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multiplefandomwritings · 2 years

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How to be a child

pairing: reader x the grid (platonically), Pierre Gasly x reader

warnings: swearing, description of injuries/bruises, throwing up, passing out, unconsciousness, mentioning of hospital, mentioning of crash, angst

summary: You were the mum of the grid, you always had been. Until it one day it all just gets too much, and you are in desperate need of support. Suddenly 19 boys collectively become your mum, and you need to once again learn how to be a child.

notes: i am so, sorry for the wait. life has been terrible for the me the past months, but here it finally is: part two! as a small compensation, it is very long, and i hope you will like it! feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! you can find the first part here. a third part will follow at some point, so let me know if you want to be tagged 😊 also, a question for everyone on the taglist: Would you like to be tagged in all of my F1 work, or just in this one?

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 8.1k

taglist: @cilliansgirl @tyna-19 @hc-dutch @honethatty12 @sheslikeacurse @rb-danny @hc-dutch @hiphopdancer101universe @teddyluvs @dan3avocado @stillbreathin @mellowturtleangellamp @mcmuppet @shqwqrma @alice07ea @ricsaigaslec @witchychicken @rockyhayzkid @sheluvsf1 @hiddleslovs @laurevdd @caosfanblr @dessxoxsworld @fryskje @stickygladitorbear @goldenharrysworld @mehrmonga @anon-1112 @abcdefghijklmopqrstuvwxyzz @yunoguns @jaydenhateslife @itsandreaca @tsukishimawhore @formula-hamilton @cfjkdyihjkdd @whodis-26 @basicallyherondale @wtrmlnsgr94

“Shut up, you dumbass!”, whisper-yells a voice that sounds like Charles to you. “Or do you want the nurse to realize that we are way more people in here than allowed?” Several people shush at the same time, and you are utterly confused. You slowly open your eyes and catch sight of almost the whole grid cramped into the room. They are bickering with each other, and you cannot help but smile. “Hey guys!”, you croak out and your voice sounds hoarse. Immediately, they all stop talking and look at you. Pierre is the first to move and rushes over to your bed to take a hold of your hand.

“Finally, mon ange!”, he breathes out and you could’ve sworn that you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “What happened?”, you ask, still very much confused. You try to sit up, and immediately Max and Daniel rush to your side to assist you in your undertaking. When you are propped up, you look at your friends, who are standing around the bed – a hospital bed as you have realized by now. Pierre gently strokes your hand, and Lewis raises his voice to tell you what had happened.

After your collapsed in Pierre´s arms, and your friends and colleagues form a wall to shield you, Pierre gently picks you up and carries you out of the public eye and into Lando´s room. Everyone is close to panic, no one really knowing what had prompted you to pass out. The doctors, alerted by someone, rush in, and examine you. They cannot really find any reason, apart from the injuries in your face. They suspect that it might be something severe, so the whole grid is close to losing their mind. You are than a friend to most, rather part of their family. The called ambulance takes you with them, Pierre riding in the back with you.

When you arrive at the hospital, the doctors take you away from Pierre to examine you thoroughly, determined to find out what is wrong with you. It takes an hour, one more, and another. By now, the hallway of the floor you are on is filled with the other drivers. Everyone wanted to be there for you when you wake up. With every minute, the boys get more nervous, grow more worried. After four hours, the doctor comes out.

“We stabilized her. We assume that she suffered an acute exhaustion attack, caused by a lack of sleep and too much stress paired with a concussion. We expect her to sleep for a few days, but she was lucky. It could have been way worse. She will need to rest as much as possible once she wakes up to ensure that neither her brain nor her heart will suffer from long term consequences.”

The drivers are all shocked. You are still so young, and now this. They realise, all for themselves, that maybe they had demanded too much of you for too long. Guilt threatened to eat up them, more with every day you didn’t wake up for. Until three later, on a Wednesday, you finally wake up again.

You are quiet for a few minutes. Just when you are about to say something, the door opens and a nurse steps in. When she sees all the drivers, she rushes them out - all except one. Pierre doesn’t leave your side. He sits with you when the doctor comes in and tells you that you were lucky. He makes it very clear that you must take time for yourself to make sure that you would not suffer lasting effects. You nod, trying to understand everything he says.

“Would you mind leaving me alone for a minute, please?”, you ask. The doctor nods, while Pierre stays by your side. “You too, Pierre.” He looks at you, shocked for a minute, offended even. “Don’t send me away, y/n. You seem like you need someone with you right now.” “Just give me a fucking minute alone, Pierre!”, you snap at him, and he gets up and leaves without another word. You know that wasn’t fair, but your whole world just turned upside down. You will apologize later.

You clench your hands to fists; you feel like you are going to lose your shit. The feelings threaten to drown you, you are barely able to keep yourself over the water. You need to get out of here – you want to be everywhere but here. You lift yourself out of bed, determination flooding your system. When you stand up, you grind your teeth. Your whole body is almost shaking because just the act of getting up was so exhausting. You feel so very small, weak, and fragile. You take two, three slow steps, holding onto the hospital bed with every step. When you reach the end of the bed, you back another step forward, but without holding onto something, your body gives in. You crash to the ground; your body hits the floor with a loud thud.

Immediately, the door opens and Pierre storms in. He sees on you sitting on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, head buried in your hands. He rushes over to you and takes you in his arms. “I am so afraid, Pierre!”, you sob into his shoulder as he holds you. His heart breaks right there and then. You cry for what feels like hours, and when you are done, Pierre helps you onto the bed again. The doctors had allowed for you to leave the hospital in Brazil to be taken care of by your personal doctor in Monaco. However, much comes with that – your transport must be organized, you have to talk to the team, and all of that.

You are starting to panic, you feel so exhausted still, you have no idea how you would be able to manage all of that. “You don’t need to worry, ange. We are scheduled to fly out tonight in the private jet, everything around the transport is organized. Only Max, Daniel, Lando and I will join so that you can rest as much as possible. We will have to leave for the weekend, but I will promise you that we will be back as soon as possible.” You nod, overwhelmed that they cared so much for you. After one last check up, the doctor wishes you all the best and discharges you.

They provide you with a wheelchair because you are still weakened and every bone in your body hurts – even the ones you didn’t know you had. Pierre pushes you out of the hospital and towards the parking lot, where you can spot Daniel standing between an unfamiliar car. Usually, all of you drove fast and sporty cars, but this was a car you expected to see in a suburban neighbourhood where everyone had at least three kids.

“Nice ride!”, you say, and your voice is still hoarse. You are pretty sure that you look like shit, but the boys do not let on. They don’t look at you with pity and you are beyond grateful for that. “Thanks, we had to improvise a bit!” Daniel walks over to you and pulls you out of the wheelchair with ease, lifting you into his arms bridal style. He carries you over to the car, careful to not hurt you. However, his limb coordination when it comes to carrying people apparently isn’t the best. You close your eyes when you see the car door frame coming closer, but instead of bumping into the hard metal, your head is met with a soft surface. You open your eyes and see Lando smiling at you. The boy had put his hand over the door frame, softening the impact. Your eyes almost start to water at the sweet gesture.

Once you are seated, Pierre climbs into the back with you and helps you to put your seatbelt on before he settles himself in. Lando sits in the back as well. Max is the passenger princess. Daniel is starting the car, and you watch Max still without his seatbelt on. Before, you can say something, Pierre turns to Max. “Put your fucking seatbelt on!”, he says and a small smile appears on your face. You don’t really catch more of the chatting, as just the way to the car exhausted you completely and you opt for some sleep. Pierre´s shoulder functions as your cushion, and it is quite comfortable, at least for this purpose. Already almost in slumber you only subconsciously realize that someone puts a blanket over you. You snuggle closer into Pierre and fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.

You wake when someone unbuckles your seatbelt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you!”, Pierre apologizes, but you wave it off. “I think I have slept enough the past days”, you joke half-heartedly, and he gives you a tiny smile. Only now in this close proximity, you can see the dark bags under his eyes, the worry on his face. He looks five years older, beard unshaved, little stubbles growing in a disorganized way. “I am sorry for causing you so much worry”, you whisper barely audible, but he hears you, like he always does. He shakes his head. “Mon ange, no. None of this is your fault, if anything, it is ours.” You are just about to ask what he means when Daniel interrupts the two of you.

“We should get going!”, he says, and Pierre helps you out of the car. He carries you the last few meters to the jet, and places you down on one of the seats. Before you can engage in a conversation with him, Lando joins you on the seat next to you and slams a big bag on the table. “Y/n, I hope you are hungry!” You focus your attention on him and just now realize how hungry you are. “Starving, actually!” Lando smacks his lips and starts unpacking the bag. “Well, in that case, good for you, because I come prepared!” There is everything you could ask for – snacks, fruits, sandwiches. You decide to start with an apple, which Lando insists on cutting into small pieces for you. “Lando!”, you laugh, “I am not a child!” He grins. “Well, y/n, you need care and nursing and love now, so we all have decided to you are no longer our mum, you are now our child!” You flip him off playfully and continue to eat your apple pieces quietly while Lando talks your ear off, which you honestly do not mind. It distracts you from all the negative thoughts.

After a few hours, Daniel, Lando and Max are asleep. You are quite awake on the other hand and the soft shine of a display coming from Pierre´s seat indicates that he as well is awake. You carefully walk over to him, holding onto the seats. It takes all of your strength to make the few meters, but you manage and fall into the seat next to the Frenchman. He looks up from his phone and gifts you a smile. “Hey”, you say softly, “You okay?” Pierre shakes his head but continues to smile. “You are unbelievable, y/n! You are the one that was in the hospital the last days, not me.” “I can still worry about you guys though, no?”, you grin crookedly, but Pierre is still very serious. “Of course, but the important thing now is that you need to get better, and to do that, you need to learn to say no, and you need to learn to listen to yourself.” You want to interrupt him, but he doesn’t let you. “But most importantly, we – me and the others – need to learn to get our own shit together, and not always bother you!”

You can feel that he is a bit angry, so you gently place your hand on his biceps. “Pierre, you never bothered me. It was just a bit too much the past weeks! Everything will be fine, in fact, everything is fine.” Pierre shakes his head at you, you can feel that he is still upset. “No, nothing is fine. The last days were absolutely horrible, y/n. I was so afraid; I don’t think I have ever been this afraid. I couldn’t sleep because I was afraid that I would wake up and someone was going to tell me that you died. It was a nightmare, I don’t ever want to feel that again – so I am begging you, please take all the time you need to rest and heal. I cannot lose you.” You are a taken aback by his words. “I will, I promise!”, you say, and Pierre pulls you onto his lap and into a tight hug. He doesn’t let go for a while, and you don’t mind. It keeps you from falling apart.

You land a few hours later, you before you can protest, Lando lifts you out of your seat. “My turn!”, he laughs, and you decide to not pick a fight. “Yeah, it’s cool”, you say and playfully roll your eyes, “Just pick me up whenever.” Lando makes a sad face, and you can sense that he feels bad. “I am sorry”, he utters, “I should have at least asked if it was okay for me to pick you up!” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, its not like a have a choice. I can´t exactly walk away”, you joke. You know it is a bad joke, and maybe it was too early to joke about it. For a moment, it is quiet, but then Daniel lets out a little snort. He tries his best to keep in a laugh, but when Max looks at him, he cannot help himself and bursts out laughing. The Dutchman joins him, so do you, and in a matter of seconds, Pierre and Lando are laughing as well. It takes you a while to calm down, because all of you just really needed to laugh off the shock of the past days.

Lando carries you down and into the car. Charles had offered to pick you up and drive you to your apartment, joined by Pierre. “Hey Charles!”, you greet the man and move over to give him an uncomfortable hug over the middle console. He doesn’t seem to mind, however. “You don’t know how good it is to see you, y/n!” You smile at him after you pull away, and he starts the car as soon as Pierre has settled in as well. A bit later, you arrive by your apartment building. Pierre gets out the wheelchair, and helps you to climb in. It is still new for you, and you hope that you will get rid of it soon. It makes you feel utterly helpless, but just the few steps in the plane earlier were hard and exhausting. For a moment, the thought that you might never be able to race again crosses your mind, but you push it away violently. So far, you had achieved everything in your life that you had set your mind to, and you sure as hell will not let anything stop you now.

It feels good to be back in your own space. You exhale deeply and you immediately start to feel a bit better. The familiar surrounding eases your negative thoughts, and you find yourself calming down. “Alright”, says Charles, “I will get going and get the crutches from the doctor, and get groceries, then I will be back!” Before you can say something, he is out of the door. “The doctors in Brazil contacted your doctor here to consult and discuss next steps.” You nod, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Pierre tells you bit more about the topic, but you can’t really focus your attention. At some point, you let out a big yawn. Pierre chuckles. “Seems like someone is tired!” “Exhausted”, you tell him, and he gives you an understanding nod. “How about you take a nap?”, he offers. “Sounds super!”

He helps you into your room, where you quickly change into some shorts and a shirt. After you are done, Pierre enters the room with a glass of water in his hand. “I know that you like to keep a glass of water next to your bed, so I figured I would bring you one!” “How do you know?”, you question. He shrugs his shoulders. “You mentioned it one day…” “Thank you!” He smiles at you, puts the glass down and grabs the blanket. He throws it over you and gently tugs you in. “Sleep well, mon ange!”, he says but you are already sound asleep.

The next week is exhausting, more mentally than physically. You are able to leave the wheelchair rather quickly, but you still the need the crutches for support. Despite the fact that you weren’t really injured, at least not in the traditional sense, your body was still weak. You just cannot really rely on it right now, so the crutches are there to support and help you. You are just happy that you are out of the wheelchair and that you have a tiny bit of your independency back. What helps even more however, is the constant support of your friends. They cannot be with you right now, as there are still two more races for them to finish. Your doctor appointments keep you occupied, your family visits and helps you with whatever you need. Your friends call you, sometimes just to tell you minor things but it helps. You don’t feel isolated, and you cheer on them from your living room. Right now, it feels okay to not be on track – you feel like you are going to be okay.

The season ends in the end of November. Winter has Monaco in its grip, the first snow falls. Everything looks so pretty that you cannot really feel down. On top of that you love Christmas, and you keep yourself busy with present shopping, at least until you have to get ready to leave for England. It is a Tuesday, and you had just been at the doctor’s office. While your doctor is sure that you will fully recover, he also gives you a real perspective on things. The possibility is there that you can race next season, but the cost could potentially be high. He tells you to consider your options. Lando picks you up from this appointment and together you drive to the airport. The two of you were scheduled to fly to the McLaren headquarters for a week to discuss the next possible steps. The flight goes over quick, you are unusually quiet – and Lando just lets you be. He can sense that you need the time, so he gives it to you.

When you step out of the airport, Zak waits for there for you personally. The older man pulls you in a tight hug, it had been a while since he had seen you in person. “Good to see you, kid!”, he tells you with a fatherly tone in his voice. You grin at him, happy to see him. You climb into the car and Zak drives you to his home, to have dinner with his family. You quite enjoy it, but you feel yourself get tired after a while. Lando notices and decides to call a taxi for the both of you to drive to the hotel.

You share a suite, in case something was to happen during the night, but you sleep well. After a nice breakfast, you are getting picked up for the headquarters and inside you are feeling very nervous. You are good at hiding it, but you fiddle with your fingers. Lando takes one of your hands and gently squeezes it. Only now that you are not good on foot you realize how big the McLaren compound really is.

The core team meets in a room close to the entrance for your sake. They are all beyond happy to see you, everyone is relieved that you are on your feet again, at least partly. It is not many people, as you agreed with Zak to discuss the next steps in a small team before you met with everyone. After exchanging some courtesies, it is time for you to tell them of your decision. You take a deep breath and Lando once again squeezes your hand. No one knows what you are going to tell them, and you don’t really know how to tell them. You decide it is best to rip the band aid of fast.

“After consulting with my doctor yesterday, I think it is best if I resign for indeterminate time, until I am fully recovered.” The room is eerily quiet, everyone is a bit shocked. “While I could possibly sit myself into the car next season, I would not be able to give you guys the results you deserve. Trust me, this is not what I wanted, but if I race next season, the possibility of lasting health issues is very likely, and I do not believe that some half-assed results are worth that. I want to apologize –“ “Don’t!”, Zak interrupts you, “We have all developed a soft spot for you in our hearts, and we were all shocked when we heard what the doctors in Brazil said. Your health comes first. While we are deeply saddened about you resigning for indeterminate time, I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would like to keep you around one way or the other.” You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. On the one side because they were so supportive, on the other side because you stating your resignation makes it a lot more real.

Now it is official – at least within your team – that you will not start next season. It feels a bit like your world is ending, your goals are out of your reach. You feel hopeless, and like you are – quite frankly – an absolute loser. Self-doubts threaten to eat you up, you want to curl up in a ball and just stop existing for a while. You spent the rest of the meeting lost in your thoughts, and the next days go by in a blur. You visit the headquarter many more times that week, talking to the team, discussing the best way to communicate your indeterminate resignation. You call Pierre a lot, telling him about everything. He deserves to know from you, so do all of your other friends. You cry a lot those days, Lando never quite leaving your side. He is there for you, so is everyone else. Yet you find yourself withdrawing yourself from almost everyone except Pierre. You call him daily, sometimes more than once. Many times, he has to listen to you softly sobbing into the phone, and it breaks his heart. But he never blames you, he always listens, he always comforts you.

After an exhausting week, there is only one more thing to do – film your resignation video. You cry during the video too, but you don’t mind – you love your fans, and they deserve to know the truth and witness your real feelings about your resignation. In the end, the video is 10 minutes long – you explain your reasons, you promise that you will be back. And you mean that. Somehow, you have found your fighting spirit once again. The video ends with a collage of your best moments in F1. A tribute to your achievements so far, but you are now certain there will be more eventually. You will put all the work in necessary so that you would heal properly, and that you would be able to sit in the car next year.

You fly back to Monaco alone – Lando would have come with you, but you told him to stay home with his family for a bit. He drove you to the airport and saw that you get to the plane just fine. When you land, Lewis and Valtteri are already there to welcome you back. They are kind and gentle and brotherly, and your soul heals a bit when they take you to lunch that day. They don’t make you feel like a loser anymore, they tell you that they are proud of you for making this hard decision. The three of you share things that you have never spoken about before, and it helps. The sun is shining on a white Monaco and your heart becomes full and hopeful. You are still weak and exhausted, and when they take you home you are more than ready to sleep, but it is different.

The next week is a busy week once again. You visit your doctor and your personal trainer a lot, discussing measures to help you healing, and setting up a slow training program that would help keep you in shape, while not overburdening your body. You still call Pierre every day to talk to him. He is with his family in France for Christmas, and he has invited you to join him. You tell him you will once you feel better. He understands, like he always does. He makes you laugh with his joke, and he tells you he misses you. You miss him, and when he drops one of his compliments, it is somehow different now. Your cheeks heat up sometimes, and your heart skips a beat.

Christmas is nice, and special. You are home, and for once you have nothing to do – no real training, only little exercises. No media duties, and you enjoy the time with your family. After New Year’s, you travel back to home to Monaco to rest and heal. The boys are all there for you – for whatever you need. They ask you how you are all the time, and they help you where they can. It is the little things, really, and one day you feel particularly bad about it. You cannot really give them anything back at the moment, and you feel like you are using them. You wake up with those feelings that they, and to distract yourself from them, you go on Instagram. Scrolling through your feed, you occasionally send them funny videos. It was the least you could do. After an hour or so, you lift yourself out of the bed, finally. You are very hungry, and you think about ordering something, when suddenly your doorbell rings. You need some time to reach it, walking slowly with your crutches, and when you open it, Daniel stands there in front of you. “You send me the first Reel on Instagram like one hour ago, so I figured you are hungry by now. I brought groceries and I am here to cook for you!” “I… You shouldn’t have!”, you try to argue, but Daniel already moves past you and into your kitchen. You follow him slowly.

When you see that he is already collecting dishes to prepare breakfast, you just sigh. He picks up the defeated sound and perks up, smiling at you. His face falls when he sees the way you look at him, like you are almost crying. “Hey hon, what´s up?”, he asks you. “I just… I feel so bad about all of this. I feel like I am using all of you, and like I am not giving anything back!” Daniel shakes is head violently, and he comes over to pull you in a hug. You almost disappear in it, and he draws soothing circles on your back. “Y/n, don’t ever say or think something like that again. You have almost given your life for us, and this is what friends are here for. We help each other when we can – sometimes one or the other does give a bit more. It equals out in the end. Besides, you still listen to all of us rambling, and you still give the best advice!” He pulls away and a tiny smile is on your face now. He ruffles your hair and before you can protest, he is back in the kitchen. “Now, go rest your ass on the couch, mate!”, he says, and you cannot help but laugh when you limp over to the living room.

Breakfast is nice, and Daniel makes you laugh with his stupid jokes. It is good to feel like this. You know that right now was the easy part – your friends are here, and they all have time for you. But you are afraid of what is coming after the winter break – when they are all gone, and you won’t be able to be with them doing the things you love the most. It will most likely break your heart, but you try not to think about it, at least not now.

It is a few weeks later, the next season will start soon. You have picked up training again, very slowly. It mainly consisted off walking on the treadmill, holding onto the sides. A few easy exercises that keep your body mobile and flexible and your muscles occupied. Spring is blooming in Monaco; the first sun is shining. Everything is going well. Well, almost everything. Right now, you are beyond embarrassed.

You had felt better today, so you had taken the taxi down to your favourite park to enjoy some time there. It had been late afternoon already, you had walked around a bit and sat down in a small restaurant to eat dinner. Now, it is later than expected, it was dark, getting colder by the minute, and you are beyond exhausted. Furthermore, the crippling feeling in your legs leaves you to panic, which is why you – against all rationality – do not call a taxi. Instead, you call Max, who picks up almost immediately. “Can you pick me up, Maxie?”, you choke out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Send me your location!”, he says, and you can hear that he already picks up his keys. You nod, even though he cannot see that, and send him your location with shaky fingers. Max is there just ten minutes later to collect you. As soon as you see him, the tears really start to flow. He wraps his arms around you, his sweatshirt is collecting your tears, and he whispers encouragements while he gently strokes your hair. After a few minutes, you calm down and he helps you to his car.

He holds open the passenger door for you, and you climb in, almost falling because your legs are giving out under you. But Max is there, he catches you, and helps you. He closes the door behind you and gets in on his side. “You okay?”, he asks. You nod, using the sleeves of your sweatshirt to wipe away the leftovers of your tears. Max starts the car and drives through the dark streets of Monaco. You don’t know where he is going until he stops at the drive through of a Fast-Food restaurant. “I figured the occasion called for ice cream or a milkshake”, he tells you when you he sees your questioning expression. A tiny smile creeps onto your face. Max orders you a milkshake and gives it to you. You hold it in two hands like a child and Max cannot help but laugh. You pout a little, but ultimately smile when he takes a picture of you holding the cup in your hand.

He drives you to your place and helps you up to your apartment. Reaching the door, he stops for a moment and thinks. “Would you like some company tonight?” For a moment you think about telling him to go home, because you don’t want to trouble him any further. But being alone tonight sounds terrible, so you push down the unnecessary feeling of guilt and nod. He steps into the apartment with you and helps you take of your jacket. Together, the two of you settle in on the couch and put on a movie. You feel your eyes get heavy, but before you can tell Max that he might as well go home as you are about to fall asleep, you slip into slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed. You stretch and roll over to your phone. A text from Max. “Don’t get scared when you wake up, I am sleeping on the couch.” You smile to yourself and get up. Max is still asleep, so you climb into the shower. Once you are done and dressed, you make your way into the kitchen to make breakfast. Already in the hallway, you hear voices. You are confused – you know that Max is here, but who else? Stepping into the kitchen, your eyes fall on Pierre. Immediately, a big smile appears on your face. “Pierre!”, you exclaim happily and his face lights up once his eyes fall on you. He rushed over and wraps you in a tight hug. What you don’t see is the wiggling eyebrows Max aims at Pierre. Pierre just rolls his eyes and then closes them to take in your scent for a moment. Soon after, you break the hug, but Pierre stays close, his arm loosely wrapped around your hips.

Max excuses himself shortly after, as he has an appointment. You bit him goodbye, and when the door falls close, you turn around to Pierre. “Why are you here already?”, you ask him, and he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Not happy to see me?” You shake your head but laugh. “I am more than happy to see you, Pierre! I was just thought you would arrive in two days.” “Well,”, he says and wraps you in another hug, “I really wanted to see you!” You are happy that your face is buried in his chest because a blush creeps on your cheeks.

Pierre pulls back a little and looks at you. “Are you feeling better today?”, he asks with genuine concern. You nod, “Yeah, thanks to Max. He picked me up last night and stayed over to make sure I was okay.” “Max told me what happened. Please, ange, you need to be careful. I know it is hard to be confined in this space and not being as independent as you used to be, but you need to watch out for your health.” You sigh, but nod. “I know. I am just really tired off this, and I want to experience things again. I am afraid that I won’t ever be able to get into the car again…” Pierre nods understandingly. “I get that. But the more you rest and listen to your body, the sooner you will be fully healed.” “Yeah, you are right. I –“, you want to say something more, but suddenly, your stomach growls.

Pierre laughs and you grin, a bit embarrassed. “I think you need some food!”, Pierre says. “Yeah, I am starving!” The two of you make your way into the kitchen and just now you see the huge bouquet of flowers on your kitchen counter. “Wow, these are beautiful”, you exclaim, “Thank you Pierre!” He smiles and waves it off. “It´s nothing”, he says, but for you, it is everything. Pierre pulls out one of your pans, and as you are about to help him, he shoots you a glare. You lift your hands up in mock defence and make your way into the living room. You get your laptop from the couch and sit down on the dining table, as you have some things to finish up. Just because you were not a driver anymore, that didn’t mean that you had nothing to do. Especially now that the winter break slowly came to an end – you had agreed with McLaren that you would be involved in their Social Media activity. It had been Lando´s idea, and you are really grateful for it.

While you couldn’t start on the grid next season, you also didn’t want to entirely leave the F1 world. You are not yet sure if that is a good decision, to be involved but not driving, but you would have to wait and see. Pierre joins you a bit later with some breakfast, and you are beyond happy to finally have him with you again. The two of you will spend some time in Monaco together, before the new season started.

You make the most out of that time. Some days you just sleep in, you in your bed and Pierre in the guest bedroom, and then you would have a long breakfast, you would take a little walk, talked with the fans. He helps you with your exercises, he is a gentle trainer, yet he inspires you to go a tiny, tiny step forward every day. He massages your muscles when they are tired, he applies the lotion your doctor prescribed you. He takes you out for lunch or dinner, he goes shopping with you if that is what you desire. He finds the best clothes for you, you feel pretty in them, you feel worth it in them. He makes you feel safe and protected and if you knew better you would say that he makes you feel loved, but you don’t talk about that. Right now, it is not the time for it, and you both just enjoy what you have for now. The lingering touches, the way the two of you gravitated towards each other. He takes good care of you, and he never gives you the feeling of being a burden, even if you need help with silly little things. Like when your arms and hands are so tired that you cannot take off your own socks. He never makes you feel like you have to be embarrassed about any of those things and it helps.

The break ends soon after these great moments and you hold up quite well. Saying goodbye to Pierre is hard, and you cry. He holds you and presses a kiss on your forehead and tell you that you can always call him. But it will be different, there will be the time difference and he will be busy, and you will be not. He still makes sure to call you whenever, and it works good somehow. Maybe it is because summer comes to Monaco and your friends visit you whenever you can. You train, you take it easy, you rest, and you heal. Soon enough, you are able to go for jogs again, your training becomes longer and harder and you seem to be on the right way. By the summer break, you feel stronger already, and life is rather normal again. You still feel exhausted some days and you are not where you used to be. But you were okay with that.

The sun lifts your mood up, even on the days you don’t manage to run very far. You still go out these days, just go get the kilometres down, to keep your body moving. Summer break comes, and with that the boys are back in town. They spend most of their free time with you, and you are beyond grateful for that. It means the world to you, that they come and visit. Pierre spends a lot of time in Monaco with you as well. You take it easy, enjoying the time together. Just like over winter break, he takes you out a lot. You go and see museums, concerts, whatever there is to do. Some days are exciting, others are slow and relaxing. You take naps on the day bed on your balcony, enjoying the warm summer sun. Your head often rests on Pierre´s lap, or you are cuddled up in his arms during those naps. Still, you don’t talk about it, it is all very natural, your relationship growing stronger every minute you spend together. However, labelling it is not your priority right now, it is still your healing journey.

The two of you also spend lot of time together with the other drivers. Like today for example. Currently, you are laying in the warm sun on the deck of Charles yacht. The boys are bickering about something, while you are reading. You had just left the harbour a few minutes ago, and the boys already distracted you from your book. You cannot help but smile though, you had missed this. It was almost like you were still part of the driver line-up, and you feel relieved that nothing has really changed. They are all still the same adorable dorks they used to be. Some time later, Charles stops the yacht in the middle of the sea. By now you are sweating and very warm, so you are the first person to take the leap of the deck into the ocean.

It is not really a problem; you feel good today. The guys follow soon after, and you start to joke around, splash each other with water, dunking each other under. You have so much fun that you don’t really listen to your body. You splash and dunk and swim around. Pierre watches you closely, like he always does. When you climb up the ladder, he is relieved that you choose to take a break, so he follows. You, however, have other plans. You are about to get ready to jump off the boat another time, when Pierre stops you. “You sure about that, do you not rather want to take a break?” You grin at him with the objective to calm him down. “I feel fine, Pierre!” He nods. “Just be careful, okay?” “Of course!”

You feel your mistake when you start to run to jump off the deck. Your legs are suddenly very, very heavy. You cannot stop anymore however, and before you realize, you are in the air. The force of impact on the surface of the water knocks the breath out of your lungs, your entire body suddenly feels heavy – almost too heavy for you to swim towards the surface. It takes you long to emerge from the water, too long. The others realize when you don’t come up immediately. Charles starts to swim towards you. A splash rips you from your apathy and you swim towards the surface with heavy arms. You emerge coughing and one second later Pierre is right next to you. He helps you to hold yourself over water, and soon, Charles is by your side as well. You are embarrassed, but they don’t let on how scared they really were. Pierre helps you up the stairs and you sit down in one of the seating areas. Pierre brings you a towel and wraps you in it. When the towel is around you, he doesn’t let go. “I am sorry!”, you whisper, “I should have listened to you.” Pierre shakes his head. “Don’t worry, just don’t scare me like that again.” “I won´t!”, you promise and snuggle closer into Pierre. He holds you and you fall asleep soon after.

The rest of the summer break is spent similar. You hang out with Pierre and the guys, you go to France with Pierre, you visit your family, life is good. But then, the races start again, and fall comes to Monaco and with that the rain and the grey days. You are not able to go out of your apartment that much anymore, you are lacking energy and you feel like you are making steps back. Your training doesn’t go as smooch anymore, you feel like your comeback might be in jeopardy.

You are in a bad mood, there is no reason to sugar coat that. You are beyond miserable. The feeling that you will not return next season haunts you, and you are terrified of it. What if you will not manage to ever race again? You have never known something else; you have never learned something else. You feel like you are drowning, and your saving comes in form of a particular Frenchman. He knows that you had been able to go on runs again and that you did harder workouts again, he knows that you were on a way to get better. When your best friend calls him and tells him that you spent most of your days inside now not doing much, he doesn’t believe it at first.

He does, however, when you open the door and look like you haven’t changed out of your sweatpants in a week. You look messy, eyes puffy and tired features. He is scared to see you like this, so hopeless and so… He doesn’t know how to describe it, but you look so little, so tiny. You weren’t the tallest, but usually you carried yourself like you were the tallest in any room. Now, you are hunched over. For a moment he thinks you are going to close the door in his face, but you don’t. “Put your clothes on, we are going for a run!”, he tells you. You don’t protest verbally, but your attitude shows him enough. He doesn’t flinch though. He drags you out of the apartment – you still haven’t said a word. He takes your hand when you arrive downstairs, and he pulls you with him. A little “Pierre, I can´t!” leaves your mouth, but he pretends that he doesn’t hear it. And, after the first meters, you seem to shake off the paralysis that had a tight grip on you the past week.

Your breath is steady, and you are keeping up well with him. It starts to rain, the trail becomes wet, and you slip at some point. You fall, and this little happening seems to make you fall apart. You stay on the ground, and you don’t grab Pierre´s hand when he reaches out. At first, he doesn’t realize but then he sees that you are crying, and he doesn’t care about his outfit – he drops to his knees next to you and hugs you. You want to turn away from him, you feel so fucking weak and pathetic, and he sees you in that state. It embarrasses you; it makes you angry. You want to push him away, you struggle a bit against his grip, but Pierre doesn't let go of you.

“Why am I so weak?”, you cry softly in his shirt, but Pierre hears you. “You are not weak, mon ange”, he whispers. He pulls you a bit closer, like he is afraid that the rain will wash and carry you away. “You are the strongest person I know. I know that life is hard at the moment, and I cannot imagine how you are feeling. But you will get there, I know that!” “I feel like I am the absolute worst version of myself right now, and I just don’t see myself driving next year, but… But that´s all I have ever known, it´s all I have ever wanted!” Pierre still holds you close. The rain is coming down harder now, and you are getting soaked to the skin. You don’t care, it doesn’t matter to you. “If I know anything, I know that you will come back stronger next than ever next year!” “Why do you keep on believing in me, Pierre?”

“You might see yourself as the worst version of yourself right now, but I think you are the strongest, the fiercest version of yourself right now.” For a moment, Pierre falls silent. He takes a deep breathe before he whispers the words into your ear, as if he is afraid that they will be washed away by the rain when he speaks up or speaks them further away from you. “And I believe in you because it is the only thing that keeps me sane. I cannot even begin to think about the fact that you might not ever race again, because it would affect my life in so many ways. It might be selfish, but I would not get to see you as much anymore, and the thought of that is terrible to me. I want to be able to come out of the garage and walk over to hug you. I want to hear your laugh sound all over the paddock because someone cracked a joke. And, most importantly, I believe in you because I am completely and helplessly in love with you.”

You need a moment to take that information in, understanding what he just told you. “You don’t need to say anything, I –“, you stop him by pulling out of his hug and taking your face in both of your hands. The position is not really comfortable, but you don´t care. You press your cold lips against his and kiss him. He kisses you back, and you can feel his warmth seeping into your bones. The rain is still coming down hard, but all you can feel is Pierre's arms around you, and it feels like you have found a lifeline, like you have a new purpose to fight and return stronger than before.

#formula one x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc #lewis hamilton #sergio checo pérez #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #max verstappen x reader #valtteri bottas #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Text

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in this part.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART ONE.

⊹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white.

Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and there’s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago.

Nothing’s changed, but everything is different. It’s starting to feel comedic. It’s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting.

Gojo feels like he’s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. There’s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps it’s no surprise that he’s latched onto you this way.

There’s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he can’t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesn’t know why either. There’s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasn’t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that he’s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God.

The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he can’t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy.

When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much.

The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesn’t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesn’t think he should have too.

Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?

Gojo doesn’t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure you’re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?

It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens who’ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but he’s not God.

No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers can’t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.

Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. It’s only then you’ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. It’s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily.

Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojo’s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if it’s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true.

He doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that you’re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely.

He needs you. He needs you. He needs you.

Snow is falling.

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door.

He’s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so he’s startled by it. School doesn’t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi would’ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. He’s dressed in his P.J.’s with his hair messy and mind jumbled.

He’s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. You’ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo can’t decipher.

“Oh,” He says after registering who he’s talking to you “What’re you doing here so early?”

You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.

“A pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they won’t be here for a while and.” You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion “I need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus there’s work,”

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up.

“Hey, calm down,” He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head “I’m here. It’s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?”

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself.

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?”

If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.

“Hm,” He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. He’s memorized all your tells by heart “Well, there’s no reason not to, right? You’ll have to sleep in my bed though.”

He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction.

“Oh, uhm, then,”

He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back.

“Just kidding! Of course you can stay with me. I’ll take the couch for a few days so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.”

You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares.

“What?” You ask when you notice. He shakes his head.

“It’s cute when you get nervous,” He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands.

“You’re so mean,” You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest “I was really freaking out just now,”

“I know, I know - but it’s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe it’s cause I’m sleepy,”

“You're wide awake right now!” You point out. He snorts.

“Noo, what? I’m half-asleep right now,”

“Gojo,” You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body “Let me in? Please?”

“Try Satoru. Sa-to-ru,” He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face.

“Satoru,” You say, hardly getting the syllables out “L-let me in,”

He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens.

“Good girl,” He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you “Come on in!”

Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well he’s been doing to make sure he’s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesn’t think it’s time yet. You’re still skittish.

Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up.

“Don’t be so stiff,” He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning “My home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?”

“Could I borrow your shower?”

Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his things - sharp and sinful.

“I was gonna shower this morning but, y’know.” You gesture vaguely. He’s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Pretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,” He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though he’s certain he’s missing something “Oh, and I’ll give you some clothes,”

You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse.

“Don’t say no,” He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease. Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun “Let me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,”

“That’s a bad joke,” You say, throat thick.

You want to trust him don’t you? He wants to praise you for that.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s lonely. Let me indulge a little,” He begs with enough lightheartedness that you don’t run away.

“Geez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,” You try and joke back, though it’s stilted and awkward. He can tell you’re getting prepared to squeeze to the bathroom before the conversation is too much.

“Old ladies do love me,” He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly.

“Stupid.”

He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.

“Is there anything else that you need while you’re in there?”

“I don’t think so,” You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on.

When the water rushes, he follows you.

He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than it’s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear what’s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him.

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible.

It’s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5 minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. He’s pleased with that.

You trust him, or you try too.

When he feels certain you’re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but it’s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you.

He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for.

Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until he’s sure he overstayed his welcome.

He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it.

The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room.

He sits on his couch when he’s back. The sun hasn’t come up yet and he’s only turned on a single lamp for light. It’s hard for him to describe how he’s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasn’t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding.

He’s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.

But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now must’ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. He’s naive in thinking you're different. He’s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.

It’s only now and in such circumstances does he think that you’re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy he’s ever had - it’s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesn’t want you to hate him. Not necessarily.

But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks it’ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as it’s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that it’s yours. That he’s yours.

Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojo’s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin.

But like anything he does though, he can’t take the easy way out. There’s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, there’s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that he’ll do his best to make that reality happen.

The thought settles in his body and suddenly he’s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? He’s not a skilled cook but he’s pretty good at making those.

At the very least, he thinks you’ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry.

He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if it’s temporary. He’s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body.

He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he can’t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge.

Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. It’s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesn’t cook for himself often in the first place, so he’s never thought to complain about it or get it changed.

Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. It’s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.

( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, it’ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - it’ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. It’s best to keep the heat even. It’s best to fix it sometime soon. )

The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth.

He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm.

Too much heat, and you’ll jump to save yourself.

Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking. It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.

You’re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long it’ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. There’s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you.

“Morning,” He says. You giggle a little.

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?”

“Yes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,” He puffs his chest up “Pretty good, I’m told.”

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,”

“The audacity,” He says, full of theatrics “I’ll knock your socks off,”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That he’ll have all of you and soon “Can I help with anything?”

“Get started on some coffee maybe,”

You nod your head and yawn.

“Sounds good to me,”

You decide to stay for a week.

More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for a week. That’s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.

But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and there’s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and it’s not like you can’t board with a friend for a few days right?

But won’t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. It’s like having a week-long sleep-over.

I don’t have the stuff I need. That’s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure.

Are you sure? Of course he’s sure. More than sure. You’re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. What’s sleeping in the same room when we’re neighbors?

Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. You’re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on.

(He’d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. It’s a good thing it’s only Gojo who knows.)

The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. There’s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch.

(He doesn’t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - it’s hard for him to stave it off. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when you’re embarrassed and spills into his hand.

Eventually, he’ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because you’re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you don’t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. )

On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. You’re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently).

(“I have a surprise for you!” Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. You’ve returned from your shower, on your last pair of PJ’s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package.

“For me?” You ask. Gojo nods, grinning.

“For you,” He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room.

The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.

But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it.

“...Clothes?” You repeat.

“Surprise!” He says with his usual silly cadence “For you, free of charge.”

A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what you’ll do. What you’re thinking, it’s a shame Gojo can’t read your mind.

“How’d you know my size?” You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs.

“Guessed. We’ve spent enough time together,” He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you don’t quite believe him. But there’s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. It’s not a sound he dislikes.

He’s been good to you. He’s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesn’t hate it even though he knows where it comes from.

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically.

“This is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?” You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it.

“Mm, dunno. Just whatever I thought you’d need.”

“I’m only here for a week, Gojo.” You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.

“So? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I don’t know what women go through.” He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose.

“You’re so dumb. It’s too much stuff,”

“I already bought it and I don’t feel like returning it,” He tells you, making it clear he’s not going to negotiate “Just think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.”

You snort.

“You even have the hair,” You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile “Still. I feel like I’m really indebted to you, lately.”

“Yeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.”

“I don’t remember Santa doing favors for people,” You quip. Gojo laughs.

“Change in management,”

You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again.

“Well. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?”

“Take your time,” Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall “I need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and I’ll take it out tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I’ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.”

“Yeah. See you” )

If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, you’re smart enough not to say anything.

The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but he’s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and he’s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows you’re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires.

On the fourth day, he doesn’t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but there’s a method to this - he has to remind himself.

Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you can’t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if you’re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you can’t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why you’re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that he’s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult.

On the fifth day, things proceed the same. There’s a routine you’ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. There’s not really much to do - it’s a Friday. It’s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task.

You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as he’s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isn’t sure why he does it. He thinks he’s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him.

(“So, you’re the only person left in your clan?” You ask, half-way through a glass of tea he’s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.

“Mhm. Technically, I’m the sole heir.” He replies.

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?”

Gojo laughs at you. You really can’t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Gojo says honestly.

“That’s okay,” You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around.

“Most of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.”

“You included?” You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little.

“Once I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,” He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story “It took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.”

“You say that so easily,”

Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself.

“It was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.”

For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks you’re going to cry. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, it’s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. It’s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesn’t know what he’s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasn’t known it since he was born.

It’s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because he’s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. He’s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He won’t feel remorseful about it at all.

There’s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than he’s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows he’ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this.

He wonders how long you’ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, there’s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if it’s pointless. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did.

Maybe when he was 17.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasn’t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle.

“How are you not crying?”

“I never cry.” Gojo says smoothly, not blinking “I’m a heartless bastard.”

“That’s not true.” You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. It’s cute, he must admit, that you’re so sure on his character “You’re not heartless,”

“But I am a bastard,” He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on that

“...You’re not heartless. Clearly.” You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much he’ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums.

“Oho, you almost sound like you’re defending me.”

“From yourself, I guess. I know you’re not heartless,” You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. It’s a little shocking. It’s not usually how this goes “You’re…weird. But you care”

“That’s true,” Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. “More than that, I’m hung up on the idea of the future.”

“Isn’t it usually being hung-up on the past?”

“Right? Usually, that’d be the case,” Gojo says, unsure of what to express “But the past is the past. I can’t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.”

You sound like the winds been knocked out of you “That’s terrifying,”

“It is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasn’t happened. But it can’t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,” Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies “There’s a future I want to see. I’d like if my students could see it too,”

“Because of your friend, right?”

Gojo smiles.

“Because of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.”

“Like?” You ask, curious.

“I like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now it’s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.”

You’re silent for a while, again.

“Seems lonely,” You say, simply. Easily. It’s true, and he knows that. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story.

Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He can’t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word.

“You think so?” Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant “Does it make you wanna hug and console me?”

He offers it sarcastically, but you don’t tear your eyes away from him. It’s almost enough to shake him. Almost.

“...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.” You say, too honestly.

“Jeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I can’t believe I’m the other woman,” He says, with a faux pout.

You laugh, though it’s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and he’s almost willing to let you. That’s just the thing.

You see Gojo as human, still.

Gojo Satoru isn’t God. But he isn’t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldn’t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until it’s too late.

So, Gojo doesn’t think you need to comfort him how you’re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that you’re owed to him.

Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesn’t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont.

He turns the heat up gently. You’re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. He’ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you should’ve trusted your gut after all.

For now, he smiles at you.

“If it’s any consolation, I’d be very sad if you disappeared.” Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself.

“Me too,” You reply. Gojo knows he’s going to ruin you. “I’d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, don’t, okay?”

And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - he’d tell you you’re the last person who should worry about missing him. That you’ll be seeing him for a long time.

But he’s neither, just like he’s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his.

“Scouts honor,”

When he’s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojo’s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you.

“What was that?”

“You had a thread loose,” You say simply, unconcerned with anything “I just pulled it off.”

Gojo stares.

“Yeah. Thanks.”)

The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesn’t think there’s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone.

Today is the 7th day.

On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You don’t have work today, so you do what you’ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.

Night falls on the 7th day.

Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. He’d set this in motion when the week started and now that it’s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. There’s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojo’s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak.

Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than he’s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him.

He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. You’re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment he’s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life.

And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. He’ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. There’s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy.

The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall.

Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.

Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed, so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. It’d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo.

You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojo’s expression.

The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like he’s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him.

Gojo’s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words.

“What are you doing here?” You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought.

He knows he shouldn’t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. You’re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, he’s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him.

Then he talks, his voice tender.

“Getting my debts repaid,” And he means it, more than he’s ever meant anything he’s said “You owe me one, remember?”

It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. You’ll leave it here when you’re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him.

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?”

He’s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if you’ll do it. If you’ll run or if you’ll thrash or if you’ll fight. He’s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and he’s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this.

He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like you’re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, it’s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like you’re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like you’ll be able to break free.

But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that you’re trying to escape him, he’s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you.

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?”

“You owe me one for letting you stay here, right?” He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen “I’ll take this as compensation, okay? It’s a good deal for us both I think,”

“I don’t,” You squirm underneath him “I don’t—I,”

“Shh,” He quiets you, humming softly “Don’t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,”

Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. What’d you do in these circumstances. If you’d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming.

Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesn’t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you.

“You can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,” Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you “It’s not gonna hurt me,”

You look like you’re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin.

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Gojo says after some thought “Is this your first time?”

You whimper, nodding meekly. Gojo groans against your skin. You flinch.

“Fuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,” He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown.

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing you know,” Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of what’ll happen if you let g.o “We’re tied together like this. Isn’t that nice?”

“Gojo,” You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you can’t find the strength to say. You’re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine “Please,”

“Not wearing a thing even though you’ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,” He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs “I’m not telling you off you know? I’m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.”

“Gojo,” You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.

“Satoru,” He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him “I’ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,”

He doesn’t promise to stop, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks it’s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath.

“S-Satoru,”

He gestures to take your shirt off. You’ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head.

“That won’t do,” He coos at you softly “I wanna see you. All of you,”

You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are.

“So pretty,” He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater “So cute,”

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—”

“So ungrateful,” He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal “That’s the only request I can’t listen to,”

You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesn’t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists.

“Don’t squirm too much, ‘kay? Stay like that. I’ll make you feel good.”

“I don’t,”

“Hey,” This time he’s stern, and you slink back into yourself. It’s the first time he’s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last “What’d I say? You owe me this much, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. It’s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, y’know”

A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles.

“Good girl.” He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse “You learn quick.”

You keep your arms over your head like he’s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him.

“So pretty,” He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth.

He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving in easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it.

He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you.

“First kiss?” He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space.

“Mm,” Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesn’t bother putting up a show. It’s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient.

He takes his time now that you’re all naked. It’s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. It’s only fair to give you something to look at while you’re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisors - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly.

“Gonna be a little sore for a while,” He says warmly. You’ve hit the stage of grief where you’re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back “Might as well enjoy yourself.”

Despair flashes in your expression.

“I mean it, you know.” He offers, stating it like he’s trying to appease you “You should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.”

It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. It’s good you’re starting to understand him a little better.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question.

“Ah, it’s a secret, so you can’t tell,” He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful “I like things that I can keep.”

A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound

It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air.

When he thinks you’re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy.

You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs.

“You don’t wanna?” He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit “Are you sure?”

It’s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. It’s your first time with something like this and he’s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you don’t want it, your body can’t refuse him. You can’t either, try as you might. That’s why your legs are spread and why you’re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently.

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs.

“You need it here,” He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp “Need me to touch you here, hm?”

You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently.

“Be more honest.” He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it “What do you want?”

“Don’t, I don’t.” You say, or you try.

“Liar,” He snips playfully against your clavicle “Your pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?”

Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry.

“C’mon,” He encourages meanly “Tell me what you really want.”

It’s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you.

“P-please,” You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When you’re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him “Please.”

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be.

“Please what, hm? What are you asking for?”

You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojo’s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. It’s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.

Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selfless little heart to beg for his mercy this once. You’ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this.

Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist.

You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin.

“So cute when you give up.” Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your “Be good and be honest. I’ll reward you, hm? How’s that?”

Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself. A sound like you’re in pain even though you’re not hurt.

“Please touch me.” You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince.

“Good girl.” He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit “That’s all you had to do. Easy, right?”

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,”

You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like you’ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until you’re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like you’re begging. Gojo doesn’t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank.

Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like you’re spitting them out because they fill your mouth too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojo’s hard to hold.

He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. You’re wet enough he doesn’t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you.

Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. He’s being kind, and you’ll realize it later - when you’ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didn’t think it’d ruin the set-up, he’d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip.

It’s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. He’ll fuck himself off on you when you’re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then.

He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle.

When he thinks you’re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his name

“Oh, Satoru, its.”

He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until he’s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till it’s easy, till you’re wanting more.

If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - he’d stop here. He doesn’t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again.

“Easy, easy,” He coos, voice coarse but encouraging “It’s a good exercise for the future.”

You don’t register the words and Gojo doesn’t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice.

Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like he’s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it.

He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows he’s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell you’re feeling it, just as much as you’re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin.

“C’mon,” He hums, nudging his nose to your neck “You wanna cum don’t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.”

You whimper “Aah, aah,” Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. He’s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until you’re no longer able to put on a show of being composed.

“S-sato—oh, please, oh—please m-make me,”

“Want me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ‘Satoru, please make me cum,’ can you do that?”

A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo can’t think straight. It strains you.

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.”

Gojo grins. “Of course I can,” He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again “All you had to do was ask me.”

He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he can’t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything.

He feels giddy to the point he’s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark.

“Don’t hate me too much, kay,” Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now “Come on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.”

And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like you’ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and you’re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJ’s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasure’s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper.

Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you don’t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere.

He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until you’re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isn’t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. .

When he stands to his feet, it’s to collect the curse that’s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse you’ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed.

It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojo’s arm. It doesn’t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake.

“Better warm up to me,” He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words “You won’t be seeing your mama for a while,”

—

Communication stills.

Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened.

He mostly does this because he wants to see what you’ll do.

You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but don’t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch.

Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amused—that you remind him a lot of himself.

He thinks you’re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - he’ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? It’s painful to feel like you can never be the same.

They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes he’s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though you’re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.

What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, you’ll return to your usual spitfire. He’s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back.

But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isn’t looking for your obedience, really. You’re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks it’d be pointless if you’d just stayed the same.

You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesn’t plan to rob you of it. He figures it’s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But it’s better if you’re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take.

Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe you’ll be clever enough to recognize that it’s not that you’re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. You’re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that there’s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc.

Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it.

It’d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you can’t sense him or that he’s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go.

Feeding the curse you’ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. It’s obedient to him since he’s strong, and it’s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because it’s from you), more hostile. He’s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown.

It’s currently on Gojo’s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. It’s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.

He’s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasn’t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But that’s fine. The means don’t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - he’s made this all sort of seamless.

It’s not a complicated plan, ultimately. He’ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - you’ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when you’re finally caught in his arms, you’ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. He’ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and you’ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then he’ll keep you by his side again.

Except this time he won’t be so quick to let go. He’s sure you’ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). He’ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, he’s thought of a way to reply.

A way to tend to it.

Like any relationship, things take time. He’s not expecting this to settle right away - but he’s confident eventually it’ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as you’re within view.

He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. You’re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned.

A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit.

The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet.

“Calm down or I’ll exercise you right away,” Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. “I’m getting impatient, too, you know? It’s been a long time.” He says wistfully.

He keeps looking until you’ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before you’ve gone in - sound by a dull thump.

He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process.

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. He’d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that he’d been thinking about again for weeks.

He supposes there’s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground he’s been spending too long looking for.

He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes.

“Today seems like it’s too soon yet too far,” Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully “But it should be okay, right?”

At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table.

The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out.

There’s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. It’s unfortunate he can’t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojo’s word.

So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if you’ll scream. You didn’t when he thought you should’ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now.

The clock ticks away. It’s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and he’ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways.

The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and it’s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didn’t have such a pressing matter to attend to, he’d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful.

Gojo can’t abandon his task. It’s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesn’t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing)

At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. It’s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he can’t name. It’s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately it’s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when it’s warm even if it’s just an illusion.

The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado that’s riveting. There’s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious.

At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures he’s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. There’s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. He’s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow.

The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before.

At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s pleased with it so far. It’s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard.

He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment.

When Gojo has had enough of waiting, it’s 7:15 sharp.

He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy.

You’re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like it’s dead.

He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and there’s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass.

If you were any more familiar with this world, you’d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojo’s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then you’d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojo’s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless.

But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark.

So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but it’s locked, so he teleports.

When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures you’re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you.

Your house is effectively thrashed like there’s been a robbery. He’ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they won’t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded.

(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even he’s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. He’s sure you’ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.)

He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines he’s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent.

He’s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life.

He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction.

At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like he’s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. He’s never been in your room. Kind of a waste it’s happening like this.

The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out.

It wasn’t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary.

Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach “Oh, it’s—Oh it’s you.”

“Happy to see me, huh?” He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying.

“H-how’d you…?”

“I can feel cursed energy,” He says, and it’s not untrue “I felt something very strange in your apartment. It’s been a while.”

You still can’t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent.

“Yeah.” You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.

“Hey, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”

You stare at Gojo for a long time.

“I’m not hurt but,” You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. He’ll let you rest for a while when you’re home “I’m s-scared.”

“You’re right to be scared,” Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general “It’s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.”

You look agape as he relays this to you.

“Share…?”

Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesn’t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside.

“It was made with your cursed energy,” Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief “Curses are negative emotions. So something like this isn’t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But that’s all your.”

He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like you’re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesn’t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee.

“I told you didn’t I,” Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought “You have to be careful. And you can’t fight all by yourself, so you’re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasn’t around?”

You look like you’re going to cry. Gojo keeps going.

“You can’t call the police, you know. They can’t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.” Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him “But you can rely on me if you need to. I’ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?”

It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. An understanding he’d be hoping for for so long it’s unbelievable.

“I’m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?” But he’s not really asking. You know that too “Can you nod your head and agree?” He pricks. You don’t hold back your tears but you don’t cry them either. You break down silently nd you nod.

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you.

“Don’t be so sad,” He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isn’t it? “I’ll protect you now.”

Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings.

Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges.

It’s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he might’ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but he’s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesn’t disturb the neighbors.

It’s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in it’s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.

It doesn’t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together.

But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like you’re trying to measure how strong he is. It’s a smart thing to do. You’re learning. It’s probably better to show you now, since there’s not much left to hide.

So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared.

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space he’s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. It’s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it can’t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off.

It’s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment.

Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you.

“Don’t know how long it’ll be gone but,” He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine “But it’s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.”

This is all a formality. He’s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - you’re shivering figure wavers in the dark. You’re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know what’s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isn’t anything you can do.

And it’s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you.

“Come on,” He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you don’t do so much as protest “Let’s go home.”

Gojo brings you home quietly.

When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long you’ve been crying and about what in particular - but that’s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly.

It’s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state you’re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. You’re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you might’ve really fallen apart.

It’s reasonable enough. For someone like you, he’s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better.

He can’t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this.

All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojo’s forever, permanently through everything. He’s made you so completely in his image, something he’s always wanted to do. Maybe you’re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What he’s capable of creating with enough effort.

Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom.

Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojo’s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. You’re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly.

Regardless of everything that’s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you don’t pull away. Now you��re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s always imagined.

He’ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, you’ll come to realize you’ll always need him a little. And it doesn’t matter, does it? That he’s made it that way on his own. Because it’s true. It’s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens.

He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin.

“Still feel like crying?” He asks you. You blink up at him like you’re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly.

“That’s good,” He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesn’t dislike it “You didn’t get hurt did you? And now we’re together again.”

This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you don’t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesn’t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you.

“Scary world out there, y’know?” Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely “Hold onto me okay? I’ll make it all better.”

You whimper under your voice but don’t go to thrash. There’s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as it’s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he can’t help himself but kiss you. Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.

He kisses you for longer than necessary. It’s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you don’t do anything to refuse it.

So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting.

He rests his hands on your waist and you don’t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. It’s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He can’t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He can’t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit.

Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him.

From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends.

This is a lesson in divine truth.

You’ve made Gojo this way as much as he’s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. It’s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens.

Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed.

This is a lesson in divine truth.

More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. He’s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning.

You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon him and your disposition will never allow you. You’ll hate and resent him. You’ll grieve and you’ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?

Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you.

“My birthday passed recently,” He tells you. You blink at him.

“Oh?”

“Can you guess what I want?”

You don’t do much more than nod. It’s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with.

“You don’t have to do any work,” He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago “Just don’t run away from me.”

If you notice how heavy the words are, you’re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo can’t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to.

He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now they’re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you.

He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now.

And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring.

He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo can’t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. He’s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with.

Even in being gentle, there’s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He can’t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. It’s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy.

How different it is but the same. Something about how you’re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust.

Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till you’re on top of him

The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once you’re all set, face to face like this.

“Don’t run away from me,” He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until you’re half-way over him. You’re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. There’s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow.

He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.

“Look at you all bent over for me,” He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. “So pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.”

A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole.

Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. You’re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin.

“Fuck,” He laughs, giggling at the thought of it “I’m gonna break you, huh? Gotta be—shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?”

“Please be gentle.” You say at his request.

“Of course, of course but—” He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarily “You just—you’d look so good so full of my cock, y’know? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks.”

And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips.

“You like that?” He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him “You like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?”

Shame fills you, like Gojo’s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later he’ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you.

“Weeks and weeks, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you won’t have to think about anything else again.”

The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his.

His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“C’mon. You can look.”

He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo can’t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you.

“Touch it, sweetheart” He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you “Feel it? That’s all you.”

A flush graces your features. For a minute, it’s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms.

“Fuck that’s it,”

He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him.

With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him.

Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he can’t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. He’s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How he’s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. You’ll open and endure and take him so deep.

He can’t help appreciating it. Can’t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you.

“See that? How deep I’m gonna go?” He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb “Gonna feel me right in here. You ready?”

You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you.

“Nuh-uh. Want you to see. Don’t close your eyes.”

It’s not a question or a request.

So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. It’s agonizing how slow. It’s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out just sitting there.

And then there’s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down.

“Hurt too much?”

“N-no. Just… feels weird.”

He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like they’re sucking him and Gojo wouldn’t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter.

With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.

“Still okay?”

You nod weakly.

“Can I move?”

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly.

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,”

He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so there’s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess.

“Starting to feel good?”

“S-satoru.”

He swears.

“Fuck, stop that,” He swears “Gonna—shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.”

You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.

Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things.

“Touch yourself for me, okay?”

You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. He’s so hard he can’t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him.

He can tell you’re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. It’s a force that’s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness he’s created and chased after so long.

Now this part of you is all his too.

“Sa—Satoru,” You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts “G-gonna…”

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.”

It’s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like he’s trying to embed them into himself.

You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. It’s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go.

Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. He’s still hard as he’s twitching. He can’t hold off tonight, he doesn’t think. But he’ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline.

He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still.

“I’m yours and you’re mine baby. Forever and always.”

You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that it’s the resentment coming back in waves. But that’s okay, because Gojo loves you.

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE :

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now.

You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldn’t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same.

In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.

But it doesn’t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didn’t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you.

The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. You’d learn from it. You’d do it again and that time you would succeed.

That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. He’d come and he’d discipline but it was never too cruel.

(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think it’s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think you’d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.)

This has been the farthest you’ve ever gotten. You don’t think you’ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You don’t know how Gojo found you.

You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it.

Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruised and bleeding from where you’ve fallen. You’re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you can’t find any heartbeat to motivate you.

Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways.

Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin.

“My birthdays soon, you know?” He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you “It’s not a bad place, y’know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.”

He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and don’t even cry. A numbness settles.

It is not the cold.

“Oh, look,” Gojo says, reaching his hands out “Snow’s falling.”

You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this.

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

#writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #noncon cw #yandere cw #manipulation cw #coercion cw

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juyeonszn · 11 months

Text

JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #tbz changmin #tbz q #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin smut #changmin x reader #changmin smut #q x reader #q smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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fourkisses · 2 months

Text

i stare at the crash (it actually works) ✷

a cs55 written-smau series where . . .

carlos sainz signs with porsche after getting ditched by ferrari only to find himself in a heated rivalry with his teammate, the only female driver on the grid. oh, and did i mention she's also his ex-girlfriend?

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!porsche driver!reader

warnings: n/a

a/n: did ya'll know tumblr has a 1,000 block limit for every post? yeah, bc i just did. pain.

ᯓ★ PART THREE: THE GOOD OLD DAYS

twelve years ago . . .

Red Bull Racing HQ • May 2013

Y/N

Well that was an experience.

CARLOS

Told you it was hard, didn’t I?

Y/N

I never said being in the simulator was hard.

CARLOS

Err, what?

Y/N

I said it was an experience? I don't know what hard you're talking about because I actually had fun?

CARLOS

Boo. Liar.

Y/N

Yeah, right.

Y/N

Whatever fits your narrative, Sainz.

CARLOS

Thank you.

CARLOS

You know, Dan was looking for you earlier.

Y/N

Oh, shit. Right.

Y/N

Do you know where he is?

CARLOS

I think he left for the wind tunnel this morning.

Y/N

Oh, okay. Thanks!

CARLOS

That's it?

CARLOS

She really just left? No goodbyes?

CARLOS

Unbelievable woman.

RB DEVELOPMENT ENGINEER

Hey, Carlos. Have you seen Y/N?

CARLOS

She just left. Did not even say a word.

RB DEVELOPMENT ENGINEER

Oh, okay.

RB DEVELOPMENT ENGINEER

Tell her Dr. Marko wants her to come up to his office when she comes back.

CARLOS

What?

CARLOS

Why? Is she finally in trouble?

RB DEVELOPMENT ENGINEER

Trouble? Oh, no, silly man!

RB DEVELOPMENT ENGINEER

She just set the fastest lap time ever recorded on the sim today, that's why.

RBR HQ Training Facility • August 2013

Y/N

I feel like I’m not gonna come out of this alive.

CARLOS

It’s just a warm-up, Y/N. Stop overreacting.

Y/N

Eugh.

Y/N

I want to go home.

Y/N

Why are weights so fucking heavy anyway?

Y/N

Someone really needs to invent weights that aren’t heavy.

CARLOS

God, you’re one hopeless woman.

Y/N

Damn right I am. Now can you please help me out with this thing?

Y/N

And stop staring at my ass.

CARLOS

Hey! I'm not!

Y/N

Yeah right. Just because I stare at yours doesn't mean you can do it too, ya know.

CARLOS

Huh?

CARLOS

Wait, what?!

Great Gelato • February 2014

Y/N

What's your target team? Like, the one you aim to drive for when you climb up to F1?

CARLOS

My target team? Hmm.

CARLOS

I don’t really know.

CARLOS

Probably Ferrari?

CARLOS

I mean, who doesn’t want to drive for Ferrari, right?

CARLOS

Yours?

Y/N

Same answer.

Y/N

Ferrari has just always been THE dream, you know.

Y/N

Ask a child to draw a car . . .

CARLOS

. . . and he certainly will color it red.

CARLOS

You know, maybe we’ll get to drive for them. In the future.

CARLOS

We might even become teammates. You and me in red jumpsuits and all that.

Y/N

Oooh. That’s hot.

CARLOS

Agree.

Y/N

Someday.

CARLOS

Someday.

Red Bull Racing HQ • June 2014

CARLOS

Prom? Really, Y/N?

Y/N

Why are you laughing?

Y/N

You're making fun of my dreams.

Y/N

I'm hurt.

CARLOS

No– I'm sorry!

CARLOS

It's just that . . . I don't know.

CARLOS

Most people would answer an actual place, like Paris or something . . .

Y/N

Well, the question says, 'Where have you always dreamed of going?'. Doesn't necessarily mean I have to answer a country.

CARLOS

So you really want to go to prom?

Y/N

I mean, who doesn't?

Y/N

I've seen my friends online post themselves going and having fun.

Y/N

I just think it's the ultimate teenage experience.

Y/N

Also, it's a great excuse to dress up and feel pretty.

Y/N

Hey, Carlos?

Y/N

Yoo-hoo!

Y/N

Why are you staring at me like that?

CARLOS

Ay, sorry.

CARLOS

It's nothing.

CARLOS

Are you free this Saturday?

Y/N

Err, I think so? We don't have training that day, right?

Y/N

Why?

CARLOS

Let's go to prom.

Y/L/N Residence • June 2014, 7:15 PM

Y/N

Oh my god, it's the dress, right?

Y/N

I knew it. Should've known white is a no from the get-go.

Y/N

Or is it the make-up?

Y/N

Too heavy?

Y/N

Hey, Carlos!

Y/N

Why aren't you answering me?

Y/N

Carlos?

Y/N

Okay, that's it. I'm going to change.

Y/N

Give me three minutes.

CARLOS

No! Wait, Y/N!

CARLOS

There’s nothing wrong.

CARLOS

You're just . . .

CARLOS

Wow.

CARLOS

Pareces un ángel.

You look like an angel.

Y/N

Oh.

Y/N

Thank you. . .

Y/N

You look quite dashing yourself.

CARLOS

Gracias, mi señora.

Thank you, m'lady.

CARLOS

So, shall we?

Y/N

Yes!

Y/N

Damn. We're really gonna crash a prom tonight.

CARLOS

At least it's not cars we're crashing.

Y/N

Pfft. Haha.

Y/N

You're right.

Y/N

At least it's not a car!

Kent Hills Park School • June 2015, 9:23 PM

Y/N

No way.

Y/N

I really love this song.

CARLOS

I know, I know.

CARLOS

That's exactly why it's playing right now.

Y/N

Wait, don't tell me—

CARLOS

Yes. Yes I did.

Y/N

OH. Oh my god.

Y/N

What did you sacrifice? A tooth? A kidney? Your appendix?

CARLOS

Eh. Just five bucks, don't worry.

CARLOS

Now, Y/N Y/L/N, can I have this dance?

I do my Sunday dreaming / And all my Sunday scheming / Every minute, every hour, every day

Y/N

This is the best I can do when it comes to ballroom dancing.

CARLOS

Don't worry, we're on the same page.

Y/N

You know, all this slow swaying really is a nice shift from all the speed on track.

CARLOS

Yeah.

CARLOS

I'm actually starting to like it.

And my arms need someone / Someone to enfold / To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold

CARLOS

Hey, Y/N?

Y/N

Hmm?

CARLOS

This is going to sound crazy, but . . .

CARLOS

I want to be your Sunday.

CARLOS

Can I be your Sunday?

Y/N

Excuse me. . . my what?

CARLOS

Your Sunday kind of love.

Y/N

Eeeek.

Y/N

That’s so cheesy.

CARLOS

I'm being serious?

Y/N

Oof. Well. . .

Y/N

I guess you can be my Sunday.

Y/N

And Monday.

Y/N

And Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and Friday and Saturday.

Y/N

Will that be okay?

CARLOS

So what, I'm going to be like an everyday kind of love?

Y/N

Yup. I guess you could say that.

Y/N

My everyday kind of love.

CARLOS

Tsk. And you're saying mine was cheesy?

Y/N

. . . .

CARLOS

Ay dios, you're blushing!

Y/N

I'm NOT blushing.

CARLOS

That's not what I'm seeing at the moment though . . .

CARLOS

What make-up brand do you use? It's really pigmented.

Y/N

Shut uppp.

CARLOS

No, because it's sooo red.

CARLOS

I kinda want one for myself too.

Y/N

Stop it, Sainz! Or else.

CARLOS

Or else what?

CARLOS

You're going to tape my mouth again?

CARLOS

We’re in a public high school. Where are you even gonna get tape? Inside the classrooms? What, you're gonna break in? Y/N, I don't know if you know but that's illeg—

Y/N

There you go.

Y/N

Oof. Carlos?

Y/N

Hello?

Y/N

What, you're forever not gonna speak a word now?

CARLOS

. . . .

CARLOS

That’s definitely one way to shut me up.

Y/N

Yeah? Thought so.

Y/N

And hey, look! Now you're blushing too.

CARLOS

Haha. Couple goals?

I want a Sunday, Sunday / I want a Sunday kind of love / Oh, yeah / Sunday, Sunday, Sunday kind of love

← previous part next part →

#fourkisses ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .ᐟ #i stare at the crash (it actually works)〃★#formula 1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smau #carlos sainz x y/n #cs55 x reader

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ya-what--ya-erster · 2 months

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Around this time the newsboys of New York went on strike. Not far from now, they won.

Their story has grown since then, when the strike occured in 1899. Now, in 2024, the story is one that many know and love with all their hearts.

This group of kid who had nothing and were nothing, only the newsies, but they won a strike against some of the most powerful men in all of New York because they stood together and did what they believed was right.

Upcoming is an election that will heavily affect the lives of so many people. Those of you who can vote, you get to choose if lives change for better or for worse.

You are adults, with power in your hands. If a group of dirt poor newsboys in the late 1800s could win without all that, you can win with it.

Vote blue, all the way down. Don't stand by and let us lose.

You have everything you need to be the hero. All you have to do is choose to stick with it.

I generally hate asking for ppl to rb stuff but please rb, you might inspire someone

#fuck trump #politics #newsies #newsies live #newsies strike #1899 newsies #kosa NEWSIES strike #help save the day #vote blue #get out and vote #seize the day bitches #newsies 1992 #92sies #livesies #spread the word #if they could we we could win

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venomroses · 8 months

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Zones Fashion

Obviously we all know how killjoys dress, but not everyone in the desert is a killjoy. So here's my headcanons about how non-killjoys in the desert dress. Below the cut because this is gonna get long:

Note: Edited this so rb this version please!

These forms of dress are specific to smaller, more isolated groups where people are usually at least 1st gen zoneborn, and doesn't apply to neutral towns, killjoys, those who follow more traditional city styles, etc. Also I know I said I was going to do drawings for this and I might add those later but for now just text bc the drawings aren't coming out how I like.

Younger kids (2-7):

Both girls and boys have long hair because protects them from the sun without trying to get them to keep hats or hoods on since kids can be difficult about the required amount of clothes, let alone additional stuff. It can also be hard to find children's sized clothes, so many guardians don't bother with "unnecessary" items. Hair is usually kept long enough to tie out of their face because kids also make lots of messes, but sometimes hair will be a bit shorter (usually for boys).

Younger siblings will rarely have anything that isn't a hand-me-down, so if you have an older sibling of the opposite gender then you're probably going to be dressing like the opposite gender for most of your childhood. This is rarely an issue since gender doesn't usually have the same relevance as it does in the real world.

Long skirts are common regardless of gender because they keep the legs covered to protect from sunburn. Also, you can grow significantly before an ankle-length skirt becomes too short, unlike pants where you just have to get new ones when you outgrow them. When skirts get short enough to start exposing a lot of skin, extra fabric can be sewn on, or leggings can be worn underneath. Wraparound skirts are preferred because you don't have to adjust the waist at all when the kid grows, so you don't have to worry about buying/making new clothes all the time. However, other types of skirts work just as well.

A lot of younger kids get homemade shoes. They don't need to be great quality, they just need to keep the kid from burning their feet. Once a kid is old enough to begin helping with the family business (if there is one), go on trips with their guardians, etc. they get real shoes since it becomes more important once they're working or away from home for longer periods.

Then older kids (8-12):

At this age kids are old enough to want to have more freedom of expression so styles vary a bit more.

Since they're mostly still wearing kids sized clothes which are harder to find in the Zones and outgrowing things quickly, hair is still usually kept long to protect them from the sun in place of a hat or a hood that would either be too big or outgrown too quickly to justify buying it. However, sometimes they'll get their hair cut short, especially boys. Regardless of length, there's more variations in hairstyles, since it's a form of expression that doesn't cost any money.

Skirts often come above the knees in the front for more mobility/range of motion. Kids this age are old enough to help with work or chores, so it's easier if they don't have to worry about the restrictions long skirts can bring. At this age skirts are less about practicality. Long skirts are seen as a more childish style as the main point of them is to let kids grow without needing to buy tons of new clothes all the time, and skirts of any length can be impractical. Some guardians don't see the point of the skirt if the kid is just going to be wearing pants underneath anyway and the kid transitions into just wearing pants. For those who do keep wearing it, it makes their ages and allegiances clear. Since "adulthood" is pretty much "whenever you look like an adult" or "whenever you can do the same work as an adult" it makes it clear that this is a child, and that they're not a killjoy (since some killjoys can be this young).

Again, kids this age usually aren't working actual jobs yet, so sandals are more common than closed-toe shoes that might be required for a more dangerous job. Sandals are preferred over closed-toe shoes since they take less supplies to make so they're cheaper. These sandals might be homemade or might be made more professionally.

Younger teenagers (13-15):

This is the age where you'll see a lot of actual variation in style. First short haircuts are common at this age. Some kids might have a job, so hair length is usually depending on the job they have instead of gender. A job where they're often inside or where long hair would get in the way? Short haircut. A job where they're often outside? Long hair. Of course, some people will still pick a style they like over practicality, but looks over practicality is a very killjoy-esque mentality that most of the desert does not follow.

Outfits vary a lot, again based on what's practical for work, but it's common for their clothes to be a bit oversized, since they're usually still on the smaller end even if they are wearing adult sizes by now.

Some kids still wear skirts to indicate their age if their guardians feel that they're not ready to be seen as an adult, but many wear pants only.

Most kids have close-toed shoes now, but again they might be a bit too big. Rags can be stuffed in the toes until they fit properly.

Older teenagers (16-19):

Can pretty much look like anything! Just like for younger teenagers, haircuts and forms of dress are more specific to what you're doing, since most people have some sort of job at this age. Skirts are not worn anymore.

Jobs often work like trades, where you learn to do something and make that your career, instead of switching between them a lot. A lot of jobs are making necessities like clothes, candles, and food, or services like doctors/nurses, messengers, etc. Sometimes certain professions go together, like gunsmiths (who can make or fix guns) will work with artists for killjoys or anyone who'd rather have someone else paint their raygun for them. Markets are a great place to sell their wares so a lot of vendors there are going to be people like this.

If you're interested in other types of people in the Zones/time periods and how they dress send me an ask or something bc worldbuilding my beloved <3

#danger days #the zones

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soapoet · 1 year

Text

W.I.T.C.H. pick-a-card reading

Will Vandom; a letter from the past

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Four by The Wrecks

you should stop to take a breather. do you realise how far you've come? no, seriously, turn around and look at that distance. no matter how many times things have stalled and obstacles have forced you to go around, you never really stopped. remember the times you felt weak and weary? frustrated and lost, perhaps even worried and afraid? so many what ifs keeping you awake at night, worries nagging in the back of your head about how you're trudging through a swamp with baby steps and getting nowhere. when you thought you weren't moving, you still did. one step is always better than none, and you haven't acknowledged the immense strength that it took you to keep going. 'no biggie, it is what it is, you gotta do what you gotta do' you might say, but there are plenty of people far behind you who stop, turn around and give up when the path gets fuzzy. you didn't. you're proof humans are persistence hunters. you always try to figure it out. no matter how far you need to stray to get a better vantage point or mcguyver a solution to a problem, you do it. when you've stopped it's only been a pause in the long run, even then you felt like such a loser for, what exactly? taking a break? gathering yourself? you've been way too hard on yourself. you really need to start clapping, because your resilience is commendable.

your past self would be amazed by who and what you are today. even mundane, simple things are impressive for who you were long ago. something in you, a vision or a burning desire, has kept the magic alive, and kept shining a light on your path so that even when you stumble and fall, that light in the distance beckons you forward. please hold on to that dream. your past is cheering for you, and believes in you even when you can't muster the faith in yourself in the present. you are so close to making your dreams a reality, so don't let the doubts cloud the view of the finish line. you deserve the world, and the world needs to know your name.

02.

Shufflemancy: Yes & no by XYLØ

if you aren't in your lone wolf era already, you might consider it. your past self is a little horrified by how you've been treated. you're no doormat, and people need to stop walking all over you. daydreaming of things like true friends and truer lovers sounds depressing. loyalty and reciprocation should be the bare minimum. do not get gaslit by words you've been told in the past. there's nothing wrong with you. your past aches watching you suffer, even more so as it witnesses you wonder if it's what you deserve, or think that there must be something you've done, maybe faulty wiring making you inherently flawed. the past knows you're better than this and deserve more. you have every right to be angry and upset at the world and those around you. just please, do not take it out on yourself or burden yourself further by accepting these negative views of yourself. if not out of love and care for yourself, then at least push back out of spite. you probably got plenty of that.

if you need to burn some bridges, be sure to build them too. it may be better to be alone than to be in bad company, but you do deserve those good connections that you yearn for. don't be afraid of reaching out and seeking help, going out and meeting new people. there are many in the horizon who would love to connect with you on a deeper level. people who take genuine interest in you and take initiative, check in on you, wish to learn about you and your world and share theirs with you fully. have faith in yourself and the enigmatic nature you possess. it is just as interesting and desireable as you wish it was, you just need to keep going and be true to yourself. the right ones will find you.

03.

Shufflemancy: Trying my best by Anson Seabra

has no one told you that your 100% looks different every day? and that that's totally okay? marathon runners don't just finish a race and run another with the same results the next day. hell, they don't even run the next day! they rest. and my god, do you need some rest. genuine rest. it's time to really assess how you're doing and even look back to the past. time does not heal all wounds. some wounds were cut deep and need to be tended to, not ignored and left alone to risk infection. you've been through so much, and i guarantee that if this was about a dear friend of yours you'd be up in arms, ready to protect them, make them smile, bend over backwards to make them see how precious they are. because that's the kind of person you are. always have been. a true friend, an ally. someone who could move mountains and declare loudly from the rooftops how deserving of love they are. why can't you do the same for yourself?

please be gentle with yourself. it's okay to hit pause and hide away for a little. do not feel guilty or ashamed if you need time to yourself. if all you can do for a while is to exist and not much else, let yourself simply exist. recharge, have a good cry if you need it. recognise your strengths and skills and talents, and applaud yourself for who you've grown up to be. you are your past's hero, because just look at you! you've grown to be so kind and strong and fun. it's okay to not be okay, and you deserve some tender love and care like everybody else. you're not weak for needing space and time, nor are you somehow lesser for having scars. you're beautiful and deserve to treat yourself with gentle kindness and compassion.

#pac reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #spiritual guidance #spirituality #w.i.t.c.h.#tarot reading #soapy.post #shufflemancy #pick a card reading

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the-lesbian-orpheus · 3 months

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Hello tumblr people! Been doodling today and decided to actually post

Please enjoy a somewhat finished JoeHills muppet and a very messy pearlo that I drew on actual paper

Ignore doc that was a vague sketch and I haven’t drawn him before, I need to fix it

Rbs are appreciated :)

Uh-

If you guys are interested in me giving you guys stuff like this more often I’d love to throw in some old finished art or even lien math class doodles. I’m just a little wary of posting things due to ai even if I’m no real artist the robot doesn’t know that it will still try and take it- but like I enjoy posting and I feel like I’ve gotten better and faster with my art so yeah!

Also I might miraculously finish the 3 unfinished drawings I’ve made for my Hadestown life series AU soon who knows

ALSO anyone have tips on how to draw the skizz parliament wig?

You can see I gave him a big cartoon expression in the corner so his face doesn’t matter that much in this particular drawing but like I want the wig lol

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pointdotiozao · 2 months

Text

The wait list for the second semester of 2024 is open!

DM me if you’re interested! Rbs are appreciated!

More info under the cut ↓

Process and general info

DM or email me ([email protected])* your inquiry so we can discuss the quotes and book you a slot if none are available at the moment. *I might take I little longer to reply emails.

Payments are made via PayPal invoices, so I’ll need your PayPal email.

All prices are USD.

My wait list is just a rough estimation. The time I take on each work varies and sometimes there are cancellations, as well as other external factors, so even though I’m mostly on time, the possibility I will be a bit late or a bit earlier than expected exists.

IMPORTANT: If you change your url after getting a spot on my wait list please remember to give me a heads up so that later I can still find you!!

It’s alright if you need to reschedule your comm for another time, or even just cancel it, just let me know. No cancellations once I have started working though, and no refunds.

I start working after receiving half the payment upfront.

References are appreciated but not required, and well detailed descriptions work just fine, but please try to have all information necessary for the commission ready. (References and/or descriptions for the characters appearances, facial expressions, clothes, poses; background, if any; lighting/type of coloring.)

I won’t charge for tattoos of which you provide transparent pngs.

I reserve the right to refuse a commission.

I reserve the right to post my artwork and use it on my portfolio, but I’ll keep a commission private if so requested.

The commissions are for personal use only.

Will Do

OCs, fanart, ship art;

Suggestive themes, NSFW, and even fetish art (with only a few exceptions I highly doubt I will encounter here, but who knows);

Gore and body horror;

Animals, humanoids and furries.

In doubt just ask, I’ll give almost anything a confident try.

Won’t Do

Mecha;

Hateful imagery;

IRL shipping (doesn’t apply to actors interpreting characters);

Create new designs (characters, clothes, etc.);

And I will no longer be accepting irl face claims/painting real people on painting style commissions (this doesn’t apply to realistic looking video-game characters).

The styles:

Sketch- just the early stage of the drawing, rough forms and somewhat messy lines. May include 1 rough color for emphasis;

Lineart- clean lineart with the brush of your choice (I have 3);

Flat colors- includes lineart and simple coloring, no shadows/source of light;

Shaded- includes lineart, more detailed coloring compared to flat colors, simple lighting/one source of light;

Painting- either pieces with no lineart (regardless of type of lighting), or those which have lineart + complex lighting/two or more sources of light.

You can see more of my art on my blog tagged as #myart. If you find a style you like but is not sure of which category it fits in, just ask me!

〃く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ₊ ˚ ⊹ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

And finally, seen below are my other contact info. Most of these accounts are still empty and I honestly don’t plan on leaving tumblr, after all the real “tumblr is shutting down” is the friends we made along the way yadda yadda, but seriously my heart can’t take it anymore. I’ll rather be safe than sorry.

#commissions #commissions open #commission sheet #digital art

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lemon-natalia · 3 months

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Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 21

ok now that We Suffer’s certain Corona’s fully betrayed them, i’m not convinced its that simple 😂 honestly who knows what Corona’s got going on rn

and Nona’s instinct is to use a sword two-handed. i’m pretty certain that Nona is Alecto, but then this kinda throws that theory off because it feels like its some kind of muscle memory (soul memory…?) from Gideon somehow

Ianthe and Corona’s relationship is uh. Interesting. only with these two could her sister be mistaken for her boyfriend 💀

i was kind of surprised that Palamedes seems to know all about and be totally fine with opening the Locked Tomb but. i totally forgot he already found out about Harrow opening it in GtN and didn’t really give a shit then. so.

i’m probably overly concerned with the logistics here but where the hell did Ianthe get Bab’s body from. we last saw him in one of the labs at Canaan House, but i went and checked and it doesn’t seem to be mentioned in the bodies/coffins at the beginning of HtN. i’m guessing BoE either left it behind or didn’t find it, and Ianthe decided to go back and get it to avoid RB-madness and also the aesthetic? either that or Ianthe’s just had Bab’s body in storage for a year plus, which i honestly wouldn’t put past her

We Suffer you might want Gideon Nav in a bag but i want her alive and well and happy please and thank you

also wow both Bab’s and Gid’s dead bodies are really going through the wringer. at least people care about getting Gid back, even if it is to open the Locked Tomb, but Bab’s soul got all eaten AND he’s being puppeted around by the body of his murderer. i’m going to need a reminder of why i didn’t like this guy because thats rough

'My friend had stipulations once’ Nona i love you so much, never change

i hope wherever Gideon’s consciousness is after her little River trip, she isn’t aware of the whole ‘dead body being wheeled around to the troops’ thing, i feel like she’d kind of hate that?

Nona pretending to be Harrow to trick Ianthe sounds like a recipe for disaster. i love Nona but i really don’t think her acting skills are up to this. although her fake radio call apparently tricked BoE so who knows

#lemon natalia reads the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb #the locked tomb liveblog #nona the ninth

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hyuckbeam · 2 years

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the ups and downs

all your life was spent earning recognition from others. hell, your past relationships ended badly because they couldn’t truly see you for yourself. knowing you’ll never be good enough is something you’ve grown so accustomed to, so why does it feel so nice when he tells you how proud he is of you?

pairing | archi student!renjun x archi student!reader

genre | fluff, angst, college au

warnings + notes | mentions of bad traumas/experiences, parent negligence, some bits of swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns, bff!chaewon, a lot of self-conflict, please lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 5.3k words

a/n | the first installation to the third time’s the charm (tttc) universe, yay! it took a little while to churn this one out because of school but i hope the wait wasn’t too long ;0; *punches school* as always,, likes, rbs, and feedback are appreciated <3 thank you!!

song recs | raise y_our glass - huh yunjin, hug - suggi, walk you home - nct dream

tttc m.list, main m.list

“mommy, look what i got!” your tiny feet carried you to where your mother was, a marked test paper in hand. “see, see? the pretty miss from school gave me an A on my exam!”

your teacher told you to study well because your parents would be really happy if you did your best on the upcoming exam. your younger self believed her and studied with the goal of making your parents proud. however, instead of any praises like your teacher had told you, all you heard was “later, dear. i’m busy. mommy is taking an important call and you’re being distracting.” in a whisper-yell manner that held not one ounce of warmth in it.

you were distracting. you were just a distraction in her life.

stunned was one way to describe how you felt. you were just a measly six-year-old kid at the time, but you could clearly tell your mother had no time for you, much less your father who was rarely home. they had no time to entertain you. they had no time to be proud of you. they needed to do grown-up things that didn’t involve you.

that was probably the first time you realized you were all alone. your parents would constantly be buried in work, and you didn’t have siblings to play with. you didn’t even have many (re: none) friends because you were always shy at school. none of the other kids wanted to approach you first either because their parents warded them off, saying how you came from a rich family and that you might punish them for doing the slightest bit of wrong — which was never the truth. you weren’t anything like that, but that’s how they assumed you to be. what was the point of being rich when your own parents didn’t even seem like family? deep down inside, all you wanted was to be appreciated for being yourself, but right now, you felt like a void had formed within you.

as you grew older, you still unconsciously wanted to gain recognition from others, even picking a course that you thought your parents would prefer. side note: they didn’t really care as much as you thought they would. you had also gained a few friends, but they were always at arm's length because your trust in others decreased significantly over the years.

how could anyone blame you though? you’ve had so many experiences where people came up to you wanting to be friends but actually wanted to get close to you for money. there were even some claiming they harbored romantic feelings for you, and yet, those were all lies to use you for their own gain. you were simply exhausted from being dragged around like a little doll people could put on up their display shelves.

you didn’t even see the point of making friends. you just did so because the school guidance counselor expressed her worries for you. a means to an end, you suppose. there was, however, an exception; that being kim chaewon.

she had introduced herself to you back when you were both classmates in middle school and practically attached you both at the hip since then — you didn’t mind though, in fact, you enjoyed it more than you’d ever like to admit. her company made you feel human. she was there when you first discovered your love for art, she was there to share lunches with at break time when you were all alone, she was there to wipe your tears when your emotions would burst after being bottled in for so long, she was there when no one else was, and you couldn’t be more thankful for her.

it was by chance your parents actually agreed for you to move into a dorm with her for college. you wondered if they would accept chaewon as your friend, but it seems that they already did – granted they allowed you to do this in the first place. they probably had to do a background check on her to make sure she wouldn’t ‘ruin their reputations’, but you’ll let their actions slide for now.

“y/n! you have your first class tomorrow, right?” chaewon pops up from your shoulder as you work on fixing your class schedule by the counter near the kitchen, catching you a little off guard.

“hm- oh, yeah. you’re starting later in the day, aren’t you? sucks to be you.” you tease lightly, watching as your friend’s face contorts to a frown.

“god, don’t remind me. why did they have to make ours a day ahead?” listening to her groans, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself. “we’ll all be starting the new semester eventually anyways!”

“yeah, yeah. still wished i had more minutes of freedom though.” her shoulders slump for a moment. “at least the first days are exciting. it’s nice being able to meet new classmates.”

chaewon was always known for being a social butterfly, but you were in no way similar. “speak for yourself! i already feel jittery from the fact we don’t share any classes at all.” you feign a shiver, pursing your lips into a thin line.

“you’ll be fine. you’re my best friend after all!” with a pat on the back, chaewon makes sure to flash you a reassuring smile knowing it helps your nerves calm down.

“yeah, i know i will be. i’m just worried for… you know… being outcasted by others again.” you bring up, voice getting quieter after every word. this instinctively prompts your best friend to reach out for a hug. “that won’t happen, hm? tell me if it does, i’ll absolutely ditch class for-”

“what, no! go attend class, silly.” a giggle manages to escape your throat, and chaewon smiles at being able to successfully lift your mood up. “can’t believe you’re getting rid of me already!!” she whines with a pout before bursting into a fit of laughter.

notebooks? check. pencils and pens? check. phone? also check- “hey, y/n! are you almost ready? we’re walking to campus together, right?” chaewon beams as she barges into your room bright and early in the morning.

with a yawn, you blink off your drowsiness, stuffing your back with your stationery. “yeah, let me just pack my bag and we can go, okay?”

“alright! i also made you some breakfast you can eat while we walk.” she reminds you before stepping out to fix her own things one last time.

despite being reassured by chaewon yesterday, you can’t help but notice that unsettling feeling crawl the back of your neck. you were still worried about class, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it now. you had a class to get to on time and you were going to be late if you stayed home any longer. walking out of your room to the kitchen, you grab the breakfast your friend had made in advance. “okay, chae! let’s get going. i don’t want to be late!”

you sling your bag over your shoulder, chaewon mirroring your actions as you both quickly head out of your shared dorm. checking your phone for the time, you realize you have around ten minutes before classes start for the both of you. “chae… we need to go- like now, now!!” you urge her to pick up the pace and start running – mentally thanking the fact your dorm is located near campus.

“we really need to work on our time management, huh?” she replies, words coming out breathlessly from the both of you running against the clock (literally and figuratively).

“no kidding, i’ll see you after class, okay?” you pant out, just as tired as she is. “yep! good luck, you got this!” chaewon hastily makes two thumbs-ups before leaving to catch her own class. now you just had to run to your building and- ouch! why does your head suddenly hurt?

rubbing your forehead to ease the impact, you look up to find a boy, who seems to be just as frazzled as you, staring down at your figure. “sorry, i wasn’t looking where i was going.” he apologizes sheepishly, offering a hand out for you to pick yourself back up with. “it’s okay i wasn’t paying attention either-” you finally get a good look at him. jet black hair, kind eyes that sparkle in the sun, a slight flush in his face (presumably from this entire mishap with you), and the prettiest lips that make you want to kiss- no, what were you doing? you just met him, and worse… “I’M GOING TO BE LATE!” you exclaim abruptly once gathering your thoughts. it seems you’ve even shocked him as he flinches a little. you quickly apologize, gathering your things as fast as you can before scurrying off, leaving without him being able to utter a single word back.

finally settling down in the front row of the class, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the boy you bumped into earlier while waiting for the professor to arrive. you weren’t late, but god, that was seriously embarrassing… maybe you should’ve paid more attention to your surroundings.

or rather, you should start applying that insight right now because why is the same boy in your class asking if the seat next to you is already taken or not? maybe you’re just hallucinating and it’s a different guy- “excuse me? i hope you aren’t still shocked from earlier.”

nope, he was definitely the same guy from a while ago.

“sorry, i just… wasn’t expecting you to be in the same class. the seat is free by the way.” you finally answer back in a swift, yet awkward motion before taking out a small notebook from your bag to pretend like you’re busy. it seems like he takes your reply as a green light, placing his bag beside yours and taking his seat.

the silence continues on for the rest of the class, ultimately making you want to curl up in a hole and hide forever. at this point, you’re even considering dropping the class and taking it next semester to avoid experiencing this again. to your luck, you manage to finish the class without combusting on the outside, already preparing your things to leave, but the sweet tone of his voice makes you halt for a moment.

“sorry, i know we got on the wrong foot, but i’d really like to get to know you more.” he confesses with a calm smile. though the sight would make anyone melt for his charms, at this moment, he was the epitome of what you were afraid of. what if he wants to be friends to manipulate you? what if he wants to use you for money like all the others? so many thoughts started to go through your mind, it was starting to get overwhelming. it seems he senses this too, taking a small step back to give you some space.

“i understand if you don’t want to be friends, but how about i just get you coffee sometime for bumping into you as an apology? it can be a one-time thing.” he proposes, holding onto high hopes. taking a deep breath, you nod along in agreement despite your worries. it’s not like you wanted to assume his reasons for approaching you – you just couldn’t help doing so. either way, you knew judging the poor boy on the spot (or anyone for that matter) wasn’t that great, so you did what anyone else would.

“okay. when are you taking me out for coffee then?”

his eyes light up from your verbal agreement. “i think you should know my name first.” he starts with a chuckle. “it’s renjun- don’t forget it, alright? as for the details of grabbing coffee together…”

you were a little surprised renjun had arranged the set coffee meet-up to be just a few days later. perhaps he really was that eager to make it up to you, even when you were partially to blame for what happened back then. he didn’t seem to mind at all though – going as far as to remind you every now and then that he was going to treat you to coffee.

both of you were to meet at the campus coffee shop, and you were preparing your bag for the short trip with plans to study while talking to renjun (and using the fact you’re studying as an excuse if the situation starts getting difficult for you). “oooh, it’s just the first week since classes resumed and you’re already being asked out on a date?” chaewon singsongs from the living room.

“pfft, it’s nothing like that. he just says he owes me or something… i don’t really understand his reasoning considering we both bumped into each other.”

“you should just take the opportunity, my baby y/n.” your best friend coos. “who knows, maybe you’ll both have more in common with each other aside from, erm, being clumsy… then you’ll start developing feelings for the boy-”

“alright, i think you’re getting ahead of yourself now.” tutting back lightly, you wiggle your finger in the air before grabbing your keys and taking a step outside your dorm. “i’ll be back before dinner! don’t wait up if you get too hungry before then.” you add before closing the door behind you.

it takes a few minutes from your dorm to the coffee shop, but you manage to arrive on time, even spotting renjun occupying one of the tables next to the windows, seeming to be working on his laptop. “someone’s early.” you point out with a soft voice once approaching his table, offering him a brief wave right after. “hope i didn’t keep you waiting?”

renjun shakes his head, gesturing for you to take the seat in front of him. “like you said, i came pretty early, but i’m quite used to staying here during my free time. my friend actually works part-time here and drags me along with him.” he explains, nudging his head over towards the counter where you see a familiar face, lee jeno. chaewon had introduced you guys to each other before so you aren’t exactly strangers.

“oh, you’re friends with him?” you gasp a little, finding the world to be quite smaller than you thought. the two of you easily slip into a conversation because of this, and the plans you made earlier to study and avoid conversation as much as possible had now been thrown out the window.

you got to learn much about renjun despite only having a proper conversation today. he’s apparently in the same course as you (which explains why the both of you will be sharing more classes together), he often goes to his cousin’s dorm to play with their cat, and loves hotpot more than anything, even claiming he’s a connoisseur of that field – his words, not yours. you can’t help but find the little things about him endearing, and for once, you’ve let your guard down entirely in front of a person you had only met a few days prior. maybe it's the fact he’s so easy to talk to, maybe it's the glint in his eyes that shows his interest in what you have to share about yourself, or maybe it's the way he laughs at your jokes despite you thinking they weren’t that funny to get that big of a reaction out of him. time had passed by quickly with him as your company, however, you don’t seem to register that until he brings the time up.

“it’s getting a little late. come on, i’ll walk you back to your dorm.” he insists after checking his watch, now packing his things and getting ready to leave. though you didn’t want to bother him, there didn’t seem to be any room for you to protest otherwise, so instead, you let him accompany you home.

this is the first time someone has actually offered to walk you home. not even the people you had a relationship with (if you can even call it that) in the past ever proposed to do that for you. you’d be lying if renjun’s actions didn't send a fluttery feeling to your stomach like how those teen-vogue magazines would describe the feeling to be like. you remember it stating that specific sensation was what you’d feel once you start developing feelings-

oh, perhaps chaewon was right earlier. you might just fall for huang renjun.

you and renjun have gotten a lot closer ever since he took you out for coffee — hell, he’s even well acquainted with chaewon now — and he’s been plaguing your mind more than ever. though, you’re more conflicted than anything.

a part of you wants to let yourself fall for him. i mean, who wouldn’t want to be with a guy like renjun? sure, he may have some anger issues (your experiences watching him and jeno banter by the counter of the coffee shop can vouch for this), but he’s also the sweetest guy you’ve ever got to meet.

just as you’re about to consider accepting your feelings for the boy, there’s the other part of you that wants to keep yourself guarded. you know he’s different from the people you’ve met in the past, so why do you still get the suspicion he’s simply using you for his personal gain? mayhaps, you’re just sinking in your thoughts a little too much, but you can’t seem to shake it off your system.

it’s frustrating. you shouldn’t be thinking this way about a friend of yours. how would renjun feel if he knew you had pondered on the idea of him being a backstabber? surely, he would be offended by that, so you brush those invasive thoughts away. after all, you were to meet him in a little bit for your regular study sessions for the upcoming final exams.

exams always left a bitter taste in your mouth, recalling how it was for you growing up. studying with renjun made exam season just a tiny bit more bearable after he suggested you both should study together so you could help each other out. he’s always had your best interests in mind, another reason why you had come to like him so much- gosh, your thoughts were such a mess today that you wanted to scream out a window.

with a heavy heart, you start making your way to the ever-so-familiar campus coffee shop. as soon as you enter, you spot renjun, eyes already landing on your figure like he had been searching for you moments prior. had he been anticipating your arrival that eagerly? the worrisome thoughts you’ve been harboring have simply washed away as your heart felt like it was running a marathon by how fast it was beating. all you could think about was the blush you felt creeping up your cheeks once you noticed he was staring- staring at you.

“you’re finally here! i got your favorite matcha latte, it’s still pretty cold.” he quickly announces with a smile that’s never failed to make you feel better.

“thanks! i really owe you one, you know?” you chuckle at your own words, walking over to take the seat next to his. while you begin setting down your things on the table, your fingers accidentally brush against his, and yet, neither of you seems to want to pull away from the other. he links his pinky with yours instead, confirming your assumption even more.

was this normal for the two of you? not one bit.

did you wish it was? a million times, yes.

maybe you needed to get your head straight and actually start studying for your exams.

the last week of exams was certainly hell. you’ve never felt this drained in so long — the last time you could recall would probably be back in junior high. though, this time seems to be much worse since you couldn’t understand the number of times your mind went blank during the tests. was your scatterbrain due to the thought of your study “dates” with renjun? you’d like to blame it on those, yes.

results would be posted any hour now for your batch, and that kept your nerves high to quite an extent over the weekend. so much for finally getting to relax, huh? either way, you were glad that all of your finals have finally ended, but now you had to wait a few more days for chaewon to finish hers. she was still pretty swamped with requirements the last time you saw her at your dorm. there is, however, someone you know who just finished his exams in the previous week: renjun. you guys did have the same classes after all. maybe the day you would finally buy him a cup of coffee and make the playing field even between you two has finally arrived.

dialing his phone, you quickly called him up to meet at your regular spot and set out yourself. it’s a good thing you made it to the coffee shop before him this time (you still remember the last time he was earlier and that sent your brain haywire). you see jeno today as well in his spot behind the counter, making sure to greet him as you order drinks for yourself and renjun.

“oh? you’re buying him coffee this time?” jeno questions with an amused look, almost like he’s watching a k-drama he’s so invested in. “thought i’d repay him for all the free drinks i got.” you answer with a simple chuckle.

“he’s definitely going to enjoy this.” the barista adds in a cheeky mutter before preparing the drinks.

it doesn’t take long for renjun to arrive despite your short notice, entering the coffee shop 10 minutes after you did. renjun quickly noticed the mocha frappuccino you ordered for him in advance and was about to speak against it until you rebutted with the fact it had already been made and paid for. it’s a good thing jeno prepares coffee fast, or else you might’ve had a conversation about who’s paying for who’s drinks.

“i really don’t mind paying for your drinks in the first place!” renjun replies before spinning his drink with a pout.

“i sure as hell don’t mind paying for yours either! won’t you just consider this as me making it even with you-” the ping of both renjun’s and your phone has you pausing mid-sentence so abruptly, pulling your device out to see the notification that your grades have been released.

“you’re kidding, right when i was going to enjoy my drink?” you grumble lightly before taking a deep breath. you weren’t usually so scared for your test results, but after your mind went elsewhere during exam season, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anxiety.

a hand rests gently atop your shoulder, making you peer your gaze towards renjun. “you’ll do fine. we prepared for the exams for a pretty long time, so i know your efforts will turn out to be fruitful.”

his reassurance was all you needed to muster the confidence to check your scores. biting your bottom lip, you open the email with your scores listed down, scrolling through it slowly as you read the contents. your eyes soon land on your grade and it’s actually higher than you thought it would be – it felt like a miracle was bestowed upon you and you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. “renjun i did it!” you exclaim, raising your hands in the air.

“see, what did i tell you? i’m so proud of you!” his words make your heart swell with so much joy. he just said he was proud of you. he’s genuinely thrilled about your accomplishment. his sentiments make you think you could cry right about now.

you’re too caught up in his sincerity, not realizing the two of you are inches apart. one small movement from either of you would be all it took for your lips to be smashed on his.

what if you wanted to make that move? what if you wanted to kiss him? what if… he doesn’t want that?

the same thoughts are probably running through his head as neither of you take initiative, silently staring at each other like your eyes hold everything you’ve been meaning to tell him. it appears as if he realized you weren’t ready for any advances, now taking a step back and clearing his throat – failing to hide the blush that rose to the tip of his ears.

how cute. that familiar feeling of butterflies had erupted once more, however, there was now another emotion that lingered – fear. and that’s when it hit you; you were scared.

what were you even scared of exactly? to be honest, you didn’t even understand yourself enough to give a straight answer.

maybe it was the fact that your relationship had never really been unstable at any point. the fact that it was going so well with him was what made you scared. what if everything would easily come crashing down and you’d never be able to talk to him again? you didn’t want to mess that up, no way. because of that notion, it felt like you were walking on thin ice, wanting to do all you could to keep up the good relationship you had with the boy.

you treasured him more than you’d like to admit.

there were also those negative thoughts you stored in the back of your mind, now resurfacing as you begin delving into them once more. most of those who tried to acquaint themselves with you ended up having a hidden agenda up their sleeve. you’d learn to shut those people off once having the impression they were up to no good, but you couldn't do that to renjun, not when you liked him so much.

it seems as though you had been sharing your thoughts aloud without noticing, with renjun being right next to you. shit, you messed up big time. not only did you confess you harbored feelings for him, but you voiced out your suspicions too. now he’s going to think you’re some kind of crazy-

“do i need an ulterior motive to love you?” renjun perks up from your claim, albeit a little shocked you’d assume that of him. your train of thought comes to a freeze, hearing him confront you about your concerns. wait, wait- let’s backtrack a little. did he just confess to liking, or rather loving, you too?

truthfully, that one sentence was all it took to leave you in a daze. you struggle for a moment to clear your mind, nodding your head as you anxiously reply. “most people have one when they do.” what were you even saying at this point? you didn’t really comprehend your own words either.

he takes a step forward. then one more, and another until he’s standing in front of you. his hand cups your cheek gently, radiating warmth — something you’ve grown to long for every time you weren’t in his presence. using his thumb to lightly swipe your bottom lip, he gets you to stop unconsciously nibbling on it from anxiety. “well, i’m not like most people. i’m in love with you, because it’s you.”

“because it’s me?” you mimic his words in a shaky sigh, “renjun, i don’t think you should be taking this on such a shallow level- i’m sure you… probably don’t like me that much. what’s there to like aside from my rich parents' money?”

“you’re kidding, right? why wouldn’t i like you when i’ve come to cherish every second we’re together because you always make my day brighter without even trying. even as we’re fighting right now, there’s still a part of me that’s happy because i can see you in front of me. this isn’t about money at all!”

“everyone values money one way or another, renjun! this isn’t just about the type of person i see you as.” you sputter out. you were still scared, scared to fall for someone who might actually like you, for you. his genuine love was unknown territory, and you didn’t know the first step on how to go about it.

“i won’t lie, money is valuable, but it’s not everything in life. there really are some things that money can’t buy.” he utters out slowly, wanting you to understand every word he speaks. “it certainly can’t buy you, no?”

you were left speechless because all renjun said was right. he knew the limits money had and understood that. money wasn’t everything, and it’ll never be able to buy someone’s true feelings. that was something you really needed to hear all your life. maybe you’d be less afraid to let people crash your walls down if you had come to terms with that earlier. maybe loving him would have been easier all this time.

“i- i’m sorry.” your words come out in a stutter, trying to hold yourself back from sobbing into his arms. “i’m sorry for thinking you were someone you weren’t. i just-”

“you don’t have to be sorry for anything. you had every right to question my intentions, okay? but from now on,” he starts, bringing his hands up to your already burning cheeks. “i’ll take care of you. i’ll make sure you know just how much you’re appreciated, not just by me, but by everyone around you too. i’ll make sure you know you’re loved.” his words flow out soothingly like a calm river, contrasting the harsh waves you had to deal with all your life.

“i’ll keep loving you for as long as you let me.” truly, at this moment, you know he feels like home, your home.

overwhelmed by emotion, you reach out for his embrace, and he extends his arms out wide as if it was first instinct. his arms that wrap around you radiate a comforting warmth, the hoodie he’s wearing smells a bit like his favorite mocha frappuccino, and his entire being has turned into something you were familiar to – you think you never want to go back to a life without him, and you don’t have to because he’s right here and he loves you.

looking up to get a glance at renjun, you see him being unable to contain his smile with the corners of his lips pulling up unconsciously. god, did you want to kiss his pretty lips. it all feels like dejavu – you were in the same predicament back then when you first met him except this time, you think you finally have the guts to act upon your thoughts.

just as you were about to lean in, you’re caught rather off guard by renjun beating you to it. you both always seem to have the same thoughts in mind as if you both understood each other without anything needing to be said. his lips slot perfectly against yours, and the tingly feeling has your stomach doing somersaults. eventually, you need to pull away for air, noticing how he was still chasing after your lips – yearning to lengthen the kiss.

“i was going to kiss you first, you know?” you bring up with flushed cheeks, reaching out to hug his chest because you were too shy to lock gazes.

renjun laughs softly at your confession, raising a hand to card his fingers through your hair. “i had a feeling you’d do that, so i went for it instead.”

“you really surprised me! i gathered up my courage and everything!” giggling at your own words, you finally felt complete.

as it turns out, those teen magazines weren’t phony at all. you just hadn’t met the right person back then, but that changed after you met renjun. emotions resemble a rollercoaster with all its ups and downs, however, you think you’ll continue the ride for as long as he’s with you.

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