lifescoolfr

• Short stories (~500 words) — $5

• Medium stories (~1,000 words) — $10

• Longer stories or series — contact me for custom pricing

How to commission:

• Send me a DM or email with your idea (see checklist below to make it easier!)

• I’ll confirm pricing and timeline

• You send payment via PayPal/Ko-fi/Venmo (your choice)

• I write and deliver your story!i

The evening had been perfect. Viola and Grant had spent hours at a cozy restaurant in Santalune City, sharing stories about their recent Pokemon battles, laughing over inside jokes that only they understood, and stealing glances at each other across the candlelit table. Their relationship was still new, barely three weeks old, but already it felt like something special, something worth nurturing.

Now, as they stepped into Viola's apartment, the air between them crackled with anticipation. She'd invited him back after dinner, and they both knew what that meant. They'd talked about it during their last date, both agreeing they were ready to take this next step together.

Viola's bedroom was warm and inviting, decorated with photographs she'd taken during her travels—Vivillon in flight, landscapes bathed in golden hour light, candid shots of Pokemon in their natural habitats. Soft amber light from her bedside lamp cast everything in a gentle glow. The bed itself was covered in a plush cream-colored comforter, pillows arranged neatly against the headboard.

"Make yourself comfortable," Viola said, her voice carrying just a hint of nervousness beneath her usual confidence. She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and Grant took the opportunity to remove his shoes and jacket, setting them carefully on the chair by her desk.

When she emerged, she'd changed into a simple tank top and shorts, comfortable, but the way the fabric hugged her curves made Grant's breath catch. Viola noticed his reaction and smiled, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she approached the bed.

"You look beautiful," Grant said softly, reaching out to take her hand.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied, squeezing his fingers. "Are you... are you nervous?"

"A little," he admitted. "But in a good way. You?"

"Same." Viola climbed onto the bed, settling herself against the pillows. After a moment's hesitation, she lay back, her blonde hair fanning out around her head like a halo. She looked up at Grant with those striking green eyes of hers, and he saw trust there, along with desire and affection.

Grant joined her on the bed, positioning himself beside her. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, taking in this new intimacy. Then he leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet at first, then deeper as she responded, her hand coming up to cup the back of his neck.

When they broke apart, both were breathing a little harder. Grant traced his fingers along her jawline, marveling at the softness of her skin. "I want to take my time with you," he murmured. "Learn everything about you."

"I'd like that," Viola whispered back, her eyes half-lidded with anticipation.

He started with gentle touches, fingertips ghosting across her collarbone, down the curve of her shoulder. Viola's breath hitched slightly, and she relaxed further into the mattress, her arms naturally drifting up above her head to grasp the pillow behind her.

Grant's hands followed the line of her arms, starting at her wrists and slowly, reverently, sliding downward. His palms traced the smooth skin of her forearms, then her biceps, savoring the warmth of her body beneath his touch. As his hands continued their journey, moving from the top of her arms down toward her sides, his fingers naturally grazed the sensitive hollows of her armpits.

The reaction was immediate and completely unexpected.

Viola's entire body jerked, and a burst of laughter erupted from her lips, bright, surprised, and utterly delighted. Her arms clamped down instinctively, trapping Grant's hands against her sides as she squirmed beneath him.

"Oh my god!" she gasped between giggles, her eyes wide with surprise. "That—that tickles!"

Grant froze, equally surprised. He'd been going for something sensual, not silly. But as he looked down at Viola, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling with mirth, her whole body trembling with suppressed laughter—he found himself grinning.

"You're ticklish?" he asked, though the answer was obvious.

"I—I didn't know I was this ticklish!" Viola managed to say, still giggling. "I mean, I knew a little, but that was—wow!" She released his hands, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt the mood."

But Grant was already thinking, his mind racing with possibilities. The sound of her laughter had been intoxicating, and the way her body had responded, so immediate, so unguarded, had stirred something in him. He looked down at her, noting the way her chest rose and fell with her breathing, the lingering smile on her lips, the vulnerability in her eyes.

"What if we didn't interrupt the mood?" he suggested slowly, his voice taking on a playful edge. "What if we tried something... different?"

Viola tilted her head, curiosity replacing her embarrassment. "Different how?"

Grant's fingers traced a feather-light path along her side, just barely touching, and was rewarded with another small squirm and a sharp intake of breath. "What if we explored this? Your ticklishness. It could be... intimate. Fun. A different way of connecting."

He watched her face carefully, ready to back off if she showed any sign of discomfort. But instead, Viola's expression shifted from surprise to intrigue. She bit her lower lip, considering, and Grant could practically see the wheels turning in her mind.

"You want to tickle me?" she asked, her voice a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

"Only if you want me to," Grant assured her. "We can go back to what we were doing before. But I have to admit, the idea of making you laugh like that again, of learning all your sensitive spots..." He let the sentence trail off, his meaning clear.

Viola was quiet for a moment, her heart racing. This wasn't what she'd expected when she'd invited Grant back to her apartment. But there was something appealing about the idea, the playfulness of it, the trust it would require, the intimacy of being so vulnerable with someone. And the way Grant was looking at her, with such genuine interest and care, made her feel safe.

"Okay," she said finally, a shy smile playing at her lips. "Let's try it."

Grant's answering smile was warm and genuine. "If it gets too much, just tell me to stop. Promise?"

"Promise," Viola agreed, settling back against the pillows. She raised her arms above her head again, this time knowing exactly what she was inviting.

Grant started slowly, wanting to map out her sensitivity. His fingers returned to her sides, this time with deliberate intent. He traced light, teasing patterns along her ribs, and Viola immediately began to squirm, soft giggles bubbling up from her throat.

"Oh god," she breathed, her body already tensing in anticipation. "This is so weird. But also—ah!—kind of nice?"

"Just relax," Grant murmured, his voice low and soothing even as his fingers continued their maddening dance. "Let yourself feel it."

He experimented with different touches, sometimes using just his fingertips, sometimes his whole hand, varying the pressure and speed. Viola's reactions were fascinating to watch. When he used light, skittering touches, she dissolved into breathy giggles, her body writhing beneath him. When he applied more pressure, kneading gently at her sides, her laughter deepened, becoming more desperate.

"Grant!" she gasped, her hands gripping the pillow above her head. "That's—oh my god, that's so much!"

But she didn't ask him to stop, and Grant noticed that despite her squirming, she kept her arms raised, kept herself open and vulnerable to his touch. There was something incredibly erotic about it—the way she surrendered to the sensation, the way her laughter filled the room, the flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.

He moved his attention to her ribs, counting them with his fingers, and Viola arched her back, her laughter becoming more frantic. "No, no, not there!" she pleaded, but there was no real distress in her voice, only overwhelmed pleasure.

"Too much?" Grant asked, pausing.

Viola shook her head, breathless. "No, keep going. Please."

Encouraged, Grant became bolder. His hands traveled lower, finding the soft skin of her belly just above the waistband of her shorts. The moment his fingers made contact, Viola's entire body jerked, and a shriek of laughter escaped her.

"Oh, you're really ticklish here," Grant observed with delight, his fingers dancing across her stomach. The skin was so soft, so warm, and the way her muscles jumped and quivered beneath his touch was mesmerizing.

Viola was lost in sensation. Every nerve ending seemed to be firing at once, sending waves of ticklish electricity through her body. It was overwhelming, almost too much, but somehow not quite. There was something about the helplessness of it, the way her body responded without her permission, that was strangely thrilling. And knowing it was Grant doing this to her, Grant learning her body in this unexpected way, added a layer of intimacy she hadn't anticipated.

"I can't—I can't breathe!" she gasped between peals of laughter, though she was breathing just fine. Her hands had come down now, gripping Grant's wrists, but she wasn't pushing him away—just holding on, anchoring herself.

Grant slowed his movements, giving her a moment to catch her breath. His hands rested gently on her stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breathing. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Viola nodded, her eyes bright with tears of laughter. "Yeah. That was... intense."

"Want me to stop?"

She surprised them both by shaking her head. "No. I want to see where this goes."

Grant leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Then his fingers found her bellybutton.

The reaction was explosive. Viola's back arched completely off the bed, and her laughter reached a new pitch. Grant had barely circled the sensitive divot with one finger, but it was clearly one of her most ticklish spots.

"Not there, not there, not there!" Viola chanted, but her body betrayed her, staying open to his touch even as she squirmed frantically.

Grant was gentle but persistent, tracing circles around her navel, occasionally dipping his finger inside just to hear her shriek. Viola was completely undone, her laughter wild and uncontrolled, her body writhing beneath him. Her tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing more of her stomach, and Grant took advantage, his other hand joining the first to torment the soft, sensitive skin.

"Please!" Viola gasped, though what she was pleading for, even she wasn't sure. The sensations were overwhelming—not painful, but so intense that they bordered on unbearable. And yet, underneath the ticklish torment, there was something else. A warmth spreading through her body, a heightened awareness of every touch, every sensation. Her skin felt electrified, hypersensitive to Grant's every movement.

Grant could see the effect he was having on her. Viola's face was flushed a deep pink, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in continuous laughter. Her hair was disheveled, spread across the pillow in wild tangles. She looked completely undone, utterly vulnerable, and absolutely beautiful.

He moved his attention to her hips, finding the soft skin just above her hip bones, and Viola nearly bucked him off the bed. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" she chanted, her hands now gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles were white.

"Such a ticklish girl," Grant murmured, his voice warm with affection and desire. He alternated between her hips and her belly, sometimes returning to her bellybutton just to hear that desperate shriek of laughter. Viola was completely at his mercy, and they both knew it.

Time seemed to blur. Viola lost track of how long Grant tickled her—it could have been minutes or hours. All she knew was sensation: the maddening dance of his fingers across her skin, the helpless laughter pouring from her throat, the strange pleasure-pain of being so overwhelmed. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending singing, and she felt more alive than she ever had.

Finally, when Viola's laughter had become breathless and desperate, when her body was trembling with exhaustion, Grant began to slow. His touches became gentler, less ticklish and more soothing. He stroked her sides with his palms, calming rather than tormenting, and gradually Viola's laughter subsided into quiet giggles, then soft breathing.

She lay there, completely spent, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her skin was flushed and hypersensitive, tingling everywhere Grant had touched her. She felt wrung out, vulnerable, and strangely euphoric.

Grant stretched out beside her, gathering her into his arms. Viola curled against his chest, still trembling slightly with aftershocks of sensation. He stroked her hair gently, pressing soft kisses to her forehead.

"That was..." Viola started, then trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Intense?" Grant supplied.

"Yeah. But also... amazing?" She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes still bright with residual tears of laughter. "I've never experienced anything like that."

"Neither have I," Grant admitted. "You were incredible. So open, so trusting." His hand traced gentle patterns on her back, soothing touches that made her sigh contentedly.

Viola was quiet for a moment, processing everything she'd just experienced. Her body still tingled, hypersensitive to every touch, and she felt a strange sense of closeness to Grant that went beyond anything she'd expected. They'd been intimate in a completely unexpected way, and it had created a bond between them that felt profound.

"I didn't know I could be that vulnerable with someone," she said softly. "That I could let go like that."

Grant tightened his arms around her. "Thank you for trusting me."

They lay together in comfortable silence, their breathing gradually synchronizing. Viola's hand rested over Grant's heart, feeling its steady beat. The room was warm, the lighting still soft and golden, and everything felt perfect in a way she hadn't anticipated.

"So," Grant said after a while, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice. "Does this mean we've found our thing?"

Viola laughed—a genuine, joyful sound, so different from her earlier desperate giggles. "Maybe. Though I might need some recovery time before round two."

"Fair enough." Grant kissed the top of her head. "We have all the time in the world to explore."

And as they lay there together, Viola realized that this unexpected turn had given them something precious: a new way of connecting, of being intimate, of trusting each other. It wasn't what she'd planned when she'd invited Grant back to her apartment, but somehow it was exactly what they'd needed.

She tilted her head up and kissed him—soft and sweet and full of promise. When they broke apart, both were smiling.

"Stay the night?" Viola asked.

"I'd love to," Grant replied.

They settled into each other's arms, content and connected in ways they were only beginning to discover. Outside, the night deepened over Santalune City, but inside Viola's bedroom, everything was warm and perfect and new.

(Break)

Her tone was as flat as ever, but Utahime still bristled. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

“Uh-huh.” Shoko tugged at the edge of Utahime’s robes with a single, gloved hand. “Then humor me.”

Utahime sighed but complied, reclining against the pillow. The fabric shifted down enough to reveal pale skin stretched across her stomach and ribs, mottled with faint bruising. Her face warmed despite herself.

“Shouldn’t be too bad,” Shoko murmured after a glance, her voice calm. She touched a spot near the bruise, energy humming gently beneath her palm.

The warmth spread through Utahime’s side, soothing but startling all at once. She squirmed before she could stop herself.

Shoko arched a brow. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Utahime stammered, her voice unsteady. “I’m fine.”

Shoko’s mouth quirked around the cigarette, but she said nothing, returning to her work. Her fingers brushed lightly over Utahime’s ribs as she shifted upward. When she reached the area just under her arm, Utahime jolted violently, folding toward the side she was touched on.

“S-sorry!” she blurted, cheeks blazing. “I—I’m just ticklish there.”

A slow smile crept across Shoko’s face. “…That so?”

Utahime groaned. “Don’t say it like that.”

Shoko tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Relax. I need to check the area. Medical procedure.”

The words sounded reasonable enough, but the way her hand drifted back—slow, deliberate—was anything but. Her fingertips grazed the same spot again, feather-light. Utahime bit back a sound and twisted against the sheets, her breath catching.

“Hold still~”Shoko drawled.

“I’m trying to!” Utahime shot back, voice breaking into a laugh she hadn’t meant to let out. Her blush deepened instantly.

Inside, Shoko was thoroughly entertained. It wasn’t often she saw Utahime this undone, every ounce of her usual composure scattered at the mercy of a few careful touches. She’s way too easy. Cute, too.

Utahime pressed her lips together, determined not to give her the satisfaction. But when Shoko’s hand lingered along her ribs again, she let out another squirm, a strangled laugh escaping before she could smother it.

“Shoko!” she snapped, half-scandalized, half-pleading. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Am I?” Shoko asked mildly, her tone the picture of innocence. The smirk at the corner of her mouth told another story.

Utahime glared, her face burning hot. “Yes, you are!”

Shoko leaned in just a little closer, lowering her voice. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you laugh. Ever think of that?”

Utahime’s eyes widened. “You—! That’s not—!” She cut herself off, sputtering.

Shoko let her gloves hover just above Utahime’s side, not quite touching, but close enough to make her tense up all over again. She held the moment, watching the way Utahime’s breath quickened, the way her fists clenched in the sheets.

“You’re awfully jumpy for someone who claims to be fine,” Shoko teased.

“That’s—because—you keep—” Utahime couldn’t even finish, her voice breaking in sheer frustration.

“Keep what?” Shoko asked sweetly.

Utahime groaned and covered her face with both hands. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm,” Shoko hummed, clearly pleased. She finally drew her hand back, giving Utahime a chance to breathe.

For a few blessed seconds, only the quiet hum of the infirmary filled the space. Utahime dared to peek between her fingers. Shoko was still watching her, amused, cigarette dangling from one hand like she had all the time in the world.

“Treatment’s finished,” Shoko said. “You’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Utahime sat up carefully, tugging her robes back into place. “Good,” she muttered, doing her best to ignore the blush that stubbornly refused to fade.

Shoko slipped off her gloves, tossing them into the bin. Her movements were slow, deliberate. By the time she leaned down to extinguish the cigarette, Utahime had the distinct sense she was being studied like a puzzle Shoko had already solved.

Then Shoko’s voice came, low and sly:

“…But you know, I wouldn’t mind continuing this later. Somewhere private.”

Utahime froze, her breath caught in her throat.

By the time she whipped her head up, cheeks flaming, Shoko was already walking toward the door with that same infuriating smirk tugging at her lips.

“Shoko!” Utahime called after her, but her voice cracked halfway through.

Shoko lifted a hand in lazy farewell, never once looking back.

And Utahime sat fuming on the cot, heart hammering, face hot, and the ghost of Shoko’s touch still tingling along her skin.

-----------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! Please like/reblog, it means a lot! Part 2 will be out soon

For more fics like this

A reward for reading this far :)

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You live here."

"Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the moment," he teased, throwing an arm over her.

She sighed but didn’t push him away, letting him nuzzle in. His hand shifted lazily at her waist—with a light, barely-there touch—

—and she twitched.

Gojo paused. "…Huh."

Utahime glanced at him. "What?"

He didn’t answer. Just… did it again. Fingertips trailing over her side.

She twitched harder, biting her lip.

And that’s when the grin hit his face. "Ohhh… what a nice discovery~"

"Gojo— don’t—"

Too late. His hand slipped right to her ribs and—

"Ahh! Nnnhhh–! D-Dohohon’t!" she gasped, jerking away, but he caught her, pulling her back in like this was the easiest thing in the world.

"Ohhh my god," he laughed, eyes lighting up. "You’re ticklish."

"I’m nohohot—!" The denial crumbled into a squeaky burst of laughter when his fingers danced over her sides. "Ahh–! Hehehehhehh!! Nnnohoho!"

"Ohhh, yes you are," he grinned, leaning in closer. "Utahime, this is gold."

"G-Gohojohhh–! Wahahait! I-I mehehehean it!" Her feet kicked under the blanket, the movement frantic and useless.

"You can mean it all you want, sweetheart—" his tone was smug, hands spidering up toward her underarms "—but I’m not stopping now."

"Aaahh! Nnnohohhoo! EHEHEEEE—!" she squealed, breaking into those sharp little giggles she never made around anyone.

Gojo froze just to process it—then laughed. "Ohhh, what was that?!"

Her face went red instantly. "Nnnhh! Shuhuhut up!"

"That—" he poked her side, making her jolt and squeak— "—was adorable. You have, like, a kid laugh. Oh my god, you’ve been hiding this from me?"

"I’m nohohot— ahhHhhHhh!— hiding—!" she tried, but the words broke apart in more high-pitched giggling.

"You are! This is dangerous information, princess. I could destroy you with this."

"Y-You’re suhuhuhch a—! HehhHhhhehh!"

"Mmhm, that’s it, keep laughing for me," he teased, voice warm and wicked all at once, fingers finding that one sensitive spot just at the curve of her ribs.

"Ahhh! G-Gohohjo! Nnnooohohho! I-I cahahan’t—!"

He finally eased off when she collapsed back against him, breathless and flushed, giggles still tumbling out in aftershocks. She stayed curled up, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You okay there?" he asked, all innocent now.

"You’re a menace," she muttered into his shirt.

"Mm, maybe. But I just learned something very valuable about my girlfriend."

Her head snapped up. "You tell anyone—"

He gasped. "Utahime! What kind of man do you take me for?"

Her eyes narrowed.

He grinned. "I’ll just show them next time."

"GOJO!"

His laugh filled the room, smug and bright, as he kissed her temple and pulled her close again.

-----------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! Please like/reblog if u enjoyed! :)

Here’s another Utahime fic I wrote

Nobara was curled up on her bed, scrolling on her phone in a loose tee and shorts, legs lazily swinging off the edge. 

Maki stood in the doorway of their shared dorm room, arms crossed but visibly tense, her sharp eyes avoiding Nobara’s.

Nobara looked up from her phone. “What’s with the stance? You look like you’re about to challenge me to a duel.”

Maki exhaled sharply and stepped in, closing the door behind her with a click. She didn’t answer right away, just walked toward the bed and stood there with her eyes slightly averted.

"I want… you to tickle me," she mumbled under her breath.

Nobara blinked. “I’m sorry, *what?*”

“…Tickle me,” Maki repeated, a bit firmer this time, though her face was growing red. “Just—for a bit.”

Now Nobara sat up. “Wait. Seriously?” She squinted at her girlfriend like she was trying to find the hidden camera. “You? Maki Zenin?” The same girl who splits cursed spirits in half with a flick of her wrist?”

Maki clenched her jaw and her ears began to redden. “F-forget it. It was stupid.”

“No no, wait a minute.” Nobara stood, walking over with an intrigued smile. “I just never expected you to be so *cute* about it.”

“Well, usually I take the lead, but sometimes I wanna feel… soft. You know?” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I want to be coddled a little. Played with. I trust you.” 

That shut Nobara up for a moment. Her eyes softened. “Aw, baby… That’s actually kinda sweet.”

Maki blushed harder. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Deal. But I'll only do it under one condition,” Nobara said, poking her in the chest. “*If* you lay on your back, lift your shirt, and *beg* for it.”

Maki’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m dead serious,” Nobara said with a teasing smirk. “The mighty Maki Zenin wants to be tickled? Then she better *act* like it.”

There was a long silence. Maki stared at her, trying to weigh pride against desire. Finally, she let out a quiet sigh and moved toward the bed.

With a long exhale, Maki climbed onto the bed and lay on her back stiffly, as if preparing for battle. She hesitated… then, after a second, her hands slowly tugged her shirt up to reveal her toned stomach, her fingers trembling.

“…Do I really have to beg?” she muttered. 

“Mm-hmm,” Nobara said, sitting beside her with a mischievous grin.

Maki covered her face for a moment, then peeked out, eyes surprisingly soft but flustered. “Nobara… please tickle me.”

For a moment, she looked at Maki with a soft smile, wanting to quickly take in the expression she had on her face. Nobara leaned in, cupping her hand to her ear. “Sorry, didn’t quite hear that.”

Maki covered her face with one hand and said, louder this time, “Please tickle me…”

“Hmm. Still not convincing.”

“Nobara!” she snapped, peeking out from behind her hand.

“Okay, okay!” Nobara grinned and leaned over her, planting a quick kiss on her temple. “I just love seeing embarrassed, its a cute look.”

Nobara leaned in, hovering just above her, fingers wiggling threateningly. “This is gonna be fun!”

Maki blushed harder, but didn’t move away. “Just get it over with—”

Before she could finish, Nobara’s fingers danced lightly across Maki’s sides, drawing a surprised gasp followed by a laugh. Maki squirmed, instinctively curling up but forcing herself to stay on her back as Nobara kept going.

“Haha—wah! Nobara! That tickles—!”

“I *know*, that’s the point,” Nobara teased, scribbling her nails around Maki’s bellybutton. “You asked for this, remember?”

Maki laughed helplessly, her tough composure completely breaking down as her legs kicked at the sheets. “I-I didn’t think it would be *this bad*!”

Nobara grinned, slowing down only to trace a single finger across Maki’s stomach, making her shiver. “Bad? You look like you’re enjoying it.”

Maki, flushed and giggling, looked up at her with a soft smile. “Shut up!…”

Nobara then reached for her sides again, thumbs brushing under Maki’s raised arms.

“Wait—wait there’s no way you’re gonna—Nobara—don’t—!”

“Oh? Are these ticklish too?” Nobara said, slipping her hands into her underarms with wicked precision.

Maki shrieked and burst into laughter, kicking lightly and shaking her head.

“Okay—okay! I give!” she gasped between giggles, grabbing Nobara’s wrist with trembling fingers.

Nobara paused, her fingers hovering just above Maki’s ribs. “You sure? You’re not gonna suddenly ask for round two in five minutes?”

Maki lay there panting, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly tousled. “I’m not sure I’ll survive round two…”

Nobara chuckled and flopped down beside her, propping herself up on one elbow. “You were so squirmy. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Maki turned her head, eyes still glassy from laughter. “Neither did I. But… it felt nice. I got to loosen up for just a moment.”

Nobara reached out and brushed a strand of green hair from Maki’s forehead. “You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know. I like all sides of you—even the giggly, ticklish ones.”

Maki gave a soft laugh and nudged her playfully. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I’m already planning your next tickle ambush,” Nobara teased, tapping her nose. “You’ve officially opened the floodgates.”

Maki groaned and covered her face again. “I regret everything.”

“No you don’t,” Nobara said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. “You’re just embarrassed because you liked it.”

Maki peeked out from behind her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a little…”

They lay there for a while, tangled in each other’s warmth, the earlier tension replaced by soft laughter and quiet affection. Outside, the moon hung low over Jujutsu High, casting silver light through the dorm window.

****

“I swear on every cursed tool in this room, Gojo, if you don’t stop whistling—”

“You’ll what?” he grinned, reclining dramatically against a shelf stacked with scrolls. “Tickle me? Wait, no. That’s me.”

You glared at him from your corner of the closet, arms crossed, foot tapping like a metronome of rage. A training mission turned into chaos, a collapsing building, and now you were both stuck in a magically jammed supply closet with no signal. Of course it was Gojo’s fault.

He took a slow step toward you, hands in his pockets. “C’mon, don’t be so grumpy. This could be… fun.”

“We’re literally trapped in a dusty box with no air circulation.”

Gojo tilted his head, “You know what helps with stuffy air?” He smirked. “Laughter.”

Your brows furrowed just before his hand shot out and poked your side.

You gasped and jumped back into a stack of scrolls with a loud thud. “Don’t—!”

“Ohhh?” His grin widened like a predator who just scented weakness. “There?” Another poke, this time to your ribs.

“Gohojoh!” you half-yelled, half-laughed, twisting away. “K-knock it off!”

“You should’ve never let me know you’re ticklish~,” he sang, stepping closer.

“You shouldn’t be trying to figure out whether I am or not!"

But your protest turned into a squeal when his fingers skittered at your waist. You doubled over, trying to bat him away, but he was persistent — playful, not mean — and the laughter spilled out despite every attempt to hold it back.

“Okay! OKAY!” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the giggles. “You’re so—annoying!”

He finally relented, hands up in surrender. “See? Doesn’t it feel better in here now?”

You leaned against the wall, catching your breath, flushed and flustered. “You're the worst.”

Gojo leaned in, voice lower now. “Yet somehow, I always end up stuck with you.”

You blinked. His glasses had slipped down his nose a bit, and behind them, his eyes were actually… soft. Sincere, for once.

“Maybe,” you murmured, “you’re just really bad at choosing escape routes.”

“Or maybe,” he said, “I don’t mind being stuck. With you.”

You stared at him, brain buffering, trying not to think about how close he was, or how your heart was beating too fast for someone you supposedly couldn’t stand.

He reached out, slowly this time, brushing a speck of dust from your cheek.

Just as your lips parted to speak, the door creaked open. A student peeked in, confused. “Uh… you two good?”

Gojo stepped back with a stretch. “Perfect timing! We were just bonding.”

You huffed, pushing past him. “You’re unbelievable.”

But as you walked out, you didn’t stop him from following close behind. And you didn’t say a word when his fingers almost brushed yours the entire way back.

*********************

Jujutsu Kaisen

Ler Mechamaru x Lee Miwa

Ler Toji x Lee Reader

Ler Gojo x Lee Reader

Ler Nobara x Lee Maki

Ler Gojo x Lee Utahime

Ler Shoko x Lee Utahime

Pokemon:

Ler Milo x Lee Nessa