#thanks again for the wonderful experience

[sungstars]

fall off. | pjs x fem!reader

i.e your boyfriend is so shy and you have so much fun making him flustered!

content warning: smut! (18+ only, mdni!!), oral (f. rec), fingering (f. rec), implied dom!sung sorta… established relationship!

word count: 1.6k (not proof read sawri)

author's note: this is entirely based off of that tiktok sound that goes "come here bae come sit next to me come and take ur draws off damn u on the edge of the bed u about to fall off!" i had sososos much fun writing this :3 i love freaky shy jisung! likes & reblogs are very appreciated and i hope u guys enjoy reading this!! also i finished this before the hurricane hits because i have nothing better to do for the next few hours LOL... will try to get some more stuff out over the next few days!

"come sit next to me," you patted the empty space on your bed as you looked across at your boyfriend, jisung, "why are you so nervous?"

jisung was gripping his jeans so hard his knuckles were turning white and ears flushed fiery red, "oh. i'm okay right here. thanks."

his words were coming out very strained and jisung couldn't even bring himself to look at you, "it's really warm in here."

"you are wearing jeans and a hoodie, as well as a long sleeve shirt underneath it," you replied, leaning back against your pillows and extending your legs out, "you could take them off."

jisung's voice got caught in his throat, face turning beet red, "all of it?"

you giggled, poking his side gently with your foot, "sure. make sure you take your underwear off too."

it took everything in you to not bust into laughter at your boyfriend, and it took everything in jisung to try not to implode from embarrassment.

jisung was by no means a virgin, he had a plethora of sex before the two of you started dating. there was just something about you that made him so nervous to be intimate with you.

you had your fair share of make out sessions, always ending up with you in his lap and sucking dark hickeys into his neck, but anytime the two of you tried to do more, he just froze up and couldn't.

of course you never made him feel bad about it. you found it endearing and cute how nervous he was. even when jisung mentioned that he never had this issue before, you didn't get upset. you were so understanding.

"jisung," you sat up on your elbows, "come back to me. you started wondering off in your little world again."

he muttered out a quick sorry, starting to fan his face gently to calm down this heat in his face. you watched him in adoration, smiling because he was just too cute when he was flustered.

however, your head tilted in concern when you saw how far off the bed he was, "sung, you're about to fall off of the bed."

"oh. didn't even notice." he scratched the back of his head, adjusting his positioning on the bed, leaning against the wall, "sorry."

the two of you fell into a silence, comfortable for you, but awkward for jisung. you stretched your legs out to lay across his lap as you rested against the pillows again and closing your eyes.

jisung didn't know what to do or say. he's been in your room before, so he's not sure why he feels so. . . hot. the temperature isn't too high, and he's been in physical contact with you.

he really wants to get more physical, to make you feel good and fall apart from pleasure that he knows he can inflict upon you. there was just. . . something that made him nervous about doing it. maybe he didn't want to disappoint you because unlike other people he's slept with, you are a constant presence in his life.

and also, most of the people he's slept with were drunk freshman year experiences.

he just needed to stop thinking about the what ifs. jisung needed to stop thinking in general, he just needed to do it. he was more than capable of doing these things to you.

"stop thinking." he told himself as he looked at your legs across his lap, drumming his fingers against them, "just do it."

"fuck it, we ball." he squeezed his eyes shut before adjusting himself to stand on his knees, pushing your legs gently to stand between them.

your eyes fluttered open, looking up at your boyfriend who had an unreadable expression on his face, "everything okay, ji?"

jisung nodded, his hands coming up to unzip his hoodie before shrugging it off and tossing it behind him, "y-yeah."

you smiled up at him, gazing at his defined arms before finding his eyes again, "you look handsome."

his cheeks turned a rosy pink which caused him to mentally curse because he just got that hue to leave his face, "you look pretty. you always do."

"what's on your mind?"

with a strong exhale through his nose, jisung pushed all of these nervous thoughts that returned down and pressed his lips against yours.

a surprised noise escaped you, but you brought your arms to wrap around his neck and kissing him back. one of his hands brought your leg to his hip, pressing his growing erection into you and causing you to part your lips slightly.

jisung took his opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you gently tugged on the nape of his hair. a moan escaped the man above you, causing you to pull on it again to get another noise out of him.

his hands began to wonder between the two of you, starting to travel underneath the material of your camisole, fingers dancing lightly against the expanse of your stomach.

the boy pulled away from you slightly, his lips slightly swollen and eyes full of desire, "can i. . .can i touch you, y/n?"

"of course you can, ji." you said softly, hands rubbing up and down his chest, "you can do whatever you want."

he gently pushed your shirt up until it reached your collarbones, breath hitching when he saw that you weren't wearing a bra.

you watched him for a moment, wondering if he would touch you or get flustered and pull your shirt back down over your tits.

instead, he caught you by surprise and leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth while rolling the other one around between his fingers.

a noise of pleasure escaped you, bringing your hands up to his hair to pull on it once more.

jisung switched between your tits constantly, making sure to show them an equal amount of attention before removing them from his mouth and continuing to kiss down your stomach.

the cold air coming into contact with your now hard nipples caused you to whimper, jisung looking up at you with concern.

"are you okay? should i stop?" he asked, pulling himself up to check on you, which you quickly stopped by pushing his head back down.

"i'm fine, perfect actually," you flashed a reassuring smile at him, "continue, please."

he nodded, beginning to kiss your stomach once more, his hands moving their way up to your shorts.

jisung gently dipped his fingers into your waistband, slowly starting to pull them down to your hips.

his lips followed behind, kissing over the hibiscus tattoo that began to fade after years without a touch up, grazing his teeth over the skin lightly.

“no panties?” he murmured against your skin, biting down harshly, “hah. . . it’s like you planned this.”

you smiled mischeviously at the boy between your thighs, threading your hand through his hair, "wishful thinking."

"don't think," he said in between kisses, pulling your shorts down your thighs and over your ankles, tossing them behind him, "just focus on me."

jisung grabbed one of your legs, adjusting himself before placing your knee over his shoulder and attaching his lips to your inner thighs.

you felt your heartrate pick up, nervous at what was to come next. you talked a big game because you didn't actually think anything would come from teasing jisung.

his lips traveled closer to your core, but instead focused on sucking light marks into your skin. jisung wanted to see how desperate you could get for him, even though he wanted nothing more but to taste.

"ji," you whined out, tugging on his hair harshly, "don't be a fuckin' tease. you were just acting like a virgin who's never even touched a girl before."

annoyance crept up on jisung, rolling his eyes in disbelief. there was no way he was gonna let you talk to him like that when you both know he is far from a virgin.

"talking a lot for somebody who wants to be touched," he muttered back, using two of his fingers to spread your lips open and admiring how glistening your cunt was, "she's practically drooling for him."

your face flushed at how vulgar he was, but oh you were eating it up on the inside. this is exactly what you wanted, jisung to snap and show you how nasty he was under that shy boy exterior, "then do something about it."

jisung ignored your comment, blowing air on you cunt to make you shut up. he was going to get you to beg, no matter how long it took or how much he desired to lick you clean, "ask nicely."

"i'm not asking for shit," you spat, faux irritation escaping you, "we both know you wanna eat it anyway."

you got him there, he couldn't lie. however, he knew what game you were playing, and he decided to give in, "you're right."

a victorious look on your face quickly contorted to one of pleasure when jisung wrapped his plush lips around your clit.

a high pitched whine left your lips when his teeth gently grazed your bundle of nerves before letting his tongue lick down your slit.

your grip in his hair tightened when you felt his tongue move skillfully as he teased your hole with one of his fingers. the one wrapped around your thigh began digging crescents into your skin, the boy between your legs moaning into your cunt.

"fuck ji," you breathed out when his finger slid into you, gently pumping in and out, "fuck it feels so good."

the boy pulled away for a moment, looking up at you with your juices glossing his lips and dripping down his chin, "good because i don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

END

pt. 2 ???

[requiemforthepoets]

Would you be interested in writing something for Oscar? I feel like he would be the perfect guy to have your firsts with, so understanding and cute like imagine having your first kiss with him. He would be so understanding and would kiss you with so much care and ugh I need me a man like him☹️ would you be down to write something like that?

in a world full of wrong, you’re the only thing that’s right 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: the idea of falling in love scares you, but at the same time, you long for it. wanting to experience how it feels like having someone by your side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you for your request! i’m sorry that this one took days, i had already finished the original version of this one, but i was not happy with it so i scraped it off and decided to write a new one. i had also took some creative liberty if it’s alright with you. i hope that this one is up to your expectations. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, no use of y/n, traditional upbringing, reader is an only daughter, overthinking, anxiety, fear of falling in love, and some fluff

You had never been in a relationship before Oscar. In fact, you had no idea what being in love was even supposed to feel like at all. So when your friends came to you, venting about their partners or asking for some advice, you would just sit there, nodding along, and pretending to understand everything that they were saying. But the truth was that you were clueless. You had never experienced the ups and down that they spoke of. No fights over silly things, no making up with heartfelt apologies, no lingering fear of being left behind. Part of you had always wondered what it would feel like to have someone special, someone to lean on, but another part of you was terrified–utterly terrified of the vulnerability, terrified of the idea that maybe one day, that person you end up with could hurt you.

You had been raised in a traditional household, the kind where dating wasn’t just for fun, but that is meant to last with the intention of marriage. Your parents always told you to be very careful, that relationships were serious and sacred. It doesn’t help that you are an only child as well, so your parents can be really overprotective of you. So, when you found yourself daydreaming about having a boyfriend, the thought would always come with a sense of guilt. You’d see your friends with their partners and wish, even just for a second, that you could have that too. But then again, these fears would creep in–what if he cheated? What if he wasn’t who you thought he was? What if you weren’t enough? The doubts swirled around in your head constantly. But then, everything changed when you met Oscar.

You met him in a way that you never expected you would. It was during a vacation in Monaco with some friends. The week had been loud and chaotic–late night dinners, laughter, and a bit of madness here and there. Needing some peace and quiet, you decided to stroll around by yourself. The streets of Monaco were breathtaking, and you let yourself get lost in the gorgeous scenery, with your thoughts floating somewhere far away. So far that you didn’t even notice the guy speeding towards you on his bike. Before you knew it, he swerved, narrowly avoiding a collision, but you lost your balance and tumbled to the ground.

“Shit! Are you okay?” The voice was concerned but soft, and when you looked up, you saw a pair of worried eyes staring down at you. He had already jumped off his bike and was holding out his hand to help you up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Oscar said, pulling you to your feet gently. His touch was warm and cautious, as if he was afraid you’d break.

“No, no, I should have been paying attention,” you quickly brushed it off, though your heart was racing for more reasons than just the fall. Up close, he was…well, you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or something else, but he was strikingly handsome. You didn’t know if it was love at first sight or from the shock of falling, but something inside you shifted in that moment.

“You sure you’re okay? I feel terrible about this.” He frowned slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. “Let me take you to a hospital, just in case.”

You laughed nervously. “I’m fine, really. There’s no need for that.”

He didn’t seem convinced at all, but after some insistence, Oscar backed off. “Alright, if you’re sure. At least let me make it up to you. How about some coffee? My treat.”

Well, that’s pretty much how it all began. One coffee turned into another, then into long conversations about everything and nothing. You couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to talk to him. Usually you’d find yourself nervous around guys, but he was kind, thoughtful, and never made you feel uncomfortable and pressured. Slowly, those coffee dates turned into something more, and before you know it, Oscar had asked you to be his girlfriend. Though you couldn’t help but cringe when you thought back to the moment you said yes to him. You had never been so flustered, unsure of how to respond, that instead of a kiss like a normal person, you just gave him a hug. A damn hug. You had felt his arms wrap around you tightly, his laughter vibrating in his chest.

“So I take it that it’s a yes, then?” he had asked, his voice teasing but soft.

You had nodded into his shoulder, very embarrassed beyond belief. But Oscar being Oscar, he didn't care. He hadn’t even brought it up afterwards, as if he’d expect nothing more than that simple embrace–and that’s what you loved about him. Oscar never pushed you, never made you feel like you always had to rush into anything. He was patient and understanding in a way that felt comforting. Sometimes, late at night, you would lie next to him, just staring at the ceiling, wondering how you got so lucky. The fears you once had, the doubts that plagued your mind–none of them seemed to matter anymore every time you are with him.

One evening, after spending the day together exploring the city, you found yourselves sitting on a park bench, watching the sunset. It was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence that you loved and felt like home.

“Do you ever wonder if this is all real?” you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper. Oscar turned to look at you, his expression gentle. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…sometimes I just can’t believe this is happening. I never thought I’d be in a relationship like this. Felt overwhelming and surreal sometimes.” he smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his. “I get it. I never thought I’d meet someone like you either.”

You blushed at his words, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, squeezing your hand lightly. “You don’t have to worry, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

At that moment, you knew. You knew very well that all the fears you once had, all the time you had spent overthinking and countless anxiety–they didn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore. With Oscar, you felt safe, loved, and secured in a way you had never imagined. He wasn’t just your first boyfriend, he was your first in everything–the first person to show you what love really felt like.

Six months into your relationship with Oscar, you had managed to avoid what most people would consider a natural part of being a couple–kissing him on the lips. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, hell you definitely do want to kiss him so badly, to the point you had daydreamed about it plenty of times, thinking about how his lips might feel against yours. But every time you thought about it, your mind would spin, and your nerves would take over. You’d never kissed anyone before, and the idea of messing up, of completely not knowing what to do, terrified the shit out of you. Sure, you had kissed him on the cheeks, hugged him endlessly, but never once had your lips touched his. You couldn’t help but wonder how Oscar was so patient with you, how he never complained or pushed for more, he was very understanding in a way that made you feel safe. Sometimes, you even questioned how he could be satisfied or survived with just a few cheek kisses.

Yes, you had been raised in such a traditional household, but Oscar was special–so incredibly special–that the pressure you put on yourself to make the moment perfect felt overwhelming. Still, you knew that at some point, you’d have to gather the courage to just do it. But every time you tried to psych yourself up, you’d just freeze, thinking about it drove you crazy. There would be times where you’d hear people joke about you being a prude, or wonder aloud how anyone could go long without kissing their partner on the lips, but the truth was, you were just terrified.

Then came Baku. It was Oscar’s second win at the Baku Grand Prix, and you had traveled to the race with his family to cheer him on. The excitement in the air was evident as you stood by the barricades at the Parc Fermé, anxiously waiting for him to climb out of his car. Your heart raced as you watched him pull into the P1 space, his car coming to a stop, and pulled himself out of the cockpit.

Your heart nearly stopped when he stumbled slightly as he got on the top of his car, and you had to suppress the urge to vault over the barrier to make sure he was okay. But Oscar quickly steadied himself, he then pulled off his helmet and balaclava in one smooth motion, his hair a sweaty mess, but his eyes bright with victory. Oscar spotted you instantly, a wide grin breaking out across his face as he ran quickly towards you, and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in his arms. You held him tightly, feeling the energy and adrenaline coursing through him as he hugged you back.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered against his shoulder, the words almost lost in the noise of the crowd. “You were incredible.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands finding their place gently on your cheeks. His thumb brushed your skin softly, and for a brief moment, the noise of the world around you seemed to fade away. He gazed at you with so much love in his eyes, the kind that made your heart flutter. Oscar had always been patient, understanding, never once pressuring you into anything you weren’t ready for. He knew about your fears, about how you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, but you had never told him why. Even without knowing the full reason, he had always respected your space and waited for you to feel comfortable.

But something was different today. The way he looked at you was different, and you felt it too–a shift inside you, a calmness you hadn’t expected. You weren’t scared at this moment, not with him. Somehow, Oscar seemed to sense that change too. He smiled softly, his hands still cradling your face as he leaned in just slightly.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, giving you the chance to back out if you needed to.

Your heart raced in your chest, feeling like it was gonna leap out from your chest, but for the first time in months, it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of love, out of excitement, out of knowing that this was the moment. You smiled up at him, nodding gently. That was all he needed.

Oscar’s touch remained as gentle as ever, his hands caressing your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was familiar, comforting, something he’d done a thousand times before. Then, he kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle softly, your nerves starting to melt away. Then finally, he leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

The world seemed to stop as his lips met yours, soft and warm, and everything you had feared about this moment vanished. It wasn’t awkward or overwhelming like you had imagined–it was simple, perfect. Oscar kissed you gently, not rushing, not pushing for more than you were ready for. It was the kind of kiss that made you feel safe, like he was letting you know that this was just the beginning, and there was no need to rush. When he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling softly, sharing a private moment amidst the chaos of the race celebrations around you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Oscar teased you lightly, his voice warm and full of affection. You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I guess not,” you whispered, hands still resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Oscar smiled, kissing your forehead again, and you knew in that moment that no matter how scared you had been before, being with him made everything feel right.

Later that evening, after all the chaos of the podium celebrations, press interviews, and flood of congratulatory messages, you found yourself in a much quieter setting with Oscar and his family. The energy from the race still buzzed in the air, but there was a sense of calm now, a comfortable warmth that filled the room as you all gathered around for a private celebration. You felt so at home with his family, like you were part of the family, and in moments like these, you couldn’t help but think of how lucky you were to have Oscar and this incredible group of people who treated you with so much love.

Dinner was simple but perfect, the conversation flowing easily between stories of the race and light-hearted teasing. You were sitting beside Oscar, with your hand resting comfortably under the table, something that felt so natural now, like an unspoken connection between the two of you. He would glance over at you every now and then, giving you that boyish smile that made your heart skip a beat every time. The moment you shared earlier at the track still lingered in your mind–your first kiss. It felt surreal, but in the best way possible.

After the dinner, Oscar had asked if he can spend the remainder of the night with you alone, to have some private moment. His family agreed and a few teasing had been made as well, but you and Oscar just laughed. By then, you decided to return to the hotel, to have some private and alone time with each other. Oscar sat beside you on the couch, his arms draped casually around your shoulders, pulling you close. His fingers played lightly with a strand of your hair as you leaned into him, your head resting on his chest. The bustling noise of the city seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that kiss all night,” Oscar whispered suddenly, his voice low so only you could hear him. Your cheeks flushed, and you turned slightly to look up at him, your lips curling into a shy smile. “Yeah? What about our kiss?”

He grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. “It was worth the wait. I’ve been waiting for that moment since the day I met you. Being it during my win made it more special.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully, though the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. “You’re just saying that.” Oscar chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently over your shoulder. “I’m serious. I’m not sure you realize how patient I’ve had to be. But you’re worth every second.”

You felt your heart was about to combust at his words, and you felt yourself melt a little more into his side. There was something about the way Oscar always knew how to make you feel special, how he could say the simplest things and make you feel like the most important person in the world.

You smiled up at him, your voice soft as you said, “I’m really glad it was you. I’ve always been scared of what it would be like, but you made it…perfect.”

Oscar’s expression softened, his eyes full of that warmth and affection you had come to adore. “That’s all I wanted. For it to feel right for you.” Leaning up slightly, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, feeling a surge of affection as you did so. “Thank you for waiting.”

“I’d wait a lifetime for you if I had to.” he smiled, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[a-lexia11]

First time

Kyra Cooney-Cross x reader

Word count: 5,7k

Warning: angst,insecurities,, smut ??? Not that explicit (MINORS DNI) ,loss of virginity.

Based on this request.

The café was alive with the sound of laughter and conversation, the steady hum of chatter creating a comfortable, familiar background noise as you sat with Kyra and her teammates.

They were telling stories, sharing jokes, and basking in the high of a recent win, but you couldn’t quite shake the nervous energy curling in the pit of your stomach.

You had been dating Kyra for almost five months, and every day with her was more exciting than the last.

It was a whirlwind of joy, laughter, and connection. But beneath the surface, there was a constant undercurrent of anxiety gnawing at you.

Kyra’s hand rested comfortably on your knee under the table, her thumb tracing lazy circles on your jeans.

It was such a simple touch, yet it sent warmth rushing through your body—followed quickly by that all-too-familiar pang of fear.

You had never been with anyone like that before. No intimate experiences, no firsts. And you had never told Kyra.

You felt embarrassed, afraid that it would change the way she saw you. So you buried it deep beneath layers of excuses and avoidance.

You glanced at her, watching as she lit up the room, her laughter infectious.

Kyra was so effortlessly confident, charming, and easygoing, especially around her teammates.

She was known for being a bit of a flirt, a “fuckboy,” if you were being honest. Everyone knew about her reputation—she had been with plenty of women before, everyone teased her about it.

It was not something that bothered you. It was part of what made Kyra who she was—bold, confident, and unapologetically herself.

But when you thought about telling her the truth about your inexperience, about how you had never had your “first time,” the fear of disappointing her crept in. What if she was expecting more from you? What if, when she found out, she pulled away?

You sighed softly, shifting in your seat, the weight of your secret pressing heavily on your chest. Every time things between you and Kyra started to get more heated, you found a way to stop it, to avoid going any further. And each time, it left you wondering how long you could keep this up.

“You okay?” Kyra’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, her gaze soft but curious as she squeezed your knee gently.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she wasn’t quite convinced, but she didn’t press. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “Let me know if you need to head out early, okay? I don’t want to keep you if you’re not feeling it.”

Her concern made your heart swell, but it also added to the guilt. She was always so patient, so considerate, and yet, you had been hiding this huge part of yourself from her.

You nodded again, giving her hand a small squeeze in return. “Thanks, Kyra. I’m okay, though. Just trying to keep up with all the energy here.”

She grinned, her teasing nature surfacing once more. “Yeah, they can be a lot. But if it gets too much, I’m all yours.”

Her words hung in the air, innocent on the surface, but they reminded you of the countless times you had felt her hands on you, the heat between you intensifying, only for you to pull away at the last second.

Kyra had never pushed, never demanded more than you were willing to give, but you wondered how much longer that would last before she started to question if something was wrong.

The anxiety crept in again as you looked at her—at her easy smile, her relaxed posture, her confidence. It was just one more reminder of how different your experiences were and how much you feared losing her because of it.

——

It had been a few weeks ago, after a quiet dinner at her place. The two of you cuddled up on the couch, the dim light from the television casting a soft glow around the room.

The smell of the homemade pasta Kyra had cooked lingered in the air, creating a cozy atmosphere that felt intimate and safe. You could hear the gentle background music from the film, but it barely registered as your focus shifted entirely to her.

Kyra had her arm draped over your shoulders, her body warm and inviting against yours. The softness of her skin against your arm sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself leaning into her, seeking that warmth.

She shifted slightly, her hand resting on your thigh, her thumb stroking the soft skin just beneath the hem of your shorts.

The simple touch ignited a rush of warmth that coursed through your veins, but it was accompanied by an unsettling knot of anxiety in your stomach.

You could feel the tension rising between you, the movie forgotten as her touch grew more deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, a steady drumbeat of fear and excitement as she leaned in closer.

You felt her lips brush against your neck, soft and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine that made it hard to think straight. Every nerve in your body was alive, and you could feel the heat radiating from her as her fingers slipped under the fabric of your shorts, inching higher.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” she murmured against your skin, her voice low and husky, dripping with desire.

The thrill of her words made your head spin, but just as quickly, panic surged through you. Her hand slid further up your thigh, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat, caught between longing and fear.

Your mind screamed at you to stop her, the reality of your inexperience crashing down like a wave.

“Kyra, wait,” you blurted out, pulling away just as her fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, your pulse racing.

She froze, her brow furrowing in confusion, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by concern. “What’s wrong?”

The weight of her question hung in the air, and you scrambled for an excuse, the heat creeping up your cheeks in embarrassment. “I—I just remembered, I need to get up early tomorrow. Work stuff.” The words felt hollow as they left your lips.

Kyra blinked, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in mood. The moment stretched on, filled with unspoken tension as she hesitated for a moment, her hand retreating slowly. “Oh. Yeah, sure. No worries.”

You could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, and it pierced through your guilt like a knife.

The relief of avoiding a more intimate situation washed over you just as quickly, but it came with the heavy realization that you had just pushed her away again. You felt safe, for now, but deep down, you knew it couldn’t go on like this forever.

For weeks, you had been making excuses and avoiding her advances. At first, Kyra hadn’t pushed; she never pressured you or asked any questions. You appreciated her understanding, but now you sensed a troubling shift. You could see her pulling back.

During one quiet evening together, you sat across from her, watching as she absently twirled the straw in her drink, her eyes distant and unfocused.

The warm glow of the candle between you felt more like a barrier than a bridge, and the familiar warmth that used to envelop you both seemed to evaporate.

She no longer leaned closer, her laughter no longer filled the air with joy. Instead, the silence felt heavy, each moment stretching on painfully.

You noticed how she had stopped initiating any physical contact—no kisses to greet you, no playful nudges, and no lingering touches that once ignited sparks between you.

Every time she shifted away or wrapped her arms around herself, it pierced through you, a reminder of how far apart you felt.

The space between you grew, not just physically but emotionally, too, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

You tried to engage her, to pull her back into the warmth you once shared, but every attempt seemed to fall flat.

Her laughter felt strained, her smiles not quite reaching her eyes. You could sense a wall between you, one that you were powerless to break down.

The intimate conversations that once flowed effortlessly turned into awkward exchanges, filled with pauses that left you questioning everything.

The anxiety churned in your stomach, a constant reminder that something was wrong. With each passing day, the worry festered, consuming your thoughts. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she was growing tired of you—of being with someone who couldn’t meet her needs.

The realization crushed you. You felt inadequate, as if you were failing her in some fundamental way.

Your heart ached as you imagined Kyra out there, surrounded by women who could give her what she wanted—someone who could be everything you weren’t.

The thought of her moving on, of finding someone who could satisfy her, tormented you. You could envision her with someone else, someone more experienced, and the idea made you want to cry.

You longed for her touch, for the connection that once felt so effortless, but every time you tried to bridge the gap, she seemed to retreat further.

The uncertainty loomed over you like a storm cloud, darkening your thoughts and filling you with dread. You felt trapped, caught between your desire to reach out and the fear that she would only pull away more.

As you sat in silence, watching her gaze drift away, you felt the tears prick at your eyes. You were losing her, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The weight of your sadness hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the rift that had formed between you.

——

Tonight, the team celebrated a big win, and you found yourself at a bar with them. The atmosphere buzzed with energy—loud music, laughter, and cheers filled the air, creating the perfect backdrop to get lost in the revelry. But amidst the excitement, an unsettling feeling clung to you, refusing to let go.

You sat off to the side, nursing a drink, your eyes drifting toward Kyra. She stood near the bar, animatedly chatting with her teammates, her laughter ringing out like music.

Yet, even as she smiled, you noticed a flicker of something distant in her eyes. A knot tightened in your chest. “Is this because of me?”

For weeks now, she hadn’t tried to take things further, and every casual touch felt like a reminder of the invisible barrier that had formed between you—one that you had inadvertently put up. Why can’t I just tell her the truth?

You took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the heat of anxiety rising within you.

What if she’s tired of waiting? What if she’s already thinking about someone else—someone who can give her what you can’t? The thoughts spiraled, each one more painful than the last.

Just as you were about to look away, something caught your eye—a tall, confident brunette approaching Kyra with an easy smile.

Your heart dropped as you watched her sidle up to Kyra, laughing at something she said. The way she leaned in close, brushing her hand against Kyra’s arm, felt like a punch to the gut.

You knew deep down that Kyra would never cheat on you; she had always made her commitment clear. Yet seeing this girl flirt so openly, touching her in ways that made your heart race with jealousy, sent your mind reeling.

What if this girl can give Kyra what you’re too afraid to? What if Kyra is realizing she doesn’t want to wait anymore?

You couldn’t stand it any longer. Kyra wasn’t flirting back, but she wasn’t pushing her away either, and that tiny flicker of uncertainty was enough to send your thoughts spiraling. Panic clawed at your throat, choking you. You gripped your drink tightly, knuckles whitening, feeling the urge to flee.

“Hey, you okay?” Alessia approached you, concern etched across her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

She nodded, but you could tell she didn’t believe you. You forced yourself to look back at Kyra, only to see the brunette lean in even closer, whispering something in Kyra’s ear that made her laugh. It was the kind of laugh that cut through you like a knife.

Without thinking, you grabbed your jacket, your heart racing as you slipped out of the bar before anyone noticed. The world outside felt cold and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside you.

Tears blurred your vision as you rushed out of the bar, each step feeling heavier than the last.

How could you face Kyra now? You couldn’t bear the thought of confronting her, not when the weight of your fear and insecurity felt suffocating. You were convinced she was going to leave you, and the thought was unbearable.

——

As you stumbled through the door of your apartment, the silence engulfed you, starkly contrasting the noise of the bar.

You collapsed onto the couch, your heart racing and tears streaming down your cheeks. What if this was the moment you had dreaded all along? What if this was the end?

Shaking off the emotional haze, you made your way to your bedroom, determined to pack a bag.

If Kyra was going to leave you, you might as well make it easy for her. You didn’t want to wait around for her to realize she was done with you.

While shoving clothes into your suitcase, you heard the front door swing open.

“Y/N?” Kyra’s voice was filled with concern as she rushed into the room. “What’s going on? Why did you leave?”

You froze, hands trembling as you tried to wipe away your tears. You didn’t want to face her like this. “I can’t do this anymore, Kyra.”

Kyra stepped closer, confusion knitting her brow. “Do what? What are you talking about?”

Avoiding her gaze, you could barely choke out the words. “I saw you with that girl at the bar. She was all over you.”

Her expression softened as she registered your hurt. “Wait—no, Y/N, it wasn’t like that! I swear, I was trying to get her to back off. I told her I have a girlfriend!”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t change anything. You don’t try with me anymore. You don’t touch me. You don’t want me.”

Kyra’s eyes widened, disbelief etched on her face. She took a step closer, her hands instinctively reaching for you. “What? No, that’s not true. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

You shook your head, pulling away from her touch. “Then why? Why don’t you try anymore? Why don’t you push like you used to?”

Kyra hesitated, her hands dropping to her sides as she searched for words. “I didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready. I thought maybe you needed more time.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks once more, and the truth escaped in a shaky breath. “It’s not that I’m not ready. I’m just scared. I’ve never done any of this before. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Her eyes softened, a mixture of understanding and concern flooding her expression. “You’ve never…?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I’ve never been with anyone. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d be disappointed or leave me because I’m not… enough.”

Kyra stepped forward again, pulling you into her arms, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, Y/N, why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve trusted me with this.”

“I was embarrassed,” you murmured against her chest. “You’ve been with so many women. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t good enough for you.”

Kyra cupped your face gently, her thumb brushing away your tears. “Listen to me. You are more than enough. I don’t care about your past or your experience—or lack of it. I’m with you because I love you, not because of what you think you can give me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “You… love me?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, her smile warm and reassuring. "I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t want to rush you into anything before you were ready."

The weight of her words settled heavily in the air. You stared at her, trying to absorb the reality of what she was saying. Love. She loves you.

The knot in your chest began to loosen, but emotions swirled around in its place—relief, fear, gratitude.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, trembling. “I was so scared, Kyra. Scared you’d leave me for someone who… someone who could give you what I can’t.”

Kyra frowned, her hands firm on your shoulders. “Babe, I’m not with you because of that. I don’t care about sex. I care about you.” She leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I just want to be with you, no matter how long it takes for you to feel comfortable. I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, this time from relief. You reached up, brushing it away as you locked eyes with Kyra. There was no judgment or frustration in her gaze—only love. It was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I should’ve told you. I didn’t mean to push you away.”

Kyra shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. I just wish you knew how much I care about you. I’d never leave you over something like this. We’ll take things at your pace, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your heart. “Okay.”

For a moment, you stood together, Kyra’s arms around you, her warmth a cocoon. You felt safe, more than you had in weeks. The vulnerability of the moment felt like a release, as if all the walls you’d built were crumbling down.

After a bit, Kyra brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to sit down and talk some more? We don’t have to figure everything out tonight, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you settled on the edge of the bed, Kyra’s hand resting on your knee, providing a constant reminder of her presence.

Her thumb drew soothing circles, and you felt the love in her touch. You weren’t sure where to start, but Kyra patiently waited for you to find the words.

“I think… I’ve been scared because I’ve never done any of this before,” you admitted, your voice soft yet steady. “I don’t know what to expect. And with you… you’re so confident, and I feel like I don’t know how to measure up. You’ve been with people before, and I’m just… afraid I’ll disappoint you.”

Kyra’s expression softened further, her hand squeezing your knee gently. “Y/N, I don’t care about how much experience you have. That’s not why I’m with you. I’m with you because I love who you are, not because of some expectation. When we’re ready—when *you’re* ready—it’ll be perfect, just because it’s with you.”

Letting her words sink in, the anxiety that had burdened you for so long started to dissipate. “But what if I… what if I don’t know what to do? What if I mess up?”

Kyra chuckled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Babe, there’s no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ when it comes to this. It’s about being together, learning together. I’ll guide you, and we’ll figure it out as we go. There’s no pressure.”

Your cheeks flushed at her reassurance, but this time, it felt comforting rather than shameful. “You’d really wait for me? As long as it takes?”

Kyra’s gaze softened as she took your hands in hers. “Of course I would. I’m not going anywhere. I’m all in with you, Y/N. I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

The sincerity in her voice washed over you like a warm tide. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been holding back or how fear had controlled your actions.

But with Kyra’s reassurance, it felt like you could finally breathe again.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, the words tumbling out as if they’d been waiting to escape. You hadn’t planned on saying it, but it felt right—authentic.

Kyra’s eyes lit up at your confession, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “I love you, Y/N.”

She leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you needed, but you didn’t. You met her halfway, your lips pressing softly against hers.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, and this time, there was no fear behind it—only the warmth of her love and the comfort of knowing she wasn’t going anywhere.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, and a smile spread across your face. “I’m still scared,” you admitted quietly, “but I’m ready to try… when the time is right.”

Kyra smiled back, her hand gently cupping your cheek. “We’ll take it one step at a time. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

——

The days that followed felt different. A newfound openness blossomed between you and Kyra, the weight lifted from your relationship.

No longer did you feel the need to hide your insecurities; Kyra, true to her word, never pushed you for more than you were ready for. She was patient, kind, and always willing to talk things through if you needed it.

One evening, you found yourselves curled up on Kyra’s bed, watching another movie. Kyra’s arm draped comfortably around your shoulders, her fingers gently playing with the ends of your hair.

The movie played on, but your focus remained on her—on the way she looked at you, the warmth of her touch.

Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Kyra responded instantly, her hand cradling the back of your neck as the kiss deepened.

Your heart raced, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was from desire—desire for the person you loved, the person who loved you back just as fiercely.

Kyra pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m good.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in for another kiss. This time, you surrendered to the moment completely, allowing yourself to feel every sensation—the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body pressed against yours.

There was no panic, no anxiety; just the bliss of being exactly where you were meant to be, with the person you were meant to be with.

As you kissed, Kyra’s hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension that had built up inside you dissipating, replaced by a sense of safety and acceptance.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads touched again, and you couldn’t help but smile. “This feels nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” Kyra replied, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “We can take our time. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

You nodded, feeling grateful for her understanding. “I really appreciate that, Kyra. It means a lot to me.”

“Always,” she said softly. “You’re worth it.”

There was a pause, the weight of her words settling in. You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound sense of courage. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“What if… what if I want to explore more? With you, I mean?” Your heart raced as you spoke, the idea both thrilling and terrifying.

Kyra’s expression brightened. “Really? You want to?”

“Yeah,” you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “I think I do, but I don’t know where to start.”

Kyra’s eyes sparkled with excitement, but there was also an undeniable tenderness in her gaze. “Then we’ll take it slow together. Just tell me what you’re comfortable with, and we’ll figure it out as we go. I promise it’ll be special, just for us.”

You felt a surge of warmth at her words, a mix of excitement and relief washing over you. “I’d like that. I really would.”

“Great,” Kyra said, her grin infectious. “How about we start with something simple? Just cuddling or kissing a bit more, and then we can see where it goes from there?”

“Sounds perfect,” you replied, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your stomach.

“Okay, then,” she said playfully, shifting to get more comfortable on the bed. “Come here.”

You got on top of her, feeling her warmth envelop you as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

You both settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging soft kisses and gentle touches. Each kiss ignited something inside you, awakening desires you hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” Kyra teased, her eyes twinkling.

“No, it’s amazing,” you admitted, a smile breaking across your face. “I’m ready. I want to take this step.”

Kyra’s expression softened as she looked at you. “Are you sure?” she asked, her fingers gently caressing your back, grounding you in the moment.

You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, feeling a surge of confidence. “I am. I trust you.”

With that, she shifted your positions, settling herself on top of you, a warm presence that felt right.

“Just let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable, and I’ll stop, okay?” she said, her voice laced with concern.

“Okay,” you replied, the reassurance in her tone calming your nerves.

Kyra leaned down, starting to kiss your neck softly. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself relaxing into her touch. As she continued, her kisses became deeper, her lips trailing and occasionally licking and sucking, sending a rush of heat through you.

As Kyra gently sucked on your neck, an embarrassing loud moan escaped your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

“Hmmm, that was hot,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, a playful glimmer of mischief and warmth dancing in her gaze. “I didn’t know you had that side to you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at her words, the sound of your own desire emboldening you to lean into the moment even more.

“Just wait and see,” you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face.

Kyra’s smile broadened as she leaned back in, her kisses trailing lower, igniting a spark of sensation with each soft brush of her lips. She moved with a mix of tenderness and excitement that made your heart race.

Her kisses traveled down your neck and across your collarbone, each one a feather-light caress that set warmth blooming in your chest.

Pausing for a moment, she met your gaze, her eyes searching for any hint of hesitation. When you smiled back at her, she visibly relaxed, her confidence blooming.

With gentle fingers, she slid her hands under your shirt, fingertips grazing your sides.

The sensation sent a thrilling wave of anticipation through you, and you held your breath as she slowly lifted your shirt, exposing your skin to her hungry gaze.

The absence of a bra left you feeling both exposed and exhilarated, yet Kyra’s admiration enveloped you in warmth.

“Wow,” she breathed, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sight before her. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at her words, a flutter of butterflies in your stomach as she leaned in closer, her hands tracing along your sides.

Her fingers danced across your skin, and you instinctively leaned into her touch, reveling in the mix of vulnerability and exhilaration.

Kyra’s hands moved with both purpose and a softness that made you feel cherished.

She explored every curve, her fingers brushing against your waist and lingering just above your hips, creating a connection that sent shivers coursing through you.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly, her voice a low whisper, laced with genuine concern.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “It feels… really nice.”

Encouraged by your response, Kyra leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that began gentle but quickly deepened.

The heat between you intensified, the air thick with unspoken desires.

As she kissed you, her hands roamed further, tracing delicate patterns along your skin, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless.

She pulled back slightly, searching your eyes. “Just let me know if you need to pause. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest at her care and attentiveness. “I want this, Kyra. I really do.”

With your reassurance, she leaned down again, her lips trailing softly down your body. Pausing to admire your chest, she looked up at you, her expression a mixture of desire and reverence.

“Can I touch you?” she asked, her voice a gentle murmur, seeking your permission.

You nodded, feeling a thrill at her question. “Yes, please.”

With a tender smile, she reached out, her fingers brushing softly against your chest, each caress sending warmth radiating through your body.

Kyra leaned down, kissing her way across your chest, and as her lips moved lower, she did so with a tenderness that made your heart race.

She paused, gazing up at you, her eyes shimmering with affection, before her fingers danced along the waistband of your pants.

“Can I?” she asked softly, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, seeking your consent.

You nodded, your breath hitching as she slowly undid the button and eased your pants down, revealing more of your skin to her tender touch.

The cool air brushed against you, heightening your senses, but Kyra’s warm hands soon followed, gliding across your thighs in gentle caresses.

With every touch, you felt a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration.

She took her time, exploring you with a reverence that made you feel cherished.

Her hands slid further, fingers brushing against your hips as she leaned in, placing soft kisses along your inner thigh.

Each kiss sent sparks of warmth through you, causing your breath to catch.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, “you’re incredible.”

Your heart swelled at her words, the way she looked at you making you feel seen in a way you had never experienced before.

You could feel her desire, wrapped in a blanket of affection that made everything feel safe.

“Kyra,” you whispered, feeling the tension and excitement building between you. “I—”

“Shh, just breathe,” she interrupted gently, her fingers continuing their exploration, brushing lightly over your skin, lingering just above where you craved her touch the most.

The way she caressed you was electrifying, making you arch into her, craving more.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and promise.

You let out a soft sigh, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

It was a feeling you never wanted to end, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

In that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in each other, exploring the boundaries of your relationship in a way that felt right, filled with trust and love.

——

You let out a loud moan as Kyra helped you ride out the waves of your orgasm, the sensations lingering like an electric current through your body. After a few moments, she returned from between your legs, trailing gentle kisses across your skin, her lips exploring every inch of you until they finally met yours.

You smiled at her, the afterglow evident in your eyes as you kissed her softly.

“How was it?” she asked, rubbing your noses together playfully, her gaze filled with warmth and curiosity.

“Incredibly,” you breathed, the simple word carrying the weight of your experience.

Her smile widened, a mix of pride and joy lighting up her face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” she replied, leaning in for another sweet kiss, her lips lingering as if savoring the moment.

“Thank you for being so amazing,” you added, the affection in your voice unmistakable.

Kyra chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s easy when it’s with you. I want you to feel cherished.”

Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but lean into her touch, feeling safe and adored. The connection between you deepened, creating an intimacy that felt as tender as it was exhilarating.

“Do you want to relax for a bit?” she asked, her tone shifting to one of gentle care. “I can run us a bath to unwind and keep the moment going.”

Your heart swelled at her thoughtfulness. “I’d love that,” you replied, grateful for her attention to detail.

With a soft smile, Kyra slid out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, leaving you momentarily basking in the warmth of the experience you’d just shared.

You listened as she turned on the faucet, the sound of water filling the tub blending with the ambient calm of the room.

As she added lavender bath salts, the soothing aroma began to waft through the air. You could hear her humming a soft tune, the sound filled with lightness and joy.

When she called you to join her, you slipped out of bed and followed her into the sanctuary she had created.

The bathroom was bathed in soft candlelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. The sight was enchanting, and you felt a rush of gratitude for her thoughtfulness.

“Just relax and let the warmth wash over you,” Kyra encouraged as you stepped into the tub, the hot water enveloping you like a comforting embrace.

She settled beside you, her presence a gentle comfort as you both sank into the warmth. As you rested your head against the edge of the tub, Kyra began to wash your hair, her fingers working through your locks with a tenderness that made you melt.

“This is perfect,” you sighed, feeling the stress of the day fade away.

Kyra smiled, her gaze soft and affectionate. “You deserve this,” she replied, rinsing the shampoo away and leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” Kyra murmured against your forehead.

“I love you too,” you replied, drawing her into a gentle, passionate kiss.

In that moment, everything felt right, and the bond between you only deepened, the intimacy transforming into a beautiful, serene connection that made you feel more at home than ever.

FIN

[bbina]

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . yearning

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ 3.6k words later my brain is absolutely FRIED with this chapter... took me a day or two and a headache later but ITS HERE. finally goddamn.. and btw im sorry zb1 stans that i've may or may not have sorta villainized your man... its just for the plot i swear!

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @revehosh @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @nshmurarki @ennycutie @ffixtionista @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

you ignore the way your phone was buzzing like crazy inside your pockets. you couldn't stand it anymore. not even a day in with your unofficial smoking ban, you're already caving in because of some minor inconvenience in your life— "relapsing", as karina likes to call it

it's stupid, you think. why now? you were doing so well with the process of moving on but then it just hits you on a random day. what exactly are you missing? do you miss the warmth that comes with being in the arms of your lover? do you miss the stupid laugh you have when he makes you smile after a rough day?

what are you yearning for?

before you even realized it, you found yourself in front of the same convenience store you always go to. somehow this little convenience store just provided everything you needed when you need it the most such as right now

you only wanted one thing and no one is here to stop you

"one pack of–"

"i'll take these please. thank you" someone cuts you off in front of the cashier. you let out a scoff until the voice registers in your head

it was wonbin

instantly you shoot him a glare. how the fuck did he find you this quick. actually scratch that– how did he know you'll be here?

with your reaction, wonbin takes this time to pay for whatever he grabbed just before you could tell the cashier that you wanted a pack of cigarettes

the cashier eyes you two weirdly, an eyebrow raise as he is unsure on who to serve first

"uh do you still need the cigarettes..?" the cashier cautiously asks, throwing a thumb towards the display behind him

"yes"

"no!"

you and wonbin both say at the same time, confusing and irritating the underpaid cashier. he lets out a loud irritated sigh and punches in wonbin's things before hastily handing it to him

"thank you for coming, come again next time" the cashier grits his teeth as he forces himself to smile

"thanks" wonbin chirps, grabbing the plastic bag and your hand before dragging you out of the convenience store

"what the fuck, wonbin! i told you i need one right now!" you complained, yanking your hand back from his grip

"you don't. that's why i'm here so instead of smoking, you could talk it out like any normal person would" wonbin points out like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"but i don't want to" you grumbled, stopping in your tracks. "just leave me alone today. i don't want to be around anyone"

before you could say anything else, you see someone you know all too well walking towards your direction. your eyes widened and you feel your breath hitch. if your eyes aren't deceiving you, you're sure that it was gyuvin and his new partner

wonbin notices your sudden reaction and before he could ask, a much taller guy approaches the two of you

"y/n, is that you?" gyuvin asks

you felt yourself frozen in place, unsure on what to do. this was the first time in a month that you've talked to him. hell, why would you? you two are broken up in the first place and gyuvin made it sure that you two will never be a thing ever again

"it is you!" gyuvin gasps, finally reaching you and wonbin who just looked lost at the moment. is he your infamous ex boyfriend that you kept mentioning?

"how have you been?" gyuvin makes small talk, "haven't seen you in a long time"

"and why would you?" you retort, raising an eyebrow at the taller male

gyuvin scoffs and pats your head, "still feisty as ever" he comments. gyuvin then finally takes wonbin beside you and his eyes widened.

"is this the new guy you're seeing?" he asks, looking between you and wonbin, trying to piece things together

before you could answer, wonbin does it for you

"that's none of your business" he calmly states, grabbing a hold of your hand, "c'mon. the guys are waiting for us" wonbin lies, gently pulling you away in front of gyuvin

"woah man! i was just asking a simple question" gyuvin raises his hands in mock surrender, "come on babe, let's go" gyuvin cackles, walking away with his arms around his new partner who shoots you a look

you close your eyes as you process what the fuck just happened to you. this day cannot get any worse than it already is. did you really have to run into your ex like that in the open? with his new partner too?

"y/n" wonbin snaps his fingers in front of your face. you must've been too deep with your thoughts to even hear him calling your name

"what?" you snap back to reality

"i asked if that was that him?" he asks quietly, stealing a glance

"... yeah" you murmured, taking a deep breath "i think i'm gonna need some fresh air"

wonbin nods "and i just know the right place"

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

wonbin takes you to the rooftop of his building. the same spot he took you during the party back at his building complex. now here you were, leaning against a railing, letting the air hit your skin

wonbin was seated on the ground, waiting for you to speak. he fishes out the food that he blindly grabbed just so he could stop you in time from buying your cigarettes

hearing the plastic rustle behind you, you turned around to see him munching on some snack. in an instant, he raises the bag of chips to offer you some, only for you to shake your head no and turned back around

"... i still want a cigarette" you say out loud

wonbin chuckles, "too bad"

"you're the worst" you grumbled, pushing yourself off the railing to sit next to wonbin who only laughs at your reaction

"i'm ready when you are" you hear wonbin murmur beside you as he pulls out more snacks out of the plastic bag just in case you'll ever need it

taking a deep breath, you take a look at wonbin

"where do you want me to start?" you ask, unsure where to begin. your thoughts are messy as it is

"anywhere. just talk and i'll listen" he shrugs, licking the chip flavor off his fingers

you start fiddling with fingers, trying to think of something to start off with. being put on the spot like this isn't helping at all. maybe if you just had your trusty dusty cigarette, you would've forgotten about your little dilemma in the first place

since there was no backing out from wonbin much longer, what else is there left to lose aside from your pride and dignity from being perceived?

"i think..." you start, staring off into the distance, "... i miss having someone or more like i miss being with someone" you admit sheepishly

it's pathetic, you think to yourself now that you've said it out loud, it sounds and it is stupid now that you think about it

wonbin nods his head understandingly beside you, waiting for you to carry on

"i miss the feeling of what it feels like to love and to be loved. do you think i'm wrong for missing my ex like that?" you turn to wonbin for his opinion

your eyes both meet and he shakes his head no

"no, i don't think it's wrong for you to miss your ex. even i miss my ex sometimes" he says

"right?! it's not wrong right?! it's just normal human behavior to miss something you had" you throw your hands up in the air

"but sometimes it feels like i'm the villain in my own mind for missing what i had and it's so embarrassing to admit it out loud to my friends after all the shit talking i did" you continue, reflecting on yourself for the past month

"yes i hate him for what happened but i think miss what we had at the same time. i know this is so toxic to say but it's like playing with fire and to be honest, it feels or it felt really good" you finish

wonbin takes time to digest what you're ranting. making sure he's taking in all the words you're saying. you take notice of this and start to feel anxious again

was it too much for wonbin to take?

"what i'm getting is that you don't actually miss the person, but the feeling of security of being in a relationship" wonbin comments, making sure his words aren't hurtful or shameful to hear

you give him a weird look. what did he mean by that? did you not make it loud and clear or were you missing something?

what did he mean by that you don't miss the person? you never really had any other exclusive relationship with anyone else besides gyuvin so it would make sense that you miss gyuvin the way you are missing what its like to be in a relationship

wonbin pauses and holds a finger out. motioning you to wait

"hear me out on this. maybe the reason why you feel that way is because, you actually never felt that feeling you're looking during your time in the relationship. it was always you who was the giver right? so now that you're all on your own, you are now craving for the things you've never felt before" wonbin says gently

"in short, maybe you're yearning for familiarity. now that it's gone, you don't know what you actually want, hence you missing what it's like to be with someone and the like" he finishes, finally looking at you as you take in his words

familiarity. what a funny word.

you take a deep breath as the memories of your past relationship all comes rushing through your mind. you were always the giver or should you say you were the "pants" in the relationship. you never really did receive anything in return that amounted to the shit you did throughout the relationship

even if your ex boyfriend fucked up, you were always quick to forgive and forget

yes you had moments where you felt like you were the luckiest girl in the world but looking back now...

if you could talk to your past self, you would've told her to grow a pair and stand up for yourself to those who won't even bother to look at your direction when the time comes

you were so busy giving everything you had to the person who won't even do the same to you in return and in the end, you were left with nothing for yourself

so much that you didn't even notice that you were feeling neglected throughout the relationship. even you had needs, not only him

you cringe at the mere thought of being the one who serves your lover like it was your duty to do so. not because you wanted to, but because you had to. so that the relationship could stay afloat

but it's too late now. here you are, a month later after the break up. yearning for something that you don't even know, yet you know damn well that you'll never ever receive it

so do you actually miss your ex boyfriend? or did you just miss the feeling of being needed? do you miss the feeling of knowing that if you do your part in the relationship, they will always be there?

maybe it wasn't the familiarity that you long for?

"no.. i'm sure i miss him. at one point he was my everything so of course i miss him! it's not easy to move on from someone you've been with for over a year!" you defend yourself, trying to justify the way you feel but it just feels all wrong

you start to think about those times where it was you who was being taken care of for once. times where your ex would hold you and tell you that everything will be alright as long as you two are together. the times where it felt like the whole world was against you and that you only had him?

those were real feelings right? you had every right to miss those rare moments shared between you and your ex lover

right?

"maybe it's not him directly, but the feeling of loving somebody that you didn't notice that you were losing yourself in the process" wonbin says

you did lose yourself in the process of loving someone else. that's why you're acting the way you are now, right? you barely know how to act anymore, thinking that no one would actually understand you, get you because what else was left for you to understand yourself?

"no" you deny, furrowing your brows. “i do miss him,” you say quickly, but the words don’t feel as true as they once did.

do you really?

do you really miss him that way?

do you miss the way you had to bend your back just so you could give him what he want— exactly what he wanted?

do you miss the way that you'd spend nights trying to make amends over some dumb misunderstanding?

do you miss him the way you were slowly losing yourself that your friends had to keep you in check?

do you?

you can feel your chest tighten as the realization slowly sinks in

was that even love?

or was it a routine that you've grown used to?

maybe you didn't really miss him at all. maybe it was the comfort it brought you all along. maybe—

you were so deep into thought that you didn't notice something right in front of you. it was wonbin holding out a cigarette

"here" he says, voice soft

you look up at him with wide eyes as you glance between him and the cigarette, having an inner debate with yourself if you should take up his offer. should you?

"i'll give you a pass but only for today" he prompts, grabbing your hand as opens your palm to place the stick

with a deep sigh, you accept and held the familiar stick rest in between your fingers. using your free hand, you rummage through your bag for your lighter but wonbin beats you to it

he was already holding a lighter with his hands in front of you. wonbin flicks the lighter and a small flame emerges. you let out a little scoff but nevertheless you leaned your head toward him as he lights up your cigarette for you

for a moment, your eyes meet his, and there’s something different in the air. It’s not just the flame between you—it’s the proximity, the way his gaze lingers as you inhale.

wonbin takes notice of the bags under your eyes when you leaned closer to him. his eyes trail over your face, taking a good look when you're this close and personal to him

he fights the urge to tuck the stray hairs falling over your face

you pull back, taking in your first drag, and let the smoke swirl from your lips. you ca feel his eyes were on you so you peer your head ever so slightly to offer him a small smile

wonbin hangs his head low, smiling sheepishly to himself, tucking away his lighter back into his pockets

suddenly he feels you tap his shoulder. you were offering him the cigarette

"the deal was that if i stop smoking, you would too. but since i'm smoking right now, it's only fair for you to smoke too, right?" you say, offering him the stick

wonbin laughs in disbelief. "i guess you're right"

of course you were trying to justify your actions with the deal you two made the night prior

you were about to hand it to him, but something makes you stop. instead of giving it directly to him, you raise the cigarette to his lips yourself. his eyes flicker in surprise, but he leans in, lips brushing lightly against your fingers as he takes a drag

there’s a sudden shift in the air, something you can’t quite pin point

wonbin's a little shocked by your action. he could've held it himself but whatever. who is he to say no to a free hit?

you watch him take a long drag before blowing the sweet smoke into the cool air. the smoke curls between the two of you. there's something intimate about this and you don't know what possessed you to do such thing

wonbin coughs a little, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. something he isn't used to

"i still don't understand why you prefer cigarettes over vapes" wonbin makes a sour face and wipes his mouth with his arm

you shrug, taking another drag after him, "it's easier to dispose"

"fair enough" wonbin comments, grabbing your hand to take another hit which you gladly let him

it was like this for a while. just taking turns smoking until the cigarette finally dies. you squish the remains on the concrete floor before throwing it into the plastic bag from the convenience store earlier

you were feeling a lot better now that you've smoked it out. you made a silent vow to yourself that this would be the last time you'll ever do this to yourself

if it meant that you'd stop clinging onto your dead relationship, you could at least give up the same vice you picked up from the said relationship

no more clinging onto the feeling of familiarity. it was time to start fresh

wonbin leans back on the wall, staring out over the city, fiddling with a receipt. he wants to say something but he's not sure if he should

fuck it, wonbin thinks to himself before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath

wonbin's voice breaks the sudden silence

"i don't think i've told anyone this either but," wonbin begins, voice quieter, "i still think about my ex relationship"

you take a glance at him, noticing the way he his shoulders are tensed and that he was gripping what seems to be a receipt so tightly that you could see his knuckles turning white. you note that he seems to be deep in thought, gazed fixed on whatever is in front of him

"we dated for a long while," wonbin continues, there's a hint of bitterness in his tone of voice. "i thought things were going well but then she ghosted me. twice" wonbin starts to laugh

"first time, i gave her space. i chased after her and thought maybe she just needed some time to be herself or something.." wonbin trails off, "then she came back with no explanation or whatever and obviously i was so relieved like she came back so i didn't question it"

wonbin's brows furrow as he rips the receipt he was playing around with into pieces

"and then she did it again. this time, no warning or no anything. just, gone" wonbin breathes out, crumpling the ripped pieces of paper into a ball before looking up at the night sky

"i don't even know why i kept hoping for so long like a fucking idiot. i kept looking, kept searching, literally anything i could get my hands on just for an explanation on why she would do that but alas, i got nothing"

you can only stare at him in silence. shocked that he too would open up something he never told his closest friends. you can sense that there was more to this so you just kept quiet and waited for him to let it all out

"it makes you wonder what's wrong with you, you know? like was everything not enough?" wonbin smiles bitterly, "it doesn't matter how much are you willing to do because if the person won't appreciate it, then anything you do will never be enough in their eyes"

you've never felt more seen

after a moment of silence, you slowly reach out for his hand, giving it a small gentle squeeze. it's a small gesture, sure but you know damn well that it meant a lot not only for him, but for you as well. your own way of offering your support

wonbin's eyes widened when he feels your hand snake their way onto his and in that moment, it feels right

you don't really understand why you feel this way towards wonbin. was it because of the shared experience? there was something about him that just makes you gravitate towards him and vice versa

there's a moment of silence after that. just the sound of the bustling city below could be heard echoing through the cool night sky but it's comforting

"thanks for listening" your voice barely above a whisper, breaking the silence. you turn to the side to see wonbin watching the stars silently. you feel a small smile creeping up your face, feeling a little better that you actually opened up to someone for once

you and wonbin suddenly make eye contact. he then reaches his hand over your face. you feel yourself flinch and close your eyes before you felt his fingers delicately tuck your hair away from your face

your heart races but there's an odd sensation of comfort in the air that it feels warm. like two people who met by fate due to the same circumstance of carrying the burden of recent heartbreaks and that,

for the first time in a long time, you don't feel so lonely

[arcanarix]

Because You're a Big Deal - Satoru Gojo X Fem!Sorcerer Reader

Content Warnings: handjobs, body worship, exhibitionism, cockwarming, edging, cunnilingus, satoru might have a slight humliation/degradation kink, satoru is lowkey a creep and yandereish but not really, he also has no concept of personal space

Word Count: 10.1K

Summary: It’s common knowledge that Satoru Gojo is completely devoted to you. Why?—Because he makes it everyone’s, especially your, problem!

AO3

Since he’s been ripped out of his mother’s womb, life has bent to Satoru Gojo’s will. Everything falls into place as if the universe itself acknowledges that he’s destined for greatness. He barely has to lift a finger, and his achievements pile up, much to the irritation of literally everyone around him. It’s not just because he’s able to back up his skill—he makes sure it’s known that he’s the best sorcerer in the modern world, though—it’s also the way he exudes this untouchable self-assuredness which sets him apart from the rest. He’s practically a God walking among mere simpletons.

In a way, you find yourself pitying the guy at times. You can see how that kind of existence could be isolating. Being blessed—or cursed—with so much power from the get-go. He’s high above everyone else, like he’s observing the world from a higher vantage point—like a God in the sky or on another plane of reality. So to someone like you, who scrape by on sheer determination, ambition, and hard-headedness, Gojo’s life feels impossibly distant.

You’re not part of the elite three clans. You’re…just you, really. You’re a fledgling sorcerer who’s stumbled into this world all on accident, thanks to some Grade 2 curse spirits running amok on your college campus. Among the student and faculty body, you’re the only person you know who can see them, the only person who can react. It’s kind of made you an outcast there because you were afraid of stepping out of your dorm. That’s how you ended up here, after meeting Gojo and the others through chance. You’re training at Jujutsu Tech under Yaga and Gojo’s guidance, as a Grade 3 now—not that far along, but still a step above from where you began which was rock bottom. You still don’t compare to your peers at all in terms of experience.

But as much as you are grateful for Satoru Gojo and his small group of students, who have already rapidly become family to you, you can’t say you’re exactly pleased to be in his presence 99 percent of the time.

Why’s that, you wonder?

It’s simple, really.

From the moment he met you, he’s made it painfully clear that you have captured his attention. He’s obsessed, locked on you with such fervor it could decimate entire buildings with the same energy as a Hollow Purple. While it may have started as a shallow infatuation—you can’t even begin to imagine why—you know better than to let your guard down. With men like him, it’s easy to feel like a conquest, a prize to be won. From someone who’s so used to winning, without a doubt, he sees you as a challenge.

His favorite toy. You refuse to give him that satisfaction.

You don’t know how wrong you are about that assumption, though.

Because titles aside, he’s still just some dude who probably thinks more with his dick than with his brain.

You’re not sure why you in particular, either. Maybe others who’re more aware of his reputation might find it flattering, for the following reasons: he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern times. That’s one. He’s rich as fuck. That’s two. He’s also stupidly handsome with those striking blue eyes of his and that lanky figure. That’s three.

You can’t find it in your core to give a flying fuck about it, though. Because beyond the superficial, he’s lacking in a lot of areas.

Everyone around you seems to agree.

Even now, as you sit in the classroom, waiting for him to show up—because of course, he’s late again as usual—you feel the tension building in your gut. You lean back, your chair creaking as a deep sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers idly trace the screen of your phone. Fushiguro’s gaze bores into your skull, with an all-knowing feeling. Is Gojo going to pull some bullshit today like he always does?

Your eyes roll, as you whip around to meet his gaze. As if silently communicating to him. Of course he is. Gojo always pulls something and everyone knows it, but especially Fushiguro. You have learned to expect it just as everyone else does.

The door swings open with a rush of air, and in strides Gojo, with that smug grin plastered across his face. He carries himself with a straight posture, hands stuffed into his pockets, acting like the world revolves around him because obviously it does. To him it does.

“Sorry for the wait! Since there’s not a lot of things we have to go over today before Megumi and the others are sent on yet another mission, I won’t keep you guys that long.”

Even without looking up, the weight of his gaze locks on you. You feel like you’re on a stage and those blinding blue eyes are the spotlight. When you do glance his way, you catch the faintest twitch of his lips. You’re not wearing your uniform today, and that seems to spark something in him. His blinding blue eyes, though hidden beneath his blindfold, must gleam with mischief. He’s definitely scheming.

“Well, most of you,” he finishes, that smirk of his widening.

You suppress a groan, already knowing where this is going and what thoughts might be running amok in that idiot brain of his, which only thinks with his dick in your presence. The outfit you opt to wear is nothing special—just a pair of shorts and a tank top—but for Gojo, it’s like a gift sent from the Heavens. He always twists the simplest actions of yours into a reason to give you a hard time.

As the briefing drones on, your eyes drift upward by mistake, sneaking a peek at him. What a bad move. Of course, he’s already looking at you, that grin still so wide his face is cracking. He raises his hand to his mouth—thrusting his tongue between two spread fingers—and your face flushes deep from embarrassment. Without thinking, your hands fly up to cover your face as you bite back a sigh.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Luckily, no one notices.

True to his word, the briefing is just that—brief. Itadori, Kugisaki, and Fushiguro head off, leaving you behind with Panda, Inumaki, and Maki for a few moments…at leaste, until they, too, make their hasty exit, leaving you alone.

Leaving you alone with that sad fuck of a man.

He slides up to you, peeling his blindfold up with a slender finger as he leans in closer than necessary. His breath fans against your forehead, and you have to resist the urge to step back lest you want to stir up more trouble for yourself, to push him out of your personal bubble. But Gojo doesn’t seem to have any concept of personal space. He never has. Those eyes of his, sharp, and blue like glaciers in the north, flicker across your face, down to the exposed skin of your shoulders and collarbone.

“Where’s your uniform?” he asks, his voice casual, with a playful note beneath it. There’s a layer of something else, though. His slender fingers trail along your arm, ghosting over your skin where the thin fabric of your tank top exposes you.

The guy acts like he can do whatever he wants. That he’s the man.

You aren’t ever going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that because he already knows he’s a big deal. He already knows he’s absolutely all that and he doesn’t need more reminders. You aren’t interested in stroking his ego (or any physical attributes of his body, for that matter). That must get under his skin and you might be a little too proud of yourself for that, mentally giving yourself a pat on the back every time he seems a little disheartened by your lack of reciprocation.

You need to set that record straight with him. He needs to be knocked down a LOT of pegs.  

Fuck him and his Infinity…you’d love to kick him where it hurts because that’s the only thing he thinks with in that idiot brain of his…

You finally swat at his hand, irritation burbling beneath your skin. “Didn’t Ijichi tell you? It’s at the dry cleaners.”

Gojo gives a non-committal hum in response, but his grin never leaves his features as he settles onto your desk, sprawling out like he owns it. His gaze locks on you, studying every part of your body, and your insides are screaming at you to bolt out the door. But it’s only going to cause him to be more annoying.

“You sure you didn’t wear this just for me?” His voice is a low rasp, dropping an octave, a purr in your ear that sends a shiver dancing down your spine. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb grazing your supple skin.

You smack his hand away again, maintaining a blank expression.

“Not interested,” you deadpan, rising to your feet. “Now, am I dismissed?”

Gojo’s expression falters for a fraction of a second before that smugness of his bounces back, slipping the blindfold back over his eyes.

“Sure,” he replies, but not before his fingers tuck under your chin, tilting your head in an angle ever so slowly.

You swallow on a lump of nothing—

Oh.

--that bulge in his pants, straining against the fabric of his uniform, growing more and more prominent by the passing second. You swallow hard again, your heart dropping tor your stomach.

“Now you know,” he finishes in a low murmur, sliding off your desk with his infuriating smirk still on his fucking face.

You scowl so deep your forehead wrinkles, stepping back away from him. Before you make it further, he grabs your elbow, pulling you close—too close. Flush against his warm body, where your thigh brushes against his hardness. You hate the way it makes you feel.

You hate that you don’t hate it.

“You’re too beautiful for your own good, you know that?” His voice is low, soft, reverent, but the edge of teasing remains.

“I could have you written up for sexual harassment,” you mutter under your breath.

His laugh is quick, sharp, echoing through the walls of the empty classroom.

“Hoho, I’m so scared,” he retaliates in a mocking tone as he allows you to break free from his grasp. “The worst Yaga will give me is a little reprimanding and a swat on the wrist, which won’t change much in the grand scheme of things.”

Utahime is right, you idly muse. He’s a fucking man child.

Why does he find such joy in being a troll? You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. That maybe he has some depth beneath the stupidity he embodies. Is it to hide trauma or something? Can’t he, for once, be a little more serious? Address you like a person because that’s all you want from people?

Do you even care to pick his idiot brain and find out?

“Because you’re the untouchable one in this universe,” you remark with a defeated sigh. Maybe consider transferring to Kyoto? But then he might find another way to harass you…

“Exactly,” he retorts, as you whip around to fully face him. He towers over you; he towers over nearly everyone. But you don’t often take note of how intimidating that is in combination with his reputation. You wonder if he truly is blessed in every aspect of his life (perhaps his only vice, that you can name thus far anyway, is his lack of interpersonal intelligence).

“I’ll be seeing you, Sensei,” you mumble through gritted teeth as you gather your things and amble out the door. His wolf-whistle follows you out, and you resist the urge to turn around and deck him on the spot. Not that you can be able to with his goddamn Infinity.

Maybe you should still write him up for harassment.

But then, upon further reflection, you sincerely doubt it’s going to make a difference. He even says so himself. Nothing changes his mind.

The cool autumn air rushes through your hair as you and the other students stroll down the busy streets, laughing and chatting it up. You find comfort in this routine—the way you can shed the weight of becoming a sorcerer, even if only for a few hours.

To cap off the end of a grueling week, the students often orchestrate a fun night out in the town. You and the other students engage in some semblance of normalcy outside of jujutsu society. You actually get to have fun—and not in the presence of any of your superiors, which helps you take the edge off, for sure.

Itadori and the others—well in particular he, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki—they make you feel like one of them and you haven’t even been with them for that long. Each and every one of them, they’re unique and talented and genuine people. You are willing to admit even Gojo is, in his own right. You just won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, on some levels, you do respect him for certain things.

You probably won’t be alive today if not for these guys.

Itadori grins, his arms stretched behind his head as he glances at the group.

“Is anyone up for a karaoke night?” Itadori inquires, eyes twinkling.

“I’m down, but maybe after I’ve had a few drinks,” you tease with a light giggle. “I’m no Mariah Carey or Ariana Grande.”

“None of us are,” Fushiguro scoffs, shaking his head. “Except for Gojo. Naturally.”

You resist rolling your eyes. Even when he’s not here, Gojo finds a way to worm into the conversation and in your fucking bubble.

“Of course he is,” Kugisaki quips with a smirk playing on her lips. “Guy’s got no shortcomings.”

Fushiguro is quick to challenge that statement.

“Actually—!” Fushiguro starts, only for Kugisaki to cut him off.

“—What, Fushiguro? Apart from his lack of personality, what else?” Kugisaki asks, curious.

That clamps his mouth shut, lips pressed in a deep frown. He falls silent as you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Can we actually not talk about Sensei?” you ask, your own frown stressing your features. “I want one night where I don’t have to think about him and his stupid face.”

Fushiguro glances at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah, of course,” Fushiguro states, “Is he still giving you trouble?”

“When does he not give any of us trouble?” Kugisaki chimes in with a sigh. “Then again, he’s been a bit pushier with you lately. We can bring it up to Yaga, you know.”

Your shoulders tense for a moment, before you shake your head.

“He hasn’t done anything,” you realize how meek you sound and try to find that strength in your voice again. “Well, nothing Yaga would take seriously. Not like Gojo would take anything seriously, either.”

“Understatement of the modern age,” Fushiguro wisecracks in a low murmur.

“Come on, Sensei’s not that bad,” Itadori interjects,  always the sort of person to give people the benefit of the doubt. Where applicable, of course. Which for someone like Itadori, it’s 99 percent of the time—especially when it comes to people he admires like Gojo.

Never mind how overt and rambunctious Gojo can be, he’s still a good person. Or at least, he fights for the right things. You can concede to that. But still…

“Sure, he’s kind of…persistent, though. I don’t know him all that well still so maybe Fushiguro will have a better handling on that.”

“He’s as idiotic as any other man comes,” Fushiguro concedes with a grunt. “If I have to punch him out, I’ll punch him out. That is, if he’s gutsy enough to shut off his Infinity to take a little disciplinary action like a man.”

“We’re still talking about him,” you point out.

“Sorry,” they all apologize in unison.

The conversation finally drifts away from Gojo, and you find yourself easing up a bit. The tension melting off of your body. It’s nice to be in the presence of your friends.

“So,” you drag out the word to catch their attention again, hoping to lift the mood. “Karaoke?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Itadori jabs two thumbs up in the air.

The lights of the karaoke bar you all frequent blinks ahead. You’re excited for a few hours of escapism.

Of course, life has other plans as it seems the faculty of Jujutsu Tech orchestrate their own karaoke night. Since you’re together in the same bar, you decide to rent a room for all of you to sing your lungs out with unlimited drinks.

The karaoke room is dark save for a few string lights casting soft glows across the plush seats, low tables, and around the ceilings. The music blares from the speakers, the laughter of your friends mixing with the thumping, reverberating bass as you amble over to the couch. While Gojo and your mentors are here, you still find yourself unwinding and enjoying your time with your friends.

But of course, the universe has decided you can’t have nice things for very long.

On your way to the couch, you trip over something—a bag, a dropped can of beer, a foot, who fucking knows—and before you can catch yourself, you fall right into someone’s lap.

Not just anyone’s.

The odds, as always, are in Gojo’s favor. The planets always align for this fuck.

His arms secure around your waist instantly, securing you in place with an unyielding, vice grip.

“Well, well, well, happy birthday to me,” he murmurs, his breath fanning the nape of your neck. You shift, attempting to break free, but he yanks you back down, pressing your ass into his lap. That unmistakable hardness beneath you makes your heart jump to your throat.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice demanding, as he presses the growing tent in his pants between your ass cheeks.

You grind your teeth, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare at him. His grin is as infuriating as ever—that shit-eating smirk that makes you want to tear him a few new assholes.

“I’m about to go back up and sing,” you hiss, squirming in his lap which only seems to encourage him, a low whimper escaping his lips that only you can hear. It makes your hairs stand on end and your blood burble. He tightens his iron grip, grinding his hips against yours.

“Stay a little longer,” he coos, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. He bites back another little whimper as he rolls his hips again, and there’s a heat pooling in your legs that’s impossible to ignore. Luckily, everyone’s too distracted with Shoko’s and Utahime’s drunken rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit, and no one’s paying attention to you or to Gojo.

For once, the universe isn’t humiliating you.

“Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. “I wonder how amazing you’d feel bouncing on my wood.”

“Gojo!” you whisper in a harsh tone, finally slipping free from his lap. You’re tempted to smack him, and you almost do, but you recognize the challenge in his gaze.

Him and his fucking Infinity.

“Fuck you,” you sneer, turning on your heel and returning to the others, but you still hear his response:

“Soon,” he calls back with a lazy wave.

You know you don’t get the luxury of avoiding Gojo.

You come to a realization that hits you like a Falcon punch to your gut: you’re not sure if you want Gojo to ignore you. It’s not because you’ve come to enjoy the attention. Far from it. He’s still crass; he’s still pushy; he’s still overt and obnoxious. It’s still infuriating and he’s still very punchable about this shit.

But today…today, you just aren’t into entertaining him. Today, you’re feeling really off your game in more ways than one, and he wants to whack the hornet’s nest out of sheer habit.

He must sense your shift in mood since that karaoke night. One second, you’re telling him to piss off, leave you alone, and the next, his large hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you toward him. His body is pressed to yours, and you can feel that hardness against our thigh.

You’re praising the gods above that there isn’t anyone around to witness this because this is probably you at your most unbecoming self.

“Sensei,” you grind out, your voice low with frustration. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Come on, no need to be so formal here. It’s us, baby girl. Say my name. Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you sneer, attempting to pull away, but his grip strengthens like titanium around your wrist. Those blue eyes of his—no, they look more like predatory slits now—bore into you with an intensity that you only saw once before back in Shibuya. When something inside of him fractures, splitting like glass under the high stakes. The memory of it, jagged and sharp, makes your heartbeat skyrocket.

You aren’t interested in exploring what lurks behind that gaze; you don’t wish to challenge it. But he doesn’t give you the luxury of turning away. His hand remains secured around your wrist, jerking you off balance as you’re spun in a fluid motion, pressing your back flush against the wall, his body caging over yours. You collide with the cool surface with a light thud, but you’re not all that disoriented. Just a little taken aback. The scorching heat of his body crowds into yours. His knee is still wedging between your legs, the pressure firm but demanding as it rubs into your clothed cunt.

“When are you going to stop punishing me?” he murmurs, his voice a near-growl that rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your skin. The sound is barely audible, yet it hits you like a tidal wave. Your breath hitches, and your eyes narrow into slits out of defiance.

“I’m not—!” The retort dies in your throat as his lips graze against your ear, his breath sending a rush of heat from your neck shooting all the way down to your groin. He shifts his knee, pushing it harder against the sensitive core between your thighs, and the friction draws a gasp from your lips before you can act to suppress it.

“Don’t feed me that bullshit,” he growls, his teeth taking in your bottom lip and grinding it between them. He chews hard on it, just enough to make you flinch, before his tongue swipes across the sore spot, soothing the light sting. More heat rushes to your cheeks, spreading in waves throughout your body as his hands roam your body, still skimming the modest areas, but it’s enough to make you squirm and fidget. It makes your breath come out in short, ragged, uneven breaths.

His grip slides dangerously lower, tracing the slight dip of your waist with his fingers that linger just a little too long for your comfort.

“Stop dancing around how you feel about me.”

“Gojo…” you whimper, though your voice pitifully muffled against his mouth. Your hands push against his chest, but to no avail, you’re weaker than him (everyone is weaker than him, but you especially so and for other reasons not related to physical prowess); your mind is torn between pushing him and away and… wanting to understand what the hell this is. What the hell he’s doing with you. What he wants to do with you.

“Satoru.” He corrects, his voice thick and guttural from arousal. The way he demands it, it’s primal, feral, a low rumble like distant thunder that leaves you no room to refuse him. “Say it.”

“Satoru,” you stammer, the syllables tumbling from your lips unbidden as he nips at your lips again, hard enough to draw yet another breathy gasp. You reluctantly tilt your head back, exposing the line of your neck to his relentless pursuit.  “Stop.”

His eyes continue to bore into yours, drilling deep like a jack hammer through your skull. Those eyes of his, they’re so bright, so blinding, almost as if they can strip you bare with just a glance because he can bend everything to his will like he always does. Even with his Infinity shut off, they’re so intense. He’s suffocating. Inescapable.

Unforgettable.  

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, his voice softening to a lower murmur as he dips his head lower, his nose brushing along the sensitive skin of your neck. His lips trail after, feathery light over your skin, barely there, and he inhales sharply when he reaches your pulse point thundering just beneath your collarbone.

“I know you don’t mean that.”

Your cherry perfume lingers in the air between you as he continues. His fingers graze at the dips of your waist. Suddenly everything feels too constricting, all consuming.

“Please,” he mutters, his voice cracking. He sounds almost…pained, almost vulnerable in a way that you have never seen from him before. He’s always so sure of himself. So haughty. For another second, there’s something fragile flickering in his gaze.

“Stop torturing me.”

It happens before you can stop it—you can’t help the slight twitch of your eye. Torturing him? Is he serious? You almost want to laugh off the sheer absurdity of that accusation. But the thought soon dies when he leans in again, his lips wet, sloppy kisses along your jawline, taking his time like he’s savoring this moment. Like he’s not sure he’ll ever have a chance again. He might be wrong; he might be right.

You don’t even know yourself.

He stops at the tip of your chin, his voice a low crackle like the strike of lightning.

“You’re torturing me by not acting,” he grunts out that explanation, his words now rough and strained. There’s a rawness in his voice—a kind of sincerity that you’re shocked he even has in him. His hand slides even lower, now grazing your hips, before grasping your wrist and guiding it down to rest against his pelvis. There’s the heat of his arousal, the strain of it sticking through the thin fabric of his slacks, and you freeze.

“You see what you do to me. You see how hard you make me,” he whispers, guiding your hand along the rigid length of him through his slacks. His eyes remain locked on yours, bright, blindingly hungry, studying your reactions. As always, he’s relentless in his pursuit of you, determined to get what he wants. He’s not used to things not falling in his lap.

He moans low, guttural, still pained, like…like this is a need for him.

The world between you narrows, sharpens like a camera filter, focusing in on the two of you. Just the two of you in the empty classroom. His ragged breaths fill your senses, the feel of his smooth hardness beneath your soft moisturized palm. You feel the erratic pounding of your own pulse in your eardrums. He moans again, low, needy, a pained, pitiful sound. It’s so thick and suffocating, and you honestly wonder how you got to this point. Why you’re letting him do this.

It’s a lot, and yet you can’t find yourself ripping away from his gaze. His gaze never leaves yours, even as his hips buck slightly into your hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Those eyes, full of that unsettling lust and vulnerability, continue to glow bright and shiny. It’s too much, way too much, too bright, too overstimulating. You want to break the connection, yet you can’t. You’re caught in his web. You’re trapped.

“Keep rubbing me like that,” he rasps, his voice in broken gasps, as he presses his body needily into yours. His hands find your waist and grips tight, fingertips digging into your skin, securing you in place as if he can’t bear to let you leave as he continues to grind helplessly against your hand. “Fuck… your hand’s so soft… feels so good…”

He keeps rolling against your body, making your breath catch. It’s kind of sexy. He’s unguarded in a way you’ve never seen him in other settings, even when he’s goofing off with other colleagues or the other students. Every broken whimper that leaves his yappy lips just adds to the appeal all of a sudden, because you can’t believe you’re able to make him succumb to you like this. You’re making his control slip with each passing nanosecond. You’re the center of this world, and you don’t find yourself hating that.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice pitching higher now, desperate as he ruts against your paml with a lot more urgency, a lot more desperation. His cock twitches through the thin fabric of his slacks, the friction too much, too good to pass up. His body’s shaking against yours, and it’s because of you. His breath hitches with every languid roll of his hips.

“I need you,” he quavers, his voice catching in his throat as he trails heated kisses along your collarbone. His lips feel soft, but his words are laden with a kind of desperation you’ve never thought you’d see in your life. “Can’t you feel how badly I fucking need you?”

You can. You can feel every ounce of his need, pressing against you. Your bodies are so close there’s nothing but headiness and heat. That need of his…it makes you a bit wary. You don’t trust Gojo for a myriad of reasons.

Not like this, at least.

Yet, while your mind is screaming at you to rip away, to cease this nonsense, you find yourself complying. Your hand remains where it is, your fingers grazing his bulge on their own accord matching the rhythm of each roll of his hips. He’s still trembling, falling apart at your touch. Something about that…something about that is so fucking hot, and you hate that you don’t’ hate this.

“Almost there?” you murmur, your eyes fluttering as your thumb brushes lightly over the tip of his cock poking through. It’s an instinctive motion, and his reaction is immediate, drawing out a choked gasp, his head dipping onto your shoulder as his full body shudders.

“Fuck…yes,” he moans, his voice still rough and strained from need and arousal, rutting harder into your hand. “More. Fuck… please, more…”

Your breath catches in your throat as you jerk him faster, each stroke sending him over a dangerous edge. That grip on your hips constricts, almost bruising your skin as he chases his release. His moans falling from his lips are so soft, breathy, needy…it’s so juicy.

“Baby,” he whimpers, his voice broken as he thrusts one final time into your hand. His cock twitches again, hard, swollen, before he creams into his slacks with a strangled, pitiful whine. He pants in short, ragged gasps as he nuzzles his forehead into your shoulder.

The world halts between you. The only thing filling the room is the sound of his ragged breaths. His body slumps against yours for a few more moments, before he reluctantly pulls away. His gaze never leaves yours, dazed, delirious…drunk off of you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping it in a playful manner. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before fully stepping back.

You remain there, pressed up against the wall, dumbfounded, your mind reeling from everything that’s just transpired. You want to feel disgusted, repulsed even. Yet…you’re not.

You feel almost…

Your cheeks burn at the mere notion. There’s no way. Guess Hell has finally frozen over.

Gojo says nothing more, sparing you the embarrassment as he retreats, his hands smoothing over his slacks, in an attempt to conceal any remnants of his little time to rejoice. His perfect posture bounces back far too quickly from this. It’s infuriating how he can act like nothing happened and you’re still taken aback. He bends down, retrieving a small disinfecting cloth from his desk drawer, then wipes your hand in a soft, reverent motion.

His eyes flicker to yours as he does, lingering with a softer expression.

“You…” Your voice comes out pathetic, wimpy. You find some semblance of strength over your voice and your body. Everything that’s happened finally sinks in, and your mind is swirling.

His natural scent still lingers, he’s so close. Crisp, fresh.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence like he always does, a spark of amusement hidden just beneath that calm tone of his. His lips twitch into that infuriating, ever smug grin of his. “Didn’t hate it?”

You open your mouth to snap back, to scream and yell at him, but the words catch in your throat. You can’t even hate him. You can’t even find the anger that should be threatening to burst through that tightly sealed lid, that you keep bottled up. There’s just confusion, frustration, uncertainty…

You rip your hand from his and twist on your heel, ambling toward the door as your body is operating on autopilot.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, his voice cuts through the thick silence.

“Come on, it was good, right?”

You freeze in your tracks, your back still turned to him. His gaze burns into your skin. You don’t respond. You don’t know how to respond. You can’t. You twist the doorknob, the door emitting a creak as it opened, stepping out into the hallway—away from his suffocating, overstimulating presence.

Suddenly you feel lighter, cooler.

But as you stride down the empty halls, your mind replays the events in an endless loop—that nagging sensation gnawing at your soul.

Are you coming around? You don’t know. You know you didn’t hate it; that’s as much as you’re willing to admit. Your heart thunders, echoes of his parting words lingering.

You don’t notice him peeping out through the door slightly ajar and watching you walk away.

You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

Not through the briefing, where the low chattering of conversation barely registers over the pounding heartbeat in your ears. Sure as hell not through the training, where your hands fumble through the motions, distracted. Fushiguro and Kugisaki get a chance to tumble you to the ground without so much as a shred of remorse.

It’s like you can’t break away. Every time his eyes land on you, you can feel them burning straight through our soul, making your stomach twist and churn.

When you’re back in the classroom, it feels stifling. The chalkboard behind Gojo is worn from everything Gojo writes on it. You sit at your desk, twiddling a pencil between your fingers; your mind relaying the events over and over, no matter how much you want to shove them down, push them away. It’s almost impossible to focus on anything else. You entertain the glimpses of his expressions, how he unravels at your touch…they all keep floating to the surface of your brain and it’s both a nightmare and a dream. You’re not sure which.

He's always been open about his feelings. It’s never been a secret. He makes it everyone’s problem, for fuck’s sake. But now, seeing it firsthand, how he reacts to the slightest brush of your fingers…it’s different now. You don’t know how to feel about it.

“Yoooo,” Itadori’s voice snaps you back to the present, his hand waving in front of your face. You blink a few times, jerking back into reality as his curious eyes meet yours. “We’ve been trying to get your attention. Everything okay?

You force a smile, but it feels strained and awkward on your lips. It’s like a mask that doesn’t fit you.

“Yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, strained to your own ears. “Just a lot on my mind.”

You haven’t noticed Gojo excused himself at some point—how long has it been since he left the room? Not like it matters that much to you. Because even when he isn’t present, his energy clings to the air, inescapable, suffocating. Unforgettable.

Fushiguro leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses your reactions.

“Is it Gojo?” he asks, his voice a low, irritated grumble.

You hesitate, your fingers clenching around the pencil.

“…No,” you manage to say, the words slipping through your teeth with a bit of difficulty. “Other stuff.”

Itadori, ever the peppy optimist, flashes you a heartwarming grin. His sincerity can get so annoying sometimes, but endearing all at once.

“Enlighten us? Maybe we can help!” he suggests.

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact. You hate lying to him. “Nah, too dark.”

Itadori is unconvinced, his beady eyes focused on you. “You sure?”

“I’m good,” you insist, hoping your forced smile will suffice. “I swear.”

“She gets harassed enough by Gojo,” Fushiguro interjects with a snarl, swatting at Itadori’s head to knock some sense into him. “Knock it of, Yuuji.”

Before the conversation drifts to another direction, a voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Yeah, Yuuji Itadori,” Gojo’s voice drawls in a playful way from behind you. You don’t have to see him to know his smirk is ever present on that stupid face of his. “Annoying her to death is strictly my territory.”

You stiffen in place, your muscles tensing as Gojo’s presence draws nearer. You don’t want to turn around; you can’t. His stare presses into your back, seeping through your skin like a stain.

“Alright guys, I think we covered everything we needed to today. Go enjoy the rest of your day, yeah?” he instructs after clapping twice, officially dismissing the students.

You don’t hesitate to scurry past him, the scrape of your chair echoing in the classroom as you hop to your feet. You don’t look back. As soon as the words of dismissal leave his lips, you’re up from your desk, making a beeline for the exit. You think you make it, your feet dragging you toward the sweet embrace of freedom—

--His hand is on your shoulder before you take another step. His grip is firm, not tight, but secure enough to make chills surge through your body. Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like you’re stuck in place—pinned by the overpowering force of his presence.

“Hey,” he drawls, a soft, teasing purr that causes your skin to tingle. His lips graze against the shell of your ear as he chuckles. Your cheeks flush deep from heat. You curse your body for giving you so much Hell around him.

“Sensei,” you state, voice sharper than intended, yet it still lacks the strength you wish it normally has. “I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of my day, just as you instructed.”

He hums in response, breathing down your sensitive skin.

“Satoru,” he bites back in a growl, his lips still brushing the curve of your ear before nipping at it, a playful gesture that makes you jump in place. He soothes the sting with a few passes of his tongue, and you shiver.

“Say it,” he goes on again. “Say my name.”

You grit your teeth, annoyance laden in your tone.

“Satoru,” you mutter, the irritation in your tone clear. “What do you want?”

He chuckles again, but this time there’s a bit of an edge to it—that same, primal edge.

“You know,” he quips, and before you retaliate, his hand is guiding yours to his lap, and your breath hitches as you feel his unmistakable hardness pressing against his slacks again. He slips his cock out from his confines this time, and in an instant, he wraps your hand around his shaft. Your fingers trace the heat of his length. This time, he doesn’t plan on holding back. The realization of what’s happening dawns on you, and your mind is screaming bloody murder at you to knee him there and see how he likes it, but you don’t. You don’t know why you don’t.

You’re not surprised that he’s not lacking in this department either. So he’s not overcompensating.

“Like what you see?” he teases in a low, silken tone, his free hand sliding up to our neck, fingers wrapping gently around your throat and applying just enough pressure that sends a thrilling jolt through your veins.

“Someone might…see,” you manage through a choked gasp. Gojo glances over his shoulder, ensuring the door is locked, leaving no room for interruption because he won’t allow it.

His head dips lower, his soft lips pressing against the curve of your neck, planting soft kisses along the exposed skin as your hand strokes him, jerking him. His breathing quickly grows ragged, his shaggy white hair brushing against your cheek as his hips roll into your hand.

He’s letting go around you. You can’t believe you’re the one doing this to him. Satoru Gojo is the pinnacle of the jujutsu society, seeming so untouchable, just out of reach. The one who’s been blessed in any and every aspect of his universe. But here, his control is slipping at just your touch.

It’s…not just kind of sexy. It’s really fucking sexy. You will never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

He clutches your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin and you bite back a whine.

“Fuck, baby, please, stop torturing me,” his voice is a soft, broken cry, and you chew on your bottom lip.

Your eyes flutter a bit, a little dazed and you’re untouched. Entirely focusing on his release. You’re not sure why you’re letting this happen. Probably because there’s not much you can do. If he’s so tormented by the prospect of your existence, then shouldn’t you feel an obligation to grant him some kind of respite?

Why do you even feel that way? You shouldn’t even care, and yet…here you are.

You assess his debauched expression with a soft stare. His face is flushed, his lips parted as he pants for breath, purring your name over and over again. His eyes—half-mast, glassy—flicker open, and you lock gazes. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

“Say my name,” he rasps out, pleading.

“Satoru,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Are you…close?” you murmur, your thumb ghosting over his tip leaking with pre. He chokes on a gasp at that, and you don’t know why you feel so powerful in that moment. Probably because you can make the strongest sorcerer of the modern age like this and you’re barely doing anything much. You don’t think so, anyway.

Your breath hitches. Any smart retorts you may have, have died on your tongue long ago because it’s no longer applicable. You’re right into his hands; he’s putty in yours. Quite literally.

He tightens his grip on your waist and hunches further over as a distinct confirmation. He’s chasing the friction with your hand, his hips bucking in tandem with your strokes.

“More,” his voice is now an uncontrolled falsetto, and you jerk his cock in time with hie hips. “Fuck. More…”

And here you are, the one in control, stroking him faster, harder, watching him fall apart to your touch. You remember telling yourself you wouldn’t stroke his ego or any physical part of his body, but you’re doing exactly that now.

You’re such a fucking liar. He mewls your name, catching your attention.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, jerking into your hand faster until shots of seed leaks from his tip, hot and sticky and gooey. His head drops to your shoulder as he catches hie breath.

He pulls away a bit, his half-lidded gaze meeting yours. He looks all dazed, delirious…satisfied. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss full of heat and passion, his tongue twirling around yours. When he breaks the kiss, a thin line of spit connects your tongues before he cuts it with a twirl of his own wet muscle, his eyes still never leaving yours.

You’re trapped in a state of shock, your mind spinning. You don’t know how to feel—should you be angry? Repulsed? Relieved? You don’t know. All you know is that he’s getting his way, and it’s pissing you off.

Gojo steps back from your personal bubble, moving toward his desk with his casual nonchalance, leaving you reeling. He once again retrieves a disinfectant cloth, wiping himself clean before tossing that and retrieving a fresh one, cleaning your hand and face as if nothing out of the ordinary just transpired.

You’re frozen, your mind grappling with the current reality as he finishes cleaning you up. He flashes a little smile.

Your lips curl into a soft pout, that frustration still burbling beneath your skin.  

“What?” you demand, voice lighter than you intended—softer, more out of curiosity. He rests his hand—large, calloused, warm—on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your soft, plump lips. The tenderness of the gesture feels a bit foreign to you.

“Mine,” he growls low and gravelly. His eyes, usually filled with mischief and scheming a way to annoy or embarrass you, are shining with pure affection instead. You feel like he’s seeing right through you, and with those legendary Six Eyes of his, you might not be far off. He can read everything about everyone and anything. He’s always constantly processing everything with his Six Eyes and Limitless technique. His thumb presses into your ilps, gentle at first, before grazing the tips of your teeth.

“Gojo…?” His name spills from your lips, tentative, as his thumb pushes further, brushing your tongue now, as your senses are now hit with a tang of salty skin.

“Satoru,” he corrects in a sharp tone, his frown deepening, dissatisfaction etching across his stupidly handsome features. His eyebrows furrow, that little crease forming in frustration. Your attempts to pull away irritate him—it’s clear in his actions. “I don’t answer to Gojo or Sensei with you anymore.”

His words are definitive, absolute. He carries authority like he always does.

And it’s so fucking maddening.

“Satoru,” you try again, your voice faltering as his thumb presses deeper onto your wet muscle, warm and insistent against it. Your heart skips a beat; your heartrate speeding up as heat flushes across your skin. “What… what are you doing?”

He grins that easy, carefree smile you’ve seen thousands of times. Now it feels different. Dangerous, as his sparkly blue eyes twinkling with trickster energy. He might rival Loki himself.

“Assessing how pretty my girlfriend’s pussy is,” he answers easily, waiting for your reaction. “Especially when you’re riding my face the way you will my cock.”

His crassness, though usually expected, still catches you off-guard, and more heat rushes to your cheeks. Your breath is lodged in your throat, embarrassing consuming the very core of your being like a wildfire.

“Did… did you just call me your girlfriend?” your voice wavers, caught between disbelief and something else…something that feels a little bit like…flattery?

Oh, Hell has certainly frozen over.

“And stop being so lewd!” you add in an icy tone.

He responds with a rich and lazy chuckle, far too pleased with himself.

“Don’t act so shocked, gorgeous; don’t dance around what’s been happening since you got here,” he coos. His thumb slides down, grazing your bottom lip. “Mine.”

You step back slightly, gripping his wrist and brushing him off; impressing yourself that you keep your touch firm when you’re trembling on the inside.

“Satoru,” you start again, trying to regain some semblance of control—some clarity amid all of this chaos.

“Yes, honey?” he addresses you in a low purr, teasing and commanding, making hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He’s looking at you like he’s already won.

This fucking guy needs to be put in his fucking place.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to sigh. That frustration is still simmering beneath you; your foot tapping against the polished wooden floor, the sound sharp in the quiet classroom.

“What the hell is this?” you demand, narrowing your eyes into slits at him.

He tilts his head at you, folding his arms over his chest in that casual way of his. The movement causes his shirt to pull tight across his chest, emphasizing his taut lines.

“Isn’t it obvious? Or is your stupid showing?” he quips, but his voice is not in jest; it’s in a more serious manner. You’re impressed he can even take this seriously. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. It’s not rocket science, or some complex cursed technique, you know.”

You part your lips to protest, but he cuts you off, eyes flickering with something dark.

“Yeah, but—!”

“—but nothing,” he interjects, voice firm. “Mine.”

Your frustration finally boils over.

“No,” you growl, taking a few steps forward, forcing him to really look at you eye to eye. “You answer me. You owe me that much right now, Satoru.” You hate that your voice is trembling now, emotions raw and unfiltered because you have nothing to lose here.

He drags out a defeated sigh, the tension in his body easing as he relaxes his body. His eyes remain locked on yours.

“Fine.”

“Tell me the truth,” you demand, your voice low yet firm—a crackle of lightning in a raging storm. “What is this to you?”

He studies your face. When he speaks up, his voice carries a softer tone. More genuine.

“It’s simple,” he answers, carefully selecting his words. “You give me all of you. I give you all of me.”

His fingers trail down your arm, stopping at your elbow.

“Is it really so hard to understand how bad I got it for you? I’m nuts about you,” he goes on, his expression is almost…vulnerable. Open. He’s usually so guarded in spite of his silliness. “This isn’t a game to me.”

He’s giving you a chance to grapple with what he just admits to you. He’s giving a piece of himself he hasn’t given to anyone else since…well, you don’t know. You haven’t known him for as long as the others.

You chew on your bottom lip, warring with the questions in your mind.

“So…” you hesitate, voice barely audible. “Why me?”

He runs his hand through his shaggy hair, his eyes flickering with something that feels out of place. Raw. Honest. Something you’re so unused to seeing in Satoru.

“I mean, don’t you get it?” he sighs, almost to himself.

“Don’t you know how rare it is for someone to get my attention?”

You take a moment to process his words. You know they carry more weight than a casual, generic compliment. So far from sweet nothings. It’s a crack in all those layers he set up for himself. You’re peeling away at some of them.

“That’s not a direct answer,” you counter in a firmer tone, as a frown stresses your features. You won’t let him get away with just that.

His shoulders sag a bit in defeat.

“Then why don’t I just show you?” he suggests, his voice smooth, the challenge in his tone unmistakable. The atmosphere shifts like gears.

Before you can even process what he’s told you, Satoru hoists you by your bottom in a fluid, effortless motion, like you weigh a can of grapes to him (and you may as well have). Your back hits the hard surface of his desk with a thud.

His hands, gentle, but rough, trail down your thighs, his touch electric and the air between you growing thick and staticky, making shivers crawl down your spine. He meets your gaze, his electric blue eys locked onto yours. It’s too much to bear. Too much!

“May I?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly like earlier. His fingers hover just below the hem of your clothes. He’s so close yet so far away and you can’t believe you want this. You can’t believe you’re letting this play out. Maybe you like him more than you care to admit to yourself.

While he poses the question, his eyes tell you he already knows your answer.

Words dying on your tongue, tension in your body winding tight like a wind-up toy…

You bite your lip. With a barely perceptible nod, you grant him the permission.

In that same fluidity and effortlessness, he slips off your pants along with your panties, the fabric falling unceremoniously to the ground, leaving you fully exposed to him. The cool air nips at your skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body as he spreads your legs wide across his desk. You’re vulnerable, laid bare before him, but the way he looks at you…you feel like you’re on top of the world.

Satoru’s gaze flits downward, and his liips part slightly as he takes in the gorgeous, raw sight of you, glistening in your natural arousal already. He licks his lips absently, a soft, animalistic sound escaping from deep in his throat.

“And you claimed you weren’t into it,” he purrs, his breath fanning against your sensitive flesh. The words are so teasing, so trolling, like he always is, but the effect he’s going for is anything but playful for you. Your body jerks involuntarily.

“Mean,” you pout, your lips forming that irresistible curve you know now that he can’t resist.

But you doubt Satoru’s going to give you any mercy here.

He shushes you, his voice a soft command as he leans in closer, his nose barely grazing your sensitive sex. Slowly, he uses both his hands to peel apart your folds, the movement achingly intimate. His eyes glisten with something almost feral as he whistles softly at the sight he’s been blessed to behold. Then, carefully, he dips a finger between your folds, gliding it along the slickness building there. His touch is feather-light, teasing, reverent, causing more heat to pool low in your belly and your groin.

“Look at that,” he teases, dragging the pad of his finger through your wetness, making you squirm under his touch. “All soaked for me. God, that’s the highest compliment in the world, baby. You have no idea.”

Your face burns from embarrassment, the flush spreading down your neck like you’ve caught a fever.

“Shut up,” you whimper as you feel his breath ghosts over your core again; the anticipation is worse. It’s so much worse. He eyes it for a few moments too long before finally sinking his teeth into the delightful meal that’s you.

The moment his tongue hits your sensitive flesh, a jolt of electricity shoots through your entire body. He starts from your entrance, rolling his tongue slowly up through your goopy folds, tracing a deliberate pattern toward your clit. The wetness, the gooeyness, everything leaves you breathless. You jolt in place, your back arching off the desk, but Satoru’s strong hands are quick to keep you steady. But his grip is tender yet firm.

His hands find yours, fingers intertwining with a kind of gentleness that is quite the juxtaposition to the party going on between your thighs. His thumbs brush over your knuckles in a soothing gesture, grounding you as his tongue pokes and prods at your sensitive flesh, lapping at your slick, gooey folds. He makes low groans, soft hums, little whimpers like he’s honored to finally do this.

It's so mean. It’s too much.

“Relax for me, gorgeous,” he purrs between fervent licks, his voice muffled slightly by the way he’s devouring you whole. The pressure coils in your stomach as his tongue continues to lap at your building slick, sloppy, wet, passionate. You can barely think straight now. The only thing swimming in your mind is Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. But you’ll never let him know that.

“Aw, fuck yeah,” he breaths, pulling back for a moment to speak and get an eyeful of your aroused, debauched state. “You have any idea how long I’ve been jerking off to the thought of this pussy?”

“Satoru!” you shriek, more out of embarrassment than indignation. Okay, maybe a little indignation. Each pass of his tongue makes every nerve ending in your body light up like fireworks!

“Stop being so lewd!” you demand, but there’s no real conviction behind your words.

He groans against you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive sex, and you’re squirming and writhing again beneath him and you know he’s savoring every minute of this, soaking this victory of his up like a sponge,

“I can’t help it,” he confesses, his voice ragged, breathless, reverent, as he continues to lap at your thick slick more urgently now. It’s messy, it’s sloppy, it’s wet, unrestrained, some of that thick slick catching on his chin. “You make me so wild, baby.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit, fast, hard, precise, and you swear you’re going to lose your fucking mind. Your mind is still spinning with Satoru, Satoru, Satoru, oh fuck. But you don’t want to say it out loud. It’s too much. It’s way too much

“And you taste so fucking good,” he growls, hoarse, that reverence in his tone still prominent, unmistakable.

Every roll of his tongue feels amazing. It’s dragging you under like the tides. You allow yourself to drown in the sensations, to live in the moment. Hie’s clinging onto you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Finally, you feel something twitch down there, and something deep inside you snaps in two. The dam breaks, and you’re splattering more of your arousal on his face while screaming his name (something you can’t hold back now) which he gladly laps up like a thirsty dog, dramatically and loudly gulping down your slick as you come down through such an intense climax. Your pussy is still pulsating and he’s still licking along your gummy, sensitive skin, groaning at your natural taste; he tightens his grip on your hands, just slightly.

You find yourself pouting again when he pulls away, his lips and the bottom half of his face sheen from your slick. Your face is deeply red from arousal, panting as you come down. He shuffles around for more cleaning supplies, helping to wipe you down before helping himself.

“That convincing enough for you, gorgeous?” he inquires with a cheeky grin, sticking out his tongue in a petulant manner. He hums as he savors the taste of you still lingering on his tongue, dragging it along his teeth and catching any remnants of your taste.

“Fuck. That’s going to be amazing to come home to every day.”

“Satoru!” Your hands fly up to cover your face. “Stop! Stop! You’re being ridiculous!”

“I can’t help it,” he says again, prying your hands away from your face to get a good look at you in your flushed state. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. God, can’t you just let me spoil you now? Let’s stop dancing around this.”

“If you just stop being so….argh.”

“Like what, a pirate?” He strokes his chin as if lost in thought. “So when you say shiver me timbers, it’s because I’m making your legs tremble when I eat you out and worship you like the queen you are, right?”

You let out another frustrated groan and you so dearly want to wipe that stupid grin off of his pretty face! Why does he have to be so infuriating even now?? Even when you’re not wholly against the idea of being his girlfriend? It actually sounds kind of nice…

“OH MY GOD! SATORU! STOP!”

He chuckles, and a comfortable silence falls upon you both as you catch your breath.

“So does this mean you know how serious I am about you?” he finally asks, breaking through the silence. “I’m crazy about you. I’m nuts about you. I just want you to actually give me a chance to prove that to you.”

“There are so many more productive ways you could have gone about it,” you grumble with a shake of your head. “But fine, Satoru. You’ve earned this much. …I’m still a little pissed at you, but maybe you can make it up to me over time.”

“Deal,” he replies with a grin. “Just as long as I get to call you mine, and you get to call me yours.”

He cups his ear and leans in toward you, his grin not moving. “Now let me hear you call me yours.”

You roll your eyes in jest, leaning in toward him to whisper in his ear. “You’re mine, Satoru.”

His grin widens, and he pecks your lips, gazing into your eyes with pure adoration twinkling in them.

Yeah, you decide in your mind. You can give him a chance.

[raineandsky]

Hello, I was wondering if you could please write something where Villain thinks they are under a love potion slipped by hero’s allies. After every moment they see hero they feel they are in love with them. But when they confront the teammate they find, to their surprise that they gave them a ‘speak your heart’ potion to get them to confess their crimes and never expected them to have feelings for their friend. Coming to the shock and realization that they had indeed fallen for hero but had been ignoring it/suppressing it. Now they are at the point where they can deny it no longer. Thank you for your consideration and for reading this! I hope you have an absolutely lovely day! 💕

this was.... such a cute idea??? i liked writing this one, i hope you enjoy reading!! thank you as always for the request!!

Heroes are liars. The villain knows this well. They’ll lie, cheat and bribe their way into anything that might mean another villain in jail, another victory under their belt.

There are telltale signs of lying, of course. Looking away, shifting about, smiling awkwardly. The villain has learnt all of these, because they know that heroes are liars, but also tend to be bad liars.

This hero, from the villain’s deduction, is either an incredibly good liar or telling the truth. God, the villain wants it to be the former.

“Love potion turns blue,” this hero is saying. “When I poured the heart-speaker in your drink it went orange.”

The hero’s looking right at them, stock still, face blank except for what seems a little like horror. Liar, surely. He’s just a damn good one. “Bullshit. You’re— You’re fucking with my head.”

“I’m not doing anything!” the hero cries. “I’ve been following you around with a recorder because I was hoping you’d admit to your crimes! I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

The villain turns away from them—a mistake most villains know not to make, not that the villain particularly cares right now—and heaves a deep sigh. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Does it?

The villain is no stranger to love potions and their effects. How they noticeably warp their victim’s perception of reality, of who they can trust. The villain, subject to one such potion for one of the supervillain’s strange experiments, noticed that everything felt different, that their feelings on certain people had inexplicably changed. The effects also wore off after a day.

The villain’s been feeling like this for a week. Loose, almost detached, like honesty is the best policy even though their colleagues would scream for them to stop talking.

They’ve seen their hero more than once this past week. Carefully stamped-down, begrudging respect has blown up into desperate infatuation. Their hero says some well-practised lines about taking them down, the villain stutters out some of their own about never being caught, and then they fight, the physicality of it entirely overwhelming sometimes.

That’s more than a simple love potion has ever done to the villain.

Their hero is— how long has the villain been calling them that? That hero isn’t the villain’s anything except their nemesis. They need to get out of their own head before the heart-speaker drowns them in their own emotions.

“How… how long does it last?” the villain asks faintly.

“Well,” the hero says, “at least a week.”

“Oh my god. You don’t even know.” The villain scoffs in offence. “Jesus, I— I can’t see [Hero] again like this.”

“You’re freaking out, [Villain],” the hero butts in carefully. “You’re recognising your own feelings for the first time. It’s a lot. I get it.”

The hero doesn’t get it. The villain feels like the world’s about to end. “What the hell am I meant to do?”

“You could tell them.”

“Are you insane? No!” The villain wrings their hands, pacing thoughtlessly. “No, this isn’t right. The heart-speaker will wear off and everything will go back to normal. It’s fine.”

“I mean…” The hero glances down at the little audio recorder in their hand. It looks ancient, as most hardware does that comes from the agency. “I still have a ton of free space on this thing.”

“I’m not saying it out loud and I’m certainly not letting you record it.”

The hero shrugs, the lightest smirk weaving its way onto their stupid face. “I didn’t think you would. I do have some heart-speaker left. Enough for… someone else.”

On any normal day, the villain wouldn’t care too much about knowing what their hero thinks of them. But this day isn’t normal, and with this goddamn potion working its magic on them, the villain is painfully, embarrassingly desperate to know every little detail of their hero’s thoughts.

The villain squints at the hero to make it clear they’re not agreeing to this immediately, although their body language probably suggests otherwise. “Okay, well, it’s not your worst idea.”

The hero nods sagely. “I think I know which idea of mine you think is the worst. I’ll make sure this one isn’t to your detriment, though—it’ll be fun working with you, partner.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why, saving it for someone else?”

The villain wants to snap back at them for the tease as the hero laughs, but they can’t deny what the heart-speaker is forcing them to admit.

Yes.

[party-poison-218]

Bakery with Nanami kento pt. 3!!

Creator of the bonus divider

The following week felt like an eternity as you waited for Kento to return. You kept experimenting with new pastries, each one more ambitious than the last, hoping he’d love them all.

Finally, Friday rolled around, and just as the morning rush began to die down, the familiar sound of the bell jingled. Kento walked in, looking effortlessly casual in a t-shirt and jeans. Your heart raced at the sight of him.

“Hey, you!” you said, trying to sound cool as you wiped your hands on your apron.

“Hey,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m here for my usual—and to see what new creations you’ve come up with.”

You led him to the display case, showcasing a few colorful pastries. “I’ve got lemon tarts and matcha muffins. Want to try one?”

“Absolutely,” he said, pointing to the tarts. “And I’ll take the croissant again, of course.”

As you prepared his order, you felt a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. After you handed him the pastries, he paused, looking a bit more serious.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” he said, his expression shifting.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual calm demeanor a bit flustered. “I’ve really enjoyed our conversations… and I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner with me sometime. Just the two of us?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, surprised and thrilled at the same time. “I’d love to!” you replied, a smile breaking across your face.

“Great,” he said, relief washing over him. “How about Saturday? I know a nice little place nearby.”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, trying to contain your excitement. “What time?”

“Let’s say seven?” he suggested, his confidence returning.

“Seven it is,” you agreed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ll be ready.”

As he turned to leave, he paused again, looking back at you with a soft smile. “I’m looking forward to it. And I can’t wait to see what else you come up with.”

You waved as he walked out, feeling a mix of giddy anticipation and nervous energy. Dinner with Kento Nanami—it was the start of something you had only dreamed about. That evening, you couldn’t stop smiling, already planning what to wear for your first official date.

Saturday evening arrived quicker than you expected, and you spent the entire day preparing. After trying on what felt like a hundred outfits, you finally settled on a casual dress that felt just right.

As you arrived at the restaurant, you took a deep breath, excitement bubbling in your chest. The ambiance was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and quiet chatter. You spotted Kento seated at a cozy table in the corner, looking effortlessly handsome.

“Hey!” he greeted, his eyes lighting up as you approached. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks! You too,” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm at the compliment.

After ordering your food, the conversation flowed easily, just like it did in the bakery. You laughed about the quirks of your respective jobs, shared embarrassing stories, and discovered a mutual love for classic movies.

“This might be the best thing I’ve done in a while,” Kento said, taking a sip of his drink, his tone sincere. “I don’t usually go out like this.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “But I’m glad I said yes.”

As the main courses arrived, you both dug in, savoring the flavors. Kento watched you as you took a bite of your pasta, a small smile on his lips. “You look like you’re enjoying that.”

“It’s delicious! But I think I might like your company even more,” you said, meeting his gaze.

He chuckled softly, and the mood shifted slightly as the laughter faded into a more intimate moment. “I’m really glad we met at your bakery. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this relaxed.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell. “Same here. You make it easy to talk.”

After dinner, you decided to take a stroll through a nearby park, the night air cool and refreshing. As you walked side by side, Kento fell into step with you, the comfortable silence wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Do you think you’ll ever expand your bakery?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

“I’ve thought about it,” you replied. “But I love the small, cozy vibe. It feels like home.”

Kento nodded, thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s nice to keep things simple. I get that.”

As you reached a small bench, you both decided to sit for a moment. The stars twinkled overhead, and the world around you felt blissfully peaceful. Kento looked over at you, a mix of shyness and sincerity in his eyes.

“I really like you,” he said softly, his tone earnest. “I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart raced at his words. “It’s more than okay. I like you too, Kento.”

He smiled, the tension easing from his shoulders. You shared a glance that lingered a moment too long, and before you knew it, he leaned in slightly. You met him halfway, sharing a gentle kiss under the stars—sweet and soft, a promise of more moments to come.

As you pulled away, both of you grinned like kids, the excitement of the evening wrapping around you. It felt like the start of something beautiful, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

★ BONUS! ★

After a long day, you were curled up on the couch with Kento, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated his features, highlighting the way his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Have I told you how much I love these quiet nights?” he said, his voice low and warm.

You leaned into him, a smile creeping onto your face. “Only about a hundred times.”

Kento chuckled, but there was something in his gaze that felt more intense. He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Maybe I should show you just how much I appreciate them.”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, and before you could respond, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. The moment hung in the air, electric and charged with possibility. You could feel the heat radiating between you, and you leaned in, craving the connection.

When his lips finally met yours, it was both sweet and teasing, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Kento pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, and in that moment, everything felt perfectly right.

Okay, guys :) I think I'm gonna end it here just because I can't figure out where to take it any longer, and I get mentally drained after doing smth for a bit. Sorry ya'll!! 🩷

[doitforbangchan]

I know it is probably just me being silly and completely in love with the series, but when re reading ABNB, I was wondering.... how would the rest of the members ( besides I.N) treat baby during their heat?

Also, how do you think chan would ask baby if she is ready to make some pups? 😳

Just curious!

hi nonnie! thank you for reading and enjoying my series 🥰💜

I think the boys would generally have similar treatment for baby while shes in heat, a lot of words of affirmation and soothing touches, but of course putting their own flare on it. like the rough fucking that seungmin and minho usual give, but when she is in heat they know they can be even rougher with her- that she can take it and more because she needs it. or how changbin and hyunjin shower her in affection about how much they love her they turn it up tenfold, wanting her to have a loving experience in her time of near insanity. what may be a bit of surprise is the crazyyyy breeding kink that the sunshine boys develop when shes in heat. like im talking feral compulsion to put a baby in her. whispering filth about how badly they need to give her a baby now. I think i.n would be similar to channie in how he handled baby's heat doing whatever he can to alleviate the pain and keep a cool head but ultimately giving in to his instincts and claiming her all over again :)

i have thought a lot about chan and baby being ready for pups, and i keep coming back to the same idea that its not exactly chan that brings it up, it's baby. she wants to be a mom and give the pack a litter so bad that one day she may or may not forget to take her bc.. before a certain alphas rut.... more on this coming soon lol

i hope this answered your question! sorry it took so long :/ thank you for asking love uuuuu

[wallywestfest]

Hi,

I was just wondering whatever happened to the tangled lost and found comic? Do you ever plan on finishing it? Love your art btw ☺️

Hi, thanks so much for asking! Sorry for taking a while to respond, I didn't even notice this ask (Tumblr kind of sucks with notifications 😅)

To answer your questions, sadly I won't be finishing it. I had grand plans, but alas, I've neither time nor the willpower to finish it. The whole Tangled fandom reminds me of a past relationship with a person who used to be a very dear friend and a little (a lot) more than that, though it was never official, however we are no longer in contact since we sort of broke up.

It was quite a painful experience, and anything Tangled related reminds me of her. I'm no longer heartbroken (it's been quite a while now, a few years I think), but it took a while to get over and for that reason I'm no longer as interested in Tangled or Varian as a character as I used to be.

It was lovely making the comic and I had a lot of fun and a lot more time back then (it was started during the lockdown after all), but I've since moved on from my past relationship and this fandom, so I won't be a part of it anymore, maybe I'll lurk from the outside once or twice a year, if that.

Thanks again for asking, and thank you for your kind words, I'm glad you've enjoyed what I've made so far 😌🙏

[therentyoupay]

im completely feral over all your jelsa stories!!!!!! do you ever write established relationship jelsa or have any headcanons about what they would be like together in a serious relationship or marriage????

THANK YOU SO MUCH. 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕🙏 thank you thank you nonny for this super sweet ask and this really lovely question and all of your love and support!! 💕💕💕💕💕

i have... never actually written established!relationship (in any fandom), now that i'm thinking about it? that said, i guess i can come up with a quick list of some headcanons, maybe? 😂 i will have to think about this more, but for now, here's a quick drop:

elsa is an early riser; elsa helps jack create more sustainable sleeping patterns and habit formations 😂

when jack gets Impetuous Urges to Do Something Rash and Impractically Spontaneous, elsa will ground jack, reminding him to think before acting. (he occasionally Still Does It, anyway.) elsa knows what she signed up for, lol.

jack loves to play Harmless(!) Pranks, just to watch elsa’s reaction. (he is no longer allowed to sneak up on her after The Incident).

they also quibble over the definition of "harmless" and the specific logistical implications of that; for a while, jack was banned from further pranking, but then he got more creative at showing elsa that pranks could be wholesome and genuine, in which they could both be in on the joke. however, due to elsa's deeply-rooted Need to Excel and her (Not-so)Secret Competitive AF Streak, her retaliation in escalating the Cleverness Prank War quickly resulted in jack's prompt implementation of the Prank-Free Zones and Time Periods. (no, he was not scared.)

elsa, usually reserved, has learned to let her playful side show more often with jack. she might still pretend to be exasperated by his antics, but sometimes it's part of the game (or habit).

elsa sill struggles with opening up emotionally sometimes, but she progressively feels safe enough to share her innermost thoughts and fears. with time, she confides in him more about her worries. she still never likes the idea that jack sees her Imperfect Parts, but at least she can tolerate the discomfort (and, yes, take comfort in it) now

(jack loves elsa's Imperfect Parts, and jack admits that he is Weirdly Proud and Competitively Honored to be one of the only people, even including anna, who gets to see them. he also is strangely Comforted and Validated that elsa is, in fact, not perfect because for a while there, he was pretty freaked out and intimidated by how fancy she is.)

until he realized that no one ever let her actually be a Weirdo before, and once he realizes the Truth of Elsa Also Being a Secret (albeit perhaps more Subdued) Weirdo, the Universe Aligns.

jack listens to elsa's Big Conversations intently, activating varying levels of Serious Mode.

jack is getting better at recognizing the moments when elsa needs him to play and needs him to listen or Give His Opinion or any combination of those things.

jack learns that it's not always about Saying the Right Thing (which he is not very good at, anyway, or so our Serially Unreliable Narrator thinks), but rather being able to read elsa's mood and anticipate what she might need (even if she is not aware of it herself yet).

elsa is meticulous about planning and preparing for special occasions.

elsa likes traditions! jack likes tradition only because elsa likes them, lol, and hey, okay, these are more fun than he thought?? (who knew fun could be organized??!!?)

so he really wants to show (off to) her by pulling off Incredible Planning Feats in her honor, too (they do not go as smoothly, lol).

jack will often go out of his way to spontaneously create something meaningful, a moment or a gift or a gesture, that reminds elsa that he cares. he is big on words of affirmation, gift giving (but like, souvenirs that he collects on adventures like, "i saw this rock and it reminded me of your cousin olaf, we should put it on the window after we paint his face on it"), and acts of service, as well as physical touch and quality time. HE WANTS LOVE. he wants TO BE LOVED. he wants to prove that he is worthy of being loved.

(and elsa has to get him to Chill Out sometimes, remind him that he doesn't have to Do Things For Her/Anyone in order to be deserving of care; he is more than what he provides for other people.)

(jack gets its, and appreciates it, but also, the Urge to Provide and Protect is still strong, even after so much time, and sometimes Old Habits Die Hard.)

i get the sense that he'd be the type to he wake elsa up in the middle of the night to take her on a surprise adventure, or convince her to Do a Fun Thing without any preparation (/warning).

and she would Be Alarmed at the Lack of Plan (especially if/when jack Did Not Think This Through), but he also took precautions to ward off Concerns by pacifying her with tea, or reassurances that yes, he did call ahead to make sure the restaurant was open before they left the house, of course he did, he would never just leave home without double-checking beforehand (and frantically googles it two minutes later when he thinks she's not looking; she is, naturally, and even occasionally pretends not to be).

elsa approaches conflict with a desire to resolve things Calmly and Logically. she tries to understand jack’s perspective, even when she disagrees, and she’s careful with her words, not wanting to escalate the situation.

however, she can sometimes withdraw emotionally, fearing that she might say something hurtful if she’s too overwhelmed.

jack was initially (and, honestly, still is, even though he understands more now) hurt by her tendency to shut down when she Feels Too Much, and understands (although it's still hard) that elsa needs time to process her feelings and organize her thoughts.

jack also helps elsa actually Feel her Feelings, instead of just trying to intellectualize and analyze them. (she hates it, BUT sees the value. jack lives for these moments in which he realizes that he's actually contributing positively to her life and helping her in some way, rather than just being a burden or a nuisance, as was/is his fear.)

his initial reaction might be to push for a resolution quickly, but he’s also deeply afraid of Creating Distance between them, so after the first few fights, he really makes an effort to find the right balance between Pushing Hard Enough and Not Pushing Too hard, so that he doesn't drive a wedge between them as they work things out.

jack FEELS intensely, and can be so stubborn. he does not always have the most precise vocabulary or tools to describe his thoughts and feelings, or identify the root causes of what is actually going on inside him; sometimes elsa asks a lot of insightful and guiding questions that help jack come to the conclusions himself, and other times, she Puts Into Words the very thing that he had been thinking or feeling, but could not name, and it is very reassuring to have someone who understands him well enough to be able to do that.

after conflicts or arguments, they take time to Decompress and reassure one another (especially if at least one of them, if not both, was Overthinking again).

when they argue (and healthy couples do, remember!), it’s a dance of patience and understanding: elsa might need a moment to Collect Herself, and jack learns to give her that Space while also making it clear that he’s ready to talk whenever she is, and that he is going to try very hard to be Rational and Patient About It.

in the end, they both prioritize their relationship over any disagreement, always finding a way back to each other.

[kitteecassee]

i’m allowed to go to the same places frequently for dates, i’m also allowed to casually date around/meet new people because i am single and am not looking for any sort of romantic relationship. i just wanna have fun, i’m allowed to have fun-

we all are.

i’ll be damned if i allow someone to try and paint me as the bad guy when i’m living my life freely and no longer being trapped inside a torture box of my own creation.

i treat everyone with nothing but the utmost kindness and you most certainly won’t change that about me.

are you staying in a small town? want to go on dates and feel safe? FREQUENT places, don’t be afraid or shy. in case something happens, there will be multiple witnesses and people you’ve seen that can not only vouch for where you are but who you’re with especially because they’ll probably remember you, your mannerisms especially if you look like you’re having a bad time/are in trouble.

embrace comfort and safety, don’t think you’ve gotta bust your brain trying to come up with complicated date ideas when the classics are always perfectly fine and you weren’t looking for anything serious anyway.

just companionship and a great night.

[jessamine-rose]

*squeezes aine this time*

Read my Yandere! Dottore fics first (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

Chemistry ๑ Magnum Opus

So @ainescribe decided to surprise me with more Darling fan art, this time of Dottore’s Assistant!! *sobs* I love it so much ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Once again, feedback will be in the tags. Thank you so much for enjoying my writing, Aine <3

[darth-emerald]

Heard a certain horror project's anniversary was today. Thought I'd commemorate it with an art piece. Brighten it for a surprise (TW//Gore, Blood, Spoilers for Generation Loss: TSE Episode 3)

[shadowxamyweek]

Shadow? Earth to Shadow! It’s too late. He’s too far gone. He’s got it bad

[Amy is thoroughly unable to contain her laughter or her joy.] Amy: You... probably need some space, don't you? [Shadow's brow furrows as they clasp her hands tighter. Amy shakes her head.] Amy:(๑´︶`๑) I know you, Shadow. You usually need someplace to be alone to think, and this... is a lot to think about. [She runs her fingers along the ridges of their knuckles. Shadow shivers.] Amy: I'll... still see you at the New Year's Eve party though, right? [There's a pause. Then, Shadow nods.] Amy:(๑❛ᴗ❛๑) Okay. [Another pause. With a sigh, Amy slowly pulls her hands out of Shadow's. They sit there, looking at one another for a moment. Then all at once, the reality of the situation seems to crash into Shadow. They begin to hyperventilate and are shaking so much they are practically vibrating.] Amy:(๑⁀ᗢ⁀๑) I was waiting for that! [She laughs, and in a brilliant flash, Shadow vanishes. Amy sighs as she flops down onto the couch and holds a pillow to her chest. She just lays there for a moment, and then, she buries her face in the pillow, kicking her feet gleefully as she screams.]

[deus-ex-mona]

series i’m gatekeeping from my family vs series i’m ✨ok✨ with my family knowing i’m into:

[hide-your-bugs-away]

gOSH I can't stop thinking about how cool it is that my friend is seeing Eric perform today....... GETTING TO SEE ALAN AND ERIC WITHIN SIX MONTHS OF ONE ANOTHER.... agGGghghG gotta add her experience to my essay 🙏 certified price-burdon moment!!!!!!!