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yuwuta · 3 months

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YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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lanadelnegan · 9 months

Note

Hi I’m kinda shy about this one. So the reader has been traveling with dead city cowboy Negan for awhile and she’s liked him for a long time but she’s a virgin and she wants him to take it.

Don't be shy bb, I am a slutttt for dead city Negan. Basically, think of this as if you were in Ginny's shoes, but you're 18.

Our Little Cabin

Dead City!Negan x Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, NSFW, virgin reader, vaginal sex, fingering, family death (reader's mom), reader seduces the hell out of negan, extreme age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 50ish), masturbating (both), masturbating in front of Negan while he refuses to touch you, daddy-kink, breeding kink, cuddling, pure filth

A/n: If you like slow burn, sexual tension and a "hard to get" daddy Negan, this one is for you. I promise one day I'll finally write a fic without daddy-kink, but today is not that day.

"Can we go home now, Negan? My legs hurt." I complain, dragging my feet lazily through the leaves.

He stops and sighs, resting his hands on his hips. I stop too and stare at him. That damn cowboy hat.. I swear he wears it just to tease me.. and it's working.

"Yeah, doll. Sun'll be going down soon anyway."

"Ugh thank god." My head falls back dramatically and he chuckles as we start our way back.

Negan took me under his wing a few months ago when some assholes attacked Oceanside, killing my family and everyone I know. I was lucky - if you wanna call it that - enough to escape. I ran into Negan in the woods and it's just been me and him ever since. I'm thankful for him, considering I never had a dad or father figure growing up. My mom was my best friend.. and now she's gone. But at least I have him.

I've grown attached to Negan over the recent months.. But something feels.. different lately. I'm not sure what suddenly changed over the last few weeks, but I've caught myself imagining things about him that I shouldn't. Even touching myself to the thought of him. I feel so guilty afterwards, but I can't stop. I've never been with anyone.. never kissed anyone.. never touched anyone. And my body is screaming at me for it. I can't even look at him anymore without imagining what he looks like under his clothes.

"Why're you so quiet, kid?" He glances at me as we walk.

Ugh, I hate it when he calls me kid.

I shrug. "Just thinkin'."

"About?"

"Doesn't matter." And I've convinced myself it doesn't. I'll never be with someone romantically, because for one.. it's the apocalypse. It's not like I have a school full of hot boys lined up ready to ask me to prom. Not that I'd give them a chance anyway. I'd probably be more into the teachers. And second, the man I want would never think of me that way.

"That's not true."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking, so how can you say that?"

"Anything you think about - worry about - matters to me, y/n. So, spill."

We finally make it back to our little cabin. We've been staying in it for awhile, stocking it with food and supplies. No one has found us yet.. It's kinda nice. But I won't get used to it. Because nothing good lasts forever.

I throw myself on the couch dramatically, as if our walk that we've done a hundred times now could've killed me.

"I don't know... I just, I feel like most kids - people - my age have already experienced more in life that I have."

"Like?"

"Sex." I blurt before I can stop myself. I look to Negan to see his reaction, but he's surprisingly not that alarmed. His eyebrows are raised as he studies me, probably more shocked that I actually had the balls to say that in front of him.

"Listen, I don't really feel comfortable doing the whole birds and bees talk with you."

My cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and I nod disappointedly.

"Sorry, it's just.. I - no one's really talked to me about it before. My mom said she would when I was ready.. but then she.. she.." I fight back the tears. I hate crying. You can't come across weak in the times we live in and I've been forced to be strong my entire life.

He looks at me finally and sighs, holding his arm out for me to come snuggle next to him. It's not the first time he's held me as I've cried over my mom. Won't be the last.

I bury my head in his chest, sniffling, as his hand rubs my back.

"Alright, kid. What do you wanna know?" He gives in, feeling sorry for me.

"Well, I know how it works, but I guess I just wanna know what it feels like." I feel him tense underneath me as he adjusts himself awkwardly.

"No boyfriends at Oceanside?"

"There were boys.. but none that I was interested in."

"You'll find someone when the time is right. You're still young."

"Well you don't have anyone, and you're.. not young."

"Jeez, kid. Thanks." He chuckles. "I did have someone. A few someone's actually. Lost them all to this cruel world." He admits and my heart hurts for him.

"Well, you have me now." I get more comfortable, laying my head in his lap and looking up at him. He shifts uncomfortably but eventually relaxes and even strokes my hair lightly.

"Yeah, I do. And nothing is going to happen to you. You're safe with me, doll." Butterflies swirl around in stomach, but I know he doesn't mean that in the way I wish he did. He sees me as a kid.. hell, as his kid. For a moment my heart sinks from jealously at the "someones" he mentioned. Lucky bitches.

"...Negan.. does it.. feel good?" I blush a little.

"Sex? .....Yeah, doll. It fucking feels good."

"Will you.. show me?" I stare up at him innocently and his hand abruptly stops stroking my hair.

He bends over, planting a kiss on my forehead. "Time for bed, darlin'." He pushes me gently up and off his lap before standing and heading to his room. The cabin is small but we each have our own rooms. His is the smaller one, right across from mine. He wanted me to have the bigger one.

I sit on the couch, feeling defeated and stupid. What was I thinking. I relax on the couch for a little longer, choosing to read a book to take my mind off what just happened. After an hour of barely keeping my eyes open, I close the book and head down the hall towards my room. I stop in front of Negan's door, peaking through the crack. He always leaves his door a few inches open just so he can hear if anything happens. My eyes widen when I notice the sheets are barely covering the lower half of his legs, revealing the rest of his body. His tan torso is exposed, showing his peppery chest hair, and his black boxers are low on his waist. I restrain myself from not jumping him right then.

I eventually make my way back to my room and change out of my clothes, throwing on some shorts and a tank top to sleep in. I can't get the image of Negan's body out of my head and find my hand slowly making its way towards my aching center once I'm finally in bed. I close my eyes, imaging Negan between my legs as I touch myself. I don't bother suppressing my moans, confident that Negan is fully asleep. "Mmm, Negan!" The sound of his name rolling off my tongue as I'm pleasuring myself brings me closer to the edge.

"Oh, Negan. Right there!" My door suddenly swings open and I snap my eyes open to see a worried Negan standing in my doorway.. still in his boxers. My hand flies out of my shorts and I throw the sheets over me.

"Oh my god, can you knock?!"

"I - you yelled for me." He says flustered. I notice the way his face reddens when he realizes what I was doing.

I gently pull the covers off me again and spread my legs a little.

"What are you doing, y/n?" He stands in front of me at the doorway, refusing to look at anything other than my eyes. That's okay.. I bet I can make him look at me down there. I like the challenge.

"What's it look like?" My bite the tip of my finger seductively at him before sliding my shorts to the side, completely revealing my pussy to him.

He glances down with a serious look across his face, like he can't believe I'm doing this. And neither can I. This is so unlike me, but I'm so desperate for him I don't even know how to control myself anymore.

The fact that he's still watching encourages me to continue. I use one hand to pull my shorts to the side and the other to slowly slide a finger through my wet slit. "I just wanna know what it feels like, daddy."

I study him closely, noticing the way his jaw ticks at the nickname. My eyes travel lower and I see his bulge through his boxers. It looks so big, but I'd be determined to make it fit no matter what.

My finger dips inside of me and I arch my back a little and moan, putting on a show for him. He stands with his back against the wall, refusing to move.

I start rubbing my clit slowly and get frustrated when he still isn't reacting. "Negan, please touch me."

He rubs a hand down his face with frustration. "Goddamn it, y/n."

"I just.. I need you. Please." I cringe at my desperate attempt to have him touch me. I need this man so bad it's embarrassing.

"I can't, baby."

"But you like watching me, don't you?"

I take it as a yes when he doesn't say anything and that's all I need before pushing myself over the edge. "Negan!" I cry out as my orgasm rushes through me. Even in the dark, I can see the lust burning through his eyes.

"Go to bed, y/n." He demands but I'm unable to read his tone. Is he mad, proud, annoyed?

I fall asleep at the thought of him giving in and touching me. Maybe if I think hard enough, I'll manifest it.. I heard that shit really works.

Negan's POV:

That girl is gonna be the fucking death of me.

She's been so flirty with me lately and I've been trying to ignore it. But fuck if she's not making it hard. Literally.. I'm hard as a fucking rock right now.

I refuse to touch my dick while thinking about her. She's thirty-fucking-three years younger than me for fuck's sake.

She's confused. She doesn't want me, and she damn sure isn't getting me. Apocalypse or not, it's still fucking wrong.

I drag a hand down my face and sigh. I shouldn't have watched her, but I couldn't look away. She flashed her fucking pussy right in my face and I just stood there.. watching her. Fuck me.

My dick is throbbing and I know I won't be able to sleep until I get some relief. "Fuck it."

I pull myself out of my boxers and immediately start stroking my dick. I think about anything but.. her. Fuck.. y/n. That pretty little wet pussy dripping right in front of me. The way she said my name when she came.

"Ahh, fuuuck. Y/n, fuck." I cum hard and fast and immediately regret it afterwards. Fuck is wrong with me.

I can't - and I won't let myself think about her like that again.

Y/n's POV:

I wake up before Negan and decide to read my book some more in the living room. It's a romance novel that I found one day in an abandoned car. I've read it four times already, but it seems to be the only romance I'll ever get in life, so why the fuck not.

"Morning, sunshine." Negan says sleepily as he walks towards the kitchen next to the living room. He grabs a handful of berries we picked yesterday and tosses them in his mouth before making me a cup full and putting them down next to me.

"Morning. Thanks." I say without looking at him.

He sits on the couch next to me. "You wanna talk about last night?"

My cheeks redden. "Nope."

"Okay, then I will." Great, here comes the lecture. "Y/n, I shouldn't have watched you. We both know that. But, I think you're just confused. It's just been the two of us for months now and you're all young and.. fucking horny and shit. But, us? It can't happen."

I stay silent, pretending to read my book.

"Seriously? The silent treatment? You sure did have a lot to say last night."

I remain stubbornly quiet, popping a handful of berries in my mouth.

"Y/n, I don't understand why you're upset right now. Talk to me."

"I'm not upset." I snap. "I'm embarrassed.. humiliated. I was stupid to think you'd ever be into me."

He sighs and I see his head drop out of the corner of my eye. "Darlin', if I was your age, I'd be all fucking over you. Trust me. Please don't be embarrassed, okay? You are hot as shit and any man your age would be lucky to have you. We can forget it happened if that's what you want." He holds his arm out again, and like always, I snuggle into him.

"I don't want to forget." My hand rests against his white t-shirt and I want so badly to slide underneath it and run my fingers through is tummy hair.

A moment of silence goes by before he finally whispers. "Me neither, doll."

I look up at him, my face dangerously close to his. "I love you, Negan."

His hand reaches up to caress my face as if he's scared to hurt me. "I love you too, baby... Just not like that."

He wipes the tear that falls from my cheek and my heart shatters in my chest.

One month later...

My feelings for Negan haven't faded; I'm just better at not showing them. We've been more touchier than usual... cuddling on the couch, holding hands when we walk, but nothing "inappropriate." We also haven't mentioned that night. It's like it never happened, which still hurts when I think about it.

I get done bathing myself off after dinner and slip into my usual sleepwear before crashing to the bed and pulling my book from the nightstand. I could quote every line in it by now.

I start to drift off right before a loud boom hits right outside my window, following a bright flash of lightning. I try to fall asleep, but every time I doze off, another loud boom jolts me awake. I toss and turn for an hour before deciding to do something I know I shouldn't.

I crack Negan's door open slowly, trying not to wake him and gently slip into bed next to him. I also may or may not have taken my sleep shorts off, leaving me in just my pink panties and black tank top. I ease underneath the covers and lay facing him. He's usually a light sleeper, so between the thunder and me sneaking into his bed, I'm surprised he's not awake.

I'm completely still for a good ten minutes, making sure he's still sound asleep before I make any movements. When he lets out a little snore, I slowly slide the blanket down off of him. I imagine myself reaching over and running my fingers through his thick chest hair. I keep sliding the covers down further and further, careful not to wake him, until I get to just below the waistband of his boxers. My eyes trail from the deep v in his abdomen to the black hairs peaking above his underwear and I let myself imagine what it would be like to touch him right now.. to slide my hand down his boxers and feel him. I've wondered how big he is for so long.. trying to steal glimpses of him through his pants when he walks, or catch him with the covers down while he's sleeping.

I decide to pull the covers slightly further down and my mouth gapes open at the sight. He's hard.. so hard that I can see the outline of him through his boxers as it threatens to poke through his underwear. My mouth waters at his size and I know if he ever put it in me, it would definitely hurt like hell.

After I've stared at it long enough to feel like a total creep, my eyes travel back up his body and I almost yelp when I see his head is slightly turned and his eyes are watching me curiously, as if he's been waiting for me to make a move.

"I - uh.. The thunder.. I got scared." I explain.

"Nice try, kid. Go back to bed."

"Negan, please. Just let me sleep here. Nothing weird, I just.. don't wanna be alone."

He sighs and that alone tells me he's going to let me. I hide my excitement as I turn over, facing away from him and snuggling into the covers. They smell like him.. musk and leather.. and the scent makes me practically feral. He's still on his back, but my ass is barely touching his side. It's hardly anything, and it's not like we haven't cuddled before, but the thought of my ass so close to him sets my insides on fire.

Another lightning strike hits outside his window this time and I flinch a little, not purposely meaning for my ass to press into him even more. He doesn't react and I wonder if he's already asleep.

"Negan...?" I say softly.

"Hm?"

"Will you hold me?"

"Y/n, you are seriously pushing it. Go to sleep."

a few minutes go by before another boom echoes in the distance and I jump a little again.

He sighs heavily and turns over, draping his arm over my waist and pressing his body firmly against mine. His dick is pressed against my ass, but it's not as hard anymore... and that hurts a little.

"Go to fucking sleep."

I hold his hand tightly against my lower stomach and embrace this moment with him. I want him so bad that I can literally feel my vagina throbbing. If it could speak, it would be meowing like a cat in heat right now. I close my eyes and imagine him sliding in me from behind. I get a little too lost in the thought and accidentally arch a little, grinding my ass further into him. I feel him grow to full length against me and the feeling is enough for me to squeeze my legs together, desperate for some pressure down there.

"Where the fuck are your shorts?" He says in a deep and sleepy voice.

I giggle as he breathes heavily into my neck before whispering again.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you, baby?"

"Touch me?"

"I'm already touching you, y/n. My fucking dick is basically between your ass cheeks."

"Not yet.. my panties are in the way." I slip my panties off my legs smoothly and discard them on the floor.

"Y/n." He warns but before he can tell me no, I'm bare from the waist down and pressing my ass back against him.

"Trying to give this old man a heart attack?" He chuckles deeply.

"I can try harder than that if you want me to." I tease.

"Fuck, baby. Go to sleep before I do something we'll both regret."

"Like what?"

"...Like pound that pussy so fucking good you'll never think about another man's cock but mine."

"If you love me, wouldn't you want to be the one to give that to me for the first time? Wouldn't you rather it be you than some asshole who doesn't care about me."

He doesn't answer, so I keep pressing him. I place my hand back on top of his resting against my stomach and slowly slide it lower towards my aching center.

"Don't start something you can't finish, darlin'."

"Oh, I'm very determined to finish." I spread my legs apart slightly to guide his hand over my wet center. His middle finger easily slides between my slippery folds and we both moan at the feeling.

"Goddamn. Fucking dripping for daddy. He growls in my ear before leaning up a little and pressing his lips to my neck from behind. I move my hand from his, letting him take control - finally.

His finger moves back and forth between my wet slit, gliding over my clit every few seconds and making me moan each time. His other hand slips under me and up to my neck, gently squeezing my throat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" He breathes in my ear and chills spread over every inch of my skin.

I nod quickly as I feel my orgasm build from just his light touch. He hasn't even put a finger in me and I'm already on the verge of tears.

As soon as his finger rubs tiny circles over my clit, I lose it.. moaning out for him.

"Thaaat's it, cum for daddy, babygirl."

"Negan!" I scream out as his hand goes from my neck to my mouth, muffling the sound.

"Don't need the dead hearing us, doll."

He kisses my neck once I've soaked his fingers and then brings them to his mouth.

"Mmm, fuck, this pussy tastes so good I might have to eat it everyday."

I turn around in his arms to face him. My hand goes up to hold his face and my fingers play with his gray hair. He kisses my forehead before meeting my gaze.

"This is so wrong, baby." He strokes my cheek gently.

"Can't be wrong if it feels this good."

He tilts my chin up to press his lips against mine. It's so much better than I ever imagined. He knows exactly what he's doing, and even though I've never kissed anyone, he takes the lead and I'm thankful for it. I moan into his mouth when he deepens the kiss, his hand gripping the back of my neck now. The feeling of is tongue in my mouth makes me clench my legs again, and I think he notices because his hand on my neck travels lower until it reaches the back of my thigh. He lifts my leg over his and his hand slides to my ass, squeezing lightly before his long fingers tease my entrance from behind.

His dick is pressed into me painfully and I can't wait any longer. I need to touch him. Feel him inside me.

I reach my hand inside his boxers and pull out his big, hard cock. I try looking at it under the covers between us.

"You've never seen a dick before, doll?"

I shake my head no and admire him. It's so perfect.

He closes his eyes as I stroke it. "Fuck. So innocent, baby."

He kisses my neck while I pull on him even more. "You sure you want this, baby?"

I nod. "Yes, please. I've been wanting this for so long, Negan."

He lines himself up at my opening, my leg still draped over his so that he's in between my legs.

"Once we do this, you're mine darlin'."

"I'm already yours."

That's all he needs to hear to finally push the tip past my opening. I've never had anything inside of me other than a finger, and the feeling of his thick head pushing through me and stretching my walls has my mouth falling open.

"Tell me to stop, baby."

"No, keep going. Please." I beg.

He slides deeper and deeper until he's buried inside me completely. He stays still, letting me adjust. and kisses me through the pain. A pain that feels so good. I kiss him back hard, scratching his back while grinding my waist pathetically against him repeatedly. I moan in his ear and give him the go ahead to start moving. He fucks me deep and slow at first, letting me get used to him.

"So fucking tight baby."

He growls in my ear and vibration of his deep voice sends chills through me again until my pussy flutters around him.

"Holy fuck, doll. Do that again."

I squeeze my cunt around him again and he lets out the hottest moan I've ever heard. Not that I've heard a man moan before, but I just know that his are the hottest.

"I won't last if you keep doing that, baby." He warns and the thought of him shooting his load inside me has my head spinning.

After a few more thrusts that have my eyes rolling to the back of my head, I feel myself reaching my orgasm again and hold him against me so I can grind against him and ride it out.

"Negan, Negan, oh my god.” I breathe out as I push myself so hard against him that my clit rubs against his pubic bone creating the friction I need to send me over the edge.

"Goddamn." He thrusts into me faster and harder. "Gonna make me fucking cum already, baby." He tries to pull out but you tighten your leg around him so he can't pull away.

"Cum in me, Negan. Please." I cry desperately. "I love you. I want all of you."

He kisses me hard before his hips come to a halt. He practically yells out when he shoots his load deep inside me. "Ah, fuck! Babyyy."

The sound of Negan cumming is even hotter than his moaning from earlier - I didn't think it could get any better but holy shit. We're both a tangled, sweaty mess while our hearts beat out of our chest.

We eventually fall asleep with our lips still touching and his softening dick still inside me.

I don't even worry about the possibility of what could happen in the future.. I know I'm safe with Negan.. Here in our little cabin. He gently strokes my hair as we drift back off to sleep.

BOOM. The thunder crashes outside again, but this time I don't even flinch.

"You're not scared of thunder, are you, doll?"

I smile against his chest. "...No."

The End.

Brb, going to take an ice bath.

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ayabeanworks · 6 months

Text

Title: Strawberry Lipbalm

Synopsis: You want to find out what lip products Gojo uses, since his lips are always so soft and shiny that it's unfair.

Character: Gojo Satoru x reader

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Teacher AU! AU where Geto doesn't defect. Pretty much pure fluff, heavy pining from Gojo, some bittersweet moments. Light suggestive themes. He calls you 'sweets'.

Gojo Satoru's lips were always so glossy, so shiny and oh so plump.

What the actual hell?

It made you low-key jealous how well kept they looked, you wondered exactly what he's been doing to them. Does he use lip balm? Lip gloss? Lip masks? Scrubs?

Satoru looked at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised as he watched you stare at his lips, silent even after he asked you a question about something.

It was something he'd noticed on a regular occasion when he was talking, especially when it was just the two of you. Your eyes would flicker to his lips, then focus on him again, and the cycle would repeat until another topic.

"You know, they're not going to kiss themselves." Gojo thought it was the perfect time to tease you, watching your expression morph to one of mortification at having been caught.

"Sorry!" You apologised, red in the face. You'd been caught staring, and this time Gojo actually said something about it instead of usually letting you off. You waved your arms around, shaking your head as you dramatically tried to explain yourself, "Your lips, uh, are very nice but, um, no, they're super pretty, wait no! They're so soft looking, huh, wait, shit, ARGH?!"

You let out a strangled groan while Satoru laughed at you, finding your reaction absolutely hilarious. He played around with the black blindfold on his eyes, slowly bringing one side up to watch your reactions.

Even though it was a funny reaction, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest at the compliments you unintentionally blurted out, ears and the back of his neck slowly flushing red.

"Dammit," You let out a loud exhale, turning to look at the chuckling Gojo, "I just wanted to know what you use on your lips to make them look nice. Your skin too, if you do anything to it."

Satoru shook his head, poking out his tongue and shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heel, "Nope, I don't do anything in particular for either."

You were silent for a moment, surprise more evident in your features as you stared at him for a good moment, your jaw slowly dropping. "You serious?"

That kinda pissed you off.

"Yep." He took a step forward and pressed his index finger under your chin, pushing it up to close your mouth. "Sweets, you're gonna let flies in."

You didn't realise how close the two of you were until you felt his breath on your lips. His breath tasted minty, most likely from the ice cream he had earlier when you two ate together. It slightly stung your eyes.

"If you wanna feel them, now's your chance." He let his lips curl upwards as he saw the colour rise to your cheeks at the proximity and suggestion, but honestly, to Satoru it didn't really matter since the both of you had crossed more physical boundaries than this. For example, sleeping in the same bed, cuddling etc. This was nothing.

He wished for more though.

Your lips parted slightly at the teasing, wanting to tell him off, but with such pretty lips so close, you were almost tempted to steal a kiss.

Instead, the rational part of your brain made your hands slap on either side of his face, the thumb of your right hand on his lower lip, rubbing it gently.

Satoru stared at you with surprise in the one eye he's uncovered. You were looking away, your thumb still on his bottom lip as you gently felt it, cheeks rosy.

But it all faded when you felt how soft they were, an expression of shock taking over when you stared at his lips again.

"What the actual hell?" You brought his face slightly closer, nearly making Satoru surrender his soul to the devil for a chance to kiss you, even if accidently.

He had to stop himself and you before either of you regretted it, his hands coming up to both of your wrists, loosely wrapping 3 fingers around each.

His breath hitched as you pressed your thumb along the rest of his bottom and top lips, eyes intent on them.

Even if both of you had been closer than this before, something about this felt oddly romantic, a tension in the air so thick a knife could cut it.

"Damn," You mumbled under your breath, licking the thumb that was on his lips. His lips tasted like strawberry, reminding you of something. You licked your lips to get any remaining, trying to think of what the taste was as your other thumb gently swiped on his cheek area.

He stared at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated as he watched you casually just do what you did.

Did you know what you just did?

Did you know the implication of what you just did?

Did you know the effect it had on him?

Satoru face exploded into red.

You were shocked at how fast he became tomato coloured, but it wasn't unwelcome. It had been a while since he'd come this far, so it made you laugh at such a reaction.

Suddenly, he let go of your wrists and instead grabbed your face between his hands like you had his, making you meet his single uncovered blue eye, staring at him with tense shoulders at the sudden movement.

It was as if he wanted you to pay attention to him and only him, while he stared at you with affection adorning his features as he flushed red. You noticed his ears and the back of his neck was also that beautiful red hue, and you wondered why he was feeling embarrassed. Was it something you did?

Yes, honey, you're the cause of this whole fiasco.

Just like you did, he pressed his right thumb on your bottom lip, swiping it in a natural direction, before bringing it up to his lips to taste you.

He watched as your eyes widened at his actions, surprise flashing on your features as you tensed up unintentionally, flushing the brilliant colour he was going for, just like you had made him. His uncovered eye danced affectionately, curling as a grin lifted his lips. He successfully made you as embarrassed as you did him, warming his chest and making him want to coo at you.

Satoru didn't think you looked at him the same way he did you - he was hesitant to take a step past the boundary of friends to lovers, one that he didn't think should be crossed.

If he crossed it, would you reciprocate? Would you continue to run into his arms when you wanted to hug him? Or would you run away from him and leave his feelings bleeding out?

He didn't know, and he didn't want to know. Because if he knew, that would mean that he knew the other side as well. Meaning he would know all which could be detangled from the mess of information that is relationships. He didn't know if he could take that.

And since you were you - ever since he met you, even though you were always there, it was like you were a flickering flame. In the Jujutsu world, it was like you could disappear at any moment, so like a moth to a flame, he wanted to come closer, feeling that heat he so yearned for, even if he got burned in the process.

And you, you always spoiled him with an affection he loved - one that he wished was directed at him only, and had more of you that he so longed for. He was content with you and what you gave now, but he wished for more, he wished for all of you. Your whole very being. He wasn't satisfied knowing you were right at his fingertips, knowing you were right in his grasp, but alas, he couldn't do anything about his desire for you, only you.

But he knew he couldn't have that. At least not yet. So he was satisfied begrudgingly with the current situation, and basked in you, before you disappeared between his fingers like a wisp of smoke, or when you burned him enough that he wasn't able to fly anymore.

"You taste sweet." He murmured lightly, a teasing lilt in his voice as he played with your cheeks, "Just like the lip balm I stole from you the other day." He let out a little chuckle when your expression morphed into one of recognition, then pure betrayal at his admission.

"So you were the one who took my lip balm!" You accused, poking at his chest with your finger. You jabbed him lightly a couple of times, "I was looking everywhere for it! But I bought a new one this morning because I thought I'd dropped it somewhere! But it was you! It was new too!"

"What," Satoru squeezed your cheeks together so you couldn't talk properly, doing it a couple of times before he let go, "You didn't tell me you had a delicious new flavour of lip balm! It's not like I had any choice on the matter anyway." He shrugged, fishing it out of his pocket and reapplying right in front of you. He grinned when he saw your irritated expression.

You pouted, glaring at him applying it. Forget the intimate moment before, you wondered if you should fight him for it! It wasn't the first time he'd taken you lip balms too, you're guessing - if you'd backtracked to every other time you lost your lip balm, especially when it was brand new or just newly opened, it was more than you could count. And you're guessing the reason for those disappearances was because of the man in front of you, leisurely using the one he'd stolen taken from you.

You huffed, arms crossed as you made a face, "Maybe I should get some that doesn't taste as good next time so when you eat it you'll get stomach problems."

"So cold!" Satoru dramatically placed a hand over his chest as he looked away sadly, but it lasted for less than 5 seconds before he came over and grabbed your chin, tilting it up, "Don't move."

His touch was still gentle even though his movement was abrupt, but the reason he did so was to actually apply the lip balm on you, specifically the one he just applied on himself. His eyes were on your lips the whole time, fully concentrated as he drew on the lip balm for you, getting your lips in places he knew you wanted it.

When he was done, he let go of your chin and put the lip balm back in his own pocket, "Done! Now we're matching!" He grinned, pulling his blindfold back down. He gave you a goofy grin and a big thumbs up, acting as if nothing happened.

You were about to say something, but nothing came out. It was the first time he'd ever put lip balm on you in all your years of knowing him, and seeing that concentration on him was new, especially since it was directed at you.

"Cat got your tongue?" He just grinned at your state.

Yes, a cat named Catoru.

"Well, if you want me to stop taking your lip balms, you should share the one on your lips instead with me." If he didn't have his blindfold on right now, he'd be wiggling his brows at you, hoping you'd get what he was implying.

A light bulb seemed to appear on top of your head as a realisation hit you. "Oh! I see, I'll do that tomorrow when I see you, then."

Wow, he didn't know what to say, was he going to finally get a kiss from you tomorrow?

He couldn't wait.

The next day, Satoru was presented with an assortment of lip balms from you in a cute beauty bag, some of your favourites in there for him to try.

"Here you go! Now we don't need to share." You grinned at him, patting at his forearm as he took the bag from you, confusion on his features as he looked at you with unspoken questions.

Behind him, Shoko and Suguru couldn't stop their bodies from shaking from laughter, stifling it until you walked right back out to start your morning classes.

Satoru just opened his mouth, then closed it, and opened it again like a goldfish after you closed the door.

"Now we don't need to share?" He repeated with astonishment, shocked you would suggest such a thing. He didn't mean it that way!

Shoko laughed from the other side of the desk, "[name] won this time around! Level up, Gojo!"

"You tried." Suguru tried to comfort, but was met with an incredibly pouty Satoru, making him laugh yet again, until he earned a hard smack to the back.

He sulked the rest of the day, but he had to admit, those lip balms you gifted him were good. But it wouldn't have been as good as if you'd given him a kiss instead.

Somewhere on campus, you sneezed.

"Damn, I might be getting a cold."

A/N: I would be lying if I said I didn't stare at his lips the whole time he appears on the screen...like thank you very much JJK animators for making his lips look super juicy, shiny and kissable I am on my knees thanking you!!

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titishq · 3 months

Text

Fratboy!Jschlatt - Headcanons

⤷ pairing: fratboy!jschlatt x gn!reader

contains: swearing , mention of bimbos— , mentions of partying & drinking , angst if you squint , overwhelming toothrotting fluff

summary: headcanons of fratboy!jschlatt falling for you & your relationship!!<3

⋆ jay thinks he’s the biggest and toughest person, but in reality he’s a total softie.

⋆ he hates when he finds himself falling for someone that isn’t a stereotypical ‘bubble headed blonde bimbo’, meaning he’ll actually have to try to get noticed by them. he especially hates when he found himself falling for you.

⋆ you were just some nerd compared to him, you didn’t care for sports, you didn’t show up to parties or games, you were just focused on your studies and graduating college—!

⋆ at first he started annoying you; throwing papers on your desk, bumping into you, knocking your bag over. when he finally got a reaction from you, he was over the moon, even if you essentially told him to ‘fuck off’.

“jesus christ, jonathan! fuck off, you’re so annoying!” you groaned and grabbed the piece of paper he threw at you, looking back at him and tossed it right back. you didn’t understand why he was smiling so much at you.

“thanks, sweetheart.” he smiled and grabbed the paper, un-crubbling it to see the small note he had written for you, one asking you on a date. he couldn’t help but feel a little sad that you didn’t notice, but he knew one day you’d realize what the papers meant.

⋆ the second you started giving him attention, he was using it to his advantage. moving into bright colored sticky notes so they’d pop out on the brown desk, if they stuck to your black bag it was obvious he was messing with you.

⋆ he’ll follow you around the school when he can, making excuses like he’s simply going to class or lunch, but in reality he’s just attempting to admire you.

⋆ be purposely started failing the class you had together so the teacher would force you to help him, causing the two of you to become closer somewhat, but you were still insanely annoyed by him.

⋆ he would act so dumb when you point out an obvious answer, looking at you with big doe eyes in an attempt to get you to just give in and kiss him already; but we all know that’s not gonna happen (yet).

⋆ he starts inviting you to parties, not surprised when you decline his offers at first, but after so many times you give in and show up to a overcrowded frat hour at 12 AM.

“jay, what the hell?” you looked at him with a worried expression, seeing him already downing shots in the kitchen with his friends, who were busy hyping him up. he looked up at you with a soft gaze, approaching you and leaning down to whisper in your ear. “just have fun, toots. let loose a little.”

he had convinced you to have one shot of pure vodka some kid has gotten his hands on, the liquid burned going down, causing you to gag and reach for the nearest soda, which just so happen to be jay’s. you snatched it from his hand, drinking it quickly to get rid of the taste. “god, that was disgusting!” you didn’t even realize he was staring at your lips, thinking about how you technically kissed because your lips touched the same spot of the fan.

⋆ this boy can’t let it go. the sight of you at that party will forever be embedded in his brain. he had managed to get a picture of you with a wide smile on your face, his arm around your waist, and his lips making contact with your temple. which that picture was now his lock screen.

⋆ the first time you caught a glimpse of the picture, your face became red. he tried to ignore it, but simply couldn’t, finally giving in to ask you on a date.

⋆ he went on a whole rant about how much he liked you and how pretty he thought you were, his own face becoming flush as he waited for you to say something—anything!

⋆ of course when you said you felt the same, he practically lost his mind! this beautiful person he had been crushing on for months, liked him back?? it was unbelievable!

⋆ he was a little afraid to tell him frat bros at first, but was happy when they were cool with it, and even let him invite you over occasionally.

⋆ you had grown lowkey close with his best friend, ted, the two of you ganging up on jay occasionally and making fun of him.

⋆ for anniversaries he begs ted to help him set up stuff for you, it’s small at first, but as the numbers and amount of time get bigger, the more insane the date was!

“jay, where are you?” you called out into the empty frat house, furrowing your brows at the fact the lights weren’t on and most people were probably asleep, forcing you to use your phone flashlight to not wake anyone. you made your way to his room, slowly creaking the door open, being greeted by the entire frat house shooting confetti poppers at you and screaming their heads off.

“jesus! what are you guys doing?” you pushed the confetti out of your face, looking up to see jay holding up a bouquet and a poster reading out ‘happy 1 year!’. you could feel the blush rising to your face, smiling widely and rushed into his arms, earning a kiss on the head and him mumbling against your hair. “i love you, sweetheart.”

⋆ by the time you two graduated together, everyone was fully convinced you were gonna get married. even professors knew you two were dating, some purposely seating you two far apart so you wouldn’t be all up on one another— even though you weren’t.

⋆ he had bought you a necklace for graduation, one that matched a ring he wore on his ring finger. the entire time he was waiting for your name to be announced, a wide smile on his lips as he finally heard it, probably being the loudest to clap and cheer.

⋆ after your friends all met up with each other, you tucked under his arm and his hand rubbing your side. he occasionally placed a kiss on your forehead, mumbling against your skin about how he was so proud of you and how much he loved you.

⋆ of course— you moved in with each other, living in the same apartment complex as some of his buddies, where all of you would often meet up and hold small parties, just like the ones in college.

tags: @teddysboy , @riverwritez , @asterjaxx , @luv4luci

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schemmentigfs · 5 months

Text

Future Milf, part one.

paring: melissa schemmenti x fem reader.

summary: what was supposed to be a normal monday morning at Abbott, ends up being a chaotic one after you lend Melissa one especific t-shirt.

warnings: sexual themes? The rest is just pure crack.

author notes: I got this idea after listening to M.I.L.F $ by Fergie? Anyways, it's finally here, I'm must say that I'm pretty proud of this one. Stay tuned for part two! And yes, I watched heartstrooper and thought the drum scene was cute, so I added here.

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

When you arrived at Abbott in that morning, one curious feeling of both happiness and anxiety coursed through your body. And even though you found it completely strange, you decided to ignore it.

“Good morning, Y/n!” Janine said waving to you in the hallway. “How was your weekend?”

You smiled noticing her presence, as much as everyone else always said that Janine's way of acting was a bit annoying. The other teachers had to addmit that she was a good person who was always willing to help when needed.

“Morning!” you replied, unlocking the door to your classroom, ready to start another day at school. “It was good! On Saturday, I went to my parents to visit them for a family dinner. And on Sunday I spent the afternoon at Melissa's place.” You let out a passionate sigh remembering the day in the company of your favorite redhead.

It was a lovely afternoon, you cooked together, talked about different things and at the end, you watched a movie together, with Mel's hands gently stroking your hair while you were lying on her lap. “Hon, you are so cute,” she whispered softly, leaving her famous bravado aside, and showing her sweet and loving side instead.

To be honest, you loved these moments with the older woman, it made you feel protected, relaxed and loved. Something you hadn't felt in a long time. Melissa Schemmenti was your safe place. That same tough second grade teacher who took almost three months to have a friendly conversation with you was now one of your best friends. Yeah, fate was something that was really fucking powerful.

After listening to your last words, Janine let a huge smile escape her lips, before she started to celebrate. “I knew it! I knew it!” The youngest said, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Knew what?” you questioned with a confused expression.

“It was a date, wasn't it?” she asked with hope in her eyes.

“No!”

“Wait what? I thought you and Melissa were dating. Guess I was wrong. Again.” The second grade teacher revealed, completely disappointed looking at you.

After seeing your friend's reaction, you widen your eyes in shock. Was she really serious?

“Janine, why did you think we were dating?”

“It’s kind of obvious, she calls you by cute Italian nicknames, brings you coffee every morning. Share her lunch with you, let you hug her, and she always laughs at your jokes! You two are practically married in the eyes of everyone who works here at Abbott!” She talked non-stop.

Janine could only be out of her mind, a relationship between you and Melissa was impossible to happen. You were co-workers for god's sake, and also the redhead was known for being completely closed off when it came to relationships. Since her divorce with Joe was a traumatic experience.

Deep down, you were completely in love with Melissa. But tried to suppresses your feelings, knowing it would never be reciprocated. After all, what would a beautiful woman like her want with someone like you?

It was painful, but you couldn't do anything about it.

Turning your head to the sides to make sure there was no one else in the hallway, you started talking. “What I have with Melissa is just a normal friendship between two women. Something platonic and not romantic! Okay?”

“But—” she insisted.

“Let's just forget about this.” You sighed and Janine finally gave up, nodding and giving you a sad smile saying goodbye and returning to her classroom.

“You can’t keep lying to yourself.” Mr Johnson’s voice caught your attention.

“Huh?”

“You like Melissa, and you know that,” the janitor says as he sweeps the floor, eliminating any sign of dirt. “You may not have noticed yet, but she likes you too. Act while you have the chance, otherwise you will regret it if she finds someone else.” He said, before leaving.

Now alone in the hallway, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, thinking about his words and Janine's. Were they right? No. They were insane.

“Why did everyone suddenly decide to give their opinion on my love life?” You grumbled, looking at the watch on your wrist. There were twenty minutes until the kids arrived, so you decided to stop by the staff room for some coffee and also to refresh your mind.

—

When you entered the teachers' lounge, you saw a curious scene. Jacob was completely nervous while Melissa was furious. Gregory and Barbara were there watching everything and trying to calm her down but without success.

“JACOB!” the redhead shouted angrily pointing to her pink sweater and looking at the young boy with a deadly glare. “LOOK WHAT YOU DID!”

“I'm sorry! It wasn't my intention, I ended up getting distracted and—” the history teacher stuttered nervously.

“JUST—” She almost started to argue again but stopped when she felt Barb's gaze and yours on her. “be more careful next time, we don’t want any accidents like this happening again,”

Jacob nodded, apologizing once more, returning to sit on the small sofa, next to Gregory. Focusing on the news that played on Channel 6.

“Dear, are you okay?” Barb asked worriedly, putting a hand on her best friend's shoulder.

“Yeah, the only problem is that I don’t have any spare clothes to wear.” Melissa responds.

Seeing the older woman's frustration, you decided to quickly help her, knowing that she was starting to get uncomfortable with her favorite sweater's situation.

“Don't worry, I can lend you one. I always keep one in case something like this happens.” You replied with a small smile.

Melissa sighed in relief, it was as if a miracle had fallen from the earth when she needed it most.

“Thanks, Stellina. You are an angel.”

You blush at the nickname she gives you. Maybe Janine wasn't so wrong. Just maybe.

“Let’s go.” you pulled her by the arm heading to your classroom.

—

You guided Melissa to sit in one of the chairs and closed the door, heading towards your drawer looking for the shirt. It took a long time to find it, as everything was slightly messed up. The redhead rolled her eyes, pretending to be impatient.

“Apparently it looks like youse need to learn how organize your things better.” The older woman mocks you.

“Shut up, Schemmenti. I’m trying to help ya,” after a lot of effort, you finally found it, “here, it’s a little wrinkled but I think it should be fine for you to use for the rest of the day,”

Melissa let out a soft smile, taking the shirt you handed her. “Thanks again for helping me. I appreciate this.”

“No problem, I’ll always give you a hand whenever you need it,” you replied with a shrug.

In the three years that you had known each other, She had done so many things for you. So it was only fair that you pay her back, right?

“Uh, I’ll turn around now so you can have more privacy to change,” you said and she nodded, giving you a thumbs up.

You turned around, facing the classroom door, letting out a muffled laugh when she mumbled, “Thank God I won't have soup on my body anymore.”

Everything was going normally, until you heard something else that made your heartbeat increase with each passing second.

“Future Milf, hm?” Melissa said inspecting the shirt, reading the print with a confused expression. “It’s probably a term that those of you who are young use. I liked it.”

Hearing that made you freeze, it was as if the whole world had stopped at that moment. It couldn't be. No. It could only be a completely ridiculous nightmare or dream of yours. She was a natural joker, always picking on you with some prank or something else. She was joking, right?

Fuck, had you really given her that shirt by accident? Oh shit, you were so screwed. The only good thing about this situation was that she didn't know what the word milf meant.

If she knew, you'd probably be dead by now.

Melissa snapped her fingers, a sign that you could turn around again. The action brought you back to reality, but you were too embarrassed to look at your friend in the eyes again.

“What do you think?” she asked, adjusting the t-shirt on her body, waiting for your answer anxiously. Melissa wouldn't never admit it, but your opinion was something very important to her.

You kept quiet, nervous about what had just happened. It felt like a nightmare, for some reason. After school, you would probably go to the supermarket to buy a giant bottle of wine to drink while watching some horrible Netflix TV show trying to forget all of this.

When you focused your gaze on her figure, your mouth opened into a big 'o'. She looked stunning, with her signature black leather pants, boots and well.. that t-shirt had made Melissa look so hot, that you couldn't look at anything else in the room. It definitely suited her.

“Y/n? What do you think?” She repeats.

“You look amazing, Lissa,” you say playing with the rings in your fingers. A common habit that occurred when anxiety took over.

Melissa, who was always perceptive, studied you carefully. “Hon, are you alright?” she asked with a bit of concern in her tone.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just was thinking about...” you stop trying to think of an excuse to explain why you were distracted, “a funny thing Janine told me earlier, that's it.”

“What would it be?” She asks.

“I—It's a very stupid thing, I mean you know how she is,” you let out a nervous laugh, “I think you better ask her at lunch, Mel.”

The redhead raises her eyebrows, a little suspicious. Just as Melissa was about to speak, the voices of the children in the hallway interrupted her, making you two realize how much time had passed.

“Oh! Our students.”

“Yeah, they arrived,” Melissa says, “Well, I think I have to go now, your little devils will be here at any moment. See ya at lunch?”

“Of course, and Mel?”

“What, hon?”

“You look beautiful.” It accidentally slips out of your mouth, leaving you pale and afraid of her reaction. Of course, you had already said that Melissa was beautiful several times, but this time something different was in the air.

You didn't notice the way her cheeks flushed.

“Thanks gorgeous,” the eldest grins and wink at you. Was she flirting?

When Melissa was no longer there, you covered your face with your hands to stifle a scream that threatened to escape your throat. What was supposed to be a calm Monday, turned into a chaotic one due to a slight mistake of yours.

—

Ava was passing in the hallway when she saw Melissa walking calmly to her classroom. The principal's eyes widened when she saw the redhead wearing a t-shirt with the words “Future Milf” printed on it.

“Why the hell is she wearing that? That's not something Schemmenti would wear. Especially at school grounds.” she whispered to herself.

By coincidence, Gregory was also in the hallway and was surprised by her pulling him by his coat.

“Huh?” the man said, confused. “Ava? What are you doing?”

“Relax handsome, I just need you to answer something,” she said, looking at him,“do you know why Melissa is wearing that thing? the woman pointed to the teacher.

“Y/n lent it to her after Jacob accidentally spilled food on her sweater earlier,” he explained. “Why?”

“Did you saw the damn print on it?” Ava asked, rolling her eyes and Gregory shook his head with a puzzled expression.

“Then wait and see at lunchtime. I'm telling ya, this is going to be more fun than any episode of The Kardashians!” she laughed looking towards one of the cameras.

—

Meanwhile, you tried to focus on teaching your students. But it was practically impossible. Every time you closed your eyes or tried to explain something. Your mind thought of Melissa wearing the damn shirt.

“Ms. Y/n? Are you feeling alright?” Leah, one of your students asked, snapping you out of your trance.

“Yes, sweetheart. Don't need to worry about me.” you replied with a calm voice. She smiled and returned to pay attention to her activity.

The hours passed quickly after that, much to your dismay. It was good on the one hand: in a while you would be home soon. But the bad thing was that you would have to lunch next to Melissa Ann Schemmenti wearing that fucking milf shirt of yours.

You thought of some solutions to avoid her presence, but gave up. Knowing it wasn't fair to do so. Defeated, you went to the staff room.

—

Barbara was looking for the redhead you wanted to avoid at that moment. The eldest knocked on Melissa's classroom door, waiting to be welcomed by the teacher herself or her aide, Ashely. But that didn't happen.

Determined, she decided to enter anyway, raising her brows when she saw a curious scene.

Her best friend was pacing the room while mumbling something. “Y/n, do you want to go on a date with me? We could go to a restaurant and—” Melissa said to herself, “No, too formal that doesn’t suit me. And I would prefer a date at home, where we could...”

The brunette now leaning against the wall let out a soft chuckle that scared the redhead.

“Jesus Christ!” Melissa gasped with her hand on her chest. The kindergarten teacher rolled her eyes, “Barb, you scared me to death.”

“Haven’t you asked her out yet?” her friend got straight to the point, “Oh Lord, you've already been faster than that. Tell me sweetheart, what's stopping you?”

The green-eyed woman looked away, feeling a little embarrassed, “I'm just scared. Y/n is only in her twenties, she has her whole life ahead of her and I'm already at a certain age. What will she want with me?”

Barb saw how her voice immediately sounded small and trembling, falling in love was a delicate thing in Melissa Schemmenti's life, her marriage was a totally traumatic experience. And after that, she completely closed herself off, thinking that being in a relationship wasn't something for her. That she simply didn't deserve to be loved.

But that started to change when you arrived in her life. It took Melissa a while to figure out the many confusing feelings she had for you. After several sleepless nights, questioning the butterflies in her stomach that always appeared when you were around, she understood that it was love.

But this realization scared her.

“I know it may seem scary but you have to try. Besides, don't you realize? That girl is crazy about you, just like you are about her,” Barb says trying to calm her, “Believe me, this time you will discover that love doesn't hurt.”

Her words made the redhead remember the moment she realized she was in love with you.

[...]

It was New Year's Eve and Melissa was speeding the night at your house. That same afternoon, she had attended lunch with her family and as much as she loved how festive the other Schemmentis were, but it seemed like something was missing from that environment, and that was you. And this feeling of longing made her run to your place immediately.

Now she was in your bedroom trying to practice on your drum kit, while you were laying down on an improvised pillow fort that both of you built together a couple of days ago. Honestly, playing the drums wasn't something Melissa knew how to do, so she played in a completely clumsy way without being able to find a certain rhythm.

“Schemmenti, you're so fucking terrible at this,” you joked. “It's so easy to learn.”

Pretending to be irritated by your words, the redhead reached for a pillow and threw it in your direction. Prepared to start a pillow fight if challenged.

“Hey!” you grumbled, raising your hands in the air in redemption. “Mel, I’m kidding!”

“Then show me instead of standing there, idiot.”

You slowly approached, sitting next to her on the small bench. “Alright, let me teach you a little.”

You held Melissa's hands in yours, first teaching her how to properly hold the drumsticks. “Hold them tight. And don’t let them slip out of your hands,” you whispered. “Good job, Mel,” you praised her, feeling her hold the drumsticks tighter. She blushed hearing that.

While you were extremely focused, showing her how to play the instrument. Her green eyes watched you with love and adoration, at that moment, she realized how lucky she was to have you by her side.

Her gaze fell to your lips and Melissa wondered if they were as soft as they appeared to be. She also wondered what it would be like to wake up every day next to you, with her arms wrapped around your small waist and with her placing small kisses into your hair. Or what it would be like to kiss and touch your whole body listening to your soft coos while she showed how much she loved you.

She bites her lips with all of those images in her mind.

After hearing the sounds of fireworks, you turn away from the older woman and open your bedroom window and climb up to a small outcropping of the roof. While Melissa watches you curiously, still sitting in front of the drums. "What are you doing? I wouldn’t want you to have an accident in the middle of the New Year.”

“I’m not going to have an accident,” you rolled your eyes, “I just want to see the fireworks!”

Melissa shook her head, finding your excitement adorable, deciding to join you. Carefully sitting by your side, she rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes, wanting to enjoy this moment with you forever.

“You know...I kind of missed you at my family's lunch today,” the redhead admitted in a shy tone, feeling her cheeks burn.

That was a surprise for both of you, since you knew that she wasn't very used to physical touches or showing her vulnerable side.

Noticing her nervousness, you said something that made Melissa feel more relaxed again,“I missed you too. Staying with you is so much more fun than being here alone.”

She hummed and snuggled into you even more, making a smile escape your lips. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence that settled in. Wishing more good moments like this would happen.

Returning from her memory, Melissa stood up and ignored Barbara's malicious look and headed towards the door ready to go to lunch.

—

You were already in the teachers' lounge, and every time you heard a step, you felt your heart stop. The plan to try to avoid Melissa was still going through your head, but neither option was good, suddenly an idea came.

You threw yourself on the floor and quickly crawled to a table near the windows, hiding under it, the cameras filmed your movements and your friends' confused reactions.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” Janine asks.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, praying to eat in peace, “I'm just having lunch, like a normal person does.”

“You are literally eating under the table. That’s definitely not something you would do and everyone knows that. And it's kind of weird.” Gregory notes.

You were surprised by Ava, who ran in. Not wanting to miss anything she knew was going to happen. The principal loved an entertainment and the whole school knew. “I don’t think Melissa would mind if you said you consider her a milf. She would probably love it, saying it's hot and all of that shit,” she shrugged.

“What?” Jacob questioned.

“AVA!” you scolded her, “You aren't helping! And by the way, how do you know about this?”

“Girl, I know everything. And I must say, it's the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life.”

“What’s going on?” Janine alternates her gaze between the two of you.

You explained everything in detail to all of them who to be honest found it all a bit comical, but seeing the way you were nervous made them take it back.

After hearing Melissa and Barbara's voices, you got scared and shrank even more under the table. Hoping they wouldn't notice you. But that didn't happen. When the redhead entered, all attention quickly went straight to her. The cameras zoomed in on what she was using and everyone was shocked.

“What are you looking at?” She growls in a threatening tone and the teachers return to focusing on their activities, afraid of her. You laughed, that was so Melissa. And that's what ruined the chance to avoid her.

“Dear? What are you doing under the table?” Barbara asks.

“I was just seeing if...the tables were in a good condition! That's it, actually, I have to go now,” you walk towards the door, but a firm hand on your wrist stops you.

“Where are you going? I thought we agreed to have lunch together,” Melissa spoke.

“It’s not a good idea for us to do that,” you pull away from her touch. Waiting for her to give in, but something unexpected happened.

She took the lunch bag from your hands, standing on her tiptoes so as not to let you reach and looking straight into your eyes.

“Give me that back now!” You complain and she shakes her head.

“Tell me, what’s really going on? Why can you barely look at me?” she whispers that last part.

“It doesn't matter.” You respond, feeling your blood rise and your breathing slowly fail.

“Can you stop acting like a child and act like an adult, for once?” She retorts, making you roll your eyes.

“FUCK YOU MELISSA,” you yelled and everyone gasped. In years of working at Abbott, you had never raised your voice to anyone, especially the redhead, “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Melissa's eyes widened, surprised to see you facing her and saying that stuff. A feeling of pain settled in her body, but obviously she didn't show it.

Impatient and without thinking twice. You threw yourself at the older woman, who got scared, losing her balance. Because of this, both fell to the icy ground.

Melissa hit her back, letting out a groan of pain, seeing what you had caused, you quickly stood up, getting off of her.

“I’m sorry, Lissa. I’m so fucking stupid,” you tremble, feeling tears come out of your eyes.

Feeling overwhelmed, you ran out of the lounge, leaving a bewildered redhead.

“Y/N, PLEASE COME BACK HERE!” Melissa's voice echoed throughout the school, now she was going to worry about trying to fix what the hell had happened between you two. And it wouldn't be easy.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #wlw #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary fanfiction #x reader

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blossomingmoonlight · 2 months

Text

Rival Coryo teaches you a lesson

Sorry haven't posted in a sec, school is screwing me over with the short time they give us to study for tests so I am fucked :)

Coryo x f!rival!reader

Summary: After years of competing with Coryo and you pissing him off, he decides to shut you up

Warnings: pure porn obviously, fighting in class, making out, coryo being pissed, handjob, oraljob (both m and f), vaginal and reader pushing coryo over the edge

Word count: 2155

Your hand shot up in the air the second the teacher asked the question, however your classmate, Coriolanus Snow, did not go down without a fight. The entire class had been you two fighting over answers and questions and the tension was running high. The teacher was very much getting annoyed. This was not a rare occurrence, for years you and Coriolanus were fighting to be the best and now over that stupid Plinth prize. Even though your family was pretty well off thanks to your father having invented a new way to build more modern and stronger peacekeeper bases and your mother working for the president himself, you wanted that fucking prize, because there way now way in hell Coriolanus Cocky Snow was getting it. You didn’t even know why he wanted it, the Snows were still rich too, right?

With 15 minutes left of class, social studies in particular, you were close to snapping at him. The last three questions went to him, you were boiling. Finally after giving another classmate that you hated, Arachne Crane, a turn, you were allowed to answer again. So with a smirk you told the teacher the obvious answer and glanced at Coriolanus to get his reaction. You didn’t know exactly why but you loved nothing more than hearing the teacher say, “Good job miss (Y/l/n).” and then having Coriolanus look at you completely pissed off. You didn’t know if you just enjoyed seeing him mad or if it slightly turned you on, knowing you made him feel something.

And of course he gave you that snide you loved, you smiled back at him. He was sitting about two seats away from you to your left. With your two unlucky classmates sitting in between the heated moment. You could tell he was about to snap, you just had to push him a bit more and your goal for today had been accomplished yet again. “Better luck next time Snow.” You grinned, quiet enough for your teacher not to hear as he continued the class. He looked at you pissed and suddenly stood up smacking his hands on the desk. “Don’t start (Y/l/n).” He sneered, but you just smiled. “And there he goes, you know I really thought you were more composed than that.” You smiled. You could hear your teacher sigh as he knew that shit was about to go down yet again.

“Miss (Y/l/n), mister Snow, please stop this childishness at once or I will remove you from this class.” He said, now crossing his arms at the front of the room. Your classmates eyes were on you two and no one else dared say a word. “Really? You’re one to talk.” Coriolanus snapped back, now turning to you. Your two classmates lowering their heads and looking at each other awkwardly. “It’s okay Coriolanus, sometimes you make mistakes, I just prefer not to.” You said still looking him in his eyes with your perfect smile showing, knowing this would only piss him off more.

For some reason no one could make his blood boil quite like you. There was something about you he hated, maybe it was how smart you were, or how…pretty, no it was how you were competition, a threat to him getting that precious prize that would save his family.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Finally, he messed up. You had to hold in the huge grin that was growing on your face. “All right, that's enough, out! Both of you!” The teacher was over you two ruining the class yet again. Both? What the hell, it was only your intention to send Coriolanus out, not you as well. Shit. This would not look good.

You grabbed your bag as did Coriolanus and walked after him down the steps and out of the classroom. As soon as the door got shut behind you, Coriolanus stormed up on you. “Good fucking job (Y/ln)! Do you know how fucking annoying you are! You are destroying my chance of getting that prize!” He yelled. “Gonna cry about it?” You smiled, now that you got sent out together, you wanted to see how far you could push him when you two were alone. Seeing as normally you just got separated or Coriolanus or you got individually sent out. “Why? Why do you have to be such a bitch.” He seethed.

“Oh wow, I did not know you would go that far Snow. You are lucky we're alone here. But be careful, someone might pass by and hear you.” You continued, you relished in the fact that his slightly messed up curls, flaring nostrils and balled fists were all your doing. “You’re right.” He said, then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him to an empty classroom. Closing the door behind him after pushing you in, he walked up to you again, making you bump against the desk behind you while backing away from him.

“Tell me, right now, in my eyes, why you are doing this.” He said in a low tone. “What do you mean?” You asked almost unknowingly. “You know what I mean, why do you seek to piss me off everyday.” He looked you in your eyes, you couldn’t lie to yourself, his piercing blue eyes were quite intimidating up close. “Does there have to be a reason? You piss me off so I piss you off. And don’t lie, you love it.” You said that last part in almost a whisper, being so close to him you didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him.

“Fuck you.” He hissed, grabbing your face with his big hand. “Maybe you should.” You mumbled, looking down as his eyes were suddenly too much. “What did you just say?” He pulled your face up to make you look at him again. “I said maybe you should.” He looked at you with eyes widened slightly but with your face in his hand he pulled you towards him, pressing his lips on yours roughly. You kissed him back almost immediately and moved your hands to rest on his back. The kiss got heated fast and soon he moved his hands to your ass and held you against him tightly.

Cleary he was liking this too as you felt his hard cock against your stomach. He bit your lower lip and you let out a soft moan. Then he picked you up and set you on the desk, his lips never leaving yours. A metallic taste filled your mouth and you realized he had bitten your lip so hard it started to bleed a little bit. You pulled slightly off him and licked the blood off your lower lip. He looked at you in a trance and now moved to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, it hurted a bit, but that’s why you loved it. You moved your hand over his prominent bulge and massaged it until he let out a groan against your neck. “Get on your fucking knees.” He commanded, his voice sounded lower than usual. You looked at him with a smile. “Make me.”

He gripped your neck and waist and pulled you off the desk. Then grabbing the back off your neck instead, pushed you to your knees. “Now suck my dick you fucking slut.” You wanted to fight back, get him riled up again, but you wanted to taste him so badly you decided against it. Instead you moved your hands to the academy rouge skirt and undid it, making it fall to the ground. Next you moved to the zipper of his pants, unzipping it and pulling his pants down. You did this while keeping your gaze on him, he looked down at you hungrily. You moved to kiss over his underwear, making sure to go from the bottom of his eight inches to his tip. He hung his head back at this but quickly looked at you again.

“Stop teasing.” He groaned. You could almost taste the precum leaking through his boxers. You pulled down his boxers and released his aching length. Licking his tip, you kept eye contact with him. Finally taking him in your mouth, you sucked on his tip and swirled your tongue around it too. He watched you with lips parted, breathing heavily. You took him deeper and started to move your head. The action made him move his hands to your hair, messing it up by the way he was gripping you tightly. “Fuck just like that.” He groaned, after a while he started fucking your mouth, too impatient to wait. He wanted nothing more in that moment to see your eyes water and to see you gag around his dick as he shot his load down your throat.

And soon enough he couldn’t hold back anymore, you could tell he was close by the way he sped up his movements and the way his body tensed up. So you decided to massage his balls too, which sent him right over the edge. He came down your throat with a loud moan and made sure you drank every drop. “That’s it, make sure you swallow every drop you little slut.” Even though his words were quite demeaning, you loved it, you loved when he got mad and man handled you, you loved how he spat degrading words at you. You felt your own arousal soaking your underwear. You couldn’t wait any longer for him to touch you.

He pulled you back up and kissed you again. “Get back to that desk and bend over.” You did as you were told and bent over the desk you were sitting on moments ago. Coryo came up behind you and lifted your skirt, noticing the soaked panties you were wearing. “Shit, that turned you on baby, did you like sucking my dick that much, calling you a slut?” He almost laughed, so pathetic, so eager to please. He pulled your panties down and sank to his knees this time. Entering his middle finger in your wet hole, making sure to go as deep as possible and making sure to hit your g-spot. You moaned at the sensation and grabbed the desk tightly, you know he was about to fuck you up.

He started moving his finger, slapping your ass with his other hand from time to time as the slapping and smacking noises of his finger and hand filled the classroom. After a while he added a second finger and moved them more sideways so he could lick your clit at the same time. The sensations were so intense you screwed your eyes shut and kept moaning his name over and over, the pleas and the whimpering making his cock hard all over again. And in no time he had you cumming all over his tongue. By the way he felt your walls clench around his fingers when you came, he couldn’t wait to fill you up with his dick.

“Just wait until I fuck you dumb baby, I bet you won’t be bothering me all day because your brain won’t even be working anymore after I fill you up.” He smiled. He grabbed the base of his hard cock and moved the tip against your wet slit. He could easily slip in by how wet you were from your orgasm and he groaned at the feeling. “You’re all mine, this pussy is all fucking mine.” He started moving roughly, the desk squeaking and bumping against the floor, as you held on tight. “Fuck, Coryo, please give it to me hard, please!” You cried out, somehow even the slapping of your skin turned you on even more. As he fucked you hard against the desk he smacked your ass again, and again, and again, until it was completely red and hot from where he hit you, and even then you begged for more.

His hand instead moved to your throat, pulling you up from the desk as he continued pounding into you. “Please Coryo, I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.” You moaned and your hand moved to your clit, but he stopped you. “Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself.” He ordered in your ear. He moved his free hand to your clit and rubbed it fast. He now pounded into you hard and deep and his movements became sloppier. After a couple more thrusts you came hard around his dick, clenching your walls around him, making him cum too, completely filling you with his seed. Making sure he got it all into you, he gave you a couple more thrusts before he finally pulled out, leaving you sore and in bliss. When you both calmed down a bit, you pulled your clothes up and fixed your hair, Coryo doing the same. And let’s just say that you were now even more motivated to piss him off.

#Coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #tbosas

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jq37 · 24 days

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I think the wildest part about the Porter isn't that he's evil. As you've said, Brennan's been hinting at Porter being evil this season for a while now, so while it's still shocking, it's not surprising, if you get what I'm saying.

No, it's the fact that this has always been the plan and not something that was reconned in this season. Like, we all thought this was just Brennan taking the bit to its logical conclusion, but no, this has been a reveal five years in the making...

And Emily figured it out Day fucking One by sheer accident!

Yeah for me the thing that floored me wasn't the reveal because that's been on the table for a while now. It was when Brennan said he'd been holding on to it for five years.

Because I even an amazing DM like Brennan can't plan EVERYTHING in advance. Like, the Night Yorb was obviously an addition purely based on the fact that Murph anagrammed Garthy of Brian looking for clues. And I can't imagine Gilear was ever meant to be anything other than a 4 HP divorcee. The Night Yorb fight and Gilear's curse are both pretty clear instances of Brennan running with a bit and working it into the story. But he said he's been sitting on this for FIVE YEARS. Since Freshman year!

I would even be less shocked if he said since Sophmore Year because there is that weird conversation with him, Jace, and Arianwen that finally came up this ep that was never resolved. But since Freshman year? That's nuts!

Second Edit: I am untethered to the passage of time and did my math to figure out when 5 years ago was incorrectly lol. Still impressed Brennan sat on this for so long but 5 years means since Soph Year not Freshman Year. See the replies for me realizing I did my math wrong last night.

If he's not exaggerating then, imo, it's pretty incredible to have this much lore in the back pocket with regard to NPCs that aren't even necessarily factoring into your main story that much. I wonder if this is akin to Mr. Gibbons (dude Aguefort killed to rez Gorgug in ep 2) just being evil and it never being explored but Brennan having had it in his notes. Does he just have a list of 3-5 other evil plots simultaneously happening in the background ready to be stumbled onto or just the general vibes of which teachers are shady?

And, as a sometimes DM, the last time I ran a full length campaign, literally before the game even started--like during Session Zero--I had my BBEG guessed offhandedly by a player just based on her name which wasn't any different from the other names I listed as part of background info and I just went through all the stages of grief internally and then pressed on without changing anything because of Story Integrity. Anyway my point is that it happens and as a DM it is WILD when it does.

Anyway, I am SO excited for the AP tomorrow. Brennan, you better not hold anything back I am SO curious about your DM machinations!

(Edit: Equally excited for Emily's reaction. Adaine is the diviner of the party and, evidently, Emily is the diviner of the table. WILD.)

(Second Edit:

#brwolf1995 #asks #fantasy high #dimension 20 #d20 #spoilers #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 spoilers

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seresinhangmanjake · 10 months

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For the drabbles!

I saw this tik tok where a toddler was meeting her baby brother for the first time and she thanks her mom which is something I feel like Eve would do

It is absolutely something Eve would do! 🥰

Oh, Baby Series

Words: 941

Alright, manic brain has been in full force again, so it's not perfect. My bad. It's also the slightest bit different from the ask.

---

You're about four months pregnant. Not so round as to be incredibly noticeable to the common stranger, but round enough at this point that, for Eve, looking at your stomach has become a daily curiosity. She knows there's a baby in there even though you haven't told her. She just knows it. She's smart for her age and watched her preschool teacher's tummy grow with a baby of her own, so when you get the slightest bump, you realize her eyes are now more often on your midsection than not.

She hasn’t asked yet (because you'd taught her it's not polite to ask people if they are pregnant), and you haven’t officially told her, either.

It feels wrong, though. She’s your daughter. She deserves to know she’s going to be a big sister, but you and Jake both know Eve has held every scrap of your attention for four whole years. From the moment you discovered you were pregnant again, you’ve been worrying about her reaction. She’s a bold kid. Opinionated. Stubborn. And therefore, occasionally unpredictable in her emotions. Yes, she’s wanted a sibling, but like any other child, it’s very possible that amidst her incessant begging for a baby brother, she neglected to consider that having another child in the house means that Mama and Daddy's attention will soon be divided.

That alone makes Jake terrified to tell Eve. Lingering guilt over missing her first few months of life has snuck back to the surface and he doesn’t want to disappoint her or make her think she’ll be any less loved. He can’t stand the thought of seeing her little face lose its smile, and doing anything to fill her eyes with big fat tears has always brought on bouts of nausea. So, the topic has been avoided.

But with each day that passes, the crueler it’s become to not share what you’ve known for months. So you and Jake pull your courage together and sit Eve down one morning to tell her the truth.

Jake's beside you on the couch, Eve nestled in his lap when you explain she's going to be a big sister. You expect an array of emotions—you and your husband being so prepared that you’d gone so far as to imagine the moment playing out in a very specific way: a look of awe then a wave of excitement followed by the potential settling in of pure jealousy.

On all counts you are wrong.

Your daughter is quiet as she stares at your stomach post news. Then she tilts her head back to receive her father’s encouraging smile before looking to you.

"He's really in there right now?" she asks.

And you answer: "Yes."

She takes a beat to consider your confirmation, her head tilting to the side. "But when did he get there?"

Jake looks at you with panic on his face. Oddly, no matter how curious your daughter has proven to be, your husband always finds himself blindsided by the unexpectedness of her questions. You, however, tend to manage just fine, and more often than not are willing to be rather honest with her. But you can't exactly tell Eve her baby brother "got there" during fifteen-minute shower sex in the hotel at Disneyland.

"Um,” you chuckle, “not too long ago."

She pulls away from Jake's lap and moves onto yours, and you lift your shirt up a bit so she can put her tiny hands to your belly. Her fingers are spread wide, as if covering as much of your skin as possible might mean her brother can feel her too.

"He isn't moving, Mama," she notes. "What is he doing?"

"Resting up," you reply. "It takes a lot to join the world."

She remains that way, just staring and feeling. And you glance at Jake, as unsure as he is of your daughter's next move, or thought, or word, until she mutters a quiet "Oh" and her face falls.

You cup her little chin and stroke her cheek with your thumb. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

With her lip worried between her teeth, she turns her head away from your gentle grasp and begins to fiddle with her fingernails. Like mother, like daughter, you think.

"Will he like me?” She asks so softly.

It only takes that brief moment to break your heart for the little girl who has never once had to worry about not being loved.

“Oh, baby girl," Jake sighs.

He runs his hand down the length of her blonde curls, then tucks strands behind her ear so he can have a clear view of the side of her face. "Of course he will."

"But how do you know, Daddy?"

"Because you're his big sister. And you're the only big sister he will ever have,” your husband stresses. “You will love and protect one another because that is what brothers and sisters do.” Then he squeezes her hand, smiles, and says “Ok?”

Despite his lovely argument, it's clear Jake hasn't fully convinced her.

She looks up at him. "But–"

"Baby girl, how often is Daddy wrong?"

Eve quickly turns her head so her eyes can meet yours. "Mama, how often is Daddy wrong?"

"Not very," you say through your laugh. "You can trust him."

Her lips quirk to the side. A beat passes, then she nods. "Ok."

She takes a breath before leaning forward to rest her ear against your belly. Jake grins at you as you rub your girl's back.

“Thank you," you suddenly hear in that sweet voice.

“For what, sweetie?"

“For getting me a baby brother.”

---

@wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #dad!jake hangman seresin #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin imagine #tgm fic

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lev1hei1chou · 4 months

Text

Kikufuku

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 481 Synopsis: Making Kikufuku with chef Gojo Masterlist

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you found yourself in the comfort of Gojo Satoru's penthouse. The sun rays seeped in through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the kitchen counter where the two of you stood together. An assortment of ingredients lay in front of you, ready to be turned into something delicious.

"Alright, sweetheart, are you ready to create a masterpiece?" Gojo flashed his signature grin, making your heart skip a beat or two. It is no surprise that Gojo had a sweet tooth, so making Kikufuku, a traditional Japanese sweet, had been on the top of your to do list for days.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Gojo grabbed a sieve and handed it to you. "Let's start with the flour."

The two of you worked together, laughter and banter filling the air as you measured out and mixed the necessary ingredients. Flour dusted the air, and the sweet aroma drifted through the apartment.

As the Kikufuku took shape, Gojo couldn't help but be impressed by your cooking skills. "Y'know, I might have to keep you around just for your cooking."

You chortled, "Well, I hope that's not the only reason."

After the final touches were added, you both admired the plate of the scrumptious looking Kikufuku. Gojo smirked, "I guess I gotta admit, you're not just a pretty face."

Later that day, you decided to share the creation with your students, inviting Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi over for taste testing. Gojo, though not entirely thrilled about the idea of sharing his masterpiece, reluctantly agreed.

As your students gathered in the living room, you presented the Kikufuku with a happy grin. "Ta-da! Satoru and I made these. I hope you like these!"

The reactions were pretty much immediate and ecstatic. Yuji practically inhaled one with no hesitation, and his eyes turned into saucers in delight. Nobara and Megumi exchanged surprised glances before tasting the sweet treats.

Gojo, who had been observing the scene unfold from a corner, couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and irritation. "Well, I suppose I am a great teacher," he remarked, though his pouty expression gave away his true feelings.

The evening was filled with laughter and pure joy. As the Kikufuku disappeared one by one from the plate and Gojo couldn't stay mad for long, especially with the smiles that decorated everyone's faces.

Later that night, as you and Satoru cleaned up the kitchen together, he inched closer and whispered in your ear, "Y'know, I might make you my official cooking partner. Not everyone gets this opportunity."

You beamed, "As long as you promise not to be too possessive of our creations."

Gojo laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Deal."

And so, the memory of that lazy Sunday afternoon acted as a sweet reminder of the joy that can be found in simple moments and experiences.

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clericofgale · 6 months

Text

I was planning on writing something serious about Gale...but this came out instead. I have no idea why I'm posting something so unhinged. It's only Gale that make me this way. I sincerely believe Gale is a switch at heart, but since I've seen many wonderful treatises on bottom Gale I think I'll do the other side.

In this post I shall prove why Gale would make a great Dom/top and what I think he'd enjoy. NSFW.

This man is compassionate, open-minded, empathetic, and interested in your pleasure. He is a consent god. All traits of a S-tier dom. He'd be the supportive yet firm type. It's not only Halsin that exudes that energy, I think Gale does too! In my experience types like Gale are usually very good at it. Being a good top requires a good base of knowledge of the human psyche and anatomy. You're basically a sex nerd hacking brain chemicals while doing elaborate roleplay, and Gale is no stranger to research, and taking notes. You need good empathy to gain insight on your partner and feel what they might be feeling. It's very important for knowing when to stop. Being interested in your pleasure means he won't be purely taking. Good play to me is all about swapping and blending each other's energy and being a two-way street.

You always liked the idea of being worshipped. Adored. Obeyed...

This is a line from origin Gale that the player can choose. This man wants to be a god. He wants to be worshipped, and if he can't get that in the form of godhood I don't see why that can't be indulged elsewhere...

Speaking of indulging, when you tell Gale you prefer him naked at the party, he'll reply "I'll be sure to indulge you when you get home." with a smirk. And the teasing kiss where you are denied until Gale reciprocates is prime control material. He would enjoy teasing and denial.

He's a giver because he wants you to come undone and into a puddle of mess. He wishes to find your limits, what makes you tick and what doesn't. He will study every reaction, every weakness...and use it against you. He is an artist and your sounds of pleasure his notes in his newest piece. Gale would enjoy using his oratory talents to overstimulate you to tears, hands gripping your legs tight so you can't escape. You'll be teetering on the edge of wanting him to stop, but he never crests over the limit.

Look at the astral scene! He didn't lose concentration the whole time. Gale would love long elaborate scenes involving illusions. He enjoys showing you the wonders and limits of magic, things you've never seen before. The reassuring way he tells you to not be afraid because he's here with you during the boat scene is the exact tone he'd use while blowing your mind. Imagine the tools he will have at his disposal. Evrad's black tentacles? Mage hand? Simalcrum?

He's a teacher at heart, and have you heard the way he says "very good" during the weave teaching scene?? This man will be using praise and encouragements when you're most vulnerable. Gale enjoys positive reinforcement to get you to submit. Why use harsh words and punishments to get things done, when he can make you kneel all on your own? His buffing lines includes things like "Go on, excel" and "make me proud", and you do so very want to make him proud.

You just know he's great at aftercare. He's the only one to even think of bedding while bedding you, after all. He will always have reassuring words, or a fun joke to break the tension, and plenty of fluffy blankets on a warm bed.

In conclusion, Gale (especially postgame mortal Gale) would be great as a dom and thank you for coming to my unhinged Ted talk. *Bows*

#gale thoughts #Dom Gale propaganda #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #hornyposting #Gale headcanon

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erospandemos · 11 months

Text

I just can't help it

Yandere Chaewon x Reader

Part 1

“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”

― Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women

What you’re about to read is a confession to you. An apology, if you prefer to call it that, as I’ve professed my love to you plenty of times—although it won’t ever be enough—and you’re at the knowledge of every crime I’ve committed since we met.

My Korean teacher repeatedly reiterated the lack of clarity in my essays and oral exams. I’m not good with words, you see. That’s why I thought that letting you know about the events in my life that shaped me and the feelings that followed me throughout these months would make you understand me better.

I know our conversations weren’t as deep as you probably expected. I’ve tried to explain myself to the best of my abilities and even if it was a mess you seemed to make out that flurry of words and comfort me. Sometimes, I truly thought you understood me more than I did.

It’s true that we always talked in riddles and puzzles but it made more sense that way. Because our—my—love was pure madness and somehow the riddles explained it better than we ever could.

The lack of sleep shouldn’t have affected my mind too much, at least in the part that’s in charge of writing.

If you’re reading this, I hope you understand. Sorry if I’m rambling a lot, and sorry if I will ramble more in the following pages. Right, sorry if I’m apologizing a lot—you told me not to do that. I just can’t help it.

I was tortured since the age of 6 when I started going to elementary school, that’s as far as I can remember. You could also say I was “bullied”, it’s what the adults like to call it, but it’s the same thing. People get defensive, almost offended when I use the other term. “Wow,” was a common reaction, “that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” I didn’t think it was extreme.

When I so naively asked my teacher the difference between the two words, she chuckled and looked at me as if I asked her what the difference between hot and cold was. Surprise was another clear feeling I could read from her expression. She asked me how I knew those words. I simply said I heard them from outside and she told me to forget them.

That evening, when I came home, I took the chair from my mother’s desk and put it next to the bookshelf, I climbed it and looked at the books on the top shelf. They were the books she used the least and between them, sitting all dusty and forgotten, was also the dictionary.

I blew and rubbed the dust away then I looked for the two words. I read the two definitions closely and more than one time but I still didn’t understand. They were the same.

I didn’t ask my teacher anything else. My teacher was clearly against explaining them to me.

But I was sure, I knew those two words extremely well because I felt them on my skin.

I wanted to be an idol. I told everyone in my class because I thought it was a normal dream—we all watched idols on TV in the afternoon—and being an astronaut seemed a lot harder. Apparently, it wasn’t. Because I wanted to perform on a stage, I was “pretentious”, “narcissistic”, an “attention-seeker”, and a “whore”. I didn’t know what they meant and thought they were compliments and they etched those words into my skin.

I later found their definitions in the dictionary and understood what they were saying.

I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to be an idol. Hayoon, a classmate of mine, dreamt of testing for JYP, SM, YG, and all those big companies. She took dance and singing classes, they were both in group and private. She could afford it because her family was very rich. From what I heard in the classroom, she started training when she was just a little girl because her parents saw her dancing in front of the TV during an episode of Inkigayo.

Surprisingly, Hayoon was never shamed. Because she was “humble” and had “her feet on the ground”. She was loved by everyone and was the most favored prospect for the role of an idol, everyone seemed to believe in her dream. She was confident, danced well, and was beautiful. All the girls went to her house at least twice a month to go to her huge pool, splendid garden, and majestic house. I never went, I was never invited.

She was good at everything and topped all subjects. However, I sang better than her. In music classes and festivals, I was always chosen and often took the roles instead of her. When she realized she wasn’t the best, she became embarrassed and frustrated.

She didn’t have any way of making me sing worse and neither could sing better than me, even after all those expensive lessons, so she took to poking fun at me to try and drag me down. Of course her friends joined as well. They were always calling me "ugly", "weird", and "gross" in a way that didn’t seem childish or playful, but demeaning and insulting.

The other kids constantly berated me between classes, glued my books to the desk, slapped me and then ran away. They knew all the spots where there was no CCTV in the school. They even stole my brand-new headphones and glued my shoestrings to my shoes when I didn’t see them. We wore slippers and my shoes were in my locker.

My teachers never helped me. I’ve tried telling them and they didn’t believe me, or rather, they chose not to believe me because that was easier for them.

Only a girl had the courage to help me, it only took one word and two days to have everyone against her. “Stop,” she only said that and then everyone hated her. You never go against the group, you never try to make yourself different, you never try to fight back.

In the end, I understood the difference between torture and bullying: one was for hurting and one was for fun.

During middle school, the bullying stepped up a notch. Some of my classmates went to my same middle school, they had many friends there and the rumors spread like wildfire. Many of the students liked to take their stress out by bullying other students. They were pathetic and talentless, they hated anyone who had potential unless they provided them anything, like Hayoon.

Smoking was illegal. But they didn’t care. They found all the corners of the school where the CCTV didn’t see them and studied where the professors usually walked to avoid their path. It wasn’t always perfect and sometimes they were caught but it sure helped them and the bullies.

One day, I was dragged by my hair behind the basketball court and after getting pushed to the ground, the girls started slapping, laughing, and kicking me. The smoke from their cigarettes and the kicks to my belly and back took the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to die. They were experienced—they noticed my lack of breath, gave me breaks to catch it, and started kicking me again.

They were caught by a teacher who forgot his bag. They claimed they were only giving me “birthday punches” and didn’t admit anything, nor apologized. They weren’t stupid either. The girls had a very good reputation and a good student persona, essentially they didn’t have any criminal records.

When I was asked what happened, I was ready to tell them all the atrocities that took place in school. But then, I remembered the girls’ eyes. I looked at the professor and I knew, right there and then, that he didn’t believe me, even before I said anything. They wouldn’t have done anything but the word would have been out, that I snitched on the bullies and then I wouldn’t have survived.

So I stayed silent.

The girls only got punished for smoking after they explained they only wanted to try and continued to do it anyway.

Between the end of middle school and the start of high school, the bullies got more creative. They tied me up and broke my legs with a crowbar. The older the girls got, the more of them wanted to be idols, and the first thing they had to do was to get rid of the competition. They succeeded as I stopped dancing altogether since that day.

I continued singing but nobody wants to see an idol in a wheelchair, right?

After I couldn’t walk normally anymore, they started treating me like a rag. They used me to clean the bathroom, by pushing me around on the floor, putting my face against the toilet, and mopping me with dirty water. I was like a toy to them and their friends joined the fun.

Part 2

It was no wonder that many bullied students leave the school. Sometimes, they leave on their own, because they can’t stand the torture anymore, other times, the school removes them. The bullies only bully others because they can and they know they can get away with it: they have influential parents or come from wealthy families, so the school can only quietly get rid of the problem and those are the victims that can’t stay quiet.

The class in my department didn’t have many students but it was enough: 20 students. During the year, 5 students left, and at the end of the year, 2 others were sent to another school in the province. The remaining 13 weren’t enough to be left alone in the classroom so they joined us with a class from another department that also lost many students. In total, we were 31, which was a big number but they didn’t have any other choice.

You were one of those students. I only noticed you after a week because I got used to keeping my eyes low not to anger any of my classmates. You sat beside me. People usually tend to avoid me since they could also become victims of the bullies but you knew it and it was your decision.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked me. When I heard your voice, I had a moment of hesitation. I kept staring at the wooden desk but then I thought that you might have accused me of being rude for ignoring you and that would have been a good enough reason to pick on me, so I raised my eyes.

“No, it isn’t,” I replied. Your eyes were cold. I genuinely thought you were a bully too.

“Then, can I seat here?”

“You can if you want…” I told you, unsure. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? You fart a lot?”

I was taken aback. “No! I don’t.”

“I suppose it’s fine then,” you said and took the chair out to take your desk. You started getting ready for the lesson and didn’t seem to have any intention of doing anything to me. Every time someone spoke to me, it was to make a comment, make a joke, or give me an order. Still, I was suspicious of you.

The lesson proceeded as usual. You took your notes very diligently, writing almost everything the teacher said, making graphs and small summaries to keep your memory fresh. If you were to tell me you were the top student in your class, I would have believed it and later I’d find out you really were.

Your behavior wasn’t the one of a bully. And it wasn’t the behavior of a bullied either.

At the end of the last lesson before the lunch break, the teacher gave us surveys for our future career choices. I stared at the paper with a pen in my hand. What should I write? My future, my future was stolen from me. My dream was as meaningful as an ant’s life. After everything they did and said to me, a miserable life of insignificance and sadness sounded perfectly fit for me. I kept wondering and pondering until you turned to me.

“What do you want to do when you grow up, Chaewon?” you asked me while you were lazily spinning your pen between your fingers.

“I- I don’t know, what about you?” I stuttered. I couldn’t bring myself up to pronounce those words. I felt as if I had been banished from even muttering them and thinking about it only brought me horrible memories.

“Web security,” you said. “I go around and check companies’ safety in their servers and sites. I’ve already started an internship so I’m sure it’s what I’m going to do.”

“An internship? This early?”

“Yeah, I figured the more experience I get, the better. I got nothing better to do anyways.”

“Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you hang out with your… friends?”

“I don’t have that many friends, to be honest,” you replied nonchalantly. “I mean, I do go out like once every three months so it isn’t a lot but I still have friends I can talk to. I’ve never been good with people, I guess.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“I was always better on my own. I tried a lot of stuff and I liked web stuff better,” then you turned to me for a second time, looking at me more intensely than before, “but you didn’t answer my question yet. What do you wanna do?”

Being put on the spot like that, I wasn’t sure about what I was allowed to say. More than that, I didn’t know what I really wanted, if the dust of my once desire was still in me if my heart wasn’t dead cold. However, after all these years, a subtle string of fate kept me going and it was still something that I liked doing.

I looked at your eyes. They didn’t scare me.

“I want to be… an idol,” I said in a single breath. After I finished the sentence, a heavy feeling of guilt dawned on me. I felt as if I just committed a crime and I was in danger.

But you didn’t judge me.

“An idol, huh?” You laid back on your chair. “That’s pretty cool. I know it’s very hard if you really want to do it, props to you. It takes some guts to train for that stuff. To dance all day, to have everyone look at you, it’s something.”

“Do- do you think I can do it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I don’t know how well you dance, or how good you sing, or even what you tested for.”

“But is it a possible dream?”

“You can watch idols too, right? They had the same dream as you did. They did it. I think it’s possible, yeah. And I think you can do it, Chaewon.”

When you said that, I felt so relieved. It was comforting. Finally, I found someone that didn’t hate me, that didn’t shame and believed in me.

Just as you stopped talking, the bell rang. It was the time.

“Oh, look at her, ms. Idol,” said Yejun and pushed my head away for fun. He started laughing.

“Hands off, Yejun. And go away before I sock you in the face,” you said.

“I’m so scared, oh my god,” he laughed. “What do you think you’ll do huh? Do you want to protect this filthy rag? How generous,” he said and then slapped me.

“That’s enough, fuckface,” you got up and stared into his eyes. “That’s the last warning. Leave before I do something I might regret.”

He scoffed. “Really, you talk a lot. Don’t forget that you work for my father.”

“I don’t think you get it, Yejun. I don’t just work for your father. He depends on me. One click and his whole 20 servers will blow up. Do you really think that incompetent fool of your father fixed all the problems? He doesn’t know shit about his stuff, he only knows how to count money and scam his workers. There are so many weaknesses I could just hack the whole thing and change your company to my name.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. Now, that I’ve seen who this rag of yours is, tell your friends to keep their hands off her. I don’t want to see your father come back and beg at me and he’ll know it was all your fault. Everyone listens to you apparently, so spread the word. I won’t hesitate.”

Yejun stormed out of the class in anger.

I felt like I was reborn, that I finally found my savior. You were the angel I needed and you came to save me from this hell.

“I don’t like this place, let’s get out of here,” you said and I followed you.

We went to grab lunch but right behind the vending machines you got attacked. He called you a nerd, whatever he did, but I couldn’t stand it. I felt a force in me and I grabbed his neck, I squeezed until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

I’ll be honest, if it wasn’t for you trying to get me off, I would have killed him.

Just as that guy run off, you freaked out. I didn’t blame you. Still, you took my arm and pulled me to somewhere more covered to talk to me, scared that someone else might have seen it. I could see the surprise in your eyes, but you didn’t look terrified, you were concerned if anything.

Your hand was still bleeding, the red liquid dripped to the floor. I stared at the droplets, slowly coloring the grey concrete, as if it was the ticking of a clock. At each tick, I was getting more impatient, there was something inside me that wanted to jump out, run after who hurt you, and make him pay for it. But I had to calm down, you were in front of me.

“Chaewon, what the hell!” you whisper-shouted while repeatedly glancing behind your back and into the hallway. “Where did that come from?”

“I-I don’t know what happened,” I stuttered. I was saying the truth—at the time, I truly didn’t know why I reacted in the way I did. I never raised my hands, I never talked back, I never reacted.

“Shit, I’m bleeding a lot,” you cursed. You gritted your teeth and started walking towards the school clinic. I followed you.

You talked to me as we were walking. “You don’t just choke people randomly, you know?”

“I- I really swear! I pro-promise… I have no idea what happened!”

“Listen, Chaewon, I saw you pinning his neck against the wall. You raised a senior with one hand.”

When we were in front of the nurse's office, you pinched your nose and waved your hand to stop me from talking. The cuff of your white shirt was stained with red, it already spread so much in just a short time. You must have been in pain. My blood was boiling.

“You can explain yourself later,” you said and opened the door. “I have to close this wound first.”

I followed you into the room. For some reason, the room was empty, there was no trace of the nurse and it looked like she hasn’t been there for a long time as everything was very tidy and the coat hanger was empty. Often, when people can avoid work, they’ll do it. The nurse must have seen that there was no one needing her in the morning and decided to leave for some coffee.

You sat on one of the beds, keeping your arm stretched out so the blood wouldn’t stain the sheets and with another hand, you searched into the cabinet for something you could help yourself with. You took out bandaids, alcohol, gauze and cotton buds. You really made a mess, trying to pour the alcohol on your arm and spilling half of the content on the floor.

After sloppily cleaning yourself with cotton, you got the bandaids.

“Do you really think bandaids will do?” I asked you. “It’s way too deep.”

“Is there any other way?”

“Yeah, we have to put stitches on you.” I took the chairs from the desk and sat in front of you. In the cabinet beside the bed, there were also needles and thread for that procedure. Luckily there was an anesthetic as well.

I put on gloves. I cleaned your wound again, better than you did before, and applied the anesthetic gel. It took about two minutes to take effect, in the meanwhile I prepared the rest of the equipment I needed: forceps, curved needle, and new thread.

When I was sure you didn’t feel anything, I started stitching your wound.

“How did you learn this?” you asked me so curiously.

“I… I got used to taking care of myself,” I said softly. It was embarrassing. You nodded. I could feel your eyes scan me, looking at all my bruises, the bandaids on my face, and many more wounds underneath my shirt.

You sighed. “I’m sorry. I hope they won’t attack you anymore. Always stay with me, they are scared of people who have a known name.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think it will do anything.”

“Just do as I say,” you repeated. I could see how sure you were from your face. You definitely didn’t see, as my face was facing the floor, but I smiled for the first time after you said that. Your desire of protecting me was honest. I was really happy that you cared for me.

When I came home, I had the time to think through what happened that day. As I was drinking a cup of water, I looked at myself in the reflection of the window, my fingers tracing my wounds and bruises, itching the dried blood on my nails. Where did that strength come from? I could have sworn they had taken every ounce of energy from me, I knew I had no will, no ambition, no desire to even talk back until today. And yet, I hurt him.

I felt good. It didn’t feel good to hurt him per se but to know I defended you. As to him, I should have killed him. But you stopped me. You shouldn’t have done that. He hurt you. That shabby gross fool tried to hurt you, how could he?!

I was so lucky to have caught you before it was late. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened to you if he succeeded—the bruises on your face, the blood on your face—you would have looked just like me. No, I couldn’t stand that. You didn’t deserve to go through the pain that I did, not after you defended me. Oh, if only I could lay my hand on those sinners, the pain I could inflict them, all the experiences that I felt inside my skin, into my very flesh.

I want to hear them scream. To beg for forgiveness. To regret their very existence. I want them to apologize to you, to offer their life…

Crack

I looked down at my hands. What a mess. I completely shattered the cup I was holding—bits of sharp glass everywhere, even some into my skin. The veins of my hand were bulging, I could feel the blood in my body flowing so fast and forcefully. The adrenaline was high in my brain.

I didn’t realize what I did until I heard the sudden noise.

It was true, just as you said. It wasn’t me. But why? This must have happened because I was thinking of you getting hurt… yes, it was your thought, just you. It was because of you. I didn’t want to see you hurt, you were my only hope in this world, just the thought sent a shock through my spine and into my head, and I would go crazy.

You made me like this.

Completely insane.

“Chaewon! What happened?” I heard Yujin calling me and I turned around to see her rushing out the hallway. Yujin was my roommate, we shared the rent because it was cheaper that way. She wasn’t a bad person, not at all. But she couldn’t understand my life, she lived between rich girls and handsome guys.

To be kind, you need to know what misery is. She was just nice.

“Oh, Kirin-chan,” I said.

“How did you break your glass?” she asked worryingly, grabbing a towel to clean my bloody hand of the bits of glass.

“My bad, I was standing up and it just slipped out of my hand.”

“Then how did it get all over your palm?”

“I slipped and fell right onto it, you know how clumsy I am.”

“Yeah,” she commented without much belief, “just like all the time you come home with bruises on your face.”

“It isn’t my fault if they don’t put warnings after cleaning the stairs.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she repeated. “Anyways, don’t forget to clean it up, I’ll go back to studying,” she ended, turning around and leaving the lounge to return to her prettier room.

I continued to stare at my hand.

I couldn’t help but think about you again… my head got foggy… my thoughts haunting…

What if they scarred you?

What if they bullied you?

What if girls broke your heart?

What if you were friends with the wrong people?

I knew I was crossing a line when those questions took form but it was too late and I didn’t even care anymore. It was a promise I made myself, to protect who I loved, and I swore I wouldn’t fail again. I would protect you forever, no matter what.

I feared that you’d run away from me but instead, we got way closer than before. When I walked into school the day after the incident, I was genuinely scared I wouldn’t have seen you—that you had stayed at home, that you changed class or even school. What worried me the most was the fact that you could have been scared of me.

I waited for you anxiously. I kept scratching my nails, rubbing my arms, looking around for you. So many times I got up and walked around the paths outside the school where I thought you’d usually walk, even if I didn’t know well what were your habits, and not finding you, I’d sit back at the wall and wait again.

After several minutes, you arrived at school. At the sight of you, my dizziness and worries faded away. I immediately ran at you and hugged you so tight, you had to know how much I missed you.

You were surprised, of course, you were. “Huh? What has gotten into you Chaewon?” you laughed jokingly.

“I just thought you wouldn’t come to school anymore,” I told you.

“Why would I do that? Today is a school day.”

“It’s okay, that’s perfect. I’m just so glad I can see you again.”

Part 3

The door opened to the locker room and I and the other trainees entered sitting down. They changed their clothes from casual streetwear to old clothes and gym wear. I’ve been training for a bit now, I got to know all the trainees well, there were a lot before but now they only remained half. The one that finished first started stretching. "It's one minute and a half. Let's do this," she sighed.

One of them threw to the other a white sheet with a name written on it and did the same with the others. "Here. Your name tags."

"That's it? Just a minute?" the girl chuckled.

"A minute and a half. Everyone does their part and it's a difficult choreography, don't you forget. It will be enough."

"It's for evaluation. Don't forget every detail counts," another girl added.

We went out of the room and made our way toward the practice room, each one with a name tag on it. The corridor leading to it was cold, probably because they just changed from thick to thin clothes, but it got hotter towards the end where the air got denser. One at a time, they entered bowing at the line of men sitting on the right of the mirror in front of the door.

Everyone had papers and a pen and a serious look plastered on their faces. After a couple of stretches, the girls got into position and the music started. They smiled and danced with their full capability and the judges looked sharp. When the music stopped they held their ending pose and went in a line waiting for their words. The air suddenly felt cold.

"There had been improvements on what we said the first time. But we can also fix others," the first said and the men nodded. They wrote on the paper and scribbled.

"You. When the others did their move you were coordinated and that's fine but you did it wrong. You need to raise your hand higher," he said making the move himself and the girl followed.

"Can you do the move a bit before the ending?" another one asked, gesturing his intention. "Yes, that one. Please get into the position and do it."

They did and when it came to the next section he spoke again, "One more time."

"Once more."

"Five...six.. seven... eight... an-"

"Okay," he said and got up walking to the center of the room. He demonstrated the move more and more times. "Don't tense your muscles too much when you do this alright?"

"But," the oldest got up, "you were all a lot better today, good job. Specially Soojin and Gaeul."

"That's it, goodbye," they said.

"Thank you!" the girls answered together.

BLAM. The oldest almost slips as he got out and the others held him up. The girls let out a muffled laugh, their mouths covered with their hands."See girls, don't tense your muscles too much or they won't work properly," the man chuckled. The judges left fast, embarrassed by their eldest and the group laughed in relief.

"Are we really doing this? They are not saying anything anymore."

The youngest looked at them from the ground, laid down breathing hard, and said, "We're close to debuting."

When everyone was done with their stuff and cleaned themselves they left. Almost all of them ran out to catch the last bus of the day or were just in a hurry. I, on the other hand, had to walk home so I did everything slower. When I got out, in the distance, I heard a group of girls around my age shouting and laughing. When they got closer, I realized they were my classmates, there were about four of them and they were drunk.

They noticed me.

"Look at you. It's late, pretty girls like you shouldn't stay out," one of them said and I frowned.

"Don't tell me. You were practicing?" she said laughing. The other three got in a semi-circle in front of me.

"It's a really difficult life isn't it, miss idol? Everybody wants you and you're here dancing until late," she mocked me, with her fingers under her eyes faking tears, and let out a hearty laugh. The choir followed with a carol of joy.

"It's sad really," she continued, "so popular but so tired."

She pushed me down on the ground and the group stepped back making more space for the two. She forcefully pulled my hair, forcing me to get up. The girl got closer and said, "And you're so pretty. It would be a shame if anything happened to this pretty face."

She slapped me. They laughed. They kicked me. I tried to defend myself, curling into a fetus position and protecting my head. They snickered as they continued wasting the effects of the alcohol on me. When they were finally satisfied, they got up and left me there on the side of the road and went away to the opposite way of where they came from.

I remained on the ground with tears on her face and sobbed trying not to make any noise, I wanted silence. However I heard their voices again, from the distance, and they were screaming.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the same girl as before squealed."We're girls, you think you can-." The group gasped.

"You're five and I'm one and you just beat that girl up. You think I care?" It was a male voice.

The girls ran away but the guy didn't try to chase them and walked to me.

"There's a convenience store nearby, we can get something cold for your face," he said with a soft tone. I recognized the voice and looked at him, I recognized his face too. It was you. My legs trembled a little as I held myself upon your shoulder for support. "It's fine, take your time," you said dusting my back.

At the shop, you bought a bag of frozen peas so I could put it on my face where it still hurts. "I ate those for dinner, they're great. I can use them for everything, look, you're using them too now," you said and I laughed. I calmed down a little and your face got more serious and worried.

"I told you. Starting from tomorrow I'll bring you home," you said.

"But it was only this time," I said.

"And the other four before."

"Kind of."

"Being there by 11:30 should be good."

"But you should sleep."

"I would just be studying, and either way, it's way better to have your company," you insisted, leaning down on the chair. A small smile formed on my face. Ever since that day, the two always walked home late at night even when it was freezing or when it was raining. We got way closer.

You grew up so well. Unfortunately, many girls seemed to notice you and fall for you. I don’t blame them, you were very charming, so attractive for such a young student but I couldn’t let them near you. They were fools, too stupid to realize they were nowhere close to your level, you were levels above and they were just insects. I had to make sure no one bothered you, to avoid you crying because some worthless bitch broke your heart.

I was surprised when you told me you got asked out. But then I felt my chest burn.

There’s only one thing that I can’t stand in this world and that’s people who think they can take what’s mine. I don’t care about gossip, jealousy or envy, I don’t have anyone to compete with, I just want what’s mine. And you are mine.

It was so easy to scare them away. All it took was a quick talk behind the school, a very convincing speech, a cutter to their throats…

They were scared of me. Good. You didn’t suspect anything—they’d still smile at me as if nothing happened, I made sure to tell them. I couldn’t let you know, to worry more than you already were.

The bullying had completely stopped towards me because you were always by my side defending me and eventually they all got the message. If you were just a crush before, now I love you. If I loved you, now I worship you. You’re my religion, my god, my purpose. I’ll kill for you, live for you, and I’ll love you forever. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. Whether that’s heaven, hell, or any other world. My very existence is embroidered into your name, I can’t exist without you.

Things were going great, so great. You only had eyes for me. Those two beautiful pupils could only look at me, at my face, at my body, only at me. I loved when you stared at me, I was yours after all, you could watch how much you wanted.

That was until those two eyes became one. You got a big bruise on your left eye, it was swollen, black, and horrible.

You were waiting for me near the big tree behind the school like you always did, and you talked to me like you always did, without worry or pain. “Hey, Chaewon,” you greeted me.

“What happened?!”

“Nothing, I just hurt myself,” you lied. How naive you were, you were too kind, too nice. I didn’t believe you one single bit. I wonder why you did that? Why did you lie to me? Was it to protect whoever did that to you? To protect who hurt you?

“Tell me. Tell me, who hurt you?” I asked you calmly.

“It’s really nothing Chae… I’m serious, I only hurt myself—”

“TELL ME WHO THE HELL HURT YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!” I asked again, the sudden increase in volume startled you and you backed away into the tree. I didn’t know at the time, and you’d tell me later, but my eyes were empty. You got scared, I apologize, I just couldn’t help it.

“Ch-Chaewon?” you stuttered.

When I realized you were terrified, I calmed down. “Huh? Oh, my bad, sorry… I was just really worried, but now, please tell me.” I shook my head and took a couple of steps back.

“Okay, I will tell you… it was Seojun,” you finally confessed. “I bumped into him and spilled his drink on his uniform. I apologized, but since I was alone and his ‘friends’ were with him, they thought they could get their revenge on me.”

“I see… let’s get you some ice for that eye for now,” I told you and we started to walk into the infirmary for the second time. I hated walking into that place, especially with you. I tried my best to hold it inside me, not to scare you again, but I was going to snap anytime soon.

“Chae, are you alright?” you asked me.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear… and it will okay from now on. You don’t have to worry about Seojun anymore.”

You know, people say that the first time is special, you never forget it. The first time I bathed my hands in the warm liquid that is human blood, my body was cold. I felt hesitation at first, but I knew I was doing it for you, and thinking about you, all that fear was gone. And I killed him.

Yes, it was me that killed Seojun. I don’t regret one bit what I’ve done to him. I made sure he suffered as much as he made you suffer. An eye for an eye, as they say.

That day was special, it was like I confessed to you and instead of a ring, I gave you a life. It was only fair you’d give me your life in return.

The murder of Seojun made headlines in the news and when asked about it, the students never said anything nor praised or acted sad at his death. No one missed him. It’s quite sad that life can be so insignificant that not a single person will care about how gruesome your death was and forget you the next day. To be quite honest, he deserved it. We die in the same way we live.

You were a bit suspicious of me at first. You didn’t really doubt me—you were curious. The news of his death was delivered by our professor during the first period with a sigh before continuing the lesson. The reactions were mixed but mostly towards one extreme: relief.

When a bad person dies, two things will happen: if you’re a good person or a victim, you will be happy; if you’re equally bad then you’ll be scared, because you know he already got what he deserved and nothing prevented you from having the same fate as nothing is stronger than luck.

You were both worried and glad. I’ve always noticed how you tend to care about other people, it’s something that I really love about you, you just have to direct toward the people who deserve it. “Hey, Chae, do you know anything about Seojun’s murder?” you asked me during the break. You were hesitant at first but I was sure you’ve thought about it long enough to decide to spill it.

You must have thought about what I said the other day: You don’t have to worry about Seojun anymore.

“Huh?” I raised my eyebrow at you. “Why would I have anything to do with his death?”

“W-well… you see… you said that I didn’t have to worry about him anymore and the next day… he dies.” Your shoulders were so tight almost as if you were trying to keep the words inside of you. Your gaze flitted around the room, never settling on one person or object for long.

“It must have been a coincidence,” I told you. “And karma.”

“Right,” you muttered. Then you relaxed your shoulders.

“By the way,” I changed the topic, “there is going to be the last test before the debut at Hybe.”

Your eyes changed completely, they brightened. Every time I talked about my dream, you always seemed too excited for me. You fully believed in my ambition and constantly encouraged me to keep trying. Whenever I practiced, I always thought of you.

I always think of you.

“That’s awesome, Chae. It’s your opportunity, you wanted to become an idol all this time.”

“I will start practicing right away then,” I said. “I want to be with you that day. Can you come with me?”

“What day will it be?”

“Next Saturday, 4:00 pm.”

“Next Saturday… 4:00 pm,” you repeated. “I’ll make sure to be there—I will be there, I will.”

“Thank you,” I smiled and hugged you. You were still a bit against the idea of hugging but slowly you were getting used to it. I trusted that you’ll eventually come to love it.

I had prepared about four songs for the test: two for my singing and two for my dancing, one of them was good for both. I decided to be very broad with my songs because if they asked for more, I’d be prepared. You never know. I didn’t want to go there and have them ask for a random song and fail horribly.

You were waiting for me in front of the building with a little bag of snacks. I mentioned all of them before to you and you remembered. Some of them were for when I’d finish the whole thing and some as a snack to calm my nerves.

Honestly, I felt like you were my boyfriend already. If anyone saw us together, they’d say the same thing. Every little thing you did was so full of attention, I knew you cared for me, and I loved you so much.

Anyways, the time came. I bid you goodbye and entered.

The test went terribly wrong.

You waited two hours for me, only for me to blow it all up. When I came out, I was so embarrassed, I didn’t want you to see me at all.

“So Chae, how was it?” you asked but I didn’t reply. It was hard to come up with any word at all. I couldn’t even look at you in the eyes.

“Chae?”

“Chaewon?”

You finally got enough at the third time and you grabbed my shoulder to shake and direct my gaze at you. “Chaewon, answer me please!” you said with an upset tone.

“Do you… do you think I’m a failure?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked back.

“Hey, am I a failure? Tell me. Were the guys right? I am not meant to be an idol after all, should I give up after all? Tell me, please!” I hiccuped and cried. I was truly heartbroken. It was the test per se but the fact that I disappointed you, that I wasted all your determination and belief you had in me.

“Chaewon, no…” you whispered and went for a hug. It was awkward, you didn’t know how to hug. You tried to put a hand on my shoulder and one on my hip, but it didn’t work. Then you tried to put both of them on my shoulder but you looked like you wanted to headbut me. On the third try, you succeeded and properly hugged me very tightly.

I buried my head into your chest, it was where I could really feel safe.

“Chaewon, what happened in there? How did it go?”

“I FAILED! I BLEW IT ALL UP! IT’S ALL GONE!” I yelled and gripped you harder.

“How is that possible? You’re perfect, I mean, you sing so beautifully and you’re beautiful,” you said. “You’ve been practicing… why? How?”

“I’m sorry it’s that I was so worried. I got distracted. I continued to ask myself if I’d fail and so on… I knew the lyrics but I got jittery and…”

“No, Chaewon! I told you to believe in yourself. You can do it. You can do it.”

“But—”

“You have talent, Chae,” you repeated, “and I’ve seen it since day one. You will not fail. You just have to try again.”

I was embarrassed to see if I could try again but you weren’t and you stormed inside the building, dragging me by arm to ask the staff if I could try again. You explained everything and even pleaded with them until they gave in.

This time, you were waiting for me outside the door. I knew I wouldn’t fail again.

Don’t think about anything else. Focus.

I sang the first song. Just like I practiced. Then I danced. It was perfect.

I passed. I was so happy and I just had to tell you. I ran outside but you weren’t there.

I searched everywhere until I understood you weren’t in the building and had to search for you outside. I found you in an alley, bloody and bruised.

I immediately called the ambulance and they rushed you to the hospital. Your condition was so bad they had to x-ray your whole body and do a small surgery.

When I found you, you could barely talk or even breathe. You were laying in a pool of blood, that came from the numerous cuts all over your body—they weren’t clean but all rough and jacked, meaning they came from brute force and not blades. Your clothes were also messed up and ripped. Together, I could count on 19 injuries at least. I couldn’t understand at all. Why would someone do that to you? And how did it happen?

Together with you was a bag with two drinks and a couple of sandwiches. I suppose you went outside to a convenience store to buy something, maybe for me, and then… you were attacked. This may have been premeditated, it’s impossible a group of people randomly hurt you that bad.

I couldn’t stop crying, you know?

To see you in those conditions, I could only think of the worse.

What if you’d never wake up again?

What if you’d be miserable for the rest of your life?

What if you died?

It was my fault. I’m sorry, it was totally my fault. It was because I took way too long in the test, chatting with the staff, seeing the other girls so happily, while you were being jumped… I could have protected you, we could have gone home together and this would have never happened.

The doctor called me. “Kim Chaewon?”

“Yes?” I raised my eyes. I saw him and wiped my tears before standing up and walking to him.

“Is he okay…?” I asked.

“He’s not in danger is what I can tell you. Some of his bones are broken and he has received a concussion, he may be asleep for a while, you see,” he said.

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, you can,” the doctor agreed, “this way…”

He guided me toward another floor of the hospital. You have been transferred from the emergency room to the patient’s rooms. You were in the section where more care was needed—the hallway was quieter, everyone walked slower, and everything was more gentle.

I entered your room slowly, holding myself up with a hand on the door frame and then I saw you. Your eyes were closed. Your whole body was covered in bandages and you were hooked to all sorts of machines with cables and cords everywhere. It was almost like seeing a puppet tied up in strings and they were keeping you alive.

I was scared to come close to you. I feared that any of my movements could have damaged you even more. You were so fragile at that moment.

I gently lowered myself to the chair next to your bed and held your hand. I cried. I cried again, so much. I couldn’t help but keep thinking it was my fault. If only I was quicker…

Some of your items were put in the drawer. I noticed your phone together with your wallet and backpack. The screen was cracked and some of the blood crusted into the cracks. I don’t know why I felt curious but I unlocked the screen—you trusted me enough to let me know your password months ago to check some messages while you were busy cooking—and it opened KakaoTalk. You were texting me and the phone memorized it.

Chae be careful the bullies might be after you

Don’t go in the shortcut at the

Oh, dear. You were on the brink of death and all you could think was to warn me, to protect me. You didn’t even think of calling for help. I understood everything. It was those bullies again… they didn’t forget, did they? It’s because their life turned to hell after they didn’t have anyone to bully anymore and they got revenge but attacking you.

I was angry. I was furious. I was so pissed that I unconsciously cracked your phone even more. It was that feeling again, all over—the fire in my chest.

I will kill them. Each one of the. I will make them suffer. I will tear them to shreds. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them.

I will make them pay for everything they have done for you.

They were so stupid. It was so easy to trick them: I attacked their leader when he was coming home late and forced him to send a message to everyone who was involved in your attack—he confessed right away when I showed him my knife.

The guys came on point the next day. It was all so easy. They always hung out at the abandoned warehouse where they could make all the mess they wanted and dragged their victims to torture them properly and in private. Now they were dragging themselves to their death.

I dressed in black that day. You never liked seeing me in black. People used to tell me I tried to stand out too much so they forced me to use torn, old, ugly clothes, but when they stopped tormenting me, you brought me to buy more clothes for me.

But that day I wasn’t dressing as the victim. I was in the guise of the Grim Reaper.

I prepared my knives, axes, clamps, nails, and staplers and waited for them in the building.

Humans are so easy to kill. They are so frail and mortal—I had to be extremely careful not to let them die immediately to cause them all the pain they deserved. I’ll spare you the details. You don’t have to know of the gruesome parts of their murder. I’ll just tell you everything they did to you and in their years of bullying, I did to them. From crowbars to knives, to fire and stabbing.

When the last one stopped screaming, I felt at peace. The silence was absolute. I couldn’t even hear the wind, the cars, or the noises of the city. It was completely quiet.

I finally avenged you.

Part 4

Disposing of the bodies was quite simple but extremely tiring. I had to chop their bodies to bits, bury them and hide all the evidence. I cleaned with bleach all my weapons, the floor, and the walls of the warehouse. I had to soil the floor since it was dirty before and I couldn’t leave a clean patch in there, it would have been a dead giveaway.

Of course, I had to get rid of all their phones. I broke them into little pieces before grinding them up to a bag of dust and flushing them down the toilet.

I got most of my weapons from around the city. I stole the knives from the school kitchen and returned them to them. I did the crime on a Friday night and finished in the evening of Saturday so they wouldn’t have noticed the disappearance of their tools. I bought the rest of the tools from a hardware store so I could have just put it in someone else’s garage.

I couldn’t burn my clothes or rags because that would have caught the attention of my neighbors or anyone nearby so I colored it with all sorts of paints so the blood would have been unrecognizable. If anyone analyzed them, it would look like they were of an artist. And then I disposed of them.

Burying the bodies was the most laborious part and I could only do it during the night. It took me both Saturday and sunday to get rid of all the evidence.

The next days were all marked by nightmares. I didn’t dream of what I did. What haunted me was you leaving me. I was afraid that my crime could have separated us.

Chaewon, you’re a monster.

I can’t be friends with a murderer.

I can’t love a killer.

I hate you.

I wish you died.

I was distressed and jittery during the day and couldn’t sleep at night. Many times I would get distracted in those thoughts, imagining all the things you could say to me, and not realize people calling me. I would often zone out and not hear anything else.

“Chaewon? Are you okay?” my classmates would tell me. I would snap out of my daze and realize most of them were looking at me then I’d realize I actually chipped a corner of the table off with my grip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” I could only say. They would continue with the day forgetting about it or just tell their friends excitedly about a classmate with a freakish strength.

It was especially hard when I was training with the other trainees but I told myself you wouldn’t be proud of me if I wasn’t doing my best and forced myself to dance.

On Monday, their disappearance was announced but nobody could find anything. Not a single trace. The secret was safe with me.

They also announced your attack but they didn’t connect the two events together, assuming you were also a victim. The attacks in this Korea were common anyways. Bullying was so widespread you could say it was part of our culture.

After a week. you were still asleep. The doctor concluded that they must have stomped your head too for you to be concussed that badly. They damaged the nerves.

Unfortunately, I knew only after I killed them. If I knew I would have done the same to them so they could feel the pain you felt but I guess cutting their limbs counts as nerve damage as well.

I was getting extremely impatient waiting for your awakening. The doctor couldn’t help me but it wasn’t their fault. I’ve only realized now how much I relied on you and those days without you were as sad as Halloween without candies.

When I woke up, I couldn’t tell if the Sun rose already or if it was still sunrise, it was timid, and the light cast a somber hue in the room. It was gray and pale. The soundscape was eerily quiet, the usual chirping birds seemed to have disappeared, as if even nature was mourning alongside me.

Walking through the corridors of the school, I felt like a solitary figure amidst a sea of faces. Conversations echoed around me, yet they seemed distant. The classrooms, usually alive with energy, felt suffocatingly silent.

I couldn’t help but notice how happy the other students went on with their days, completely ignoring what happened to you. Worst of all, some students even mocked you, saying you were a loser and you deserved it. My bloodthirst was beyond the roof. I had to hold myself back a lot not to commit other killings, reminding myself that I could have raised a case of a serial killer if I wasn’t careful enough.

I thought I had been sneaky enough not to raise any suspicion but I didn’t know the only person to find out would have been you.

I was in an alley near the hospital when I met one of those mean girls. They were badmouthing you and I had to make sure they wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t kill them, you don’t have to worry about that. I merely sent a message, a little punishment. I got one nail for each insult they said toward you. Poor them, they won’t have nails for months—I hope it hurts.

They ran away but when I turned around, I saw you. You were looking at me so horrified and disgusted.

“I had my suspicions, Chae…” you said. “The coincidence was too perfect. I woke up and saw the news, I knew it was you. And now, I’m sure.”

“You’re mistaken, dear,” I tried to say foolishly.

“Chae, I saw everything.” Your face morphed into an extreme melancholy, of disappointment and sadness. My face instead contorted into a horrified frown. You… my best and only friend, my love. You discovered my worse secret—I knew what the consequences were and I knew what the risks were.

“I mean, what are you even doing here? Weren’t you still sleeping?”

“I woke up this morning—I got discharged—and the doctor let me take a walk… and then I saw you.”

“Do you know what I did all of this, darling?” I asked, my nerves were so tense and my blood was pumping like crazy. I was getting more and more scared. There was a thread inside me that was being pulled and pulled…

“W-what is it?” you asked with hesitation.

“It’s because… I… I love you.”

I saw the shock on your face but I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I did it. I snapped. You found out and there was no turning back. You didn’t have a choice either.

“W-what? What are you saying?”

“Darling, don’t you get it? I love you so so so so so much. I love you so much—to the point I killed for you. Yes, I did kill them. I murdered them. I slaughtered them. I made them suffer, love, the way they made you suffer… Please! Please understand—I’m doing this because I love you.”

“Chae, you’re scaring me. Stop…”

“Oh, don’t be scared, my love. I would never harm you or kill you… I would only cherish you—in fact, I did all of this to protect you from those bastards! I love you with all of my heart.”

That fire inside of me took over again and this time I was already glued to you, my knee under your thigh, pinning you to the wall, a hand on your cheek and one near your waist. You couldn’t move at all, I wouldn’t let you. I was finally this close to you… your skin was so smooth and soft—just like you, my precious baby.

Maybe I was smiling a bit too much. You’d describe to me later that I looked psychotic, yes, I was crazy.

You didn’t know how to react. I admit, you were so cute—so vulnerable and fragile, just at my mercy. Yet, you dared to take and push my hand away from your face.

“Chae, I’m sorry,” you said and it almost broke my heart, “but I just… I-I- I don’t know…” you said.

“What aren’t you sure about? Is it my love? Is it not clear enough?” I asked. “I’ll do anything for you, just ask me.”

“Please stay away from me,” you replied, “for a while.”

“What are you saying, darling?”

“Chae… you’re my best friend and I understand why you did all of that. I do. But I need to think about it. Don’t worry, I won’t say this to anyone, no one at all, but I need to stay alone for a bit,” you pleaded, “I just recovered too.”

“Okay, fine,” I agreed. You were right. It was a bit too much for you, especially after you just woke up from that concrete hospital bed. Also, I knew I could trust you. You never betrayed me so that did not scare me.

You slowly backed away and left me, alone in the alley.

I don’t know why but I started laughing hysterically.

I thought I messed up a lot. That isn’t the way your lover should look at you, right? Terrified and pleading on the verge of tears. You should have looked at me lovingly. I was so scared you’d leave me and I couldn’t let you do that. I needed you too much.

But then you left me waiting for almost a month. I respected your choice and didn’t contact you at all but it’s been too long. I figured that knowing I killed tormented you so I didn’t touch anyone else but rather I kept it to simply threatening them verbally and that seemed to work.

You have to understand I couldn’t take it anymore. Looking at your pictures every night wasn’t enough. Listening to your voice from the vocal messages wasn’t enough. Smelling the shirts I stole from you wasn’t enough, and the smell was fading away. My imagination wasn’t enough, especially when I knew I could have you and I was just waiting for the right moment.

Then the right moment came. I sent you a message just to let you know, you couldn’t say no. I went right to your house, which I came over to many times already, and even your mother knew me. She let me inside with a smile, she was so kind. I knew where you got that virtue from.

I heard you running frantically around your room. You must have been dressing up, so I waited until you were done, knocked, and opened the door. Your room smelled just like I remembered it, it was so good, it was just you.

“It’s been a while, Chae,” you said, clearly nervous. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing terrible, honey,” I answered honestly and you gulped. “You know, I’ve been good to you. I waited and did nothing else. I did not kill or hurt anyone. I let you have your space, then why did you disappear for an entire month?”

“I kept thinking and reflecting on what happened…”

“For a month?” I was furious. “Did you try to make me forget you? Did you try to forget me?”

“It’s that… It has been a tough month,” you said. “My best friend murdered 6 people, or more… How could I go back to what we were before? You killed… humans.”

“So? They didn’t deserve to live anyways. I did it for you.”

“No, Chae—”

“They beat you up so badly you couldn’t even walk!” I snapped. “They badmouthed you, they laughed at you and… why are you defending them?!”

“Yes, but you took their lives.”

“They were going to take your life too! Don’t you get it?”

“Chae, please—”

“No! Shut up! I can’t take this anymore! I can’t forgive them. They’re always making fun of you, beating you up, torturing you—just because you’re my friend! But you keep shoving it away and get hurt for me… I- I…”

I hugged you. I had to hold onto something and you were the only one that could have helped me stand up. All those years… I was so pent up, I was so tired of it. I know you told me many times to let it be but I can’t. Sorry, I just can’t help it. I can’t let anyone walk away after they hurt you, even if it’s something as little as pinching you, because you mean too much to me.

“Darling, I love you!” I sobbed and pleaded onto your chest, bathed by my tears, “I missed you so much. If I don’t see you even for a day, it starts to hurt, you know? I’ll do anything to stay with you, anything! Just tell me! I want to see you every day, I can’t let you leave like this…”

“If it’s like this,” you started, “we can make a deal.”

“A-a deal? Really?”

“Yes, a deal. You can see me how much you want but absolutely no killing. No physical assault and no insults to anyone.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, you just have to restrain yourself.”

“Very well. Then, I promise, I will never kill again, I swear. Does that mean I can see you every day?” I asked. My tears finally stopped pouring out, the hiccup was still there, but I could focus and talk to you properly now. I took a deep breath and spoke, “Then you have to be my boyfriend from now on.”

“What did you just say?” you asked with confusion.

“You can’t say no. You are my boyfriend now. You know already, I told you so many times. I love you with all of myself.”

I knew you liked me a little already. I wasn’t sure if it was as strong as my love for you was, although I doubt it can, I knew you were interested in me. No one would stick with me for that long and no one would defend me from all those bullies. I knew you loved me, of course you did, you always took care of me since our first day and I couldn’t help but fall for you too.

I tried my best to change my appearance to suit your ideal type more. I dressed better, I dieted, I worked out, and I practiced so much that I wouldn’t disappoint you.

“Chae, are you sure? I’m just a regular guy and you’re an idol…”

“Don’t lie to yourself, honey. I wouldn’t give myself to just anyone. You never laughed about me, you believed in me when nobody else did, and you infected me with your kindness and humanity. You’re the best man I can ask for.”

“Thank you…”

“You’ll be my boyfriend and I’ll be your girlfriend, okay? Do you accept?”

“Uhm…”

“Do you accept?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Ma’am?” I laughed. “Don’t tell me you have some weird fetish going on… It’s okay. Just tell me, I won’t mind, hehe.”

Part 5

You have been very strict with me. The first thing you did was to establish a set of rules and all the punishment that would have resulted in breaking them. You’ve been very clear in defining them and made sure I understood you were very serious about it and would absolutely punish me if I dared to not respect them. They were something along the line of:

NO KILLING. The punishment is an instant break-up.

NO BODY HARM to anyone. The punishment is no contact for two weeks.

NO KIDNAPPING/STALKING/THREATENING other people. The punishment is no skin touching for a week.

RESPECT YOU. We’re together in this relationship and I have to listen to you.

TRUST YOU. You'll leave me if I don’t trust you when you tell me you aren’t cheating.

I accepted them and we started dating. Our relationship was as good as it was before but this time I got to be as clingy as I wanted, hugging you as much as I wanted, holding your hand wherever we went, and most of all you gave me a lot of head pats. You always gave me head pats to congratulate me when I did well in school or had a good performance.

It was difficult to respect those rules and you showed me how convinced you were of them when I broke the hand of a guy who shoved you against the lockers. You really ghosted me for two weeks without saying anything. When they ended I couldn’t help but jump on you and I promised to be more careful. Since then, I didn’t break any other rules and you showed me your love in so many ways, I lost count of them.

We learned a lot about each other and helped each other all the time. You helped me be more confident with my skills and get angry (but you told me I was cute when I got mad). You were always a bit discouraged with your work, giving up easily, and I made sure you knew how great you were. Just like me, school has really made you more insecure about yourself, but when we were together, we achieved a lot more.

Recently I discovered a hidden diary you used to keep under your bed, between the mattress and the frame. The last thing you wrote was months ago, way before the incident, and it was you rambling about me. ABOUT ME! And it was so adorable. “I have the biggest crush on my friend!” You wrote on the last page.

I stared at the words in a daze, it was like the words were screaming in my face. I was used to only obsessing over you and knowing you were going through the same thing warmed my heart.

You know, I’ve never believed in good endings, but with you, I think I finally found one where we are the protagonists. Our story is not like a fairy tale, it’s far from perfect, I am not a princess, nor could ever be one. However, you made me feel like one and I’m more than sure you’re my prince.

Sorry if I am always so obsessive and so imperfect, I just can’t help it.

THE END

Written, 7 June - 27 June 2023

#yandere #yanderekpop #yanderekpopgg #kpop #lesserafim #chaewon #chaewon yandere #angst

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