#And is not a marker of love for me to do so

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 8

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Fingering, Breast Play / Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Voyeurism, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: The chapter I know many of you have been dying for. As the warning states, explicit smut, people! I didn't hold back. For my readers who don't like that, a fair warning that the chapter starts and ends with smut, but there is an important part in between regarding the bond & plot. Let me know if you want me to add markers for that tho? This chapter ended up being longer than I expected, so the next chapter will... also...have... smut. I just couldn't fit it all in here. So y'all will have another yummy treat next chapter! I started writing this series already intending for it to be spicy, but it isn't everything of course!

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

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Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

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Part 8:

No More Waiting

They move at once. Not with chaos. With purpose. Hands, breaths, mouths. Like predators descending—not out of rage, but hunger. Not just to claim, but to consume. They don’t just touch you—they devour you.

Mystery— Hwimori’s hands grip your hips with urgency, as if anchoring himself to the only tether keeping him sane. He buries his face in your neck, breath hot, voice a trembling worship against your skin. “You smell so good, baby,” he murmurs, lips trailing your throat. “I want to live inside your bones. Want to rip myself open and pour into you. Make a nest in your ribs and never leave.”

Your gasp catches, and he shudders against you. Romance—Seoha appears at your side, his fingers cradling your jaw like you’re spun glass. “So perfect,” he breathes, brushing his lips over your cheek.

Then Baby—Seungho seizes your wrist. The bruising grip, the wild eyes, that untethered possessiveness like a match already lit. “You made me wait.” His voice is low, guttural. It’s not anger—it’s damage. “You walked through lifetimes without me. And now…” His gaze sweeps your body like he’s already stripping it bare. “Now you’ll feel what that did to me.”

You gasp as he angles his hips closer to your torso and you feel him. His burning need and desire ground into your stomach. You gasp and moan at the feeling, the sound making all of them growl in complete and utter need.

They don’t carry you to the bed. They herd you—closer, closer—with every step back met by one, two, three more bodies pressing forward. Fingers grazing your skin like it’s theirs by right. Mouths brushing exposed flesh. Words whispered in barely-restrained lust.

You can’t tell whose hands are where. Only that you're being unmade. Until your back hits the bed—and even then, they don't pounce. Not yet. They savor.

Jinu is behind you before you blink. One firm tug and you're pulled between his legs, back flush to his chest, his thighs bracketing yours. His arms wrap around your waist, steel and silk. He kisses your neck with slow-burning hunger. Not a kiss to seduce—a kiss to bind. “You belong here,” he says, low and devastating. “With us. With me. In every life. In every death. Every breath in between.”

His hands drift up, palms broad, fingertips burning into your thighs, your waist, your ribs. Like he's memorizing you through possession.

Then, Seoha and Hwimori appear before you. Together. Eyes gleaming, breath caught. Like they’re standing at the altar of something divine. “Let us see you,” Seoha whispers. “Let us remember.”

Hwimori’s fingers tremble as he reaches for your top. He doesn’t yank—it’s a slow peel, a delicate unveiling. Inch by inch, until the fabric slips over your head and falls away, leaving you bare to their ravenous eyes.

The five demons before you stare, breathing ragged. Like the sight of your bare skin was the ruin they’ve been waiting for. Seoha’s breath catches. You hear Abby– Haneul growl, deep and wanting at the sight of you in your bra and skirt. His eyes dart to the swell of your cleavage and he almost comes undone at the sight. Hwimori swears under his breath. “Fucking… god.”

Seoha presses a kiss to your stomach, eyes fluttering shut like he's praying. “You are not real,” he murmurs. “You’re a vision. A fever dream we bled centuries to see again.”

You moan at the feel of his warm lips on your skin. His kisses trail upwards, closer and closer to the treasure hidden beneath your undergarments. And then, Jinu’s hands unclasp your bra from behind, Hwimori peeling it off like a present he’s been waiting to open. And the sight of you has them moaning.

“Fuck,” Seoha hisses. Haneul lets out a growl, eyes flashing a bright topaz. Seoha continues his trail upwards on your body. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” he says between kisses. The first right above your navel, one after the other before he places a kiss in between your breasts. His lips burn and ignite a burning desire within you. Every kiss sends shock waves down to your core. 

You whimper and Hwimori’s hands shake as they frame your waist. “If you were a god,” he breathes, “I’d burn every temple. Just to build one with your body as the altar.”

Behind you, Jinu’s breath hitches. His voice is ruined silk. “You’ve always been sacred. Ours. No matter the body. No matter the time.”

Then— Seungho. He’s standing in front of you. A prince bowed low, madness glinting in his eyes. He grabs your face—not gently, not cruelly, but desperately, like he’ll break apart if he doesn’t feel you, doesn’t anchor himself in you. And then he kisses you.

It’s not a kiss—it’s an onslaught. Ruinous. Ravaging. A soul-shattering collision of everything he’s buried for lifetimes. Your lips open on a moan as his mouth consumes yours, tongue sliding in with wild, aching hunger. One hand fists your breast like he’s claiming it. His thumb rolls over your nipple, and you sob into his kiss.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, dragging his lips down your throat, biting softly, worshipping harsh. “I’d skin the world for the way you just breathe. I’ll never let you go. No one else sees you like this. No one else gets to.”

You’re shaking. Overheated. Undone.

“You’re too much,” you whisper. 

He licks into your mouth like he wants to taste your heart. “And still not fucking enough.”

They press in like a tide, and there’s nowhere to run. Jinu’s mouth turns feverish at your neck. Seoha’s hands slide up your bare legs, slow and cruel before palming your left breast. A moan escapes you at the feel of his touch. Hwimori’s lips latch to your collarbone before you feel his shaky hand palm your right breast. He growls into your skin.  Haneul licks a stripe across your inner thigh and moans, as if he’s the one unraveling.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to us,” Haneul murmurs. “You’ve been remaking us since the first time you smiled.”

The need in the room is feral. Clawing. Endless. You’re surrounded by five demons. And every one of them is starved for you. And this time… You want to be devoured.

A whimper breaks from your throat—high, needy—as Seoha and Hwimori’s breath ghosts over your chest. Their mouths hover, eyes dark with reverence and hunger, like twin beasts starving at the altar of your skin. And then—they descend.

Their mouths find your nipples in perfect, possessive sync, hot and wet, and you cry out, body arching, writhing, trembling. Their tongues roll over your peaks like they were tasting something forbidden, something sacred. You’ve never felt like this before—like your skin was stitched from lightning and silk, like your blood was boiling gold.

Your wrists are pinned to the bed beside you, held down by their hands like you might vanish if they loosened their grip. Like they need to anchor you. Jinu trails his tongue down your neck, slow and searing, like he’s branding you in fire. His breath is ragged, teeth grazing flesh. “You taste like every lifetime I’ve lost you in,” he growls into your skin. “Let me have you in this one.”

Then—hands spread your legs. Large. Firm. Commanding. You look down, dazed, breath caught—and freeze. Haneul. Between your thighs.

His gaze is molten obsidian, locked onto yours like a wolf scenting blood. Starved. Dangerous. Worshipful. You flinch as his breath grazes your inner thigh—and your skirt is slowly pushed up, inch by inch, exposing the soft lace beneath.

He groans, low and sinful. “Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his nose up your panties with a slow inhale that shudders through him. “Did you wear these for us, baby? For me?”

You barely manage a breath, your lips parting in a gasp—but then Seoha nips at your nipple, gently, and your whole body jolts. Jinu grips your chin hard, angling your face toward him. His mouth touches your ear—hot, demanding, coaxing. “Answer him, pretty girl.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Y-Yes,” you squeak.

But Haneul doesn’t let you catch your breath. He’s inhaling you like you’re the last thing left in the world worth breathing. His nose runs the length of your heat, eyes fluttering closed like he’s praying. Like he’s already drunk off you. “That’s all well and good, baby,” he murmurs darkly, voice barely human, “but you won’t miss these—will you?”

Before you can speak, the lace is torn from your body with a savage rip. A sound that echoes louder than it should. You gasp, instinctively trying to close your legs—but Hwimori and Seoha’s grip tightens. Jinu tsks from behind, shaking his head like you’ve disappointed him.

“You don’t hide from us,” he whispers. “Not anymore.”

Their eyes devour you. Hunger. Possession. Worship. You are no longer a girl laid bare. You are the offering. 

Haneul kisses the inner corner of your thigh, then the other—soft, teasing, deadly.

“Wait—mmph!” You try to protest, but Jinu swallows your words with a kiss—ferocious and deep, a growl curling in his throat. His tongue commands yours like he’s claiming territory. Like your mouth is his. You sob into him as Haneul licks just above your heat, so close it aches. Every nerve in your body is fraying.

“What do you want, baby?” Seoha murmurs against your breast, lips dragging along your sensitive skin, voice thick with devotion and madness. “Say it. Say it so we can give it to you.”

“I—” Your voice catches. You’re panting. Burning. “I don’t know—”

“You do,” Jinu hisses, dragging your face toward the sight of Abby– Haneul hovering just above your center, his tongue already peeking past his lips. “Look at him. Say it.”

Your gaze lifts—and you see Baby- Seungho behind Haneul. Watching. Possessive. Hungry. His eyes blaze red-gold like a god enraged. His jaw clenched. His chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Beg,” he says.

A single word. A sentence. A vow.

You shatter. “Please,” you whisper, tears brimming in your lashes. “Haneul… I-I need—please. Touch me.”

The groans that erupt around you could bring the heavens crashing down. “Where, baby?” Haneul hums, lips now just a breath from your heat. “Where do you need me?”

“Right there.” Your voice cracks. You don’t even know where it hurts anymore—only that it does. “Please. Just please.” 

And then— The world stops. Because Haneul moves, and you are no longer kissed. You are devoured.

His mouth is merciless, and the first press of his tongue is pure annihilation. Your back arches. Your moan is swallowed by Jinu’s mouth. Your body writhes in chains of touch and teeth and heat and madness. Pleasure surges through you like a wave pulled from lifetimes of longing.

And they don’t stop. Because they’re not done. Because they’ve only just begun to ruin you. And you? You want to drown.

Haneul’s tongue moves like he’s starving—and he is. Not just for the taste of you, but the power in it. The proof that you're real. That this body, this soul, is finally within his grasp again.

“Fuck, she tastes like heaven.” He groans against you. “The closest to heaven we’ll ever get.”

Your legs tremble, twitching against their grip, but they don’t let you move. They couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk you slipping away. Not when you’ve been stolen by time and fate and death before. Not when they’ve only just gotten you back.

Seoha releases your nipple with a slick pop, his mouth swollen, eyes glazed. “She tastes like fate,” he mutters hoarsely, dragging his tongue down the curve of your breast. “And I’m done pretending that I’m not addicted.”

Hwimori presses his lips to your sternum, then your collarbone, then your jaw, each kiss tender and wild, like he’s scent-marking you with his mouth. “I can feel it,” he whispers against your pulse. “Her soul is singing. She wants this.”

Jinu groans low behind you, his arms flexing around your waist like a vice. “Mine,” he growls into your ear, biting the shell of it just enough to make you jolt. “Every sound, every breath, every fucking heartbeat—mine.”

And it’s true.

You feel like you’re splitting apart at the seams, not from pain, but from how much of them is in you—around you—claiming you. It’s more than lust. It’s memory. It’s centuries of starving for something they were never allowed to touch. Until now. Until you.

Your vision blurs as your hips buck, only to be slammed down by Haneul’s grip, his arms anchoring your thighs as he devours you like the world’s on fire and your body is the only thing left worth saving.

You sob. You keen. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Fuck—look at her,” Seoha breathes, brushing your hair back to see your face more clearly. “She’s coming apart for us.”

Your eyes flutter open—wet, dazed—and meet Seungho’s. He hasn’t touched you yet. But the way he looks at you from the foot of the bed—like a man possessed, like a god betrayed—makes your entire body clench. His fists are white-knuckled at his sides, holding back from tearing Haneul away just to take his place.

“She’s shaking,” Mystery murmurs, brushing his fingers over your ribs, holding you down as your spine arches.

“She’s remembering,” Jinu rasps. “Her soul… it knows.”

You choke on another moan as pleasure floods you, again and again, rippling like thunder in your veins. Your hands fist the sheets. You forget where you are. Who you are. You only know them. Only know the ache they’ve filled. And the space they’ve ruined. They don’t ask if it’s too much. They want it to be too much.

Because if you’re overwhelmed— You’re theirs.

“You’ll never want anyone else after this,” Haneul growls between licks, his voice muffled against your heat. “We’re gonna ruin you, princess. Ruin you so fucking sweet, you’ll beg to never leave.”

You’re unraveling.

Hands on your skin. Mouths against your chest. Fangs brushing your throat. You don’t even register what Haneul is doing until something firm presses against your soaked folds.

"Let me see how you grip me, baby…" he breathes—voice heavy with possession, like he’s about to step into a cathedral built of flesh and need.

You cry out—head snapping back—when a single finger pushes into your entrance. The intrusion is thick and slow and real, and your body fights to adjust. It burns. It aches. It pleads. Hwimori laces your fingers with his, grounding you, as your thighs twitch. He squeezes your hand hard. “Breathe, baby. You can take it. You were made for us.”

“Oh, fuck,” Haneul groans, and his eyes—his demon eyes—flash topaz and wild, like fire licking up stained glass. “She’s so fucking tight.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath when another finger joins the first—and you keen, hips jolting. You try to twist away, but Jinu grabs your throat, pulling you back against him like a tether snapping taut. “Don’t run, kitten,” he murmurs darkly. “You’ll take what we give you.”

And then the rhythm starts.

Haneul curls his fingers inside you—dragging, pulsing, invading. Your hips buck as the pleasure spikes, sharp and overwhelming. Your walls flutter, helpless to resist. Jinu holds you in place like a living chain, and your legs begin to shake from the sheer intensity.

Seoha and Hwimori groan, their mouths never leaving your chest, sucking and biting, marking you like they need proof that you’re real. That you’re here. That you’re theirs.

“So wet,” Haneul growls, fingers thrusting harder now, deeper, smarter. “Like you’ve been waiting for this.” His fingers curl again—and this time, it shatters you. Your back bows like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

“Oh god—” you cry, trembling violently.

Haneul’s mouth covers your clit, licking with the desperation of a dying man. Worship. Destruction. Hunger. His fingers never slow—each drag a calculated sin. “Found it,” he purrs against your core. “Right there. That’s your weakness, isn’t it, princess? Let me break you open with it.”

Tears spill from your eyes—tears of shock, pleasure, need. Jinu growls and captures your lips, swallowing your sob like a vow. His tongue invades your mouth, rough and wild, as he rocks his hips up into your back—letting you feel the full weight of his desire pressing into your spine.

“She’s close,” Hwimori pants beside you. His voice sounds wrecked. 

And then—you see him. Seungho. A shadow. A storm. A demon forged in ruin. He approaches slowly, and the sight of him knocks the breath from your lungs. His eyes are aflame. The bulge in his pants is obscene, straining. But it’s his expression that makes your pulse spike.

He kneels beside Haneul—silent, deadly. You don’t know what he’s about to do until his hand lifts— And presses down on your lower abdomen. Firm. Unrelenting. The pressure makes you wail.

Your walls clench around Haneul’s fingers like a vice, your thighs locking around his head—but he doesn’t stop. He groans into you, fingers and tongue now in perfect tandem, unrelenting in their devotion to your unraveling.

Seungho watches you. Watches the desperation in your eyes, the tears, the panic, the surrender. “You’ll fall apart for us,” he growls low, pressing down just a fraction more. “We want to watch you break.”

Your fingers claw at Seoha’s forearm and Hwimori’s wrist. You can feel Jinu biting at your neck again. The air is thick with sweat, panting, the sound of your slick echoing with every thrust of Haneul’s fingers.

And then— You detonate.

The coil in your stomach snaps with brutal intensity and you scream—a sound pulled from your soul and carried across centuries. It echoes through the room like prophecy. Your vision whites out. You shatter—like glass caught in the crosswinds of your past lives. Like every moment you were ever separated from them has come rushing back in fire.

You don’t know where your body ends and theirs begin. But you know one thing: You are theirs.

And they will never let you go. Not in this life. Not in the next. Not even in death. 

“Good girl,” Jinu growls into your ear, breath ragged, as your scream fades into a broken, trembling whimper.

“That’s it,” Hwimori whispers, brushing your damp hair back from your face, his forehead pressed gently to your temple. “Come for us, baby. You did so well…”

“You were perfect,” Seoha murmurs, voice velvet-slick and reverent as his lips kiss the trail of tears on your cheeks. “So fucking perfect. That’s our girl.”

“You took it all,” Haneul rasps between your thighs, lips still shining with your release, voice dark and ruined with awe. “Just like that. All for us.”

Their praise wraps around you like silk ribbons. Tethering. Claustrophobic. Divine.

Your body trembles as you sag into Jinu’s arms, heart thundering so hard it hurts. Your vision pulses—blurs at the edges like you’re underwater. And then—

Your eyes flash open. But they’re not the same. The world swims in red. You blink once. Twice. And everything shifts.

Threads.

Crimson threads, glowing, humming—stretching from your chest like living veins of fate. Five of them. Writhing. Pulling. Binding. Each one connects you to the demons who now stare down at you with wide eyes, breath halted. They feel it too. A sharp inhale cuts through the silence like a blade drawn clean from its sheath.

“She’s—” Seoha chokes.

“Her eyes…” Hwimori whispers.

You gasp. You can see the soulbond. You can feel it in your bones—burning, sacred, ancient. As if your blood had been waiting for this moment across lifetimes. It rushes through you like lightning on open water, cracking you apart from the inside.

The bond snaps into place like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know existed. But not all of it. Not completely just yet. You sob, overwhelmed. There’s too much in your chest—devotion, obsession, love. 

The boys surround you instantly, their touches softer now, voices turning worshipful. “You’re glowing,” Jinu breathes, holding you tighter.

“She’s ours,” Haneul says, almost reverently, like he’s speaking a prayer. Seoha cups your face in trembling hands. “You feel it too, don’t you, darling? The bond. The promise. The truth of us.”

“It’s okay,” Seungho soothes, lips brushing your knuckles. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. It’s all too much. You reach for one of them—any of them—but your fingers tremble too hard. Your vision tunnels. Your mouth opens—but no words come.

The last thing you see is Seungho, standing above you like a shadow cast by the past, eyes wide and haunted. “She’s passing out—”

And then you go still. Your head falls against Jinu’s chest, lashes fluttering shut. The soulbond sings in your blood. And you fall into unconsciousness cradled in the arms of demons who have waited lifetimes to bring you home.

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The first thing you feel is warmth. Then pressure. Then breath.

You stir, the world a blur of color and heat—and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat- Strong and steady- surrounding you. You blink through the haze, vision slowly focusing on the soft, amber glow flickering from the room’s sconces, and realize you’re not lying down. You’re in someone’s arms.

Jinu’s.

You’re cradled in his lap, your head tucked beneath his chin, his strong arms wrapped tight around your frame like he’d fused you to him in your sleep. His scent—earth and sandalwood and something darker, ancient—floods your senses. He’s shirtless, and the heat of his bare chest radiates into you.

You blink again. They’re all here.

Seoha was seated at your side, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. Hwimori, crouched at the edge of the bed, his hair falling forward as he watches you like a silent sentinel. Haneul leans against the wall, fists clenched at his sides, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Seungho is seated at the foot of the bed, elbows on knees, shirt discarded, glowing eyes locked on your face like they’re drinking in every breath you take.

None of them had slept in the two hours you had been unconscious.

“You’re awake,” Jinu breathes, his voice cracking at the edges. His grip tightens possessively. “You scared us.”

Seoha leans closer, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

Hwimori’s eyes flick across your features, searching. “How do you feel?”

You swallow, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel… amazing.”

It’s not a lie. You felt great. As if the bond had healed any fatigue and grogginess. It’s just not the whole truth.

They visibly relax—only slightly. Seungho exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. Haneul’s head drops forward, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“You passed out,” Seoha says softly. “You glowed.”

“You were thrumming with power,” Hwimori adds. “The bond reacted. Too strong, too fast.”

Jinu nuzzles your temple. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

“I am.” You nod to ease their worry. You look down to see that you were draped in someone’s shirt- Haneul’s. But that was the only thing you had on. Your cheeks flush. “Did—did someone…?”

Seoha nods, his expression tender. “We cleaned you. Down there.”

You glance down, embarrassed.

“You were trembling,” Hwimori adds gently. “We just wanted you comfortable.”

A wave of love rolls over you—and something else. That hum again. It’s a strange pull. You look at each of them, your heart stuttering. Shirtless, glowing eyes, all of them so achingly beautiful in the low light. Jinu’s body beneath you is all sharp lines and broad strength. Seoha’s chest rises and falls with quiet restraint, lean and cut like a sculpture. Hwimori’s frame is deceptively strong, his arms lean with muscle and his collarbone dusted with faded marks of tension. Haneul’s muscles are coiled like a predator ready to strike, his arms flexing with each breath. And Seungho—Seungho looks like wrath carved into devotion, the angles of his body rigid with something close to pain.

You’re starting to love them. Every inch. But something is missing. Something tugs at your soul, unfinished. Like you’ve walked through the door, but not stepped inside. You had felt nearly complete a while ago. A euphoric feeling of connection to them as the bond strengthened. But deep inside you knew there was something missing. 

You blink up at them. “Can I… ask you something?”

They tense. “Anything,” Jinu says, voice low.

Your eyes dart to each of them. You’re certain this was it. The missing piece. “I need to see you. All of you. As you really are.”

The silence is immediate. Their gazes darken. Jinu’s arms tense. Seoha’s smile falters. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Haneul mutters.

Hwimori’s fingers twitch. “We’re not… safe. Not in those forms.”

You shake your head. “Please. I need to. The bond—it’s not whole. Not yet. I can feel it.”

Jinu presses his forehead to yours, a low growl in his throat. “If you’re scared, even for a second—”

“I won’t be.”

You take each of their hands, one by one.

“I want to see you,” you whisper. “All of you. Not just the masks… please.”

Seoha’s jaw clenches. “Even if we look like monsters?”

“You never have.”

Something breaks in them. And then it begins. Shadows ripple. The air thickens as their skin darkens—not into black or red, but a rich, violet-blue hue etched with glowing marks and patterns, sigils carved into flesh like ancient poetry. Amber eyes burn brighter, like lanterns in a storm. Their veins pulse violet. Their presence swells until it chokes the room, not painful—but potent. Electric.

You gasp, tears welling. This is what they’ve been keeping from you? How in the world could they ever think you could despise them?

They’re terrified. Seoha won’t meet your eyes. Jinu looks frozen. Haneul’s teeth are clenched so tight they could shatter. Seungho—your dark blade—his jaw trembles.

You trace the patterns of Jinu- the one closest to you. His eyes flutter shut at the light feel of your fingertips on his face. You marvel at him, at who he truly is. What all of them really were. One by one, you place your palms on their chests, feel the warmth of demon markings, trace them like scripture. You lean forward and press a kiss to Seoha’s throat. To Hwimori’s chest. To Haneul’s ribs. To Seungho’s stomach. To Jinu’s heart.

“You’re beautiful.”

A silence washes over the room as they freeze. Like you’ve said something impossible. Something forbidden. Jinu’s breath catches in his throat. Seoha goes utterly still. Haneul looks away. Hwimori’s shoulders tense. Seungho clenches his jaw so tight you hear it crack.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Jinu murmurs, almost too softly. “Not about this.”

“We know what we are,” Haneul mutters, eyes fixed on the floor. “We’ve seen the way humans look at us like we’re monsters.”

“We are monsters,” Seungho says hollowly, his amber eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You step forward—heart burning, soul alight. “Then let them call you monsters,” you whisper, voice trembling with truth. “Because if you are, then you’re mine. Every shadow, every scar, every part you were taught to hide—give it to me. I won’t run.”

They stare at you in shock and disbelief. As if your words were too good to be true.

So you prove it. You go to Hwimori first, his demon form trembling under your touch. You lift your fingers to his jaw, brushing over the gleaming marks that curve over his cheek. “You always feel everything I feel. You carry my pain like it’s your own. You’re not a monster, Hwi. You’re my mirror.”

He shudders, eyes wide and glassy. A soft, disbelieving sound escapes him as he clutches your hand to his chest like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

Next, you move to Seoha. His body is coiled like he’s ready to run, even as need burns behind his eyes. You press a kiss to the swirling pattern that stretches down his sternum, then another to the hollow of his throat. “You’ve always seen me. You make me feel like every word I say matters. You’re not just a fantasy I want to live in—you’re the truth I want to wake up to.”

He exhales like he’s collapsing, hand gripping your wrist so tightly it almost hurts. But he’s shaking. And in his eyes—hope flickers. Starving and terrified.

You turn to Haneul. He’s still, watching you with guarded hunger. You take his face in your hands, kiss the scarred symbol just beneath his eye. “You protect me like I’m sacred. You always have. Even when it hurts you. This body—these marks—don’t change what you are to me. They just show me what you’d survive for my sake.”

His lips part but no words come. Just breath. Shaking. Desperate. He leans into your palm like a man who’s never been held.

Then—Seungho. You approach him slowly, like he’s an injured beast ready to bolt. But he doesn’t move. You press a kiss to his jaw, to the jagged violet marking there. “I don’t care how cold the world made you. You burn for me. You never stopped burning. And I see it now—in every inch of your skin.”

His head tilts back. His throat bobs with a strangled sound. 

And finally—Jinu. He hasn’t moved. His demon form still and regal like a statue carved from midnight flame. But his eyes—the gold in them is molten. You walk into his arms. Press your lips to the curve of his collarbone, to the streaks that glow over his chest like ribbons of power and pain.

“You’ve always carried the weight of the world, haven’t you?” you whisper. “Even then, you bore it in silence. I know what you think… that you failed me. That you failed your family. That you’re cursed to lead, but never protect.”

Your fingers trace a glowing line that pulses against his heart.

“But you’re wrong.” You look up at him, eyes soft but unrelenting. “You didn’t fail me. You found me. Again and again. And maybe the world worships you now for your voice, your beauty, your power… but I worship you for surviving.”

He exhales shakily. His arms wrap around you like he’s trying to hide you in his skin. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper again, to all of them. “All of you.”

They break. Seoha moans like he’s unraveling. Hwimori buries his face into your neck. Haneul groans like he’s in pain. Seungho whispers your name like a litany, like a curse, like a vow. Jinu cups your face and stares at you like he’s found the meaning of eternity.

The bond thrums—bright and breathless. It pulses between your ribs like sacred fire. And then— They descend. Kisses like oaths. Hands like hunger. Worship like war.

“You’re ours,” Jinu breathes against your jaw, voice cracked with yearning.

“And we’re yours,” Seungho growls into your throat.

“You made us real,” Seoha murmurs into your chest.

“You made us whole,” Haneul says, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“You chose us,” Hwimori whimpers, holding your waist like you’ll vanish.

Lips map your skin like scripture. Tongues trace every place you’ve ever ached. Teeth leave promises where words would fail. You’ve seen them now. And you’ve never wanted anything more. The crimson threads pulse—harder. Thicker. Glowing with a sacred hunger. And then it hits you. Not just the tenderness. Not just the love.

But heat. Ache. Need. A raw, consuming ache blazes through your gut. Not emotional—carnal. It’s visceral, physical. It crashes into you like lightning. Your knees buckle and your eyes snap open—glowing red again, brighter this time. Like a fire finally given oxygen. “I—” Your voice shatters. A desperate gasp. “I… need—”

They’re on you instantly. A blur of breathless movement. The boys crowd close, drawn to you like moths to flame. Their eyes glow, their skin still alight with markings and pulsing power.

“It’s the bond,” Jinu says, voice low, reverent. His eyes burn. “It’s calling us. You’re feeling all of us now.” Their bare skin brushes yours and it feels like fire. Every graze stokes the need until it’s unbearable—devouring. You clutch at Jinu’s chest, panting. “Please. I need you. All of you. I can’t— I can’t hold it in.”

Growls. Gasps. Groans. The air thickens as hands descend on you once more. “You’re trembling,” Seoha breathes, palm at your ribs. “You ache for us.”

“You want to be filled,” Seungho mutters darkly. “You want us inside you.”

“She’s dripping already,” Haneul grins from the bed’s edge, fangs bared. “Fuck, she was made for us.”

Jinu lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed like a sacred offering. His gaze flicks to the others—and they understand immediately. It would be him first. Of course. The one who made the pact. The one who waited the longest— across lifetimes. The one who sold his soul first to find you again. 

His hands trail up your torso like devotion made flesh. “I knew you in every life, kitten. But this one… this one is ours to claim.” He leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s sinful—filthy—holy. Then he slowly peels Haneul’s shirt off your frame, eyes devouring every inch of skin you bare to him. He drinks in the sight like it’ll never be enough.

Around you, the boys settle in. Seoha lounges on the desk chair, one hand already palming his bulge through his sweats. Hwimori sits at the edge of the bed, his hand curled tight. Haneul lounges on the couch, eyes locked on you like he might jump at any moment. Seungho stands by the wall, breathing hard, his body tense like a live wire.

You know they’re watching. And it doesn’t shame you. It ignites you. You need them here. All of them. Your voice trembles. “Jinu… please. I— I need you. It burns.”

He strokes your jaw, eyes like amber flame. “Where do you need me, baby?”

“Please,” you whimper, arching. “Touch me. I need you. Everywhere.”

Jinu lets out a low, vicious sound as he kisses you again—this time rough, hungry. His teeth graze your lip. Then he drags his mouth down your throat. Between your breasts. He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks hard—possessive, almost cruel with need. You cry out, your fingers in his hair. “Jinu—! Please, please—”

He groans against your skin. “You sound so good when you beg.”

“You were always mine,” he growls, trailing kisses down your stomach. “But now? Now you’ll feel it.”

When he spreads your thighs, it’s ravenous. He stares at your glistening mound like it’s the center of the universe. “Say it,” he commands, voice dark. “Say this pussy belongs to me.”

You tremble beneath his hands. “Yours,” you gasp. “It’s yours. All yours.” 

He chuckles—low, dangerous and thrilled. “Good girl.” Then he descends—and devours. Your hips jerk. A scream tears from your throat. His tongue is everywhere—feasting like a man finally let into heaven.

You writhe, fisting your hands into his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Mmm, you were right, Haneul,” he growls between licks. “I could eat this meal every fucking day.”

“Told you,” Haneul grunts from the couch, hand wrapped tight around his cock. “She tastes sweeter than honey.”

“Sweeter than sin,” Seoha adds, his voice wrecked, his pants tented as he strokes himself slowly, eyes never leaving your body. Hwimori leans in, capturing your hand in his and bringing your knuckles to his lips as Jinu continues his relentless onslaught. You’re shaking, drowning.

And then Jinu adds a finger. Then another. You moan—loud, uncontrollable, broken. “So fucking tight,” he hisses. “How the hell are you going to take me, baby?”

You sob, gasping. “Jinu—please—I—”

He doesn’t stop. His tongue laves over your clit. His fingers curl inside you—relentless, wicked, perfect. He eats you like a starving man.

“Such a good girl,” Hwimori whispers.

“She’s going to fall apart again,” Seungho mutters, hand moving faster.

“So close,” you gasp, voice cracking.

“Come for us, baby,” Seoha breathes.

You do. With a cry, you shatter. Eyes glowing crimson, back arching, fists tugging at Jinu’s hair as he moans into your climax and keeps going. He only slows once you’ve ridden out the full shock of it.

Then he kisses up your body—your stomach, your chest, your collarbone—before reaching your throat. “You’re divine like this,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you’re ready,” Seungho breathes.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Jinu rises above you, sweat-slicked and shirtless, muscles tight with restraint. The sharp planes of his torso glisten under the low, golden light—every ridge and carved hollow painted with glowing demon markings, coiling across his blue-purple skin like ancient scripture. His chest heaves. His abs ripple as he pants, hunger carved into every line of him.

And then— You watch in need as his fingers curl around the waistband of his sweatpants. That massive bulge has haunted your fantasies, but now, as he pulls them down and his length springs free, your breath catches audibly. Your mouth parts in stunned, trembling awe.

He’s huge.

A jolt of nerves crackles through your chest. How is that supposed to fit? Jinu watches your reaction with a quiet, dark satisfaction—like he knew you’d doubt it. 

Around you, the others react. Seoha moves to your side and presses a kiss to your temple, his voice a warm balm laced with obsession. “You were made for us, baby. You were always meant to take him. To take all of us.”

“You’re ours,” Haneul grunts, palming himself shamelessly as he watches. “Every inch of you. We’ll make sure you remember that.”

“You’ll stretch around him,” Seungho mutters, voice hoarse. “You’ll cry, and you’ll beg, and we’ll fill you until you forget anyone else ever existed.”

Hwimori just watches you with wide, trembling eyes—devotion, awe, need burning in their depths.

Jinu doesn’t take his eyes off you. He lifts your thighs onto his forearms, bending over you like a predator staking his claim. Then he leans in and devours your mouth, tongue plunging, hungry and wet. When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “Just relax, baby. Let me in.”

You nod, breath shaky. He slides his fingers into yours, entwining them, and pins them down beside your head—locking you in, body and soul. “Eyes on me,” he murmurs, amber gaze glowing. “Do you trust me?”

You nod again. Trembling. He pushes forward. Your mouth parts in a soft, shocked gasp. The thick head splits you open slowly, deliciously. Your walls clench instinctively, unsure, overwhelmed. Your nails dig into his hands as you whimper.

“Fuck,” Jinu groans, head dipping, eyes fluttering shut at the first feel of you. “You’re gripping me like you were made for this.”

You gasp, voice shaking. “J-Jinu—”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, kitten. Just breathe. Let me in.”

The stretch is maddening. Your thighs shake. The pain flares, sharp and real—but there’s want in it. Need. “You’re doing so well, my love,” Seoha calls from the bed’s edge, his voice breaking with emotion.

“So fucking good,” Seungho pants, stroking himself slowly. “Look at her. Taking him like that.”

“Hold her, hyung,” Haneul says. “She’s our girl. She needs this.”

Jinu kisses the corner of your eye as the tears spill. “You can take it. You’re my good girl. You were meant for me.”

You cry out as he presses deeper—so deep. 

“I’m halfway in,” he breathes.

“Halfway?” you rasp, disbelief in your tone.

His groan is animal. “Gripping me like a fucking vice—fuck—how are you this tight?” He thrusts deeper, and you arch, mouth open in a silent scream. His shoulders flex above you, every muscle drawn tight. He leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth again as he rocks forward—finally, finally bottoming out. Both of you moan, trembling. It feels like something ancient has clicked into place. Like puzzle pieces reuniting after centuries.

“You feel…” Jinu groans, nearly choking on the words. “You feel like fucking home.” He kisses your tears away, voice shaking with reverence. “I’ve waited 400 years for this. To claim you. To fill you. You don’t even know how long I’ve suffered for this moment.” He stills inside you, letting you adjust. His kisses trail your cheek and your jaw. You’re trembling beneath him, tears drying on your skin—but the fire inside you burns brighter now.

“I’m going to move, baby.”

You nod, breath catching. “Please.”

He pulls out almost entirely—just the head stretching you—and slams back in. You yelp. Loud. Good heavens for all that is holy. Your head snaps back into the pillows. He groans, jaw clenching, hips working slow and steady. “So wet. So fucking tight. This pussy was made for me.”

Each thrust is deeper, harder. His hips roll with control, with rhythm, with claim. You sob with pleasure. He watches you break—eyes glowing amber, demon markings pulsing along his arms and chest. His control starts to crack. His movements sharpen.

He lets go of your hand and wraps one large hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Anchoring. “Mine,” he growls with each thrust. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Your nails claw at his back as he devours you from the inside. There’s nothing gentle left. Just raw, desperate need. His hips slam into yours with a deafening slap, one after the other. He owns you. Body, soul, and destiny.

The pressure in your belly coils tighter. A fire rising. “J-Jinu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe. “I— I’m close—!”

“I know, baby,” he grunts, his pace faltering. Sweat drips from his jaw. “So am I.”

Your hand claws at his wrist as the pleasure builds into agony. The sound of skin slapping, his low groans, your mewls—they fill the room. You’re on the edge. Every thrust of his cock into you feels like a lightning strike of pleasure, striking deep into your bones. It’s all so much. Too much. You shut your eyes tight at the feeling.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” Jinu growls, forehead pressing to yours, hips pounding into you. “Don’t look away. Watch me while I make you mine.”

You do. You look into those blazing amber eyes, and it breaks you. You scream as your climax shatters through you, your body trembling violently around him. Your walls pulse, clench, milk him. Stars shine at the flutter of your eyelids as you reach your peak.

“Fuck—!” Jinu roars. He thrusts like a madman. Once, twice, and then slams into you one last time—deep—and spills himself inside you.

Hot. Endless. Claiming.

“Take it,” he breathes, his voice shaking with ecstasy and reverence. “Take all of me. You were made for me. Made for me to love. To worship. To fill.”

His hips keep moving, shallow and slow, working every last drop into your womb. “I waited centuries for this,” he groans into your neck, still rocking. “You’re mine. My soul. My everything.” His kisses rain over your cheeks, your eyelids, your lips. You whimper under him, body trembling with aftershocks.

The bond hums between you, molten and eternal. You don’t just feel him inside your body. You feel him in your soul. Jinu’s chest heaves against yours, every inch of his skin pressed to your slick, trembling body. He stays rooted deep inside you, refusing to let even a drop of him spill.

He holds you like he’s trying to imprint his shape into you. His lips find your temple, warm and sweet. “You did so well for me,” he whispers, breath shaky, voice wrecked with love and possessive pride. “Took me so perfectly, just like I knew you would.”

“Fuck…” Haneul’s voice cracks as he fists himself from where he’s leaned against the wall. His topaz eyes bore into you as he spills into his own hand, grunting your name through clenched teeth. “So perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Always knew you’d be ours,” Seungho pants, His crimson-stained gaze never leaves your face. “Took him like you were born for it. Like your body’s just… ours.”

Jinu presses his forehead to yours. “You’re such a good girl for me… for all of us.” You shiver as he slowly pulls his hips back just a little, still buried in you, just to feel the way your walls tighten instinctively around him again. He groans deep in his chest.

Hwimori purrs, his hands still sticky where he’s come beside you, quiet moans escaping him as he presses his forehead to your shoulder from behind. “You smell like us now… like him. I love it. I love you.”

Seoha grunts softly from the desk chair, hips rolling into his hand one final time before he spills with a hiss. “That face you made when you came—fuck, baby. You’ll break me.”

You smile sleepily, deliriously. Your body aches, your skin glows, and your heart feels heavy in the best way. They were yours, and you’d take them soon. You were claimed. Adored. Bound.

Jinu finally pulls out with a low growl, the thick drag of him from your oversensitive walls making your breath hitch. He watches the mess drip from you with pride, then leans in to press a final kiss to your navel—his palm spread wide over your lower belly like he’s branding you. “My mark,” he murmurs.

Before the emptiness can settle, Hwimori gathers you into his arms like a child’s favorite toy, protective and warm. He cradles you against his chest, seating you between his legs on the bed, your back against his bare torso. He buries his face in your neck and sighs.

Seoha leans in to kiss your temple. “You’re glowing, sweetheart.”

Seungho presses a kiss to your wrist, eyes locked onto your fluttering pulse. “We’ll never let you go now.”

You hear the faucet running in the other room. “Haneul’s drawing you a bath,” Seoha whispers. “We want to take care of you, baby. You gave us everything.”

And just like that, you close your eyes. Wrapped in warm skin, whispers of obsession, and five pairs of eyes that would tear the world apart just to keep you here—where you belong.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: So... I hope you guys enjoyed this! For the ovulating girlies, next chapter will also have smut so each boy gets their fill. Also- pls don't come for me for the breeding stuff- (Wrap it up, folks!) but c'mon, Jinu waited 400 years for this ain't no way he'll use protection lol. Also their obsessive need to claim pours into this need so yeah, I didn't think it necessary. BUT IRL PLS WRAP IT UP IF U CAN SAFETY FIRST. 400 years this demon has been celibate so...

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this! Next chapter has smut but also intimate fluff and the plot rolls again as well.

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[kuncitizen]

Molecular romance

One awkward smile, two 'study mates', and a love story that’s chemically inevitable.

Synopsis: You only stopped at his science fair booth out of pity—but the tall, nervous guy with crooked glasses and a galaxy model has other plans.

Satoru Gojo is brilliant, awkward, and talking a mile a minute about black holes like it’s the most romantic thing in the world. You weren’t looking for a tutor. Or a crush. But he’s got stars in his eyes—and maybe, now, so do you.

Pairing: Nerd!Gojo Satoru x reader

Genre: MDNI, College AU, Fluff, Slow-burn-ish, friends to lovers, attempt at humour

Warnings: Mentions of virginity/first kiss, hookup culture, crude humour, minor argument, kissing, making out, testing the boundaries of friendship big time.

Masterlist

<- prev

The sharp scent of alcohol markers and someone’s aggressively microwaved breakfast clings to the air of the classroom. You burst through the door, the morning sun doing nothing to hide the grin stretching across your face.

With a pep in your step that borders on suspicious, you weave past the yawning students and caffeine zombies until you spot your target.

Gojo is already at his desk—impossibly upright and offensively awake—tidy notes laid out with precision.

His hair is still damp, curling faintly at the ends, a single droplet clinging to his jawline before slipping under the collar of his hoodie. His glasses are fogged faintly from the chill of outside meeting the warmth of the room. He’s wiping them with his sleeve when he finally notices you.

Gojo's mouth instantly pulls into that sideways, fond smile, reserved specifically for you.

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who almost failed the last lab quiz,” he remarks, one brow raised over the rim of his lenses.

“Well,” you say, sliding into the seat he’s saved for you. “I’m expecting you to score a date today.”

Gojo sighs. “Do you really think that'll work?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, already digging for your notebook. “Someone’s finally going to break their celibacy streak.”

“Could you not call it that?”

“Could you not stall?” you fire back, holding out your hand. “Phone, please. Don’t fight me on this.”

He hesitates, fingers brushing the edge of his pocket as though the phone might bite him. But before he can hand it over, the professor sweeps into the room, and everyone groans in unison.

You flop dramatically forward on your desk. “Rude.”

Gojo just smirks faintly, tucking the phone back into his hoodie pocket. When he sits back, though, you notice that he angles himself a little closer to you. His elbow brushes yours, just barely. And you don’t move away.

The lecture begins.

You hear almost none of it. Every mention of valence electrons turns to static while you absently doodle stars and crooked hearts in the margins of your notes.

But your eyes keep darting sideways. To the way he taps his pen against his thigh. To the way he mouths the professor’s words just a beat behind, syncing with a rhythm only he seems to hear.

You think you’re being subtle, catching little glimpses of him without being caught.

Until Gojo's eyes flick up and find yours.

His gaze snags yours and holds it just long enough for the back of your neck to warm before he looks back down at his notes, the faintest tinge of pink dusting the tops of his ears.

And just a few moments later, his hand moves. Slowly, lazily, like they have nowhere better to be, his fingers drift from their place on his own notebook and hover near yours, before resting lightly over your hand on the desk.

The warmth of it sinks into your skin, his thumb brushing idly against your knuckles. Neither of you move. His fingers curl just slightly, pressing yours gently into the wood in the quietest squeeze.

“Would you sit still?” he murmurs, voice soft enough that the scratch of pens almost drowns it out. “You’re distracting.”

Your head tilts into the contact for half a second too long before he pulls away, his hand retreating like nothing happened.

When the bell rings, you shoot up like a spark, practically snatching Gojo's phone right out of his hand.

“You have a match,” you announce, triumphant as the screen lights up.

Gojo blinks, surprised. “A match?”

“She’s pretty." You spin the phone toward him with a grin. "Like, drinks oat milk and does pilates pretty.”

He leans closer to see, brows drawing together slightly. “Seriously?”

“Has a liking for Astronomy, long walks, Iced Americanos,” you recite as you scroll.

“Huh,” he mutters.

“That’s it? Just Huh?” you tease, giving him a look.

“She seems.... fine,” he says flatly.

“Well, you can thank me later,” you say, already thumbing through the app to compose a message.

He doesn’t stop you. Just sits there quietly while the classroom empties around you.

The hum of chatter outside the classroom drifts in as the door bangs shut behind the last student. The room is quiet now but for the faint the slow tick of the wall clock.

By the time you’re halfway through typing some charming opener on his behalf, you notice he hasn’t moved.

Hasn’t even looked at the screen.

You glance at him, frowning slightly—and catch the way his fingers keep fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, twisting the fabric like he’s trying to wring the nerves out of it.

That’s when you realize something’s wrong. You lower the phone to the desk, watching him carefully.

“She’s super cute,” you say, voice light, testing the waters. “Right?”

He nods once, almost mechanically. “Yeah. Cute.”

It’s flat and empty. Like he’s reading it off the back of a cereal box.

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the least convincing cute I’ve ever heard.”

Gojo exhales through his nose. His knee bounces once, then stops.

“Satoru,” you say, a little softer. “It’s just a date. You’ll be fine.”

But he doesn’t even glance at you. His thumb picks anxiously at the corner of his notebook.

“That’s not the point,” he mutters.

You frown, sitting back. “Then what is?”

He finally tips his head back, as if the ceiling might have the answer, jaw tight.

“Come on,” you say again, pressing further. “Spit it out.”

“Forget it." He says, leaning back in his chair. "I just... you wouldn't understand.”

That one lands sharper than he probably intended.

You huff, the faint sting in your chest catching you off guard. “Oh. So now I’m too dumb to understand?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shoot back, sitting up straighter. “Right after I practically handed you a date on a silver platter, you tell me to mind my own business?”

He shifts in his seat, leaning forward like he’s about to say something, but then stops. His hands clench in his lap.

“Yeah, well…” he finally mumbles, eyes hard on the desk. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You ever think maybe I don’t want you running my life all the time?”

For a second you just stare, because the words feel so damn foreign out of his mouth.

You laugh, the sound bitter and clipped. “That’s actually impressive. You managed to make me feel like an idiot and regret helping you all at once.”

Gojo freezes, like he only just registered the words that came out of his mouth. His head snaps toward you, face flushing pale. “Wait — no. That’s not what I—”

But you’re already standing, grabbing your bag.

“Don’t bother,” you cut him off, slinging it over your shoulder. “I won’t get in your way anymore.”

“Wait—” he tries again, standing halfway, guilt twisting across his face.

You approach the door and maybe it’s petty, or maybe it’s just necessary, but you don’t call him Satoru.

“Good luck on your date, Gojo.”

The way you say his name—Gojo, not Satoru—feels like a door closing in his face.

You leave without looking back.

The canteen feels colder without you sitting across from him, your laughter still faint in the back of his mind. He sits there long after you’ve left, staring at his phone like maybe if he stares at it hard enough, it'll light up with a text from you.

“Stupid,” he mutters under his breath, voice cracking faintly. “That’s… not what I meant.”

His hand hovers over your name in his contacts more than once. But he doesn’t click on it.

The truth is, he doesn’t care about some oat milk drinking, pilates going stranger.

He never did.

When you smiled at him in that classroom, when your elbow brushed his, when your hand stayed under his and you didn't move it away—he thought, maybe. Maybe you knew.

But you don’t.

And he’s too much of a coward to tell you.

—⋆ ☁︎ ⋆ ♡ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ♡ ⋆ ☁︎ ⋆ —

Gojo paces in his room for what feels like hours. The message is typed, then deleted, then typed again.

I'm sorry.

You weren’t a bother.

I didn’t mean it.

Come back. Please.

Each one dies before it can get delivered to you, his thumb hovering, yet wavering just as quickly.

So he does the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

He shows up at your door. No warning, and certainly no text.

Just him standing under the jaundiced glow of your porch light, hair sticking up at odd angles like he’d run nervous fingers through it. His sneakers scuff nervously at the welcome mat, eyes wide and glassy like a deer in headlights.

You freeze for half a beat, hand clutching the edge of the door frame.

And he just stares—soft, awkward and hopelessly him.

You sigh and step aside without a word, and he slips inside with the ease of someone who's been here a thousand times before.

Gojo doesn’t beat around the bush or offer a forced excuse. He just sinks onto the edge of your couch, shoulders hunched, hands buried in the sleeves of his hoodie. Looking every bit like a stray cat that finally realized it might’ve bitten the only hand that fed it.

You sit at the far end, curled in the corner of the sofa, legs tucked up, face turned away from him.

He draws in a breath. “Please don’t do this to me.”

You still don’t look at him. “Do what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing helplessly between the two of you. “This thing where you won’t even look at me—”

He breaks off. Your fingers tighten where they curl against the armrest.

“I can’t—” he tries again, throat bobbing. “I can’t stand it when you won’t look at me.”

You finally look up at that. Because how could you not when he sounds like that?

His eyes are red-rimmed, lashes clumped slightly at the ends like he rubbed at them too hard, like maybe he was afraid he’d cry on the walk over.

“Fine,” you say, arms crossing defensively. “I’m looking.”

Gojo exhales a breath of relief, before speaking up again. “I messed up,”

You scoff. “No kidding.”

“I really messed up,” he amends, like that’ll earn him points.

You don’t reply.

He shifts slightly, digging into the front pocket of his hoodie, fishing for something, and out comes a brown paper bag folded neatly at the top.

You blink, dumbfounded. “…Is that—”

Gojo nods sheepishly. “Yeah. That pastry you like. The, uh…” He trails off, wrinkling his nose. “The bougie one with the French name that sounds like a sneeze.”

“…Financier?”

“That. I walked thirty minutes for it. The barista said they were out but then I did the face.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What face?”

He scrunches his face dramatically—pursed lips, eyes huge and wet like a cartoon. “Please ma’am. My best friend’s mad at me and this is the only thing that might make her like me again.”

Despite yourself, a little laugh bubbles out. His head snaps up instantly, as though he’s been starved for that sound and can’t bear to miss a second.

And you swear, in that moment, he actually glows. His expression softens into a grin so dumb, so earnest, it almost makes your chest hurt.

“So,” he says, voice hopeful. “We’re okay now?”

You take the bag slowly. Your fingers brush his when you do, and he stills, barely breathing.

You eye him for a long beat, and then say, “You’re lucky I’m food-motivated.”

You make quick work of the bag, the sweet, rich fragrance of the pastry escaping in soft, delicious curls of warmth.

You nibble at the corner, a soft sound of approval slipping out as the dessert nearly melts against your tongue. It’s still warm, soft in the center, with that faint hint of almond that makes your eyes flutter close for a second.

When you open them back though, Gojo’s staring straight at you.

Not subtly.

You blink, pastry halfway to your mouth. “You’re gonna burn a hole through my face at this rate.”

His eyes widen slightly as he clears his throat. “Wasn’t staring.”

“You literally haven’t blinked in forty-five seconds.”

“I’m contemplating,” he says, voice mock-serious.

“Contemplating what? The angle of my jaw while I eat?”

“No,” Gojo huffs, ears going pink. “Yes. I mean—no. Shut up.”

You laugh and take another slow bite just to mess with him. “You better go on that date tomorrow, Satoru. If you bail, I’m never reactivating your account.”

He sighs, dragging his hand over his face. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good. And you better be ready.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” you reply cryptically.

He frowns. “Everything?”

You shrug, brushing the crumbs from your fingers. “You don't know when things could escalate. What if she gives you a goodnight kiss?”

Gojo goes stock-still. The color drains from his cheeks before rushing right back in twice as dark. “A wh-what?”

You pause, eyeing him. “You have kissed someone before… right?”

His shoulders stiffen, gaze darting anywhere but at you—the table, the ceiling, his own lap. “Uh. Define kissed.”

You drop the remnants of your sweet bread with a thunk. “Oh my god.”

He winces, sinking into the couch like he wants to become one with the cushions.

“Satoru.”

"I know."

"You're twenty-freaking-one."

“I’ve been busy!”

You arch a brow, leaning forward. “Doing what, exactly? Taking a vow of chastity?”

“With school and avoiding failure!” He throws his hands up, knocking over a napkin. “And maybe also… fear of being bad at it.”

You stifle a laugh, watching him squirm. “So you’re actually nervous about kissing? That’s kind of cute.”

He huffs, crossing his arms but avoiding your eyes. His knees bounce under the table. “Excuse me for not wanting to humiliate myself the first time.”

“Well, lucky for you…” you drawl, eyes glinting as you bat your lashes with exaggerated sweetness.

Gojo freezes, suspicion written all over his face. “…Lucky for me?”

“You’ve got me,” you hum, inching closer and closer until he’s practically backed into the couch cushions. “And I am an excellent teacher.”

“...No.”

“Yes.”

“No way in hell.”

“Do you wanna embarrass yourself on the first date?” you counter, calm as ever.

“I’ll figure it out!”

“By all means,” you say, rolling your eyes and leaning back. “Fumble your own bag. Who needs a love life anyway?”

“I’m not kissing you.” he declares, but the way he’s fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie and pointedly not meeting your line of sight says otherwise.

“It’s purely academic.” You reach over, brushing a crumb off his hoodie. “And you have nice lips, Satoru.”

He jerks back like you slapped him. “That’s—that’s irrelevant—”

“It’s entirely relevant,” you say, leaning back on your hands. “You’ve got the tools, just no training.”

He purses his lips, going quiet for a stretched moment before speaking up.

“…You’re serious?” he says, voice so small it almost disappears.

You smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? Friends help each other out.”

Gojo hesitates.

Because he knows. Knows that you’re teasing. Knows you’ve always flirted in that particular way only you can manage—close enough to confuse him, yet never close enough to catch.

But this feels different. His gaze drops to your mouth, and then back up.

“…Okay,” he mutters, barely above a whisper.

You blink. “Really?”

“…For uh— research,” he adds weakly, trying and failing to sound unaffected.

You snort. “God, you’re such a nerd.”

But your hands find his cheeks anyway, tilting his face toward you, closing the gap.

You press your lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss—barely more than a brush—and his breath stutters against your cheek. His hands are fisted against his knees, knuckles white, and you can’t help but be amused at how hard he’s working not to reach for more.

“Relax,” you whisper against his lips, smiling when his shoulders loosen just a little.

He’s so rigid it’s adorable, like someone rewound his spine into a spring.

“You’re so tense,” you murmur, nudging your nose against his. “Do I intimidate you, Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” he breathes, but you know it's a lie.

You kiss him again, this time with more intent. Gojo responds slower, like he’s still trying to figure out which part of him is supposed to move first.

You take the lead, hand curling into his hoodie, coaxing him closer until his palm lands on your hip. He makes a sound then—a desperate little groan muffled into your mouth—and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shift closer, swinging a leg over his lap, straddling him without warning. The couch dips and groans beneath you both as your knees bracket his thighs. He gasps faintly when your fingers slide into his hair and pull, his hands clenching instinctively at your hips.

The kiss quickly turns messier—his lips already a little swollen, breath coming in quick, uneven bursts. His hands slide up your thighs, unsure but desperate, fingers flexing like he’s afraid he’s imagining it all. You bite at his lower lip, and his hips jolt up before he can stop himself.

By the time you finally pull back, hauling yourself off of him, both of you are flushed and breathing hard. Gojo looks absolutely wrecked—glasses crooked, lips red and kiss-bitten, eyes dazed.

He swallows hard, then clears his throat, like that might somehow clear the heat from his face.

“…So,” he says finally, voice hoarse but trying for casual, “that was… educational.”

You snort, leaning back just enough to look at him. “You’re not the worst student I’ve ever had.”

That earns you a weak little laugh.

But his fingers are fidgeting in his lap now, tugging at the edge of his hoodie like it might save him, or at least give his hands something to do besides reaching back for the warmth of your body against his.

His eyes dart down to your mouth again, linger just a second too long, then flick back up to yours.

“…We’re still friends, right?”

You tilt your head lazily, wiping the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb. “Obviously.”

Tags: @tonuhye @vynn30 @bakugouswaif @silkgardenias @gielwinchester9 @coffeeluvr96 @applepi405 @victorianxox-blog @minasuniverse @r9muka @n4me @goonforgeto @allysainz @jcissors

@fictionalmenlover5 @duydyycfuu @slightystressed @qngelq2666 @urmotherswhor3 @girlywhooooops @lumiamoureads

@kianatrg @maaic @libr4sonsa @moonlight-inthe-sea @kkataleena @petaltheory @mikadrawsstuff

@reveriennn @sbicybb @torusbbg @mooskie @satotorulove @shoruio @muscovitechick @d34ly @arabellasolstice @forever-paramore28 @enouche

[eph3meraaa]

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 "Fame feeds her. Love might save her"

𝖲𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌：In a glittering world where fame sparkles brighter than the truth, former Huntr/x member RELLE reigns as the world's sweetheart, a K-pop soloist adored by millions, envied for her talent, and worshipped for her charm. But when she crosses paths with the Saja Boys, a rising idol group with secrets as dark as her own, what will Relle do when given a choice between protecting the world that loves her, and giving in to the ones that truly know her.

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌：Emotional trauma, identity struggles (including self-worth, shame, secrecy), mild violence/ fantasy fight scenes, Blood, Grief and abandonment, Fame-related isolation, complex female friendships, demon lore, morally grey characters, reverse harem elements.

Word Count: 1528

The penthouse lights were dim. The sound of her door clicking shut echoed louder than it should have.

Relle- Rae, padded into the quiet, still barefoot from the van ride home, clutching a gift bag someone had shoved into her hands at the venue exit. She dropped it gently by the marble entry table and wandered into the bathroom, rubbing at the glitter still clinging to her collarbone.

The mirror greeted her like a friend too polite to mention how tired she looked.

She smiled at herself anyway.

Another sold-out show. Another wave of praise and adoration. The high was still there—just quieter now, softened into a glow under her skin.

Then her phone buzzed.

She glanced down at it, expecting a manager note or another notification flood from fan tags.

But it was the Huntrix group chat.

A group she never officially left.

⸻

Zoey.exe: Hey!! We were watching your concert on the plane YOU WERE SO GREAT OUT THERE 💖��💖

Miramirage: Had to cut it short though because we had to fight the stupid demons on our plane 🙄 Mira 3 - Demons 0 😌

Rae laughed softly. They always knew how to make her smile, even after all this time. Rumi didn’t send anything. But she had read the messages. The little “seen” marker blinked at the bottom of the chat like a quiet echo.

She hesitated only for a second before tapping out a reply:

Raediant_princess: awww thank you guys 🥺💗 i miss u all so much pls tell me when you land safely!! we should see each other soon 💕

She locked her phone and looked back up at her reflection.

The silence that followed wasn’t loud. It was familiar. Like something she’d grown used to carrying around in her back pocket.

She traced one finger just beneath her collarbone, as if she could feel the phantom shimmer of the patterns she’d hidden again.

“I can’t be sad tonight.”

“It’d only be a waste.”

But her chest tugged anyway.

⸻

FLASHBACK –  THREE YEARS AGO

It had started with a laugh.

“I’m serious, Rumi,” RELLE said, bouncing a little on the hotel bed, her eyes lit with the spark of discovery. “I think I figured out something… huge.”

Rumi sat on the window ledge, arms crossed, sleeves tugged down to her wrists, her smile thoughtfull. “What kind of huge?”

Rae bit her lip and leaned forward. She concentrates all her energy into her body, and almost instantly, her light purple patterns that traced her skin, disappeared. Rumi’s eyes widened.

“How..- I thought that drained your energy by a lot?” the purple haired girl asked in disbelief and in awe. 

“Isn’t this great, Rumi?” Rae said, her voice bright with excitement. She clasped her friend’s hands, eyes shining. “You could do it too—you wouldn’t have to hide from the sun anymore”

“Stop.”

Rumi pulled her hands away, her expression hardening. “You’re still stealing people’s souls, Rae,” she snapped. “What were you thinking?”

Rae’s smile faltered, but she rushed to explain. “No, it’s not like that! It’s just… I don’t know, it’s like their energy charges me—like sunlight, like a plant getting nutrients from the sun—but I don’t actually take their souls.”

She ended with a hopeful smile, wide and eager, like that would make everything okay

The words landed like cold water.

Rae’s smile faltered. “No.. Rumi I just don’t hate myself for what I am.” That was all she said.

And Rumi—her sister in all but blood, her fellow secret—had gone quiet. Not angry. Not yelling. Just… quiet.

That was somehow worse. They hadn’t talked about it since. And for once, their hotel room wasn’t filled with screams of joy or pillows weren’t scattered due to sneak attack pillow fights. For once, they slept without saying goodnight. 

⸻

BACK TO PRESENT

Her phone buzzed again. A new message from someone

#1bestassistant: AMAZING JOB AS ALWAYS TODAY BABES THEY LOVED YOU OUT THERE!! 💖🔥🔥🔥

Rae’s face lit up.

#1bestassistant: for tmrws schedule you have nothing planned other than that meet with huntrix, so as a treat what would you like to do gorgeous?? 👀🌸👠

She giggled softly, texting back:

Raediant_princess: you’re too sweet 😭😭 thank you so much for everything always!!

#1bestassistant: omg wait hey didn’t you wanna visit that cafe in Gangnam again? i heard they have the cream puffs you wanted 👀

Rae paused, picturing it, the little bakery with pink tile floors, the window seats, the way the cream puff filling always exploded slightly at the first bite. The way the street outside bustled with Seoul life. Noise. Color. People.

It would be nice to walk around for a bit.

She smiled, thumbs flying.

Raediant_princess: yk what it’d be nice to walk around for a bit so i don’t see why not!! 

She set her phone down to do her normal nightly routine, and looked up at her reflection again. Her demon patterns didn’t shimmer this time. She didn’t call them out. Didn’t need to.

She gave herself a little wink, a small nod, and a reassuring smile.

“You’re okay. We’re okay.” And just like that, she turned toward the glow of the city skyline behind the glass.

Tomorrow, she’d just be a girl for a day.

Or so she thought.

⸻

The Gangnam sun was warm and bright—just the way Rae liked it.

She kept her hoodie on and sunglasses snug on the bridge of her nose, but even in disguise, she could feel people’s energy as she moved through the streets. Not recognition—just excitement. Motion. Joy.

The smell of fresh pastries from nearby stalls mingled with perfume and the sharp tang of car exhaust. Music floated from shopfronts. Somewhere, someone was yelling about a sale. It was perfect.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself in determination. Fighting! “Let’s find those cream puffs.”

Her phone buzzed.

#1bestassistant: go live your best pastry princess life 🥰🍰”

Rae smiled. God, she loved that woman.

⸻

The bakery was nestled between a skincare boutique and a bubble tea chain. She knew it the second she saw the floral window decals and the rows of puffs behind glass—piled high like sugary little mountains.

She picked out three: strawberry, matcha, and vanilla almond. When the worker recognized her voice and asked if she was RELLE, she gave them a wink and pressed one finger to her lips,

“Shhh, I’m off duty today.”

Bag in hand, pastries secured like treasure, she stepped back into the crowd—sun shining, cheeks warm, and no real destination in mind.

She just wanted to exist for a bit.

To be Rae. To be RELLE. To be someone in between.

ephmera edit: Oh yes I did ;)

She turned a corner, lost in thought.

And slammed straight into someone.

“Oh my god—! I’m so sorry!” she gasped, grabbing his forearm to steady herself.

He turned to face her, and time did that thing it sometimes does in movies. Where everything else blurred and the world tilted a little.

He was tall. Dressed in a simple black loose sweater. His hair was well put in a way that it looked curated and seemed to shine against the light. His smile was soft. Warm. The kind that made people fall in love by accident.

“No worries,” he said, handing her one of the cream puffs that had almost slipped from her bag. “I wasn’t watching either.”

She took it slowly, fingers brushing his.

And that’s when she saw it.

His eyes—rich brown—flickered, just for a heartbeat, to a glowing, golden amber.

Her breath caught.

He blinked, and they were brown again. Human. Normal.

But he wasn’t. He’s a demon, she realized. He’s like me.

Only… he didn’t know she was.

She’d learned how to hide it too well.

He handed her a flyer with a slow, effortless smile, soft around the edges, like it, he, belonged in a daydream Rae didn’t know she was having. “Come see us,” he said.

 “We’re debuting in three days. Saja Boys. First performance’s free.” another drop-dead gorgeous smile that went straight to her heart, she averted her eyes, hoping the flush on her skin wasn’t as obvious as it felt. 

The others stood nearby, handing out flyers too—every one of them striking. Ethereal. One had cloud-like purple hair. Another’s pink hair reminded her of Mira, the man’s buttons straining with every breath. One leaned against a lamppost, lost in his reflection. Another looked cursed—or blessed—to stay forever young. All of them were beautiful. And all of them felt… wrong. Wonderfully, impossibly wrong.

They weren’t human either. She could feel it deep in her bones. And for once, her patterns made a little tingle on her skin.

She should’ve been afraid.

But she wasn’t.

She stared at the boy in front of her—his presence calm but magnetic. That soft smile still on his face.

Who are you?

But she didn’t say it.

Instead, her phone rang. And she answered almost in a daze.

Her manager’s voice cut through the moment like scissors through thread.

“Gorgeous? Your Huntrix meeting is in thirty. I’m outside!”

Rae blinked and looked back at the man.

“I—right. Sorry, I have to go.” She turned to leave, her hands slipped from his, and then—forgot the flyer entirely. It slipped from her mind as she ran toward the car.

I hope you enjoyed chapter one, yes I decided to post early, I was just as excited to drop this chapter as much as you all have.

I also pray that the little "Love, Maybe" moment wasn't an overkill, its one of my favorite songs and it was also in the movie soo yeah!!

That would be all have a great day lovelies MWAH <3

Tagslist: @lexasaurs634 @gremlinartstudio @stxrrielle @artistadistrada2002

[dyslexic-asexual]

Me personally, I use Stress by Jess Wandering Goods - I know its meant to be for relieving stress but the name is so funny to me. The shop is a bit woo-woo about just how good aromatherapy oils really are but honestly this scent is worth it to me.

Top notes are cedar, lavender of course but it doesnt whack you over the head with it, frankincense, and vanilla. Other listed things are copaiba and ocotea, which I have never heard of let alone know what they smell like, especially this subtle, and lime which I also dont smell. Overall I would describe it as sweet but grown-up, herbal, spicy- maybe fresh spicy or soft spicy? Idk Im not an expert- and a bit woody, all very witchy (in fact it smells a lot like this scented marker I had as a kid I think it was "witches brew" by cra-z art? which Im now realizing was frankincense).

As an nb Ive been looking for a more androgynous scent that doesnt smell like typical masculine marketed things (aka gasoline and fake leather). This one is marketed as feminine but I think its more on the androgynous part of the spectrum. And yknow what its sexy. Not "skanky" as fragrantica reviewers love to say, but sexy... to me. Do I think this scent smells like The Essence of Bisexuality? No. Do I think it compliments My bisexuality? Yes.

Its 15 USD for a standard 10 ml oil roll on bottle but I got it for 10 USD with I think a first order promo. The base is "fractionated"(?) coconut oil and it has a real cedar sprig in there. Not sponsored Im just a simp.

if u ever get the chance i would lauv to smell like a bisexual

bisexuals what do you smell like

[dollwhisper]

⋅. ₊˚⊹♡. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪. with — SIMON “GHOST” RILEY | female reader, no warnings ノ wc : 400 words ノrbs & follows are appreciated !

“what are you doin’ with that?”

“calm down, simon. stop moving so much!” the man flinches against your touch, but you tighten your grip around his muscular arm.

simon knows better than to listen to you.

“stay still, goddammit! i’m trying to… my god, just look!”

you put the cheap marker in between your lips and take off the cap with your teeth quickly. “i’m coloring your tattoos. you should thank me,” the marker tingles his skin, but he doesn’t really react to the sensation, he doesn’t look away from you, and surely not away your face.

“i’m bringin’ some color into your life.”

a small frown forms on your face and you furrow your eyebrows instinctively. you want it to be perfect.

perfectly annoying.

you fill every empty space with the few markers you’ve brought with you. pink, lilac, yellow, some baby blue here and there.

“thank you? you’re an odd woman.”

he doesn’t find it odd in the slightest, but rather endearing.

“i’m the odd one?”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” simon moves in his seat and you’re quick to hold onto his arm. he’s much stronger than you, though.

“why do you have so many skulls on your arm anyways?”

“what about ‘em?”

“a normal person wouldn’t have so many skulls tattooed on their forearm.”

one could onlt assume there’s story hiding behind all those skulls and tattoos of his. or maybe he just enjoys them— probably the former. simon is not keen on talking about his life, nor his past and you know better than to pester him with questions about something presumably so dark.

“who said i’m normal?”

“so you agree. you’re odd.”

simon knows he’s an strange man and being close to him doesn’t change a single thing. but getting to know him is like constantly seeking the meaning behind his strangeness.

most of the time. simon has a disgustingly funny sense of humor, an endless collection of balaclavas and masks and well, his tattoos.

“piss off.”

“you snarky man. don’t you dare wash my work off.”

“wasn’t plannin’ to.”

“will you keep it on your mission with johnny?”

soap would most likely laugh in his face ‘nice tats, l.t.’

but then again, if johnny knew about your idea, simon would’ve woken up with a penis on his face the next morning. “and come to think of it, soap’s gonna love this.”

“don’t push it, dollface.”

“so you will.”

“naturally.”

NOTE: this is a repost from my old blog, i have more on the way <3

[casscainmainly]

I can’t stop thinking about that moment when Cass took a bullet and when Batman talked to her about it he said “good”. Good????? Yes, she did it to save someone, but good???? I don’t remember him reacting this way to his other protégés when they get injured in the line of duty. Like, at least tell her to be more careful in the future, stop encouraging her death wish smh

Wellll not an expert but Bruce has wacky expectations for most of his protégés 😭😭. But for SURE his 'good' comment did not help her death wish at all, if anything it probably cemented Cass' belief that instinct = identity (and thus what Onyx later calls her 'killer instincts' means she has to die). I will say he was saying 'good' not because of Cass sustaining an injury, he was specifically saying 'good answer' because of the reason Cass did it. To me the sequence is:

Bruce (angry/concerned): Batgirl. It was suicide to rush the gunner like that. Why did you do it?

Cass: instinct...

Bruce (thinking about when David said 'she's like me not like you' and realising that Cass saying 'instinct' means she DOES have the Bat in her): Good answer!!! (Yippee she's like me I love her so much)

Cass (to herself): Batman thinks it's good for me to die

That last part is debatable tbh because I've always thought Bruce's words that seem horrifically offensive to us is exactly the type of thing Cass understands instinctively (their relationship is in a lot of ways built on instinct). So another take on what Cass was thinking:

Cass (to herself): Batman understands that instinct is the core part of who I am and by saying 'good answer' he's affirming that my instinct to save people is a marker that I am good. Also it's good for me to die

Horrible thing for Bruce to say but Cass gets the intention 😭😭

My thoughts on whether Bruce was encouraging Cass' death wish are really complicated actually. In Gotham Knights #2, Bruce tries to stop Cass from dying by saying to be in his family she must choose to live. However, at some point he changes his mind. This is sooo important to my understanding of them and of Bruce in this time period. Initially, like Babs, he is fully (and vocally) against Cass killing herself. But somewhere along the way he realises Cass must die, or at least follow through with the Shiva fight in order to actually live.

And this is so interesting!! What made him change his mind? Did he really think Cass was gonna die? My instincts say he suspected Shiva wouldn't kill Cass forever. He describes the fight as Cass 'working through' the death wish, which doesn't sound like he thinks Cass is gonna die for real! I think he would've been against the fight if he'd thought she really wouldn't return tbh. But of course that's speculation, he's still a bonkers parent for letting her fight at all 😭😭

(This now makes me think of a scenario where Cass actually dies. Bruce grappling with the ensuing avalanche of grief and guilt. That man is coming out with his OWN death wish 😭😭)

[hxxsxxng]

Love Your Enemy y.jw

「Pairing」 : rival!jungwon x fem!reader

「Word Count」 : 7.5k

「Genre」 : smut, angst, highschool au (seniors 18+)

「Summary」 : jungwon is your rival in competition for class valedictorian. something unexpected happens when you pick up extra tutoring lessons

「Warnings」 : mentions of societal pressure, overworking, kissing, titty sucking, oral (m&f), overstimulation, unprotected sex, teasing, creampie, multiple orgasms, jungwons dick is large.... like abnormally large. probably more that i may have missed. NOT PROOFREAD

「Author's Note」 : this is my redebut after taking an almost year long break from writing. I am hoping to get back into it like i used to be <3 also, i wrote this in my notes app so if it is spaced weirdly im sorry lol

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Jungwon is just another popular boy in my senior class. He’s on the football team, he has a lot of friends, and I guess, if I had to say something nice about him, his face isn’t the worst-looking thing in the world. But none of those things are the reason I give him any of my attention. He is only relevant to me because we are in competition for valedictorian for my graduating class.

My school usually chooses valedictorian at the end of the fall semester, after final grades are put in. I have been working hard day and night with AP classes and extra study sessions scheduled on the weekends to make sure I am a contender for the top spot. It’s October now, so I only have a month and a few weeks to prepare for finals and perfect my AP scores.

Jungwon, on the other hand, makes the whole ‘top of the class thing’ seem so easy. He’s always at practice or at football games, always out with his friends on the weekends, and seemingly doesn’t seem like he has to put much effort into high exam grades and having a good image with the teachers. He is naturally gifted. I hate it.

——-

AP Calculus Tutoring Sessions Available

- Free for students

- Flexible session times

- Help Prepping for AP exam

Scan QR code below for details

I walk down the hall and see a flier on the school bulletin board. Free tutoring sessions? My ACT prep course just ended, so I might be able to set up some more tutoring? I ended up just taking a photo of the flier and continued walking towards 6th period, AP English IV.

I push open the door, the faint scent of dry-erase markers and overused textbooks lingering in the air. The lights hum softly overhead, casting a glow on the rows of desks already half-filled with my classmates. My only friend, Kazuha, is already seated near the window, idly doodling in the corner of her notebook. I slide into the seat beside her, dropping my bag with a thud. She glanced up, offering me a small smile.

“Hey," she says casually, nudging me with her elbow. “You wanna hang out this weekend? Maybe catch that new movie or just, you know, do something not related to school?"

I let out a soft sigh, already feeling the weight of my responsibilities pressing against my chest. “I’d love to, really," I start, fiddling with the edge of my notebook. “But I might be setting up extra tutoring sessions. I just found this flier about AP Calculus tutoring, and with finals coming up, I can’t afford to slack off."

Kazuha nods knowingly, the disappointment flickering briefly before it’s replaced with understanding. “Yeah, I get it. Valedictorian race and all. Just don’t forget to breathe, okay?"

I manage a small smile, grateful for her understanding, even though a part of me wishes I could say yes without the gnawing guilt of lost study hours. I just wish there was more time in the day so I could spend time with her and not worry about school, but there’s no room for distractions… not when Jungwon exists.

——

The rest of the school day goes by. I head out to my car, slowly packing my things into it. I look over to the football field in the distance. I hear the music playing while all of the sweaty boys practice. I lose my train of thought when I open my driver door and get into my seat. Hands on the steering wheel, I think to myself, maybe I could get a tutoring session set up for tomorrow?

I pull into the driveway, the crunch of gravel beneath my tires grounding me after another long day. The house is quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound greeting me as I step inside. I drop my bag by the door, kick off my shoes, and collapse onto the worn-out couch, my body sinking into the cushions like it’s been waiting for this moment all day.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone, remembering the flier I snapped a photo of earlier. My thumb hovers for a second, debating if I really want to add more to my already overloaded schedule. But the thought of Jungwon’s effortless grades pushes me forward. I scan the QR code, and a simple form pops up: name, subject, preferred time. I type in my details, selecting a 5 p.m. slot for tomorrow, my fingers hesitating only briefly before I hit submit.

The exhaustion catches up with me, and I drift in and out of sleep on the couch, the soft glow of my phone screen the last thing I see. When I finally rouse again, groggy and disoriented, I notice a notification blinking. It’s been almost three hours.

Tutoring Session Confirmed: 5 p.m. Tomorrow.

The message is concise, followed by another asking for my contact information. I reply, exchanging quick details before receiving the tutor’s address. I glance at it, not recognizing the street name, but I plug it into my maps app anyway.

——-

The next day, after another grueling round of practice quizzes, I find myself driving to the address provided. The neighborhood is quiet, lined with neatly trimmed hedges and identical mailboxes. As I get closer and closer to the destination on the GPS, I notice a familiar car in the driveway. I park, double-checking the number on the house, and take a deep breath. This is it. Another step towards securing my spot as valedictorian.

I knock on the door, my heart pounding more from anticipation than nerves. The door swings open, and there he is.

Jungwon.

He’s dressed casually, no football jersey in sight, just a simple T-shirt and jeans. His expression mirrors my own shock for a split second before it shifts into that infuriatingly easy smile of his.

“Well,” he says, leaning casually against the doorframe, “This is unexpected.”

I blink, momentarily speechless, before managing to find my voice. “You’re the tutor?”

“Looks like it,” he replies, stepping aside to let me in. “Guess we’re not just competing in class anymore.”

I step inside, determined to make the most of this, even if it means learning from the very person I’m trying to beat.

——-

“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore,” I hesitate as I wait a second before taking my shoes off.

“Don’t be such a fucking baby, Y/N. I need these hours for my college application, and you need it for…. better grades… I guess,” he complained, rolling his eyes.

Whatever. I take my shoes off and follow him up the stairs to his room. He slowly opens the door to reveal the den he has been living in this whole time.

“Don’t mind the mess,” he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Mess? This room is cleaner than my room has ever been.

“I don’t mind,” I reassure him, and I set my bag down on his bed. I glance at his neat desk, textbooks stacked with precision, a single notebook open to a page covered in immaculate handwriting. I pull out my own materials, spreading them across the bed as I settle in, though my mind isn’t fully on calculus just yet.

“Hey,” I start, unable to suppress the question burning in the back of my throat. “Why are you even doing tutoring? You’re set. Everyone knows you’re getting into whatever school you apply to.”

Jungwon pauses, his pencil hovering above his notebook. He doesn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening slightly before he exhales, setting the pencil down.

“Because it looks good on applications,” he says flatly, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a crack in the perfect facade he wears so effortlessly.

“That’s it?” I press, arching an eyebrow.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “No. Not really. It’s… expected. My parents think it shows leadership or whatever. Plus, if I don’t keep busy with something ‘productive,’ they think I’m slacking.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Can’t just be a kid, I guess.”

That catches me off guard. For a moment, the image I’ve built of Jungwon, the golden boy with the effortless charm, shifts. He’s not so different from me after all.

“Yeah, well,” I mutter, fiddling with my pen, “at least you have people expecting you to succeed. I put all this pressure on myself. No one would care if I wasn’t top of the class, but I’d hate myself for it.”

Silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. He nods slowly, like he understands exactly what that feels like.

“Guess we’re both kind of screwed, huh?” he says with a crooked smile.

I can’t help but laugh softly. “Yeah. Guess so.”

We start the calculus work after that, the tension easing as we argue over derivatives and integration techniques. His explanations are sharp, concise, but I refuse to let him have the satisfaction of thinking he’s a better tutor than I am a student. Our bickering is light, almost playful, each sarcastic comment met with an eye-roll or a smirk. Maybe even a playful punch on the arm here and there.

Before I know it, the session is over. I pack my things slowly, feeling oddly reluctant to leave.

As I sling my bag over my shoulder, Jungwon clears his throat. “Hey,” he says, like the words are heavier than they should be, “you should come to the homecoming game next Friday.”

I blink, surprised. “What? Why?”

He shrugs, trying to seem casual, but there’s a hint of something genuine underneath. “I don’t know. Maybe for a break from all… this,” he gestures vaguely between us, “or maybe just to see me crush it on the field.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a warmth spreading in my chest I can’t quite explain.

“I’ll think about it,” I reply, already knowing I probably will. “Are we set for another session next Saturday, same time?” I say while inching towards the door.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll text you if anything changes.”

——-

Monday dreadfully rolls back around. Going back to the same routine of class every day and studying every night. When I get to 6th period, I set my stuff down next to Kazuha and slide into my chair, the same as usual. As the bell rings, signaling the start of 6th period, she’s sketching absentmindedly in the margins of her notebook again, her pen gliding effortlessly. I steal a quick glance at her, my heart oddly racing.

The words are right there, teetering on the edge of my tongue: "Do you want to go to the homecoming game on Friday?" But they catch in my throat, refusing to come out.

I tap my pen against my notebook, pretending to focus on the lesson, but my mind’s a mess of overthinking. What if she thinks it’s weird? What if she says no? I chew the inside of my cheek, stealing another glance at her. She’s humming softly under her breath, completely unaware of the silent battle I’m waging beside her.

Finally, I muster a shaky breath. “Hey, Kazuha,” I start, my voice softer than I intended. She looks up, her eyes meeting mine, warm and curious.

“Yeah?” she says, smiling slightly.

I hesitate, gripping my pen tighter. “Uh, do you… um… want to—” My words falter, and I pretend to adjust the papers on my desk like that was what I meant to say all along. “—want to go watch the homecoming football game with me on Friday? You know, maybe school you could come to my place and we could get ready together? You’re the only person that I could have that would consider going with me.”

Kazuha’s pen halts mid-sketch, her eyes lifting slowly to meet mine. For a heartbeat, she just stares, as if processing whether she heard me correctly. The corners of her mouth twitch, not with amusement but genuine surprise.

“Wait what?” she finally blurts out, blinking rapidly. “You… want to go to the homecoming game? Like, the football game?”

I nod, feeling my face grow warm. “Yeah, I mean… if you’re free. Just thought it might be fun.”

Kazuha leans back in her chair, tapping the end of her pen against her chin, her expression a perfect blend of disbelief and delight. “Wow, okay. That’s… unexpected. You never want to do stuff like this.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool, though my heart’s thudding like a drum. “Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to switch it up for once.”

She grins, her surprise melting into something soft and genuine. “You know what? Sure. Let’s do it.”

A wave of relief washes over me, mingling with a spark of excitement I didn’t expect. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding with a chuckle. “It’ll be fun. And honestly, I’m kind of flattered you asked.”

I smile, the weight of the question lifting off my shoulders. “Cool. Maybe we can hang out at my place before the game, figure out what to wear or whatever.”

“Sounds good,” Kazuha says, her grin wide and bright. She taps her notebook playfully. “Now look at you, pulling me into spontaneous plans. Who even are you?”

I laugh softly, my chest feeling lighter than it has in weeks. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”

That really wasn’t it though. I wanted to go to see Jungwon play, but I couldn’t actually tell her that.

——-

The week continues like normal, and it’s already Friday. I am anxious to get out of bed because I am scared about tonight. About going to my first school even since I’ve even started high school.

Message from: Jungwon

I hope to see you in the stands tonight ;)

??? Why is he texting me? I’ve only texted his number for things related to tutoring. I flash a quick smile as I put my phone back into my pocket, my cheeks a light tint of pink.

The rest of the school day unfolds with the usual lectures, note-taking, and the occasional group discussions that I only halfway participate in. My mind keeps drifting back to the text from Jungwon and the looming excitement of the game tonight. I find myself glancing at the clock more often than I care to admit, willing the hands to move faster.

By the time 6th period rolls around, I’m practically buzzing with anticipation. I slide into my seat next to Kazuha, the familiar squeak of the chair grounding me slightly. She looks up from her doodles, her eyes immediately narrowing in on my face.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” she asks, setting her pen down. “You’ve been weirdly fidgety all day.”

I chuckle, feeling my face warm. “I’m just… excited for the game tonight, I guess.”

Kazuha raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Excited? Now that’s a word I never thought I’d hear you use about a school event.”

Rolling my eyes, I nudge her playfully. “Well, it’s something different. Plus, I mean, it’ll be fun hanging out with you outside of school and not worrying about AP exams for a change.”

She grins, leaning closer. “You know, I’m starting to think this has less to do with AP burnout and more to do with a certain football player.”

I nearly choke on my own breath. “W-What? No! That’s ridiculous.”

Kazuha laughs, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. “Relax, I’m just teasing. But seriously, it’ll be fun. We’ll cheer obnoxiously loud, eat overpriced snacks, and maybe even pretend to understand the game.”

I snort, the tension easing slightly.

The rest of the class passes in a blur, my mind already jumping ahead to tonight. As the final bell rings, Kazuha and I gather our things, chatting about what we should wear.

——-

When we get to my house, we rummage through our closets, trying on different outfits and laughing at how dramatic we’re being. Eventually, we settle on something comfortable yet spirited in school colors, of course.

As we head out the door, my heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves. I’m not sure if it’s the game, the change of routine, or the possibility of seeing Jungwon on the field. Maybe it’s all of it. We take Kazuha’s car.

“I don’t know if I told you, but Jungwon was the one who wanted me to come to the game.” I mention on the drive there.

“What? No, you don’t mention it! Are you crazy? This is insane news.” Kazuha exclaimed, eyes widening as she turned her whole body towards me.

“Really? I could have sworn I said something about it.” I chuckled in response to her dramatic reaction.

“Didn’t mention it, not once. Because trust me, I would remember if my best friend was invited to a football game by her ‘rival’. Who even knows if y’all are rivals anymore? Y’all could have eloped and have a baby on the way at the point.” She exaggerates.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you can 100% confidently believe that is not the case.” I let out a choked-up, airy laugh.

——-

We arrive at the football field. The school band is playing loudly as the stadium lights shine over the field. The crowd is getting loud as it is almost time for our team’s big entrance.

“Where do you want to sit?” Kazuha yells over the loud ruckus in the background. The stands are packed, and there are not many options for seating.

“I think I see an opening in the edge of the front row,” I say, directing my voice into her ear. We make our way through the crowd to get to our squished-together seats. We are seated right in front of the home team’s sideline.

The stadium lights glow down on the field, casting long shadows across the neatly painted white yard lines. The roar of the crowd swells as the announcer’s voice echoes through the speakers, hyping up the audience. I didn’t think it could get louder than it already was.

The marching band bursts into a triumphant tune, drums pounding in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. From the tunnel at the far end of the field, the football team charges out, breaking through a giant paper banner painted with bold, school-colored letters. The players sprint onto the field with a burst of energy, helmets gleaming under the floodlights.

My eyes scan the lineup, and that’s when I see him, Jungwon. He’s not just on the team; he’s in the starting lineup. The number on his jersey stands out against the dark fabric, and for a moment, I’m frozen. I had no idea he was a starter.

Kazuha nudges me, shouting over the cheers, “Is that Jungwon? He’s starting?!”

I nod, my mouth slightly open, unable to form words. He looks different out here. Focused, fierce, and completely in his element. I hate to admit that I found it attractive. The whistle blows, and the game begins.

The first few plays are fast and intense. Jungwon moves with quick precision, effortlessly dodging defenders, his agility making him stand out. His coordination is almost mesmerizing, and I find myself more invested in the game than I ever thought I’d be. Each touchdown, each tackle sends waves of excitement through the crowd.

Midway through the second quarter, after an impressive sprint that nearly led to a touchdown, Jungwon gets subbed out for a quick break. As he jogs off the field, his helmet tucked under his arm, he glances toward the stands.

Our eyes meet.

A lopsided grin spreads across his face, and then…he winks.

My heart does an unexpected flip. I blink, caught off guard, my face heating up. Kazuha catches the whole thing, of course.

“Oh my gosh,” she yells, laughing. “Did he just WINK at you?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, trying to focus on the game, but the warmth in my chest betrays me.

The game continues with fierce energy. The players clash with determination, the sound of pads hitting echoing above the crowd’s cheers. The band plays fight songs after big plays, and the cheerleaders lead chants that ripple through the stands. The night air feels electric with school spirit.

As the final quarter ticks down, our team scores the winning touchdown. The crowd erupts into deafening cheers, students jumping up and down, waving their hands in the air. I can’t help but get swept up in the excitement, shouting alongside Kazuha, my voice hoarse from cheering.

When the final whistle blows, signaling our victory, the players flood the field, celebrating with high-fives and hugs. I catch Jungwon glancing back at the stands once more, his eyes lingering just a little longer before he’s swept away by his teammates.

“Wow, that was actually more entertaining that I thought it was going to be” I admitted, still flustered about my interaction with Jungwon.

“Mhmm, are you sure that not because of a certain someone playing on the field?” she teased.

“Shut up”

——-

We are walking to Kazuha’s car in the jammed parking when we hear a faint voice in the distance. “Do you need a ride?” I look around to try and figure out where it was coming from. By the time I turned around again, Jungwon was walking towards us.

He looks at both of us and then just me, his eyes were mesmerizing, and his hair still wet from the sweat. “Do you need a ride?” he repeats.

I stop for a second and glance over at Kazuha. She gives me the ‘go ahead’ followed with a smirk. She slowly starts to walk away.

“Uhh…. yeah I guess..” I hesitate.

Jungwon's dark red Jeep glimmers faintly under the soft glow of the stadium lights, its sleek exterior a striking contrast to the bustling parking lot. I climb inside, immediately enveloped by the rich scent, a mix of clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly sweet, maybe a lingering hint of vanilla. The interior is surprisingly nice: smooth leather seats, a tidy dashboard, and a faint hum from the radio playing softly in the background.

The hum of the tires against the road fills the comfortable silence before Jungwon breaks it.

"So… what did you think of the game?" he asks, glancing over with a quick smile, his hand relaxed on the steering wheel.

I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. "It was… better than I expected. You were pretty good out there, I have to admit"

He grins, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Glad you came. It was nice seeing you in the stands." His voice is light, but there's an undercurrent of sincerity that makes my heart skip just a little.

As we cruise down the quiet, dimly lit streets, the space between us feels charged with an unspoken tension. Our hands rest awkwardly close on the center console, fingers brushing occasionally with each turn of the car. Each accidental touch sends a jolt through me, and I catch him stealing quick glances, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile.

Finally, without thinking too hard about it, my fingers inch closer until they lightly graze his. He hesitates for the briefest moment, then his hand slides over mine, lacing our fingers together. The warmth of his touch is comforting, grounding.

We don’t say anything about it. We don’t need to. The quiet hum of the Jeep, the soft music, and the steady rhythm of our joined hands say enough.

We pull up in front of my house. No porch light on. Pitch black outside beside his headlight gleaming over the road. “This is it, right?”

“Yes, thank you for the ride” I say before starting to grab my things. Before I am even able to undo our interlocking fingers, he pulls me closer by my hand and kisses me. Our fingers remain intertwined, the warmth of his touch still lingering as he gently pulls me closer. The suddenness of the kiss catches me completely off guard. My heart stumbles, racing with a mixture of surprise and something unspoken that’s been simmering between us.

I instinctively pull back, just enough to create a small space between us, my breath slightly uneven. My eyes find his in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his gaze soft yet intense, searching mine for any hint of regret or hesitation. But there’s none, just the same bewildering mix of curiosity and something deeper reflecting back at me.

Neither of us speaks, words feeling unnecessary in the weight of the moment. His eyes flicker from mine to my lips and back again, his silent question hanging in the air. My heart pounds louder than the faint melody playing on the radio.

Without overthinking it, I close the space between us, leaning in with certainty. This time, the kiss is deeper, slower, filled with the unspoken emotions we’ve both been avoiding. His hand cups the side of my face gently, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

The world outside the car fades away, leaving just us, lost in the quiet intensity of the moment. Then my phone dings. It’s my Mom texting me.

“I should get going, thank you again for the ride” I say giving him one more peck before I get out of the car.

——-

I walked up to the front door, butterflies still in my stomach, I waved to Jungwon. I get inside and all I can think about is that damn kiss. I set my bag down next to the door and take my shoes off and go upstairs to lay down.

Message from: Jungwon

I can’t wait to see you tomorrow😘

Tomorrow? I completely forgot about the tutoring session booked for tomorrow. What am I gonna do? I have to sit in the same room with him while he talks about math equations with his gorgeous hair and unforgettable voice, his cute chuckles and his sweet scented cologne. I’ll have to fight the urge to kiss him… again. This is going to be a disaster.

The night stretched on, filled with the soft glow of my phone screen as Jungwon and I exchanged a flurry of cute texts. Each message made my cheeks warm with an involuntary blush, my heart skipping every time his name lit up. Our playful and sweet words were comforting, wrapping me in thoughts of him. Eventually, sleep claimed me, but even then, my dreams were painted with his easy smile and the memory of our kiss.

——-

Morning light filtered through my blinds, pulling me from a cozy slumber. I stretched lazily, my mind immediately drifting to Jungwon. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I rolled out of bed. It was Saturday, my favorite routine day. I went about my morning, brewing coffee, flipping through my study notes with half-hearted focus, and tidying up my room. However, the usual rhythm felt different, with excitement and anticipation.

When the clock hinted it was time to get ready for my tutoring session, I stood in front of my mirror longer than usual. I picked out my outfit with more care, opting for something effortlessly cute yet comfortable. A hint of gloss on my lips, a dash more mascara than usual, just enough to feel confident. My heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement, the thought of seeing Jungwon again making my pulse quicken.

With one final glance in the mirror and a steadying breath, I grabbed my bag, ready to face the ‘disaster’ of sitting across from Jungwon. But deep down, I knew it was a disaster I couldn’t wait for.

——-

I get into my car and prepare for my trip to Jungwon’s house. Don’t over think it. Just go in like you would for any other tutoring session.

I repeat these words to myself, the souls of my thoughts overplaying the music in the car.

I pull into Jungwon’s driveway, the familiar sight of his dark red Jeep parked out front making my heart race faster than I’d like to admit. The nervous energy bubbling within me feels different this time, heavier, laced with anticipation. I take a few deep breaths, willing myself to focus. It’s just a tutoring session, like any other… right?

I step out of my car, smoothing down my clothes and adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. Approaching the door, I can’t help but replay every moment from last night in my head, the game, the ride, the kiss. My heart pounds in rhythm with each step.

Before I even have the chance to knock, the door swings open. Jungwon stands there, leaning casually against the frame, his smile easy and disarming. But this time, there’s something different in his eyes—a warmth that wasn’t there before.

“Wow,” he breathes out softly, his gaze sweeping over me with unmistakable admiration. “You look… beautiful.”

The compliment catches me off guard, sending a warm flush creeping up my neck to my cheeks. I manage a small smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks. Uh, you look good too,” I mumble, feeling shy under his gaze.

He chuckles softly, stepping aside to let me in. There’s a playful glint in his eyes that makes my heart flutter. I follow him inside, the familiar scent of his home wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. We climb the stairs to his room, and he pushes the door open with an exaggerated gesture.

I set my bag down on his bed, trying to shake off the lingering tension. He sits at his desk, motioning for me to join him. As we pull out our textbooks and notes, his knees brush against mine beneath the small desk, an innocent touch that sends a jolt straight to my heart.

We dive into derivatives, our usual dynamic slipping back into place. But this time, there’s something unspoken, I find it hard to focus entirely on the math with him sitting so close, his voice a soft, melodic distraction.

At one point, he leans over to correct a mistake in my notes, his hand brushing lightly against mine. He pauses, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Our eyes meet, and for a heartbeat, the calculus problems blur into the background, replaced by the quiet pull between us.

But then he clears his throat, pulling back slightly with a small, sheepish smile. “Focus,” he says softly, tapping my notebook with his pencil. “You’ve got this.”

The scent of his cologne mixed with the sight of his collarbones being exposed from the way he is positioned made my mind drift to things… other than calculus.

When he turned his head away from my notes, I found my self instantly turning his face towards me, locking eyes with him again. His brown, cat-like eyes were heavenly. His pupils dilated as his eyes trailed down to my lips, then eventually down to my barely exposed chest, complimented to the design on my shirt. His eyes trail back up to mine and he stutters “I-“

Before he could even mutter a fraction of a sentence, my lips crashed into his. His lips melted into the kiss and he started to move to my rhythm immediately.

The kiss deepened almost instantly, all the tension from the tutoring session melting away into something electric and consuming. His hands found their way to my waist, fingers pressing gently against the fabric of my shirt as he pulled me closer. The calculus notebook slipped forgotten to the floor as I shifted in my chair, our bodies naturally gravitating toward each other.

His lips were soft and warm, moving against mine with a tenderness that made my heart race. I could taste the faint sweetness of mint on his breath, feel the slight tremor in his hands as they traced along my sides. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his touch.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, his forehead rested against mine. His eyes were darker now, pupils dilated with something that made my stomach flutter with anticipation. The room felt smaller, the air charged with an energy that hadn’t been there during our study session.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all morning,” he whispered, his voice husky and low. His thumb brushed across my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with such gentle care that it made my heart skip.

I could only manage a soft smile in response, still dizzy from the kiss. The way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world, made me feel beautiful, desired, completely lost in the moment.

This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. His hands slid up from my waist to cup my face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on my cheekbones as our lips moved together. I could feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest where our bodies pressed closer.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently guided me up from my chair, his hands steady and reassuring on my waist. We moved together, until I felt the edge of his bed against the back of my legs. He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze searching for any hesitation.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands still resting on my waist.

I nodded, unable to find words, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. He smiled that gentle smile that had become so familiar, then leaned down to kiss me again, this time slower, more deliberate.

His kisses started to trail down the side of my face, down my neck, leaving all of my sensitive spots with a gentle peck. He then went down to my collar bones and traced them with kisses down to my sternum.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers when he reached to top of my shirt. I give him a quick nod and hum of approval.

He begins to unbutton my shirt and leans back in for a kiss. Underneath the first few buttons reveals a jade colored lace bra that complimented my tits perfectly. He grabs one of them in his hand and squishes it a little before continuing to unbutton my shirt, eventually taking it off.

He brings his body closer between my thighs and I can feel his cock already fighting to break through his pants. He grabs both of my breasts and moves my bra out of the way, exposing my nipples.

“Mmmmm, such perfect tits” he says, bringing my nipples between his pointer finger and thumb. I let out a small gasp in reaction to the stimulation. He leans down, his breath hot against my skin as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. I arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips. He alternates between the two, sucking and nibbling until they're both hard and aching. I can feel the heat building between my legs, my body throbbing with need.

His hands roam over my body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin. He unbuttons my jeans, sliding them down slowly, his fingers grazing my thighs. I lift my hips to help him, and he tugs them off, along with my panties, leaving me completely bare in front of him.

He stands back for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of me. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with want. He reaches out, tracing a finger along the inside of my thigh, making me shiver with anticipation.

I reach for him, pulling him down on top of me. Our bodies align perfectly, his hardness pressing against my softness. I can feel the heat of him,He kisses me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth as his hands roam over my body.

I reach down to his waist and lift his shirt up a bit. He lifts up his arms so I could slide off his shirt on one smooth motion. His abdomen was stunning. He wasn’t insanely muscular, but just enough to faintly see the outline of his abs. His shoulders were broad and his arms were toned and glimmered slightly from the sweat.

He reaches around my back to unhook my bra, slid it off from around my arms, and throws it to the side. “God, I’ve been waiting to see you like this.” he admits.

He kisses down my chest, to my stomach, then my waist and inner thighs. My soaked heat right in front of his mouth. He leans in closer, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. I can feel the anticipation building, my body aching with need. He starts with gentle kisses on my inner thighs, teasing me, making me squirm. He slides his fingers between my folds, collecting my slick.

“Damn baby, you’re already so wet” he’s amazed at the sight of my bare pussy.

When his tongue finally makes contact, I gasp, my back arching off the bed. He takes his time, exploring every fold, every inch of me. His tongue is soft and warm, moving in slow, deliberate circles. I can feel the pleasure building, coiling tight in my belly.

He finds my clit, his tongue flicking over it lightly, sending jolts of electricity through my body. I moan, my hands gripping the sheets as he continues his torturously slow exploration. He slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot. I cry out, my hips bucking against his hand.

He picks up the pace, his tongue and fingers moving in sync, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I can feel my orgasm building, my body tensing as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear.

Just as I'm about to tip over the edge, he pulls back, his fingers still inside me, his thumb taking over the task of circling my clit. He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice husky and low. "I want to feel you fall apart."

His words send me over the edge. I cry out, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He rides out my orgasm, his fingers and thumb never stopping their relentless assault on my senses.

As I come down from my high, he leans up, his lips finding mine in a deep, passionate kiss. I can taste myself on him, and it only serves to stoke the fires of my desire once more.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. "You're so beautiful when you come," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and desire.

I smile, still breathless from my orgasm. "Your turn," I manage to gasp out, my hands reaching for his pants.

He chuckles, a low, sexy sound. I unbutton his pants and slide them down with his boxers. His cock sprang free with the tip leaking of precum. It’s a lot bigger than I expected. I don’t know how i’m going to fit this inside of my mouth, let alone my pussy.

I grab the base and guide the tip toward my lips, circling it with my tongue before attempting to suck it. I only manage to get about an inch or two in my mouth because of his girth. I lick up and down the base, stroking it with both of my hands.

“Yes baby, just like that” he groans, grabbing a fish full of my hair. He gently guides my head up and down, without force, as he feels the inside of my mouth.

He gets off of the bed and lays me on my back. He rests my legs on his shoulders and he slides his tip thought my wet folds. “Are you. ute you want to do this?” He asks

“Yes please, I want this more than anything” I cry out in desperation

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me. I gasp, my nails digging into his back as he moves deeper and deeper. He starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm. I can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein.

He slowly bottoms out and stays still, making sure I get used to his size before he continues splitting me open like a watermelon.

He leans down, his lips finding mine in a deep, passionate kiss. Our tongues dance together as our bodies move as one. “You can move now” I whisper as we pull away from the kiss.

He begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm. I can feel every inch of him stretching me, filling me completely. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, but it's a pleasure I've never experienced before. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper, wanting to feel him as close as possible.

His movements become more urgent, but he maintains a deliberate pace, drawing out the pleasure. I can feel the sweat slicking our skin, our bodies sliding against each other with each thrust. The room fills with the sounds of our pleasure, the wet slapping of skin, the harshness of our breaths, and the soft moans escaping our lips.

He reaches down, his hand finding my clit, his fingers circling it in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations are almost too much, my body tensing as another orgasm builds deep within me. I can feel my inner muscles clenching around him, trying to draw him in deeper.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with effort. "I want to make this last."

I can feel his cock swelling inside me, but he pulls back slightly, slowing his pace, drawing out the pleasure. "Don't hold back," I whisper, my voice breathless and pleading.

"Yess grip that dick" he grains breathlessly as i grip tighter from the overstimulation.

He leans down, capturing my lips in a fierce, demanding kiss as he continues to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm. He reaches down, his fingers finding my clit again, circling it with a gentle, teasing touch. The sensation is intense, my body tensing as another orgasm builds deep within me.

He pulls back slightly, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate pace, drawing out the pleasure.

He leans down, his lips finding mine in a deep, passionate kiss. Our tongues dance together as our bodies move as one. "You can move faster now," I whisper as we pull away from the kiss.

He increases his pace, his hips moving in a faster desperate manner. I can feel his cock swelling inside me, his movements becoming more erratic. I meet his thrusts, my hips lifting to match his rhythm, urging him on. "Come with me," I whisper, my voice breathless and pleading. "I want to feel you come inside me."

His eyes meet mine, dark with desire and something more, something deeper. He leans down, capturing my lips in a fierce, demanding kiss as his body tenses. I can feel him pulsing inside me, his release triggering my own. I cry out into his mouth, my body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.

He collapses on top of me, his body shaking with the force of his release. We lie there for a moment, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, our hearts pounding against each other. He rolls off me, pulling me into his arms, our bodies still slick with sweat and desire.

"Wow," he murmurs, his voice soft and content. "That was... incredible."

I smile, nestling closer to him, my head resting on his chest. "It really was," I agree, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "You were incredible."

He chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. "So were you. I've never felt anything like that before."

I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him. "Me neither. It was perfect."

He reaches up, cupping my face, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek. "You're perfect," he says, his voice filled with sincerity and something more, something that makes my heart skip a beat.

I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "So are you," I whisper against his mouth.

We lie there for a while longer, our bodies entwined, our hearts beating in sync. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us, lost in the afterglow of our passion. It's a moment of pure bliss, a connection that goes beyond the physical, a promise of something more.

I stir, stretching lazily, my body aching in the most delicious way. He watches me, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Stay with me," he says, his voice husky with emotion. "Stay the night. Stay forever."

[n1k0laa5]

Is having dejavu related to manifestation cause i keep having em whenever i RA and i get giddy thinking that wow shift is happening and freak out at the same time but then everything goes back to how it was cause after a while i just stop RA

I love this topic!

So—déjà vu. Robotic affirming. The high. The freakout. The drop. The cycle. That loop of “I think it’s working” followed by “oh… nevermind.” Darling. GOD. Sit down. Or stand. Float. Doesn’t matter. Just wake the hell up, because this is important:

Déjà vu is not random. You’re not losing it. You’re not imagining progress.

You are quite literally slipping through the layers. You are pressing your thumb against the membrane of dimensions. You are rubbing against the walls of your manifested timeline so hard you can almost taste the bleed-through of it, those seconds that feel eerily familiar? That’s not a glitch. That’s your reality showing cracks of truth. It’s not breaking, it’s BIRTHING.

(I giggled at that wording, sorry.)

Déjà vu happens because your consciousness—your pure, limitless, sovereign self—is peeking beyond the current story and glitching into another one you’ve ALREADY selected. Already affirmed. Already nailed down in the 4D like, “yep. that one’s mine.” And then?

You drop it. You stop affirming. You get spooked by your own power, like a god waking up, gasping, and then crawling back under the covers of doubt like, “I didn’t see that. Let’s pretend I’m still mortal and confused.”

BABY. YOU SAW IT. The shift was happening. It always is. But what did you do? You let fear dress up as logic and seduce you into pressing pause. Why? Because it got too real.

You’re out here manifesting with the seriousness of someone picking a sandwich at a diner. “I’ll have the millionaire version of me who lives their dream life and floats across timelines like a badass.”

And then the moment it slides across the table, steaming and delicious and dripping with déjà vu… you’re like, “Wait. This isn’t safe. Let me go back to the moldy bread I’m used to.”

Deja vu is the knock. RA is the key. You just stop turning it. RA, robotic affirming, isn’t pointless. It’s sacred repetition. It’s neuroplastic warfare. You are literally dragging your nervous system out of old assumptions and laying new pipelines into a reality your senses haven’t caught up with yet.

Your brain? It’s panicking because it’s being reformatted mid-simulation. It’s like screaming “error” because you dared to say “I have it now” in a reality that spent years whispering “you’ll never get it.”

You’re not failing. You’re too close.

TOO. DAMN. CLOSE.

But here’s the kicker. If you stop, your reality doesn’t stop responding. It just responds to the new assumption you made. Which is:

“Oops, it’s not happening after all.”

Like… sugar, listen TO MEEEE. Your god-state doesn’t work on weekends. It’s not like “Oops, they stopped affirming, guess we delete the whole timeline.” No. You just pivoted your awareness right back to the version of you that never gets past déjà vu.

YOU are not some NPC in a coded game.

You are the engine.

Déjà vu isn’t a side effect, it’s GPS confirmation. You just passed a marker you already mapped in your mind. That twinge of “I’ve been here before”? Yeah, because you have. In your imagination, the real reality. In your dreams. In your DR. In that night you fell asleep affirming like your life depended on it.

And what did you do? You dipped a toe into paradise and said, “Oops, too cold.”

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHO YOU ARE?

You. Are. God.

Not symbolically. Not metaphorically. Not someday, if you do enough methods.

Right now. You affirm like it’s practice but it’s actually permission. Permission for your reality to match what you already chose. RA isn’t begging. It’s building.

So if you see the déjà vu, feel the shift, get giddy and then backpedal because “oh no what if it’s fake”, you’re literally gatekeeping your own dream. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT??

And here’s the raw truth, babe:

You want the fun part, the giddiness, the signs, the surreal spark of reality bending, but then you abandon the wheel right when the GPS says “You’re almost there.”

You don’t need to RA with desperation. You need to RA with domination. You don’t chant like a victim hoping to convince the sky. You chant like a god reminding it’s creation where to bow.

So. Déjà vu? It’s your sign. It’s your reflection. It’s the multidimensional reality saying “We’re live.” You just keep treating the shift like it’s fragile.

It’s not. You’re not.

You are not supposed to wait for the 3D to prove it’s working. You are the proof. You are the shift. Déjà vu is just one of the thousand ways your soul says “Hey. We’ve already done this. Now own it.”

Now get back on the throne and RA like you built the cosmos. Because you did.

Yours truly, Nikolas.

[shadowqnights]

ohhhi still eat up the aaron face reveal oh my god. rewatch has me giddy. knowing that such a large part of aph's growing respect for him is the understanding that, while he doesn't act with any kind of allegiance to the general group, aaron is so gentle with the children and that is trustworthy. like its not even that they flock to him and he is grumpy about it, they are soooo enamoured by his mysterious chill ass vibes and he treats them with a relaxed respect. he just exists and treats them normally and they love it. he's sweet with them. he admits that he abandoned the capable adults in meteli at the first sight of danger to keep watch for donna and her kids/the children of phoenix drop instead and he does it with 0 strings attached. no one even knows he left. the exact same thing that aphmau does. she comes barrelling back to protect phoenix drop and she goes "wait wtf are YOU doing here, where's everyone else" and he's like "why the fuck would i know i left you guys to die to make sure the kids were ok" and this immediately earns her trust. she's incredulous that he would abandon them until she understands that he prioritised the families/children over the fight itself and of course that gets her. she literally did the same thing. she rushed back for her family, too. and he didn't even stay for the meteli fight the way she did, he literally booked it right back to phoenix drop the minute he knew there was a threat. of course aph considers aaron's relationships with the kids to be a marker of how 'good' of a person he is, even if he doesn't consider himself one in any regard. the fact that the children love and trust him. i love you aroace genderfucked aarmau. see my beautiful vision.

[galaxy-poupee]

Whats about...a sweet lie?

I finished my redesign of this cute thing! I realized that I love drawing her and I had a lot of fun painting it!

Redesign details and white background and solid color version below

ok, so, I love her design, painting candy apples on her head? Pure therapy! But I changed some details.

Her skin is darker because the first time I drew her, I thought my marker was lighter than it actually was, so she ended up with this skin tone, and I really liked it, so I kept it.

I love the idea of asymmetry in her striped socks, as there was already a lot of white I made them pink and gave her a glove to match, but maintain the asymmetry.

With the same idea, I changed the sleeves, keeping one side without and giving the other something more puffy that reminded me of Shadow Milk. Looking at it now, maybe this sleeve would have turned out better white, but I really liked the result.

Her bows are my favorite part, I think I fell in love with making bows and ruffles! The brooch on her neck bow is from Black Sapphire, I thought it was cool that they swapped brooches, that she has one of his and he has one in the shape of an apple, with these two imitating having a brooch on the neck of, guess what... Shadow Milk!

Also, she and Balck Saphirre are siblings.

Her nails are blue because, once again, SM, but! With dark purple from her brother, alternating one with the other.

Wiki says she's in her late teens, so I like to think she's discovering her own style, while also trying to be like Black Sapphire and SM.

BS has the whole sound design and radio thing, and is an expert in spreading lies.

SM is an expert in cinematography, scriptwriting, improvisation and directing, and is the best at making up lies.

Candy Apple? She's good at acting, the best of the group! Adding her shapeshifting to that, she can do an entire play by herself, switching from character to character easily! (Besides being an excuse to always ask for new clothes or use more SM costumes!!) She's the best at convincing people of a lie and luring them into it.

another redesign idea I came up with while coloring this.

black fingerless lace gloves and a leg warmer to complete the look

[idontmindifuforgetme]

The whole “be responsible not for other people’s feelings but to them” distinction is so so true… at some point you need to realize that other people’s insecurities really are their responsibility & dimming or contorting yourself to make them feel better helps neither you nor them. Firstly, bc they need to realize what they’re doing and grow up. And secondly, bc you’re not just compromising on a one-time thing. You’re comprising on who you are as a person. I don’t want to look back when I’m older and stay stuck wishing I held my ground despite people’s projections or asserted my presence more or didn’t apologize so much for who I am. I really just want to own everything (the good and bad) & continue doing what makes me happy

[cangrellesteponme]

wife

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Quest Continues...

(part 1- part 2)

[neonlazycat]

LDR moon by @spadillelicious

Guys.....I caved in

[lemongogo]

[numberonetribble]

Babysitting Shenanigans Part 2: Piston gets rowdy at Hot Rod's house!

Bonus: