WARNING!⦂ explicit content ,, mdni! ,, word count is 3k ,, james bucanan barnes (captain america: the winter soldier, captain america: civil war, & the falcon and the winter soldier, aka, the bucky trinity!) ,, fem!reader (wifey) ,, established relationship ,, not proofread (was originally a practice drabble before I turned it into a bucky fic bcs he's like a first love for me) ,, a brief mention of reader being intimidated by bucky being so fckin' b e e f y ,, slight!drama ,, ptsd from being the winter soldier ,, body dysmorphia disorder ,, sexual tension ,, a lot of sex talk ,, kissing and making out ,, angsty! angsty!! angsty!!! ,, soft sex ,, size kink ,, a little overstimulation ,, pretty vanilla ,, missionary ,, he talks you through it ,, praise! ,, he needs to be encouraged a bit ,, love and romance cause that's the icing on the cake for my love bucky! <3
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, you're bucky's girl, and you love him no matter how much him or his body changes... of course, it's hard for someone like him to believe it right off the bat, even though he knows you wouldn't lie to him. it's just that, he's had a really difficult life, it's hard to accept anything good.
so you want to try and prove it to him that you mean it when you say that he's perfect just the way he is, as many times as he needs you to.
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bucky's wanted to try and lose weight for a bit now, despite how easily he falls into all the old, learned habits that just make him gain more.
for example, he's almost always eating a calorie surplus, a bad habit trying to disguise itself as a gift from his winter soldier days.
for the longest time, he actually had a hard time eating without throwing it up. whether that be from the discomfort of not feeling like himself in the moment, or the guilt he was plagued with the night before, didn't matter. but with your help, he was able to start eating regularly again.
the thing is, hydra forced him to eat back then, making sure he was not only strong from the injection and serums, but physically fit beyond belief.
so he can't help it, not really. it's almost instinctual, but at least he's not training as much, so he's not agrediously intimidating.
still, he has a protein intake train going that he just can't seem to stop.
what's worse is that he knows that you've started noticing the change in his body too. it's not like he wasn't muscular back in wwii, but he wasn't so bulky that he could barely pass by someone in an open public area.
the thing is, he should be grateful that he is getting a lot softer, pudgier in a way. it helps him forgive and forget, if only a bit. but now he's concerned that maybe you don't like it. he can never really tell how anyone feels about him physically, so he would just try to put himself in the person's shoes to wager how he'd feel.
but he really can't tell whether you find his pure muscle from before more attractive, or the way he looks now.
his pecs are bigger, rounded almost, as is his stomach. for him though, his thighs are the worst of it. the added weight makes the skin chafe against any pair of jeans he wears, which is not a lot considering he can't fit into a lot.
his arms are fat too, bigger in an awkward way, to the point where he can't even tell if it's muscle or fat passed poking at it.
the rest of his body looks just the same, and to say that he's a little bit insecure about the weight gain is an understatement.
he's abhorres it, practically.
he feels like he has to remind you this it's only temporary whenever you stare for too long as he passes by you, or when you're sitting next to him, trying to be discreet in giving him an up-down when you're absolutely failing at that.
back when you both were hiding away in an apartment in bucharest, he remembers exiting your shared bedroom to see you aggressively glaring at his red henley like it had wronged you before giving him a quick nod and excusing yourself to the bathroom.
even something as simple as a hug now makes him self conscious, despite knowing you show him affection to try and comfort and reassure him.
you both know that he's aiming for being more lean, less defined when it comes to muscle, so that he can be more inconspicuous.
he doesn't like being bulky because he feels like he's in the way all the times... embarrassingly enough, he hates to admit that the real reason is because it's easier to feel like he can hide if he ever needs to.
it's a shallow comfort that he can't bear to part with just yet. you can only hope that it'll go away soon, so for now, you bear with him.
but long story short, sometimes he does ask you how you feel, trying to gauge your opinion to how he looks. he still wants you to be attracted to him, that's why he needs to know how you feel.
unfortunately, you always seem to find a way to stay unbiased, simply encouraging him in the direction he wants to go.
secretly? you're becoming more and more opposed to that idea as you take in how good he looks.
heck, his whole body is just so... pillowy, if that was even a real word.
plus, the nutrients he's been taking in from the extra food intake make him appear stronger. he's always been strong, sure, but you're like, less than half his size almost. you're sure that he could toss you around with only one hand if he tried.
and down there? well, let's just say it's also chubbed up a bit, gaining double the weight that was there previously.
for starters, his balls are bigger, heavier now too. they rest on the insides of his thighs when he sits down, plump and practically swollen. they're soft and pudgy and absolutely full. they feel just as soft as his cheeks when you squish his face together, and whenever you see them shift slightly when he readjusts his seating position, you can't help but salivate.
his cock is also pudgier. it's heavy and fat to hold, thicker in a way that makes him embarrassed anytime you're both intimate.
however, if you're being fair, that reaction is to be expected anyway. he was born to an era that wasn't, to put it bluntly, as crude as the one he lives in today.
now, when he does get horny, his slit leaks out thicker globs of precum. as for his actual loads, they're more copious due to the new room in his balls to store it.
so everything about him has... well, you wouldn't say improved, but made things a little more interesting.
in fact, for the longest time you couldn't identify why sex was starting to feel more overwhelming than normal. but since you figured it out, the answer was simple.
bigger body, bigger cock, and finally, a much, much bigger libido.
funny enough, he's more eager in bed. before, he was pretty quiet, gentle in a way that conveyed a lot more than just sexual need.
the reason for that was because bucky was still terrified about accidentally harming you in any way, shape, or form. and though he feels safe with you, as you do him, he always wants to make sure you know he's being gentle, that it's always him there and not something else darker.
and the thing was, him being romantic during sex wasn't bad, as you didn't mind when cuddling turned to gentle fucking in the morning, or when he'd do something as simple as kiss down your body before eating you out. after all, he was your husband, and he was still good at it... suspiciously good.
but now, it was like the insecurity of his body made him more desperate to prove he's worth staying with because he can do something more than just make you cum.
you've told him dozens of times before that you find him handsome regardless of how he wants his body to look, that you'll support him to try and find the weight and muscle wants. whether it be lower or higher than now.
you've also told him dozens of times before that he doesn't look bad now, in fact, quite the opposite. this of course, makes him appear a little shy, as he still has a hard time accepting compliments, but he'll always nod in agreement anyway.
you guess that maybe should probably tell him that you might actually prefer this beefier, chubbier body type he's been carrying around.
but what happens when you're honest and he thinks you're only humoring him? you don't want him to be upset, really, but you find it worse to think that he may believe you're lying.
he's been lied to for most of his life, and it'd be heartbreaking if he ever was convinced in his mind that maybe, just maybe, you were just being patient instead of honest.
so you stay neutral, refusing to mention how you feel about it even when you get turned on by the simplicity, that is bucky.
and all of that is led to this moment. yet again, you're checking him out, giving him an up-down to take in how he appears in his attire.
but you don't say anything, and it irks bucky. he wants you to speak your mind about this silent topic that's slowly including more tension into your everyday life. at least a little.
"what is it?" bucky, peaks his head over his shoulder, his gaze catching yours for what feels like only half a second.
"nothing," was your reply...
annoying enough.
"it's 'cause i'm bigger, right?" he presses, his hands fumbling with the plum he had picked up a few moments earlier.
you blink at him for a second, then huff softly through your nose, like he’s just said something ridiculous.
“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
it slips out before you can stop it. and for a second, you freeze. so does he. but not because of anything other than your reaction.
some of the things you said, sometimes made him feel like you enjoyed him getting thicker.
“…what?” his brows pull together. he didn't look upset, but rather, confused.
you wave a hand in front of your face quickly, like you can brush it off. “i-i mean, i’m just looking, buck. you’re right there.”
you lean back a little where you’re sitting, tilting your head at him, letting your gaze drag over him again. it's purposefully lighter this time. more obvious but less… loaded.
“what, i’m not allowed to look at my own husband now?”
he huffs at that, something almost like a quiet laugh under his breath as he glances away for a second.
“that’s not what i meant.”
“mm, well it sounds like it is.” you shrug, easy, like this isn’t sitting in your chest at all. like you didn’t almost say too much.
he watches you for a moment longer than necessary. simply thinking.
“i just—” he starts, then pauses, jaw shifting slightly. “i don’t know what you’re thinking half the time.”
that one’s got a kick to it, unintentionally making something in your chest squeeze
you soften a little at that, your voice following. “you don’t need to.”
“kinda do,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it.
"c'mere." you smile a little, smaller now, and pat the space next to you.
he hesitates for maybe half a second. then sets the plum down on the counter to walk over. it's like he’s still not totally convinced.
you reach for him as soon as he’s close enough, hands settling easy against his sides, thumbs pressing lightly into the softness there without thinking about it.
he tenses for a second, but he doesn't fully pull away, he's just… noticing how easily he can feel your hold on him
so you squeeze gently, grounding it into something normal, something affectionate, like it wasn’t anything else.
“see?” you sigh, glancing up at him. “it's still you.”
his shoulders drop a little at that. not all the way. but enough.
“yeah?” he huffs, quieter now and slightly embarrassed.
you nod quickly, like it’s obvious. “yeah.”
it's unfortunate that bucky doesn't like his body, because you can feel that same question sitting there again, just waiting to come back and cause him doubt again.
so, you nudge him lightly., nuzzling into a hug.
“besides,” you add, a little teasing creeping back in, “if i had a problem, you’d know.”
that gets a real reaction, his brow lifting slightly like you had offended him.
“oh, yeah?”
“yeah,” you grin. “i’m very vocal, remember?”
he huffs again, shaking his head a little, but there’s something warmer in it now. something eased.
“yeah,” he repeats.
but you can tell that he’s still looking at you in interest, lile he’s trying to figure something out. even as he lets himself relax into you.
it doesn’t take much after that.
it never really does. not when you’re already this close, your hands still on him, his settling more comfortably into domestic life without really thinking about it.
it starts soft, as everything always does with him. it's familiar, from easy touches to gentle presses of his lips against yours. his hands find your waist, yours sliding up his arms, slow and absentminded at first. but there’s something else there now. something a little more aware.
he kisses you like he usually does, steady and grounding... but he lingers more. like he’s waiting to listen for your full reaction.
your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking, and he goes easily, pressing into you with more weight than before. you feel it, and it almost makes you pause. he does too, and you can tell by the way he snorts. just for a second, like he was teasing you.
“this okay?” he murmurs, voice low, close to your mouth.
"yeah," you nod immediately, and you mean it. probably more than he realizes.
his grip tightens slightly at your waist, still never rough, just… firmer. testing.
“yeah?” he asks again, softer this time but even more annoying in it's playfulness.
there’s something in the way he says it, because he's not just checking, he's asking. but it's like he's trying to press you for a better explanation.
you hum in response, a little breathless now, and pull him down into another kiss instead of answering properly.
as always, it works. but this time it only does so for a second. bucky’s not stupid. and he’s not letting it go this time, not completely.
his mouth drags from yours, slower, more deliberate, like he’s thinking while he does it, his hand shifting slightly where it rests on you.
“you sure you don’t mind?” he whispers, quieter now.
your breath catches a little this time, but not from the question. from how he says it. like he wants to believe you. like he’s giving you another chance to be honest.
your hands tighten on him slightly, and instead of trying to push the issue away with a kiss,, you hug him.
"i said that it's fine," you murmur. "really, buck. m'fine. i find you attractive still."
you feel the way he stills for just a second. just enough to notice before he moves again.
"yeah, but why?"
"ugh, james." you huff, irritated at that.
"no, don't walk away," bucky pouted, pulling you back just as quickly as you tried to walk off. "it's a genuine question."
"and all my previous answers aren't ever genuine enough?"
"... okay, i see why you'd be frustrated."
you deadpan.
"I won't ask anymore," he chuckles, pressing another kiss on your cheek before hugging you tighter.
Even though it's still gentle, still him, it feels… more intentful, like he's still up to something.
really, it's not that drastic. he’s simply planning to feel the answer out for himself.
"let me make it up to you, yeah?"
"it's not that serious, I forgive you." you roll your eyes. but bucky's having none of it, cupping your face with his hands to reel you back in.
"please? it'll be worth your while."
how embarrassing. if there was one thing Bucky was bad at, it was trying to get his way into the bedroom, with you in tow.
"who says that anymore?"
"... your 110 year old husband."
"touche." you retreated with an already exhausted expression. "but I was about to do something before you bugged me."
"bugged you?" bucky gasped, clearly offended. "you were the one staring like you were undressing me."
and that's how he won... well, kind of.
you gave in, sure, but you found out very quickly that his body was a lethal weapon when it came to interrogations.
he wanted that answer.
even now, as he manhandles you into a position that makes things almost unbearably tight, you're trying your best not to lose your mind and start blabbering on about your newfound kink.
and he was pressing all the fucking buttons.
his palms are pressing into your thighs, just under your knees. fingers sprawled across the fat of them, he can't help but squeeze them to hold you open while his meaty cock pushes into you. over and over again, bucky pulls his cock out until only the swollen head is nuzzled in your warm hole.
then, he sinks back in, annoyingly slow, grinding the fat, spongy tip against your soft and embarrassingly sensitive walls.
you're smearing his sticky precum inside you, whimpering at every rigid vein and throbbing inch of his cock that drags along.
buck is so sickeningly gentle, it makes you want to cry.
"that's good, right?"
why is he so damn composed!?
it feels like a piss take.
moaning is the only response you can muster right now, your back arching as he pumps his cock into you again.
"i told you already," you whine, half in frustration, half in your impending orgasm.
bucky echoes the with his own when he hits a sensitive spot, the sound rumbling through his chest as he ruts his cock in and out of you.
wet, squelching noises from all the slick you're both leaking fill the room, adding to the slap of his heavy balls against your ass with each thrust.
they're so big now, swollen and almost annoying whenever the heaviness connects to you. the girth of his dick makes your pussy drool around his shaft, leaking out to mix with the sticky mess already coating your thighs. fluid ooze out from where you're joined, slowly dripping onto the bed and making a mess.
"i know..." he says down at you, analyzing your fucked out expression. "but I wanna hear it again. you don't mind that 'm all chubby?"
you have to refrain from rambling, closing your eyes to collect your thoughts. "no. i still—mngh... like you so much, bucky."
but then, his tip presses far too deep inside you and your eyes snap open.
he's never gone that far in before, and you feel so full as he bottoms out and presses against that soft spot inside you that makes your head fall back against the wood of the bedframe. hard.
"shit, are you okay?"
"yeah," you almost laugh, his hand covering yours where you had made contact. "it's not as bad as it sounded."
"you sure?"
"don't worry, m'good—ohmygosh."
he pushes his cock deeper with a roll of his hips, then draws back nice and slow, watching how your pussy adjusts to his size with each thrusts, your soft, hot heat molding around his cock and sucking him back in whenever he draws back.
"you sure?" he asks again, but this time it feels like he's asking a different question.
"yes, promise." you almost sob, your back arching off the bed.
he's panting slightly at how much tighter you feel. you've always been tight, your velvety walls wrapping perfectly around his dick, but with how he's gotten bigger, there's less space in your pussy for him to fit, and it feels like he's cramming himself inside you.
"i'm... i'm gonna... fuckin' hell." he moans, picking up the pace and staring down at you, pupils blown and lips parted as broken moans leave his soft lips.
he pushes a thumb onto your clit, the pads rubbing against the throbbing nub as it adds to the pleasure he's already giving you. he's wanting the two of you to cum together. though more than anything, he wants to know for sure that you're still attracted to him.
bucky's hips rock faster, hands squeezing your thighs and easily lifting your hips so he can pump his cock deeper into you. his tip kisses your cervix with each thrust, not ramming against it, just pushing on it, pressing down just like how his thumb is pressing on your clit.
"wanna make you feel good, all the time." he continues, his gasping and groaning turning pathetic now as his head tucks into the crook of his neck. "you really don't mind?"
"no, don't—hah... mind. i swear, you always make me feel good, so good." you quickly shake your head, cock drunk at this point.
"you mean it?" he continues, practically whimpering as he started rambling on now. he was like an abused puppy, just trying to make sure that he got some comfort from someone.
you complimenting him on something as simple as making you feel good was more than enough for him.
"mean it, really do. you feel so good!"
he finishes inside you, veins bulging along his shaft as your walls clench and flutter around him, your orgasm hitting at the same time.
bucky stays buried inside you, his load shooting into you. it's thick and hot and the volume is so much that it bulges your belly just a little, excess trickling out and leaking out.
while both of you cum, you tug him down into a deep kiss, and he sighs almost dreamily as you pull him in. you meet his thrusts with little bounces of your hips, the two of you riding out your highs together with your lips mushed together.
"you okay?" bucky calls quietly, pressing an extra kiss onto your forehead when your eyes close.
"yeah, i'm just fine."
he nods as he kisses you again, slower this time.
not searching like before, or testing. just… there.
and it almost makes it worse. because he’s still thinking about it. you can feel it in the way his hand lingers at your waist, in the way his thumb presses in absentminded circles like he’s grounding himself.
like he’s trying not to ask again.
your fingers tighten slightly around him, hoping to comfort him.
“…buck.”
he hums softly against your mouth, not pulling away completely. “yeah?”
you hesitate. it sits right there, at the back of your throat. it's too big and too small at the same time. stupid, almost.
but it matters.
“…i didn’t mean it like that.” you swallow, stopping there. it makes him pause, but he doesn't pull away far. just enough to look at you properly, brows pulling together slightly.
“like what?”
your gaze drops for a second.
and that’s all it takes for him to notice that you're uncomfortable.
“hey,” he murmurs, softer now, his hand shifting just slightly against you “what is it?”
you huff quietly, more embarrassed than anything now, your fingers fidgeting where they rest against him.
“i just—” you start, then stop, shaking your head a little. “it’s dumb.”
“probably not, nothing really dumb when it comes to you.” he shrugs, the faintest hint of something lighter and warmer there. “c’mon.”
you glance up at him again, hesitant. he’s watching you, as patient as ever. not pushing. just waiting.
why does knowing that he won't be angry somehow makes it harder?
“…i do like it,” you admit finally, quieter than before.
he blinks. “like what?”
you groan softly under your breath, immediately wanting to take it back. “don’t make me say it again.”
there’s a beat of silence, like he's recalibrating. and then, of course, he smirks.
“say what again?” he asks, and there’s just the slightest edge of teasing in it now. not mean, but just enough to make your face warm.
"c'mon, bucky." you nudge at him weakly. “i don't want to get all flustered.”
“i’m just making sure i heard you right,” he chuckles, lips twitching a little.
you narrow your eyes at him, but there’s no real bite to it.
"please? repeat yourself. m'not sure I heard you right."
“…your body,” you mumble, finally. “i like it. like this.”
his gaze flicks over your face, searching, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or not.
you guess you can't blame him though, his cyborg brain sometimes does need extra time for processing stuff.
“you mean that?” he asks finally, realizing rather quickly that there was no teasing in your words.
you nod, a little more firmly this time, even if your voice stays soft. “yeah.”
he studies you for another second.
the two. like he’s waiting for something to give. but it doesn’t.
“…huh.” he hums, though it’s not disbelief... at least, not exactly. just… unfamiliar.
you shift slightly under his gaze, suddenly self-conscious for a completely different reason. which causes him to blink down at you like a lovesick puppy.
“i didn’t say anything ‘cause i didn’t want you to think i, like—” you gesture vaguely between you. “wanted you to stay insecure or something. that’d be messed up.”
his expression changes at that, softening before a small smile crept in again.
"you think i’d jump to that?”
“well, you’ve been through a lot.” you shrug a little.
that gets a quiet exhale out of him. not quite a laugh. but close. “yeah,” he admits. There’s a pause. and then his hand shifts again at your side—firmer this time, more intentional. not testing anymore. just… holding.
"... what is it?" you take a breath, waiting for him to speak his mind some more.
“still feels weird,” he says after a second, almost like he’s thinking out loud. “hearing that.”
“i know,” you murmur, deciding not to try and convince him harder. you'll just let it sit there, because it is true, even if it doesn’t fix everything.
his thumb moves again, slower now, tracing the same spot like he’s grounding himself in it.in you.
“you’re serious, though,” he adds, glancing at you again.
you roll your eyes lightly, but there’s a small smile there now. “yes, buck. i’m serious.”
“…kinda cute, the way you said it,” he mutters.
your eyes snap back to his, embarrassment paired with slight frustration. “oh, god..please don’t start.”
there it is. that small, familiar shift. he huffs softly, something almost shy in it despite the teasing. “what? you were all quiet about it.”
“because you made it weird.”
“i made it weird?” his brow lifts slightly.
“yes.”
“you’re the one staring at me all the time.”
you open your mouth to argue... and then close it again.
“…okay, that’s fair.”
that actually gets a small, real smile out of him. soft and a little crooked. and gosh, there it is. that version of him. the one that makes your chest ache a little.
the one that always feels like home.
his shoulders loosen more after that, the tension bleeding out of him in slow, quiet pieces as he leans down again, pressing closer.
his weight settles into you more fully this time. comfortable and easy. like he’s letting himself be held just as much as he’s holding you. it's wanting, but not urgent by any means.
you don’t comment on it. just wrap your arms around him a little tighter. and he lets you. no hesitation. all that leaves him is a quiet breath against your skin as he tucks himself in closer, like he’s finally letting himself believe you. at least a little.
the issues that he has with his body aren't fixed, nor the guilt that plagues his mind still. but you help him work through it.
so he's still suffering, but not as completely as he was before. right now, you're enough.
It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr! 🥳 So here's another fic brought to you by one of my polls! It's for Giyu since a Giyu fanfic was my first post on this Tumblr pf.
WARNING!; explicit content ,, mdni! ,, word count is 6k (sorry not sorry) ,, giyu tomioka (kny) ,, fem!reader (demon slayer reader) ,, established marriage ,, not fully proofread ,, a few mentions of the marriage being arranged ,, mentions of reader previously being in love with sabito ,, angst ,, hurt with comfort ,, drama ,, ptsd ,, sexual tension ,, slightly rough/make up sex ,, light kissing and making out ,, slight jealousy ,, first time sex (it's like, nineteen o' nine so yeah) ,, dacryphilia (if you squint) ,, brief straddling position ,, messy sex ,, literally no foreplay just two people that love each other ,, missionary/mating press kinda? ,, a bit of praise ,, a bit of manhandling (barely) ,, love and romance throughout and especially at the end because why wouldn't I add that for my bby Giyu?!
Giyu Tomioka never liked it when you asked him that question. After all, he was the Water Pillar Hashira, so he didn't need anyone's concern.
Least of all yours.
However he refused to reprimand you for your relentless, torturous care of him either. Because he knew that you meant well.
If anything, he should be the one worrying about you, considering you had just returned from your own mission. A deep gash covered by a bandage on your forearm and an annoyingly small one across your eyebrow.
If those were the ones he noticed, which injuries did he possibly miss?
You scared him, so he sometimes found himself becoming more distant. Even more so than he already was.
"Nothing, just exhaustion." He said dryly.
Another excuse, one of many he kept ready for when you pleaded for understanding.
Wouldn't you see someday? He didn't want you to love him, let alone understand him. You were just a friend, someone he married to protect. You were cordial.
And even that was a lie. Because he knows that if anyone were to take the time to explore his closed off heart, it would be you.
Why must he be cursed with a wife?
Or rather, why must he be a curse to such a caring soul? And to one that's practically forced to stay with him no less.
You shouldn't treat him so well, you shouldn't give away your time when he had nothing to give in return.
You should have married someone else. Someone who truly loved you back.
But since he's dead, you're stuck with the "next best option."
Mr. Urokodaki was a nuisance.
"... Are you sure?" You continued, quietly sitting behind Giyu as he stared downward.
Your voice was as comforting as ever, soft-spoken words to cherish whenever you chose to direct them to him. But instead of acknowledging your request, he silently holds his cup in front of him, taking a sip of the now lukewarm tea.
You are forced to stare at the back of his head, your expression giving nothing away except for lingering suspicion.
Something was off... More than usual.
There was always something off with Giyu, but this evening seemed worse. You could almost feel the tension about ready to collide with you.
At any moment, he might tell you off in a blunt enough manner to sting. And though you always half expected it to be painful, his words never pricked you the way they should have.
Because you knew he meant well. He just felt guilty all the time.
He felt that he wasn't worthy of the title of Water Hashira, nor was he worthy in the field of justice. Someone like him didn't stand for strength or faith, God forbid someone depended on the likes of him for protection.
There was so much between the two of you; a long stretch of land that kept growing each time you both pretended it was fine. You knew he was tense, but even if you could call him out, it wouldn't change a thing.
He lost a great deal of fellow demon slayers because he couldn't make it fast enough.
Then there was you, the worried hen that always followed wherever and anywhere he went.
His wife.
You weren’t originally his, so sometimes it still felt like you weren’t. He was only supposed to protect you. And with his luck, how much longer could that last?
Sometimes, he couldn’t help but think─
"Giyu."
His eyes opened to the call by instinct, but if he could, he would keep them closed and pray to disappear.
He doesn't even remember closing his eyes to begin with.
Still silent, he set the cup down in front of him, his gaze settling on his workspace. A pen, scattered sheets of paper, one of them bearing a letter, a small scroll meant for note-taking that wasn’t even his.
And his crow, Kanzaburo, waiting a few feet away.
The conversation had become more tense then when you had first approached the sliding door to his study.
The full wall window in front of him was open, his porch basking in the bright rays of orange and red. If Giyu could find humor in the fact that the sky reeked of Rengoku, maybe he'd have found a way to turn to you.
... This... All of this, wasn't fair.
You knew something was wrong, he knew you knew.
"... What is it?"
"Aren't you tired?" You finally replied, voice too soft for your own good even when Kanzaburo cawed as if he agreed with your statement.
Tired? Yes, of course he was. He knew just how tired he was, of everything. He wanted to stop being tired. He wanted to find rest, maybe in you, despite knowing how selfish he was for thinking that.
"Of what?" Giyu grumbled, turning his head to you.
It was like he was defensive on default, and before he can stop the tone of his voice, the words always slip out characteristically blunt.
Why can't he be uncharacteristic for once? Just find a way, any way to open up to you, if just a little.
He didn't mean to be rude.
"Of your guilt."
Giyu now fully turned to face you, his expression mirroring yours.
Unreadable.
But only a second later, and his face is scrunched up as he processed your words. Were you provoking him? Or had you simply lost patience?
Anger bubbled inside him. His face practically begged the question of your audacity.
Thankfully it could have been worse. He could have cursed you out or thrown something. But knowing him, he wouldn't do such a thing at this age even if he was infuriated.
"... Guilt?" Giyu murmured, caught off guard, his piercing gaze locked onto you.
You didn’t care if you frustrated him, because it had been a good ten years since you had known him. five of those years being betrothed to him as his fiancé and two being his wife.
You had asked if he was tired, but in truth, the question had been meant for yourself.
You were tired of this, of him. You aren't sure you could handle much more of this marriage when you felt like you were one with a complete stranger.
"Giyu, why do you feel shame for what you can never change?" You continued, unwavering.
Something in him stirred at your words. His first acknowledgement of it was anger, but as he took a breath, something else surfaced.
Jealousy.
He was jealous of you. Because he could see it in your eyes that you had chosen to stake your kindness on this. You had decided, in this moment, to stop pretending everything was fine.
In all the years he had known you, you had never spoken to him this way. You never backtalked, never became cross with him. Even before marriage, you had been gentle with everyone.
But sometimes, he forgot that just because you were quiet, soft-spoken, and devoted, it didn’t mean you had no backbone.
Giyu wasn’t prepared.
No, he wasn’t ready to face this yet.
Not yet.
Please... Just give him more time.
"... I don’t feel shame, woman."
You had to refrain from pursing your lips together, instead tightening your grasp on the pants you wore.
Kanzaburo seemed to feel the tension, escorting himself outside of the room.
"Then tell me what you do feel," You swallowed, shifting slightly closer to Giyu. "It looks like you see something I don't."
He didn’t respond, yet again. His eyes simply skimmed over the letter he had written, rereading it for what felt like the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. He was supposed to send it to Urokodaki, supposed to read Tanjiro’s letter as well—
"Please."
There it was. That quiet, desperate plea. A crack in your usual patience, an insistence he wasn’t used to. You weren’t letting this go, not like the other times when you’d simply ask if he was okay and leave it at that.
But he couldn't tell you how he was feeling. Not in front of you.
Not in front of the woman he had grown up with. The one who had helped him piece himself back together under Urokodaki’s care.
The one who taught him the different roles of people in the demon slayer corp. The kakashi, the swordsmiths, and that each had a purpose, no matter how little their responsibilities seemed compared to his.
The one who encouraged him to grow stronger, to reach high enough to become a Hashira, so that one day, he could find something worth living for besides revenge.
The same woman who once begged him to accompany her to a nearby town, claiming she needed to feel safe.
When in truth, she only asked because she knew he was having a particularly bad day.
The one who forced him to learn how to cook, only enough to survive a day without his future wife just in case she wasn't there at the moment. Not knowing, at the time, that she would be that wife.
At the time, she had belonged to someone else. Someone she had truly loved.
The one who had helped him stitch two haoris together. One for his sister, one for his best friend.
Knowing full well that one of them should have been hers.
And just like that, his resolve broke.
"I... I d-don't..." His voice cracked, his stance finally wavering under your presence. "... I don't know what I see."
His words were honest, uncomfortable and vulnerable. Because he truly didn’t know what he was feeling. He never did. His emotions never made sense to him, never fit neatly into words. All he knew was how to bury them, to keep them under wraps in hopes that someday, they might just disappear entirely.
"I can't... " Giyu stumbled, scrambling for a way out.
Before this became too much to bear and you saw him again.
The only way he'd be able to leave this unscathed is if he found a way to get you to leave.
He wasn’t ready to let you hold him. Or worse, he wasn't ready to let you leave him if you didn't want to stay.
But he couldn’t bring himself to push you away, either. He couldn't find it in himself to be blunt anymore, to tell you to leave him be.
"... You... You were supposed to marry Sabito, not me."
You didn’t respond, your breathing hitched instead. Your eyes widened for a fleeting moment as the weight of his words settled over you.
"But Mr. Urokodaki offered me after he died," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, unwilling... No, afraid to look at you.
Afraid you might see too much.
He had been vulnerable with you once, back when you were both younger. Too open, too exposed. But time had passed. He had grown. He had hardened. He had learned to keep his heart guarded.
Or at least he should have, and yet his emotions exposed him now.
He couldn’t rely on you, he shouldn't.
That would be selfish of him.
"Why?" His voice wavered, barely masking the raw emotion behind it. "Why did you agree?"
This time, it was you who fell silent.
What were you supposed to say?
What could you say?
That you had been so heartbroken, so shattered by what had happened, that you swore Giyu must have felt worse?
That you agreed, not out of love, but out of grief—thinking the two of you could at least find solace in each other’s pain?
And yet, somehow, somewhere along the way, your heart had betrayed you. It had healed itself in the presence of a husband you were never supposed to love this deeply.
The silence stretched between you, thick with everything neither of you had dared to say.
Giyu forced himself to breathe, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have let the words slip out. But now they were here, hanging in the air, waiting for an answer.
"I don’t know," you admitted softly, and it was the truth.
At least part of it.
"At first... I thought I was doing it for you. I thought you needed someone."
His jaw clenched, but he still refused to look at you.
"And then?" His voice was quieter now, hesitant.
"And then... I realized I needed someone too... I needed you."
His breath caught. Finally, he lifted his gaze, searching yours, looking for something that could make sense of this.
Had you really meant it?
Did you mean it now?
Your fingers twitched at your sides before you reached out, hesitantly brushing against his hand.
He didn't move away.
"... I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't apologize," he replied, almost immediate. Because somehow, somewhere along the way, he had started to love you too.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
The air felt heavier than before, thick with everything that had finally been said out loud. Giyu’s shoulders were tense, drawn up like he was bracing for a blow that never came. He expected judgment, disappointment even.
But none of that followed.
Instead, there was only your quiet presence. Still choosing to stay.
He waited for you to pull away, but you didn’t.
The absence of rejection unsettled him more than any harsh word ever could have. His fingers rubbed against his pant legs, unsure what to do with themselves now that the truth had been exposed. He had confessed something ugly by just telling you not to apologize, selfish, something he had convinced himself should never be spoken.
And yet, you hadn’t stepped back.
You didn’t tell him he was wrong. You didn’t tell him he was cruel. You didn’t tell him he had wasted your life.
That scared him.
Your knees shifted against the tatami, the soft sound barely noticeable, but he felt it anyway. He always noticed you. Every small movement, every change in breath. It was a habit he’d never managed to break.
He should have said something. Maybe given you a sharp remark to put distance back between you. But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, there was only the quiet, fragile understanding settling between you. An understanding born not from reassurance and shared loss.
But then he felt it. Your embrace, a comforting hug that allowed your arms to tightly squeeze him. An innocent enough gesture that had him loosing his previous anger.
When did he let you get this close to him?
When was the last time he allowed you to even touch him? He isn't sure, nor does he remember it being this comforting and warm.
"... Don't you dare think for a second that I don't care, I do..." Giyu finally shuddered. "I care too much—so much that it scares me... You scare me."
After the words left his mouth, he broke.
He hadn’t meant to admit that. Not like that. Not so plainly. The silence that followed felt fragile, as though even breathing too loudly might shatter whatever fragile truce had formed between you.
And his hands covered his face, one of them sliding higher to grip at his own hair. A culmination of embarrassment and shame.
Your arms loosened, but you didn’t pull away.
That alone made his chest ache.
He waited for you to step back, to give him the space he always defaulted to. You had done it before, sensing his limits even when he never voiced them.
He foolishly thought that you would do so again.
But you were close enough that he could feel the warmth of you through the layers of fabric. Close enough that your breath brushed against his collar, uneven but careful.
He swallowed, throat dry, hands hovering uselessly at his sides as if he no longer trusted them.
He should stop you.
Your hand moved before he could. Not boldly. Not with intent that could be mistaken for confidence. Just a small, tentative shift, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his haori as though testing whether he would disappear if you held on.
His breath stuttered, instinctively leaning away even though he craved your touch.
But you did something he wasn't expecting, leaning in to give him a kiss.
Your hug had already unraveled him more than he was prepared for, more than he would admit. But your lips left his as soon as the greeted him, and he could still feel it.
Soft, uncertain, almost reverent. He had leaned in this time, kissing you like someone afraid you might vanish if he pressed too hard.
And God help him, he wanted to do it again.
But wanting had always been dangerous for him.
“Don’t,” he murmured, though his voice lacked force. It was more a plea than a command, spoken into the quiet space between you.
You didn’t move away. But you didn’t advance either.
That restraint made something twist painfully in his chest.
Slowly, cautiously, you shifted until you were closer behind him, your presence no longer tentative but still gentle. You didn’t trap him. You didn’t corner him. You simply existed there, as if offering him the choice he never felt allowed to have.
"I don't mind being here," you reassured, your fingers gently massaging at his back through his clothing. "I do like when I'm around you. And you like it too, right?'
This was worse.
He exhaled shakily, hands lifting on instinct before he could stop himself.
"Yeah."
Your hands wandered.
His fingers closed around your wrists. Not harshly, but with the kind of grip that warned of hesitation. As if he needed to anchor himself to something real before he lost his footing.
Only then did you speak.
"I didn't mean for you to pity me." You tilted your head, gently nudging his neck with your forehead.
"...I... Don't." Giyu replied simply. His grip was still firm around your wrists, in fear that he wouldn't be able to stop you if you chose to move again.
With your hands resting just above his belt, you quietly leaned your forehead against the back of his shoulder. But your fingers hovered too close, calling for an intimacy he wasn’t sure he was ready for.
He wasn’t comfortable yet, but he wanted it, really wanted it.
Did that make him a bad husband? That he had no idea how to do this with you?
He doesn't know how to please you, so he didn’t want you to give yourself to him like this.
He didn’t want you to think you were just a distraction, something to pass the time to stop himself from drowning in grief. Someone to hold, only to set aside later.
God, how cruel.
The silence that followed your closeness stretched thin.
You could feel it in the way his breathing changed. Slower, heavier, like he was bracing himself against something invisible.
"I want to try something, that might make you feel better." You start, looking back up to hook your chin in the crook of his shoulder. "Will you let me?"
His hands still held you, not pulling, not pushing, just there.
"I just... I don't think I can stand how much you hate yourself for a moment longer."
You shifted one of your hands up this time, just enough to test him, enough for the palm of your hand to feel the tightness of his muscle through his uniform. And he stiffened once more.
Giyu was so calm. So quiet that for a moment, you weren’t sure if he had even heard you.
"Stop." he said again, His voice, calm yet commanding, almost startled you. Your hand, still pressed to his rib cage, froze.
He slightly moved so he could see you better, grabbing your hand and pulling you to guide you next to him instead of behind. It was sudden, but it didn't bother you since you could see him better.
Without so much as a word, his hand pressed to your cheek.
And a few seconds later, his thumb gently traces your bottom lip.
He's sure that his previous reasoning was completely gone. And all because of the seducing woman in front of him, shamelessly asking him to make her his.
Just so he'd feel... Better?
There must have been something wrong with you too.
It made him feel really fucking hot though.
"I... I want you." He exhaled, practically whispering. "I always want you... But... I don't want to use you."
"... Use me?"
"I should have been there—"
"Giyu, that's your assumption." You swallowed, shifting slightly closer. "You don't get to tell me that; I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. I will share your last name until I die."
Before Giyu could say more, you kissed him.
You wanted to tell him that everything was alright, that the two of you would be fine.
But it wasn't. It was far from enough when you can't handle another moment of talking to a complete stranger. You loved Giyu and he knew it, but every stolen glance felt like catching a moonbeam in your hand.
Your lips left his as soon as they touched, retreating away as if you had made a mistake.
His breath hitched at the thought.
As if that were even possible.
His thumb wasn't resting against your lower lip anymore. Instead, it was just tucked under your jaw. He hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped moving entirely.
He was watching you like you were something fragile. Something that might splinter in his hands.
That look almost made you laugh.
“Giyu,” you murmured, and this time when you leaned forward to get his attention, his didn’t hesitate.
The kiss wasn’t practiced, it wasn't even deep.
It was careful and reverent in a way that it shouldn't have been.
He inhaled sharply against you, as if he hadn’t expected you to close the distance. For half a second, he didn’t respond at all. And then, slowly, like someone stepping into cold water, he did.
His hand shifted from your cheek to the back of your head.
Not forcing. Just anchoring.
Years of silence sat between your mouths. Years of almosts. Almost reaching for him, almost confessing. Almost grieving together instead of separately.
This didn’t feel sudden like you thought it would be in your mind.
It felt long overdue.
When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. His forehead rested against yours, breath uneven.
“… We shouldn’t,” he muttered back.
Even so, both of you knew that the conviction was thin.
“You already kissed me.”
His jaw tightened faintly at that, because you were right. So he kissed you again, and again. Each one lasting a little bit longer.
He felt less afraid, but his restraint was still there. It may have been weakening in places he no longer had the strength to reinforce, but he'd survive.
Your hands found his neck. His grip tightened slightly at your waist, and then immediately loosened, as though checking himself.
He was still thinking. Still measuring.
The paper door to the porch of his study remained open behind you, the evening air drifting in, cool against warm skin.
That’s when he stiffened.
Not because of you. But because of awareness.
His crow wasn't in the room anymore, but he probably wasn't far. And the open room with the lights, though dimming, still felt overwhelming.
This wasn’t a place for this.
Giyu pulled away first and you almost mistook it for retreat. But instead, he stood.
For a moment, he didn’t look at you. He adjusted his haori unnecessarily, breath still uneven. Collecting himself, or trying to.
Then his hand extended toward you.
“… Come here.” he called, an invitation disguised as commanding.
His voice was lower now. Not sharp or defensive. Just decided.
You placed your hand in his.
He didn’t squeeze tightly. Just enough to keep you from slipping away as he guided you down the hall.
The house was quiet at this hour. Wooden floors faintly creaked under your steps. You could hear both of your breathing in the stillness, embarrassingly loud.
At the threshold of his bedroom, he paused.
His grip faltered for half a heartbeat.
This room was private in a way the study never was. This was where he slept. Where he lay awake. Where he thought about things he'd never say aloud.
Bringing you here felt different.
More deliberate.
He slid the door open anyway.
The room was simple. Tatami neatly kept. Futon already laid out for the night. The start of moonlight filtered through the paper window, soft and slightly pale.
He stepped inside first.
Then, he turned back to you. If you wanted to stop this, you could. He would let you.
His hand was still extended, barely, as if waiting for you to enter.
But in your defense, you've never actually been in his room with him at the same time.
You stepped inside.
The door slid shut with a quiet sound behind you, sealing the room with the soft rhythm of your breathing.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
This room had always been his. A place of solitude and discipline. Of sleepless nights staring at the ceiling while guilt pressed down on his ribs.
And now you were standing in it.
Not as an obligation or for duty. But because you wanted to be.
He felt something like a shift in the air at that realization.
This wasn’t something you had cornered him into. You hadn’t tempted him past reason. You hadn’t dragged him here.
He brought you.
The realization struck harder than desire ever could.
His hand tightened slightly around yours.
“… We don’t have to,” he spoke quietly.
Not the same as before.
Before had been resistance. This was fear of taking something sacred and mishandling it.
You looked at him, and whatever he saw in your expression made his breath falter.
There's no grief in your eyes now. No shadow of Sabito lingering between you.
Just you and him.
“I know,” you answered.
That was all.
Not persuasion or seduction like you were trying at first. Just certainty.
And suddenly he wasn’t thinking about whether he deserved you. He was thinking about how many years you had both wasted pretending you didn’t belong like this.
Slowly, almost cautiously, he lifted his free hand and rested it against your waist. His thumb brushed lightly against the fabric there, as if confirming you were real.
“I thought…” he began, then stopped, deciding that his voice wasn’t steady enough.
“I thought if I kept my distance… you wouldn’t lose anything more.”
Your expression softened in a way that hurt to look at. So Giyu found himself looking away.
“I already lost everything once,” you whispered. “What I have now… I chose.”
Something inside him unraveled at that. Like snow giving way under spring sunlight.
He stepped closer, kissing you deeper, more urgent and certain. His hand moved from your waist to your back, drawing you nearer with a steadiness that hadn’t been there before.
Thank God this wasn't a lapse in control, you aren't sure what you'd do if this wasn't acceptance.
He pulled back only enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“… I don’t want this to be something we regret tomorrow,” he admitted.
You almost smiled, your hands reaching up to brush his bangs away from his eyebrows.
“Then be honest,” you murmured. “Treat it like something you’ve wanted... It's something we both have.”
His breath trembled, because he had wanted. He wanted this for years, but he always held himself back because he never knew whether or not it was the right time.
And you wanted him to.
Carefully, he reached up and unbuttoned your collar. He wasn't hurried or reckless in the way you'd think a man would be. His movements were deliberate, as if he were handling something entrusted to him.
Halfway through, he stopped again.
Not because of doubt. But because he needed to say something first.
“I love you.”
The words were quiet. Unpolished. Almost awkward.
But they were real. And they had never been spoken before.
The room felt warmer somehow.
"I love you too," you whispered back.
And just like that, he was fully prepared to get you naked.
Sliding his haori off, his own hands threatened to shrug your uniform off of your shoulders, fingers dangerously close to your collarbone.
Giyu’s free hand immediately seeks yours once his haori falls to the ground behind him.
He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until his fingers find yours and latch on.
Tight. As if you might disappear.
Your fingers intertwine without effort, fitting together so naturally that something in his chest aches at the simplicity of it.
It feels right, so his eyes flicker downward.
Not the hilt of his sword, or blood and loss. Just your hand in his. And it feels perfect.
The late evening light spills through the window, catching against your joined fingers. The shape looks almost deliberate, like a painting hung somewhere he doesn’t belong.
It’s warm... Too warm.
You kiss along his jaw, then lower, your breath soft against his skin. He inhales sharply. You're so unbearably tender.
He's fought demons without flinching. But this?
This fucking terrifies him.
Have you been waiting for him?
The thought slices through him far cleaner than any blade as he backs up, bringing you with him to bend down and rest on his futon. But even as you start to undo his uniform, his grip tightens slightly.
He had told himself long ago that he was protecting you.
Keeping distance and sparing you. Giving you space to grieve Sabito properly.
He told himself that wanting you would be selfish. That touching you would be taking something that wasn’t meant for him.
But as your lips press against the hollow of his throat, that thought process of his falters.
How long have you waited?
Did you think he didn’t want you?
The idea makes his stomach twist.
God. That must have hurt.
His free hand rises almost instinctively, hovering near your waist before finally settling there. He wants to restrain himself, to balance you as you settle on top of him.
But there's so much he wants to do that involves much more than just a steadying hand.
You feel so, so good against him.
You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want this. You wouldn’t look at him like that if he were just a replacement.
Maybe you do still love the boy who once held your heart. But right now, it seems that you're only thinking of him
He wants you to think of him, and only him. He must be way over his head to be jealous over someone who's deceased.
Your fingers drift lower along his exposed chest, slow and exploratory. You touched him as if you were simply learning about him.
He swallows hard because he's not sure he deserves this. He doesn't deserve someone who looks at him like he is enough, not really.
Maybe though, you were a special case.
You lift your head slightly, brushing your nose against his cheek before pressing another soft kiss near the corner of his mouth.
There’s no pity in your expression.
Just warmth, and something dangerously close to devotion.
His chest tightens.
“… Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, though there’s no real command in it.
"I only have one look," you simply teased him, placing a feather light kiss against his lips that made him shudder.
Because if you keep looking at him that way, he might start believing it. He might start believing that after all this time, you've chosen him. That you told the truth and let your guilty heart fall for another.
His thumb brushes faintly over your knuckles, grounding himself in the sensation.
For the first time in years, he's letting himself want without immediately punishing himself for it.
He wants to see all of you.
"Let me do it."
Your hand stalls just above his belt buckle for the second time tonight, but you turned your gaze back up to reach his.
He looked almost vulnerable.
"...You want to lead?"
"Yeah," Giyu nodded, swallowing once more despite how dry his throat was. "Please."
You don't respond for a second.
He blinks.
You giggle.
"... W-what?" Giyu raises a brow, letting out a sound that was half a chuckle and half a scoff.
"Nothing, you just looked so nervous." You teased, moving your hips off of his midsection to sit next to him. "I thought I'd be the nervous one, considering that I'm the one that's untouched."
Words coil in his throat, barely escaping as tight exhales, likely unnoticed to you.
Wait, untouched?
A sudden realization halts him entirely. His body remains close, his face still inches from yours as he sits up, but he's frozen.
He's never done this before either.
The thought slams into him with enough force to make his heart nearly stop. He hadn't even considered it until now.
"Weren't you intimate with Sabito?" Giyu questioned quickly when he finally had the courage to speak. It was such a serious question that it made you roll your eyes.
"I kissed him once or twice."
"... Ah..."
"Me and Sabito we're to young." You added, your fingers fiddling with the collar of your uniform. "... That, and Mr. Urokodaki watched us like a hawk."
"Really?"
"Yeah, It was actually kind of frightening how strict he was." You grinned, feeling nostalgic about the faint memory.
Was this really how that happened then?
"Mr. Urokodaki cared about you a lot." Giyu nodded. "Probably too much."
You've never done something like this before either... So he needed to be gentle. He doesn't know everything, though a small, secret part of him hoped that he could make you feel good.
The two of you waited for a moment, but as Giyu gently rested his hand on the nape of your neck, you scooted closer.
He isn't even sure if he's ever properly held hands with a woman before besides you, and now here he is, way in over his head.
He can feel your breath against his skin, every inhale and exhale shared between you. But it doesn't bother him, if anything, it spurs him on. He pulls you in deeper, kissing you as if he could convey everything he never said to you.
He doesn't waste time, moving down from your uniform jacket to take off your pants. As he did so though, his eyes caught onto a nasty bruise on your thigh. From blunt force; probably your mission.
He'd have to be careful with that.
Something still boiled in him as he saw it, despite choosing to set the thought aside and let his fingertips barely graze it to sense the pain level.
You didn't react, and Giyu took a breath as he came back up to greet you with his lips again.
Your fingers went from his back to comb through his hair, pulling a soft groan out of him that sounded almost pained.
You're flat on your back now, across his futon. The mattress is barely dipping under both your weights, but it's still leaving imprints in the fabric of the sheet covering it up.
He's draped over you almost completely, heavy and hot. He's keenly aware of every contact point, from his bare chest pressing into your sarashi, to his breath coming out so tightly that you could probably feel every shake of his body against yours. Ignoring that, he simply leans down to kiss the nape of your neck once more.
He doesn't even realize he's rolling his hips into yours until he feels your breath hitch. And God, he wants to feel it again.
His knees were bracketing your thighs, forcing your legs together just enough that the friction must have felt obscene. But his pants are still on, and that's a problem isn't it?
He almost curses when he feels your nails scratch against his shoulder blade, but he doesn't let that stop him from changing the angle. He hooks his arm under your thigh, lifting it up high enough that your leg is now staying on the outside of his hips.
His crotch is right against your heat, and when he grinds again, more insistent, he pulls a whine out of you. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck when he feels that he might break already, muffling any noise that might make him look even more vulnerable.
Though, it only took him a few seconds to realize that you'd be able to feel his moans against your throat if he settled on that. So he took a deep breath as he sat up, only to place a kiss onto your jaw.
And then your cheek. And then after that, your lips and one of your cheeks, and then your nose. He was trying to control himself, to take a moment to clear his mind.
But all it was doing was making him more turned on.
You snorted without meaning to, his insistent show of affection warming your heart even as you tried to cover your mouth.
And Giyu proceeds to give you a glare in return. Though it was slightly playful, his eyes questioned your audacity as he places another kiss in between your brows.
"Sorry."
"It's fine... I should be the one saying sorry."
"Sorry? For what?" Your brows furrowed as one of your hands tangled in his hair again, the other resting lightly at the nape of his neck.
"For not kissing you before." Giyu replied simply. "Well, I did kiss you on your forehead once. But I mean... Like this."
You almost laughed again, but instead a small smile crept up your face.
"Well, you're here now."
"But I don't want here to be enough for you," Giyu murmured against your forehead, his hands still wandering but stopping just against your ribs. "I want to earn this. I want to be here all the time."
"Me too," you sighed, your hands cupping his fact to bring him closer and place a kiss on the tip of his nose.
"We'll both be here for one another, we've already been doing it. It'll just be more sincere."
You're a gift from God, Giyu's sure. Perfect for him, and bearing the insane capacity of forgiving him too.
Slowly, Giyu kisses your neck again. But as he does so, it travels down to your collarbone, and then just above your chest.
Maybe it's because he hasn't touched someone like this before, or because he knows that this is your first time, but something as simple as a kiss is making him want to rut into you more.
He's tempted to try and unravel the binding across your chest, but he's looking at it now and doesn't think he can. And he'd rather not ask you for help undressing yourself.
So once he places another kiss against the fabric, he sits up and starts to take off his belt. He's slow with his movement, but not so slow that it feels like a tease, just enough that you don't feel like it's going by too fast.
Then again, as his fingers warn of touching you down there, he already feels like everything's fast. It fuzzes his brain with the simple thought of heat, and touch, and he really wants to fuck you until you become like putty, all whiny and cute for him.
"Can I?" He murmurs, gaze barely drifting up to yours as his fingers touch the band of your underwear, pressing down where your stomach meets your hip.
You nod, slightly lifting your lower body so he can take it off. As he does so, he has to try and stop himself from staring. He knows it's fine, you're his wife. But he's never seen you this naked before. The most he's seen is when he accidentally walked in on you in the middle of a bath.
What he does allow himself to see tells him already that you look good, too good. He'll lose his mind if he isn't careful.
And he actually is. He's already leaking, his precum smearing the inside of his pants as he slides them past his knees. But he doesn’t want to rush, not yet. All he does is shifts his weight, planting one forearm beside your head so he can brace himself to lean in.
He's almost hesitant, but as he presses the bulge that shows in his underwear against you again, he realizes that the new angle, and your bare cunt, makes him drag slower.
"Look at me. Don't look away."
His voice comes out uneven, almost desperate. Pressing his forehead to yours, he grips onto the moment, onto you.
"Please," he murmurs. "Please, look at me."
You hesitate, but when your gaze finally meets his, his heartbeat stumbles, then races.
You're flushed, glistening with sweat, eyes hazy with something unreadable.
Embarrassment. That's what lingers on your face. But you don't look away. Not until he moves in a way that forces your eyes shut.
He doesn't want to let that distract him from making sure that you end up limp on his dick either. Because he's supposed to be using you, taking you like the way you wanted him to.
He huffs out a low breath, the groan vibrating against your shoulder while his eyes clothes. He keeps the slow paced grinding against your clit as he kisses up your body, as if he's trying to force his way inside of you despite the clothing between.
It's only until you whimper into his skin that he talks again.
"Do you want me to stop?" he sighs, groaning quietly when he sees you shake your head. He can feel you flutter through the fabric blocking him and he feels like he's going to pass out.
He wants to be inside of you so bad, wants to feel you flutter around him and greedily suck him in. You'd look so precious in the worst way, making a mess and drooling all over his cock as he rocks into you.
He was horrible, wasn't he?
Giyu may have been a virgin like you, but he wasn't out of the loop. He had a dream once about you, about your lips against his own as he helped himself through the heat, and just knew that he needed to make sure he knew what to do when the time came.
Just in case it ever actually happened.
Though, he did have to lose a little bit of dignity by sneaking past Shinobu and almost getting caught to grab himself a scroll about the female anatomy. even so, he learned pretty quickly what to do.
So he guesses that gut feeling wasn't just him being a creep, but rather, to make sure he didn't make a fool of himself now.
This isn't a preamble at all, the way he moves faster against the friction that makes the two of you hot and bothered is proof of that.
But even he can only take so much. Usually, he's patient, especially with you. But he's never touched you this way, let alone been touched like this. All he had to work with before was the rough drag of his head against the palm of his hand, or if he was feeling a little more needy, his pillow.
The thick length of him is already rock-hard, leaking through his underwear. He’s so heavy on top of you that every shallow thrust pins your back deeper into his bed. Your back arches and your face is already half-buried in his mattress. It smells like his soap and faint sweat, but it's not bad. It's not like you can do much past arching your back a little, offering more of yourself even though he’s already got you trapped.
"Wanna feel more," he breathes, voice wrecked and almost too loud for the silent bedroom. "Is that okay?"
"Yes, please." You choke back a moan, embarrassment creeping up in the form of your neck turning just slightly brighter in hue.
He fears that his mind is fogging up too much, making his hands go lower so he can finally let himself free, but he doesn't even bother trying to be discreet about it. He just grinds harder, shuddering as the wetness between your legs greeting his own slick.
His hips are circling slowly, but then they snap forward. It's like he can't decide how desperate he wants to be for this connection. He swears that he wants to take it slow, but it isn't helping him when he feels the tip of his head nudge into you by accident.
"Fuck, sorry" he murmurs quickly, stopping himself with a mix of surprise and fear. He still doesn't know how to do this just yet, so he can't get ahead of himself yet.
"It's fine," you sigh, placing a gentle kiss against his cheek before adding, "It felt... really good."
His head is still tucked away just under your head, but the seam of his underwear isn't riding up against him anymore, discarded near his feet on the floor.
But as he looks up slightly, the telltale warmth spread across your features.
You were shy.
Despite being so adamant before, even though you wanted to be more intimate with him, you looked flustered. It was as if it cost you something to admit that you were just as aroused as he was.
So instead of stopping, every forward roll he gives you catches right on your clit, mercilessly rubbing it as his cock slides along your entrance.
He's hot and heavy, almost whining against your breasts when he looks down to see how much you're dripping. Just from this, you're soaking wet, almost more than he is.
The warm heat is clinging in-between your thighs, dripping into Giyu's pubic hair. Everything is soaking, slick and completely lewd in the sound.
Giyu's cleaving to you now, holding onto you for dear life as you whimper into his hair. Your thighs tremble, but you can't spread them like you wanted while he's got you pinned down so tight.
"Stay like this, please." He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good—shit." his voice betrays him as he groans roughly, his hand gripping your hair now to try and collect his thought. "I wanna feel more of you."
"Giyu, I need you." You quickly insist, pulling him down to kiss you again as one of your legs hooks itself over his lower back. "Please. It feels good."
"It's gonna hurt though, isn't it?" He whimpers, eyes widening with lust and nervousness.
"A little," you nod. "but I think it'll be fine."
You'll be fine... Okay, right. You were strong, and a demon slayer as well. So you could handle a little pain, probably.
It was still eating at him though, even as he adjusted himself to lightly push into your entrance.
He just has to be gentle.
Just be gentle.
... Gentle.
Fuck, he's going to die.
His free hand slides under your back, palm flat against your lower back. And before he knows it, he's pulling you into every grind he gives you. Inch by inch, he leans himself into it, holding his breath like you're actually killing him. You looked more wrecked oddly enough, your nails biting into his back as if you can repay the pain he's giving you with some of your own dishing.
All it does is make him try harder, lifting your thigh higher to feel the way your walls squeeze down on him. You're choking him out, practically. But his fingers simply splay wider over whatever he can grip at, like he's trying to get you into a better position without knowing what he's trying for.
The rhythm turns filthy as soon as the base of his cock reaches your clit, though he doesn't pull out just yet. He's relishing in the little sounds you make when his tip hits your cervix just right. He almost feels proud in it, but he knows he's only really doing it so that he doesn't cum without you when he does start moving.
He can almost hear you begging in the way your back arches into him, removing any space between the two of you.
His eyes wander as he looks at your connection, practically drooling at the sight. His hand drops your thigh before he realizes is and reaches for your stomach, pressing down against it.
He heard something about how that would feel good when he had been with some rather crude demon slayers a few months back, but as soon as he feels himself through you, he seizes up.
Your tight muscle clamps onto him even more so as you moan, but Giyu thinks immediately that it's too much. He's way too sensitive for something like that, but he can't help it anymore.
"Can I move now?" Giu whimpered, his breath mingling with yours as he kept grinding himself deeper into you. "Please?"
You nod again quickly, your poor neck looking like a whiplash victim from how fast you agreed. It startled Giyu, for only a second though as he took the initiative.
His movement is short but sharp, slow rocks that make a loose floorboard creek softly from under the bed. There's a wet slap that he can't ignore every time he comes back after dragging away. Every time he rolls his hips just right, you clench around him in a way that makes him gasp. You clit's throbbing, heightened from the pressure of it all.
Your hips are jerking under his, and he's practically panting now. He's open-mouthed against your shoulder, broken moans slipping out whenever you push back to meet him
"You're so... soft," he groans softly, almost as if he's bewildered at how this actually feels. Like somehow, life has betrayed him from keeping such a secret as this away from him. "I can feel how warm and wet you are. You're really tight too—"
"Giyu, wait." You call quickly, almost sitting up but hitting your forehead against his chin.
"Am I hurting you?"
You shook your head, laying back down as you took in quick, shallow breaths. "No, I just got super hot all of a sudden. And my stomach was getting tight, and it felt weird."
"... I felt it, it's fine." Giyu nodded, gently nuzzling into your chest again. "You were going to cum."
"Ah... It doesn't normally feel this intense." You deadpanned.
Giyu hums in agreement, almost chuckling at your expression. But he doesn't think about teasing you. Instead he's adjusting himself once more. One hand coming up to intertwine his fingers with yours before holding it near your head and pressing down against the bed, while the other lifts up your back just slightly, enough for him to get in deeper.
You close your eyes as your head dips back, the feeling building up again. You do it again without even realizing, clenching around him harder than you should. It's enough to get his hips stuttering as you press yourself firmer against him.
He chokes on a sound, his pace quickening enough for you to feel like he's slamming himself into you. It's unrelenting, yet not nearly his best if he were to disregard the fact that you had still come home injured.
You're repeating his name like a mantra, and before you can try and escape, he's chasing your mouth. He wants to praise you, wants to encourage whatever pleasure you're feeling, say that you're doing so good and that you're perfect for him and that he wouldn't mind if this was his last day on earth.
But Giyu can't help himself, his movements quickening just from your reaction. He wants to make you feel good, really good. He feels good, so, so fucking good.
And he's not even sure he can will words out of his mouth, let alone breathe properly.
He grinds so deep that the friction would burn if it wasn't for the two of you being completely drenched, and when you're cumming, he's falling over the edge right after you.
A long, shuddering moan muffles against your neck as he feels your heat pulsing and soaking him further. It's warm and sticky between you two, and he can hear in your recovering voice that you're breathless. But he keeps rocking through it, shallow little jerks that smear your shared release. All the while, his whole body is basically shaking on top of you.
The euphoria slowly dies down to something almost like aftershock, but it doesn't really feel as awkward as it used to. It usually would be like a whole in him got bigger when he did it on his own, but right now, he still felt the dopamine rushing into his brain.
There was a small part of him that was freaking out because of the fact that his virginity was now gone. But he also wondered how you felt about the matter.
Sure, you're his wife, so none of this would have been considered wrong. And yet, it still feels overwhelming.
Shouldn't they have talked a little more before this? Before they started hugging each other, holding themselves a little too close. A once innocent gesture now turned messy.
How did this happen again?
"Giyu, what's wrong?"
He hated when you asked that question.
After all, he was the Water Pillar Hashira, so he didn't need anyone's concern.
But the real reason was because he never knew how to answer. His mind was a mess, his body burning, his heart caught between hesitation and longing.
And yet, looking at you now, all hot and bothered, your body begging for more, he wonders if it's really him who has control over this moment, or you.
He's not sure if he just used you, or if you used him.
"I just... I was thinking..." He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I needed a moment."
You swallowed with a quick nod, catching your breath as your hands traveled from his back to the nape of his neck.
He placed a kiss on your shoulder, moving away a moment later to pull out of you. But he didn't get far, in fact, he didn't get to leave even an inch before you tightened your grip.
"Don't leave yet," you whispered, your voice hoarse as you hid your face in his chest. "Wanna feel you with me still."
Giyu’s eyes widened for a second, but he immediately pulled you closer, pressing you firmly against his chest as if the act alone could steady the both of you. His breathing was still uneven, shoulders rising and falling against yours, but the urgency from before had faded into something far quieter.
His face buried itself against your shoulder.
Not out of shame.
Out of overwhelm.
He held you like someone afraid the world might take you back the moment he loosened his grip.
Your legs were still tangled together. The warmth between you hadn’t disappeared yet, but it no longer felt fevered. It felt fragile. Sacred. Almost frightening in its tenderness.
His hand slid slowly up your back, thumb brushing over your spine in an absent, grounding motion. Not possessive. Not desperate.
Just staying.
And that was when your voice broke the silence.
"I missed you."
Giyu’s heart shattered all over again.
He missed you too. Really, he did. He wanted you to know that. He hoped you already did.
But the way you said it wasn’t casual.
It sounded like something rescued from the edge of regret.
"I thought... I thought I wasn't coming home."
His grip tightened instinctively at that, enough to anchor you there, for you to keep being open.
Your voice was fragile, barely above a whisper, as you lifted a hand to cover your face, as if that could shield you from his gaze.
He gently caught that hand before it could hide you completely.
He didn’t want you shielding yourself from him.
But somehow, that only made it worse.
Whatever happened on your mission, whatever made you believe you wouldn't make it back, it had to have been a demon far stronger than most.
And he wasn't there to stand beside you and protect you like he promised he would.
"I thought I'd never see you again," you whispered, voice trembling. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't say that," Giyu cut in, his voice firmer than before. Not sharp or angry though, just urgent. "Don't apologize."
Your breath hitched as his hand wrapped around your wrist. He could feel the tremor in your fingers, and he realized a second later that you were crying.
The sight of it did something unbearable to him. His throat tightened, and for a moment he thought he might break in front of you too.
Can he cry with you?
He wants to.
He wants to press his face into your shoulder and let years of restraint dissolve into something human.
But instead, he shifts, lifting himself just enough to look at you properly.
"You don't need to apologize for being scared," Giyu said, voice lower now. Softer. "I'm sure you still didn't hesitate to do your job."
"No, not for that." You sighed, turning your head away. "For... missing you."
That stops him. That stops him completely.
He studies your expression like it's a language he never learned properly.
Is that why you always kept your distance when he returned from long missions? Did you think you'd annoy him? That your longing would burden him?
The thought makes something twist painfully in his him.
He doesn’t understand it, not in the slightest. He loves your attention. He loves when you hover near him. When you sit too close. When you ask questions he pretends to find bothersome.
He just never knew how to say it.
"You shouldn't apologize for missing me," he murmured, lowering himself again, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. This time not to hide, but to stay as close as he can to you.
"I missed you too."
The admission comes easier now.
He presses a slow kiss against your skin, a quiet punctuation.
“And I’m here,” he adds, almost against his will. “You came back, and you’re here with me. So I'll make sure to do the same, always.”
His hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair.
He doesn’t try to silence your tears.
He doesn’t try to be stoic.
For once, he simply holds you through them.
He doesn't want you to see the things that have scarred him, nor the memories that have shattered him beyond repair. Even though you are the person he trusts most, the only one he's ever let close, he still hides his pain. He doesn't want you to know how deeply he's been wounded, how much of him is still bleeding beneath the surface.
He has lost loved ones, endured suffering beyond words. But you have too. And now, he has you. And the thought of losing you? That would be worse than death itself.
Did you feel the same?
He needed you to feel the same. Please, let it be the same.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For what?" You tilt your head in confusion, wiping the previous tears away.
"For not being honest… For not talking to you enough, for not helping you as much as I should. I don't do nearly enough, and yet you're always here for me—"
You let him ramble, watching as he gazed at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. He truly believed he had done something wrong, that he had failed you in some way. But the things he listed... the small ways he thought he had fallen short, had never mattered to you.
You had only ever worried about him. And now, seeing him like this, you felt nothing but relief.
Even when his words trailed off and he tilted his head, looking utterly lost, you just smiled.
"Have I ever told you that I love you before today?" Giyu blurted after a few seconds of silence. "…Oh God, I don't think I've ever said that. I haven't even tried to—"
"Shh, don't say any more." you whispered, cutting him off with another kiss. "You didn't have to tell me before. I loved you too, and I still do."
Giyu melted instantly, as if your touch unraveled him, turning him into something soft and undone. His body gave up against you, like butter.
He closed his eyes, leaning fully into the kiss, unwilling to part even when you pulled back. Instead, he chased after you, brushing his lips lazily against yours, exhaling a deep, contented sigh. And when you giggled, a small, bashful smile crept onto his face.
You could do anything to him. Mold him, train him, shape him. Make him happy… Maybe even hurt him.
Was this what Uzui meant when he spoke of being vulnerable with his wives?
Vulnerability.
He wanted to pretend he didn't like it. That it was uncomfortable. But now, he realized that this felt better than hiding.
This felt like relief.
"Can you and I promise something?" Giyu murmured, finally opening his eyes to meet yours.
"Promise?" You tilted your head. "What kind?"
"I… I want you to have my heart," he admitted, eyes betraying him once again. "And in return, I want to earn yours."
"… You know," you grinned, wrapping your arms tightly around him, "you earned my heart a long time ago."
"Did I really?" He scoffed, though his tone was light.
You were always so accepting of others, always too forgiving.
But then again, he wasn't just some other person, was he?
He was your husband.
And if that was the case, maybe he should let himself indulge in your love a little more often.
"I suppose I could say the same to you," he chuckled. "But now you've ruined my words. I thought it'd sound romantic."
You rolled your eyes at him, but the smile on your face didn’t fade.
“It still did,” you replied softly.
Giyu huffed faintly at that, but he didn’t argue. He just looked at you. Not in disbelief or in confusion, rather , he stared… openly.
The light outside had shifted since earlier. It no longer painted the room in dark gold and purple, but in something quieter. Steadier. The kind of light that lingered instead of flickering. It was pale from the moon, but darker than before.
His hand found yours again.
This time, he didn’t grab it out of fear.
He simply threaded your fingers together and held on.
“I don’t know how to be…” He paused, searching for the word, brow furrowing slightly. “Better. Not quickly.”
You squeezed his hand.
“I don’t need quickly.”
That seemed to quiet something in him.
For so long, he had treated love like something he needed to earn in installments. Something that required constant repayment. Something fragile enough to vanish if he failed once.
But you were still here.
Still smiling at him.
Still choosing him.
He exhaled slowly, and for once, the breath didn’t feel heavy.
“I’ll try,” he nodded instead.
It wasn't a grand vow like he wish he could propose, nor was it poetry, something many people were talented in compared to him.
Just truth.
You shifted closer, resting your forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation this time, chin resting gently atop your head.
The house was silent.
No urgent missions, or ghosts crowding the corners of the room. Just the quiet rhythm of each other's breaths.
His thumb traced small, absent patterns against your back.
To reassure you, yes. But to reassure himself as well.
You weren’t going anywhere.
And maybe he didn’t have to either.
After a moment, he spoke again, voice low against your hair.
“… If you ever think you won’t come home again,” he murmured, “then come back angry at me instead. Don’t apologize... Okay?”
You laughed softly at that, but your grip tightened around him.
"Okay."
He closed his eyes.
For some reason, this love didn't feel as suffocating as it had for years. It felt like something he could finally stand, with you.
And that was enough.
"We should wash up." he murmured.
"... Yeah, tomorrow."
"Hey—"
"I'm so tired, I think I'm going to die if I move." you mumbled lazily, closing your eyes even as you sighed in contentment.
"US DREAD HEADS GOTTA STICK TOGETHER, Y'KNOW WHAT I MEAN?"
jabber wonger (gchkta) ,, not fully proofread ,, dark-skinned reader ,, specifically described as being from african descent ,, writing is in the second-person ,, child reader ,, gender neutral reader ,, jabber is slightly insensitive and doesn't know how to take care of children ,, word count (1k) ,, blurb ,, established gore ,, reader had been previously neglected ,, just for the sillies!
"Cthoni, look at this shit." The man's voice was rough as his fingers tangled into a fistful of your damaged hair, yanking it without warning so it caught the light.
The strands were uneven, snapped and dull, some of it still matted with grime that would take a lot of time to wash out.
He held it up like proof of a crime, shaking his head with a tense click of his tongue.
"Good thing I killed those assholes," he continued, grumbling as if the mere thought of them still annoyed him. "Didn't even bother makin' sure the kid looked decent for the auction. At this rate, the hair's gonna be irreversible, and then we'll have to lob it all off."
And then, his mouth twitched into something like a grin. However, it didn't look happy. If anything, he looked even more irritated.
"And that's a damn shame, 'cause it won't even look good as a bob."
The woman, Cthoni Andor, didn't react. The blue-haired female merely watched from where she stood, smaller than him, but eyes still sharp and unreadable as they traced over you.
Over your shaky knees, your dirt-streaked skin, the way you didn't cry, just stared.
You were observing, like some cataloger or something.
The man who had found you went by the name of Jabber Wonger. He had dragged you out of the hands of the men who'd taken you, though that wasn't his original task. You vaguely remember him asking questions about some "Sphereite" before taking their lives.
"Boss man!" Jabber shouted suddenly, grip shifting as he yanked your arm forward, turning it this way and that like he was inspecting an object rather than a child. "It's a mini me!" His grin widened, sharp and delighted. "You gotta let me keep it!"
The boss, Zodyl Typhon, said nothing at first, causing the silence to stretch in an uncomfortable way. But when he turned, his gaze was heavy as it settled on you.
You could feel it crawl over your skin, weighing you, measuring something you didn't understand.
He didn't look angry, but he didn't look kind, either. Just thoughtful, like he was deciding whether you were worth the trouble.
Finally he spoke, simply replying with, "It?"
"C'mon, boss!" Jabber whined, completely ignoring the older man's correction as he dragged the word out. Still smirking despite how earnest he sounded. "I'm askin' nicely!"
Then, without warning, he crouched down in front of you. Up close, his smile was still frightening. It was too wide and too sharp for you, but it softened just enough to feel deliberate. Like he chose to make it gentler.
His eyes flicked to your hair again, then back to your face.
"Us dread heads gotta stick together," he snickered lightly, almost conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret meant only for you while he ruffled his own hair in front of you. "If you know what I mean."
You didn't.
But maybe it didn't matter?
Around you, the others did their own thing. You recall how Jabber had rambled on about them when coming here. There was Bundus, who had patted your head earlier. Fu, who waved and Noerde, though she didn't even spare you a glance.
A few others you don't recall, but you suppose it doesn't matter.
And of course, Cthoni.
Jabber then straightened back up with a stretch, the moment already losing its novelty. His hand slid from your head like you were nothing more than a passing thought, and he glanced back toward Zodyl with an amused huff.
"Y'know, I think the child should be mine."
Cthoni's gaze sharpened slightly.
"The kid's got the hair for it, it must be a sign." Jabber went on, clearly entertained by his own little idea. "Looks enough like me that no one'd question it. Could be my sibling. Or my kid. Either works."
"Don't really care which." Zodyl just shrugged, completely unbothered by the implications.
Jabber's eyes dropped back to you, curious and amused. Like you were a puzzle only he understood.
And you were left standing there, small and unsure, while your entire future hung on something he'd said as a joke.
You aren't sure you liked the idea of being related to the man next to you, but you suppose that's the least you could do, seeing as he did save you and all.
Then again, did he even know if he was alive? His eyes made it seem like he didn't retain anything but the present moment.
Your sick dad had sold you for just enough to last another week, maybe less.
You'd overheard it all, but it was either that, or he'd get desperate enough to kill and eat you instead. And you didn't want to be food yet.
But somehow, you felt more at peace at those people's hide out than here.
You didn't know what was going to happen, or if they had some elaborate plan for you in the future, one that'd be worse than your previous demise.
You simply watched as Jabber continued to talk to his comrades, unmoving.
Past every few moments where you scratched at your irritated scalp.
Jabber then turned to you with an observant gaze. He noticed how your eyes would dart towards the floor with uncertainty in your expression.
It was clear you weren't quite sure what to make of him or his crew.
It was amusing.
"Scared of me?" he teased, tilting his head slightly with a playful smirk.
You blinked, staring at him as if his hot pink iris' would hold the answer to his question.
You didn't know what to say, or rather, you weren't sure what was okay for you to say. If you admitted to being afraid of him. would he scare you more?
And if you didn't, would he be mad at that?
Finally, you shook your head, coming to the conclusion that he wasn't such a scary person. If he was, he would have left you behind, or worse, killed you just for fun.
That's what bad people did, so he couldn't be that bad of a person.
Again, you didn't say anything to him, noting how he tilted his head. You in turn, copied him. Not on purpose, just out of trying to figure him out.
He still looked amused, but now he also looked more contemplative. It was like he was actually being genuine in trying to find out what to do with you next.
Or maybe he just didn't like how roughed up you were.
Jabber couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. The way you mimicked his head movement was almost endearing, though he'd never admit it out loud.
He crouched down to your level again, still wearing that amused smirk, and poked your cheek.
"You're like a little parrot, you know that?" he said, his tone light and teasing.
Again, you didn't reply. You simply stared, but you couldn't stop the small yet soft smile that came onto your face as he poked your cheek. You really were a child, something as simple as that made you break an expression other than nervousness.
Even so, you aren't sure you can handle the thought of trying to learn more about him. He is still slightly intimidating. And your head was still all tingly.
Even as you scratched at it, it didn't get any better.
Hopefully you didn't have lice or anything like that. But you'd probably need a bath soon if you didn't want to get sick.
Jabber noticed your fingers against your scalp and he caught your wrist gently before you broke skin. His grip was more gentle than you'd expect from someone who just casually mentioned chopping off hair like it was rope.
"Stop that," he huffed. "You're gonna make it worse."
He then stood up and tugged a small canteen from his belt to unscrew the cap. Without asking, he dampened a corner of his sleeve and leaned back down.
"You stink like road dirt," he muttered, dabbing at a grimy patch on your forehead. "But lucky for you? I low-key hate when things look messy. Means I gotta fix 'em. And Cthoni's gonna help me."
Without warning, he grabbed you up from under your arms once more. Tossing you up just a bit to get a better hold of you. Then, he turned to Cthoni and smirked like he was going to prank her with something she didn't want to admit she was interested in seeing.
The female sighed in frustration, and against her better judgement, grabbed you from him. She didn't speak even as she took off her gas mask, but you didn't mind the silence.
Her grip was steady yet careful. There was something about her that was almost protective, yet her gaze remained cool and distant. Jabber followed with a teasing grin, sticking his tongue out at you before motioning a pair of scissors in your direction.
You gasped and hid your face away, assuming the worst. Little did you know, he was trying to play rock, paper, scissors before Cthoni took you away to have a bath.
"Relax," Cthoni muttered, her voice low and dry as she cradled you like a stubborn sack of flour. "I'm not letting him near your head with scissors. Or jokes."
Jabber hopped backward, twirling some of his own locks between his fingers like a magician with a trick up his sleeve. "Aw, c'mon! I was just gonna teach her how to win at rock-paper-scissors! That's essential survival skill!"
"You were going to cheat," Zodyl called flatly from across the room, not looking up from a book he had picked up.
"Improvise, you mean." Jabber corrected with an exaggerated offense. Then he leaned in toward you, winking one eye. "The winner gets to pick tomorrow's hairstyle, and loser is forced to share a room with crazy Fu!"
Cthoni ignored him completely as she carried you toward the back room, but before she shut it behind her, you caught Jabber blowing a dramatic raspberry at her back. Then quickly flashing you two fingers in a silly peace sign.
Almost like it was just the two of you now, and he was already keeping watch.
Finally, Cthoni took you inside a small bathroom-like compartment, setting you down gently next to an empty tub.
The air was already humid, showing that someone had used it previously. But that didn't seem to matter to Cthoni as she turned a nod that spewed out water.
"We need to clean you up," she replied bluntly, holding the back of her hand to your forehead.
You simply nodded, almost leaning into the touch, the only thought in your tiny mind was that maybe, it wouldn't be so bad here.
CONTENT: how some of the wind breaker boys would react if you told them that you wanted to get pregnant.
[ ᯓ Someone help me PLS! I can barely write. I'm pretty sure that if my lively hood was contingent on making enjoyable NSFW tings, I'd be a goner. This is probably as close as I'm getting to it, SO Y'ALL BE GRATEFUL! ᯓ ]
✓ requested by anon
✓ warning, poorly written work
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SAKURA was flustered immediately, having no idea what to think. What did you mean you wanted a freaking baby? Like—a real one? The ones that stay in your stomach for nine months before getting an eviction notice? No, that couldn't be what you meant. Why would you ask that? And with him of all people? Were you blind? Have you seen him? He must have misheard you, his subconscious throwing him a curveball yet again.
It had to be that, it would make sense—especially given all the dreams his brain was forcing him to have recently and whatnot. It wouldn't be entirely surprising that the thought came to mind. But still, what?
"... Say that again?" He muttered, silently praying he wasn’t losing it.
"I want to have a baby with you."
His face twisted instantly in silent confusion, and you scowled in response. He looked like he might throw up, but really, he just felt exposed. The way you said that so casually—he wasn’t ready for it, it made him feel all hot. He wasn’t used to hearing words like that out loud. And, well, he had thought about it before. He just forced himself to brush it off as a stupid idea.
Hearing it come from you was shocking to say the least, and he'd rather not think about giving in like that.
“If you don’t like the idea, just say I’m talking out of my ass and we’ll drop it,” you huffed, eyes flicking back down to whatever game you were playing on your phone previously.
... Wait
... What?! What did you mean by that?! You can't just drop some crazy shit like that on his head and then tell him to choose! Were you insane?! What kind of emotional whiplash was that!?
"Huh!?" Sakura blurted, his face burning even redder. The reaction pulled a small smile from you, but you were already distracted again by your screen.
"It's okay."
"W—what's okay!?"
"If you don't want a baby," You chuckled. "I was only thinking about it."
And then it was quiet. The silence made Sakura’s chest tighten with anxiety. You looked unbothered—calm, like you didn’t even care about his response, despite clearly wanting one. But he still wasn’t entirely sure if this was real or just some weird prank.
Would you think he was weird if he said yes right away? If he let you know just how desperate he actually was to give you what you wanted?
He was always a sucker for you, after all. But it was worse than that—he’d quietly caught baby fever a long time before you. Ever since he saw you helping a little lost kid, gently guiding him back to his parents, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you as a mom. The only problem was... he wasn’t sure he’d make a good dad. Should he take it as a sign that you asked him for this first? He isn't sure.
“Why?”
“Hm? Why what?” you asked, glancing up from your phone.
“There… Well, th-there’s a chance that if we had a kid… it’d look a little bit like me, right?” Sakura mumbled, eyes dropping as he tried to hide how nervous he was. He shouldn't be like this, not in front of you.
“Would you really want a baby that kinda looks like a freak?”
You didn’t respond right away. Just blinked at him as he kept his eyes downcast.
You forgot sometimes—how much he struggled with that. The stares, the comments, all because of his differently colored hair and eyes. Traits that made him stand out, often in the worst ways. But you were pretty sure those same traits caught good attention, too. After all, he had friends. He had a place at Bofurin. And—he had you. A pretty girlfriend. Or, at least, you hoped he thought you were pretty.
“…Y’know,” you finally said, turning off your phone and standing up, “I wouldn’t be asking for a baby if I thought you were a freak.”
Sakura closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath to steady himself. He shouldn’t be feeling this weird about it. You asked a question—he should’ve just answered. It’s just… he really wanted a baby. But he was too self-conscious to admit it. Too unsure that he’d be good enough. He didn’t think he was even boyfriend material half the time—though you seemed delusional enough to believe he was.
“Honey,” you said gently, “look at me.”
His face burned at the sound of your voice. He barely cracked his eyes open before squeezing them shut again from embarrassment. You were standing in front of him now, your eyes intense enough to swallow him whole. Without a word, you reached out. Your hand touched his, then slowly intertwined your fingers with his.
That simple gesture sent a shiver through his entire body, but he didn’t hesitate to squeeze your hand back, tightly—like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“I love you,” you breathed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “You know that, right? That’s why I asked. And I think you look perfect.”
“…I… I know. I—I love you too,” Sakura whispered, his voice barely audible.
But his blush had mostly faded now. That had to mean something. You weren’t sure what exactly—but there was something different about him now. A look of quiet determination had settled in his eyes, like he was suddenly planning something.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” you asked, raising a brow as he stared past you, seemingly lost in thought.
“Nah… It’s nothing… I think.”
Nope. Definitely something.
But before you could press him on it, he suddenly grabbed your arm and kissed you. Hard. Maybe a little too hard. But enough for you to feel it deep in your chest—a rush of heat flooding through you. He understood what you meant earlier, and this was him answering, in his own, overwhelmed way.
“Do you want a baby right now?” he murmured against your lips, watching with interest as your eyes widened. His usual shy, fumbling self had vanished, replaced with this strange, intense confidence.
“You’d want one too? Really?”
“Yeah, I should be the one asking that. I still can’t believe you want one with me,” he scoffed, kissing you again before pulling away and reaching for his jacket. Though in your defense, you weren't used to him initiating any sort of physical touch either. Apparently it was your turn to get flustered. The blush had returned on his face after her saw yours, but it was softer now—a light, pink hue, no longer boiling red.
“But we’re not doing it here. Your place is less run-down.”
“Does it really matter where we try to have the baby?” you giggled—only to be cut off with another kiss as he grabbed you and tugged you toward the door.
“Hell yeah, it matters. I don’t wanna have a baby here. Now c’mon,” he muttered.
“You’re acting like the baby’s already in there, dummy,” you snickered, poking his cheek and making him flare up all over again. “Maybe I should bring this up more often, huh?”
“Sh-shut up,” he grumbled—but you didn’t miss the soft smile tugging at his lips as the two of you stepped out of his apartment together.
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SUO didn’t believe you at first—he just blinked at you like you were the one who was confused. To be fair, you were drunk. Not just a little tipsy either—scarily intoxicated. Honestly, he was impressed you were still conscious. Technically, it was your fault. But then again, could he really blame you?
"A baby?"
"Yeah! A small one, that's all cute and squishy." You grinned, your words mushing together as you mumbled out some other stuff. "And we can buy the baby a cute little eye patch to match with yours."
You probably didn’t expect your friend to drag you to the sketchiest part of town and then vanish. At least she had the decency to call him afterward, claiming she had to leave for a family emergency. Still, the fact that she left you behind in a place like this made Suo question her legitimacy as your friend.
And you—you hadn’t realized that some of the locals were trying to drug you. All it took was a glass of “expensive wine” that was really just beer spiked with a disturbingly unhealthy amount of sugar followed by all sorts of incapacitating drugs.
“Just to taste,” they’d said, “so a pretty girl like you can give us some advice on how to make the wine better.”
At least that's what the younger man had said had happened, Suo was quick to kick the leaders neck hard enough to knock him out.
You were a little naive, he knew that much. Soft-hearted. You turned into putty in someone’s hands the moment they made you feel special. Even though you were loyal to him, compliments from anyone still made you glow.
“Also, there was this lovely scarf I saw near here, but I didn’t have enough money to buy it!” you rambled, your voice dreamy and slurred, as if you hadn’t just tell him to get you pregnant in the middle of a crowded sidewalk.
Sweet, clueless thing. You were going to be mortified when you remembered all of this tomorrow. Suo, surprisingly, wasn’t embarrassed. He probably should’ve been, but he didn't feel like he was. This was a terrible place to wander around aimlessly, especially when you didn’t know what you were doing. He’d come fully prepared for a full on fight if anyone tried to stop him from retrieving you—so much so that he brought both Sakura and Nirei along for backup.
And now, those poor bastards had to stand there and listen to his girlfriend shamelessly ask him for a baby.
“Please don’t mind her,” Suo said, turning to his friends with a calm smile. “She’ll be fine once she gets some rest.”
"Seriously, what did she even drink?" Sakura muttered, face beet red as he stole another glance at you. “Was it just alcohol or pure ethanol?”
Sakura was clearly flustered by your drunken boldness. The way you’d said it had sounded almost romantic, which only made it worse. Meanwhile, Nirei was grinning like a kid at a comedy show, clearly finding the whole thing adorable.
“Hayato, take me home, please,” you whined, pulling away from his hand to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and my feet hurt!”
Suo just smiled gently, his voice calm and certain. “Don’t worry. We’re going home.”
He then adjusted his hold on you slightly, one arm steady around your waist as you leaned more of your weight into him, your head nestled lazily against his shoulder. You were heavy in that drunk, warm way that only made people more pliable. Almost like a sleeping cat.
"Anyway, we’ll leave you two to it. I don't think she needs an audience right now.” Nirei gave a two-fingered salute, still grinning ear to ear. “She’s wild when she isn't sober, man. It's funny, just know that we're praying for you.”
Suo nodded. “Thanks for coming. Get home safe.”
"Text us if you need backup!" Nirei added over his shoulder as he and Sakura started down the sidewalk.
Then for a moment, it was quiet. Just the two of you now, standing under the halo of a flickering streetlamp. You swayed slightly, then yawned like a baby bear, your grip on him tightening again.
“Home,” you mumbled. “I like our bed. It smells like you.”
His heart squeezed a little. Damn you. Even drunk off your mind, you somehow knew exactly how to say things that made it impossible for him to stay annoyed.
"Of course, princess."
You sighed against his shoulder. “Hayato,” you mumbled, almost too soft to hear. “Do you think the scarf’s still there?”
He glanced down at you, your hair sticking slightly to your forehead, your lips parted just enough to let the question float out like a drifting balloon.
“I’ll get you a scarf,” he promised. “Not from here though. A prettier one. And something warmer.”
“Mmm,” you hummed. “Make sure it’s bright. The woman at the fabric tent said that bright colors will look good on me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I'll do that.”
You didn’t respond, just tightened your arms around him like you might dissolve if you let go. He didn’t rush you either. You'd trip once in a while over your own feet, muttering curses under your breath, but he'd catch you every time—making sure you were stable before continuing. He was a very patient person after all.
Suo looked down for a moment when you leaned more against him. You were still latched onto him like a human koala, your face smushed into his chest.
“Mmm...you feel like warm bread,” you murmured.
He snorted. “I feel like sweat and stress.”
“You always feel nice to me,” you mumbled, completely oblivious to how that sounded.
Suo shifted you a little to help you walk without tripping over your own feet. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get moving before you fall asleep standing up.”
You trudged beside him, holding onto his arm, your heels clicking unevenly against the pavement. Every few steps, you’d either hum something off-key or dramatically sigh, like a tragic heroine in a play.
"So, did you think about it?"
He blinked, looking down at you. “About what?”
“The baby thing.” You looked up with eyes too wide and honest for someone who could barely say the alphabet right now. “I think you’d be a good dad. You’re good at being kind to people and protecting me.”
Suo laughed—actually laughed, the sound low and rare. “That’s your criteria?”
“Mhm. You’re also nice to animals and you never forget to bring me snacks. So can we have a baby now?”
“You’re drunk, so no.”
“Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean I don't mean it.” You whined, almost on the verge of tears already.
He sighed, but there was no irritation in it—just that soft kind of exhale people give when they know they’ve lost. Because he had been secretly thinking about it ever since you said it. They always say that a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts, or something like that.
So, had you been thinking about this for a while then?
"So you have to promise me something then," You yawned. "When I'm not drunk anymore, that we'll have a baby."
"I have to?"
"Yeah! Pinky promise." You held up your hand, poking out your pinky finger for him.
Suo sighed, propping you up more against him as he got to the front of their house. Something in him wanted to agree, mostly due to the fact that you had riled him up. But even so, he had enough discipline to keep himself in check... You just looked so damn cute though.
Now he wanted a small baby that was all squishy and cute.
"I won't promise that," Suo started, grabbing your hand before kissing the back of it. "But I promise that when you're better in the morning, if you still want a baby, we'll make a baby."
"... Really?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind being a baby daddy." Suo kissed the top of your head. "I'd mean you'd stay with me, wouldn't it?"
"I'd stay with you anyway." You simply giggled, hugging him tighter and warming his heart.
"Alright, come on now. We need to get you to bed."
You giggled as he opened the door to your house and helped you in. “Hayatoooo… you love me, right?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You dooo!”
He sat you down on a stool in the hallway and a second later, shut the front door with a click. Though his smile lingered.
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NIREI felt his face grow warm, stumbling over his words as he tried to process what you’d just said. A baby? That had to be a joke—something ripped straight from a fever dream after getting his ass handed to him.
“Come again?” he blinked, bewildered.
“I want a baby.” You shrugged casually, your cheeks tinged pink, though your smile stayed bright. "Can we try now? Or should I wait until you're not busy?"
...Now?
Nirei flushed even deeper, his skin nearly as hot as the fiery yellow strands framing his cute, startled face. His hazel eyes widened—like a deer caught in headlights. Sure, he got flustered sometimes, but no one got under his skin the way you did.
“D-did you just say—?” he stammered, waving his hands like he could somehow cool the heat rising in his cheeks. “I don’t— I mean, I do want one, but—did you mean now? Like, right now? That’s—”
You cut him off with a soft smile, slipping your hand into his and stepping closer. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his blush bloom beneath your lips.
“Akihiko,” you whispered, using his name like a secret. As always, he gasped quietly at the sound of it. No matter how long you'd been together, he never quite got used to hearing his name from you.
“I want a baby with you,” you murmured.
You pressed another kiss, this time to the center of his brow, as your arms curled around him, pulling him closer—closer still.
Nirei took a steadying breath, like he was bracing for impact, then gently tugged you even tighter against him, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. The two of you both had acknowledged that in the future, you'd want a baby. However, you've both been kind of ignoring anything past that.
“I want a baby with you too,” he mumbled, “but... don’t you think it’ll make your parents angry? They don't really like me..."
He was about to say more, but you silenced him with another kiss.
You smiled against his skin, feeling the way he trembled slightly in your arms. You knew he worried too much, especially about your parents—but none of that mattered to you. Not when he looked at you like this. Not when his arms around you felt more like home than anything else. Your parent's were just gonna have to suck it.
“They’ll live,” you whispered. “I love you. That’s enough for me.. They don't get a say in this, they'll have to get over themselves.”
You bit back a laugh and leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “Unless you’re getting cold feet, Akihiko?"
He made a soft, scandalized noise. “N-no! I’m not— I would never—”
You grinned mischievously, tightening your hold around him like you might never let go. “Good. Because I was serious about starting now.”
Nirei swallowed hard, face practically glowing at this point. “You’re gonna be the death of me...” he muttered, but the way he smiled—nervous and so full of love—gave him away completely.
Nirei’s breath hitched, and for a second, he just stood there, soaking in the plan and ignoring the fact that your father might come after his throat. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, searching your face like he was memorizing it, every little detail that made you you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin.
“I love you too,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”
You leaned into his touch, your heart swelling, and for a moment, neither of you said anything at all. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable either, it felt right for some reason.
Then Nirei chuckled—a soft, nervous little sound. "I, um... I should probably take a shower first," he said, cheeks flushing again. "I kinda smell like I lost a fight to a brick wall."
You laughed quietly, threading your fingers through his hair. "Fine. But hurry up. I'm not changing my mind."
“I’ll be quick,” he promised, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before practically sprinting off, leaving you standing there, grinning like an idiot. And for the first time in a long while, he didn't look like he was frustrated with anything.
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UMEMIYA agreed immediately — almost too eagerly. He wasn’t even sure what came over him; something about the way you asked had him ready to jump at the chance. Unfortunately for you, any hope of keeping things low-key was dashed almost immediately. Despite your best efforts to keep the conversation quiet, Umemiya talked like one of those front desk clerks at the bank with the mini-microphones — just determined to announce your personal business to anyone within earshot.
"Hajime?! Shh!" you hissed, scrambling to cover his mouth with your hand. The two of you sat cramped together at a little table in Kotoha’s diner. It wasn’t packed by any means, but there were enough people lingering around — enough that even the tiniest bit of gossip would spread like wildfire. You could already hear it in your head: Baby out of wedlock? How irresponsible.
Umemiya whined against your hand, his eyebrows scrunching up like a kicked puppy before he pried your hand away — though he didn’t just move it; he laced his fingers through yours and held it there stubbornly.
"I don’t care if people hear," he said, voice loud enough to make you wince. "And you shouldn’t either! Everyone already knows we’re dating—"
"Dating and becoming parents are two completely different things, you moron!" you whisper-yelled, yanking your hand out of his with an exaggerated scowl. You were about two seconds away from socking him in the chest — not that it would do anything besides hurt your own hand.
Umemiya’s grip on your hand tightened, his voice softening in a way that you weren't expecting. He could be such a clown sometimes that you forgot just how serious and genuine he was as well.
"I mean it," he spoke, staring at you as if you were the only person in the world. "If it's with you... I don't care how hard it gets. I'll do anything. I want to start a family with you too."
You froze, heart tripping over itself at the sudden shift in mood. For a second, you didn’t know whether to throw a punch or start crying. But you could tell even now, that this would definitely be a topic of conversation in town. You didn't want that. This dumb ass is always embarrassing you, and yet you wanted to kiss him. Instead, you yanked your hand away again, harsher this time.
"You're such an idiot!" you snapped, pushing your chair back with a screech against the floor. Heads turned — of course they turned — but you were too flustered to care. Umemiya immediately stood up with you, confused and not having a clue what it was that suddenly irked you.
"I don't need you getting all dramatic about it! You don't even know what you're agreeing to!" you hissed, grabbing your jacket off the back of the chair before he could. Your chest felt too tight, and you didn’t know if it was anger, nervousness, or something else. Maybe all of it. Probably just love, love was always hard to understand.
"Wait, just hold on!" Umemiya gasped as he was about ready to try and hug you until you pushed him away, storming toward the door without a second glance.
The bell above the diner door jingled as you shoved it open and disappeared onto the street, leaving Umemiya standing there, looking like he had just been cursed out at in the middle of Kotoha’s diner.
Kotoha, who’d been wiping down the counter, didn't miss a beat. She sauntered over to his table, arms crossed, a knowing look on her face. This fighting man was crazy, he didn't understand his girlfriend at all.
"You," she said, flicking him in the forehead hard enough to make him wince, "are the dumbest person I've ever met. And I know at least three people who thought microwaving foil was a good idea, two of them being your friends."
Umemiya rubbed his forehead, practically sulking. "I didn’t mean to mess it up... I know she asked me to be here to talk to me, I just didn't realize that she felt having a kid was so serious." he muttered.
"Yeah, well, having a kid is serious and you did mess it up." Kotoha leaned on the back of a chair, staring him down. "You can't just throw around big words like that without thinking. You scared her off, dummy. Plus, you need to act more responsible, a baby can't have a baby."
"What do I do now?" He groaned, slumping against the wall, making a scene yet again in front of the few remaining customers left in the diner.
Kotoha simply shook her head before smirking, thank God almighty the two of them weren't actually related by blood.
"First? Get your sorry butt to the store and buy some chocolate. Good chocolate. Not that cheap gas station stuff either. Maybe get her a small flower bouquet too." She straightened up, pointing at the door like she was kicking him out. "Then, you’re gonna apologize. For being stupid. And for making a scene in my diner, by the way."
"Right. Chocolate. Apologize. Got it." Umemiya pushed the door open with a loud sigh, still not fully understanding, but taking Kotoha's words to heart.
Kotoha shook her head with a half-smile as he stumbled toward the door. Umemiya may never understand you fully, or not get on your nerves from time to time, but at the very least, he meant well.
"And make sure to smile after the fact," she muttered. "you're gonna need it."
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KAJI thought this might be the first time he was truly at a loss for words. He wasn’t one to talk much anyway, but when he did speak, he usually had a way of getting straight to the point. Efficient. Sharp. But now, he was just staring at you—expressionless—rolling the lollipop in his mouth like it could somehow settle the nerves buzzing in his chest.
He had even taken off his headphones so he could hear you clearly. Now, he kind of wished he hadn’t.
A baby? What for? Why? Were you serious? That was stupid. No—he was stupid. Stupid for even being considered. He wasn’t the guy you chose to parent with. Absolutely not. He had anger issues—barely managed to control himself when it came to discipline. The only thing he really knew how to do well was fight, and that sure as hell didn’t seem like a skill worth passing on to a damn baby, at least not now.
He was so quiet—so unnervingly still—that you started to wonder if maybe he hadn't heard you. Honestly, that could’ve been the case. You did tend to talk lower than you meant to, a bad habit really.
"...D-Did you hear me?" you asked, voice cracking a little at the end.
"Yeah... But why?" Kaji asked flatly, pulling the lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop He unintentionally made you want to evaporate on the spot, his words too emotionless, almost mechanical.
"Oh! Uh, no reason, really. Um… shoot, sorry. Forget I said anything."
Shit. He didn’t mean to make it sound like he was judging you. He was just… caught off guard. He hadn’t realized that 'baby fever' was, like, actually a thing.
He scrambled to his feet too fast and nearly rolled his ankle trying to stop you from leaving, catching your wrist before you could walk out. He forgot sometimes that you were a bit sensitive—that it took a lot for you to speak your mind. But you trusted him enough to do it. That meant something.
"Sorry," he murmured. "That's not what I meant. I just meant... why now? I’ve never heard you bring up babies out of nowhere like that."
"U-uhm, well, I just, uh—" you stammered, face practically on fire. "I… it’s your fault."
"...My fault." Kaji blinked, eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what you meant. But whatever logic you were hiding behind didn't make any sense. Then he let out a short laugh at your completely serious tone, though it was more so out of confusion than him being amused.
"What did I do?" he asked, showing genuine bafflement. "How is it my fault?"
"I saw you hanging out with some toddler at the playground." you whispered, cheeks burning hotter and looking at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
For a second, Kaji just stared at you like you’d grown another head.
"Wait... You’re serious?"
"... Well, not anymore."
"You wanna have a kid because you saw me making funny faces at some toddler?" he asked, eyebrows lifting.
You flushed, trying to wiggle your wrist out of his grip, though he didn’t let go.
"Y-You weren’t just making faces! You were... you were good with them!" you protested. "You were patient and you weren’t even grumpy about it, and he really liked you!"
Kaji made a low sound in his throat—something between a scoff and a groan—and dragged a hand down his face.
"God," he muttered. "You have baby fever, a made up sickness by the way."
You gave a wounded squeak and tried to yank your hand free again, but he caught it easily, tugging you a little closer instead. Close enough that you could see the embarrassed pink creeping up his neck, just under his collar.
"You’ve been thinking about it this much just ‘cause of that?" he said, eyes flicking down to your lips for a second before snapping back up. His voice dropped lower, teasing, but still a little rough. "Should I be worried you’re already pickin’ out baby names or something?"
"N-No! I haven't thought that much about it yet!" you sputtered.
Okay, you had maybe thought of one or two, but you were absolutely not going to admit that now.
He grinned—smirked, actually—the kind of smile he only pulled when he knew he had you cornered.
"You sure?" he said, leaning in just enough to make your heart hammer painfully against your ribs. "You look guilty."
You slapped his chest half-heartedly, face burning hotter. "I am not guilty," you grumbled, trying to shove him away. He didn’t budge. If anything, he looked way too entertained by the whole thing.
For a moment, you thought he might keep teasing you forever. But then, Kaji’s grin faded a little. He looked down at you—really looked—and something in his expression softened. His thumb brushed lightly over your wrist, almost absentminded.
"...If it’s you," he said quietly, "I don’t mind."
You blinked, stunned into silence.
"I’m not saying I know what the hell I’m doing," he went on, voice rough and a little unsure. "I’m not, like... dad material or anything. Probably wouldn’t win any awards."
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing away.
"But if you want that… if you want me to do that with you…" He shrugged, like he was pretending it didn’t mean as much as it did. "Then yeah. I’ll try."
Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught. What were you supposed to say? Kaji made it sound like he'd practically give you the world if he could.
Kaji saw the way you struggled, and to save you the trouble, he leaned in and bumped his forehead against yours with a soft thud.
"Just... don’t start showing me tiny shoes and baby clothes yet," he muttered, barely hiding the laugh in his voice. "I need, like, a week to mentally prepare."
You snorted and shoved at him again, and this time, he let you. Mostly because he was grinning like an idiot the whole way, once again sucking on his lollipop but keeping his headphones off.
WARNING!⦂ [making this for a friend who asked, but I don't rlly like euphoria (don't come for me pls!) so it may not be my best. but I tried my best anyway!] ,, in celebration of s3 ig ,, suggestive content ,, read at your own detriment (literally, i don't actually recommend that you read this garbage) ,, word count is 2k ,, blurb at best ,, jules vaughn (euphoria) ,, male!reader (dork) ,, includes teenage hormones ,, established friendship ,, not fully proofread ,, brief mention of masterbation ,, drug use (reader had weed at a party) ,, sexual tension ,, friend to lovers ,, a straddling position ,, reader wants to take jules out on a date first or whatever ,, ps: not gonna write actual smut for a minor, even if the actor is an adult, sry.
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, rue blabs on about how jules' boy friend likes her, so she wants to put it to the test.
just in case.
────── HBO™ ──────
You were never really good with words.
Never the type to glide through conversations or charm your way into people’s lives.
Half the time you went to parties, it was just for the free food. You usually dipped before anyone noticed you were even there.
It wasn't like you were antisocial. Just… peripheral. A background character in rooms full of louder people.
Which is probably why your brain short-circuited when Jules decided, very deliberately might you add, that your lap was the best place to sit.
Not beside you. Not across from you. But on you.
Her weight settles like she’s done this a hundred times, like it’s casual, like your pulse isn’t suddenly screaming in your ears. She looks like pure glitter and smells like something sweet, her knees boxing you in before you can even think about moving. You however, stare straight ahead, jaw locked, hands frozen at your sides.
You were too high for this shit, but you had enough self restraint not to touch her.
You suppose this is what happens when you tell a special someone to keep a secret, you don’t need to look around to know who’s responsible.
Fuckin' Rue.
And Jules notices, 'cause of course she does. The way your shoulders stiffen is subtle but obvious. Your hands don’t quite know where to go, and you aren't sure if you are breathing too much or too little.
Jules shifts slightly, just enough to look back at you, her smile still there but quieter now. Less mischievous, but no less curious.
“Oh,” she smiles softly, like she’s just put something together.
You swear your heart drops straight through your ribcage.
She doesn’t move off you. Doesn’t apologize or pull away like you half-expect. Instead, she adjusts again, lighter this time, like she’s making sure you know she’s not trapping you.
Her fingers brush your wrist, barely there, a question more than a touch.
“You’re nervous, but I was hoping that you'd know I'm not trying to freak you out.” she murmurs, not teasing though, just observant. “I just… Wanted to see something.”
Her thumb taps against your skin once, absentminded.
For someone who looks like she floats through the world without thinking, Jules is terrifyingly aware.
You finally look at her, and she’s watching you like you’re the most interesting part of the room. This makes absolutely no sense, because you’ve been friends since she moved here and you were the least interesting part of her life.
Well...The two of you were the kind of friends that share space, trade jokes, sit next to each other on couches but never really cross any lines.
At best, you brought stability where there almost always remained chaos.
She tilts her head, glitter catching the light, voice dropping just enough to feel private.
“Hypothetically,” she smirks, dragging the word out. “If I liked you… what would you do?”
Not do to her... Just do.
Her eyes flick to your mouth, then back up, gauging your reaction. Still gentle. Still a little too close. Her knee presses in, grounding, not demanding.
And somehow, that’s worse than if she’d been bold about it.
Your brain is absolutely not keeping up, nor is your body. Everything feels too loud and too slow at the same time.
The party music is muffled in a way that feels like it’s underwater, the room tilting just enough that you’re not sure if it’s the weed or the fact that Jules is still sitting on you, still looking at you like she’s waiting for something important.
Hypothetically.
That word bounces around your skull, echoing.
You’ve liked girls before. You’ve liked guys before. But liking Jules feels different in a way you don’t have language for.
You swallowed, mouth dry as Jules leans closer, letting her hands wander from your forearm up to your shoulder... And then down your chest.
“Hypothetically speaking, If I liked you.” You repeat, simply buying time at this point.
Your voice sounds steadier than you feel, but God was your body on fire.
“And you liked me back... Right? That's what you're asking?”
Jules nodded, her thumb tracing a line down your collarbone, making you shiver against your will.
She was way too good at this. You tried not to focus on how hot her thighs were or how comfortable her weight on your lap felt. You were just high and touch-starved, that was all this was.
But as if reading your mind, Jules leaned in close, her nose nearly touching yours. A smirk played at the edge of her lips, like she knew exactly the effect she was having on you.
Your hands finally move, but not to touch her despite how badly you wanted to, just to clasp together in your lap.
They need somewhere safe to be, somewhere where you wouldn't be begging them to touch Jules in every way possible, to have her grind against your lap like a slut.
God forgive you, you were horrible.
“Well... I think,” you finally spoke, slowly choosing each word like it might fall apart if you rush it, “That if that were the case, I’d wanna take you out.”
That gets her attention. Not because you mean for it to, but you notice how her smile flickers.
Not gone, just surprised that her friend that clearly had the hots for her would say something so honest.
“Like, not in a hookup way. I mean a date. A real one.” you added quickly, not being able to stop now. "I’d take you somewhere dumb, like a diner or something. Late. When it’s quiet. We’d talk. Or not talk. Whatever you wanted.”
For once, the words that so often rolled off Jules' tongue were suddenly hard for her to come by. For a second she just looked at you, the smirk traded for something like vulnerability.
Your heart clenched.
Then her eyes softened, her fingers tracing mindless shapes on your arm, and you swore your blood turned molten.
"You'd pay for the food, right?" she asked, the teasing coming back. Her other hand came up to trace your jawline, soft yet slightly calloused fingers skimming your pulse point.
"Yeah, of course. I'd do that." You nodded, barely keeping in the groan that was going to slip out if she didn't stop touching you.
God, you were so pent up now. Your face was starting to get heated, embarrassment creeping into your body like it was a second skin.
Jules was a weapon of mass destruction. And it always seemed like she was formed against you.
And she was so innocent about it too. Which was horrible because she meant well, just being as curious as she normally was.
"How'd you find out?" You added as her fingers kept wandering, pressing down on your lower stomach now. "Bet it was Rue, huh?"
She was doing this shit on purpose, wasn't she?
You're sure she can feel your unsteady pulse under his skin, how every time her breathing turned into a whispered giggle, your hips tried to arch into her.
"... I thought I was being selfish, so I was trying to stay a friend." You sighed as you carefully adjusted yourself. "... M'sorry, I'm too high for this, Jules."
Jules' smirk faltered for just a second, understanding flickering in her expression.
But then it faded, replaced with something softer but no less stubborn.
She moved again, and for a brief moment her hip rolled against you, almost casually. The touch felt like lightning, making your breath catch in your throat.
She took your chin in her hand, turning your gaze so you were looking at her again. Her eyes glittered in the low light.
"You're not selfish," she whispered, her thumb traced the line of your jaw. "You're just... scared. But that's fine, I wouldn't have been mean about it."
"Don't do that. Fuck." You shuddered, your voice bordering on a painful gasp as you finally moved to touch her.
You grabbed at her wrist, but not hard, not even tightly. Simply grounding her, or rather, keeping you from doing something drastic, like kissing her.
Not like you'd actually do it, but you wanted to, so bad.
"And why not?"
"Gonna treat you right first, so you have to wait." you whispered, your other hand touching her side. Again, not gripping, just rubbing, like soothing her would help you control yourself.
But she was right, you were scared. You had just opened your heart about taking her on a date or somewhere special. You didn't want her to feel like she had to please you just because you wanted to do more than fuck with her.
You didn't know much about her sex life, but you'd heard enough from Rue and Kat to know that she'd met enough guys that probably weren't the best.
"I'm high, so I'm not gonna do anything drastic." You groaned, trying to find any excuse to get her off of you. "We can talk about it again tomorrow, since it'll be Monday then."
Jules stilled.
Not pulled away or flinched. Rather, she stilled, like you’d hit pause on something wild and beautiful mid-motion.
Her breath hitched, barely there, but you felt it against your skin.
Then she quietly laughed, and if you didnt know any better, you would have thought that she was mocking you. It was the kind of laugh that sounded like relief.
She leaned her forehead against yours, her fingers curling gently around your wrist where you held her.
“You’re such a dork,” she whispered, but it wasn’t teasing. It was fond. Almost reverent. “You don’t have to earn me.”
For a second, she stayed there, her body warm over yours, heartbeat syncing with yours in the quiet space between breaths. And then slowly, carefully, she shifted off your lap and settled beside you instead. Close enough that your arms still touched.
Close enough that when she reached for your hand again and laced her fingers through yours? You didn't have to say anything at all.
“Take me out tomorrow then,” she said simply, the challenge gone from earlier replaced with something sweeter than glitter or sugar or any dumb shit metaphor could cover up.
"... You wanna go out with me?"
“Yeah, when we’re both sober.” Her thumb stroked the back of your hand once as if sealing the promise. “And I’ll let you treat me right.”
"... Sure thing." You nodded.
And just like that, she left. Standing up and taking her leave, she gave you a cute little wave with her fingers before finding something else to occupy herself with.
It was quiet for a moment after, at least, in your mind. The loud music was deafening, but it's been so long since you've been free from overthinking.
"What's good?"
"I'm hard," you start, turning your head upward to find a mop of messy, curly hair. "nothing's good."
"You got a fucking date? What's not to be happy with?" Rue smirked, plopping down next to you with a bag of Reese's.
Reese's, of all things.
"I'm gonna tell your mom that you're doing drugs again."
"You wouldn't be the first person to threaten me with that, I'm immune to it at this point."
"Cool," you rolled your eyes, standing up to hand Rue your stach of weed that was passed out. "I'm gonna go jerk off. Safe my blunt."
"Sure, whatever." She shrugged, unbothered by the statement. After all, you two had been like, childhood friends.
Great, stash secured. Now you just needed a bathroom that could lock.
OMG EVERYONE! IT'S FINALLY HERE!! I know it took me so long to do this,(smh)but I hope I've redeemed myself. I worked super duper hard on it megumi fushiguro (jjk) ,, fem!reader ,, reader is a bimbo just like last time ,, reader gets herself into some shyt and megumi comes to save the day! ,, hinted that the reader might have some cursed energy (if you squint) ,, megumi is a moron when it comes to anything related to romance besides picking out fcking flowers (forgive him pls) ,, word count: 5k (sorry, not sorry)
Megumi had stopped pretending he was listening a while ago.
Nobara was talking animatedly beside him, arms full of folded clothes she’d stolen back from Gojo-sensei's stash of school uniforms in his office. It had something to do about sorting outfits and finding a dress that “felt right,” whatever that meant.
Yuji chimed in occasionally, loud and earnest, already suggesting places they could go after training. Panda laughed. Maki nodded.
Megumi sat on the steps with a smoothie sweating against his palm, straw untouched.
His phone buzzed again.
Not a new message. Just the screen lighting up as he tilted it, rereading the same text for the third time.
You had sent it earlier that morning.
A lot earlier.
He scrolled up despite himself.
It was long. Longer than anything he ever sent back.
You talked about Paris like it was still happening. You talked about how the air felt different there, how your dad let you borrow the camera he bought you even though he was “absolutely convinced” you’d drop it.
You told him about street performers, crooked little shops, and the way you kept thinking, "Megumi would like this", even when you weren’t sure why.
You said you brought him souvenirs... Plural. You also said you had pictures, hundreds of them. You couldn’t wait to show him all of them, even the blurry ones.
You said you missed him.
Megumi exhaled slowly through his nose and stared at the bottom of the screen.
He had replied already.
Did you get home safe?
But... that was it.
He hadn’t meant for it to sound cold. He never did. The question mattered to him, more than anything else he could’ve asked. But sitting there now, rereading your message, it felt… insufficient.
A bitter taste settled at the back of his tongue, sharp enough that he finally took a sip of the smoothie just to drown it out.
Why was he like this?
It wasn’t just with you. He’d always been bad at talking, bad at offering pieces of himself without being asked. Words felt clumsy in his mouth. They were like tools meant for someone else’s hands.
But this time, it bothered him.
This time, it made his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t like.
You were excited. Always bright, open, and trusting.
And he responded with the emotional equivalent of a headcount.
He imagined how it must look from your side: paragraphs met with a single line, enthusiasm funneled into a statement or two at best.
He knew you wouldn't complain, but that somehow made it worse.
Megumi glanced up briefly, eyes unfocusing as Yuji laughed at something Panda said. The afternoon light slanted across the training grounds, warm and harmless. Everything looked normal. Safe.
It wasn’t though. And he knew better than to pretend.
There were things he couldn’t tell you. Things he didn’t even know how to begin explaining. The bruises that came and went without explanation despite your worried tones and questions. The nights he disappeared and didn't respond to you for days on end. The weight sat on his shoulders even now, even here.
How does one tell someone they like, or rather, someone they're dating, that their world is built on things no one can see. Things that follow and lurk around whether people know or not.
His thumb hovered over the keypad again.
He almost typed something else. Something more.
"I missed you too." or, "I’m glad you’re back." would be enough... right?
He wanted to hear about everything you did...
Really, he did.
Instead, he locked the screen.
Megumi leaned back on his hands and stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, the smoothie forgotten beside him.
His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t the same message.
It was you. But Megumi didn’t look at the message.
He felt the buzz in his palm, sharp and insistent, but instead of lifting the phone again, he turned it face-down on the step beside him. The screen went dark.
He told himself he’d read it later.
That was all. Not avoidance, just timing. He wasn’t in the right head space right now, that was all. He didn’t want to give you another half-formed response, another short line that felt like it came from obligation instead of thought.
Later would be better.
Megumi pushed himself to his feet as Nobara loudly announced that Inumaki was absolutely not allowed to “borrow” her skirt ever again. Yuji laughed, already offering to help search for Maki's that had also gone missing even though he clearly had no idea where to start. Panda followed, amused and unbothered.
Megumi slipped back into the rhythm of it easily. Nods and short replies followed. A well-timed grunt of agreement.
Normal.
By the time they dispersed for the evening, the weight in his chest had dulled into something manageable.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
The next morning, Megumi left early. Too early for Nobara to ask questions and too early for Yuji to latch on with plans. The sky was pale and quiet, the air still cool as he cut through the streets with his hands in his pockets.
The coffee shop wasn’t far. It was local and small, the kind of place that smelled like burnt espresso and sugar no matter the time of day. You’d called him the night before, voice bright but unassuming, asking if he wanted to meet somewhere.
He’d said yes without thinking too hard about it.
Now, standing across the street from the place, he wondered why.
Before he could take another step, he took a breath and made a sign with his hands. A second later, one of his shikigami brushed against his leg.
Megumi glanced down. His black Divine Dog materialized quietly at his side, tail low but wagging, head nudging insistently against his knee. Megumi exhaled and crouched slightly, running a hand over the familiar fur.
“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “I know.”
The windows were wide and welcoming. People sat inside laughing softly, leaning across tables, wrapped in warmth. It felt… loud, somehow. Too open.
Megumi hesitated even as he stood back up.
He wasn’t sure what it was about being here that unsettled him so much. He and you had been on a date already. Two actually. Heck, he agreed to this.
And yet, the closer he got, the more aware he became of how different you were from him. How easily you fit into places like this, it was the complete opposite from him.
Polar opposites attract, people liked to say.
He’d never believed that.
A random door swung open behind him.
“Wow! Now would you look at that?” Gojo’s voice chimed cheerfully. “If it isn’t my favorite student on his way to somewhere I just ran into, totally by accident by the way—”
“You’re not coming,” Megumi replied flatly, not even turning around as he stopped walking.
Gojo hummed, completely unfazed. “Relax. I’m just here to get some new sunglasses. Then I was gonna grab some coffee and skedaddle. It's totally coincidental that you're going to have a coffee date and I just walked out of herer."
"So tell me how you know I have a coffee date?"
"..."
"..."
"Besides,” Gojo continued as leaned down slightly, grinning, “she won’t mind, right? She never does.”
That was the problem.
Megumi didn’t answer. He stepped forward again, shoulders tense as he crossed the street. The bell above the shop door chimed softly as he entered.
The warmth hit him immediately.
The dog lingered as he walked by his side, steadily and grounding.
Megumi straightened, gaze drifting instinctively to the empty tables, to the counter, to the door.
You hadn’t arrived yet.
His thoughts betrayed him yet again, uninvited.
Your dad. Paris... Souvenirs. Just so much.
His hand wandered, ruffling the top of his dog once more in reassurance.
He didn’t have a father to introduce you to. Didn’t have a normal family to talk about. His mother was gone. His sister was in a coma and would stay in it for God only knows how long. It's been at least a year so far.
And the closest thing he had to a guardian was currently ordering something far too sweet behind him.
He couldn't even show off anything interesting, you wouldn't be able to see it unless you were in some haunted apartment or something.
And he's not sure that'd be a good future date idea.
He hadn’t planned this far ahead.
Megumi took a seat at a corner table, hands folded loosely, eyes flicking once more to the door.
The bell above the door had rang again.
Megumi stood up automatically when he caught sight of you.
You stepped inside like the place belonged to you. Your coat was slung loose, bag over one shoulder, eyes already scanning the room until they landed on him.
Your face lit up instantly, familiar and warm in a way that made his chest tighten before he could stop it.
You waved.
He barely had time to raise a hand in response before your gaze dropped.
And stopped.
“Oh my gosh,” you breathed.
Megumi’s stomach dropped, confusion and then immediate panic flashing on his face like it would a TV screen.
Before he could speak, before he could get rid of the shadow dog or do anything, you were already crossing the space between you, crouching down in front of the black dog at his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Is this for me?” You asked brightly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “Because if so, I accept.”
Though you laughed immediately after.
“I'm kidding. Hi there, baby. Are you my boyfriend's pet?” Your cooed as your hands sank into the dog’s fur without hesitation. The dog leaned into your touch, but Megumi froze.
His thoughts were cut off mid-breath.
You were petting it, touching it. And that was fine, especially when the dog’s tail thumped against the floor in pure excitement and happiness with the attention it was recieving.
But... God, you were so obvious. Everyone was going to notice the fact that you were "pretending" that there was a dog there.
“No way,” you murmured fondly, scratching behind its ears. “You’re way too handsome to be Megumi's house pet. You look like such a prestigious dog.”
He moved away from the table so abruptly that his chair accidentally scraped against the floor.
“Y/N,” Megumi called sharply.
You glanced up, still smiling. “Yeah?”
The café had gone quieter.
Megumi noticed it all at once. The pause in nearby conversations, the way a woman at the next table frowned openly, the barista slowing mid-motion. Eyes flicked between you, him, and the empty space at your feet.
Empty.
Except it wasn’t, not to you You laughed again, softer this time, clearly delighted.
“You didn’t tell me you had a dog. That’s a bit rude, don't you think?”
Megumi’s mouth opened, only to close again. This wasn’t possible, right? The Divine Dogs, or any of his Divine animals weren’t something civilians could see. Ever. They were cursed techniques, shaped by his energy, visible only to sorcerers.
Or not normal people.
You were still crouched, still affectionate, entirely unbothered by the fact that to everyone else in the café, you were kneeling on the floor petting nothing.
Someone coughed nearby.
Megumi felt the weight of every stare settle on the two of you like a held breath.
You were oblivious and he felt like he was going to have to unravel everything in the most public place ever.
You finally seemed to register the tension. There wasn't a drip of fear in your eyes, just curiosity as you looked up at him again, brow creasing slightly.
“…Hey,” you questioned gently. “Is something wrong?”
Megumi stared at you, his heart not slowing even after Gojo started talking. He heard the words, something about the dog not being friendly, about strangers and everyone being surprised. But they slid past him without sticking. All he could focus on was you, standing there like nothing was wrong, like you hadn’t just done something.
You tilted your head, lips twitching as you still waited for Megumi to say something. And when he didn't and just stared, you laughed.
“What?” you stepped closer, teasing slightly. “Were you jealous I didn’t hug you first?”
Before he could answer, you wrapped your arms around him.
It was quick and easy. Still unfamiliar but welcome.
Megumi stiffened for half a second too long before forcing himself to relax, one hand hovering awkwardly near your shoulder. Your cheek brushed his collarbone, warm and grounding in a way that made his chest ache.
People were still staring.
He saw it out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t looking at him, obviously. They were looking at you.
But he still noticed
His jaw tightened.
Gojo’s voice cut through the tension smoothly again, too smoothly yet quiet enough for peering ears to miss. “He’s not usually like that,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Dog’s got a thing about strangers. Guess he decided you passed the vibe check.”
“Wow. I feel honored.” You laughed, pulling back.
The explanation worked. It always did.
The room slowly exhaled, attention drifting back to cups and phones and half-finished conversations. The awkwardness didn’t disappear, but it dulled.
“C’mon, buddy. Walk time.” Gojo grinned, giving Megumi an invisible wink through his mask.
You watched, amused, as he waved the animal over,
“He really is well-trained.”
Megumi nodded automatically.
As soon as his teacher and pet were outside of the cafe, and more importantly, out of your sight, he released the technique.
The space beside him felt emptier than it should have.
He gestured toward a small table tucked into the corner and you followed without question, already pulling your bag into your lap as if you’d been waiting for this moment all morning.
“I brought stuff,” you spoke brightly, unzipping it. “Like, a lot of stuff.”
He sat across from you, hands folded together, forcing himself to breathe normally.
You glanced up at him, eyes playful. “Oh! Did you ever read my text from last night?”
His eyes widened before he could stop them.
Right.
The reply. Your reply.
You caught it instantly and laughed, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I figured you forgot.”
That was the problem.
You always figured it was okay.
You reached into your bag again, pulling out a small box and sliding it across the table. “Open it.”
He hesitated, then lifted the lid.
Music filled the space between you. Soft and delicate. A tiny Eiffel Tower spun slowly, painted sky arcing above it like a frozen memory.
Megumi stared.
You watched him expectantly, smile bright, eyes warm with the kind of excitement that came from wanting to share something.
He couldn’t speak.
The sound felt too loud. Too intimate. Like it was carving space for something he didn’t know how to give.
“…Megumi?” you asked gently.
Your smile faltered as you paused mid-motion with the photos in your hand.
“Is something wrong?”
He wanted to tell you.
He wanted to say that the tension wasn’t you, that it never was. That the room had felt wrong because it wasn’t safe, because there were things you didn’t know yet. Things that would change the way you looked at him, at everything.
He wanted to say that dating him wasn’t just dates and texts and souvenirs.
It was missions, and blood, and the very real possibility that one day, he wouldn’t come back.
And if you didn't know the truth by then, you wouldn’t even know why.
You weren’t ready for that.
So he swallowed.
“It’s nothing,” he smiled, soft and small but as genuine as he could make it.
You smiled back and relief loosened his chest.
You slid the photos onto the table, brightening your voice. “Okay. I’ll show you these later, then.”
You were patient.
Too patient.
And Megumi, watching you carefully arrange your souvenirs, felt a quiet, sinking fear settle in his stomach.
How long would you keep figuring things out on your own? How long would “it’s okay” stay true?
You’d only been together a month.
But somehow… it already felt like it had been too long.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
You stared at the dark laptop screen as if it might answer you if you waited long enough.
Your reflection stared back. Faint and distorted in the glossy black plastic. Not sad or worried exactly. Just… stuck.
Like your thoughts had tangled themselves into knots that you didn’t know how to undo.
A soft knock came at you door, but you didn’t look away from the screen.
“Yeah?”
The door creaked open and your mom stepped inside, already slipping her purse strap over her shoulder.
“I’m heading out for a bit,” she spoke gently. “I’m going to visit your grandma. I should be back later tonight.”
"Okay," you nodded. “see you soon.”
You didn’t turn around, which caused your mom to unfortunately linger in the doorway.
“That’s it?” she finally asked softly. “No dramatic goodbye? No hug? You’ve barely looked at me since you came from your date earlier this morning, let alone your dad.”
You exhaled through your nose, still staring forward before replying, “I’m looking. I can see you through the reflection of the laptop.”
Your mom studied you a moment longer before stepping farther into the room.
“That's a cop out when you’ve been quiet since you got back,” she sighed, sitting herself down on your bed. “I thought Paris was supposed to be fun. Your dad said you were glowing in every photo.”
“It was fun,” Y/N replied, another wordless nod to back up your lopsided smile that looked more like a tired frown. "I just was distracted.
Because it had been. The lights, the museums, the little café's tucked into narrow streets, the way your dad had insisted on buying you a camera but was hesitant with letting you use it immediately because you had a tendency to get clumsy when you were excited.
You had loved all of it.
So why did you feel like something hadn’t come home with her just yet?
Your fingers traced the edge of the laptop.
“Mom… how do you know when someone you like is keeping something from you?”
The question settled between them, and then your mom’s expression softened.
“That’s a pretty heavy question. Want to elaborate?”
You hesitated, then continued quietly, “How do you know Dad isn’t cheating on you when he leaves for work?”
Your mom blinked.
Then immediately frowned.
“Excuse me?”
You finally turned, blinking yourself at the sudden glare your mother worse before raising both hands defensively.
“I’m not saying he is! I know he wouldn’t. I was just asking a question.”
She let out a breath, half exasperated, half amused.
“We trust each other,” she sighed. “We talk. We stay honest, even when it’s uncomfortable. That’s what connection looks like.”
You nodded.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “And for the record, don’t ask questions like that unless you want to give your mother a heart attack.”
"Noted." You immediately laughed, the tension easing for a second.
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the boy you’ve been seeing, would it?” Your mom tilted her head.
Your smile faded into something smaller, but before you could explain, your mother nodded.
“I don’t think it’s… cheating or anything like that,” you remarked. “It’s just… his life. There’s parts of it he never talks about.”
You searched for the right words, fingers twisting in the hem of your sleeve.
Explaining your feelings was sometimes harder than it should have been
“It’s like he pulls away sometimes. Not from me exactly. Just… away. Like he thinks getting close is dangerous.”
Your mom considered that before simply shrugging gently. “Well, some people carry things they don’t know how to share yet. If you stay, and you listen when he’s ready, he’ll open up. It may take time… but if he loves you, he will.”
You swallowed, nodding slowly... Though you were a little confused about the sudden throw in of the word love.
You didn't love, love him, right? Wasn't it still technically a like since you've only been dating for like, a month and a half?
“Thanks, Mom.”
Your mom smiled, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder before heading back toward the door.
“I’ll be back later. Try not to interrogate the internet into shopping and fashion conspiracy theories while I’m gone.”
“No promises.”
The door clicked shut and silence returned, heavier than before.
Your mom’s answer should have comforted her.
It didn’t. Instead, the quiet in your chest grew louder.
You turned back to the laptop and clicked a single keypad to wake it back up. The screen flickered to life, casting pale light across your face.
You hesitated, but only a second before typing out the name of Fushiguro's school. Tokyo Jujutsu Tech
Search results loaded, and apparently it was a religious private school... With limited public information.
You leaned back in your chair, frowning.
“…Okay. That’s anticlimactic.”
Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe the weird tension at the café had just been in her head.
Maybe.
But the feeling hadn’t gone away.
And since when would the teacher of a private religious school have a teacher that not only followed their students around, three to be precise, whilst wearing a blindfold like it was normal?
You groaned as your stared at the screen a moment longer, then closed the laptop halfway, your reflection reappearing between the fading glow.
Tomorrow, you had decided that you'd go see him. But even now, you aren't sure he'd agree to let you see him at the school. You talked about it once, and he brushed it off.
But, if you didn't text him and just showed up to surprise him, that'd probably work.
Of course, they'd have to talk somewhere private. But that was fine.
Now... yeah, you could probably call him beforehand. But this idea felt better. More honest.
Plus, she wanted Megumi to know that he could show a little more of himself instead of being drowned out by everything she wanted to share about herself.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
Megumi believed that being your boyfriend meant he couldn't afford to look vulnerable in front of you.
He didn't want you to see the things that had scarred him. Let alone the memories that had carved themselves into something permanent and unhealed. Even now, when you were someone he trusted more with each passing day.
Hell, you were someone he was beginning to open up to.
Not fully. Not even close. He still hid his thoughts, kept them locked behind a wall you never tried to climb. Not because he didn't want to share... but because he didn't know how.
So he wasn't sure what to think when Nobara informed him that you had accidentally bumped into them during the Kyoto Sister-School Exchange Event.
Not after it. During it.
During the time the idiotic Kyoto students had been trying to kill Yuji.
"...Huh?" Megumi blinked slowly, forcing himself upright in bed like something half-buried had been called back to life.
"I was asking if you want to see your girlfriend today," Nobara said with a shrug, completely unfazed. "She came to visit. I think she's hanging out with Gojo-sensei right now."
"Yeah," Yuji added cheerfully, "and she brought pizza!"
As if this information were completely normal.
Lo and behold, the pizza box they claimed you brought sat open in his lap while his two classmates helped themselves.
Megumi stared down at it.
"...."
He couldn't tell if they were messing with him or telling the truth.
"Are you serious?"
"She freaked when she saw Panda," Nobara continued, taking another bite. "Like, two seconds of shock. Then she was all, 'you're so cool looking and you can talk? that's crazy!' She was actually really cute about it."
Megumi shivered involuntarily.
You knew. You knew about sorcerers. About curses. About the world he had never wanted you to see. And you knew he was part of it.
He wondered how you were taking it.
But somehow... he also felt relieved.
He had been preparing himself to break your heart. Rehearsing the distance he thought he'd have to put between you, would claim he "needed" for a bit, because he wasn't sure he could ever be fully honest with you.
All Megumi had ever wanted was a peaceful life. But life rarely grants wishes to people like him.
So he chose strength instead. Chose endurance. Chose to gather the broken pieces left behind and protect them with everything he had.
If he held himself together, if he endured whatever came, he could become strong enough to protect his sister.
But he wasn't nearly strong enough to protect you.
Without another word, Megumi reached for his phone on the nightstand. His fingers twitched when the screen lit up.
Ten unread messages from you.
His chest tightened. You must have panicked. At least a little. Or maybe you'd just been trying to get his attention.
But his phone had been on silent the entire time. He wouldn't have seen them even if he'd tried.
You had been trying to reach him while he was fighting for his life.
Megumi stared at the screen a moment longer, something tight and unfamiliar settling in his chest.
A soft knock sounded at the doorframe.
Yuji looked up first.
"Oh, hey!"
Megumi's head snapped toward the doorway before he could stop himself.
You stood there, half inside the room, one hand still curled loosely against the frame like you weren't sure if you were interrupting something important.
Your eyes found him immediately.
Relief flickered across your face. It was quick and bright, but then it went just as fast. It was replaced by a careful smile.
There were too many things in that one look. Too many questions and far too much worry you were trying not to show.
"Hi," you spoke softly.
Megumi felt like throwing up.
This was exactly what he was trying to avoid.
"You made it," Yuji grinned cheerfully, waving you in like this was the most normal visit in the world.
"Yeah," you replied, stepping fully into the room. "I, um... hope it's okay I came in right now. Gojo explained everything to me."
"You brought pizza," Nobara shrugged, already reaching for another slice. "You can come anytime. We should invite you more if you're always gonna bring 'get better' meals."
That earned a small laugh from you, but it didn't sound as carefree as normal. It sounded like your nervous system was still catching up to everything you'd seen in the last hour.
Your gaze drifted briefly around the room: the normal dorm stuff that'd be in the room, the bandages that were set to the side just in case, and of course, the school uniform.
They were the lingering weight of something you didn't yet understand.
Then it returned to Megumi.
You eyes were checking around him to make sure there wasn't anything else unsuspecting, confirming that he was here and alive.
You exhaled slowly, finally able to breathe easy.
Megumi shifted, suddenly aware of the stiffness in his shoulders, the dryness in his throat, the fact that he had no idea what he was supposed to say.
"Thank you for coming", or, "Sorry you saw this. I'm okay."
... I missed you.
None of it made it past his chest.
Instead, he reached for the only safe ground he knew.
"... You didn't have to bring food."
Your smile softened.
"I wanted to."
Then you stepped forward, easing into the chair beside them.
"Wait, Itadori." Nobara blurted out all of a sudden as she grabbed a slice of pizza, now pointing at him with her index finger. "You need to come clean about some things."
"What things?" Yuji raised an eyebrow.
"Like how it's possible that you would get along with a gorilla like Todo?"
"Ah... Well, the two of us got along, but it was like... " Yuji mumbled, rubbing his forehead as he tried to explain. "I mean, I do remember everything, but it feels like I wasn't exactly myself at the time."
"What do you mean? Were you drinking?"
"You seriously believe I could have been drinking liquor in a situation like that?" Yuji deadpanned, eyes narrowing slightly. "That would've been insane."
You simply watched, reaching for one of the pizza slices on the box sitting between them. But before she could, Fushiguro gently grabbed her wrist and redirected her to a different slice.
"I already took a bite out of that one," he replied plainly. "Take this one."
He grabbed a napkin and nudged a few untouched slices closer to her. You hummed in acknowledgement and folded one of the slices in half before taking a bite.
"Well, would you look at that? Our bird nest friend knows how to not be physically assaulting others." Nobara hummed, clearly teasing him.
"Shut it." Fusiguro grimaced, side eyeing you as you looked up at the ceiling to make sure you didn't laugh. But that only lasted a few seconds.
"Wait," Fushiguro asked, pausing. "Did you call me a bird nest?"
"Yes, and?"
Fushiguro's eye twitched, but he didn't say anything more. Just chewed on his pizza with the kind of passive aggression only a sleep-deprived teenager could muster.
"Anyways," Yuji continued with a warm smile. "I'm just glad your injuries weren't too serious, Fushiguro. To your health and this pizza!"
"Apparently I got off easier because my cursed energy was already drained. Ieiri was able to fix me up as soon as the roots were removed." Fushiguro added.
"Huh, so that's what happened?" Yuji mumbled to himself.
"That's nice," you nodded.
The conversation continued as planned, the banter between Yuji and Nobara escalating a few times.
Fushiguro didn't look remotely bothered, though. If anything, he seemed at peace with it. And your presence was a welcome surprise... dare he say, it was growing on him even. It felt less intrusive.
Just a little bit.
But he can't think that for long, when suddenly another person is in his room... Just, randomly.
"There you go," an unfamiliar voice chimed in from the end of Fushiguro's bed. "That's my brother for you."
Your eyes began to water, though not from emotion or pain. It was pure distress. You were not only stressed from all the new info you've had to retain just in the last hour, but you were deeply confused... Existentially frightened even
This man had entered Fushiguro's room unnoticed until now.
"Um, who is this?" You finally managed to voice out, your expression still contorted into something between shock and disbelief.
"Someone I can't get rid of!" Yuji huffed in annoyance.
And then, without hesitation, Yuji bolted, running out of the room through the sliding door and into the hallway.
"What? Where are you going, brother!?" Todo called after them, voice full of genuine confusion and disappointment.
And then he ran after him.
"I thought we were having a moment!"
Nobara stared after the duo of meatheads, completely deadpanned as they started climbing nearby rooftops.
Then, she turned her gaze at you. Her eyes were sharp, almost assessing something.
"...Yeah, I'm not dealing with this level of testosterone for another second." She brushed grease from the pizza off of her fingers and stood. "I'm going to check on Maki before these two start shouting about muscle density or whatever they bonded over once they get back."
You gave her a thumbs up as she jerked a thumb toward the door. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face, but you didn't really know what it was for yet.
"Try not to die while I'm gone." she shrugged as she gave a lazy wave to Megumi. "I'll make sure not to bother you lovebirds."
"Kugisaki," Megumi warned.
Too late, she was already sliding the door open.
"Don't do anything scandalous," she added sweetly, disappearing into the hall.
The door shut.
Silence settled in the room. Not empty, but gentle. The kind that felt earned after too much noise and too many questions.
Too many things neither of you fully understood yet.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, like a dam giving way, you started talking.
"I still can't believe all of that just happened, the Kyoto students, the forest, everyone running around like it was some kind of action movie. And you were in the middle of it but I didn't even get to see you." you rambled, breath spilling out in a quiet rush. "You must've been so cool out there, Like... I don't know. A superhero or something."
Your hands moved as you spoke, painting the air with your memory of it. And you continued, eyes bright despite the lingering overwhelm.
But Megumi's shoulders stiffened slightly.
Superhero.
The word felt too clean. Too simple and undeserved for someone who was a Jujutsu sorcerer.
Still, something warm flickered faintly in his chest before he could stop it. He felt almost shy about it, but he liked that you thought he was someone cool.
"And Panda, ohmygosh, I still can't get over the fact that he can talk! He can make jokes and laugh! And Kugisaki is terrifying when she fights, but also amazing! And Itadori fights exactly how I thought he'd be able to, which is kind of impressive—"
You kept going, words tumbling into one another. Megumi simply watched you instead of interrupting. Watched the way your eyebrows lifted when you remembered something new. The way your mouth curved when you shifted subjects.
The way your eyes softened whenever you mentioned him.
Especially when you talked about him.
"And I'd really love to watch you fight sometime," you admitted, softer now. "Not because I want you to get hurt or anything. I just want to understand. I want you to be open with me. And I bet you'd look so cool, and you'd do your job all efficiently."
His chest tightened again.
Losing you would be worse than keeping the lie.
But keeping the lie felt worse than letting you go.
Somewhere between those thoughts, his fingers found yours.
He didn't remember deciding to do it.
They simply threaded together, instinct guiding what words could not.
Megumi exhaled softly and leaned back against the headboard.
"Megumi, is something wrong?" you asked quickly, sensing the shift.
He breathed out again and shook his head. You studied him for a moment, then chuckled lightly as you closed the pizza box resting in his lap.
"What?" he asked, brow lifting.
"You know," you said gently, "if something's bothering you, you can always tell me."
He lifted his head, meeting your gaze for only a second before looking away.
"Yeah. I know."
The words lacked weight.
Frowning, you scooted closer. When he still wouldn't look at you, you reached up and cupped his jaw, guiding his face back toward yours.
"I mean it," you said, calm but firm. "You don't have to tell me now. But when you do, I'll listen."
His eyes widened slightly.
Then softened.
For all his rough edges and quiet scowls, he was still a boy who had learned to carry too much alone.
And somehow, the world had handed him someone who met it all with light. Yyet carried her own quiet gravity beneath the surface.
God had a strange sense of humor.
Megumi sat up suddenly, sincerity breaking through before he could retreat from it.
"I think that's why I like you."
His voice was quiet but steady.
You blinked, caught off guard, unsure what to say.
He didn't wait.
He pulled you into his arms.
The embrace was warm, and firm, almost reverent. :ike he was holding something fragile and irreplaceable.
You hugged him back immediately, though surprise fluttered through your chest at the way he held you, like you were the most precious thing in his world.
It had only been a month.
"I like you too," you murmured.
"Yeah," he said softly against your shoulder. "I know. You tell me every time I see you."
"Oh. Right." You pulled back slightly, a smile breaking on your face at the reminder that you were way too open.
For the first time since you had entered his world, Megumi allowed himself to relax completely around you. Your fingers still tangled with his and your warmth was steady against him.
The quiet between the two of you no longer felt uncertain either.
