totally not a rat w internet access

You didn’t turn around.

“Butcher,” he added, in case you needed clarity. “You heard him. Said we’re a liability. Said we fucked it.”

You still didn’t move. The pain in your shoulder pulsed in time with your heartbeat. You could feel him behind you—close enough that your skin prickled.

“What was it he said again? Somethin’ like—‘get the fuck back to base before you fuck everything else up, yeah?’” He snorted. “Fuckin’ poetry.”

You turned slowly. Deliberate. Controlled. Like you hadn’t been burning the entire way back.

Ben leaned against the table like he owned it. Like he owned everything. His shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled, streaks of blood dried on his forearms. A cut split the corner of his mouth, barely crusted over. He looked like hell. He looked smug as sin.

“This your way of apologising?” You asked flatly.

He grinned.

“For what? Havin’ to drag your sorry ass out of the crossfire?” He tipped his chin toward you, voice soft and sharp. “You’re the one who decided to break off formation, sweetheart. You’re the one who thought she knew better. As usual.”

“You were supposed to be on my six.”

“I was,” he said, with a smirk that could rot teeth. “But your head’s so far up your own ass, you probably couldn’t see straight.”

You took a step forward.

“Don’t fucking talk to me.”

“Why not?” He tilted his head, mock-confused. “Scared I’ll say somethin’ you don’t wanna hear?” He clicked his tongue. “Or scared I’ll say somethin’ you do?”

He pushed off the table and started toward you, boots deliberate, like he was giving you time to flinch.

You didn’t.

“Touch me and I’ll gut you.”

He laughed. Full-bellied. Loud in the cramped space.

“Jesus Christ. Every time. You get that little snarl in your voice and think it makes you dangerous. But sweetheart—” He closed the distance, close enough to smell the blood drying on his skin. “—you don’t scare me. You get me hot.”

You flinched before you could stop yourself. And he noticed.

“That’s right,” he said, voice dipped low like a secret, like a threat. “Say my name like it don’t hurt you to come out that pretty, wet little mouth.”

“I’d rather chew glass.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’d still fuck you with blood on your teeth.”

Your hand twitched toward your blade.

He saw it. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked, voice husky with mock concern. “Stab me?”

He leaned in. “C’mon, baby. Don’t tease. You and I both know you ain't gonna do shit.”

You shoved him.

It was instinctive, desperate, not meant to land so much as buy space—but he didn’t budge. Didn’t stumble. He just looked down at the spot where your hands had hit his chest. Then up.

Then smiled.

“There she is,” he murmured. “My little junkyard dog. All bark. No bite.”

You punched him. Hard. Right across the face.

His head jerked sideways with the impact. And for a moment—blessed silence.

Then he licked the blood from his lip and grinned.

“That all you got?”

You went for him again. This time he blocked it. Then the other.

You were shaking. Breathing too fast. You didn’t care. Your shoulder screamed, your vision burned—but you kept swinging. He caught your wrist. Twisted. Pressed you back against the table.

His face hovered over yours, grinning like a devil that just found a loophole.

“Always a mean little bitch under all that scowling,” he rasped, his breath hot against your cheek. “Now what? You gonna hit me again…”

His other hand slid across your hip, slow, possessive.

“…or you gonna fuckin’ kiss me?”

You shoved him—hard.

This time, Ben moved. His ass slammed against the table’s edge with a thud, the sound loud in the breathless space between you. The legs screeched against the concrete floor, the flickering bulb above swaying ever so slightly from the shift.

He didn’t look angry. He looked delighted.

That fucking smirk twisted across his split lip like sin incarnate. His eyes tracked your movements lazily, like he was watching a predictable game play out exactly as he'd imagined.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snapped, voice low, warning-laced, vibrating with the kind of rage that tasted like blood at the back of your throat.

He tilted his head. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, savouring the shape of the sound like a fine cigar. “Feisty now, huh?”

Your chest heaved. Your shoulder throbbed. The sleeve of your jacket was soaked through, blood soaking the fabric where the wound still wept. You didn’t care. Not now. Not when he stood there like every word that had ever left your mouth was just foreplay.

“You are a walking piece of shit, Hargrove,” you hissed, each syllable laced with months of bitter frustration. “Every time you open your mouth, it’s like someone scraped the bottom of a fucking urinal and taught it to speak.”

He barked out a laugh, loud and cruel, cutting across your words like a blade. “C’mon, sweetheart. You can do better than that.”

You didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“You’re a liability. A danger to your own team. You’re not a soldier—you’re a relic. Washed-up and bitter and desperate for someone to look at you like you’re still relevant—”

“There she goes,” he said, louder now, over you. His tone dripped with amusement, his grin all teeth. “God, you run that mouth like it’s gonna win you a medal.”

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish!”

“Why?” He shrugged. “You only like hearin’ yourself talk?”

Your vision blurred, fury red-hot behind your eyes. You didn’t even realise how close you’d stepped until you felt his breath ghosting across your lips.

“You think this is funny?” You hissed. “You ruin everything you touch. Every mission, every team—you tank it. Because you can’t handle anyone not looking at you like you’re a fucking god.”

He didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked pleased. “And yet you keep comin’ back,” he murmured. “Can’t help yourself. Bet you lie awake wonderin’ if I’m thinkin’ about you. Wantin’ me to.”

You scoffed, but his grin widened.

“Hate to break it to you, honey, but you ain't special. You're just easy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Nah. I'm honest.” He stepped in close, voice dropping to a murmur. “Y’know what your real problem is? You don’t know your fuckin’ place.”

You blinked. Something in your spine stiffened. That sick-slick tension tightened between your ribs.

“Back in my day,” he continued, slow and deliberate, “girls like you weren’t out in the field. You were fuckin’ dinner entertainment. Something soft to come home to. Not stompin’ around, actin’ like your tits and your tantrums count as tactical advantage.”

Your nails bit into your palms. He kept going.

“You wanna play soldier so bad, but you can’t even keep your emotions in check. Bleedin’ all over the floor and yellin’ like a brat who didn’t get her way.”

“I am ten times the asset you’ll ever be—” you began, but he cut you off again.

“Sweetheart, the only asset you got is between your fuckin’ legs.”

Silence fell. Ugly. Hot.

Then you spit.

Right into his face.

It landed just beneath his eye, slid slow and gleaming down his cheek to where his jaw tensed. He didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t blink.

Then, fast as a whipcrack, he lunged.

His hand snapped up and clamped around your jaw with bruising force, fingers digging into the soft parts of your cheeks, thumb pressing into the hinge like he was daring it to break. He squeezed hard enough to make your lips part, to force your chin upward until your eyes had nowhere to go but him.

You jerked, tried to wrench away, but he held you firm. Unyielding.

“Don’t waste your fuckin’ spit like that,” he growled.

His breath was hot. His face inches from yours, that cut on his lip glistening red and wet.

“You got no idea how many men would’ve dropped you where you stand for that.”

He paused, then smiled. A slow, filthy thing.

“But not me.” His voice rasped low, reverent in the worst way. “Nah. I like you like this. All mouth and no plan. Lookin’ at me like you wanna kill me and come on my cock at the same time.”

You tried to speak, and he tightened his grip. The ache bloomed instantly, your jaw locked in place.

“Don’t. Speak.”

His eyes roamed over your face, dark and gleaming with something feral.

“You’re not gonna say anything I haven’t already jerked off to.”

Your jaw ached in his grip, cheeks squeezed between his calloused fingers, lips parted just enough for breath to pass—but nothing else. He held you there like a fucking trophy, his thumb rough against your skin, his smirk rotting through your bloodstream like venom.

You could hear yourself breathing. Could hear him breathing. Close and sharp and slow. Measured, like he was savouring the scent of your unraveling.

You hated the silence. Because in the silence—you felt it.

The throb. Low and dark, blooming in your gut like a bruise. Not from rage. Not from shame.

From want.

And it hit you like a slap.

No.

No, no, no.

Your pulse pounded hard against your ribs. Your body buzzed like it had just realised what kind of man had you pinned. What kind of voice was in your ear. What kind of fingers were on your jaw.

And that—that’s what made your stomach twist. Because somewhere in the middle of all the hate and heat and violence—

You were getting wet.

You scowled. Tried to pull back. But Ben’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead, his smile stretched into something even worse.

“Ohhh,” he crooned, soft and vicious, “there it is.”

You froze. Heart lurching.

“That little squirm,” he said. “Took you a minute, huh? Thought you were gonna keep up the act a little longer.”

You growled in your throat, furious, but he just kept going.

“Should’ve known. All that righteous little rage—” he leaned in, voice dipping like a secret, “—was just your pussy tryin’ to negotiate terms.”

You twisted in his grip, but he followed you like a shadow.

“Bet you’re soaked. Hatin’ every second of it. Poor thing.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” you hissed.

He ignored it.

“What is it?” He murmured. “The voice? The muscles? Or is it the fact I treat you like a fuckin’ dumb little girl who doesn’t belong on the field?”

You spat again—but this time, you missed. It hit his collarbone, slid down his bare chest where his shirt wasn't fully done up.

He chuckled darkly.

“Temper, temper.”

Then you bit him. Hard.

Your teeth sank into the curve where his shoulder met his neck, the tang of his sweat hitting your tongue like copper and salt. You heard him grunt—deep and involuntary—but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his hand tightened on your jaw, holding you there like he wanted the pain.

You pulled back and glared up at him, lips slick with spit and rage.

“You are not fucking me,” you snapped.

Ben didn’t blink.

“No?” He said, voice sharp with laughter, laced with something darker beneath it.

Then his hand dropped low, low enough to brush between your legs, just for a second, just enough for him to feel the heat there.

His eyes lit up.

“Well I ain’t fuckin’ the hole in your shoulder, sweetheart.”

You slapped him.

The sound snapped through the room like the crack of a whip. His face turned with the force of it—but his smile stayed. Wider now. Red glistened on his lip where your palm had split it further, curling into the corner of his mouth like a badge of honour.

And still—he laughed. Low and steady, like he was enjoying this more than anything that had come before.

“Still got fight,” he rasped. “God, I fuckin’ love that.”

He stepped forward again, forcing you back until your spine met the rough cinderblock wall. His body caged yours, broad and radiating heat, his breath ragged but measured like he was controlling it just to make a point.

His hand landed on your hip. Possessive. Heavy.

“You’re burnin’ up,” he murmured. “Tryna hide it, but you’re meltin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re pulsin’.”

You sneered. “You’re hallucinating.”

He laughed again, but there was a tension coiled beneath it now. Something tight and hungry and climbing.

His fingers dragged slowly up your thigh, the heat of them searing through the fabric. He didn’t go high enough to touch anything worth touching—but close. So close. Just enough to make your skin buzz and crawl.

“You always get this hot when you’re mad, or is it just for me?”

You turned your face away.

That smug fucking tone. That condescension. That voice.

Your body hated you for it. You hated you for it.

He leaned in until his mouth grazed the edge of your jaw, his lips brushing skin with infuriating softness. His stubble scraped, and your breath hitched—just once.

He heard it.

“C’mon,” he said, softer now. Dangerous. “Stop fightin’ it, baby.”

You clenched your teeth.

“I’m not—” you started, but he cut you off with a groan that was almost frustrated.

“Jesus. You are the most stubborn little fuckin’ thing I’ve ever met.” His palm pressed flat against your stomach now, not moving higher, not yet. “I’m right here. You know it. I feel you, sweetheart.”

He pressed his hips against yours.

You felt it—his arousal, straining against his pants, heavy and hot and very, very there.

And still—your jaw locked.

He chuckled again, but this time it was quieter. Rougher. His lips ghosted over your ear.

“You ain’t gotta beg,” he murmured. “Don’t gotta say please.”

He nipped your earlobe, and you flinched.

“But fuck,” he breathed, “I want you to. Just once. Just a fuckin’ whimper of it.”

His other hand came up and gripped the back of your neck, dragging your head back against the wall, making you look at him.

“Just gimme somethin’,” he growled. “Let me have it.”

You stared up at him, eyes defiant, chest heaving, lips trembling with a fury you couldn’t name. His pupils were blown, jaw tight, sweat beading at his temple.

“You want me to say it?” You whispered.

He nodded, once. Jaw ticking.

You leaned forward, lips almost brushing his.

“No.”

His eyes flared. Just for a moment. Then his forehead hit the wall beside your head with a hollow thunk.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he growled, nearly breathless. “Goddamn little—”

You kissed him.

Or maybe he kissed you. It didn’t matter. Because suddenly—there were no more words. Only teeth. Tongue. Pressure. Only hands everywhere, dragging, grabbing, bruising. Only the sound of your breath punched out of your lungs as he pinned you harder, like he wanted to break something open just to see what spilled out.

And still—you didn’t beg. Not once.

His mouth was on yours, hot and hungry and entirely too satisfied with itself. He kissed like he fought—with dominance, with grit, with absolutely no care for anyone’s breath but his own. Your teeth clashed, tongues fighting for control, every gasp turning into another insult.

“I fuckin’ knew you wanted it,” he muttered against your lips, breath ragged, voice ruined. “God, you’re such a fuckin’ prick tease sometimes.”

You bit his bottom lip, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut the fuck up,” you panted, fingers already yanking at his half-undone shirt.

He growled—deep and primal—grabbing the hem of your top and pulling it over your head like it’d personally offended him. You barely had time to toss it aside before his hands were on your tits, greedy and rough and everywhere.

Between kisses, between moans, between muttered curses, you were tearing at his belt, yanking and fumbling, both of you shaking with urgency.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he hissed, snapping the leather free. “Gonna ruin you.”

“You already have,” you spat.

His grin split wider. “Aww, baby. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Then he went for your pants.

And froze.

You were kicking off your boots, halfway done when he huffed—truly, violently irritated.

“Fuck this shit,” he barked.

Before you could speak, his arms wrapped around your waist and he spun you—fast, like the air was thick with smoke and he didn’t have time to be gentle.

You barely got your hands out to brace yourself before your hips hit the edge of the table and you were slammed down onto your front.

“Hargrove—” you started.

He didn’t listen.

Didn’t care.

His hand wrapped around your waistband and in one brutal, fluid motion, he ripped your pants and underwear clean down the back of your legs, the fabric tearing with a shriek and hitting the floor like surrender.

“Are you fucking serious?! I liked those pants!”

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, just enough to tilt your head back.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Then he dropped to his knees.

You barely had time to process the shift before his hands gripped your ass and spread you, and his whole face pressed in like he was trying to suffocate between your thighs.

And then—his mouth.

“Oh fuck—”

The first lick was devastating. Broad and slow, from your clit to your dripping entrance, and then back again, like he was learning you.

Then came the second—filthier. Sloppier. Louder.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, voice muffled in your cunt. “You taste like a fuckin’ war crime.”

You choked on a laugh and a moan at once, half turning to glare over your shoulder.

“Don’t flatter yourself—”

But he growled—deep—and sucked your clit into his mouth like he was punishing it. You almost collapsed.

“Shut up,” he muttered against you. “Just fuckin’ take it.”

Then he really started working.

Tongue pressed flat, then curling. Lapping and sucking and moaning like he’d gone feral. One hand keeping you spread, the other sliding down your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise.

“You hear that?” He said, pulling back just long enough to spit onto your pussy and spread it with two fingers. “That squelch? That’s you, baby. Drippin’ all over my fuckin’ face.”

His mouth dove back in, and this time, he added teeth.

You cried out. His name. A curse. Maybe both.

He laughed into you. “That’s right. Fuckin’ mess. And you act like you’re not into it.”

You tried to push up, to speak, but he slapped your ass—hard—and buried his tongue deep again, humming like it was the best goddamn meal he’d ever had.

“Keep that mouth shut and let me eat, sweetheart,” he growled, voice wrecked. “You’re so fuckin’ wet I could drown in it.”

And he wanted to. You could feel it—in the way he moved. Desperate. Devoted. Obscene.

You were moaning. Panting. Swearing. But even now—still, now—you were running your fucking mouth.

His tongue had been buried in you for what felt like hours. Alternating between lapping, sucking, biting—his face drenched, his groans constant, hands gripping your thighs like a lifeline.

And you? You were taking it. You were suffering for it. But not quietly.

“You sound like a dog,” you hissed, voice breathless, broken, but still smug. “Fucking mutt. Bet you’d hump my leg if I let you.”

He growled into your cunt. You gasped. But the grin was still there, stretching across your face like sin.

“You’re pathetic, Hargrove,” you whispered. “Fucking starving like you haven’t had pussy in—”

His voice rumbled, low and sharp: “Shut your mouth.”

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Can’t get enough, huh? Pathetic little—”

“I swear to God, sweetheart—” His breath was ragged, trembling with something dangerous. “I will fuck that pretty throat if you don’t stop talkin’.”

You arched your back and laughed, breathless and triumphant.

“Aww,” you taunted, “Did I bruise your ego?”

That was it.

He moved. In a blur of strength and heat and fury, he grabbed your waist and lifted you clean off the floor. You yelped, legs kicking reflexively as your spine hit the table, your head dangling off the far side.

The world flipped upside down.

“Hargrove—what the fu—”

Your words were cut off by the weight of him—thick and hot and full, his cock driving into your mouth so deep your vision sparked.

Your throat convulsed.

He hissed through clenched teeth, head thrown back, arms braced over the table as he held you there.

“Fuck—told you.” His voice cracked, breath rattling through the growl. “I fuckin’ warned you,” he groaned, thrusting slowly, deeply, into your throat while your eyes watered and your fingernails dug into the edges of the table.

“Run that fuckin’ mouth one more time,” he panted, his hips grinding deeper with every word, “and I’ll use it just like this every goddamn time.”

He wasn’t pulling back.

Just shallow rocks of his hips, grinding against the back of your throat while he looked down at your body bent over the table like a goddamn feast.

And then?

His fingers slid between your legs again. Without warning. Two of them. Deep.

You choked—hard—around him as his fingers curled exactly where they needed to, dragging slick out of you like he wanted to make it messier.

Your whole body spasmed.

“You feel that?” He rasped, breath shuddering. “Goddamn. You’re squeezin’ my fingers like a fuckin’ vice.”

He groaned again—shaky, hot, fucked-out.

“Jesus, baby… and you were talkin’ like you didn’t want this.”

His free hand cradled your throat now—thumb pressed against the bulge of his cock visible in your neck, feeling himself inside you.

His eyes rolled back.

“Christ, your fuckin’ throat was made for me.”

You tried to move. Couldn’t.

Every breath you dragged in was him. Every sound was slick and gasped and obscene—the wet noise of his fingers plunging into your soaked cunt, the slap of his hips against your lips, the throb of your core twitching around his hand.

He laughed again—wrecked, barely holding on.

And you were still fighting it. Still glaring through tear-lined lashes, still gagging and clawing and refusing to break.

But he was gonna make you, even if he had to keep you full at both ends to do it.

He was fucking your throat like it was the last thing on Earth that could save him.

Every roll of his hips was deeper. Slower. Less angry and more delirious, like he’d tipped over into something hot and helpless and consuming.

His fingers were still inside you, working in tandem with his cock down your throat—crooking and twisting like he was testing reactions, mapping you from the inside out. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely think.

And he loved it.

You could hear it in the way he was groaning now—drawn-out, fucked-up sounds, torn from deep in his chest. He wasn’t even taunting anymore. He was worshipping.

“Jesus,” he gasped, looking down at you with wild, half-lidded eyes, sweat dripping from his temple. “This mouth. This fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart—"

He thrust again, slow and deep, hips stuttering at the feel of you twitching around him.

“I love it when you spit at me,” he groaned, voice cracking into a soft laugh. “I love it when you snarl like a rabid little fuckin’ animal—”

You gagged around him, throat clenched so tight he moaned.

“God, yeah. When you run that mouth like a spoiled little brat—when you hate me so fuckin’ loud—”

He curled his fingers inside you, deep and slick, pressing down on your front wall—that spongey, gummy, wreck-you spot—like he was playing a damn instrument.

“—and then suck me down like you don’t even need to breathe anymore—fuck—”

Your vision blurred. Everything started spinning. You tapped his thigh once. Twice. Desperate.

His hips froze. His cock still buried in your throat.

“Oh—fuck,” he gasped, already pulling out. “Shit. Sorry, sweetheart—got lost in the fuckin’ moment there.”

He was laughing. A breathless, ragged sound, part apology, part thrill. His eyes were wild with it. Face flushed. Hands shaking.

You gagged as air rushed back into your lungs, coughing, drool trailing down your chin, your mouth gaping as you tried to drag yourself upright.

“Jesus,” you rasped, blinking tears from your lashes. “You’re fucking insane.”

His fingers left you with a wet pull that made you flinch—and he watched it. Watched how your thighs twitched when you were empty again.

He was circling the table now, still breathless, his cock glistening, soaked in spit and flushed angry red.

“Damn right I am,” he said hoarsely, eyes raking down your wrecked body.

Then he gripped your hips and dragged you down the table, rough and fluid, until your ass met the edge and your legs dropped open—slack, shivering.

“C’mon.” His voice was low now. Different. Almost soft. “Lean up. Wanna see those fuckin’ eyes.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, still gasping, still shaking. But you looked. You watched.

You watched him line up—the head of his cock rubbing through your soaked folds, catching against your clit, then sliding down to your entrance where you were aching to be filled.

He exhaled shakily, mouth falling open.

“God,” he muttered, like a man on the brink. “Look at you.”

One hand on your thigh. The other gripping himself, twitching at the base. He nudged forward again, teasing—not to torture, but because he was savouring.

You locked eyes. He was gone.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he whispered.

Then he pushed in like he had all the time in the world.

No rush. No brutality.

Just that slow, devastating stretch as his cock split you open—inch by aching inch—like he’d been waiting for this, like he’d earned it. His mouth dropped open when he bottomed out, a filthy groan catching low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “You’re so fuckin’ tight. Squeezin’ me like you were made for this.”

Your body arched, mouth falling open in a wordless moan as the table beneath your back creaked. You couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. All you could feel was the weight of him—deep, thick, pulsing inside you—and the heat blooming out from where your bodies met.

And then he started to move.

Slow. Deep. Dragging his cock almost all the way out, then pressing it back in until your walls clenched and fluttered helplessly.

Your head lolled back. Your eyes rolled.

He slapped your thigh—hard.

“Uh-uh.” His voice was tight. Stern. “Eyes on me.”

You blinked, dazed.

He was braced over you, one hand on your thigh, the other fisted beside your hip. His hips rolled forward again—slower this time, deliberate. You moaned. Your eyelids fluttered.

Another sharp slap to your thigh.

“Look. At. Me.” he growled.

You dragged your gaze back to him, jaw slack, lips parted.

“Goddamn,” he rasped, staring down at you like you were an open flame. “Look at that face. Look at what I fuckin’ do to you.”

He rocked in again, groaning as your body clenched around him.

“I love this part,” he muttered. “When you’re still tryin’ to hold it together. Still actin’ like you’re not fallin’ apart.”

You whimpered, and his mouth curled.

“You like this, don’t you?” He crooned, voice thick with filth. “Being pinned open like this. Full. Spread. Watched.”

Your head tipped back again on instinct, eyes slipping shut—

And his hand snapped up, grabbing your jaw.

“No.”

He held your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You don’t get to look away,” he said, voice sharp with heat. “Not when I’m inside you like this. Not when I’m this deep.”

He thrust again, deeper this time—grinding the base of his cock against you so perfectly you cried out.

“That’s it.” He grinned, breath catching. “I wanna see you break.”

Your hands scrambled at the table, nails dragging across the wood. Your thighs were shaking. Every time he bottomed out, your hips jerked, your breath hitched, your chest arched—and he watched. Every. Fucking. Time.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he warned, still holding your face. “I want to watch what I do to you. Every twitch. Every moan. Every little shiver.”

Your body pulsed around him like it was listening.

And that made him feral.

“Jesus, sweetheart—this pussy,” he groaned, slowing his thrusts again, dragging them out to pure torture. “Grippin’ me like it knows. Like it wants to be ruined.”

Your eyes fluttered again.

He tutted.

“Aw, baby. You tryna be good?” His cock slid deeper. “You wanna be good for me?”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. He let your jaw go—just long enough to slap your thigh one more time.

“Christ,” he groaned, hands gripping your thighs like restraints. “Still this fuckin’ tight…”

You felt it every time he bottomed out—hips flush to yours, cock buried so deep you could barely breathe. Your mouth opened on a moan that never quite found its voice, your head tipping back on the table, fingers trembling where they gripped the edge.

His hands moved—one sliding up to press flat against your belly, the other settling on your jaw, thumb grazing your lips like he didn’t know what part of you he wanted to control more.

“Pussy like this should come with a fuckin’ warning,” he muttered, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You feel that? How tight you’re squeezin’ me? It’s fucking perfect.”

You moaned, head tipping back more.

He slapped your thigh. Again. Sharper.

“Nuh-uh. Eyes. On. Me.”

Your gaze dragged back up to meet his—blurry, glassy, wrecked.

He looked devastated. Sweat on his chest. Jaw tight. His green eyes burning down at you like he’d die if you looked away again.

“You keep doin’ that, I’m gonna lose it,” he whispered. “I’m already hangin’ by a fuckin’ thread.”

Your walls clenched around him at the admission. He hissed.

“You like that, don’t you? Bein’ the one who makes me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

His thrusts got deeper, harder. Still slow, still controlled—but barely.

“God, I really do love this fuckin’ mouth,” he panted, staring at your lips now.

You whimpered. Shuddered. Your whole body was tensing.

He could feel it. His fingers reached down, thumb finding your clit, circling in tight, merciless pressure.

“You close?” He asked, voice gone rough and mean.

You nodded, whimpering, trying to say yes. But your throat couldn’t form it.

He stilled.

You cried out, grinding your hips, chasing the friction—anything—but he held you.

“Nope,” he rasped. “You wanna come? You ask.”

Your eyes flared. Fury and arousal crashing like thunder.

He grinned.

“What’s wrong?” He cooed. “Too proud to beg? Thought you were a tough girl.”

You clenched your teeth, panting.

“I can do this all night, sweetheart,” he said, hips grinding deep and slow again, teasing that spot that made your legs twitch. “I’ll keep you right here until you sob for it.”

He pulled back, just enough to make you feel empty. Then slid back in, eyes glued to your face.

“You gonna say it?” He whispered. “Gonna ask me?”

Still, you didn’t. But your eyes were glassy. Your hips were shaking. Your voice was gone.

And then, you said it. Soft. Broken.

“…Ben.”

His name. Your voice.

Everything stopped.

His hands shook. His breath hitched. His head dropped forward with a gasp.

“Oh, fuck…”

He looked at you like he didn’t know what to do with that sound.

“You’ve never…” he whispered. “You’ve never called me that.”

You said it again, even softer.

“Ben…”

And he shattered.

“Fuck, come.” His voice cracked. “Please. Now.”

His thumb pressed down. His hips snapped forward. Your body broke. And the moment it hit the air—

He snapped.

“Fuck—yes, yes, come, come for me—”

His voice fractured around it—command and awe bleeding together like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His thumb kept circling your clit, relentless. His cock buried deep. And your body shuddered beneath him.

You came hard. Again. Back arching, mouth open, eyes rolling.

And still— He didn’t stop.

Not even for a second.

He was still fucking you. Driving into your wrecked cunt like he’d been given permission to devour.

You whimpered. Eyes fluttering.

“Ben—”

“Oh, we’re not done,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “Not even close, sweetheart.”

He kissed you. Open-mouthed and filthy. His lips found your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—like he couldn’t decide what part of you to ruin next. His hips never slowed. Each thrust was harder now. Rougher. Every wet slap of his body against yours made you twitch.

You couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. And your body—shaking, overstimulated—begged for mercy you refused to ask for.

Your head tipped back again.

Eyes closed.

Your fatal mistake.

He froze. Just for a second. Then he snapped his hips. Hard. Brutal.

You cried out.

His hand cracked across your thigh. Again.

“Eyes,” he snarled. “The fuck did I say?”

You tried. Blinked. Dragged yourself back to him.

His eyes were wild. Hair damp with sweat. Jaw tight. His cock pulsing deep inside you.

“You look at me when I fuck you.”

He slowed. Just a little. Then slammed into you again, harder than before—making the table creak and your legs twitch.

“Can’t believe you dared to close your fuckin’ eyes again after I warned you.”

“Ben—fuck, I—”

He spit the next words like a threat:

“You do that one more time, and I swear to God, sweetheart— I’ll flip you over, fuck your ass deep, and I won’t let you look at me.”

Your whole body spasmed.

His voice dropped, feral.

“Sound good to you?” He growled. “Want me there next? So every fuckin’ inch of you is mine? So you remember who fuckin’ owns this body?”

You choked on a moan.

He grabbed your face again, forcing your gaze back to his.

“That’s right. Keep those pretty little eyes where they belong.”

He thrust again—hard, fast, filthy. You sobbed. Clenched. He groaned like he was dying. Your thighs were soaked. Your vision blurred. And he was still going. Still holding you wide open.

Still not coming. Because he wanted you broken first.

He was fucking you like he was trying to carve a god out of your body. Relentless. Precise. The kind of rhythm that wasn’t chaos—it was control. Hard-earned. Hard-kept. Just barely contained.

Your thighs were soaked. His cock was dripping. You could feel your own come sliding down the insides of your legs from the last orgasm, and still—he hadn’t let up.

Then—

His pace broke.

He pulled back, hips stuttering as he groaned, “Fuck, I’m close. Fuck—where d’you want it?”

His voice was wrecked. Ragged. Wild. “Your tits? Your stomach? Wanna see it drip off your ass? What, baby—what do you want?”

Your answer was a sob. One word.

“Inside.”

And he stopped cold.

You didn’t even feel his cock anymore—just the sudden absence as he yanked back like you’d burned him.

His hand flew to the base of his cock, fisting it tight to hold himself back.

“Jesus fuck, sweetheart—”

He was breathing hard. Panicked. Laughing like it hurt.

“You can’t—you can’t say shit like that,” he gasped, squeezing himself as precum smeared over his knuckles. “You gotta give a guy warning before you pull that fucking move.”

You whimpered. Barely coherent. “Please…”

He laughed. Laughed like he was losing his mind.

“Oh, no. No, no, no—” he choked, circling around the table like he had to walk it off or he’d blow right then and there.

He looked feral. Cheeks flushed, sweat gleaming on his chest, cock throbbing in his fist.

“Inside?” He echoed, voice hoarse. “Jesus, you really are a little fuckin’ menace.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, mouth open, wrecked in every possible way.

“The last thing either of us needs,” he panted, “is me fuckin’ a baby into you.”

You shivered. Moaned. He grinned wider.

“Can you imagine?” He groaned, twisting his fist at the tip. “Half me and half you? That kid would be fucked. Wouldn’t even make it past the first trimester before startin’ bar fights in the womb.”

He shook his head, still circling, the slap of his fist on his cock echoing through the room.

“Hot in theory, sweetheart. In practice? Not so fuckin’ much.”

He came to a stop at the head of the table. Looked down at you—body blown open, thighs twitching, chest flushed, mouth wet and waiting.

“Back,” he said, pressing a hand to your shoulder. “Down. Now.”

You obeyed. Laid back across the table, head tilted slightly, breathing shallow.

He gripped his cock tighter, leaning over you with that wild grin stretched across his face, his other hand toying with your nipples, rolling and pinching until you gasped.

“Gonna make such a mess of this face,” he whispered.

Your legs spread wider.

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Then his hand hovered over your lips.

“Open wide,” he said, voice low.

You did.

He spit. Heavy. Wet. Right into your mouth.

“For earlier, you little fucker,” he muttered, eyes glittering.

You moaned around it. Swallowed. Smiled.

He groaned. “Jesus Christ, you liked that.”

Then—he slapped your cheek, light, teasing. The kind of touch that said mine.

“Here it fuckin’ comes, baby,” he panted, jerking faster now. “Open wider. C’mon.”

You looked up at him. Eyes glossy. Lips parted.

He groaned loud. “Good girl.”

And then—

He came. Hot. Thick. Everywhere. Over your tongue, your chin, your cheeks, your fucking soul. And when he was done, he stumbled. Laughed. Ran a hand through his hair and looked down at you like you’d just ruined him.

Because you had.

author notes: boy, oh boy... i went hard on this one. i need to get fucked like this at the moment, i genuinely believe it would get me out of my own fucking head for five goddamn minutes and then i can just get back on with my life. but alas, i hate all men, and will not go near one, even if it means the dicking of my life. i love ben like this. fucking nasty asshat but so obviously reverent over reader. we live to see it. i also haven't fully proofread this because i'm just delirious from last night, and let's be real, the past few weeks lol. my life is going down the fucking toilet. let me know what y'alls think, please. i need some fucking praise right now. and that isn't even a hint, it's an outright request. all the damn love.

soldier boy/ben taglist: @losers-clvb @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @tinas111 @angelicjackles @lunaleah. @mostlymarvelgirl @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @ohgodimgoungtodie @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @bohoooitsme @n3lly-h3artz @ladykitana90 @deangirlsstuff67 @adoredawn @sunnyfuffly @deansbbyx <3

and you knew that that probably annoyed the shit out of him… but you couldn’t help it. 

megumi was written to be your shadow from the moment satoru took the both of you under his wing, and you looked for him everywhere you went.

“okay…” you pouted. “so are you.”

megumi snorted.

“m’not.” he mumbled, plopping down on a lonesome wooden chair that sat across from where you were standing, where it is every training session, a singular piece of furniture placed specifically for him to watch you fumble techniques, succeed at techniques, or if he was simply just tired and over what you were doing— your practices sometimes set in a dingy basement underneath castle grounds. 

“you know i’m not.”

“what? you are though—”

“does it look like we’re related?” megumi squinted his eyes at you. “the man’s hair is white.”

you pursed your lips and looked to the side, crossing your arms and huffing again.

“so.” you walked a little bit closer to him, defiance evident in your body language. “doesn’t mean you’re not a gojo—”

“you share his blood.” he slumped back against the chair. “i don’t.”

“yeah… but he raised us both, didn’t he?” you tilted your head, peering up at him. “made us both ice cream sundays for breakfast and french toast for dinner?”

his eyes flickered to yours with a blank and unreadable face, the two of you holding eye contact for a moment before he eventually looked away and crossed his arms, giving a singular shake of the head that read a hard ‘no.’

“he’s your uncle. not mine.”

megumi’s always kept you at a distance.

“so are you also saying you’re not my other half and i should scram? hehe?” you gave him a silly grin, one that made his line of sight slowly cross back to you.

you knew in your right mind that he was not a gojo like you were, that he was no where near being anything shared with you… and in moments were megumi denied every aspect of love and care that he received from both you and your uncle, in moments where he tried to keep you at an arms length, and you always stubbornly dodging his attempts to and agitatingly throwing your arms around him, somehow always finding ways to stay by his side like a piece of sticky taffy?

you were grateful to be tied to him still, for you knew that if it weren’t for satoru simply taking megumi in just before taking you in years later… 

you wouldn’t be tied to him at all.

and you couldn’t— wouldn’t imagine a world where megumi wasn’t yelling at you. weirdly so.

“again.”

“man!” you threw your head back and groaned, dropping your arms and letting them loosely swing at your sides. “i thought i was on break megs i thought we were having a conversation—”

“we’re taking this long because you keep blabbering.” he grumbled. “hurry up y/n.”

“can you say please—”

“now.”

“alright!” you spun around and began walking to the other side of the basement. “fuck man…”

“if you get it this time—” he called from across the echoey room, and you turned. “i’ll bring you something tomorrow. from home.”

“yeah like what.” you grumbled while lifting your arms, your fingers folding and hands quickly moving to try at a technique, all of your attempts still failing and ending up with you repeating them over and over. “how about you take me home instead of leaving me here—”

“nope.”

you were currently enrolled in jujutsu academy, a prestigious university that taught their students the academics and skills required to master all kinds of jujutsu sorcery, an institution that’s been around for god knows how long and ran by a bunch of old fart higher ups (as satoru would say) that dictated the future of the school and its students, and it was an absolute requirement that all students dorm on castle grounds for all four academic years. 

they dictated your future in particular because you were a gojo… for you showed exponential mastery in jujutsu sorcery that exceeded the level of skill the rest of your classmates took up until now to learn, when you had it down at the age of fifteen with little to no effort at all, the elders voting unanimously years ago during a hearing with them behind doors and megumi and satoru standing in the middle, that megumi would be the one to train you and bring your gifts up to proper fruition, for he was gifted in adaption and teaching.

because while jujutsu sorcery came naturally to you, megumi’s effort put him to almost the same level you were. 

your grandparents went to jujutsu academy, your parents went there, satoru went there, and megumi did as well before he graduated two years ago, now serving as an assistant professor as well as your private mentor.

“megggssss!” you whined, dropping your arms. “who’s even gonna find out i went home anyways? no one. no one cares.”

“gojo does.”

“just hide me.”

“it’s not even that bad.” megumi rolled his eyes. “i was away from home too.”

and you missed him everyday he was gone.

just like now, you looking forward to holidays and extended breaks so you could just be home again under the same roof as your uncle and megumi.

and you wondered if megumi missed you when you were gone too…

“okay…” you spoke sadly, lifting your arms again to restart the technique megumi taught you today. 

he sighed softly through his nose at your tone and stood, taking slow steps towards you while watching your form with a blank face, arms still crossed.

he stopped right as he got beside you. 

“push your elbows out more.” he tapped lightly underneath your elbow to get you to raise it. “hands closer together.”

you listened, adjusting your stance and trying again. 

“you’ll be home for a week next month.” he mumbled.

“shh megs. i’m focusing.”

the corners of megumi’s lips twitched upwards, his extended arm retracting back and crossing over his chest again with the other, taking large steps back as he watched you repeat the technique a total of six additional times before it finally came into fruition, a gust of whirling wind that damn near replicated a tornado with bright purple electric bolts twisting out from your hands, the cobblestone basement unrecognizable while you were both embedded in the effects of your sorcery.

your techniques were always way bigger and stronger than his… and he preferred it that way, so it would come in handy whenever you needed it.

though he hoped you never would.

you snapped your arms outward and the effects seized, quiet filling your surroundings the moment the wind and lights dispersed from your fingertips, your chest moving quickly.

“good.” megumi walked over to you, his footsteps crunching underneath loose gravel that no doubt crumbled due to the force of not just by todays technique, but previous ones as well. “you’re done.”

the technique megumi taught you today— one you learned and performed successfully in a day, was one that took him three months.

you dropped your hands with an exhale, exhausted from hours of doing the same exact damn thing.

“finally...” you mumbled, your tired gaze following megumi as he crossed you and sat back in the wooden chair, him leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

he nudged his head to signal you over, and you listened, happily taking little skips in his direction and stopping once you got in front of him.

“i’ll bring you red bean rice cakes.” he spoke lowly. “i’ll make gojo make them for you.”

you gasped, your eyes twinkling as you thought of your favorite dessert in the entire fucking world, a specific kind that satoru rarely made because each time he did he’d almost burn the freaking house down, but nevertheless came out oh so yummy and delightful.

“yes! thank you!” you gushed with a big smile, and megumi stared. “watch him though megs last time he actually almost set the kitchen on fire even though he’s supposed to just flip the—”

you felt a little tug at the hem of your jean skirt and you stopped, head dropping down to see megumi fiddling with it.

“you’re wearing a skirt.”

“eh?” you spoke softly, stilling once you felt one of megumi’s fingertips poke at your knees, heat rising to your cheeks immediately.

“y—yeah i am—”

“i told you not to.”

the bashfulness dropped from your system and your eyes narrowed, leaning your weight on one hip and crossing your arms.

“but i love skirts megs you know that—”

“your knees y/n…” he mumbled, sighing through his nose as his index finger lightly ran over the skin on your left knee, his eyes trained on your mini scars that you got from all the times you’ve ate shit, or carelessly ran about without any means of protection or awareness. “you keep scraping your knees.”

your heart fluttered a bit, fondness creeping around your insides.

he always did this.

“they’re just little cuts...” you softly spoke, megumi’s eyes switching up to look at you, and you sending him a sweet closed-lipped smile in response. “it’s all good i haven’t fallen recently—”

he poked at a particularly fresh one and you winced, a squeak slipping past your lips as he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the chair, digging in his pockets.

“yeah and what’s that dingus...” he muttered, pulling out a bandaid and proceeding to roll up the sleeves of his white button up, tearing the packaging open after. “stop wearing skirts.”

“no.” you spoke firmly as you watched him peel the backing and carefully stick the bandaid over the new scrape on your knee, stuffing the wrapper back in his pocket once he was done. “take me home today and i’ll consider it.”

“you’re annoying me.”

“you’re annoying me—”

megumi stood, the chair scraping against the ground as he stepped to the side and began walking toward the exit, you staring flabbergasted before you quickly scoured for your bag and ran after him, swinging it over your shoulder.

“heyy!” you pouted. “where are you going?”

“m’walking you to your dorm.” he plainly stated as you both stepped out through the doors, going down the long dark corridor that led to the main grand hall of the school, both of your shoes clicking against the marble flooring. 

oh.

“already..?” you asked disappointingly, walking a few steps behind him. “are you coming tomorrow?”

“it’s my day off.”

“are you coming the day after tomorrow?”

“dunno.”

“wha—” you gawked. “are you not a professors assistant? what do you mean ‘dunno’—”

megumi looked at you from over his shoulder before turning his head forward again.

“when they need it. i’m here every couple of days y/n.”

“yeah well i always have a crap ton of homework to do every time you are here so i don’t even get to see you.” you grumbled, rounding the corner with him and stepping onto the main foyer of the castle, the ambience quiet and dim with only a few students still out and about studying or chatting. “how do you get away with working like— below minimum wage hours? you’re gonna get sacked you know…”

megumi snorted.

“and you’re gonna annoy me again if you’re wearing a skirt next time i’m here.”

“bite me.”

he quickly turned his head to the side and pursed his lips, stifling a laugh as you both walked up the grand rounding staircase that never seemed to fucking end, and one you never got used to either no matter how many times the two of you have trotted up and down these steps.

megumi’s well aware that you’re too stubborn for your own good to listen to him,  knowing that the next time he sees you, you will be wearing a skirt with another new cut on your knee that he’ll need to bring a bandaid for.

“you need to work on your clinginess.”

your jaw ran slack, stopping dead in your tracks on the staircase.

“hah?! what the hell do you even mean?!—”

but megumi didn’t even bother to turn around, you hurriedly hopping up the stairs again to catch up with him, finally arriving to your floor and going down the familiar pathway to your dormitory, several students recognizing their professor’s assistant and greeting megumi as they passed by.

“m’not clingy…” you muttered, looking off to the side as you rounded another corner. “go ahead and go back home. see if i care.”

he peered at you from the corner of his eye, slightly amused.

“i’m joking.” he spoke flatly. 

“you’re not funny.”

“neither are you.”

“hey!—”

he stopped in front of your dorm and you faltered, having not even noticed that you were already there, and kicking yourself for complaining and fighting with him the entire time rather than spending it having actual conversation with him, not knowing when the next time you’d see him would be.

there’s been instances where you don’t even see him for weeks at a time… 

and it was then that you realized that maybe you were just clingy…

“stop.”

you snapped your head up just as embarrassment bubbled up in your cheeks, an evident pinky vibrant shade that only intensified the moment he plopped a heavy hand on top of your head, you flinching a bit.

“you always do this when i leave...” he mumbled, bored half lidded eyes staring straight at you. 

“…do what?” you asked softly.

“get sad.”

“oh—” you felt your cheeks warm up again, you blinking up at him. “s—sorry.”

he huffed a little breath through his nose and looked off to the side. 

“i’ll come soon.” he dropped his hand. “just wait.”

“…right.”

megumi flicked your forehead and you flinched once more.

“ow!—”

“stop.”

“what?!” you rubbed the patch of stinging skin as you peaked an eye open. “what did i—”

“you’re doing it again—”

“bite me!”

he choked out a laugh and you stopped, him covering his mouth with the back of his hand and leaning forward a bit, shoulders shaking and the corners of his eyes crinkling, the vision taking you by surprise.

how pretty…

it was rare when he laughed, and each time you were lucky enough to catch it was like ingesting ample fuel that served to get you through the rest of your damn life.

you giggled softly alongside him, leaning up against the door of your room as your eyes literally glimmered up at him, megumi settling down himself and lowering his hand, meeting your gaze with that same expression of just— nothing, but somehow it being just enough for you. 

because even though those expressions and looks of nothing were grumpy and strict… they were familiar. 

they were kind. 

in his own special way.

you gently leaned your head against the door and gave him a thin lipped smile.

“leave before i cry.”

he rolled his eyes.

“you’re fine.”

you quirked a brow and raised your index finger, wagging it in his face in warning.

“don’t forget my red bean rice cakes okay? whenever the fuck i get them…”

he watched you— the way your shoulders drooped a little more than usual, the way the crease between your brows hadn’t gone away since the end of your training session, and the way you still made no attempts at reaching for the doorknob to go inside for the night, all made his eyes soften ever so slightly and feel a feeling he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“tomorrow.”

your head snapped up from being on the door.

“hm?”

“i’ll come tomorrow.” he spoke quietly, reaching up to absentmindedly move a few strands of hair over your shoulder before retracting his arm, clearing his throat and looking away. “with the rice cakes.”

you stared at him dumbly for a few seconds, doe eyes blinking and cogs turning until your face broke out into the biggest smile he had ever fucking seen, you jumping up and down and squealing and throwing your arms around his neck, him letting out a little ‘oof’ in response.

“yayyyy!” you cheered. “thanks megs! i’m so excited! just text me what time so i can make sure i finish my stupid homework beforehand and also tell gojo i said thank you in advance for the rice cakes—”

“get off.”

a smirk slowly crossed your lips, and megumi swallowed.

“no.”

he placed his hands on your waist, and barely so… just there on the surface like he was afraid of allowing himself to fully touch you for whatever reason, and yet— knowing exactly the reason at the same god damn time, another thing he refused to acknowledge and only triggered irritation towards himself.

“off y/n.”

“make me.”

“i won’t come tomorrow.”

your hands shot out and you pushed him back, your eyes wide and pleading as you knew that whatever megumi decided he was going to say or do, was bible.

“alright i’m off! i’m off...”

you sighed, dropped your arms and reached for the doorknob, rotating it and just stepping inside before turning back around, half of your body behind the door as you leaned your head against the edge of it, peering up at him.

“bye meggy megs.” you spoke gently. “don’t forget to eat a little before bed… i know you’ve been here for a while.”

and amidst megumi’s trial and tribulations about whatever the fuck was going on in his head, and amidst all of his agitating thoughts that were everything just— you… his eyes softened, and he sent you the teensiest little smile that quickly made your cheeks buzz and blush, him giving you a singular nod.

“oh!” you perked up. “and water my plants please i forgot to tell you.”

he had been. 

since you moved into the academy two years ago he’d been watering your plants.

“okay.”

you nodded. “…okay.”

and without another word megumi turned and left, walking down the quiet dark corridor with his hands in his pockets and shoulders tall, his footsteps echoing throughout and getting farther and farther away, you watching him until he eventually turned a corner and left your sight, the familiar feeling of loneliness and missing being anywhere outside of castle grounds creeping up on you like little relentless bugs.

megumi always kept you at a distance for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge.

and as he grumpily trudged through campus with his head down and mind preoccupied with thoughts that he couldn’t fully register… his annoyance for you only grew.

because it was like a block in his brain— stubborn and angry all of the time, and clogged up with fleeting replayed memories of the way you did your hair everyday, or the way you smelled like strawberry poundcake that was exceptionally intensified during the summer time, all notions that only further solidified his reasons why megumi wanted to stay the fuck away from you.

he wanted to stay away for reasons he didn’t even want to think about, opting instead to snapping orders at you, ignoring you, or just straight up being mean, it always earning him a smack upside the head or a scolding from satoru since he was a kid, and leaving behind a pit of guilt in his chest that he mistook for aggravation.

“how was the little miss?”

megumi placed his shoes on the rack by the front door and nudged his slippers on upon arriving home, eyes bored as he tossed his keys in a fish bowl and began making his way to the kitchen, crossing satoru as he went.

“fine.” 

satoru happily bounded close behind. 

“great! and how was training today?”

“slow.”

“slow?” satoru quirked a brow. “why—”

“because she wouldn’t stop talking and complaining.” megumi mumbled, bending down and opening the cabinets underneath the sink, rummaging through until he pulled out a little green watering can— setting it under the faucet sink and turning the water on.

satoru crossed his arms. “okay… but i take it she got todays technique?”

he nodded.

“you didn’t yell at her?”

megumi’s face twitched but he nodded again, switching the faucet off and trying to ignore that familiar pit in his chest.

“did you tell her she did a good job?”

megumi looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at satoru.

“i don’t need to tell her that—”

“okay so you gave her a little hug and a kiss goodbye?—”

megumi whipped around fully, mortified by whatever the hell was coming out of satoru’s mouth as he took a kitchen towel from the counter and chucked it at his face, satoru snickering and dodging.

“what?!” satoru pouted. “i’m just asking… can’t a handsome poor old man ask?”

“no.”

“okay but did you..?—”

“no!”

he sighed heavily and slumped against the kitchen island. “oh gumi…”

“what.” he grumbled, grabbing the watering can and beginning to walk out of the kitchen.

“if you keep being mean to her and treating her the way you do, she’s gonna end up hating you.”

megumi slowed.

should he even care about that? why would he…

why did he.

“let her.” he spoke, voice monotone as he made his way down the hall and up the steps to your room.

satoru sighed again and followed after him.

“i don’t think you want that.” satoru called out. “she looks up to you megumi she loves you and you need to be nicer before she finds herself another megumi.”

he scoffed, stopping and turning slightly. “the fucks that supposed to mean—”

“you’re without a care in the world right now because that girl puts you on a pedestal and you barely have to lift a finger.” satoru scolded, icy blue eyes staring straight at him. “and if you keep pushing her, she’s gonna find someone else eventually who treats her better than you do.”

“i don’t care what she does.” megumi spat, satoru faltering. “and im done having this conversation.”

“meanie…” satoru muttered through pursed lips, looking off to the side. “fine! suffer and lose see how that feels.”

megumi turned his back to him and continued walking when a sudden grab to the ankle staggered him forward, the sound of a loud heavy thump on the ground making him snap his head around to see satoru laying flat down on the hardwood floor, eyes desperate with a quiver to his lips.

“please gumi! let the light in! you’re the only man i’m okay with my niece being with please just give her a little hug—”

“—you made me spill water—”

“— or tell her she did a good job or give her a present for a successful training sesh anything!-”

megumi shook him off his ankle and satoru whined, face dropping flat to the floor as he sniffled.

“it’s no use it’s no use—”

“can you make red bean rice cakes.” megumi mumbled. “the ones y/n likes.”

satoru stilled.

“why…” he muttered, face still down and voice muffled. “you hungry megs? there’s food in the fridge—”

“it’s not for me idiot it’s for y/n.”

satoru’s head shot up.

“you’re going to the university tomorrow?”

“yeah.”

“but it’s your day off?”

“i had to bribe y/n for her to get the technique down—”

“yiiippeeeee!” satoru flew up and stood, arms out and extended as he cheered and bounced up and down on his feet like a madman. “i absolutely can my little gremlin! i’ll get started on it now—”

gremlin?—

“— and when you see her tomorrow and give them to her you’re gonna give her a little smooch and confess—”

megumi choked on his own spit and coughed, fist hovering over his mouth and cheeks burning as he stood there wide eyed.

“gojo what the fuck are you on?”

“oop—” satoru froze, gaze slowly locking on his. “did i say that out loud—”

megumi threw a hand out, exasperated. “yes!”

“who did?”

“you!”

“no i didn’t… heh.”

“yes you fucking did—”

satoru waved him off. “nonsense! go to sleep it’s late megs i’ve got cooking to do—”

“—watch the stove—”

satoru knew deep down that megumi did care.

because although through the years he’s watched megumi yell at you, ignore you, boss you around and sometimes straight up belittle you… he loved you. and satoru hoped he wasn’t mistaken about that.

megumi scolded you constantly but patched up your knees with fruity bandaids whenever you fell, megumi insulted you for being a scaredy cat but held your hand through whatever it was that you were afraid of, megumi huffed and puffed over every request you had for him and yet he’d do it— even if it was asking for a piggy back ride when you were too tired, another cherry bomb pop ice cream when you’d already had three, or taking you to the lake by the train tracks just a block from the house to catch fireflies— all through rolling of eyes and mutterings of ‘you’re stupid.’

he always did it. 

and satoru was a testament to all of it— watching behind cracked doors or hallways or secretly following you both for your safety when you snuck out in the middle of the night to the lake… and yet met with the sight of the purest form of love each time.

megumi keeping you safe.

satoru never had to lift a finger because megumi beat him to it. all of the time.

you: goodnight megs!! :D i hope you ate!! also bring enough rice cakes tomorrow so we can share >:3

megumi stared at your text message before placing his phone on top of a drawer, him stood by the window sill where you kept all of your succulents and plants, watering each of them like he did every night before bed, the sound of trickling water from the can the only thing heard in the room besides satoru’s banging of pots and pans downstairs, him placing the watering can to the side once he was done and trudging over to your desk chair, plopping down on it.

megumi: ok.

your response was almost immediate.

you: DAYUM

you: dry as always meggy megs… <//3 

you: but i still love you HEHEHEH

he swallowed, gaze trained on your last sentence as his thumbs hovered over the screen of his phone, his brain unable to compute a response.

annoying.

his eyes lifted to the picture frames you had next to your desktop then, photos he’s looked at a million times already, and not a single one that was without him as they consisted of the two of you throughout the different stages of your lives— megumi with a blank or irritated expression in all of them, and you with the silliest fucking grin next to him— his mind having difficulty admitting that you were inexplicably pretty and doe eyed and lovely, something that was obvious… but yet blocking each and every thought that tried to slip past the slimy barriers of his brain, him rubbing at his temples as he hunched over on your desk.

you were exhausting to think about, and it was even more exhausting to know that megumi had slipped up during training… when he succumbed to feeling bad for you over him leaving and proceeding to brush your hair over your shoulder— to touch you, the feeling of its silkiness still remembered by his fingertips as he slowly flexed and retracted them where he sat.

he shouldn’t have. 

he should’ve told you to suck it up.

megumi: go to sleep.

you: omg i thought you were ignoring me

you: hi :PP

megumi: go to sleep y/n it’s late.

you: BOO YOU WHORE

you: tell me you love me and i will.

heat rose up megumi’s neck and he rolled his eyes.

megumi: you’re gross.

megumi: go to sleep.

you: brat.

you: okay fine i will. see you tomorrow gumi :) <3

you: goodnight!

megumi stood from your desk chair and snatched the watering can from your window sill, quickly making his way out of your room and slamming the door shut, feeling like he was suffocating in there over his own stupid head.

megumi: night.

even though it was a well known fact that you were extraordinarily gifted and a gojo— something that was a rarity in itself since satoru chose not to pass down his lineage, megumi was the only one who knew that you were actually the weakest fucking person he had ever had to train, and the last person who should ever be put in battle to protect anything.

and that’s what he feared the most.

you were a crybaby, whiny, and too emotionally involved to the point where any time megumi manifested a faux curse to train your combat abilities, you screamed and ran two minutes in without even performing any techniques of your own to try and fight it off, him having to be the one to drag you back or kill the curse himself just to get you to calm down and listen.

your techniques were powerful, yes, but you weren’t— mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes physically, you simply lacked adequate conviction and resilience to be someone worth putting in the front lines, to protect an entire flock of your community and be the saving grace you’d been trained since five years old to be.

but instead of being put on this path of sparkling reputation, your family name had doomed you from the moment you opened your eyes at birth, and again when your parents died by members of the zen’in clan, you cursed with the burden of expectation.

because while everyone else saw you as a golden prodigy— the higher ups, your classmates, satoru himself… megumi saw a girl.

a girl too silly for her own good.

“don’t run!” megumi yelled, his booming voice echoing across the grassy open field as he heard you scream and hiccup, scrambling to your feet just as the curse managed to fling you back.

“kill it! kill it! kill it!—”

“no! i’ve given you enough free passes—”

“—eeeekkk!—” 

you squealed and flew across the lawn again, megumi watching in utter disbelief as anytime you raised your arms to perform a technique, literal pathetic sparks would electrify through the air and fucking disappear just as soon as they came, megumi’s frustration only growing.

at this rate, if the higher ups ever decided to throw you in battle, you’d die.

and the thought only made him angrier.

“y/n!” he barked. “get up!”

“i’m trying!—”

“try harder!” he manipulated his hands and brought out another faux curse, this time in the form of his demon dogs. “get up!”

you shakily got to your feet and coughed, sweat dripping down your face as you raised your hands again to flimsily try to form a technique, your chest erratic and palms trembling.

“megumi please we’ve been at it for hours i fucking can’t!—”

“do it!”

you were completely worn out, panting and stomach aching from all of the running and dodging you’ve had to do, you having only successfully gotten rid of one curse out of the eight that he presented you with, shame gripping your throat as you moved your hands and fingers again and again, dodged every blast again and again, and ran for your life for the millionth time that night.

“stop running!” he yelled. “how many times have i told you never run!—”

“but i’m gonna die if i don’t!—”

“on your left!”

you screamed and threw yourself across the grass, tumbling down a few feet before quickly stabilizing yourself and popping your head up, seeing the curse coming at you at full speed without any means of mercy or pity.

you hated how much you had to train, feeling like the higher ups completely robbed you of your college life as you had to do this almost every night for hours at a time, the only good thing about it being that megumi was your mentor and the one you spent those exact suffering hours with, even if you embarrassed yourself in front of him each time because you just couldn’t do anything right.

and you were scared… so god damn scared and nervous that the day would come where you had to face whoever the fuck in battle, you yourself knowing that you were too much of a wuss and just plain bad at combat to fight off anyone, your mind reeling with the constant fear of death that at this point seemed like a given for you, a lump creeping up your throat everyday that you thought of your sealed fate and leaving this world faster than you could ever think of.

you were ashamed all of the time, especially in front of megumi… knowing he’d put so much time into you just for you to get thrown around like a rag doll by manifestations of nothing.

why couldn’t you do it? why couldn’t you simply be brave? like megumi?

you shot a hand out and tried a technique one final time, the curse closing in on you and lame little sparks of purple emitting from your palms just before the curse suddenly screeched out a roar and flew to the side, disappearing into a mist of black until the air finally settled into silence— your hair brushing through the breeze and the sound of crickets ringing faintly in the distance.

your eyes slowly moved to look in front of you, your gaze met with megumi standing over you with the most pissed off look you’d ever seen on his gorgeous face, his hands balled tightly into fists at his sides that flickered with turquoise blue sparks.

he had killed the curse for you. again.

“get up.”

you sniffled and stood, your knees trembling as you did so.

“m’sorry gumi—”

“why do you keep running.”

you peered up at him.

“…i’ll die if i—”

“then so be it.”

your eyes widened, lips slightly parted in shock.

huh?

“i’ve told you this already y/n.” his voice was clear and stern, a difference from his usual moody mumbling and huffing, and you didn’t like it at all. “even if you get hurt, even if you die, you never run.”

he snatched your wrist and began walking with you across the field, his grip tight.

“it’s pathetic and you’ll die for being a coward and not someone worth remembering.”

you felt a pang to your chest and you looked down, tears brimming your eyes.

“you’re weak and your family name does nothing for you—”

you knew that.

“—you’re too emotionally fucking involved you cry about everything and i don’t know what else to say to you—”

you knew that as well.

and ironically if anyone else ever told you what he was telling you in this moment, you’d laugh and blow a raspberry in their face, not giving a single shit and going about the rest of your day as if nothing ever happened, as if no one ever insulted you.

but it was megumi. and your body stung all over with zero means of relief.

you didn’t deserve relief.

the sound of your little hiccups and sniffles made megumi slow, his long legs gradually stopping as he looked at you from over his shoulder, his eyes met with the sight of you hunched over and silently crying, you quickly wiping your tears but the attempts proving futile as the waterworks kept going, your frame trembling.

his gaze automatically trailed down to your knees, and his eyes widened at the sight of them battered and bruised, more than usual and injuries he knew a simple banana designed bandaid wouldn’t be able to fix.

fuck.

megumi’s shoulders eased from their tense position, and his eyes softened, letting out a little sigh through his nose.

“i’m s—sorry—” you sobbed. “i wish i could fight and— and listen to you but i’m scared all of the time and i don’t know how to— hic! not be—”

“y/n—”

“but i promise you i’m trying and i hate that i keep disappointing you—”

“hey—”

“and i’m so sorry that i can n—never get it right-”

megumi gently tugged you in and you paused, your face colliding softly with his chest.

he wouldn’t allow himself to hug you, as painful as it was. and he wouldn’t allow himself to let you stand there crying when he was the reason for it either.

so he allowed himself the closest thing to it— your face in his chest and the side of his cheek just barely grazing the top of your head, the hold on your wrist gentler… secure as he let his senses be engulfed by the scent of you.

of strawberry pound cake.

“stop crying...” he mumbled. 

you hiccuped.

“s—orry—” you sniffled and wiped your eyes, burying your nose back into his chest after.

he almost never did this— ever. only on rare occasions, and you tried your best to hold onto the moment for as long as you possibly could, committing it to memory and trying to bask in what it felt like to be so close to him, all of it setting a reminder off in your head of how much you actually loved him, as if you already didn’t know.

you loved him so much that it was ridiculous.

the way the two of you stood there in the middle of the open field, unawarely taking in each others scent that had always been achingly familiar to the both of you— 

like summer grass. like playdates by the lake. like melting cherry bomb pop ice creams.

like childhood.

the low ricketing of cicadas and crickets in the distance filled the air around you, light winds that rustled through the grass by your feet, through the strands of your hair and megumi’s, and through your tear stained cheeks, all playing a part in surrounding the both of you with the feeling of each other, of how you grew up as one singular unit, regardless if one was more bubbly and forgiving than the other.

it was always you and him.

“you’re too emotionally involved y/n.” he murmured, and you nodded against him.

“i know.”

“and you’re weak.”

“i know.”

“and you keep running when i tell you not to.”

“yeah.”

“but—” his grip on your wrist tightened a little, megumi’s self control bursting at the seams as he swallowed. “you’re not disappointing anyone.”

“yeah i am.” you pouted, nose digging further into his button up, your voice muffled. “i’m disappointing you.”

“you’re not.” he muttered. “you’re just irritating.”

so completely and utterly irritating that he wanted to keep you locked away— distanced from the higher ups and anyone else who wanted to throw you in battle.

but he shouldn’t fucking care about that he shouldn’t let himself. it was your will and what you were supposed to do and yet— he always ended up caring every time he saw you… one way or another.

“as long as you’re not disappointed in me… i’m okay.” you murmured.

megumi’s heart twisted in his chest then, and he nuzzled his nose further into your hair, eyes closing and heart beating out of his fucking ribcage, allowing himself again to relish in who you were… even if it was just for now.

“y/n.”

you shifted in his hold.

“hm?”

“heal your knees please.”

you laughed softly and went to look up, chin propping up on his chest as he reluctantly detached his cheek from your head.

“heh… you do it.”

megumi’s eyes trailed down to you and slightly narrowed, you giggling at his reaction.

out of all types of techniques there were— defense, combat, stealth, manipulation, it was healing that megumi lacked the most, spending hours of his schooling life studying his ass off trying to get the basics down, spending day after day practicing different restoration rituals and recovery spells, purposely getting paper cuts or bruises to test out his abilities and yet failing every fucking attempt, you stepping in instead regardless of his huffing and puffing to heal his little wounds.

that was the reason why megumi was almost to your level of jujutsu sorcery, because he couldn’t freaking fix shit, and ironically in more ways than one.

“ow!”

megumi had flicked your forehead and you whined, your fingers coming up to rub the reddened irritated patch.

“heal it.”

“obviously i’m gonna heal it megs the ball is tomorrow.”

he quirked a brow.

“the ball?”

“mhm!” you cutely smiled, your own brows coming to a furrow after a few seconds. “what… it’s literally the same every year how do you not know—”

“no i know.” he mumbled. “i never went.”

your jaw dropped. “never? not even once?”

he shook his head and you scoffed.

“laaameee. you’re missing out meggy megs! i heard the junior year ball is the best hehe.”

“i’m good.”

you sent him a silly little mischievous grin then.

“…that’s why you’re coming with me tomorrow.”

his eyes snapped down in your direction, a bewildered expression on his face.

“don’t be stupid.”

“i will be stupid.” you cheesed. “pleeeaaaseee gumi ill be bored without you… and i need a date…”

he shook his head. “you’ll be bored regardless those events are a waste of time.”

you pouted and attempted to pull away, but megumi’s grip on your wrist tightened and you faltered, your eyes locking with his for a moment before you gave him a gradual sweet little smile. 

“you don’t wanna see me in a dress?”

he paused.

“why would i want to see that.”

“it’s dark blue! with little flower beady things on it.”

“so.”

“so?” you pouted, your gaze trailing down to the grass beneath your feet. “i wanted your opinion on it…”

megumi swallowed, silence emitting between the two of you until he hesitantly lifted a hand, his index finger timidly tapping underneath your chin to get you to look up, you complying with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

you realized that megumi lately had been more affectionate with you on multiple occasions, something you immediately noticed anytime he did something that he normally wouldn’t do, tonight being one of those examples where he was kinder with you, more lenient, and cutting you slack over things he absolutely fucking should not.

where before he would put you on a time out for not killing curses like he told you to, or give you the silent treatment if he found out you were skipping lectures to sleep in, now for the past couple of months he was ignoring every sin you’ve committed and instead letting them go, which only made it harder for you to keep your big mouth shut and contain the doomed feelings you had for him locked up— especially when he paired his mercy with little pats of the head, wrist holding, or slight mini caresses of affection that could easily be misinterpreted as two people who were together. in love.

you were convinced he’d bite your head off, chew a bit, and spit you out if you ever told him how you felt.

but maybe… maybe he wouldn’t.

selfishly… stupidly… you hoped megumi loved you just as much as you loved him.

“you shouldn’t care about my opinion.” he muttered. “wear the dress if you like it y/n.”

“but i do care.” you spoke softly. “if it’s your opinion… i want to know...”

he stared down at you with an expressionless face, you unable to read him in the fucking slightest.

“my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“but it does.” you pushed.

his eyes formed into slits.

“ask one of your friends—”

“but i wanna ask you!—”

“you’ll look pretty either way it doesn’t matter what you wea—”

you both stilled and megumi’s mouth snapped shut, pressing into a thin line and stare widening.

god fucking dammit.

“you think i’m pretty..?” you tilted your head cutely, a sugary smile slowly spreading across your lips as you waited for his response.

he bit down hard on his tongue, loosening his jaw once the taste of metallic filled his taste buds.

“not what i meant.”

you quirked a brow.

“gumi you said ‘you’ll look pretty either way it doesn’t ma’—”

megumi mushed a quick hand over your mouth to shut you up, a vibrant pink shade so painfully obvious on his cheeks that you couldn’t help but giggle underneath his palm, him looking away in agitation and his scruffy spiky bangs covering his eyes a little.

so cuuteee!

“forget about it.”

“nuh uh.” you muffled.

“do it.”

you licked his palm and he ripped his hand away in disgust, eyebrows pinched as he wiped your spit on his sweater.

“you said i was pretty.” 

megumi’s eyes flickered to yours before they awkwardly moved away.

“okay.”

you lit up.

“so yeah? you think i’m pretty?”

he looked down and raised his arm to scratch the back of his neck, his mouth physically unable to move and his brain failing to compute how to deal with what he just said, him struggling so much that it felt like his heart was borderline strangling him, frustration filling his every vein as his mind scrambled around trying to figure out how to get you to be quiet.

but there was literally no way. he knew you and your big mouth would never let it go.

“guuumiiii.”

“hm?” he lazily dropped his hand, gaze switching to yours before zooming away again.

you laughed.

“what megs…” you pushed gently. “it’s okay for you to think that if you want to you know...”

was it though?

megumi didn’t think so. 

megumi didn’t think he deserved to think about you like that at all.

but inevitably, agonizingly, and admittedly… you were so fucking pretty to him that it made it hard for him to think about anything else, and any moment that he wasn’t with you… he was thinking of you, and he didn’t know how to stop that no matter how hard he tried.

because god he tried. since childhood he’s tried. he could close his fucking eyes and you’d still be there.

but any idiot numskull could see that you were beautiful.

and megumi definitely could.

“megs…?”

he didn’t need to see you in a dress to know. he didn’t need anything but you standing in front of him in the way that you were now, with your stupid scraped bloody knees and your doe eyes and the way you always looked at him like he created the very air you breathed… like he was everything.

and it made him angry. angry and weak.

he didn’t deserve to be anything to you. 

“so am i pretty or wh—”

“gorgeous.”

you faltered, pupils dilating as you felt your heart physically fucking stop, him looking at you with a blank face and acting like he didn’t just drop something like that on you.

you’d never heard that word come out of his mouth, and nonetheless directed at you, you parting your lips in attempts at trying to respond but your throat feeling too tight to even try and get anything out.

“but you don’t need me to tell you that.” he spoke. “everyone knows.”

everyone…?

your cheeks grew hot, and you quickly dropped your gaze and looked away.

at this rate, if he didn’t quit it, you knew you’d probably end up blubbering that you loved him, and you didn’t know if that was a good idea or the worst possible freaking—

“you shouldn’t have issues with getting a date.” he mumbled. “so don’t waste it asking me.”

you pursed your lips.

“m’not wasting anything.” you replied. “i was asking you for a reason.”

he blinked.

“go with me.”

his fists bawled at his sides and he swallowed, his grip tightening by the second as he looked down at you, afraid that he’d gone too far and maybe— maybe encouraged you—

but his mouth moved quicker than his brain could come up with a way to stop himself.

“why.”

he knew why.

he fucking knew man.

“because i’m in love with you megs.”

and for some reason… he needed to hear you say it. selfishly. just once.

because what he also knew, was that he had to break your heart to spare you from a life of isolation and just— nothing, which was the only thing he could provide for you when you deserved absolute happiness and serenity and bliss…

all things he could kill himself wishing over, spend the rest of his life bargaining with every divine entity just to become someone worth standing by your side… and yet it still wouldn’t be enough.

he wasn’t good for you, he couldn’t damn you and give you a life of desolation he— he couldn’t do that to you.

he loved you too much to do that to you.

“you’ll get over it.”

you stilled, flabbergasted.

what the fuck?

“huh—”

“it’ll go away just give it time—”

“megumi what?” you scoffed, eyebrows furrowing. “what the hell are you saying—”

“i’m saying get over it y/n.” he bit back, and you flinched at his snappy tone. 

“i’m taking you back to your dorm let’s go.”

you physically felt your heart break over his words, anger brewing up in your chest so god damn fast that you didn’t have time to let your mind think rationally over the situation.

“no.”

he rolled his eyes and reached to take your wrist, you instantly snatching it away and taking a step back.

“i said no.”

“y/n—”

“i tell you i love you and you tell me to get over it?” you spoke in aching disbelief. “the fucks wrong with you?”

“we’re leaving—”

“i love you and you know that.”

he wavered, heart beating against his ribcage as he damned himself over the look on your face.

“stop saying that.” he responded coldly with narrowed eyes, and it only made you angrier.

“i love you.”

“what did i just say—”

“i love you—”

“stop.”

you took a step closer.

“i love you—”

“enough!”

megumi’s arms flung out and grabbed you by shoulders, yanking you closer with a tight grip as he shook you with every word that he spoke, stare wild and what looked to you like anger… was desperation from him.

“are you stupid?!” he yelled. “how could you let yourself feel that way about me?!”

you stared at him with blown out eyes as he continued to shake you.

“how could you waste your fucking time y/n?!”

“m—megs—”

“—hah?!”

he pulled you in even closer that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face.

“get a god damn grip.” he seethed. “i’m only here to teach you how to not be a nuisance on the frontlines so forget about me y/n.”

he shook his head.

“i’m not your partner, i’m not your friend, i’m a fucking tool the higher ups assigned to you so you could be lucky enough to not die on the field. so forget about me!”

silence filled the air then, his heavy labored breathing loud as his chest rose and fell erratically, his heart throbbing just as much as yours was as you both looked at each other, tears slowly welling up in your eyes that read nothing but betrayal and grief that was tied directly to him.

you always knew that if it wasn’t for satoru taking the both of you in, you had no place in megumi’s life.

and yet you always thought— that after all this time… through every moment he grumpily protected you and looked after you, dried your tears and guided you, made you snacks when you were kids anytime you were hungry, walked you and picked you up from school, tied your shoes and stuck bandaids on your cuts, stayed awake with you when you were too scared to go to sleep at night alone—

that you had earned a place in his life.

but you were wrong. 

so fucking wrong.

“how could you say that..?” you choked out, voice small and wavering. “why are you hurting me?”

he blinked, shoulders slowly relaxing as he loosened his grip on your shoulders, coming down from whatever the fuck he was on that made him lash out without meaning to.

“we’ve— we’ve done everything together since we were kids—“ fat tears continued to drip down your cheeks. “and you’re telling me none of it meant anything to you? that i— hic— i’m not even a friend to you?”

your biggest fear had always been that megumi was only around because he was forced to be.

and now that you knew that it was exactly that, your soul bubbled up with the most intense type of unfamiliar agony and heartbreak you had ever felt in your life— heavy and suffocating and a feeling you never thought would be because of him.

“why couldn’t you just say you didn’t love me back?!” you yelled suddenly, your heartache quickly manifesting into bitter. “why do you always have to be such a fucking dick!”

megumi felt a pang in his chest and he swallowed the lump in his throat, already regretting so much what he had done just because he couldn’t survive his internal strife, wrongfully taking it out on you instead and rejecting you in the worst way humanly possible, when he was supposed to let you down easy, not hurt you, not lie to you.

this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

at least— not like this jesus not like this—

you ripped yourself away from him and he snapped out of it, him blinking down at you.

“i’m sorry i misinterpreted what we were.” you mumbled, quickly wiping away your tears and wanting to just get fucking rid of them. “you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

what?

“i’ll speak to the higher ups myself and arrange your dismissal so you don’t have to train me.” you met his eyes then and his shoulders dropped in utter guilt over the look on your face. “we can be done from here. i’ll leave you alone.”

he shook his head.

“wait—” he reached out for you and you dodged him. “stop that hold on—”

“don’t touch me.”

you walked past him, your shoulder harshly bumping against his bicep as he staggered back a bit, his mind reeling over what was going on and unable to keep up with the way it was unraveling so quickly.

this isn’t what he wanted at all he— god his intentions were never to lose you entirely.

but what in the fuck did he expect saying those kind of things to you though? that you’d stick around still kissing his ass? how could he possibly and fucking stupidly think some shit like that?

he thought that this was for the best, that this is what was good for you, and yet he pathetically couldn’t stomach the reality of it once he got what he wanted.

“m’going back to my dorm. bye—”

he quickly reached and caught your arm with his hands, pulling you back a bit.

“no.” he breathed out. “no wait—”

you looked at him from over your shoulder and glared through your tears.

“i said don’t touch me megumi get off—”

“jesus listen to me y/n!—”

“what so you can keep telling me how much of a burden i am to you?!” you sniffled. “no thanks i should’ve caught the message years ago every time you called me annoying or stupid—”

“stop—”

“—let go!” you sobbed, more tears flooding in.

“please megumi...” you hiccuped. “let go of me…”

he stared at you then, the devastated and defeated expression on your face that shouldn’t ever be there in the first place, the way your body trembled and the tears on your wet cheeks, the new awful way you were looking at him now, the fucking blood on your knees—

made megumi gently, slowly, loosen his grip until your soft arm slipped from his fingertips and returned to your side.

he’d done what he was supposed to do, but in a way that was at the cost of you.

and he realized that even if you chose to hate him for the rest of your life, he’d force himself to learn to live with it if it meant you were happier somewhere else… with someone else.

living a life with all of the things he wished he could provide for you.

so he chose not to fix it.

“…let me at least walk you to your dorm.” he spoke up, voice hoarse from all the yelling. “there’s been word of the zen’in clan lurking around… whether its true or not i need to walk you back.”

you rolled your eyes and turned away from him, trudging your way across the field and through the freezing air to get back to your dorm on your own.

“fuck off megumi.”

gojo was livid when he found out what happened.

and for a man who never let a crack of anger, or anything else that didn’t resemble bubbling sparkling and annoying joy show through his exterior, something megumi didn’t even know gojo was capable of… was a sight that was odd and daunting.

because gojo resembled him— an expression of nothing, eyes shadowed and blank as the both of them stood in the middle of the kitchen, him having just admitted to gojo of what he had done to you and only met with absolute silence from him, a million words unspoken as gojo simply stepped around him and out of the kitchen entirely, gaze casted down with an aura that seeped utter disappointment.

no yelling. no reprimanding. no scolding.

and somehow that was worse.

you had kept your word and left him alone as well.

where once megumi would be bombarded with texts from you about the most random silliest things, or calls from you begging him to come to castle grounds to hang out with you, or goodnight messages with obnoxious amounts of hearts and smiley faces… were all gone since that night— his phone log empty and the date from your last text to him only getting farther and farther away as the weeks passed, his life so quiet that it tripped him up.

sixteen years of babbling, cherry pop ice creams, cry baby tears, and cheesy smiles over the simplest things, to suddenly nothing… was awful.

it was the first time megumi was experiencing life without your noise, and even though his methods in doing so were utterly unfair to you, he felt they were necessary.

to keep you at a distance that was way beyond an arms length, a distance that allowed you to flourish without the burden of who he was, and a distance that stopped you from going back to him.

“oh no wait!— do this one instead.”

you turned from your vanity mirror and looked behind you, your closest friend sat on your bed and digging through her literal suit case sized makeup bag, eyes lighting up once she found what she was looking for and extending her arm out towards you.

“this one! it’s like a brown glossy color i think it’ll look better.”

you reached and took the little lip gloss from her hand, sending her a grateful smile before turning back around towards the mirror, unscrewing the product and leaning forward.

“what was wrong with the other one?” you asked, being conscious of the way you were moving your mouth to prevent from accidentally smudging the color. “i thought it was cute.”

“it was too pink.” she replied, hopping off of your bed to join you at your vanity, sitting next to you on the bench and watching you blend the gloss. “this one looks better with your dress.”

you had almost ditched the ball tonight entirely, given that for the last couple of weeks you had lost your will do to practically anything, but the relentless harassment from your close friend and the countless times she showed up at your dorm banging on the door and screaming through the other side about how you were giving up on an experience of a lifetime… quickly convinced you otherwise for your god damn sanity.

you sat back to examine the shade and hummed, nodding as you capped the product and handed it back to her.

“you’re right my love! thank you!—”

“has he texted you?”

your face immediately dropped and she laughed.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry—” she swung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in a little hug. “i’ve been meaning to ask but i didn’t want you to disown me…”

you huffed out a laugh and shook your head. “it’s okay babe… but no he hasn’t. and i don’t want him to.”

your close friend pursed her lips and pulled back a bit, her arm unraveling from you and lifting a hand to smooth out your styled hair.

“he um… he finally showed up to my defense lecture the other day.”

your quirked a brow and looked at her.

you’d noticed throughout the last couple of weeks that megumi had stopped showing up to the classes he was supposed to assist for, your curiosity getting the best of you more times than you’d like to admit as you physically went to the classes he often lectured to scope it out, only to be met with either nothing, or the professor themselves informing you that he hadn’t been in for the day and were unaware of when he would be back.

“he’s gonna get fired.” you muttered, turning back towards the mirror and snatching the little beady orchards clips you had for your hair from the desk, their color matching your dress. “…but how was he.”

she laughed and shrugged.

“looked the same to me! pale, skinny, mean.”

a small smile spread across your face, your arms coming down as you shifted your gaze to her once more.

“sounds like he’s okay.”

and you were glad to know that, regardless if he had hurt you or not… for a part of you would always care about megumi no matter the distance or circumstance.

“i threw a paper airplane at him during class.” she snickered, and your jaw dropped as she held a hand over her mouth to try and stop her giggling.

“really?!” you asked incredulously, laughing. “oh my god don’t do that babe you’ll get in trouble…”

she snorted. “i could care less what that man does he was awful to you. i wanted him to send me up.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, walking over to your closet to look for your heels. 

“did he do anything about it?” you called from inside, rummaging through your ransacked hazardous fucking wardrobe and remembering how megumi scolded you to clean it just before your fall out with him, your heart aching a little at the thought.

you missed him yelling at you… ironically enough.

“he just grabbed it from the floor and threw it in the trash…” she grumbled. “which is a shame because i wrote him a cute little message inside the plane.”

you gasped and jumped out of the closet with your heels in hand.

“girl— what did you write?”

she crossed her arms and physically turned away.

“…nothing.”

“hey!” you giggled, slipping on your heels and bending down to strap them in place. “don’t be mean to him please…”

she gawked and stood, reaching for her purse on your bed and swinging the sling over her shoulder. “but he was mean to you! i had every right.”

you gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.

“i didn’t even say anything that bad i just called him an asshat and that he should work on his big mouth—”

“hey!—”

the ball was held at the grand hall on castle grounds, the venue completely transformed with aquatic configurations and various spells of manipulation that altered the environment, the techniques used so advanced that it entirely immersed the students into feeling like they were in a literal aquarium, tiny little fishies and eels and jellyfish that swam about throughout the walls and ceiling, the hall lit up in various shades of sea blue that illuminated the floor and the formal attire of the students— an atmosphere that was charmingly ocean-like and moody, with the live band only further adding to the feel of the event.

you noticed too that there was an ample amount of security around, more than usual as rumors just kept spreading about the zen’in clan and their plans to pay a little visit to the university, everyone confused as to why the clan wanted any business with jujutsu academy to begin with, but you had a feeling… you knew deep down… that they actually wanted business with you.

“be happy y/n!”

your head turned to your close friend, her looking at you with soft eyes and a reassuring smile as you both stepped into the hall.

“at least for tonight! don’t think about him.”

“i’m not!” you waved her off. “i’m okay!”

“you’re lying you little brat.” she scolded, pointing a manicured finger at you. “it’s obvious when you’re sad and you have been.”

your shoulders relaxed a little as you stared at her, swallowing down the forming lump in your throat as you diverted your gaze ahead, unsure how to respond without the fear of accidentally triggering a blubbering wave of waterworks, something that had been a norm for you since that night.

you tried to block it out at first for the purpose of not letting your grades slip… but your attempts pathetically proved futile when you ended up thinking about the things he said to you during lectures or while you studied— his words and the angry expression he had continuously flashing through your mind like a broken record, only fucking torture for you and adding to the resentment you felt towards him simultaneously.

he had looked so done with you… and you hated that he did because it should’ve been you who was done with him.

and you liked to think that you were.

except you continued to wish you never pushed his buttons, or never admitted that you loved him or even— met him that night and just rescheduled the training session altogether… you willing to settle for absolutely anything if it meant you got to keep him, no matter if you had to live the rest of your life biting back your fat tongue to prevent yourself from telling him how much you loved him, or how much the thought of a life without him was worse than the actual thought of demise.

but you knew that wasn’t fair, because regardless of how much you stupidly loved him, he was a dick for disregarding the years you spent together and speaking of it like it was something fleeting, when those exact years were everything and more to you.

“do you want something to drink?!” your close friend yelled over the music, breaking you from your spiraling. “i’ll get it for you!”

you quickly nodded and linked your arm with hers. 

“it’s okay i’ll just go with you!”

“kayy!—”

you both walked across the hall to get to the punch table, weaving your way through several sweaty groups and crowds before eventually reaching your destination, both of you grabbing cups and carefully pouring the beverages of your choice with a ladle.

your friend brought the punch to her lips and took a gulping drink, her faltering a bit before a slow sneaky delighted smile spread across her lips, tossing her head back then and downing the rest of it.

you giggled. “what? you like it?”

she swallowed and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“it’s spiked.”

your eyes flew open and you quickly took a big ol gulp yourself, your pupils twinkling at the familiar taste of tequila that you hadn’t had in months since your last break back home, the university lamely depriving its students of alcohol during special events as they deemed it ‘unclassy’ and ‘unprofessional,’ though the entire student body knowing that the reason they actually did ban it was because administration got butthurt over a former drunk student vandalizing the school’s emblem, it usually cemented pretty and golden in front of the main castle gates on the ground… only for it the morning after that years ball to have a big fat red dick across the body.

today, the ghost of a fat red dick still remained on the emblem— blurry and faint— but still there.

that student was satoru.

“how did they even smuggle it in?” you asked incredulously as you continued to take sips of your drink, funnily feeling gratitude for the person who managed to do it that unknowingly contributed in the mending of your broken heart, even if it was only temporary.

your close friend shrugged, already pouring herself another cup full.

“probably a repression spell or binding charm.”

you quirked a brow.

“binding?”

“mhm!” she put the ladle down and brought the cup to her lips, drinking a bit before continuing. “like they maybe binded the alcohol with a sugar cube… that’s at least what i planned to do!”

she stuffed a hand into her chest and your eyes followed, her funnily rummaging in there for a bit and you trying not to laugh as she eventually pulled her hand back out and extended it, fingers opening to reveal two little pretty sugar cubes sitting on her palm.

your mouth hung and you both uncontrollably giggled then as you snatched one from her hand to get a closer look, your eyes glazing over the crystallized sugar and amazed at how good your close friend was at binding charms, though it something that shouldn’t have been a surprise to you since sneaky spells like that were her forte.

soon enough word got around that the punch table was spiked beyond repair, and dozens of students huddled around the massive fountain bowl throughout the night to either scope out the credibility of the rumor, or just straight up go for seconds, you being one of them as you had lost count of how many refills you got and instead focused on secretly tossing more sugar cubes in the punch for your friend, her using duplication spells to make copies of as many cubes as she possibly could, gassing up her energy until her creations went from solid squares to literal puddles of sugar water.

and by the time the ball reached its halfway mark, more than half of the student body was fucking drunk with the way everyone was rowdy and loopy and louder than previous years, you and your friend still standing near the punch table acting like silly little body guards— admiring your creation as the beverage went from its usual blood red color to a neon glittering pink, stupidly hoping and praying that faculty wouldn’t notice and you’d both end up successful and unscathed.

“y/n!”

you turned around and watched your friend literally stumble up to you, her hands flying to rest on your shoulders to stabilize herself.

“you know itsuki? from my defense class?”

you tilted your head in thought, your mind a little too buzzed to try and locate what the face of a man looked like that wasn’t one with deep blue eyes and spiky black hair.

“nope!” you cheesed, and she laughed.

“he’s the cutie patootie one! the one that brought us that batch of cookies that one time after finals?”

your face lit up in remembrance.

“oh!” you quickly nodded. “oh yeah him! what about him?”

she grinned. “he just told me that he thinks i’m cuuteee! we’ve been hanging out for a while and i think i’m gonna try and get a little kissy kiss—”

your close friend stopped then, face and body completely stilling as her gaze shifted to something behind you, her eyes widening slightly.

your brows furrowed and you made an attempt at turning around to see what she was looking at behind you, but her grip on your shoulders only tightened, her line of sight shooting back to you.

“what?” you pushed, panic rising in your chest when she didn’t answer. “what?! is it faculty?! are we in trouble?! oh my god did they see what we did to the punch—”

she finally spun you around and pointed up ahead.

it was megumi.

standing there directly across from you at the other side of the grand hall, hands at his sides and staring straight at you with the same alarmed expression you had, your heart making a big plummet down to the pit of your stomach as you stood there, the silhouettes and frames of students fleetingly passing by blocking your view of him from time to time.

it had been three entire weeks since you last saw him, and although the time frame was silly and meer… it was the longest you had ever been apart from him completely.

why was he here?

did he not tell you that the annual ball’s were a waste of time and boring? 

did he not tell you to forget him?

you felt your hands grow clammy as you slowly craned your neck around to look at your close friend, her meeting your eyes with worry written all over her face as she leaned in.

“you okay?!” she asked in your ear, trying to combat the booming noise of the band’s music. “why the fuck is he here?!”

“i— i don’t know!—” you stammered, your head shaking and you physically afraid to look in his direction again. “maybe he got put on chaperone duty?”

“then why is he coming over here—”

“NO!—”

your head snapped ahead to see megumi pushing through the crowd to get to you, awkwardly sliding his way through nooks and crannies and plainly returning greetings to surprised students who recognized him and said hello, you spinning around to face your close friend with wild afraid eyes.

“i have to go i have to go i hav—”

“what?!” she pouted. “why?! maybe he’s coming over to apologize—”

“or he’s coming over to chew me out about the punch!—”

“oh fuck!—” she quickly snatched the cup from your hand and set it down on the table behind her. “you’re right you’re right go!—”

you took a step out before your close friend grabbed your shoulders and wrung you back in again.

“wait! will you be back? are you coming back? are you leaving—”

you frantically nodded. “yes! yes i will let me just lose him really quick i love you—”

“i love you too okay go! go babe go—”

she ushered you on ahead and you sped off through the crowd, megumi’s brows furrowing as he watched you zoom in a different direction, him stopping and blinking confusedly before he backtracked and went the way he thought he saw you go.

fuck fuck fuck fuck—

you didn’t know why he was here. 

but it took literally every ounce of your god damn soul not to give in and walk toward him, especially seeing how he was actually dressed up in a little black tux when he’s never worn something like that before, the closest thing being the white button ups and lazily tied ties he wore to work on campus or your training sessions.

you pushed and slipped through crowds of people in a hurry, spluttering out sorry’s and apologetic looks as you tried to look for any type of leeway, a hiding corner or— or fucking something to get you out of sight and away from the grand hall, your heart beating out of your chest as you suddenly stumbled on the hem of your dress, you just barely balling up the bottom of it and hiking it up before you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist and pull you, your back colliding against something hard.

you didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who it was, you immediately attempting to break free by wiggling and pulling at his arms, you lamely struggling as the grip he had around your waist was solid.

“y/n—”

“let go.” you spat, squirming some more.

“stop moving.” megumi mumbled.

“no.”

“just listen for a second—”

somehow you managed to break free from his hold and you ran, you just getting out of the main entrance of the grand hall and down a nearby solo corridor before you were snatched back again, a surprised squeal slipping past your lips as you felt an arm loop underneath your knees and the other under your back, megumi scooping you up and your arms flying to wrap around his neck for stability.

“the fuck are you doing?!” you kicked and squirmed and he only kept walking, face blank. 

“i need to talk to you.”

“well i don’t want you to talk to me—”

“too bad.”

you gawked. “i’m giving you what you want so piss off—”

“i changed my mind.”

you faltered, eyes blinking at him before your pride quickly simmered up again and you turned your head the other way in defiance.

“bite me.”

megumi sharply turned his head, stifling his laughter as you watched the way his shoulders slightly shook, your own relaxing and your face softening up over the familiar melody.

your stubbornness could only take you so far…

you sighed softly through your nose and accepted defeat, your head gently dropping against his shoulder as he eventually composed himself and continued to walk.

“where are we going…” you mumbled.

“just up ahead.” he replied. “by the courtyard.”

you meekly nodded, your nostrils catching a whiff of his familiar comforting scent that was mixed with a little bit of woody cologne, butterflies fluttering in your chest then as you subconsciously, slowly, placed your nose into the crook of his neck, nuzzling it in a tiny bit as you closed your eyes.

megumi’s grip on you tightened.

“which cologne are you wearing..?” you asked softly.

he looked down at you for a moment before returning his gaze up ahead.

“dunno. i got it from gojo’s dresser.”

you giggled and nodded.

“s’nice.” your arms loosened around his neck as megumi stepped through the entrance of the courtyard. “you smell good…”

and so did you.

like strawberry poundcake.

megumi bent his knees and carefully set you down on the cobblestone paving upon arriving, the night air soothingly warm as the gentle trickling droplets of the courtyards central fountain filled your ears, the two of you standing there in front of each other with rigid postures and avoidant eyes.

you absentmindedly played with the little rich blue flower beads on your dress before megumi spoke up.

“m’sorry for what i said to you.”

your eyes flickered up to meet his expecting ones, trailing back down after a bit and shrugging.

“it’s okay.”

“but it’s not.”

his voice was weirdly firm, and you pursed your lips to try and keep your crybaby tears down.

megumi quickly realized that he couldn’t keep you at a distance that was beyond an arms length.

but that didn’t cancel out the fact that he was shamefully still selfish as fuck. 

because although he couldn’t tolerate you absent from his life in the slightest— him completely agitated and annoyed at literally nothing everyday since the day he yelled at you, skipping out on work and getting an earful from the academy’s administration about it, feeling fucking weird without you talking his ear off, or having you next to him to look after…

missing you…

he still stood by his rotten oath that tormented him every moment he spent with you.

“i didn’t mean anything i told you.” he mumbled, his eyes locked on your dress. “and i’m sorry i hurt you y/n. really.”

his gaze timidly crept up to yours before dropping back down to the cobblestone beneath his feet.

and you noticed then that he looked so— small, the walls you had poorly built around yourself effortlessly crumbling the longer you looked at him.

“you are a friend… and i don’t want you away.”

a sneaky tear slipped down your cheek, you quickly wiping it away with the back of your hand.

“but—”

your gaze moved up, seeing that his were already fixated on you— soft and struggling to continue and tell you whatever it was that he needed to tell you, him fidgeting a bit and playing with the cuffs of his blazer.

but you already had a feeling of what he was going to say.

“i uh—”

megumi swallowed, his throat dry as he physically couldn’t get the words out, him hesitant and afraid and conflicted over what he wanted to say, and what he was supposed to say.

but he had to… he had to man.

“i can’t return your feelings.”

you bit the inside of your cheek.

…of course he couldn’t.

“m’sorry… i just—” he reached up and ran a hand through his spiky hair, looking off to the side. “i can’t…”

you already knew that, since you were a kid you knew that… but a part of you remained hopeful for the infeasible for reasons you yourself couldn’t understand, knowing that you’d end up gutted and borderline ruined in the end.

megumi was unique like that. one of a kind. 

and someone like him, someone as sweet and genuine as him despite his delivery and attitude, those attributes being the very thing you treasured about him, the very thing that was so silly to you and made you laugh all of the time, was a rarity in itself.

megumi was a rarity in itself— a man that wasn’t made for you no matter how much you wanted him to be, and one that you’ve belonged to in a way that he hasn’t to you.

your little hiccup made megumi snap his head up, and his gaze softened, watching you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes with your head down, his battered heart throbbing in utter guilt and self hatred over making you cry again.

that’s all he ever seemed to fucking do.

he took a tiny step forward and gently wrapped his fingers around both of your wrists, carefully peeling your hands away from your face and looking down at you with subtle sad apologetic eyes, you sniffling and trembling as you trailed your gaze up to meet his.

“i’m really sorry sweetheart…” he mumbled, and your bottom lip stupidly wobbled even more over what he for the first time called you, you wishing on every star that it was under different circumstances than the one you were doomed and set to be in now.

through red glassy eyes and tear stained cheeks you gave him a sweet sad smile, you slowly shaking your head side to side and sniffling.

“don’t be sorry gumi.” you quietly replied. “it’s not your fault at all… you can’t help what you don’t feel.”

he set one of your hands on his chest and reached, his thumb wiping under your eye with furrowed brows and slightly down turned lips, his brain scattered and fucking everywhere, unable to decide what to think or do for you that would make you feel a little bit better, for he was dumb and incapable of shit like that to begin with.

“you’re still my other half…” you grinned weakly through your tears, subconsciously tilting your head and leaning your cheek into his palm. “even if it means something different to me than it does to you.”

megumi felt a sting through his chest and he nodded, stiffly as he continued to try and wipe away your tears with the same thumb, his other hand slightly tightening over your wrist.

“stop crying dingus...” he murmured, and you giggled softly through your hiccups.

he felt he wasn’t worth your tears at all.

“do you at least still think i’m prettyyy?” you cheesed lightheartedly, silly and bubbly as you pulled your head up and away from his palm— his hand shiny and wet from your tears as he stared at it.

“i do.”

and you lit up then, expecting him to fully deny it and delighted to hear the contrary, despite the fact that he couldn’t return your feelings— you were satisfied to know that he at least saw you in some form of a different light besides someone he just grew up with.

“kay… we should—”

he suddenly reached out and bunched your cheeks together, bringing your face in and squinting his eyes, sniffing.

“…have you been drinking?”

you stilled, wide eyed as you looked at him.

“no…?”

“you reek of alcohol y/n.”

“…no.”

“who gave you it?”

“um— the punch was spiked… and then i spiked it some more—”

megumi rolled his eyes and released your face.

“you’re an idiot y/n administration is already looking for who did it because the students are being dumb—”

your eyes twinkled as he scolded you, you having missed it immensely as your ears swallowed every jab and reprimand.

“—you turn into a knuckle head too when you drink how much of it did you have?”

“dunno! heehee—”

“oh my god—”

“found you.”

the both of you froze, wide eyed and staring at each other as you heard footsteps inching closer from behind you.

“you’re satoru gojo’s little legacy… right?”

megumi’s face hardened and he slowly lifted his gaze.

“get behind me y/n.”

“what? why—”

“do it now.”

you immediately shut up and listened, scurrying behind megumi’s tall lanky frame and peeking through the gaps of his arms to reveal a man, weird and scruffy looking as he stared at you like a piece of fucking meat. 

“ahh… pretty little thing too… they didn’t tell me that.”

your pupils blew out and you cowered a bit behind megumi, gripping the fabric of his blazer as you dug your forehead in his back in fear.

who the fuck is they?

“how did you get on castle grounds.” megumi pressed firmly, and the man snorted.

“you think a silly tiny sealing charm is enough to combat cursed technique?”

something dawned on him then and his gaze switched from megumi to you, a slow gradual and creepy smile spreading across his face.

“she has that… right..? cursed technique? multiple?”

megumi reached and moved you further behind him, him taking a step to the side and blocking you from the weird man’s line of sight entirely.

“the fuck is it your business?” megumi spat. “it has nothing to do with you—”

“ahh! but it has everything to do with me young man!” he grinned, giddy as he slapped his hands together and rubbed. “and by the way you’re pouting… it is her! ahh… i can’t believe it’s me who found her they’ll be oh so very pleased—”

“shut up.” megumi barked. “leave or i’ll kill you myself.”

you gasped quietly. “m—megs hold on—”

but the man only laughed, sickly and uncontrollable as he took another step forward, you and megumi simultaneously taking a step back.

“you’re dying tonight my boy if you don’t hand her over.” he tumbled out hastily, his dazed loopy demeanor quickly swinging to agitation and urgency. “and quick. they’re waiting. they’re waiting they’ve been waiting—”

“who’s they?” you spoke up, peeking your head out and megumi whipping his back to shoot you a glare.

the man’s eyes lit up upon seeing you again.

“the zen’in clan my dear.” he replied. “where you’re meant to be.”

your blood ran cold, the color completely draining from your face as you stared at him, the rumors and warnings and everything else that you’d heard for the past weeks coming to fruition in this very moment, it staring right back at you and giving you an eerie feeling that scared you shitless, you unknowing of why the zen’in clan wanted you so badly or what they wanted to do with you, the thought only making you uneasy.

and megumi’s suspicions were confirmed with the man’s confession, him having an inkling about it from the way he was desperate to keep his eyes on you, afraid to lose sight and impatient throughout the entire interaction, megumi irritated over some random jackass from that idiotic clan coming over to try and take you away… yet the undeniable feeling of fear still annoyingly evident in his bones, for he knew the zen’in clan was ruthless and merciless when it came to fulfilling their lineage with irrefutable power.

and you were the missing key.

“give her and i’ll spare you.” the man spat, hand extended and expectant.

megumi rolled his eyes. “so what is this then? a fucking ambush?”

“call it what you will.” he replied. “but i’m not leaving without her.”

without another thought the man lunged and reached behind to snatch you, megumi quickly wrapping an arm around your waist and taking a giant leap back, blasting defensive rays of blue towards the ambusher that knocked him off his feet and made him eat shit on the grass.

“don’t run.” megumi warned through batted breaths, and you quickly nodded.

“i know i know—”

“stick to me don’t go off anywhere—”

“i know—”

“don’t try to use your techniques either you’re not ready—”

“megumi!”

he quickly looked behind him and spun back around to grab you by the waist again, him hurling both of your bodies off to the side and avoiding the turbulent blow of the ambusher’s cursed technique, it instead hitting the stone wall behind you and creating a crumbling massive hole, the two of you slamming down on the grass and tumbling over a few feet together until you came to a sudden halt.

“give me her!” the ambusher roared from across the courtyard, his voice echoing. “you idiot boy you’re ruining everything!—”

you felt fucking useless and pathetic.

if you had just tried harder, paid attention more during megumi’s lessons and took it seriously, or actually built yourself up to be someone that could handle a situation like this, megumi wouldn’t have to be the one scrambling around and using part of his defense techniques to protect the both of you— keeping you glued to his side and carrying you everywhere so you could move with him as one and avoid getting hit, being a total fucking nuisance and not being helpful at all in the slightest when you should’ve been.

but the ambusher continued to manifest his techniques and recklessly hurl them at you both, destroying everything in his wake until the courtyard was in complete shambles— scalding flames over areas of grass or parts of destroyed walls, chunks of cobblestone and gravel scattered everywhere, and both men continuing to fight until the courtyard was nearly unrecognizable, you for the first time witnessing the full extent of megumi’s strength and inexplicably amazed at his critical thinking and expertise… yet it unfortunately still falling a few steps behind the advancement of a technique like the zen’in clan’s.

and amidst your aimless bickering with megumi in trying to come up with a plan behind a piece of broken wall, the ambusher suddenly pushed a massive purple flame that caused the both of you to tear apart unexpectedly, the two of you tumbling on opposite sides of the court yard as he quickly ushered forward.

“i need you alive—” he brought his hands together and formed various symbols directed at you, before you felt your body completely cemented to the ground and immobile, fear settling within you as you squirmed and struggled to break free from the gravitational pull of whatever it was that he put on you, megumi’s head snapping up and whipping around looking for you in a panic, scrambling to his feet once you were spotted and making a run for it to you.

“megs no!” you panicked. “go the other way!—”

“and i need you dead—”

you heard it before you saw it.

the familiar eerie buzz of a specific spell that was only taught through textbooks and scriptures, one that straight up resembled russian roulette with its low chances of success, yet nevertheless it still equally terrifying if whoever wielded the spell actually managed to get it to work.

it was death induce.

an old timey spell that’s outdated and outright useless with its supposed mechanisms, the incantation’s purpose represented in the name— to induce death, a spell that instantaneously stops all of your physiological bodily functions upon impact… but with a catch.

the spell only had a ten percent chance of success, with the other person casting the spell dying themselves upon failure, which is the sole reason why no one for the past several decades bothered to use it, and why the total required reading and studying you had to do for it added up to literally thirty fucking minutes, death induce being one of the most pathetic and time consuming spells of all time… and yet often completely overlooked.

because sure, ten percent was funnily low…

but it wasn’t zero. success of it meant death.

and as you looked across the courtyard, the infamously known yellow neon light that you’d seen a carbon copy of in your textbooks, the weird buzzing sound that signified it wasn’t any particular cursed technique or charm, the suffocating heat that radiated and burned your skin even when you were literally way over fifteen feet away, all signified to you that the ambusher was desperate enough to decide and play death induce’s game.

and yet so were you.

for the thought of megumi on the chancing verge of death petrified and nauseated you, the decision to partake in the ambusher’s idiotic ludicrousy one that was ridiculously easy when it came to megumi, regardless if it had to do with putting your life on the line and risking peril, you preferring it to be you knocking on death’s door rather than him.

but funnily, megumi preferred it to be him rather than you with the way he continued to agitate the ambusher, and bark at him anything he could think of that would direct his attention towards him and not you, rapidly pushing manifestations of his technique one after the other without a break just so the ambusher wouldn’t turn his head and see you vulnerable and struggling on the floor.

he needed to get rid of him. he needed to kill him.

because if what he was seeing in front of him in this very moment was true, if this stupid fucking moron was actually using death induce on him— dead or alive the ambusher would kidnap you and take you away, for megumi knew his level of training and technique wasn’t nearly enough for fighting anyone in the zen’in clan, and he wouldn’t be able to hold him off for much longer.

his body was in pain, throbbing and stinging all over with forming bruises on the surface of his skin, sweat dripping from his forehead and him freaking exhausted, his chest heaving as he prepared a defense charm to try and turn those chances of death induce to zero, facing the ambusher and waiting for the impact of scorching heat and blistering skin—

except it never came.

the sudden buzzing blast hurled a whirling wind of hot air that launched him away and across the courtyard, him slamming on the floor and rolling across the grass until his front knocked into a stoney wall and he stopped, a groan slipping past his lips as he rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut, his bones aching and sore as he tried to push down the pain and get up.

megumi was utterly annoyed over death induce and how much of a piece of shit spell it was, but he was thankful that he at least surpassed its chances.

he cursed under his breath and slowly propped himself up on an elbow, one eye peeking open and scanning the destroyed courtyard in search for you, it hard to see through the smoke of the flames and dirt until—

he spotted you. 

on the floor and unmoving.

his face fell and he scrambled to his feet, booking it across the gravel and through the smoke until he got to you, getting on his knees and reaching out to turn you over by the shoulder, a chill shooting down his spine when you remained limp and unresponsive.

what the fuck happened? was the force that impactful that it knocked you away too? 

but— but that didn’t make any sense you were literally far away across the courtyard how the hell did you get over to him so fast—

megumi’s hands shot out and he placed his palms on your bare upper arms, finding that your skin was abnormally warm… and yet you were abnormally sickly looking.

why? why the fuck was your skin warm—

he continued to hurriedly feel across your skin, his palms flying from your arms to your shoulders, your neck and forehead until they settled over your cheeks, his breath quickening as he realized that maybe the reason why he had survived death induce… was because it didn’t hit him at all.

it hit you. 

and you fell under the ten percent.

“y/n.” he firmly called, him going a bit lightheaded when you didn’t answer.

“sweetheart—”

he readjusted his hold on your cheeks and gently shook your head, leaning over you with wide horror filled eyes and parted lips.

“h—hey—” he removed a hand from your face and placed the pads of his fingertips on the side of your neck just beneath your jaw, feeling for a pulse and changing his positioning over and over because he wasn’t fucking getting one.

he carefully set your head down and felt the other side of your neck.

nothing.

“god—”

he moved down and snatched your wrist, hurriedly feeling it around with his fingertips and borderline squeezing the life out of your skin.

nothing.

a low groan from somewhere else caught his attention and megumi snapped his head around, looking over his shoulder and eyes squinting— spotting the ambusher slowly awakening and rolling on a pile of gravel not too far from where he was.

he immediately put your wrist down and stood up, trudging over to the man and kicking him over onto his back once he got there, the ambusher letting out a wail of pain before megumi fisted his shirt and jerked him up.

“what fucking spell was that?! was it death induce?!”

the ambusher only continued to groan, his head lulling around.

“hey!” he barked. “who was it that you hit?! me or her?!”

with his eyes rolling back, the ambusher parted his cracked lips— voice hoarse and barely audible as he spoke, him seemingly dancing with the chances of life and death.

“her…”

megumi saw red then, throwing him back down and reeling his fist back to sucker punch him straight in the jaw, delivering hit after hit without mercy until his own knuckles were achingly torn up and bleeding, his heart pounding through his chest and feeling heat coming out of his ears as he knocked the ambusher out cold.

he didn’t want to believe that this son of a bitch killed you. he didn’t want to believe that you sacrificed yourself for him.

he didn’t want to believe that you were dead.

megumi let go of the man and stood again, running back over to you with his breath caught in his throat, panic ransacking through his nervous system as he reached you and got back down on his knees again, trembling hands gripping your shoulders and shaking you frantically.

“hey—” he wheezed out. “what are you doing huh? why’d you do that huh?”

there was still no response from you and he paled, hands going back to your cheeks and giving them a squeeze, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill as he tried to wake you up.

“please i’m sorry—” he begged. “i’m sorry baby i’m so sorry—”

he sniffed and quickly wiped his nose with the back of his hand, babbling and spewing out pent up feelings and thoughts that he never allowed himself to contemplate or acknowledge.

“i’m sorry i’ve been— i’ve been too mean i’ve always been too mean to you—”

megumi had always been harsh with you.

was this the price he was paying for that? was this the price he was paying for letting himself be blinded by his hardships and the inability to be emotionally and mentally stable, that he let himself just— inflict that and beat down someone as sweet as you?

“i didn’t mean any of it i didn’t mean any of it—”

why had he been so cruel to you? what did he think he was going to get out of it? what was the point when he loved you so much?

and why did you save someone as cruel as him? or forgave him without fail each and every time he yelled at you, insulted you, ignored you, made you cry?

why did you love him?

megumi’s mind went into a spiral as he shakily scooped you in his arms and lifted you up, your body limp and cold now as he ran out of the courtyard and through the halls, looking for some sort of open classroom or space that would allow him to try and bring you back, him ignoring every piercing agonizing feeling that racked through his body as he moved.

he was in a state of absolute denial— refusing to accept you were dead as he jiggled various door knobs or looked through classroom windows, hoisting you up further in his arms as he relentlessly looked, breathing ragged and cheeks flushed and his mind randomly flashing memories of the two of you when you were children, eating ice cream for dinner and collecting lady bugs by the lake.

would he ever get to do that with you again?

megumi turned a doorknob and it clicked open, his eyes widening as he kicked the door open and closed, speedily walking through the classroom and concurring it must’ve been some random botany class with the amount of potted plants and herbs splayed about, him making his way to the largest table in the room and sliding everything off of it— glass bottles and granulated cylinders shattering on the floor as he carefully laid you down, yanking his blazer open and shaking it off before tossing it to the side.

there was no such thing as bringing someone back from the dead, but megumi was delusional and lost as his eyes scoured through the classroom in search for any type of healing textbook, his gaze landing on a tiny bookshelf a few feet away and scrambling to it, pulling every single book out and hurriedly flipping through the pages in hopes of something that could point him in the right direction to fixing you, throwing and hurling any that didn’t help and cursing when he couldn’t find anything.

he ditched the bookshelf and made his way back over to you, megumi realizing then that he had to rely on his own personal knowledge and healing techniques to try and bring you back… when healing was the worst fucking skill he had, failing the class during his time at the academy and having to retake it nearly twice until he finally passed.

you were the one that excelled in it. you excelled in everything.

you were a gift.

with trembling fingers, megumi formed different symbols before placing his hands flat on your chest, a lime green light illuminating through your skin as he stood there hopeful for— for anything, but his shoulders dropping once the light flickered and went out entirely, like it always did when he tried healing techniques.

“please please—”

he tried once more.

and then he tried again and again and again— forming symbols and placing his hands over different parts of your body, him getting progressively more desperate and angry and fucked off that it wasn’t working, the way you increasingly just got colder and stiff— lifeless as you laid there limp, head lulled to the side with your lips cracked and the bags under your eyes sunken, the absence of your bubbly soul profoundly horrific to him as his bottom lip trembled and additional tears blurred his vision.

his healing techniques kept flickering away just as soon as he manifested them, and he kept trying until they were mere sparks of green and blue, him digging his fingers exasperatedly in his hair before reaching out, placing his hands on your waist and gripping at the fabric of your dress— the very same one you wanted him to see, and the very same one he didn’t have the balls to tell you that you looked absolutely gorgeous in the minute he saw you at the dance.

“baby i’m sorry man for— for everything i did everything wrong i shouldn’t have yelled at you i shouldn’t have—”

you had always been the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“i love you! i— i do! i love you i love you—”

and it had been a privilege to grow up with you.

“come back to me please i’ll do whatever you want—”

tiny blue sparks buzzed from his palms as he continued to babble and hyperventilate, his hands grabbing and squeezing the meat of your skin through your dress, trying to get some type of feel of you that could fulfill his delusions that you were still alive, his mind continuing to torment him by playing different memories of his childhood with you.

“you’re just tired right? you just need to— you just need to lay down for a little bit baby—”

you couldn’t do this. you couldn’t shower him with love and the way you laughed, shape who he was as a human being, be the center of his world, follow him through every phase of his life and then just fucking leave.

megumi had envisioned it all with you.

you by his side, holding you, kissing you, getting the honor to call you his, you being his wife, you being the mother of his children— everything under the sun megumi had envisioned it all with you in foolish shame and resentment when it was anything but.

he was swimming in a suffocating pool of guilt that seemed to grab him by the ankles and pull him further down the longer he looked at you, dead and gone, him muttering nonsense and begging no one in particular for a second chance with you, not wanting you to be the lesson that teaches him to be a little kinder, but wanting you to be the one he comes home to and openly loves because he can.

he was stupid to think that he couldn’t. 

but it was too late, and through his mania of trying to awaken you, he thought about what gojo would do once he found out you were dead, he thought about the guilt he would carry for the rest of his life, and he thought about how he would be able to go on now that he’d heard you tell him once that you loved him.

through his blabbering and sorrow, the blue sparks under his palms increased in size and intensity, him unaware that he was manifesting part of his technique as thundering wind whirled around him, his wide wild eyes locked on you and remembering everything of you, placing his hands back over your chest and begging until—

an electrifying shock sputtered out of his palms and through your chest, the currents visibly twisting around your limbs as your upper body violently jerked up by the voltage, you laying there still for a couple of seconds before your eyelids flew open and you gasped for air, quickly sitting up and breathing erratically.

“oh my—” you placed a hand over your chest and swallowed, trying to catch your breath as your gaze switched to megumi. “what the fuck? wait i think i literally died—”

holy shit.

“i was in like— i can’t even explain i forgot oh my god it was so dark and then it wasn’t—”

…how?

“—and then now i’m here and i feel really funny like my skin tingles what did you—”

megumi let out a choked sob and you stiffened, him taking a staggering step forward and placing his hands at the edge of the table on either sides of you, his head hanging low and part of his spiky hair covering his eyes.

you blinked.

“…m—megs?”

you heard him sniffle and your heart dropped, his shoulders shaking and little hiccups slipping past his lips as he gripped the table, a mass of tears running down his cheeks as he stayed hunched over in front of you, choking and struggling to let it out as he cried.

you’d never seen him cry.

“gumi no hold on…” you put your hands on his shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “what happened? did you get hurt? what happened to that one guy—”

megumi lifted his head then and smashed his lips against yours, shutting you up completely and you freezing with blown out pupils.

what— what—

he was kissing you. like actually he was kissing you.

slowly, gently, he disconnected from your lips and leaned back a bit, him looking at you dead in the face with blood shot eyes and no expression.

your cheeks burned.

“what— wait i thought— what—”

“i lied.”

your brows furrowed.

“h—huh?”

“i lied. i love you.”

your eyes blew out of their sockets and you stilled, a hand flying over your mouth as you stared at him, your next words muffled.

“like— like as a friend or—”

“i’m in love with you.”

the same hand flew and slapped across your forehead instead in disbelief.

“yeah okay but like as a friend or—”

megumi lifted his hands and cupped your blushing cheeks, bringing you in and locking his lips with yours again— kissing you so deeply and borderline desperate with each mouthful, him swallowing you up as he took a couple steps forward through the kiss and settled himself in between your legs, your hands finding his wrists and gripping for stability as you tried to keep up with him.

oh my fucking god—

he pulled back with a tiny smack! and looked at you, both of you breathless with heaving chests.

“as in i want you for the rest of my life.”

you were at a loss for words, unsure where this was coming from after he had just told you that he couldn’t return your feelings, him looking at you all serious and breathless.

“but—“ you began softly. “but i thought you said—”

“forget what i said…“ he spoke under his breath, and he leaned in again with half lidded ditzy eyes to kiss you, completely enamored and intoxicated off of the way you tasted and the way your soft lips felt against his, his many dreams of getting to kiss you proving to no avail of what the actual thing felt like, and he didn’t understand how he went this long without it or how he could ever possibly prohibit himself from a privilege like that.

he was so fucking stupid.

he deepened the kiss and your hands shot out behind you, palms flat on the table to keep your balance as he pressed the front of his body flush against yours, kissing you so fast and raunchy that butterflies flew erratically in your tummy, this side of megumi completely new and foreign to you and one you thought you’d never get to experience.

and now megumi was a different kind of lost… one he preferred as he pulled away from the suction he had on your lips and dragged his mouth across your cheek, down to your jaw and down to your neck before he sucked and nibbled at the nape of it, his hand cradling the opposite side of it and the other kneading at your waist, drinking you up and giving you no space to breathe as you felt like little birdies were flying over your head, your heart thumping as one of your hands slid up his chest and fisted the white fabric on his shoulders, you licking your lips.

“m—megs—”

“shut up.” he mumbled against your skin, continuing his perverted literal attack on your neck as he slowly pulled the hem of your dress up and slipped a sneaky little hand under, settling on your bare waist and your face going fucking red over the feeling of his hand over the side of your panties.

megumi was a goner now that he knew what it was like to touch you in the way that he’d always wanted.

both of his hands slowly slid down and settled over your soft thighs, squeezing and kneading at them as he sucked on your neck, his lips eventually trailing further down to the plush of your tits and licking them up, your mouth hanging open and eyelids fluttering shut over how good it felt. 

you let out a little mewl of pleasure that snapped megumi from his trance, him quickly pulling his face out of your gorgeous tits and hands away from underneath your dress, his cheeks pink and mind replaying your tiny moan that went straight to his dick, a breathless huff slipping past his lips as he wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand— the entirety of it coated from shamefully slobbering all over you.

“shit— m’sorry sweetheart i should’ve asked first—”

you pouted and tilted your head, disappointed doe eyes looking up at him. “why’d you stop guumiii?”

megumi’s cheeks turned a more vibrant shade of pink as he stared at your pretty face.

“because i was feeling you up without permission.” he mumbled, arm dropping back to his side and placing his hands on either sides of you at the table again. “i’m sorry.”

you grinned and shook your head.

“it’s okay megs! i—”

“no but…” he sighed softly through his nose and tiredly lulled his head to the side, the close proximity between you two intimate as he fondly looked over your features.

“i’m sorry for everything baby.”

you faltered, heat rising up your neck as your brain started short circuiting over baby.

you had no idea of what you had done that made megumi do a complete one eighty on you, the way he was acting so odd yet so endearing that you couldn’t help but melt at his sincerity… at his softness, your eyes searching his for a moment before you gave him a slow sweet smile.

“what’s everything gumi?” you asked gently, your arms lifting and wrapping around his neck, resting there lazily.

he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“for being mean to you.” he spoke lowly. “for yelling at you and treating you like shit all of the time.”

you softly shook your head against his forehead.

“you’re so silly.” you whispered. “you’ve never treated me badly megumi… besides that one night hehe.”

he sighed deeply through his nose and lifted his head.

“i’m a moron.”

you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and smiled, letting out a giddy little giggle that made him smile.

“s’okay… don’t be so harsh.” you spoke softly. “you’re kind gumi. you’ve looked after me all my life haven’t you? fed me rice cakes when you weren’t supposed to?”

you leaned forward and placed a soft cutesy peck on the tip of his cold nose.

“no one told you to do that… you have a genuine heart that’s big and full of everything good that you think you’re not.”

god how he loved you.

and for the first time in his life his mind was quiet… serene, now that he’d let himself accept the fact that maybe he could have something as good as you, even if he didn’t truly deserve it.

because he didn’t, he’s awful and selfish for keeping you.

but he didn’t give a single flying fuck anymore, choosing instead to work for the rest of his life to be someone that had the right to have you.

megumi leaned and gave you a quick kiss.

“i really love you...” he mumbled, and you perked up and beamed.

“i really love you too!” you happily readjusted the hold you had around his neck and tugged him in closer, his hands coming up to snake around your waist in response and pull you against him tightly, his nerves officially simmering down once he felt the warmth of your skin and the beating of your heart against his chest again, him actively blocking out the memory of you in the complete opposite state.

megumi still wasn’t sure how he managed to bring you from the dead, but that night he refused to split from you and take you back to your dorm, opting instead to taking you home and you bouncing off the walls over his decision, the both of you moving quickly in your dorm as he helped you pack and gather your things for the weekend (and him giving you a look once he saw your still messy closet…), him looking over his shoulders every five seconds as you speed walked through the castle halls and to his car, interlaced fingers tight and cemented as he guided you, megumi literally traumatized from the events of earlier as he didn’t let you out of his sight— a hand on your shoulder, a hand on your waist, and a hand holding some part of your dress as you both moved.

neither of you were aware of the whereabouts of the ambusher, if he was dead or alive, or if there would be more… 

but megumi didn’t want to take his chances and just go home.

PART TWO | PART THREE

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

(it’s your fault that he thinks of that photo now, having to utilise mental skills he’d learned during unnecessarily sexy sparring lessons in high school to will away the beginning of stiffness in his pants) 

“that’s not the point,” he says calmly, tapping a finger over megumi’s glaring face. “the point is that i’m losing top-billing in my girlfriend’s wallet to a snot-nosed brat with a crush.” 

“really? you’re competing with a seven year old?” 

“it’s not competing if i’m losing!”

“it’s puppy love, satoru,” you laugh, closing your wallet before he can see that his card is inside. “i don’t think he’s ever had someone - that wasn’t his sister - fussing over him.”

“no, he definitely has a crush on you,” your boyfriend insist, draping himself over your lap quite dramatically. “can we still disown him if the adoption papers haven’t gone through yet?”

“no one is disowning anyone,” you tell him, gently pushing back his bangs to plant a kiss on his forehead. “you’ll just have to learn to live with the competition.”

_____

you’re halfway through the show you’re watching when the front door swings open and satoru tumbles inside. “honey, i’m home! nanami almost killed me at the gym.”

“hey, there’s lunch in the fridge,” you call, eyes glued to the television. 

satoru, predictably, is unsatisfied with this. he grabs the mug that you’re holding and sets it on the coffee table, wrapping you in a sweaty hug and peppering your face with kisses. 

“let me love you!” he whines, his hair tickling your nose as he nuzzle his face into your neck.

“you can love me after you take a shower, cause you stink.” your tone is stern, but you can’t seem to fight the smile that grows on your face as he hugs you tighter. 

“this is all for your benefit,” he argues, finally releasing you just to pull the hem of his shirt up. you try to smother the heat rising to your face, but satoru notices, a self satisfied smirk on his lips as he pats his abs. “i’m letting nanami kill me at the gym for you.”

“you’re such a slut,” you mutter, wriggling out of his grasp and over to the opposite end of the couch. satoru relents, staying on his end as he recounts his (apparently) near-death experience at the gym.

it’s a few moments later when megumi saunters into the living room.

“megumi! come sit with me!”

the boy’s nose immediately wrinkles. “you stink.”

his full-force pout returns. “i do not!”

“do too.”

“do not—”

“do too,” megumi scoffs, plopping down next to you and resting his head against your arm. 

“so you’re gonna let him snuggle with you but not me? i’m tired and sore and—”

“and sweaty,” you finish. “go take a shower.” 

he glances down at the kid glued to your side, brows raised as he mouths, crush. 

you roll your eyes, thinking it wise to not engage in any banter in front of megumi. 

(but as your attention returns to the tv, what you don’t see is megumi’s own little smirk, directed right at satoru.