#examing bone markings

[the-unrivalled-pessimist]

im so sick of people who know nothing about a field doing surface level research than trying to make an educational video

like please don’t try to explain to me, a person with a whole ass degree in molecular forensic science, that forensics is a "pseudoscience"

rosalind franklin rolling in her grave right now

[aciddrattboyy]

Wԋҽɳ Yσυ Mҽʂʂ Wιƚԋ Lσʋҽ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "your boyfriend arrives late for your study date and things(sex) happen"

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Mark Grayson x F! Reader ★ Run Time: 3.9k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Drama/Rom/Adult Film] smut, both reader and mark lose their virginities, fingering(f!receiving), vanilla sex tbh, there will be eventual angst, set in au where they are in college before... (gulp) chicago incident, two part story ★ soundtrack: karma police, basta ya ★ pls pls pls any invincible fans HIT MY LINE i have no friends in this fandom and i desperately need them ★ 01 . 02 .

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noon. you invited mark over to your dorm at noon. it was three o’clock now, with no text messages or calls from your boyfriend; even after he assured you he’d be there about four hours earlier. mark had been… distant. constantly ditching you, not even showing up to dates or hangouts, or asking for rain checks if he had the decency to do even that. today was supposed to be a typical study date, with exams coming up you thought it would be nice. because even though mark left you hanging seemingly more often than not, the time he was there was, well, amazing. when he did manage to find the time for you he treated you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him, acted as the perfect, doting boyfriend. whether it was picking up your favorite food without asking or buying you a plushie of your favorite animal you didn't even remember telling him about, mark was loving.

but as the minutes ticked by, your phone continued being pathetically dry, and your dorm mark-less, you were starting to think maybe the good no longer outweighed the bad. with a sigh, you push back in your desk chair, slumping in the seat as you tipped your head back. you glanced over at your phone sitting atop a pile of books, almost mocking you with the lack of notifications, and thought about texting mark. again. dragging a hand down your face, you began to spin slowly in your chair, watching the room swirl by out of boredom. 

as you spun lazily, you could see your door slowly opening. and then there was mark, peeking his face through the crack, sporting that same guilty expression you were starting to think you saw more than him smiling. you plant your feet on the ground, coming to a halt as you looked at him with narrowed eyes and a frown. 

“if your excuse is you had to help your dad with work, lost track of time, or ‘had something to take care of’, save your breath,” you turn back to your desk, staring at the open textbook with your jaw clenched and brows pinched together. mark grimaced at your words, his hand twitching hesitantly on the doorknob, not sure if he should even come inside.

“alright no excuses,” he murmured softly, scratching at his nape as he stared at your back. sheepishly, he held up a plastic bag, the contents inside rustling softly. “but… how about an apology? starting with some food from that place you said you wanted to try?” mark’s voice had a hopeful lilt to it, although he knew he couldn’t keep fixing everything with food. he was entirely sure he’s been fixing anything at all, like a bandaid on a broken bone. but he also couldn’t exactly say: “sorry for being late to our study date. i promise i wanted to be here but my alien space dad made me go train with him since i just got super cool powers.”  it wouldn't be a secret identity if he started telling people. and unfortunately, people included you, no matter how much he didn’t want it to be this way. 

your glare aimed at your text book softened at his words, once again he had gone out of his way for you. acting as if he cared for you even as he was constantly blowing you off. a few quiet moments of you contemplating what to do pass by before you speak, turning in your chair slightly to look at him. 

“i guess that’s not a completely bad start.” marks face immediately lit up like an excited puppy as you spoke. it wasn’t a hard get the fuck out of my room and that was as good of a start as any when trying to make up for his major fuck ups. without missing a beat, he steps inside, closing the door behind him before toeing off his shoes, dropping his backpack near the foot of your bed and making his way over to you.  

“i uh got you a little bit of everything- well not everything everything but y’know a reasonable amount of-”

“thank you mark,” you cut him off quietly, not entirely sure how mad at him you still were. you take the bag from him, not able to meet his eyes as you set the bag down on your now limited desk space. mark stood somewhere to the side behind you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

“yeah, yeah no problem,” his voice cracked slightly and he winced at his own tone, feeling helpless and not at all sure how to really fix this without coming clean about his secret identity; something he could not do. the silence seems to drag on as you looked through the different containers. his eyes trailed over your desk and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him when he the notes scribbled into a notebook. “you.. um you got a lot of work done,” mark said awkwardly, grasping at straws to try to fix what he was rapidly breaking between you two. 

“yeah well it would’ve been easier if you had been here to help.” both of you freeze at your words that came out just a bit more harsh than you intended. mark frowned, not sure what to say. he reached out a hand, hovering it over your shoulder as he slowly opened his mouth. but you sighed before he can get anything out, running a hand through your hair before you turn in your chair to face with a faint frown of your own. “look, i’m sorry for talking to you like that. let’s just eat yeah? i’ve done enough studying for the both of us” you offer mark a small smile, one that he returns hesitantly. he takes a step back when you get up from your chair, grabbing the bed and heading over to your bed. 

“yeah that… sounds good.” mark nods, following you over to the bed. he sits next to you, mirroring your cross legged posture with his back leaning against the wall. he slowly scoots closer as you pull out the various containers until your knees are touching. you didn’t acknowledge it, but you didn't pull away and that was as good of a win as any. his eyes light up with an idea before leaning over the edge of the bed to grab his laptop. “thought we could watch something while we ate.” he offers softly, already turning on youtube and putting on the type of videos he remembered you telling him you watched sometime in the past. you nod at him softly, your smile growing both in size and genuineness just a bit.

“good thinking,” you respond softly, the anger already subsiding just from being with him. mark had a way of making you feel good, even if it wasn't for long, even if he upset you more often than you’d really like. you knew deep down he was still a good guy, and you desperately wanted to see him be better. wanted to see him start living up to his apologies.

the two of you eat in a somewhat comfortable silence, interrupted by laughs or brief commentary on what you were watching. and everything starts to feel normal again. for you, but also for mark. for just right now he wasn’t Invincible. he was mark grayson, a freshman in college with the more amazing girlfriend by his side. it felt nice to feel normal again, even if he had been waiting his whole life to get powers, to be just like his dad. you find yourself curled up against mark’s side, watching random videos with your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. the sun was starting to set, the fading sunlight casting shadows and warm orange light through the blinds. 

when you tilt your head to look up at mark, he meets your gaze. his lips slowly pull into a goofy smile that makes you huff with amusement.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you murmur playfully while tracing idle shapes over the fabric covering his chest. he pulls you closer, the movement almost imperceptible as his expression turns warm.

“you’re just so pretty,” mark answered just as softly, getting lost in your eyes with a stupid smile. only a second passes before he realizes what he’s said; his eyes widen, face flushing red as he sputters out apologies while trying to pull away. “oh shit that was so stupid- fuck im sorr-” before mark could run away and hide, you grab his face and pull him into a kiss. he lets out a muffled noise of surprise, eyes wide before his brain catches up to what was happening. then he’s humming softly instead, hands finding your waist as he kissed you back gently. “wha… what was that for?” he whispered breathlessly when you pulled away, your faces only inches apart. 

“am i not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?” you ask teasingly, smile only growing as your swipe your thumbs over his cheeks.

“no- i mean yes- uh yeah you can kiss me,” he lets out an almost self deprecating laugh, hands squeezing your waist gently. “i’m fucking this up aren’t i?” you pull him into another kiss, languidly moving your lips against his.

“i think you’re doing just fine,” your fingers tangle in mark’s hair, deepening the kiss, starting it off slow, gentle, but one thing led to another and soon enough you’re pulling him closer as you fall back against the sheets. mark follows you willingly, hovering over you with his hands on either side of your head. one of mark’s legs slot in between yours, involuntarily pressing his knee against the apex of your thighs. you gasp softly against his lips, grip tightening in his hair. when you roll your hips, a shudder runs through both you and mark when he realized what you were doing. the revelation only served to send blood straight to his already semi-hard dick.  

the kissing grows frenzied, the air between you heavy with harsh panting and even messier kissing. your laptop had been precariously moved out of the way and onto the corner of your desk. both of your shirts? thrown god knows where. was this all happening just a bit too fast? maybe… probably… definitely. but slowing down seemed to be the last thing on your mind along with mark’s. who was now practically buzzing with nervous excitement and lust. he’d kissed you before, many times actually. but never like this. never half clothed and making out with you as if you were trying to eat each other’s faces off while you ground your hips against his knee.

shifting slightly, mark props himself up on his elbow, body pressing more firmly on top of yours. he smooths his free hand up your waist, hesitantly thumbing over the hem of your bra as he waited for some sort of signal to stop. but none came, in fact, he could feel your back slightly arch into his touch. he let out a low groan, muffled by your lips, the obvious tent in his sweats pressed snuggly against your thigh. for a brief moment he thought maybe he should be embarrassed. but how could he when you seemed to just as affected. and somehow a lot more confident… with a gasp, and much reluctance, mark pulls his mouth off of yours, panting heavily against your lips.

“have you uh… y’know… before?” his voice was barely a whisper, face feeling hot and eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you.

“no…” you start, your voice equally as quiet as you prop yourself up on your elbows. “is it that obvious?” your brows twitched, just barely pinching together with a hint of worry and newfound self consciousness. 

“no- no no!” mark quickly squeaks out, shaking his head with wide eyes. “i just- you seem so- so…” he trails off, not entirely sure what to say anymore.

“we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to. do you want to stop?” your voice was soft, a small smile on your face in hopes of making sure mark knew his comfort was important above all. but it only served to make mark feel more… feel more of whatever was making his stomach flip and his cock twitch against your thigh in a way that was getting harder to ignore. he swallowed the lump in his throat when thought about what ‘keep going’ would actually entail. 

“um… no. not really,” he murmured softly, a sheepish smile on his face. he feels his face heat up all over again at the admission. but before he can doubt himself, you’re smiling at him. and then you were kissing him, and it was like you had never even stopped at all. 

the kissing quickly grows heated, hands fumbling to rip each others pants off through breathless giggles and sloppy kisses until mark was seated between your open legs; both of you in nothing but your underwear and your bra long gone. mark smoothed his hands over your inner thighs, chest still somewhat heaving from the rather heavy makeout session just moments ago. he swallowed thickly, thumbs tracing over the lacy edges of your panties. his head snaps up when he hears a small noise leave your lips. the kind of noise that has his body going hot all over again.

“can i…?” mark wasn’t sure what he was exactly asking permission for. but the way you were looking up at him made him pray to any existing god that he was granted the sexual prowess of a veteran pornstar just for tonight. upon seeing you nod your head, he sucks in a deep breath, feeling both a wave of arousal and anxiousness. with shaky hands, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slowly pulls them off of you. looking at your naked body, mark was afraid he’d bust right then and there. but then your voice, soft and playful, cut through his thoughts currently being led by his dick. 

“c’mere,” you reach out, tugging on his hand and pulling him closer until he was hovering over you again. the backs of your thighs resting atop of his, the bulge in his boxers not too far from your pussy. you could tell he was a little nervous. and although you never got verbal confirmation, it was clear to see that mark was a virgin; somehow more a virgin than even you were. you card a hand in the hair at his nape, pulling him into a kiss that seemed to make mark relax just a bit. kissing was good. kissing was familiar territory. and after a small while, you placed your free hand on top of his hand not supporting his weight and slowly inch his palm downwards. 

marks breath hitched in his throat, body temporarily going still. that is until he felt how fucking wet you were as you guided his middle and ring finger through your soaked folds. a guttural groan vibrates through his chest, only barely muffled by your tongue in his mouth. 

you were panting against his lips now, soft mewls escaping you led his fingers to circle your clit. teaching him what you liked, how you wanted to be touched. and to mark’s credit, he was a very fast learner. soon enough he was moving on his own, your hand holding onto his wrist instead as he pumped two fingers inside of you. he ground his palm against your clit, making your hips buck into his hand as the pleasure just kept building. 

“o-oh fuck-” you cry out when he hits that sensitive spot inside you, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face against the sensitive skin just below his jaw. if it were not for the string of muffled moans leaving your lips, even mark was able to tell you were getting close almost embarrassingly fast by the way your thighs trembled against his and how your hips snapped up to meet each thrust of his fingers. “fuck- fuck ‘m gonna- hah-” 

mark felt like he was almost there with you; he could feel the damp patch on his boxers growing as his dick continued to throb in it’s confines, leaking a lot of precum. his hips twitched involuntarily, searching for some sort of relief. but he would continue to push his own wants aside, breathing heavily through his nose as he peppered your collarbone with wet kisses and focused solely on making you cum. and that he did. biting back a moan of his own at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers, your whole body going taut under him as you held onto him tighter. 

after a few moments filled with only heavy breathing, your body goes limp against the sheets as he pulls his fingers out with a soft squelch. there was a very satisfied smile on your face as you looked up at mark, who somehow looked more fucked out than you. 

“you were… surprisingly good at that.”

“ha, thanks… hey, wait what do you mean surprisingly?” you giggle softly at the small pout on his lips, lifting your head just enough to press a kiss against his lips.

“don’t think about it too much,” you mumble as you pull back, trailing your hands down his sides until your palms met the waistband of his boxers. “uh there’s condoms in the drawer if you…” you trail off, eyes widening when you realized what you had just implicated. “i- i didn’t buy them they were uh- a gift from my roommate a while ago…” you look up at mark with narrowed eyes after seeing the way his lips were pursed, twitching with the force he had to use to keep himself from smiling. for now, mark would bite his tongue, not wanting to face your wrath when his dick was so hard it was starting to hurt. 

“condoms. got it.” the words were strained under the weight of his stifled laughter, but before you could comment on it, he was already leaning over you. rummaging through your night stand, he was able to pull one out, settling between your legs with the gold foil in his hands. “but are you sure you want to do this?” there was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, sounding almost worried that you’d regret being with him, or you were for some reason only doing this out of pity. but then you were giving him that warm smile and nodding your head, and suddenly all doubt jumped out the window. 

through more muted laughter and clumsy, inexperienced hands, the two of you manage to get the condom on without mark blowing his load then and there. placing his hands on your hips, he leans down to kiss your lips, rubbing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. you hum into his lips, gently holding onto his biceps as you kiss him back just as passionately. but when mark reaches a hand between your bodies to line his tip with your hole, the energy shifts. less playful and more so intense, romantic. like the both of you realize what you were doing, and what it means for the relationship going forward. 

“are you sure?” mark whispers against your lips, eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction.

“yeah, yeah i am,” you breathe out, eyes shining with something that made mark’s stomach flip in an almost scarily good way. he nods, adams apple bobbing before he presses his lips against yours again. he snakes his free hand up the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head as his hips slowly push forward. it takes a little while of patience and whispering sweet nothings to each other before the two of you are comfortable enough for mark to start moving, the whole situation intense for both of you in a way that was both exciting and a little nerve wracking. 

“h-holy fuck-” mark’s voice comes out as a shaky pant, head hanging as he looked down at where your bodies met. his hand in your squeezes gently, the other holding onto your hip as he slowly rolls his hips; pulling out until only the tip was inside before slowly pushing back. “feel s’good,” he groans softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he continued to slowly fuck into your wet heat. his hand leaves your hips, entwining his with yours and pinning you to the mattress. you bite your lip, muffling the whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth. squeezing his hands tightly, you tilt your head when you feel mark starting to suck and nip at the skin of your neck

“y-you can- nngh- go faster,” your breathy words do not fall on deaf ears. mark’s whole body stills for just a second before slightly readjusts on top of you. the moment he quickens his pace, both of you are turning into moaning messes. kissing sloppily and exchanging spit as the cheap bedframe rocks slowly with mark’s movement. he lets go of one of your hands, reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb.

it didn’t take long for mark to get close, hips already stuttering as he teetered on the edge as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling any and all embarrassing noises that leaves his lips. your hips buck up to meet his with each thrust, thighs shaking with your own impending orgasm. your nails rake down his back in a way that has mark groaning against your skin.

intense orgasms hit you both at the same time; mark’s thighs trembling right along yours as his hips jerkily buck his dick inside you until he spilled every last drop into the condom. collapsing on top of you, the room is silent save for heavy breaths and the smell of sex. after a few moments, mark presses a soft kiss to your jaw before slowly pulling out and flopping onto his back next to you with a content sigh after tossing the condom into the trash bin under your desk. 

“that was…”  mark turns on his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your back flush against his warm chest. nuzzling his face against your hair. “was… amazing,”  he murmured softly, voice full of bliss as he held you tight. you giggle softly, letting your body melt into his warm embrace. at some point, you both clean up; with shrugging on a shirt and underwear and mark slipping back into his sweatpants. cuddling up under your sheets, it was easy to fall asleep in his arms, perfectly content and feeling loved.

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂��𝄃

[torusdove]

Med-student!Satoru who comes home late after spending the entire day cramming for his upcoming exam.

Don't get me wrong; he is insanely smart, and he doesn't need a lot of time to progress and understand the given material. He does, however, want to get to the bottom of things, understanding them beyond whatever the professor had taught them.

He took pleasure into understanding and getting down to a t about the different concepts. It's no surprise that he loves the complexity of neurology, neoplasia and the immune system.

However, something as simple as anatomy has had his heart ever since the beginning of his degree. Especially because it was something he could share with you.

—

"Nd this," he had whispered out, index finger softly pushing down on the little slope that was right between your collarbones, "this is what we call the manubrium. It's the first part of your sternum."

Satoru had learnt this in his first year, remembering the very few classes he had gotten about anatomy in the first quarter. How he had practiced on Suguru's chest to find the manubriosternal joint.

Now, he was trying to find it on you.

His finger trailed a little more downwards, just above the cleavage of your breasts, "then there is a thin line in between the first part, the manubrium, and the middle part, which we call the corpus of the sternum."

This wasn't the first time Satoru had laid in your sheets, hand resting in the palm of his hand, which he held up by leaning on his elbow in bed, half his body turned to you. You had loved it from the very first time he had started doing it. It felt intimate, and yet so meaningful.

Satoru chose your body to describe something he had an interest in, something he wanted to pursue a career in. He explained it in simple terms, making sure you could always follow along and understand what he was saying or illustrating.

"The thin line is known as the manubriosternal joint, an identification mark for doctors to find the second costa, which is latin for rib, as it is immediately attached to the manubriosternal joint." You could feel how his finger would move a little more tot the right, in search of your second rib. Once he could feel the bone underneath his fingertip, he smiled softly before going back to the very middle, trailing downwards in between your breasts.

When it fell right underneath your costal arch, you felt your breath hitch in your throat, eying his face, only to find his eyes completely focused on his fingertip, "The xiphoid process is the last part of your sternum, divided from the corpus by the xiphisternal joint."

You knew exactly what would happen next, already opening your arms widely to let him settle his head on top of your chest, right on the apex of your heart.

"To listen to your heartbeat," he had admitted once, after a very long day at his univeristy.

So, without keeping him up any longer to make sure he'd be rested for tomorrow, you had placed your lips against his temple, murmuring his favourite sentence against his soft skin, "I love you, 'toru."

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

[amourane]

smitten

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 0.7k

summary: jeonghan is completely smitten for you and he refuses to admit it.

warnings: noneee

a/n: aaa i hope you guys like this <3 i wasn't gonna post two fics in a row but i whipped this one up in about half an hour so i hope you guys enjoy it! not sure if i should make it a mini series, lmk!

Jeonghan found it hard to breathe with you around. He found it hard to focus, to concentrate. He had always been one to keep his cool, to stay calm and collected but ever since he met you all logical thinking had been thrown out of the window. He wasn’t a type of guy that would get nervous and he certainly wasn’t the type of guy that would get distracted. Jeonghan prided himself in being the stoic and very attractive star student at Seoul National University. 

So why did he find himself completely befuddled in front of you?

You who were so beautiful, so pretty, so gorgeous yet so annoying. He had never met another girl who would claw at his bones more than you. Your tinkling laugh and bright shiny eyes. It all made him go positively crazy and he couldn’t do anything to help that. You had this magnetic pull that would drag Jeonghan along despite his protests. 

His friends had all teased him for it. They had seen the way his cheeks would flush whenever you stared at him or the way he would look at you with the most lovesick eyes. Nevertheless, he continued to deny his affections. 

It didn’t matter anyway. You were too dense to notice how everyone seemed to snicker whenever you went up to Jeonghan or the way everyone would peer over their textbooks whenever you asked to partner up with the infamous student. You, who’s smile was so bright, failed to see how everyone could tell how smitten Yoon Jeonghan was for you even if he denied it. 

“Hannie!” Your voice echoed through the hallway and Jeonghan winced at the loud sound. His expression remained neutral as you came bounding up towards him with the most adorable grin on your face. “Guess who just got full marks on her test? Me!”

The test paper you shoved in his face made Jeonghan go cross eyes as he struggled to decipher your scrawled answers and the red pen the professor had marked with. The biggest thing that caught his eyes was the 100 in the top right hand corner. 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You pouted as you removed the test paper from his face. “I worked so hard for that Hannie, I pulled all nighters and everything! I didn’t even ask you for any help, isn’t that impressive?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan felt the cage of butterflies fly open in his stomach and he gulped. “That’s amazing Y/n but you really shouldn’t stay up revising, it actually decreases the chance of taking information in. You can enter sleep deprivation and it has a really high chance of simply going blank in exams and that’s not good at all you know.”

Your smile remained on your face as Jeonghan continued to rattle off the side effects of lack of sleep. You stepped closer towards him, only inches away. Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he stared at your pretty face. His eyes flickered to your lips and then your eyes. The eyes he could stare into forever and not get bored with. 

“Then you help me revise. I could use help from that brain of yours. I actually did go blank in my exam but it wasn’t because of sleep deprivation.”

Jeonghan knew better than to ask what but he couldn’t help the curiosity that was gnawing at his mind like a beast begging to be set free. He stared at you, your bright expression rendering him speechless as he tried to come up with words to say.

“What was it then?” He croaked out, voice trembling at the close proximity. “Why did you get distracted?”

You giggled leaning in closer so that your lips were brushing his ear. “You.”

Jeonghan froze, his whole body stood still like ice and you continued to giggle and he saw the way your smile seemed to grow bigger. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you step back, the test paper still clutched in your hands. He felt his cheeks burst into flames as his jaw hung open in shock at your words. 

“See you later Hannie! I’ll pop over so we can exchange notes.” 

You waved him goodbye before skipping away as if you hadn’t just caused the poor guy to melt in his shoes. Jeonghan gripped his textbooks tightly and he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. The beating of his heart could be heard in his ears and he tried desperately to calm himself down.

You were the only one capable of making Yoon Jeonghan grow completely flustered and he hated it.

[ruershrimo]

no because imagine pining for fushiguro megumi. like, that would be the most frustratingly confusing thing ever omg.

you’re trying to get closer to him; close enough to know his favourite colour, the music that’s playing in his earbuds and the dishes he loves to eat.

so you text him and this boy is DRY. hella dry. you text as casually as you can even though you know that a) your crippling social awkwardness hinders you from acting ‘cool’ with anything and b) how are you supposed to keep calm when he’s your crush and you’re that down bad? (and you really are. just one glance from him has your knees buckling and nobara facepalming.) yet each time you text him, he doesn’t like any of your messages, and seems to love leaving you on read. not that he’d be doing it on purpose— megumi is, in fact, not chronically online and is probably busy whenever he isn’t replying to you. but why wouldn’t he be prioritising you if he did like you?

so does he not like you? is there any way to change his mind?

yet this is what makes it so furstrating and confusing— he gives you hope. Because why is he sharing exam notes he made for you just so he could share them with you? and yet when you’re jumping around in your room like a loon and kicking your feet up in the air, he sends another text:

‘thought you might want them, since you’re the only person who wants them.’ which is true— so would he have sent it to yuji and nobara if they cared more about their grades? is he just sending it to you since you’re the only option? would he give them to anyone else if he had a choice?

it’s so confusing!

and when you thank him and give your notes to him as an ‘exchange’ (you’re just so deep in your delusions that you think sending him your notes will impress him somehow) he just writes, ‘thanks’. no capitals, no exclamation marks, no emojis whatsoever— just BONE DRY TEXTING.

then when you say goodnight to him, and he says goodnight to you, telling you to have sweet dreams and a good rest with the blandest of emojis ever: classic ‘😀’ and that goofy ‘👍’. ugh! does he like you or not?

it’s so bad that it’s reached the point you’re texting him without any hope left. full-on check-ups every day on him even though you know he doesn’t like you back. even if nobara and yuji say that he barely replies to either of them daily and never wishes them so much as a ‘good luck’ before a test, a ‘good job’ for a mission well-completed, or a ‘goodnight’, much less a ‘sweet dreams’, you’re not king to have that hope. you’re not going to believe that he likes you— you chalk it up to him just being nice, as much as you’d like to be wrong.

so you’re surprised and absolutely elated when he says that he likes you over text, and then again face-to-face.

you swallow your sense of embarrassment as best as you can, trying to level your head with his outside your classroom.

“you’re so confusing…” you tell him before kissing his flushed cheek.

bye this is so stupid help. can you tell that the confusing part is based on real life events. why is he like this

[vorfreudevortex]

the bites cut deep

a megumi x reader one-shot inspired by this smau // masterlist

cw // mentions of injury (dog bite), blood (minor), dead body (used as a simile). mentions of hospital/clinic, medical care. angst, no comfort, cussing. 1.2k words.

the bites cut deep in more ways than one.

megumi stands awkwardly before you now in a small room within shoko’s office. its familiar to him, but not to you. the room is uneasier than usual. the fluorescent lights make the white of the gauze around your leg glow and the red of your blood even harsher. they buzz too loudly in the silence between you. he wishes he could turn them off, he wishes they didn’t glare across your face so brightly.

“i didn’t tell them to attack you,” megumi finally says, stepping closer to you, just inches away. his words are cold though, unattached. his arms hang limply at his sides, he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. you don’t quite meet his, either.

“so why did they?” you respond, soft and confused. you can’t help but shift in your seat, the paper beneath you on the exam table crinkling through the tension. megumi swallows hard, his gaze flickering away to the linoleum ground beneath his shoes. his hands flex and release, wanting to reach out to you but unable to bring himself to do so through the lie that's about to boil over.

“i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” this time you look right into his unreadable face. “it’s… that’s not good enough for me.”

megumi clenches his jaw, the tension coiling like a tight spring. “it’s not about you.”

“what are you talking about?” your voice is still quiet, dismayed. “your dogs bit me. how is this not about me?”

“you’re taking this too personally,” you can see his eyes spark with anger, just for a moment.

your heart starts to pound in your chest, the fresh bite marks throbbing in sync with the rhythm. “how am i supposed to take it, then? you told me that your divine dogs respond only to you, to your thoughts and feelings. do you expect me not to feel anything with puncture wounds in my leg?”

“it’s not like i meant for it to happen,” megumi snaps, expression hardening as he finally meets your eyes. “you just don’t understand.”

“then tell me.”

“i don’t know how,” his voice starts to rise. “i don’t know how to explain how dangerous this all is! i don’t know how to make you understand that it’s not safe for you to be around here. or me.”

“i’m not asking for safety, i’m asking for the truth!” your voice cracks with your frustration finally spilling over. “just tell me.”

megumi’s breath hitches. just for a moment, something painful, raw, and unguarded comes across his face. but it's gone after a split second, replaced by the cold, stoic mask he always wears. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“i think i already know, so just tell me,” your voice trembles. for what seems like an eternity, the two of you just stare at each other. to megumi, you're staring into his soul; picking apart and analyzing every possible atom that creates him. to you, megumi's eyes are simply sharp and angry; deep-blue eyes swirling with hurricanes of regret and resentment.

megumi opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates with a small gasp. the words begin to fall, tight and strained, like you were wrenching them out of his throat by force.

"i don't know how to love you."

you don't respond. your heart twists violently, sending a surge of rushing blood and fear through your bones. it's exponentially more powerful than the adrenaline that ripped through you after the dogs' jaws clamped into your leg.

"i tell myself i don't love you. it's easier than admitting that i'm the one who makes... us... difficult."

"you tell yourself you don't love me?" you whisper, hot tears brimming in your eyes. "since when?"

megumi looks away. "since the beginning."

"the beginning?" the rushing blood in your veins turns hot, your anger growing uncontrollably. "so, what? y-you don't love me? never have? you've just been pretending- no, lying to me all this time?

"no!" he shoots back, voice piercing and defensive. "i wasn't pretending! i just-"

"-you just what?" it's another staring match again. you and the boy you've loved for so long now, bitterly daring the other to speak first.

"it's not that simple."

you don't say anything at first, blinking blankly, attempting to process the muddling emotions in your head. "then explain it. because from what i understand, you've been stringing me along this entire relationship. you've been telling yourself that you don't give a fuck about me while manipulating me to believe you did."

"i care," megumi's voice cracks.

"how?"

"i-that's the problem! i care too much. can't you see that?" he's flipped a switch, almost desperate through the anger to make you understand now. "if i keep loving you, i'm just going to hurt us. i'll just hurt you."

"like you just did?" with wild eyes, you gesture towards the gauze around your leg, still pulsing with pain.

"yeah..." megumi swallows. "...like i just did."

"...i don't get it, megumi," the tears are slipping down your cheeks now. "you just... convinced yourself i wasn't real? and the dogs came after me because of that? i don't get it."

"i don't know," his chest heaves. "i let myself feel what i want when i'm with you. and when i leave, i just... tell myself how fucking stupid i am for letting myself do that. it's better than hurting you."

"you've already hurt me, megumi!" you sob. "and you've been doing it this entire time we've been together, it's just that neither of us even knew it!"

his face completely falls now, eyes wide with disbelief. he doesn't even feel the pain of his fisted nails digging into his palms, knuckles bright white. "i thought it was better this way," he whispers hoarsely.

"maybe for you," you wipe at your tears, the aching in your chest growing stronger with each heartbeat. "i never wanted you to protect me from whatever feelings you were hiding. i just wanted you."

"i-i don't know how to do that," he stammers. "i'm sorry. i... don't know how to give myself to you."

"i just don't think you want to."

silence falls like a dead body between you. megumi is forlorn, grasping desperately for words, the right words, to say to you. he wants to tell you 'i do! i do want to! that's what i've wanted all along!' but it doesn't come. he tries to tell you 'i love you, please... i always have. please, teach me how to let me love you?' but he's frozen with a compulsing heart.

megumi watches your wet, wounded eyes rise from the floor and directly into his own. he watches you search hopelessly for something, anything, in his face. something to save you, something to save him. but it just isn't there.

in that exact moment, megumi realizes that he cares too much. he loves you too much. and no matter the extent his care for you goes, he will never be able to truly let you in.

"leave, megumi."

and without another word, he finds his body moving against his thoughts. megumi doesn't look back. the door latches loudly behind him, leaving you completely alone. the buzzing of the sickening flourescent lights returns in full force, making bile rise in your throat.

the bites cut deep in more ways than one.

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[callsign-rogueone]

bruised, but not broken

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 2.0k 🏷: pt5 for sawyer and peach, very mild iron flame spoilers, mild descriptions of injury, soft sleepy sawyer <3 (he's concussed and needs to be held, okay), second squad makes another appearance, peach has a mouth on her, peach getting distracted by his muscles, more will-they-won't-they (they will eventually, I promise), two updates in two days! that's a record for me. ok byeee

Tomorrow comes and goes with no sight of Sawyer or his friends. 

He wouldn’t have forgotten about you, especially not after all that ordeal yesterday with that piece of parchment that’s still burning a hole in your bookbag. Maybe they’re just busy training.

Yeah. Extra flight time, or something. Or they’re out in the woods again. But wouldn’t they have a healer with them, then? None of the third years are unaccounted for. Maybe the second time they send them without a healer, to make it more difficult — not that you really did anything for them when you were there, besides figure out that the two maps were different. 

You probably weren’t supposed to do that, but after passing by the same tree four times, it became abundantly clear to you that most of these city kids had never spent any time in the woods, and you just couldn’t help yourself.

You bring a hand up to hold the little flower charm between your fingers, taking a breath. He’s fine. He has to be fine. Just crack your knuckles and say a prayer, and he’ll be fine. 

The infirmary being full really isn’t helping you relax right now, either. Not when half of the patients are infantry cadets who have just returned from four days of camping in the woods, and James and his twin idiots could walk in at any time. You’ve had it up to here with one of them in particular, who has been mouthing off about how long he’s been waiting to be checked out for a tiny cut on his arm that would need one stitch, if any.

“They’ll get to you when they get to you, but keep whining like that and I will personally make sure you’re the last one to be seen today.” He starts to protest, but you cut him off. “Do I make myself clear?” you ask more firmly. He nods, looking sufficiently embarrassed. “Good. Now sit your ass down, and treat me and my classmates with some respect.”

The squad exchanges a look. “Has she always been like that?” Ridoc asks in a whisper.

“Only when I did something really stupid,” Sawyer replies, his eyes not leaving you. “I haven't seen her that mad since I pretended to drown in the river when we were sixteen.”

“That wasn’t funny then and it still isn’t now,” you chide, turning to face them. Your jaw drops at the sight of the two boys — and Rhiannon, too — all looking battered and bruised. 

“It’s worse than it looks,” Ridoc reassures, giving you a smile that stretches the purpling bruise on his left cheek.

“He means that it looks worse than it is,” Violet corrects from his side. She appears unscathed, but looks exhausted to the bone.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You point down the hallway. “All of you, exam room, now.” The infantry cadet opens his mouth, but you silence him with your stare. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you, kid.”

You exhale deeply as soon as the door is closed behind the five of you. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

“All good,” Ridoc supplies. 

“Her first,” both of the boys say in unison, looking at Rhiannon. She doesn’t protest, sitting down in front of you and stripping off her flight jacket so you can take a proper look. 

The first thing you notice is that both of her wrists are circled with patches of raw, irritated skin. “What did they do to you, tie you up?” you ask, incredulous.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Handcuffs.”

“For what purpose?”

“Top secret rider stuff,” Ridoc answers around a yawn, and you see an identical mark on him as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth. “Torture training. But we broke ourselves out, ‘cause we’re the best.”

“Gods above,” you swear. “I don’t know how half of what they do to you guys is legal.”

“It really isn’t,” Violet answers tiredly, “but we signed up for it.”

It still doesn’t sit right with you, but you can’t do anything to change it. All you can do is keep patching them up the best you can.

“Ridoc, can you…”

“Gotcha.” He takes the small bowl from you, holding it under the tap, and the flow of water turns into several small chunks of ice.

“Thanks.”

He hums in response, taking one for himself and holding it to the split on his cheekbone.

“What’s your date of birth?” Violet asks quietly, pen in hand. She’d managed to swipe a handful of intake sheets off the counter without you noticing, and is sitting in the corner, dutifully filling them in for you. Scribe habits die hard, you suppose. Nobody will care as long as it’s your signature at the bottom certifying everything, especially when you’re so short-handed and the leadership has a dozen more important things to do than check it.

Ridoc looks deeply offended. “Ow, dude. You don’t know my birthday?” 

“April 23rd,” Sawyer answers for him, not looking up. He’s definitely got some sort of concussion — the unfocused look in his eyes and his unusually quiet, slow-blinking demeanor give it away.

“See? Somebody knows.”

“Only because you made a ginormous deal about it.”

“Excuse me for wanting to celebrate still being alive!”

The room falls silent. You’ve only heard a few things about their squadmates that had passed, but it’s obvious that they were all deeply affected by the losses.

“I didn't mean…” 

“We know,” Violet says gently, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”

There’s another moment of quiet before you pull back, assessing your work. “I think that’s about all I can do.”

“Thank you. It feels a lot better already.”

The squad sits quietly, not saying anything as you patch up Ridoc, then turn to Sawyer. “You guys can head back without me,” he says quietly. There’s a moment of hesitation from the others, but they exchange a look and silently decide it’s okay. 

“For the road,” you say, handing them each a tin of bruise salve and a small bottle of pain tonic — and some more stretchy bandages for Violet. “Get some rest if you can.”

They take their leave quietly, thanking you, and shut the door behind them, leaving just you, Sawyer, half a bowl of ice, and the pile of neatly written paperwork. He slowly gets up, moving to sit on the edge of the table — almost at eye level with you now. “Hi,” you say softly.

“Hi.” He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, blinking at you slowly.

You cradle his jaw in one hand, tilting his head up so you can look at his pupils — they’re equal and reactive, with no signs of permanent damage. The few days worth of stubble covering his jaw tickles your palm as he leans into your touch, closing his eyes. “M’ sorry for bailing on you,” he murmurs. “I really was going to come get you, I promise.”

“I know, sweet boy,” you soothe. “Don’t worry about it.”

He reaches out, pulling you closer and resting his head over your heart — and whining like a sad puppy when you don’t return the hug.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say gently. 

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbles. “C’mere.”

You wrap your arms around him loosely, resting a hand on his back and stroking up and down gently while you work the other into the hair at the back of his neck, gently massaging away some of the tension. He hums in contentment, settling against you and closing his eyes.

You’ve only seen him like this once, this clingy and sleepy, when he’d caught the world’s worst cold during harvest season and you were tasked with taking care of him while everyone else was out working. Of course you’d gotten the same cold from him, and then the roles were reversed. He would actually have made a decent healer. If only he were safe here with you all the time instead of risking his life every day doing gods-know-what in the name of preparing for war. 

“I worry about you, y’know. All of you,” you admit. 

“Don’t. We managed to escape a literal dungeon together.”

“I wish you hadn’t been there in the first place.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

You feel your stress slowly start to drain away, replaced with the reassuring steadiness of his breathing and the soft tick of the clock. You can finally stop worrying about his name being on the death roll tomorrow.

He pulls back, looking up at you. “Can you check if one of my ribs is broken?”

Your eyes widen. “You really just let me — asked me to hug you, when you thought you had a broken rib?” He winces at your volume, and you apologize immediately. “Sorry, sorry. Take your jacket off?”

He complies, setting it on the table, then tugs his shirt over his head, and your jaw drops — both at the yellow-purple bruises across his chest and ribs, and the definition there. He’s always been lean, but the last year has really toned him. All the muscles you had to memorize the names of are on clear display. You pick them out one by one as your eyes rake over the exposed skin.

“Is it that bad?” he asks after a moment.

Busted. “No,” you stammer. “It’s not the worst I’ve seen. Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

You lay your palm against his side, feeling for an obvious point of discomfort. His skin is warm to the touch, and the muscle has just the right amount of give to it. He’d be nice to cuddle with, among other things.

He inhales sharply, distracting you from your thoughts. “There?” you ask, prodding gently. “I think it’s just bruised. There’s no swelling or evidence of displacement.”

“Ah. And the other side?” he asks hoarsely, his cheeks flushed pink.

There’s no bruises or cuts on his other side, but you humor him anyway, moving your hand down his ribs. Five… six, seven, eight… nine, ten… “Turn a bit?” you prompt. 

You’re very grateful that he can’t see your face right now. You’d admired his chest, but his back… the expanse of his shoulders and the relic stretched across them, the thick lines of muscle there… Focus. Stop being a creep. He’s injured, for Amari's sake.

You smooth your hand over his side, finding the floating ribs… there. Eleven, twelve. “Nothing broken,” you manage. “Anything else to report?”

He shakes his head no. “Just sore.” He pulls his shirt back on, and it takes you every ounce of self control not to look disappointed as his skin is covered in the tattered black fabric. He looks you over like he’s assessing you for injury. “How are you doing? Any creepiness I missed out on when I was chained up?”

You wince at the mental image, but shake your head no. “I haven’t seen him in a few days. Are you going to be okay to get back on your own?”

“I thought I told you to stop worrying about me.”

“You did,” you answer. “But I’m not going to stop.”

He sighs. “You’ve always been stubborn like that.”

“I should probably get back out there, but if you want to lay down for a while, I can keep the door locked.”

He shakes his head, standing. “I’m gonna go shower, n’ probably sleep for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Why are goodbyes with him always so awkward? You never know what to do, where you stand. You definitely aren’t in kiss territory. Maybe a cheek kiss, but that’s pushing it. You’ve settled for long hugs a few times, never knowing if it would be the last one you ever get.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For patching me up.”

“Always,” you answer softly, looking up at him. “I’ll always be here for you. Just keep coming back to me, okay?”

“Always.”

[klarolinexluv]

Jock/secret-not-so-secret nerd James and Jock/nerd Regulus.

In the way where James is natural smart, he can read something once or twice and then understand the subject. He has never gotten anything below an E on his assignments/exams. James doesn’t need to study but he does because he gets a little panicky before exams thinking he has forgotten everything (which isn’t true) the moment he sits his exams, he flies through it and finishes early (just after Sirius every time)

James is constantly doing some sort of physical activity, he goes for runs in the early morning, he pushes himself at quidditch training, he does extra training whenever the pitch is free. James is constantly moving. When he is standing around waiting, he isn’t just standing still, he’s stretching, moving around on the spot. He just has so much energy that he has to expel it somehow.

James definitely has ADHD and Quidditch is one of his hyperfixations but that’s not necessarily good all the time, seeing as he works himself to the bone and forgets to take breaks. He is in constant need of reminders to look after himself on some days. (Despite this, he does have a routine for meals he just sometimes forgets them because he is so zoned in to what he is doing that the thought of feeding himself doesn’t pass his mind until he is exhausted and half dead on his feet).

He writes little notes and leaves them around for himself to remind him of things. If he is really struggling to find focus and stay on task, he writes lists. They aren’t overly detailed, just simple checklists to keep himself on task and he takes satisfaction when he can cross things off and mark them complete. Further than that, if the list doesn’t give him that sense of achievement he also gives himself rewards and/or goals that he can aim for.

I just know that James made an extensive detailed plan on how to befriend Regulus to the point that he is so oblivious to his feelings for him until after they are friends and then he has to make ANOTHER plan to woo Regulus. Little does James know that Regulus is already half head over heels for him.

Now Regulus is also natural smart. Problem is he is very worried about his academics and succeeding that he is ALWAYS seen with a book in hand. From fictional novels to large tomes on a topic that is not even related to anything they are studying.

Regulus spends ALOT of time in the Library. Usually alone because studying around other people frustrates him and distracts him to the point that he can get overwhelmed and annoyed.

Regulus studies hard, he studies until he has mastered the topic. He doesn’t mind how long it takes him just so long as he can master it. However, this can lead to frustration for himself and self hatred for he feels he is continuously failing and that leads to thinking he is a disappointment and further a lot of very bad thoughts that aren’t true but he believes them anyway.

Regulus is the type of person to NEED academic validation. Praise for his work. If he gets an E, he will beat himself up over it and push himself harder to the point, where like James, he forgets to look after himself. (His friends would argue that he sometimes forgets on purpose and that would also be true but 50% of the time, he has actually forgotten)

Flying for Regulus is an escape. Frustrated? Flying will fix it. Annoyed? Flying. Overwhelmed? Flying. Tired? Flying. A letter from home? Flying.

If Regulus isn’t in the library then he is on the pitch, and if the pitch is taken then he is sitting under a tree closer to the forbidden forest by the Black Lake.

Regulus owns a practice snitch and he carries it with him absolutely every where. Sometimes you will catch him fidgeting with it in his pocket but that is rare (he is only doing it in private and alone because he is so conscious of his image/reputation).

When he is on the pitch, there are a few things he could be doing. Flying around the pitch in circles, speeding up and slowing down, just flying lazily or at break neck speed. He will practice certain seeker moves, pulling off risky plays that few attempt and even fewer pull off. Or he is seeking the practice snitch.

Regulus doesn’t have an extensive work out routine like James does but he is passionate about Quidditch to the point where he thinks about it a lot of the time, things he wants to try, ways he can improve. He is also very good at analysing the play. I can see him going on to bring the youngest captain Slytherin have had for a long time in 5th year, I can also see him declining the position if Dorcas wanted it (and if he does give the position to Dorcas, that does not mean Dorcas isn’t talking with him about everything. Dorcas would ask his opinion on plays and shit and Regulus would break it down so throughly and Dorcas is quite proud that Regulus agrees with what she is doing).

Regulus with ASD (or Autism as it’s more known name) is so special to me. Like James, Quidditch is also a hyper fixation for Regulus. Regulus is also hyperfixated in a way on his perfect pureblood persona. He is ALWAYS masking. Always. The only time he is not is when he feels safe and comfortable. Of course he has little tells in his mask but they are very hard to notice unless you are looking for them. (Sirius is probably one of the only people who can read Regulus even when he is masking… but he has to be looking and sometimes Sirius doesn’t look).

Regulus also uses lists. Constantly. All the time. He doesn’t usually need to give himself further rewards after the satisfaction of crossing something off a list unless it’s an assignment of exam. If Pandora is with him and sees him cross something off a the list, she makes a small comment of praise that Regulus allows because it’s Pandora (I say allow but really Regulus is so happy about the praise that he hoards it. When Barty, Evan and Dorcas notice Regulus needs praise to feel yay! Yk they also start doing it but not like excessively because that would just piss him off but like smiling at him or messing up his hair, things that show that they noticed him and are proud of him without saying it).

When James starts coming around him, Regulus LOATHES it at first. It’s not part of his daily routine. (Because yes, Regulus has a daily routine that he sticks to religiously as best as he can. Regulus is the type to despise change, especially big change).

However, Regulus never tells James to leave him alone. Yes, he is mean and rude and not open minded about James and his presence at first. But James learns what makes Regulus tick very quickly and notices that Regulus prefers quiet when he is studying (James also needs quiet when studying) so one day, James just asks to study with Regulus after having sat quietly with him in the library for a few days.

Regulus agrees and this is how their tentative friendship starts. It evolves to practicing Quidditch at the same time. To helping eachother practice (giving eachother observations and then ways to improve) which both of them adore. James is praising Regulus subconsciously the entire time and eventually Regulus also praises James (and insults him at the same time but James likes that so)

It gets to the point where they just hang out with eachother for no reason. It started with James being the one to ramble and ramble and Regulus just listened to Regulus allowing himself to ramble and James listening.

Then of course, James realises his feelings and then the wooing starts (but Regulus is already half in love with him) and Regulus does not stand a chance. By the end of the year, the two of them have started dating.

Sirius is low-key relieved about it because James has been none stop talking about Regulus the entire year and Sirius is happy that they are happy.

Barty is also relieved because Regulus kept having minor crisis about it to him (Barty also threatens James with Evan and Dorcas which James is both terrified about and amused. Then Pandora threatens him and James is actually shitting himself and mental reminds himself to never piss off Pandora).

ANYWAY

Jock/secret-not-so-secret nerd James and Jock/Nerd Regulus.

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 13)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, squid games, blood, violence, gunshots, hurt/comfort, dtr. a/n: hello lovelies! don't have much to say today lol day 2/game 2, their silly little group getting together. i hope you like it! might be a loooong while before i post again. i’ve started teaching in a new school and im still getting the grip of how things work there, and also am preparing for a big exam - aiming for my mandarin hsk 2 certificate pls wish me luck—alsooo my inspiration has been running thin tbh—if you have any ideas or suggestions, do tell me. i fear the story might have gotten too long :B enjoy xx taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy @psychobitchsthings @dikeu-yoiz

part 13. team up

the night had been a brutal, merciless torment, your mind trapped in an endless cycle of terror, the same nightmare replaying over and over again like a cruel loop from which you couldn't escape. no matter how many times your body twisted, no matter how much sweat broke out along your brow despite the cold air of the sleeping quarters, your subconscious refused to let go of the horrors you had witnessed. 

the first game had left its mark, burrowed deep into your bones, into your senses, into the fragile space between sleep and waking. the gunshots rang in your ears, the dull, wet thud of bodies collapsing onto the ground reverberated through your skull, the thick, metallic scent of blood suffocated you. the fear, the helplessness—it all clung to you, poisoning even your rest.

hyun-ju barely slept either. the weight of the situation alone was enough to keep her mind alert, her body poised for anything, but it was you who kept her from slipping into even a moment of true rest. every time she closed her eyes, your soft whimpers, the restless shifting of your body, the way your fingers clenched and unclenched in distress, pulled her from the edge of sleep. she had tried waking you gently at first, brushing the back of her hand against your cheek, whispering your name—but you were trapped, too deep inside the nightmare’s grip to hear her. and so, instead, she did what she could—watching over you, wiping the dampness from your forehead with careful fingers, whispering reassurances even though you couldn’t hear them. at some point, she had simply pulled you closer into her arms, holding you against her chest, hoping her presence alone could tether you back to safety.

but in your mind, there was no safety—only darkness at first, suffocating and endless, before the nightmare bled into clarity, forcing you back into the sandy field of the first game. it was exactly as it had happened. hyun-ju, breaking away from you, rushing back into danger to help 456 carry the injured man. your screams, the raw desperation in your voice as you tried to break free from the arms restraining you, the feeling of your own body betraying you, held back while she risked everything. then, the relief when they made it across, the frantic way you had scrambled to the ground, to her, pulling her close—just like before.

but this time, the nightmare twisted the memory into something worse, something unbearable.

the gunshot rang out, a sound that rattled through your very being, and you felt the warm splatter of blood against your face. but when you looked, it wasn’t the injured player who had been executed—it was hyun-ju. the breath in your lungs vanished, replaced by a piercing, soul-crushing scream as her body slumped against you, her weight suddenly unbearably heavy. her head lolled, eyes glassy and unfocused, and the hole in her temple wept crimson, the blood trickling down her cheek, pooling onto you. you shook her, screamed her name until your throat burned, but she was already gone.

and then, a voice—cold, detached, uncaring.

"yes. one less to compete for the money."

your mind shattered.

the world went black.

and then it started again.

over and over, an unrelenting cycle of horror, the moment replaying itself without mercy. each time, you tried to stop it, to change something, to move faster, scream louder, but the ending never changed. hyun-ju always died, and you were always left holding her lifeless body in your arms, drowning in grief, in rage, in helplessness. it could have lasted minutes, hours—you had no sense of time, only the suffocating repetition of loss.

and then, suddenly, you were ripped from its grip, gasping, a silent scream dying on your lips as your eyes flew open. the room was dark except for the dim yellow glow of the piggy bank overhead. your heart pounded violently against your ribs, your entire body rigid with the lingering echoes of the nightmare. for a brief, disorienting moment, you weren’t sure what was real—if you were still trapped in that hellscape or if you had finally broken free.

but then you felt her.

hyun-ju’s arms were wrapped securely around you, her steady breathing warm against your skin, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. she was here. she was alive. the relief hit you so hard it nearly crushed you, and before you could stop them, silent tears slipped from your eyes, dampening the fabric of her shirt as you buried your face against her. you inhaled deeply, grounding yourself in her scent, her warmth, forcing yourself to believe it. she was okay. she was here. she was breathing.

everything would be fine.

at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of as sleep slowly pulled you under again, this time free from the nightmare’s grasp—though peace was still far from reach.

when morning came, hyun-ju stirred before the lights even turned on. even after everything, after the exhaustion weighing her limbs, her body remained tethered to its strict routine. her eyes opened at precisely 5:50 a.m., her mind instantly alert despite the haze of weariness still clinging to her. but as she turned slightly, what she saw made her pause.

at some point during the night, after she had finally drifted into sleep herself, you had shifted closer, curling into her warmth as if seeking safety in the unconscious state. the tension that had lingered between you since the vote seemed to have melted away, at least for now.

hyun-ju exhaled softly, adjusting her hold on you, her fingertips brushing lightly over your back. and though she didn’t say it out loud, she was grateful. grateful that, for the first time since this nightmare began, you had finally found even a sliver of rest.

you woke up the same way as before—blinding lights flashing on without warning, classical music swelling through the speakers, and the ominous glow of the enormous piggy bank above, now even heavier with stacks of money.

the only difference was that hyun-ju was beside you today.

she lay on her side, facing you, one arm draped protectively over your waist. her eyes were already open, alert. it was definitely past six—hyun-ju never slept past that. her internal clock was annoyingly precise, honed by years of routine. most mornings, she was up even earlier, quietly stretching beside the bed or watching you with that small, knowing smile as you clung to the last remnants of sleep.

you shifted slightly, intending to murmur a groggy good morning, but a yawn hijacked your sentence midway, stretching your mouth wide. hyun-ju chuckled at the familiar sight—this happened every morning. you were not a morning person.

“morning,” she murmured, her voice soft as she ran gentle fingers across your cheek. “how did you sleep?”

you let out a small, tired sigh. “as well as anyone can sleep in a goddamn death trap.”

she gave you a soft smile, though something in her expression tightened ever so slightly at your words. she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow as her fingers trailed absently along your arm. “i’m sorry about yesterday,” she said after a beat. “for the vote.”

there was a sincerity in her voice, a gentleness, but you only sighed, stretching your arms above your head. “there’s nothing to do about it now,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. then, attempting levity—albeit bitter—you added, “let’s just hope the next game isn’t russian roulette.”

it was meant to be a joke, dark humor to cope with the horror of it all, but the moment the words left your lips, you saw something in hyun-ju’s expression shift. it was brief, a flicker of something wounded in her eyes before she masked it, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to respond but thought better of it. instead, she simply nodded, sitting up fully and stretching her arms over her head.

you almost said something—almost acknowledged that look, that pause—but instead, you shoved it aside, dismissing it as nothing. you were both on edge. it didn’t mean anything.

the sound of doors unlocking snapped you both out of it. pink guards marched in, their presence swift and efficient as they wheeled in carts filled with neatly arranged bento boxes and water bottles. “let’s grab some food,” hyun-ju said, standing and offering you a hand. you took it, squeezing briefly before letting go, and followed her down the stairs, standing in line among the other players.

as you made your way down the stairs, hyun-ju naturally fell into step behind you, assuming her usual “bodyguard” position. it wasn’t anything new—this was just how she was in crowded spaces. at concerts, city festivals, even at the grocery store on a busy weekend, she always positioned herself slightly behind you, her presence solid and reassuring, ready to shield you from a pushy crowd. you loved when she did that. it was dominant, protective, and entirely her. once, you had joked about it, singing a bit of "i will always love you," and it had been the funniest thing when the reference went right over her head.

you smiled faintly at the memory as you grabbed the food, hyun-ju picking up hers right after. together, you settled on the bottom stairs, bento boxes balanced on your laps. the food was surprisingly... fine. it wasn’t home, but it was edible. you hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you downed the entire water bottle in one go, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat.

you were halfway through your meal, idly scanning the room, when movement caught your eye—a small crowd was gathering around player 456.

you swallowed your last bite and stood, curiosity overriding caution. hyun-ju noticed immediately. “where are you going?” she asked, her voice low but firm.

you waved a hand behind your back dismissively. “just listening,” you murmured, weaving through the players toward the group.

“you know what’s next, don’t you?” player 001’s voice cut through the murmurs. his tone was almost… teasing. oh, you hated him. “oh, yeah. you won this whole thing before, so you must know what game two is.” murmurs of agreement rippled through the players. 

your gaze flickered to 001, taking him in—his presence, his unreadable expression. he had pressed o last, single-handedly making sure you all stayed. you hadn’t liked him since the moment you saw him. there was something off about him, something cold.

and yet, you found yourself staring. and as if he felt your eyes, he turned to look at you. his gaze was empty, unyielding. you tried to hold it, tried to match his stare for a few seconds, but it was too much—or maybe it was too little. he wasn’t challenging you, wasn’t engaging with you. he was simply watching.

it sent a shiver down your spine. you looked away first, back to 456 as he finally spoke.

“the second game last time,” he said carefully, “was dalgona.”

you didn’t waste another second. you spun on your heel and made a beeline back to hyun-ju, weaving through the crowd until you reached her side.

“the game,” you murmured under your breath. “it’s dalgona.”

hyun-ju, who had been watching you with a mixture of mild amusement and worry, immediately straightened. “are you sure?”

you nodded. “i heard it myself. and the easiest shape is the triangle.”

she exhaled through her nose, nodding slowly. you hesitated, glancing down at her. 

“are you any good at it?” you asked.

she hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, “not really, but i’ll try my best.”

you exhaled, standing in front of her, your hands on your hips. “me neither,” you admitted. “i was never patient enough for it, always broke the candy.”

she listened carefully, her gaze unwavering, absorbing every word, then, without a word, she set her empty food box aside and gently tugged you forward by the hands, guiding you so that you stood between her legs as she sat. automatically, your arms came to rest on her shoulders.

her soft brown eyes gazed up at you, the remnants of her makeup from yesterday completely gone, leaving behind nothing but the bare, unfiltered warmth of her expression. she exhaled softly.

“i’m sorry,” she murmured.

you sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “don’t start that again,” you warned, trying to keep your voice amused but the way she kept bringing it up was starting to make you feel annoyed. “otherwise, i’ll remember i’m supposed to be mad at you.”

she smiled—small, but genuine, then she rested her head against your stomach, letting out a deep, quiet breath as you ran your fingers through her hair. her shoulders relaxed slightly, some of the tension draining from her frame. she tilted her head up to look at you again.

“i love you.” the words came soft, steady. a quiet confession and your heart squeezed.

you bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “i love you too,” it was brief and tender.

you sat back down beside hyun-ju, the warmth of her lingering touch still humming against your skin. without a word, she reached for your hand again, lifting it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, then another to your wrist. a quiet reassurance. you sighed, leaning into her shoulder, letting your body relax against hers. the room was still too cold, the air too heavy, the fluorescent lights too harsh—but in this moment, pressed against hyun-ju, it was bearable.

but… you needed to talk.

“yesterday,” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “when we played red light, green light… i—” you hesitated, exhaling shakily. hyun-ju didn’t rush you, simply shifted closer, thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles.

“i was terrified,” you admitted. “not just because of the game, but because…” your throat tightened. “because i thought i was going to watch you die. i had nightmares through the night, i… i spent the whole night watching you die.”

hyun-ju tensed beside you, but she didn’t interrupt.

“i know you’ve seen worse,” you continued, voice raw. “you were in the military. you’ve held a gun, you’ve probably—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “but i haven’t. i don’t know what it’s like to see someone get shot right in front of me. i’ve only been to a handful of funerals in my life, and every single one felt unreal. like grief was something distant, something i could keep at arm’s length.”

hyun-ju remained still, though her grip on your hand tightened.

“but yesterday,” you murmured, “there was no distance. it was right in front of me. the blood, the bodies, the gunfire. the way people screamed.” you swallowed hard. “i’m afraid, hyun-ju. i don’t want to go through that again. i don’t want the next body to be yours.”

or maybe, it would be yours. the thought settled in your chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating. you turned your head, searching her expression. “does it even make sense? you winning all this money, only for me to—”

“stop.”

her voice was firm. she didn’t look at you, instead staring down at her hands, fingers curled into tight fists.

“hyun-ju—”

“i said stop,” she repeated, sharper, a little louder this time. “don’t say things like that.” her reaction was immediate, instinctual. a kind of raw, unfiltered denial.

you exhaled softly, reaching for her, placing your left hand over hers, your right gently cupping her cheek. “i’m not being pessimistic,” you whispered, coaxing her to look at you. “i’m being real.”

her gaze finally lifted, meeting yours. and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. a quiet, trembling kind of understanding. then, her jaw clenched, and her dark eyes hardened with something fierce. “i will protect you,” she said, voice unwavering. “we’re leaving this place together.”

you wanted to believe her. god, you wanted to believe her.

so, you nodded. “let’s hope so, but… you know you can’t guarantee that.”

she looked away, shaking her head slightly, and you two stayed like that for minutes, just looking ahead, in silence. after a while, hyun-ju spoke.

“you know,” she began, her voice steady, but with an edge of something careful beneath it, “i understand why you’re upset. and i understand that you’re scared. but…” she exhaled, shifting her body so she was turned slightly toward you. “the way you talk about it sometimes—it hurts.”

you froze, caught off guard. she hesitated for only a second before continuing. “i don’t want us to tear each other apart in here. i don’t want to hijack what we have so easily.” her brows furrowed slightly, voice dipping softer, more vulnerable. “i don’t want this place to do that to us.”

a wave of guilt coiled in your stomach. you hadn’t thought much of your words before, hadn’t considered how she might interpret them, how they might sound coming from you—the one person she had always relied on, just as much as she was your anchor. you had been so wrapped up in your fear, your exhaustion, your anger, that you hadn’t realized you were taking it out on her.

you turned to fully face her. you opened her mouth to reply, but she shook her head, offering you a small, tired smile.

“i get it,” she said. “i do. but just… don’t push me away while we’re here. please.”

she wasn’t looking at you. her eyes were on her hands, fingers wringing together in her lap, restless and anxious. "i don’t know how to say this without sounding selfish," she admitted, barely above a whisper, "but i need you. i need you to believe we’re going to make it. because if you stop believing, then i don’t know how i’m supposed to keep believing either."

your throat tightened, a sharp sting burning behind your eyes.

"hyun-ju..." you murmured, guilt swelling in your chest.

she gave a small, breathless laugh, one that didn’t hold any amusement. "i don’t want this place to take everything from us," she said, voice raw now, unguarded. "i don’t want it to turn us against each other. i don’t want to be scared of losing you and scared that you’re already slipping away from me."

your breath hitched and reached for her hands, stilling them with your own.

"i’m sorry," you whispered, and your voice cracked under the weight of it. "i didn’t realize… i didn’t mean to make you feel like that." you swallowed hard, gripping her fingers a little tighter. "i’m not giving up. i swear. i’m just... scared. and i know you are too, even if you don’t want to say it."

hyun-ju exhaled shakily, finally meeting your eyes.

"i am," she admitted. "but i can’t—" she broke off, shaking her head. "i won’t let this place take you from me. i can’t even think about that. and when you make those jokes, when you talk like it’s inevitable, like we won’t make it out together, it feels like you’ve already made peace with leaving me behind."

the words crushed you.

you reached up, cupping her face, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your palm. "i could never make peace with that," you said, your voice firm even as your throat tightened. "i don’t know what’s going to happen, hyun-ju, but i do know that if something ever happened to you... i don’t think i could survive it."

hyun-ju's breath caught, her eyes shining with something unspeakably fragile.

"i need you too," you continued, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "i need us. and i need you to know that even if i’m scared, even if i don’t always know how to handle this, i’m not giving up on us. i’m sorry for making you feel like i was."

hyun-ju let out a breath that sounded almost like a sob, her fingers trembling as they cupped your face. "i’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "i’m so, so sorry."

you shook your head, placing your hands over hers. "i know," you murmured, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself feel her. "i know." you exhaled, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist before looking at her again. "just… no more decisions without me. no more trying to carry this alone. we do this together, okay?"

she nodded, her thumb brushing over your cheek as if memorizing the feeling of you. "together," she promised, her voice trembling but sure.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, then pulled her into you, wrapping your arms tightly around her. she held you just as fiercely, her face buried against your shoulder, breathing you in.

for the first time since this nightmare began, you felt something close to peace settle over you. whatever came next—whatever horrors this place threw your way—you would face it together. and that was the only thing that mattered.

but before either of you could say anything else, the fragile moment shattered. a sudden commotion erupted from the center of the room, sharp and violent, the unmistakable sound of fists colliding, bodies hitting the ground.

you jerked your head up just in time to see two men throwing wild punches at another, their movements fast and aggressive. hyun-ju’s arm shot out in front of you instinctively, a barrier between you and the scene unfolding. it wasn’t necessary—the fight was contained, the men too caught up in their rage to pay anyone else any mind—but still, her protective instincts kicked in.

your eyes darted across the struggling bodies, catching a flash of bright purple hair. you recognized him instantly—player 069, the rapper thanos, as he called himself. you had always thought he looked like an asshole, and clearly, he was proving you right.

the scuffle intensified, the two men ganging up on the third, fists landing hard, breathless grunts filling the air. the violence of it made your stomach churn. but then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped as player 001 stepped in.

one moment, the fight was wild, uncontrolled—the next, it was over. 001 moved with precision, stepping between them, intercepting blows, disarming the situation quickly. actually, he didn’t just step in. he moved like someone who had done this before, someone who had calculated the perfect moment to strike. his technique was sharp, efficient. he wasn’t just breaking up the fight—he was winning it.

you watched uneasy, however hyun-ju looked impressed. she had always been drawn to skill, to discipline, to technique, it was part of her nature. she murmured something under her breath, something about his form, speed or strength, but you weren’t paying attention anymore, because something about him unsettled you.

you didn’t like him, you never had. from the moment you saw him, from the moment he pressed the o button, keeping all of you trapped in this nightmare—you hadn’t trusted him. and now, watching him, seeing the ease with which he dismantled the fight, the way his gaze remained cold, empty, unaffected—a chill ran down your spine. you didn’t say any of this to hyun-ju.

*

the heavy main doors creaked open, and a flood of pink-clad guards entered the room in perfect formation. their faceless black masks made them look inhuman, mechanical, as they stood in eerie silence, waiting for the players to fall in line. a tense hush settled over the room as everyone understood what was coming next.

you felt hyun-ju’s fingers tighten around yours as she pulled you up with her, her grip firm but comforting. without a word, the two of you fell into step with the others, joining the slow-moving crowd heading toward the exit. the same winding staircase loomed ahead, leading you through a maze of pastel corridors���bright, almost playful, but suffocating in their endless turns.

when you finally emerged into the game area, it was different from before. the same sandy floor stretched beneath your feet, but this time, the center of the vast space held two circular, colorful tracks painted onto the ground. it almost looked like an oversized children’s play area. the tension in the air, however, was anything but playful.

a woman’s voice echoed through the space, cool and detached.

"welcome to your second game. this game will be played in teams. please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes."

you turned to hyun-ju immediately, brow furrowing. “dalgona isn’t played in teams.”

she shook her head, her expression serious. “it’s not dalgona, then.”

hyun-ju straightened, her hand squeezing yours just briefly before she shifted into something more focused, more determined. “we need to find people,” she said firmly. “three more.”

you both turned toward the rest of the players, scanning the crowd, trying to find anyone who wasn’t already locked into an unspoken alliance. people were moving fast, pulling each other into small groups, securing their chances before time ran out.

but as you and hyun-ju approached different clusters, the reaction was the same. some people had already formed their teams and dismissed you quickly, barely sparing a glance. others looked you both up and down—eyes lingering too long on hyun-ju’s appearance, or your joined hands—and turned away without a word.

you gritted your teeth, frustration curling in your stomach. you weren’t surprised, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating. i hope you all fucking lose.

hyun-ju, ever composed, let out a slow breath beside you, the only sign of her own frustration being the tightening of her grip on your hand. “we’ll find someone,” she murmured, and you could tell she was saying it more for you than for herself.

you were about to turn to hyun-ju, to suggest splitting up just to form a team faster, when a small weight bumped into you, snapping you out of your thoughts. you turned, expecting to see someone pushing past in a hurry, but instead, you found yourself looking down at a girl.

petite, wiry, her frame smaller than yours—she looked no older than a teenager. she had wide, almost too-big eyes, framed by unruly curls of frizzy hair. her uniform bore the number 095, with a large x printed on the front.

she hesitated before speaking, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “excuse me…” she murmured, fidgeting slightly under your gaze. “would you like to team up with me?”

something in your chest eased.

you didn’t think twice before offering her a reassuring smile, the warmth genuine even in the middle of all this chaos. “of course,” you said, looping your arm through hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. the tension in her shoulders melted slightly, and you could tell that she hadn’t expected kindness here.

with her, now you were three.

"team selection will end momentarily." the pa voice jolted you into urgency. time was running out.

“we need two more,” hyun-ju reminded you, her voice low but firm.

“i know,” you murmured, scanning the dispersing players. most people had already formed their teams, clumping together in tight circles, talking in hushed voices, some sizing up their teammates with open skepticism. others had their backs turned, purposefully ignoring the stragglers still searching for a group.

hyun-ju was taller than you, giving her the advantage of a better view, so you turned to her. “aein, do you see anyone alone?”

she was already looking, eyes narrowing as she swept the field with practiced precision. “no… there’s no one i can s—oh wait, there.”

she lifted her chin, subtly gesturing toward two figures standing near the edge of the group. you followed her gaze, and the moment your eyes landed on them, your breath hitched.

your eyes followed her direction and landed on the old woman from the first day, the one whose voice had cut through the murmurs like a blade, asking why people like hyun-ju existed. standing next to her was her son, player 007. you had never told hyun-ju about what the woman had said. it hadn’t felt necessary; you had long since learned to bear the weight of ignorance in silence, sparing her when you could. if hyun-ju had heard it herself, she hadn't let it show. but now, faced with the decision of approaching them, your stomach twisted slightly.

for a split second, you hesitated, fingers twitching against 095’s arm. still, it wasn’t time for that. “do you think they’ll want to team up with us?” you asked, voice hushed.

“only one way to find out,” hyun-ju said, already moving toward them. you followed, with 095 close behind.

“excuse us,” hyun-ju said smoothly, her voice polite but firm as she stopped before them. “we need two more for our team. would you like to join us?”

007 barely hesitated before responding. “of course!” he said, a note of relief in his voice, as if he had been waiting for someone to extend a hand. he seemed eager, cooperative. you almost sighed with relief—it was done, your team was complete.

but you didn’t miss the way his mother’s brows furrowed, the way she exhaled sharply, her mouth barely parting as if she wanted to object but thought better of it. nor did you miss the way 007’s gaze lingered just a fraction too long on hyun-ju, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. it made your spine straighten involuntarily. but right now, it didn’t matter. what mattered was that you had a team, a real chance at winning whatever this was.

you turned to hyun-ju and let out a slow breath, offering her a small, relieved smile which she returned without hesitation, just as the pa system came to life again, its impassive voice cutting through the last murmurs of team selection.

“team selection has ended. all players, please sit in a line inside the designated circles.”

with a final glance at each other, your newly-formed team made their way toward the marked area. you took a seat between hyun-ju and 095, your body still thrumming with leftover adrenaline. the others settled in around you, and silence fell as anticipation weighed heavy in the air.

“the game you will be playing is six-legged pentathlon,” the pa voice continued. “you will start with your legs tied together. each member will take turns playing a minigame at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. here are the minigames: number one, ddakji. number two, flying stone. number three, gonggi. number four, spinning top. number five, jjegi. your goal is to win all the minigames and cross the finish line in five minutes. please decide players for each minigame.”

a low murmur spread among the teams as everyone quickly assessed their skills.

“what are you good at?” 007 asked, eyes flicking between you all, his tone eager, as if he thrived on strategizing.

you exchanged glances.

“i’m good at jjegi,” hyun-ju offered. “i used to be able to kick more than twenty times.” there was a faint note of pride in her voice, but it was laced with humility.

“more than twenty?” 007 sounded impressed. “that’s solid. you should definitely take jjegi.”

you nodded in agreement. “then i can do ddakji,” you said. “i won more times than the man who recruited us. is that okay with everyone?”

095 nodded immediately, eyes shining slightly. she had been quiet so far, observing you closely, hanging onto your words like you knew more than you really did. there was something about the way she looked at you—not just trust, but admiration. it made your chest feel strangely tight.

the old woman, 149, spoke next, adjusting her posture. “i grew up playing gonggi,” she said with a quiet confidence, her voice carrying the wisdom of years. “i’m really good… though i haven’t played in a long time.”

“you’ll be great, mom,” 007 reassured her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. his words were encouraging, but there was something else underneath them—something personal.

“i can do flying stone,” 007 added. he seemed sure of himself, and no one objected.

that left one game. you turned to 095, who had been sitting quietly beside you. “are you okay with spinning top?”

her big eyes flicked up to yours, hesitant. “…yes,” she said, though the lack of conviction in her tone didn’t go unnoticed.

you lowered your voice slightly. “we can switch if you want,” you offered.

she hesitated for a split second before shaking her head. “no, it’s fine,” she said, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “i can do it.”

you studied her for a moment, sensing the nerves beneath her resolve, but you decided to trust her. you nodded. “alright. then it’s settled.”

“let’s do this!” 007 pumped his fist in the air, grinning. you all gave a small but determined cheer, sealing your fates together.

the pa crackled again. “all players, remain seated as game instructions are finalized.”

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. there was no turning back now.

*

shortly after, the game began. the first two teams had their legs strapped together, their bodies swaying slightly as they adjusted to the restraints before they found their rhythm. in unison, they started chanting, "one, two, one, two, one, two," their steps carefully synchronized, the sand beneath them shifting as they moved forward.

you watched intently, eyes locked on the team competing on your track. the first challenge—ddakji—was completed flawlessly, and they advanced to the flying stone segment. the player assigned to the task picked up the stone, throwing it towards the target. it missed. groaning in frustration, he hurried to retrieve it, but with every second lost, so was their hope of finishing in time. his second throw connected, but his foot was over the line, disqualifying the attempt. he hesitated, hands shaking, sweat glistening on his forehead under the artificial lighting. you leaned toward 007, voice low but urgent.

"you need to watch the line when you throw," you murmured, keeping your gaze on the struggling player.

007 nodded quickly, eyes wide with understanding. "got it," he whispered back, determination settling into his expression.

the man continued to try, each failed attempt making his movements more frantic, more desperate. and then—humiliation. his body trembled, his breath hitched, and you saw the dark stain bloom across his pants as he pissed himself, sheer terror taking hold. your stomach twisted. you could feel the team unraveling, frustration and panic taking over, sealing their fate.

the room buzzed with nervous energy. only ten seconds remained. in a last-ditch effort, the man hurled the stone with every ounce of strength left in him, and this time, it hit. his voice cracked as he stammered, "i did it, i did it!" the relief in his voice was unmistakable. but it wasn’t enough.

the buzzer sounded, and the tension in the room snapped, replaced with something much, much worse. you saw the pink-masked guards approaching before you fully registered what was about to happen. they moved with eerie precision, their guns cradled against their chests. dread pooled deep in your stomach. "oh no," you whispered, fingers digging into hyun-ju’s arm. "they're gonna shoot them."

hyun-ju said nothing, but the solemn nod she gave you confirmed the unspoken truth. you turned away before you could see it unfold, eyes snapping toward 095 instead. she looked paralyzed, her small frame shaking. instinctively, you reached for her, pulling her close, shielding her from the horror that neither of you could escape. and then, hyun-ju’s arm wrapped around both of you, solid and unwavering, her presence, as always, anchoring you in the storm.

but nothing could muffle the gunshots.

the sound ripped through the air, sharp and unrelenting. you squeezed your eyes shut, hands clamping over your ears, but it was useless. the echo rang inside your skull, each shot landing like a blow to your already frayed nerves. how many times did they fire? it felt endless, a merciless execution stretched into eternity.

when silence finally fell, you forced yourself to look.

bodies lay sprawled on the track, twisted together, their lifeless forms unnervingly still. blood seeped into the sand, staining it dark. the guards moved mechanically, untying the cuffs from the corpses with the same indifference they’d show clearing an obstacle on a course. and then, as if that wasn’t enough, a guard stepped forward, lifted his gun, and fired twice into one of the black coffins with a large pink bow.

each shot made you flinch violently.

a man nearby broke first. "we should have left!" he screamed, his voice raw with grief and fury. "now we're all gonna die! we're gonna die because half of you said you wanted to keep doing this!"

you agreed with him. oh, how you agreed with him. but it was too late for regrets. too late for rebellion. you could only move forward.

the voice on the pa rang out again, calm and unwavering. "will the next two teams please rise?"

you felt the weight of it settle over you, the moment sinking in as you stood up on unsteady legs. your hands moved automatically to help 007 pull his mother up, your fingers gripping the sleeve of her tracksuit as you steadied her. keep a clear head. no panic. no animosity. if you let emotions take over, you’d lose.

hyun-ju turned to 095, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "hey, look at me." her voice was firm but gentle, a quiet command rather than a question. "my name’s cho hyun-ju." she motioned toward you. "this is my girlfriend."  you introduced yourself with a smile. then, softer, she asked, "what’s yours?"

095 hesitated for a fraction of a second before finally murmuring, "young-mi. kim young-mi." her voice was small, but it didn’t waver.

hyun-ju held onto young-mi’s hands, her grip steady and sure. "listen, from the moment you asked to play together, we believed in you. i could feel how brave you were, young-mi." her voice was warm, reassuring. "now i need you to believe in yourself the same way we do. can you do that?"

young-mi glanced at you, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, searching. you nodded, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her arm.

"i’ll try," she finally whispered.

you smiled. "that’s good enough."

the old woman, 145, let out a breath that sounded close to a chuckle before straightening her spine, her voice cutting through the tension. “that’s right. i’m jang geum-ja, and i lived through the korean war. so i know a few playground games won’t kill me.” a wry smile followed before she turned to all of you, her dark eyes filled with an intensity that almost startled you. “all right, come on. let’s do this. together, we can win this.”

there was a quiet but unanimous nod from the group.

007, standing straighter now, adjusted his glasses with a little too much force, as if trying to anchor himself in the moment. “yeah,” he added quickly. “and i’m the son of jang geum-ja, who is a survivor. park yong-sik.” his voice carried a strange mix of pride and apprehension, as if he wasn’t sure whether to honor his mother’s strength or fear for her all the same.

hyun-ju took a deep breath, and just like that, her posture shifted. her shoulders squared, her chin lifted just a fraction higher. the transformation was subtle, but it was there—the sergeant in her stepping forward, taking command. “team, listen up.” her voice, rich and unwavering, drew all of you in immediately. was she like this in the military? the thought flickered through your mind as you instinctively leaned in, drawn by her certainty.

“we can get through this together. okay? let’s show all the other players here that these games are nothing to us. i know we can do it.”

she extended her hand into the center of the huddle, thumb pointed upward, and one by one, you all followed, gripping onto each other’s thumbs in a chain of silent agreement. a moment of quiet passed before, in unison, you all bounced once, raising your hands in a cheer—not loud, not overconfident, but filled with determination.

then, just as you were moving toward the track, assuming your places, young-mi’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unexpected.

“wait, wait! i need to change.”

you froze, turning to see her shifting nervously on her feet, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her sleeves.

“what?” hyun-ju frowned, concern flashing across her face.

young-mi swallowed hard. “i won’t do well at spinning top,” she admitted, her voice trembling as she turned to you. her eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto yours. “change with me, please.”

shit. shit. you pressed your lips together tightly, forcing yourself to suppress the immediate curse words threatening to escape. the weight of your team’s gazes burned into you, waiting for a response, for a decision.

you exhaled slowly through your mouth, your heart pounding against your ribs. “all right,” you finally said, nodding stiffly. “let’s change.”

it was the right call, the only call, but still, doubt curled at the edges of your mind. ddakji was supposed to be your game—the one you knew you could win. but now? now you were going into something uncertain. you have to be good at this. you can’t afford to fail.

the switch happened quickly, young-mi moving to the front while you took her place, wedged between geum-ja and hyun-ju. hyun-ju reached for your hand immediately, squeezing it tightly. “are you okay with this?” she asked, voice low, only for you to hear.

you hesitated, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “i—i have to be,” you admitted, the words barely above a whisper. her fingers tightened around yours for a brief second before letting go.

“i can do spinning top,” you continued, as if saying it aloud would make it more real. “yes. i can.” you breathed out slowly, steadying yourself.

the guards moved in then, their boots heavy against the ground as they began securing the cuffs around your legs, locking them into place. you flexed your fingers, willing yourself to stay calm. your left leg was tethered to hyun-ju’s right, your right leg bound to geum-ja’s left. it was real now. no more planning, no more adjusting. this was it.

a gunshot rang through the air—the signal to begin, and just like that, your team surged forward, a tangled collection of bodies and determination, pushing toward the only thing that mattered now: victory.

[meowingbackatcats]

31 march 2025

long time no see :)

i haven’t been able to do a lot, i’ve just been super exhausted and unmotivated and i feel like that shouldn’t be an excuse for me to not study, considering my exam is so close but i can feel the exhaustion and burn out in my bones.

well regardless, i’ve been tryna finish a 12 hour organic chemistry lecture and ill finish it today, marking the end of my organic revision.

i also have to start a kinematics / class 11 physics part 1 lecture and that’s also 12 hours 😭 but let’s see, i’m hoping to start it off today me finish it by tomorrow or maximum, day after.

eh anyway, let’s just hope this one month goes by quickly.

goodluck to all of you and have an amazing day and stay hydrated my loves 🌼

💌

[thenerdykneazle]

To Hold

A Sequel to "Her Touch"

Summary: Ominis's wedding night with his new wife.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: the mildest of hand kinks, kissing, a surprising amount of schoolwork, stressing about exams, failure to communicate

Word count: 6463

Ominis never got to see you walk down the aisle. He will never know just how radiant you looked in your dress or the expression that was on your face as you stood opposite him. He had never loathed his blindness more. He wanted to take in the sight of you and tell you how beautiful you looked and have it mean something – even if you assured him that it meant the world to you whenever he said you were beautiful.

Ominis would, however, always remember the feeling of your hands in his as you both said your vows. They were warm, soft, and sure as your fingers entwined with his. Kissing you for the first time as his wife had been dizzying – even though he had been unable to stop smiling long enough to do it properly. He remedied that when he finally brought you home, though.

He carried you across the threshold and down a well-memorised path to his bedroom – well, your shared bedroom now. In the preceding weeks, he had practised walking the route from the door to the bed hundreds of times without his wand guiding him. Sebastian had caught him at it once, and Ominis’s face was positively flaming as he tried to explain himself. It was worth it, though, because carrying you to the bed went flawlessly.

Ominis had got a good feel for your dress at the reception. He had been utterly incapable of keeping his hands off of you. He had felt how the gown lay tight to your waist before blooming into full skirts that fanned out into him as you danced together. He had played with the layers of ruffles on your elbow-length sleeves as you two made the rounds greeting your guests. He had even discovered the way the low neckline left your collar bones exposed. You ended up having to heal a mark he had left just above one of them after sneaking you away from the festivities for a few minutes.

After all that, Ominis felt he had fully appreciated the garment. Now he was eager to get it off you. First, though, he slipped off his shoes and sat behind you on the bed as he carefully helped you undo the intricate plaited chignon Natty had styled for you. When your hair finally fell loose around your shoulders, Ominis buried his fingers in the roots, massaging the tips of his fingers along your scalp.

You hummed with pleasure as you let your head fall back on his shoulder. “That feels exquisite, love,” you said.

Ominis kept one hand tangled in your hair while the other swept your locks back from your neck. He lowered his lips to the delicate skin and kissed a path from up near your jaw down to where your dress began on your shoulder.

“I assure you that you feel even better, darling,” he muttered against your skin before placing an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. “So soft.” He nuzzled into you. “So delicious.” He licked a slow line out until the sleeve of your dress stopped him.

You moaned softly, twisting your head to give him more space as he traced up the length of your neck with his tongue. Your skin was salty from the hours you had spent dancing and celebrating with your friends and family. Ominis felt like he could devour you as he sucked a mark into the skin behind your ear. He was determined to savour you, though.

You reached back to curl your fingers in his hair as Ominis nuzzled your jaw, trailing up and down it with the flat of his nose as he breathed you in. Another hum rumbled through your chest. Ominis wished he could capture the sound and replay it each night, letting the echo of your contentment lull him to sleep.

Bringing his free hand up to your jaw, Ominis turned your face to bring your lips to his. He moaned into your mouth as your lips interlocked. He continued to massage your scalp with the other hand before tugging the silky locks into his fist as he nipped hungrily at your bottom lip.

Ominis was confident about this part. He had done it with you often. Too often, probably, and it was only by some mercy of Merlin that he had made it to your wedding night without taking things too far.

You rested your hand on his thigh, and Ominis became keenly aware of how hard his heart was beating. You two had, as a rule, generally kept hands above the waist on each other – especially when kissing. Ominis had an additional pair of rather prominent restricted zones on you, whereas you had the benefit of being able to rest your hands on his chest whenever you liked.

Ominis had to be diligent about not letting his hands stray where they should not. Even resting one on your knee had become too tempting the stronger his affections for you had grown. That did not mean the odd slip never happened – though, not nearly as often as Ominis had wanted them to. Still, he was far from used to having the warmth of your hand so close to his more intimate parts. Your hand ran up and down the inside of his thigh, making more and more heat pool low in his abdomen with every upward stroke. His anticipation at feeling your hand on his length built to bursting.

He got so worked up he had to pull back to gasp in more oxygen before he fell faint. He rested his forehead on yours.

“I love you,” he said, breathing the words out onto your lips.

“I love you, too,” you confessed. Ominis could hear the earnestness in your voice, and it made his heart sing.

A smile broke out on his face. “I can’t believe you’re really my wife,” he said, damn near giddy. It was an odd feeling juxtaposed with the extent of his arousal, but it also felt right. You made him incomprehensibly happy. You also stoked desire in him until he teetered on the brink of madness. Your engagement – the longest months of his life to date – had him rapidly oscillating between both states. It was fitting that they should merge in this moment.

You lifted your hand to stroke your thumb over his cheek. “From now until forever,” you replied. Then, you teasingly added, “So, I hope you’re not having second thoughts.”

“Never,” he vowed earnestly before reconnecting your lips to seal it.

You shifted on the bed, twisting around to face Ominis until you suddenly fell into him with a yelp, knocking him back on the bed as his hands flew up to hold your arms steady.

“Are you all right?” he asked, both worried and confused.

“Yes, sorry. I just got a bit tangled up in these skirts,” you said, chuckling. “Could you, um, maybe help me out of my dress?”

Ominis felt his cheeks warm. For as excited as he was to get you out of your clothes, actually doing it somewhat terrified him. All of that was completely new for him. He had no experience to go off of, and he could not exactly learn from pictures. There was no one he would rather figure things out with, but he worried about being….well, bad at things.

You two had discussed things a few times after your engagement. Ominis had received a general education about sexual matters in his latter teens, but it had been more confusing than anything. After your engagement, you had taken the time to explain your anatomy to him: how it was structured and how it responded when you were aroused. It made a lot more sense than his previous instruction had.

He had gone into the talk rather mortified. He felt he ought to have already known more than he did – after all, you already knew the basics about him without needing him to elaborate. But you were patient with him, and he quickly discovered that discussing your body was rather erotic. You two broke the discussion up into several brief conversations to avoid them getting too heated.

Ominis had additionally been rather nervous about being physically disappointing. Again, he had no frame of reference for what was normal. He feared damning you to a life of dissatisfaction. You assured him that would not be a problem, but he was unconvinced. It culminated in him, with your consent, showing himself to you after you had been snogging in his – now your – living room.

“Oh,” you had gasped.

His whole face, neck, and chest had burst into flaming heat. You had not sounded disappointed, exactly, but it was far from the reaction he had expected. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, panicked.

“Nothing!” you insisted quickly. “It’s just…much prettier than I’d expected.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I want your honest opinion,” he said.

“I am being honest!” you replied defensively. “People talk about male anatomy rather disparagingly, and the illustrations aren’t exactly flattering. I just didn’t expect to find you so…aesthetic.”

Ominis felt on top of the world.

“I…” You cleared your throat. “You should probably put it away now.”

Ominis might have been embarrassed all over again if not for the fact that he could hear your arousal in your voice. He was very glad you knew what he looked like. Still, he had the good sense not to ask to feel you in return. There would have been no chance he kept control of his passions if he had.

Now, on your wedding night, he would finally get to feel you. Every inch of you.

Ominis stood from the bed and held a hand out to help you up, as well. He unlaced your gown, and he heard the rustle of the fabric as you stepped out of it. You stepped back in front of him in just a chemise. He could tell as his hands came to rest on your hips.

You helped him out of his robes in return. Then, you carefully removed his braces from the front of his trousers. Your hands grazed his lower abdomen as you unfastened the straps, sending heat pulsing through him. He had to fight the urge to abandon restraint as you began slowly, maddeningly unbuttoning his shirt.

Ominis let his hands roam up to your waist and over your ribs. He slid his left arm around your back while his right hand skated forward in a familiar path under your breasts. Then, it deviated from the usual course, instead traveling upward into previously forbidden terrain. His hand grazed the underside of your breast before gliding up the valley between them. He bit back a groan. Just your barest contours made him feverish. Your hands fisted into his unbuttoned shirt, signalling that he was not the only one affected by his exploration.

“Ominis,” you keened as his fingers stretched out across the centre of your chest and up toward your collar bones before dragging back down the plane of your sternum.

He needed to get you out of that chemise.

Ominis gripped the garment at your thighs, and you let him pull it over your head. His heart was pumping adrenaline through him now, burning desire coursing alongside it.

He shrugged off his shirt before pulling you to him, your bare chests pressed together as he kissed you breathless. He had never felt the heat of your skin sinking so deeply into him before. He felt like the two of you might very well melt into one at any moment. In a way, he supposed you already had when you vowed your lives – yourselves – to each other.

Ominis could not stand being apart from you any longer.

He walked you back toward the bed, laying you back properly before climbing in after you.

He hovered over you with his hands on either side of your head and one knee between your legs before he leant down to reconnect your lips.

His tongue teased yours as it surged desperately into his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair, wrapping locks around your fingers, stinging his scalp once more as you scrambled for purchase. It was a pleasant sensation, heightened by your passion for him. You were arching up towards him, eager for every extra bit of connection you could gain. He found your desire for him addictive. He had never imagined someone would want him so fervently – and he had certain never thought it would be someone he so ardently yearned for himself.

You pulled back suddenly, and for a horrible moment Ominis feared he had hurt you.

“Wait. I want to see you,” you said, gripping the waistband of his trousers.

Ominis hesitated. “You can see me all at once, but it takes me time to feel things out. Let me catch up,” he said before nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours.

“I suppose that's fair,” you replied, though you did not seem wholly enthused by the idea.

Ominis chuckled. “Patience, love,” he said, shifting his weight onto one arm so he could run his free hand down your arm until he laced his fingers with yours. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss against the back of it. “I’ll make it worth it.”

He was not sure where his sudden boldness had come from to make such promises. It had his desired effect, though, as you let out a soft, needy whimper.

Ominis raised your hand to his lips and kissed each of your knuckles in turn before opening your hand to kiss the pads of your fingers as well. He wanted to feel every part of you on his lips. When he reached your thumb, he took the whole of it into his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against it to taste you.

You let out a moan that made arousal jolt through him as your free hand reached up and grasped onto his other forearm as if to steady yourself. The muscles were already taught as it bared his weight, but he found himself tensing them further in response to your touch. Flexing, if he were honest with himself.

Sliding your thumb out slowly from his mouth, Ominis hummed in approval. Every part of you was so utterly perfect to him, down to the smallest of details. He kissed your wrist next before meticulously making his way up your arm, pouring his adoration into every reverent press of his lips on your silken skin. Again, he felt a spike of need urging him to ravish you. But, again, he resisted. He had implored you for patience, and he would exercise his own in kind.

As he continued his path upward, one of your hands gripped his shoulder, while the other tangled in his hair. You began to squirm as Ominis kissed across your collar bone. When he reached your throat, he switched tack and licked up it to your pulse underneath your jaw. You clung to him as he sucked against the delicate skin there.

“Oh,” you breathed out in a needy whine. It made Ominis throb with arousal, and he regretted not divesting himself of his trousers earlier.

Ignoring the constricting fabric, he began teasing his hand just under the swell of your breasts. He allowed himself to graze their edges as he passed beneath and between them. It was even more maddening to feel their curves without the fabric separating him from you. He was testing his own patience, trying to ease into things. Trying to make it good for you.

“Touch me, Ominis,” you begged, voice cracking and desperate as you continued to writhe under his attentions.

He groaned at the sound – at how much you needed him. He slid his hand up over the mound of your breast, filling his palm with the soft flesh. He squeezed, massaging his fingers into you as he felt the weight in his hand. So full. So supple. And now his.

Ominis withdrew his hand partially to allow the tips of his fingers tease your nipple, circling over it lightly until it stiffened under his touch. Ominis licked his lips before dipping his head on instinct, anchoring his hand on your waist as he leant down. He took the bud between his lips, letting his tongue flick out to meet it.

He moaned as he tasted you. Your breaths turned to quick pants, and your hand gripped tighter in his hair, making his scalp burn at the roots. But Ominis only grew more fervent as he suckled at your breast. He could have easily spent the whole night mapping each one out with his tongue.

Or he might have, anyway, until he caught the scent of your arousal. It was heady and sweet. He had caught hints of it on a few rare occasions after particularly heated snogging sessions. He had to fight hard in those moments to resist seeking out its source. It was intoxicating – arousing. Downright mesmerising. He would probably smell it in his amortentia.

The tension in Ominis’s neck strained as he forced himself not to immediately bury himself between your thighs. He rested his forehead on your breastbone as he panted from the effort of restraining himself. He groaned as your nails dragged across his scalp.

Your fist closed tight in his hair as his hand slid down your stomach to your core, his middle and ring fingers gently parting your folds. Your tender flesh was hot and slick on his fingers, and he could not help but think of how incredible you would feel on his cock. You moaned as he stoked languidly along your slit. Ominis pressed a kiss to your sternum in gratitude – he loved the noises you made for him. Only for him. He did not get to see you naked, but there were other aspects of you that would be his alone – the feeling of your breasts, your core, your skin; the scent and taste of your arousal; and the sounds of your pleasure.

“Gods, that feels so good!” you groaned.

“Yeah?” Ominis asked before he could stop himself. He cursed his insecurity. He should be confident. Assertive.

“Mhmm,” you assured him. Even that sounded needy, and it barely counted as a word.

“You feel divine, darling,” he told you. “You’re so wet for me. You’ve been as anxious for tonight as I have, haven’t you?”

You just whimpered in response.

Ominis shifted so he could lie pressed beside you as he continued his ministrations, mapping out your sex with each stroke. He felt along each of the soft inner lips you had described to him. He found your entrance, letting just the tip of his middle finger dip inside. It made your breath hitch, though Ominis was not totally sure if it was a good reaction or a bad one. Either way, he pulled back and continued up to the bundle of nerves at the apex of your centre. He rubbed light circles over it, gliding easily with the slick of your arousal.

Your hips arched up into his hand.

“Is this right?” he asked, wanting to ensure he was properly following the guidance you had given him in your discussions.

“Just a little to my left,” you replied breathily.

Ominis shifted his hand, and you gasped. Before he could ask if it was in pain or pleasure, you let out a wanton moan.

“Merlin,” you said, the word slipping out on your exhale.

Ominis could feel your body growing tense. He would have assumed he had done something wrong if he had not learnt from some of his own research that it was common as a woman’s body was increasingly stimulated. It made sense to him. His own body had done similarly on the occasions when he had touched himself, and Ominis felt a deep satisfaction that he was able to build the pleasure within you that way.

His own senses were being overwhelmed. The scent of your arousal was heavy in the air as he coaxed more of it from you with each pass over your swollen little bud. Your flesh was slick and velvety on his fingers. Your breathing had turned to panting, interrupted only by the whimpers and moans that escaped your lips, as your body wound tight with pleasure. He pressed his aching length against your thigh in a bid for some relief.

“I want you so badly, darling,” he admitted. “I want to be inside you. Fill you up with me.”

Your hips began to cant against his hand as your breaths became rapid. He wondered if you were imagining meeting his thrusts as he slid into you. He was certainly imagining it as he rutted against your thigh.

Ominis tried to kiss you, suddenly desperate for the contact, but his lips landed on your jaw becuase your head was turned aside. You quickly turned back to meet his lips, moaning into the kiss as he kept rubbing your clit – rather urgently now, in fact.

“Ominis! Oh! Don’t stop!” you panted as your thighs trembled. “S-so good! Gods, I love you! I–”

Your body began to spasm as the sound of your moans filled the room. Ominis’s desire hit a new peak as he both heard and felt your orgasm – one he had given you. Your body practically convulsed, down to the little muscles spasming under his fingers. He kissed you hard as he did his best to keep up his ministrations. He moaned as your tongue slid desperately into his mouth. Harsh puffs of air from your nostrils hit his cheek until you had to break the kiss to drag in deeper breaths, panting as you came down from your high.

“That was so beautiful, love,” Ominis said, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He could feel your pulse racing.

“That was…You are…” you tried between gasps. “I love you.”

Ominis smiled against your collar bone. “I love you, too.”

Having caught your breath, you pulled him into a kiss. Your lips locked with his before beginning to wander across his face to every spot you knew he loved.

His ears were especially sensitive. Aside from his wand, they were his best way to take in information about the world beyond his immediate reach. He was protective of them, too. His governess had boxed his ears once, and he had collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap. His mother had frequently dragged him around by them, unperturbed by his wails of pain. Ominis tensed up whenever someone else touched his ears. But you were always so gentle with them – with all of him, really. You trailed your tongue from the angle of his jaw up to lightly trace the edge of his earlobe. You grasped it delicately between your lips, and Ominis moaned out as you tugged it ever-so-slightly, sending a wave of pleasure through him like a burst of magic.

“I love when you moan for me, Ominis,” you said in a low voice.

The feeling was decidedly mutual. And hearing you say his name in that sultry tone – gods.

Your hand dragged down Ominis’s chest and over his abdomen, and his pulse quickened the lower you went. The light scratch of your nails against his skin sent gooseflesh pricking up across his torso and down his arms. All the while, your hand kept moving down toward the painfully tight bulge in his trousers. Ominis felt feverish with the need for you to touch him – and to touch you again.

You stilled just as the heel of your hand reached the top of his trousers. On the verge of combusting, his breaths came out in rough pants. He could not hold back his moan as your hand twisted around and down to cup over his erection. His own hand immediately found its way back to your centre, returning the favour.

Your palm was hot against him as you massaged him over his trousers, greatly relieving the ache that had been building as his body strained eagerly towards you. Even warmer was the heat of your folds as they moulded around his fingers. A cold sweat broke out on his neck as he imagined that warmth wrapped around his length. As he slid his middle finger into you, the fantasy became all the more vivid. You were hot and tight and–

“So wet for me,” Ominis muttered aloud.

You moaned in agreement as he pumped his finger languidly in and out of you. Your hand came up to clamp his shoulder as you rocked your hips in sync with his movements. Soon, your other hand began massaging him again. It was almost overwhelming to think of being inside you. He quickly began to have a very real fear that he was going to climax before he was even naked let alone making love to you.

It had happened once before, shortly after you had gotten engaged. He had walked you home after an evening at the Sallows’. He had gone inside for just a moment to bid you goodnight. He had placed a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips.

He could hear the smile in your voice as you said, “I can’t wait until we don’t have to say goodbye at night anymore.”

Ominis’s heart had filled to bursting. “Soon, darling,” he had promised.

You had stepped forwards and wrapped your arms around his middle as you rested your head on his shoulder. In a soft, sweet voice you said, “I’ll miss you.”

Ominis held you tight against him, savouring the fleeting moments of contact before he would have to leave. You nuzzled into his neck, the tip of your nose grazing the sensitive spot under his ear. His blood had begun to heat, having your body pressed to his and your breath fanning over his neck as you clung to him. He tilted his head down and found your lips, just brushing his against them as he knew stealing another kiss would be asking for trouble. His resolve crumbled almost instantly when you tilted up to meet him, and he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

The kiss quickly turned to snogging, which resulted in pinning you back against the door he should have long-since left through. One of your hands tangled in his hair as the other traced along his collar bones, which made him realise you had undone the top button of his shirt somehow. Only your shoulder blades touched the door as you arched into him. One of Ominis’s hands wandered down from your hip to grasp your bum and pull your hips further into his own.

He felt feral – utterly out of control – as he rutted against you while snogging you against a door. The pressure and friction clouded his mind in a haze of lust. It was ecstasy. He knew it was wrong. Gods, he knew your parents were sleeping a floor away and liable to catch the two of you. But he could not stop. Not when you seemed just as eager as he was. Not when you held him close and moaned and rocked against him in equal measure. Not when sparks of pleasure zipped up with spine at every thrust, every moan, every tug of his hair.

Keeping his grip on your round bum, his other hand had wandered up your ribs until his thumb could swipe along them just under your bust. Your breath hitched at the contact. When he – probably accidentally – grazed the underside of your breast, another moan escaped your lips. Ominis took the liberty of sliding his hand up to grasp you fully, and he was rewarded with your increased fervour as you canted your hips against him. He could feel through the scant layers of your casual dress, that his length was at your centre. You were utterly lost in the pleasure of him, and Ominis was in you, as well.

Declarations began to spill from your lips.

“I love you.”

“You feel so good.”

“Gods, I love to feel you against me.”

In turn, Ominis professed his own love, praised your curves, and revelled in the feeling of you. Hearing your words of praise made his actions all the more desperate. He knew he would be touching himself to the thought of them as soon as he got home. Or, he would have, if you had not said what you did next.

“Merlin, Ominis! I want to feel you inside me. I want to make love to you.”

Having already been teetering close to the edge, your words pushed him over. His orgasm crashed into him like running into a brick wall, knocking the air from his lungs as it caught him off guard. His muscles grew rigid as he continued thrusting against you, pulse after pulse releasing from him in vain within the confines of his trousers.

When the blinding pleasure faded, the shame and mortification quickly replaced it. He immediately started stammering an apology. You assured him that you were not upset. Further, you claimed to find it arousing. Though, with the haze of lust sufficiently broken, you both agreed it would be for the best that you did not carry on any further. Ominis was still embarrassed, but a shred of his dignity was retained with your gracious response to the situation.

He went on to recall your words every occasion he touched himself, and he found them no less effective than they had been that night. Having you want him was a high better than he could imagine any potion giving him.

Now, on your wedding night and with his desire for you overwhelming him, he worried the same might happen again.

“I think I’ve been very patient,” you said, voice husky, as your fingers traced the outline of him straining against his placket. “Gods, I want to see you. I want to lie with my husband.”

Even if Ominis would have had objections, they would not have stood a chance against that. He could not stop the groan that ripped from his chest. Though, fortunately, he was able to hold off his climax.

He kissed you firmly before agreeing that he was ready. After, rather regretfully, sliding his finger back out of you, he stood up to rip down his trousers and undergarments. Quickly rejoining you in bed, he covered your body with his own, kissing your neck as your heat sank into his skin. He relished the feeling of your body on his, free of barriers. It felt intimate even without the upcoming union of your bodies. It felt right being together, uninhibited. Like you both were made for it.

Ominis’s breath hitch when you reached between your bodies to take hold of him. He was flooded with desire as you slid your hand up and down his length. He already felt like he would die if you ever stopped touching him, and then you whispered a lubrication charm that multiplied his pleasure. That sent him into a state of utter bliss that had your name tumbling from his lips.

“Ready, love?” you asked.

That was a loaded question. Ominis was beyond ready. He had wanted you so badly for so long, and it only got worse each day he fell more in love with you. But he was also terrified – of hurting you, of disappointing you, of embarrassing himself. In that sense, he would never be ready. But with his wife underneath him, stroking him into delirium, there was nothing he wanted more than to make love to you.

“As long as you are, darling,” Ominis replied, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.

“Gods, yes!” you groaned out in a breathy tone. “Ominis, please…”

He did not need further encouragement. After replacing your hold on him, he lined himself up at your entrance with only a slight readjustment needed. He edged forward cautiously, feeling the strain of his control. A part of him desperately wanted to ravage you – a part ruled by carnal desire that had long whispered in his ear to toss propriety aside and throw you into his bed. In truth, he was fairly certain he would give in to his baser instincts one day, but not this day. It would be a future day when both of you had the experience to experiment safely. Right now, he needed restraint. He wanted to be close and make love to you and make you feel good.

Ominis shuddered as his head sank into the warmth of your core. Slowly, he pressed deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within you.

It was better than he had expected. Better than he had imagined. He felt your muscles contract around him, squeezing with a maddening pressure that made him want to promise you anything as long as you let him stay inside you.

You let out a sharp breath.

A bolt of panic shot up Ominis’s spine. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” you assured him, seeming sincere. “I just…I feel so full.”

“Sorry,” he replied reflexively.

“No,” you said. “It’s good, but…I…could you move?”

Ominis was about to ask where you wanted him to move to when he caught your meaning. He had been motionless, just buried inside you – you needed him to move. He withdrew carefully before sliding back inside.

A truly obscene moan left your lips, and sweat began to bead on Ominis’s back as he held himself steady. He repeated the motions, setting a gentle rhythm pumping into you. Every press inside brought the sweet embrace of your walls around him. Every pull back created a glorious friction as your body clung to him like it was fighting to keep you two joined together.

Ominis rested his forehead on yours. “You feel incredible, darling.”

You whimpered at his words before capturing his lips in a kiss.

Gods, he wanted to come. The thought of spilling inside you was doing nothing to help him avoid doing so prematurely.

You began to meet his thrusts, and Ominis increased his pace incrementally. You were panting and moaning underneath him while your centre pulsed once around him. He thought of the spasm of your muscles under his fingertips and was filled with a sudden urge to feel you orgasm around him. It had always been his goal, however lofty it seemed, to have you climax first. He wanted this to be good for you. He wanted to pleasure you. But now he was doubly motivated as he craved the sensation of your muscles pulsing around him over and over.

Shifting his weight onto his left arm, Ominis freed his right hand to stimulate you. He made steady circles around your clitoris with his thumb. You lost sync with his thrusts as your legs trembled in response. Ominis’s teeth sank into his lip as he tried to stem his own arousal at making you lose control that way. You were a fearsome warrior – able to command a whole battlefield with ease – and yet under his touch you ceded authority over yourself.

You were practically writhing. “Fuck, j-just like that!”

The smell of sex was heavy in the air, a mix of sweat and arousal. Ominis could taste the salt on your skin as he trailed open-mouthed kisses across your collar bone. Your nails scraped down his back as you clung to him. He could feel your muscles drawing tight as you edged closer and closer to your breaking point. He felt his own pressure within, building higher and higher until he felt like he was trying to hold back an explosion. His bollocks felt heavy even as they drew tight to his body. His length throbbed with need, too swollen to be sustainable for long.

He moaned out your name. He was losing coherence with every thrust as he fought to hold back. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths panting across your sweat-slicked skin. The muscles in his neck were strained tight and threatened to snap. “Please,” he begged. “Please, come for me. I need to feel it, darling. Please. You feel so good. Want you to feel good. I can’t–I’m so close. Please.”

Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, Ominis realised you had stopped breathing. You had drawn so tight it was difficult to keep thrusting back inside. The vice-grip as he buried into you was a siren coaxing his release. Blinding pleasure was just a moment away if he let himself succumb. But he held on. And it was well worth it.

Your breaths came out in rapid, staccato puffs as Ominis felt you contract around him. Waves seemed to pulse down your whole body as shudders wracked through you. Your cries of ecstasy, even more than being buried in you, shattered the mental dam he had built to contain his own release. You were falling apart under his touch. You were in rapture because of him, and you were so beautiful when you hit your peak. Your pleasure seemed to multiply his own, and it overwhelmed him as each of his thrusts was paired with a throb of his length that spilled more of him inside of you.

He rode out both of your highs until the fog of his mind began to clear and the exhaustion set in. He kissed you passionately – in love, in thanks, in reverence – before peppering kisses across your cheeks, nose, eyelids, shoulders – wherever he could reach. Your hands stroked lightly up and down the length of his back, soothing the abrasions your nails had left. Only after his body had calmed down enough for his length to go soft, he finally pulled out.

Ominis collapsed to his side before wrapping you up in his arms. You wiggled to fit your back against his chest, aligning your bodies until there was not even an inch of space left between you. He pressed kisses into your shoulder as he held you tighter to him. With his arm wedged underneath you, his hand slid down until his palm rested flush to you, low on your abdomen. His other hand slid down your arm until his fingers laced with yours as he entwined your legs too, seeking to unite your bodies in as close an approximation of the intimacy he had just experienced with you as he could manage. You exchanged whispers of your love for each other, and it was not long before sleep claimed Ominis as he lay entangled with his wife – the woman who had stolen his heart with just a simple touch, and who he now got to hold for the rest of his days.

[bookyeom]

pairing: hoshi x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, reader is a bad dancer?

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

dance with me by sarah kang ft. cody dear

'cause boy when i'm alone with you you make me wanna sway, wanna move

dance with me 나랑 춤출래? i don't care about where or when pick a song that never ends

You and Soonyoung have been stuck in some weird, uncharted territory for months now. 

He’s your friend, but he’s also so much more than that. You know it, and you’re pretty sure he knows it, too.  

You’d do anything for him, really. So when he asks you to meet him at the studio before you head home so that he can show you something new he’s working on, you don’t hesitate. Even though it’s midnight, and you’re exhausted from hours spent studying in the library – because Soonyoung is calling.

You can hear music as you approach the practice room, recognizing it as the song for the dance he’s been rehearsing for his final exam, so you’re surprised when you don’t see him through the windows at all. You turn the handle on the door to the room tentatively, opening it just enough to peek inside. And you smile.

Soonyoung is lying flat on his back near the wall closest to you, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling. You watch as he marks the movements in small gestures from his spot on the floor, bobbing his head to the beat, as if he’s taking only half a break. You’ve been friends for quite some time now, and you know him well enough to know that his mind won’t settle until he’s perfected what he’s practicing. He’ll rest his body if he has to, if it makes him, but even then, you know he’s always going over choreo in his head. Like right now. 

You wait until the song is finished, until there’s quiet, and then you speak. “I was invited here to see some dancing, but it looks like I’m in the wrong place.”

Soonyoung’s head falls back onto the floor as he looks over, a grin spreading across his lips when he meets your eyes. He’s looking at you upside down, and it makes you laugh. Then you’re suddenly not laughing anymore, because within seconds he’s pushed to his feet and is bounding over to wrap you in a warm, sweaty hug. Now, your heart is racing.

“Hi!” He beams, moving back to squeeze you by the biceps. 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you manage. 

“I was just taking a break,” he explains, and you nod. “Don’t worry, that’s the first one I’ve taken all evening–”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I wasn’t worried before, but now I am, if you're telling me that’s the only break you’ve taken from dancing in the last four hours.”

He just laughs, letting go of you, and you roll your eyes. “Go sit over there, I’ll run it again. I don’t need you to help with much… There’s just this one part in the chorus where it feels a little stiff. Just tell me if anything feels,” he gestures into the air vaguely, “off.”

You nod, mock saluting him as you take your place on one of the chairs scattered along the wall on the other side of the room.

You watch as he sets up the song again, your cheeks warming when he begins shrugging off his hoodie. He’s turned away, his back and shoulders now on full display for you in the tank he’s wearing, and you can’t help but stare. You abruptly look down at your feet when he turns back towards you, the first beats of the song beginning to play. You look at him again as he zones in, squaring his shoulders and getting into position as he watches himself in the mirror. 

You don’t have a single rhythmic bone in your body. Watching anyone dance is mind blowing to you, but especially Soonyoung. He’s incredible. Why he wants your advice on his dancing is beyond you, but he always insists, and you’ve never been good at denying him anything.

And why would you even want to deny this? This — a front row seat to one of the most beautiful works of art you’ve ever seen. Soonyoung takes your breath away all the time, but especially like this. 

You’re so caught up in his movements that you don’t even recognize when the chorus hits, when it gets to the part you’re supposed to pay extra attention to. You’re in a trance, only snapping out of it when he makes one final turn, and the song ends. You blink, watching as Soonyoung returns to himself, the performer in him calming with every breath he takes. He lets his shoulders drop, lets his body relax, and then he lets out a loud sigh of relief. He crosses the room and joins you, falling into the chair next to yours, and drops his head onto your shoulder. 

You remind yourself to breathe.

“So?” He’s still breathless. You suddenly remember why you’re there, why he asked you to come and what he asked you to do, and you flush when you realize that you were too dazed to really notice if anything was amiss. 

“This is your best one yet,” you tell him honestly. Which is the truth, because despite your ogling, you would have noticed if anything was glaringly wrong.

“Really?”

You nod. “You’re amazing, Soonyoung.”

The words come out much softer than you intended, much more honest, and you can only hope he doesn’t read into any of it. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you’re running out of reasons not to panic when he says, “Dance with me?”

Your eyes widen as he lifts his head and turns to you with a smile. 

“What?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder and stands up, holding out a hand for you to take. “Come on,” he grins, wiggling his outstretched fingers when you don't move. “I’ll teach you some of the easier moves.”

You let him pull you up, even as you continue to protest. “Soonyoung, you know—“

“Come on,” he insists, “you can do it!”

You groan. “I really can’t, you know this! I can’t dance, Soonyoung, I—”

“You can’t dance well,” he corrects, and you level him with a glare. He just grins wider as he adds, “but I know you like to! I’ve seen you on our nights out.”

You willfully ignore how his last comment makes you feel, trying desperately not to flush crimson red at his observation. At the fact that he’s noticed these things. “Yeah, so you already know I look like an idiot.”

“You look,” Soonyoung counters, “like you’re having a lot of fun. I’ve seen the way you smile when you’re dancing with your friends.”

You try once more. “No one is judging me there.”

“No one is judging you here, either.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because you can’t argue with that. You know he would never judge you – for anything. You huff, narrowing your brows as you give him a mock glare, but your shoulders fall in defeat. Soonyoung giggles – your favourite sound – and leads you into the middle of the room.

He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to guide you through what he claims is one of the easier steps to master, and to your surprise, you actually kind of get the hang of it. He’s a good teacher, you note, because of course he is, and you feel a bit less anxious with every “good job!” and cheer he sends your way. 

You continue to practice the same small sequence for a bit. When Soonyoung places both arms on your shoulders and stares you directly in the eyes, you stop breathing for a second.

“Okay,” he says, “this is the last move of this part, but it’s a bit hard.” He draws his lip between his teeth, and you watch it happen, because what else are you supposed to do? You think he notices, because his mouth quirks up at the side, but he doesn’t say anything except for, “You up for it?”

You don’t think you say yes, but he begins to teach you, anyway. And he’s right – this last move is hard. He continues to encourage you, and you continue to try and try and try, and –

You let out an ungodly squeal when you finally land in the right spot, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes! I nailed that!” 

You try one more time, two more times, and it’s not perfect — but you do it. 

You don’t even notice the way Soonyoung is looking at you until after you do the move for the third time. When you do, your heart leaps into your throat. He’s got his arms crossed as he smiles over at you, soft, and you think there’s a pink flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. You try and tell yourself it’s from the dancing, even though you know it’s you that’s been exerting yourself for the last half hour, not him. He looks so fond, and happy, and there’s something else you can’t quite put a finger on. All you know is that it’s making your entire body warm. 

“What?” You ask as steadily as you can manage.

He just shakes his head. Then he abruptly looks down as if shaking himself out of a stupor, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you’re frozen in place. What was that all about?

“High five,” he offers, cutting of your train of thought, and it takes you a second to register what he’s asking for. 

And when your hand lifts to meet his, he doesn’t let go. 

It all happens at once. His fingers intertwine with yours, his other hand finds your waist, and suddenly he’s so close to you that you forget how to think. You know there’s no mistaking the shakiness in the exhale that leaves you. 

“Is this part of the choreo?” You finally manage, voice barely a whisper, and Soonyoung lets out a soft breath.

“No,” he admits, his voice low.

His hand slides around to your lower back, testing the waters further. His other hand falls from yours, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort before he pulls you in even closer, like he can’t stop himself.

“What about this?” Your voice is so, so quiet.

“No.”

His voice is soft in the emptiness of the practice room around you. Your bodies are flush now, chest to chest, and you think that if he wasn’t holding you up, your knees would buckle. His eyes still haven’t left yours, waiting, though you don’t know for what. His gaze only breaks from yours to wander across your face; your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You can’t help the soft exhale that leaves you when his eyes find your lips, and you know he notices because you can feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your shirt. 

Moments pass like that, and when you still don’t move away, Soonyoung lets out a soft breath of air that you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His next movements are slow and calculated, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut. Your hand lifts to his chest, and you’re surprised when you feel just how fast his heart is beating. 

“Soonyoung?” You question softly after a moment, impressed that your voice even makes it out at all. He responds with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes still closed.

“I just… Just give me a second,” he murmurs, and your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it in the quiet of the practice room.

“Okay.” 

You have no idea what’s going on. All you know is that you trust Soonyoung with your life, and if he needs a minute — you’ll give him ten. You think that maybe you’re the one who needs a minute, though, because you’re not sure how you’re still breathing, let alone standing upright with him this close. 

So close that your breaths are mingling together in the small space that’s left between you, so close that you can count every single one of those beautiful eyelashes as they flutter against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your eyebrows furrow. 

“For what?” Your hand moves of its own accord, moving from his chest to find his bicep and squeezing gently to remind him that he’s okay. He lets out a hum, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re almost worried now.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. If I’m being weird,” he elaborates. “It’s just that — well, honestly, ah,” he seems to attempt to squeeze his eyes shut even more, if that were possible. “I’ve really been wanting to kiss you lately — like, more than usual, which is already a lot — fuck, sorry.” He inhales sharply. “You just looked so cute watching me before, and dancing with me now, so I thought that I… and then you didn’t move away, so I thought that maybe you…” He trails off again, and you’re sure your ears are playing tricks on you. 

You move your forehead away from his, and his eyes finally open at the loss of contact. When your gaze meets his, your breath is nearly stolen away from you. He looks terrified as he searches your face, his eyebrows furrowed, and you know him so well that you swear you can hear him overthinking everything. His grip loosens on the back of your shirt but he doesn’t let go, and you can tell he wants to speak again based on the way his mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t. You haven’t moved, and he doesn’t either, and you know he’s letting you decide how to respond. He would give you all the space in the world if you asked for it, you know that.

You don’t want space, though.

“It’s not weird,” you finally say, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you speak. “I’ve been feeling like that, too.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen, and he blinks slowly. He takes a moment, processing, and then he starts, “You—”

“I swear all I think about these days is kissing you,” you blurt out, and you’re not sure who’s blushing harder now, you or him. 

Before you even know what’s happening, Soonyoung is surging forward to close the whisper of distance that remains between the two of you. Then his lips are pressed to yours, hot and slow and lingering, his hand lifting to your jaw to angle your face so that he can kiss you even deeper. You let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper at the intensity of the kiss, at how warm and soft and good his mouth feels against yours, and he hums in return.

When he pulls away, it takes a second for your own eyes to flutter back open. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes have turned into crescent moons. 

“Holy fuck, Soonyoung.” You’re breathless, and you can tell he’s pleased with your comment as his thumb caresses the side of your jaw.

“So much better than I could have ever imagined,” he returns, and you flush. “And trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

You move to bury your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, not caring at all that he’s sweaty and warm. His arms pull you in, holding you close to his chest, and you hum as he gently sways the two of you. 

“Now neither of us has to wonder what it’s like anymore,” you say softly.

“You’re right,” he agrees, pulling you back so he can look down at you again. His hands clasp together at the small of your back as he leans forward to teasingly brush his nose against yours. “Now that I know what it feels like to kiss you, though, I’m definitely going to be thinking about it even more than I already was.”

Your arms wind your way around his neck. “Me, too.” 

“I mean…” Soonyoung is grinning, smile so bright it could outshine the sun, as he says, “We could just… keep doing it.” 

You pull him into you so abruptly that it makes you stumble, falling in a tangle of limbs down to the practice room floor. You wince as you land on Soonyoung, but he’s laughing as you roll off and onto your back beside him. You throw a hand over your eyes, and you can feel it as Soonyoung lifts onto his side next to you. A hand moves to trace patterns on your arm, and you can’t help the shiver that courses through you.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he murmurs, and you can still hear the smile in his voice.

“I know. I’m just… Embarrassed.”

Soonyoung’s fingers halt their motions as he finds your hand and brings your arm away from your face, entwining his fingers with yours. He continues to play with your fingers, his body firm against your side as he leans against you. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“I was trying to be sexy and I literally tripped us, Soonyoung. This is why you’re the dancer and I’m not.”

Soonyoung’s mouth moves slowly, almost painstakingly slow, as a smile takes over his face. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re about to let out a whine because you’re even more embarrassed with him looking at you like that. But he sits up, bringing you with him. The soft smile on his mouth grows, and grows, and grows, until his grin has widened so much that it’s taken over his entire face. 

“You like me,” he whispers, and you can’t help the giggle that tumbles past your lips. You flush, giddy over how giddy he is, and you nod. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really, really do.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Sorry a new fic took so long, there's been a lot going on in my life that I did not foresee lol. Thanks for waiting xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

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[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part ten - Under the Mistletoe

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 3k

Author's note : I will be keeping the old aesthetic for this story, sorry for people who like the new aesthetic of my newer one shots. Also, clearly, this was meant to be a Christmas special, but we are in September and I kind of wanted to wait until December, but I've been holding off for months, so here it is and I do hope you enjoy this part. As always, have an amazing day and stay hydrated!

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arrange marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three. 

You jolted awake like you’ve done for the past ten days. Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t stop thinking about Kyoya and what he did so shamelessly to you. The memory of Kyoya's shameless actions consumed you, a relentless loop that replayed with vivid intensity. He had acted without a shred of hesitation, unburdened by remorse, leaving an indelible mark on your consciousness and your body. Your thighs clenched together and your face turns red at the thought of Kyoya back between your legs. 

It was short and passionate, he kissed you more afterwards and refused to give in to your pleasure to return the favor to him. To your displeasure, he refused and reminded you that this “deal” between you is only physical and he didn’t need you that night. The day after he had put back the wall he put between you and barely spoke to you and you did the same by ignoring him for all the next ten days.  No matter how hard you try to get him off your mind and ignore him, the second you close your eyes you can only think about him and what you wish he would do to you. 

All that daydreaming is costing you some A’s on your papers and you won’t settle for less!

This wasn’t you! You were so confused as to why you dreamt so much about him! You used to despise him and his shitty attitude and now you were sexually dreaming of him… Get a grip! You couldn’t lose to him either, you said you won’t fall in love with him, he’s just a high school crush… A crush… You couldn’t possibly have a crush on Kyoya Ootori? He’s a stupid teenager and you are so much more than a teenager that has a crush. You’re independent, you’re talented, intelligent and pretty. 

You went to your mirror to get ready and pointed at your reflection with a twisted expression. “You have to despise him again.” You grunt. “You don’t love him, you lust after him which is not better, but it’s temporary.” 

Under the chilling water, you braced yourself for the day ahead, feeling the exhaustion seep from your bones. It was shaping up to be another one of those rough days. After the shower, you reluctantly checked your agenda, and there it was, like a punch to the gut – an exam last period. Groaning, you realized the day wasn't going to cut you any slack. With a sigh, you steeled yourself for the challenge, hoping you'd find the energy to tackle it when the time came.

You’ve managed to survive two periods before Kyoya dragged you into an empty music room, his lips glued to yours. His gentle hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward to part your perfect lips so his tongue can meet yours. 

As your lips meet in a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, time seems to pause, allowing every tender sensation to unfurl. The warmth of Kyoya’s breath mingles with yours, creating an electric current that courses through your body. The gentle exploration of lips and tongues is a language of desire, each movement deliberate and sensuous. Every touch is deliberate, sensuous, and in those stolen moments, it's like you're wrapped up in this emotional symphony. The world outside just kind of disappears, and all that's left is this mix of vulnerability and desire hanging in the air. It's intense, like you're caught up in something so much bigger than just a kiss.

You broke the kiss first and his eyes searched yours with this lust that glimmered in them. 

You whisper while looking up at him.  “I can’t keep doing this.” 

He huffs. “What do you mean?”

“We only kiss when you want it, not when I want to.” You tell him. “I try to do it at school and you kind of… do not reciprocate until you want me.”

“Because it’s fun to see you turn red. If you want my attention you’ll have to try harder y/n.” He smiles softly, seeing you didn’t find it funny he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” That was the least you’d expect from him. You were quite shocked in all honesty. 

“I want to make a new rule to our arrangement. We can’t kiss or anything until the end of the winter exams.”

“That’s a whole month, you sure you want to risk it?”

She huffs. “Risk what?”

“Miss me.” He smirks. “Miss my touch.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear. “Miss my tongue.” You push him away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You're willing to go to great lengths to prove a point; I respect that," he chuckles. "But don't come running back when you start feeling those butterflies right here." He licks his lips as his hand trails down your lower belly. "And find yourself needing me to deal with it."

All that gentleness and kindness was now gone. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Aw.” He clutched at his heart with a playful smile. “Fine. I agree to your terms, we’ll wait after the final exams. We wouldn’t want your grades to be worse than they already are.”

“They are not THAT bad.” You roll your eyes again. “Besides, it’s only a slip up and you know it.”

“It's because you can’t stop thinking about me, is it?”

“You wish.” You bark back before leaving the classroom to go study on your break.

That damn idiot.

The first snow finally arrived and you were so happy, it was the middle of december and you were ecstatic. You and the Club decided to take your little club activities outside on a beautiful day like that. It wasn’t too cold, nor too hot, just the perfect temperature for you to be able to roam around the campus without freezing to death. You were walking with Haruhi and Renge arms intertwined together laughing at Renge’s behavior towards something Asahi said earlier that day. She was red with anger and told you how stupid that boy was and blah blah blah… You and Haruhi couldn’t help but roll your eyes and her poor attempt to conceal her attraction to that guy. 

Around you, the girls were gawking at the three of you hanging out together, seeing how fond you are for one of another made their heart melt. You realized a few months ago how easy it is to make them fall for false charm… or just being yourself. 

You can see on the ground two shadows behind you and you smirk to yourself as you duck an incoming snowball. 

“How did you know?” Hikaru gasps. 

You smirk. “You can’t outwin a snowball fighter champion.”

“Is there such a thing?” Haruhi asks, not entirely convinced and she was right to do so. It was a shit title you just had invented to make the twins busy up in their mind for you to catch the heavy snow, form it into a ball and throw it at Kaoru’s face. 

“You–!” He gasps as you duck to get another one in which you failed to hit the boy another time with the snowball and it was too late… he tackled you to the ground. You yelp as his heavy weight carried you to the ground, but never crushed you as he was holding himself up. You can hear soft giggles and gasp from some of your guests at this incident.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You chuckle at this embarrassing situation. Suddenly, someone shadowed the both of you. A strong hand gripped Kaoru’s collar and yanked him with ease off of you. The very same hand helped you stand up on your feet. You look up to see Kyoya’s harsh gaze on the twin. 

“Tackling a defenseless girl is not very nice is it not, Kaoru?”

“I wasn’t defenseless.” You mumbled under your breath. The boys were all confused as to why he was defending you openly in front of everyone. He rolled his eyes at your comment.

“It was all in good fun.” He replies winking at you and that owed him a snowball to the face by none other than Kyoya who had a shiteating grin glued on his face. “It’s on four eyes!” Kaoru yells picking up snow and throwing it directly at him and yet, it hits you. Kyoya used you as his personal meat shield. 

“Using a defenseless girl as a meat shield is not very nice is it not, Kyoya?” You barked at him and before another snowball hit you, he grabbed your arms and made you duck with him. 

“Less talking, more fighting.” He adds and you both grabbed a bunch of snow throwing it at the twins, which hit Tamaki and his guests further behind and you giggled at his blushed angry face. 

“Don’t forget about us!” Honey yells as he, Mori and Haruhi join the battle.

It was free for all, everyone was at each other's throats, there were no rules. Dirty tricks, playing safe, anything was on the table. Kaoru was mostly running away from Kyoya as he was chasing him and you running away from Hikaru and Honey as they swore you were their enemy. You were covered from head to toe with snow, you grew cold, but you wouldn’t admit defeat… Never would you admit defeat.

Kyoya was about to throw one at you, with the biggest smirk on his face. Before he could even throw it, Tamaki and Mori used a large empty flower pot filled with snow and dumped it on your opponent. You could keep your giggles in as his ego took a punch. Your laugh was loud and ugly at best, but it sounded melodious to Kyoya as he had made you laugh, a true one.

The bell finally rang and it was all over. “I guess that makes these two the winners of this fight.” You say between two giggles. Kyoya and Hikaru both wrapped one arm over each shoulder and dragged you inside with the rest of the group following you.

Tamaki, Kyoya, Honey, Mori and you were all sitting in the same class and the teacher could tell you were all playing outside by the way you were disheveled and face flushed from the cold. A smile was glued on your face as you felt Kyoya gazing at the back of your messy hair.

You kept ignoring Kyoya for the next month, burying yourself in books at school, at home, and even in your dreams. The grind of studying became a monotonous escape, but it couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. You couldn't shake the fact that you were shutting out Kyoya completely. The silence between you two weighed heavy on your mind, and even as you immersed yourself in equations and facts, it felt like you were losing something more than just time. The sacrifice of connection for academic gains started to seem like a questionable trade-off. You missed him? No. You’re not that desperate that you miss Kyoya. 

Tomorrow was your last exam before the Christmas break and you were thinking how excited you were to be done with it. You were in bed with your phone in your hands and texted Kyoya, but he was faster than you.  

Good luck tomorrow, goblin shark.

You crack a smile and respond quickly.

I changed my mind… You’re a sunfish. Good luck, Kyoya.

The final bell rang and she could cry tears of joy. You were done with your exams and could finally relax. You took your time to pick up your stuff as you reminisced about the last month and a half and how hard you’ve worked on your studies and how hard it was to actually ignore Kyoya. 

At first it was easy, he became this cold wall of ice as he was before you started school here and slowly it became harder when you two had to meet for a monthly dinner with both families. That night you sat side by side at dinner and his hand was on you the entire time. His slender fingers tracing circles on your thigh, his hand trailing up under your skirt just for you to want, no, need more. After that dinner, you came home like an absolute mess. You were angry at him and yet you only wanted him closer. When you came back to school, you avoided him like the plague no matter how close you two were sitting in class. 

After finally finishing packing your bag, your cheeks still warm from the lingering memories of dinner, you stepped out of the classroom. There was one last thing you needed from the music room before heading home.

The hallways were empty as you entered the music room, moving toward the secret trunk where you kept some of the eccentric costumes Tamaki always insisted you wear. You were so absorbed in whatever was on your phone that you didn’t even notice someone approaching—until you felt a hand pull you swiftly into the empty dressing room. You were about to yell at whoever dragged you, but were cut off by familiar lips crashing into yours. The soft groan that escaped his mouth made her knees grow weak. 

“The exams are over.” He whispers between kisses. “I’ve been patient, but I need this, I need you. Please let me have this.” Was he begging? You dropped your bag and lightly pushed him to the wall behind him, the mirror directly on both of them. 

You had the upper hand whether he liked it or not. And you were going to take advantage of it.

“We will do this my way.“ your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “Or we won’t be doing anything at all,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. “What will it be?” You’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening.

“Your way.” He breathes and you drop to your knees, your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip.

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck…” He looks down at you, then back at the mirror, eyes half shut. You take a peek at the mirror and he would be your undoing, he looked like a mess. You've never seen him like this and it was so satisfying knowing that he was the one who came crawling.

He groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  “Y/n–” He groans before he’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth. As soon as you were done, releasing him from your mouth he leaned down to kiss you again. It was needy, messy, but it was something you dreamt of no matter how pissed at him you were before.

He holds your jaw gently. "Don't do this to us, ever again." Us... She couldn't do this ever again, because she did miss his touch as much as he did and she was so close to give up may times, but her pride put her in place. She didn't have the proper words to answer him, so her lips found his once more.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl​ @randobeetlehouse​​ @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy​ @yuriklol​ @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin  @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[juinxa]

BRUTUS

[ yandere! light yagami x reader | one shot (?) ]

[ based on the song “brutus” and was written in an hour,, enjoy! might be a full story, might not ]

There has always been a slight admiration in the things around you. Growing up was simply a walk in the park, you weren’t exceptional at anything, but you didn’t lack anything exceptional. School has always been mundane, so you never tried at your grades, studying was never an option because passing was always passing. The grades would suffice to counselors, so they wouldn’t bat an eye at you. To them, you were simply another student who was average. You never had a problem with it. If you were passing, why bother going above and beyond? Average grades, average friends, average reputation, and the outcome would likely be an average university, average job, and average life. Average was just a common vocabulary, and it would be enough for you.

Until him.

High school wouldn’t have come so sooner if you didn’t hear his name roll off their tongues so frequently.  Life had been fine, finally contempt at the way things were looking up. At this rate, graduation would go smoothly. You didn’t second guess yourself, nor did you berate yourself for being so plain. If it got you where you wanted, why would you complain? That is the entire point of this whole school system: to get a job and a real life. Not everyone could be surgeons and CEOs. The world needed plumbers and carpenters, too!

So when Light Yagami was shoved at the highest mark in the midterms, every damn year, you began to think that a future CEO was in the making. No matter, there wasn’t any harm in being at the top of school, plus it must be hard to maintain. You were curious to how this guy got the highest mark. Every. Damn. Time. But alas, you stopped caring because the world didn’t pay you to care.

However, the world must’ve been indebted to his ancestors because he was just about everywhere you went. Just when you pass the exam board, you saw a tennis championship, with, get this, Light Yagami. And to make matters worse, they made nationals! And this picture was the first actual look at him. Finally, a face to the famous name that’s plastered at the number one top is revealed. He was front and center, smiling with a grin that could put angels to shame. A frown etched into your lips.

Brown beautiful hair to match his brown beautiful eyes, why must God be so unfair? He was tall, too, with a lean figure. You had heard whispers about him from the girls around you, calling him attractive and a total babe. At first, you never knew the answer for yourself. Yet, upon looking at his chiseled features, it laid marked in a bubble sheet. It was sure to get an hundred. His nose was upturned and his lips were full, enough to make a pout noticeable.

A pencil snapped in your hand, frustration began to furrow in your bone marrow. You were stuck on this project, which exactly came after you got a look at Mr. Perfect. If he were here—actually, you had no reason to think about him. In fact, you had no reason to be jealous! Light has something you obviously didn’t: effort. The answer was obvious. Light had worked his ass off to get where he was at, and what had you accomplished? Nothing. You never attempted to make an effort at your work, let alone studies. So what if you can’t solve this problem? What’s another low C in this class? It wouldn’t harm your grade, why did you need to score an A, anyways?

To prove a point?

That not everything needs effort? As if. Scoffing, you throw the pencil in your bag, pulling out your phone to search up the answer instead. There was a reason you were stuck in this place, but you weren’t going to do anything. You would never reach the point of a CEO, so why bother? It would be too late to pursue that, you were in your final year of high school, everything that has happened, happened. You could obtain all A’s this year, but it would not erase the A’s and B’s (rare C’s) from your previous years. You could practice hard for a sport, but it would not guarantee a sport scholarship. You could make all the friends this year, but it would not shun your reputation from earlier years.

Point was: what’s done is done. You can’t change your future because you had drilled nails in it, locking it in place. Maybe you’d be able to wiggle it to allow some room for more but space was bound to run out. You’d like to think that in another life, you were different. Imagination helped.

Imagination did help you excel in one thing. Art. Art has always been at the tip of your fingertips. You were the president of the Art club, and you snorted. That would totally look great on resumes. Art club didn’t come with huge responsibilities like a tennis club, but it still needed time, nonetheless. You had painted murals for the school in different places. Effort was a major key in art. And by all means, did you put fucking effort in your pieces. They were your pride and joy, your babies that you held up to the light. Nothing would prune these pairings and sculptures you created.

Growing up, you wanted to be an architect. The work was exhausting, but you always thought it was just designing things and designing things is what you were good at. However, there was much more work that needed to be in it, which crushed your dreams. Sometimes, you wished you could’ve tried harder.

With a splat of paint, you dusted off any paint crumbs lingering onto your figure. The mixture of colors created a swirl of rainbows on you. Your hair was disheveled, paint specks in them. Stepping back, you placed your thumb up to measure it meticulously. You had decided that you wanted to submit your piece to a scholarship fund. Any creative piece was to be admitted for a chance to win 50,000 dollars in school funds. If you were extremely lucky, you would even get a full ride. This piece had taken months to finish, and you thought it was finally done.

This was your lifeline because you had spent too long on this. Your grades had even stumbled a bit from how much you focused on this. While that could’ve harmed you in the long run, you knew that it would be worth it when you won the prize. You had skimmed through the previous winners, all art pieces were amazing, but you had spun your own little twist to yours. Besides, this was a piece that had specific requirements based on GPA, location, age, and so on. This meant that your chances of winning were quite high.

Days had gotten increasingly slow since you’ve submitted your piece, but you had learned to keep it in the back of your mind. If you had thought about it so much, time would be much slower. There were top pieces that were picked, and people were able to see how far their art piece had gotten. You grabbed your mother in joy, seeing that you had made the top 20, but they didn’t give you any specific place. However, you couldn’t be more happy with where you were. You knew that this scholarship would help you so much with money problems. You could even pick which university you wanted to go to, granted it had to be in Japan.

Your friends had surprised you with gifts and compliments about your achievements. Even members of the art club had threw you a small party based off your performance. This made you heart heavy with how many people supported you. You couldn’t have been any more grateful.

The deadline was coming sooner than you expected. Every test you had taken had also been easy. Sure, Light Yagami had the spotlight as always with his accomplishments, but you were happy with your average life. With a small pep in your step, you made your way to the counselor’s office. She had rarely called you because there’s never been a reason to. This made you giddy, it might’ve had something to do with your scholarship. Your mind was too high off of dopamine to notice the brunet that walked passed you in a brisk hurry. In that moment, nothing could have popped your bubble of stupor, not even the doe of eyes that looked at you with curiosity—one that would soon turn into that of murder.

“[Name], I’m so glad you could make it! Congrats, I’ve heard about your standing of being in the top 10! I’m sure you must be very proud. This is huge for your future!” You counselor ushers you to sit across from her, the computer lighting up her features in a blue light.

”Thank you, I’m glad to have made it this far!”

”Have you thought about what universities you’d like to apply to after winning?”

You chuckle, “Well, if I do win, I’d like to go to maybe somewhere base. I’m not exactly sure what school specifically, but I’d like anything with a good art program.”

”You don’t think you’re dreaming too small?” She wonders, pushing pamphlets towards you. “You could reach incredible schools at this level. Your grades aren’t bad, so you have a real chance at going to be an Ivy school, especially with this scholarship. What about To-Oh?”

A grimace makes its way to your face, “I think that’s a little out of my league. That’s a prestigious school, and I don't think they even have an art program to begin with.”

”Nonsense, but they have this,” she pulls out a piece of paper. You notice it as an assignment from your freshman year about your future self and dreams. In slanted handwriting, you notice the words architect written with hurry in the ���dream job” line. The word itself makes your stomach drop. You had written the quickest thing on your mind as to not be late for your next class. You remember being stuck on the question, thinking hard about what you actually wanted to do and not the salary portion of it. You had written it as a last resort, which is exactly how it’s still being treated now.

”I think it’s too late for that dream now.” You say, but she cuts you off.

”You can make this dream a reality. Grades like yours can do great things in life. Don’t doubt yourself. Besides, this scholarship is in correlation with To-Oh’s architecture design program. If you win this, it gets you a good chance. You just need to put a lot of effort in this.”

Effort, exactly what you didn’t have because you were no Light Yagami.

You left with the pamphlets in your hand has you walk back to your class. The words linger on your mind. You could still make your dream a reality. That’d be nice.

”To-Oh?! That’s elite.” Asuka jabs at your side with a grin. “You could totally make it!”

”No way, that’s too elite.” You shake your head, “I need something more realistic. Counselors are always like that with their ‘you got this’ crap and their ‘aim higher’ stuff.”

Asuka grubs on her black rice, “Well, you could always go with me, to some no name.” She cuts you off from continuing, “I’m kidding. You’re not supposed to agree. Your grades are good, [Name]. You shouldn’t be following after me, some girl with a ‘D’s get degrees mindset.’”

You don’t argue, but it does leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You would most likely be a major outcast if you went there. Everyone had probably come from rich backgrounds or because someone related was an alumni there or how Einstein level they were. It just didn’t feel like a place that could host you. Maybe in another life. But in this on, you were opting for the road most followed by.

School has started as any other. You sat at your table, discussing grades with Asuka about the last test, to which she admits she flunked, but she was barely passing with a C. It’s a miracle she’s made it this far, but you wouldn’t have anyone else by your side. When the teacher had came in, everyone had gotten to their proper place, ready to learn. This lesson wasn’t hard, and it was mostly common sense, which led your thoughts to go astray.

The window was a great place to distract yourself. You gaze off, eyes slowly fluttering with a jolt to open them. Sleep hasn’t been coming easily due to your excitement about the winner. It would be announce any day now, and you awaited for the check to come to your door. When your eyes were slowly closing, a flash blew by you, stuttering you awake. Blinking, you squinted your eyes. What was that? It looked like a book. No one else had seemed to notice, which led you to think it was probably that experience when you feel like you’re falling before sleeping.

A sharp sound from the intercom has disrupted your lesson, not that you were tuning into it anyways. It was a wonder as to what they had to announce so bad during lessons, but you didn’t mind the interruption. Asuka’s fingers nimbly played with your hair as she listened as well.

”We excuse the interruption to announce a special event that has occurred. The national art scholarship has made its final contestant to this very school! We like to send our congrats to the winner!”

Asuka grabbed your shoulders, clenching your now tense shoulders. Someone had won? And it was at this school! This was such great news! You had poured your heart and soul into that project, losing countless hours of sleep because of it. And for once, you had put actual effort. You didn’t think they'd announce it over the intercoms. You began to grow self-conscious about your looks. Did you look okay for pictures right now? Were they seriously going to announce it? Asuka held her breath as did you. Some heads looked your way, already knowing the outcome. Who else, but you!

”Congratulations to Light Yagami!”

This must’ve been what Jupiter felt like when it couldn’t be a star. You think. There’s a huge jab in your throat, and Asuka lets go of your shoulder to cover her mouth from the gasp. Everyone’s heads are not away from you, listening intently to Golden Boy. You almost throw up from the disappointment that’s stirring deeply like a stew of fucking stupidity. How stupid could you be? You? win? That was absurd. Those two didn’t even go together. Your hairs stand on edge, goosebumps and mouth turning dry from the air that’s been snatched from you.

”For his beautiful writing about the meaning of justice!”

Fucking writing? Fucking. Writing. Fucking. Writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing.

The answer could not have been more obvious. The rest is tuned out. You don’t have the auricle to listen to the rest. You could to rip your hair out as well as your tongue. In fact, you wants to gnaw at your fingers for not doing something beautiful like him. Ripping them out would not amount to the pain your experiencing now. You want to gouge out your eyes to prevent the stares of concern that were flooding your ways. You want to pop your eardrums, deafening yourself from the cheers of the class behind you that held the one and only. 

God, you want to fucking gut Light Yagami.

You're quick to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Asuka wants to follow, but the teacher doesn’t allow it. He must’ve notice you wanted to be alone because he doesn’t bother sending anyone out before class ends. The duration of that class was you sobbing in the bathroom because for once, you were proud of what had done. You were bathed in your own glory for the effort your put forth. You felt so pitiful and useless. What was it all for? All for him to get what he wants. He had everything! He had the grades, reputation, respect, admiration, fucking everything! You weren’t even left with crumbs because he had robbed it of you. To make matters worse, Light came from a respected family! His dad was a chief officer!

Since when did Light even do art?! And since when did art consider writing excerpts? Let alone essays! When did he apply? When did he have time? He had so much stuff to do like his studying or his tennis games—or whatever else he does. You gave Light the benefit of the doubt that his life was hard because he had to maintain so much, but he does it so perfectly.

So effortlessly.

Your lips are caught between your teeth. Speak of devil, he will appear. Light Yagami is passing by you, in a hurry, you add. You’re unsure what came over you as you step in his way, mind consumed with rage. Just who was he?! He was a genius, you couldn’t deny it. 

“Congrats on the scholarship, Light! You must’ve worked really hard on it!” Your voice is chirpy, and Light stops to entertain you.

”Oh, thank you. It’s really nothing. I only applied because Professor Takashi said he’d give me extra credit for it. I wasn’t aware of the emails they sent throughout the duration. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get something.”

This must be how alcoholics began. You note, laying in bed as the ceilings have been the most interesting thing all day. There was a three day weekend, which meant three days to sulk and wallow in your own despair at your robbing—sorry, loss. Asuka had been blowing up your phone, trying to get you out of bed and go out. You couldn’t believe Light didn’t even want to apply. He only did it so his professor would give him extra credit! What went from three extra points led to 50,000$ in tuition funds and maybe a full ride. Light must’ve pulled the lucky stick from birth, or he was simply trying. That was also an option. He worked hard for it, you couldn’t deny that. He deserved it.

So why did you lay awake thinking instead of him, it should be you?

There were even interviews on his accomplishments. They all flocked to him like he was a mother duck. And yet, when you saw him, you saw a new entitlement in his eyes. It brought a foul odor in your nose, making you grimace.

The next time you see Light Yagami, you see him. You’re everywhere he is, breathing down his neck from afar. You gawk at the perfect specimen like you’re at a zoo and he’s the exhibit, like you’re a scientist and he’s the experiment, like you’re the audience and he’s the preformer. He was in your own entrapment because you can’t help but wonder, what made him so special? What went on the head of someone like Light Yagami? What were his flaws? What were his specialities? What was he?

You hate the way people preach up to him like a God. Students are so enamored by his good looks and good grades that he don’t see the underlying cockiness etched in his mold. They cling to him as the future hope, and teachers hold his name in high regard. Be like Light Yagami! They cried. Be the best you can! They shout. Be you!

And those go upon deaf ears as you doodle on your worksheet. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish upon his demise, but not his timely death. You didn’t hate him, per say. You don’t think you ever could. He’s never done anything wrong but he himself, so why were you feeling this way? Was this something you should embrace? Be afraid of? Run from? Maybe you were just slightly envious.

Or maybe, you wanted to be like him: loved, enamored, worshipped, special, praised, Light Yagami. That those around you would see you has the poet that created these lovely flows, and not the muse that will never be heard because your poet deemed you not good enough. However, he was already too far to be reached, so what more can you do than to be another step for him to reach the top.

Because Light has never been mean to you for these thoughts to be explored. Contrary to your belief, Light was always nice to you. He had helped you in the past growing up. You guys were actually in the same class at some point—a lot, really. That was until high school, where he decided to triumph above you everyone. Because at one point, you were with him at the top, albeit in his own shadow. But that was middle school. Those memories were far discarded.

But maybe, your name could also be known to your peers. Maybe the praise you seek wasn’t far. Maybe you could restore your former peak from back then, when you were at the highest point, when everyone crowded you with cheers and applause. They could chant your name with bliss in their voice—like a repeated mantra. In bed, your brain wandered about the day that people would look up to you like a God.

You began to get into your own head. Spiraling was all you began to know because of one failure. That was yours to claim! Yours to cherish! Yours to hold! Yours to mold!

You held your face with your hands, staring down at the study sheet with an immense pressure. Any harder and you might’ve burnt it. The pencil laid beside the flimsy paper, waiting for its use. A clock was set aside as well, signaling your next 5 minute break, which wasn't for another hour. This small room for your study session was perfect. There were no distractions in sight. Midterms would be approaching soon, and you wanted to study meticulously for it. The plan was to be the top ranked for yourself, of course. It was for no one else but yourself. The books of many tips were sprawled all over the place, but you didn’t mind them. Math wasn’t your best subject, so you had to pay extra study time for it.

Asuka had been blowing your phone about going out, but you had stated that’d you be busy. You turned off your phone until the end of the session to show how serious you were about this. Your snack consisted of a bag of chips and water, talk about nutritional.

The clock ticked away in the corner, reminding you about a deadline that was to come. Time was faster than before and you were anticipating the days or counting down to your glory. Instead, you were opting to go into this with a clear mind, clear as a low light beams in a foggy road. A bubble popped in your head when the door open unexpectedly. You flinch, looking up to see who disrupted your session. Jaws slightly clenching, you see the clay figure of perfection himself.

Light Yagami looks as pristine as ever. He’s shocked to see you as you are him. He looks down at your mess of a study session before looking up at the door number, rereading it carefully. 42. And then he sees the faint number behind the 2, which can read 49. How curious. He sees that they changed things around a bit. His usual spot has been swapped. And behind his gaze, you see he a bit surprised that you’re here. You conclude it’s because you’re not caught dead here, let alone studying. It’s not often you see people here. So Light and the three other specs of dust that come here must be what he’s used to.

He stares down at you while you stare up at him, slouched. It seems fitting, for a someone of your caliber to be staring up at the messiah himself. And you don’t speak because that’d be out of place for you. Light straightens very little of what he can and apologizes. However, you want to laugh because it should be you who should be apologizing for what will come to him. You want to tell him that your future actions are not only motivated by envy. Because like him, you have a right to establish yourself in this world. You have a destiny that can be created. It’s there you realize the pure irony of this whole ordeal. For you do not want what Light Yagami has.

You want to be Light Yagami.

[auras-moonstone]

Hey babe! I’m sure you get lots of requests but I’ve been reading all your stuff lately(so good omg and so addicting) but I was wondering if you could do enemies to lovers. With either Jack or ethan. Whatever comes to mind. Love ya!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.2k

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: ethan and y/n have a rivalry going on, until one day y/n explodes and ethan decides it’s time to change the core of their relationship.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: academic rivalry. enemies to lovers(ish). insecurities. fighting. screaming. making up (and out). a little bit of toxicity.

y/n left the classroom practically fuming, with a smug-faced ethan trailing behind her. they had just been given their marks on their econ exam, and while y/n had passed, ethan had beaten her once again. by far.

it was exhausting. the boy was so smart, he didn’t even need to study. paying attention to class sufficed, he memorised everything and understood easily. y/n, on the other hand, wasn’t a natural. she had to stay hours on a chair trying to get the contents in her mind. and while she made an immense amount of effort, ethan always managed to come out in top of her.

she was insanely jealous of ethan. yes, maybe the few times she achieved higher marks than him she’d gloat a little bit (a lot). and yes, maybe the nonsense rivalry between them had started because of her and her bitterness but she couldn’t help but put up a fight.

some days y/n would feel bad about being the detonator of the stupid enmity, but today was definitely not one of those days.

“hey, y/n/n, it’s okay. econ is a very hard subject, not everyone understands it quite like i do.” ethan said, cockiness trying to be disguised with a very poorly-done empathetic tone.

y/n kept stomping, not even the rain could stop her from trying to get away from him.

“i could tutor you, if you’d like.” he continued, ignoring the way the fabric from her polo shirt was starting to get soaked.

“what i’d really like is if you’d leave me alone.”

“nope, this is my favorite part of feedback day. i love rubbing my high marks all over your face.” the tall boy smiled.

it was a crime that the cutest smile she’d ever seen belonged to the most insufferable man on earth. it only made her more furious. “get lost, landry.”

“we live in the same dorm building.” he laughed.

“well, take another route.”

“my god, you’re such a sore loser. i don’t say a thing when you gloat. which doesn’t get to happen very often, but still.” he rolled his eyes.

was he right? of course. was she going to admit he had a great point? no. was she going to keep unleashing her fury and jealousy? hell yes.

“yeah, well, once you get to beat mr. perfect, it’s an inevitable thing to do.”

his jaw tensed. “why are you so frustrating?” he screamed over the rain and thunders.

“why won’t you leave me alone?!” she screamed back, stopping in her tracks. “if i’m so frustrating why don’t you just stay away?” he stayed silent because he didn’t have a reason why. at least, none that he could say aloud without her running away. “huh, ethan? why do you keep sitting next to me even though the classroom is always empty when we arrive?!”

truth was, he was addicted to the rollercoaster of a relationship they both had. y/n always challenged him, made him feel alive. it wasn’t sane, it was completely intoxicating and wild and crazy, but it was his serotonin and he was addicted to it.

but this? up until today, it has been silly bragging and comebacks. this y/n seemed deranged, absolutely insane. he didn’t want her to truly hate him, because there was not a bone in ethan’s body that held any hatred towards her.

ethan admired her. he admired her perseverance, her intelligence, her witty, her humor. and even though it had never been towards him, he witnessed how kind she was to others. he wondered when it’d be his turn to have that part of y/n—the one that smiled genuinely, the one that joked, the one that laughed warmly.

it was clear the end of the stupid rivalry was in his hands because it would be an endless battle if it were for y/n, she was never going to let her armour down. he was ready for their relationship to change.

so with determined steps, ethan made his way towards her until he was so close that her chest almost touched his. “because i’m so fucking attracted to you. never thought i could feel this much about someone that hates my guts, but here i am.”

y/n’s eyes widened and searched in his face for any sign that he was messing with her. but she only found pleading brown eyes and eyebrows furrowed in anguish.

“and i’m going to kiss you right now, in risks of getting kneed in the balls, which is something you’d one hundred percent do.”

y/n might’ve laughed at that, but before she could do anything, ethan’s big hands grabbed her waist and pushed her towards him, closing the distance.

they stayed kissing in the rain for a while, not caring about the clothes sticking to their skins or the amount of water that fell down their faces. maybe their fights had been the perfect foreplay, because the kiss was unlike anything they’d experienced before. the rush that ran through their veins was intense and heart-racing.

“wow.” y/n said when they had to pull away for air. her fingers were still threading through his wet hair.

“yeah.” he agreed, letting out a laugh. “now that my kiss sort of sedated the beast within you—”

“fuck you.” she muttered, but this time there was nothing but playfulness in her tone.

“—let’s talk about what is going on inside your head, because we can’t keep on going like this.”

the walk back to her dorm was silent but the tension that always seemed to surround them was gone. their fingers were intertwined, and y/n leaned on ethan’s arm with his jacket around her shoulders.

“i’m sorry, ethan. i’m the one that started this stupidity.” y/n said as they settled on the couch.

“i never put a stop to it.” he pointed out.

“you were just playing the game i started. you never had bad intentions, but i fought with you because i resented you.”

“resented me? why? why did i do?” he asked, taken aback.

“no. nothing, not really. it’s just… i envied that you were so good at every class. i hated that i spent hours trying to make sense of what was in front of me while you understood everything so effortlessly. and the marks always hit me in the ego and insecurities.”

“and everytime i paraded my mark… i was just fuelling your anger.”

“well, yeah, but it’s not on you. it’s all me, in my head. during high school, everyone practically patted me in the head and congratulated me for my marks… and now, in college, i’m struggling like i’ve never before. it’s so horrible, i feel like a failure.”

ethan pulled her into his arms as she broke down. “you’re not a failure, y/n. college is very different from high school, and everyone struggles in their own way. no, i don’t have any problem when it comes to clases but socialising? trying to make friends? that’s where i struggle. it terrifies me.”

and now she hated herself more because it was at that moment that she realized she had been mean to someone who did not deserve it at all. “i’m so fucking sorry, ethan. you’re amazing and i’m sorry that i ever made you feel bad.”

“i’m sorry, too. i never meant it, but i still hurt you with my mocking. so let just call it even and move on, please.”

“we’re not even close to being even, but i want to move on, too. i want to get to know you. start over.” she said, brushing away the wet strands of hair that sticked to his forehead.

“but can we, maybe, please, not obviate the kiss? cause that was really fucking good and i want more of that.”

y/n laughed and hugged his neck. “that sounds perfect.”