Kazuha exudes a beauty, a hotness that has nothing to do with being an idol. Her confidence is stunning and her sensuality is electrifying—not something manufactured for a photoshoot but inherent and undeniable. You're standing next to a goddess. Absolutely gorgeous face, captivating eyes, voluptuous curves, and a charm she's too comfortable with. There's no effort there, no faux coyness or intentional sultry look. Just the radiance of a stunning idol who seems almost oblivious to what she inspires, but you can tell from the heat in Kazuha's gaze and her naughty grin, a mischievous desire swirling around in her that she'll never speak out loud—she has you enthralled.

So fuck.

Fuck these lustful thoughts clouding your head and this heat building in your chest. This is supposed to be a job, but when Kazuha reaches for the hem of her shirt and the lines of muscles accentuating her abs as her t-shirt peels up, that desire inside you is more than unprofessional.

Focus.

Fuck.

This is part of the shoot, supposed to show off the 'Calvin Klein' on her sports bra, but the flexing of her body and the little curl on her smiling lips leaves the underwear an afterthought. You should've been used to this, there's been legitimate supermodels in even less clothing in these photoshoots. But there's something about Kazuha, her innocent smiles and demure laughter, this aura of untouchable and almost fragile femininity about her.

And she's fucking teasing you, those faint lip curls, the flash of teeth from her smirk. She knows her effect, she enjoys your lingering eyes and hungry looks. An arm folded up above her head, leaning against the wall as her other hand grips a rolled up shirt, an underwear ad waiting to happen. Everything about Kazuha screams confidence and sensuality, even her long toes, wiggling a bit for some reason as her smirk broadens, the look in her eyes daring you, almost like she's trying to say something she cannot voice.

Kazuha tilts her head, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it, biting into it. Seducing with the barest hints, challenging and inciting with the slightest of moves. It feels almost too intimate and that makes it all the more intoxicating, making the breath hitch in your throat and your heart race in anticipation.

"Cut!"

You have to shout out, the sexual tension overbearing and suffocating. "Let's take an hour for lunch everyone. Good work today, we got a lot of good shots." Your voice is steady, hiding your tumultuous feelings as best as possible. Kazuha beams at the praise and your façade of control crumbles as she teases and tempts you even further, giving a flirtatious wink before slipping into her dressing room.

It's a bit of a walk for you to get to your office, but it gives you space to think about what's gotten into you. This is just a photoshoot, you've dealt with plenty of sexy and beautiful models in much more scandalous poses. Kazuha was in plain clothes! There shouldn't have been anything erotic there. And yet the way the fabric hugged her body, her eyes watching your every move, and that flirty edge to her smile, it was impossible to ignore. Even now your mind's lingering on the last image of Kazuha, staring you down.

One hour to gather yourself. That's what you need—to take your mind off of those...impurities. Kazuha, even her name in your head makes your heart quicken and breath shorten. Just get a hold of yourself. No one can read your mind, and as long as you don't go acting out any of those lurid desires then this'll all just blow over...

"Hey."

You didn't even hear your door open, Kazuha's sweet voice catching you off-guard. Your eyes snap towards her, the entire reason for your break now standing in the office, Kazuha's free hand runs through her hair, this act of playing shy a fascinating dichotomy with the sultry woman you just worked with this morning.

All that build-up and time spent thinking about her left you absolutely stunned by Kazuha's entrance. For the second time she managed to catch your heart in your mouth, freezing your tongue and leaving you speechless.

"Can we go over those pictures that you took? I'd like to see them if that's okay?"

Her request is innocent enough, but you can't help but notice she locks the door behind her. A simple, innocent click of the lock, but the implication was very clear.

Kazuha leans in a bit too closely, a subtle grin as she clicks through the pictures and you're not quite sure if this was real or all your dirty imagination playing tricks on you. Did she really just touch your wrist and give it a squeeze or was she just checking the time and brushed by you accidentally?

Kazuha sits in silence, taking a cursory look at every frame before getting to the next. The silence is more than suffocating. You can barely hear anything outside the pounding in your ears. She stops the slideshow on the most salacious photo: Kazuha lifting her top, the slightest hint of her sports bra, her perfect abs captured so wonderfully on film.

"This one is good! Don't you agree?" Kazuha asks, tilting her head at you and pulling her lip in between her teeth, letting her eyes drag languidly down your figure, devouring you in the most erotic manner with just her gaze alone.

"...yeah..." is all you manage to stammer out, voice stuck in your throat and thoughts wandering in places they really shouldn't.

"Don't think I didn't catch you staring..."

Kazuha steps back, reenacting the shot that got you so worked up—her fingers reach the hem of her shirt, inching the garment up, more and more of her perfect abdomen getting revealed, tight lines that curve and ripple in a tantalizing dance, begging for someone to run their tongue across the slopes and dips of her stomach.

Fuck.

This was supposed to be an hour to gather your thoughts and recompose yourself, not go further into disarray with Kazuha standing in front of you. You lick your lips, a futile attempt to bring some moisture back into a dry mouth as your hands instinctively go into your pockets to prevent anything from going out of place.

This time it's different, Kazuha takes her shirt completely off, the gray Calvin Klein sports bra fully visible, hiding her tiny tits from view. It's a feast for the eyes—the flexing of her abs, the dip of her waist, that sensual confidence in every twitch and curl of her muscles.

"Whoops." Kazuha playfully teases, acting like the removal of the t-shirt is accidental, a casual display of carelessness. Her bottom lip between her teeth, holding it hostage and pressing it between her pearl white teeth. That stare, dark brown and chocolate eyes swallowing you whole and consuming you.

It becomes clear as day, the flirting and lustful looks were no joke, an honest come-on from this hotter-than-hot idol. And you could lose everything right here and right now, the implications and consequences could be catastrophic, but when her hand lands on yours, giving you a gentle caress, it's hard not to succumb.

"It's impolite to stare, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha coos. Your hands find her sides, fingertips digging in, unable to hold back anymore. Years of ballet, and now dancing to her own music and choreography, there is nothing less than admirable in her sculpted body, each muscle firm but toned.

The pads of your thumbs feel the ridges, tracing the defined lines, slowly climbing higher and higher.

"Such a naughty man."

Kazuha gives her own belly a featherlight caress, your hands slip underneath the elastic of her bra. Hot flesh greets your palms and her tiny tits are barely enough for a squeeze, so smooth and soft and absolutely perfect. Her nipples harden immediately, small and sensitive, crying out for attention, pinched by your fingers.

This is beyond unprofessional, absolutely irresponsible, a blight on everything a photographer should be—to have their hands under their model's clothes and get so engrossed with someone they've only known for a day. But, fuck. You could always find another job. Just touching and playing with Kazuha though—a chance of this sort of happiness would be gone forever.

The choice becomes clear the moment Kazuha kisses you, hungrily swallowing any excuses and closing any chance of leaving. The way she claims you is exhilarating, overwhelmingly powerful in that seductive passion as she claims ownership with her tongue, overtaking every bit of hesitation and apprehension in your soul and planting a seed of raw, unfiltered lust in the empty void.

Your excitement is evident, something hard is pressed against her thigh.

"Is it just a big camera down there, Mr. Photographer?" A tsk-tsk leaves Kazuha's lips, those dirty, dirty, beautiful lips, and that haughty smile plastered on her face while her fingers nimbly undo your pants. "Naughty, naughty Mr. Photographer!" Kazuha hums the words into your ear, tickling you, making your skin shiver in delight and electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

Her lips are on your neck, her hand is wrapped around your cock. It's all too much—this sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, sensual woman, taking everything with the same enthusiasm and conviction that she'd do in a song and a dance.

Each kiss on your body feels like the brush of the lips of an angel, her hands roaming your body, a subtle hint of her sharp, immaculate nails, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin.

She leaves you panting, a broken record of sighs and low moans until she releases your erection.

"Take off my pants for me Mr. Photographer."

Her words are quiet, her tone more husky than anything else, a hint of arrogance and self-indulgence. A direct command with no room for disobedience. Her back is against the wall, her hips jutted out for easy access— the baggy jeans easily fall off her legs, revealing her toned dancer's physique. Her thick thighs flexing in anticipation, the matching Calvin Klein panties the only obstacle standing in between you and heaven.

Her sexiness is something else, the shapely, sinful outline of her ass, the swell of her curves—that v-line is a mouthwatering treat, teasing with the prospect of a delight waiting to be explored. Everything on Kazuha is toned and breathtaking.

There is no thought, no plan. Pure primal instinct urges you forward, kneeling to run your tongue along that delicious path leading straight down to heaven and bliss and everything you could possibly desire. Your lips press against her stomach, her coy smile grows as you kneel before her, fingers in her elastic waistband, pulling and dragging it down.

Inch by inch, her lower half comes into view and you can't contain yourself any longer.

"Fuck..." the curse slips from you, involuntarily and inevitable, and the sight in front of you is breathtaking: her pussy is absolutely perfect, full and engorged, aching for touch, drooling in obvious desire.

Teasing kisses are planted on the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer. She gives a slight groan. That sweet taste of victory. Lips upon lips. Tongue against slit. Kazuha is an impatient one, her hands cradling your head, locking you into position, the silky lips rubbing against yours. The roughness with which her hips move excites you, how desperately she pushes her crotch against your mouth. She's not shy at all, each and every movement bold and intentional, greedy and ravenous, entirely unlike her demure, innocent persona.

It's hard not to enjoy this, enjoying her unbridled desire—getting suffocated by her muscular thighs squeezing the sides of your face, her cunt grinding against you, leaving her delicious nectar all over your lips and chin. The more she pushes, the more she suffocates, the more excited and aroused you become, fingers sinking into the flesh of her thighs. It is as if your life depended on tasting her juices, that tart ambrosia from this sultry dancer and songstress, an aphrodisiac you'll never tire of.

Kazuha puts a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle those wanton sounds but failing to completely hide those telltale grunts and moans—her toes curling just another sign. The closer she gets, the tighter her thighs squeeze and... Fuck. If you're gonna die, this is probably the best way to go.

Kazuha shudders in ecstasy, a full body spasm while a cry of pleasure slips free from those luscious pink lips. It's too tempting not to explore her with your fingers as well, the little nub throbbing and aching for stimulation, eagerly twitching whenever your fingers circle it. There is a wild and untamed ferocity to the way Kazuha's legs instinctively curl and flex, writhing in unhindered bliss.

She leans back, pushing more weight into her back, holding herself up on shaking legs and heavy breaths. A sense of victory floods you. She was putty in your hands, her beautiful legs shaking and knees wobbling. Your pride swelled—to have the otherwise impeccably poised songstress a shivering mess.

"That... Was..." Kazuha struggles to talk, the red on her cheeks running down her chest and spreading down her heaving abs. "...Fucking amazing," she pants, her adorable smile permanently fixed on her beautiful face, lips parted just slightly.

Fuck.

Absolutely beautiful.

Her appearance is entrancing. Those warm, dark brown eyes with a sly, playful expression. Plush pink lips pulled into a sultry smirk, teasing, as her hair cascades behind her shoulders. Kazuha pulls you back up, staring you directly in the eye, full of sensual promise.

"I think you deserve a reward, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha says between languid strokes of your cock. Those talented fingers tease you, squeezing and pumping with precision, hitting every one of your buttons, a cocky, knowing glint in her eyes. You're not one to stand idly by, reaching for her sides, massaging her hips and brushing along her waist.

This is not a slow and drawn-out affair. Every touch between the two of you is desperate and fiery, full of passion and an intense need to feel more and more—needing to satisfy your hunger. Her arms reach above her head and you finally toss away that pesky sports bra. Perky nipples beg to be teased and kissed.

You give her pecs a light lick before blowing cool air onto her sensitive, pointed peak. She mewls in response. Each tug on her nipple accompanied by a sultry cry from Kazuha. She's trapped, sandwiched between the wall behind her and your body, held hostage by pleasure. But one simple phrase and she takes back all control.

"Fuck me."

Two simple words. The most beautiful ones. Commanding and fierce. Kazuha doesn't beg. Kazuha doesn't ask. There's no softness in her tone, she knows what she wants and there will be no deterring her. The tip of your hard, aching cock slides across Kazuha's slick folds, smearing her juices, gliding up and down as your shaft teases her clit.

It takes all your willpower to hold back, you want this to last forever. A huge part of you doesn't believe this is actually happening and that this is all just a fever dream. But when your tip first enters her wet, hot heat, nothing feels more real and certain. There's tight, and there's this—Kazuha a woman who spends hours working out her core and performing exhaustive dance routines every single day. There's nothing tighter or better than this goddess's cunt.

Every single movement is an explosion of sensations: her inner muscles flexing and squeezing, gripping, the sensual gyrations of her hips, the shallow thrusting—this is pure perfection. Your head spins, drunk from the desire, the high of fucking this diva, being enticed by every subtle thing about Kazuha and all of it's pure insanity, almost terrifying and too unreal. You lean in, pressing against her body and giving yourself up to her.

It's a paradise that no mortal should ever be worthy of entering. That is what her cunt feels like: Heaven's gates. Something out of this world. It's like all the blood is leaving your head. That carnal desire that's been built up is now set loose in this debauchery, your primal urges taking over.

Fuck the consequences.

Nothing matters right now but this.

Each thrust into Kazuha elicits a cute, soft moan, her tongue hanging loosely from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut in bliss. Her nails dig into your back, the painful searing feeling mixes perfectly with the sweet pleasure coursing through your body. There's no gentleness or love, nothing other than lust and passion. Flesh against flesh.

Kazuha pushes you back, a naughty expression painted all over her face, pupils wide and tongue licking her lips.

"Wanna see a trick?"

There's no time to respond, her leg lifted into the air, showing off her flexibility and resting on your shoulder. This angle is unreal. You have no idea how she manages to keep her balance, especially when it allows you to slide even deeper into her cunt. The change is striking and her hands clasp over her mouth, failing to stifle a long, loud moan.

It's as impressive as it is erotic, using her ballet skills as a sexual advantage. Each pump in is pure pleasure, so hot and wet, you're drowning in her. Her walls clench and squeeze around your cock, as if she can't bear to let it leave, unwilling to relinquish your presence from her cunt.

"You're making me-" her words are cut off, Kazuha biting down hard on your shoulder in her attempt to stop the cry of passion. A hand wraps around her ankle, gripping her leg, hoisting her a little higher for even deeper thrusts. Her thighs and legs flex, locking you into place, keeping you there as she throws her head back in pleasure.

Kazuha bursts. For the second time. Shivering. Gasping. Pulsating. As if her pussy can't decide what's the best way to please the cock inside of her, an infuriating tightness and gyration around you.

Her leg leaves your shoulder, her whole body leaning against you as Kazuha's tired, labored breathing fans the back of your ear.

"That was quite the trick." Kazuha giggles at your lame attempt at a joke, pressing her finger against your lips.

"Did I say I was finished?"

Of all the things you should have expected after all the salacious behavior she exhibited during her first two orgasms, you really don't know why you should have expected anything less than what she did next: wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

Her forehead leans against yours, your tandem breaths sync up, and the calmness lasts for maybe a second before Kazuha presses a small peck against your mouth. She grinds down and starts working against your lap, her pussy bobbing up and down the hardness of your cock. You're carrying her weight now, Kazuha lifting herself up, then letting gravity guide her hips downwards to fully seat your dick.

Your fingers sink into her tight ass. She rides you, no break, not pausing once in her movements, sheathing herself repeatedly onto your girth. She's fucking you—every pent up frustration in living an idol's life is now being released into that. It dawns on you that in no moment were you ever in control, Kazuha stole every bit of agency from you.

Even so, your hips are locked in place.

Even as the room smells of sex and you're completely ensnared in a tangle of limbs. The loud clapping of flesh on flesh ringing in your ears—every bit of this situation is screaming irresponsibility and wrong. To fuck an idol whose star is on the rise would spell an end for a promising career. And yet Kazuha never fails to get her way, it's undeniably clear the moment that devious smile spreads across her face and the heated sparkles light up in her eyes, this vixen is determined to have what she wants.

Everything is burning up—your loins are on fire, Kazuha's steamy hot insides are the match.

"How do I feel, Mr. Photographer?" The sweetest, honeyed voice but with the devil's timbre. Kazuha fucks the words out of you, and your mouth feels so dry—you can't find the will or ability to speak as Kazuha smiles triumphantly.

Your life flashes before your very eyes. The decisions, the events—everything leading up until this very moment where you found yourself impossibly entangled in a gorgeous superstar, unable to get free from this spell. Everything culminates. From the time you were told you'd be working with her. From her flirty looks during the shoot.

Your hour of recess turned into this wild, irresponsible, crazy scenario. A lustful mess, as evidenced by the slick sheen that's collected around Kazuha's tight hole, glistening in the pale light. The tiniest twitches of her face, the furrowing of her brow—she's getting close again.

A handful of violent bounces is all she needed. With a stilted, violent scream and her pussy choking and gushing all over your thick rod. Everything's too hot and your toes begin curling and you can't stop fucking her, holding her perfect round ass, you start thrusting upwards—into her oversensitive cunt.

Kazuha squeals and it's too late to stop now, the sound of her pitiful cries as her body jerks and trembles and shakes—you're cumming together, perfectly synced in this debauchery. Her cunt squeezes the orgasm out of you. All over her walls. Flooding her insides, the warmth spilling out and dripping down and marking the both of you in the naughtiness of this exchange.

She collapses in your embrace, slumping against your chest and struggling to hold herself up. Both her feet rest on the ground, and the exhaustion is evident on her face—heaving breathlessly with a bright, brilliant smile as her knees threaten to give out beneath her.

Kazuha doesn't say anything, not a word, but she's glowing—unable to wipe that gorgeous grin off her face. There's no sign of regret either, or any hint of shame or guilt. No trace of anything but unbridled happiness and pure, raw satisfaction. A mischievous, perverse happiness that a woman in her profession shouldn't exude, not with the career waiting ahead of her.

A knock on the door. Shit. It's already been an hour?! There's a short pause, and she's pressing her finger to her lips, giggling quietly while giving a cheeky wink and getting herself dressed.

"I'll be right out." You yell at the door, sounding a bit winded as the thoughts come to you. It's easy to zip up, put away, and readjust yourself but there is absolutely no way you can cover up the smell, an obvious pungent musk that'd have anyone wrinkling their nose, the smell of hot, sweaty sex.

Kazuha winks at you and struts towards the door. A deep inhale, and the moment the door opens a whoosh of cool air clears out the fog from the past hour's festivities. "Make me look good out there Mr. Photographer," and in the span of an eye-blink, the façade she's made her identity, Kazuha's the innocent, sweet idol once again, her perverted desires and lustful yearning hidden under a veil of composure and modesty...

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LIVE CRASHER kazuha nakamura x reader

warnings ↳ yn and kazuha from shameless, fluff, idol!reader, yn is apart of lesserafim

yn delicately adjusted the frames of her glasses, their sleek contours framing her features as she leaned back against the chair. she was finally doing a live after being begged by fans to do one for weeks.

with a gentle laugh, she scanned through the flood of comments. among them, playful proposals danced across the screen, drawing a mischievous grin to her lips. she couldn't help but tease, her voice laced with playful sarcasm as she quipped, "marry all of you at once? who do you take me for?"

she took off the baseball cap off her head revealing her messy hair which made fans swoon for some odd reason over how attractive she looked. she flipped it backwards and put it back in her head, yn opens her mouth to say something to the chat but is cut off when the door behind her opens.

as yn felt the delicate touch of hands on her shoulders, a familiar warmth enveloped her. without needing to glance back, she sensed the presence of kazuha, a grin spread effortlessly across her face.

with a playful twinkle in her eye, yn turned her attention to the camera, addressing her live audience with a hint of mischief. "Is an obsessed fan lurking behind me?" she teased as kazuha playfully feigned offense.

as kazuha attempted to pinch her in mock retaliation, yn’s laughter bubbled as she moved away from the girls touch.

“what are doing here?” yn asks looking up at the girl who stood above her chair, the silence that followed her question stretched, resulting in a raise of yn’s brow. It was clear to her that kazuha didn't have a solid reason for her sudden appearance.

a knowing smile tugged at the corners of yn’s lips as kazuha finally spoke, her voice trailing off slightly, betraying her true intentions. "just decided to stop by and say hi…"the main reason she actually came is because she was starting to miss her girlfriend, who was busy being a big goof on live.

“okay…” yn responded before motioning to one of the chairs, “come sit.” kazuha complies and grabs the chair and moves it closer to yn’s and sits on it, yn immediately brings an arm to rest on the back of the girls chair out of habit.

kazuha kept her gaze on yn who interacted with the live way more than her, it was like a second nature to the extroverted girl, that’s something she could always both admire and hate yn for, she loves that the girl is so good at entertaining the fans and keeping a good relationship, but sometimes she wishes the girl could hide her charming personality and save it just for her, she laughed quietly as yn started to argue with fans.

yn adjusted the silver chain in her neck as she read the comment, “unnie, is that chain real silver? HUH?!” yn yells offended, “what kind of question is that?!” she adds dramatically.

kazuha laughs even harder, grabbing yn’s attention, "what are you laughing at?" yn’s voice held a playful edge as she leaned her face towards kazuha, holding eye contact with the girl.

kazuha's laughter subsided, but a mischievous twinkle remained in her eyes as she met yn’s gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coyly, her tone laced with a hint of playful evasion, leaning her face closer to yn’s as well, the moment hung between them, charged with unspoken words.

the moment lasts for at least 10 seconds before the both look away from each other like it was nothing, while the comment section goes insane.

the lives goes on for a while and now yn is talking to the fans about food, “you know I haven’t eaten all day.” kazuha adds, yn’s attention snapped towards Kazuha as soon as the words left her lips,"you haven't eaten all day?"

kazuha stretches and shakes her head , a contented sigh escaping her lips, while yn immediately leans forward and picks up the peach drink she had on the side table and shoves it in kazuha’s face, “drink.”

“I’m not hungry.” the girl whines but yn shakes her head, “that’s why I gave you a drink, now drink it.” she says sternly, shaking the bottle before opening it and forcing it in kazuha’s hand.

“we should probably end the live and get some food.” yn says softly, while kazuha can’t help but smile at how easily the girl lost interest in the live for her, “I’m hungry anyways.”

yn ends the live and lets out a sigh, she turns to look at kazuha who drinks the peach juice, “what?”

“come sit.” kazuha can’t help but giggle, she gets up from her chair and sits on yn’s lap, instantly relaxing when yn wraps her arms around her torso, “you’re so cute.”

“what?”

“you’re so obsessed with me, you had to crash my live.”

“shut up.”

the sound of yn’s stomach grumbling made kazuha turn her head back to look at the girl who shrugged “I was serious when I said I was hungry, let’s order something.”

[neoplatinum]

do not move | nakamura kazuha

summary: when you both each meet other for the first time, you think: strength in numbers, she thinks: deadweight

pairing: kazuha x reader

themes: zombie apocalypse au, blood, death, murder, gore, graphic violence (if you're squeamish, beware!), lone survivor kazuha and lone survivor reader, angst, fluff, [-------] side character

wc: 6.2k

a twig branch snaps, and you immediately duck behind a bush. heavy breathing and exhaustion burning your muscles. just outside of the city, you try and get some cover from the raiders running around the streets; they've been setting everything on fire. even the smell of fire still invading into your nose.

moving down the eerie neighborhood is tough, especially with a limping leg and a heavy backpack. you risked your life for those rations --only to get chased out by those raiders. they chased you like you were prey, and you walked out alive (mostly) with a bullet in the calf and a running trail of blood.

you press your ears into the ground, making yourself as small as possible. praying that it's simply a deer, a hopeless dream. deers have been nearly all hunted. but you hope the burn in your lungs stops soon, and you cling to yourself, willing the pain away long enough that whoever is nearby leaves.

"clear, no sign of life." you hear a low voice shout nearby. the raiders were still looking for you, going as far as to chase you even outside the city. you know what lies ahead if you get caught. so you bite down, shoving your teeth into your bottom teeth, trying to numb the pain of that bullet.

you stay crouched there for another ten minutes before you even decide it's okay to lift your head off the ground, raiders had no morals, their signals could be a trap and you wanted to take the extra precaution.

and then you army crawled away to a fence, thanking the heavens that you ran fast enough to get into the suburbs. the trail of blood is still worrisome. grabbing ripped rags from your bag, you try your best to tie them around the wound just enough to stop the bleeding.

"fuck fuck fuck." you bite into a stick nearby as you wince and tie a final knot. securing your leg. laying yourself up against a wall, and breathing through the pain, wincing every so often until you feel the pain subside to a low numbness.

you haul yourself up to a house, it's oddly pretty, even with it's dilapidated roof and furniture all thrown out the front lawn. you think you would've bought the house before d-day. and with a heavy grunt you drop into a couch. it's been torn apart, but as long as it does it's job you don't care.

the pain is still throbbing and it just looks bad. you cover the windows with fabric lying around and press a wooden board against the door. and with one final breath, you flip your switch blade open and dig straight into your calf, screaming into a spare shirt and digging the bullet from out of your leg. muted screams so hard that you think you might've bursted your own eardrum, and pain so bad that you shake until you drop back onto the couch.

the bullet is out, flung across the floor and blood all over. you feel like passing out, but you spit out your shirt and wrap it around the now open wound, bleeding profusely on the wooden floor. with sweat all over your forehead and pain so severe you feel your body shake until you pass out.

you knock out cold.

--

"up." you wake up to the noise of a woman, her lower face is covered with a bandana and she has a long blade pointed right at your throat. if you moved a centimeter closer, that blade would no doubt pierce your jugular. "i said up!" she shouts at you.

you throw your hands up as you try to get yourself up, it's so painful to even sit up half your body. but you manage to have your back leaning against the couch. she stares at you with sharp eyes, eyes that no longer gleam in the light.

you stay as still as possible, waiting for the woman to do anything really, anything that won't end with you beheaded on this rotting old couch. she stares at you, blade never moving a centimeter. she glances around you, seeing the blood all over the floor, backpack open with supplies all spilled out. the pant leg that you have scrunched over your knee, and most of all the blood soaked shirt tied around your leg.

"bite?" she says, and you can see how in a second, she could decide whether you live or die.

"no. bullet. raiders." she nods and scans around the room, that blade still very much at your throat. she looks back down at your backpack, filled with old dog food.

"split 80/20. i let you live." she demands.

"split 50/50, i give you the better half." you negotiate back.

"i don't think you understand how this works, you give me what I want, i don't slice your neck open." she continues, pointing the tip just enough that it pricks at your skin.

"split 50/50, and i give you medical supplies." you counter. she stops and thinks for a bit.

"you're bold, even with a sword at your neck...fine." she says, and drops her blade, you relax a bit but then she points it right back at you. "show your weapons."

you move to slowly bring out the small revolver and pre-made molotovs tucked in a smaller bag compartment. her blade never leaves your throat. you unload the revolver, two bullets dropping to the ground, before you sit back on the couch, "happy?"

she doesn't comment. you lean forward, letting out a grunt as you pick up the two bullets, reloading it into the revolver, tucking it into your belt.

"ah fuck." you groan as you check on your wound, it's become an ugly purple, brusing all around and sensitive to the touch. you breath heavily and wince at the touch.

"did you sterilize it?" the woman's voice is strong and clear, no sign of hesitation.

"no. passed out." she nods and digs through her own bag, pulling out a molotov. "i'm going to douse it, bite down on something." you nod and grab another shirt from your bag, watching as she pours the liquid over your wound, you scream out like a wounded dog, and nearly fall over.

"needle and stitches?" she asks you. you nod and point into the small compartment of your bag. she pulls out the small sewing kit in your backpack, grabbing old sutures and tying it around the needle.

"bite." she orders. you shove your teeth hard into the shirt, as she begins sewing up the wound, jagged from the switchblade. the pain becomes so unbearable you pass out even sooner.

--

waking up to the sun in your eyes, you find yourself still on that same rotting couch. your body is hot, running like a furnace. you glance around and everythings out on the floor: dried blood, your switchblade, that bullet across the floor and your revolver.

you groan as you sit up, now your leg is sore and heavy, your face is hot and burning up. but the door is ajar, you scan around and half your food is gone, along with the suture kit.

"fuck." the woman's abandoned you. taken what she needed and crept out before you could even say bye. she holds up to her bargain, 8 cans of dog food became 4, and you still have your revolver on you.

"damn her." you start getting your items back in order.

--

the weather's getting colder, and you only have that workman jacket around your shoulder. the wind gets harsher as the days go by, the sight of falling leaves and pine cones littered the ground. you kneel behind a tree, eyes trained on a lone buck.

he stops eating grass to look around, before dropping his neck back down for more grass, and before his next bite, he drops instantly. body falling to the floor with an arrow through his head. a clean and sharp shot.

you drag yourself up, tucking the bow into the side of your backpack, and limping towards your fresh breakfast/lunch/dinner for the next few weeks. smiling at the labor finally paying off, stripping down sticks until they become sharp points to pierce through skin.

as you walk across the meadow to retrieve your prize, you start to hear distant galloping behind you, causing you to duck and turn around; before you know it, you're grabbed by the arm and thrown onto the back of the horse. you immediately grab onto anything you can hold on, that being the waist of the rider.

"woah."

"shut it, we're being chased." the woman kicks the horse into higher gear, and you both speed off into the woods, you turn you back just in time to see a group or horseback riders with lit torches chasing you across the meadow.

you try not to think about the lone buck that should've been yours.

--

you get off the horse and immediately start throwing up on the ground, shaken by the sudden movements and jostling around. the woman pays you no mind though, securing her horse to a branch and staring at you.

"i don't know how you've survived this long." she starts. pulling out carrots to feed her horse, the horse happily munching on his lunch.

you're still puking, but just the insult is getting you riled up. "i survive just fine."

"those raiders would've sacrificed you by now." she says and crosses her arms.

"no, they wouldn't." you counter, and she sighs before untying the horse, and leading it away. you follow behind it. "...but thank you. for saving me. twice."

you try to not let your pride get the better of you, considering this women lent a helping hand in your darkest moments.

she doesn't say anything back and continues walking through the forest. you trail behind her for what must've been thirty minutes before she speaks up.

"it was a trap, that lone buck." she goes on. "no zombies, and a lone buck in an open meadow. you should've known better." she says to you. you're immediately enraged.

"how would i know that?" you are tired of these insults.

"you should have." she just says, and it ends there.

"since you know so much, you should teach me." you say. she laughs at that.

"no, i survive alone." the way she says it is firm.

"listen, everyone could do well with a partner, i could share knowledge that you might not, and you can share the infinite wisdom that you seem to have." you're tired of traveling alone with no one having your back, maybe you can get her to work with you.

"no. i survive alone." she continues.

"oh don't be like that, i gave you four cans of dog food." you try and make a joke, remembering how she left you weeks ago.

"no, i let you keep four cans of dog food and let you live, there's a difference." she counters.

"let's not get into the technicalities, you ever heard of the phrase of strength in numbers?" you smirk, trying to get her to understand reason.

"strength in numbers is foolish if im surviving with deadweight." she says firmly, shaking her head at the idea.

"i am not deadweight! i cook up a mean meal of dog food and peas." you explain.

"yeah no, not happening." she says with finality.

you huff but continue walking with her.

--

"stop following me." it's been about an hour.

"you can't tell me what to do." you sound like a small child throwing a tantrum.

the woman sighs and continues walking with disdain. you're still sticking so close by her. both of you reach a small tucked away cabin. it's been expertly covered in moss and dirt to blend into the background. she walks away from the house a few meters away and ties her horse to a tree.

"woah, sick place." you comment, amazed by the well thought out hideout, it's truly a place you wouldn't have thought twice to really look into.

"thank you." she walks in, and taps her foot on the right side, and suddenly there's another opening, underneath the floor.

"woah, wait, the house isn't even the actual hideout, its underground?" she says nothing, you follow her down the stairs to the basement.

"you are seriously too trusting, walking right after me into a basement. i could've lured you into a trap." she says to you as she begins restocking her items. rows and rows of weapons, rations and even a hydroponics system in the room.

"nah, you wouldn't kill me. you would've done it when you found me on that couch." you say, admiring the amount of work he has put to make this place work. it's quite cozy, small camping lanterns in all different shapes laid around the dark room. the room's also filled with carpets.

"carpets?" you mention, it's odd that there's so many carpets overlapping each other.

"muffles noise. sometimes people walk through upstairs, but i make it so that even if they stay for long, i can move freely down here without them hearing."

she's clearly thought this place through, she has everything that she needs down here to survive. it's wonderful really, then a question pops into your mind. "why do you go outside then?"

"what?"

"why do you leave this place if it's so safe?" you ask. she seems more than equipped to survive here in this base. you glance around, looking at the plants that she's growing, amazed at how they're all turning out so well. so much for saying you could cook up a mean meal of dog food and peas.

she doesn't bother answering. instead pulling together jerky and greens from her hydroponics. handing you some, you decline and open your can of dog food, as much as you would like to eat it, her evasiveness is making you weary.

"so, do i get to know your name?" you ask as you shovel the can into your mouth.

"you can call me z."

"okay, z. that's a cool nickname." you chuckle, "what is it short for? zebra, zack?" you joke to yourself, she shakes her head no and continues eating her jerky.

you don't bother her anymore that night.

--

"morning z! what are we doing today?" you haven't felt so safe sleeping in years, feeling well rested and ready to take on the world with your trusty partner. z's busy cleaning her weapons when you wake up.

"nothing. i let you stay the night, you need to leave." she says calmly, wiping her dirty rag into a bucket of water. you frown at that, confused with her hot and coldness.

"dont be like that! strength in numbers remember?" you say, sitting near her, she groans at that.

"stop saying that."

"why? strength in numbers. strength in numbers. strength in numbers." you joke.

"stop it! you aren't chaewon!" she shouts at you, shoving an arrow near your neck. it's oddly familiar, the aggression from when you first met her is there.

"who's chaewon?" you ask.

z just leaves the room, leaving her half cleaned arrows on the workbench. you hear a door open and close, and now you're contemplating following after her. you choose rather to let her calm down, when she calms down maybe you can apologize.

you sigh and look around, feeling bad for being invasive, but you really didn't know. looking around you explore her place more, seeing a locker filled with clothes, and a giant map on a corkboard. pins all over the states, with detailed notes of specific locations. a lot of them were lookout points for raiders.

tucked under the map is a white square, you pull it off the corkboard, and see a very faded photo of two girls. one that you can recognize as z and another girl smiling with a bob. tagged below the image is kz & cw.

you begin to examine more of the notes, a lot highlighting names and times. it seems that z has been trying to find patterns of when raiders are patrolling.

with a sudden door opening, you grab a knife immediately from your waist as you see z rush back inside, finger to her lips as she grabs you away from the corkboard.

"silent." she whispers directly into your ear. you two crouch on the ground and nod. after waiting a couple minutes you hear it. the sound of footsteps getting closer, rustling leaves outside. z nods and uncovers a small machine under the carpet.

she takes one of the ends of the machine and puts it close to her ear. you stay as still as possible as she starts jotting down notes. she grips her pen harder as time goes on. and you stay still, watching her.

--

you find out much later there were raiders out visiting the house while you dozed off. both of you were sitting against the wall waiting for the people upstairs. z has been formulating a plan the whole time. meanwhile, those raiders treated upstairs like their temporary hideout for a couple hours.

after you wake up, and z gives you the all clear to talk, the first thing she asks is, "how good are you at taking out people?"

"the best." you smirk. it was always your speciality, being able to slip in and out of places before anyone could notice, and by the time they did notice, you already had twisted their necks.

"strength in numbers?" she asks wearily.

"strength in numbers." you confirm.

"then i need your help, i need to rescue someone." she goes on. you nod, and she grabs the map off the corkboard. and unfolds a smaller map, one with the layout of a building. "but i don't know if i can trust you."

you gasp, "how could you say that?" you dramatically ask her.

she rolls her eyes at that, "i need a guarantee from you."

"like what?"

"something to ensure you won't ditch me when things get rough." she says, thinking of things to trade.

you take off your pendant necklace, gently placing it in her hands. "this was from my late mother, i'd rather be chased by runners for the rest of my life than to lose this." you state seriously, she nods at the vulnerability and slips it onto her neck.

then z takes off the bandana that's been covering the lower half of her face the whole time. "this is a gift, from the person we're rescuing. i also would rather be chased by runners for the rest of my life than to lose this." she hands you the black bandana, and you tie is around your face, just like she has.

when you look back up, you're shocked at just how beautiful the woman is, even with her lean muscular build you knew she was pretty, but seeing the rest of her face uncovered, she's drop dead gorgeous. face sculpted from the gods.

"what?"

"nothing." you comment, "fill me in on this plan."

"okay, we go in like this..." z starts laying out the steps.

--

you haven't visited the city since that one grueling day, leaving your leg with a bullet. now that you're back you're shivering in anticipation, this city has definitely left its horrifying memories in your mind. with z by your side, you feel a little safer, though.

the outskirts of the city are deadly quiet, filled with car crashes and littering barrels of trash. walking closer into main street, you start to feel your hair stand up on your skin. it's terrifying, being back when you tried so desperately to leave this horrifying place.

"where's the patrol?"

"we have exactly 5 minute 25 second window before patrol comes back." you hear it loud and clear, 5 minute and 26 seconds, you are dead meat.

she then starts picking up the pace, running between alleyways with her head ducked low, always pausing between corners and big obstructions in between the streets.

with the cold wind, you hear howling through open buildings with their glass windows broken through, the sound of fire crackling in barrels and most of all you hear raiders in the distant, cheering and screaming.

"2 minutes left." she says. you follow behind her, quick on her trail. she soon ducks completely behind a building. digging through her backpack for trap mines.

"listen to me, trap mines: detonate with proximity. we need distractions. raiders are extreme in not letting things getting through their grasp, you know this well enough." she says and hands you trap mines. z gives you the signal and you both split. she heads straight for the back entrance of the building while you go around the side entrance.

raiders are shuffling around, trading posts. you crouch close to the ground and place a trap mine close to the door, waiting for a raider to walk close. you crawl backward into safety, reciting the plan to yourself.

a loud boom blows up at the entrance, and you can hear the horrifying scream of a man being blown to pieces, and other voices running after him.

"we're under attack!" the sound of the raider's feet is closer, all rushing towards the entrance with the trapped mine. in the distance, you hear another mine go off, z's mine based on the direction of the sound.

"another?" a raider shouts. then you hear some footsteps fall away. you sneak around the front of the building, examining the situation, most men have spread to the side and back entrance, disregarding the front.

you slip through the front with the open window, you try and step over the broken glass to minimize sound. and soon you creep towards the stairs. a man stands before you, handgun in hand and peaking around for intruders. you dig a shiv right into his neck before he even gets a clue.

dragging the body away, you put on his jacket and hat, grabbing his gun and checking for bullets, a full magazine. you feel lucky, feeling a knife in the jacket you stole. you tuck that into your shoe. you need all you've got to save whoever chaewon is.

the raiders are now patrolling through the entrances, you find yourself able to slip into different levels of the building until you reach the fifth floor, where supposedly chaewon was supposed to be.

when z filled you in on the situation, you piece together that chaewon is z's older sister. she and z used to survive together, going from groups to traveling alone. never sticking by a group for too long. z had explained that chaewon wanted to leave the raiders after she found out that they sacrificed people that they caught just for fun.

it was horrifying; they joined the raiders in hopes of getting protection by being in a large group, but she couldn't stand by and watch innocent survivors being taken out just for the fun of it.

z wanted to leave too, until they both got caught, the raiders let z get away if they let chaewon get sacrificed. so z's been figuring out a plan to break her free, and it seems tonight was supposed to be chaewon's sacrifical night.

you shivered just hearing it, you knew nothing about chaewon but you knew you would never want her to be sacrificed. you can see it, the line of tortured souls, all being watched by the raiders, it seems that their idea of sacrifice is making them fall from stories high into an enclosed space of zombies, all ready to bite these people to shreds.

you line up close, thinking of a way to get them riled up and away from chaewon. you grab a molotov from your bag, along with a gun. with a careful aim, you toss the molotov on the floor, startling the raiders. they're all trying to examine the disturbance, with quickness, you throw another molotov. setting some raiders on fire. with their screams piercing your ears, you grab your gun and start shooting them. the confusion and commotion of the fifth floor is also startling the tortured survivors, they start running towards the stairs.

you're busy trying to find whoever chaewon is while also shooting the raiders. you hear the signature sound of z's long bow, taking out raiders, some even falling straight into the zombie pit. you can't see her but you know that she's here now.

"chaewon!" you shout, and a shorter girl stops, her eyes go wide. you spot her, the girl that looks so familiar to that polaroid back in z's base. her hair is longer, face bruised up. she's sporting a black eye and she's got a weird limp. you grab her hand and drag her away from the commotion, z continues to aim at the raiders.

by the time you are able to get her out of the building, more raiders are showing up. rushing up the building, you grab chaewon's hand and turn to her. "we run now." you tell her.

she nods and like how the raiders chased you out those weeks ago, you run as fast as you can, pulling chaewon along. with the limp, it's harder for her to run but you know even trailing behind for a second could be instant death.

z's plan was this: she wanted revenge, wanted to kill all those raiders for what they did to chaewon. for making her become their sacrificial pawn, so she told you to take chaewon to a safe place. and then she would let hell rain on those fuckers.

you finally spot the theatre, the rendezvous point where you were supposed to keep chaewon safe. the girl is startled, you're wearing her sister's bandana, but you aren't z. and when you finally are able to lock the door, chaewon collapses on the floor, breathing so heavy, and loud. you calm yourself down too, leaning against the door sinking to ground.

"you aren't zuha." she says between breaths.

"who's zuha?" you ask, confused by what she means.

she points at your bandana. "that is kazuha's bandana, i gave it to her." she says, confused written on her face.

"oh. z?" you ask. chaewon is confused but nods. "z is probably a codename she gave me then."

"you met her then!" chaewon sits up and moves closer to you, tears sprouting in her eyes. "is she alive?"

"yes." you reply back, chaewon probably has no idea if kazuha is alive or not. that must be terrifying, letting your sister have freedom, not even knowing if she actually survived outside.

"she uh, made this plan, for us to rescue you." you explain, going into depth about how you two met. also how she is letting you help save chaewon.

"kazuha's a hard person to convince, you must've gotten under her skin." chaewon responds, listening intently about the whereabouts of her sister.

you agree, fishing out food and water for chaewon. she must be starving, you think. chaewon nearly cries at the sight, downing water like she was in a scorching desert. you let her have at it while checking your timer. kazuha told you that if she doesn't return in thirty minutes, that you should take chaewon to the base, and that she probably has died.

you're not going to let that happen; forget that stupid plan to get revenge alone. you're going to go back for her. with a stretch, and drinking your own water bottle, you get ready to set back out. chaewon looks at you in bewilderment.

"where are you going?" she asks while biting on jerky.

"back, i'm not letting her fight those raiders alone." you say, checking your handgun for bullets. chaewon looks at you and nods.

"strength in numbers." she says to herself.

"yeah, strength in numbers." you smile, hearing the familiar phrase. you hand chaewon a handgun and some molotovs. "three knocks, that'll be the signal that we're coming to the theatre, any other knock, that's not us." chaewon nods and checks her gun.

"good luck back there, please bring my baby sister back safely. i'm counting on you." even though this is the first conversation you've had with chaewon, you feel inclined to listen to her words.

"swear on my soul." and with that you exit the theatre.

--

with blood on your face, and the jacket that you stole, you rush into the building. most of the raiders are circling around the ground floor, grabbing an auto rifle, you open fire like you never have before, using the cars around as coverage. with a rage you never felt before you go batshit crazy, slicing down raiders left and right. you don't even feel anything anymore, just with the goal of finding kazuha.

the raiders are all falling by your hands. you rapidly fire at whoever dares to separate you and kazuha. you pick up guns that's been left by now dead raiders. you can hear a distant scream of a woman's voice, sounding like kazuha's voice. your blood runs cold, you rush upstairs, taking out the raider's best you can. at some point you get tired of waiting and just grenade them.

the quicker you can reach her, the quicker you can save her. you rush up to the fifth floor where all the commotion went down. you hear the sounds of raiders all shouting. and with a quick glance, you can see them cornering kazuha.

"you never should've come back kazuha, chaewon let you free, by being a sacrifice to them." the man talks as he points below. he smirks, "you want to trade places with your sister? fine by me."

the man and the rest of the raiders start walking kazuha to the edge. you rush behind two raiders. shiving them each and approaching the rest of the raiders. grabbing a metal sheet you use it as coverage as you rush the rest of them. letting out all your strength, you push the rest of the raiders off the edge, falling to their demise. the man that was speaking to kazuha dodges the attack. you find yourself nearly falling off the edge, but kazuha grabs you in time to pull you back.

so now you two face him, kazuha's gotten pretty beaten up, her arm's messed up and her feet's dragging. so you put yourself in front of her.

"let me handle it." you tell her. she's too tired to protest, after just nearly falling to her demise. you keep her behind you pressed against the wall as you approach the man with a switchblade, he's smirking like he has the upperhand. until you smash a bottle over his head and run at him to tackle him down.

he's pushed his knife back against your blade, and you're fighting with every ounce of strength in your body. pushing the blade closer and closer towards him. he makes a quick movement to toss you off over him. you roll over and he jumps to shove the knife at you, to which you dodge. pushing with all your might to push him off you. you launch yourself forward, stabbing the blade into his neck, blood gushing out all over you. he screams and gasps at the impaling. he makes a final attack against you, slicing your face. you let out a scream but don't let go of the knife in his neck.

soon he falls over to the side, his body going limp when kazuha shoots him in the head. a loud ringing noise running through your ears, you latch onto your face. the gash long and running deep over your face.

kazuha's quick to rush to your side, trying to hold your face with her one good arm. she rips off fabric from her shirt to wrap around your face, as you cry out loud. sobbing at the excruciating pain. the man is dead, and you're thankful you saved kazuha.

--

you gave yourself twenty minutes before getting up. kazuha's been trying to set her arm by herself. you lightly tap her and hold onto the loose arm. you hand her your loose switchblade for her to bite it as you set it back into her socket. she screams into the metal blade. and you're quick to make a makeshift sling for her arm. working with one good eye and pain searing through your body.

she cries at the sight of your face and the blood staining her shirt. this battle wasn't an easy one, but you're grateful that both you and kazuha survived. she keeps crying even as you tell her it's okay. you wrap her good arm around your shoulder as you both slowly make your way out of the building.

after a good while of sobbing to herself, she turns to look at you again. "chaewon?"

"she's safe, put her in the theatre like we talked about." you try as move your face as little as possible. kazuha nods. her limping as she puts her body weight on you like a crutch. even though you're so deep in pain, and the adrenaline is finally wearing off, you're glad you went back for her. you know you would never be able to live with the guilt that she died.

the rest of the walk is silent other than wincing here and there and ragged breaths.

you tap three quick knocks at the theatre door, and you hear the sound of a board being moved behind the theatre. when it opens you see chaewon pointing a gun straight at you. as soon as she recognizes you, she puts it down, ushering you two inside.

"chaewon!" kazuha throws herself at her sister, crying into her. letting out relieved tears at the sight of her sister after so long. chaewon's trying to examine kazuha's injuries, but the girl won't even separate herself.

the two girls hug each other for a long while, just crying into each other. you board up the entrance to the theatre. feeling the exhaustion hit your body completely as you sit down by a chair. as much as it hurts, you smile at the two girls.

finally, you knock out cold.

--

you awake to the two girls speaking to each other in hushed tones. it seems that they're talking about the raiders, how chaewon was kept captive until tonight for her sacrificial night. chaewon cries as she thinks about how she hasn't seen sunlight in weeks, being fed slop and kazuha cries but listens intently.

you try and move yourself up, sitting in the chair. chaewon looks at you, and smiles.

"hi, glad you're awake." chaewon says to you. kazuha also turns to look at you, sobbing when she thinks about the deep gash on your face. you smile back at the two, still feeling the pain of the attack.

"i stitched your face while you were asleep." chaewon says, and she stands up to remove the shirt covering your face. trading it for a clean and new cloth. "he slashed over your eye, i think you won't be able to see out of your left eye anymore." chaewon comments quietly. she gently wraps the new cloth around your face. you nod, the truth of the matter settling in.

"i'm sorry!" kazuha cries out, the guilt of being the reason you lost your eye is hitting her hard. you shake your head no, you would never blame kazuha for what he did. "it's not your fault kazuha, i wouldn't blame you. i had to save you. no matter what."

kazuha cries harder, and you walk yourself over to hug her. calming her down and telling her everything is okay. as long as you still had each other you don't care how many limbs you lose.

you three get ready to finally be away from this cursed city.

"thank you for coming back for me."

"strength in numbers kazuha, i wouldn't ever think of leaving you behind."

--

it's been a couple months since saving chaewon; you've gotten closer to the two sisters. you find that behind the coldness, kazuha is actually a lovely woman. a woman hardened by the loss of her sister by her side. every day, you spend time with the two girls happily. and now you wear an eyepatch, claiming that it makes you look cooler. kazuha rolled her eyes when you made that comment.

meeting kazuha changed the trajectory of your life forever, you're happy to find a semblance of a family with these two girls. especially when kazuha makes your heart race as you get to know her.

sometimes when chaewon isn't looking you sneak a kiss for kazuha, the woman always goes rigid like a plank whenever you do this. you giggle everytime, while chaewon is always confused what happened.

kazuha also had a hard time with expressing affection, so she would always say that you should ride with her on her horse. you know it's because she likes keeping you against her at all times.

sometimes you think chaewon knows what is going on between you two (she most definitely does) but just plays dumbs. like she's waiting for you two to come clean. you don't give her that satisfaction until much later when chaewon catches you kissing kazuha before she sets off for a supply run.

chaewon simply smiles when you see you've been caught. and you smile because it feels like you have gained a family through meeting kazuha.

--

a/n: ive been wanting to write a tlou (the last of us) piece for sooo long. i am not a med student, so if there's any medical inaccuracies...let's just move past that. i made this piece less zombie centric, and more plot driven. anyways, stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[coisoo]

love next door

—(🎧)—> roaches infested your room, the disgusting beings all over and freaking you out. when you can’t remember maintenances number, asking a neighbor instead, you didn’t expect her to be downright beautiful.

pairing - neighbor!kazuha x fem!reader

genre - strangers to ??, fluff

word count - 1.4k

warnings - flirty kazuha

“Ding!” is the sound the door bell makes once you ring it. Who’s doorbell? You wish you knew. You just know it’s your next door neighbors and your apartment is infested with disgusting, crawling roaches.

Well.. maybe infested is a stretch but to you, seeing just three of those putrid things is enough to make your skin crawl.

What does this have to do with your neighbor? Well, you’re new to the building, moving in no less than last week. You lost the number of maintenance and the lady working at the front desk scared you, so you’d rather take you chances with a random neighbor.

You hear rumbling on the other side of the door, heart rate spiking uncontrollably, hands fiddling with eachother as your neighbor opens the door.

You’re in for a surprise as the door swings open, your eyes meeting with hers.

Wow. She’s beautiful. Is the one thing running through your mind once you lay eyes on her face.

Her hair is so silky and long, running down her face almost like an elegant cloth. Her gorgeous doe eyes sparkle, and your not sure if it’s because of the sunset or just her, but her face is practically glowing.

“May I help you?” She says kindly, body peering out the door at your silence.

“O-oh yeah sorry!” You stammer. “I was uh wondering if you had maintenances number! I’m new so..”

She smiles at your silence, peering back into her own room. “I’m sure I have it written down. I’ll be right back.”

You nod as she walks away, leaving her door cracked. You don’t look in, but you’re sure you can smell the faint scent of strawberries coming from the room.

She comes back as promised, handing you a sticky note with the number on it. Hmm, her handwriting is rather pretty.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem? This place has them often.” She asks, looking down at you with a fond smile.

“Oh, it’s a little embarrassing but I have roaches. Not that many though.” You blush; it’s a little embarrassing to say you have roaches in your apartment not even more than a week in.

“Ohh.” She understands. “It’s not embarrassing, promise me. I had those little bastards when I first moved in too. If you’re okay, I can go take care of them.”

You swear you can see the halo floating over her head. Take care of the disgusting roaches??? For you???

“Are you sure? That would be amazing.” You chuckle, pulling down on a strand of your hair and playing with it. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She smiles. “I’m going to go grab the roach killer, be right back!” She winks, and you could just positively die.

◂—♥︎—▸

“That should be all.” She sighs as she comes back up from kneeling. “Your room is very pretty!”

You blush slightly at her comment, giving her a flustered smile. “Thank you so much… what’s your name?”

“Nakamura Kazuha, but you can just call me Kazuha.” She introduces, walking towards the exit of your room. “I’ll see you later, cutie. You can come back anytime!”

You wave her goodbye as she walks out, closing your door firmly with a satisfying click.

Wait…cutie?

You feel like your heart might actually explode out of your chest as you debrief.

The super super super pretty girl that you didn’t even know lived here just helped you with a roach infestation then called you cutie??

Thoughts swirl through your mind, face red and hot.

“Did she call me cutie because she found me pretty? No no no, that can’t be. It’s because I was flustered!! Yeah that! She probably doesn’t even swing that way, she’s just being nice. Yeah, y/n. Stop overthinking it!!”

You can’t get the interaction out of your head as you go on with your day, the memory running through your brain well after you had already showered and gotten set into bed.

The need to shake these feelings burnt deep in your stomach; you didn’t know her, and she didn’t know you. She was just being nice, and you know.

So why is this feeling still there in the morning, walking through the lobby and spotting her reading peacefully on a spare couch.

She sits on the couch nearest to the coffee machine, telling with how there’s a small, paper cup on the end table nearest to her. A croissant roll lays on a plate next to the cup as well, chocolate drizzled on the top.

She has her headphones on too, probably listening to some music you assume. Your ready to walk by, but almost like magic, she spots you.

She waves at you, head barely peering past the book she was obviously absorbed in. You wave back at her, but all of a sudden, she’s waving you over and your blushing hard.

“Hey, I never got your name.” She whispers, considerate of the quiet, peaceful lobby. You study the cover of her book, a simple romance novel with an elegant cover.

“Oh uh, it’s y/n! y/n l/n.” You answer, sitting in a smaller chair parallel to hers. “Y/n. That’s a pretty name.”

You thank her, the blush crawling down your neck. “Are you down here to read too?” She asks, noticing the thick book in your hand.

“Yeah, I am. I have to read this book for university so.” You answer, rubbing your hands along the sleek cover of the history book.

“Hmm, I see. Well I wouldn’t want to stop your focus, but I can’t help but want to talk to you more.”

The blush reaches your ears, and she notices, looking at you with a flustered grin. “You’re so cute, y/n.”

“W-what?” You stutter, almost glitching. Honestly you would be surprised if she could see a loading symbol turning above your head right now.

“I baked a strawberry pie the other day, you should come over later tonight and come taste some. Catch you later!” She simply states, standing up from her spot on the couch and walking towards the elevators, leaving one very flustered you.

◂—♥︎—▸

You have only yourself to blame when you find yourself knocking on her door again, standing outside fiddling with your fingers just like before.

“What if she was just playing with me? I should just turn around now. Surely her calling me cute was for no reason. Yeah, I’m just overthi-“

“Y/n! I’m glad you came. Come in.” She opens the door, inviting you into her room.

You walk in, immediately hit with a calming aroma of smells and essential oils. You see an adorable looking strawberry pie sitting upon a countertop, whip cream decorated on with extra strawberries laid upon it.

“It smells so good in here.” You sigh, and she chuckles softly. “That pie looks amazing, you can bake well.”

“Ah, thank you y/n. It’s nothing though. Here, let me give you a piece.”

You stand there as she cuts a generous slice of pie and plates it, handing it to you as you thank her and bite into it.

It practically melts into your mouth, the strong and sweet flavor pleasing your taste buds in ways nothing else ever has. The bread is perfectly toasted too, soft and creamy just how you love it.

“Wow this is so good, Kazuha!” You exclaim, stars practically in your eyes. She blushes a faint pink of her own, turning from your face to the pie itself.

“If you want, you could take the rest.” You nod fiercely in response, to in love with the taste to even think straight. “In exchange for something from you, though.”

You tilt your head in confusion, and she smiles. “Nothing much, just your number if you will.”

You almost choke on your food, coughing before it got any worse. “I- I’m sorry, what?”

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.” She sighs, proceeding to cut the pie into more delicious slices.

“No, no. That’s not it at all! I-I just got caught off guard. But you can have my number.” She smiles in satisfaction, handing you a sticky note that had been laying on her counter from when she lended you one.

You dutifully write down your number, making sure each number is easy to read before handing it to her, her handing you the slices of pie in a plastic container in return.

You wave goodbye to her as you walk towards the door, stomach doing all kinds of flips and turns.

“Hold on, y/n!” A yelp from behind you catches your attention, turning you head to see a smiling Kazuha.

“See you tomorrow?” She asks, head turning in a hopeful manner.

You smile back at her, making your way completely out the door, blush evident on your face.

“See you tomorrow!”

[honeylations]

NAKAMURA KAZUHA x FEM!READER

PART TWO

Prompt: Still not being over your ex boyfriend (Choi Yeonjun), you thought it was a good idea to fake a relationship with Kazuha, aka a complete stranger, to make him jealous.

Warnings/Notes: small angst, fake dating to lovers, g!p Kazuha for spice, eventual smut for you horndogs

Link to part 1

A/N: RAHHHH FINALLY DID A PART TWO BECAUSE I WAS INDECISIVE OF HOW I WANTED THE STORY TO GO😭 this is like my 5th draft of Part Two💀

It’s been 2 weeks since you and Kazuha began the fake relationship and you were starting to feel a little too comfortable within the Japanese girl’s presence.

There were many things you were liking alot while being with her:

Seeing her smile

Her stupid jokes

Holding her hand

Having her arm around you

Walking you to your classes

The list can go on and on.

She went all out with your pretend dates and you found yourself staring at the photos you took together during your nights out. The warm feeling you had while with her was different than when you were with Yeonjun.

But it felt too good to be true.

Kazuha was only doing all this to help you. To protect you from Yeonjun. Right?

Wrong.

If you were a mess, Kazuha was an even bigger mess.

Every night she would pray that you’d open your eyes and realise that she was willing to do anything just for you to be officially her’s.

In Kazuha little mind, she believed you just needed protection from your ex. That you didn’t need Kazuha’s deep love. That this was only going to remain as a fantasy for the rest of her life.

But with the way your angelic laughed filled her ears, your soft hand perfectly fitting into her bigger ones, your beautiful smile…Kazuha was going to enjoy every moment while they lasted.

You were sitting next to each other as always at the lunch table with your friends, hearing more nonsense stories come out of Yunjin’s food filled mouth. You were leaning your head against Kazuha’s shoulder, playing with her fingers mindlessly as laughter continued to echo from your group.

It felt so right.

Like you had almost forgotten that it wasn’t real in the first place.

Then Yeonjun showed up again, seeming a little more timid than his usual approaches. Your table went silent upon his presence, clearly unhappy that he’s here yet again to possibly get your attention.

Kazuha’s arm instantly went around you, holding tight like you were going to disappear from her embrace.

“Hey calm down please everyone, I’m not here to try anything” Yeonjun quickly said when he saw all of your cold stares on him.

He continued. “I’m here to actually apologise. Especially towards you Y/n. I can see you’re really happy with Kazuha. She’s treating you in ways I wasn’t able to. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused recently, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me someday”

Without letting you respond, Yeonjun bowed and took his leave silently, leaving your group stunned.

“Well it was about damn time he said something. We can all live in peace now” Chaeryeong sighed dramatically, applauding everyone as if it was a team effort.

“Good job on faking the entire thing guys! Really got him fooled. Such a shame though, you two make a really good couple” Yuna hummed and tilted her head towards you and Kazuha.

“Y-Yeah…We do don’t we..” You heard Kazuha mutter while retreating her arm away from you.

Your eyes darted all over the floor out of panic. Everything was ending too soon! You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want to lose all the warmth and happiness.

“Hey…” A voice broke you out of it, seeing that it was Sakura grabbing your hand. “Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good”

Sakura’s lips went into a thin line as she rubbed her thumb across your hand. “Don’t think about it Y/n. Just do it before it’s too late”

You looked at your friend with more worry, knowing that Sakura could read you easily like a book.

She knew you were in love with Kazuha but was too scared to do something about it.

As all your classes ended, Kazuha was kind enough to walk you back to your dorm, talking normally about your day and what you’ll be up to for the rest of the semester.

Then you both halted when you reached your door. Kazuha tucked her hands into her pockets while she looked at her feet like they were interesting.

“So…Is this it?” She asked with sadness.

You gulped away the choking feeling in your throat. “I-I guess…Thanks for everything Kazuha. You were a great pretend girlfriend”

Kazuha gave a half smile and nodded. “You were a perfect pretend girlfriend. Whoever gets you in the future is one lucky person”

“Same goes to you, Zu. Thanks for taking me home one last time”

“Of course. Anytime…”

The Japanese girl began slowly walking away, her feet feeling heavier with each step like she didn’t want to leave. She really didn’t. The thought of not having you by her side 24/7 was picking at her heart piece by piece.

Then the thought of you being in someone else’s arms snapped something in her head. She wanted you to be all her’s. She wanted to be the arms you fall into. She wanted to be the one you kiss and cuddle all the time.

She needed you to be her’s and her’s only.

Her feet stopped, catching your attention from the keys you were about to push into the lock. She made a U turn on the spot and sped walk back to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to her face that your lips were close to touching.

“Z-Zuha?” You gasped at the sudden movement.

Her eyes were filled with emotions you couldn’t decipher but her touch made your heart beat faster.

“Y/n. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me”

“What?”

“Tell me you don’t love me so I can have a peace of mind. Tell me you didn’t feel a thing throughout the two weeks we’ve been together” Kazuha said with determination, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the anxiety she was feeling.

“Kazuha…”

“I love you Y/n. We were two dates in and I felt pathetic that I fell in love with you so quickly, but to me it felt like I wasn’t allowed. I felt like you only saw this as an escape from Yeonjun. But please tell me Y/n, through the times we held hands, did you not feel some sort of chemistry between us?”

You stared up at her for a couple more seconds before tears escaped your eyes. Kazuha froze, thinking her words had affected you in the wrong way but she couldn’t rip out an apology before you leaned up and captured her lips as your arms hooked around her neck.

Kazuha’s eyes fluttered shut and her arms held you closely by the hips, relishing the warm feeling of your lips moving against hers.

She could bask in the warmth forever but you slowly pulled away, gaze flickering from her plump lips to her eyes.

“Kazuha I love you too. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. There’s no one else in this world I’d rather love than you”

The taller girl leaned her forehead against yours with eyes closed, sighing deeply with relief at your words. “Can you be mine Y/n? For real this time?”

“Yes Kazuha, I’d be honoured to be yours. For real this time” you giggled in response as pecked her lips.

“No more hiding?”

You snuggled your head into her chest, squishing your cheek against it that you could hear Kazuha’s heart beat. “No more hiding”

Just when you thought the day couldn’t get any better, you had led Kazuha into your dorm and to your bedroom where you were laying flat on your bed, legs spread, the space in between being occupied by your girlfriend’s mouth.

She was eating you out like she’s been starved. Her strong arms were tightly wrapped underneath your thighs, holding you in place while she switched between diving her tongue deeply into your entrance to sucking on your puffy clit.

“O-Oh Kazuha! Yes baby, right there!”

She hummed at your taste, not minding the thought of being in between your legs forever as long as your juices kept satisfying her thirst.

It felt so painfully good that you were too weak to push her head away. All you could do was pull at her hair, pushing her deeper into your wet cunt despite orgasm after orgasm.

And as good as it felt, you needed her deeper inside you. You needed her cock.

“Z-Zuha…Zuha please, want your cock baby” you sniffled, gasping for air once the girl finally pulled away to let you breathe.

“Aw but I was enjoying myself. Just want to eat your pussy forever” she gave a fuckboy type of smile with your juices literally coating her mouth and chin.

“Please baby. Want your cock and your cum” you begged, making Zuha wipe your tears away.

She leaned over and kissed your nose and the rest of your flushed face. “Okay, Princess”

You watched with awe as Kazuha removed her boxers, finally being fully naked as you, then spreading your legs wider so she could give you a view of her entering your needy cunt.

You already felt full with just the head in, clawing your sheets that they almost ripped but the feeling of familiar big hands on yours let you relax a little. You didn’t realise your eyes were shut tight until Kazuha called your name softly.

“Princess, are you okay?”

You sniffled and blinked away more tears. “H-Hurts. S-So big…”

Kazuha nuzzled her nose into your temple. “Shhh, I know baby, I’m sorry. Just a couple more seconds okay? If it still hurts, tell me and I’ll pull out”

You shook your head and ran your hands up her biceps to her back, rubbing up and down. “N-No. I can take it. Just please g-go slow”

“Of course, Princess. Anything you want”

“How are you being romantic while almost ripping me in half?” You huffed, feeling Kazuha chuckle against your cheek before kissing it.

“I’ll move now”

You shut your eyes again when your girlfriend slowly pulled out just so the tip was inside before going back in at the same pace.

You’ve had 6 inches inside you before and that hurt like a bitch. But with Kazuha, 8 inches could quite literally kill you if she wasn’t gentle.

As she kept moving, you found yourself moaning louder, wanting more, craving more. You dug your acrylics into her back, possibly drawing blood.

Kazuha’s breath was getting heavier, feeling her pant against your neck like a desperate puppy. “Princess, I love the way you feel around my cock. So tight and perfect”

“More..” you whispered, giving Kazuha’s back some rest so you could cup her jaw and pull her into a needy kiss.

Kazuha pushed her tongue inside, licking you all up and even sucking on it, earning louder moans and whines from you.

“More hm? Does it feel that good, my Princess?” She said in Japanese, causing your pussy to clench tighter.

Thanks to your online Japanese classes, you were actually able to understand your girlfriend’s words. It was so hot. Her voice sounded deeper and husky, how could you NOT get soaked?

Your moans were enough of an answer for the taller girl. With one hand on your waist and the other on the headboard, she let her animal brain go loose, fucking you crazy like she dreamt of.

The slapping noises bounced off the walls (and possibly the entire dorm) as you chanted your girlfriend’s name like a ritual. She was biting and licking at your neck, stamping as much hickies as she could, not willing to miss a spot so the world would know who you finally belonged to.

“Fuck baby. You’re all mine to love…to fuck…to kiss…All mine” she growled deeply.

“Oh fuck, Zuha I’m cumming! Don’t stop baby please please please!”

“Me too Princess. Let me cum inside”

Feeling too fucked out, you nodded your head as your eyes rolled back to your head, letting the intense orgasm hit you like a goddam truck.

“Fuck…oh fuck—ah Y/n baby!” Kazuha grunted loudly and gasped into your shoulder as she continued pounding into you.

Her pace eventually slowed down to a stop when she emptied every drop of her cum inside your cunt, groaning profanities, then sweet nothings into your sweaty temple.

After a split second, Kazuha rolled you both over so you laid on top of her, not caring that her semi hard cock was still deep inside you. You felt your mixed cum sliding out of your pussy and down Kazuha’s balls, possibly dripping onto your bedsheets.

You felt your girlfriend rub circles along your back, letting you catch your breath. “You okay?”

“More than okay” you chuckled, still panting.

“Just realised we did that raw. I’m sorry”

You lifted your head up and planted lazy kisses across your girlfriend’s face. “Don’t be. I love it raw”

“As much as I love the thought of getting you pregnant, we have yet to graduate” Kazuha pouted, letting you kiss it away.

“I know, don’t worry. I’m on the pill anyways”

“Oh ok good” Kazuha sighed with content.

She thought she could sleep and have a cute lovey dovey moment with you but you abruptly sat up and placed your hands on her shoulders, giving her a mischievous smirk.

“After all that fake dating, you think one round is enough?”

“Eh?”

“Oh don’t worry, baby. Just lay there and I’ll do all the work. You know, as a thank you for saving me from all those times” you winked and slowly lifted yourself up before sinking back down.

Kazuha instantly got hard, holding onto your waist for dear life.

“Goddamn it Princess. I’ll make sure you pass out from how good this cock is”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You tilted your head, moaning in between as her length reached your womb.

You were definitely going to be missing your early morning lectures tomorrow.

[yerimbrit]

something new : n. kazuha

synopsis: the five times your confession to kazuha was interrupted, and the one time it wasn't

# : pairing ! nonidol!nakamura kazuha x gn!reader

# : tags ! friends to lovers, ao3 5+1 trope, but there's some interludes, zuha's JUSTTT a little dense, the fimmies are your wingwomen, so is giselle and ningning from aespa, hs!au, crack, mentions of karina and winter too, in the end they are just two lovesick fools

# : wordcount ! 8.4k

# : warnings ! the usual swearing idt i'll be putting warnings for them anym

"just tell her you like her," chaewon said, taking a bite of her salad, "i don't understand why you haven't."

you groaned in response. obviously chaewon didn't understand that what she was suggesting was exactly what you'd been trying to do since the beginning of time. emphasis on trying.

it wasn't your fault that kazuha was absolutely, terribly, agonizingly oblivious to your confessions to her—or at least your attempts to confess to her.

a sympathetic hand patted you on the shoulder, and you looked up to see sakura, who placed her tray on the cafeteria table. "attempts have been made, chae. that's exactly why they're complaining for the, i don't know, 100th time."

chaewon kicked sakura's foot under the table.

"whatcha guys talking about?" asked eunchae, who had just taken her seat next to you at the table. you only buried your face into your arms.

"y/n's just mad that kazuha can't take a hint," snickered chaewon.

sakura nodded, tapping your cheek so she could feed you a spoonful of rice. "kazuha's really dense."

"sometimes i can't tell if she's joking or not whenever i try."

you thought back to the last few times you confessed, shuddering. the most recent one was equally as bad as the previous ones. it was like everything never went your way at the worst times.

("kazuha, i like you," you said, holding both of the girl's hands in yours, looking into her eyes with your tired, but determined eyes.

her eyes widened, and you thought maybe, just maybe, she finally understood what you were saying. at this point, you didn't even care if she rejected you. despite the heartache it would bring you, at least she would know about your feelings.

"i like you too!" she said excitedly, and you perked up in disbelief. wow, today really was your lucky da—

she brought you into a tight hug. and the worst possible words she could've said, were said: "you're my best friend! i like you a lot!")

the bell rang after that, so you couldn't explain to her that you liked her as more than that, because the two of you were at the entrance of the gym, and kazuha's next class was on the third floor of the main building.

eunchae hummed thoughtfully, finger on her lip. then, she gasped, enlightened.

"i have an idea."

she ushered the three of you closer, all of you leaning forward to huddle in the middle of the table. you would've laughed how ridiculous you looked, but what eunchae whispered to the group was even more ridiculous.

"that's not going to work," you refused, adamantly shaking your head.

chaewon, sakura, and eunchae shared a knowing look.

"it doesn't hurt to try, y/nnie," laughed chaewon.

eunchae chimed in, "exactly! what if it does work?"

you furrowed your eyebrows, not liking what the girls were up to. "but—"

"let's try it, y/n." sakura smiled, looking at you with deadpan eyes. you knew those eyes. and those eyes meant that you weren't getting out of this situation. deflating, you lowered your head.

"okay."

1. eunchae's idea: fall into her arms and confess (like in a romcom!) (romcoms are romcoms for a reason, eunchae.) (shut up!)

"please work, please work, please work," you chanted to yourself, tightly shutting your eyes and waiting for "the signal" from eunchae and chaewon. what the signal was, you didn't know. but you trusted your friends... maybe.

the sound of yunjin's boisterous laughter, and kazuha's quieter giggles echoed through the school hallway filled with hundreds of lockers, and you peeked from behind the corner to get a glimpse of the two. your eyes fearfully darted around in search of eunchae, because this was her idea, only to be pushed from behind by someone into the hallway that your incoming target was walking through.

"y/n! look out!" shouted eunchae, and you grimaced. 'that was their cue?'

then, you yelped, tripping over your own feet, because silly old you forgot to tie your own shoelaces. scrunching up your face, you prepared yourself for the inevitable faceplant you were about to do, and the next failure in your endeavor to tell kazuha your feelings.

"woah! are you okay, y/n?" a worried voice called. wait. that wasn't the cold hard floor you thought you were going to embrace.

'kazuha?' you thought, until you opened your eyes and saw a few long strands of dyed orange hair, following them up to the frowning face of huh yunjin, kazuha's best friend. but not kazuha.

squirming out of yunjin's secure grip, you widened your eyes, panicking. your gaze switched between the two volleyball players frantically. they both stared at you with a concerned look.

"i'm sorry!" you exclaimed, bowing so low you could see sakura's shocked face just behind you in the hall, then turning around and dashing to drag sakura with you anywhere but where you just embarrassed yourself.

kazuha called after you, hands cupped around her mouth, but you were already long gone.

"what was that about?" yunjin asked, looking to the japanese girl next to her for an answer. kazuha shrugged and sighed.

"wish i knew."

"what the hell, eunchae, you said it would work!" you complained into your pillow. said girl was using your back to hold up her phone, which was playing an episode of single's inferno. chaewon sat next to her, more invested in the show than whatever you had going on.

the youngest pouted, jabbing her finger into your shoulder, earning her a grunt and a slap on the knee from you.

"well it would've worked if yunjin-unnie wasn't there," she whined in defense. she was right, but you didn't want to admit that, for the sake of your pride.

chaewon giggled. "it was pretty funny, though. at least you didn't hurt yourself."

your head, which was previously buried in your pillow, whipped around to shoot a menacing glare at the two chaes, lifting your hand to point an accusing finger at both of them.

"speaking of which, where were you guys?! i swear you ran off as soon as you yelled at me to watch out," you said, dropping your arm back onto your bed. eunchae and chaewon glanced at each other, then turned back to you, obnoxiously shrugging their shoulders in sync.

before you could get up and tackle your friends in a much-deserved tickle session, the door to your room creaked open, revealing sakura, and behind her, yunjin.

"why is it always you three? behave," sakura scolded, disappointment evident in her tone.

"sorry, sakura-unnie." "sorry, kkura-unnie..."

chaewon lightly slapped your back.

"ow!" you groaned, rubbing the affected area. she gave you a look, and you hesitantly turned around to look at the eldest girl.

"sorry, kkura-unnie."

sakura sighed, shaking her head. she set her book bag down by the foot of your desk, taking a seat on your swivel chair. yunjin sat on your fluffy rug, leaning her back against the bedframe.

you and yunjin were friends. she'd been over before, with kazuha, and would often join you and your friend group's movie nights. her open-minded personality allowed your conversations to jump topics, making every exchange interesting. although you weren't as close to her as kazuha was, you knew you could always come to her for advice, next to sakura.

yunjin and kazuha were both on the volleyball team. that's how the two of them met: during varsity tryouts, both of them called to receive the spike hit by yujin, a fellow freshman. in that short moment in between, neither of them moved to bump the ball, so it ended up bouncing on the court, resulting in a point scored by yujin. kazuha treated yunjin to an ice cream after practice as an apology, and the two of them hit it off.

aside from the volleyball-campfire-tryout fiasco with kazuha, yunjin was also close with chaewon, sharing multiple classes with her. the two usually gossiped over the recent transfer students, something mr. park did again, or how yet another girl fell victim to star basketball player lee heeseung and his playboy charms.

with eunchae, yunjin treated her as if she were her little sister. from babying her (to which eunchae grumbled about, saying that she was "grown now", but you all knew she secretly adored the older girl) to taking her out on spontaneous hangouts to give her a refreshing experience of the outside world. her and sakura bonded over it, taking care of the youngest together.

you cleared your throat, sitting up and pulling your knees close to your chest. "so, why is yunjin here?"

as you sat up, eunchae's phone fell off your back, and the two watchers both frowned. single's inferno could wait.

"because we forgot to tell her about the plan," sakura said in a matter-of-fact tone.

you cursed in your head. maybe if she was let in on the plan, you would've succeeded, and you wouldn't have to try to confess again.

"speaking of plans," chaewon raised her hand, imitating a student about to ask a question. you snorted, and pointed at her, allowing her to speak again.

she nodded at you, a grin spreading on her face. "it's raining in two days, on friday. zuha usually walks with you after school every other day, right y/n?"

you nodded slowly, making a 'hurry-up' gesture with your hand. she rolled her eyes.

"since she's walking with you, why don't you go ahead and share an umbrella? that could be the perfect opportunity for you to tell her."

("hold on, she's cooking."

"stop learning from yunjin, please eunchae."

"what do i have to do with this!?")

"you know what. that doesn't sound that bad, coming from you," you said, not caring that you just casually threw some shade at chaewon.

"hey, what's that supposed to mean!"

2. chaewon's idea: share an umbrella under the showers of afternoon spring rain

"it's raining," kazuha pouted, holding her hand out to feel the rain landing on her fingers.

you gulped. this was it.

"y-yeah, it is," you nervously giggled, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants.

the girl beside you hummed, and glanced at you. "should we wait for it to stop?"

hearing her words, you fumbled around for the umbrella in your schoolbag. "it's, it's okay. i have an umbrella," you held the object up to her once you finally found it, "see?"

"oh," she simply nodded, stretching her hand out for you to give to her.

the two of you started walking into the onslaught of rain. kazuha's shoulder started getting wet, and you hurriedly grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to you.

"you'll get sick, dummy," you nagged, a pout on your face. she pinched your cheek and smiled, not making a move to pull away from your hold. butterflies swarmed your stomach.

"it's okay! as long as you stay dry."

damn this girl. why did you have to fall for someone who's so dense? after all these years of trying (and failing) to get your crush to acknowledge your romantic feelings toward her, she still didn't get it?

under your umbrella, the two of you were closer than ever. today was the first day of spring, though instead of warm sunshine, there was the pouring rain. winter felt like it had yet to say goodbye.

the cold air blew at your legs as kazuha maneuvered you around deep puddles on the paved sidewalk, careful not to have you step in one knowing you hated having wet socks.

when you realized what she was doing you flushed, heart accelerating at unnatural speeds, and you suddenly forgot how to breathe when you thought about confessing. the sensation came every time you confessed, but for some reason, this time it was ten times worse.

'okay, focus.' you tried to calm your breathing, taking deep breaths and squeezing kazuha's arm tighter.

the girl turned to you with a questioning look. "something wrong?"

you quickly shook your head and directed your gaze to the ground. you didn't know why you were struggling so much today. maybe it was the pouring rain, or maybe it was the fact you were so close together. maybe it was how she always earnestly took your interests to heart, or maybe...

suddenly, a rushing car zoomed past both of you, speeding over a large puddle. before you could even blink, kazuha switched her umbrella to the other hand, and pulled you into the safer side of the sidewalk, bracing herself for the impact of the puddle water soaking her jacket and uniform.

your heart stopped when she moved you, not processing what was happening. all you knew was that kazuha unexpectedly grabbed you and yanked you away, and now she was soaking wet.

you stammered, "are- are you okay?! wha... you're soaked! why'd you do that?"

the girl took a moment to catch her breath, slightly hunching over while still covering your head with the umbrella. your heart ached. ever so caring, kazuha was. even after she got drenched with rainwater (you cursed the car in your head), she was still making an effort to protect you from the rain.

kazuha gulped, her throat bobbing up and down. then, she stood up straight and looked at you, concern pooling in her eyes.

"are you okay? you're not hurt, are you?" she asked, trying to find any discomfort you could've showed.

you furrowed your eyebrows. was she being serious? she got splashed with water, to... to protect you! and now her favorite zip-up hoodie was ruined, and her uniform skirt was still dripping, and, you shuddered, her shoes and socks were wet. all because she wanted to keep you safe and dry.

you almost cried right then and there. how could you not like her?

"i'm okay. don't worry about me... but now you're all wet," you pointed out, "you can change at my house, i think you still have some clothes in my closet."

she hummed, face melting into a closed-eye smile, making you want to cup her cheeks and just kiss her like you'd always wanted.

you resume walking, your arm automatically looping with hers again, even though she told you that you would also get wet. the two of you fell back into a rhythm of avoiding puddles and making small talk in between. you almost forgot you were going to confess.

you looked around your surroundings, playing with your phone charm inside your jacket pocket. it was always something you did when you were nervous, to fidget with something. the dangly charm you bought with your friends on your class trip to jeju island was the more recent addition to the list.

"um, zuha?" you hesitantly started, "i actually do have something on my mind."

the japanese girl widened her eyes and nodded. "what's up, you feeling okay?"

her caring nature made it harder for you to confess. and now things you thought during the first few confessions were cycling through your mind again. what if she didn't like you like you did? what if you stopped being friends? would she be disgusted?

you swallowed the anxiety down, and took a few deep breaths for extra measure. "for a long time now, i-"

"ha! how you like that! you-" kazuha's ringtone went off, interrupting your (almost) confession. she frowned and put it on silent, then glancing back at you so you could finish what you were saying. more anxiety bubbled up.

"i-"

"ha! ho-"

groaning, she flashed you an apologetic smile and pressed the accept button on her phone. you stood there awkwardly and defeatedly, choosing to pass the time by looking around your surroundings. it took you a few moments to realize that you were already standing at the driveway of your own house.

when did that happen?

"seriously? ah, come on. i've already walked," kazuha grumbled to the person on the other side of the line. you'd already let go of her arm when she answered the call, unaware of your crush's disappointed eyes at your actions.

"okay, fine. why didn't anyone tell me?" she irritatedly asked. "no i didn't get the email, yujin, you know i barely check it."

after a few more lines exchanged between kazuha and the other person, (who you knew now was yujin) the japanese girl hung up with a tired sigh.

"y/n, i'm sorry, i can't stay this time. coach kang moved tomorrow's weekend scrimmage to today because she's visiting her dad tomorrow."

you could only sink your shoulders in dismay. "ah..."

there goes your confession. again.

"you should take the umbrella with you though. we're already here," you gestured to your doorway, "at my house."

kazuha pursed her lips and nodded.

"let me at least walk you to the door."

"okay."

this time, you didn't make an effort to keep kazuha out of the rain, feeling sullen. not that she minded, it allowed her to fully cover your head instead.

instead of waving you goodbye like she always did, kazuha brought you into an abrupt hug. "...bye, y/n," she mumbled into your hair, and left a fleeting kiss on your forehead.

then, she took off, leaving you dumbfounded and alone in the doorway of your home.

"okay, what the actual fuck," you said to your tablet, your friends on facetime.

sakura, who was in a heated match of overwatch, hummed disapprovingly as she clicked and mashed her keyboard furiously. "stop swearing in front of eunchae."

"sorry, mom."

"what happened, though? you've been repeating the same thing for the past 10 minutes," said chaewon, "did my plan work?"

eunchae nodded, the hair roller she was using on her bangs shaking with the movement. "yeah, did it? i can't tell if your reaction is positive or not."

you took a deep breath as you massaged your temples. "i don't know. on one hand, i couldn't confess because we got interrupted again, on the other hand..." you paused.

"what? tell us," urged sakura. it looked like she finished her game. she must've won, judging by the contented smile she had on her face, and the chirpy tone her voice held that you could hear through the crackly audio of your ipad.

"we were in front of my house, she hugged me and kissed me on the forehead. i don't know if this is a sign or not," you sighed.

"it's a sign," yunjin confidently said. it was her first time speaking in the call, despite it being almost 20 minutes since you impulsively facetimed the groupchat.

she rested her white mechanical pencil behind her ear and grinned. then, she went back to typing away at her laptop, not elaborating on her cryptic answer.

"what does that mean, yunjin-unnie?" the youngest asked, to no avail. the volleyball player had muted herself and started to scribble something down while scrolling on her computer.

you clicked your tongue. this behavior was unusual for yunjin; she was usually the most talkative, but today she kept to herself. she seemed to be deep in thought.

"um, okay," you coughed, "kkura-unnie, you said you had a plan right?"

she smiled, stretching out her arms. (you swore you heard a few cracks) "sure i do. i think it'll be fun."

"that's what eunchae and chaewon said, but look where we are now."

"just trust me, y/n."

3. sakura's idea: take a pottery class together (and have a heartfelt conversation as you shape clay) ("i don't have-") ("you make me pay all the time, obviously i'm paying for the class.") ("...")

you know what, maybe this will work out. sakura's idea was pretty sound, romantic, and wasn't something you usually did with kazuha.

it was saturday. the class was booked for 12 pm. you got up at around 9:30, got ready, and were now killing time in your room as you waited for kazuha to arrive.

today you were wearing an outfit that you had put out last night, after hours of deciding with the help of yunjin and sakura. (it was really just something you found from pinterest that you tried to replicate with the clothes in your closet) but combined with it was this silver star necklace that the girl of your affections gifted you for your birthday.

you only took it out on special occasions, terrified you were going to lose it or break it if you wore it too often. usually, you kept it in its box on your nightstand, sometimes taking it out to admire or while thinking of kazuha.

...maybe that was tmi.

pacing around your room, you bit your nail as you awaited a text from your date friend. kazuha was going to pick you up for a quick brunch before you set off for the pottery studio located in the central city area. for brunch, you were going to a café you frequented that some of your friends worked at. (minjeong and jimin usually gave you discounts that you and your light wallet thanked them for. they also tried to help you with your crush, but those attempts were something to talk about another day.)

"ding!" your phone beeped. you rushed over to your phone at the speed of light, only to see it was a notification from sakura detailing your booking information.

groaning, you unceremoniously fell onto your bed. it was still early, only about 10:30, and the meeting time was 11, but kazuha would always be early, insisting that she should pick you up from your home because that was the "least she could do." such a gentlewoman, she was.

your phone beeped again, and you were about to set it to 'do not disturb' in the midst of your moping, until you turned the device over to see that kazuha was the one texting.

from: zuha 🦢💙 im at your door :]

yelping, you scrambled for your bag and made sure you looked presentable as you dashed to your apartment door. before you opened it, you checked yourself for the second time on your phone camera for anything that could possibly harm kazuha's image of you.

and there she was, in all her glory. wearing a cropped shirt with a white and black flannel on top, combined with gray canvas pants held up by a black grommet belt. it seemed to compliment your outfit, in a way. 'maybe yunjin helped her with her outfit, too,' you surmised, shaking your head at the thought.

"hey!" she greeted, shyly waving her hand. you'd been through this process countless times, but you both always acted like it was the first time.

"hey," you mirrored, stepping out of your home and locking the door behind you. your hand gravitated toward kazuha's, the action not going unnoticed by the girl, and she took the initiative and interlocked your fingers together. you coughed into your other fist in an attempt to cover your blushing face.

you made your way out of the apartment complex, to the parking lot. the japanese girl led you to a pristine white convertible, opening the passenger's side for you and jogging over to get in the driver's seat. your hands had to part briefly, but once she sat down, her hand found yours again.

pushing the the start button, kazuha put her seatbelt on and grinned at you, revving the engine a few times. you laughed, shaking your head when she made a satisfied face while nodding her head.

"dad let me borrow for today. said he was counting on me and to treat you right," she recounted, "so hopefully i'm doing something right."

"you are, don't worry," you answered, but really what you wanted to say was, 'you always do, without even trying. making me feel like the luckiest person alive with just a laugh. just a smile.'

and off you went downtown. kazuha handed you the aux cord, and you sang along to some of your favorite tunes on the way there. eventually, you made it to the café, sliding in the small designated parking area. kazuha went around and opened the door for you, again, and you walked through the entrance.

minjeong was at the counter, no jimin in sight, but she offered you a teasing smile at the sight of you and kazuha together.

"welcome! will both of you be having the usual?" she asked, resting her hands on the counter.

your date(?) turned to you, and you nodded. "yeah, just the usual," she replied to minjeong, then adding, "we'll also have two... egg drop sandwiches."

minjeong entered your orders in the system, kazuha paid, and the familiar barista handed you your receipt. before you left to secure a table, she gave you a look that screamed "you have to tell me all about it later." you timidly smiled back.

the two of you sat in your usual spot, a table for two in a quiet corner next to the window facing the bustling streets of downtown seoul. it was where you had your study sessions and hangouts with kazuha, and close enough to occasionally talk to jimin and minjeong during their breaks.

speaking of jimin, you were wondering where she was. her and minjeong were usually on the same shift. you'll ask later, when your orders came.

for now, you observed the girl sitting across from you, who had started folding the receipt into an origami crane. she was very focused, tongue slightly sticking out as she meticulously folded the thin paper. she always did this, making cranes out of your receipt from the café. and she always left the finished product on the table, for the employees to add to the stack of cranes hanging on the selfie wall that she had made on previous visits.

once she was done, she placed it in the middle of the table, giving it a few taps to the top of its head with her finger. her eyes met yours, and you flinched, being caught staring.

"how's your morning, so far?" she asked with a dopey grin, arms now resting on the polished surface of the table. it took you a couple of seconds to process her words, eyes still tracking her movements.

"it's been," you coughed, reminded of the inner turmoil you had just an hour ago, "fine, better since you came, zuha."

nice going, you! yunjin would've been proud of that one. you'd say eunchae and chaewon too, since they're always watching those k-dramas that you get roped into, but yunjin always managed to say those cheesy pickup lines with a straight face... at least for a few seconds.

but it seemed to have worked because the girl across from you had a light blush on her face. she played with a few strands of her hair, her smile growing by the second.

"that was smooth," she remarked, letting her hand linger on top of yours for a few moments. now, it was your turn to blush. was she trying to kill you!?

time passed and your drinks and food came, you and her making small talk as you enjoyed your sandwiches. nothing really interesting happened, the brunch went on as usual, with kazuha stealing a bite of your sandwich (even though she had the exact same thing, saying it tasted better because it was yours) and you taking selfies with her.

(after asking minjeong, apparently jimin was out sick, so the younger girl was left alone, much to her irritation.)

eventually you left after finishing everything you ordered, walking out to the parking lot together. it was nice out, the sun peeking our behind fluffy clouds, and a refreshing breeze dancing at your feet.

"the sandwiches were super good," kazuha remarks, kicking a stray pebble in front of her. "but you know what sounds good right now?"

she opened the car door for you, and walked over to the other side so she could sit on the opposite side.

"what?" you raised an eyebrow, even though you already knew what she was going to say next.

"greek yogurt!" you both said, your shared laughter now echoing within the car.

she started the engine and started to pull out of the parking space, still giggling quietly. "maybe we can get some after the pottery class."

you hummed, stashing the receipt from earlier into the glove box. "yeah, we should."

the drive from the café to the studio was a short ride away, and the two of you spent it belting out the lyrics to 'lovesick girls' by blackpink. it was one of the must-play songs whenever you were on the road with each other; a ride wouldn't feel complete without it.

the lyrics didn't have a special meaning to you, per se. it was just the first song that started playing the first time you and kazuha shared earbuds. the japanese girl happened to be a major blackpink fan, and while you weren't particularly into the group, lovesick girls was a good song. after that day, it became routine to listen to it at least once when you were with her.

when the two of you pulled up to the pottery studio, you breathed out a 'thank you' to sakura in your head. because there was no way your broke ass could afford this place. it blended in with the buildings around it, sleek and modern, and it seemed to be a hotspot for couples on dates.

"welcome!" the employee at the studio bowed. the place was quite sophisticated, charmingly decorated but still managing to keep a homey atmosphere.

you followed them to the front desk, pulling up the information that sakura sent you in the midst of your earlier morning misery. "we have a session for 12?"

the employee nodded, scanning the barcode that was included in the email.

"y/n?"

"that's me," you awkwardly waved. kazuha stifled a laugh, and you nudged her shoulder.

you were both led to a more suited area for working with clay, which was a room that looked much more like a workshop than the neat and tidy reception that you were just at.

"all the tools are over here," the person gestured to a shelving system with clear labels of which tools went where, "and any clay you want to use is over here."

"the paints are next to the clays," they looked down at their wristwatch, "your session is booked until 2, have fun!"

and off they went, skipping right back to the reception desk humming a tune you've never heard before. did... did they just leave you?

your 'date' cleared her throat, looking to you as if you had an answer to the unspoken question that lingered in the air. well, you were dragged to those lessons by eunchae and yunjin twice before, so maybe sakura was planning for you to teach kazuha?

you set your bag down, sighing. "well, let's get started, i've done this before so i think i know what to do?"

she followed, putting her phone down next to the pottery wheel that was already on the table.

a good 15 minutes passed and you showed the girl the basics of working with clay on the wheel. thankfully you both have gone through the tortures and wonders of art class, so there was no need to teach her the ABCs of clay. but the wheel was quickly disregarded when you mentioned you wanted to make a pinch pot, and kazuha, ever the easily influenced, wanted to make one too. there goes part of sakura's plan...?

so you sat across from her, working on a pinch pot that you intended to be in the shape of a cat, while she was trying to make one of moomin. at least that's what she told you—it looked more like a lump attached to the side of the pot, but you weren't going to say that to her face when she looked so proud of herself.

"so, kazuha," you started, carving a feline expression onto your pot, "i have something to tell you."

the girl hummed, not looking up from her own project. she was currently chipping off bits of the edges of clay with a scalpel.

"you mean a lot to me, you know," a deep breath, "truly amazing. you're so talented, and kind, even though you're really dorky and sometimes i feel like you were sent from space- in a good way! it's cute..."

"...but i guess what i'm trying to say, as someone who admi- kazuha!?"

in the middle of your speech, kazuha had accidentally flung a piece of clay into her eye. was she caught off? you didn't know, well, more like you didn't care because you needed to call an ambulance, asap.

"i'm, i'm fine, i think," she hissed, her body betraying her words when her eye started watering an irregular amount and her eye was bloodshot when you could finally see it opened.

you shook your head, biting your lip as you texted the groupchat about what had happened, and took kazuha's keys as you dragged her out with you to the parking lot. luckily, you got your license last month so you should knew what you were doing.

jesus.

"you're going to smash your skull into that desk, y/n."

you felt two taps on your head and the desk respectively, and briefly glanced up to see your classmates aeri and yizhuo looking at you like you were a cow in space.

and so you continued knocking your head against the cheap wood. maybe it'll get bluetoothed to kazuha, making her realize that you liked her. or something.

you collapsed into the nest of what was your hoodie and arms, and let out a muffled scream.

aeri pursed her lips and patted you on the head in sympathy. "is it kazuha again?"

"it's so kazuha again," yizhuo dragged out. yizhuo had a very punchable face.

you swatted at the cheerleader, scowling. "can you shut up? i swear nothing goes well when it's just me and her."

it's been a week since the clay incident, when you took her to the emergency room. all was fine after the doctor checked her eye and prescribed her some eye drops to use over the course of two weeks. kazuha said that she was feeling okay in the physical sense, but it was pretty traumatizing for her (and you) to be in that situation.

"i'm all out of ideas. should i give up?" you asked, searching for any hint of disagreement in both of the girls' eyes.

they shared a look, and turned back to you. "how about baking cookies?" proposed aeri, grabbing a carton of strawberry milk from her bag and placing it on your desk. you accepted it gratefully, taking a sip almost immediately.

"cookies! i bet she would love those. what if you baked together? you should bake together."

baking. not your strongest suit. the last time you baked, you were banned from the kitchen for a month. but, well, that was because you were messing around with eunchae, and this time you would probably buy a cookie mix from the convenience store. you liked to think you were great at following instructions.

it was worth a shot, though. and you were willing to do anything. except maybe trying to tell her upfront again. that would be too easy. and you liked to torture yourself... for no reason(?)

"i'll try it. thanks, you two. if it goes well, i'll give you some cookies as a token of my gratitude."

yizhuo smiled. aeri looked away.

"we'll have to take a raincheck on that."

4. aeri and yizhuo's idea: bake cookies together! (and sneak in a little smooth "i love you" while you're at it!)

"what made you want to bake cookies all of a sudden, y/n?"

you felt a drop of sweat on your forehead. you and kazuha were getting bowls from the cabinet and ingredients from your fridge. your parents were out tonight, to your relief. not that their presence was unwelcome, but even they were tired of the waiting game with the girl you liked.

the sound of the metal bowls clacking against each other alarmed kazuha, causing her to peek out from the door of the fridge.

"no reason... i just felt like making them. with you! yeah."

"okay... how many eggs do we need?"

you checked the back of the box. "just one."

"okay! ...ow."

it seemed that when she closed the door of the fridge, she had forgotten that her head was there too. how did you predict this? many, many experiences. like how she accidentally let the door slam against her hand, which was holding a can of dr pepper, which then caused her to drop said can, leading to a huge mess on the tiled floor.

she looked at you with a pout, but now holding a singular egg and a stick of butter.

...this was going to be a long day.

...

okay, well maybe not long. it wasn't going that badly, actually. by not bad you mean you were now sitting at the kitchen island with kazuha, waiting for the butter to melt in the microwave. she'd already gotten the egg and water, and you had gotten a bowl and some vanilla extract to mix with the pre-made cookie mix.

it said to soften the butter, but neither of you knew what the difference between softening it and melting it was, so... here's hoping your kitchen doesn't burn down again! and here's hoping that minjeong wouldn't feel offended at your lack of knowledge about baking. that girl could bake a mean cake. and a mean punch.

"you're a great person, y/n," she said, reaching over to rest her hand over yours. you felt the tips of your ears burn at the action. where was this going? wasn't this your line?

then she gave you her signature smile, so warm it could melt you, and you felt like you were actually about to melt into the bar stool.

she squeezed your hand, redirecting her gaze to the counter that she was leaning against. "and i just want to say thank you for taking care of me. and that i really, really..."

you furrowed your brow. "really... what?"

she pointed to the microwave. you glanced over to where she was pointing, and squinted at it to see that there was a flame forming on top of the foil of the small bowl you put the butter in.

wait.

"oh my god, fire! kazuha, get the fire extinguisher, it's on the wall next to the balcony door!"

she rushed to get the tool, preparing to spray as you opened the microwave.

some of the foam got in your face, and you coughed, trying to wave it away from you. kazuha went a little overboard.

did you jinx yourself with the "here's hoping your kitchen doesn't burn down again"? yeah. were you surprised? no.

the athlete cautiously grasped the bowl with an oven mitt, slowly pulling it off of the glass dish. the foil was charred, and she pulled it open to reveal butter that was definitely melted. to the point that it had turned into liquid.

first of all, why did you microwave the butter with the foil on? second of all, why did you even microwave it for that long? you suddenly regretted the decision that the two of you had made to let it melt, soften, or whatever for five minutes.

you sighed, dropping your forehead to the counter. "sorry, zuha. i guess the cookies are a fail for today."

"it's okay, y/nnie," she shook her head, patting your back.

after you cleaned up failure #2 (#1 being the aforementioned cake with eunchae), you watched a few episodes of the latest k-drama with kazuha that night before she went home.

plan d of operation: ILYKZH was, undoubtedly, a fail.

karaoke was a place you and your friend group frequented. at first you avoided it like the plague, but with some convincing from your friends, you've grown comfortable with it.

with all the food and dessert you could order, and free entertainment, (watching sakura sing yet another red velvet song while chaewon and eunchae clap along) who wouldn't like karaoke? though it was mostly the pizza that kept you there. there has got to be some sort of secret ingredient they use.

it was your weekly visit to the usual place, and this time yunjin was accompanying you. you didn't know why she was, but she always paid whenever she came with you guys, so you didn't mind.

the group ordered their drinks, and of course the deluxe pizza and fries combo, and sakura was already looking for the next red velvet song to sing. you smiled fondly at the sight, watching the youngest try to convince her to pick another artist, even though you all knew it wasn't going to happen.

"do you think kkura-unnie's ever gonna stray away from her favorite group?" yunjin tapped your shoulder. you rested your chin on your palm and pretended to think, the american laughing at you soon after. it seemed the answer was delivered telepathically.

"maybe..." you glanced at the eldest, who was now singing a duet with chaewon of 'one of these nights', "...not."

"oh yeah, i have something for you," she reached into her purse, pulling out two slips of paper and presenting them to you.

you narrowed your eyes at her, "what're these? and what for?"

"they're tickets, silly! to the aquarium. i got them from theater club, but i don't need them. why not take zuha out?"

pause. should you trust yunjin? she'd been pretty quiet about your ordeal(s) involving the girl you liked, so who knew what she was planning?

but then you remembered the kitchen that was set on fire just three days ago, and so you took the pair of tickets from her hand anyway.

an invisible spark of understanding flared as you shook her hand.

plan e (e, really?) of operation: ILYKZH was a go.

5. yunjin's idea: go on an aquarium date, accompanied by the deep blue and the jellyfish

"be good, okay?" sakura said to you as you stepped out of the car, shielding your eyes from the glare of the sun.

you playfully scrunched up your nose. "you sound like my mom."

she stuck out her tongue at you, and you had half a mind to get back into the vehicle to flick her on the forehead.

"do it this time, y/n," she reminded you. not that you needed a reminder—the past four attempts were already enough of one.

but, still, she was right. if things didn't go well this time then you might just give up. it had almost been a year since you started trying to confess, after all.

the car door closed with a thump, and you waved at sakura through the window.

now, it was time to wait for kazuha. the girl was bound to arrive any moment now, since it was nearing the meetup time. usually, she'd get there before you, but yunjin probably gave her a ride, and yunjin was known to be a very punctual individual; she always arrived at the exact scheduled time, no earlier, no later.

the time on your phone hit 2:00 pm, and as expected, yunjin's gray SUV pulled up to the parking lot, kazuha in tow. they exchanged some words as they walked up to you, but you couldn't make out anything they were saying.

"hey, y/n!" the american waved to you, lightly pushing the other girl forward, to which she protested to.

"hi, y/n," she said quietly, bashfully scratching her neck. you covered your mouth with your hand to hide your giggles.

"hi kazuha, yunjin! right on time, as per usual."

yunjin nodded, "you know me. well, i hope you two have fun, send me pictures of the fish!"

...and she left.

now it was only you and kazuha, standing in front of the entrance to the aquarium.

"you..."

"huh?" you slightly flinched as she gently held your star pendant, caressing it like it was the most fragile thing on earth.

she softly smiled, looking deeply into your eyes. "you're wearing the necklace."

your heart burst into flames. maybe now was a good time to call sakura to come pick you up with the excuse of having heart palpitations. wait, no, y/n! you have to go on!

hurriedly turning away, you gestured to the glass doors of the building. "let's head in!"

in all honesty, you'd already been here more than a few times, and you'd practically memorized layout of the place. kazuha, however, hadn't, this being her first visit to the aquarium since moving to seoul.

so you let yourself be whisked away by the athlete, wandering through the many, many habitats in one of the biggest aquariums in korea. the two of you stopped by the gift shop, kazuha buying you one of the giant shark plushies, and of course you had to take tons of pictures with it in the shark tunnel.

after clearing most of the sections, you ended up going back to the jellyfish exhibits.

"they're just so interesting, the way they just float around, you know?" she said, face illuminated by the blue light of the tank.

you took a moment to admire the sight, stepping closer to observe the moon jellies alongside her. "i get you," you smiled, eyes following the jellies in no particular order. "they're so pretty. especially with the tank lighting."

kazuha turned her head to look at you, a grin spreading on her face as well. "wait, don't move."

in a second, all you could hear was your own thumping heart as the girl's thumb picked something off your face. her own face was incredibly close to yours, her breath fanning your lips as she leaned even closer to you.

"y/n, i..."

at some point (you didn't remember) you felt your eyelids falling shut, anticipating the feeling of her lips on yours.

...but that feeling never came.

"sir, get out of the tank, please! sir!"

the murmur of the crowd behind you became louder, security and staff rushing to another section of the aquarium, shouting warnings one after another.

you jumped away from kazuha, whipping your head around to see the man fighting off two staff members inside one of the tanks, people gathering around it to record the scene.

"what the hell..." you mumbled, turning back to the girl you almost kissed. she looked at you with furrowed brows, a confused expression on her face, similar to yours.

you shifted on your feet, pursing your lips. "we should get out of here. before," you pointed at the situation behind you which one would only deem as utterly ridiculous, "any of that gets worse."

she nodded, and the both of you speed walked to the exit of the building, choosing not to talk about what had happened before you got interrupted. you called sakura, and kazuha called yunjin, and you found yourself in front of the entrance again like in the morning.

that night, you let your dreams finish the moment for you.

+1.

you, sakura, eunchae, chaewon, yunjin, and kazuha all stood in front of the ferris wheel at everland. it was late—the sun was long gone, replaced by the glowing crescent moon.

the ferris wheel was a popular attraction, typically saved for the end of the day. and in your friends' words: the perfect confession spot. you'd already told them you were giving up after the last time, but they just wouldn't budge.

unsurprisingly, you and kazuha were somehow shoved into the cabin together.

as the cabin rose up into the air, you fidgeted with the star pendant resting on your chest. the ride was filled with awkward silence, the two of you sitting on opposite sides but looking away from each other.

you said you were giving up, but deep down you really hadn't. it was hard to stop liking someone you fell for two years ago. even now, your heart was still beating fast just looking at the girl. you wondered when, if ever, these feelings would stop. would you be happy?

the ride was now nearing the top, the night sky becoming more visible from the windows of the cabin.

"hey, y/n..." kazuha said, her voice breaking the silence. your gaze remained outside, unmoving, finding it hard to speak, but you answered regardless.

"yeah?"

"i like you too."

you'd nearly gotten a cramp at how fast your neck turned to meet kazuha's eyes.

"what?"

"i heard you and yunjin and sakura-unnie talking. about how you were going to give up on me, and i was so confused but i finally figured it out," she blurted out, suddenly feeling embarrassed at how quickly she said those words in succession. "and i know you've been trying to tell me but god, i'm so, so stupid."

"y/n," she moved to your side of the booth, taking your hands in hers. there was a mix of determination, honesty, and apology that you could clearly see in her eyes, putting you in a trance.

"i'm sorry it took me this long. but, i like you. so much that i can't sleep at night because all i can think of is you. so much that i spend hours and hours talking about you to yunjin, to the point where she's even blocked me because i just wouldn't stop. so much tha-"

peach. peach was what nakamura kazuha's lips tasted like, the peach flavored lip gloss that you got her on a whim on a random tuesday. your arms naturally looped around her neck, hers wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer to her, lips moving against yours in a clumsy rhythm.

when you pulled away briefly, forehead resting on hers, she grinned.

"what are you smiling at?"

"you taste like vanilla soft serve."

you shook your head lightly in disbelief. "i had some earlier."

she huffed. "i know."

and her lips were on yours once again.

(when you came out from the cabin, hand in hand with messy hair and smudged lip gloss, you were met with four pairs of knowing looks.

sakura was the first to speak. "who said it?"

you and kazuha looked at each other in confusion. "uh, what?"

"who confessed!" chaewon groaned, puffing her cheeks up in impatience.

"kazuha did," you said before your now girlfriend could.

sakura and yunjin pumped their fists in the air, even going as far as giving each other a spirited hug. you smiled at the thought of them being happy for you and kazuha, until you saw eunchae and chaewon grumbling and pulling 50,000 won bills out of their wallets.

"you guys seriously bet on us?" the girl beside you asked, mouth agape.

"we waited two years, we might as well make something out of it!" the american said as she took the golden bill from chaewon, celebrating.

"unbelievable.")

a/n : tell me to write something and i come up with something entirely different this is why i have like 8 wips

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 11.9k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: dishin these chaps out series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Himari is not having a good day. 

First, her burgundy patent leather Saint Laurent Nano Sac De Jour bag is ruined by the help accidentally dropping it on the dirty sidewalk, she lost her favorite lipgloss, and finally, probably the worst of them all, her so-called “boyfriend” isn’t acting very boyfriendly. Sure, he took her out just last night for dinner, and sure he fucked her good when they got back to her place, but he left before she even woke up. Treating her like she’s just a dirty hooker. He’s barely even responding to her texts, letting his ringing go to voicemail. She’s confused, annoyed, and extremely infuriated. There’s no reason for him to be acting like this all of a sudden; she’s his girlfriend for crying out loud.

So why is he being so secretive and mysterious all of a sudden? Why is he almost acting like he doesn’t have a girlfriend?

The sound of her red bottom heels pacing her living room is the only thing heard in the spacious environment. Biting her French-tipped thumbnail, eyes flickering to her cell phone that lays face up on the glass coffee table constantly. She has a right to act this way, she thinks to herself. Did she do something wrong? Did she make him mad? The sharp click of her red-bottom heels echoes through the pristine silence of her living room, the noise rhythmic but erratic as her thoughts spiral. Himari continues to gnaw on her perfectly manicured French-tipped nail, her polished demeanor crumbling bit by bit. As she keeps looking back at her phone, it’s like a silent challenge she can’t seem to ignore. The empty screen glares back at her, fueling her growing anxiety. She’s his girlfriend, after all. What could she have said wrong? She doesn’t remember doing anything to upset him. 

Her mind races, replaying every interaction over the past few days. The dinner last night, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. The fleeting moments of silence during their conversations, like he was somewhere else entirely. And this morning—no note, no text, no explanation. Just...nothing. She takes a seat and her nails dig into the leather armrest of her designer couch. Glaring at her phone again, willing it to light up with his name. But of course, the screen remains stubbornly dark.

No. This isn’t her fault. Satoru is the one being distant and evasive. He’s the one shutting her out. This is not her fault.  Her heel taps against the floor, her frustration bubbling over. Maybe he’s testing her, she reasons. Trying to see if she’ll chase him. What a bastard.

Her jaw tightens, her perfectly sculpted features twisted in a mixture of anger and determination. Twirling a piece of her long, lusciously healthy caramel hair. No, she decides, she won’t let him get away with this. She’s not some woman he can keep on the sidelines, only to toss a crumb of attention whenever it suits him. If Satoru thinks she’ll just sit here and wait, he’s gravely mistaken. She’s Himari Nakamura for god’s sake, her parents own Tenka Couture—one of the most, if not the most sought out and luxurious fashion brand in all of Japan. 

She grabs her phone and scrolls through her contacts, pausing at his name. Her thumb hovers over the call button, but instead, she opts for something more pointed—a text, again.

We need to talk. Don’t keep me waiting.

The message is curt, sharp, and dripping with the subtle implication that she’s losing patience. Tossing the phone back on the table, she exhales sharply, her chest rising and falling as she tries to reel in her emotions. But it’s no use. The uncertainty, the rejection—it’s eating her alive.

Himari’s gaze flickers to the ornate mirror hanging on the far wall, her reflection staring back at her with a mix of vulnerability and fury. She’s not used to feeling like this—out of control, discarded. Satoru has always been the one to chase, to charm, to reassure her of her place in his life.

So why now? Why does it feel like he’s slipping through her fingers?

A sudden, dark thought creeps into her mind, unbidden but insistent. What if there’s someone else?

Her stomach churns, the idea sending a fresh wave of anger coursing through her veins. No. That can’t be it. Satoru wouldn’t dare. Would he? The phone buzzes, jolting her from her spiraling thoughts. Her heart leaps, but when she sees the name on the screen, her hope evaporates.

It’s not Satoru. It’s his mother. She stares at the screen, her thumb hesitating over the answer button. What could she possibly want? She finally concedes, pushing her hair over her shoulder, and smiling. “Hello, Mrs. Gojo. What a pleasure to speak to you again.” She greets the older woman on the phone with a wave of politeness. 

“Ah, yes. Himari, are you busy right now?” Satoru’s mother, Akane Gojo, replies back. Her aged voice mixed with a hint of reluctance that makes Himari want to call her a bitch. She doesn’t—she’ll never. She’s not that idiotic. 

“No, ma’am. I’m not, may I ask why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you happened to know where my son is. My husband has been trying to get a hold of him all day and he isn’t answering. Is he with you?”

So, he’s not with his parents either. That’s even more shady. Just what the hell is he up to? “No, actually, I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I was starting to get a little worried.”

Himari hears the other woman sighing over the phone, muttering something about how her son is a headache. "Well," Akane begins again, her tone sharp with a tinge of frustration, "if you do hear from him, could you tell him to stop avoiding his family? It's unlike him to ignore us like this."

"Of course, ma'am. I'll let him know as soon as I can." Himari’s voice is syrupy sweet, masking her own irritation.

"Good. Thank you, dear." There's a beat of silence before Akane continues, her tone shifting to something more pointed. "And, Himari, I hope you understand how important Satoru's family obligations are. It’s important he doesn’t forget that."

Himari freezes for a moment, the subtle jab not lost on her. "Of course, ma'am," she replies smoothly, though her grip tightens on the phone. The call ends, leaving Himari staring at the blank screen, her mind racing. Family obligations. Avoiding his parents. Acting strange. All of it points to one undeniable truth: Satoru is hiding something. Her nails drum against the glass coffee table as she processes Akane's words. For a moment, she considers whether Satoru’s mysterious behavior has to do with the Gojo Group’s business dealings. But no, he’s always managed to balance that side of his life without much issue.

This time, it feels...personal almost. She stands abruptly, pacing the length of her living room once more. If his own mother doesn’t know where he is, then who does? 

Satoru, the wealthy, trust fund man that he is, has multiple places he calls homes. It’s proof of the fact that he has money, lots of it—more than what he knows what to do with. There’s the high-rise penthouse, where most people will find him. Next, the Next, the sprawling countryside estate nestled just outside the city—a retreat designed for privacy, complete with lush gardens, a pristine pool, and the kind of modern architecture that graces the covers of luxury magazines. This place, he rarely visits, but it’s there, waiting for him whenever he craves solitude away from the chaos of his social and family obligations. Then there’s the minimalist townhouse downtown, a sleek and understated property he keeps for the sake of convenience. Its location near the financial district makes it the perfect spot for impromptu meetings or when he wants to blend into the hustle and bustle of the city without drawing too much attention.

And finally, there’s the seaside villa. A true gem perched on a cliff with an uninterrupted view of the ocean. It's a home reserved for moments when life feels particularly overwhelming, a place where he can lose himself in the sound of the waves crashing below and the horizon stretching endlessly before him. Each property represents a different facet of his life: the penthouse for the public figure, the estate for the privileged heir, the townhouse for the businessman, and the villa for the man who sometimes just wants to escape it all.

Despite all these homes, none of them feel like home.

Lately, though, he’s been spending more time in places that aren’t tied to his wealth—places like a run-down apartment complex on the other side of town. It’s jarring, even for him, to walk through the cracked pavement and hear the hum of buzzing fluorescent lights in the lobby. But that’s where she is. Where they are. 

After seeing that place for the first time a few days ago, he automatically felt uneasy—maybe even disgusted. That is not the kind of place he wants his son being raised, where he wants you living. It’s a place for the unsavory group of people. Sure, it’s a little thoughtless of him to think these things because everyone has different situations, like you for example. But as stated before, he’s a spoiled brat to the core. So while he didn’t outwardly show it (at least he thinks so), Satoru hates the place you and his son call home. 

He’s brewing in these thoughts in his villa. Sitting on the white lawn chair, watching the pearly waves hit the shore and back. His phone’s on silent, taking pleasure in his solitude. For a second, he entertains the brief thought of being with his son and you instead. He can imagine the smile that grows on his face, watching the pretty sight in front of him. He can almost picture it clearly: the sight of you two laughing, Koji’s excited chatter, and the way your eyes soften when you look at him. It’s a nice thought, but he quickly dismisses it. You’ve made your choices, his choices for him. 

Still, the image lingers in his mind. Koji, smiling up at him, full of admiration. You, guarded yet warm, offering him a smile that could mean more if he allowed himself to lean into it. The waves crash again, louder this time, and Satoru snaps out of his reverie. His fingers twitch at the side of his chair, but he doesn’t reach for his phone. Instead, he forces himself to stay present. The world he’s created for himself is simpler when it’s just him. No obligations, no questions he doesn’t want to answer. But that image of you and Koji is still there, in the back of his mind. 

He doesn’t know why, sure he can imagine himself being with his son. But you too? The woman who lied behind his back for years, the woman who he doesn’t know would’ve ever told him if his best friend didn’t run into you? He sighs, a frustration that isn’t entirely his own settling in his chest. The villa’s quiet, but his thoughts are anything but. He looks out over the horizon, trying to push the feelings away, but they remain, a constant whisper in the back of his mind. What if things could be different? 

But there’s no going back now. The phone buzzes again, but this time, he ignores it. He can’t afford to entertain any distractions—not now. The solitude feels safer, at least for now. He’ll drive back in a few hours, but for now, he likes it here. 

“You look like you’d be a good mom.”

You falter, hands pausing around the pot of hyacinths. Giving your boyfriend a weird look, one of confusion and small disbelief. “Hah, what?”

He simply shrugs, watching you go back to fixing the displays of flowers. He’s half tempted to spout some cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the plants, but he’s already done that five times today. He watches you with that signature grin that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “What? It’s true,” he says with a shrug, his pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement.“Yeah, you know—you got those like, instinctual mother thingies.”

“What even makes you say that?” You huff. 

“I’ve seen you with kids.”

“And?”

“Andddd,” he drags the words out, dramatically rolling his eyes. “I like it, looks good.”

You can’t help but snort, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No, really,” he insists, his tone softening just enough to make you glance up at him again. “You’re kind, patient—except with me, obviously—and you care. It’s cute.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re so weird to even be thinking about that right now.”

“Maybe,” he says, stepping closer and brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “But I’m not wrong.” For a moment, his words hang in the air, and you find yourself wondering what it might mean—if he’s just teasing, or if he’s thinking about something more. The thought makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t quite name.

“You’re really something, Gojo,” you mutter, shaking your head as you turn back to the flowers, hoping he doesn’t notice the faint warmth creeping up your cheeks. “We’re nineteen and you’re immature.”

“Something amazing, obviously,” he replies without missing a beat, his grin widening. And just like that, the moment lightens, though his words linger in the back of your mind long after he’s stopped teasing. “And I’m not immature—at least not too much.”

You hum, rolling your eyes. “Debatable.”

He leans on the counter again, his head tilted as he watches you with that annoyingly familiar mix of mischief and curiosity. “Debatable? Come on. I’m the perfect blend of maturity and charm. Like... the top-tier boyfriend package.”

“Top-tier, huh?” you say dryly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself. “Is that what you call forgetting our coffee date last week?”

“That was one time!” he protests, holding up a hand like he’s pleading his case in court. “And I made up for it, didn’t I? Flowers and donuts. And sex.”

“Uh-huh, right, right.” You dismissively respond. 

“You know, someday you’re going to look back at nineteen-year-old me and think, ‘Wow, I was so lucky to date this guy.’”

“Or I’ll think, ‘What was I thinking?’” you counter, though your smile gives you away.

Satoru laughs, his hand brushing against yours for just a moment as he reaches for the pot of hyacinths. “Nah, you’ll think, ‘Man, this guy’s been stealing my heart since day one.’”

You roll your eyes again, but the warmth in your chest lingers. Even if you won’t admit it, a small part of you wonders if he’s right.

You sigh this time, brushing your hand over the petals of the purple hyacinth. Its fragrance fills the space between you two, sweet and heavy, like the weight of the moment you’re trying to ignore. “You’re way too confident, you know that?”

“I prefer the term self-assured,” Satoru counters, but there’s something softer in his tone now. Less teasing, more genuine. He leans a little closer, his eyes fixed on you like he’s trying to memorize this moment. “And hey, don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Your fingers are still against the stem, and for just a second, the air shifts. His words hang between you like a thread, fragile and thin, threatening to snap. “You’re exhausting, Gojo,” you murmur, your voice quieter this time. But there’s no bite to your words, only a faint ache you can’t quite name. 

“And yet, you keep me around,” he says softly, his grin faltering into something smaller, more vulnerable. His hand brushes against yours again, deliberate this time, and your breath catches. His longer fingers interlacing with your own, bringing the back of your hand up to plant one kiss, then another, and another to your skin—slowly making his way up your arm.

“Sometimes I wonder why,” you admit, a half-hearted laugh escaping you as you shake your head. The pot in your hands feels heavier than it should, your grip tightening just slightly. Reveling in the warm feeling of his lips, a small breath of air leaving you.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when you glance up at him, you find his gaze steady on yours. There’s no mischief now, no playful grin. Just him. Just Satoru. “Maybe it’s because we fit,” he says finally, his voice almost a whisper. “Even if it’s messy or complicated... it feels like it’s supposed to be this way.” His lips are now on your shoulder, marking up to your neck; to which he spends extra time at.

Your chest tightens, and you quickly look back at the flowers, pretending to adjust the display again. “You’re talking like we’re some kind of fairytale, Satoru.” Your hand lets go of the pot, settling it back on its shelf. Cheeks beginning to heat up and you do your best to hold in the pathetic mewl that threatens to leave your mouth when he sucks just a little too sharp.

“Maybe we are,” he replies without hesitation, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart ache. But fairytales don’t last, you think, the thought clawing at the edges of your mind like a dark shadow. You don’t say it out loud, though. Instead, you force a small laugh, pushing the heaviness aside.

“You’re too much,” you murmur, shaking your head again, eyes closing shut.

Satoru watches you for a long moment before leaning up to your ear. You feel his grin returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

You don’t respond, but the silence that follows feels louder than it should. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this moment—this version of you and him—is fleeting. Like the flowers in the pot before you, it’s beautiful, but it won’t last forever, especially with how…different you two are. You don’t tell him that, though. Instead, you smile faintly, keeping your eyes on the flowers, and let the moment linger just a little longer. Letting him continue to worship your skin in kisses, reaching your lips in a magnetizing way that always leaves you begging for more. It’s your own way of letting yourself bask in the simplicity and intimacy of one another, pushing back the brutal thought that this could all change. 

Preparing yourself for the worst, the inevitable because you’re too afraid to admit to yourself that you’re already playing a dangerous game, already biting off more than you can chew. 

The weight of your unspoken fears settles heavily in your chest, threatening to suffocate the fragile warmth between you. Still, you cling to it—this fleeting moment of love—as if holding on tightly enough might make it last. Satoru reaches out again with his other hand, his fingers ghosting over yours, but this time it feels different. Less playful, more deliberate, like he knows something you’re too scared to confront. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder that he’s here now, that you’re here now.

But for how long?

You glance up at him, catching the faint crease between his brows, the way his lips twitch as though he’s searching for the right words. Or maybe he’s feeling the same quiet dread you are, that bitter knowledge that life has a way of pulling things apart, no matter how tightly you try to hold them together.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. His teasing bravado is gone, leaving only raw sincerity behind.

You force a smile, one you know doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

“About?” he presses gently, his gaze unwavering, his thumb moving across your cheekbone gently.

“Nothing,” you lie, your fingers brushing over the petals again, grounding yourself in their softness. “It’s nothing.” Satoru doesn’t believe you, you can tell by the way his eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans back, his shoulders relaxing as he shifts the conversation.

“Y’know,” he begins, his grin returning, though softer now, “if you ever get tired of the flowers, I’m always available for career advice. I’m an excellent life coach.”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound thin but authentic. “Yeah? What’s your first piece of advice?”

“Marry rich,” he quips, winking, but the joke falls a little flat. “Meaning me, baby,” he adds, bringing you close by an arm to your shoulders, kissing your temple. You shake your head, but the laughter fades too quickly, leaving you both in the quiet again. The thought returns, sharper now, that this could all slip through your fingers.

And maybe that’s why you let yourself lean into him just a little more, let the edge of your shoulder brush against his. It’s why you kiss him back when he leans back into your lips. It’s not much, but it’s your way of holding onto this moment, even as the inevitability of its end looms over you like a storm cloud. Because deep down, you already know the truth: you’re playing with fire, and it’s only a matter of time before the flames consume you. 

You already know a man like Satoru Gojo would never stay with someone like you.

You jolt upright at the sound of your blaring, very annoying alarm. Quickly turning it off, you give yourself a moment to blanky stare at your sheets. Rubbing your eyes. Were you really just dreaming about that? Or no, it wasn’t a dream—but a memory. A distinct, longing feeling begins to pool in your gut. The kind that makes you feel numb and unresponsive, the kind you get when you just dream about some mystery man you fell in love with but can’t remember his face. You shake your head, trying to push the feeling away as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. The room feels colder than usual, the early morning light barely filtering through the curtains. It’s a struggle to move, the weight of that memory—no, that ghost of a feeling—pressing down on you.

Satoru.

What once was.

The way your chest tightens, the ache that feels both familiar and unwelcome, tells you everything. You can almost hear his voice, playful and warm, teasing you like he always used to. You can almost feel his touch, fleeting but deliberate, like he was trying to leave a mark without you noticing.

God, why now? For what reason? You’ve long been over him, haven’t you? No doubt he has, considering he’s more than likely dating someone right now. You wonder when—or if—he’ll tell you. He has to, right? Because if this woman will possibly be around your son in the future, you have to know who she is, just like she has to know who you are. And if she and Satoru perhaps get married in the fu—

You quickly stop your train of thought.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake it off. There’s no time for this. You have too much on your plate to sit here drowning in nostalgia. The rent. Koji. Work. Life doesn’t pause just because your subconscious decided to dig up a piece of your past you’ve tried to bury. But the feeling lingers, refusing to let go. You stumble into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in the hopes that it’ll snap you out of it. For a second, it works. The chill jolts you awake, and you grip the edges of the sink, staring at your reflection.

“You’re fine,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s just a memory.” But your reflection doesn’t look very convinced.

Busying yourself with your other life and mom responsibilities proves to work, the thought of your dream this morning and Satoru in general being pushed to the back burner. You rather it be this way, it’s easier to function. 

“I’ll probably be a little late to pick you up from school today, Koji.” You tell your son, hand clutching his as you make the way to his school. The morning is colder, having dressed him in a puffy jacket, a beanie, scarf, and cute mittens you crocheted when you had the passion. 

He looks up at you, bottom lip jutting out into a frown. “Why?”

You sigh, not sure how to explicitly explain that you’ll be putting in an extra hour today at the cafe so you can scrounge up as much money as you can for the money due this Friday—in two days from now. It really feels impossible, but you’ll find a way. “Mama has to work a little longer today, I’m sorry.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his small brows furrowing as he kicks a pebble along the sidewalk. "It's okay, Mama. I can wait." His words are simple, but the way he says them—the way he tries to be understanding beyond his years—makes your heart ache. You hate this. Hate that he even has to think like this. He should be carefree, worrying about which dinosaur to play with or what snack he’ll get after school. Not whether his mama is working herself into the ground. 

You’re feeling extreme guilt again. Wondering and worrying that you’re making him grow up too fast. But tons of kids stay a bit later at school when waiting for their parents to pick them up, don’t they?  You force a smile, squeezing his hand gently. "Thank you, baby. You're such a good boy."

His face lights up at the praise—as always. He starts talking about what he’s looking forward to in class today. You nod and hum along as he chatters, trying to match his energy, but your mind is already elsewhere. Two days.

You’re running out of time, and no matter how many hours you squeeze into the day, it doesn’t feel like enough. You’ve thought about asking for help, swallowing your pride just this once, but the options are limited. The last thing you want is to open that door with Satoru, and there’s no one else who can offer the kind of money you need.

By the time you reach the school gates, you’re exhausted—mentally more than physically. Kneeling to adjust Koji’s scarf and beanie, you kiss his cheek and give him your warmest smile. "I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I promise. I love you."

"Okay, Mama. I love you too," he says, his grin wide and trusting as he hugs you tightly before running off to join his classmates. You stand there for a moment, watching him go, before turning and heading toward the café. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of your reality pressing down on you.

Two days. And not a second to waste.

But just because things never seem to go right for you, Mr. Ito comes out from the classroom, standing by his door. “Oh, Ms. Y/N? Good morning.”

Jesus Christ, can he just take a fucking hint. You’re literally walking away. However, you put on a facade of politeness and turn around to face him, holding back a scowl at his ever-present smile. “Good morning, Mr. Ito.”  

He spares a quick glance into his growing room of children before stepping away and closer to you. Instinctively, you take a small one back. “How are you today?”

“I’m great.”

“That’s good to hear,” he nods, clasping his hands behind his back. His eyes do a quick scan of you, and you could almost swear you see his smile widen—like he’s appreciating the sight. Dirty bastard. 

You suppress a shudder, keeping your expression neutral. This obviously isn’t the first time Mr. Ito has made you uncomfortable, but you’ve learned to play nice for Koji’s sake. After all, the last thing you want is to make things awkward between your son and his teacher. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ito, but I really need to get to work,” you say, shifting your weight to one foot, hoping he gets the hint.

“Oh, of course,” he replies, though he doesn’t move away. “I just wanted to tell you how impressed I am with Koji’s improvement with his behavior. He’s such a bright boy, and so polite too. A testament to your parenting, I’m sure.”

There’s something about the way he says it—too smooth, too rehearsed—that makes your stomach churn. You force a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you. Koji works very hard.”

“Yes, well, if you ever need to discuss his progress or anything else, my door is always open. Even outside of school hours,” he adds, his tone far too suggestive for your liking. 

Didn’t he already say this line before? Your grip tightens on your bag, but you keep your composure. “That’s kind of you, Mr. Ito. Have a good day.” Before he can respond, you turn on your heel and walk away, heart pounding. The nerve of that man. You’d always sensed something was off about him, but lately, he’s been crossing more lines, and you’re starting to feel trapped.

It’s not like you can pull Koji out of the school—this is the best option you can afford right now. And confronting Mr. Ito? That could easily backfire, making Koji’s time in class unbearable. As you walk to work, the weight of your problems feels heavier than ever. The looming eviction notice, the landlord’s constant pressure, and now, Mr. Ito’s thinly veiled advances.

Two days. 

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus. You don’t have time to worry about Mr. Ito or anything else. Right now, all that matters is making it to Friday.

“Did you yell at her?” is the first thing Suguru asks. After not seeing his best friend for a week, Satoru would’ve thought he’d have something else to say. However, he can imagine he just wants to get down to the point after he sent the black-haired man a message about seeing you for the first time again. 

“No, I didn’t.” Satoru cooly responds, finger tapping along the glass rim of his overly sugar-infested coffee. Suguru takes a seat across from him, giving his friend an analytical glare. Satoru’s dining room, save for the weird tension of words having yet to be spoken. 

Suguru leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. "So, what did you do then? Stare at her like a creep?"

Satoru's lips twitch into a smirk, but there’s no humor in it. "I talked to her, obviously."

"Obviously," Suguru repeats, the sarcasm thick. He glances at the untouched plate of food in front of him. "And how’d that go?"

Satoru shrugs, the motion too nonchalant to be genuine. “She was...surprised. And emotional, but I can’t really blame her for that.”

"Emotional, huh?" Suguru raises a brow. “Did she apologize?” 

Satoru nods. 

"I’m guessing you didn’t hold back."

"Why should I have?" Satoru snaps, his voice sharper than he intended. "She’s lucky I didn’t do worse, she honestly deserves every single fucking thing I told her, and more.”

Suguru doesn’t flinch at the outburst. Instead, he lets the words hang in the air, his silence more pointed than anything he could’ve said. Satoru sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t yell at her, okay? I barely even argued. I just...listened and answered.”

"And what did she say?"

Satoru hesitates, his eyes drifting to the cityscape visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. “She told me why she kept it a secret, how she felt, and whatever.” Satoru's jaw clenches, the memory of seeing you cry filling him with dread—like it used to way back then. He’s surprised he was that receptive to it, especially that quickly. Luckily, he held back the almost innate urge to bring you into your arms and comfort you. Because again, you don’t deserve his comfort right now.

Suguru pauses, letting his own curiosity win over. “Well…why did she do it?”

There’s a moment of still quietness while Satoru thinks over the other man’s question. Satoru’s gaze remains fixed on the cityscape, the towering buildings blurring as his thoughts churn. His chest feels tight, a cocktail of emotions he doesn’t have the energy to name swirling in his gut. Anger, hurt, guilt—they’re all there, fighting for dominance. “She didn’t give me a chance,” Satoru mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “She decided for me. Like I didn’t deserve to know. Like I wouldn’t have...tried.” He swallows hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He’s never been good at this—this vulnerable, messy part of himself. The part that cares too much, that aches too deeply. “I’m angry,” he finally admits, his fingers drumming against the table. “I’m so fucking angry at her for thinking so little of me. But at the same time... I…I think I get it. It was the rejection she was scared of, the first failed attempt, she didn’t want Koji growing up like me, she…she didn’t think I was ready, either. She said she was trying to protect us all.” His words are low and hushed, even reciting them making him feel as if he needs to spill his guts. “She doesn’t deserve it, she doesn’t deserve my understanding, my empathy for her, she…she doesn’t deserve anything. I shouldn’t feel bad for her, I shouldn’t. But I do for some fucking reason, and it’s making me so fucking confused.”

Suguru doesn’t interrupt, letting him vent. Satoru’s words come faster now, spilling out like a dam breaking. “And now, I’m just...stuck. Stuck between being pissed off at her and hating myself for thinking she’s right.” He runs a hand through his hair again, tugging at the roots as if the pain will ground him. “Because she was right, wasn’t she? I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. I would’ve run. I would’ve hurt her in ways she didn’t deserve.”

The admission tastes bitter on his tongue, and for once, Satoru doesn’t try to mask it with bravado or a joke. “But now,” he continues, his voice softer, tinged with something vulnerable, “I just keep thinking about Koji. About all the time I lost. About how I don’t even know how to be a dad, let alone his dad.”

Suguru leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Do you want to be his dad?”

Satoru doesn’t answer immediately. His thoughts drift to Koji’s small, curious eyes, the way the boy had looked at him with a mix of wonder and wariness. The way they got along so well, so quickly. The way the boy was so excited to teach his dad about dinosaurs, to play with him, to his infectious laugh when Satoru lifted him high up in the air. “I don’t know how to,” Satoru finally admits, his voice breaking slightly. “But I want to try.”

Suguru nods slowly, his gaze steady. “Then that’s a start.”

Satoru exhales, the weight on his chest lifting just slightly. But even as the conversation eases, the storm in his mind rages on. Because no matter how much he wants to move forward, the shadows of the past—and the fear of screwing up—loom large. And the fact that he doesn’t know how he can get resolve things with you. How is he just supposed to co-parent and see your face so casually after what you did? 

Is he supposed to just remain cordial? Closed off? Or should he try to fix things? 

But what things even need fixing, there’s nothing between you two. There’s no “them” anymore. There hasn’t been for years. And if there were, shouldn’t that be your job? This entire situation is your fault. You should be the one begging on your knees for forgiveness, you should be groveling for the fact that you kept his son a secret. He’s justified, isn’t he? In being cold? Closed off? In letting you feel every ounce of the pain you caused him? 

The bitterness twists in his chest, a dark, venomous thing that urges him to lash out, to make you feel as helpless and raw as he does. For a fleeting, horrifying moment, the thought slithers in: You should be the one who’s grateful that he didn’t do anything extreme like try to take Koji away from yo–

What the hell are you saying? 

He feels convicted suddenly, wanting to punch himself for even daring to think such an evil thing. Is he that angry? Petty? Does he want to get back at you that bad that he’d threaten to take away your kid from you? The thought makes his stomach churn, the self-loathing hitting him like a punch to the gut. His grip on the edge of the table tightens, knuckles whitening. He’s not that kind of person. He’s not that cruel. No matter how angry, how hurt he feels, he couldn’t do something so vile.

He’s just not. But he just feels so conflicted and…unsure about everything. 

But the anger doesn’t vanish—it just twists into something deeper, more insidious. He feels so troubled, so lost in the storm of emotions that he can’t tell which way is up anymore. And yet... amidst all that chaos, there’s another image. One that keeps replaying in his head like a stubborn melody.

Because he could see it—see how your eyes lit up with a motherly joy after Koji called your name for attention, how you smiled instinctually when seeing your son, how your voice softened so perfectly it practically pulled him in too. He sees the way your face relaxed when Koji tugged at your sleeve, the way your whole being seemed to light up just from hearing his voice. The joy, the pride, the pure, unfiltered love that radiated from you—so natural, so raw, it made him pause.

And for a split second, Satoru forgot the anger, the betrayal, the hurt. He only saw you. You, as a mother. You, as Koji’s mother. Somewhere in the muddled mess of his thoughts, an ache blooms. Not just for the time he lost with Koji, but for the life he lost with you. Because no matter how hard he tries to deny it, part of him still remembers the way you used to smile at him like that. And the other part of him wonders if he’ll ever see it again. 

The war in Satoru’s mind is relentless, his thoughts ricocheting between anger and guilt, blame, understanding, and even longing. Every time he tries to land on a conclusion, another surge of emotions pulls him in a different direction.

Satoru clenches his jaw, his finger now still against the coffee glass. “I didn’t know about Koji.”

“No, but you knew about her.”

The words hit harder than Satoru wants to admit. He doesn’t respond, and Suguru doesn’t push, though the weight of his stare lingers. After a moment, Suguru sighs. “Look, man. If you’re serious about making things right, about stepping up and being a father, you can’t go back. Sure, you just met the boy, but it’s up to you and her to make sure you make up for the time you lost with him—to create even more memories with him. You have to prove you’ll be there for him.”

Satoru looks up at him, his eyes shadowed with something Suguru rarely sees in his best friend—doubt. “And if it’s too late?”

Suguru gives him a small, sad smile. “Then you make sure it’s not.”

It’s around nine at night, the convenience store’s ambience slowly drifting you into a sleepy state before you catch your head upright. It sucks having to force yourself to stay awake, already on your third cup of coffee today with two espresso shots. At this rate, you don’t know if you’ll be able to sleep, but it’s better that than not getting through your days at work. If anything, you can try melatonin again, even if that is just a blatant scam.

Scrolling on your phone through Indeed, Zip Recruiter, and LinkedIn. You hate seeing the same few jobs that say they’re hiring, but ghost you. Or the jobs that you seem completely too unqualified for that it makes you self-concsious. You’re aware you didn’t finish college, very aware. A part at you constantly eats away at your soul, mind running to the loud thoughts of “what if”. What if you finished college? What if you didn’t have Koji? You quickly push that idea away, feeling mad at yourself. You wonder if it’s bad of you to think about never being a mother—if other parents do that too.

It’s just a simple thought. You don’t regret Koji, you never could or would. Still, you can’t stop thinking at time about how life would be if you had a child later on in life. If you had a stable job, life, everything. Would things be better—different? Would Koji have been happier?

The thoughts gnaw at the edges of your mind as you sip from the coffee cup, the bitter liquid doing little to soothe the ache growing in your chest. The sinfulness hits you almost immediately, sharp and unforgiving. It feels wrong to even entertain the idea of a life without Koji, like some kind of betrayal to the tiny, beautiful soul who depends on you.

But you’re tired—so, so tired. And sometimes, when the weight of it all feels like too much to bear, those questions creep in, uninvited and insidious. They don’t mean you love Koji any less. You know that. Still, the mere existence of the thoughts makes you feel like a failure, like you’re not doing enough or being enough. You scroll through the endless job listings again, each rejection or impossibility hammering another nail into the coffin of your hope. A lump forms in your throat as you stare at the screen. Your hands tremble slightly, whether from exhaustion or the overwhelming sense of inadequacy, you’re not sure.

Again, you shake your head, forcing the thoughts away, but they linger like a shadow you can’t quite shake. Koji’s smile flashes in your mind, bright and pure, his laughter echoing in your memory. He’s your light, your anchor in the chaos. No matter how hard things get, you always find your way back to him. But even as you remind yourself of that, the doubts creep back in. Are you enough for him? Are you giving him the life he deserves? You hate that your answer feels so uncertain.

The soft hum of the convenience store's fluorescent lights pulls you back to the present. You set your phone down, closing your eyes for a moment as you press your palms against your forehead. You want to cry but know you can’t afford the luxury of breaking down, not here, not now.

The truth is, no matter how much you love Koji, you feel like you’re drowning. You’re just too good at treading water, keeping your head barely above the surface, to let anyone notice.

And so, you lose focus on your phone and exist in the present. You can’t change the past, but you can change your now, and your future. That starts with working hard, harder than you ever thought you could. The people who rise to the top, the people like Satoru, they fight for what they have. It’s a dog eat dog world out here, and you’d be damned if you let someone else best you. 

You’re the ruler in your own life, not Satoru, not money, not evictions, nothing. It’s you. It’ll always be you. You’ve been working since you were fourteen, practically emancipated because your own sorry excuse of parents couldn’t have been more bothered. 

That’s another thing that’s your driving force. Just like how you didn’t want Koji to grow up like Satoru, you didn’t want him to grow up like how you did either. You would never—ever—be like them. You pledged that, took an oath. Sure, things aren’t looking very good right now. But you’re strong, resilient, smart. You will get through this. For Koji, and for yourself. 

Hard workers get what they worked for. You’ll be there soon. Patience is a virtue, and slow and steady wins the race. 

Almost two hours have passed, once again putting in an extra hour. Right in the middle of ringing up some drunken college girls who came in for snacks, your phone in front of the register rings. You look down, it displays a number you know by heart. Mumbling a ‘have a good night’ to the girls who stumble their way out, you take the liberty to answer; not before you take a deep breath in, however. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.” 

“Um…hey. Can I help you?”

“I’m coming over tomorrow.”

You pause for a moment, the phone pressed tightly to your ear as Satoru's words register. It takes a second too long for you to find your voice again, the casual confidence in his tone throwing you off balance. “Tomorrow?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden swirl of emotions his call stirs. “Okay, why?”

He scoffs. “Because I want to see him,” Satoru says simply, as if his answer explains everything.

Your lips purse, a mix of frustration and anxiety bubbling to the surface. “Satoru, it’s not that simple—”

“It is that simple,” he interrupts, his voice calm but laced with a sharp edge. “I haven’t seen him in a few days. I’m not waiting any longer, I want to see my son.”

Your grip tightens on the phone as your free hand balls into a fist at your side. The words you want to say die in your throat, the late hour and your sheer exhaustion making it hard to form a coherent argument. “I…I–I have work tomorrow, he has school.”

“So I’ll come over when he’s out of school,” he counters, his tone softening slightly but still resolute. “Look, I’m not trying to fight with you. I just want to see my son. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

You glance around the empty store, the harsh fluorescent lights casting long shadows. The reality of the situation presses down on you, the fact that this is something you’ll have to get used to, have to allow. Because he deserves it. “Fine,” you say quietly, your voice almost a whisper. “He’s off at 2:30, we get home around 2:40, you can be there by that time.”

“I’ll text before I get there,” he promises, though the nonchalant way he says it doesn’t do much to ease your questionable nerves. “See you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before you can respond, leaving you standing there in the dim light of the convenience store, the phone still pressed to your ear. Tomorrow. You set the phone down, your hands trembling slightly, unsure as to why. It’s just the fatigue. Or maybe it’s the fact that Satoru is officially back in your life, his face will be a regular occurrence now. 

He’s here for Koji. That’s all. Don’t look into it.

When you slug back home, the first thing you do—after paying Sana—is count your money. Mr. Sato needs around four thousand dollars, you’re still fucking short. 

“Nine-hundred.”

“Thousand.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

A thousand short, plus another hundred for the utilities. And he needs it by Friday. It’s Wednesday. 

On a scale from one to ten of how screwed you are, you’d give yourself an eleven. It’s hard to even admit that to yourself, feeling your hot tears wet the green paper in frustration. Gritting your teeth so hard you can hear the creaking of your muscles in your ears, a ringing noise following after. You sit there, staring at the bills fanned out on the table like they’re mocking you. The tears won’t stop, blurring the numbers, but you know them by heart. A thousand short for rent, a hundred for utilities, and nothing left for groceries or the babysitter fees piling up in the back of your mind. 

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave. The frustration spills over, hot and suffocating, as you swipe the money off the table in a fit of anger. The bills scatter across the floor like fallen leaves, and for a moment, you just sit there, trembling in the silence. “Goddamn it,” you mutter under your breath, clutching your head as if that’ll stop the spiral of thoughts. You can feel the panic rising, the way it always does when you’re this close to breaking. How are you supposed to keep everything together when the universe seems hell-bent on tearing it apart? You can already feel your migraine coming back like an old friend, feeling its twisting and pulling on your brain. 

Koji’s soft footsteps break through the haze, his small voice pulling you back to reality. “Mama?”

You hastily wipe at your face, trying to compose yourself as you turn toward him. He’s standing in the doorway, clutching his favorite stuffed animal—a tattered little bear you bought second-hand years ago. His big eyes are filled with concern, and it breaks your heart even more. “Hey, baby,” you say, forcing a smile you don’t feel. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

He shakes his head, padding over to you and climbing onto your lap without a word. His tiny arms wrap around your waist, and for a moment, the world doesn’t feel as heavy. You stroke his hair, letting the quiet stretch between you. “Mama’s just tired,” you murmur after a while, hoping he doesn’t ask too many questions.

Koji looks up at you, his brows furrowed in a way that reminds you so much of Satoru it’s almost painful. “Are we okay?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut, but you nod, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Of course we are, baby. Don’t worry about a thing, okay? Mama’s got it all under control.” It’s a lie, but it’s one you tell for his sake. Koji doesn’t need to know how close to the edge you really are. And you’d never let him know just how close you are from sinking completely, he’s too young, too innocent. 

After a few minutes, he’s able to drift off to sleep in your arms, you stare at the scattered bills on the floor, your mind racing. Tomorrow, Satoru will be here. Maybe—just maybe—you can ask him for help. The thought makes your stomach churn, pride and desperation warring inside you. Are you even allowed to? What would he say?

But what choice do you have?

You need this place, no matter how ragged or disgusting Satoru—or anyone for that fact may think it is. It’s home. Home to you, and home to Koji. You’ve stopped caring about what others thought og you a long time ago. It still comes back, of course. Especially in your most vulnerable, most small of moments. And when it hits you, you realize how much you didn’t miss the feeling. You desperately wish you can just give absolutely zero fucks all day, everyday. 

That might be impossible.

As long as you just hold it down, you’ll be good—you think. 

For Koji, for Koji.

Walking Koji home the next day from school, you’re focused on checking the time of your phone; surprised when the young boy suddenly rips from your grip and runs forward. Instantly, you look up and call out for him in a hurry. “Koji! Do—”

“Papa!” 

Satoru, who’s waiting outside your apartment door, crouches down to your son’s height, arms held out with a wide smile on his face. Koji melted into his embrace, small arms wrapped around his father’s neck. Satoru hugged the boy, running a hand up and down his back slowly. “How was school, my big boy?” “Good! We learned about plants, and I drew a sunflower!” Koji exclaims, his words tumbling over each other in excitement as he pulls back slightly to look at Satoru's face. His little hands grasp Satoru’s jacket, his wide eyes sparkling with pure joy.

Satoru’s expression softens even further, a rare glimpse of unguarded tenderness crossing his features. “A sunflower, huh? That’s my favorite flower. Did you know they always turn toward the sun?”

Koji nods eagerly, his grin spreading even wider. “Yeah! The teacher said that too. I wanna show you my drawing when we get inside!”

“Of course. I can’t wait to see it,” Satoru says, ruffling Koji’s hair before standing to his full height, the boy still clinging to his leg like a koala. His gaze shifts to you, his smile faltering just a fraction as his expression becomes unreadable. “Hey.”

You stand a few steps away, your heart caught in your throat. Watching the two of them together feels like a punch to the chest—bittersweet and raw. You manage to swallow the lump in your throat and force a polite smile. “Hey.”

Satoru takes a step closer, his tone light but his eyes piercing. He simply nods in response. 

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. But there’s an ache beneath the surface, a mix of guilt, resentment, and longing you can’t quite shake. Koji looks happy, that’s all that matters. You step forward to unlock the door.  “I have my other job to get to,” you say finally, keeping your tone neutral. “Do you think you can watch him until his babysitter comes?”

Koji rushes in, but Satoru lingers, looking at you. “Who’s his babysitter?”

“Sana, she usually comes a few minutes before I leave, but if you’re here I can go earlier.” You walk in, arm brushing against his that sends an uncomfortable tingle down your spine—one you ignore forcibly.

He follows in, closing the door behind him. Standing a bit awkwardly around the living room, watching you hang your coat and purse up. “I didn’t know you worked two jobs,” he says, almost like he’s not sure if he should be voicing out this small curiosity of his. 

You pause mid-motion, fingers lingering on the hook of your coat rack. For a moment, you consider not answering, brushing it off with some noncommittal remark. But the weight of his gaze is palpable, pressing down on you until you finally sigh and turn around to face him. “Yeah,” you say simply, your voice flat. “Bills don’t pay themselves.” There’s an edge in your tone, one you don’t intend but can’t quite help. His eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, you think he might argue, but instead, he just nods, his expression unreadable.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you move to the small kitchen area to grab a glass of water. “Tell you? What would that have changed, Satoru? Would you have swooped in and made it all better?”

His jaw clenches, his hands flexing at his sides before he crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe I would have. But you never gave me the chance.”

You set the glass down harder than you meant to, the sound of it hitting the counter echoing in the silence. “You don’t get to say that,” you snap, turning to face him fully. “You don’t just show up now and act like you care about how I’ve been keeping things together.”

“I do care,” he shoots back, his voice rising slightly. “You think I wouldn’t? That I don’t give a damn about you—Koji?” The small correction doesn’t get missed by you.

“You didn’t care enough to stay,” you bite out before you can stop yourself. 

The words hang in the air, sharp and cutting. His expression falters for just a moment before his face hardens, a wall going up that you recognize all too well. God damn it. Why do you keep bringing up the past and your shitty breakup?

“That’s not fair,” he says, his voice low. “You made that decision for the both of us.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t speak. The two of you stand there, the room thick with tension, until a small voice interrupts.

“Mama?” Both of you turn toward the hallway, where Koji stands in the hallway, tilting his head. Holding his colored paper of a sunflower in his hands. “Are you fighting?”

Your heart aches at the sight of him, his small frame dwarfed by the weight of the conversation he doesn’t understand. You put on a smile, crouching down to his level. “No, baby. We’re just talking, that’s all.”

Satoru steps forward, his face softening as he kneels next to Koji. “Yeah, buddy. We’re not fighting. Everything’s okay.”

Koji looks between you both for a long moment before nodding, though his expression still carries a hint of worry. “Okay,” he turns to Satoru. “Here Papa, my drawing.” 

The two move to the couch, Satoru listening with fascination as Koji talks and talks and talks. His father doesn’t seem to mind, however. Occasionally touching his cheek or pushing hair out his face as if to remind himself this is real, that this is his son. You look away and go to your room, locking the door as you begin changing into your uniform for the convenience store. In a few minutes, you’re out and putting your shoes on. Satoru and Koji are now discussing video games. 

“I’m heading out now, baby.”

“Alrigh—”

“Okay, Mama.” Koji cuts off Satoru, to which the latter is glad because why the fuck did he just almost respond to you? He knows you weren’t talking to him, he knows you wouldn’t ever call him baby again, but it just felt so natural and instinctual. 

Strange.

He watches you come on over to give Koji a hug and kiss, awkwardly clearing his throat in the seat beside his son; looking away like he’s intruding on something. And so you won’t see the odd flush to his pale cheeks. 

“I’ll watch him, don’t call the babysitter.”

You pause mid-motion, your arms still loosely wrapped around Koji. Slowly, you pull back, giving your son a soft smile before turning your attention to Satoru. “Are you sure?” you ask, your tone careful, guarded. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Satoru scoffs lightly, waving a hand in dismissal as he leans back in his seat. “It’s not an inconvenience. I’m his dad, remember? I can handle one night.” His words feel heavier than they should, loaded with the unspoken history between you two. You don’t miss the slight edge in his voice, though he keeps his expression neutral.

Koji, oblivious to the tension, beams up at his father. “Can we watch that superhero movie, Papa?”

Satoru grins, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Of course, big guy. Popcorn too. But after you finish your homework.”

You hesitate, your eyes flickering between the two of them. It’s hard to argue when Koji looks so happy, his excitement practically radiating off him. Finally, you nod. “Okay,” you say, grabbing your bag and coat, walking over to the door. “Just... don’t let him stay up too late.”

“Got it,” Satoru replies, his tone almost flippant, though there’s a hint of seriousness beneath it. You linger for a moment longer than necessary, your hand hovering on the doorknob. There’s something about leaving the two of them together, about seeing Satoru slip so naturally into this role, that stirs something warm in your chest.

“Alright,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll be back around twelve.” With that, you step out into the cool evening air, the door clicking shut behind you. You exhale, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest—wary, relief, maybe even longing.

Inside, Satoru watches the door for a beat longer than he should. Then he shakes his head, turning back to Koji with a forced grin. “Alright, champ. Let’s see what homework you have today.” But as Koji chatters excitedly, Satoru can’t help but feel the weight of your absence pressing down on him, more than he’s willing to admit.

It’s around eight at night now. Satoru took the liberty of making some dinner for Koji, but after sifting through your bone empty pantry and refrigerator, he orders take out. The two are watching Spiderman: No Way Home. His arm is slung around his son’s shoulders, the two sharing a bag of fries. He can almost feel Koji starting to drift off, the sensation of his body sinking further into his side makes him smile subconsciously. However, that small, tender moment is broken when there’s a sudden pounding at the door. 

Satoru looks back over the couch, confused as to who the hell could be trying to see you at this time of night. A hookup? Boyfriend? No, no. Don’t think that.

He looks back down at Koji who’s giving him an equally confused, but tired face. “Is that Mama?”

“No, don’t think so, little man.” You said you’d be back by twelve, it’s only eight. That’s weird. “Stay here, okay? I’m gonna go see who it is.”

Koji nods, Satoru gently laying him on his side and grabbing a fuzzy throw blanket to tuck him in with. He stands with a small grunt, walking over to your front door. He peeks through the hole and sees a man he’s never seen before, Old, ugly, and hairy. He scoffs. The hell do you want? He unlocks it, opening up and coming face to face with the man. 

Mr. Sato regards Satoru with surprise and confusion, bushy brows furrowing. “Where’s Y/N?” he asks, tilting his head to try and get a look over his shoulder.

“She’s at work.” Satoru replies, on guard and a hint of firmness in his voice. “You need her?”

“Correct.”

“And who are you again?”

“The landlord.” Mr. Sato says, heavily huffing as he gazes back up at Satoru. His frown deepening when he feels his neck angle up. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Late.” Satoru simply mutters, arms crossing. “Gotta come back another time.”

“I can’t,” Mr. Sato gruffs. “I need to talk to her about the money now.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens at the mention of money, and a flicker of realization crosses his sharp features. He leans against the doorframe, casually intimidating, his sheer presence making the older man falter for a second. "Money?" Satoru repeats, his tone cool but laced with an edge. "What money are we talking about here?"

Mr. Sato straightens, trying to regain his composure despite the younger man's imposing demeanor. "Rent," he clarifies, his voice firm, though his eyes avoid Satoru's piercing gaze. "She’s late on payments. Again. I’ve already given her an extension, but this can’t keep happening. I gave her until Friday but something came up and I need it now.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, his posture shifting. Late on payments? He processes the words, his mind jumping to the extra hours you’ve been working, the tired look in your eyes, the way Koji’s jacket was patched up with care but still clearly worn. The pieces click together uncomfortably.

"How much does she owe?" Satoru asks, his tone still calm, though the intensity in his eyes makes the landlord hesitate.

"That's between me and her," Mr. Sato replies gruffly, puffing out his chest as if to assert some authority in this lopsided interaction.

Satoru doesn’t miss a beat, his expression hardening. "Well, she’s not here, so now it’s between me and you." There’s a beat of silence, tension thick in the small space.

Mr. Sato shifts uncomfortably under Satoru’s gaze, his confidence wavering. “Four thousand,” he finally admits, his voice lower. “I told her I need it by Friday, but things changed. She said she’d have it.”

Satoru lets out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw clenching as he processes the number. Four thousand. A drop in the bucket for him, but for you? It might as well be a mountain.

“If she doesn’t have it, I’m gonna push forward with the eviction, I already have possible renters lined up with a more stable income.”

Eviction? And from a place this shitty? Satoru’s jaw clenches, eyes raking over the older man. “Well, she’s not here.”

“Then let me call her.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something dangerous sparking in his gaze as he steps fully into the doorway, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallows the smaller man in front of him. The landlord, suddenly aware of the shift in the air, takes a half-step back. "You’re not calling her," Satoru says, his voice low and measured, carrying an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

Mr. Sato frowns but falters slightly, the confidence in his stance wavering. "Look, this isn’t personal. It’s business. If she can’t pay by the deadline, I have no choice but to move forward. That’s how it works."

Satoru tilts his head, a ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, but there’s no humor in it—just a cold, calculated edge. "Business, huh? Funny thing about business—it’s always personal when it’s someone else’s life you’re messing with."

"She’s late. I’ve been lenient," Mr. Sato protests, though his voice is quieter now, almost defensive.

Satoru’s smirk vanishes, replaced by an icy glare that feels like a physical weight. "Lenient? Let me tell you something. You don’t come here throwing around eviction threats like you’re some kind of god deciding who stays and who goes. That’s not how this is going to play out."

Mr. Sato scoffs with a scowl, arms crossing. “Listen here, I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are. I don’t give a damn about that. All I care about is having the money, right here,“ he holds his palm out. “Right now.”

Satoru chuckles lowly, but there’s no warmth in the sound—it’s laced with something menacing, something dangerous. His eyes, usually glinting with mischief, now burn with icy resolve as he steps closer, forcing Mr. Sato to look up at him again. "Who I think I am?" Satoru repeats, his voice soft but unnervingly steady, like the calm before a storm. "Let me make one thing clear—you don’t get to care about anything except what I tell you to care about. And right now, you’re going to care about backing the hell off." Mr. Sato’s scowl falters, his mouth opening to retort, but Satoru raises a hand, cutting him off before he can even start. "Because if you don’t," Satoru continues, his tone dropping lower, a subtle, menacing edge creeping in, "I’ll make sure you have a lot more to worry about than late rent. Understand?"

The landlord stiffens, visibly uncomfortable now, though he tries to hide it with a scoff. "You threatening me? That’s illegal, you know."

Satoru smirks again, but it’s colder this time, a predator toying with its prey. He leans in just enough that his towering presence feels suffocating, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Illegal? Oh, I know all about what’s illegal. But see, the thing is, I don’t need to do anything illegal to make your life a living hell. A call here, a visit there… You’d be surprised how quickly someone like you can lose everything they’re so desperate to cling to. You should really care about who you threaten, this is my son and his mother you’re talking about.”

The unspoken promise in his words hangs heavy in the air, and for the first time, Mr. Sato’s bluster cracks. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing around as though expecting someone to step in and save him. Satoru straightens, his piercing gaze never leaving the man. "Take the money," he says simply, pulling out wads of cash from his wallet—carelessly tossing them at him, "and don’t let me see you again. Ever."

For a moment, it looks like Mr. Sato might argue, but the weight of Satoru’s presence, the absolute certainty in his voice, crushes whatever resistance he might have left. With a grunt, he snatches the money, shoving it into his pocket. "This isn’t over," the landlord mutters, but his voice lacks conviction as he turns to leave, his shoulders hunched under the invisible weight of Satoru’s words. Satoru watches him go, the cold fury in his expression lingering even after the door clicks shut. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, the tension in his body slowly unwinding.

Not over? Satoru smirks to himself, shaking his head. "Senile bastard doesn’t know what he’s saying.” He turns back toward the living room, his eyes softening slightly as they land on Koji, still sleeping soundly. The weight of his own actions sits heavily on him, but he pushes it aside. There are more important things to worry about—like making sure you and your son never have to deal with scum like that again. But also, finding some way to talk to you about this eviction. 

Would you have ever told him? Would you have asked for help? Are you going to continue to keep secrets from him, even though they directly affect his son—affect you?

The sound of hurried footsteps, practically running footsteps, sounds throughout the long corridor. Ignoring and maneuvering out the way of the office employees who regard the person with confusion and annoyance. There’s a singular focus in their movement, a sense of urgency that prickles the air. The familiar, large doors of the office are in line of sight, to which the person rushes inside. The grand, imposing doors of the executive office burst open.  Usually, he’d knock and wait, but not this time. 

Inside, Yamato Gojo sits at the head of a polished, expansive table, his wife, Akane, poised elegantly at his side. Around them, a small group of sharp-suited businessmen turn toward the intrusion, their murmurs of surprise quickly silenced by Yamato’s cold, calculating glare.

The informant can barely get the words out, stumbling over. “M-Mr. Gojo! I have—there’s—I—!” Their face pale and slick with sweat. Words fail them at first, a garbled mess of syllables spilling out in their panic. Finally, they manage to force out, "M-Mr. Gojo! You need to see this!"

Yamato leans forward, his eyes narrowing as he motions for the informant to come closer, his long fingers curling in a beckoning gesture. The air in the room seems to thicken as the informant, trembling, hurries forward and hands over a tablet. Akane leans in as Yamato taps the screen, her expression calm and unreadable—at least, until her eyes land on the image.

The sound of shattering glass cuts through the room like a gunshot as Akane’s wine glass slips from her hand, crimson liquid pooling across the pristine floor. Her gasp transforms into a piercing shriek that sends a chill through everyone present.

Because on the screen, displayed in haunting clarity, is an image that chills the air in the room: their son, unmistakably, embracing a younger version of himself—while your figure stands to the side.

a/n: uh ohhhh

taglist is now closed

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@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

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[witch--btch]

Character Introductions

Bofurin First Years › Bofurin Upperclassmen & Shishitoren

Umemiya Hajime - Furin High School 3rd year, Class 1

Character Voice: Yūichi Nakamura

"You guys, protect the town. Protect the people, the things, the feelings, the things that are important to you. That's the only rule here."

The head of "Bofurin".

With his friendly smile and personality, he is an incredibly reliable person, with charisma that attracts not only the students of Furin High School, but also the people of the town.

Not only is he strong with his fists, he also has a huge presence that overwhelms those around him with just the tone of his voice. His hobby is growing vegetables.

Hiragi Toma - Furin High School 3rd Year, Class 1 / Height: 187cm/6’1” (for some reason he’s the only one who has his height listed???)

Character Voice: Ryōta Suzuki

"I don't know how to use a bat, but at least I can read!"

One of the four heavenly kings of "Bofurin," and the leader of the Tamon.

While nervous, he has a strong sense of responsibility; always at the mercy of the overly generous Umemiya, making him a hard worker who can't unclench his stomach.

As one of the leading warriors, he has solid fighting skills, and is a firm supporter and understanding friend to Umemiya.

Kaji Ren - Furin High School 2nd Year, Class 1

Character Voice: Nobuhiko Okamoto

"I'll do what I can."

The class leader of Furin High School, Class 2-1.

He always listens to loud music with headphones and is often eating lollipops.

At first glance it's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he's a very compassionate person and has strong bonds with his classmates, including vice-leaders Enomoto and Kusumi.

Choji Tomiyama - Leader of Shishitoren

Character Voice: Kikunosuke Toya

"One man! One man!"

He believes that "the stronger Shishitoren is, the freer Shishitoren becomes," and tries to make Shishitoren the most free and fun environment for himself. (t/n: I struggled with this one a little bit.)

He is restless and impatient, and tends to charge into anything alone.

He is obsessed with Umemiya, who is ‘the strongest of Bofurin’, but always seems to be having fun.

Togame Jo - Vice-president of the Shishitoren

Character Voice: Yuichiro Umehara

"Let's do it to the end, Sakura"

He wears a workman's uniform, wooden clogs, and sunglasses, and speaks at a very slow pace.

He faithfully follows the president, Tomiyama’s, belief that "weak people are unnecessary in the Shishitoren," and has a ruthless side that shows no mercy, even to his own family.

He is hostile towards Sakura, calling him "Othello-kun."