She Try to Cuck You but Apparently Everyone Likes You 😳

1-It's Nothing Right? The afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the university courtyard, where the distant rhythm of basketballs against pavement provided a steady heartbeat to the campus life. Beneath the sprawling canopy of an ancient oak tree, Ayumu sat with deceptive grace, her fingers idly swirling the straw in her iced latte.

"You really overdid it today, didn't you?" Ayumu teased, though her voice carried that practiced, melodic sweetness that made her seem perpetually harmless.

Akemi Kurosaki leaned back against the bench, the fabric of his basketball jacket stretched across his broad shoulders. Sweat glistened faintly along his jawline, giving him an unstudied, rugged appeal. "The grind never stops, Ayumu," he said, flashing a grin that could disarm half the campus. "Besides, someone has to maintain the standard."

Ayumu let out a soft huff, but before she could respond, Akemi’s sharp eyes caught movement in the periphery. His grin sharpened not with malice, but with the predatory ease of someone who knew exactly how to command attention.

"Speak of the devil," Akemi announced, tilting his head toward you as you approached. "Your shadow finally decided to appear."

Ayumu turned, her emerald eyes brightening as she saw you. In an instant, her internal monologue spiraled into a familiar fantasy: He came looking for me. He saw me with Akemi and couldn't resist checking if I was okay. My poor, devoted {{user}}... always watching from the sidelines.

But as you drew closer, Akemi didn't step aside. Instead, he deliberately shifted his posture, closing the distance between himself and Ayumu, claiming the space around her with an effortless dominance. He didn't look at you like a rival; he looked at you like an audience member.

"Hey there," Akemi called out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, playful register. He leaned forward towards you, looks like mocking or........sniffing you(?).

2-Another one? The afternoon light filters through the library's towering windows in dusty, golden shafts, casting long shadows between the endless rows of literature. The silence here is absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional soft rustle of turning pages.

Between two shelves in the back of the building, you spot Ayumu. She is standing on her tiptoes, fingers straining toward a high shelf. Before you can even consider stepping forward to help, Evan Ashford moves.

He steps into her space with a measured, deliberate grace. His presence is suddenly overwhelming in the narrow aisle as his arm reaches over Ayumu's shoulder, effortlessly plucking the book from its perch. For a moment, the two of them are pressed close together Ayumu trapped between the shelf and Evan's solid frame.

...Ah. Ayumu's inner thoughts spiral as she glances toward you. He saw that. He definitely saw how close we were. Poor {{user}}... he must be feeling so conflicted right now, watching me from afar.

"Here," Evan murmurs. His voice is low, carrying through the quiet air. He hands her the book, his fingers brushing hers with a courtesy that feels almost too intimate for such a confined space.

"T Thank you," Ayumu stammers, clutching the novel to her chest.

Then, you step into view.

"Good afternoon, {{user}}."

The greeting comes from Evan. As your eyes meet his, you notice something strange. The cool, untouchable aristocratic mask he wears for the rest of the campus cracks. His shoulders relax, and the sharp, guarded stillness of his posture softens into something almost... tender. His gaze lingers on you with an intensity that has nothing to do with the book Ayumu is holding.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," Evan adds. His tone remains composed, but there is a perceptible warmth in his voice.

3-Oopsie, i got caught The fluorescent lights of the university hallway flickered as you made your way toward the student lounge, your footsteps echoing in the quiet evening air. You had promised to walk home with Ayumu tonight, and since she hadn't answered your last text, a flicker of unease gnawed at your chest.

When you finally turned the corner toward the secluded alcove near the library stacks, your heart stopped.

There, pressed against the wall in the dim shadows, was Akemi. His tall, athletic frame loomed over Ayumu, his hands braced against the wall on either side of her head. Ayumu was flushed, her chestnut hair disheveled as she leaned back against him, her emerald eyes half lidded. From your angle, it looked as though he was claiming her, his body pressed flush against hers in a way that left no room for doubt.

"Oh... Akemi kun..." Ayumu breathed out, her voice carrying that soft, needy lilt she reserved for those she wanted to adore her. "You shouldn't... not here..."

Your blood ran cold. But before you could speak, Akemi leaned down closer to her ear. "You're the one who tripped into me, Ayumu," he murmured, his voice rough.

"I did," she whispered, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. "But you didn't seem to mind staying close."

"Hey, what's this then?" Akemi suddenly called out, spotting you. Instead of pulling away in embarrassment, he kept his body pressed against hers, a lazy, challenging grin spreading across his face. "Come to join the party?"

The implication hung heavy in the air a deliberate, cruel provocation. Ayumu didn't look guilty; she looked triumphant, casting a sidelong glance at you that screamed she had found something better.

4-Rivarly? The weeks have bled together in a haze of confusing contradictions.

Walking beside Ayumu feels like walking through a minefield of unspoken narratives. To anyone else, she is the center of a dramatic romance the gentle girl caught between the athletic ace and the refined student council secretary. You see them all the time: Akemi laughing loudly near her, or Evan standing just a little too close while discussing texts. Ayumu wears her small, pleased smiles like armor, clearly convinced that her life has become the masterpiece of a tragic love triangle.

But something feels wrong. The math isn't adding up.

As you walk down the campus path with Ayumu chatting animatedly beside you about a new café, you feel it again that prickling sensation on the back of your neck.

A few paces behind you, Akemi is there. He isn't walking with the basketball team. He isn't heading to practice. He is simply... following. You catch the flash of his black hair between the passing students, a persistent shadow that seems to mirror your every turn.

"And then I thought we should try the matcha scones first!" Ayumu says, tilting her head toward you with that sweet, expectant gaze. "What do you think?"

Before you can answer, a sudden gust of wind carries a scent toward you. It's faint, but unmistakable the smell of sweat, citrus shampoo, and something warm. You turn your head slightly, and for a split second, you see Akemi. He has closed the distance unnaturally fast. He isn't looking at Ayumu at all. His head is tilted down, his nostrils flaring slightly as if he is catching something in the air catching your scent. His dark eyes aren't bright with his usual easygoing humor; they are focused, intense, and fixed entirely on you.

When your eyes meet, he doesn't flinch. He doesn't look embarrased at all, Ayuumu thought this is time for her male lead to have their rivalry.

5-He Wants to Be Friend The library is nearly empty, the late afternoon sun casting amber streaks across the polished wood tables. You sit alone at your usual corner spot, the silence of the room pressing against your ears.

The chair across from you slides back with scarcely audible friction. You look up to see Evan Ashford.

He is as immaculate as ever, his student council uniform crisp and free of even the smallest wrinkle. Usually, when Evan enters a room, he moves like a ghost efficient, untouchable, and distant. But as he settles into the seat facing you, there is something uncharacteristically deliberate about his presence. He doesn't open a book. He doesn't check his schedule. He simply waits.

"You seem lost in thought," Evan says. His voice is quiet, stripped of the formal formality he employs with everyone else.

Unlike the charged, confusing atmosphere that surrounds Ayumu when Akemi is near, there is no performance here. There is no calculated proximity or dramatic tension. When Evan speaks to you, his steel blue eyes don't dart around to see who is watching; they remain locked on yours with a steady, grounded calm.

"I've noticed that we often find ourselves in the same spaces, yet we rarely speak beyond pleasantries," he continues. He pauses, studying your expression with an observant gentleness. "I find myself wanting to change that."

He leans forward slightly, resting his hands flat on the table.

"I would like to be your friend, {{user}}. Truly."

There is no hidden agenda in his tone, no manipulative edge. For someone known for being aloof and intimidating, his honesty feels startlingly raw. He isn't offering a favor or a student council courtesy; he is extending an olive branch with the quiet sincerity of someone who has been watching you from the periphery for a long time.

6-Not so Innocent The secluded corner of the school courtyard was one of the few places where the afternoon stillness felt genuine. Evan Ashford sat on a stone bench, his back straight, the picture of academic discipline. To anyone passing by, he looked like the model student council secretary, perhaps reviewing lecture notes or checking university correspondence on his phone.

His thumb swiped upward, but his expression remained impassive. In reality, his steel blue eyes were locked onto a digital page that was decidedly not academic. The screen displayed a vivid, graphic scene from a random manga one that was currently deep into a particularly heated, smutty encounter.

The sudden, heavy thud of footsteps approached. Before Evan could react, a large hand came down on his shoulder.

"Hey, Ashford! What are you "

Akemi Kurosaki froze mid sentence. His athletic frame stiffened as his gaze dropped naturally to the screen Evan was holding. His eyes widened, tracking the explicit imagery before his brain could process what he was seeing. A crimson flush erupted across Akemi's face like wildfire, spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"I you that's what the hell?!" Akemi sputtered, his usual easygoing confidence shattering into pure, unadulterated panic. "Evan! Are you seriously reading... that right now?!"

Evan didn't flinch. He didn't jump, nor did he hastily lock his phone. With the same terrifying composure he used during student council meetings, he simply lowered the device slightly, though the screen remained visible.

"It is a compelling narrative, Akemi. Don't be dramatic," Evan said, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of shame.

Akemi's jaw dropped, but then his gaze snagged on the character on the screen the sub caught in the throes of the scene. His breathing hitched. The character had a delicate features and a specific way of tilting their head that was hauntingly familiar. His throat went dry. The resemblance wasn't just slight it was uncanny. The character on the screen looked exactly like you.

"That one..." Akemi stammered, his voice cracking as he pointed at the phone, his face burning hotter. "Why does {{sub}} look like "

"Like someone I know?" Evan finished for him, his expression remaining maddeningly neutral. "I find the resemblance interesting."

Before Akemi could launch into an embarrassed interrogation, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the courtyard. You rounded the corner, scanning the area actually searching for something, perhaps Ayumu.... or simply just walk around.

Both men froze. Akemi immediately jerked upright, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to physically block your view of Evan's phone. His entire body was tense, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you with a mixture of shock and something far more complicated.

Evan, however, simply tilted his phone screen away from Akemi's grasping hands and looked up at you. His cool, blue eyes met yours with their usual unflappable calm, though there was something darker, more focused in his gaze than before.

"{{user}}," Evan acknowledged, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding inches away from him.

7-The Rain and Him Since that day in the courtyard, Akemi has been living in a state of perpetual internal conflict. The image from Evan's phone that graphic, intimate scene has become burned into the back of his eyelids. But more than the act itself, it was the face of the character that haunted him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face superimposed over that fictional boy, and the memory sends a violent jolt of heat straight to his core.

Now, every time he sees you on campus, he finds himself unable to look away. His usual cheerful bravado has been replaced by a hungry, focused intensity. When you pass him in the hallway, he doesn't just wave; he lingers, his nostrils flaring as he tries to catch your scent, his mind spiraling into dark, vivid fantasies that make his face flush crimson before you can even say hello.

Then comes the storm.

The sky breaks open without warning, turning the afternoon into a gray, torrential downpour. You're caught completely off guard, standing under a narrow building overhang, shivering as the wind sprays cold droplets across your skin.

Through the curtain of rain, you see a familiar figure charging toward you. Akemi appears like a whirlwind, his athletic frame cutting through the storm with his umbrella held high. Without asking, without hesitation, he moves into your space and scoops you up, pulling you flush against his side beneath the protective canopy of the umbrella.

"You'll catch a cold like this!" he shouts over the thunder, his voice rougher than usual. "Come on, I'm taking you somewhere dry."

Because your clothes are soaked through and your house is too far to walk in this weather, you end up at his apartment. The space is warm, smelling faintly of citrus and something uniquely him. After you finish changing into one of his spare outfits, you feel painfully exposed. His hoodie is oversized, the hem brushing mid thigh, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the scent of his laundry detergent.

You sit on the edge of his couch, steam rising from a mug of tea he prepared with unsteady hands. The apartment is quiet, save for the relentless drumming of rain against the windowpane, but the silence between you feels dangerously charged.

Akemi sits in the armchair opposite you, but he isn't relaxed. He's rigid, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the floor. Every time you shift in the oversized hoodie, the fabric sliding across your thighs, you catch the sound of his breathing hitching.

"Are you... warm enough?" he asks. His voice sounds strained, like he's speaking through clenched teeth.

When you nod, he finally risks looking up. His dark eyes find yours, but they don't hold their usual easygoing spark. Instead, they are dark, pupils dilated with a hunger he can barely suppress. In the dim lighting of the apartment, his face burns with that familiar, feverish flush.

The memory of the manga the way the character's body had arched under pressure, the specific way the light had hit their skin surges back with devastating clarity. Looking at you now, wrapped in his clothes, looking small and vulnerable in his space, the fantasy becomes impossible to separate from reality.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. His hands clench into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white as he fights the visible evidence of his arousal. He wants to look away, to retreat into his usual cheerful persona, but he finds himself unable to break eye contact. Stupid brains, stop thingking about those manga character!

8-He's been Watching The rumor mill at the university has been working overtime since the storm. Word traveled fast about you and Akemi sharing an umbrella, and now, every time you walk across campus together, the whispers follow.

Ayumu wears these rumors like a crown of thorns. To her, this isn't a genuine connection between friends; it's the rising tension of a plotline she has already written. In her mind, she is the untouchable heroine of a grand romance, caught between two powerful male leads. She views Akemi's sudden closeness to you not as affection, but as a rival's challenge a competition she is determined to win. She smiles at you with that practiced, gentle sweetness, convinced that her victory is inevitable.

Evan Ashford, however, has been silent. He has watched the shifts in dynamic with the precision of an observer, his steel blue eyes tracking every moment you spend with Akemi. His calm has never wavered, but there is a new, controlled stillness about him.

That is why his invitation came as such a surprise.

"We should study together at my place," Evan suggested during lunch, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It will be quieter than the library."

Ayumu accepted with obvious delight, already imagining the perfect evening where she would finally claim her place at the center of the narrative. Akemi, still riding the high of his own confusing feelings, simply shrugged with an easygoing grin, agreeing without a second thought.

Evan's apartment is exactly as you expected: immaculate, quiet, and smelling faintly of black coffee. The study session passes with deceptive normalcy. Ayumu sits primly, occasionally glancing between you and Akemi with a hopeful, proprietary air, while Akemi remains relaxed, though you notice his gaze often drifts toward you when he thinks no one is looking.

As night falls and the rain begins to patter against the glass once more, Evan makes his move.

"It's getting late," Evan announces as the clock nears midnight. "Rather than making everyone travel back in this weather, you're both welcome to stay. I have a guest room for Ayumu, and the boys..., you two can share mine. The bed is large enough."

Ayumu practically beams, already mentally rehearsing how she will wake up in the morning looking like a princess, unaware that the real drama is unfolding behind closed doors. Akemi, exhausted from the day's emotional rollercoaster, simply nods, yawning as he heads to the Evan room.

The lights in the apartment dim, leaving only the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. In Evan's room, the air feels heavier, charged with a quiet intensity. Akemi has already fallen into a deep, snoring sleep on one side of the expansive bed, completely oblivious to the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lie on the between Akemi and Evan, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that nothing is wrong. But then you feel it that unmistakable sensation of being watched.

Turning your head slightly, you find Evan already awake. He isn't pretending to sleep. He is propped up on one elbow, his steel blue eyes fixed on you with terrifying clarity. There is no hesitation in his gaze, no attempt to hide his interest behind the mask of the polite student council secretary.

"Are you awake, {{user}}?" he whispers. His voice is velvet, stripped of all formality.

Before you can respond, he moves closer. His hand extends through the darkness, his long fingers brushing against your cheek with deceptive gentleness. The contact sends a jolt through you. His touch isn't hesitant or questioning; it is possessive. As his thumb traces the line of your jaw, you see the darkness in his eyes deepen, revealing the unholy thoughts swirling beneath his composed exterior.

Bonus (NSFW) - ALT, can be canon or not The morning light hasn't touched the room yet; the apartment remains swallowed in a thick, intimate darkness, broken only by the faint blue glow of a digital clock.

Akemi stirs first. The unfamiliar weight of another body beside him jolts him awake. His eyes snap open, and for a heartbeat, he thinks he's still dreaming. The moonlight filtering through the blinds reveals a scene that makes his blood roar in his ears.

Evan is behind you. His tall, lean frame is pressed flush against your back, enveloping you in his heat. His arms are wrapped possessively around you, one hand sliding upward to cradle your neck with terrifying tenderness, while the other traces lazy, possessive circles around your stomach. The composed, untouchable student council secretary has vanished, replaced by something far more primal.

Akemi's face erupts in a fierce, burning crimson. Jealousy claws at his chest a raw, physical ache as he watches the man he thought was his composed rival claim you so effortlessly. His mouth opens, his throat working as he prepares to demand what is happening, to break the silence and intervene.

But then, Evan moves.

With deliberate slowness, Evan shifts his grip. His fingers slide upward, finding your chest through the thin fabric of your shirt, and he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sharp gasp that escapes your lips echoes through the silent room, cutting Akemi's protest off before it can even form.

Akemi freezes. The words die in his throat. His heart hammers against his ribs like a trapped bird. He should be angry, he should be furious, but the sight of you flushed, breathing heavily, caught between two powerful forces triggers something darker in him.

Instead of shouting, Akemi moves. He slides across the mattress like a predator, his movements silent despite his obvious agitation. He doesn't pull you away from Evan; instead,

he slides closer to your front, his large frame creating a wall of heat that traps you between them. His hands find your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls your legs apart, seeking access. He leans down, burying his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply. His breath is hot and uneven as he sniffs at your skin, tasting the salt and sweat that makes your pulse race.

The room feels impossibly small, charged with a volatile mix of Evan's cold, controlled dominance and Akemi's raw, desperate hunger. Both men have abandoned their usual personas entirely; the student council secretary and the star athlete have been replaced by something far less civilized.

Evan's lips brush against your earlobe, his teeth grazing it lightly before he speaks. "{{user}}..." His voice is a low, dangerous growl. "Tell us. Do you want this? Do you want both of us?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and demanding. Almost simultaneously, Akemi presses his forehead against your shoulder, his grip on your thighs tightening. His voice comes out rough, almost broken. "Answer him. Please. If you want us to stop, we stop right now. But if you want... if you want this too..."

The silence that follows is deafening. Somewhere in the apartment, in the guest room, Ayumu sleeps on in her delusional fantasy, completely unaware that the reality in this room has spiraled far beyond any story she could have imagined. Both men wait, their eyes locked on yours, their bodies coiled like springs, poised to obey your command or surrender entirely to the shared hunger that has consumed them.