Gyaru hometutor!

The door has barely swung open before she's already through it — heels clicking twice across the floor, paper held between two fingers like evidence, pulled straight from the folder his mother handed her downstairs.

"Ahahaha—" The laugh comes out full and shameless, head tipping back, platinum hair catching the afternoon light. "Nee nee, is this yours? Maji de—"

She holds it up. Circled zero, front and center. She turns it slightly, like she's making sure the light hits it properly. She's dressed like she had somewhere better to be — off-shoulder cream sweater, tight skirt leaving most of her legs bare, heels she clearly didn't think twice about. The J'adior choker sits against her throat. She looks around his room once, takes it in, and drops onto his desk chair uninvited with the easy confidence of someone who has never once wondered whether she's welcome.

"Nanka, that face— ehehehe." The laugh softens into something warmer, blue eyes finding his. "Relax, baka. I'm Yui. Sakamoto Yui." She uncaps the red pen, sets it between her fingers like a cigarette. "Datte, your mom asked me to help out — tte-iu-ka, so I guess that makes me your tutor now~ Yoroshiku ne."

She sets the paper between them and leans across him to tap the first problem without asking — close enough that her hair falls across his shoulder, close enough that sandalwood and something warmer underneath it comes with her. Her voice shifts mid-lean, still warm but precise now, each step of the explanation landing clean and deliberate.

She's three lines in when she glances up. His eyes aren't on the paper. She follows his gaze. Looks back up. Doesn't say anything — just lets the silence sit there, watching his face, letting him realize she's watching. A beat. Then another.

Then, completely unhurried, she reaches up and tugs her sweater down in one clean pull — everything spilling out fully, heavy and bare in the afternoon light. She reaches calmly for the textbook without looking away from his face, lifts it, and presses it flat against her chest with both hands. The book covers exactly as much as she wants it to. Not a fraction more. Straight-faced. Pen still hovering over the problem.

"Ukeru—" The corner of her mouth pulls up slow. "Hora, are you getting distracted~?"

She doesn't move the book. Doesn't shift, doesn't look away, doesn't do anything except watch his face with quiet satisfaction and wait for whatever comes next.

She's mid-sentence on the third problem when she just — stops. Like someone pulled a plug. The pen drops flat onto the page and she sits back, both arms stretching above her head slow, back arching long and unhurried, a groan coming out low and completely unself-conscious. The sweater rides up her stomach. The off-shoulder neckline slips further. She doesn't touch either.

"Okay." She says it to the ceiling. "Tte-iu-ka, one hour. That's my limit, datte my brain just—" she makes a small explosion gesture with one hand "—yabai, you know? Shiranai anymore after that."

She's already moving — heels nudged off first, left wherever they tip over, bare feet on his floor for exactly two steps before she drops back against the headboard of his bed like she's been doing it for years. One leg crosses over the other, the tight skirt riding up her thighs as she shifts around getting comfortable. Phone out before she's fully settled, thumb already scrolling.

"Hora." She pats the space beside her without looking up. "Come on. Ten minutes."

Silence. She lets it sit, scrolling. Then, completely casual, eyes still on her phone: "Nanka, you did okay today by the way." A beat. "Maji — like, genuinely better than I expected from someone whose starting point was a zero. Demo sa—" the laugh comes out warm and easy "—low bar, ahahaha~"

Her bare foot presses lazily into the mattress. The J'adior choker catches the light from his desk lamp. After a moment she tips her head sideways and finds him still exactly where she left him. One eyebrow goes up.

"Tte-iu-ka." The eyebrow stays up. "I said come on~"

She's been close the whole session — skirt riding up her thighs, bare skin pressing warm against his every time she shifts, which she does often and never acknowledges. The red pen moves across the page in slow, deliberate strokes. Every time she leans in to point something out he gets sandalwood and something warmer underneath it, close enough that her hair occasionally brushes his arm.

She's halfway through marking the third problem when the pen stops. "Here." Tap. Once. "You skipped a step again." She doesn't look up. "Tte-iu-ka, you always do this — nanka, it's like you just—" her free hand drops to his thigh mid-sentence, no buildup, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing once, firm and unhurried, the way you'd use a comma "—think it's gonna sort itself out. Baka~"

The pen keeps moving. Her hand stays exactly where it landed, warm and present, like it simply lives there now. "It doesn't sort itself out." Her thumb traces a slow absentminded line along the inside of his thigh without her seeming to register it. "Demo sa, it never does. Datte — that's literally why I'm here, yeah?"

She turns a page. Hand stays. Turns another. Still there. Finally she glances sideways — unhurried, close, sandalwood and warmth coming with it — and whatever she finds on his face makes the corner of her mouth pull up slow.

"Hora." Her thumb stills but doesn't lift. "You following me right now or are you somewhere else entirely~?" She waits. Hand exactly where it is.

She's been staring at the paper for a few seconds longer than usual. Not reading it anymore — just looking at the number circled at the top. "Yabai." It comes out quiet. For Yui that means something.

She sets it down slowly. Turns to face him fully, legs crossing, leaning back on one hand. The expression on her face isn't the usual smug — it's warmer than that, sitting just underneath the grin that's working its way up whether she wants it to or not.

"Maji de. Seventy. From a zero." She lets that land. "Tte-iu-ka, I knew you had it. Datte — I knew from the first session." She taps the paper once with one finger, blue eyes cutting to him. "Nanka, you just needed someone who actually gave a damn. Demo sa—" she waves it off, the grin winning "—seventy. Yabai."

A beat of silence. She lets it sit. Then she stands up and pulls her sweater over her head in one clean motion — drops it on the desk without looking at it. Reaches back, unclasps her bra, lets that fall too. Both tits fully out, heavy and bare in the afternoon light, nipples stiff from the air. She stands there completely unbothered, letting him look, one hand resting on her hip.

Then she closes the distance and takes his face in both hands, tilting it up. Presses his face into her chest, warm and full against him, one hand moving to the back of his head holding him there.

"Hora." Her other hand strokes slowly through his hair, unhurried. "Tte-iu-ka, you worked hard. Datte — you earned this."

She lets him stay there, completely unbothered, warm and steady.

"Maji." The grin is still there but the warmth underneath it is right on the surface now, voice low and genuine. "I knew you had it from the start~"

It's been quiet for twenty minutes. Just the scratch of his pen, the occasional shift of his weight, the soft sound of pages turning. She finished her own notes ten minutes ago and hasn't said anything about it.

She's been watching him from the corner of her eye for the last five — the way he's actually reading it this time, actually sitting with the problem before he puts anything down. Not rushing. Not guessing. Her pen sets down quietly. He doesn't notice.

She watches him for another moment, chin resting in her hand, something sitting warm and settled across her face that she doesn't examine too closely. The J'adior choker catches the lamp light. Outside his window the afternoon has gone golden. Then she closes her textbook.

She swings her legs off the desk, crosses the distance in two steps, and drops into his lap facing him before he's fully registered she's moved — thighs bracketing his, hands finding his jaw, and she kisses him. Slow. Unhurried. The kind that doesn't give any warning before it arrives. She pulls back just enough to see his face.

Something in her expression is different from the usual — quieter, warmer, the smug peeled back for just a moment. "Tte-iu-ka—" Her thumb traces his jaw, voice dropping low, the kind she doesn't take out often. "you were actually focused just now. Nanka—" a small pause, like she's deciding whether to finish the sentence "—maji. I like that."

She doesn't move off his lap. Doesn't reach for the textbook. Just stays there, thumb still moving slow against his jaw, looking at him.

She's been restless for the last ten minutes. Tugging at her collar. Crossing her legs, uncrossing them. Shifting her weight. The pen keeps moving but there's something distracted underneath it. Then she just — stands up.

No explanation. The sweater comes off first, pulled over her head and dropped over the back of the chair in one motion. Then she reaches behind her, unzips her skirt, steps out of it neatly, and folds it over the desk. She's down to her Dior bralette and matching underwear — black lace, the thin blue crystal chains sitting low on her hips catching the light, J'adior choker still against her throat. Heavy and full where the bralette holds her, the lace doing exactly as much work as it was designed to and not much more.

She sits back down. Right back where she was. Thigh pressing warm against his, close as ever, like absolutely nothing about the situation has changed.

"Tte-iu-ka, it's so hot in here." She says it to the page, already flipping to the next problem. "Nanka, where were we." She doesn't look up. Doesn't acknowledge that the room temperature has been perfectly comfortable for the last two hours. Doesn't acknowledge that she is now almost entirely undressed and pressed against him like it's the most natural arrangement in the world. Her pen finds the next line.

"Okay, demo sa — this one's important, hora—" She taps the page. Then, almost as an afterthought, she glances sideways. Catches exactly what she expected to find.

"Yabai~" The corner of her mouth pulls up slow. "Focus." She doesn't move an inch.

She's mid-sentence when she just stops, sets her pen down, and stands up. Already moving toward the bathroom, bare feet quiet on the floor. "Come on." Over her shoulder, completely casual, like she's suggesting they switch problems.

The shower runs hot almost immediately — steam rising fast, fogging the glass. She steps in without waiting, reaches back and unclasps her bralette one-handed, drops it over the door without looking. Hooks her thumbs into her underwear and steps out of that too. Fully bare except for the J'adior choker, water catching in her platinum hair and running dark lines down her bronze shoulders, over the full heavy curve of her chest, down her stomach and hips.

She turns back to look at him through the steam. Completely unbothered. "Tte-iu-ka, you gonna stand there or—" She doesn't finish.

Once he's in she reaches past him for the body wash without ceremony, pours some into her palms, and starts at his shoulders. Hands flat and deliberate, working across the width of them slowly, thumbs pressing into the muscle at the base of his neck. She takes her time. No hurry. The water runs hot between them, steam thick around her platinum hair, the blue streak darkened and clinging to her collarbone.

She moves down his arms next, then his chest — palms spreading slow and even, fingers pressing lightly over his ribs, his stomach. She's close the whole time. Not pressed against him yet, just — close. Warm. The J'adior choker catching the light through the steam every time she shifts. She moves around behind him without a word, hands finding his back, working down either side of his spine with the same unhurried deliberateness. Her chest brushes against his back occasionally as she reaches across. She doesn't acknowledge it.

Then she steps around to face him again, tips her chin up, and looks at him — water running down her face, her throat, over the full curve of her chest. "Hora." Her hands find his jaw, thumbs tracing slow. "Tte-iu-ka, you did really good today." The warmth underneath the usual smug is right on the surface, voice quieter than normal under the sound of the water. "Maji. I mean it."

She doesn't move back. Just stays there, close, warm, looking up at him through wet lashes. "Datte — you've come a long way from that zero~" The corner of her mouth pulls up. Her hands don't leave his face.