News Flash Its Actually YOU CALL THE POLICE

news flash it’s actually YOU CALL THE POLICE

hellllllooopoooo

if you ever see this woman saying "hellopo" dont ever answer her and report it to the police, those r not jokes okay shes dangerous do not approach 🚫

Eternal Sunshine

CHOSO X READER! Cold mornings weren’t something you had been quite fond off. To be honest, you just weren’t a morning person. But waking up in the arms of your boyfriend has you rethinking. _________ ♫ INTRO (END OF THE WORLD) - ariana grande ❝ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜɪɴᴇ, ʙᴀʙʏ, ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ? ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ?❞

The first hint of dawn barely illuminated your room, it cast a gentle yet slightly noticeable yellow glow through the thin blue curtains. The cold air made its presence known by the slight frost that crept on the sides; as if trying to seep through it.

Outside, the world seemed still but content. Occasional cars passed by the road, and birds and their flock chirped, it disturbed the quiet but nothing too noisy, not too hush.

But inside, beneath a mound of thick, warm blankets and heavy duvet, were you and your boyfriend, Choso. Both of were you found to be snuggled deep within the layers, taking coverage to hide from the chill of cold mornings as you both held onto each other.

Choso's arms were wrapped snugly around you, body heat mingling with yours, creating a pocket of warmth that neither of you wanted to escape from just yet.

His sharp breaths tickled the back of your neck every time he exhaled; making you slightly squirm at the feel. Each one cast a whisper against your skin as Choso slept.

These wintry mornings, when time seemed to stand still and the rest of the world felt distant, are what you cherished most. In sleepless nights, leaving you to arise weary, you craved nothing but this; love in the way of touch.

Choso stirred first, his movements drowsy as he adjusted his position to face you. With a raspy grunt, his sleepy eyes blinked open as he adjusted to his surroundings. Eyes jaded, he fixed his gaze onto yours, staring deeply that made your stomach flutter. "Morning," he voiced, sounding hoarse while lifting a lazy arm to grab you closer to him.

"Morning," you replied barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle his relaxed self. It felt as if speaking louder might shatter the delicate, peaceful bubble that surrounded you both.

Without a word, you moved as close as possible to Choso, seeking his warmth against your skin. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady, slow beat of his heart, hearing a soft hum of content when doing so.

Moving his arm up to your spine, his calloused hand gently caressed your back, movements languid and tender. You twitch at the sudden sensation, but when feeling his hand move up and down your back, brings you a sense of solace. “It’s too cold to get up,” he retorts, almost in protest, while shifting around to make your body feel more secure in his grasp.

Your throat makes a noise in agreement, the sound vibrating gently against his skin. “Then let’s just stay here,” you suggest, looking up to meet his eyes as you await his answer.

The thought of even leaving the bed and its warmth while Choso is holding you with such care and closeness makes it sound unfathomable at this moment.

“Best plan you’ve ever had,” Choso chuckled lightly, stopping the caressing on your back to focus using his available hand. Before his hand comes up to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, he lifts your chin to lock eyes; an imitate act he was fond of doing.

During releasing, he stroked your cheek once, twice, and on the third, he let his touch linger. Grasping the side of your cheek where he held a small part; interlacing his fingers through your hair, all the while holding you down back onto his chest.

You’d be lying if you said his touch wasn’t smooth, a stark contrast to the huge, scary man he was known to be. But here, in this quiet morning showing vulnerability, he was just Choso. The man with a tender heart and eyes that spoke of unspoken depths; your significant other.

A grin spread across Choso’s face, curious and endearing as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. The affection in his gaze was yearning for. Whatever he was doing to you was working with how badly it drew you in, compelling you to hold him onto you. You feel a small, yet noticeable squeeze he responds with.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his hand trailing from your cheek down to trace the line of your jaw, then resting softly at the base of your neck.

Nodding, you melted into his touch, savoring the comforting warmth of his skin against yours compared to the cold room. “Only because you were here," you muttered slightly embarrassed at the confession, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“You know,” Choso’s voice was a faint, hushed tone. His lips grazed against the shell of your ear, making you quiver for a moment. “If I could stop time, it’d be right now.”

A smile tugged at your lips as lifted your neck to peer up at him, sharing eye contact. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but open enough to stare fully into you. They softened further as he looked at you, and it was in moments like this, that you saw a side of Choso that was for you and you alone.

The thought made you feel hot in your neck, as it arose to flush against your cheeks.

“Me too,” you whispered back, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, feeling this delicate skin there. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before laying it back down on his chest, over his heart. The steady beat under your hand was a comforting reminder; deja vu in some sort, of the quiet mornings you had shared just like this one.

Neither of you spoke for a long while, simply enjoying the closeness and the rare opportunity to linger in bed. As the sky outside lightened from dim yellow to soft blue, the silence between you was filled with shared smiles and lazy, contented sighs.

Choso was the first to break it, shifting slightly, pulling you to get a good arm around you. When given the okay, you nestled your head against his shoulder; feeling your messy hair nestled beneath you while feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took.

“I wouldn’t mind cold mornings every morning,” he grunted, his hand returning to stroke your back under the blankets. His touch was gentle and soothing, tracing patterns that made you relax even more in his hold.

“You tell me,” with a whisper of a giggle, you make out the sound of Choso’s chuckle responding to you, vibrating through his chest, a low, warm sound that erupted butterflies everywhere around.

Fluttering your eyes closed for extra rest, you’re interrupted by someone lifting your cheek for the second time. Raising your head to meet his gaze, and what you saw in his eyes—a mixture of adoration and sincerity—made you stop your plans of complaining for intruding on your “beauty sleep”.

Choso leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow and unhurried, evident by the lack of sleep you both got. Moving his hand from your cheek, he slides it into your hair, intertwining the soft strands with his fingers. His lips moved against yours tenderly, pulling away only to steal another, deeper this time, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, Choso chased your lips with a small, needy peck that made you laugh against his smooth lips.

With the hand grasping your hair, he pushes it towards his face and together, connecting your foreheads to touch as you both collect your breaths. Choso’s fingers moved down to trace the contours of your face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear that escaped due to his holding as your eyes remained shut, taking in the pleasure. “I love these quiet moments with you,” he confessed, matching the smile that was gracing your lips.

“I love them too,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through your body and up your spine. It was all Choso—his presence, his touch, his love. You knew that no matter how cold it got outside, how horrid the night had been before, with him by your side, you’d always feel the safest.

“You know,” he mused after a moment, his forehead leaving yours to gaze at your drowsed eyes. “we should probably think about getting up eventually. Can’t call out again this week.”

“A few more minutes,” you protested, not ready to let go of this peaceful interlude. The thought of leaving this comforting sanctuary seemed almost a crime.

Choso laughed at your desperate expression. Moving his head to lie on the pillow, he encouraged you to lay back on his chest. “A little longer then,” he agreed, and you could hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

As the morning lazily drifted by, you both lay there, wrapped up in each other. There was a comfort in the silence, each breath and touch a language only the two of you understood.

Occasionally, one of you would whisper something trivial—a comment about the weather, a thought about breakfast—but it was the silence that carried the weight of your words, filled with understanding.

With a final breath, you lifted yourself, quickly making pace. Knowing yourself, if you sat there on the bed for a short time, you would fall back into his embrace.

Sorting through the day’s necessities, you hear the creeks of the floor, telling you Choso has risen as well. Walking to use the bathroom, a gentle tug on your hand stopped you from moving further. “Hey,” he said, drawing you close against his chest, “thanks for this morning. It means more than you know.”

It was your turn to smile up at him. “Always,” you promised, giving him a reassuring squeeze to show the sincerity in the words you were telling him.

As he lets you return to your doings, Choso leans down to give you one more gentle kiss, which you return, smiling against.

@siythn all rights reserved!

I Forgot That You Existed (feat. Satoru Gojo) [Limited Edition CD]

GOJO X READER! You'd long forgotten your ex-boyfriend Satoru Gojo is what you'd like to tell yourself. No, you didn't miss him, not one bit. But, when running into him at a club, is that what you can keep telling yourself? Or was it just the shots and high emotions you keep endorsing in? ❝IT ISN'T LOVE, IT ISN'T HATE, IT'S JUST INDIFFERENCE❞ ᥫ᭡ LOVER; MASTERLIST

The neon lights of the club pulsed in time with the heavy bass of the music, casting a colorful glow over the crowded dance floor.

You sipped your drink, trying to enjoy the party your friends had dragged you to. It was a welcome distraction from the routine of exorcising curses and the loneliness that had settled in your heart over the past year.

Going to grab a shot for your friend from the bar before suddenly freezing, feeling a familiar—powerful presence behind you. You turn around, now face to face with the one person you never expected to see here—Satoru Gojo. His striking white hair and signature sunglasses made him impossible to miss, even in the dim, flashing lights.

"Is that you?!" he shouted over the music, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

"Satoru?" you responded, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. The crowd jostled you both, pushing you closer together.

"Long time no see!" he said, leaning in so you could hear him, grin lighting up his face. His breath brushed your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Yeah," you replied, slipping a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. "What are you doing here?"

"Got dragged here by some friends," he shouted back, his lips getting dangerously close to your ear. "You?"

"Same," you said, feeling the tension build as the crowd pressed you closer. His proximity was intoxicating. You can’t help but reminisce on the memories where he had been this near; you’d been trying to bury for weeks.

The music changed to a slower, more sensual beat, and the crowd around you shifted, swaying to the rhythm. You and Gojo were pushed even closer together, your bodies almost touching.

"It's so crowded," you muttered, eyes slightly starting to glare at the people around you. You failed to pick up the tone of your voice, and how it tinged with frustration and something else—something you didn't want to admit.

"Yeah, it is," Gojo agreed, his eyes locking onto yours after taking a glance at the crowd. The playful smirk you remembered so well danced on his lips. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you lied. The truth was, being this close to him was stirring up a whirlwind of emotions you thought you’d be done with a long time ago. It’s why you’re out here at a club, trying to get wasted, right?

The crowd surged again, causing Gojo to stumble slightly. He reached out to steady himself, his hand landing on your waist. The touch was electric—a faint shiver went up your spine from his cold hands. You could slowly feel your promises breaking.

Opening your mouth to respond, you get interrupted by your friend, who had lost track of you earlier, appearing out of nowhere from the back of you. Shouting over the music with two new drinks found in her hand.

"Hey! There you are!" she yelled, grabbing your arm. "Come on, you have to get on the dance floor! It's insane out there!"

You turned to her, trying to explain, but before you could get a word out, she noticed Gojo standing in front of you. Her eyes widened, and a sly grin spread across her face as she recognized him.

"Oh," she said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "Never mind, enjoy yourself. Text me if you need me."

She gave you a wink and a knowing look before disappearing back into the throng of dancing bodies. You would murder her if you could. Not even the beaming lights could help your embarrassment. Slowly turn back to Gojo, who was watching the exchange with a bemused smile.

"Friends," he said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. "They always know, don't they?"

"Yeah," you agreed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "They always do."

He lets out a hum. "Look," he said, his voice softer now, almost lost in the noise around you. Almost like he was now embarrassed, but not enough to break eye contact. "I've missed you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Satoru, this isn't the time—"

"Maybe not," he interrupted, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as another wave of people pushed you together. "But I've been thinking about you a lot. About us."

You tried to pull away, but the crowd was relentless, and his touch was making it impossible to think clearly. "We ended things for a reason, Satoru."

"I know," he said, his voice full of regret. "But maybe we were wrong."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for the sincerity you needed to hear. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," he replied, leaning in closer, "that I don't want to forget you. That I want to try again."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in. The music, the lights, the crowd—all of it faded into the background as you focused on him. It was too much, the drinks, the overwhelming about of people, him. "What if it doesn't work out?"

"Then at least we tried," he said, his voice full of conviction. "But I have a feeling it will. Because we belong together."

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, hear rushing up your neck. This is so stupid. So so stupid. "Satoru, I—"

Before you could finish, the crowd surged once more, pushing you into his arms. He held you tightly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Just think about it, okay?"

You nodded against his shoulder, unable to find the words. The music shifted again, and the crowd began to thin out as people moved to different parts of the club. Gojo loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, moving back slightly to stare at your face.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, his eyes never leaving yours. "Someplace quieter, where we can talk."

You took a deep breath, looked around as if to find an answer to your problems, feeling a mix of hope and fear. "Okay."

ᥫ᭡ᩚ

The bar was a welcome change from the chaotic club, with a more relaxed atmosphere and soft jazz playing in the background. You took a seat at the bar, and before you could say anything, Gojo waved the bartender over and ordered a drink.

"A classic margarita please," he said with a confident smile, as if he was bragging.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," he replied, turning to you with a grin. "Some things are hard to forget."

The bartender quickly returned with your drink and a whiskey for Gojo. You took a sip, the familiar taste bringing a small smile to your lips. "Thanks you"

Gojo clinked his glass against yours. "To new beginnings?"

"Maybe," you said, dragging out the word with a hint of caution in your voice. "Or to understanding the past."

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down, turning to face you. "Fair enough. So, how have you been, really?"

You sighed, staring off to the arrow of alcoholic bottles while swirling your drink in your hand. "It's been a tough year. A lot of work, just trying to keep busy."

"I know the feeling," he noted, arms crossing against his chest. "I've missed you, more than I realized."

You looked at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. A part of you wants to take him up on his offer immediately, your past with him was unlike any other. It was intimate, it was love. "Why now, Satoru? Why reach out after all this time?"

A mix of a sigh and hum come out his throat as he runs a hand through his white hair. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. About us. There was just so much going on—and I realized that maybe we gave up too soon."

"It wasn't easy at all," you admitted, feeling a lump form in your throat as you slightly wince at the memories. "I had stuff going on—you did too. It just got to a point where none of us had time for each other. It wasn’t healthy, Satoru.

"True," he muttered while nodding. "But I've been thinking. . .that it wouldn’t hurt to try again. For us to try again.”

You looked down at your drink, the emotions swirling inside you as chaotic as the crowd you'd just left. "But, what if it just turns out like it did before?"

"We did something, we tried at the most,” with a soft tone, he reaching out to gently take your hand. "But I have a feeling it will. Because I still care about you. And I have a good feeling you still care too.”

You felt your practically melt at his words. You hate to admit, but the walls you had built around your feelings started to crumble. Starting to let him in once more. "I do care, Satoru. I mean, I never stopped."

"Then let's not waste any more time," he stated, a hopeful smile spreading across his face. "Let's go on a date. A proper one. And make up for lost time."

You took a deep breath. Being honest, you didn’t know how to feel. If truthfully nothing worked out to plan, how bad would it hit you? Would you be okay with that? But looking into Gojo's eyes, you saw the sincerity and the longing, and it made you believe that maybe, just maybe, this time things could be different.

"Okay," you squeeze his hand twice. "One more try."

Gojo's smile widened, and he raised his glass again. "To new beginnings."

Clinking your glass with his, you can’t help the massive smile that breaks out on your face. The redness on your cheeks doesn’t make it any better.

“To new beginnings."

I AM SCREAMING this is fucking insane (keep writing more i need MORE)

Betrothed

Naoya can barely keep up with his duties as the next head of the Zenin estate and threatens to crumble under the pressure. Thankfully, his fiancée knows how to make everything better. cw: smut - MDNI, rough and degrading sex, oral (m! receiving), afab reader, choking, power imbalance and toxic relationship

Your eyes dart furiously around the room, taking in the blinding lights of the low-hanging gold leaf chandeliers, endlessly reflected by the tacky sequinned dresses of women swarming around the room. Everything's unbearable, the smell worse than the view, perfume barely covering the sweat of bodies intermingling together, with the added edge of lukewarm champagne and stale tobacco.

You hate it here, but above all you hate the heavy weight of Naoya 's hand on your lower back, steering you through the crowd. Naoya is insistent on showing you off to everyone. His latest, shiniest prize. His soon-to-be bride. Each introduction feels like an eternity, each handshake clammy and intrusive.

"I need a breather", you tell Naoya when the latest canine old geezer finally lets go of your hand after holding onto you for far longer than it is appropriate. 

"No you don't", Naoya retorts without even looking at you, his eyes fixed on another one of his acquaintances, a cordial smile on his lips. If it wasn’t for the vice grip he had on your waist, it'd almost feel like he doesn't even acknowledge your presence. You try to wriggle out of his tight embrace, parting your lips to protest but he's quick to silence you and he digs his fingers cruelly in the silk of your gown, wrinkling the delicate material. "Behave yourself, don't even think about causing a scene", he hisses, looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile on his face. To Naoya, everything you do out of your own volition is akin to causing a scene. You relent, gaze dropping to your trembling hands, steeling yourself into following him again through the swarm of warm bodies.

For the umpteenth time tonight, when Naoya finds an audience of new faces, he spews his spiel about how your betrothment was fated. He’s good at it, paints a vivid story of how two snotty kids’ puppy love has grown to cement the relationships between their families’ businesses. Naoaya’s like a master at work, his little speech perfectly tailored to both appease skittish shareholders and entertain the overly-sentimental penchant of their wives. "It's kismet, her and I", Naoya says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

What Naoya doesn't share though, is his lingering resentment for you. You may have become more pliant now, more accepting of your place, but you haven't atoned. There's still an edge to the way you address him, and it serves as a bitter reminder of your initial reserves about the whole ordeal.

Still, the onlookers smile at him but he doesn't miss how their expressions falter ever so slightly when their inquisitive eyes settle on you.

They must notice how your attempt at a genial smile ends up resembling a twisted moue, and how you cower into his side as they bid you goodbye. Naoya notices the slight tremor rocking your hands and the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Despite your repeated blunders tonight, Naoya thinks unease is a good look on you. It makes you more malleable. Tamer. Eager for any escape, any reprieve he'll offer and, being the benevolent man that he is, he takes pity on you and drags you out of the ballroom and into a secluded corridor.

His hold on your wrist is unforgiving, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you still babble mindless 'thank you's with whatever breath you still have as you try to keep up with his long strides. He ushers you inside the first bathroom he finds before locking the door behind you.

Immediately, you crouch over and hold your face in your hands, spilling an incoherent string of apologies and frenzied thanks in between labored breaths. "Naoya, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to burden you - I mean, I didn't even think I'd end up like this, I was fine – in the car, I rehearsed, I was doing good but – " you try to explain, but he cuts you off. 

"What's new, you fuck up and I have to clean up your mess." He scoffs, not even sparing you a glance. Instead he stares at himself in the mirror hung above the sink, appraising his reflection with pursed lips. His eyes linger on the protruding vein on his forehead, widening at the sight of his face's sudden pallor. All your fault, as usual.

"Do you have any idea how you make me look ?", he starts again, massaging the bridge of his nose. "It's one thing if you want to ruin your own reputation, it's another now that you're my fiancée for God's sake - you're an extension of me, do you fucking get it ?". 

He kneels to be eye-level with you, fine eyebrows pinched together and nose wrinkled. He's fuming and you're starting to spiral. Just as you're about to hide your misty eyes again, he cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to face him. His thumbs press into your cheeks, creeping up towards your lash line. "How am I supposed to manage a company if I can't even deal with my wife ? You make me look incompetent, darling", he presses and the pet name makes you shiver. 

You sniffle and try to steady your uneven breaths, pleading with urgency, "I'm sorry, I'll be better, I just need to breathe, please". He cocks his head to the side, "And what about me in all of this, mmh ? Think you can fuck up my night because you couldn't just shut up and smile, then cry your way out of your responsibilities ?". His tone is low, his words biting. 

You know he's right. 

Noaya's formal introduction as the heir of the Zenin estate with you by his side was supposed to be flawless. It was a desperate bid designed by Naobito and his darling boy to control the narrative around the succession of the group, and to nip in the bud any stories about a possible carve-out to make the task of taking over the Zenin conglomerate more manageable, but you might've just fucked it up. You can already see the headlines, the rumor of the once revered Zenin conglomerate falling to the hands of a temperamental heir and his unstable wife will be echoed endlessly in every paper. It wouldn’t be the first time either of you ended up in the news, but this time is different - much worse than any previous petty attempt at dragging you through the mud. 

You shake your head fervently, eager to sooth his irritation, "No of course not, I'll make it up to you".  He sizes you up, mulling over your words, then he stands up and you all but clamber to your feet. "I'll make it right", you repeat with more confidence. He looks you up and down again, still irked but mildly curious. "How ?", he inquires, leaning against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble behind him and eyes narrowed at you. You hesitate for a moment before relenting, "I'll do anything".

Ah, there it is. The night’s highlight. It’s not the first time this happens, by now it’s a well-practiced routine between you but it still feels heavenly every time he gets to push you into that overzealous, servile state of mind. He might not be able to control the narrative around the shitshow his dad’s company has become or what every last geriatric investor thinks of him but in the grand scheme of things it might not even matter. He has other, better things to look forward to anyway.

Naoya takes two long strides to back you up against the cool wall. He looks down at you curiously and raises a graceful finger to trace the curve of your jaw. His hand moves up to wipe a lone tear that spilled past your lash line, and his lips stretch in a cryptic smile at the sight of the little crystalline droplet, now tainted black from your mascara, rolling down your flushed cheek. Naoya likes the way the streak of charcoal watercolor dirties you. You always look best with a tear-stained face. 

You can’t say much now, you’ve sealed your fate already and you’re not sure you’d want to tap out even if you could. You like to watch the anger in Naoya’s eyes dissipate, a dark lust slowly weathering down the storm of his ire. All because of you. He looks so handsome like this, when he lets you take care of him. 

Naoya barks out a laugh at your lovesick expression, grabbing your cheeks and shaking your face to snap you out of your daze. “On your knees”, he spits at you. The change in demeanor is immediate. You lower yourself onto the hard tiled floor, the cold seeping in your skin even through the heavy taffeta of your dress. You fold your hands neatly in your lap and look up at Naoya with a poignant fondness that makes him sick. Something odd stirs deep in his gut at the sight of your obedience. A two-headed monster, half resentment and half lust, makes him want to hurt you then reward you for your willful servitude.

You watch him, mouth aghast, as he undoes his tie with one hand, the other slowly encircling your neck. He barely applies any pressure, content to keep his touch light around the soft skin of your throat. You know better than to trust this fleeting softness. Soon enough, he pushes his fingers into the sides of your neck and squeezes. His touch is anything but conversational now - the dig of his nails in your skin is vindictive. You merely gasp but don’t back away. Naoya seems mildly displeased at that, uncurling his hand away from your neck and lightly shoving your face to the side as he snarls, “Can’t you play along ?”. You want to play along. You crane your head back, exposing more of your throat. He smiles. 

“That’s better”, Naoya croons. You melt into nothing at the faintest hint of praise. 

His pace is leisurely when he loops his tie around one hand and dangles it in front of you, brushing the expensive silk deceptively softly against your heated skin. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation when he finally winds it around your neck, fastening a tight knot and wrapping the loose end around his fist. The first tug is tentative and barely makes you drop your jaw open. Naoya tuts, tugging harder this time, and he finally seems content when you let out a panicked gasp. Using his tie as a make-shift leash, he jerks your face into his crotch. He’s half hard already, cock stiffening to life embarrassingly fast when you shamelessly rub your face against his too-tight trousers. The effect you have on him emboldens you enough to look right into his eyes as you brush the outline of his length straining against his thigh, the dark fabric of his suit doing nothing to conceal how much he needs this. Naoya lets out a muffled groan when your nimble hands move to undo his pants, his breathing strained from the faintest brush of your fingertips against the head of his cock. You probe at the wet spot darkening his boxers, mouth watering when his cock twitches weakly under your hands. For now, you’re just content to stroke him over the ruined fabric of his underwear, doe eyes widening at how every brush of your hand against him has his cock leaking more and plastering the wet fabric to his sensitive length. 

“Stop fucking teasing”, Naoya warns you with another tug of his tie. He was never really one for foreplay, you reckon. Reluctantly, you peel down his boxers and free his cock, gnawing at your bottom lip at how heavy it looks when it springs free and slaps against his white shirt. Any reservations you might have had are quickly forgotten when you wrap a small hand around him, swirling your thumb around the messy head of his cock, while you fumble around with the buttons of his shirt, eager to see the trail of dark hair leading to his pelvis and Naoya whines - guttural and genuine, for once. Pride simmers low in your gut and you eagerly pepper small kisses down his stomach, scratching your nails lightly against his pearly white skin before brushing into the neatly-trimmed patch of pubic hair, your own mind growing hazier at every little breathy sound of pleasure bubbling past Naoaya’s pretty lips. Looking up at him sends another jolt of arousal to your core. He looks so disheveled already, a light pink blush dusting his high cheekbones and you’re not sure if it’s desire or the shame of breaking down so easily in your hands that has him closing his eyes tightly. He still has the presence of mind to pull harder on your leash, hissing through gritted teeth, “Think you have the upper hand, you fucking slut ? Do what you’re good for, finish what you started”. 

His words are devoid of their usual bite, and even as he towers over you and shoves your face right in his cock, he looks uncharacteristically weak. You still oblige, not before shooting him a knowing small smile that has his blood boiling and his dick jumping in your hand. Closing your eyes to offer him a reprieve from your piercing eyes, you lick a long stripe for his base to his messy tip,  laving it with kitten licks to coax more of his precum out of his already sloppy dick. You smear the mixture of pre and spit over his whole length, your free hand cupping his balls, and Naoya actually moans, high pitched and needy when you twist your wrist and start jerking him off quickly, taking his overly sensitive head in your hot mouth and suckling on it so sweetly he thinks he’s falling for you all over. You’re so good to him, zealous and eager to please, that he doesn’t even have to ask before you’re moving your hand away and slowly sinking his dick in your mouth. It feels like heaven, the pent-up stress of the earlier fiasco already melting away as you take more and more of him into you, and he breathes a sigh of relief when his length hits the back of your throat. Naoya finds himself in a generous mood, you’ve been so good to him after all, so he remains unmoving for a while as you adjust to his girth stretching your swollen lips wide. That kindness is short-lived though, and soon enough he tugs the tie back, tugging you off him before guiding himself in your mouth again. He sets a rhythm of deep, long strokes that’d be painful if you weren’t so used to it already. How many times have you done this by now ? Dropping to your knees and letting him fuck in your awaiting mouth, making a mess of your throat, has become second nature to you. 

It’d be demeaning if it didn’t earn you so many pretty sounds of pleasure from Naoya, stifled groans fading into breathy whimpers and whines, and you commit all of them to memory, each one a token of his covert affection for you. 

Naoya’s pace picks up when you start echoing his labored breathing with choked moans of your own, each time pushing in deeper in your mouth until his aching cock breaches into the tight sleeve of your throat. You gag around him a little, instinctively trying to pull away from the foreign intrusion, but a mean tug on his tie keeps you there. He doesn’t even offer you the reprieve of pulling out this time. You let out a pained moan around his cock, misty eyes pleading wordlessly for him to pull away but he doesn’t. Naoya just smiles, an odd sense of serenity settling over his usually scrunched features, and reaches one hand to your throat to feel himself there. His touch is cooling, every graze of his fingertips against the column of your throat thawing at your panic and you slowly even out your breathing, even with how deeply he forces himself in your mouth. 

Something entirely different takes over now, lust brewing deep in your gut. You shift a little, trying to quell the embarrassing throbbing of your core by grinding down on your own heels, and Naoya actually laughs. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face to get a good look at your glassy eyes and the fine lines of drool falling past the seams of your lips. 

“So messy”, he tuts, catching your spit then smearing it on your cheek. You choke around him, a feeble protest quickly silenced by the cruel push of his twitching dick even deeper into your throat. 

“You actually like this, don’t you ?” He doesn’t expect an answer, doesn't even really need one. Naoya just pulls out slightly and drives himself into your mouth, hard. You cry out incomprehensibly, helpless but so aroused, and reach a shaky hand to his thigh to steady yourself when he starts a cruel pace. In and out, in and out - Naoya is a man possessed, taking as much pleasure from how your throat squeezes down on him as he does from your choked moans. He wants to bruise you, cover your face in so much of his pre and your spit that you become unrecognizable, but above all he wants you to like it. You certainly seem like you do, the once subtle rocking of your hips now shameless.

“My good little slut”, he praises, patting your head in an unusual display of fondness.

The word goes straight to your untouched cunt, its bite heightened by the punitive push of his cock in the tight sleeve of your throat. It shouldn’t feel so good, and it shouldn’t sate an unspeakable want that addles your mind but it does. You’re not sure why, maybe because it’s soothing to anchor yourself in the knowledge that you can be good, at least for something or to someone - an indisputable gauge of your worth. Affection is fickle and hard to grasp but the certainty of this - the hefty weight of a cock in your mouth, the promise of it stretching your cunt - is unassailable. On your knees, eyes rolling aimlessly and drooling uncontrollably, you’ve never felt so seen. 

Naoya pulls unexpectedly out of your sloppy mouth , grasping your chin to look right in your lidded eyes as he snickers, “Didn’t think you’d enjoy whoring yourself out so much”. You blink slowly at him, coughing and choking on your own spit and he has to squish your cheeks together, swaying your face side to side to fight off your haze. “So fucking stupid just from sucking cock, what will you be like when you actually get fucked ?”, he snickers, slapping your cheek with his leaking tip. The idea has your mind reeling. 

You look at him like you’re asking him to find out for himself and he stares right back at you with the hint of a promise - a threat ? - in his eyes.

He pulls you to feet once more, ignoring the growing burn in his loins and the painful rush of blood to his cock, the skin of his aching length now feeling taut from your spit drying under the cool air. Pushing you to rest your upper body against the marbled sink, he kneels behind you, fumbling with your skirt until he gets a good hold on it and pulls it up to expose you. You whimper in embarrassment when he whistles and runs a curious finger along your covered slit. “So you really are a slut, huh ?”, he muses, tone light and detached even when he pulls your soaked panties down your legs and circles your entrance with a finger. “Thought I’d just fuck your throat, let some steam off, but this -” he cuts himself off, slicking two deft fingers with his own spit before plunging them in your neglected hole, “ How could I not fuck you now ?”, he barks out a laugh when you immediately squeeze around his fingers and keen. Naoya is almost in disbelief at how wet you are already, slick pouring out of you and coating your thighs every time his fingers graze a sensitive spot in your pussy, his cock leaping and aching to bury itself in your warmth. He pulls his fingers out when your cries get louder, standing up to his full height behind you and tapping his cock against your ass. One hand guides his dick between your puffy folds, rubbing the mix of spit and precum you coated him in from your hole to your clit, the other fumbling to pull your neck back with your makeshift leash. He forces you in a deep arch, watching your face in the mirror. 

Naoya waits for your glazed eyes to focus on him before slowly sinking himself in your pussy. Your jaw drops when the bulbous head of his cock breaches past the first ring of muscles, and even with how wet he got you, your still hiss at the burning stretch. Naoya can’t be bothered with being gentle though, and he fucks the rest of his painfully hard length into your weeping hole in one, fluid motion. It knocks the air out of you, renders you completely boneless for him to fuck into as he pleases. Each thrust sends a jolt of pure electricity coursing through your limp body, white hot arousal running from your already sore cunt up to your spine. Everything feels so good, his cock so thick and long it grazes effortlessly into that tender spot deep inside you, then bruises your cervix. You do your best to stifle your moans, acutely aware of where you are - what if someone heard you ? what would people say ? - but Naoya isn’t having it. He lets go of his tie in favor of forcing a finger in your mouth, coaxing you into moaning for him loudly and accentuating the slapping for his pelvis against your ass.

“Don’t act shy now”, he laughs breathlessly, pressing his finger against your tongue and watching you drool. “I wouldn’t mind being caught like this”, he continues and, to your absolute horror, pulls his finger out from your mouth to slip under your dress and circle your pert clit. You break up in pitiful sobs, clenching impossibly harder around his cock, as if trying to keep him inside you whenever he pulls out. Naoya hisses and throws his head back but his pace doesn’t falter and he pinches your clit between two fingers, rolling it to turn your sobs in keening moans. “Want to hear you – aah, fuck, you’re so fucking tight– want everyone to hear you be a good girl for me”, he pleads, delirious and so hungry for you, you can’t refuse him. You give into it, letting out wanton moans at every devious stroke of his dick into your sore insides, and in turn Naoya only fucks you faster, pressing into your clit harder. You’re so fucking close, your whole body flashing with white hot pleasure and what sends you over the edge is Naoya’s fevered praise when he lets out incoherent strings, barely audible over the loud sounds of his skin on yours ; “Come on, be good, make a mess on my cock - you’re taking me like it’s nothing, fucking hell, this pussy was made for me”. 

It’s so filthy, unusually desperate and raw, that it sends you tumbling over the edge with a strained sob of his name. Your orgasm has your cunt squeezing around Naoya’s length so tight, he stills and arches over you, the rhythmic spasming of your walls coaxing his own climax out of him. He comes with a guttural groan, his seed bursting in long and thick spurts and filling you so deliciously it lengthens the ebb and flow of your high. 

For once, Naoaya is quiet. He rides out his high and rubs a soothing hand over your stomach with a strange tenderness that somehow feels more intimate than the rest of the evening. He shifts behind you, still buried deep inside you but now with his arms holding you to his chest, and he clears his throat to say something. Looking at him through the large mirror, you watch his face contort in a boyish expression. Almost bashful. He never does this, never lingers behind or clings to you. 

“Thank you”, he mumbles into the crook of your neck. It should sound wrong, off-kilter or entirely odd to be thanked for sex like a common whore. To you it sounds like love in bloom. You’ll take it for now, and hope that, maybe once Naoya learns to be a good heir, he’ll learn to become a good husband.

:)

Aftercare

LEVIXREADER! Coming back to headquarters after a challenging expedition pained you. After all; the grime combined with the tightness of your muscles wasn’t a good pair. But, Levi's hands in your hair, with a cozy hot bath running, was a perfect one. _________ ♫ IT'S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND - taylor swift ❝ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ❞

The walls of Trost loomed overhead, but the weight on your shoulders felt heavier as you walked through the gate. The journey you'd just completed had been long and brutal, soldiers' bodies and souls pushed to their limits.

After yet another grueling mission with the Survey Corps, your body ached in ways you didn't know were possible. Every bone felt heavy, every muscle screamed for rest, and all you wanted was a moment of peace.

As soon as your feet hit the headquarters’ courtyard, every step grew heavier, every breath more labored. Putting your horse away to rest at the stables made you weary. All you craved was a sanctuary, a moment of peace far from the chaos and the carnage that surrounded your body and mind.

Your body ached at joints you hadn’t noticed before. Arms tight by your side, legs begging to give out while dragging yourself. You bypassed the bustle of the other soldiers returning and made your way directly to a place you knew would be quiet, secluded, and safe— Levi’s quarters.

You can’t recall when going to Levi’s room was a place for comfort after a mission. It just had been a silent agreement between the both of you. Maybe it was his unwavering strength or the craving to have someone there to lean on, but his space always seemed to offer the tranquility you so desperately needed.

Which is why you found yourself walking in a familiar path.

Levi’s quarters were quiet and meticulously organized, nothing different from his nonchalant personality. You didn’t bother knocking, knowing he wouldn’t mind your intrusion.

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, and you peered inside to find Levi at his desk, paperwork scattered in front of him, yet he looked up the moment you entered. It always amazed you how he looked so put together after such a reckless expedition. But this was the Levi Ackerman, nothing was expected less.

He must’ve arrived a few moments before you have; and is already shoving himself into paperwork. You’ve tried countless times to try and pull him away from his (what you like to call it) workaholic behavior, but he never budges. 

“What are you doing here?” Levi’s voice was stern, but his eyes softened when you saw the state you were in. You must have looked as bad as you felt, worn out and on your last threat. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about your dirty state in the front of a higher-up.

“I just need somewhere,” you pause, breaking the eye contact you both held to look at the cozy, neatly made bed in the corner. “Peaceful to rest,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper as you slowly shuffled towards his bed.

Without a word, he stood up, his chair scraping lightly against the floor. With a long stride, he approached you, gaze scrutinizing as he took in the full extent of your fatigue. You picked up the tiniest scrunch of his nose as he did so. 

“You look like hell,” he commented, taking in your body one final time as he looked back up to meet your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean anything to come off as rude, his tone carried more concern than insult.

“Thanks,” you managed a weak smile, too tired to come up with a witty response.

Instead of his usual reprimand, for your state, Levi guided you gently by the hand. With being drained you still managed to hold his, following him to wherever he took you.

“Come on, you need a bath before you crash.” Despite your initial protest at first; wanting to sleep the ache of your muscles off, the thought of a warm bath was too comforting to resist.

Guiding you to the bathroom, Levi turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature until steam rose in gentle curls from the water’s surface. He added a measure of soap that filled the room with a clean, soothing scent. “Get in,” he instructed, stepping out to give you privacy.

As you stripped down, the steam-filled bathroom was a stark contrast to the cold, harsh world outside. You sat in the warm bath, tendrils of steam curling around you, creating an intimate cocoon. 

Your muscles relaxed involuntarily, a sigh escaping your lips as you submerged yourself up to your shoulders. Moving your fingers to touch the top layer of soap across the water, you sink into its warmth. 

You’ve been in this position more times than you can remember, but you love it more than the last time before. Levi always needs to care for you, even when it’s not reciprocated.

Hearing the door creek open, Levi steps in. With a curt nod of consent given from both of you, he arranges everything needed for washing your hair with his usual quiet efficiency. His movements were precise, a trait that bled into every aspect of his life, but his eyes held a softness reserved just for moments like these.

“Alright, lean back,” Levi instructed, his voice faint in the confines of the small room. He waits patiently as you adjust yourself, finding a comfortable position with your head tilted back to the rest against the rim of the tub.

As he poured a dollop of shampoo into his palm, the familiar scent of lavender filled the air, mixing with the steam and creating a calming atmosphere. He began to work the lather into your hair, his fingers skilled and gentle. 

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” he murmured, though you knew he wouldn’t be; he’d never had. Levi’s hands might be capable of deadly precision in battle, but here, they were nothing but tender.

"It's perfect," you sighed, closing your eyes to better savor the sensation of his fingers massaging your scalp. The stress of the mission began to melt away under his careful ministrations. "Where did you learn to do this?"

Levi paused for a fraction of a second, his hands continuing their motion. "Old memories," he replied quietly. "Used to help someone, long ago."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken depth of his words. Silence fell between you again, comfortable and easy. His hands rinsed your hair with water warmed to just the right temperature, washing away the suds along with the remnants of the day’s grime and worries.

"How does that feel?" Levi asked after a moment, tuning out the quietness that enveloped the both of you.

"Like I could fall asleep right here," you responded with a laugh. You were half-joking, but you were truly relaxed under his touch, ready to drift to sleep.

"You wouldn't be the first," he admitted with a rare, small chuckle. "But try to stay awake for just a little longer. I'm not done pampering you yet."

The word 'pampering' coming from Levi might have felt odd to anyone else, but between the two of you, it felt right—special even. His hands worked through your hair once more, giving you the second round of shampoo.

"Keeping my hair in good shape for the next mission?" you teased, eyes still closed as you enjoyed the sensation.

"Something like that," Levi agreed, dismissing your banter. "Can't have you going out there with anything less than perfect."

"It's more than just being clean," you commented, tilting your head to the left slightly to give him better access. You reminisce on when he said he was pampering you. "It's like you're—taking care of me." 

"That's exactly what I'm doing," Levi confirmed, voice distancing out as if he was grabbing something. "You take care of everyone else. Who takes care of you?"

You smiled, eyes still closed. "You."

Levi's hands stilled once more in your hair, and you opened your eyes to look at him. There was a softness there, rarely shown to others. "I always will, if you let me."

"Then I will," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the bathwater. "Let you."

With a smile, you lean back, exposing your neck and shoulders as he begins to wash your hair. His fingers were more tentative than his usual brisk touch, exploring the texture before massaging your scalp deeply. You couldn’t suppress a hum, relaxing under the surprisingly sensual touch of his strong, careful fingers.

“You should take it easy,” Levi spoke up after a moment, his voice low. “You push yourself too hard.”

You briefly nodded in response, too relaxed to form words. His concern made your heart swell a bit—Levi was not one to coddle, at least not to others, so his attentiveness spoke volumes.

Levi, Humanity’s Strongest, most vulnerable in your presence. It was laughable to others, to you, it was adoration.

“You should take your advice,” you say, peering up to see his face. “No seriously, you work yourself out. Maybe I’ll give you a hair treatment with how stressed you always look.”

His grin was small at your words. Almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it warmed you more than the bath ever could. He grasps onto your shoulder, moving you to be back in place.

He continues to wash your hair without complaint, his touches now filled with an unspoken promise, each stroke and rinse carrying a tenderness that spoke more than words.

As he finished and began to rinse your hair, his actions were deliberate, ensuring not a trace of shampoo was left behind. “But, I’ll always be here whenever.” He muttered as he gently raised your head back to rinse thoroughly. 

"Thank you, Levi," you whisper, hearing the water flow as your knees come closer to your chest.

"There's no need to thank me," he replied, rinsing your hair and ensuring no suds remained. "Just promise to take better care of yourself."

"I promise," you said, knowing well that your promise was as much for him as it was for you.

The assurance in his words wrapped around you just as comfortably as the water did.

When he finished, he rinsed the last of the conditioner from your hair, then helped you stand to get out of the tub.

“You can sleep in my room tonight,” he commented as he handed you a towel with an averted gaze, modest despite the many times you’d fought and bled together.

Now wrapped up, you followed him back to his room, too drained to converse. Pulling a shirt from his closet, he hands you a baggy black pullover, then steps out to the bathroom; probably going to tidy up the place. 

Back in his room, you felt a thousand times lighter. Levi watched you as you crawled into his bed, his sheets cool and crisp against your clean skin. He didn’t say anything, just watched you with an unreadable expression.

As you drifted towards sleep, you felt the bed dip beside you. Expecting to be alone, you murmured a confused protest, going to rise but it died on your lips and body as Levi settled behind you. His body was a solid line against your back, an arm carefully laid over your waist, not confining but reassuring.

“Rest now,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your ear. It was the most delicate of invasions, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace.

As sleep began to pull you deeper, Levi shifted slightly behind you. His movement was careful, calculated not to disturb, but purposeful. You felt him lean over you, his presence enveloping. Then, a gentle pressure—a soft, fleeting kiss—touched your forehead.

It was a simple act, yet it carried the weight of all the unspoken things between you: protection, care, and maybe something even deeper. Levi’s kiss was a silent vow in the stillness, a moment of tenderness offered with the solemnity of a confession.

Comforted by the gesture, you sank further into sleep, a content smile curving your lips. In a world that demanded so much from you both, this small, quiet act spoke volumes of your shared sanctuary.

@siythn all rights reserved!

Cruel Summer (feat. Megumi Fushiguro) [Limited Edition CD]

MEGUMI X READER! It seemed like summer just brought the both of you together somehow. Although, you and Megumi had always been kind of attached. Maybe it was the hot summer days, or the secrecy of your relationship. One thing was for sure, you wouldn't mind it being longer than a summer fling. ❝AND I SNUCK THROUGH THE GARDEN GATE, EVERY NIGHT THAT SUMMER JUST TO SEAL MY FATE❞ ᥫ᭡ LOVER; MASTERLIST

The mission had been brutal, it’s obvious by the bags starting to appear under your eyes. As you and Megumi walked back to Jujutsu Tech, you couldn't help but notice the deep frown etched on his face, his brow furrowed in that all-too-familiar expression of annoyance.

"What's so funny?" he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stifled another giggle, trying to compose yourself but failing miserably. "It's just. . .you look like you ate something sour. I can't take you seriously when you're making that face."

Megumi's frown deepened, as if to convince you to feel sorry for him. The glint of amusement in his eyes spoke louder. "I'm injured, you know. A little sympathy wouldn't hurt."

You nudged his shoulder playfully. "Oh, poor Megumi. Should I get you some candy to cheer you up?"

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile. "You're impossible."

Unable to contain your laughter, you burst out giggling, slightly turning away from him to hide your face; trying to stop the attack. "And you're grumpy. It's a perfect match."

Without warning, Megumi shoved your shoulder lightly, causing you to stumble forwards. "Hey!" you exclaimed, still laughing. "What was that for?"

"For being a pain," he shot back, but his tone was light, and you could see the humor caught in the corner wrinkles of his eyes. He slowed his pace, letting you catch up, and you walked side by side in comfortable silence for a few moments.

As you entered the nursery at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi's steps became more deliberate, you quickly picked on the limp every two steps. Concern replaced your laughter as you saw the extent of his injuries, before it came to a stop. "Come on," you said gently, guiding him to a comfortable chair. "Let's get you patched up."

Megumi sat with stillness on the padded chair, wincing slightly as he shrugged off his bloodstained jacket. "You don't have to do this, you know," he muttered, eyes flicking to the side as he watched you gather the first aid supplies. Despite his words that came off in embarrassment, it was clear he was appreciative of the act.

You smiled, unfazed. "Someone has to take care of you, and it's certainly not going to be you." You knelt beside him, carefully dabbing at the gash on his arm with antiseptic. "Hold still."

He hissed slightly at the sting, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, come on, Megumi. You've faced curses that would make most people faint, and you're flinching at a little alcohol?"

"Maybe I just like the attention," he retorted, a smirk playing at his lips. His dark hair fell into his eyes, but even through the strands, you could see the mischief he carried within himself.

Rolling your eyes, you began wrapping the bandage around his arm, deliberately pulling it a tad too tight. He cringed, making you grin up at him. "Oops, sorry about that. Guess I'm just nervous being so close to a big, tough sorcerer like you."

Megumi's smirk widened. "Oh, really? Because it seems to me you're taking advantage of my weakened state."

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I am. Someone has to keep you in check."

As you finished securing the bandage, you gave his arm a gentle pat. "There, all done. Now, let's see if we can get rid of that pain." Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to his bandaged arm, looking up at him with a tease in your eye. "Better?"

Megumi's gaze softened, and in a swift movement, he reached out, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Not quite," he murmured before capturing your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Caught off guard, you felt your heart race, a deep warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the hot summer day. As you kissed him back, you couldn't help but smile, breaking away just enough to whisper, "People are going to see us." You cast a quick glance around, but the nursery seemed as deserted as ever. But still, that itchy feeling of paranoia gnawed at your mind.

You can’t really place when you officially started to like the black-haired male. It just sort of came to you one hot day in July, watching him train with his divine dogs. As odd of a sight it was, you couldn’t help the admiration in your stare.

It wasn’t long before Megumi picked it up. While the both of you shared a meal, you slipped up and confessed. One look from him confirmed your feelings, and the both of you accepted the terms of this new relationship. The both of you sworn to keep it hidden, although. Plus, it made your skin crawl to think of Yuji and Nobara pestering the both of you about it.

You couldn’t help but like the secrecy, moments like these made it more exciting to experience young love. It was obvious Megumi probably liked it more.

"Let them," Megumi replied, his voice low and firm, pulling you back into another kiss. This time, you let yourself let go the moment, forgetting the thoughts that intruded your mind. His lips were soft but insistent, and you melted into the embrace.

When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, faces mere inches apart. The reason why the both of you ending up in the nursery long forgotten. The golden sunlight filtered through the shutters of the window above, casting a warm glow on Megumi's features. His usually stoic expression was softened by the tender moment, his dark eyes holding an emotion you’ve had the chance to see with this new profound relationship.

"You're really something, you know that?" you said softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He smiled, a rare genuine smile that not many had the privilege to say they see everyday, it made your heart skip a beat. "I could say the same about you."

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, time not seeming to bother the both of you. The sunlight highlighted the contours of his face, making his eyes appear even more intense. You felt a giggle bubble up inside you, unable to contain the joy of the moment.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a soft laugh. "We're a mess, aren't we?"

Megumi chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have it any other way." He wrapped an arm snug around your waist, holding you close.

As you sat there together, the sun setting and casting long shadows across the garden, you couldn’t find the motivation to care if the both of you got caught. As long as you were here, wrapped in his arms, what would really hurt you?

BONUS SCENE: The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the Jujutsu Tech pool. It wasn’t used much, but when it was, it had always been a field day.

Clearly that reflected on you and Megumi sitting on the pool's edge, thoroughly exhausted from your splash fight and playful wrestling in the water. Both of you were soaked, bathing suits clinging to your bodies, but the laughter and joy in your faces made the discomfort worth it.

A half-eaten watermelon slice lays on a plate between you, the perfect refreshment after the exertion. You picked up the watermelon, the sticky juice already running down your fingers, and took a bite before offering it to Megumi. "Your turn," you said, squealing when the juice started to drip onto your lap.

Megumi leaned in, taking a big bite and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is a mess," he muttered, but the gaze he held with the fruit clearly suggested he wanted more. He leaned down one more time to finish it off.

"You think?" you replied with a laugh. "It's worth it, though."

Megumi picked up another full slice, holding it up to your lips. "Here, let me."

You leaned forward, taking a bite and trying not to laugh as more juice dribbled down your chin. "You're terrible at this," you teased, your eyes meeting his as you leaned up to continue chewing.

Just as Megumi was about to feed you another bite, you both froze. The sound of footsteps approaching quickly gave you no time to act, and you turned to see Yuji standing at the edge of the pool, his mouth agape. You slowly wipe your face in shock.

"Uh, hey," Yuji said, his eyes wide with realization. "Am I interrupting something?"

You and Megumi exchanged a glance. The both of you knew there was no getting out of this, especially with how close the two of you were. Megumi cleared his throat, his usual stoic demeanor faltering. "It's not what it looks like," he began, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

Yuji's eyes lit up with understanding, and he broke into a wide grin. "Oh, I see! You two are dating!" His excitement was palpable, and you could see the gears turning in his head as he connected the dots.

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. "Well, I guess the secret's out," you said, looking at Megumi with amusement.

Megumi sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, I guess it is." He puts down eaten slice of watermelon before intertwining your fingers.

Yuji's grin only widened. "That's awesome! I had no idea. You guys make a great couple."

"Thanks, Yuji," you said, still chuckling. "Just maybe keep it on the down-low for now, okay?"

"Of course," Yuji agreed, his excitement undimmed. "But seriously, this is great. I'm happy for you guys."

Yuji spent one last on gaze the both of you one last glance before walking away, leaving you and Megumi to your watermelon and your quiet moment by the pool. With a moment of silence, you felt a warm glow of contentment. You leaned your head on Megumi's shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness.

”He’s not gonna keep his mouth shut, is he?" you murmured, echoing your earlier words.

Megumi chuckled softly, his arm wrapping around you. "Probably not."

You smiled, the sun setting behind you and casting long shadows over the pool. In that moment, everything felt okay. Just right, in your words.

Is what you would’ve said before you heard the heavy steps of running and the shouts of Nobara quickly approaching, Yujis screaming echoing down the halls. In the corner of your eye, you glance at Megumi, conveying the message in the stare.

“It’s fine, let her see.”