tay *ੈ✩‧₊˚

The rain outside is sudden, coming in as quickly as a snap of a finger. You’re in the middle of heating some leftovers when you hear it pouring, and the soothing sound continues even as you take a seat at your dinner table. It’s almost a friend, you think as you catch up on your social media feeds while taking a spoonful of your food. 

If your thoughts weren’t already absurd, they grow wilder with each passing second. All your efforts to keep your mind quiet through various YouTube videos go down the drain when he encompasses your every thought, every heartbeat, and every move.

Valko. 

“Not him,” you blurt out. “Of all people...”

You had to miss the man you would never see again.

As you continue eating your dinner, the memory of your last interaction comes to mind. He held your hand like a tender promise shared between people whose love cannot be defined through words, taking you deeper into the woods because he wanted to show you something. With the morning sun barely seeping through the night, you didn’t know if you could trust this handsome stranger.

“You won’t kill me, right?” you asked, your hands shaking in his.

Valko only chuckled, sounding just as innocent as a happy child who just learned the concept of mischief. “The world would kill you before I do.”

An odd answer, you knew even back then, but you continued on for a while longer to appease your own curiosity.

In the end, you asked Valko to take you back to Linkon because your doubts grew. He was a stranger after all, one you met through board meetings with the higher-ups at the Hunter’s Association, and you know from past altercations that strangers seldom brought upon good. They pile more work atop of you, conceal secrets until they can no longer be hidden, or they could bring upon you the most interesting of adventures. 

But regardless of the reasons you told yourself, there’s a sense of longing that lingers even when you haven’t spoken a word to him in weeks. None of the meetings you attended after that concerned him, yet there was always that one empty seat you imagined him sitting in. It’s also insultingly always next to yours, for good measure.

You sigh as you take another spoonful of your dinner. The sound from the YouTube video is drowned out by the rain and your thoughts, but you don’t bother to increase the volume. It’s not like you would listen to it anyway.

What would’ve happened if you followed him into the forest? What would’ve happened if you appreciated his presence when he was still in your life?

Unanswered questions are pointless in the grand scheme of things, but leave it to a good night of rain to allow them to form and linger until you can’t bear with the longing anymore.

Your food loses its flavor, so you stand up and tell yourself you’re going to pick up the mess tomorrow morning. You tell yourself, as you go through your nighttime routine with blurry vision and a dangerous amount of sorrow, that you’ll pick yourself back up tomorrow. Solitude will be comforting someday — you just have to live through the days where it isn’t until you can get to that point.

And yet, when you settle in your comfy blankets to prepare for the night, your mind is still riddled with thoughts of Valko. 

He would fit perfectly in the space next to you. Meetings didn’t allow you to know much about him outside of the way he articulates complex topics into easily digestible content, but you can almost imagine how that voice would sound if it were to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. If his lips touched your forehead with words that would calm even your worst thoughts…

“I will never see him again,” you tell yourself, but no amount of tossing and turning will make you comfortable with that fact. No amount of tomorrows will make you get used to his absence, and you can only suffocate in it.

Unless…

Without much thought, you take your phone from the nightstand and look through your contacts and e-mails. Valko never gave you his phone number, but his work number is always at the end of his e-mails.

It’s like hitting jackpot when you find it buried beneath promotions and reminders of work reports. Would he answer his work phone late at night? Does he want to talk to you?

With the pouring rain as your witness, you click on the number. There’s only one way to find out.

The rings feel like torture, your heart’s fast-paced melody not helping you with this cause. Valko’s number looks blurry the longer you stare at it, all because you miss him. You miss him so much and you regret not taking that chance, and maybe — maybe — he hates you now because of it-

“Hello?”

You freeze at the sound of that voice. His voice. 

“Um. I-is this Valko?” Your voice is shaky as you ask, disbelief etching through your tone. The absurdity of your question doesn’t even shake you in the slightest, for the thought of Valko was on the other side of the phone consumes you more than anything.

“Oh!” Realization hits, and you brace for impact. 

But it never comes.

Instead, you hear his laugh — the loud, unabashed sound of happiness — and it freezes you even more. 

“It’s you! I was planning to visit the Hunter’s Association tomorrow, actually. I wanted to see you.”

“You…” your voice shakes with ten thousand different thoughts hitting you at once, the loudest asking you if this was real. “You wanted to see me?”

“You’re acting like that’s hard to believe.”

Your blankets can’t shield you from the emotions threatening to come out of your chest. “It is. I mean, I thought you hated me.”

“Hated you?” he asks, and you can almost hear the ten thousand thoughts stirring in his head too. “What would make you think that?”

“Because I didn’t… I didn’t want to go to the forest with you.”

A beat of silence passes with only a single tear to show for it, and the rain grows louder. Angrier, even, as it’s joined by lighting and thunder. But oddly enough, it’s not as deafening as this silence.

Finally, Valko breaks it with another laugh. “You think I’d be mad at you over that? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

And you find it in you to laugh as well. It’s the happiest sound this house has heard from you in weeks.

“Besides, there’s a million other things I’d like to do with you. That wasn’t going to be the last time I asked you out.”

You couldn’t find it in you to catch your heart as it soared through the roof and into the rainy night. Perhaps it would even find its way to wherever Valko is.

Speaking of which, the sounds of computers hum in the background on Valko’s end of the call, letting you know that he’s still at work. You clutch your soft blankets as you almost fall asleep to the ambience.

“They have me trapped in this building to fix codes and bugs,” he hisses. “If only the engineers kept me around and listened to my corrections, right?”

“Right…” Your eyes are barely open. 

As if sensing this, Valko laughs again before asking if he’s interrupting. “No” spills out of your lips, carrying the weight of your efforts to continue this conversation while sleep overtakes you, but he relents.

“I’ll come back to you, okay? Sleep well.”

And you do, because you believe him. 

a/n: Oh, the title is from the song "Raining in Manila."

Thank you for reading! Any form of interaction is appreciated. Take care :)

You scheduled a date with Valko days prior, all because you were drunk on your feelings and the haze felt like Heaven. Back then, he was just a friend you met through meetings he attended with the Hunter’s Association. He shared his chocolates with you, told you all about the newest Protocore shipments, and even said his family was “a little wild” when you had asked about the auntie he loves to mention. Your curiosity had always lingered at the end of every conversation, but you never could have guessed Valko felt the same.

However, now that you’re facing the results of your impulsive decision, you face it with bated breaths, shaky hands, and a mind that tells you it’s better to run than to begin anew.

But before you can do so, Valko looks up from his phone and sees you staring at him through the coffee shop window. The breeze chooses that time to mess up your hair, yet his delighted laugh remains as clear as day.

You place one foot in front of the other until the cool atmosphere of the café and the smell of coffee meets you, and when you do, Valko is right there by the entrance.

“Good morning,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in forever.”

You roll your eyes playfully, knowing the last time the two of you met was three days ago. Nevertheless, you spare him a smile for his ego to latch onto.

He isn’t spared for too long, however. 

“I wish it stayed that way,” you tease.

“Ouch.” Valko makes the show of placing his hand on his chest. “Weren’t you the one who asked to go on a date with me? I thought you were being genuine.”

He then leads you to where he was just sitting. Two cups are on the table, the one in front of you labeled with the exact way you liked your coffee. Peculiar, considering you told him that ages ago, but the fact he remembered makes your heart flutter anyway. 

“It should still be warm,” Valko assures. He takes a sip of his own cup, and the glow of his lips are not lost to you as you watch the simple act with more attention than necessary. “If not, I can ask the baristas to remake it for you.”

“It’s okay! This is…”

Perfect. 

When has life ever been perfect?

You let yourself smile as you take a sip. Strangely enough, it doesn’t burn your lips like usual. Instead, the taste lingers just as long as realization does. It’s the first time in a long time where your morning coffee doesn’t feel mundane, but rather something much sweeter.

“The mocha chocolate is good here,” he comments, a sheepish smile on his face. “I might visit more often just for that.”

“They’d stop serving you after your fifth cup.”

“Only five? Are you underestimating me?”

Placing your cup back on the table, you counter his grin with your straight face. “I swear, there isn’t a single soul on this planet who likes chocolate more than you do, Chairman Wolfie.”

Valko scoffs. “Chairman Wolfie, huh? And here I thought I had a reputation for being intimidating.”

“You’re the least intimidating person I’ve ever met.”

You can see his expression melt until it becomes one with the sunlight shining on him. His eyes, amber and as precious as gold, turn into what you believe happiness would look like if it were to show itself to you. And his smile softens, less cocky now and almost… shy?

Odd. Out of all the words in the dictionary, you would never have guessed that shy would become one to describe Valko.

“That means a lot,” he says, and you can sense the depth your kind pebble traversed in the seas of his soul. “Thank you.”

You take another sip of your coffee to hide your lingering curiosity. Questions upon questions topple each other in your mind to try to get asked first, but they can remain there until the time is right.

For now, there is only one spectacle to put your attention to.

“Rapid fire questions,” you offer, eliciting a look of intrigue from your date. “I ask ten questions and you answer with the first thing you have in mind. Got it?”

“Is this what you usually do on first dates?”

“Hush,” you tap the table with your nails. “I’m the one asking questions, remember?”

Valko simply sits back with his arms crossed, the gesture showing more of his arms than you thought possible. A shame that it’s hidden underneath his hoodie — perhaps you could use his arms as a pillow someday. In a perfect world, where life meets you in a love as warm as Valko’s, perhaps you could have something good for the first time in forever.

I’m getting too ahead of myself.

“If you could live anywhere in this world, where would you live and why?”

“The forest,” Valko answers instantly, but the reasoning takes a little longer and a couple sips of his mocha chocolate to reveal. “It’s peaceful, and the moon looks beautiful there. I should take you someday.”

“What if I prefer the sun?” you ask, teasing.

“Then I’ll take it as a sign that you’re enjoying our date, and I’ll take you to more coffee shops in the future.”

The morning sun continues to shine through the coffee shop’s window, capturing the both of you in its warm welcome. Blinding as it is, it doesn’t stop you from noticing the glint in his eyes or the way he constantly pats his head as if he’s hiding something in his hair. It also doesn’t stop you from smiling, proving his point entirely. 

“Any other questions?” Valko asks. “I can be interviewed all day if that’s what makes you happy.”

“Nothing else. I’m satisfied with what I’ve gathered.”

“And that is?”

Bravely, possessed by the desire to begin anew, you place your hand atop his. Your answer sits as gently and as loud as this soft gesture, leaving no room for the doubts and fears your mind used to conjure up. “I’m happy to be here with you.”

Life has a way of surprising you. Oftentimes it’s through unpleasant experiences and instances of horrible luck, but today, its presence is gentler. Like the sunlight that caresses your skin, the golden gaze that admires you from head to toe, the heart that opens itself for you. 

And the light of your life simply watches with awe as you find your way to him. Placing soft kisses on your knuckles, which have fought battles he knows nothing about, tenacity makes way for you to begin anew.

“Perfect,” Valko whispers with a gaze full of reverence.

With every second you spend with him, it becomes easier to believe in that.

a/n: I have a feeling one of Valko's Tender Moments cards is going to have this exact vibe. Infold better release him soon omgggg

Thank you for reading! Any form of interaction is appreciated. Take care :D

the door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly you’re pressed flat against the wood. megumi is right there, his chest practically brushing yours, his hand still tight around your wrist. he looks exasperated, dark hair messy, but his eyes are locked onto yours, wide and hyper-alert. “you’re loud,” he breathes, his voice a barely-audible whisper against your ear.

“i was like a ghost,” you whisper back, a smug grin pulling at your lips despite the way your heart is hammering against your ribs. you glance past megumi’s shoulder, spotting the sleek black shape of a camera sitting prominently on his desk.

“smart.” he nods at the shoes you’re holding, placing them to the side for you.

“so... director. where do you want me?”

his jaw tightens, a faint flush creeping up megumi’s neck that he desperately hopes the dim lighting hides. he doesn't let go of your wrist. instead, he leans in just a fraction closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before snapping back up.

“don’t,” he mutters, his voice dropping into that low, rough register that tells you he is entirely done playing games. “he’s still downstairs.”

megumi’s hand is still wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse—or maybe that’s yours—thrumming against your skin. his thumb moves, almost unconsciously, tracing a slow circle over the delicate skin. “so? we just need to be quiet, right?”

he releases your wrist like it burns him, stepping back just enough to create a sliver of space between you. the absence of his warmth is immediately jarring. he runs a hand through his already-messy hair, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“you’re something else,” he says, but there's no bite to it. if anything, he sounds almost reverent.

“i’d say i’m just someone who wants you.”

megumi’s gaze flicks to the desk, then back to you, his adam’s apple bobbing. without a word, he crosses the room, picks up the camera, and turns it over in his hands like he’s weighing a decision as he chews the inside of his cheek, an anxious habit you’ve catalogued over time.

“nervous?..” you tilt your head, searching for his eyes.

he narrows his brows, not answering.

“just.. touch me.” you softly drag his wrist up to yourself.

megumi’s hands find your waist, observing the contact as his fingers splay across your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you. his touch is hot, insistent, but his movements are deliberate—slow and precise, just like everything he does.

like a magnet pulling, megumi finds himself drawing closer. you lift your chin making way for his head in the crook of your neck.

then the floorboard creaks.

both of you freeze. megumi’s hand is still on your back, his lips still ghosting over your shoulder. you can feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching your own frantic rhythm.

halfway downstairs, a muffled and singsong voice drifts up. “megumiiii~ wanna eat the last kikufuku?”

megumi’s eyes meet yours. they’re dark, pupils blown wide, and there's a flicker of something almost feral in them. he presses a finger to his lips—shh—and you nod, barely breathing.

“no,” he calls back, his voice impressively steady. “i’m good. keep it.”

a beat of silence. then a laugh, bright and unbothered. “okkay, suit yourself! more for me!” the television resumes its drone.

megumi looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitching—the barest hint of a smile. “close one,” he murmurs.

“too close,” you agree, but you’re already pulling him back to you, your fingers tangling in his hair.

megumi’s mouth finds yours again, deeper, hungrier this time, like the interruption reminded him just how dangerous this is—and how much he doesn’t care.

his hands slide down to the waistband of your pants. megumi pauses, pulling back just enough to look at you in a silent question.

you nod, breathless. you scramble to get out of your t-shirt, and he makes quick work of the button and the zipper of your pants, pooling both garments beneath your feet.

you kick them aside and megumi’s eyes rake over you like he’s memorizing every inch. his fingers brush against the side of your leg, “beautiful.” so quiet you almost miss it. the soft touch makes your breath hitch. “’gumi.. your turn.”

megumi removes his gaze from your bare skin, but doesn’t undress. instead he presses the on button, the tiny red recording light of the camera blinking to life.

he sets it down on the desk, pointing it at the bed—which you now realize is right there, rumpled sheets and a dark comforter, barely visible in the low light. megumi controls the viewfinder, making sure the recording is underway.

you are about to retort when he shrugs off his own shirt, and the sight of him—lean muscle, sharp collarbones, that dark line of hair disappearing beneath his waistband—makes your mouth go dry even as you swallow.

megumi doesn’t look abashed. he reaches deep into his nightstand drawer, pulling out a small foil packet. he holds it up, a question in his eyes.

“condom,” he says, unnecessarily.

you purse your lips, raising an eyebrow and gulping again. “gonna open it, or?..”

megumi tears it open with his teeth, eyes never leaving yours. the sound of the foil ripping is obscenely loud in the quiet room. his jaw flexes as he grabs the torn piece, setting it aside.

“that..” you breathe.

the corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smirk. “what?”

“just come and kiss me.”

he does. closing the distance, megumi’s hands everywhere on you at once—impatient in a way his face never lets on, you feel the last of his careful control starting to fray at the edges.

megumi languidly guides you back toward his bed, your body pressing backwards until your knees feel the edge of his mattress. you fall onto it, pulling megumi down with you. he hovers over you, one arm bracing his weight, the other working his pants open

you catch a glimpse of him—thick and already painfully hard, slicked with a bead of pre-come before he rolls the latex down his length.

he glances at the camera one more time—red light blinking, capturing everything—then his eyes find yours. “ready?”

“mm.”

megumi sheathes himself, the movement practiced even as his fingers tremble slightly.

“ugh, you’re—” he starts, but doesn’t finish. he doesn't need to. he looks at you, really beholding you, and his voice drops to something raw.

“tell me if it’s too much.”

“mh—okay,”

the first push is slow—agonizingly slow—and your back arches off the mattress before you can stop it. megumi’s breath stutters above you, his forehead dropping to press against yours as he sinks into your heat.

through the haze of pleasure, you notice his gaze flick to the left—toward the camera—and something in his expression changes.

“ah,” you breathe, and it's barely a sound, more air than voice.

“shh,” he reminds you, his own voice wrecked, cracking at the edges. “you have to—f—be quiet.”

you want to laugh at the absurdity of it—him telling you to be quiet while he's inside you, hips are already starting to move in small, shallow rolls that have your toes curling against the sheets.

“mm, more,” you whisper back, and megumi’s eyes flash. he pulls out almost all the way, just the tip of his length resting at your entrance, and then he pushes back in—deeper this time, a full, slow stroke that has you biting your lip so hard you taste copper.

“you’re—” he starts, but he can't finish. his jaw is tight, one eye squeezed shut like he's trying to hold onto control by a thread. you put a hand on his face, caressing. “megumi, look at me,”

he tries, the crack in his composure showing. pupils blown wide, megumi parts his lips, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. for having barely started, he already feels nearly there.

“not going to last,” he admits, the words tumbling out of gritted teeth in a rough confession.

“ah—nnm, then don’t.”

megumi groans, low and guttural, his entire frame shuddering as he forces his hips into a grueling, deliberate rhythm—biting his tongue to hold back his own release as he tries to prolong it for you.

slow and deep, each stroke presses against your core in a way that has you seeing stars. his hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your center, caressing in time with his thrusts, matching the excruciating syncopation.

“me—” you gasp, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the sound.

“i know,” he rasps, rhythm breaking to something desperate. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin to hold back a groan as he drives into you, faster now, finding that spot again and again with devastating precision. the heat pooling between your thighs is overwhelming, a tight, electric coil winding tighter with every friction-filled slide of his hips.

slick and undone around him, you dig your fingers into the muscle of megumi's back, leaving faint red crescents.

“meg—nnmn” you whimper his name, the sound slipping past your guard. he instantly snaps his head up, hand flying over your mouth. his palm is hot, smelling faintly of the foil packet as he holds your gaze all frantic, heavy lids hooding blown-out pupils.

“i told you,” he rasps, his chest heaving as he takes a shallow, trembling breath. he doesn’t stop moving, his hips striking against yours, a wet, rhythmic slap. “be quiet.”

he nods his head toward the left. “stare there.”

through the haze of pleasure, you track his gaze—the tiny red light of the camera blinks, capturing the flush on your chest, the way your knees are hooked over his hips, the sheer, unadulterated look of desire on megumi’s face as he takes you.

“you wanted... a movie,” megumi mutters, his voice dropping into a dirty, breathless drawl as he arches his back, driving in all the way to the hilt.

“so stare at it,” he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, fingers tangling with yours on the mattress. he strains, “and watch how good you take me,”

the visual, combined with the deep, bruising depth of his thrusts, completely shatters you. your hips roll up to meet him, begging for the friction, your core clamping down around him so tight it makes his entire body shudder.

megumi abandons the entire pretense of control, his pace turning even more frenzied, hard, and desperate. he chases the edge, his fingers squeezing your hips hard enough to leave marks.

you put your palm over your mouth again, a galaxy of stars exploding behind your eyelids as a wave of pure, convulsive heat ripples through you. your muscles squeeze him rhythmically as you reach your end, breaking the absolute final straw for megumi.

megumi lets out a low, wrecked sound, driving into you one last, deepest time as his own climax hits. he stiffens, jaw locking as he pours himself into the condom with a broken sound, something that's half your name, and half a swear—chest heaving against yours as the waves of aftershocks ripple through him.

for a long minute, the only sound in the room is the tangled, ragged breathing. slowly, megumi collapses onto you, his head burying into your shoulder, heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs. he doesn't move, opting to holding you tight, skin slick with sweat.

finally stirring, megumi pulls out with a soft sigh and quickly disposes of the evidence in the trash bin. as he climbs back onto the bed, he pulls the comforter over you both, pulling your body flush against his chest.

“never doing that again,” he murmurs into your hair, his arms are wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

you let out a breathy laugh, hand reaching out over the edge of the bed to turn off the camera sitting on his desk, the blinking red light wavering. “but you directed so well.”

“hm.” megumi hums in response.

the heavy silence of the house settles over his bedroom—comfortable and warm, until a sudden, sharp slam of the front door downstairs cuts through the quiet like a knife. a voice echoes loudly up through the floorboards, bright and entirely too cheerful.

“yo me~gu~mi~! i left you some kikufuku on the counter. thought you may have changed your mind. don't let it go to waste!”

the house falls silent again as the footsteps fade down.

above you, megumi stares blankly at the ceiling for three solid seconds before burying his face into his pillow, letting out a muffled groan of embarrassment.

you break out into giggles, poking his side. “me~gu~mi~”

“ugh,” he mutters into the mattress, arm tightening around your waist and refusing to let go.

tangled up in his sheets, you let the moment settle for a moment before bringing up the footage. “so... when do we watch it?”

megumi goes still. “..huh?”

you tilt your head at his silence, unreadable face, and pink ears. then, barely audible, he utters “...you’d want to?” as if speaking to himself,

“megumi. i just let you film me falling apart. i think i’m pretty okay with watching it.”

he swallows. “then... maybe tomorrow.”

you grin. “maybe tonight?”

“tonight,” he says firmly, “i'm sleeping.” you feel his lips press your temple.

“mm. say,” you exhale lightly, eyes landing on the desk. “when did you get that anyway? looks expensive.”

“hm?” megumi nuzzles into your neck as he shifts.

“the camera. didn’t see it before. or knew you had one.”

“oh. that.” megumi says, flat. “he wasn’t using it.”

“what?” your mouth drops, “it’s gojo’s?”

“i’ll return it.” he closes his eyes, relaxing. “just not the SD card.”

-

you successfully sneak out at dawn, slipping through the back door again. megumi watches you go from his window, a small, private smile on his face.

an hour later, megumi walks into the kitchen. there, he finds gojo lounging at the table with—as far he can see—an entire pack of ramune, the empty sugary soda bottles lined up in a neat row—and the smuggest expression on his face.

“morning, sleepyhead,” gojo chirps, tossing four marbles into the air and catching them. “sleep well?”

megumi grunts, heading for the coffee maker.

“hey, by the way,” gojo says, voice light, “have you seen my camera? the one i use for, you know, documenting things. i swear i left it in the living room, but i checked everywhere this morning and it’s just... gone.”

megumi’s hand freezes on the coffee pot.

“...no,” he says carefully. “haven’t seen it.”

“hmm.” gojo taps his chin, frowning. “that’s odd. i could’ve sworn it was in the living room. i even checked the hall closet, the study, under the couch...” he trails off, then sighs dramatically. “with stuff going missing, maybe we should get a security camera. y’know, just in case. make sure no ghosts are sneaking in.”

megumi turns slowly, face carefully blank. “ghosts.”

“or maybe,” gojo muses, tapping his chin, “one of those fancy ones with the motion sensor. the good ones. records in 4K. really capture the details, you know?”

“what are you talking about.” he barely keeps an eye from twitching.

gojo blinks, all innocence. “hmm? just talking about home security. why? what did you think i was talking about?”

the silence stretches. megumi pours his coffee. gojo watches him with that insufferable grin, letting the moment hang.

"you’re walking a little stiff today, by the way. everything okay?"

"fine."

"you sure? you look like you might’ve, you know, strained something." gojo’s grin widens. “maybe you should stretch more. really reach for it, you know?”

megumi stares at him.

gojo stares back, blinking good-naturedly.

“...i’m fine," megumi says flatly.

“okay, okay! just checking.” gojo stands, shrugging and stretching dramatically, and pats megumi on the shoulder. “let me know if you find that camera.”

he’s gone before megumi can respond.

megumi stands there for a full thirty seconds.

his reply came even, without a hint of inflection. he turned to open the back door of the black sedan. “you can find the result within permissible parameters. we should head back before the traffic near the toll gate gets heavy.”

he was always eager to get debriefs over with. tired after a high-output expulsion, all megumi usually wanted was an energy drink or a quiet corner.

you slid into the backseat beside him, and you could swear you saw him growl, or snarl, some low and quiet noise—the micro-expression gone before you could fully clock it.

the engine hummed to life as megumi crossed his arms, the motion entirely languid as he cast his eyes to the window.

“fushiguro-kun,” the manager murmured, addressing him from the front seat. “would you like me to drop you off at gojo-san's apartment instead? i figured you might prefer that in this moment.. as he had to leave right away for a mission.”

you glanced over at megumi, expecting him to jump at the chance of a weekend at home, free of his guardian slash your mutual teacher to annoy him.

“no,” megumi replied curtly, not taking his eyes off the passing highway lights. “the dorms are fine.”

the driving man didn’t ask any other questions. you felt yourself still riding the adrenaline wave as the car passed various roads, gate still a ways off. the floaty feeling in your stomach slowly dissipated, fingers tapping against your thigh while you replayed the scenario—the split-second decision, the way the curse's attack almost clipped you right before totality bit down hard on it.

your eyes landed on megumi.

his head was still turned toward the scenery outside, arms draped across himself. the streetlights flickered across his face in uneven strips, the muscle near his temple jumping once. easy to miss from the outside but you knew him, and how the one tendon in his neck flexed every few seconds when he was chewing on something he wouldn’t say.

“hey.” you called.

nothing.

“megumi?”

a beat. then, a flat monotone. “what.”

“you okay?”

another heavy beat as the car hit against a bump on the road, his shoulder barely shifting.

“..fine.”

you narrowed your brows, snorting lightly. “really? because you’re really quiet. like... mad-quiet.”

megumi’s eyes slid away from the trees outside, shifting right into the seat in front of him before he finally turned his head, just enough to look at you. unreadable, except for his eyes, where the accusation smoldered underneath.

“i’m not mad.”

“okay.” you put your hands up, shrugging. “just checking.”

the silence settled as you turned away from the short exchange, watching the road from the front window.

but the tension radiating off megumi’s body persisted. twice you caught him in your peripheral—looking at you as if waiting for something, or trying to figure out whether to even say it.

at last the car pulled into the parking lot of the dorms, prompting ijichi to clear his throat after parking the car. “i’ll have filed the report by tomorrow morning. please get some rest.”

megumi was out of the car before the manager finished his sentence and the car door locked back into place. he moved towards the entrance with no wait in sight. you thanked the manager, grabbing your bag and following right after him.

the entrance of the building was quiet, the white fluorescent lights overhead buzzing a faint, sterile vibration. the dizzying rush from the mission earlier had left your body, replacing itself with exhaustion, every step you took.

he didn’t rush, nor did he slow down. shoulders set, hands shoved in his pockets—every line of megumi’s frame screamed ‘don’t talk to me’.

so, naturally, you sped up.

it was nearby anyway, his room, closer than yours.

you picked up the pace, hoping to part ways in good terms before you continued down the hall—beyond ready to unlace your boots, crash onto your mattress, and sleep for the next twelve hours.

yet, megumi didn’t stop.

you watched, footsteps faltering slightly, as he walked right past his own door without so much as a glance at the handle, silhouette carving a straight path ahead.

feeling slightly puzzled, you addressed him.

“okay. what is it?”

no answer.

“hey. megumi. can you talk?”

his chest expanded. “nothing.”

your shook your head. “i don’t buy that.”

he stopped, making you almost crash into him.

megumi turned halfway, looking at you, and there it was again—a flicker, barely contained.

“you want to do this here?” he said, low, controlled. “in the hallway?”

you stilled, blinking at his demeanor, bouncing a singular leg for a moment before making space between your bodies and passing him. “jeez, fine.”

he trailed behind you, until, there it was, your room in sight. you took out your key, irritation already bubbling in your nerves from megumi’s unusual display. the key scraped against the lock, the metallic sound giving way as you turned the handle. you pushed the door open, stepping into the cool, dim sanctuary of your room.

megumi followed right over the threshold, catching the edge of the heavy oak door with a swift, backward motion of his hand. he swung it shut with a definitive thud that seemed to cut off the rest of the world.

you dropped your bag on the floor, turning the bedside lamp on.

his hands were out of his pockets now, arms hanging straight at his sides. megumi’s torso rose and fell in a tightly coiled rhythm.

and the silence stretched.

agitated, you couldn’t take the suffocating weight of the situation anymore. you crossed your arms, turning fully to face him, the last remnants of your post-mission adrenaline flaring back to life as anger.

“what’s your probl—”

“you.”

megumi’s voice wasn't loud, a low, gravelly whisper instead that barely carried across the small room, but the gravity behind it made the breath catch slightly in your throat.

“me? what?”

the silence that followed his words felt worse than you expected.

you stood, arms loosened, looking at him. megumi met your eyes—then didn’t, opting to look at the floor. his jaw worked, hands opening and closing at his sides like he was physically trying to squeeze the anger out through his palms.

he closed his eyes, brows furrowing.

“why would you do that?”

“huh?” you reacted.

his head snapped up. “you know what.”

“megumi, i genuinely—”

“you. know. what.” he stepped forward, tone cutting.

“i don’t.” you matched his expression. “i saw an ope—”

“an opening.”

megumi closed in, tone sharpened, invading. “no signal. no wait. just—” he stopped himself, clenching his jaw tight.

“you had my back.” you shrugged, as if he was the one being unreasonable.

every muscle in his neck tightened.

“what if i hadn’t?” something in megumi’s eyes shifted, gone in a fleeting moment.

however, the meaning landed. one you had a zero response to.

his voice dropped to a mere order.

“don’t do it again.”

the argument had run out of words, the air seemingly compressing in the fraction of an inch between your faces.

“and if i refuse?” you met his eyes, neither of you yielding.

not until megumi’s eyes dropped to your mouth. wide eyed, brows-knit, breath hitching—his expression twisted before he caught it. he looked like he wanted to break something, like he was about to die.

and then, it frayed, shattering.

megumi crashed his mouth against yours, nothing gentle or soft; consuming instead, like restraint finally let off its leash, snapping and punishing in its wake, trying to pour every word he couldn't say into the press of his lips against yours.

he grabbed your jaw firmly, tilting your head with insistence. you gasped against his mouth, a sound swallowed by him.

his other hand found your hip, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling you against him like he needed to feel that you were real—that you were here, that you hadn't slipped through his fingers.

you kissed him back, angry, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling and pushing. megumi made a guttural sound against your mouth, vibrating straight through your chest and causing your knees to weaken.

he seemed intent on not giving you room to breathe. megumi pressed forward, his frame overtaking yours, driving his weight into you until your thighs were flush against his. the hand gripping your jaw slid down to the nape of your neck, fingers gripping into your hair with a fierce, possessive hold. he angled your head to take more, deeper, until your lips felt battered from the force of his own.

the heat between your bodies was suffocating.

you clawed at his back, nails digging through the heavy fabric of his uniform, desperate to pull him closer, matching the frantic pace megumi was setting. every inhale was sharp, filling your lungs with the scent of him—rain, ozone, and the bitter leftover tang of a successful mission.

megumi mouth tore away from yours with a ragged gasp. he dragged his lips down to your jawline, heavy and damp, burying his face in your neck.

he bit down on the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, a bruising nip that drew a breathy gasp from you. his fingers trembled against your skin, his chest heaving violently as he held you in a vice grip.

“idiot,” megumi panted against your pulse point, his voice a broken scrape. he dug harder into your waist, anchoring you to your desk beneath. “a reckless—”

“shut it,” you breathed, your fingers tugging sharply at his dark hair to force his face back up to yours. you were both flushed, sweating, eyes locked in the dim, striped light of the room.

“again.”

a hunger, full of danger, flashed in megumi's eyes.

you held his gaze, breathless. “do it.. again.”

megumi slammed his mouth back over yours, frantic, fueled by your words and the shared heat of your skin.

his hands began to slide down in a clumsy tremor, a rare impatience more than peeking through. fingers tangled in the hem of your uniform, he shoved it off your shoulders with brutal efficiency.

another barrier neither of you had the patience for was the stiff fabric of his uniform.

you fumbled with the stiff buttons at his collar, feeling the hot, rapid beat of his pulse beneath his jaw. he shoved your hands away, ripping the fabric open himself, not sparing a single thought to the scattering buttons.

megumi yanked the uniform down his arms, the heavy material hitting the floor and revealing the lean, hard planes of his chest—the shifting shadow of his energy dancing in the low light, untamed—he was slick with sweat, radiating the faint, sharp hum of leftover cursed energy.

with a heavy surge of momentum, megumi hoisted you onto the edge of your desk. the shift in gravity was immediate—a sudden slide of skin against skin as he locked you against the edge of the wood, the contents falling off, ending up as collateral on the floor, loud clatter mixing with the sound of his ragged breathing.

he crowded into the space between your legs, his hands gripping under your thighs to pull you right to the edge, anchoring you against him, the friction of your bodies and the possessive, wordless language of his hands on your skin doing all the speaking.

the surface was a stark, biting contrast to the blistering heat of him wedged between your knees. megumi pressed his head hard against yours, chest heaving against your ribs like a dying engine. his gaze tracked the rapid pulse fluttering in your throat, taking in the undeniable proof that you were still whole.

any leftover clothing standing between your bodies was starting to feel offensive. megumi’s fingers, still somewhat precise, clawed at the closures of your pants, his own belt buckle clinking against the desk in the quiet room. you tore at the remaining layers scraping over the damp, tense muscles of his, working to strip away the final distance.

when bare, the raw shock of skin-on-skin contact made you both flinch. megumi let out a fractured sound—a choked-back sob—and his thumbs dug mercilessly into the soft dip above your hip bones, stabilizing you hard against himself once more.

he didn’t wait. he didn’t have the capacity for it. the rigid heat of megumi overrode any gentle preparation, giving into the ache in your lower body. his hand slid, fingers pulling the back of your thigh up to angle you, lifting just enough to align himself.

then he pushed forward, entering you in one heavy movement, the sudden fullness of him stealing the air right out of your lungs. your fingers clamped into the meat of his shoulders, your back arching off the desk as a high-pitched cry broke from your lips. megumi captured the noise in his own mouth in a blind collision, his entire body shivering, burying himself completely inside you.

he held himself there, breathing you in as his fingers pushed against your sides even harder—proving to himself that you were trapped beneath him, alive.

you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. megumi took the cue like a directive, his palms locking onto your hips, driving himself against you.

every movement of megumi was devoid of hesitation, reckless neediness burning away. he moved, in a relentless tilt of his hips, deliberate and adamant, striking the breath right out of your lungs.

megumi’s head dropped into the crook of your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin as his breath came in uneven, strained whimpers—completely unraveled, absorbed by the friction of your skin. you felt the rapid, violent thud of his heartbeat matching your own as the room grew smaller.

the tension in his muscles wound to a breaking point, megumi’s pulse hammered frantically right against where he buried his face into. every thrust rapidly burned out the last of your reserves, dragging you both right to the edge with a fierce momentum that neither of you could stop if you tried.

megumi dialed up the pace, entirely unforgiving as his hands braced hard on the desk behind you. his knuckles turned white as he used the leverage to impel himself into you even deeper, harder, making your vision blur at the edges. your own hips rocked up to meet him, chasing the rupture—heels digging into the small of his back to lock him in place. loud, unsparing sounds hit the quiet walls of your bedroom. megumi did nothing to stifle them, he was way past the point of hiding.

he chased the same rippling release with you, movements clouding into a chaotic frenzy.

“me—gumi—,” the chopped plea broke from your lips, fingers catching at his lower back.

megumi let out a low, ragged groan, his teeth catching the skin of your shoulder as he delivered three relentless pushes that hit the exact spot. a wave of heat crashed through your lower body, pulsating your internal muscles around him in a tight, merciless spasm that sent him nearly over the edge. your back arched, breath catching in a high, choked gasp as your own high rushed through you.

the squeezing friction was the breaking point for megumi—his entire frame quivered, a fractured sob escaping him. he gave a final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came. his muscles seized up as he shuddered violently, pouring himself into you. head rested on your shoulder, his breathing dissolved into ruined, hyperventilating gasps.

the uneven cadence of your tangled breathing slowly came down together. you lay back against the wood, completely spent, limbs heavy and tingling. the anger that had fueled the entire night had burned itself down to ash, leaving only an open ache in your chest as the adrenaline ebbed and reality settled in.

the heat in the room was stagnant now, the frantic rush of heartbeats dropping back into normal. leaked under the door in a thin, sterile line was the white light from the hallway, cutting across the dim room, bringing your reality back into focus

megumi had planted his face against your collarbone, cursed energy finally settling back beneath his skin, leaving him feeling intensely, heavily human. every breath he took was still an unlevel vibration that pressed right against your chest. his hands were still clamped tightly, hooked around your waist, but the hold had softened into something more grounding.

you stared past the dark crown of his hair, eyes fixing onto the ceiling above.

“i trusted you.”

your words were dropped softly into the quiet, a simple statement of fact. “that is why.”

the light rise of megumi’s back stopped entirely, chest locking tight against your ribs. a new, cold dread began to pool right in the pit of megumi’s stomach—worse than the fury he’d arrived with, than the raging panic that had driven him to tear through your clothes.

the implication was clearer than day. the next time the curtain fell, your life wouldn't just be in your hands—it would be in megumi’s, too. if his shadows failed, if he was a half-second too slow, he would have to carry the corpse of the only person who had looked at him, choosing to put their undying trust into him.

his fingers twitched on your side, squishing the flesh, trying to hold onto something megumi was already terrified of losing.

he knew how fragile anchors were in the world of sorcerers.

“stupid,” megumi whispered, voice breaking.

he didn't look up.

face buried deeper, nose pressing your throat until it almost hurt, megumi tried to hide from the absolute certainty of your words. he wanted to tell you.

he wanted to tell you that one day, he might fail you. that ‘trust’ is a luxury that usually ends in a body bag, and the thought of you looking at him with that same trust while you bled out in some forgotten clearing made him feel physically sick.

“you’re so... stupid.”