~And Thats The MF Tea~

aggressively, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare down at him with dewy eyes. even when you’re crumbling into pieces, you manage to remain angry at him. “say it, satoru.”

an irritating smile splits across his face and he bounces his hips up just as you move down, just to punch a gasp out of your lungs. “‘s just that you were so fast earlier, now it seems like you’re struggling after all that talk.”

his cheeks are scarlet and growing darker as something triumphant basks him in its glow. you push at his chest and grind on him more insistently, even though the stimulation feels like bolts of electricity on your sensitive clit. “f-fine, is that what you want? for me to prove myself?”

“maybe.”

satoru watches smugly as you up the pace of your hips, repeatedly slamming down on his cock until you’re ready to give up. he grabs at your soft tits, and pinches at your perked nipples meanly, enjoying the way your cunt spasms around him.

a few tears race down your cheeks, and you glare weakly at him, not yet ready to admit defeat.

“my girl’s so pretty,” satoru whispers, harsh as he rolls your tender nipples between his fingers, “doesn’t she know when it’s time to give up?”

“shut up,” you groan, lower lip wobbling pathetically. this struggling is a hundred times better than being pressed into the mattress and fucked senselessly. “just be quiet, toru, stop running your mouth.”

“me? running my mouth?” he sounds taken aback, mouth agape as he regards you with a offended expression that settles across his flushed features. “sweetheart, please. look at you—”

not too firmly, you wrap your hands around his throat. just the sight has a new kind of arousal flaring inside your body, one that makes your clit feel incredibly sensitive after a single grind of it into his pelvis.

“you’re talking too much,” you hum, voice a little singsongy now that the tables have been turned, “can’t you just let me have this?”

satoru quirks an eyebrow, still challenging you despite blushing darker. “y-you’ve got some serious nerve,” he pants, voice coming out weaker than he’d like it to, “just fuckin’ wait—”

now it’s your turn to rile him up. “whatever,” you roll your eyes, the tips of your nails lightly digging into his soft skin. “maybe if you shut your mouth, i could let you go.”

“oh, you know that’ll never happen,” satoru scoffs quickly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to let go just yet. “you just focus on showin’ me what you’re made of. if you can.”

GETO SUGURU # you ‘tap’ out

when you’d invited geto to make a guest cameo on your onlyfans, you didn’t expect him to pull out all the stops to show you off . .

you wail pathetically, each and every one of your limbs feeling like jelly now. the consistent smacks of his hips into your ass bounces off the walls and only adds to the cacophony in the room—suguru has practically destroyed your pussy, his thick cock reducing it into a wet mess that squeezes him involuntarily whenever he makes noise.

“shit,” his chest heaves behind you, and he flicks his bangs away from his eyes to squint at your phone, “don’t cha look so pretty with me inside, sweetheart? come on, don’t make me lift you up.”

weakly, with as much strength as you can muster, you raise your head to blearily look at your phone screen. it’s constantly lighting up with new, colorful messages in the stream and rather generous donations—suguru has helped you pull in hundreds more than a solo live would’ve.

-> kchomo: she’s beautiful!

-> tfushoji: pussy made of steel

“s-sugu, ah—‘m still a little sensitive,” you struggle to gasp out, each deliberate plunge of his cock punching the words out of you. before you look into your reflection to confirm your suspicions, you already know he’s got a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“that’s even better,” he coos, smacking your ass and slipping his hands beneath your hips. “i’m sure everyone’s, ngh, enjoying the show . . but god, who wouldn’t, especially with a face ‘n body like that?”

suguru groans as he drags you up, positioning you to take his cock at an impossibly deeper angle. you choke on your own drool, hands slipping off of the floor as he moves you however he pleases.

“p-put me down!” you squeak awkwardly, feeling previous loads of cum race down your inner thighs in creamy rivulets, “what’re you—”

“jus’ giving them one last show before it’s time for me to take a bow,” his pierced tongue darts out to lick the sweat glistening at his cupid’s bow. “think you can take it? again?”

it’s more of a challenge rather than a request.

even though you’re spent and dizzy from the scent of sex as well as the feel of it, you’re ready to push through. after all, how long has it been since you’ve ever been fucked this good?

“bring it on, suguru,” and you don’t regret it for a second, until his nails claw at your skin when he steadies himself inside you, gearing up to go out with a bang.

“that’s my girl,” your eyes roll back into your head when he develops a pace right out of the gates, all too eager for someone who’s covered your back in cum more than a few times. “fuck, she’s so good. takes a fuckin’ dick like it’s nobody’s business.”

“‘m supposed to—oh my god, right there—be a pro..professional.”

a professional pornstar? more like a fancier way of saying you’re a hungry slut—but suguru doesn’t give a damn, not when you’re sucking him deeper and throbbing around him, almost synced up with the frantic pounding of his heart.

“riiight there, huh?” he can’t help but tease, voice taking on a mocking tone that seems to make the room burn a few degrees hotter, “is this where you want me, sweetheart? all up in this pretty lil tummy?”

oh, he even splays his fingers across your stomach and digs his heel into the soft spot above your pelvis, a move he’d familiarized himself with after combing through your account. for lack of a well formed verbal response, you nod your head, lips parting around breathless moans and pleas. “fuck yes, sugu. i need it, i need more.”

wispy black hairs cling to his forehead, held in place by sweat instead of their usual tight bun. since he’d stepped into your room and greeted your audience, suguru had become quite disheveled, and the thought of complaining never crossed his mind. no, he’d been too lost in you, his longtime porn crush whose page he checked almost daily—he feels his eyes squeeze shut when you cry out his name so loudly your throat will be sore tomorrow.

“oh god, suguru,” you’re entirely limp in his grasp and powerless to the wet squelches of your cunt as he rearranges your insides, “i think i’m gonna fuckin’ cum soon, ‘m so close.”

-> satojo: HELL YES

-> brattybunnny: the way he holds her >>

-> juiceboxbussy: im crying they’re so hot

ecstasy shoots through your veins like electricity, and suguru’s ability to hold back crumbles into nothing when you start to throw your ass back onto him. it’s something that derails the pace he’s set and the plans he had, but you deserve to be spoiled. honestly, after this live, you’ll definitely be inviting him on more often.

like a boat’s propellers, your feet kick out into the air and your toes curl as the tsunami wave of it all starts to crash over you. “i’m—sugu, ‘m gonna fucking cum!”

“all over my cock, baby,” suguru groans, too lost in your pussy to feel the beads of sweat racing down his temples or the burn of exhaustion settling into his muscles, “let—let me feel it.”

so you do, abruptly creaming all over his cock with an obscene whine that tears out of your throat and blesses the ears of every member of the audience. he’s finally able to let go as you’re coming down, pulsing cunt milking him of every drop he can possibly offer.

suguru nearly collapses on top of you once his empty balls clench, but you’re already struggling to hold yourself up without his help. the donations are much more luxurious now that the audience can get better views of your blissed out face and his matching reddened expression.

“let’s start saying goodbye,” he suggests, wincing as he pulls out of you. the air is hot, but it feels like the arctic outside of you—well, at least he can watch the deluge of cum spill out from between your thighs. you’ll be leaking for hours, and some kind of nasty pride swells in his chest at the thought of it. “honey, c’mon. gotta get cleaned up.”

-> satojo donated $150

-> thukuna donated $200 and said: js busted a nut

-> brattybunnny: i know that dick was good asf

-> juiceboxbussy: girl she’s knocked out 😭

NANAMI KENTO # you tap out

“ken,” you gasp just as the thud of a loaded suitcase resonates through the entire jet. the flight crew’s busy loading up what’s supposed to be an empty corporate jet, while kento’s associates busy themselves with odd tasks he’s doled out to them. “but the seats—”

“can be replaced,” he huffs irritably, not liking the fact that you’re busying yourself with pointless worrying over the seats. “sit down, honey.”

“i know that,” nervously, you glance toward the front of the jet, scanning your surroundings to make sure nobody’s coming in. “i, um, don’t want to make a mess before everyone comes in. i mean, what if you get fired because of it?”

as you ramble, you’re unconsciously pulling away from your seat on his face. kento’s gold wedding band catches the light of the sun as he immediately grabs your thighs, yanking you back where he wants you. his patience is wearing thin and if you don’t sit on his face right now, god help him—he’ll start thinking about devouring you in front of his co-workers.

“ah! kento, i don’t think this is a—” you’re powerless now; with his strong arms locked around your legs, there’s no way you can escape. it’s so risky, so dangerous—but the fear quickly boils into arousal that pools like magma in your belly.

happily suffocating beneath you, kento can’t help but smile when he starts to slurp at your messy cunt. it’s obscene, the noises he makes—smacking his lips like he just can’t get enough, grunting as that familiar sweetness settles on his tongue.

your breath hitches in your throat. “k-kennn, baby, you feel so good—but, oh, we don’t have a lot of time.”

for one painful moment, he lifts you up and stares at you with nothing but hunger in his eyes. “remind me about that one more time,” low and menacing, the sound of his voice makes your pussy squeeze in anticipation. “let me enjoy my meal in peace, honey.”

with that, kento firmly sits you on his face once more, and resumes his impatient lapping. his tongue is both soft and rough, forcing a stream of uncontrollable moans out of you. his nose presses into your clit and makes every sensation hit you harder, leaving you a hot mess atop his face.

“move those hips for me,” he lets out a muffled groan, and his eyes roll back once he feels you comply. desperate as ever, you start to rock your hips into him at an unsteady pace—the shaking and trembling of your body throws you off course.

“ngh, like this?” kento’s ears seem to perk once he detects that current of hesitancy in your voice. it’s so cute, the way you’re seeking his praise; his cock twitches in his pants, buried under layers of fabric.

“just like that, angel,” he gasps for breath before going back in—this time, kento starts to sloppily make out with your pussy. his tongue pushes inside and flicks around, experimentally going deeper while he kisses at your folds.

“oh my god,” the words are a euphoric exclamation, the kind that comes before an earth shattering orgasm—but then it suddenly switches into panic. “oh my god, kento! y-you’ve gotta stop now, your co-workers, they’re—fuck, they just got here!”

kento’s never been one to allow himself to be rushed. your orgasm, you falling apart on his face—it is much more important than his damn co-workers. he’s made you cum fast before and he can do it again. despite your thrashing, he holds you down against him and amps everything up until you start to sob out his name, choking on each syllable.

“they’re gonna get on the plane,” you sniffle, finally accepting your fate. the leather seats will be soaking wet by the time everyone boards, but there’s nothing else you can do but cum. “ken, ‘m really getting close, ngh.”

you nearly lock eyes with one of his coworkers when all your muscles pull taut and bliss bursts out like fireworks in your body. oh, and out of it too—before you can register what’s going on, cum gushes from your pussy and squirts like rain all over his face. of course, kento drinks in every drop, careful not to waste even one.

your jaw’s hanging open as he licks you straight through your high, greedy as ever so he can purposefully make you squeal. kento’s grip on you loosens and he smirks when you scramble off of him, squeezing your thighs together as your body heaves for breath.

“oh, look at that,” he cheerfully glances down at the leather seats, “you didn’t get anything wet, sweetheart.” except for him, of course.

then, out the window. “those aren’t my coworkers, angel. they’re marshals to guide the jet,” slowly, he turns toward you, eyeing your sticky thighs—rather, what’s between them. “no need to quit so soon, hm? tell me what you want.”

INO TAKUMA # he ultimately taps out

takuma’s more than lost in your pussy—he’s too far in to pull out even if he tried. it always happens so fast, too; from the moment you put it in he nearly goes cross-eyed and tries to think of anything that could help him not to cum. it’s so difficult, though, especially when you’re purposefully squeezing down on him and using your oh so soft hands to urge him closer.

he’s done for.

“takuma, are you—ah—are you okay?” before he could realize what was happening, takuma had instinctively begun to jackhammer his hips into yours. “oh my—mmm, you’re fucking me so well.”

“yeah?” he pants out, fingers scrabbling at your ankle to pull you closer, “g-give yourself some credit too, baby, you’re the one taking it like you were made to.”

it’s just how he is, always stuttering back a compliment whenever you talk to him. a breathy chuckle passes through your lips and is immediately followed by a saccharine moan of his name, a sound that echoes in his head and shoots straight to his twitching dick.

“it’s so hard,” he gasps, feeling an inevitable tingle in his nose and behind his eyes, “so hard to keep it together when you’re lookin’ at me like that. shit, babe, you’re gonna kill me.”

each word grows more frantic with every pleased moan that leaves your lips, and takuma’s gotta force himself to focus on something else. he’d been taught to cum with or after you, a rule ingrained into him that even applies when he’s jerking off.

the tinkling of your anklet near his ear serves as the perfect distraction, until it suddenly reminds him of the sexy position he’s fucking you in. with one leg over his shoulder and the other kicking on the bed, takuma’s cock is able to push deep, into spots you can’t even reach with your fingers.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, plump tits jiggling from all the movement, and his face crumples when you shakily press them down. “‘m gonna cum,” you wheeze, arousal burning like fire through your entire body, “you’re suuuch a good boy, takuma, feels so g-good.”

“don’t say that,” takuma’s pleading with you, shaking his head frantically as his cock starts to throb, “don’t, you’re—hah—gonna make me cum too fast.”

“why not at the same time, honey?” your free leg starts to circle around his waist, drawing him in without leaving an opening for him to escape. “c’mon, takuma, ‘m all yours. just f-fill me up.”

this is an offer he can’t refuse, a ball he absolutely cannot drop—the shakes of his head turn into frantic nods as he accepts, scooping you up to pull you just a few inches closer before he falls off the edge. he’s the cutest, trembling above you and babbling out breathless sweet nothings.

you cum hard on his cock, digging your heel into his lower back as you reach your high. it tears through you and leaves you dizzy, shaking like a leaf beneath his strong body. takuma, on the other hand, is so lost in you that he’s tucked his face into your neck and gasps into your skin. everything is inaudible until he lets out a hushed whine, “ngh, mommy.”

“mmm, takuma,” your nails rake down his shoulders, leaving long red stripes he’ll be proud of when he looks into the mirror. “what was that?”

takuma closes his eyes against you and swallows against the shockwaves of bliss as he empties his balls against your cervix. “h-huh, baby?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI # you will tap out

toji’s unstoppable—once you’re on all fours and throwing your ass back on him, don’t expect to be able to walk without being carried for the next two hours.

“oh my god,” you sob out desperately, voice cracking when you try to speak, “t-toji, it’s—ngh, ‘s too much, i can’t—” 

“doll, be for real,” toji snickers, almost out of breath. it’s been so long you can’t even feel your legs anymore, and he presses his large hands onto your squirming hips as if he’s trying to indent his touch into you forever. “you can take it. ya wanna cum, don’t cha?”

weakly, you look over your shoulder just in time to catch the wolfish grin on his face and the gleam of his pearly whites. his dark gaze scours your body hungrily, as if he’s on the hunt for something plump to sink his teeth into. sweat glistens on his chest, salt settled in the hard lines of muscle that define his body and showcase his strength. “if ya hadn’t been so fuckin’ impatient, i’d have made you cum earlier. but noooo, jus’ wanted to be all dumb, huh?”

“‘m sorry,” a scream nearly tears from your throat after another agonizing thrust of his powerful hips—his tip hits the soft, cushy spot deep inside of your cunt that always has you seeing stars. “toji! i didn’t mean to be a—fuck—a brat, i only wanted—”

“blah blah blah,” he groans, targeting your sweet spot with sharp, deliberate thrusts that make your eyes roll back into your skull. “jus’ shut up, baby. keep talkin’ and i’ll leave ya high ‘n dry.”

it sounds horrible—horrible enough for you to snap your mouth shut and just focus on taking his cock even though your hips occasionally jerk to the side. toji’s dick is huge, long and thick and unbelievably easy to go dumb on. your fingers twitch in the sheets, aching to scratch the lustful itch that torments your swollen clit; but toji won’t let you, not until he wants you to cum.

a long cry of frustration is released into the bed, and the corners of his lips quirk up in amusement. “aw, is it gettin’ to be too much for ya?” he croons, landing a few stinging smacks on your sore ass, “hope you’re not tapping out before i let ya cum, doll.”

“i said i was sorry,” bitterly, the words rush out. “w-why can’t i fucking cum, toji?”

a low wolf whistle trills out into the air. “because you like edging, nasty girl. did i fuck ya dumb enough for you to forget that ya asked me to do this shit to you, huh?”

that’s right. you had asked him to starve you of the euphoria briefly, but now it’s well past the limit. yes, fushiguro toji was no stranger to pushing limits—transcending physical thresholds to build his body into your favorite temple to worship—so naturally, he’s started to train you to do the same.

“that’s not fair,” you whine, feeling the tears building in your eyes, “haa, i’m so close.”

“don’t you dare,” toji hisses, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling you back easily. “you can wait one more minute.”

he’s cruel, going so far as to rub your clit with his rough fingers to make you waver as you wait for the tortuous minute to pass. heat burns across every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake—it’s impossible not to start trembling, teeth chattering as you try to fight off the unescapable high that only seems to move faster toward you. 

“please,” you’re arching all over, nearly collapsing onto your stomach, but he’s got you right where he wants you. “h-hurry up, toji, i can’t hold it anymore—shit!”

“three fuckin’ seconds,” he grunts, the clapping of skin against skin growing louder as the seconds fly by. “‘kay, princess. go ahead and cum alllll over this dick f’me.”

you fall apart on his cock before he can even finish his sentence, cunt clenching hard enough to push him out as you fall forward onto the mattress. the smallest amount of cum squirts from your pussy, and that’s when he realizes he’s not quite done with you yet. toji licks his lips as he watches you writhe, settling onto his stomach to torture you all the more. 

“toji!” you can’t help but squeal when he grabs hold of your hips and licks at your overly sensitive clit, his dark eyes rolling back when he feels your pussy twitching against his tongue. “ugh, wait, ‘m not ready for—”

“ya wanted to cum so bad, didn’t ya? so lay back for me, doll.”

KAMO CHOSO # can’t stop, won’t stop

“hah, ‘m sorry,” choso borderline sobs when he delivers another sloppy, trembling thrust deep into your cunt. you’re folded up and blurry beneath him, all because he can’t seem to control the onslaught of crystalline tears that pool in his eyes. “baby, it’s—you just feel so g-gooddd.”

rampant apologies run out from his mouth, but they never quite land, always fading into nothing by the time he finishes the sentence. it’s not like he means a single one, especially when he can’t stop rutting his hips into yours, chasing both of your highs.

“don’t—mmm, fuck,” you curse when the tip of choso’s cock kisses your cervix, sending a brief sting of both pain and pleasure through your nerves, “don’t worry about it, cho, ‘s okay.”

tears race down his pink cheeks as more build in his eyes, despite his frantic attempts to blink them away. “i jus’ can’t stop, you—you feel too fucking good.”

a wave of heat crashes through him when he sees your eyes roll back, legs squeezing around his slim waist in order to keep him inside you. you’re as eager for his cum as he is to give it to you, along with a final orgasm of your own. his cock may be purple with overstimulation by now, but how could that possibly matter when you’re on the brink of bursting at the seams all over him?

choso chokes on a moan and fucks you harder, ignoring the annoying beads of sweat that roll down his temples and paste his hair down to his skin. even in the middle of winter, just the two of you are able to heat the house up as easily as a furnace could.

“oh my—fuck,” your voice breaks when you try to speak, looking deliciously dazed when your bleary eyes finally focus on his own, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, cho, if you keep that pace—”

“fuckin’ give it to me,” choso begs, raspy voice edged with the intensity of ecstasy roaring through him, “jus’ one more time, just one more, we can—we can cum together, baby.”

he’s hiccuping over his words and losing control faster now that your hand’s tangled in his hair and pulling the way he likes. it stings, but he’d be out of his right mind if he asked you to stop—so instead, “harder, please.. ugh, just like that.”

“you’re such a freak,” you pant out, although you sound more than pleased to yank on his hair, “don’t tell me you’ll cum just from this?”

he swallows a lump in his throat and presses a hand to your lower belly, feeling around for himself, and soon enough, he’s able to feel the distinct swell of his cock inside of you.

“only if you cum all over me,” choso’s already delirious, mind full of thoughts of another orgasm even after this one. with you, he’s learned to control his refractory period, shortening it down to a mere two minutes that he tends to spend between your thighs. “please, you have to let me feel you, baby, it’s the only way—!”

“yeah? oh, are you gonna f-fill me up again?” heat floods your cheeks as your voice becomes more breathy, growing weak now that you’re hurtling toward your own high. “oh my god, ‘s like you’re trying to knock me up.”

something wild flashes across his face and takes place as a flickering movie behind his eyes. he has to pause, momentarily caught up in the idea of getting you pregnant. there’s something about the idea of your swollen belly and babies that really ignites a flame in the half curse—perhaps it’s all the more attractive because there’s a good chance he’s infertile.

“oh, fuck,” he sobs desperately, vision blurring with tears and his thoughts, “‘m cumming—ugh, ‘s all yours, angel, ‘m only yours.”

even as choso’s spilling white inside of you, his stuttering hips don’t stop once. now, he’s got a goal and he intends to achieve it, regardless of your cries of sensitivity. “slow down,” you whine, out of breath. “ch-choso, wait a second—it’s too much!”

“it’s not enough,” he grunts, shaking as he bulldozes through his own oversensitivity, “i’m not done, i have to—i need to put a baby in you.”

“i’m sure there’s five, choso, i need to take a second to bre—”

Cold air was hitting Ino square in his face as his foot pushed off the floor once again, the wheels of his skateboard rolling over the uneven pavement of the roll in he was currently using to gain enough speed.

He took a deep breath, eyes focused on what's infront of him, before letting the board drive up the ramp in front of him. Adrenaline rushed straight into his veins, stealing his breath while he twirled around, landing securely on his skate again.

"Hell yeah, Taku!", Kirara cheered from a distance, earning a small grin from Ino while he stopped by one of the lodges on the side of the park where Hakari lounged with his girlfriend.

"Yeah, not bad, I guess", Kinji just muttered, to which Kirara responded by lightly smacking his biceps as she got up, glittery pink rollerskates on her feet.

"Nah, you're just jealous, man", Ino gave back with a chuckle, sinking down onto the cold ground next to Hakari.

"Jealous of what exactly?", the blonde shot back quickly, grabbing the neck of his beer bottle and taking a generous sip and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Because last I checked I'm the one with the smoking hot girlfriend", he added, winking over to Kirara who was currently intently talking to Yuji on the other end of the park.

That actually made Ino shut up and think for a second. Because yes, Kirara was hot and also yes, she was Hakari's girlfriend and also yes, he didn't have one and yes, maybe he was a little jealous sometimes.

The thought didn't leave him until long after when he was walking back towards campus with Hakari, the sun was setting already, the sound of people talking in the park had been limitted to a few people who were still on the various benches, reading or just doing whatever.

"You're right", he finally concluded, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "I don't have a smoking hot girlfriend. But what if I want one though?"

Kinji let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head. "Alright, listen up. First, you gotta pick a chick. Smoking hot you said? How about Nobara from chem? Or maybe Maki from music? Or-"

"I already have a girl in mind", Ino interrupted him, clearing his throat, "(name). From my art class."

Hakari raised an eyebrow slowly, nodding. "The nerdy one? Yeah, she's cute. But do you feel real passion?"

"I mean, I think of her all the time and sometimes when I think of her I get-"

"Spare me the details", Kinji quickly broke him off, looping a muscular arm over Ino's shoulder. "Then you should ask her out. It's valentines soon, dude. There's no way she'd reject you this time around! Wait, isn't that her over there?"

When you saw Kinji Hakari sprinting your direction like his life depended on it, your first instinct had been to look around if there was someone behind you. Why would he be running your direction after all? But as he stopped right in front of you, stupid grin on his face, the fight or flight instinct really kicked in.

"Hello there. You don't happen to be hopelessly in love with my friend Ino over there? I mean, just look at him. I swear he's packing a sixpack down there, trust me on that one", Kinji added with a wink.

You were sure you would die. Die from embarrasment to be exact. Because why the hell was the school's most notorious gambler asking you if you liked his friend? Because you absolutely did. But how did he know? Did someone find out? Did someone hack you?

Your mind was too occupied with calculating every possible outcome of this situation to answer him, just standing there, books in your arms, eyes widened.

Hakari cleared his throat, trying to regain your attention but you just went on staring into the nothingness behind him.

"Yo. I think I broke her or something", Hakari mumbled as Ino finally caught up to him, full on jumping his friend from behind, putting him in a headlock.

"Fucking asshole", Ino muttered, his face flushed red as you slowly snapped out of it.

"We'll get going then", Kinji simply declared, picking up his skateboard and walking away from you.

Ino took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally look at you. "I'm gonna kill him", he muttered under his breath before clearing his throat. "I- umm, see you in class tomorrow", and then he followed Hakari, absolutely not daring to as much as glance back.

You stayed frozen in place for a few more seconds before finally snapping out of it. Because there was one thing you knew. College guys were trouble. All of them, no exceptions. And guys like Ino or Hakari didn't just randomly approach people without second thought.

♡

Art class with Professor Utahime had always been your favorite. The woman actually knew what she was talking about and managed to challenge you in ways other art teachers never did.

It wasn't like you to be late. You were the straight- A's student all your life, little to no absences and definetely no being late. The memories of what happened in the park lingered hard enough to make your mind clouded all day. You couldn't find your favorite boots under the piles of sketches sprawled all over your apartment floor, your coffeemashine broke once again and your lipgloss somehow ended up between two pillows on your couch.

Safe to say you did not have the time to check your callender in advance and therefore you had no way of predicting the little note on your desk, your name written on it in shabby cursive letters, small hearts scattered across the sheet that looked like it had just been ripped from an old notebook.

It hadn't been there when you first stumbled into class, mumbling an apology as you sat down in the backrow, praying you managed to pack at least some of your things. It hadn't been there when you started sketching today's assignment, a simply study of facial expressions.

But now it was there, mocking you as you slowly reached for it. Your fingers were shaky while you slowly unfolded the note. There it was. Five simple words, one question and a ton of spelling mistakes.

Will u be my Walentin?

Beneath it were two little boxes, far from symmetrical or even, yes and no written next to the squares..

It didn't take for a genius to figure out who wrote this. But it did take you both lessons to figure out if this was an evil joke, or if Ino, the guy you had a crush on since you first saw him, actually asked you out and you still weren't entirely sure by the time the bell rang.

Ino watched you getting up from his seat by the windowstill, amber brown eyes lingering on the note that you were clutching in your hand. He had figured this was the best way to ask you out, since he'd seen how you'd gotten when Hakari just approached you the other day. It had been a last minute idea, yes, but he was terrified of maybe accidentaly scaring you off by being too direct.

He had spent all night pacing his room, thinking of you. Your eyes, your smile, your voice. The way you'd frozen up when Hakari approached you. And after a two hour call with Kirara at two am, he'd figured he really was down bad and he needed to to something about it. A simple note was the best idea for someone as shy as you, according to Kirara, so that was what he'd done.

It was far from the big romantic gesture he'd intended, but you wouldn't have appreciated something as grand and public as an accapella group performance in your honor.

Now he was stuck sitting there, leg bouncing up and down as he watched you make your way over to him. You stopped right by his desk and he had to restraint himself from checking you out completely.

You hesiateted before holding up the now neatly folded note with two fingers, your eyes avoiding his.

"Did you, um.. is that yours?", you asked carefully, a relieved sigh leaving you as he nodded eagerly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is", he confirmed, a small grin forming on his face. You just nodded, handing him the piece of paper, fingers brushing his.

"You misspelled Valentine", you mumbled, a hint of a smile on those pretty lips of yours that he had dreamt of kissing for far too long.

A smile. From you. For him. Victory.

He was grinning like a lovestruck idiot while you left the classroom, the paper tightly clutched in his hand. With your neat handwriting you had corrected his spelling errors and ticked one of the boxes.

Yes.

He was the luckiest man alive.

♡

The rest of the day didn't feel real for either of you. Ino basically raced through school after art, hunting down Hakari and Kirara, all but jumping them in excitement.

"She said yes!", he yelled, holding up the shabby note like it was his most priced possession (which, aside from his skateboard, it probably was right now). Hakari blindly cheered along, even though he didn't fully get what they were cheering about and why his friend was waving some paper around like a maniac. Kirara on the other hand raised an eyebrow sceptically, tilting her head aside.

"Did you seriously misspell Valentine?", she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering how the hell she actually ended up with these two.

Meanwhile you were sitting at your favorite table in the library, right next to your best friend, Shoko. She was a few years older, but she got you. At least, usually she did.

"Takuma Ino? Isn't he like a total crackhead?" She didn't even bother to glance up from her phone, tapping aggressively with one hand, strawberry milkshake in the other.

"What? No! Why, do you think he is one?" The confidence in your voice slightly faltered, yet that only got an amused snort out of Ierie.

"Relax, nerd. Nothing wrong with being a crackhead. But seriously though, he seems like a decent enough guy", she added quickly at the look of disappointment flickering through your eyes.

You sighed, nodding. "Yeah. He's really nice too. Maybe a little bit of an adrenaline junkie, but he's cute"

Shoko chuckled at seeing the faint blush on your cheeks, her foot nudging yours beneath the table.

"You're cute when you have a crush", she teased with a hint of amusement in her voice.

You just scoffed, rolling your eyes. You didn't try denying it though.

♡

February 14th. The day of love. Valentine's day. The day of your first ever date with Ino.

You woke up extra early, without an alarm even.

There was this warm feeling blooming in your chest, envelpoing you whole. You were giddier than usual, skipping steps in your carefully curated routine almost carelessly. You put more whipped cream into your coffee than usual, you used that one pricey lipstick that was usually packed into your makeup bag.

Ino had texted you yesterday, just a brief message checking up if you were still in, followed by a heart emoji when you confirmed. You had shrieked in excitement and thrown your phone across the room.

Now you were moving through your kitchen swiftly, hair already styled perfectly. You had put on a nice outfit, nothing too far out of your comfort zone, but still enough to make you feel pretty.

Music was playing from the little speaker in the corner of your living room, a soft, almost melancholic tune that reminded you of late spring. Just as you were adjusting your hair in the mirror a gentle knock came from the front door.

Your heart was pounding as you approached the entry, pressing the doorhandle down and finally you were met with the sight of- a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers, the petals were hiding Ino's entire head, his hands tightly wrapped around the stems.

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped you as the fresh smell of the flowers hit you square in the face, your hands coming up to cover your mouth, eyes widened.

Ino felt a blush creep up his neck, the tips of his ears a burning red benath his beanie.

"I hope I'm not late", he finally broke the silence, extending his arms to hand you the flowers.

"You like 'em?"

"Like them? I love them!", you breathed, wrapping your fingers around the flowers, your digits grazing his for a second, sending electric sparks through both of you.

A boyish grin made its way onto his face at the look of excitement you were giving him right now. God, you were cute.

Ino watched as you hurried around your apartment, putting the flowers into a vase in your kitchen before returning with a gentle pinkish taint on your cheeks.

"Soo, you ready to get goin', pretty girl?", he teased with a sheepish grin on his face as he adjusted his beanie slightly, strands of messy brown hair poking out here and there.

The nickname made you blush even harder, your hands reaching for your scarf on the top shelf.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Where do you want to take me anyways?", you asked, starting to wrap the warm material around your neck.

Ino stepped forward, his fingers finding the scarf. "Here, lemme help you with that", he murmured, fully concentrated on wrapping it just right so it couldn't bother you during what he had planned.

"We're going to the skatepark. You know, the one not far from campus.", he announced proudly while stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Your eyes widened as he finally revealed the destination of your date, that all too familiar anxiety taking over once more.

"That's a halfpipe. That thing over there is a lodge and that shit we're standing on is a pyramid. But you need lots of practice to attempt most of these actually. Hakari still can't even balance himself on a rail fully." He was gesturing around wildly, determinded to make sure you were as informed as possible. It was heartwarming, really. Seeing him so passionate about something, that look on his face making your heart melt.

"But I've never even skated before", you admitted quietly, earning a soft huff from Ino, his index finger brushing your hand briefly.

"Don't worry. I'll teach you."

♡

You'd walked past the skatepark in the past once or twice, but seeing it from so up close was an entirely different experience. You had never seen Ino this excited before, eyes wide with eagerness as he explained every single structure around to you.

"That over there is Hakari, but you already know him. Oh and that's Kirara, she's super cool. I bet you'd get along with her. And those two over there are Yuji and Megumi, but they're on a date right now, so we better not disturb them"

Easier said than done as it had turned out. You had zero talent for skating, no matter how hard you tried or how much Ino encouraged you to keep going. Rolling had been easy, almost too much so. You should've known right when Ino started approaching the ramps that it was over for you.

"Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink maybe? Sorry if this all sucks, I'm honestly new to all this dating stuff, y'know you're te first girl I've asked out since like forever", he kept babbling on until your soft chuckle made him quiet down for a second, auburn eyes softening as he glanced at you.

"Everything's perfect, Ino. So what, will you teach me skating now?", you asked, watching as his mouth spread into an even wider grin than before, a small dimple forming on his right cheek.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing off with one foot, bringing the board to roll. You lifted your foot back onto the skate, just like Ino showed you countless times, using your arms to stay balanced. Wind hit your face as your board made its way down the ramp.

You were petrified to say the very least. The ramp had seemed far narrower when you were looking up at it, but now? Oh, absolutely not. You did NOT trust that shabby old excuse of a board enough to roll down there.

"Do I have to?", you called down, feeling your anxiety rising slightly once again.

Ino stood on the pavement bellow, giving you an encouraging thumb-up. "I'll catch you, I swear", he called back.

"I'm doing it!", you exclaimed in excitement, just to get a pebble under your wheel the very next second, causing you to loose balance. A yelp left your mouth as you tried regaining control over the board and just as you were about to fall off two strong arms caught you, tugging you away from the skate.

"Shit, shit, shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, shit", Ino muttered on and on, carefully setting you down onto the ground, his hand lingering on your waist to steady you just a bit longer than necessary.

"Are you alright?", he then hesitantly questioned, scratching the back of his head with a frown sitting on his face.

You nodded slowly, your hand trailing down your arm to make sure your limbs were still intact. "Yeah, I.. I just need a second", you gave back to which he instantly responded with another series of quick nods, offering his hand to steady you on the walk back to the ramp you had left your things on earlier.

You were impressed, to say the very least, but Kirara kept telling you the tricks weren't even that hard, which you absolutely didn't believe. After seeing Ino do a full on handstand on the roll-in of a smaller ramp (succesfully showing of his toned abs in the process, his shirt kept moving too much), you had a newfound respect for every skater you'd ever seen.

Safe to say you didn't set foot onto that skateboard again.

You were sitting on Ino's jacket which was splayed out over the cold stone of the lodge, Kirara right next to you as you watched Hakari and Ino (try) showing off their tricks on the different routes the skatepark offereed.

After a while him and Hakari returned, a playful banter on who impressed "the ladies" more, getting more and more heated as Ino reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to wipe the sweat from his forehead, once again flashing those surprisingly defined abs at you, yet this time way more up close.

You had always expected for him to have kind of a sleeper build, but this? He looked like a greek god.

"Wanna go and get something to eat? It'd be a horrible date if I didn't at least get you food", Ino offered, taking his jacket as you got up, nodding.

"Yeah, that's a good thought.", you confirmed with a small smile, earning a full on grin from him as he nodded eagerly.

"I know a place", he assured, grabbing your hand before you could start overthinking things.

Ino felt his heart racing when you didn't pull your hand away. Slowly, carefully he threaded his fingers through yours, holding his breath as he anticipated your reaction. When he felt a light squeeze back he felt as if he could just kiss you right then and there.

Ino's hand in yours was like a warm, secure anchor, grounding you in this very moment as the two of you strolled through the little park leading to the outskirts of town. Couples were all around you, you could almost swear you'd just seen Shoko with a girl somewhere around here.

"Soo, you like art class?", Ino broke the silence, averting his gaze from your surroundings to look at you instead, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours.

You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on your way.

"Yeah, I guess so. Professor Utahime's nice"

Ino's eyebrows shot up before he chuckled, shrugging.

"Mhm, if you say so. I just go there in case she finally decides to do something graffiti related"

"You do graffiti?", your eyes widened slightly. You'd always been amazed by street artists, taking a break to appreciate every of their left behind artworks whenever you passed through a rather abandoned area of town.

Ino nodded, feeling heat rush into his cheeks as he heard the amazement in your voice.

"Yeah, sometimes. My friend, Kashimo, he's like crazy good at it. He even has an artist name and shit. And he signs every artwork with that dope hyperrealistic lightningbolt. I don't have a tag yet, though I've had some ideas in the past, but none of them hit right, y'know? Anyway, what are you in art class for?"

You shrugged, a warm feeling spreading through you when you felt his thumb drawing small circles on the back of your hand. "I'm really into fashion. One day I really want to do something with design. And Professor Utahime does a great job at teaching anatomy, I think. And that helps me a lot most of the time."

Ino nodded along in amazement. He'd never expected that from you. Sure, your outfits were stunning and you managed to look put together even during the worst exam season. Maybe it was making a lot more sense now.

"Ohh, you'd be an amazing designer! Maybe you should design some baggy pants that physically can't get caught up in the wheels of anything. Because, I'm telling you, my pants have ripped more times than I'd like to admit.", at this point Takuma was just telling you watever in the hopes to see that smile again, to be blessed with the sound of your soft little chuckle, maybe an amused eyeroll.

"Yuji's uncle owns the place and when I tell you that man knows how to make his sushi! He's a little scary at first though, but don't worry", he added as you were already walking in through the big doors, which he of course held open for you.

He was eating all your reactions up way more than he should.

♡

The place Ino had been talking out about turned out to be a little sushi bar in the backlanes of town. Graffiti everywhere, dim lights coming out the big windows.

"Here we are!", Ino announced proudly, pointing at the big sign with the words 'malevolent kitchen' printed onto it.

"Yo, uncle Kuna!", he called out and not even five seconds later a massive man appeared behind the counter, tattooed face looking at Ino gruffly, a strand of pink hair falling into his tanned face.

"Not you again, Takuma", he grumbled, adjusting his plastic gloves.

"Oh, come on, I brought a girl, you could at least pretend to be nice", Ino gave back with a small laugh, stepping forward confidently. You prefered to stay by the small tables, offering the huge man a shy smile.

Chef Sukuna sighed, averting his attention to Ino. "So, what will it be today?"

Ino tapped his chin, deep in thought before nodding over to you. "Hey, do you have any preffrences?"

You just shook your head, watching as he ordered a little from everything, returning to you with three plastic boxes. "Come on, I gotta show ya something", he urged, flashing a grin at Sukuna as you headed out again.

You just followed him pretty much blindly as he maneuverd through streets that were almost too narrow to pass through, over bridges until you finally reached a secluded park-like spot.

A few benches here and there, perfect view at a small pond and an old wall that stretched across a few meters, almost every inch covered in artful graffiti.

"We could eat here", Ino offered, setting the boxes down onto one of the benches.

Your mouth was parted slightly as you took in the art on these stones. Many portraits, lightningbolts and flowers everywhere.

"How do you know this place?", you asked, turning to look up at him. Ino smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder slowly.

"Well, some of those works are mine, actually. Why, you like it?", he teases, chuckling softly as you nodded quickly.

"I'm actually speechless", you gave back, earning that grin again as he turned you back towards the bench.

"Come on, let's eat while the sushi's still fresh", he suggested.

For such a sketchy place it was surprisingly good, if not even the best sushi you've ever had. You were sitting on the bench next to Ino, your shoulder brushing his whenever you moved.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you", you started, swallowing the last piece of nigiri you'd just taken, "Why did you ask me out?"

Ino hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Yer pretty. And kind. And smart. Nah, fuck pretty, you're beautiful. I've had a crush on you since the first day of class probably. You maybe don't remember, but back then I dropped my stuff and-"

"And I helped you pick it up", you finished, a soft chuckle escaping you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Ino just raised an eyebrow, leaning back.

"Hey, what's so funny?", he questioned, nudging you in the side lightly. You gave him that small smile he had grown to love, lowering your voice slightly.

"Well, there's a possibility that I've had a crush on you since then as well", you admitted with a small chuckle, a surprised look all over his face.

"No way"

"I'm serious"

"No way. I'm the luckiest bastard alive", he declared, a heartfelt laugh leaving him.

You chuckled, your fingers brushing against his knuckles, tracing the faint, calloused lines.

"Mhm, If you say so.", you gave back, tilting your head slightly.

You kept taking for what felt like hours and for the first time in your life you felt like you weren't being constantly judged by someone.

Ino just got you, in ways neither of you would've ever expected.

"Wait. You actually know Nanami Kento?", your eyes were wide as Ino nodded in confirmation, throwing his hands up.

"Know him? I'm obssesed with this man! I've seen all his movies, I literally have a poster from shibuya incident hanging over my bed!", he exclaimed, a small laugh leaving you.

"I've never met anyone who also knows Nanami Kento as well. That's so crazy"

Ino nodded along eagerly, already packing up the trash from the sushi packagings.

"Me neither. Guess we're meant to be, huh?", he teased, to which you just playfully punched his arm, immediately apologizing after.

Ino just laughed softly, getting up from the bench.

"Alright, it's getting late. I should probably get you home safe", he concluded, extending a hand to you which you took without hesitating.

The walk back was quiet. You were tired, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm slung around your waist. By the time you reached your dorm you were basically half asleep.

"Good night, pretty girl. Thanks for today", Ino whispered, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he stood in your doorway. Your eyes softened as you nodded, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Night, skaterboy"

Ino chuckled softly before pressing his lips against your forehead, letting them linger, taking in your scent, the proximity between you two. And you let him, gladly.

"Good night", he repeated, pulling back with that grin on his face, dimple forming on his right cheek.

You stood in place after the door shut for a good five minutes, mind racing with all the things that happened in just one day. Your lips formed into a smile as you went into your bedroom, already looking forward to seeing him again in art class.

♡

"You really outdid yourself this time", Hajime Kashimo remarked, stepping back from the wall, watching Ino add another tiny heart to his new work.

"You think so? I'm not sure she'll like it. She doesn't apperciate that big attention, y'know?", Ino gave back, pulling off his balaclava, the spray can being dropped onto the pile forming by the bench.

"No, she'll love this. Hell, even I'd go out with you if you whipped up somethin' like that for me", Kashimo retored, pulling out a cigarette from the pocket of his torn up baggy jeans.

"Mhm, good to know.", Ino chuckled, pulling his sleeve to check the time on the platinum watch he'd gotten to match with Nanami Kento's character in the Shibuya incident.

"Oh, fuck. I got class in like three hours", he cursed under his breath, starting to stuff the cans into his backpack.

"Just skip it", Hajime offered lazily, to which Ino only scoffed.

"Class with her, dipshit", he grumbled.

Kashimo laughed out loud, shaking his head. "First Hakari, now you. Are there any single people I'm friends with left?"

Ino shrugged, zipping the backpack up and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Nah, man. You're alone on that one. Or at least I hope"

♡

"Can I look yet?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Cause it's a surprise!"

"I hate surprises", you grumbled back, at which Ino just let out a snort of laughter, his big hand fully covering your eyes in case you saw something through the makeshift blindfold that was your scarf.

"You'll love this one", he assured, leading you over what you could only guess was a bridge. "I hope", he added under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as you two got closer to what he had planned.

"Why can't you just tell me?", you whined, almost stumbling over some stone on the road, yet Ino caught you in time.

"Shit, sorry", he muttered before finally stopping, having you spin thrice in case you still had a clue of where you were (which was basically impossible considering how many times he'd accidentally led you into a wall).

"Okay, you can look now", he announced proudly, yet a hint of anxiety tinged his usually so confident voice.

A mural of your face, soft smile adorning your features, intricate details making sure every freckle, every faint line of your face was visible. Your favorite flowers, the ones Ino had gotten you for Valentine's date decorated the background, covering the lower portion of your torso completely.

You didn't hesitate to pull that itchy blindfold off, yet what your eyes were met with amde you forget all the struggles or complaints you'd previously had.

In front of you was that same wall you two had visited on your date two weeks ago, yet in the middle there was a new graffiti, a fresh piece.

Little hearts surrounded the portrait, and not far down was a heart, your and Ino's inital written in it.

You had to cover your mouth with both your hands, eyes wide as you slowly turned to face Ino.

There he stood, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his baggy jeans, the other holding a fresh bouquet of flowers.

"I know this isn't a lot", he started, scratching the back of his head, "But you make me feel like no one else ever did. And ever since that date, god I haven't thought of anyting but you. I can't concentrate, I feel like I can't even breathe when you're not around and don't even get me started on-"

Your lips were on his before you could register your own movements. His eyes widened for a pilt second before falling shut, his hands coming up to your waist carefully. The kiss was gentle, experimental but still so right. Your lips were soft and warm against his and he could've sworn he was in heaven right now.

"You did that for me?", you whispered when you broke away, forehead resting against his.

Ino nodded, his face slightly flushed.

"You like it?"

"I love it", you whispered and this time he kissed you. There was nowhere you'd rather be than right here beneath his touch, his lips.

"Be my girlfriend", he breathed against your mouth. "Please", he added, one hand sliding up to the back of your neck.

a/n: thanks @sixxels for making me a part of this collab, I just loved meeting so many amazing writers!!

"Okay", was all you had to whisper and he was already picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Thank you", he whispered, pressing a small kiss to your throat.

The silence in Megumi Fushiguro’s apartment had never felt like a weapon before. It had always been a soft, comfortable thing. The quiet of shared space, the peace of two people who didn’t need to fill every moment with noise. But tonight, the silence it felt different.

Megumi had come home late, later than usual, his shoulders hunched and his jaw tight. You’d watched him shrug off his jacket, his movements jerky and exhausted, and your heart had clenched with sympathy. You knew he’d had a brutal week. A mission had gone sideways, leaving him with a concussion and a civilian casualty that wasn’t his fault but weighed on him anyway. Then there had been the endless debriefings, the paperwork, the sidelong glances from the higher-ups who always seemed to be waiting for him to fail. You’d seen the dark circles under his eyes deepen with each passing day, watched him pick at his food without eating, and felt him toss and turn beside you in bed long after the lights went out.

So you’d done what you always did. You’d tried to help. You’d made his favorite tea, the ginger one that stung the nose and warmed the throat. You’d set out his comfortable clothes, the soft sweater with the frayed cuffs he loved. And when he’d sunk onto the couch with a bone-deep sigh, you’d settled beside him and started talking, hoping to pull him out of his head, to distract him from the darkness you could see swirling behind his eyes.

“I was thinking about time today,” you’d begun, your voice soft and meandering, the way it always was when you were trying to soothe him. “Not like, clock time, but geological time. Did you know that if you compressed the entire history of the Earth into a single year, humans wouldn’t show up until like, eleven-forty PM on December thirty-first? And the entire recorded history of human civilization would be the last few seconds before midnight? It’s wild, right? All of our wars and art and love and everything, just this tiny little blip. And it made me think about how when you’re in the middle of a bad week, it feels like it’s going to last forever, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not even a fraction of a fraction of a—”

“Can you just be quiet?”

The words weren’t loud. They weren’t even particularly harsh. But they stopped you cold, your mouth still half-open around the next syllable, your hands frozen mid-gesture. You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the softening of his eyes, the small quirk of his lips that meant he was teasing.

It didn’t come.

He wasn’t looking at you. His head was tilted back against the couch, his eyes closed, and there was a furrow between his brows so deep it looked carved there. The words hung in the air between you, ugly and final, and for one bizarre, disorienting moment, a single thought cut through your shock: This isn’t Megumi.

The thought was so strong, so visceral, that your eyes darted around the room, half-expecting to see the shimmer of a veil, the telltale distortion of a curse’s technique. Because this couldn’t be real. Your Megumi—your sweet, quiet, secretly tender Megumi who let you put face masks on him and once sat through a three-hour documentary about nudibranchs because you’d said they looked like tiny sea dragons and you loved them—your Megumi would never, ever say that to you. This had to be a curse. Some vile, parasitic thing wearing his skin, twisting his voice, using his exhaustion as a doorway in.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your lungs started to burn. Your hands were trembling in your lap, but you kept them still, kept your face as neutral as you could manage, while your mind spiraled through every exorcism you’d ever studied, every curse you’d ever encountered. You searched his face for some sign of the supernatural, some glint of something that wasn’t him.

Megumi’s eyes opened, and you searched them desperately. But all you saw was exhaustion. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion, and underneath it, a flicker of irritation that made your stomach drop.

He must have seen something in your expression—the wide-eyed horror, the desperate scanning—because his brow furrowed further. "Nothing is wrong, I just… I can’t right now. I need quiet. Please.”

Please. He’d said please, like it was a reasonable request, like he hadn’t just taken the thing you were most vulnerable about—the thing you’d been terrified of your entire life—and confirmed it was true. You talked too much, you shared too much, you were too much, and the one person you’d trusted with all of it had finally gotten sick of pretending otherwise.

You didn’t remember standing up. You didn’t remember walking to the bedroom. All you remembered was the click of the door closing behind you, the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears, and the slow, creeping horror of a new thought slithering into your mind.

What if he’s been holding this back for our entire relationship, and tonight he just… slipped?

You pressed your back against the bedroom door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, your knees drawn up to your chest. The tears came hot and silent, and with them, the spiral.

Because the thing was, it made sense. It made terrible, perfect sense.

You’d always known you talked a lot. You’d been told so your whole life—by teachers who moved your desk to the back of the classroom, by friends who slowly stopped returning your texts, by family members who smiled tight smiles and said, “Don’t you ever run out of things to say?” You talked when you were happy, when you were nervous, when you were sad, and when you were excited. Talking was how you processed the world. It was how you connected, how you loved, how you breathed.

And Megumi… Megumi was so quiet. He spoke in glances and small gestures, in the brush of his fingers against yours, in the way he’d make you tea without being asked. You’d always thought—hoped—that your talking was the yang to his yin, that you filled the silences he didn’t want to fill himself, that he liked it, that he liked you.

But what if he didn’t? What if every story you’d ever told him, every random observation, every excited ramble about sea slugs or cloud formations or the socioeconomic implications of ancient Roman plumbing—what if every single word had been sandpaper against his nerves? What if all those little hums and nods, the ones you’d interpreted as listening, had actually been him just… enduring?

You thought back through your entire relationship, and the memories shifted and warped before your eyes, taking on a sinister new shape. The time you’d spent forty-five minutes explaining the plot of a book he’d never read, and he’d just sat there, silent. You’d thought he was being a good listener. What if he’d been wishing you would stop? The time you’d made him watch a video essay about the history of buttons, and he’d fallen asleep halfway through. You’d teased him about it, thinking it was cute. What if he’d been so bored, so exhausted by your endless stream of words, that his body had just given up?

Every memory became evidence. Every silence became a verdict. And you, who loved him so much, realized with a sickening lurch that your love might have been a burden. That the very thing you’d been offering him—yourself, unfiltered and enthusiastic and overflowing—might have been the thing he’d secretly wished he could escape.

You didn’t sleep that night. You lay in bed, still and silent as a stone, listening to Megumi’s breathing on the other side of the mattress. He didn’t reach for you. He didn’t say anything. And that, too, felt like confirmation.

───

The next morning, you woke up with a new resolve. If Megumi needed quiet, you would give him quiet. If your talking was a burden, you would set it down. You would become smaller, neater, easier. You would be the girlfriend he deserved, not the one he’d been saddled with.

It was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

The first day, you caught yourself a dozen times. You’d open your mouth to tell him about the weird bird you’d seen outside the window, and you’d snap it shut again. You’d pick up your phone to text him a thought that had just occurred to you, and you’d set it back down. Every suppressed word felt like a small death, a little piece of yourself that you were burying alive.

But you did it. For him, you did it.

“Morning,” you said when he stumbled into the kitchen. One word. Neat. Contained. You placed his coffee in front of him—black, no sugar, the way he liked it—and turned back to the sink.

Megumi grunted in response, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice anything different. Why would he? This was probably what he’d always wanted. A quiet morning. A peaceful coffee. A girlfriend who didn’t assault him with trivia before he’d fully woken up.

The second day was harder. You saw a dog on your walk home that looked exactly like his Divine Dog, a big black shaggy thing with soulful eyes, and your first instinct was to take a picture, to send it to him, to say, “Look! It’s your son! He’s working at a café now apparently, very distinguished!” You had your phone out, the camera app open, before you remembered. You put the phone away. You walked home in silence. And when Megumi asked, “How was your day?” you said, “Fine,” and nothing else.

The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day—they all blurred together into a haze. You’d never realized how much of your life was made of words until you had to swallow every single one. You’d never realized how lonely silence could be until you were drowning in it.

You didn’t have a lot of close friends. It wasn’t that people didn’t like you—they did, or at least, they seemed to. But friendships required maintenance, and you’d always poured so much of yourself into your relationship with Megumi that there hadn’t been much left over. He’d been your person. The one you texted at 2 AM when you had a thought that couldn’t wait. The one whose shoulder you shook when you saw something beautiful or weird or funny, because sharing it with him was what made it real.

Now you had no one. The thoughts piled up inside you, a tower of unsaid words growing taller every day. You started a journal, but it wasn’t the same. The journal didn’t hum in the right places. The journal didn’t roll its eyes fondly or call you an idiot with that particular soft inflection that meant I love you. The journal was just paper, and you were so, so lonely.

Megumi didn’t notice.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. He noticed something. He noticed that you were quieter, but he chalked it up to mood swings. You’d always been emotional, up and down, sunshine and rain. He figured you were going through something personal—maybe family stuff, maybe hormones, maybe just the general weight of being a sorcerer in a world that never stopped needing saving. He’d ask, “You okay?” and you’d say, “I’m fine,” and he’d accept it, because Megumi was not, by nature, a person who pushed.

A small, petty part of you wanted him to push. You wanted him to grab you by the shoulders and say, “You’re not fine. You haven’t told me a single fact about marine biology in five days. What’s wrong?” But he didn’t. He just drifted through the apartment like a ghost, and you drifted with him, two silent ships passing in a fog of your own making.

Weeks passed. You got very good at being quiet. You learned the precise number of words required to get through a day without arousing suspicion: “Good morning.” “Do you want dinner?” “I’m going to bed.”

And through it all, the thoughts kept coming. They never stopped. Every moment of every day, your brain was churning out observations, questions, connections, jokes, stories. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? Did you know that the moon is slowly moving away from the Earth? Did you know that I love you so much it’s killing me not to tell you? The words pressed against the inside of your skull and you had nowhere to put them.

Until Yuuta.

───

You’d gone to the sorcerer headquarters to drop off some paperwork for Gojo—a favor you’d agreed to in the morning. You were walking across the training grounds, head down, already composing the text you wouldn’t send Megumi about the interesting moss pattern on the path, when you literally ran into someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—” You looked up into a pair of kind, worried eyes, and your brain short-circuited. “Yuuta?”

Yuuta Okkotsu smiled at you, that gentle, slightly awkward smile that made him look like a startled puppy. “Hey! It’s good to see you. I feel like it’s been forever. How are you? How’s Megumi?”

And something in you, something that had been wound tight for weeks, just… snapped.

“Did you know,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “that there’s a species of jellyfish that’s biologically immortal? It’s called the Turritopsis dohrnii, and when it gets injured or stressed or just old, it can revert back to its polyp stage and start its whole life cycle over. It’s like hitting the reset button on your own existence. Scientists are studying it to see if there are applications for human aging, but honestly, I think the jellyfish is onto something. Imagine if every time you made a horrible mistake, you could just turn back into a baby and try again. Megumi would probably appreciate that, right? A do-over button for relationships? ‘Oh no, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, time to become a polyp!’ Though I guess that’s not really fair. He’s not terrible. I’m the terrible one. I’m the one who talks too much. That’s literally what he said. Well, not literally, but implied. He said, ‘Can you just be quiet?’ and I’ve been trying, I really have, but it’s so hard because I have all these thoughts and nowhere to put them and I can’t tell him because he doesn’t want to hear it and I don’t have anyone else because he was my person and now I’m just—I’m just full. Do you ever feel full? Like you’re going to burst if you don’t say something, but if you say something, the person you love most in the world is going to look at you with that exhausted, annoyed expression, and you’ll die a little inside? No? Just me? Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again. I’m talking too much. I should stop. I’m going to stop now.”

You stopped. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you realized with a distant sort of horror that you’d just verbally vomited all over Yuuta Okkotsu, a man you barely knew, a man who was probably just trying to be polite and was now trapped in a conversation with a lunatic.

But Yuuta didn’t look trapped. He looked… concerned. And interested. And maybe a little bit sad.

“The jellyfish thing is really cool,” he said quietly. “Tell me more about that.”

You stared at him. “What?”

“The immortal jellyfish. How does it work, exactly? Does it remember its previous life, or is it a blank slate every time?”

It was like someone had opened a floodgate. You couldn’t stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself. You told him about the cellular transdifferentiation process, about the way the jellyfish’s cells could change from one type to another, about the implications for regenerative medicine and the philosophical questions it raised about identity and consciousness and what it meant to truly die. And then, because he was still listening, still nodding, still asking questions with genuine curiosity in his dark eyes, you told him about octopuses and moon phases and the time you’d gotten lost in a museum and accidentally attended a lecture on medieval grain storage, and it had been the most fascinating hour of your life.

You talked for two hours. Two solid hours of uninterrupted, uncensored, gloriously rambling. You told Yuuta things you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. You told him about the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm, and the way Megumi’s hair fell over his eyes when he was concentrating, and the dream you’d had about flying whales, and the theory you’d developed about pigeons being government drones, and—

And through it all, Yuuta listened. He didn’t endure. He listened. He laughed at your jokes. He gasped at your revelations. He leaned in when you got to the good parts, and he shook his head in wonder when you finished a particularly convoluted tangent. He was, you realized with a pang, everything you’d been missing. Not a romantic prospect—you were too in love with Megumi for that, even now, even after everything—but a friend. A real, true friend who didn’t seem to mind that you talked too much. Who maybe even liked it.

“That was incredible,” Yuuta said when you finally wound down, your throat hoarse and your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “You’re like a living Wikipedia, except way more entertaining. Megumi’s a lucky guy.”

The mention of Megumi’s name was like a splash of cold water. “I should… I should probably go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“You didn’t take anything,” Yuuta said firmly. “I offered. And honestly?” He ducked his head, a little shy. “It was nice. I enjoyed learning so much, and if it made you feel better, then I am even more glad. So thank you. For talking to me.”

Something in your chest cracked open. “You’re welcome, thank you too for hearing me.” you whispered. And you meant it.

───

The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees of the training grounds, casting long, golden shadows across the grass, and Megumi Fushiguro was worried.

Something was wrong with you. He’d noticed it in the small things—the way you’d stopped texting him random facts in the middle of the day, the way the apartment had become so painfully quiet, the way you’d answer his questions with one-word responses and tight, brittle smiles that never reached your eyes. He’d told himself it was a mood swing, or stress, or something personal that you’d share when you were ready. He’d told himself to be patient, to give you space, to be the steady, silent presence you needed.

But today, the worry had sharpened into something sharper. You hadn’t answered your phone. Three calls, straight to voicemail. You were supposed to drop off paperwork for Gojo, a simple errand that should have taken an hour at most, but three hours had passed and you still weren’t home. Megumi had tried to ignore the cold knot forming in his stomach. He’d tried to reason with himself—maybe your phone died, maybe you got caught up talking to someone, maybe you just needed time alone. But the image of your face that morning, pale and drawn and so terribly quiet, had pushed him out the door.

He found you on a bench near the old training fields, a secluded spot dappled with light and shadow, the kind of place you used to drag him to for “cloud-watching dates” where you’d spend an hour narrating the lives of the cumulus sheep and their stratus shepherds. The memory hit him like a punch to the chest, a reminder of everything that had been missing, everything he’d somehow let slip away.

But you weren’t alone.

Yuuta Okkotsu was sitting beside you on the bench, his body angled toward you in a posture of complete, undivided attention. And you were talking. You were talking the way you used to talk to Megumi, your hands flying through the air, your face alight with an animation he hadn’t seen in weeks, your voice carrying across the grass in a bright, effervescent stream that made his heart seize in his chest.

"—And that’s why I’m convinced pigeons are actually government surveillance drones,” you were saying, your voice breathless with laughter. “I mean, think about it, Yuuta. They’re everywhere. They never migrate. They have that weird red eye thing that looks exactly like a camera lens. And have you ever seen a baby pigeon? No. You haven’t. Because they’re not born. They’re manufactured.”

Yuuta laughed—a real, genuine laugh, warm and surprised—and Megumi watched him shake his head in wonder. “That’s the most unhinged wild I’ve ever heard,” Yuuta said, but his voice was fond, almost admiring. “I love it. What else do you have? What’s your take on squirrels?”

“Oh, squirrels are just tree spies,” you said immediately, and you launched into another tangent without missing a beat, your whole body leaning toward Yuuta like he was the sun and you were a flower desperate for light.

Megumi stood frozen at the edge of the treeline, hidden in the shadows of a large oak, and watched.

He should have walked away. He should have announced himself, or texted you that he was there, or done anything other than stand there like a ghost, eavesdropping on a conversation that was never meant for his ears. But he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground, and his eyes were fixed on you, on the way you sparkled, on the way you came alive in a way you hadn’t around him in weeks.

Look at her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, cold and insidious. Look at how happy she is. Look at how she’s glowing. You haven’t made her look like that in weeks. Maybe ever.

He tried to push the thought away, but it clung to him like a curse, sinking its claws into the softest, most vulnerable parts of his heart. He watched Yuuta lean in slightly, his dark eyes soft with genuine interest, and something bitter and acidic rose in Megumi’s throat.

Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.

Yuuta Okkotsu, the prodigy. The special grade sorcerer who had overcome a curse born of love itself. The one everyone admired, the one everyone trusted, the one who was unfailingly kind and gentle and everything Megumi knew, deep in his bones, he could never be.

He’s perfect for her.

The thought was a knife twisting in his gut. Yuuta was everything you deserved. He was affectionate. He was emotionally available. He probably knew how to say “I love you” without choking on the words, without hoping his actions could speak loudly enough to drown out his silence. He would never snap at you after a hard week. He would never make you feel like your voice was a burden. He would listen—really listen, with his whole heart, the way he was listening now—and he would make you feel seen, cherished, adored.

And what did Megumi do? He grunted. He nodded. He made tea and hoped you understood that the steam rising from the cup meant you are my whole world. He was a coward, a man made of silences and shadows, and he’d always known, somewhere deep down, that it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.

This is it, he thought, and the cold certainty of it settled over him like a shroud. She’s found someone who can give her what I can’t. Someone who can listen. She’s going to leave me.

He watched you laugh again, your hand reaching out to touch Yuuta’s arm in a gesture of easy familiarity, and something inside him cracked. You used to touch him like that. You used to look at him like that, like he was the only person in the world who mattered. And he’d thrown it away. He’d thrown it away with two stupid, careless sentences, spoken in a moment of exhausted weakness.

“Can you just be quiet?”

The memory of that night crashed over him like a wave of ice. He remembered the way your face had crumpled, the way you’d frozen, silent and terrified, before retreating to the bedroom without a word. How you’d looked at him like he was a stranger wearing a familiar face. And he’d been too tired, too wrapped up in his own misery, to follow you. He’d let you go. He’d let you think, for weeks, that your voice was a burden, that your beautiful, bright, overflowing self was something to be endured rather than cherished.

And now here you were, blooming under someone else’s attention, because he had starved you of his own.

She deserves this, he thought, and the resignation was so heavy it made his knees weak. She deserves someone who doesn’t make her feel like she has to be small. Someone who doesn’t need weeks to notice she’s dying inside. Someone like Yuuta.

Yuuta said something that made you laugh again—a full, unrestrained, head-tilted-back laugh that Megumi hadn’t heard in so long he’d almost forgotten the sound of it. The joy in it was a blade, and it cut him to the bone. He wanted to be the one making you laugh like that. He wanted to be the one you leaned toward, the one you touched, the one you trusted with your wild theories and endless curiosities. But he’d forfeited that right, hadn’t he? He’d pushed you away, and you’d found someone else to fill the space he’d left.

If you love her, you’ll let her go. The thought was noble, self-sacrificing, the kind of thought the heroes in your stories would have. But Megumi wasn’t a hero. He was a jealous, terrified, broken man who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, even if it was exactly what he deserved.

He watched Yuuta stand up from the bench, saying something that made you smile and nod. You stood too, and for one horrible, heart-stopping moment, Megumi thought you might hug him, might press yourself against Yuuta the way you used to press against him. But you didn’t. You just waved, a cheerful, grateful wave, and Yuuta walked away, leaving you alone on the path.

Megumi should have waited. He should have let you walk home, should have given himself time to compose his thoughts, to find the right words, to be calm and rational and mature about this. But he’d spent his whole life being calm and rational and mature, and look where it had gotten him. Standing in the shadows, watching the love of his life light up for someone else because he’d been too stupid, too silent, too scared to tell her how much she meant to him.

He stepped out from behind the tree.

You saw him immediately. Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the smile—the beautiful, radiant smile you’d been wearing for Yuuta—froze on your face and then slowly, painfully, died. It was like watching a door slam shut, and Megumi felt the impact in his soul.

“Megumi,” you said, and your voice was flat. Neutral. Nothing like the bright, bubbling stream he’d just been eavesdropping on. “What are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth to say something reasonable—“I was worried about you,” or “Your phone was off,” or “Let’s go home and talk about this calmly”—but what came out instead was: “So that’s it, then. You’re going to leave me for him.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Yuuta.” Megumi’s voice was shaking, and he hated it. He hated the way he couldn’t control it, the way all the fear and jealousy and self-loathing he’d been swallowing for weeks was spilling out of him like poison. “I saw you. Just now. You were so happy, talking to him. You were so… you were yourself again. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. So I get it, okay? I get it. He’s better than me. He’s everything I’m not. And you deserve someone like him.”

The words hung in the air between you, ugly and raw and desperate. Megumi watched your face cycle through shock, confusion, and then—slowly, devastatingly—understanding.

“You were watching us,” you said quietly.

“I came looking for you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. He stared at the ground, at the grass, at the ants marching in a neat line across the path. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried. And then I saw you with him, and you were talking the way you used to talk to me, and I just… I knew. I knew you’d finally realized I’m not enough.”

“Megumi—”

“Do you know what I was thinking the whole time I watched you two?” The words kept coming. His hands were shaking at his sides. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “I was thinking, ‘Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.’ Yuuta is kind and gentle and he probably never forgets to tell you how much he loves you. He probably listens to every word you say and tells you you’re brilliant and doesn’t just grunt and hope you understand. He’s affectionate and he’s sweet and he’s exactly what you need, and I’m just… I’m just me. I’m dark and quiet and broken, and I’ve always known, deep down, that someday you’d wake up and realize you could do better.”

He finally looked up at you, and the expression on your face made his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You were crying. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you were looking at him with something that wasn’t anger or confirmation—it was heartbreak. Pure, aching heartbreak.

“Oh, Megumi,” you whispered.

He couldn’t stop. Everything he’d been holding in for years was pouring out in an uncontrollable torrent. “He’s better for you. Everyone knows it. Gojo, Nobara, probably even you. Yuuta is the kind of person who deserves someone like you—someone bright and warm and full of life. I’m just the guy who told you to shut up when you were trying to help me. I’m the guy who didn’t notice you were dying inside for three whole weeks because I was too wrapped up in my own head. I’m the guy who can’t even say ‘I love you’ without feeling like I’m going to choke on it. So go ahead.” His voice cracked, and he felt the hot sting of tears in his own eyes, tears he’d been fighting for weeks, for years, for a lifetime. “If you’re going to leave me for him, just do it. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight. I just… I need to know.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Megumi stood there, trembling, his heart laid bare in the ugliest possible way, waiting for the axe to fall. He’d said it. He’d said all of it—every fear, every insecurity, every dark thought that had ever whispered in the back of his mind. And now you knew. Now you knew exactly how fucked up he was, exactly how little he thought of himself, exactly how terrified he’d been from the very beginning that you would leave.

You took a step toward him. Then another. And then you were right in front of him, your hands reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“You absolute walnut,” you said, your voice thick with tears. “I’m not leaving you for Yuuta.”

Megumi blinked. “You’re… you’re not?”

“I’m not.” You tightened your grip on his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m not in love with Yuuta. I don’t want Yuuta. I want you, you emotionally constipated disaster of a man. I have always wanted you.”

“But you were so happy with him,” Megumi whispered, and the words came out small and broken. “You were laughing. You were talking. You were… you were yourself. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. I thought… I thought you’d finally found someone who could make you happy.”

Your face crumpled. “I haven’t been myself with you because you told me to be quiet,” you said, and the words were gentle but they hit him even harder. “You told me to be quiet, and I thought… I thought you’d been holding that in our whole relationship. I thought every story I’d ever told you, every random fact, every ramble about clouds or sea slugs or whatever—I thought you’d just been enduring it. I thought my voice was a burden to you, the person I loved most in the world. So I tried to be less. I tried to be what I thought you wanted. And it was killing me, Megumi. It was killing me because I have all these things I want to tell you, all these thoughts and ideas and questions, and I couldn’t, because I was so terrified you’d look at me the way you did that night. Like I was exhausting. Like I was too much.”

Megumi felt the ground tilt beneath him. Everything you were saying—it was so much worse than he’d imagined. He’d thought you were pulling away because you’d outgrown him. He’d thought you were preparing to leave because you’d found someone better. But the truth was so much more devastating: you’d been trying to stay. You’d been contorting yourself into someone smaller, someone quieter, someone you thought he wanted, and it had been destroying you. And he’d been so blind, so self-absorbed, that he hadn’t even noticed.

“I talked to Yuuta today because I was desperate,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I’ve been drowning in silence for weeks, and he was there, and he listened. That’s it. That’s all it was. He was a life raft in the middle of an ocean I’ve been trying not to drown in. He’s not you. He’ll never be you. I don’t want a life raft. I want my person back. I want the man who makes me tea without being asked and lets me put face masks on him and sits through documentaries about nudibranchs even though he’s probably bored out of his mind. I want you, Megumi. Just you. But I need you to talk to me. Actually talk to me. With words. Out loud. So I don’t have to guess what’s going on in that beautiful, overthinking brain of yours.”

Megumi stared at you, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. “You want… me? Still? Even after everything?”

“Even after everything.” You smiled, a watery, trembling smile that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m still mad at you, by the way. Very mad. ‘Can you just be quiet?’ What kind of thing is that to say to the love of your life?”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and sincere. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was exhausted and I was taking it out on you, and that’s not an excuse, it’s just… it’s the truth. I was drowning in my own head, and you were trying to help, and I pushed you away because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to accept love. I should have apologized the next morning. I should have apologized every single day for the past three weeks. I should have noticed. I should have seen that you were hurting and asked you what was wrong instead of just… assuming.”

You shook your head, still holding his face in your hands. “Don’t blame yourself. I know you love me, Megumi. But sometimes I need the words too. Sometimes I need you to tell me, out loud, that I’m not too much. That my voice isn’t a burden. That you like listening to me.”

“You’re not too much.” The words came out fierce, almost angry in their intensity. “You’ve never been too much. You’re exactly enough. You’re more than enough. Your voice is—it’s the best part of my day. Every day. When you talk to me about clouds or jellyfish or the socioeconomic implications of Roman plumbing, it’s like you’re chasing all the shadows out of my head. I’m not bored. I’m never bored. I’m just… quiet. I’ve always been quiet. But that doesn’t mean I’m not listening. That doesn’t mean I don’t love every single word.”

You were crying again, but you were smiling too, and Megumi realized with a jolt that these were good tears. Relief tears. The tears of someone who had been holding their breath for weeks and was finally, finally allowed to exhale.

“I’m sorry I compared myself to Yuuta,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw you with him, and you looked so happy, and I thought… I thought maybe he could give you something I can’t.”

“He’s not you,” you said simply. “And I don’t want someone who isn’t you. Yuuta is sweet. He’s kind. He’ll probably make some other rambling disaster of a person very happy someday. But he’s not my person. You are. You’ve always been my person.” You paused, and a mischievous glint flickered in your tear-bright eyes. “Now, I have approximately four hundred more facts to tell you, and I’ve been holding them in for three weeks, and I’m pretty sure my brain is going to explode.”

Megumi let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and he didn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and held you as tight as he could without breaking you, burying his face in your hair and breathing you in like you were oxygen and he’d been drowning for weeks.

“Tell me,” he whispered against your temple. “Tell me everything. I’m listening. I swear I’m listening.”

“Did you know that wombats have cube-shaped poop?”

He laughed, a real laugh, startled out of him by the sheer absurdity of it. “…What?”

“It’s true! It’s so they can stack it to mark their territory without it rolling away. Nature is amazing and also deeply weird, and I have so many more where that came from. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” he said, and he meant it. He was ready to listen. He was ready to learn. He was ready to spend the rest of his life proving to you that your voice was the most precious thing in his world, that your words were never a burden, that he would never, ever make you feel small again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, to take in the way the setting sun caught the tears still drying on your cheeks and turned them to gold. “I love you,” he said, and the words didn’t choke him the way they usually did. They felt right. They felt necessary. “I should have said it more. I love you and I love your voice and I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be quiet.”

Your smile, when it came, was the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. “I love you too, you walnut.”

And then you kissed him, and he kissed you back, and the silence between you wasn’t a weapon anymore. It was a soft thing. A comfortable thing. A thing you could share together, without fear.

Later, you would walk home together, your hand in his, and you would tell him everything—the immortal jellyfish, the medieval grain storage, the flying whales, the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm. He would listen to every word, and he would ask questions, and he would make the right hums in the right places, and he would silently vow to spend the rest of his life being the kind of partner who deserved the gift of your voice.

But for now, there was just this: the two of you standing in the golden afternoon light, holding each other like you’d found your way home after a long and lonely journey. The sky overhead was doing that thing you loved—turning that specific shade of gray before a storm—and you’d tell him about it later. You had time. You had all the time in the world.

he sits at the other end of the mattress, leaning back against your pillows, brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to paint your toenails, bubble bath, is what you called the shade and he just agrees it would look pretty on you without further questions.

your bedroom is everything he'd imagined and more. a soft, dreamy sanctuary painted in varying shades of blush and rose. a delicate white canopy drapes over your queen-sized bed, sheer fabric cascading like clouds, tied back with pink satin ribbons. dried pink roses hang in bundles from the ceiling. squishmallows of every size crowd the corner of your bed—a pink axolotl, a strawberry cow, a lavender cat.

the whole room smells like vanilla mist and something sweeter, entirely you. and choso hates to admit it but he is, embarrassingly, getting harder with every sniff.

his large hands are surprisingly steady, but you can't stop yourself from absentmindedly kicking your feet back and forth

"you're moving your feet, baby," he murmurs, not looking up from his careful work. his voice is low and soft, the way it always gets when he's focused on something.

"oh—sorry, cho."

you couldn't help it.

you were a little jittery, a little restless, warmth spreading through your limbs in slow waves. choso had made you strawberry flavored gummy edibles earlier. he'd spent a whole week in his kitchen trying to perfect the recipe, testing different ratios of oil to butter, muttering about "mouthfeel" and "potency consistency" while you watched from his counter, swinging your legs and stealing tastes of the failed batches.

they taste like actual candy now—sweet and gummy and pink, with just a hint of artificial strawberry. your favorite. you've both been waiting for them to kick in for the past hour.

here's the thing, you and choso have come to realize: weed, edibles, all of that 'good stuff'—makes you both insatiably horny. like, feral levels of horny. the kind where his hands start wandering and your thighs start pressing together and suddenly two hours have disappeared into a haze of skin and sweat and bad decisions.

it's the way everything slows down, heightens—every brush of fabric against skin, every exhale against your neck, every drag of his calloused fingertips.

but tonight, you both decided, you're holding back.

your parents are literally downstairs watching jeopardy, calling out answers between commercials, and you'd really rather not explain to them why your drug dealer boyfriend is hiding in your closet at ten pm while you're evidently as high as the clouds.

as choso finishes your left foot and moves to the right, you feel the warm buzz starting to creep through your limbs. that familiar, syrupy heaviness behind your eyes, the way colors seem richer and sounds seem farther away.

"there," he says, capping the polish bottle with a soft click. "perfect."

you wiggle your freshly painted toes, the pink catches the warm light. "thank you, baby."

choso kisses your ankle in response before he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, thumb swiping across the screen. his expression shifts slightly as he scrolls through messages—orders coming in, coordinates for drop-offs, a new shipment of wax due.

the drug business isn't something you talk about much, but it's there, a hum beneath the surface of your relationship. he'd been doing this long before he met you, built connections that he won't just walk away from. earned money he needed to support his family with. sometimes you worry. mostly you try not to think about it.

his phone buzzes with an incoming call, the screen lighting up with yuji's name. choso answers on the second ring, pressing the phone to his ear.

"what's up?" his voice is distracted as he listens. you feel his free hand settle on your calf, thumb pressing into the muscle there. just absently at first—light, soothing strokes as he half-listens to whatever yuji's saying.

"uh huh. yeah." choso has this habit of squeezing and kneading you when he's focusing on something else—almost like your thighs or ass are his stress ball, something to keep his hands busy while his mind works.

"i am busy at the moment." he lies, palm smoothing up the back of your calf, fingers curling around the curve of your muscle, and you feel yourself twitch at the contact.

he perks up at that, a slow smile spreads across his face because he knows—the edibles are kicking in. he can tell by the way your breath hitched, by the subtle press of your thighs together. "yeah...real busy."

his palms smooth over the soft fat of your thighs, squeezing gently, pushing your baby doll shorts up bit by bit. the fabric bunches at the crease where your thigh meets your ass, exposing more skin to the cool air of your bedroom.

and you let out the softest whimper. choso hears it, the sound going straight to his cock.

"bro, i'm going to have to call you later." he doesn't wait for a response before ending the call, tossing his phone somewhere on the bed.

"cho, what are you—"

"shh." his voice is low, almost dreamy. "just giving you a rub, baby. nothing more. i promise."

"oh... o-okay."

yeah right.

his thumbs dig into the meat of your thighs, working the tension there in slow, deliberate circles. it feels good. too good. the edibles have made every nerve ending in your body hypersensitive, attuned to his touch like a radio finding its frequency. you try to focus on your phone, on the tiktoks still playing on mute, but your thighs spread wider, allowing him more access, on instinct.

choso's grin grows insanely wider.

his hands continue their slow exploration, dragging up the backs of your thighs with a leisure that makes your skin prickle. his fingers are large and warm, calloused from years of rolling blunts and handling product, but his touch is feather-light against your soft skin.

the silver rings on his fingers, three on his right hand, cool against your fevered flesh wherever they press. each point of contact leaves a small shock in its wake, making you shiver pleasently.

"you like that, baby?" he asks you sweetly.

"mhm." you hum absent mindedly, trying to bite down a moan. "love it, cho."

you can feel yourself getting wetter with each pass of his palms. it's embarrassing, really, how quickly your body responds to him. how just the simple act of having his hands on your thighs has you fighting the urge to grind like a dog in heat against the mattress.

choso sees it, your obvious need. he catches it through the clench of your thighs, your twitching hips, and the sweet little gasps that keep slipping from your lips.

he knows you want him bad. his cock burried deep into your sopping pussy, fucking the heat out of you till you come completely apart.

and he wants you really bad too.

so without warning, he grips your hips and easily pulls you closer toward him. you yelp, dropping your phone somewhere on the bed as you're maneuvered onto your knees, face still pressed into the mattress. the baby doll camisole rides up your back, the sheer fabric bunching beneath your breasts, and you feel utterly exposed; ass in the air, presented to him like an offering.

"cho—"

"just looking, baby," he breathes. "i promise." his hands find your plump ass, squeezing through the thin cotton of your baby doll shorts. "just looking at your pretty ass. sooo fucking pretty for me."

the edibles hum through your veins. everything feels heightened—the cool air on your exposed skin, the rough drag of his calloused palms, the way your pulse throbs between your legs in an insistent rhythm that matches your racing heart.

"cho, i feel—" you break off into a pathetic whimper, face burried in your sheets, hands finding a plushie and gripping onto it for support.

"i know, baby. i know." he hums before tugging your shorts down just enough to expose you. "i feel it too."

you're wearing these cute pink panties today. sheer little things with a pretty bow at the waistband that you'd put on specifically because you knew he was coming over.

"you wore these for me?" his voice cracks slightly, rough with want.

"maybe." you hum, smiling. of course you did. they are his favorite.

"fuck." he groans, thumb tracing the edge of the fabric where it disappears between your thighs. "you're evil, baby."

you want to say something snarky back, but then his fingers drift lower, pressing hard against the damp spot forming on the cotton. "i might have to punish you later. when your parents aren't around." he tells you, a warning.

you squirm, pressing your face into the sheets to muffle any sound, hips jutting back against his hand.

choso takes his time.

he loves taking you apart piece by piece real slow. watching you twitch and squirm all needy because of him.

his fingers rub slow, deliberate circles over the fabric, right against your clit, and you can feel yourself getting wetter with each pass. the sheer pink material becomes translucent where your arousal soaks through, the outline of your pussy visible through the dampness—swollen and needy and twitching for him every time his finger passes over your entrance.

"already this wet, baby? just from me touching your thighs?" his voice is teasing, but there's an edge to it now, a strain. he rubs another slow circle, pressing harder. "that's adorable."

"oh, i hate you," you whine into the mattress, fingers twisting in the sheets.

"no, you don't." he keeps touching you, lazy strokes that make your thighs tremble. "you love me."

he smacks your clit once when you don't respond, "say it."

"i-i love you, cho." the words tumble out immediately, your brain-to-mouth filter completely dissolved by the edibles and the relentless pleasure of his fingers teasing you through your panties.

"good girl."

you whimper. he knows exactly what that does to you—the praise settling warm in your tummy, spreading lower, making you clench around nothing.

then he continues to tease, playing with your pussy through your panties for what feels like forever—rubbing your clit in maddeningly slow circles, smacking it once, twice then tugging the fabric between your folds until it's completely soaked.

"oh, cho—" you're panting into the sheets now, drool pooling beneath your cheek, thighs shaking from the effort of staying quiet when every nerve in your body is screaming for more.

"mhm, i got you, baby."

then you hear it—the soft clink of metal against wood as he pulls his rings off one by one, setting them on your nightstand. he's only using one hand, the other still working you through the soaked fabric, and somehow that makes it hotter. the thought of him wanting to use both hands on you makes you clench again.

"such a good girl," he coos. "taking what I give you. being so quiet for me." he uses one hand to circle fingers harder against your clit, the other hands works to rub your ass then slides over the wet patch at your entrance, over and over, the friction perfect even through the barrier of wet cotton.

"you want more, don't you, baby?" he pushes two fingers deep into the clothed entrance, teasing, making you moan low and needy. feeding the ache with only breadcrumbs of what you starved for. "yeah, i can feel how badly you want it."

"please," you breathe, voice cracking. "cho, please."

"please what? use your words, pretty girl."

"i need—i need—"

the bed shifts before you say it.

you feel him kneel behind you, the dip of the bed under his weight, the heat of his body pressing closer. he's wearing grey sweatpants, the soft fabric doing nothing to hide how hard he is as he slots himself against you. even through the material, you can feel the thick length of his cock, aching for you just as much as your pussy ached for him.

"i'll give it to you, baby. i'll just rub my cock against you real slow. you gonna keep quiet, yeah?"

you nod frantically into the sheets, not trusting your voice.

"yeahhh, that's right." he rocks his hips forward at that, groaning low in his throat as he grinds against you. the friction is maddening—too much and not enough all at once. your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate and empty, fluttering with each roll of his hips. you can feel yourself leaking onto your thighs, arousal smearing against the fabric of your ruined panties, and you know he can feel it too seeping through his sweats.

you arch your back without thinking, pushing back against him. the angle changes, his cock pressing more firmly against your clit through the layers of fabric, and you have to bite down on your fist to stop from crying out.

"oh, fuuuuck, look at you," he breathes. his hands find your hips, guiding you back onto him, grinding hard. "arching that pretty ass for me. can see how wet you're getting through these little panties."

one big hand slides around to your front, slipping beneath your baby doll top to cup your breast. he rolls your nipple between his fingers through the sheer fabric of your bralette, and you bite down on the sheets to stop from crying out. his other hand grips harder onto your hip, bruising, the dual sensation—his cock grinding against your ass, his fingers on your nipple—is overwhelming, your mind going blank with pleasure.

"god, i wish i could hear you," he growls, thrusting his hips into you. "wish i could make you scream my name. wanna hear how good i make you feel."

the bed creaks, hard. you freeze, heart pounding, listening for footsteps on the stairs.

nothing.

no footsteps, no door opening downstairs. the tv filters through the floor—but the noise of the bed frame against the wall seems impossibly loud in the quiet of your room.

choso doesn't seem to care as he continues dry humping you.

"wanna feel you around me," he continues, one hand coming down to smack your ass softly, his cock growing impossibly harder. "so warm, so tight. you always feel so fucking good, baby. drives me crazy."

then his weight settles over you, chest against your back, hips still moving in that slow, devastating grind as he licks a wet stripe up your spine, presses a kiss between your shoulder blades.

"choooo, too, heavy‐" your protests muffle in the sheets.

"m'sorry, baby, needed to taste you." he doesn't sound the least bit apologetic but he leans back then finally, his fingers hook into your panties, pulling them to the side.

the cool air hits your soaked folds and you shiver. choso curses under his breath at the sight of you—your pussy swollen and glistening, arousal dripping down your inner thighs, clenching around nothing as if begging to be filled.

"fuuuuck, baby. so pretty." his thumbs spread you wide, and you feel yourself flutter for him, your hole twitching as more slick leaks out onto the sheets beneath you.

you hear him go quiet for a moment then, movements stilled, the only sound of ragged breathing and then—

"i'm sorry. i know i promised but, baby, i just need to—"

you hear the rustle of him pulling down his sweatpants, then his briefs, and then—the hot, heavy slap of his cock against your ass. he's huge, the thick length of him resting between your cheeks, and the weight of him makes your mouth water.

"cho—?"

"just the tip, baby." his voice is strained now, desperate. "i promise. just the tip. need it. need your pussy. pleasepleaseplease—"

"mkay, cho. just the tip." you can never say no to him. not when he sounds like that, not when his hands are shaking against your hips, not when you want it just as badly as he does.

he doesn't wait, he slides himself through your folds. the head of his cock drags through your slick, coating himself in your arousal, and the sensation is electric. he moves slowly, deliberately—the tip bumping against your clit with each pass, making your toes curl and your thighs shake. you can hear how wet you are, the obscene sound of his cock sliding through your folds echoing in the quiet room.

"you're so wet," he groans. "making such a mess on my cock, baby"

then he's pressing in, just the flared head of him stretching you open. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes rolling back at the delicious pressure, at the feeling of finally being filled after all that teasing. he's big—always so big—and even just the tip has you feeling stuffed, your walls clenching around him instinctively.

you almost cum right there, and you have to clench your jaw to keep from falling over the edge too soon.

"fuck, baby—so tight—" his voice breaks. he's still stretching you, rocking his hips real slow, gentle pushes that make you whine small sounds into the mattress. "just—just a little more—"

he bottoms out into you.

the feeling is overwhelming—full, so full, his cock reaching places that make your vision blur. you can feel him throbing inside you, feel your walls fluttering around his length as you try to adjust to the stretch.

"oh fuuuuck," he breathes against your neck. "sorry, baby. i slipped. let me just—" he starts to pull out, slow, dragging every thick inch against your gummy walls and sparking nerves you didn't know you had. you clench down on him at the feeling and he stops halfway.

"...fuck it."

he slams back in, harder.

one brutal thrust. your elbows give out. you collapse face-first into the mattress with a broken sound that's not quite a moan, not quite a sob. just a sad, pathetic whimper.

"sorry, baby." he starts fucking, no, pounding into you. again and again. each thrust deliberate and devastating as his hands grip tight on your hips for support. "i just need to—i need—" the sound is obscene—wet, squelching, your combined arousal making everything slick. "need to fuck this pussy"

"mmmmgh, cho." you can feel a frothy ring forming at the base where your ass meets his pelvis each time he bottoms out. plap. plap. plap. the creamy evidence of how desperately your body wants this.

you can hardly hold in your voice. small whines and moans escape despite your best efforts, muffled by the sheets but still too loud in the quiet room.

"s'too big," you slur into the mattress, words barely coherent. "cho... you're going to break me..."

"quiet, baby." his hand gently shoves your face further into the mattress, muffling the sounds and making breathing a little hard. "don't want your parents to know i'm fucking their pretty little girl."

the edibles have melted your brain into warm goo, leaving nothing but sensation—the stretch of him inside you, the sharp snap of his hips, the squelching wet sounds filling the room.

your world has narrowed to this: choso above you, inside you, surrounding you completely.

"doing so good. so fuuuuucking good," he babbles, his voice breaking on the words. "taking me so well, pretty girl. my good girl, fuck, love you so much—"

you try to slur into the sheets that you love him too, but you're too fucked out and full. Your belly bulging slightly with each deep thrust, an obvious curve forming where his cock presses against your insides, and the sight of makes choso feral.

he fucks into you harder, the bed frame rattling against the wall with each thrust. his voice gets whiny, desperate, the way it always does when he's close. like he's forgotten your parents are right downstairs.

"gonna—fuck—gonna cream your pussy, baby," he groans. "gonna fill you up so good—"

"n-no," you try to protest, but the word comes out slurred and breathless. "cho, don't—"

but you don't really mean it. you love when his cock hits that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes. love when he creams in you.

his pace grows erratic, hips stuttering as he chases his release.

"just a little more, baby, just—" he buries himself to the hilt, tip kissing your cervix, grinding deliciously slow and you feel him pulse inside you as he cums. "oh fuuuuuuck yesss."

warmth floods your core. you can feel each rope of cum as it spills into you, hot and thick, filling you impossibly full. the sensation tips you over the edge—your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, pussy clenching around his cock as you cum harder than you ever have before, milking every last drop from him.

he stays there for a moment, trembling, before slowly pulling out. you feel the mess immediately—his cum and your slick leaking out, dripping onto your ruined panties and pooling on the sheets beneath you.

he drags the fabric of your panties back into place, fingers gentle now as he pushes the mess back inside you.

"keep that in there," he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your tear-streaked cheek. "i'll get you the pill tomorrow, i promise. just... wanna see you like this a little longer."

you're a mess, thighs shaking, body oversensitive, but you can't bring yourself to care.

he collapses beside you, pulling your trembling body into his chest. his lips find your forehead, your nose, the corner of your mouth—soft, gentle kisses that make your heart ache.

"you okay?" he whispers. his thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away the tears on your face. "sorry for being rough, baby, i don't know what came over me."

"s'kay," you nod weakly, brain still fuzzy from the edibles and the orgasm.

the truth is, you love when he gets like this. usually he's so gentle with you—overly sweet, treating you like you're made of glass. but sometimes, when the edibles hit just right and the mood shifts, he gets this edge to him. desperate, almost feral.

it's really hot.

"i love you," he says, like he always does after. "so much. you're perfect. my perfect girl."

you must look a mess; hair tangled, makeup smeared, tear tracks on your cheeks, cum leaking into your panties. but choso looks at you with complete adoration, like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"love you too, cho."

you're both catching your breath, choso rubbing comforting circles around your bruised hips and thighs as you're tangled together in the aftermath, when—

knock. knock. knock.

"honey? is everything okay in there? i heard...some sounds."

oops.

“jesus christ,” he heaves, catching his breath. “yeah sure.”

he shoots you one glance, eyeing your casual outfit, before moving to grab you a cup in their only available size. you stand quietly, hand briefly coming up to suppress a yawn. it’s silent. just the quiet actions of the worker.

he places the drink in front of you, turning the small screen for you to pay. but you just pull out a twenty, before pointing to one of the posters they’re showing in their three theaters. “and one ticket.”

choso hums, rubbing his eye as he includes that in the total, printing out your ticket.

“anything else?”

you shake your head for half a second, grabbing your drink and ticket, then heading to theater two.

he muttered a good night once the film ended and you were leaving. you barely offered him a polite wave in return.

that was the first time you met choso, but you didn’t know that was his name until the third week you came. you point to your chest.

“shouldn’t you guys have name tags?” you ask as he fills your cup with your usual blue raspberry slushy.

“lost mine,” he mutters, placing the drink on the counter, eyes clearly bloodshot and lidded. “my name’s choso if ya need anything,” he rings your drink and ticket up, turning the screen.

then his brows crease briefly, eyes snapping up to you, almost like he finally processed your question again before he starts sputtering, “don’t report me though, if that’s why you wanted to know my name. I don’t even smoke in the theater, it’s just a vape.”

and that was the first time he saw you smile.

your eyes gleam with a little mischief and amusement, taking your drink and ticket without uttering a single word.

choso worked at the small local movie theater every summer and winter break. primarily to get away from his nagging dad asking him about his future, as if he’s convinced choso actually attends all his classes and isn’t moving around pot for extra cash. and also to get away from his uncle who’s doing god knows what with megumi’s dad.

either way, the theater job was chill. the owner was his gramps and he let’s choso handle practically everything, and lately choso’s found himself looking forward to seeing you come in multiple times a week so he’s taken up more shifts.

sometimes he would casually stand at the front of the theater when it was empty, which it usually was, and smoke a joint. his dark bloodshot eyes shining when he’d see you cross the street.

the hot summer sun was beating down on you, your cropped top was stuck to your body like a second skin, hips swaying in your jeans.

“fuck,” he exhales lowly. your chest gleaming from the sweat.

you wipe your forehead, slightly out of breath as you shoot him one single glance, smiling to yourself once he follows you inside like a lost puppy.

“were you running?” choso coughs, putting out his joint, and picking up his pace as you reach the counter.

you nod, “yeah, was at the old diner a few blocks away with my friends,” your shirt was pretty low cut, desperately controlling his eyes from wandering as he grabbed a cup and went to the slushy machine.

“friends?”

“yeah from high school and stuff. we usually jus’ hangout in the summer since we all go to different schools now,” your tone is so easy and light, choso always feels like he’s floating when you speak. or it could be because of the weed he just smoked. either way, every time you come in now, he feels it’s less and less awkward talking to you.

“so why’d you rush here?” he casually asks, placing the slushy in front of you, hands leaning over the counter. you were shorter than him, but you still carried yourself high which had lately started to make him fantasize about things.

you glance between his sunken eyes, chest still coming down from the light jog you had. “I always come around this time,” was the explanation you’d give him. but deep down, choso was praying you’d say it was because of him. still, you point to another old movie that’s playing and finally disappear into the theater.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later, and the fourth of july rolled around.

surprisingly, the owner kept the theater open, and choso would rather smoke on the job, than get caught by his dad or uncle back home so he took the shift. however, the last thing choso was expecting when he was walking absentmindedly in the theater as fireworks went off outside, was for someone to walk in.

and that someone being you.

“you guys really stay open,” you smile, something you’ve started doing more with him. choso’s red eyes widen, heart palpating at the sight.

you were fucking breathtaking.

his mind was so high in the clouds he couldn’t control it anymore, his eyes immediately wandering down. his ears burn red, eyeing the short short skirt you’re wearing, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. even the half-zipped sweater you’re wearing barely covered your top which was a red bikini top that hugged your breasts as they bounced lightly. “choso?”

his eyes quickly snap to your face, cheeks aflame as he stutters out a reply, “yeah, uh—you wanna watch something?”

choso swallows thickly glancing down at your chest again as you walk up to him, fingers at the hem of your sweater, fixing up the zipper before slowly pulling it up. “someone told me,” you stop in front of him, big seductive eyes batting up at the stoner, “that there’s a better view of the fireworks, from this roof.” your finger points up.

it takes a moment for choso to register your words, his eyes now glancing at your glossy lips, beyond tempted to brush his thumb across it. “someone told you?” he repeats, brain still processing as you hum. suddenly his eyes snap to yours, wide and alert, “wait I said that!”

your lip tugs up, laughing softly, and it feels like a shot of dopamine was just injected into his veins. “you said I should come see the fireworks from here. did you forget?”

choso gulps, remembering now, how could he forget. maybe because he thought there was no way you’d ever come. which is ridiculous considering you’ve been coming every week since the start of summer. but it was the fourth of july you had to have been doing something before this to be dressed like that.

“choso?”

the stoner blinks, electing a light giggle from you which sends him into orbit, but he manages to push his hair back, biceps flexing in his old tee shirt, catching you by surprise.

“shit, yeah—here follow me.”

choso felt like he was floating the second his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you further into the theater all the way into the back. the marijuana in his system easing his nerves as he led you up to the second floor. completely unaware how flustered you’d suddenly gotten.

your heart was racing at the sudden contact, his hand warm, cheeks hot as you glanced at it wrapped around your smaller wrist. your chest heats up as you notice the veins that run up his forearm. the tee he was wearing was much more firm fitted than his usual oversized ones, which extenuated his broad back.

“woah,” you exhale.

“huh?” choso glances over his shoulder, catching you by surprise. “did ya say something?”

you swallow thickly, shaking your head. his lips part before closing into a tight lipped awkward smile, turning. you’re so hot. you watch him reach the ladder in the back room on the second floor.

“lemme just unlock the hatch first,” he says, letting go of your hand to climb the ladder. your fingers loosely wrap around one of the bottom steps as he reaches the top. he digs his hand in his pocket grabbing the set of keys.

maybe this wasn’t the best spot to stand because now your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you watch the, once, chill slightly dorky movie theater worker reach both arms over his head, his shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of skin, along with the few hairs that peak out of his black Calvin Klein boxers and loose jeans. oh fuck, you can see his defined v-line—

“there we go!” choso smiles, pushing the hatch up hearing it bang and the lights shine in the night sky in the distance. choso hooks the keys back on his belt loop as he climbs to the top, hand stretched out for you.

damn, your heart is thudding against your chest as you reach the top. his shockingly muscular arm flexes once your small one falls in his palm feeling a second wave of heat flood your body. you were so consumed by how flustered you’re suddenly getting that you miss a ladder step and slip—

“woah! careful,” his arm catches the edge of the latch, holding your bicep with his other hand. “grab the ladder,” but before you could even find your footing again, he’s lifting you higher. your body weight seemed like nothing to him. you’re halfway out of the hatch when you’re finally able to stand on the final step. “you okay?” he’s heaving lightly, hand falling from your bicep to your waist, brows creased and eyes still bloodshot.

this is bad.

your name leaves his soft voice again, a tinge of concern in his eyes when he notices you staring off. “a-are you high too?” he cuts again, finally able to shake you back to reality.

“no, I’m fine. thanks,” you gently pat his shoulder as a thank you, the action filled with timid awkwardness, nothing like how you usually were.

his brow raises, glancing at your sudden attitude change. are you acting differently?

you wet your lips, crossing your arms feeling slightly more self conscious as you walk further away from the hatch you came out of. choso is not far behind, dusting his jeans and stepping up beside you, hand digging in his pockets for another joint.

“wait,” he puts the joint in his mouth, then stands behind you. both his hands come up to your arms as he walks backwards. completely unaware of the shock his touch sends throughout your body, even over the sweater! your heart hammers louder, mouth dry as you try to look over your shoulder. “yeah, here. now look up.” he unconsciously squeezes your arms, nodding his chin up, hands sliding off you to grab his lighter.

your face burns, mouth going dry as you watch the theater worker casually light his joint, jaw flexing at the action as he inhales.

his dark black lashes flutter as the smoke fills his lungs and dulls his senses. he looks so effortlessly pretty….it felt like this is the first time you were seeing him. like you hadn’t realized the first fifty times you came to the theater that he was actually pretty attractive. or that his lips were a pretty pink as he exhaled the smoke. or that he was taller than you, of course you knew that, but your body didn’t fully sink that fact in until now.

“you sure you’re not high?” choso cuts, glancing down at you seeing you still staring at him.

your eyes widen, glancing away. “no, not high.” choso’s hums, shoving one hand in his pocket as he stands beside you, both of you silently waiting. as for choso, the joint from earlier had loosely dulled his anxious heart, but he could still feel the heat creeping up his neck. your body heat so close to his arm, occasionally glancing down at you. eyes flicking over your breasts, then face, then back down.

“where were you before this?” choso breaks the silence.

you glance down at yourself then up at him. “there was a fourth of july party at my friends beach house.”

choso hums, “sounds fun.”

you nod, “yeah. it was fun.”

another sound leaves the man’s lips, rocking on his heels, keeping the conversation going as best as he can. “how come you never bring one of your friends to the movies with you?”

a silent beat passes.

choso looks back at you, your smile no longer playing on your glossy kissable lips. the joint slowly burns between his fingers, heart picking up at your silence.

“was that tmi?” he quickly cuts, salvaging the moment, no filter whatsoever.

your fingers lazily play with the zipper on your sweater, shaking your head. “no…I just like watching movies alone,” you shrug, “all my friends talk through the whole thing anyways.”

“ahhh yeah, that’s like super annoying,” choso nods in agreement, earning a soft giggle from you. “watching movies alone is such a vibe.” you hum again, smiling.

another beat of silence follows, but luckily the second round of fireworks begin. you and choso simultaneously tilt your heads up, faces illuminated by the lights.

“woah,” you both exhale. choso snorts, taking another hit before passing it over to you. you glance at the joint, leaning forward. “oh,” choso blushes, bringing the joint up to your pretty lips, watching you closely as you wrap your lips where his once were, and inhaling.

you can still hear your heart racing behind your ears.

your fingers lightly brush his wrist, before pulling back. you do your best to hold in the smoke, then exhaling, onto for a throaty cough to come out.

“shit,” choso bursts out laughing, softly patting your back. you flush deeply, still coughing as you hear the man laugh a little louder at how flustered you are.

to think you were this nonchalant regular that would give him attitude, and finding out you’re just as awkward as him. well maybe he’s still the weird one, but it was cute seeing you struggle to take another hit to prove some stupid thing to him. so he holds the joint for you again, letting you hit and you do better this time. eyeing him down as if you really showed him.

“cute,” he mutters.

flustered by his comment, you distract yourself, and move a step forward before squatting carefully to sit on the roof. however, when you start to lean backwards—

“what’re you doing!” choso suddenly lurches forward, stopping you from laying down with a hand on your head.

your brows fly up, “I’m just laying down??”

“this roof is dirty as shit!” choso scrambles, looking around for god knows what. you’re still looking at him, even more confused. why is he suddenly freaking out? “here!” he resolves the problem the only way he knows how.

his arm comes over his head, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking the material off.

“what the—“ your cheeks sting, eyes bulging wide at the sight of choso completely shirtless. what the fuck! your brain short circuits. he was built! his abs were defined, and his arms are huge. he’s literally the definition of sleeper build. and is that a “tattoo?”

choso was bent down, laying his shirt behind you, catching a glimpse at the large tattoo on his back. “huh—“ he glances up catching your eye as he looks over his shoulder, almost like he forgot he had a giant tattoo on his sculpted back. “oh yeah, cool right?” he smiles widely.

how can he be so hot and dorky at the same time?! you internally scream, because now you’re just nodding, too flustered to respond.

“my dad fucking killed me when he found out. here lay down,” he pats his shirt, then crawls beside you and lays down.

now the two of you, side by side, stare up the flashing lights, and distant laughs and cheers from the town, everyone’s eyes were up. and then you realize…

“I was gonna put my hood on, you know…so like…you didn’t have to take your shirt off, dude.”

a beat.

choso’s ears are a bright red, then you feel him turn his head to you.

you do the same.

and the deadpan look on the man’s face had you sucking in your lips, holding back a horrible laugh.

“well…” was all he could respond with.

your lips curve into a smile as the sound of your laugh bursts out and fills his ears. your eyes close laughing harder when he tries to keep that deadpan look, especially with how bloodshot his eyes were, he was not fully present.

but eventually, he gives in. laughing with a touch of embarrassment, grumbling under his breath, before nudging you with his muscular arm. “it’s summer so it’s not that crazy,” he huffs.

you laugh again, but make him feel better with an encouraging nod. “for sure. I’m wearing a bikini under here so I can’t really say anything,” but you still laugh at him.

“yeah whatever,” choso sarcastically snorts, but then his eyes fall to your bent knees, your beach skirt exposing more flesh as it rests on your waist. you couldn’t stop laughing, hand on your stomach as you lean towards him, leg touching his waist.

“sorry sorry,” you wave, “just the face you pulled was crazy.” you slowly come down, stomach hurting from how much you’d been laughing. unaware of the warm palm resting on your thigh now, until you feel the light caresses of a foreign touch.

“my bad for tryna be a gentleman,” he mutters, tone laced with amusement, but his eyes were slightly lidded. gaze locked on your face, brushing his calloused palm over the surface of your thigh.

your heart skips a beat. skin breaking out into goosebumps. how did we get here?

the bursts of fireworks fall quiet, senses focused on him and his heavy breathing. his dark orbs glance over your lips. face inching closer. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating louder, not when you feel his warm breath fanning across your face now. is going to kiss you? please please let him kiss you.

similar to you, choso couldn’t not keep his heart from pounding in his ears. palms turning clammy, the sudden confidence, slowly sinking now that he’s so close. fuck—

“is it—“

his words are cut by your lips. his gasp eaten by your hungry mouth as you swallow another whimper from him. your hand gently cups his jaw, lips molding against his, parting them to swipe your tongue across his.

“open,” your soft command, had a pathetic groan escaping the man’s throat.

your confidence was souring at his response. his hand squeezes your thigh, letting you hook your leg across his lap. sliding closer to him as the kiss deepens. neither of you could focus on anything else other than the touch and taste of each other.

you pull away, catching your breath as he pants, hand squeezing your waist under your sweater. “you’re so pretty,” he husks, cupping your head and pulling you back to his lips, taking control. the shift in dominance has a wave of heat pooling between your legs. pressing yourself against him, just to feel a hard tent.

choso swears under his breath as your leg shifts on his bulge. your name leaves his lips, jaw straining. “I needa sec…”

his breath is hot, swallowing another moan when you purposely shift again. blushing at the moan like whimper that leaves his mouth. your nails slide across his pecs, sending shivers down his spine, and blood to his crotch.

“seriously,” he squeezes your waist, groaning as you press your thigh firmly on the bulge, smiling at the twist in his expression.

your lips brush his lightly, smirk tugging at the corners, “is it okay if we keep going?”

choso freezes. his eyes are wide, completely out of his element, unable to react as he watches you climb on top of him. cheeks flushed as you settle back on the large bulge that tent his jeans up. your pretty hands fall on his warm chest, lashes fluttering down at him.

he must be dreaming right now.

the fireworks go off above you. the lights beaming in the night sky and illuminating your seductive silhouette. now this was the same girl that gave him teasing banter for the last month.

“choso?” you softly coo, hips slowly grinding down on his bulge, the friction of his jeans against your thin swim suit bottom had your stomach twisting in pleasure. “you still with me?”

an embarrassing noise leaves the stoner’s lips. his face turns a darker shade of red.

your lips part again, a gentle sigh of pleasure escaping. “do you like me, choso?”

the man finally is able to nod, followed by his hands on your thighs and waist again. you smile, leaning forward, lips hovering over his as you whisper softly, “I think I’m starting to like you too.”

all sanity flys out the window. his lips crash into yours, swallowing a gasp as your bodies mold perfectly. it was amusing to anyone else, the way two young adults, both playing at the timid confidence and flirting, making out heavily on the roof of a struggling movie theaters. desperately dry humping like your life depends on it.

“ngh fuck,” choso grunts, hips bucking as he pulls the zipper of your sweater off. his hand easily falls on your breast, groping the flesh. “this okay?” he asks, nibbling on your bottom lip. however, he doesn’t wait for a response before pulling your bikini top down exposing your tits to the warm summer air.

“choso,” you whine, jaw slacking as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking like he’s been deprived of water. he moans around the bud, hand falling to grab your ass, rocking you more.

the air grew thicker around you. his bare chest was burning under your palm, his heart racing as you continued grinding your clothed pussy on his jeans, unaware that the material has been sliding to the side, allowing your arousal to stain his pants. the two of you were possessed. his teeth tugged on your nipple, eyes flicking up to catch your pretty face twist in pleasure, jaw going slack as you began shivering.

“y’ look like you’re gonna cum?” he mutters, tongue swirling around your nipple like a lollipop.

an incoherent whine leaves your lips, unable to speak when you’re so close.

“fuck, you’re gonna cum now. yeah—haah gonna cum just from humping me?” he’s both amused and so unbelievably turned on. his cock was leaking desperately in his boxers, jaw clenched when your humping grew sloppier, pretty lashes fluttering. “shit…” choso groans as he watches you come undone. your luminous eyes are glossed over, jaw slack with a silent oh escaping your lips.

your thighs tremble around his waist, back curving forward, cumming from just a measly dry hump session.

you bury your face in the man’s neck, completely embarrassed. did you seriously just cum? the heat spreads up your neck, to the tips of your ears. however, a deep voice suddenly breaks your anxious heart.

“that was really fucking…hot.”

your heart clenches.

“you feel good?” choso is completely unaware of your reserved reaction to what had just happened. his words just spew from his lips without a second thought. it was usually how he spoke to you before, but in this setting, it brought you more comfort than you were willing to admit you needed.

your lips turn to the shell of his ear, arms wrapped around his neck, and lowly replying, “yeah.”

the slight rasp in your tone sent shivers down the man’s spine, his cock twitching in its confines, hips pushing up. his hand slides to your ass, biting his lip as he grabs a handful of your cheek. the other brushed along your spine under your sweater.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he starts, face turning to nudge you up, a lopsided grin plays on his lips as you hover close to him. “but I’m really fuckin’ hard.”

you swallow thickly, cheeks burning hot, his lips brush yours again, kissing your bottom lip. his sudden switch between submission and soft dominance left you spinning. now you’re wondering how big he is. especially when you start to sit up, shuffling further down his lap so you’re straddling his thighs.

“I’m gonna….” you trail off, wetting your lips as you start to unbuckle his belt, heart racing as you eye the light hairs that grow darker the lower you go.

choso is in a similar position, possibly worse since he’s rethinking you taking his cock out. his heart is racing, praying the moment you wrap your hand around him he doesn’t cum.

choso doesn’t sleep around — he has slept with the occasional clients back in university, but he definitely doesn’t compare to the fuck boys in the frats. but to say, even with those experiences, watching you unzip his jeans, still two layers over his bare cock, was the most exhilarating feeling ever.

you flush as you thumb his boxers, hooking your fingers around them before—

“what the fuck are you doing on the roof!”

a loud yelp escapes your mouth as you duck to the side of choso, covering yourself from the stranger’s head popping out of the hatch.

choso immediately sits up, turning around in fury, hands coming to his pants.

the low whistle sends even more heat bursting through you and choso, followed by the stranger’s boisterous laugh. “ah ya took her to the spot. told ya this always gets em in.”

your heart stops.

“shut up,” choso snaps. fully sat and reaching to help you fix yourself. however, you immediately brush his hands off, zipping your sweater on your own.

what did that guy mean by this always gets them?

“can you give us a sec?” choso huffs, the stranger was now standing on the roof beside the hatch, hands in his pockets and lit cigarette in his mouth.

“ya left the theater unlocked, you’re lucky it was me and not the old man that came around,” the man tilts his chin to the fireworks still in the sky. “plus i wanted to see the view,” he smirks, sharp crimson eyes skimming your figure.

you brush your skirt off, skeptically glancing at the man as you and choso stand.

“yeah whatever,” choso huffs, cheeks burning red as he faces you, away from the man as he tries to hide his obvious boner.

“who is that?” you glance over choso’s shoulder, the man was still smiling wickedly.

choso tsks at the question. he does his best with his bulge before turning around.

“that’s my uncle ryo.”

uncle? your heart speeds up, so it definitely wasn’t some joke then. why would he say this always gets them?? your mind starts spiraling, hands getting clammy as you glance at his uncle again, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes as you follow choso to the hatch.

“sorry to breakup the lovemaking,” his uncle adds.

you reach the latch when choso is suddenly stopped by the older man, his hand catching his shoulder, turning choso to face him.

“dude,” choso tilts his face away, knowing exactly what’s about to happen, but his uncle holds him still either way.

“how fucked up are you?”

choso’s tsks, jaw clenching, “jus’ smoked like two joints, I’m fine.”

sukuna eye’s narrow at his nephew, letting go. “I won’t tell ye’r dad—“

“yeah, I know. you owe me—“

“cut the shit,” his uncle snaps, pointing at him, “walk home. leave the car.”

choso waves him off in disinterest, turning back towards the hatch when—you’re gone.

his sweat turns cold, quickly racing down the ladder, sharp eyes catching a familiar raven haired man at the bottom. of course his uncle and toji are about to do some shady ass shit now. choso brushes it off and quickly jogs down to the lobby catching your pretty skirt exiting the front doors.

“wait!—“ choso calls your name, sprinting out and catching your wrist with a firm, gentle grasp.

your heart lurches in your throat, stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot. he’s panting beside you, dirty t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. the fireworks were still going off, and the streets were filled with teenagers and young adults running around with sparklers and making bad decisions.

“I’m really sorry about my uncle. i didn’t know he’d come by—“

“s’ fine,” you cut in, unable to stomach a second thought about what his uncle had hinted at. “I’m gonna head home.”

choso can’t help the sudden jump in anxiety he’s feeling. did his uncle really mess things up with you for good? he treated you nicely though, does that not mean anything. choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head, but instead of letting go of your wrist, you’re suddenly being pulled to his broad chest.

his muscular arms carefully wrap around your smaller form, hugging you close, eyes shut tight. “I’ll see you later…?”

choso’s question hangs in the humid summer air. his heart thumps louder the longer you’re silent, biceps twitching with nerves.

it was an unfamiliar experience. your skin was sticky with sweat, insides hollow and unsure, but your body moved before you can think too much. “yeah,” you quietly mutter, giving him a gentle hug back, allowing him to finally pull away from you.

the booms and cracks of the fireworks echoed through the alleys and streets, quietly rattling store windows as choso watched you disappear into the crowd. and the moment you left his sight, he definitely knew something was wrong.

his anxiety was only proven correct once the following week came around…

choso was sat at the counter, heart thumping loudly as he waited for your usual intimidating aroma to walk through the doors, monday afternoon. you’d be stoic, but the moment you asked for your blue raspberry slushy and he’d make some lazy comment, you’d grace him with your smile.

but you never came.

not monday, or tuesday, or wednesday, or that entire week. and with every passing day, choso grew more and more heartbroken and bitter. was it really because he tried to fuck you on the first night? you kissed him first!

“nah man, girls are just weird,” his close friend ino drags, the usual beanie still covering his light brown hair even in the summer heat. his arms were covered in grease stains, gloves resting on his lap.

choso frowns, joint still between his fingers as the two sit outside toji’s beachside car shop. “that’s not an explanation,” he huffs.

“well,” ino thinks some more, “did you say something wrong?”

“no,” choso’s leaning on his knees, fingers scratching his sharp jaw. “i said sorry because my uncle interrupted.”

“so she’s mad at sukuna?”

choso’s shakes his head, “but that doesn’t make any sense? why would she ignore me?”

suddenly a deep voice cuts behind them, “she looked heartbroken when i saw her running out.”

the two young adults turn their heads, toji was standing a few feet away clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. his white wife beater was covered in grease stains and sweat that trickles down his back and chest. the older man swiped his forehead with his arm.

“what’re you talking about?” choso’s brows pinch.

toji shrugs, wiping his hands with a rag, “the cutie on the roof with you last week. saw her climb down the ladder lookin’ devastated as shit.”

choso’s jaw clenches, “how do you know she was upset?”

the older man scoffs, wicked smirk on his lips, “i know when a woman is heartbroken.”

ino holds stifles a laugh, glancing at choso who doesn’t bother to question toji, he’s known him long enough to trust his instincts with women. however, this leave choso even more confused.

“so was she upset at uncle? or maybe that i made her vulnerable and he saw?”

“vuLnErable,” ino chuckles, just for choso to kick his friend.

toji shrugs, walking over, “could be.”

“or she’s a virgin!” ino shouts, solving mystery.

choso’s eyes widen, “a virgin?!!”

toji deadpans at the young men, “don’t listen to him,” he tosses his dirty rag at ino. “from what y’ said, i fuckin’ doubt she’s a virgin—“

“she’s not a slut!” choso defensively cuts.

toji rolls his eyes,” I didn’t say she was slut.” choso’s eyes are still aflame, standing his ground. toji sighs, “ino’s right.”

“for real?” the twenty-two year old smiles.

“women are confusin’, ya gotta talk to her and ask,” toji shrugs, like it’s that simple.

choso’s head falls forward, “she hasn’t been around the last week. that’s the whole point man!” he groans into his hands. “I thought you know women.”

toji snorts, leaning down to snatch the joint from choso, taking a drag. “I do if I’m with ‘em. I read body language, kid,” he winks.

ino laughs, while choso frowns, “her body language was that she came from dry humping me.”

toji exhales from his nose, laughing, “not just sex. general body language, facial expression, eye contact.”

“oh…”

toji takes one last drag before dropping the joint on the ground and putting it out.

“dude!”

“y’er dad’s comin’ to pick up his car,” toji nods towards ino, the kid sighs dabbing up choso before jogging back to the shop. “she’ll come.”

the week following your absence was worse than the one before. all choso could do was wait. wait until you finally come to theater so he can clear whatever miscommunication managed to happen without him even realizing. all of it was infuriating, especially because he didn’t have your number or any of your socials so it was impossible to contact you—

“one blue raspberry slushy.”

choso jumps so violently and inhaling like someone just unplugged him from the universe and plugged him back in at full voltage.

the vape he was twirling between his fingers clatters onto the counter. he hadn’t even seen you walk up, he was too busy having an out-of-body experience staring at the theater’s carpet pattern, convinced the swirls were breathing back at him.

but then you speak. and suddenly you’re there. right in front of him.

his soul launches into the astral plane for the second time tonight. “oh—” he chokes, jerking back so hard his elbows smack the slushy machine. his eyes shoot to you, wide and slightly bloodshot, like a startled cat who just saw god.

and god, apparently, looks like you.

after ten dry, agonizing, notification-less days, there you stand glowing in the neon reflection of the concessions menu like an angel descending from the heavens with a halo.

you’re an angel. a terrifying, sudden, beautiful angel who kissed and dry humped him days ago then vanished like a fucking heart stabbing tragedy. and then you just fucking walked in holding exact change.

“you scared the shit outta me,” he whispers, voice shaking, but there’s no real accusation in it, just awe. the kind that sounds a little like heartbreak and a lot like love.

you don’t grace him with a smile. your eyes don’t even meet his fully, only flick over his face briefly, then glancing at the three films playing, pointing to one.

choso’s heart beats erratically. palms clammy as he grabs your drink. you were wearing the same sweater you wore that night, but this time it was a cute spaghetti strap sundress that reached mid thigh underneath….are you gonna say anything? maybe something happened to you that’s why you didn’t show up…fuck no, toji already confirmed you were upset with him, or uncle ryo. fuck!

“can we talk about—“

you turn on your heel once he placed your drink and ticket down. disappearing into the theater.

“what the fuck?” choso’s insides twist into a fighting pit of anger and confusion. so you’re not even going to talk to him now? acting the same fucking way you did the first time you met??

his heart hammers against his chest with every passing minute. knee bouncing on the floor glancing at the theater door.

“fuck me—“

the stool slams back into the counter as choso rises. the adrenaline quietly pumps through his veins as he enters the theater, eyes scanning the room, before landing on your form two rows from the back.

it was the first time he left his position to see you. not counting the fourth of july.

“if you tell me what’s wrong or whatever, I’ll leave you alone,” choso whispers, not caring one bit that you’re trying to watch chungking express.

his jaw clenches at your silence, your legs crossed and hands holding your blue raspberry slushy, sucking the straw with a frown tugging at your brows. you’re definitely upset.

“is it about my uncle? I’m really sorry he walked in. for real, I had no idea he was coming,” choso whispers, heart beating quickly, desperately trying to remember the other things he wanted to say. “and I should’ve taken you on a date first, o-or just asked you out first. so I’m sorry for being douche and tryna fuck you—“

your head suddenly snaps to him, your lips blue. his breath catches, and his heart immediately sinks to his stomach at the sight of your glassy eyes glaring at him.

“I’m not mad that you wanted to fuck me, choso,” you whisper, chest rising in anger. “I’m mad that this how you fuck me.”

huh? choso shakes his head. “what’re you talking about??”

your jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at him, “how many times have you done this with other girls? it’s—“ your face contorts, “it’s disgusting.“

choso is even more lost than he was before.

your heart beats erratically in your chest, eyes wavering as you glance between his. the large theater screen the only source of light, as choso shifts closer to see your face.

“honestly, I’m sorry, but i have zero clue what the hell you’re talking about right now. what trick? I didn’t trick you?? and other girls. I’ve been bumming my whole summer in this theater??”

you frown, “I don’t need an explanation seriously,” you mutter turning back to the screen. “we’re not even a thing.”

“I want an explanation because I’m really lost here,” choso’s agitated voice irks you, throat drying as your eyes flick to him.

“your uncle said some bs about, this always gets them in, how else am I supposed to interpret that?”

your words suddenly clear the fog in chose’s mind. breaking the surface as he blinks with absolute annoyance.

“are you kidding me?” he whispers, voice low sending chills down your spine. you frown. “so you assumed he meant me?”

your eyes flick between his, “well…yeah.”

choso’s face is suddenly inches from you, his hot breath fanning over yours. “my uncle used to work here when he was in school. i’d mentioned you once to him and he told me about how he brought girls up here to watch the fireworks,” choso’s lips brush your ear, deep husky voice laced with inconvenience. “there were no list of girls. I already knew the view was good from there and invited you just for that.” your heart suddenly starts beating with anxiety, throat growing dry as he continues. “there was no master plan…my uncle’s jus’ a narcissistic dick and thinks he deserves credit for everything.”

choso’s lips brush the shell of your ear, his hand hesitantly touching your wrist. “I never took any girls up there. and you would’ve known all that if you just asked me to clarify.”

with a blink of an eye, you’re pushing his chest back, pretty eyes glowing up at him.

“really?”

choso immediately flushes, heart pounding out of his chest as his ears turn pink.

how are you able to go from zero to a hundred in seconds?

he’s left speechless by you’re shining orbs, nodding wordlessly.

then, straight out of his prayers, you finally grace his humble self with your warm, infectious smile.

“i—“ your words don’t come fast enough as you embrace the stoner. arms wrapped around his shoulder hugging him close. “I’m sorry.” your apology doesn’t even attempt to ease his racing heart. “I don’t know. I was being dramatic, but like we also don’t know each other that well anyways, so you can’t blame me for just yeah—“

“I wanna know you,” choso suddenly cuts, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“me too,” you smile bashfully, relieved he can’t see your face. “but you know what I mean…right, choso?”

his hands squeeze your torso, humming against your shoulder as he inhales your ocean-coconut scent. “so were you mad about what happened on the roof?” he can’t help but question, especially when your lips are ghosting over his ear now, sighing softly with a slight shake of your head.

“I wasn’t mad about that. it was all perfect until your uncle came,” you exhale, sending shivers down his spine.

the creaking and hushed whispers in the back barely concealed the truth behind what was unfolding.

his body is unable to stop himself from guiding you to his lap, lips ghosting over one another.

“so you wanted to have sex with me?” choso whispers, smile playing on your glossy lips.

“mmm…felt bad about leaving you unsatisfied like that,” your lips part along with his, your tongues connecting, just as his hand squeeze your waist with a pathetic whimper. he’s so quick to whine, it sends a flood of heat between your legs.

“you’re hard now,” you mutter, settling on his bulge for the second time.

choso swallows a moan, “can’t be surprised. got an angel devil on top of me.”

you’re heart skips a beat, lips crashing onto his. neither of you care that you’re in an empty theater, and the risk of anyone walking in was still high. your actions remained hushed, intimate.

choso was melting the second he had his hands on you. tongue tasting you the blue raspberry slushy on your tongue, unashamed by your smirk. “cho?” your fingers move between you, unbuckling his belt.

heat breaks out across his face, heart speeding. “you wanna?”

you nod, mischief gleaming under your lashes.

choso silently swears under his breath, biting his lip as he quietly helps you shimmy his jeans down, breath catching once you place your palm on his bulge. “feels big,” you mutter against his lips. his cheeks sting, cock twitching in his boxers. you continue groping and feeling him, smile playing on your lips as he whimpers.

“s-stop teasing,” his grip tightens on your waist, your sweater slipped off your shoulder.

“jus’ wanted to feel,” you coo lowly, licking his bottom lip like a seductress. you then gingerly thumb his waistband, slowly pulling it back and slipping your small cold hand inside. his entire body locks up once you grip his base, pulling him out. “oh.” you’re pleasantly surprised by the size in your hand. “it’s big.”

choso let’s out a shaky exhale, hips rising briefly once his cock touches the cool air. his pretty eyes flick up to you watching you spit in your hand, and slowly start working his cock.

“you’re not gonna cum in my hand, right?” you coo against his lips, back arches over him as you press your pretty breasts agaisnt his chest.

choso swallows a whine, shaking his head. “n-not even you don’t want me too.”

you smile adorably, like you didn’t have this man in the palm of your hand, “good boy.”

fuck.

choso’s head falls back, jaw slack with quiet moans as you jerk his thick cock. his abs clench every time your thumb swipes his tip. tapping the crown like a devil. “d-don’t,” he whimpers.

“but it looks so pretty, cho,” you whisper, kissing his lips. he only whines in reply, kissing you back with more fever. jaw slacking and tongue pushing into your mouth desperate for the taste of the blue raspberry that’s stained your tongue.

it was easy for choso to get drunk of you, and he realizes that when he’s feeling his tip brush a wet soft flesh.

“oh fuck—“ he chokes, he pulls away briefly, gaze dropping to his lap to see his flushed cock rubbing your bare pussy. “wait,” his head snaps up to you, brows furrowed in worry. “is it not to big, I can stretch you out first?”

your fingers brush his jaw, tilting his head up as you kiss the corner of his mouth. your voices hushed, “s’ fine, I can take it.”

choso swallows thickly, hand finding purchase under your dress to grip your waist, and the other holding your ass as you slowly nudge his tip against your entrance.

“okay,” you exhale coolly, slowly sinking down.

“shit,” choso swears between clenched teeth. grip unforgiving as you gasp against him. your cute whimpers were the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. it felt like honey being dripped into his ear as you did your best to swallow his thick pulsing inches. “y’er squeezin me, r-relax baby.”

you whine quietly, gently moving up, just to push down again and take a few more inches. “bigger than I thought cho,” you pant.

his head tilts, capturing your lips, “sorry,” he apologizes, and it actually sounds like he’s sorry for how big he is, especially when you let out another adorable whimper.

but still, he kisses you like it’s the first time he’s ever been intimate with someone. and after a few more shallow bounces, you finally settle every big chubby inch of him inside your gummy walls.

“fuh—you feel so good,” he mutters, “feel so good wrapped around my cock,” your tongues collide as you start grinding against him. hips rocking slowly, as you adjust to his impressive size.

your hearts beat together. breaths colliding as the world slowly disappears, likes it just you two quietly moaning and whining on a theater seat. the creaking and quiet squelches that left your pussy with every bounce didn’t register in your ears. instead your focus remained on one another.

on his voice. your gasps. his curses. your coos.

“I feel so full, choso haah,” you babble, lips glossy from his spit. “d-do you feel me to anh too?”

choso whimpers as you clamp around him as you sink down again. his fingers dig into your ass the other fully wrapped around your waist, biceps flexing around your back. “course I do,” he grunts, bitting your bottom lip. moaning once you drool into his mouth.

nothing else mattered now.

his thick thighs part. his hips angle up, and his firmly plant themselves on the ground. “c’mon, keep riding my cock princess,” choso moans agaisnt your lips. his hips snap up getting you to pick up the speed.

you gasp in surprise, cheeks flushed, sweater falling at your elbows, and the straps of your dress starting to slip of your shoulders as you fix your feet to rest over his knees for better balance. “o-okay choso,” you hold his shoulders as you start picking up the speed.

neither of you could think about the sounds of your ass clapping against his thighs, or the whines that left both your pathetic mouths.

choso kept your pace, helping you bounce your pretty ass up n down his cock like one of his toys. and with every bounce, your pretty breasts followed, until one strap fell low enough for it to expose you to him.

“haah fuck,” choso groans, lips wrapping around your nipple sucking immediately.

“ahh,” you clamp around him, whining. he only moans around you, humming as your nails comb through his hair.

you were lucky you were the only one in the theater, because now it was obvious what was happening. the creaking, the clapping, the moans. it was beyond lewd, and obscene.

“m gonna cum cho,” you whine, bouncing quicker as you chase that coil twisting in your tummy. his flushed tip continues hitting your sweet spot, dragging against your gummy walls with each bounce.

“fuhck—fuck I’m close, keep movin’” he huffs, drooling against your chest as he kisses up your sternum to your neck, panting harshly as he bucks his hips as you start to grow sloppy. “don’t sto—ah-p—“

“I can’t—angh—“ your vision turns white, drool escaping your lips as you fall apart, creaming around the stoner.

choso swears, arms holding you desperately to his chest as he starts pumping his messy cock into your weeping hole. “fuck—tight pussy, melting inside ya—haah—“ his thighs start trembling, muscles flexing underneath you as his head falls on your shoulder.

“so good baaby…ngh haah god—“ his own climax hits him like a truck. the words fall off his tongue and pull out flashes in his mind, but the searing white that blinds him leaves him frozen inside your deep warmth.

“chosoo,” you whine into his neck as the thick ropes of white cum fill your insides.

the stoner pathetically whimpers, hips still bucking as he milks every last drop, emptying his balls, hand wrapped around your nape as the other squeezes around your waist under your dress.

“fhuck,” choso pants, chest heaving as he slowly comes down, lips parting as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your exposed shoulder. trailing them up your neck. “beautiful,” kiss, “so sweet.” his hums and sighs left shivers down your spine as you stroke his long hair. scratching his nape as your lashes flutter.

that’s when a loud whistle cuts the air.

you freeze hugging the man desperately as he lifts your strap up. neither of you realizing the movie had ended.

“y’er shameless, kid. your daddy would be disappointed ya turned out like me.”

a vein pops from choso’s neck.

“dude, what the fuck?” choso groans, hand coming up to fix your sweater on your shoulders again at sukuna laughs beside the door.

“I’m not the one fucking in a public space—“

“fuck off,” choso swears under his breath, choking quietly as he pulls out, electing the softest whimper from your lips. “sorry,” he mutters.

“why is he still here?” you whisper, fixing your dress as you stand up, glancing at his uncle still beside the door, choso quickly tucks himself ignoring the stickiness of your mixed juices.

“because he’s a dick,” choso tsks, leading the way out.

sukuna smirks, eyeing his nephew, “all good?”

“you need the space again” choso holds your hand this time, glaring at his uncle,

sukuna exits first, revealing another man standing beside the door. “something like that. don’t tell your gramps.”

choso hums digging for the theaters keys in his pocket, “don’t tell him about today then,” he tosses the set,

“I don’t talk to that old man anyways,” sukuna catches them. “take the girl out for dinner, can’t just keep fucking her here.”

“dude!”

you glare at the uncle making him smirk wider, shooting you a wink.

choso leads you to the exit as you hold his arm, “your uncle is weird,” you grumble.

“yeah, sorry ‘bout him,” choso catches toji, accepting the wink he gives the kid before exiting the theater. “but uh—you down for dinner—on me?”

you smile, lips still stained blue, “yup. and we needa get plan-b.”

“oh shit!”

you'd sent him out to the makeup store a while back to get you some things.

mostly to test him.

it sounds cruel. but you were morbidly curious after a friend complained to you about her raggedy situationship who wouldn't even hold her purse for her in public while she reapplied lipstick in fear of being seen as too feminine. and apparently, the very same man had freaked out and actually gagged when she tried to get him to come into the makeup store with her.

was the situationship in question also coincidentally megumi's estranged, airheaded, blonde cousin? yes.

were you in any way insinuating that that your precious, respectful, humble, kind, sweetheart of a boyfriend would ever do such a thing just because he shares blood with the asshole? of course not.

there was simply something deeply satisfying about seeing how starkly different they were. surely that wasn’t a crime.

unsurprisingly, megumi had passed the test with flying colours. you hadn't expected much less considering how meticulous he's always been. he shade-matched you almost spotlessly to the foundation and the concealer, made sure to check the mascara he got you was waterproof, even asked one of the beauty advisors which makeup remover would be the least irritating for your skin type.

the only failure was the lip gloss— right brand and colour, wrong formula. he'd missed the three little cartoon chili peppers next to the label and the words 'maximum plump'.

he offered to return it and find the correct one, but the store had been closed by the time he'd delivered it to you. time got ahead of you both. before you knew it, you'd passed the thirty-day return window and had no choice but to keep it until it inevitably expired and you'd throw it away months later when you cleaned out your makeup bag.

or so you thought. while a plumper wasn't exactly your go-to, you'd ran out of your regular stuff and had nothing else that would give your lips the shine they needed. so it looked like the forgotten stranger would get a chance to be used after all.

you're still adjusting to the tingling feeling around your mouth as you step out, locking your door behind you and sliding into the passenger seat, warmth from the blasting car heater welcoming you in an embrace. "hi, baby!" you beam, dropping your keys into the cup holder between his paper to-go cup of black coffee and the still warm hot chocolate he'd brought you.

he smiles faintly— which in megumi-language means he's just as excited to see you, "hi." he murmurs in response, leaning into you as you lunge forwards over the centre console to give him a hug. his hands find your waist to steady you, head tilting back just enough to let his eyes roam over your face. "you look pretty."

you giggle, pulling him back into you once more and squeezing him, "thaaank you." you say, pecking his lips mindlessly, before sitting back down and buckling up. "you look pretty too." you grin, hugging his elbow, pressing your head into his shoulder.

"...thanks." he says quietly as he starts backing out of your driveway.

you immediately launch into a wordy ramble, telling him about a new movie you wanted to watch after the two of you are done shopping.

megumi tries his best to listen. but he can't quite.

not because he finds you boring to talk to, never that.

he can't seem to focus on anything but the painful sensation on his lips that started up right after you kissed him.

you don't notice. too busy summarising the plot of the film and telling him about all the edits you'd seen on tiktok of the two leads.

megumi's brows pinch in a concerned feeling of confusion. is he allergic to your kisses? that would be unfortunate, considering just how much he likes kissing you.

he purses his lips together hard in an attempt to nullify the burn. his non-driving hand comes up to feel his mouth.

his lips are pulsating. and now warm to the touch.

he catches a glance in the rearview mirror. they're no longer the pale peach colour they usually are, but a warm bunny tongue pink.

that gets him to pull over, finally getting you to stop talking as you lift your head from his shoulder, tilting it in confusion, "gumi? why'd you—" your eyes go wide when you notice, "...oh!"

he looks at you, blinking rapidly. so you see it too.

and then you start laughing. hysterically.

as if his pain and suffering is amusing to you. he stares in disbelief. he's having an allergic reaction of some sorts and you're laughing at him?

he huffs. covering his mouth with his sleeve, embarrassed now, "this isn't funny. i think there's something wrong."

"no, no..!" you manage through a wheeze, "it's... my lip gloss!"

"what?"

you giggle, taking his wrist and trying to pry it away from his mouth. he resists, his ears now going the same shade of pink.

"gumiii, lemme see." you grin. he mutters something incomprehensible and drops his arm.

you bite the inside of your cheek and breathe in through your nose to stop your laugh, swiping his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, collecting the sticky, shimmery remnants of the crime you'd accidentally committed against him, "remember when you bought me that lip gloss and it was the wrong one?"

"...yeah." he mumbles, watching you unzip your purse and rip open a single-use makeup wipe. "sorry." he still clearly feels bad about it.

you breathe a laugh through your nose and shake your head, gently removing the product from his mouth, "this is what it's supposed to do. it makes your lips bigger."

he blinks, "why?" he questions, looking at you scandalised, as if you'd just confessed to him that you carry a mini self-torture device in your purse everyday.

you shrug, "some people like that."

"but it hurts."

your smile turns sheepish, "i know, i'm sorry. i forgot i had it on when i kissed you."

"doesn't it hurt you?" he asks, touching his lips as the pain ebbs away into a slight numbing buzz.

“a little,” you admit, digging around for chapstick next, “but i’m used to it. and it was the only gloss i had left.”

you twist the tube open and carefully smooth balm over his thoroughly traumatised lips to soothe them.

megumi watches you for a second before sighing quietly. “i’ll buy you a new one,” he says. “one that doesn’t hurt.”

your face lights up instantly, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him again, as if you'd completely forgotten how you'd gotten him into this mess in the first place.

megumi immediately slaps a hand over your mouth.

“please.”

the voice is low, familiar, and way too calm for someone literally breaking into your room. 

your heart is still racing when the figure straightens, moonlight catching on spiky dark hair, sharp eyes, and that permanently tired expression. 

megumi. 

you clutch your chest like you just ran a marathon. “oh my gosh, what is wrong with you?! use the door like a normal person!” 

he glances at the door like it personally offended him. “this was faster.” 

“this was illegal!” 

“you didn’t call the police.” 

“i almost did!” 

he steps inside fully, closing the window behind him like this is routine, like he hasn’t just cut ten years off your lifespan. 

and maybe it is routine. because this isn’t the first time. but still. 

you narrow your eyes at him, trying to look annoyed, but it doesn’t quite stick. not when he’s here. not when it’s him. 

“you could’ve texted,” you mutter, sitting back down, though your focus is completely gone now. 

megumi doesn’t answer right away. 

and that’s what makes you look up again. 

he’s standing there, quieter than usual. not his normal quiet – the composed, unreadable kind – but something heavier. something that sits in his shoulders, in the way his hands hang just a little too still at his sides. 

“… you okay?” you ask, softer now. 

he hesitates. that’s new. megumi doesn’t hesitate. 

then finally, he walks over and sits on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor like it personally wronged him. 

“today was… annoying,” he says. 

you blink. “annoying?” 

“yeah.” 

you stare at him for a second, then let out a small huff of disbelief. “wow. that’s it? i thought you just came back from, like, fighting something horrifying.” 

“i did.” 

“and your review is annoying?” 

he shrugs a little, like that’s explanation enough. 

you shake your head, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as you push your homework aside and turn your chair to face him properly. 

“okay,” you say, propping your chin in your hand. “tell me about it.” 

he glances at you. really looks at you. and something in his expression softens, just a little. 

it always does, with you. 

“it was supposed to be simple,” he starts. “low-grade curse. in and out.” 

“famous last words.” 

“… yeah.” 

there’s a small pause, and then he continues, quieter now. 

“but it wasn’t. it kept… multiplying. splitting. like it didn’t want to go down.” 

you listen intently, the way you always do. you don’t interrupt. don’t joke. don’t treat it like some cool story. 

because to him, it isn’t. it’s just another day where things could’ve gone wrong. 

“did you get hurt?” you ask gently. 

“no.” 

you squint at him. 

he sighs. “not badly.” 

“megumi.” 

“it’s nothing.” 

you stand up before he can protest and walk over, grabbing his wrist without hesitation. 

he tenses, just for a second, but doesn’t pull away. 

you roll up his sleeve slightly, revealing faint bruising, a shallow cut, nothing too serious, but still. you frown. 

“you’re terrible at ‘nothing,’ you know that?” 

“i said it wasn’t bad.” 

“and i’m saying you’re a liar.” 

he huffs quietly, but there’s no bite to it. 

you let go of his wrist a little slower than necessary. 

neither of you comment on it. 

instead, you move back to your desk, rummaging around before pulling out a small first-aid kit. 

“come here,” you say, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

he doesn’t argue. he never does, with you. 

you sit beside him this time, close enough that your shoulders almost touch, and carefully clean the cut. your movements are gentle. careful. like he’s something fragile. 

megumi watches you the entire time. not your hands. not the bandage. you. 

“you’re weird,” he mutters. 

you blink. “i’m helping you?” 

“you’re not even part of this world.” 

you pause for a second, then continue wrapping the bandage. 

“i mean,” you shrug lightly, “i can see curses. that’s close enough, right?” 

he goes quiet. 

you glance at him. “what?” 

“nothing.” 

you narrow your eyes. “you always say ‘nothing’ when it’s something.” 

he exhales slowly, leaning back slightly, his shoulder brushing yours this time. 

neither of you move away. 

“it just…” he starts, then stops. 

you wait. 

“it’s easier,” he says finally. 

“what is?” 

“being here.” 

your heart does a stupid little thing in your chest. 

“my room is just that amazing, huh?” 

“you know that’s not what i meant.” 

you smile softly, looking down at your hands. “i think i do.” 

there’s a comfortable silence that settles between you after that. a safe one. 

megumi tilts his head back slightly, eyes half-lidded, like he’s finally letting himself relax for the first time all day. 

“don’t tell anyone about this,” he says suddenly. 

you blink. “about what? you committing nightly trespassing?” 

“no… about you.” 

your chest tightens a little. “why not?” 

he’s quiet for a moment. 

“because this is mine.” 

your breath catches. 

he doesn’t look at you when he says it. doesn’t need to. 

“they wouldn’t understand,” he adds. “and i don’t want them to.” 

you stare at him, your expression softening in a way you can’t quite control. 

“okay,” you say gently. “your secret’s safe with me.” 

he nods once, like that settles it. like that’s all he needed. 

after a moment, you nudge his shoulder lightly. “you can’t keep sneaking in forever though, you know.” 

“why not?” 

“because one day, i WILL scream and accidentally expose you.” 

“you didn’t today.” 

“i almost did.” 

he hums, like he’s considering it. “i’ll take my chances.” 

you laugh softly, shaking your head. and then, without really thinking about it, you lean your head against his shoulder. 

he stiffens. just for a second. then relaxes. completely. 

his head tilts slightly, resting against yours. and for a while, neither of you say anything. 

your homework sits forgotten on your desk. 

the night stretches on, quiet and still. 

and somewhere between the soft glow of your lamp and the steady warmth of his presence beside you, the world outside – the curses, the danger, the things that don’t belong to you – feels very, very far away.