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yuwuta · 4 months

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YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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nathaslosthershit · 6 months

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Welcome interruptions (Dad!Lando Norris)

Summary: While streaming, Lando gets interrupted by two very adorable and very welcome guests

With his wife being out of the house for the time being, and the twins down for a nap, Lando had decided to jump on a quick stream for the first time in a while. Being the father of 3 year old twins didn’t leave much time to stream, not that Lando complained much.

User 1: andddd he is back

User 2: father lando gracing us with his presence

User 3: about time sir

“Alright Chat thank you, I get it. I know I have been gone for a while” He flippantly replied.

He hadn’t intended to be on as long as he had. He enjoyed streaming very much but balancing work, family, and his Twitch sidegig wasn’t the easiest. Still, he hadn’t wanted to spend as long as he was doing on the stream. Admittedly, he had lost track of time while playing and chatting. It wasn’t until two guests graced him with their presence that he realized how long it had been.

Tiny footsteps took Lando out of his haze. Turning around, he was met with two disheveled toddlers still rubbing sleep from their eyes.

“Hello loves” he cooed, “How was your nap?”

The twins both stayed silent as they tried, and failed, to get on their father’s lap. After some assistance from Lando, his daughter finally spoke up.

“Dada, blueberries please” she muttered.

“You both want them?” He asked. Both replied yes as they laid on his chest, facing the screen that had been showing the chat comments whirling by. His son pointed wordlessly, confused at what he was seeing.

His children were by no means a secret, the minute they were born he had all but shouted his newfound father status. But convincing his wife to bring them to the paddock was not an easy task. He knew the risks and why she was uneasy. He respected her wishes to wait, but the minute they got to join him she could see how much this truly meant to him. Since then, Formula 1 fans had become well acquainted with the Norris twins.

But this was their Twitch debut, so understandably, the viewers were excited.

“Those are all the people watching, they are saying hi to you both. Can you say hi to chat?” Lando asked. Immediately, his extroverted daughter yelled a greeting, while his son turned his body, hiding as best he could.

“You can certainly tell which one of them got all the social skills.” He joked.

User 4: give the children their blueberries mr.norris

User 5: she certainly is her father’s child.

User 6: please, i don’t want baby fever

User 7: oh to grow up the child of Lando Norris

“Alright, I shouldn’t torture them anymore. I’m heading off to give these angels their snacks. I will stream… eventually.” The onslaught of angry comments made Lando giggle, he was purposely trying to piss them off. “Kidding everyone, my god. You know it isn’t easy being a father of two. No matter how sweet and adorable they are.” The babies in his lap laughed as he attacked their foreheads with kisses.

“Goodbye everyone!” Shutting off the stream and then his computer, Lando expertly lifted both his kids up and carried them out.

“Geez you both are getting heavy, either you are growing up too fast or I am getting too weak.” Hearing the giggles he added, “What? You think your father is weak? Is that funny to you two?” He jested. Grabbing them their blueberries and sitting them down at the table, he took a moment to watch his two beautiful creations messily eat.

After finishing their plates, he cleared them and his kids to the playroom.

Picking a book from the shelf, Lando sat on the couch as his toddlers joined him on his lap.

Kissing their heads as he opened the book, they both muttered a ‘love you Dada’ that made his heart absolutely melt.

Oh what a beautiful life.

#lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine

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iceunhie · 6 months

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JEALOUSY IS A FICKLE THING...

ft. al-haitham, ayato, wriothesley, lyney

warnings : gender neutral, jealousy, mentions of suggestive content on wriothesley's part, established relationship, you are wriothesley's spouse. erm slight dark content but it's okay it isn't implied, we need more men like them in the world

mhie's notes : i used the wheel randomizer for this i hope everyone's proud i write for anyone other than scara ijbol

al-haitham’s jealousy is muted; quiet and hardly noticeable, often non-existent unless you have the fortune of knowing him deeply enough (kaveh). make no mistake, al-haitham trusts you, he simply doesn’t trust those that make moves on you when he was clearly right there. when some bothersome person disrupts you both on a simple date, which is already a clear red warning sign, for the acting grand sage hardly has any time to spare; naturally, his reaction would be to put a complete stop to any and all the flirty remarks towards you with a flat tone.

it’s not the content of the words that make the person making a move on you leave, but the slight menacing edge to al-haitham’s voice, a sign that if they do intend to cross the line more than necessary, he won’t just be using his words.

most would back off after a simple talking-to, but in the case that person doesn’t cease their advance, you can best bet your lover is steering you away immediately. dendro archon forbid they touch you or make you uncomfortable in the slightest, though, or else al-haitham has no qualms contacting the matra or taking matters in his own hands, but this scenario hardly happens often, given his seamless ability to get to the heart of the conflict and uprooting it so that no problems arise.

he’d most likely opt to diffuse the situation by straight-up telling any admirer of yours that you were taken and most definitely not up for grabs.

“they are my lover. since you’re clearly crossing their preferred boundaries and seem ignorant of the fact, i’d advise you to stop making them feel any more uncomfortable.”

though it’s truly difficult to get al-haitham jealous due to the excellent control of his emotions, tempered by his rational thinking, the most you can see of it is how he seems to stay closer to you than usual and the simple but firm link of your fingers as you both continue on your days.

(but if you notice him putting a subtle hand on your waist as you both walk, do try not to comment on it, will you?)

for ayato… er, why have you even bothered? if one even has the nerve to flirt and court the yashiro commissioner’s own partner, then that’d make you either not inazuman, or simply an idiot. it’s no exaggeration, but a simple fact. ayato is by no means a jealous man, but he doesn’t like seeing those not worthy of you hover around you with such impure and unwelcome intentions, so he tells ayaka and thoma, but really, he just wants to call the shuumatsuban on any who dares to even look at you the wrong way.

he bides his time well, approaching your admirer with a genial smile and elegant composure and indulges in small talk, but there’s a chill in the air and the looming feeling of doom as well as his smile that seems to see through any and all actions. its terrifying, really.

it also doesn’t help that he’d be extremely touchy in these moments, seeking to link arms with you and yes, even going as far as to rest his head on your shoulder, a clear indication of exactly how close you two really are. after you introduce him as your lover, at this point, it’s likely that the person making a move on you would back off and run away immediately, for how could they even dare to compete when it’s the yashiro commissioner himself who they’re facing?

he’d gloat silently afterwards in the comfort of his own quarters though, the sight of your admirer cowering like a dog getting cornered by a wolf, ah, truly satisfying. though thoma would eventually tell him to tone down the ‘borderline evil chuckling.’

“my love, have you been well? hm? the change of topic? ah, well, as the saying goes; ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ yes? no need to think about those that’ll only bother you. now, come here, there’s a new hotpot ingredient i’d like you to try… haha, relax, it isn’t dango this time.”

another one with a terrifying reputation and terrifying influence to make even the most daring of your admirers quake in their boots. wriothesley is amused - he gets that there’s hardly any window for romance in such a dreary place like the fortress, but even going as far as to court the duke of meropide’s own spouse? really funny, honestly.

but after the initial wave of amusement, he does take this time to immediately show off his status as your husband, showing off the matching wedding rings and even having the well-deserved nerve to smile and continue on rambling about your marriage, which is clearly a very happy one, judging by the way he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek while maintaining clear eye contact towards the person.

you’d have to wrangle in your husband when you both sleep tonight though, because wriothesley has made it his personal mission for any and all those who wish to covet you to show them that you were his spouse, and no other held your heart or your affections. when morning rises the next day, you promptly leave with a very visible bruise on your neck, and an especially relaxed and happy duke at your heels. most would look away in embarrassment, including your admirers, so that’s that.

“hah, that'll show any of those who have way too much time on their hands to lay their hands off my spouse. what? too brutal? well, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

oh my god lyney. haiz this enigmatic magician… magicians are all about masterfully weaving lies and illusions in order to perform to the top standard, and it's no surprise lyney also uses such methods when dealing with any and all annoyances in your relationship. he can be perfectly fine on the outside, but he has always been good with keeping his more sinister and less than socially acceptable side in check.

in fact, chances are he’d probably charm away your admirer with his own tricks; a wink their way and honeyed suave words to ease their love-struck heart and in seconds your admirer is up and away, promising to leave.

this often gets you disgruntled and in awe of his ‘performance,’ but lyney will always stave off your complaints or questions with a rainbow rose or some other fancy trick of his up his sleeve and guide you away, person courting you forgotten. all according to plan….

in all honesty, lyney isn't as composed about it as he seems. lynette can see it at a glance after you two have separated after the encounter. it shows in the way he broods silently for some time, preferring to divert the attention of such a sore subject away and going about endlessly about what new gifts he might give you or what seat was best for viewing, read: what seat was closest to him, for that matter. her brother was truly such a pain in the neck, and lynette does thank you for making him happy, but really, at this rate, you'd drive him insane by how much sway you hold over him.

“and just a trick of the light here and-! ta-da! a rainbow rose, symbolizing just how much i do adore you, way more than any other! …so don't try to pay attention to them, okay? after all, you've already caught this magician’s eye and heart~”

he can still be pouty and extremely clingy after the encounter though, which carries on whenever he performs any of his shows, where lyney always, always makes one of his acts feature you, be it a simple guess your card trick or his favorite, the one act where he leads you to land up on stage and give him a kiss based on the card’s instructions, it's all to show just how wrong anyone else other than him would make you as elated as lyney does.

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

btw can you tell i had fun writing for al-haitham despite the fact that i have never even been remotely interested in him in the entirety of the game

#mhie's spirals #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #lyney x reader #wriothesley x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #al haitham #lyney genshin

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augustinewrites · 1 year

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“just leave me alone!”

megumi storms off towards his room as gojo’s easygoing expression falls away instantly, leaving you conflicted as to who you should check on first. (which is difficult to do when you remember that thirteen year old boys hate talking about their emotions almost as much as twenty-five year old ones do.)

you decide that megumi needs a few minutes to cool down, so you step into the kitchen first, where your fiancé is tearing open a new bag of candy a little more harshly than necessary. you lean your hip against the counter as he murmurs a greeting.

“what was that about?” you ask.

“he hates me,” he shrugs.

“he’s a thirteen year old boy. he hates everybody,” you point out, but it fails to make him laugh like you’d intended. instead, his frown only deepens and he mutters,

“he doesn’t hate you.”

you tilt your head slightly. “is that what this is about? me being his favourite?”

“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i…i just can’t seem to connect with him the way you’ve always been able to.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, unsure of what exactly you can say to make him feel better. it’s not like him to be so insecure. “you guys have had your moments.”

“not lately. i just keep pissing him off,” he huffs, unwrapping and popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “did i do something?”

you open up the fridge to pull some ingredients for lunch, sighing. “i don’t think so, but nanami, shoko, and i were texting about it the other day—”

“wait, you’re in a group chat with nanami and shoko?”

“oh yeah,” you nod, setting your vegetables on the counter. “it’s mostly memes, but sometimes we talk about how messed up you are.”

he blinks at you a few times before muttering that you’d get back to that later. “what’d they say?”

“they quoted a lot of freud, but the gist of it was that it’s normal for fathers and sons to butt heads.”

he frowns deeply at that. “so what should i do?”

“be patient. he’ll come around eventually.”

“easy for you to say,” he huffs. “you’re the only mother figure he’s ever known. he’s already had a dad.”

“satoru, he’s thirteen. he’s officially been with us longer than he was with toji.”

you study his conflicted expression as he turns that information over in his mind. “okay, how about this? i was going to take him to the mall to buy new clothes after lunch, but why don’t you go with him instead?”

“that’s a great idea!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together excitedly. “i’ll take him to the bookstore too! can you find out what’s on his reading list?”

“he’s not a little kid anymore,” you remind him. “you can’t just buy his affection with a new book.”

“i’ll buy him two, then.”

“i love where your heart is at,” you start slowly. “but you just…have to give him space to let him come to you.”

he groans loudly, coming up behind you to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. you smile, tilting your head to the side and reaching up to pat his hair.

“i guess this is good practice for when we have our own kid,” he mutters, stiffening when he feels your hand still in his hair.

“our own kid, huh? so does that mean you’re done bringing home strays?”

“you three are all i need,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “whatever happens next…is just a bonus.”

BONUS:

[you] [1 attachment]

[nanami] Why is he dressed like Gojo?

[shoko]: like father like son huh

[you] satoru had a quarter-life crisis yesterday. just a small one.

[shoko] i’m not surprised. his life is like a shakespearean tragedy.

[nanami] That is accurate.

[you] he’s trying to bond with megumi.

[shoko] by dressing him like he’s emotionally unavailable?

[you] what does that even mean?

[shoko] the sunglasses

[you] ?

[nanami] Elaborate further, please.

[shoko] eyes are the windows to the soul.

[nanami] (the more you know gif)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #keeping up with the fushigojos

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flolio · 2 months

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right side of my neck — KIM MINJEONG X FEM!READER

it was your first award show, you were beyond nervous; mainly because you got appointed as a speaker. thankfully your secret girlfriend is there to help calm you down, but at what cost?

﹟ GENRE — idol!minjeong x actress!reader, reader isnt korean, fluff, honestly it’s just sappy imo, age gap (3 years), intended lowercase, not proof read

A/N — I’m sorry this was kinda rushed imo but I’m butt booty tired and wanted to write something >.<

﹟ WORDCOUNT — 0.4k

you looked back at me once, but I looked back two times.

being in a secret relationship wasn’t for the weak—minjeongs words not yours. I mean, maybe it was your fault that you accidentally hit your head off her baseball cap, but still, that doesn’t matter!

you were beyond nervous for this event, however was it for the right reasons? no. you wouldn’t have been butt booty scared if you knew your girlfriend and the rest of her group were not going, but to your dismay, they were.

I mean who even made the guest list? you were about to have a talk with them. sure, you were beyond happy that she was going to be there and you would support her unconditionally, of course.

it was different this time though, you were going to be a speaker presenting a few awards to people; which you typically don’t have a problem with, you are an actress after all. just knowing minjeong was out in the crowd made your hands clammy, it had your stomach flipping for no reason.

you took a deep breath before walking into the venue, stopping to pose on the red carpet. as you went to do a different pose, you turned your head and saw her. you girlfriend, in all her glory. sure you got to see her countless times, but nothing would compare to watching your girlfriend walk down the red carpet all dressed up.

as you continued walking down the carpet you unfortunately had to tear your eyes away from minjeong as you advanced further into the venue. you eventually stood in the spot you were appointed too, curious about who was going to be sitting beside you.

to say you were shocked is an understatement as you saw who walked and stood beside you; minjeong. of course she was accompanied by the rest of her group, you swear you definitely saw her snicker at your reaction; you’d have to bring it up with her later.

having your girlfriend beside you made you more nervous in some way. she must’ve noticed as a few moments later when the event quieted down and a speaker started talking you felt a light tap on your wrist.

you cautiously glanced at her as she took a deep breath, signalling you to do the same. as you took a deep breath you felt yourself calm down a bit, glancing back at minjeong you noticed her subtly giving you a thumbs up and giggled; doing it back.

as the event finished you took a breath of relief, you did good as a speaker. your girlfriend was honestly that push you needed. as you descended into your bed, getting comfortable; scrolling on your phone you noticed something, you gasped as you realised what it was.

ACTRESS Y/N L/N AND IDOL KIM MINJEONG?

#works — 🖇️#kim minjeong x reader #minjeong x reader #aespa winter x reader #winter x reader #winter imagines #aespa x reader #aespa imagines

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daisynik7 · 6 months

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cw: established relationship, smut - car sex (cowgirl), cunnilingus, creampie, spit used as lube

Author's Note: Been a minute since I wrote a smutty Nanami drabble and I thought of this today while in heat LOL. Enjoy! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

Thinking about you and Nanami sneaking off during your company holiday party to fuck each other silly in the car.

He’s your plus one tonight, dressed to the nines in his signature suit and tie, looking as dashing as ever. You’re in the new dress he bought you, the perfect fit, matching subtlety with him. He hasn’t been able to take his hands off you, one always draped over your shoulders, behind your back, or around your waist. He squeezes you gently whenever one of your wacky coworkers says something inappropriate or unhinged, even firmer if it’s your boss saying it. When you’re both sat at the table, waiting for dinner to be served, he places his hand on your knee, holding you because he just can’t stop touching you, especially in this dress.

Dinner and two glasses of wine in, you warn him that it’s almost time for the speeches, which are notoriously long and boring. Feeling frisky, he stands up, pulling you with him, briefly explaining to the others at your table that you have to excuse yourselves for whatever reason. They don’t bat an eye, too immersed in their own drinking and merriment to even care where you two run off to.

Nanami opens the car door for you, like a true gentlemen, beckoning you into the backseat. And unlike a gentleman, he slaps your ass on the way in, chuckling to himself as you playfully yell at him. He follows, locking the car from the inside, already shedding his blazer off. You do the same with your dress, but he stops you, a wild look in his eyes. “Keep this on. I want to fuck you in it.”

You fold the fabric up your thighs until it’s bunched around your waist, allowing you to spread your legs wide enough to display your cunt to him. Of course you aren’t wearing underwear. In fact, he told you not to, intending to do this to you from the very start. If there’s anything you’ve learned about your husband in the last year or two, it’s that he’s recently developed a kink for spontaneous car sex. Not that you’re complaining.

He dives in, spreading his tongue and smearing his spit all over your aching clit. He’s quick and vicious with it, desperate for your orgasm so he can feel it all around him when he eventually slides his cock inside you. It doesn’t take long for you to give it to him, and once you do, he hoists you onto his lap, kissing you sloppily with his cum-coated lips. You straddle him, grinding against him, your wetness leaking onto his slacks. He pulls out his cock, throbbing in his fist, staring at you with a hazy expression. “Spit on it.”

You give him a smile and a smooch before dribbling a thick wad of your saliva straight onto his shaft. He shudders, coating his entire length with it, stroking it fast in his grip. He circles the wetted tip around your swollen clit before sliding inside you, letting out a guttural moan as soon as he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he grunts, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead, cupping your cheek softly in the palm of his hand.

You nuzzle into his touch, rocking yourself back and forth on him. “Fuck me, Kento. And don’t hold back.”

And he doesn’t, fucking you hard and rough, making you temporarily forget about that silly holiday party still happening inside. They have no clue that you’re getting fucked stupid in the backseat of your car by your husband. That he’s tearing this pussy up with every brutal thrusts he pounds into you, his thumb massaging deep into your core, greedy for your orgasms.

Neither of you care what a mess you’re making, his hair matted on his sweaty forehead, your dress wrinkled and ruined, his slacks splotched with damp spots from your slick leaking out. It gets even messier when he comes inside you, unable to stop some of his creamy load from seeping into the fabric of his pants.

Without much of an effort, the two of your pull yourselves together enough to head back to the party. Nanami wraps his jacket around his waist, looking ridiculous, and you ignore the curious stares of your coworkers as they eye the suspicious winkles on your dress.

It doesn’t matter anyways; you only return in time to collect your bonus. Once it’s in your hands, you thank your boss and excuse yourselves for the rest of the night, ready for round two, three, and four in the comfort of your own home.

#nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami smut #nanami drabbles #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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unoislazy · 7 months

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Jealousy Looks Good On You

Mizu x Jealous! Reader

Summary: You and Mizu have been close friends for quite some time. You truly enjoyed each others company, that was until Taigen showed up.

Disclaimers; light language, has not been proofread, I am currently delirious from packing and moving all day but I had to write this out to feed the starved mizu lovers. A fair amount may not make sense at this point in time. My apologies ❤️

————————————————————

You and Mizu have been friends for a while now. Honestly you were surprised you could even say that. Mizu was not someone who would openly accept friendship applications on a daily basis, they usually wouldn’t even talk to people unless it was absolutely necessary. But somehow, despite this, you had gotten past that wall and weaseled your way into becoming her friend.

That was how you viewed it at least, you liked to think that she at least enjoyed your company seeing as she had yet to just up and leave you randomly, which she very well could successfully do if she wanted. You two had learned a lot about each other through late night talks and just general conversations. You of course, had learned about her secret, and you vowed to keep it from anyone else that would cross your path. She in turn had learned a lot about you, things about your past, your likes and dislikes, the usual things that a companion would know.

However, there was one thing she didn’t know about you and you planned to keep it that way. You had been traveling alongside Mizu since you two had crossed paths in a town that she did not intend to stay long in.

Since then you had always admired Mizu for her skills with a sword. That admiration eventually turned to something much stronger.

You would never admit it outloud but you had developed a small crush on the blue eyed woman, and in all honesty it was pretty hard to keep it under control.

Your dynamic had just been you and her for a long time and once Ringo was added to the group it only added to your enjoyment. You loved spending time with them. You honestly found it pretty adorable how Ringo persistently followed the two of you around, just as you had once done to Mizu well before him.

However, once Taigen joined… things changed.

He was never supposed to stay this long, the only reason he did was because Mizu had saved him when escaping that stupid tower. You wanted to go with her, you pleaded with her to take you with her to at least have some back up in case something went wrong but she refused. She wouldn’t give you any other reasoning than, “I need you to stay here.”

No matter how many times you asked why, she would just give you the same answer until you listened. She didn’t want you to go along with her, she wanted to do this alone. And yet when you and Ringo had found her, was she alone?

No… of course not.

He was there with her.

You didn’t recognize him at first of course, you simply thought him to be some random man Mizu thought it was in her best interest to save. In the time you knew Mizu, that didn’t happen often.

You and Ringo had managed to get them both out of the icy water and make your way to the sword fathers house, keeping them both as warm as you possibly could while in such a state.

It wasn’t until Mizu had initially woken up did you finally find out who the man was.

“You’re awake.” You exclaimed, making your way over to a very dreary Mizu who was trying to prop herself up. You smiled, feeling a sudden wave of instant relief as she looked up at you,

“Is Taigen awake.” Were the first words to come out of her mouth.

“Taigen?” You asked, the name felt familiar but you couldn’t tell from where.

“He’s not awake yet.” Ringo answered, he was still very upset with Mizu after their last meeting and that would’ve been clear to anyone just through his tone of voice.

Taigen… Taigen… where have you heard that name?

That’s when you realized, on one of your very late night talks, Mizu had opened up to you a bit about her childhood. In the tale she told, one name continued to pop out.

Taigen.

The kid who was absolutely ruthless to her. All because of the color of her eyes. You remembered just from listening to the story, the anger you felt for Mizu, but even as she was telling the story she didn’t seem quite bothered by it. You supposed she’d have had a lot of time to think about it to the point the memories no longer brought up any emotions.

You looked away from Mizu and turned to the man who was resting quite peacefully not too far away from her. Your astonished gaze turned to a very clearly displeased glare. Never in your life would you think that you wouldn't end up coming across this man, not once, but twice. You had seen the man before, he had shown up a few other times before this, the only reason you hadn’t reacted as harshly was because you didn’t know who he was. You guessed you hadn’t recognized him this time due to the amount of bruising he sustained from his stay at the tower.

Deserved, in your opinion.

Once Mizu had woken up, she of course got right to work just as she usually did. She had no idea what the words ‘take a break’ meant. You helped her out with most of the tasks she tried to perform, but there was one she was insistent on doing alone, again.

So you sat back, preparing whatever medicine Ringo had asked for you to make as he followed around the sword father like there was no tomorrow. You sat in silence, Taigen sleeping not too far away from you, the fire still blaring keeping you both warm.

Why him of all people. Why did he have to be the one she brought back?

There was nothing you could do about him now except for hope that when he wakes up he just gets up and goes on his way.

You rolled your eyes, even thinking about the man made you mad, so you went back to your mundane task. That was until you heard the sound of what you realized to be Taigen stirring as he finally woke up.

“Great, you're awake.” You said sarcastically as you turned towards the man who had rolled over, making sure to make several groaning noises in the process. Sure he was in severe pain but literally everything he did, logical or not, annoyed you.

He didn’t even truly process who you were or why you were there, the first thing he asked was,

“Where’s Mizu?”

Seriously? Why did these two suddenly care about each other so much?

You tried your best to remain as neutral as possible as you very lowly answered, “Outside.”

You didn’t want to tell him, you didn’t even want to speak to him in the first place and You sure as hell didn’t want to leave him alone with Mizu. How could anyone trust him? Sure people change, and most of what he did to Mizu was from when they were kids… but your concern still stands. Who knows, maybe he’s still an asshole.

But in the end, it wasn’t your choice on whether he and Mizu got closer. You would protest it, and you‘d protest it hard but when it comes to it, if Mizu for some reason completely unknown to you decided he was good enough to keep around you’d have to be okay with it.

Some time had passed since they had both woken up. Mizu had gone out to try and remake her sword and Taigen had gone off to… well you didn’t really know nor did you care. You had been sitting outside on the snow covered ground, looking up at the night sky, trying to just clear your mind.

You didn’t like feeling so angry all the time, especially over someone who you personally had no reason to truly be angry at. You felt guilty, it wasn’t your place to make such decisions on who was good for Mizu and who wasn’t but you couldn't help it. It felt almost as if it was some kind of instinct, but you couldn’t really place what it was or why you felt it. All you knew was that you hadn’t felt like this before, and it frightened you. You didn’t want to be so pushy or mean to the two just because you didn’t enjoy one person's presence.

You sighed as you continued to stare up at the sky.

“What is wrong with me?” You whispered quietly to yourself.

While you were having your moment of self reflection, you noticed Taigen who had made his way back from the village carrying food. The guilt you felt seemed to double as you looked at him, so you simply looked the other way.

He walked inside the house not even sparing you a glance, he probably didn’t even know you were there. You were sitting in almost complete darkness, the only light being the glow from the fire inside and the moonlight. You enjoyed the isolating feeling it gave, it felt as if time had stopped as you stared at the bright moon above. You were completely lost in thought, zoning out as you stared at the moon. The only thing to snap you out of it was the sound of a large thud, as if something had hit the ground.

You panicked thinking that Taigen had attacked, just as you thought he would. You rushed over to the door of the house but you stopped once you noticed the position the two of them were in. They were so close to each other, and it didn’t seem like they were actually fighting with each other. You hid behind the door frame, not wanting your presence to be known as you thought about what you had just seen.

Does she actually like him? Why are they so close to each other? Is this seriously happening?

All these questions ran through your head as you backed away from the door. So badly did you want to ‘accidentally’ stumble inside and ruin the moment but then you knew you’d feel even more guilty about it. You just tried to let it go and move on with your night.

You tried.

The next day you had become incredibly standoffish. Mainly towards Mizu and Taigen which made it especially noticeable. Anytime Mizu had asked anything of you, you wouldn’t respond like normal, in fact this time you barely responded at all. Usually you seemed so happy to do anything within her company, but now it was as if you were looking right past her.

When Taigen would even attempt to talk to you, you wouldn’t even make a move to acknowledge his existence.

It was extremely petty and you knew that, but you seriously had no other way to deal with your emotions. You were trying your hardest to keep your thoughts down and just be happy for the two that you thought had some kind of chemistry but you weren’t getting far.

Later that night, you walked into the same room as Mizu. she had been sitting down drinking something from her cup, and staring off into the distance deep in thought. Once you had noticed her, you didnt give your normal greeting, you just sat down across from her and paid her no mind.

“What is your problem?” She finally asked. You simply looked at her, your face was as empty of emotion as you could make it.

“What do you mean? I don’t have a problem.” You lied, trying to not get ahead of yourself. You had so many things that were just so eager to get out, but you didn’t want to share them. You wanted to keep quiet and never mention a single one. If you never mention your problems you don’t have to feel guilty about them, right?

Mizu stared at you, astonished by your persistence with this new attitude.

“Why won't you acknowledge me?” She asked. You averted your gaze by the slightest bit, the guilty feeling coming back.

“I’m acknowledging you right now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don't understand your problem here, I’m the exact same.” You lied. You were trying so hard to keep everything under control.

“No you’re not. We both know that.”

“Since when were you an expert on personalities?”

Just because you were trying hard to keep your cool, doesn’t mean you were doing good at it.

“Since I’ve known you for almost a year.”

“You don’t know everything, you know.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Taigen, you seem to go to him for everything anyways.” You didn’t mean to let that slip. If you could take back the words you had just said, you would’ve in an instant. You knew once you had brought up Taigen you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked, confused by your attitude towards every single thing she said. You would never act like this normally, so why now? It almost frightened her, it reminded her a bit of how the people in her past would turn on her so suddenly based on some trait about her, so she assumed the worst.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Taigen is the problem!” You shouted, now standing up to make your point clear, which took Mizu by surprise. You had never truly gotten so angry before and especially not at her.

“What did he do? Did he do something to you?” She asked, a whole new level of possibilities jumped forward in her mind. She had let her guard down around Taigen, what if he had made a move on you and she didn’t know.

“Are you kidding? I’m not worried about me, I'm worried about you! I mean, what hasn’t he done to you. You’re telling me he was an asshole to you for the entire duration of your childhood that you spent together, and then he suddenly comes waltzing back in claiming he wants to kill you? And then you forgive him? You saved his life sure but now he wants to act all buddy buddy with you? Are you serious? You’re setting yourself up for failure here.” As you went on your ramble, Mizu had begun to relax as she realized the situation. Her eyes followed you as you paced back and forth in front of her, an amused expression creeping its way onto her face.

“Hey.” Mizu began but you could barely hear her over the sound of your own voice.

“You could’ve picked anyone else to start getting close with and I would’ve been fine with it. I mean I don’t control who you can and cannot be close with, but him? Seriously?” You continued.

“Hey.” Mizu repeated, once again trying to get your attention to no avail.

“I mean, you could do so much better. The guy who bullied you for years on end? Oh please, even I would be a better candidate than him, not that I’m saying I should be, but I could be-”

“Stop talking.” Mizu had raised her voice just enough for you to finally hear her and take the hint. You immediately stopped yourself and looked at her with a shocked expression. You had gotten so lost in your thoughts you almost forgot you were ranting to her in the first place. You watched as Mizu’s stern expression shifted to one of a more… smug nature as she stared at you, her eyes looking at you from just above the rim of her glasses so you could see the color in its entirety.

“Are you… jealous?” Mizu asked, an amused smile very evident on her face as she slightly turned to you. Your head shot towards her direction as you opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out.

She was right, you were jealous. Really jealous. You had gotten so lost in your hatred towards Taigen you had forgotten to take a step back and realize how stupid your actions looked.

“I just… don’t think he’s right for you.” You muttered, crossing your arms in defiance as you averted your gaze. You weren’t looking at her but you could tell the woman was just staring at you with a very plain look, a look that probably said something along the lines of ‘are you serious?’

“Not right for me?” She asked, placing her dish down on the ground before looking back up at you. Once she had looked back towards you she had realized you still weren't looking at her, and that wasn’t going to do.

“Look at me.” She demanded. Her tone was not harsh but she was quite stern about it. You did as she said without another question, turning your head to look at her even though you wanted to do anything else but that at the moment.

“What do you mean he’s not right for me?” She asked again, wanting a serious answer out of you.

“I saw the two of you… last night. When you were sparring. I saw how you looked at him and I just. I don’t think he’s a good choice for you.” You admitted. You felt so stupid, couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut and moved on like an adult. Why did you have to be so petty about someone who didn’t even reciprocate your feelings? You were friends, why would you become anything more than that?

She didn’t say anything in response, she simply stared at you as she usually did, but this time her staring made you feel so small. You already felt guilty about feeling this way and now that you had actually said it out loud to Mizu’s face and all she was doing was staring, it made the feeling unbearable. You wanted to cry, but you wouldn't dare to, not now. To risk looking even more childish than you do already? You’d rather die.

“Then who do you think would be a better choice?” She inquired, earning nothing more than a shrug from you. You had said what you needed and you feared if you said anything more you would dig yourself into a deeper hole. “Come on, you don’t have anyone in mind?”

She was teasing you.

She wasn’t mad?

Why was she playing into this, why wasn’t she upset with you placing your own opinions on her feelings.

“I don’t know… literally anyone else?” You responded quietly, not really wanting to answer the question.

“What, like you?” She retorted with a playful scoff.

“I didn’t say that.” You denied, quite defensively one might add.

“Yes you did.” She corrected.

“You heard me wrong.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you wrong.” She repeated, confirming the fact that you were actually trying to play that card.

You nodded.

“So you didn’t say, ‘even I would be a better candidate than him’.”

Well, she got you there, Those were in fact the words you said. You were in too deep to go back now so you committed to your sense of denial full force.

“Where are you getting these words from?” You tried to play dumb, obviously it wasn’t going to work.

“Don’t try to lie to me, I heard you say them.”

“I wasn’t saying that I would be the only candidate, I was just using myself as an example. I’m not saying that you’d have to pick me over him I’m just saying that in the grand scheme of things I just-” You had begun to ramble yet again. You couldn't stop yourself, you felt like everything you wanted to say needed a further explanation to make it not sound as bad as it did. Luckily, this rant was cut very short.

“Hey.” Mizu said, very quickly getting you to shut up unlike the last few times. This time however, she was much closer than she was before. Much, much, closer. You hadn’t noticed that throughout the entire duration of your little banter match, she had slowly made her way towards you and you had absentmindedly been backing away from her. Well, that was until you couldn’t back up any more. Now she was standing no more than a few mere inches away from you, her hands had managed to slither their way onto your waist, holding you in place.

“What…” You whispered. You didn’t know what else to do with yourself, you felt as if you could melt into a puddle right then and there as you stared into her eyes. Her eyes however, had not stayed focused on yours, and instead began to travel around to other areas of your face. You had never really seen this side of her. There would be no reason to really, unless she truly felt the same way.

There wouldn’t be any logic behind Mizu just messing with you to mess with you, she only ever really put up fronts for people she needed information from, and the only information you had was how much you wanted her in that exact moment. You would never say that outloud though.

“Stop talking.” She whispered back, her eyes almost entirely focused on your lips as she very slowly neared you. You couldn’t hold yourself back, moving yourself forward and making the move to seal the kiss yourself.

Words wouldn’t be able to accurately describe how you felt in that moment. Neither of you truly expected it, but the kiss had become a lot more heated way faster than you truly expected. Turns out you both had buried feelings that were going to be known one way or another. Your hands had made their way to Mizu’s hair and her hands had begun to travel away from your waist. Once you had eventually parted from the kiss, you both looked almost surprised that any of that truly happened.

Mizu laughed a bit to herself as she looked at you.

“You know, Jealousy looks good on you.” she said before you rolled your eyes,

“Stop talking.” Was all you said before continuing where you left off.

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bluexiao · 7 months

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#monsieur neuvillette’s relationship headcanons

NOTES. finally a work after months. i missed this, tbh. but hey, here’s my new husband for you. might also have a part 2 of this i feel like i haven’t written everything yet

WARNING. real identity spoilers (nothing too explicit from the current archon quest i haven’t even done it yet oops)

NEUVILLETTE

(Before)

Before the relationship began, it took a long while for him to truly process what he had been feeling towards you—to be frank, he even thought he was getting sick (which was impossible. He never got sick.), though that thought comes to an end the moment he realizes that the effects only happen when he is around you. Only you.

He had heard of love before. Had seen love. Had read about love. Not just the platonic or familial ones, but also romance and more. And yet, he does not understand them, simply because he considers them as something someone like him would not eventually feel.

And yet, it all changed when he first saw you. Curiosity turns to admiration, and admiration turns to anxiety—which is never good; the sweating on his hands and the back of his neck, and the pressure on his chest whenever your presence comes.

He was only reminded of the term romance when he consulted Sigewinne about it.

“Does it only happen around a certain person, Monsieur?” “Monsieur, I think you are simply in love,” she says. “Humans do tend to have the same symptoms but it does not necessarily mean you are sick. It appears to me that you feel the same as well. Does their presence give you happiness?”

He did not even need to ponder over his answer. What he does ponder over is how he should deal with it. The evidence is overwhelming, and there is only one verdict. And yet, where does this lead to?

Contrary to popular belief, he will confess as soon as he is sure of his feelings. He is an honest and honorable man. He would confess his feelings if he could, but it did take some time knowing how busy his schedule was.

The only thing that probably was able to push him to go through was the Melusines. It took them weeks to have him clear his schedule up for a nice little dinner date that they had planned and suggested to the Monsieur.

“Recently, I have come to realize that I have developed a romantic interest with you, Y/n.”

“I do not intend to put pressure on you. I shall accept whatever judgment you make. I do not wish for you to change how you treat me in any way.”

“If you may… I can only ask to indulge in this meal with you for tonight. Your company eases me greatly.”

Brutally honest. It may even drive you crazy how this all seems so easy on him.

But in reality, his palms were sweating underneath his gloves and the slightly cool sensation of the utensils as he blurts out his intentions for setting up such an occasion. His heart was pounding but he could not process whether this was about how you looked especially good tonight or his nervousness with finally confessing his feelings for you.

Or maybe both. Either way, all evidence of such leads to only one thing—you.

Bonus; I do think he’ll reveal who he is first before he gets into a relationship with you but that really depends on how observant you are.

(During)

It was a surprise to him, at the very least, how he had managed to keep you as his lover despite what he lacks. He knew how he was not well-versed with “feelings” per se (just in his mind), but you, the angel that you’ve always been, chose to be with him.

The sudden change did not occur to him much, actually. But he did notice how much his mind lingers to you more often than not, and how he will end up recalling how you are now his one and only lover.

It takes time for him to adjust, but it all started with frequent conversations (much more than before), then sending flowers to your place every other day (constantly), though most of the time they’re delivered by someone else, knowing how busy he is as the Chief Justice.

Or when he started to first brush his gloved fingers to yours.

When he does something, it will be constant. (Maybe this also comes from being responsible and disciplined as shown by being the Chief Justice). All the things that he did before, he still does them now—unless you’ve told him no, of course.

He is definitely a man of his honor!!

And would always ask for your permission first before he touches your hand, or holds them, or hugs you, or kisses you.

He does like pampering and showering you with “offerings” though.

Stuff like buying your favorite flowers or trinkets once or twice a week, making sure you have enough supply of the best water out there. And even with how he always has an umbrella or parasol for you (ones he got ever since you got together; one in his office, one that’s foldable for him to carry under his coat, and one he gave to you for every time you leave the house.

Through the course of the relationship, he learned about the beauty of life, which is how he sometimes brings you flowers despite its short life. However, he still secretly prefers giving you trinkets for your hoard of gifts from him, mostly because it symbolizes his everlasting love for you. (He’s very romantic like that, even if he does not know he is)

He will also introduce every single Melusine in Fontaine. At first, it may surprise you how he knows all of their names, but it will surprise you even more the moment you realize you could do the same. If you do, he’ll love you even more (which he thought was impossible at first as he knew he already loves you very much).

The Melusines will treat you as their other parent the moment it is known amongst all of them that you’re his lover. Sigewinne, for one, would always give you a personalized gift. She would also always send you letters to ask how you are and probably be quite excited whenever you accept an invitation for a cup of tea.

Monsieur Neuvillete is not jealous, but he is possessive and territorial. It’s a dragon instinct, forgive him.

It also comes with being protective. Though he’s not feral, he would make sure to always shield you away from any harm, or anything that might take you away.

One time, he had to deal with a bunch of… shameless individuals who had tried to make a move on you, and though he has great trust on you, he cannot help but have the same self-deprecating voices in the back of his mind.

Though instinctively, he finds himself buying you trinkets or flowers again.

“Hm? You just gave me one earlier, didn’t you?” You look up with a confused look but still hold that smile that stirs butterflies in his chest.

He nodded. “The flowers reminded me of you, mon amour. I could not help but feel the urge to give it to you.”

It does not stop him from giving you offerings.

Of course, he cannot just give up on you. The ruling of whoever deserves your love and affection the most. Of course, he is at an advantage knowing that he’s already your lover.

“Is there something wrong?” You looked up to him, hearing the pitter patter of the rain outside through the taps on the windows. You had your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them with your palms.

“It’s nothing, mon cœur, no need to worry.” He flashes you a reassuring smile, and yet, at the back of his mind, he wondered how you could have thought to check on him. Is it perhaps the gloominess in the atmosphere?

You frown as you look at him intently, “There are times when you’d shower me gifts with a saddened look on you. I’m worried, is all.”

He stares at you then. Ah, so you noticed, he thought.

He chuckles as he shakes his head and stands right next to you. “May I?” He opens his arms and you nod and dive right into his chest. He enclosed you into an embrace, relishing the feeling of your warmth.

He kisses your forehead then. “Allow me to bask in your presence for a while.”

For short, one of the best. Definitely a 100/10.

#genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #genshin neuvillette #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 1 month

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How badly do you want to win

G!P Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word count: 5.2k

Description is mostly in the screenshot of the request, so I'm gonna move on to the warnings ;) But also, OMG, I'm so excited about this fic! Thank you, nonnie, for sending this in! I loved it!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, developing relationship, enemies to friends to lovers, G!P Wanda, Oral sex (both giving and receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, cum swallowing, some thigh fucking, shower sex... I think this might be it, but I could also be wrong.

Masterlist with all my works.

Wanda always thought that Natasha was beautiful. The way she wore her hair in a braid, the determined look in her eyes, whenever she played, the way her body moved and her muscles flexed. She was simply gorgeous. Way better than the rest of her team. And she knew it. She wore that confidence as she walked out on the court, when she played, when she practiced. It was that confidence that first captured Wanda’s attention.

It started as competitiveness, of course. Getting in each-other’s faces, a silent challenge and a glare in their eyes as they measured each-other. But there was more underneath that. Perhaps a kind of recognition of a kindred spirit. Or maybe it was the adrenaline and excitement of the game, but they always felt this pull towards each-other.

On her end, Natasha took one look at Wanda and she knew that she had met her match. Someone who could give as good as she got, not only on the court, but in life as well. The brunette had such intensity in her eyes, such passion… And on a closer look, perhaps a little secret too. At first Natasha thought she imagined it, the outline of a bulge in the other girl’s shorts, which seemed a little too loose, compared to everyone elses. But as time passed, Natasha knew it wasn’t just her imagination. Whenever she’d stand in front of Wanda, blocking her teammates from passing the ball to her, their bodies sometimes brushing against each-other, she could feel something there too and the thought excited her so much. Professional rivalry was one thing, but who said they couldn’t be something else outside the court?

Such an idea excited the redhead and as the championship approached, she started to go to some of Wanda’s games, waiting for the match to be over, lurking near the back exit, where the players left, so she could see her. She’d congratulate Wanda on a game well played, she’d sometimes tease her for missed opportunities… Then she started to get bolder, inviting Wanda for a game of pool, or ask her to go have coffee somewhere, offering for them to go out for a drink, just so she could spend more time with the girl.

At first, Wanda thought it was a trick, snappy responses leaving her lips easily. She thought it was some kind of mind game Natasha was playing, so she could distract Wanda, get under her skin perhaps. And at first she avoided the redhead, even if she was curious to spend time with her. But as time passed, Wanda decided that two can play such games and eventually she agreed and that night changed everything.

Wanda had a million ideas about how the night will go, but she certainly never expected to like the girl so much. They had so much in common. Both had competitive siblings and parents with high expectations, both felt the pressure of being the best… Both had that yearning for more than life had given them. So they bonded, mutual understanding growing into respect and a spark of desire that was simply undeniable. It didn’t happen in a day, it grew slowly, day after day.

They made it a tradition, having a day out after a game, talking about their teams and their hopes and dreams, growing much closer than they ever intended, their playful banter turning into flirting and teasing touches. When they couldn’t see each-other, they texted, smiling at their phones whenever they saw a new message from the other girl. The air felt charged whenever they saw each-other and they brought the best out of the other. Whenever Wanda would see Natasha in the crowd of people during a match, she’d always play a little better, pushing herself to show that she’s the best, that she was deserving of the other girl’s attention. Natasha did the same. Her usual confidence was always cranked up to 11 when Wanda was there to see her play. She’d use more tricks than usual, she’d take more risks, in hopes of impressing her. And it worked. In Wanda’s eyes, she was the most spectacular player she’d ever seen.

For some reason they both agreed to keep it secret. Their teams were considered enemies, both fighting to win the same competition and the rest of the players simply wouldn’t understand. Perhaps very few would understand… But then again, perhaps that was just another thing that brought them closer together.

Then the championship came, the two teams won match after match, getting closer to a game when they would have to play against each-other and their fans were going crazy. All kinds of rumours were flying around, people hyping their favorite team, making banners, posting challenges online… It was almost too much. Their teams were getting eager too, their coaches adding more practice sessions in their schedules, all in the name of winning. But through it all, they had each-other, their connection growing stronger.

The night of the big game, Wanda felt restless. Tomorrow their teams would face each-other and she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus her thoughts, or make up her mind. She felt conflicted. She wanted to win, no she needed to win. But she didn’t want to do it by making Natasha and her team look bad. She was afraid that this game would change everything. That if her team won, she’ll never see Natasha again. But if her team lost, because of her… Her chances of a professional career would be over. Her parents would be disappointed, her team and couch would be devastated. Not to mention that she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Pietro. He already had a contract with one of the best teams in the country. If she didn’t do as well… Then what?

With a huff Wanda got out of her bed and dressed in a rush, silently sneaking out of her dorm and walked the familiar path to the gym, easily finding her way to the basketball court, picking up a ball and bouncing it against the floor aimlessly. She felt lost. But before she could let her thoughts spiral once again, her phone buzzed.

She opened her messages suspiciously, wondering who would text her so late, only to see it was from Natasha.

“I can’t sleep.” It read simply and Wanda smiled.

“Neither can I.” She responded. Then, an idea struck and she turned on the camera on her phone, snapping a quick picture of herself on the court.

She sent it quickly, before she had time to lose her nerve and she waited with bated breath for the other girl’s response.

“Stay there!” Is all she received, before Natasha went offline and Wanda smiled, pocketing her phone.

She played mindlessly, mostly trying to score from different positions and angles, practicing her 3-point shot, until the sound of nearby footsteps stopped her in her tracks and she turned to find Natasha behind her.

“Wanna play?” The redhead said simply, hands in her pockets.

“Why not.” Wanda shrugged, passing the ball to Natasha.

The redhead caught it easily, dribbling lazily as she got onto the court.

“Anxious about tomorrow?” She asked, still not really playing. Wanda only nodded. “So am I.” Natasha admitted with a serious expression, her actions pausing for a moment. Their eyes met briefly and the air suddenly felt charged, when Wanda spoke.

“Will you still be my friend?” Wanda asked suddenly. “If we win…” She clarified, her eyes down.

“Aren’t you cocky, Maximoff? What makes you think you’ll win?” Natasha countered playfully, starting up her dribbling again.

“You think you can take me?” Wanda asked, a challenge in her voice. She wasn’t sure she could win, they never actually played one on one before, but she never liked backing down. And besides, this would get her mind off things at least for a bit. “Let’s find out. Play.”

Their words faded after that, all their focus on the ball. They played with the same competitiveness they always brought to their games, each one leaning on her strengths, scoring again and again. In the end they were evenly matched, Natasha leading by just 1 point, when they fell to the floor, utterly exhausted.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Wanda finally said, when she was able to steady her breathing. She was lying on the floor, too tired to even sit. Natasha was the same, panting next to her in the middle of the court.

She regarded the brunette for a long moment, considering the question, memories shared between them flashing before her eyes. Natasha knew what the stakes were. For the both of them. But somewhere along the line, her priorities had shifted, her goals had changed and she knew that she saw so much more than a friend in Wanda’s eyes.

“Do you want to win?” Natasha asked, intentionally ignoring the question Wanda had asked.

“I’ve always wanted to win. Ever since I was a little girl. I’m just not sure that basketball is what I want to win at.” Wanda admitted. “But I don’t know what to do, who to be, if not this…” She continued sullenly.

“You have excellent grades, Wanda. I’m sure you didn’t just pick literature as your major, because you thought it would be easy…” Natasha pointed out. “So I’ll ask again. Do you want to win?”

“Do you?” Wanda countered, unsure how to answer this question.

“You know what I really want?” Natasha asked, straightening a bit and getting closer to the other girl. “I want to finish college, play basketball, I want to have a girlfriend and real friends, who like me for who I am, not my reputation. I wasn’t genuine relationships with real people…” She started, her eyes burning with passion. “At first, when I met you… All I wanted to do was win. Then I wanted to get to know you. And now that I have… Wanda Maximoff, what I want most is you. The more I got to know you, the more I’ve been wanting you. And tonight? It wasn’t thoughts of the game that kept me up. It was you.” She said as she stroked Wanda’s face, which seemed to grow serene at her words. “I don’t care who wins tomorrow… I want you. And I think…” Natasha paused for a moment, gathering her courage. “I think you want me too.” She said finally, forcing herself to look in Wanda’s eyes.

“I really do.” Wanda nodded, her voice wavering from the intensity of it all.

Hearing that was everything Natasha needed, before she leaned down, kissing the girl in front of her. She did it gently at first, just their lips brushing softly, giving Wanda a chance to catch up. Despite her usual confidence, the redhead felt exposed, felt vulnerable after everything she had said and even with Wanda’s confirmation, she still feared the other girl may push her away. But the brunette did no such thing. Her hand only cupped the back of Natasha’s head, pulling her closer, her mouth opening to let Natasha’s tongue inside.

The redhead took the hint, easily sliding on top of the other girl, straddling her things and leaning down to deepen their kiss, smirking when Wanda moaned from underneath her.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that.” Wanda said suddenly. And she had. She’d thought about it for months now. Pictured what Natasha would be like, pinned underneath her, legs spread wide, taking all of her deep inside…

“As have I.” Natasha whispered in a sultry tone, grinding her hips against the girl underneath her and pulling her from her thoughts. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.” She confessed, leaning down to steal more kisses from Wanda’s lips.

They kissed like this, right there on the floor, until they were both panting, Natasha’s hips moving involuntarily against the brunette in a delicious rhythm that drove them both wild, feeling Wanda’s member harden underneath her, the outline of it impossible to hide now. She looked huge and so fucking ready and it made Natasha go wild with lust. That’s when the redhead started to sneak her hands underneath Wanda’s clothing, lifting the hem of her shirt, so she could trace her sides and the toned muscles of her stomach and smirking devilishly when the other girl moaned at the feeling.

“We shouldn’t do this here.” Wanda tried to object, even if her voice didn’t hold much resolve. She felt uneasy, being undressed in the middle of the court and she didn’t want anyone to see this moment between them. She wanted the other girl all to herself.

“Lockers?” Natasha suggested, happy to go anywhere as long as Wanda kept touching her like that.

“Showers.” Wanda panted, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist and getting up with her still in her arms, making her squeal in excitement.

She carried the redhead easily through the court and down the hall, into the locker rooms and then the showers, now dark from disuse. Wanda didn’t even need to look to find the light switch, pressing it, before she continued further inside, depositing Natasha on the edge of the row of sinks and settling between her legs.

Her hands explored the other girl’s body slowly, gliding down her shoulders and back as they kissed, pulling her impossibly closer to herself, their chest pressed together. All time had lost meaning to her. There was only this moment. Now. With Natasha in her arms. And it was heavenly.

“Take this off. I want to see you.” Natasha panted between kisses, taking hold of Wanda’s shirt and pulling it over her head, revealing a sports bra underneath.

The action was enough encouragement for the brunette to start undressing the other girl as well, pulling on her clothes and admiring her breasts, hidden in a lacy bra. God, Natasha was so beautiful. She had such delicious curves, it made Wanda’s mouth water.

Following Wanda’s gaze, Natasha only smirked, reaching back and unclasping her bra, dropping it dramatically and leaving her breasts exposed to the girl’s hungry stare.

“You’re so beautiful.” Wanda whispered, once again pulling Natasha in a heated kiss, her hands cupping the redhead’s breasts and massaging them gently. She rolled her nipples next, eliciting low moans from Natasha’s throat, feeling her fingers bury themselves in her hair, guiding her head down.

Wanda took the hint, eagerly leaning down to suck on Natasha’s erect nipples, swirling her tongue over them, one after the other.

“God, I want you.” Natasha gasped, loosing the last of her patience and pushing the brunette backwords.

Using the momentum, Natasha jumped down from her spot, stalking towards Wanda, before she started to pull on the rest of her clothes, removing her bra swiftly, having only a moment to admire the perfect breasts underneath, before reaching down to take off her shorts.

“Natasha, wait!” Wanda grabbed her wrists suddenly. “I have to tell you something…” She panted, her eyes drifting subconsciously to her member.

“Oh, I know!” Natasha smirked. “I felt it. And I think it’s really hot.” She said with a genuine smile on her face, which seemed to reassure Wanda a little. “But we don’t have to do anything…” Natasha continued, her hands running up and down Wanda’s arms reassuringly.

“I just never…” Wanda shook her head. “I mean… Not that way.” She said, unsure how to clarify what she meant.

She’d been with other girls before. Being the star of the basketball team, she never lacked attention. Girls liked to throw themselves at her all the time, but she never actually gathered the courage to fuck them the way she wanted. She didn’t know how to tell them, so she just never did. She never let them pull down her pants, or make her feel good. But she had plenty of practice, using her fingers and her tongue to make girls cum. Truthfully, she didn’t mind it that much. She loved bringing them pleasure, making them cum… She was good at it too and she knew it. But with Natasha. With her, what she used to do simply didn’t feel enough. She wanted to feel Natasha, wanted to experience her. All of her.

“We don’t have to, Wands.” Natasha shook her head, seemingly understanding. “We don’t have to, I promise. But if you want to… I want you to know that you’ll be safe with me.”

“Are you sure?” The brunette whispered shyly.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want to feel you, baby. I want to make you feel so good.” Natasha nodded, her eyes locking with Wanda’s and searching them for any sign of hesitation. “Will you let me make you feel good, honey?” She asked, her eyes attentive.

“Yes.” Wanda whispered eagerly, pulling the other girl in for another heated kiss. “Yes, please.” She gasped, when she felt Natasha’s hot hands on her body again.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Natasha smirked, pulling away just long enough to pull down her sweats and taking her panties with them, dropping the clothing on the floor.

When she was done, she stepped closer to Wanda, giving her a reassuring smile, before she kissed her again, hands gliding over every inch of exposed skin, until she felt the girl relax against her. That’s when she hooked her fingers in Wanda’s shorts, pausing briefly, before she started to pull them down, watching them pool around her ancles and helping the brunette to step out of them.

“You’re gorgeous, Wanda.” Natasha whispered against the girl’s lips. “Will you let me take these off too?” She asked, playing with the waist band of Wanda’s boxers, her hand slipping lower to cup her length.

“Yes. Take it off.” Wanda moaned, head falling back at the way Natasha’s fingers gripped her cock.

Natasha didn’t hesitate for a second, eagerly pulling the last bot of clothing from Wanda’s body, only to reveal her cock. She looked even bigger now, pink and girthy and painfully hard.

“Fuck you’re so big.” Natasha cursed, licking her lips at the sight of it. She doubted she could fit even half of it in her mouth, but she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t want to try.

Before she could make another move though, Wanda pulled her close again, stepping backwards and into the first stall she could find, turning on the water from the shower above as they kissed more.

It didn’t take long for the brunette to find her way down Natasha’s neck, peppering kisses and licking the length of it, before moving down, mouth latching on to one of her breasts again and sucking on the sensitive nipple, while her hands moved even lower, cupping Natasha’s ass and pulling her closer, keeping her waist in a tight hold, while her other hand found its way between Natasha’s legs, fingers running over her folds and feeling the wetness there.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.” Wanda gasped. She’d never felt someone get so wet for her. Natasha was practically dripping.

Before the redhead could respond, she felt Wanda’s fingers probe at her entrance, dragging her slick juices up to her clit and circling it in a slow motion.

“Inside. Wanda, want you inside me now.” Natasha gasped, guiding the other girl’s hand back to her entrance. “Stretch me out for you, baby. Stretch me for that big fucking cock.”

Just the words had Wanda’s cock throbbing and she hurried to do as she was told, her fingers slipping inside Natasha with ease, feeling her walls squeeze them in anticipation. Her lips followed the path of her hands, trailing kisses down Natasha’s belly, before they joined her efforts, eagerly attaching themselves around Natasha’s clit, so her tongue could swerve over it in circles.

“Oh my God!” Natasha gasped, burying her fingers in Wanda’s hair, pulling her closer, hips grinding against her face. “That feels so good.” She managed to say between moans. Her legs were shaking and she had to lean against the tiles just to keep herself upright, refusing to let Wanda go.

She was getting close embarrassingly quickly, but she didn’t care. Wanda’s fingers were curling inside her in just the right way and her tongue was swirling over that spot that made her see stars and it all made her feel so good.

“God, you’re gonna make me cum.” Natasha panted, briefly opening her eyes to see Wanda’s eager ones, staring right back at her.

“Cum for me.” Wanda detached herself just long enough to speak, before she was back at it again.

Natasha felt herself get even closer to the edge, the tidal wave of pleasure rising within her. She was so close. For a brief moment she felt suspended in time, her body riding the edge in the most delicious way possible, before she finally let go, the tidal wave of pleasure finally crashing over her. It felt so good, she could hardly contain the filthy moans that spilled from her lips, her hips grinding against Wanda’s mouth in search of more, wanting to prolong her pleasure, until she had no more left to give.

She sagged against the tiles, a grin forming on her lips as she pulled Wanda up and against herself, trying to catch her breath. She felt kisses on her face and neck, on her shoulders, Wanda’s arms running up and down her body in a soothing manner that made her wish they could have done this in a bed instead.

When she was able to recover, at least slightly, Natasha pulled the other girl for a kiss, tasting herself on her lips and loving it so much. She hadn’t tasted herself before and the filthiness of it excited her even more. But it was Wanda’s hard cock, pressed against her thigh, that finally brought her to reality. She felt so damn hard.

“Oh, honey…” Natasha gasped, hand reaching down to take hold of Wanda’s length, jerking her slowly. “I’ve been neglecting that poor cock…” She said with a trace of fake pity in her voice. “Let me make it up to you.” She suggested, grabbing Wanda and spinning her around, until she landed against the tiles, taking Natasha’s previous spot.

Wanda’s cock throbbed in Natasha’s hand and the girl couldn’t resist any more. She dropped to her knees quickly, her hand still moving up and down in a teasingly slow motion. Damn, that thing looked even bigger up close. But that only made it more enticing for Natasha and she opened her mouth, licking a long line from the base of Wanda’s cock, all the way to her tip. It made the brunette moan so wantonly.

“You make such pretty sounds and I’ve barely touched it.” Natasha said teasingly. “I wonder what you’ll sound like if I do this…” She continued, her eyes glinting with mischief and amusement, when she leaned down again and wrapped her lips around Wanda’s tip, giving it a long, wet kiss.

“Fuck!” Wanda hissed, hands clenching into fists, holding back the urge to grab Natasha by the hair and make her suck it for real.

Natasha did it a few more times, swirling her tongue over Wanda’s cock-head and giving it slow, wet kisses that drove the brunette crazy, before she finally relented, taking more of it in her mouth and sucking lightly, while her hand jerked the rest of it in a steady rhythm.

“Don’t hold back, baby.” Natasha whispered. “Show me what you want.”

And it was all it took, to make Wanda snap, hand flying to Natasha’s hair, holding her in a firm grip as she started to guide her up and down her length. She tried to be gentle with the redhead, pulling back when she felt her tip reaching that soft spot on the back of her throat. Even like this, Natasha’s mouth felt divine. Much better than Wanda’s own hand ever did and she knew she wouldn’t last long.

“Nat… Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She tried to warn, hands releasing Natasha’s hair, so she could move away, but the girl did no such thing.

“Don’t you dare waste it, baby. I want to taste you.” Natasha said in a low voice, pulling away just long enough to say the words, before her mouth was back on Wanda’s cock, taking it as deep as she could without gaging.

And that’s all it took for Wanda to cum. Curses spilled from her mouth as rope after rope of cum shot from her tip, gathering on Natasha’s awaiting tongue. Nothing had ever felt better than this and Wanda allowed herself to enjoy every second of it, hips stuttering with every new wave of pleasure that she felt.

When she was finally spent, she managed to open her eyes just in time to see Natasha pull away, her lips closing as she swallowed it all down with a grin that made Wanda weak in the knees.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” She panted, her cock starting to harden again at the thought alone.

“What can I say… You taste so damn good.” Natasha smirked and it made Wanda want to wipe that smug smile off her face.

She pulled Natasha in for a kiss then, hands landing on her ass, so she could keep her close, pulling one of the redhead’s hips around her waist and feeling the slick heat of her pussy rub against her cock. Damn, that girl was driving her crazy.

“I want to be inside you.” Wanda whispered between kisses, pausing to look in Natasha’s eyes, making sure that it was ok.

“So take me.” Natasha smiled warmly. “You can do whatever you want to me.” She said, hands gently cupping the other girl’s face.

Their foreheads touched for a moment, eyes closing to savour the intimacy of it. They kissed, lips moving slowly, tongues brushing against each-other in a slow dance as the warm water cascaded down their bodies, until they couldn’t take the anticipation any longer.

Wanda’s hand reached between their bodies then, taking her cock in her hand and giving it a few slow strokes, letting the tip of it rub against Natasha’s wet entrance. She tried to prepare herself for the moment she’d slip inside, but nothing could prepare her for the way Natasha felt around her. She was so warm, her slick walls pulling Wanda in deeper, spasming around her in a way so blissful, she could hardly contain herself.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Wanda gasped, trying to steady her breathing.

“And you’re so damn big, baby. Such a big fucking cock.” Natasha rasped, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the feeling of being so full.

Wanda waited a moment, letting the redhead adjust to the feeling of her, before her hips started to move. Gently rocking back and forth at first, holding Natasha soothingly in her embrace. Then her pace started to quicken, the feeling of Natasha’s tight pussy too overwhelming to stop.

She flipped them easily, pressing Natasha’s front to the tiles of the shower stall and positioning herself behind her, strong hands taking hold of Natasha’s hips, her cock entering the redhead once again with a deep thrust that had Natasha moaning in pure extasy.

“Fuck! Just like that!” Natasha panted, her mouth opening in a soundless moan as Wanda started to fuck her with deep, steady thrusts. She could feel Wanda’s cock sheathe itself fully inside her with every thrust of the girl’s hips, making her see stars.

“You feel so good.” Wanda panted behind her, head falling on Nat’s shoulder and giving it a few gentle kisses.

It took everything in Wanda to keep herself from loosing control. She’d never felt anything like this before, she never even dared to imagine it could ever be this good and even though she had orgasmed just minutes before, she was desperate to cum again. She wanted to fill Natasha up with her cum, claim her as her own for good, she wanted to bury herself inside her and never pull out.

With a steadying breath, Wanda pressed herself even closer to Nat’s back, one hand on the wall to steady her, while the other circled Natasha’s hips and found its way between her legs, fingers probing between her folds and finding her clit, so she could play with it in steady circles.

“God, Wanda!” The redhead panted, pressing herself into Wanda’s warm body. She was getting close and she wanted to come surrounded by Wanda in every way. “Fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop, please.” She almost mewled, desperate to reach her high.

“I’ve got you, Nat.” The brunette whispered softly. “I’ve got you and I won’t let you go.” She promised. “Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” She encouraged, even if she was dangerously close to letting go herself.

With a cry and a harsh thrust from Wanda’s hips, Natasha came, hands flying to keep the brunette from moving, wanting to feel every inch of her cock buried deep inside her as she felt the best orgasm of her life. Her walls spasming around Wanda’s cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She could feel the pleasure of it spread over her entire body, making her feel almost weightless and she braced herself on the wall.

When she was done, she almost whined at the feeling of Wanda pulling out and she guided the girl closer to herself again, placing her cock between her thighs, letting her length rub against her sensitive pussy, as she started to move back and forth.

“Nat! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” Wanda warned, both her hands now braced on the tiles, while Natasha milked her cock between her thighs.

“Go ahead.” Natasha panted, movements speeding up.

In just a few seconds Wanda let go, spurts of white shooting out of her cock and smearing over Natasha’s thighs and between her legs, painting her skin in sticky cum.

When it was over, they both chuckled, looking at each-other with excitement and tender love. They embraced gently, letting the warm water wash their bodies as the stood there in peaceful bliss.

“I don’t care about what happens tomorrow.” Natasha finally spoke. “I only care about you.”

“You know… I don’t even know why I play anymore… I guess it’s just what people expect of me…” Wanda admitted. “My parents, my brother, my coach, my team… That’s what they all want from me.”

“I fucking hate your team.” Natasha said, pulling Wanda even closer. “But I love you, Wands. So, whatever happens, I want you to know that you have me. And I support you, ok? If you want to play, I’ll practice with you every day. And if you want to quit and do something with that literature major then, I’ll be there too. You have me. Some stupid game is never gonna change that.”

“You love me?” Wanda asked, pulling her head away from Natasha’s chest, so she could look at her.

“That’s what you took from that whole speech?” Natasha pushed Wanda playfully, only to have the brunette snuggle back into her.

“I love you too.” Wanda said, as she nestled her head in the crook of Natasha’s neck, knowing that whatever happened tomorrow, everything was going to be all right.

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