tags/warnings: noncon, loss of virginity, somno, sex pollen
Jisung smells flowers.
He's just alert enough for his senses to come alive. Surrounded by a thick darkness. Eyes shut, breathing steady, and the looming scent of fresh peonies.
Like the ones Minho had brought home for him that evening.
There's a weight crushing him against the mattress. A firm grip on his waist. He wiggles his fingers, beckons to his consciousness. He's almost there. Wading through the fog of sleep, breeching the surface of wakefulness. Beckoned by hot breath against his lips.
His eyelids flutter open.
Minho stares down at him, coming into view as Jisung's vision adjusts. His eyes are lidded, pupils blown, cheeks flushed. He's unnaturally hot, skin nearly scorching and dripping with sweat.
"Jisung." He sounds ragged. So desperate with just a single word. His name. Like he can't live without it somehow.
Then there's pain. A sharp, stretching, ripping pain between his legs. Jisung screams and thrashes, tears flow urgently down his cheeks, and Minho growls.
"Need it. Fuck."
Jisung's lungs feel hollow. He gasps, trying to refill them, but it's all staccato. No lasting remedy. He's beginning to feel dizzy, the shock overwhelming him. The sensation of being fucked for the first time far too much for him to comprehend in his half-awake stupor.
His cheek slams against cold wood and, notably, the rest of him remains upright.
"H-Hika-" Yoshiki stutters. Shocked. Terrified.
"Well would ya look at that?" Footsteps beat against his temple. Yoshiki's eyes are round with horror, but they're averted elsewhere. Towards the source of the sinister voice from before. "Now let's see if he's responsive."
'Hikaru' feels horror, too. When Yoshiki is slammed against the wall. When this man, whoever he is, tugs both their pants to their knees.
'Hikaru' wants to scream. Opens his mouth wide, but there's no sound. Only Yoshiki's pleas. His sobs as the man bullies his cock inside him. "Tight as fuck, god."
He's inches from his own body, lying on the ground, helpless. How the fuck is he even able to feel so sick?
His Yoshiki is suffering. It's all 'Hikaru's' fault. It's all to "test" him. To draw out the monster he is. So why the fuck does it have to be like this?
Stop. He manages to blink. Let him go.
"Ha! So you're still kickin', huh?" Yoshiki's knees buckle as he goes limp, but the man presses him hard into the wall. Snaps his hips as he fucks him deeper. Faster. Locks eyes with 'Hikaru's' severed head lying on the ground and grins. "You hate it, don't you? Sharing your little play thing."
Yoshiki was never a "thing" to him. He may be human, something 'Hikaru' doesn't fully understand, but to him, Yoshiki is something else entirely. Precious.
This man, on the other hand, is less than human. Less than a thing. Not even good enough to be swallowed up.
But sure as hell worthy of what humans call death.
The taste of the forest floor is bitter. As much so as the bile caught in Jisung's throat. As the twisted scent of an alpha gone rut-blind. The poignance of Jisung's soured berries and cream, pushed to his limit, then far past it.
"P-please. Minho. No more."
Tears soak into moss. Gone. Like they never existed at all. Minho wouldn't care if they had.
He's lost.
Drowned by instinct.
"Please Minho. Hurts. 'ts too much."
Blood trickles warm over Jisung's skin, throbbing under Minho's latch. Sharp teeth digging deeper from the force of his thrusts.
Jisung ran. He ran and then he hit the ground. Lost his breath in one sudden impact. No time to regain it before Minho forced himself inside. Before he clamped down and claimed.
tags/warnings: noncon, vampire x human, blood drinking
Jisung thirsts.
Desperate and all-consuming.
He thirsts for flesh, soft planes of bare skin, inviting warmth to bury himself inside.
His fangs itch, small and newly formed. He barely registers Minho's resistance, now armed with strength to overpower his hyung who used to so easily throw him around.
"J-Jisung. What is this? Heyā"
Even Minho's screams feel muffled beneath Jisung's hunger. The itch is replaced by comfort. By flowing thick streams of iron. Sustenance.
He doesn't know why he does it. Why he slips between Minho's legs. Why he thrusts inside him and why his senses feel so heightened. Why Minho clawing at his shoulders and begging him to stop this makes him dizzy.
Makes him feel euphoric.
It's like he's filled with sunlight, the way Minho's blood warms his veins. How his screams make his walls squeeze.
Jisung doesn't think before finishing inside. Blames it on the rush of his first drink. Keeps sucking it down like it flows endlessly.
But Minho goes limp.
And Jisung wakes up.
Tugs his fangs free. Scrambles to press two fingers to Minho's neck and sighs in relief at the weak, but existent, pulse.
tags/warnings: noncon, drugging, alcohol use, ghost face
Jisung screams. No, he chokes.
The gag digs into the corners of his mouth. Presses down on his tongue sickeningly. It's a challenge even to breathe.
His vision is fuzzy, senses dulled, all but the searing pain between his legs. Ripping him apart to the beat of unsteady, breathy grunts.
His limbs jerk, but they catch painfully, stuck in place. Throbbing where they're restrained.
His consciousness feels floaty, like he'd been a balloon tethered to earth, only now descending upon it, gaining his bearings one sensation at a time.
He recalls the club he had frequented, sharp cat-like eyes watching him whenever he took a shot. As he wrapped his lips slowly around the edge of the glass. The way the man always cocked an eyebrow and smirked, so handsome, just before Jisung threw it back.
One shot. Two. Three. Thenā¦
His memory stops.
Fingers dig bruises into his thighs. They're held still while his body jostles painfully. The sound of skin slapping turns his stomach. Tears stream down his face and he blinks them away. Finally makes out the scene through blurry vision.
A ghost face mask peering down between his thighs.
Again he tries to scream. Tries to thrash. Hes restrained. He's silenced. The man is thrusting into him hard. Rough.
He prays to lose consciousness again.
But Jisung has to take it. He can't do anything but that.
In which the twins come from a wealthy family and theyāre starting their first year of public school together.
They cling to each other and try to navigate all these new people and concepts, but it doesnāt take long for Vash to start making friends. Heās likable, thatās always been true. Vash is definitely the friendlier brother. It even appears that a few classmates have developed crushes on him, which is only natural.
Nai, however, is not in the business of sharing his brother. Thatās just as constant as anything else. Theyāve been together since Vashās first breath, and it will always be that way.
Nai knows heās not as easy to approach as his brother, and thatās exactly what works in his favor when he sets out to assert his territory. With him hanging around Vash even more than usual (which is saying something) the constant line of lost puppies hovering around Vash seems to become less and less frequent.
A few things have changed though. Nai doesnāt miss the sideways glances and the whispers coming from their classmates when his arm is hooked tightly around his brotherās waist. The two have always been close. Hanging off of each other is a normal thing for them, but to these people it seems to spark interest. Good or bad? Whoās to say? All Nai knows is that Vash is his, and the masses may as well get a good look, because it wonāt be changing any time soon.
For maximum yandere, consider that those that Vash considers friends start skipping school randomly. Well, skipping? Transferring? Vash isnāt sure why his friends would just disappear without a word, but clearly theyāve lost his number too since they wonāt respond to any calls or texts.
Luckily, Nai is right there to offer comfort. āOh, Vash. You know Iām the only one that will never leave you. You get too attached to others. Theyāre fickle, you know.ā
Vash may never know why his friends keep leaving, or where theyāve gone for that matter, but at least heāll always be able to fall into the arms of his brotherāthe only one whoās always been there.
When Vash is aroused his body sprouts flowering vines that he can only tangentially control with his emotions. He isnāt able to guide their movements, but their will shifts with what Vash is feeling.
With sadness, they wrap him tightly for support, drying his tears and bringing him comfort.
Anger commands as an army, their primary goal to defend.
When lust becomes consuming, the vines seek warmth. The body of another becomes like the shining sun, nourishing and enticing.
Bonus plantcest thought:
When Vash hit puberty, Nai never did tell him of the nights when his vines sprout with an unforgiving vigor. Vash would sleep soundly while his emotions willed vines to tangle themselves beneath Naiās clothing.
Series Tags: Fuck or die, dubious consent, tentacles, double Gojos, threesome, mutual pining, domain expansion, switching, riding, anal sex, multi-chapter.
Summary: Megumi opens his mouth, forcing air from his lungs and choking on a silent scream. This is not how things were supposed to turn out.
Fuck.
Read on for a preview of Chapter 1: domain~
Megumi opens his mouth, forcing air from his lungs and choking on a silent scream. This is not how things were supposed to turn out.
Fuck.
Solo missions are always a toss up. The higher ups claim sorcerers are in āhigh demandā these days, and there arenāt enough on duty to provide backup. Bullshit. Especially when their shining star, Gojo āThe Strongestā Satoru, is lazing around on the other side of the veil as Megumi does all the work.
Typical.
The intel is always shit, too. The grade, amount, location; itās all made up. Thatās what Megumi thinks, anyway. He can count the number of missions heās been on where the mission debrief actually played out as planned on one hand. Two fingers, actually.
Twice. Itās only ever happened twice.
This isnāt the first bind Megumi has found himself in. It is, however, the worst of them. The curse had turned out to be much stronger than initially promised. Once he finally found the damn thing it just disintegrated into the concrete, leaving behind a nasty, viscous trail of curse goo. It could be tracked, at least, and Megumi was able to trap it in the corner of a dark room. The abandoned home this curse has taken residence in is nothing short of a dump. It must have been rotting for over a decade and is filled with a spine-chilling aura that suggests absolutely nothing good happened here.Ā
Despite his best efforts, and Totalityās as well, Megumi had been restrained. Sticky, goo-like tendrils wrapped tightly around his ankles and wrists, immobilizing him and deactivating his technique in an instant. The room was dark to begin with, dimly lit by the musty, torn curtains hanging from the windows on either adjacent wall of the bedroom, but as Megumi is dragged to the ground the space around him is devoured by a thick darkness.Ā
The inside of this domain has a dominating presence. The air feels gritty, scratching at the inside of his lungs with every breath. Megumi struggles, pulling against his restraints but to no avail.Ā
Surrenderrrrrrā¦
Megumi winces, pain jolting through his head. Pressure mounts beneath his skull as a shaky voice rattles against his ear drums. Itās as ifā¦ the voice is coming from inside his mind.
Surenderrrr toā¦ desirrrreā¦
A scream rips from Megumiās throat as he begins to thrash, the tendrils only tightening and testing the limits of his circulation. The voice continues to drone louder with every passing word, and Megumiās ears ring with a searing pain.Ā
When the silence comes itās nearly deafening; the eerie aftermath of the havoc the curse had wreaked in Megumiās mind. Willing himself to think clearly, Megumi goes through his options. He canāt make hand signs right now, so his technique is out of the question. Even if he could take hold of a weapon from his shadow space, he canāt maneuver his wrists enough to even think about slashing his way free. Itās no use struggling, the holds on him only growing tighter with every tug against them. Megumi howls in frustration, his broken screams echoing endlessly in the vast space. Just as the area quiets once more, a sarcasticāsomewhat familiarāscoff cuts through the quiet. In the distance, the silhouette of a humanoid figure emerges from the darkness. As it nears closer, the glow of the domain illuminates enough to reveal a man with shaggy white hair and round sunglasses with black frames. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he dons a wicked smirk, striding ever closer with the swagger of a man far more confident than anyone should ever have the right to be.Ā
It all becomes clear as the figure passes beneath a low-hanging candle, lighting up sharp cheekbones and pure white brows. He looks eerily likeā¦ Gojo.Ā
āBingo,ā the man utters, stopping a few feet short of Megumiās position and kneeling until theyāre eye level. He lowers his glasses, looking over the rim and revealing piercing blue eyes characteristic of only one person Megumi knows of. āGojo Satoru, special grade. But you already knew that.āĀ
āYouāre not him,ā Megumi snaps. This thing may look like him, speak like him, embody his haughty personality, but from the looks of it, heās much younger. Heās the spitting image of his sensei from the past when he was somehow even more full of himself, less experienced, and yet just as stunning.
āAnd what does that matter?ā He scoffs, righting his glasses and leaning in until his nose brushes the tip of Megumiās. āThis is what you want, isnāt it? Who cares if itās real?ā Megumi shivers, unable to ignore the obvious desire coursing in his blood. He wonāt dare say out loudāat this point heās barely even admitted it to himselfāthat many of his thoughts are delegated to that of Gojo in compromising positions performing acts that are even more compromising. That for as long as he can remember heās had visions, dreams, a desperate hunger for the man he feels the closest bond to. The one person who had always been there.
The one Megumi can never have.
Megumi turns his head away, feeling warm huffs of breath brush against his cheek. Another laugh is followed by a finger beneath Megumiās chin, guiding his gaze to reunite with crystalline blues.Ā
āAh comeon, Megumin~ā
āDonāt call me that.ā Megumi can feel the tips of his ears heat in a mixture of frustration and arousal. This thing is so close, looking at him like heās something to be devoured, calling him by that nickname. The same one that heā¦Ā
āYouā¦ canāt call me that.āĀ
The thing claiming to be Gojo grins wryly, licking his lips before leaning in impossibly closer. Megumi jerks his head backwards, stopping abruptly as long fingers wind in his hair and hold him still. āAh, what? OnlyĀ heĀ can call you that? That it?āĀ
Megumi grimaces, frozen beneath the weight of piercing, familiar eyes ripping him open. Itās uncanny, heāll admit, and if he were to let himself forget where he is he just might let the illusion consume himābelieve itās all reality.Ā
āAww, donāt look so hurt,ā the thing whines, a flimsy pout coloring his expression. āI have feelings, ya know. Besides!ā His grip on Megumi releases as he stands, taking a few steps backwards and unbuckling his belt. āItās not like youāll actually resist me.āĀ
Megumi cocks an eyebrow, rage churning in the pit of his stomach. āHa, as if I would ever want anything from you. Or him for that matter.ā Itās not unlike that of how his sensei makes him feelāfrustrated, hot, his vision blurring at the edges as he fails to hold his sharp tongue. The shade just rolls his eyes, yanking the belt from his pant loops and discarding it haphazardly to the floor. The metal buckle clangs against hard, concrete floors, echoing for what seems to go on unendingly. Megumi winces, his head still throbbing from whatever this place is putting his body through.Ā
āThe silly games might be ācuteā to him, Megumin. But youāre right, Iām not him.āĀ
Megumi is fuming, and itās only worsened by how turned on he is by the entire encounter. This isnāt a coincidence. He had definitely been thinkingāfantasizingāabout this version of his sensei. The āhonored oneā with a sly wit and cocky attitude that he had heard such grand stories about. The one in the photos next to Geto Suguru, smiling wide as if the man next to him righted his world just by existing. Megumi had dreamed of setting that scene straight, taking his rightful spot, replacing deceit and flimsy promises with something solid. He could give Satoru everything he deserved. He could give him way more than that traitor ever could.
That nickname, the one Gojo singsongs so cheerily in the mornings, beckoning for Megumi to roll out of bed and shuffle his way to the kitchen for breakfast. The same one that always prefaces some comment that inevitably has Megumi snapping, exhausted by the back and forth but reveling in it all the same. Coming out of anyone elseās mouth it feels wrong. Tainted. Like heās being mocked. Even out of someone with the same face and demeanor, thereās a sharpness behind his tone. Something sickening, not at all like that of the Gojo he knows.
Read the rest on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42775491/chapters/107457045
Series Tags: Fuck or die, dubious consent, tentacles, double Gojos, threesome, mutual pining, domain expansion, switching, riding, anal sex, multi-chapter.
Summary: Megumi opens his mouth, forcing air from his lungs and choking on a silent scream. This is not how things were supposed to turn out.
Fuck.
Read on for a preview of Chapter 1: domain~
Megumi opens his mouth, forcing air from his lungs and choking on a silent scream. This is not how things were supposed to turn out.
Fuck.
Solo missions are always a toss up. The higher ups claim sorcerers are in āhigh demandā these days, and there arenāt enough on duty to provide backup. Bullshit. Especially when their shining star, Gojo āThe Strongestā Satoru, is lazing around on the other side of the veil as Megumi does all the work.
Typical.
The intel is always shit, too. The grade, amount, location; itās all made up. Thatās what Megumi thinks, anyway. He can count the number of missions heās been on where the mission debrief actually played out as planned on one hand. Two fingers, actually.
Twice. Itās only ever happened twice.
This isnāt the first bind Megumi has found himself in. It is, however, the worst of them. The curse had turned out to be much stronger than initially promised. Once he finally found the damn thing it just disintegrated into the concrete, leaving behind a nasty, viscous trail of curse goo. It could be tracked, at least, and Megumi was able to trap it in the corner of a dark room. The abandoned home this curse has taken residence in is nothing short of a dump. It must have been rotting for over a decade and is filled with a spine-chilling aura that suggests absolutely nothing good happened here.Ā
Despite his best efforts, and Totalityās as well, Megumi had been restrained. Sticky, goo-like tendrils wrapped tightly around his ankles and wrists, immobilizing him and deactivating his technique in an instant. The room was dark to begin with, dimly lit by the musty, torn curtains hanging from the windows on either adjacent wall of the bedroom, but as Megumi is dragged to the ground the space around him is devoured by a thick darkness.Ā
The inside of this domain has a dominating presence. The air feels gritty, scratching at the inside of his lungs with every breath. Megumi struggles, pulling against his restraints but to no avail.Ā
Surrenderrrrrrā¦
Megumi winces, pain jolting through his head. Pressure mounts beneath his skull as a shaky voice rattles against his ear drums. Itās as ifā¦ the voice is coming from inside his mind.
Surenderrrr toā¦ desirrrreā¦
A scream rips from Megumiās throat as he begins to thrash, the tendrils only tightening and testing the limits of his circulation. The voice continues to drone louder with every passing word, and Megumiās ears ring with a searing pain.Ā
When the silence comes itās nearly deafening; the eerie aftermath of the havoc the curse had wreaked in Megumiās mind. Willing himself to think clearly, Megumi goes through his options. He canāt make hand signs right now, so his technique is out of the question. Even if he could take hold of a weapon from his shadow space, he canāt maneuver his wrists enough to even think about slashing his way free. Itās no use struggling, the holds on him only growing tighter with every tug against them. Megumi howls in frustration, his broken screams echoing endlessly in the vast space. Just as the area quiets once more, a sarcasticāsomewhat familiarāscoff cuts through the quiet. In the distance, the silhouette of a humanoid figure emerges from the darkness. As it nears closer, the glow of the domain illuminates enough to reveal a man with shaggy white hair and round sunglasses with black frames. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he dons a wicked smirk, striding ever closer with the swagger of a man far more confident than anyone should ever have the right to be.Ā
It all becomes clear as the figure passes beneath a low-hanging candle, lighting up sharp cheekbones and pure white brows. He looks eerily likeā¦ Gojo.Ā
āBingo,ā the man utters, stopping a few feet short of Megumiās position and kneeling until theyāre eye level. He lowers his glasses, looking over the rim and revealing piercing blue eyes characteristic of only one person Megumi knows of. āGojo Satoru, special grade. But you already knew that.āĀ
āYouāre not him,ā Megumi snaps. This thing may look like him, speak like him, embody his haughty personality, but from the looks of it, heās much younger. Heās the spitting image of his sensei from the past when he was somehow even more full of himself, less experienced, and yet just as stunning.
āAnd what does that matter?ā He scoffs, righting his glasses and leaning in until his nose brushes the tip of Megumiās. āThis is what you want, isnāt it? Who cares if itās real?ā Megumi shivers, unable to ignore the obvious desire coursing in his blood. He wonāt dare say out loudāat this point heās barely even admitted it to himselfāthat many of his thoughts are delegated to that of Gojo in compromising positions performing acts that are even more compromising. That for as long as he can remember heās had visions, dreams, a desperate hunger for the man he feels the closest bond to. The one person who had always been there.
The one Megumi can never have.
Megumi turns his head away, feeling warm huffs of breath brush against his cheek. Another laugh is followed by a finger beneath Megumiās chin, guiding his gaze to reunite with crystalline blues.Ā
āAh comeon, Megumin~ā
āDonāt call me that.ā Megumi can feel the tips of his ears heat in a mixture of frustration and arousal. This thing is so close, looking at him like heās something to be devoured, calling him by that nickname. The same one that heā¦Ā
āYouā¦ canāt call me that.āĀ
The thing claiming to be Gojo grins wryly, licking his lips before leaning in impossibly closer. Megumi jerks his head backwards, stopping abruptly as long fingers wind in his hair and hold him still. āAh, what? OnlyĀ heĀ can call you that? That it?āĀ
Megumi grimaces, frozen beneath the weight of piercing, familiar eyes ripping him open. Itās uncanny, heāll admit, and if he were to let himself forget where he is he just might let the illusion consume himābelieve itās all reality.Ā
āAww, donāt look so hurt,ā the thing whines, a flimsy pout coloring his expression. āI have feelings, ya know. Besides!ā His grip on Megumi releases as he stands, taking a few steps backwards and unbuckling his belt. āItās not like youāll actually resist me.āĀ
Megumi cocks an eyebrow, rage churning in the pit of his stomach. āHa, as if I would ever want anything from you. Or him for that matter.ā Itās not unlike that of how his sensei makes him feelāfrustrated, hot, his vision blurring at the edges as he fails to hold his sharp tongue. The shade just rolls his eyes, yanking the belt from his pant loops and discarding it haphazardly to the floor. The metal buckle clangs against hard, concrete floors, echoing for what seems to go on unendingly. Megumi winces, his head still throbbing from whatever this place is putting his body through.Ā
āThe silly games might be ācuteā to him, Megumin. But youāre right, Iām not him.āĀ
Megumi is fuming, and itās only worsened by how turned on he is by the entire encounter. This isnāt a coincidence. He had definitely been thinkingāfantasizingāabout this version of his sensei. The āhonored oneā with a sly wit and cocky attitude that he had heard such grand stories about. The one in the photos next to Geto Suguru, smiling wide as if the man next to him righted his world just by existing. Megumi had dreamed of setting that scene straight, taking his rightful spot, replacing deceit and flimsy promises with something solid. He could give Satoru everything he deserved. He could give him way more than that traitor ever could.
That nickname, the one Gojo singsongs so cheerily in the mornings, beckoning for Megumi to roll out of bed and shuffle his way to the kitchen for breakfast. The same one that always prefaces some comment that inevitably has Megumi snapping, exhausted by the back and forth but reveling in it all the same. Coming out of anyone elseās mouth it feels wrong. Tainted. Like heās being mocked. Even out of someone with the same face and demeanor, thereās a sharpness behind his tone. Something sickening, not at all like that of the Gojo he knows.
Read the rest on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42775491/chapters/107457045
I know that I can't find nobody else as good as you/ I need you to stay, need you to stay.āØ
Listen to the song from the title here.
Series Tags: explicit, slow burn, getting together, mutual pining, smut & fluff, multi-chapter fic, onsen/hot springs, vacation fic.
Summary: The crush Megumi has been harboring on his sensei and pseudo-guardian of many years is challenged when they take a group trip to an opulent hot springs resort. 7 chapters planned.
Tags for chapter 1: masturbation, mentions of Megumi's past, jealousy, only one bed/bed sharing.
Read on for a preview of Chapter 1~
āIāll be taking the floor, then.ā Megumi sighs as he drops his bags on the ground inside their room at the prestigious onsen resort they just arrived at. Gojo flops onto the only bed, his glasses nearly flying off his face in the process.Ā
āAhh, Megumi!ā Gojo whines, patting the mattress next to him. Itās not the smallest mattress Megumi has ever seen, but that doesnāt mean itās meant for two people. āComeon, this is fine, right? After all these years together?ā The teasing smile on Gojoās face does little to ease Megumiās frustration. The fact that there had been a āmix upā with the rooms to begin with is suspicious enough, but he actually expects them both to sleep onĀ that?
āJust call the front desk and ask for a futon,ā Megumi retaliates, his nerve waning with the frown his comment inspires from Gojo. It doesnāt take long for him to perk back up, snapping his fingers as he sits up and clicks the lamp on.Ā
āNah, itāll be fun! Like a sleepover, right? Besides, those things arenāt as comfortable, and this is aĀ vacation!ā
Megumi canāt argue with the logic, even if heās still unsure about sharing a bed withĀ himĀ of all people. He supposes he canāt avoid the feelings heās been wrestling with, but that doesnāt mean heās ready to face them right here, right now.
āFine, whatever,ā Megumi surrenders. āIām going to the bath.ā
Megumi hasnāt slept in the same bed as Gojo since he was in the single digits. At the time it didnāt seem like anything out of the ordinary, not that Megumi had anything to compare it to. Even before his father left, the man was never the affectionate type nor the ābeing aroundā type. If Megumi needed comfort, whether it be a bad dream or fear of the dark, he would go to Tsumiki or elect to tough it out on his own. Finally having someone like GojoāSatoruāaround had brought a warmth into his life that he didnāt know he was lacking. He canāt exactly recall when that warmth began to spark, but it ignited over the years in a way that Megumi has never been able to accept. Because he canāt say it aloud. Canāt, wonāt, itās all the same. Because at the end of the day, whatever flame burns between them canāt continue to grow.
But that doesnāt keep Megumi from stoking it, anyways.Ā
Heās held onto hope for what seems like far too long, and the hints Gojo has dropped along the way donāt do much to discourage his pining. Megumi canāt help but zero in on the too-long hugs, the cutesy nicknames, preferential treatments, and not to mention the way those glittering blue eyes always seem to linger. Moments like now, as Megumi undresses for the bath and unveils more and more of his pale skin with every article of clothing discarded to the roomās complimentary hamper.Ā
āYouāre staring,ā Megumi states flatly, pulling a lavish robe from the closet and wrapping it around himself. The soft fibers brush his skin, yet theyāre still not as comforting as the hungering eyes on him moments ago.Ā
āHm? So?ā Gojo mumbles, stripping down and padding across the room to retrieve his own robe. Megumi doesnāt chance a glance, flinging a robe behind him without regard for the way it face-plants against Gojoās face.
āItās creepy when you do that,ā Megumi scoffs as he gathers his things, infuriated by the way his face turns red hot by even the notion that theyāre both naked under these stupid,Ā expensiveĀ robes.Ā
āOh comeon, Megumi!ā Gojo whines, tying the robe around him loosely. āI used to bathe you, ya know! Nothing I havenāt already seen.ā
āYou literally didnāt. I remindedĀ youĀ to bathe pretty often, though.ā Megumi heads through the door, hearing the delayed click behind him as Gojo follows. āWould you even be goingĀ nowĀ had I not decided to?āĀ
Gojo claps a hand on Megumiās shoulder and squeezes, his breath hot against Megumiās ear where he leans in closely. āAnd what if I just wanted to spend time with you? Is that so bad?ā His voice is low and gravely, sending a shiver down Megumiās spine and leaving him nearly breathless.
This.Ā ThisĀ is what heās talking about.
Thereās a long silence. So long, in fact, that they nearly make it to the entrance of the bath before Megumi is able to respond with any kind of normalcy in his tone. āNo. I suppose itās not.ā
The time spent in the open air bath that afternoon turns out to be as normal as can be, especially with the addition of Itadori who conveniently arrived just as they discarded their robes in the dressing room. Itās nothing new to show a bit of skin around Itadori. Theyāre friends after all, and theyāve rinsed off in the communal showers together after training many times in the past. But this addition of their sensei? Itās a bit out of the ordinary, and Megumi canāt help but notice Itadori is taking it far more casually then he is. He elects not to read into that fact, afraid of what conclusions he might come to in the worst possible moment.
Read the rest on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41890065/chapters/105125826
Here's an excerpt of a short fic I wrote based on a prompt given to me by a friend. It's my first time writing Matchablossom and I had a blast. These two are wonderfulllll.
Fandom: Sk8
Ship: Matchablossom | Joe/Cherry
Tags: Friends to lovers, Pining, Fluff
Traveling alongside Kaoru is always an adventure. Heās a bit insufferable when it comes to his itinerary and sticking to it, but thatās less of a problem whenever Kojiro can get him drunk in the airport lounge. Yeah, drunk Kaoruās a lot of fun. Travling with regular Kaoru is fun, but traveling with drunk Kaoru is entertaining.
This time in particular has been really interesting. The two are on their way to a friendās wedding in the states- a mutual friend they had met traveling overseas during their early college years- and Kaoru has done nothing but complain since the day they received the invitation.
āIn the dead of winter? What kind of dimwit- hic -plans a wedding-ā Kojiro is quick to save the glass champagne flute from hitting the floor as Kaoru waves an arm around in the middle of an impassioned speech about the horrors of cold weather.
āYeah yeah, I know. Your fragile composure canāt handle anything below 60 degrees.ā Kojiroās arm braces against Kaoruās lower back, the only thing keeping him from toppling off the bar stool which heās currently perched.
āItās an outdoor wedding Kojiro,ā Kaoru shoots him a seething look before lunging into a rant about proper wedding etiquette, volume way higher than is appropriate for the small room theyāre currently sharing with other exhausted passengers. Kojiro really wants to reply to their withering looks with an at least youāre not the one traveling with him but heād rather save himself from any retort from drunk! Kaoru.
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