hello! Please call me diva! im not new to tumblr but my old acc got deleted.
im 16, so im a minor! please keep this blog at least somewhat appropriate i dont mind some light nsfw on here tho. I also have a boyfriend so if you do msg me please remember that!
i love genshin impact alot and my fav character is columbina!! Currently need her weapon, shes C6 tho (took me a year of farming). some other fandoms from the top of my head are:
Genshin, Honkai str, Yan sim, Teentitans (Robstar), CLASS OF 09!!!! (big fan), girl from nowhere, Junji itto- Tomie, BSD, TJPW, Villians are destined to die, men of the harem, remarried empress, Miraculous.
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today was one of the hearths annual play nights which were held at least once a month on a calm evening. but tonight was a rather spontaneous decision. the day was actually reserved for a barbecue dinner until it started downpouring from heaven’s deepest contents, forcing everyone inside and the dinner to be postponed to next weeks. the children were rightfully disappointed in todays outcome, the barbecue dinners were one of the houses most beloved occasions. but their father was as prepared as always, setting up the table in the dining room with a few of their favorite board games such as onu, chess or- ponomoly. much to your husbands dismay, the majority voted for sir pantalones very own board game. she hated it with her guts. not because she was bad at it, quite the opposite actually but rather because-
„father-! étienne skipped a field again-!“
„i did not, you just need better glasses!“
„étienne. no insulting. just go back to your field and roll the dices again.“, if arlecchino had a nickel for any time she had to play referee tonight, she‘d have 23 nickels. and the game just started not even 15 minutes ago. the knave hated this game because the kids would jump at each others throat over every minor incident. she regretted making it an option the moment she put the game down on the table. but for someone who claims this game as the bane of here existence… she was of course a natural in it. finally her ten years of experience as harbinger were worth it but to not discourage the children, she refrained from going all out.
unlike you. it was looking fairly good for you with one train station and owning almost all of the expensive streets. you weren‘t showing even the slightest bit of mercy. collecting money left and right, what really ticked your husband off was the smug look you threw her when you held out your hand to her to collect the debt she owed you.
„pleasure doing the business with you, cherie…~“, she in fact, did not let go of that fake money. you had to tug it out of her grip. you really think she‘d let that slide?
save to say the remaining single train station were gambled into her possession over the next two rounds. and you were quick to realize that the head of the house was merely leaning back. she made no effort in hiding that mischievous smile tugging on the corner of her lips as she stripped the children of their streets, turn. by. turn.
it all came down to it once the owner of the two train stations, seline- a nine year old girl that was known for her scheming and her love for secrets- spoke up.
„father… you didn’t kiss miss [name] for the whole evening… are you mad at her?“, tilting her head as she worded her concerns, the dices slipped out of arles blackened hand.
these kids…
„mad? i have no reason to be in negative moods towards her, my dear child.“, watching the dices roll a total of seven, allowing her to move directly onto seline‘s train station, flashing you a small glance from the corner of her crimson eyes.
„then why don‘t just kiss her?“, now the white-haired head of the woman perked up to look at her daughter, as if a lightbulb just went on inside her head.
„seline my dear, how is that relevant to-“
„are you willing to give up your train station if we exchange a kiss?“
what on celestias green earth.
„…which one.“
„both.“
????
the heat creeping up into your cheeks was utterly embarrassing as the small girl handed over her train stations like she just won the biggest gamble in all of history. and your husband looked like she never made a better deal in her entire career when she caught your chin between her her fingers.
„n-now what about my opin-“, your sentence was cut off as she shushed you quietly while catching your lips in a featherlight kiss. and despite all the grudges you were against her in that moment, you still reciprocated. you will find a way to get back at her for that later.
with the children now swooning over their lovely parents, she slowly pulled back, her hand still not leaving your chin.
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not proofread. contains suggestive themes (making out, implied sex). mentions of alcohol intake. beidou and arlecchino are flirty w you. reader in arlecchino’s part is a playgirl lolz. crazy tension. incredibly intimate.
beidou always throws the best parties on campus.
everyone knows her—freshmen, juniors, seniors, exchange students, athletes—somehow they all know who she is. personally for you, you do know her name but you haven’t seen her since you transferred.
you’re in your senior years! (so was she) is teyvat university really that big for you to not see her at all while everyone around you is gushing over her almost every day?
so, that’s why you came up with a bucket list:
> find out who the famous beidou is <
and luckily for you, your friend yinxing happened to be invited to a party that beidou was hosting tonight. she said, “if you want to learn more about beidou, tonight’s your chance!” you looked at her like you couldn’t believe what she wants you to do right now, knowing you have an exam tomorrow.
can’t she just send you a picture of beidou? surely she has socials? you asked her this, only for her reply to be, “wait! don’t search her up just yet! you have to see her in person first i swear!”
you should really be studying right now for the love of archons! instead, you put on your best outfit, did your hair and makeup, and put on your best shoes. yinxin told you she’ll pick you up at your dorm. suddenly, as the time of the party got closer and closer, you were starting to feel nervous and excited about meeting the famous beidou.
“girl you look delish!” yinxin shouted as soon as you opened the door to the shotgun seat. you rolled your eyes teasingly at her. as if she wasn’t looking pretty herself!
on the way to the party, yinxin informed you it was a house party. there are a bunch of people mingling with each other—freshmen, juniors, seniors—you name it! trust that they’re all there. you can play games with them, but always remember to stay smart about everything because the dares usually ends up with one of them in your pants (so be careful!). there will also be alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages (obvi) but please drink wisely.
“got it?” she briefly looked at you from her side. she sensed you were nervous so she wanted to brief you about everything because beidou’s parties? not for the weak.
“yeah, i got it. thank you yin, you’re the best!” you pouted and clinged to her arm which earned a laugh from her.
beidou’s house was gigantic! like a ship meant to set sail around the world like they did in one piece. you were clearly overwhelmed, every room of the house was lit up and music from the inside boomed from the outside.
you were starting to feel like this was a bad idea, but you didn’t want to bother yinxin with the hassle of taking you back home. besides, you were already standing outside of the house. the only thing left to do was go inside.
the inside of her house was elegance mixed with masculinity. you couldn’t describe how it precisely looked like, but it felt cozy and rustic. without knowing who beidou is or what she looked like, you imagined her to be broad-shouldered and masculine, but still carries herself with femininity.
you held onto your imagined version of her as you scanned the room for any faces that matched it. yinxin held your hand and guided you to where the drinks were. she was also scanning the room, seemed like she’s looking for someone.
“who’re you looking for?” you decided to ask your pre-occupied friend while you get some drinks.
“hypothetically, if i were to leave you here, would you hate me?”
“uhmm..” you thought for a second, “..no? why? where are you going?” you handed her her drink and you took a sip of yours, waiting for your friend to respond. you had no problem with her leaving you alone. it’s a party! everyone’s supposed to be letting loose and do their own definitions of fun.
you just wanted to know where she was headed so you know where to find her just in case.
“juza. over there..” she pointed at the long couch where a man in jeans and a white sleeveless shirt sat. you knew juza, but you didn’t know your friend had a crush on him. she didn’t want to leave you at first, but you insisted. she mouthed a ‘thank you’ then marched her way to him.
now that you were left alone, you figured a little exploring can’t hurt. so from beidou’s home bar, you found your way roaming around like a lost puppy. you barely made it to the foot of the stairs before an arm slung itself casually around your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.
“there you are!”
a woman spoke with a low, velvety timbre that seemed permanently touched by amusement. you were supposed to feel scared considering you didn’t know who this woman was, but instead you felt.. butterflies?!
“do i.. know you?” you asked, unsure if you were being rude or not. maybe you had forgotten who she was?
“hmm..” she seemed to think, “i don’t know.. do you?”
you shook your head from side to side. she responded with a deep, quiet laugh, her breath ghosting across your ear as she leaned in. the closeness was enough to send warmth creeping into your cheeks.
“who knows? maybe it’s better that way.” she slipped her arm from your shoulders and gently turned you to face her. up close, she was even more striking. tall and effortlessly beautiful, she wore her dark brown hair loose, its glossy strands catching the colorful lights like silk as it covered her left eye.
you fake coughed when you caught yourself staring at her. “what do you need me for?” you decided to ask.
she shrugged, “been looking for someone to challenge me in beer pong.”
but you didn’t know anything about beer pong..
the woman in front of you seemed to have read your mind, “don’t worry! we’ll explain the rules if you’re up for it.”
how could you say no when she was looking at you like you were the most interesting person in the whole room. and that’s when it hit you—she’s a flirt. and you have to be careful as yinxin said.
you agreed. she told you to follow her in the game room, her friends already being there. the game room was spacious and held different kinds of table games and sports game balls. the owner of this house must be insanely rich, you thought to yourself.
the rules of beer pong were simple: sink the ball into your opponent’s cups, and they’d have to drink from the one you landed in. and the winner prize?
“i know a great prize for the winner!” the girl in braids spoke, eyeing each and every one of us for suspense. you were getting nervous because what if the prize was something crazy like a hundred dollars? what you didn’t know was that the prize was far more better than a hundred dollars.
“seven minutes in heaven with the host!” she screamed and everyone (except you) was riled up, saying that it was doable and a great idea. you weren’t a freak, of course not! but your plan presented itself to you without doing anything and you weren’t going to give up the chance of seeing this beidou character in person!
you weren’t really thinking about what happens behind closed doors playing seven minutes in heaven. you just wanted to win and finally get over the only item on bucket list.
long story short—you won. fair and square. the woman beside you looked at the final cup with the ball you threw so perfectly, it was floating on top.
your teammates cheered for you. their squeals were enough for you to look like it hurt your eardrums. one second you were happy, now you were beyond nervous when they all smirked at you and led you to a room that connected to the game room you were in. they told you to wait for your ‘prize’.
the room looked neat like it was well-kept and cleaned every single day. and somehow, that made your heart beat louder and faster than it already did.
the door suddenly opened and you were faced with.. hold on a minute—
“you’re beidou?!”
you couldn’t believe it. then, you remembered—broad-shouldered and masculine, but still carries herself with femininity.
shit.
“expecting someone else?” she laughed when she saw how surprised you looked.
“yes, actually. i didn’t know you were the famous beidou!”
“well..” she stepped closer to you after she locked the door behind her, “would you have preferred someone else?”
there she goes again! with her voice that was enough to make your panties fall down to your knees. not to mention she was wearing a black sleeveless shirt matching her red shorts—she looked absolutely beautiful. the kind of beautiful you only see on tv.
she leaned more—your faces were almost already touching. she smelled like a mix of alcohol and perfume. you closed your eyes bracing for the.. impact? you really didn’t know what was going to happen at the moment, but you thought it would be something like lips touching or something.
for a while, there were nothing but silence surrounding the room. then, she laughed and teasingly flicked your forehead. you opened your eyes and immediately got embarrassed. now you just look like a pervert, you thought.
“i don’t see you in parties often. this your first time?” she sat on the bed behind you and patted it urging you to sit down with her. you refused, suddenly becoming wary as you remembered your friend’s word about being smart.
“this isn’t my first time.”
beidou’s eyebrows arched upwards—like she didn’t believe a word you were telling her right now—but she nodded.
“do you know how seven minutes in heaven work?” she asked quizzically.
you hesitated, thinking of a lie to seem cool. but you went for the more honest answer you could think of.
“unfortunately, no..”
beidou laughed a bit, “how is it unfortunate?”
“i-it just sounds like a fun game..”
beidou explained to you how the game works. suddenly your teammates’ giggly reactions earlier made sense to you. you couldn’t help but hide your face in your palms in embarrassment.
“it’s alright if you don’t want to do anything! don’t worry, alright?”
well the thing was..
you actually wanted to do it. with her.
curiosity got the best of you and beidou could see it in your face as you looked at her, biting your lip.
beidou smirked, thought you looked cute.
“can we?” you asked for her permission.
“c’mere.”
that was all she had to say as you sat on her lap, then kissed her lips feverishly. her hands trailed on your hips, then your back, up to your neck as she deepened the kiss. she held you gently, like you were a piece of paper she didn’t want to crumple.
you broke the kiss to catch your breath. the room suddenly felt warmer and the next thing you knew, you were taking your shirt off leaving only your bra.
beidou couldn’t help but to stare at your perfect body. let’s be honest, everything about you was perfect in her eyes. it was the first time she felt like this and she couldn’t get enough of it—of you.
“you’re beautiful.” she said in a rather raspy voice, as she devoured your neck down to your collarbone, leaving marks on your soft skin.
(you left the party sore all over your body, hair disheveled, and a number on your arm beidou wrote with a pen nearby before letting you slip away from her grasp.)
arlecchino was hard to please. everyone knows that.
as a part of the university committee, she was booked and busy balancing her studies and her responsibilities as the senior representative.
she’s very particular when it comes to how she spends her time. and coming to the senior party held by yours truly seems like a waste of time.
you both knew each other. i mean, how could you not when you’re together in almost every single one of your minor classes?
however, even though arlecchino was cold and detached to everyone, you weren’t about to give up in making her come and enjoy your party.
a competition had been sweeping across campus for weeks:
WHO COULD THROW A PARTY WORTHY OF SENIOR REP ARLECCHINO’S TIME?
no one knew how it started, but before long, every club, organization, and social circle seemed determined to outdo the others, all chasing the same goal—to host the one party she’d actually enjoy.
arlecchino thought it was ridiculous. you thought it was challenging.
and you were never one to back down on a challenge. so, you gathered enough materials with the help of your friends and started decorating your house. and with the help of your friends in the university committee, you asked them to persuade the senior representative to go to your party.
it was a cold night and your guests were arriving in groups, one by one you greeted them with a smile on your face. the party was full of laughter, games, good music, and good food.
now, all you have to do is wait for her, determined to win and make her experience the best time of her life!
and just as you were about to refill your drink, the front door opened and it was arlecchino in a black leather jacket and black cargo pants.
she made her way to a single couch, easing into the seat and placed her motorcycle helmet on the nearby table before settling back.
the only issue was..
she looked absolutely bored.
“oh shit! isn’t that our senior rep?” your friend, yelan, whispered in your ear the moment she saw her.
“i win.” you looked at your friend with prideful eyes and winked. you knew this party would be a success! no one’s ever and i mean ever missed one of your parties. it was the talk of the town.
“not to burst your bubble or anything, but aren’t you supposed to make her have a good time? from the looks of it, she’ll probably slip out and go home once her friends are pre-occupied.”
you almost believed what yelan said when you saw arlecchino geting up in her seat. but you smiled when she left her leather jacket on the couch, claiming her seat.
“trust me, we’ll have fun.”
you wandered over to where she was sitting, picked up her jacket, and shrugged it on without a second thought, wearing it as if it were your own. spotting the drink another girl had given her moments earlier, you took a sip from the glass.
an unmistakably fake cough echoed beside you.
someone, apparently, wanted your attention.
your eyes glanced up, making immediate eye contact with a girl with white and black hair. she was leaning on the frame of the wall as she crossed her arms to her chest, somewhat amused at your sudden appearance on her seat.
“comfortable?” she asked, without sounding angry, though sounded sarcastic.
you leaned back on the couch, still staring at her. “i am.”
arlecchino knew of your reputation. the girl who likes to toy with people—a massive heartbreaker. there was one time she saw a girl crying in the bathroom because ‘(name) blocked me!’ or ‘i really love (name)! she said it was a one time thing and i just—’ (cue the loudest cry ever as her friends tried to calm her down).
ever since, she was always watching you. not in a creepy way, but in an observing manner. she knew you were a flirt—it was your forte. you were trouble and she didn’t want anything to do with you.
until today..
you were too pretty for your own good in her leather jacket, arlecchino didn’t even want to retrieve it back from you. this is bad, she thought. really really bad.
unfortunately, the same as you, arlecchino was competitive. she wasn’t going to be easily swayed by someone, especially not by a playgirl like you. she figured she’d have fun tonight for once.
a soft laugh escaped her as she slowly crouched in front of you, taking her time as her eyes swept over your borrowed outfit. “it fits you,” she murmured.
your breath hitched, suddenly all too aware of how close she was. “yeah?” you smirked, clearly getting excited about this—whatever this was for the both of you. “wanna know what else would fit me?”
your teasing earned a subtle clench of her jaw, accompanied by the ghost of a smile.
so that was your game?
well, she wasn’t about to back down. if you wanted to test her patience, she’d indulge you—for now. it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to be.
arlecchino was far from stupid. she knew you were doing this because of the challenge going around the campus, but just how far would you go to please her? she almost felt pride swelling in her chest—that you were doing all this for her.
“how about you show me?”
she wanted to see you flustered. but that’s not happening anytime soon because you were enjoying her presence, her banters, her flirting. oh archons..
you held her gaze for another moment before rising to your feet. she followed suit without a word.
“but there’s no thrill in that,” you protested with a playful pout.
the sight drew the faintest smile from her. she found you unbearably adorable, though she’d never admit it out loud. closing the distance, you slipped your arms around her neck. you could smell your perfume with how close you were to each other.
it felt like it was just you two. the rest of the party seemed to fade into the background.
for the briefest moment, you managed to catch her off guard. the surprise was subtle, gone before anyone else could have noticed. she composed herself quickly, her hand settling lightly at your waist.
“what if we played a game?” she asked, amusement softening her voice as she humored your little challenge.
“what game?”
“seven minutes in heaven.” she whispered in your ear, her voice laced with playfulness. you couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not.
“the arlecchino playing seven minutes in heaven with little me?”
“are you backing out on your own games?”
you let out a disbelieving scoff at the sheer seriousness of her expression. with a small tilt of your head, you reached up and traced your index finger from her jaw to the base of her throat, watching carefully for any reaction.
you felt the way she gulped softly when you reached her throat, making you chuckle.
“i wouldn’t want to disappoint..”
you took her to your bedroom.
arlecchino’s kisses were harsh—the kind you’ve never received from anyone before. you were used to always being the one who takes the initiative to these kinds of things. but with arlecchino? you didn’t stand a chance to take control.
and you liked it.
she cupped both of your cheeks with one hand as she kissed your lips relentlessly. her other hand reached for the hem of your outfit.
“don’t take it off.” she breathlessly referred to the leather jacket you took off.
“you like it on me that much?”
“i love it, (name)..”
(the next day both of your names spread like wildfire around campus. your previous hookups were mad as fuck, but neither of you cared when whatever was going on with you two became a weekly thing. oh and, she let you keep the leather jacket.)
﹫ ꒰ 16lohens ꒱ 𖣂 masterlist.
a/n: WHERE ARE THE BEIDOU AND ARLECCHINO GIRLIES ?!?! this one’s for the girls who likes girls 😚 happy pride month !!! 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️
18+ slight angst. meet footballer!gojo & his cheerleader fwb !
1. CHEERLEADERS ARE FOR CHEERING—NOT FONDLING!
“girl… isn’t that your man?”
your first mistake is letting your eyes follow shoko’s gaze to the bleachers. your second mistake is making eye contact with golden boy gojo satoru, still in his jersey & ‘hiding’ behind a skinny pole with a very annoyed geto suguru by his side.
you don’t bother correcting shoko. instead you ignore the grin satoru flashes you, taking out the water bottle between your lips with a pop! “is he supposed to be hiding?”
shoko shrugs, turns on her heel. “dunno, ask him. he’s clearly waiting.”
you roll your eyes with a sigh, but you’re already moving.
shoes clicking against the wood gym floor, skirt swishing between your thighs. gojo satoru has long come out of his hiding spot. he’s slumped against the pole now; hands in his pockets, grin lazy, blue eyes glimmering in the orange sun. beside him geto suguru is there, jaw tight in an expression that says he’d rather be anywhere but here.
you still have your bottle in hand when gojo reaches for your hips. “hi, baby…”
you barely murmur back a hi before he’s tugging you in by your skirt. his head dips to kiss your neck, then your cheek, then somewhere else your brain doesn’t register because his hands glide up to squeeze your ass cheeks underneath your skirt. a soft noise slips past your lips as he sucks on your neck.
“mm,” he murmurs, “missed you.”
geto clears his throat.
you let satoru do as he pleases, threading your hands through his hair as his hand dips between your inner thighs. he hums into your neck when you scratch his scalp. “suguru,” you breathe, “how’d you two even get here? coach toji’s gonna kill you guys.”
“kiss,” satoru interrupts. you tilt your head towards him, eyes still on suguru as gojo presses his lips to yours.
suguru’s face twists in disgust, but he doesn’t comment. “satoru bribed him. paid him a couple hundreds to see you for five minutes.”
“right—” your voice strains when gojo gropes your ass once again. “and you followed him because?”
geto is already looking away. “he bribed me too.”
you snort, but it turns into a shiver as satoru sucks on your earlobe. he hums, pleased, when your fingers tighten in his hair.
“mmh… got an away match,” he kisses your jaw. “wanted to see my girl first.”
you’re not his girl, you know you’ll never be, but you still laugh when he squeezes your waist & presses hurried kisses to your cheek. you shove him away & his grin is cocky.
“gonna score for you,” he tugs you back, dipping his head to your ear. “and then you’ll treat me, yeah?”
you hum when his arms snake around your hips once again.
“only if you score the winning goal.”
2. POST MATCH SEXCAPADES !
satoru comes back too late.
you’re not sure exactly why—maybe overtime, maybe the team stopped somewhere to celebrate their win—but you don’t let the thought plague you. you’re more concerned about the fact that it’s nearly evening & you can hear a ball kicking against the gym walls. you’re still in your cheer uniform, tiny skirt & sheer top, standing at the metal doors as you watch gojo dribble on his own.
he stops dribbling to catch his breath, wiping sweat off his chin. and then he’s off to sit at the bleachers, letting water slide down his neck as he chugs from a bottle.
you take it as your cue.
you have your hands behind your back, padding all slow, steps soft as you make your way to him. gojo keeps his bottle pressed to his lips but he sees it. how your skirt clings to your thighs. how your breasts ripple under the thin material. he lets out a low hum as you sit yourself on his lap.
you loop your hands around his neck. “hi.”
his lip tugs. “hi,”
he squeezes your waist as you press yourself into him. your tits smush against his chest, nipples hardening, and his fingers are already tracing the hem of your skirt & gliding up your thigh.
“how was the match?” you mumble.
“was good,” he mutters, but his thumb has already found your panties underneath your skirt. he rubs a slow circle over the bud. “you miss me?”
“no,” you sass, but he presses his thumb into your clit & your hips stutter. satoru laughs.
“i know what you like now,” he hums, left hand gliding up your side as the other rubs slow circles over your panties. “know it only takes a little.”
his thumb finds your nipple through your thin shirt. he rubs a circle over the pebbled peak, slow, but then he raises a brow. “no bra?”
you can’t respond. your breath hitches as your head falls into his shoulder.
“so cute,” he murmurs softly. he lets you press against him, leaving your panties to grope your heavy tits in his palm. he squeezes and fondles, pressing light kisses to your cheek as you make pretty noises in his ear. your hips buck into him.
“needy,” he scoffs, but his hands come up to guide your hips as you rut against him. he’s already hard and your panties are soaked thin and you let the material cling between your folds as your clit rubs against him. he flips up your skirt to find you drenched & slobbering. he bites his cheek.
“fuck, baby,” he rasps, sliding your panties over your aching cunt. you’re still humping him. “why’s your pussy so fucking wet?”
you only whimper as he presses his thumb to your sticky clit, rubbing hard circles over the bud. his other hand gropes your hip, guiding you faster over him. your breathing shudders as his thumb circles your clit faster and harder, until your hips are stuttering & he’s cupping your pussy so you cum in his palm.
you whimper, tears pricking at your lashes as you come down from your high. satoru kisses your cheek slow. “mmh, good job, baby.”
he’s still rubbing his palm over your pussy, massaging your warmth all slow & lazy. your eyes drop to his bulge, his cock practically twitching in his shorts. you reach a hand to glide over it, palming him so his hips twitch. he inhales sharply, “fuck—”
“not in my uniform,” he steals your hand, kissing your jaw. “gonna be a nightmare to clean.”
you glare at him through your lashes. “it’s already dirty, idiot.”
he laughs at your pretty face glaring up at him. your cheeks are still flushed, lashes wet, and your lips are in a frown but satoru swears you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. he folds his hand over yours and dips his head to kiss you warm & slow. you gasp as his tongue pushes in, a soft moan leaving your lips as his tongue grazes yours.
“another time,” he murmurs against your lips. “no pouting, yeah?”
you pout anyways, and satoru kisses it off.
3. NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND !
satoru is driving too fast.
his jaw is tight, knuckles white against the steering as you clutch your seatbelt beside him. your heart hammers against your ribs but the engine soon slows, his foot easing down on the breaks as the car comes to a stop at a traffic light.
today’s match went bad, really bad, so bad to the point that afterwards you’d tried to console him and he’d simply walked past. you try not to let it get to you. you know how men are when it comes to losing in sports.
but satoru’s breathing settles beside you, so you try once more.
“you played good today.”
silence.
"i know you're upset," you continue, voice soft. "but it's just one game, and you'll get them next time.”
silence again. his jaw only ticks, face illuminated by the traffic light’s red glow. the seconds seem to stretch into minutes, and you fumble with your skirt.
“you did your best,” you turn to him. “that’s all that matters—“
“can you stop?”
you freeze.
satoru doesn’t look at you. his fingers tap against the steering as he lowers his foot to the gas pedal. he’s not speeding anymore, but the silence stretches & you can feel a lump clawing at your throat.
you bite your lip. and satoru’s mad, yes, but he’s got no right to talk to you like that or take his anger out on you. so you suck in a breath, try to correct him. “i was only trying to help. you don’t have to take it out on me—“
“do you ever get tired of talking?”
“what?”
but satoru continues. “you always have something to say, don’t you? you’re not my fucking girlfriend. and i don’t need your fucking comfort.”
you blink. the words don’t register at first, but soon your throat is closing up, and you’re nodding obediently before you can think any better of it. your skirt bunches in your hands as you try to keep your breathing steady. god forbid you give him a reason to snap at you once again.
“you’re right,” you try for sass but it fails. “and i won’t act like it again.”
but satoru sees you through the rearview mirror. your eyes are on your lap, like you’re still trying to process what just happened, your thumbs fiddling with the hem of your skirt. satoru only swallows, glances away. if he ignores you long enough, you’ll be just fine, right?
your breath hitches beside him and he crumbles immediately.
he’s already pulling over, unbuckling his belt to reach over the console. “no baby, i’m sorry,” he pleads, and maybe he shouldn’t because it only makes tears fall from your eyes. “shh baby don’t cry, i’m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry.”
he smushes your face into his chest, carding his fingers through your hair. you try to push him away but he takes your hand and presses it to his chest.
“didn’t mean to snap at you,” his breathing is ragged as he cups your face. “don’t cry baby, you know i hate it when you cry.”
you sniffle as he swipes a thumb over your wet lashes. “then what are we?”
satoru doesn’t answer. instead he presses his lips to yours, slow and warm, head tilting to deepen the kiss. “you’re my girl,” kiss. “my baby,” kiss. “my everything,” kiss.
he doesn’t say my girlfriend. but he doesn’t need to, right?
footballer!gojo doesn’t do relationships. and cheerleaders like you don’t make good girlfriends anyway. so you swallow the lump growing in your throat & let him part open your thighs.
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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌹 love interest ꒱ . . . yandere ! lohen x female ! author ! reader
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌹 warnings ꒱ . . . blood/gore, descriptions of dead bodies, major character death, modern au, murder mystery, no one knows each other, stalking, yandere themes, delusional lohen, non/dub-con elements, sexual tension, degradation (kink?), suggestive themes, & more to be added!!
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌹 synopsis ꒱ . . . You’re an aspiring novelist on a cruise ship with big dreams of finally getting to publish your novel in Inazuma, home of Teyvat’s hugest publishing house. Everything was going so well for you until you and some other passengers wake up to find the captain, the staff, and all 290 guests dead! Now you’re trapped in a cruise forced to question your fellow passengers, a detective, a nun, a traveller, a bard, a toy salesman, a knight, an actress, a nurse, and a chef.
0.00 . . . PROLOUGE
0.01 . . . CHAPTER ONE
0.02 . . . CHAPTER TWO
0.03 . . . CHAPTER THREE
0.04 . . . CHAPTER FOUR
0.05 . . . CHAPTER FIVE
0.06 . . . CHAPTER SIX
chapters 2-6 coming soon !
❥ AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is kinda inspired by a book I read for summer reading in middle school called “The Westing Game.” I hated the way that book was executed, but the idea is pretty good.
sukuna was used to getting hit on. normally, he flat out rejects anyone that even makes an attempt to flirt with him. tonight he's taken you on one of your usual date nights, but imagine his surprise when the woman who approaches your table is hitting on you instead of him!
"ryo. ryo, ryo, ryo, i don't know what to get!" you pout, extending a leg underneath the table to graze your husband's calf as he grunts, brows pinched together in concentration as he stares down at the menu
"doesn't matter. i'm ordering half the stuff they have here anyway... you hungry for dessert too?" he questions, and you give him a deadpan look before he dramatically rolls his eyes, eliciting a giggle from you that has the corner of his mouth tipping upwards in a smirk
"fatty," he murmurs, and you make a point to dig the tip of your heel into his shoe, yet even through the pain, he maintains that annoying grin, and you shake your head with a laugh
the restaurant sukuna chose to take you out to tonight was located on the outer edges of the city near the water. your seating is overlooking the ocean, and you're not sure where you should stare—either at the lapping waves shimmering underneath the sparkling sun, or at your husband (an equally irresistible sight). he's wearing a tight black shirt with the first few buttons open, revealing the intricate details of his tattoos and the large expanse of his muscles and chest
a waitress eventually approaches your table. she's pretty—tall, lean, and wearing a dark red lipstick that suits her well—and you feel your heart sink a bit. you're sure she was staring at your table earlier, and you'd already assumed she was keeping an eye out on sukuna. almost subconsciously, you sit a little taller in your chair as she greets you two
"hello! i hope you guys are doing well. what can i get started?" she starts in an extra sweet voice, and you avoid her eyes and instead drum a single manicured finger against the table to distract yourself
you know you have nothing to feel insecure about, but anyone would feel a bit down if attractive women were constantly hitting on their husband, right?
without looking up, sukuna starts
"i'll have a plate of crab cakes, four fish tacos, one chicken marsala, one miso marinated black cob, two fettuccini pastas, one lobster ravioli, and one lava cake—and the center of it better not be undercooked. my wife doesn't like whenever it happens and i want her dessert to be nothing short of perfection." sukuna finishes, and the waitress looks genuinely distressed as she quickly jots down everything he said
"uhm, and all that is for just the two of you?" she questions hesitantly, and sukuna's gaze snaps up with a scowl
"yeah. and?"
you try to stifle your laughter as she quickly shakes her head with a smile, still writing everything down. your husband was... a bit of a big eater.
"no, no, i was just wondering— oh. did you say wife?" she frowns, and you try not to wince at twinge of disappointment in her voice
"if you were thinking i'm single, you're out of luck." sukuna states boldly, not bothering to give her any further attention as he folds up the menu and hands it to her
"uhm... i wasn't wondering about you. i was wondering about you." — and suddenly her gaze is pinned on you, and your eyes widen a fraction
"me?" you squeak in disbelief, and she smirks. it's cocky and slanted and it instantly reminds you of your husband's habit when he's teasing you, and you can't even try to hide the smile on your face as you cover it with your hand, caught off gaurd and embarrassed
"yes, you. you are beautiful. so, are you happily married to this guy, or just marri—"
"that's enough." sukuna stammers, and he looks genuinely mortified by the look of curiosity on your face. you giggle, shaking your head
"thank you... you're very beautiful too." you smile, and she actually blushes at your words, telling you she'll be out with your food soon as she walks back inside the restaurant with a lot more pep in her step than before
sukuna reaches over to pull your hand out of your lap and onto the table, and he adjusts your ring with furrowed brows as you giggle
"ryo—"
"i can't believe that woman's audacity—hitting on my wife! when i get home, i am writing the most deplorable review of this restaurant." he snaps as you let out a sudden laugh
"don't be silly, you big grump! she was nice," you smile, and he drags a hand down his face as if this was the worst day of his entire life.
sukuna wasn't used to women hitting on you. no man ever tried because all six feet of your husband was always looming behind you like a guard dog just waiting to rip someone's head off for looking at you too long, but he never suspected he had to look out for women too!
his brows are furrowed as he rubs a thumb over the diamond on your ring finger, and your gaze softens before you cradle his own larger hand in your own and press a kiss onto his knuckles. he blinks at you a few times before turning away with a huff, the tips of his ears a light shade of pink
"you're mine. you'll never indulge in anyone that tries anything with you, right?" he murmurs, still staring at your interlocked hands as you pout
"of course not." you promise gently, and he seems satisfied by your response as he holds your hand firmly in his own
after a moment of thought, he opens his mouth once again
"do you think we should make out to confirm our status for everyone else here?"
"Overseer..." You whisper with a hoarse and cracked voice as the blood vessels pop around your eyes while you strain them in anger hearing that damned title being uttered.
You hung your head back down to face them, your eyes tinted with golden blood as you stare at them with rage. "Say that again, and you'll get a taste of what the 'Overseer' can do." Your hoarse and wretched tone made the two on the other side of the bars take a step back.
Your eyes remain glaring at both Nahida and the Wanderer. After some time, you release the bars from your grasp and return to a lax state like before. "Good... Now, what else are you here for?" Your tone returned to its early cheery attitude like a robot getting its settings reset.
The two outside the bars step back, wary and trepidation on their feet from your uncanny and inhumane movements. "You... All those lives... every loop... you-" Nahida whispered as she tried to ease you enough to make you explain to her more only to be cut off with a glare that could split mountains like butter.
"Don't overstep your boundaries. The only reason I haven't snapped Teyvat to oblivion was because..." Your voice trails off, and your piercing gaze softens as you are reminded of when this world was once bright and colourful to you, how the grass and the wind felt like a breath of spring grazing your skin.
Wanderer notices your body softening, a moment of weakness compared to your eccentrically inhumane behaviour before, perhaps a chance to penetrate your cold exterior. But that plan was quickly put aside when you stood back up again. Although you were still a sulking figure, the aura you were emitting made you untouchable.
You heave a small sigh knowing the real reason why couldn't let go of this world aside from the joyful memories you made here. "... I am still human after all. If I destroy Teyvat, I will simply die along with it due to my mortality." Your soft whisper echoed across the dungeon as you stepped forward with your hand gently holding the bars of your cell.
"You merely caught a glance of the countless loops I've had. It doesn't hurt anymore, it's no different than waking up from yesterday and doing the same old routine." You spoke softly as you looked down on her, the space between had never felt so narrow as no one had ever wanted to hear you utter a word from your wretched existence as an imposter of their Divine Overseer.
"There's no point in helping me... In the many loops I've had, I've seen it all. From being an imposter, the Overseer, or simply an envoy of your Overseer... I died by the blade, against age, and illness. "No matter what sort of GOD I am, in this vessel, I am MORTAL."
Nahida and Wanderer eventually left the dungeon and met up with Zhongli who was impatiently waiting for their return — his brows furrowed with downturned lips — clearly dissatisfied with the young god holding up the imposter's execution with her interrogation. "Buer, I respect your place as an archon of the seven, but, why are you defending a traitor, an imposter who besmirches on our Divine Overseer's name!"
"No, they're not! They are the true Divine Overseer! And they have the means to prove it!" The Dendro Godd tries to defend your name only to be silenced when the sound of crackling lightning is heard flashing across the darkened sky before the Shogun makes her presence fill the air as the sound of her heels clacking the stone ground.
"Are you saying they are to be given a trial, Buer?"
tw - modern!au, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, nonconsensual touching, and stalking. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.
“I’ve been thinking about us, again.”
He was barely trying to whisper, his voice loud enough to earn several pointed looks from the people around you. You’d tried to put yourself at a distance from the rest of the class, to sit in a deserted corner of the near-empty lecture hall, but he wouldn’t have cared if you were in the first row. That was something you’d had to learn quickly about him – Kunikuzushi was shameless at the best of times, actively vitriolic at the worst. Your public humiliation wasn’t just a pleasant side-effect of his company, but an active goal he was striving towards during every minute you spent together.
“You don’t have to look so worried – if I was going to break up with you, you’d know.” You kept your eyes trained on the lecturer, your expression schooled to practiced disinterest, but his voice lulled like you’d broken into tears. You felt him shift that much closer to you – his thigh pressing into yours. “I just don’t think we spend enough time together. I know, I know, we’re both busy, but still. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
You were. Just last week, you’d spent two hours locked in your bedroom closet – lights off and knees pulled into your chest – because Kuni had somehow gotten your address and decided it would be a good use of his time to loiter on your doorstep and refuse to leave until you came out. You planned your day-to-day schedule meticulously to make sure it would never bleed into his, went out of your way not to have to go where you knew he would be, but there was only so much you could do to get away from someone willing to blow off his classes and skip work just to spend the better part of a day sending you candid pictures from one of his countless burner phones. You could only be thankful he was too caught up in his own delusions to ever let his obsession turn violent. Lashing out at you for never acknowledging whatever relationship he thought you were in would be akin to admitting you didn’t have a relationship at all, he would never do that.
He took up your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You tried, weakly, to pull away from him, but he only let out a breathy chuckle, his head soon resting on your shoulder. Compared to how he’d acted when you first met – standoffish, bristly, constantly on the verge of losing his temper – he was practically a touch-starved puppy, happy so long as he could sit in your lap and bask in your attention, positive or negative.
If only you’d ever wanted a pet.
“I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say it.” Another laugh, a playful squeeze to your hand. “I think we should move in together.”
You snapped in his direction, your knees jolting against the bottom of your desk and earning a few pointed glares. After mouthing a sheepish apology, you dug your nails into the back of his hand, keeping your voice as low as possible. “Kuni, I— I don’t think that’s—”
“Don’t think it’s practical?” Predictably, he cut you off. “I knew you’d say that. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to find the nerve to leave your apartment.” You felt his smile against the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck as he nuzzled against you. “I’ve already handled it. By the time that moron—“ He rolled his eyes towards your professor. “—shuts up, everything should be taken care of.”
You felt something heavy and sharp drop into the pit of your stomach. “But, you don’t have a key—”
“I made myself a key a couple weeks ago – got tired of waiting for you to offer. I love you, babe, but you’re too timid for your own good.” His grin, pressed the curve of your throat. “You can thank me later on, after I’ve shown you our new place.”
His hand fell to your thigh, just a touch too high not to trigger some buried, primal instinct inside of you. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate – bolting upward and tearing yourself away from him. Your chair scaped against the tile floor, your palms slamming against the desk, and in an instant, every pair of eyes in the lecture hall were on you. The professor scowled in your direction, his ire tangible. “Do you have something to say, (L/n)?”
You opened your mouth, but your mouth was dry, your throat suddenly swollen shut. Your gaze fell back to Kuni – his smile still wide and his eyes still so, so dark.
Wordlessly, you shook your head and collapsed back into your seat. As the lecture picked back up and all concentration was returned to the front of the rom, Kuni latched onto you once again, his hold twice as strong and twice as suffocating as it had been.
It was almost a comfort to know that, this time, there wasn’t anything you could do to get away from him.
The air in the private academy’s library tasted of old paper, expensive leather, and the suffocating arrogance of generational wealth.
To Rican, the world had never been a complex web of human emotion or shared struggle. It was a ladder where everything and everyone was either beneath his feet or hoisted above his head.
He, naturally, existed on the highest of the high.
Born with what he fondly referred to as the holy trinity of existence—attractiveness, charisma that border-lined on hypnotic, and an amount of money that could buy a small nation—he had never once encountered the concept of difficulty.
The word "struggle" was a foreign sequence of vowels that simply did not apply to his universe.
And it definitely didn't apply for school either, not when it was like his personal playground.
His father had personally financed entire sports complexes and academic clubs just to ensure Rican’s boredom was kept at bay.
Life was flawless, a golden path laid out before him, except for one tiny thing.
Romantic interest.
Women flung themselves at his feet daily, but a quick, meaningless hookup was all he could muster.
And of course Rican took it upon himself to make it a mission to find someone who could be more than a hookup. (someone who could MAYBE give him a high-five trust)
His first attempt at finding love had been an utter disaster. It ending within thirty seconds when the girl’s voice proved to be a fraction too shrill for his ears, causing him to walk away mid-sentence without a backward glance.
The second target had shown promise until he cast his eyes downward and noticed the scuffed, criminanal sight of her off-brand loafers.
The mere sight of such poverty had induced a physical wave of nausea, forcing him to cross her off his list immediately.
But of course Rican was nothing if not persistent. Third time's the charm, right?
That was when his gaze had drifted to the back of your head.
You were cute, undeniable, but Rican didn't just want a doll—he wanted a prize that felt worthy of his high status.
To test the waters, he had casually slipped a crisp bill into the teacher's palm, ensuring that the seating chart for the semester's most intensive research project was altered.
The investment paid off instantly. Over the first few days, he discovered you were genuinely funny, easy to talk to, and possessed a face that perfectly aligned with his exact aesthetic preferences.
You, however, viewed the entire arrangement through a lens of profound skepticism.
You weren't naive. You knew how wealthy boys functioned.
So of course, you expected him to be arrogant, you expected him to be detached, and you fully expected him to eventually try and pawn all the project's actual research off on you.
What you did not expect, under any circumstances, was the warp-speed at which his brain apparently operated.
By the third day of the project, the casual banter had completely vanished, replaced by an intense, suffocating focus that made your skin prickle.
He could scoot closer to you, and stare at you even when you weren't speaking. It was becoming to the point where you were more shocked if he wasn't staring into your soul.
It was all little things just added up to eachother, like him cleaning the eraser dust off your lap faster than you could or him paying for your bus ride home and even more money so you could buy some food. (You never mentioned how you take the bus)
Then came the fourth day, and with it, the absolute pinnacle of his delusion.
He slid a gourmet bento box across the table toward you—a daily ritual he had aggressively started since the first day of pairing up—before leaning forward on his elbows.
His face was a picture of serene, absolute certainty as he uttered the words that made your entire brain grind to a screeching halt.
"How much for you to date me?"
You immediately froze.
"What?"
You weren't opposed to the concept of financial security, and like anyone else, you enjoyed the idea of having money. But just the sheer audacity of someone trying to buy you like a piece of livestock was completely uncalled for.
He didn't even look ashamed. He just sat there in his expensive chair, a massive, triumphant grin spreading across his face as if he had just offered you the deal of a lifetime, entirely blind to the look of sheer confusion freezing your features.
"Yes, like to have you," Rican clarified effortlessly, his voice dripping with a casual nonchalance that only made the situation a hundred times worse.
He leaned in a bit closer, his eyes bright with a terrifyingly possessive spark. "Preferably forever, and chained wrist to wrist to me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" You looked around frantically, half-expecting a hidden camera crew to jump out from behind the fiction section, but there was nobody—just Rican and his completely unhinged, romantic delusions.
His smile only widened at your reaction, his head tilting to the side as he analyzed your expression with a creepy, clinical fascination.
"Your eyes look pretty, they're big right now," he mused, his voice dropping to a soft, delighted purr. "Is it because you're scared, or maybe excited? I really hope it's the second option."
"Rican, we've literally only known each other for like four days!" you hissed, leaning across the table to whisper-yell, desperately trying to keep your voice down so the librarian wouldn't wander over.
"What are you talking about? Dating? Where did that even come from?" You were genuinely baffled by the absolute lack of self-awareness.
How did rich people navigate the world so completely blind to the discomfort of others? How could he look at your pale, horrified face and see a green light for marriage proposals?
"Yeah, dating then marriage," he replied instantly, nodding his head as if he were explaining a very simple, chronological timeline to a child.
"Or we could just go straight to marriage and babies. But my tutor said it's more normal to become boyfriend and girlfriend first, so I'm trying to do it the traditional way."
You just stared at him. The sheer gravity of his insanity left you entirely speechless.
"I'll give you a weekly salary," he blurted out, misinterpreting your stunned silence as dissatisfaction with the terms.
You stared even more, your mouth slightly open, completely incapable of processing the words coming out of his mouth.
"Daily! Daily, instead?" he corrected frantically, his composure fracturing just a fraction as he leaned further over the table, his hands gripping the wood, desperate to seal the deal.
Your continued silence seemed to throw him into a spiral of panic, his mind incapable of understanding why a human being wouldn't immediately capitulate to the power of his wallet.
"Hourly?" he offered, his breath hitching.
"Every minute?" Rican pleaded, his voice dropping to a desperate, pathetic whine as he reached out, his fingers twitching with the urge to grab your hands.
"Please, I just need you."
eisnewisnshe any new requests yall omg this has been laying in my drafts for like more than 5 months
and also guys I'm kinda in writer's block idk so I'm sorry if this is bad !! I tried my best and hopefully next post is better !! <33
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⤷ TW: Dark psychological themes, sadistic & dominant reader, masochist & submissive yandere, stalking, harassment, physical violence, murder/homicide, and highly toxic family dynamic.
Everyone at school knew you were dangerous. You ruled the senior corridor with a cold and effortless control. For the past year, your absolute favorite target was the quiet, hollow-eyed boy who sat in the very back row.
Ren was a ghost to everyone else, but to you, he was the perfect outlet.
You didn't target him just because you were mean. At home, your life was a suffocating and clinical prison. Your high-achieving parents treated you like a trophy instead of a daughter. Every single dinner was a harsh interrogation about your grades, your college track, and your ranking. There was no affection in your house, only an agonizing pressure to dominate everyone around you. School became the only place where you actually had control. You believed that if you weren't the predator, you would quickly become the prey.
When your statistics grade started to slip at the beginning of the semester, you noticed him. His test scores were always flawless. You cornered him after class and threw a heavy stack of modules onto his desk, telling him to do them perfectly or he would regret it. He didn't try to fight back. He just took the papers with a lowered head and trembling hands.
But doing your homework quickly turned into carrying your school bag. Then it turned into paying for your lunch. Soon, your friends joined in on the fun, and the exploitation turned into physical humiliation. You started shoving him into lockers, knocking his books to the floor, and whispering cruelties into his ear just to watch him shake.
What you didn't know was that you weren't breaking him at all. You were feeding a monster.
Behind closed doors, Ren didn't hate the bruises or the dirt you left on his uniform. He lived for them. He was a textbook masochist who was completely addicted to your cruelty. Your anger was the only real and intense thing in his empty life.
For Ren, life was absolutely perfect. He didn't care about making friends or fitting in. All he cared about was the fact that your undivided, hyper-focused attention belonged entirely to him every single day. Even when you were yelling at him or pushing him out of your way, your eyes were on him, your hands were touching him, and your thoughts were consumed by him. He was your favorite project, and that was all he ever wanted.
Every night, he sat on his bedroom floor in the absolute dark. His room was a hidden sanctuary dedicated entirely to you. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling in printed photos of you. Some were screenshots he pulled from your social media profiles, but most were candid shots he took himself from the shadows. Photos of you frowning at your locker, tilting your head during quizzes, or laughing coldly with your friends.
He refused to wash the school blazers that your friends threw chalk at. Instead, he would run his fingers over the fabric, tracking the faint scent of your perfume mixed with the dust. He kept a meticulous journal where he logged the exact timestamps of every time you looked at him, the number of insults you used, and the precise force of your hands against his collarbone. He would sit in the quiet room and press his own thumbs into the fresh bruises you gave him, replaying your harsh voice over and over in his head until he was completely breathless.
But his obsession went much deeper. Every single time you forced him to do your homework, Ren secretly made two copies of every essay and worksheet. He kept your actual, handwritten rough drafts locked in a fireproof safe under his bed. He spent his nights staring at the curves of your handwriting, memorizing the exact way you crossed your T's and dotted your I's. He even stole a half-empty plastic water bottle you left behind on your desk, keeping it sealed on his nightstand like a prize. If you wore a hair tie that snapped during the day and threw it in the trash, Ren would wait until the classroom was empty just to fish it out of the bin. He wore that broken elastic band around his left wrist every single night, letting it dig into his skin while he lay awake beneath the rows of your pictures, completely consumed by you. You thought you were controlling him, but he was building an entire universe out of your garbage.
Yes, for Ren, life was absolutely perfect.
But then, she happened.
The new transfer girl arrived at the start of the month. She was a self-righteous junior who quickly noticed the dynamic between you and Ren. Mistaking Ren’s quiet, submissive behavior for pure, unadulterated agony, she developed a protective, bleeding-heart crush on him.
One afternoon, your group forced Ren to scrub the muddy classroom floor on his hands and knees. The transfer girl watched from the doorway, her knuckles turning white. She didn't confront you. Instead, she went straight to the principal’s office with a detailed written report and video evidence she had secretly recorded on her phone.
The fallout ruined everything. Because of the irrefutable proof, the administration had no choice. You and your friends were handed a mandatory, severe two-week suspension.
At home, your parents went completely ballistic. They stripped away your phone, locked you in your room to study, and treated you like an absolute disgrace to the family name. The psychological torment at home was grueling, but for Ren, those two weeks were a literal descent into hell.
The sudden, freezing deprivation of your cruelty drove him completely insane.
By the end of the two weeks, he had sent exactly 1,432 text messages, made 412 phone calls, and left 87 voicemails. At first, the texts seemed normal, almost formal, as if he was just trying to be a dutiful assistant.
> Day 1 (10:15 AM): I completed the statistics modules ahead of schedule. Please let me know where I should deliver them.
> Day 2 (4:30 PM): Your desk was empty today. I kept your notes organized. I hope everything is fine.
But as the days bled together and the silence from your end stretched out, the polite mask completely dissolved. The texts became frantic, unhinged, and desperate for any sign of life.
> Day 6 (2:14 AM): Why aren't you answering me? Did I do something wrong? Please tell me what I did wrong. I'll fix it.
> Day 9 (11:45 PM): I found the blue pen you lost last month. I've been holding it all day. My room is so quiet without your voice. It hurts. Please hurt me instead of staying quiet.
> Day 13 (3:22 AM): I'm outside. I can see your window. It's so dark. Please look out. Just look down at me. Throw something at me. Anything. I'm starving.
The voicemails were a grueling, pathetic display of his withdrawal. In the early ones, he sounded shaky and apologetic. But by the second week, they were recorded at ungodly hours of the night. You could hear the heavy pouring rain in the background and his ragged, hyperventilating breath against the microphone. He would sob quietly into the phone, his voice cracking into a desperate whisper. "Please," he would beg, his teeth literally chattering from the cold outside your building. "Please don't leave me alone. I'll let you do whatever you want. I'll let your friends beat me. Just come back to school. Just look at me. I'm nothing if you aren't looking at me."
While you were trapped at home, the transfer girl tried to comfort Ren at school, genuinely believing she had saved him.
"They're gone," she whispered warmly after class one day, reaching out to touch his arm. "You're safe now."
That touch was the final anchor snapping in Ren's mind. She hadn't saved him. She had stolen his god. She had taken away his pain, his reward, and his only reason for waking up in the morning.
The next evening, Ren followed the transfer girl after her club meeting. He cornered her in the damp, isolated basement of the old science building. The pathetic, cowering victim completely vanished. With a cold, expressionless face, Ren stepped out of the shadows. He didn't yell. He didn't hesitate. He systematically and brutally punished her with a heavy iron pipe, ensuring she was hospitalized in critical condition. When she finally woke up weeks later, she was so profoundly traumatized that she refused to speak a word, her family instantly transferring her to a school across the country out of sheer terror.
When your suspension finally ended, you walked back into the senior corridor with a cold, venomous fury. You assumed Ren was the one who had snitched on you. The second the lunch bell rang, you cornered him behind the sports equipment shed, ready to make him bleed for the hell your parents had put you through.
You slammed his heavy frame against the brick wall, pressing the sole of your shoe hard against his chest, right over his heart.
"You think you're clever, you pathetic piece of trash?" you spat, digging your heel in until he gasped. "You think because you got me suspended, I won't ruin the rest of your miserable life?"
You expected him to cry, to beg, to tremble. But as you looked down, your breath caught.
Ren's eyes were wide, bloodshot, and burning with a dark, glassy glint of absolute euphoria. His lips parted into a faint, trembling, manic smile. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving aggressively against the bottom of your shoe, his hands gripping your ankle—not to push you away, but to hold your foot securely against his ribs. He was practically vibrating with pleasure, completely intoxicated by the weight of your boot.
The realization hit you like a physical punch to the gut: He loves this. You aren't punishing him; you're rewarding him.
You didn't recoil in disgust. Instead, a slow, dark smirk spread across your face. You leaned in closer, pressure increasing against his ribs, watching his eyes widen even more with manic bliss. So, your little punching bag was a pervert. He was addicted to you. He needed your cruelty to survive.
And that gave you the ultimate power.
"You're disgusting," you whispered, your smirk widening as you intentionally pulled your foot back.
Ren’s manic smile instantly dropped into a look of sheer, frantic panic. "No... please," he choked out, dropping to his knees and reaching for the hem of your skirt. "Don't stop. I've been so good. I waited for you."
But you had already figured out how to truly torture him. If he wanted your cruelty, you were going to give him absolute nothingness.
The next morning, you walked right past Ren's desk in the back row. He was sitting up straight, his eyes wide and desperate, practically begging you to knock his papers over. You didn't even blink. You walked right past him and slammed your hand onto the desk of a normal, completely innocent boy named Leo.
"You," you said coldly, looking at the terrified boy. "Do my homework from now on. Give me your lunch money."
You took Leo's notebook. You focused all your intense, terrifying energy on another male student. You shoved Leo against the lockers, completely erasing Ren from your universe.
The sudden, brutal withdrawal of your attention completely fractured Ren's mind. He had to sit in the back row and watch you put your hands on another guy. He had to watch you give his pain, his punishment, and his bruises to someone else.
The jealousy was a violent, suffocating poison. Leo was stealing his girl. Leo was stealing his torment.
A few days later, you arrived early to school, but the atmosphere in the hallway was entirely different. It was dead silent. Police officers were stationed outside the sports equipment shed, and yellow crime scene tape was cordoning off the area.
The whispers hit you immediately. Leo was dead. He had been found early that morning inside the shed, his body completely broken, cold, and pooled in his own blood. It wasn't just a beating; it was an execution.
A cold, thrilling shiver ran down your spine. You didn't panic. Slowly, you turned your head and walked into the quiet classroom.
Ren was sitting there in his usual seat in the back row, surrounded by shadows. His uniform tie was missing, his white collar was stained with a few stray drops of dark, dried blood, and his knuckles were split completely wide open.
When you looked at him, he didn't cower. A wide, terrifyingly starved, unhinged grin split across his face. His bloodshot eyes locked onto yours, trembling with a manic, ecstatic hope. He was practically panting, waiting to see if his grand sacrifice would finally make you look at him again.
You stood by the doorway, looking from his blood-crusted hands up to his manic face. The police sirens wailed outside the window, but inside the classroom, the silence was suffocating.
Slowly, you walked right past Leo's empty, cursed desk. You stepped up to the very back row and stopped directly in front of Ren.
He looked up at you, his chest heaving aggressively. The pathetic, submissive act was completely gone. Before you could even open your mouth, he leaned forward, his voice a frantic, desperate whisper that trembled with a terrifying pride.
"I killed him," Ren confessed, his bloodshot eyes wide and unblinking. "I did it for you. He was taking my place. He was touching your hands, he was taking your anger... he was stealing the only things that belong to me. I had to erase him. I had to make sure you'd only look at me again. Punch me. Break my hands. Do whatever you want to me, please, just tell me I'm yours again—"
He was hyperventilating, completely spiraling into his unhinged, manic rant, begging for your violence like a starving animal.
You didn't raise your hand. You didn't yell.
Instead, a slow, dark smirk crawled onto your lips. You reached out, grabbed his stained collar, and pulled him up forcefully until his lips crashed against yours.
Ren instantly froze. His entire body went completely rigid, his eyes widening in absolute, paralyzing shock. The violent monster who had just committed an execution was suddenly breathless, completely shattered by the unexpected warmth of your mouth. It wasn't a sweet kiss; it was dominant, bruising, and a reminder of exactly who owned who. You bit his lower lip just hard enough to make him whimper, effectively choking the manic words right out of his throat and shutting him up entirely.
When you finally pulled back, Ren was trembling violently, his face flushed a deep, frantic crimson, a single thread of saliva and blood connecting your lips. He looked completely ruined, entirely brought to his knees by a single touch.
You let go of his collar, pushing him back slightly. You adjusted the strap of your school bag, your cruel smirk never fading as you looked down at him.
"Clean your hands and change your clothes," you commanded coldly, your voice dripping with absolute authority. "Then do my statistics modules. If there's a single mistake, I'll make you bleed."
Ren let out a ragged, whimpering gasp of pure, euphoric submission. He nodded frantically, his eyes tearing up as he gripped the edges of his desk, entirely and helplessly your slave.
