failingtoberelatable

[failingtoberelatable]

Requite | Chapter 5

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: When everything seems to fall into place in Forks, Washington, a string of mysterious deaths call the attention of both vampires and werewolves in town. As the redheaded vampire returns with her mind set on revenge, (Y/N) and Bella Swan find themselves in the center of danger once again. With secrets still lingering between them about their past best friend, they will find themselves stuck in a whirlwind of love, betrayal, and the hardest choices they’ll have to make. But one thing is certain: no one will go a day without a taste for vengeance. 

<- Previous

“I transferred some money into your account,” Charlie said as he fussed over his daughter's jacket. “I also put some cash in your purse in case you guys get too hungry.”  

“Dad, I’m not five,” (Y/N) chuckled. “And we're just gonna go out to find a dress. We'll be back in time for the party.” 

“Well, I know. I just want to make sure you girls have everything you need,” he said. “And I want to make sure you're feeling okay about the talk you're gonna have with your sister.”  

Right. The talk. The week had come and gone faster than (Y/N) could have anticipated, and somehow the weekend had arrived. (Y/N) was ready to tell Bella everything, but she wasn’t quite ready for the aftermath. She wasn’t ready for pity, sadness, or concern. Hell, she didn't even want anger. All she wanted was to be done with the situation. “I think I'm good,” she smiled, trying her best to calm her father's worries. “After talking to you and Billy, I'm ready.”  

“Well, I'm glad, sweetheart,” Charlie sighed, hugging his daughter tightly.  

“You ready to go, (Y/N)?” Bella asked as she sauntered down the last stairs. “We got a bit of a drive.”  

“Yeah, just done.”  

“Alright,” she said. “We'll call when we're done, dad.” 

“Be safe, girls,” he said before placing a kiss on the top of both their heads. "And grab some breakfast, alright? Make sure you eat.”  

“Yes, dad,” Bella chuckled. “We'll see you later.”  

“Alright, see you soon,” he said as they walked toward the door. “Love you, girls.”  

“Love you, too,” they yelled back.  

The dynamic between the three Swans had shifted for the better. For the first time in a long time, they were vocal about their appreciation for each other. They had become a unit and less of three ships navigating the same sea. Finally, they were sailing together. Even if it was only for a short amount of time, they were a unit.  

“I'm thinking we could grab a bite at Granny's Diner,” Bella said halfway into the drive. They had been sitting in comfortable silence. Biding their time to see who would speak first. “They have some outside dining, and it might be the best place to talk. Unless, you know, you wanna do it now.” 

“I'll wait for the restaurant,” (Y/N) answered. “Don't really feel like talking about life before I've gotten some food in my stomach.”  

“It won't change the story,” her sister shrugged. “We could save ourselves an hour of coffee sipping.”  

Truthfully, (Y/N) wanted to wait until they were in a public space to avoid Bella turning the car around and killing Jacob herself. She could sense her sister was itching for the truth, unravelling under the weight of all the theories her mind was coming up with, and none of it would ever compare to reality. The moment she found out, there was no telling how she would react. “I just need the time to compose myself,” she said. “Can I?”   

“Yeah,” her sister smiled, reaching over to take her hand in his. “I just don’t want any more secrets between us, (Y/N). I want the rest of this year to be better. For you. For me. For us.”  

“I want that, too, Bella,” she replied. “We deserve calm for a while.”  

Quiet and calm were, of course, a mirage in Forks. It never lasted long, and it normally meant something big was lurking around the corner. But for a few more hours, even a few more days, they could pretend or believe it could be their future. A world where they were simply two girls, one on her way to college and the other buying her first prom dress.  

Thirty more minutes of background music, and the odd nod-off from (Y/N), and Bella was parking across the little diner. There was only one table outside, as though the very universe had conspired to make everything just right. Truth was making its way into the light, and after that day, nothing would ever be the same.  

The sisters took a seat and ordered promptly, nursing two mugs neither girl seemed too interested in. Procrastination ran in Swan veins, and they were experts at beating around the bush instead of getting to the point. But that morning, Bella would not tolerate it.  

“Okay then,” she said, finally taking a small sip of her tea, “what did Jacob really do?”  

(Y/N) sighed deeply, spinning the spoon inside her coffee with too much milk as she braced herself to tell the story. Hopefully, for the last time. “Where do you want me to start?” the girl asked. “From the very beginning, or what Edward and Paul were talking about?” 

“From the start,” Bella responded. “I need to know everything he's done to you, (Y/N).” 

And, once more, the younger Swan detailed the horrendous couple of months she spent alongside Jacob Black. She started with the good things. Because there were some, even if she could count them in one hand. There had been the crush she had harbored since she was a kid—the fluttering in her chest when she heard his name, the heat that rushed through her body when she was able to be near him, the happiness the idea of being with him brought her. There was the moment she saw him when she came back to Forks—the moment everything had rushed back, the joy and excitement of being in his arms for even a second. And there was their first kiss. Everything was so small in retrospect, but they were moments that had meant the world to her in the past. They were part of her history. She could never deny that.  

Still, there was an evil that undermined any of the sweet words, the warm kisses, and the fulfillment of a lifelong wish. And it didn't take long for that dark side to take over. (Y/N) told her sister about the sly and insulting comments he would throw her way, and how good he was at making her feel like she deserved to hear them. Told her about his misconstrued concern for Bella, how he could derail every single one of their conversations with her. She spoke of his belittlement, of his gaslighting, and his unachievable ultimatum.  

During all of this, Bella remained quiet, her grip on her mug getting tighter the more her sister talked. She wanted to give (Y/N) the space and time to let everything out, scared that if she spoke up, her sister would close up and hide the rest. As hard as it was, she had to bite her tongue to get the truth. The whole truth.  

“After I couldn't get Embry out of the pack, he stopped calling and coming over,” (Y/N) continued. “That's when you and he started hanging out again. Well, you already know that part. When we went to his house, and everything went down, he wanted us to get back together, but I wasn't sure I wanted that—not anymore. Still, he kissed me, and I didn't know how to say no.”  

Bella's jaw clenched, but instead of talking, she nodded to her sister to keep going. “He was different then, but so was I,” she sighed. “I didn't feel anything for him, and still, I tried to find what I felt for him in the past. But it was gone, and everyone was telling me to leave him.  “I tried many times, but something always happened that didn't let me,” she chuckled dryly. “Until the night after we almost drowned. I was telling him the truth, that I didn't feel the same about him, and I had to let him go. He didn't like that.”  

She told Bella how Jacob had only wanted to get close to (Y/N) just so he could get closer to her, how he only tried to fix things with her because Bella had wanted that. Then, he told her how Paul was still keeping things from her, that he was lying right to her face. “I couldn't handle it, and I took off running,” (Y/N) sniffled, feeling tears welling in her eyes as she remembered the moment. “I don't know how long I was running, I just knew I had to get as far away as I could from his house. My legs were burning, and I could barely breathe when I suddenly tripped over a raised root and fell.   “I was all alone in the forest. Until I wasn't,” she said. Her hands trembled around her cup, the liquid inside rippling as her nerves took over her body. “Victoria found me.”  

“What?!” Bella exclaimed, unable to contain her worry. It dripped from her words and splattered on her face, her hand reaching for her sister's instinctively. “Why didn't you tell me?”  

“I didn't know how without telling you the whole thing,” (Y/N) replied, her voice cracking as the tears started to fall. “She was close to killing me. She said she wanted to kill me to hurt you, that somehow my death would hurt you and make it better when she killed you.   “I was sure that was it. Victoria had her hands around my throat, even slicing into my skin.” She raised her head slowly, revealing the scar that still remained at the top of her neck. “I passed out before I could see anything else, but Paul found me. Sam and Embry joined him later, and they helped him run her out of town. I was asleep until after Harry's funeral.”  

“Oh, (Y/N).”  

“That's not the worst part, Bells,” she sighed, squeezing her hand to ground herself. “When I was ready to go home, Embry came around and told us something we didn't notice. While Victoria was attacking me, Jake was there.”  

“W-what are you saying, (Y/N)?” 

“While Jacob was on patrol with Embry, he let visions slip from the night before,” she recounted, her chin trembling with every word. “He was running to the woods after he left you at home. He was angry, Embry said. That's when he happened upon Victoria attacking me. He could have stopped her. At least, scare her long enough for reinforcements to come. Instead, he stayed hidden, watching as she took my life. He'd said it was because he thought if I died, your grief would push you to find comfort in him.”  

The older girl remained silent, anger building inside her like a volcano about to erupt. She could see why (Y/N) had decided to talk in a public space rather than in the car. Her veins itched with the need to get back in the car and yell at Jake until her voice was hoarse, hit him until her hands shattered into a million pieces. She wanted him to hurt for all the pain he had put her sister through.  

"I wanted to tell you right after it happened, but Alice was there,” the girl sobbed. “You had something more important to get to, and I couldn't stop you. After that, I couldn't find the courage to tell you the truth. I spent days stewing in what I allowed to be done to me, and I felt like an idiot. Something inside me kept telling me that telling the truth would make me look stupid, so I just kept quiet.  “And then I found out how everyone had turned on Jake, and I couldn't help but feel responsible,” she continued. “I didn't want to ruin the last relationship he had by telling you the truth, too. So, I kept it to myself and hoped he didn't say anything.”  

“(Y/N), there is no one more important in my life than you,” Bella croaked, her throat feeling tighter as her sister continued to talk. “I'm sorry I couldn't see how much you were hurting. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm just sorry for not being the sister you deserve.”  

“No, Bells, you have nothing to be sorry for,” the girl said. “I made the decision not to tell you, okay? And I wasn't alone. I had Paul to help me, and dad and uncle Billy. You had your own problems to deal with. I mean, just with the whole vampire thing...”  

“(Y/N), you almost died, and I had no idea,” Bella said, tears falling from her eyes. “I could have lost you, and I didn't know. My friend left you for dead, and I didn't know. You came out all this way for me, you almost died, and still you were looking out for me.”   

“It's not like I really helped you,” (Y/N) chuckled softly. “I mostly complained to dad about you. If anything, it's Jacob that got you out of this rut.”  

“You're wrong,” Bella smiled. “It was you.”  

“Oh, come on.”  

“I'm serious,” she said. “Jacob and I mostly talked about you, (Y/N). You knew that going back to Florida would kill me, and instead of letting mom drag me back, you left your life behind and came here for me. I know I haven't said it, and I didn't quite show it when you first came here, but I was so relieved when dad said you were coming to Forks. You're the reason I pulled myself out, (Y/N). Not Jacob. Not Edward. You.”  

(Y/N) wanted to argue, but Bella stopped her before a word could leave her mouth. “I know you don't believe me, and you find it difficult to take a compliment,” she chuckled. “But even if you did complain at the start—which I don't really mind—you still showed me that I would be okay without Edward. There are other people out there who love me enough to drop everything and be there for me. You're why it stopped being hard to be here.”  

“You're giving me too much credit, Bells,” (Y/N) said, feeling her face grow warmer as the seconds passed. “But I'll take it, nonetheless. I'm glad you're better.”  

“And I'm glad you're alive,” she smiled. “And when we get back, I'm killing Jacob.”  

The younger girl choked on her coffee at her words, scaring the waitress who had just arrived with their plates. The poor woman left with a red face and a heart that was probably hammering against her chest. Laughter erupted between the Swan sisters, hoping the server didn't hear the last bit of their conversation.  

“You can't kill Jake, by the way,” (Y/N) whispered as they started on their food. “I told you everything so we could lay it all to rest. I don't want anyone to go after him to get revenge or whatever. I just want that nightmare to be over. He's had a reckoning of his own creation.”  

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, Sam's been giving him extra patrols,” she said. Part of her was debating telling Bella what had occurred the weekend before, knowing it would only make her sister's anger grow. But she had promised the whole truth, and Bella was the only person she didn't want to keep things from—not anymore. “He's been sleeping in his garage, too. Billy barely talks to him. And, well, Paul is always just one word away from killing him.”  

“How do you know he's sleeping in the garage?” 

“Uh, well, when I dropped off Paul last weekend, I went by Billy's to talk to him,” she explained, her eyes focusing on anything but Bella. “As I was leaving, Jake showed up and asked me to talk.”  

"(Y/N),” Bella reprimanded.  

“He was basically trying to convince me not to talk to you, and he got a bit forceful.” Before Bella could complain or react much, (Y/N) shut her down. What she wanted most was to show her sister that she could handle herself. That the girl she was now was stronger than the one who had arrived to help mend her sister's broken heart. “He just grabbed my wrists, but I freed myself. He was trying to make everything my fault again, but I shut it down. And I am 100% sure he won't even come near me ever again.”  

Bella kept quiet for a second, thoughts flashing across her eyes like a blazing fire. “You know, I could probably get Edward to kill him,” she whispered. “Get him out of the state, and poof.”  

“Bells!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “You can't joke about something like that. And you can't leave Paul out of it either.”  

Both sisters erupted into a chorus of laughter once more, pretending the plan was only a funny quip to pass the time. Maybe she was imagining it, but (Y/N) felt the air around them get lighter. Now that everything was on the table, the dark cloud that seemed to hang above them dispersed and only bright and sunny skies were forecasted ahead—as sunny as it could get. It had been years since either Swan had been hopeful for the future, but at that moment, anything they dreamed of was possible.  

But they forgot about the world they lived in.  

Once they were done with their food and had apologized to the waitress with a hefty tip, the girls started their walk toward the dress shop. “So,” Bella said, linking her arm with (Y/N)'s, "what color were you thinking for the dress?”  

“Well, Paul's favorite color is red,” she said, trying to keep her smile small. “I was thinking of something in that realm.”  

“That's a good start,” Bella laughed. “Are you gonna go short or long?”  

“Long, I think is best. It is his senior prom.”  

“I wouldn't know,” she sighed dramatically. “I didn't go to mine.”  

“Well, maybe you shouldn't have gone to Italy to rescue your vampire boyfriend,” (Y/N) teased. “Thankfully, mine is more into fistfights than dramatic spectacles.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bella chuckled sarcastically. “He's my ex, by the way. Better get that clear.”  

“And is he gonna stay that way?”  

“Oh, look,” Bella exclaimed. “We're here!” 

The shop was smaller than other stores (Y/N) had been to, but compared to anything in Forks, it had quite the selection. As soon as they stepped inside, they were inundated with sequins and satin, beads and lace, and rows upon rows of fabric. It was slightly overwhelming, and they were completely underqualified for the task, but they had to start somewhere.  

Twenty minutes in, and (Y/N) was ready to throw in the towel. There were many red dresses—long, short, slim, puffy. It was more than she could ask for. But none of them called to her. Bella pulled dress after dress, sticking her arm into the overflowing racks and showing her sister options, but none seemed to be the one. They knew neither of them was particularly adept in the fashion department, but the girl at least knew what she liked, and nothing quite fit the bill.  

“You have to pick something, (Y/N),” Bella sighed, her arms growing sore from the gowns she had been holding. “At least, try them on. They might look different.” 

“They’re just not right,” she complained. “I want to look good.” 

“I know, but…” Bella’s words died in her mouth as her eyes fell on a figure across the street. They were unmistakable and stood out like a sore thumb. “What is Alice doing here?” 

(Y/N) swiftly turned around, her eyes falling on the vampire who sat on a bench on the other side of the store. She held a newspaper over half of her face in a failed attempt at concealing her identity, but she couldn’t hide everything else. From the clothes to the hair, to the big designer sunglasses that hung on her nose. It was Alice Cullen, and it could be no one else. “Is she following us?” the girl whispered. “Did she hear about our plans?”  

“I don’t know,” she answered as she put the dresses back on the rack. “But I intend to find out.”  

A/N: in my head, Bella at least lands a good punch on Jacob that doesn't break her hand. but finally she gets to know everything, hopefully nothing else happens. hahaha... right? 🫣 If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story:  click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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[failingtoberelatable]

Albedo from Overlord

made this one for my boyfriend for his birthday and i think it turned out pretty well.

*made with crayola’s super tips*

[failingtoberelatable]

Kana Arima x Kuromi

i really cannot tell if this is a yay or nay :/

*made this with crayola’s super tips *

comments are welcomed 🤗

^drew this for a friend for their birthday :D

[failingtoberelatable]

got me GEEEKEEDDD 😻😻😻👅

[failingtoberelatable]

The Way Things Happen

After being caught in a villain attack, your life is intertwined with those of the aspiring heroes that saved you.

<< Prologue - Next Part >>

Word Count, 3.5k

“How are we feeling? Your medication should’ve started kicking in by now,” says a nurse as she goes about conducting your checkup.

“I feel fine.” You give her the thumbs up, not really looking for any conversation. You appreciate how nice the nurses assigned to you are, but you think that’s partly because your parents haven’t visited other than to do paperwork, so they feel bad for you. They were always pretty distant, so you don’t mind them not showing up.

“Alright then, you know what button to press if you need anything.” She scribbles something down on her clipboard and leaves you be.

Back to staring at the ceiling again.

It was about a week after the incident and you were still in the hospital. You’re not sure what’s worse, the dull ache that washes over your body if you so much as squirm, or the boredom you’re faced with everyday. For a while, you were too out of it to realize how stuffy it was being stuck in a hospital bed, but after being taken off the stronger painkillers they had you on, you found yourself staring at the wall more often than not.

A classmate of yours brought your laptop, books, and some other things from your dorm to keep you entertained during your stay. They didn’t help much.

Looking at any type of artificial light for too long makes your head hurt, thanks to your concussion, and everytime you pick up a book you find your attention drifting before finishing the page.

You think it’s the lack of scenery and social interaction that’s making you go stir-crazy the most. Apart from that one classmate, you had no other visitors. The day after you got here a basket arrived from Best Jeanist’s agency, filled with treats and flowers and a card signed by your coworkers.

It makes you sad to think that by the time you’re discharged from the hospital, work studies will be over and it’s back to school. Though it’s nice to know that someone’s thinking of you.

There’s a knock at the door. You tell the person it’s okay to come in as you glance at the clock on the wall. It isn't the time they usually bring you dinner.

“Delivery!” A nurse enthusiastically calls out. You sit up, curious.

In her hands is another ‘get well’ basket, only instead of the sweets in the one you received from your colleagues, this one seems to have some over-the-counter medicine along with some other basic medical supplies, and what looks like a bag of takeout. Taking a closer look at the bag you realize it’s from a restaurant near the U.A. campus; a popular hang-out spot for students, especially after the move into the dorms.

“Who’s that from?” You ask, reaching out to grab it. The nurse shrugged.

“I’m not sure, it was dropped off at the front desk. Receptionist said it was a couple of U.A. boys. Maybe some classmates?”

You try to think of who it might be, but a single name can’t come to mind. You aren’t close with any of your classmates, even considering the one who grabbed your stuff only an acquaintance. Not that you particularly dislike any of them. It’s just that most have that ‘business student attending a prestigious school’ vibe.

“Well, whoever put this together definitely put some thought into it. Maybe they’ll come back.” The nurse sees your bewildered expression. She reminds you how much time there is until your next dosage of medication, then walks out and gently shuts the door behind her.

Despite how confused you are, the takeout has you feeling more upbeat than you’ve been in days. If you’re honest, any other non-hospital food would’ve brought out the same reaction.

You look inside the bag to see a little card on top of the containers. It’s plain white, ‘Get Well Soon’ printed on the front. In your hand, it’s a little warm from the food. On the other side of it is a brief handwritten note.

‘Hi there! I’m not sure if you remember, but we’re the ones who found you after the building collapsed. We’re relieved to hear that you’re doing okay! Always glad to help fellow U.A. student!’

Under the message are three signatures: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, and Todoroki Shouto. Going by handwriting, Midoriya was the one who wrote the message. You sort of remember them.

You smile to yourself as you place the card on the bedside table. No longer able to resist the smell, you dig into the takeout bag. What they got were safe choices, in other words kinda plain and not what you would’ve picked, but after days of hospital food, you’re about ready to cry from the flavor.

After you're finished, full and satisfied, you go to toss the bag away when you see a thin white sheet of paper. A receipt from the restaurant. Bakugou was apparently the one who bought it.

He must’ve ordered it from his phone, then gone to pick it up, going by a cell phone number listed. Would it be an invasion of privacy to call or text to thank him?

You decide to sit on it. Looking through the rest of the basket, you find over-the-counter pain relievers, an electric heating pad, some ointments, and some other minor things.

You’re flattered, to say the least.

This sways your decision to reach out, grabbing your phone and the receipt.

‘Hi, this is the student from the hospital. Thank you all so much for saving me and buying me stuff! Food was good.’

You’re not sure exactly what to type, so you decide on something short. Almost immediately after setting your phone in your lap, it pings to let you know you got a response.

‘You better be grateful.’

Huh, not what you were expecting.

‘I really am! The supplies are definitely going to make the next week I’m stuck here more bearable. Tell your friends I said thanks!’

‘Those two dumbasses aren’t my friends’

Ok, you’re getting a better idea of who this kid is. Now that you think about it, wasn’t he the one who had to be muzzled at the sports festival? You’re kinda surprised they let him into the hero course.

Not sure what to say to that, you set your phone down and go back to digging through the basket. All the while, a warm feeling in your chest.

…

It’s a couple of days later, and you’re still holding onto the feeling that popped up knowing those boys thought of you. Truthfully you expect nothing else. What they’ve done for you is more than enough. So it’s definitely a surprise when a nurse slides into your room saying that you have a visitor; a U.A. boy named Midoriya.

You tell her to send him in. Quickly, after she leaves the room, you sit up and brush your hair down. It’s the first time you’ve seen anyone but a nurse in a week, and you’ll admit you haven’t been putting as much thought into your appearance since you got here.

“Um, hello. Is this the right room?” The green-haired boy, who you now know is Midoriya Izuku, nervously steps into the room.

“Y-yeah, it is.” You mentally groan at your awkward response, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It’s great to properly meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he says with a genuine smile on his face. He holds up another takeout bag in his hand.

“Kacchan, er-Bakugou said you liked the food he picked up last time, so I grabbed you some more.”

“You really didn’t have to, but thank you so much!” You properly introduce yourself, returning his enthusiasm, and gesture to a seat on the side of your bed.

“Since you’re here, let me pay you back at least.” You reach over the other side of your bed to grab your backpack on the floor.

“No, no you really don’t have to!” He shoots his hands up and rapidly shakes his head.

“If you’re sure…” you trail off. You sit back up quicker than you should’ve and feel a slight pain in your ribs. It must show on your face because Midoriya leans closer and looks you over.

“All you alright? Should I call a nurse?” You hurriedly tell him no, that you just moved too fast.

“Still not used to being so fragile,” you painfully chuckle and wave a hand at your leg.

He focuses on your leg, brows furrowing and seeming to be lost in thought. You feel your cheeks warm at the attention, and you ask the first thing that pops into your head to distract him.

“Do you wanna sign it?”

“Huh?” He turns to you with wide eyes.

“Well, you did save me after all. It’d be kinda cool having the autograph of a future pro hero. You can consider me one of your first fans.” Saying this makes him light up.

You grab a marker from your bedside table left by one of the nurses and hand it to him. He stutters out a ‘thank you’ and signs his hero name in neat characters in the space just over your knee.

“Deku, huh? I’ll be sure to remember it.”

After that conversation comes more easily. Both you and him seem more easygoing than when he first arrived. You chat about school, your respective courses, who you’re working under, and even more. Soon a nurse sticks her head in to announce that visiting hours are ending soon.

“Again, thank you for stopping by. Talking with you has been the most fun I’ve had in a while.” Your gratitude makes him blush as he bashfully scratches the back of his neck.

“Really, it’s no trouble at all. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since the incident. You seemed pretty frightened, so I wanted to check up on you.” Now it’s your turn for your face to warm up. You smile at each other.

“Would you mind if I came to visit you again?” He asks as he stands from his seat.

“Of course not, just no more buying me anything. Here,” you grab a napkin from the takeout bag, still sitting unopened, and scribble down your number. He takes it with a smile, and then soon enough he’s out the door.

Deku; you know for a fact that in ten years you’ll be hearing his name in the news all the time.

…

The next day rolls around and you’re in a way better mood than previously. Midoriya had texted wondering how you were, and you even made plans for him to visit later in the week. The uptick in your mood must’ve been obvious, as even the nurses were commenting on it. They were happy to see you so happy.

After your recent checkup, the doctor said that your concussion was healing nicely enough for you to watch some TV, but to turn it off the second your head starts to ache.

That’s where you are right now, getting caught up on the dramas you missed. In fact, you’re so into it that you don’t notice the loud footsteps stomping down the hallway.

You’re leaning in, anticipating the moment the lead confesses her love when your door blows open like an explosion took place in the hallway.

You jump away, watching as a spiky-haired blond boy walks in without saying anything. Again, in a U.A. uniform. It doesn’t take much thinking for you to piece together that this is Bakugou Katsuki.

“What?” He spits out when he sees you staring.

“Uh, what do you mean ‘what’? This is my room,” you point from yourself to the door. He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“I know that, dumbass. I’m here to give you this.” He stomps up and thrusts a piece of paper at you.

You cautiously glance at him as you take it. You continue to look at him with it in your hand.

“Read it,” he grunts out, moving to the chair next to your bed.

You shrug at him then look at it. It’s a letter from Principal Nezu confirming that due to being injured from no fault of your own, you won’t need to make up for your missed time on your work study nor will you have any extra assignments. There’s even a note at the bottom from Best Jeanist, saying that what happened was tragic and that you’re welcome back to his agency the next time work studies roll around.

You’re touched, and it must show on your face as you hear a scoff from the boy next to you. You’ll be honest, you forgot he was there. Something else you forget was the harsh movements you made when he barged in. A dull pain sets in your leg, and you squirm around to try and get more comfortable.

“What happened?” He’s quieter now, though his words still have a bite to them.

“I just moved too harshly. I’m fine,” you say, and he gives a huff. Things taper off after that. You’re not exactly sure why he stayed past giving you the note.

“Thank you for the other day. You were one of the heroes that saved me from the rubble, right?”

“Damn right, I blew it away. Neither of the other two did jack,” he smirks, pride in his voice.

“Yeah? Well, thanks for the food too. I really like that place.”

“Hospital food tastes like shit. It’ll probably make ya even worse,” he looks away when he replies.

He takes a glance at your cast, more specifically the name on it.

“Deku…” He looks pissed off.

“You want to sign it too? You’re also one of my heroes,” you say as you grab the marker and hold it out to him.

Bakugou looks startled by your offer, but only for a moment. He roughly grabs that tool from you and gets to work. He signs his hero name in big, scratchy characters right above Midoriya’s. With an upward twitch of his lips, he caps the marker and throws it back onto the table.

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite…” You’re not sure if you were just pranked. Seeing the disbelief on your face as you look back at him, he scowls.

“Better remember it,” he’s serious. Not wanting to piss him off even more, you move on to flattery.

“Don’t think I could. Look forward to seeing it up on the charts!” This pleases him, you think. You’re sincere when you say it.

You make small talk for the rest of his time there. It’s mostly you egging him on. You talked about class, how he’s at the top of his both in academics and strength (you have no way of knowing if that’s true), and how he interned under Best Jeanist earlier in the year, that’s why he was the one to get the note.

Eventually, a text pops up on his phone and he glances at it, scowling once he sees who it is.

“Damn hag,” he mutters as he slings his bag over his shoulder and stands.

“Don’t die,” he’s blunt as he turns back at you in the doorway.

“Not planning on it,” you reply, giving him a little wave. He stomps back out the door, slamming it shut of course. It sounds like he pauses outside, then you can hear his footsteps move down the hall back to the elevators.

He sure has a strong presence, and you know how far that’ll take him in this industry.

…

Suddenly it’s a few days later, the day you planned for Midoriya to visit. You were excited, and a bit jumpy. Even with a preset time you found yourself hopping up everytime the door opened, only to be disappointed once it’s just a nurse.

You found yourself wanting to impress him, or at least not look like you’ve been stuck in the hospital for weeks. A nurse assisted you in taking a bath, and you put on a sweater over the top of your hospital gown. You’re afraid there’s no hiding how dead your skin looks with the lack of direct sunlight.

The time ticks on. You set your eyes to the clock set high in the corner of the room and watch as the hour and minute hands place themselves where they need to be, then past.

At first you can excuse it, his train probably got delayed or there was an emergency. You really didn’t want to blame him for it. He was a hero in training, after all, he probably didn’t have time to spend with a kid in the hospital.

There’s a lock at the door. You twist around, hope being brought back.

“Come in!” You try to play it cool and keep the excitement out of your voice.

There’s a pause on the other side. The door slowly opens to show not who you were expecting. It’s a boy with two-toned hair, and two different colored eyes. This is Todoroki Shouto if you remember correctly.

“Midoriya’s in the bathroom,” he stated as he stood in the doorway. You light up and smile at him, overjoyed to hear that he hasn’t ditched you.

“Thanks for letting me know. You can sit down, if you want,” you wave a hand to the chair at your bedside.

He nods, then moves to sit. As he does, he seems to realize something and briefly introduces himself. You do the same.

You had your fair share of awkward moments when Midoriya and Bakugou first came to visit, but they both did their part in providing small talk. This boy, on the other hand, is content with being quiet. You’re more intimidated by him than you were with Bakugou.

As you try and think of something to say, you hear a murmur.

“That’s what he picked?” You glance over to see he’s staring at your leg, where his teammates have written their hero names.

“Yeah, Bakugou’s sure is… something. It does fit him, though.” He agrees with that, not saying anything else. You decide to hurry things along and grab your trusty marker, pointing it at him between your fingers. He looks at you blankly.

“Go on, the other two did. You were also there to help me. Thank you for that, by the way,” you give him a smile as you shake your hand lightly.

“I’m a hero, it’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.” He takes the marker anyway. Under your knee, he writes his name in small, neat characters. When he’s finished he caps the pen and sets it back on the table.

“Shouto? Staying true to yourself, nice.” He gives you a barely there smile, and is about to say something when the door rushes open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Todoroki wanted to come with when I said I was visiting,” Midoriya slightly bows as he apologizes.

“It’s fine. I have nothing else to do other than wait.” You wave him off.

Looking around, you realize the only place to sit in the room is being taken up by Todoroki. You could call a nurse, but you’d feel bad making them leave their station just for a chair. Moving your good leg more towards you, you pat at the empty space. He looks unsure of it, but you pat it harder to get the point across that it’s fine. Hesitatingly he sits on the edge of the bed, being very conscious of your cast.

You all get to talking a bit more, mostly you and Midoriya, but sometimes Todoroki’s dragged in by one of you, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

…

As they’re getting ready to leave you call out to them.

“I know I probably said it a thousand times, but really thank you guys. If it wasn’t for you I’d be in even worse shape, or maybe dead,” you blink away tears in your eyes as you tell them. They both freeze at your expression.

Todoroki doesn’t seem like he knows what to do, but Midoriya gently places a hand on your shoulder. You place a hand over his.

“You guys are already amazing heroes.” They both are happy to hear that.

“Thank you, that means a lot to hear,” Midoriya sounds genuine, the light in his eyes warms your chest.

“So, see you later?” You let go of his hand, and he backs up to where Todoroki is by the door.

“Of course, I’ll text you when I have a free day.”

“Is it alright if I visit again?” The quiet boy speaks up. You’re surprised, but glad he seemed to have a nice time.

“Definitely, you guys are the only people I see outside of the nurses. It keeps me from going crazy.” They have a strange look flash across their faces, but quickly go back to normal and make to leave when a nurse walks in with some of your medication.

You don’t know if you can consider them friends yet, but you have a feeling these boys will stick around.

[failingtoberelatable]

Hay Fever

Summary: The effects of the pollen had to have worn off, but your desire for Kakashi hasn’t. Part Two to Pollen Count | Cross posted to AO3

Word count: 3k

Warnings: porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, little bit of hand worship/kink, little bit of overstimulation, 

Notes: this is softer than I had originally anticipated it being but that’s okay!

Requests open! | support me on ko-fi!

Upon your return to the village, you try to avoid Kakashi as much as you possibly can. After he had made good on his promise to help deal with any lingering symptoms at an inn on your second night of traveling, as well as at the inn in the Sand Village both nights you’d stayed, and then once more on the journey back. You weren’t sure if the symptoms were truly lingering or if your body just had a weird reaction to Kakashi’s closer than usual proximity, so you thought space would be the solution. 

Especially after Tsunade had made a comment about how friendly you both seemed before dismissing you. 

Space seemed like the correct response; but when everything you saw made you think about your comrade, space also seemed like the incorrect response. Even your personal bed that Kakashi had never been near felt empty to lay in alone, and that wasn’t the solidifying factor for you that this wasn’t a lingering side effect of the pollen - it was a lingering side effect of Kakashi himself. How pathetic and extremely problematic. How could you function should you be sent out with him again if you couldn’t even lay in bed without thinking of him? How could you look at those hands when you knew how nicely they could grip your hips or your wrists? It just wasn’t fair. Did he even know that he was so addictive? 

You supposed sexual problems required sexual solutions (or a denial to the sexual solution), so you remove yourself from the empty-feeling bed so you could go off in search of the ninja who was dominating your thoughts. He’d probably be at his home, or walking around the village reading that little book of his. Maybe all you had to do was listen for that little genin of his and the kid would lead you right to him?

Thankfully; you don’t have to look far, since you open your front door to see Kakashi standing in front of it and ready to knock. He looks to be as surprised to see you as you were to see him, which has you quickly recovering to obtain the cool advantage (for once). You lean against the doorframe as he lowers his hand to his hip, smile on your face as you ask, “Looking for me?”

“I think you’ve been avoiding me,” is all he says at first, and you quickly lose the cool advantage when you almost lose your balance at the statement. “It feels silly, since we’ve only been back for a couple days, but I haven’t seen you around like I usually would. Have I done something to upset you?”

“No, of course not! I think you should come in, though.” 

He follows you inside without question, removing his sandals and taking a seat in your chair as you start to pace the floor. Sure you had planned on squashing this, but how were you supposed to tell him that you were craving him? That it wasn’t the pollen anymore but your own body telling you that you needed him around you, over you, inside you, and so forth? How were you supposed to just say that? Wasn’t having sex with someone supposed to make talking to them easier, or was Master Jiraiya bullshitting you when he said that?

“Are you-”

“Okay, maybe I was avoiding you a little bit but I needed to know if what I was feeling was lingering effects of the pollen or if it was… something else.” Your admission has him sitting up straighter, but you continue to pace since you knew you’d stop talking if you were to stop moving. Kakashi was good at stopping you in your tracks and you couldn’t let that happen just yet. “I don’t know how to describe it, but I can’t stop thinking about your hands. Hell I can’t even lay down without missing you. I thought maybe it was the pollen, but my body was only warm when I was around you over the last few days of traveling and being back. So I needed to figure it out, and I-I think I did.”

“It’s not the pollen.” 

“No, it’s not,” you mumble, your hands coming together in front of you so you could play with them to distract yourself. “And I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“A talented tactician without a plan, I should be honored.” He’s teasing you, you know that, but you aren’t upset by it since it means that he’s not bothered by your admission. He’s still here with you, so you hoped that you had a chance to get what you felt you needed or at the very least he’d let you down gently. “It’s not the pollen for me, either.“

That wasn’t as helpful to hear as you thought it would be. You’re stopped in your tracks as you knew you would be, your eyes following his figure as he stands from his seat so he could stand in front of you. Your hands are stilled by his, and your body grows warmer with every passing second of eye contact that goes by without him saying anything as his thumbs move along your knuckles. 

“I’m glad I haven’t upset you,” he finally says, and you find your smile returning as you nod.

“Considering I was going to ask if you wanted to spend more time together. This last venture of ours taught me that I can’t avoid my feelings any longer. Fate was going to keep putting you in front of me until I did something about it.”

“So now you’re doing something about it?”

“If you’ll let me.” The question is clear, and your answer is a confident nod that has him smiling behind his mask before one of his hands releases yours. Your eyes close when you see his fingers hook into his mask to pull it down, only to slowly open them when he tells you that he wants you to look at him. Considering the amount of times you’d had sex with him while on a mission, truly seeing his face shouldn’t have felt like such a heavy transgression. However you’re looking at him and he’s looking at you, a smile on his face he watches you take him in. And then his hands are on your cheeks, his lips meet yours, and you’re losing yourself in this man once more as he takes over your senses. 

Hands start tugging and your vests and shirts are on the floor quickly. His hands move from your face to your hips, gently guiding you back towards your bed.

“You said you thought about my hands?” he asks, gently nudging your nose with his own as you sit on your bed. “What about them is so enticing to you?”

The question has your breath hitching in your throat, although you should have expected the question once you’d told him that you had been thinking about them. Your hand takes his wrist, pulling his hand from your hip and holding it in front of your face. Gently you work to remove the glove from his hand, pressing a kiss to the exposed palm. What wasn’t enticing about these hands? They were so big, fingers long and thick, he’d brought you close to tears multiple times just using his hand while you were on that mission.

“They’re wonderful,” is all you say at first, kissing each fingertip as your eyes meet his again. “Big and strong, fingers that stretch me so nicely but still so gentle.”

“They’re not soft, though.” 

“They are to me,” you counter, bringing two of his fingertips into your mouth. This time it’s his breath that hitches, his other hand tugging at your pants to get them off of you. Your free hand pushes yourself up off the mattress to make things easier for him, keeping his fingers in your mouth as your tongue works to wet them the way you needed. You wanted him to touch you, he needed to be ready for that. 

“So needy, and just for me, hm?” You nod around his fingers, kicking your pants off the rest of the way and scooting back on the mattress. He follows, sitting back on his heels but gently pushing you to lay on your back against your pillows. 

“Show me,” he requests, looking at you as you prop yourself up on one of your elbows to look at him better. “Show me how you like to be touched, please. Then I’ll touch you as you want.”

The request has you nodding, reaching out and pressing two of your fingers to his lips. He opens them, and you watch with interest as he works to wet them for you. Much like everything else he did; he was diligent in treating your fingers with care and consideration, but teasing when he gave them a gentle bite as you withdrew them. Your eyes hold his as your fingers dip into the wetness that had gathered and slowly dragged them to your clit. Large hands settle on your thighs, keeping your legs open for him to kneel on the bed between them as you continue to circle the bud.

His eyes leave yours in favor of watching your fingers, and you let your eyes close knowing that his attention was elsewhere. You knew this wouldn’t be enough, since you had him here you’d need his fingers in addition to yours to be able to get off like this. Luckily for you, he must have been growing impatient and you felt one of his fingers trace along your spread folds before slowly probing your entrance.

“This is all for me?” he asks, his finger continuing to move within you and chuckling when he feels you clench around his finger. He knows the answer, but you still nod to give him the satisfaction of a response - a clear indicator that you did want him as much as he wanted you. A second finger joins the first, and his hand moves from your thigh to your hip to keep you from moving beneath him.

Your eyes meet his once again, struggling to keep still as his fingers work to ready you for a much larger intrusion. A whispered instruction has your fingers working against your clit again, trying to match the pace of your movements with the pace of his fingers but you find difficulty in trying to pay attention to his fingers when his hand leaves your hip to push at his pants. The sound of fabric rustling feels so loud in your ears, and you feel your heart rate increase knowing what’s to come as his fingers increase their pace and yours do the same against your clit.

“Come for me, darling,” he requests, curling his fingers and pressing repeatedly into that spot that has you seeing stars as your eyes close again and your fingers continue to work against the sensitive nerves. He’s coaxing you towards that edge with his fingers, his voice soft as he urges you to come and talks you through the waves of your orgasm. 

“I really like your fingers a lot,” you breathe, relaxing into the mattress as his fingers leave you so he can get out of his pants. He only smiles at you, and you watch with interest as he fully undresses. You’d never seen him this undressed, even on the mission you were sure that he’d kept something on during your various encounters, so this was something you’d like to savor as you know you’re the only person alive to see all of Kakashi Hatake like this. 

“I do like the way you look at me,” he comments, and you have only the moments as he gets into position above you to consider the sentiment behind his words. There’s so much you could say to that, plenty that you wanted to say - but the words get caught in your throat when that dark eye meets yours as he carefully pushes his length into you.

Your lips part as his hips press to yours, your hand coming to cradle his cheek to bring his forehead to yours. There are emotions in his eye that you dare not try to name, but you take solace in knowing that they’re there. That your feelings towards him are not only shared, but just as intense, and you’re not sure that either of you truly know what to do with them besides this. 

“Romantic feelings and intimacy are not my strong suit,” he whispers as he pulls out, the smallest of groans leaving him as he thrusts back into you. “You’ll have to forgive me as I learn to be a decent man for you.”

“Shinobi are always training in some capacity anyways,” you murmur, smiling as he does. He doesn’t have a response to that, but you don’t need him to. You just need him here with you in this moment, thrusting into you so tenderly in the middle of your mattress. It’s a slow ascent to that bliss, every movement by your lover very calculated and telling you that he was trying to take his time with you with slow, deep thrusts that allowed you to feel every inch of him.

His hand removes yours from his face, lacing his fingers with yours and pressing your joined hands into the pillow beside your head. His forehead pressed to yours, your eyes stay on him as he lets his close. Your hand that wasn’t holding his moves to hold his cheek, bringing him in for a kiss as his movements falter slightly.  

“Are you going to come for me again?” he asks, and you nod your confirmation. He pulls away from you, his hand bringing yours to where your bodies met. “Make yourself come for me. Show me how pretty you are when you come.” 

You’re plenty wet, your fingers don’t need any assistance in gliding over your clit as Kakashi continues to thrust into you. His pace stays steady, his eye now watching your hand as your fingers move frantically against the bud. This was it, you were going to come again and he looked excited for that to happen. 

His name leaves you in a wail, your hand gripping his forearm tightly as you let the feeling wash over you, only to let out a startled squeak when you feel him pull you up so that you were in his lap. You take a moment to reorient, placing one of your hands on his shoulder for balance, and your eyes meet his once more as his hand starts to guide your hips along his shaft. 

“You’re crafty,” you mumble, and he smiles as he kisses you. A pace had been set, one you were barely able to keep up with but you knew Kakashi was close. There’s a tension in his shoulders that you can’t ignore, but you’re too far gone to be able to truly do something about it, especially with a third orgasm already creeping up so quickly behind the second. This man would most likely kill you; but all you can really do is whisper praises to him, making sure that he knew how good he was making you feel as his hips continued to rise up into yours. 

“You can come for me one more time, can’t you? I’m sure you can,” his gentle urging has you nodding, your hand leaving his shoulder to go to your clit once more since that was what you knew would send you over the edge. 

Your body stiffens as the pure heat in your core begins to wash over the rest of your senses, your free hand holding onto his bicep for dear life. Kakashi is speaking to you, praising you most likely, but you could only hear your heart pounding as he thrusts into you harder. His 

 hand gently pushes yours away from your clit, his fingers eagerly working at your over sensitive bundle to push you to that edge, you cradle the back of his head to keep his forehead connected to yours and maintain that eye contact you craved as you babbled your own string of praises to him as the pleasure overwhelms you and you’re coming on his length once more. 

It feels as if time has slowed after that, you continue to cling onto Kakashi and you’re not sure if it’s been seconds or minutes, but it feels like too long yet not long enough before he’s coming deep inside you. You feel so interconnected with him that you’re not sure where his form ended and yours began, but you could probably stay like this for a lifetime with him. 

“That was…” You start, but you’re not sure how to describe just how wonderful that was. Were there actually words that could describe how euphoric sex with Kakashi Hatake was?

“Yeah,” is all he can muster, lowering you back down onto your bedding. A kiss to your forehead is followed by a kiss on your lips, and he’s telling you that he’ll be right back before he stands from your bed.

You lay there quietly, trying to properly regulate your breathing in an effort to cool your body down. The question of “what now?” circulates through your brain, and you’re not sure what the answer was. You’d just had sex with Kakashi again, this time after admitting shared feelings. Did this mean you two were a couple now? Did Kakashi even want a label like that?

“What happens next?” you ask softly, watching as he re-emerges from your bathroom now wearing his shirt and mask. 

“I think I should take you out on a proper date, for starters. Dinner tonight?”

“I’d rather stay in.” Your comment has him shaking his head as he joins you in your bed, pulling you into his chest as you grin up at him. “There’s plenty to eat here.”

“That’s for dessert, and I plan to indulge.”

[failingtoberelatable]

wish that was me

[failingtoberelatable]

Pollen Count

Kakashi Hatake/F!Reader

Summary: While on a mission to deliver documents, you and Kakashi stop for the night in a place where you probably shouldn’t. Something in the air didn’t feel quite right, despite everything else feeling perfect. Cross posted to AO3

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: sex pollen, dub!con, f!receiving oral, blindfolds, fingering, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

Note: I was struck by Kakashi brain rot during my Naruto re-watch. 

It was supposed to be a simple delivery task. There was a chance of enemy ninja, which made it not quite so simple as just delivering a couple pieces of paper. The nature of the documents required that two jounin be sent to take care of it. You didn’t know who the other jounin was, Tsunade said she had to do some reorganization of some squads to get you the backup you’d need since this document was now top priority over a couple reconnaissance and recovery missions. 

It wasn’t your job to know what was in it that made it so important, but you were very interested in who your partner would be. Hopefully entertaining but at the very least could keep up conversation. It was a long journey to the Hidden Sand, to spend it in silence felt like a fate worse than death. Team compatibility could be what made the difference between a mission’s success and failure, after all.

“Oh, sorry I’m late.”

Kakashi? Oh this was going to be interesting, indeed.

“Helping an elderly woman with her shopping? At dawn?” you take your guess as his excuse, smile on your face as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Sure, let’s go with that. You have the cargo?”

You only pat your vest where the scroll was contained, and he nods before he suggests that you get going. And so you set out, being sure to act as casual as two shinobi heading out on a mission could. Nobody knew about the scroll, so it was imperative that you not act like you had anything that anybody else would want to see.

“We should probably think about camping somewhere or finding an inn to stay at for the night,” Kakashi suggests as the sun begins to set, and you nod before stopping to stand on a tree branch. “Which would you prefer?”

“Let’s get back on the road, and if we can’t find an inn by nightfall then we can set up camp.” At this time of year, it’d be dark in about forty-five minutes. Time wasn’t on your side if your hope was to sleep on a surface softer than your bedroll on the grass. Though there might have been an inn nearby, but you weren’t confident that you hadn’t passed it already due to how fast you and Kakashi had been moving.

For all your hoping, you’d been proven correct in your assumption that’d you’d passed the inn you’d been thinking of and that left you only moderately deflated as you turned off the main road with Kakashi to find a suitable campsite. Off the beaten path but flat was the goal, and you look through some tall shrubbery and smile when you see a clearing. It was really quite the scene with healthy grass, some flowers, and the river wasn’t too far away. The trees provided ample coverage, too, so it really did feel quite secluded. There was something in the air, too, something that put you at ease. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you also knew that you needed to stay on your guard while on a mission even if the environment told you otherwise. Something about deception and things being too good to be true. 

Kakashi offers to take the first watch, and you tuck yourself into your sleeping bag with hopes of getting some rest. Only it’s too warm, so you remove yourself from within the sleeping bag to instead lay on it in hopes that it’d be more comfortable. Only now it’s your vest that feels too heavy, so you sit up to remove it and take a moment to roll your shoulders. Kakashi was here, you were safe to lose that protective padding to get some sleep if that’s what it took. 

“Are you alright?” He asks from his perch in the tree, and you look up to see that he’d been watching you. “You seem uncomfortable down there.”

“Does it feel hot to you, Kakashi?” you ask, almost tempted to pull your shirt off but knowing that wasn’t the wisest move you could make. But it was so hot and starting to rub you the wrong way so it needed to go. Sooner rather than later. “It’s so hot out here.”

“It’s a bit warm, yeah, but I’ve been trying to tune it out.” He’s kneeling in front of you now, pressing his wrist to your forehead. You can’t see the frown, but you hear it when he sighs before he tells you that you’re running a fever. “You’re just hot, though? Not nauseous or anything else?”

“I honestly felt fine until just now when I was trying to lay down.” But you’re acutely aware of the fact that he’s still got his wrist pressed to your forehead, and now there’s his other hand on your shoulder and contributing to the heat you felt. “But now I’m just hot, and my clothes feel wrong.”

“Does it feel heavy?”

“Kinda, just rubbing me the wrong way, y’know?”

“Yeah.” So he was feeling it too, and that both relieves you and horrifies you at the same time. What if your perfect campsite was just a massive trap? That’d be just fantastic if all this was your fault. “It’s not a genjutsu, and there are no chakra signatures anywhere near us either. It’s almost like there’s something in the air.”

Something in the air? That was what you had felt earlier, but that something wasn’t making you hot. Kakashi’s hands on you were not helping, but instead were contributing to a different type of heat in your core that was not easy to ignore either. Where was the light and easy feeling that you’d had previously? Where did that go?

“I have to get out of these clothes, Kakashi.” You hope you sound calm, like you know what you’re doing, but you couldn’t even really think straight.

“We have to get out of here, we’ll deal with our symptoms once we’re out of the hot zone.”

“I am the hot zone right now!”

“And we need to figure that out, but losing your cool is not going to help. We’re not going to go far, there’s another clearing nearby and I think we should be okay there. Let’s gather our things and move.” The instruction is clear and, despite how awful your clothes felt against your skin, you follow them without question. By the time you’ve settled in the new campsite you can’t stop yourself, taking your shirt off with your vest and laying back against the cool grass in hopes that it’ll help you relax - even just a little bit. 

The air felt different here, sure, but you still felt too hot. A look to your left tells you that Kakashi was feeling the heat too, since he’d removed his vest and was trying to fan cool air onto his skin. There was another more obvious problem just south of the hem of his shirt, but you avert your gaze from your partner to keep from potentially making him uncomfortable.  

“Doing okay?” he asks, and you shake your head since you were still feeling too hot even with your shirt being off and cool air hitting your skin. 

“Still too hot, but I’m running out of layers,” you mumble, jumping nearly out of your skin when you feel his hand on your stomach. How he got there that fast was not a question you’d waste time on, since the man did train with Gai. What was more pressing was the physical contact he’d initiated, all he really needed to do was move that hand just a bit further south and you were certain that’d either fix everything and make the problem worse - but such was the shinobi way of life. “That’s not helping.”

“I thought not,” he mumbled, and you chance looking up at him only to feel yourself get so much warmer when you see him looking down at you. There’s something unfamiliar in his eye, and that has you equal parts excited and concerned at what that look could mean. “The air is different here, so we must have inhaled something back there.”

How was he still so functional? You couldn’t give a damn about what could have you feeling this way, there were more pressing matters such as your body feeling like it was on fire and the growing discomfort with how wet your underwear was getting. 

“Please stop talking,” you whine, your hand grabbing his wrist. His pulse is racing beneath his skin, his thumb starting to move against your skin until you let out another whine at the contact. “But keep touching me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Only if you want to.” 

He shakes his head, and you’re not sure what it is he’s trying to convey but you err on the safe side and release his wrist. You’re ready to sit yourself up, go hide behind a tree so you could rub this out and get it over with, but his hand stays firm on your stomach to keep you in place as he leans in to get close to your ear. 

“We shouldn’t do this, but I can’t pull myself away from you when I’m like this and you’re so willing.”

If he wasn’t wearing that mask, you’d kiss him right now. But he is, and that brings you to let him go so you could move the placement of your headband so it’d cover your eyes. Kakashi had to be uncomfortable in the mask, this was how you could ensure that he could be more comfortable while you both were dealing with the side effects of whatever the hell you’d breathed in. You hear him sigh before his hand leaves your stomach, and you pick up on the rustling of his clothes before his mouth is on yours and his hand is pushing at the waistband of your pants. Your hand starts to move, but is quickly pinned into the grass by Kakashi’s other hand as he moves to straddle you. 

“Please behave, I’m struggling to contain myself as it is.” The warning has you nodding, but your hips move of their own volition in an attempt to get some friction where you most need it. He pauses above you, then his hands are gone from you only to work at pulling your pants and underwear down. 

Your mouth falls open when his fingers push between your folds, the fire burning inside sated by the contact that has you relaxing into the grass. You hadn’t realized just how large Kakashi’s hands were until he had two fingers inside of you working to stretch you open more, and you knew you’d be fixated on those hands long after this situation was over and dealt with. A bridge to be crossed later, if you remembered after all this was over and done with. 

A forearm is pressed to your hip, those two fingers part your folds, and you sigh when his tongue slides through to lap at your essence while his thumb circles your already over-sensitive clit. Another orgasm comes and goes before you can process it, your hands moving to his hair to try and pull him away. Instead, his other hand comes to replace his tongue, two fingers pushing into your cunt easily while his thumb continues to play with your clit. 

“Are you going to come already?” He sounds amused, but you can’t formulate the words that you need to tell him off or tell him that he was right. “You can come, it’s alright. Let me taste you.”

You’re going to blame your current state on the fact that you were able to come just by him telling you to, that truly had to be it. But he sounds pleased and you’re ready to cry when he continues to lick and suck at your quivering pussy until you’re practically begging him to pull back and fuck you proper. You just needed him to fill you now, fill you and keep you full and fuck the neediness out of you. 

“Ask and you shall receive.” There’s more rustling, and you wish you could see what he was doing and how he was looking at you but the headband remains in place to keep your vision obscured. 

The blunt tip of his cock coming to rest between your folds has your eyes closing behind the headband, your fingers digging into the soft soil beneath you as he presses forward and stretches you. There’s no time or consideration for adjustments, you’d wager that Kakashi’s patience has worn out given the situation, and you’re not complaining since this is what you needed.

“Just stay put,” he breathes into your ear, his hand taking yours and pressing it into the grass beside your head. He’s still moving his hips against yours even as he speaks, the heat and desperation radiating off of him in waves as he presses a kiss to your cheek before he gently bites at your jawline. “Stay put and let me take care of us, will you do that?”

You nod, your compliance earning you another kiss before he’s pulling out. Before you have the chance to complain, he’s turning you over and pulling your hips up so you’d be propped up on your knees in front of him before he’s pushing back into you. There was no gentleness, no careful consideration of the environment, this was Kakashi on a mission to get you both off and hopefully stop whatever had gotten you both so worked up. His hands grip your hips hard enough that you’re certain there would be ten little bruises decorating your skin later, and he muffles his own sounds of pleasure by biting into your shoulder, it hurts but in the best way possible as he fucks into you at a pace you could only describe as being brutal. There was no rhythm or thought to it, he needed to get off as badly as you did. 

“You feel so good, y’know that?” he breathes into your ear, every other word punctuated by a grunt that has you weaker than the one before. There’s a new heat burning inside you, this one you knew how to cope with, and you move your hand so that you could rub at your clit only to hand Kakashi grab your hand and press it back into the ground. “I said stay put and let me take care of you. You need to come?”

You nod, your head falling forward into the grass when his fingers make contact with your clit. At this point you think your body may be too sensitive, and that has you arching back into him at the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers against the nerve bundle.

“Stop running from me.”

“Sensitive,” is all you can gasp out, fingers digging into the grass once again as Kakashi chuckles in your ear. “Please, I’m so close Kakashi.”

This time you stay put when his fingers graze your clit, and you feel all coherent thoughts leave you as your body continues to rock with his as his fingers begin rubbing quick circles while his thrusts increase in pace. All that mattered was him and your approaching orgasm, anything else would have to wait until you could breathe normally again. A thrust punctuated by a pinch to your clit has your body going rigid beneath his, and he’s talking you through the orgasm until his own hips stutter and he also stills. 

An arm moves around your waist, bringing you with him when he moves to lay on his side. The headband is moved but you keep your eyes closed even though your back was to him, not wanting to chance seeing his face. Things felt a bit more clear, but now you weren’t sure where the source of the heat was coming from now - the unknown inhalant or the close proximity to Kakashi. The grass was helping, though, which told you it was likely Kakashi making you feel so warm.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit,” you whisper, staying on your side while he lies on his back. “How come you were so functional? We were both exposed for the same amount of time?”

“My mask must have acted as a filter. I had it off to eat, though, which was likely where I got truly exposed.” You’re quiet after that, really trying to think about it but your critical thinking still wasn’t truly there. You’d give yourself a headache if you tried, you were sure, so you choose not to think about it for now. “Well I’m going to keep watch, you need your rest if we’re going to continue the mission.”

“What if it’s not fully out of our systems? Shouldn’t we go back to the village for treatment?” You’re sitting up now, still looking away since you weren’t sure if it was safe to look at him yet, but the cold air on your back does feel nice. 

“I think we’ve established that we’re pretty decent at dealing with the side effects, no need to delay by going back to the village if we can handle it ourselves.” That has you looking at him, not at all caring about whether he was masked or not. He didn’t truly mean he’d fuck you all the way to the Sand Village if that was necessary, did he? “I think that’s the fun part, don’t you?”

This man was going to be the death of you, you were certain of that.

[failingtoberelatable]

Speak | Chapter 14

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

A/N: this chapter is way longer than I thought it would be and all I'm saying about it is that the next couple of chapters are gonna be a shitshow 🤭🤭 Also, tried to keep the taglist as it was and to add people, but Tumblr won't let me post the chapter with how many there are. TAGLIST CLOSED 

<- Previous

Not seeing Jacob for almost three weeks had not been as catastrophic as (Y/N) had thought it would be. It had been odd, she couldn’t lie. She had gotten used to seeing him at least once or twice in a week and coming home to an empty house had been unusual. Still, it had not sent her into the comatose whirlwind her sister had fallen into after her boyfriend had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth.

Charlie hadn’t questioned it at first. Mostly because (Y/N) didn’t seem any different, and she still talked to someone on the phone most days. Nothing was amiss in the eyes of the household.

Until a switch flipped inside Bella. Halfway through (Y/N)’s Jacob detox, her older sister started to disappear a couple of times a week. She didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing, but she was happy that Bella seemed to be doing better. Whether it had been because of their father’s ultimatum or because she genuinely was starting to move on didn’t matter. (Y/N) was simply happy that her sister seemed content.

Her mind was also occupied with a certain boy and what he had done to make sure she was okay. In the days after the accident, he called her every morning and every night, reminding her to change her bandages and apply antibiotic ointment. He always asked how her bruise was doing and made sure she remembered to ice it every night. He had made her feel cared for, and he had made sure she knew that someone out there was watching out for her well-being.

The feelings that fluttered in (Y/N)’s heart were still unclear to her. She couldn’t deny the magnetism that pulled her toward Paul, and the more she got to know him, the more she understood her gravitation toward him. Just not what had spurred it on.

“Hey, (Y/N), I’m going out soon,” Bella called out. “I left some breakfast done in the microwave.”

“Where are you going?” (Y/N) asked, peering her head down the stairs.

“On a hike.”

“By yourself again?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m trying to get used to being there by myself again.”

“If you give me a couple of minutes to get ready, I could go with you. Make sure you don’t fall this time,” the younger girl offered. “I wouldn’t mind some sisterly bonding..”

“Uh, well... you know, maybe next time?” Bella stammered. “I’m kind of short on time, and I have a shift at Newton’s soon after.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just be careful, then. Wouldn’t want another ER visit.”

“Right,” she chuckled dryly. “I’ll see you later, (Y/N).”

“Yeah. See you.”

Much like the past weeks, even if she was doing well, Bella seemed to be avoiding her sister. And it felt no different than when she wouldn’t speak at all. At least at that point, she would at least meet (Y/N)’s eyeline. It had sent her down a spiral as she wondered what she had done for her sister to spend as little time as she could with her.

But she had no time to dwell on her sister’s rejection. She didn’t want to. Instead, she packed a backpack full of art supplies –paints, brushes, and a canvas notebook. The items were coated with a layer of dust, left abandoned and untouched for many years.

(Y/N) had grown up loving everything artistic. It was a side Bella was not in tune with, and it had made her feel closer to her mother because of it. When they had been on the road, many a time did Renée and her youngest daughter stop by a creek or a clearing to paint the scenery before them. If they didn’t paint, they would prop up a couple of chairs and spend hours knitting or crocheting. Those were the moments she thought there would be a possibility that she and Bella could be on equal footing.

As she got ready to go, she realized there was no way she had no way of getting anywhere near the place she had in mind without a set of wheels. Her father had promised that as soon as he could, he would get her a car, but for the time being, she was stuck hitching rides with her sister to school and depending on others to drive her anywhere. She never realized how inconvenient it was to not have a car now that she was… single?

(Y/N) walked to the phone in the kitchen, dialed the number she had unknowingly memorized, and waited for a response. “Hey,” she smiled as the call was picked up. “Are you, by chance, doing anything right now?”

“Not really,” Paul said through the phone. “I should be doing homework, but I am up for anything that gets me out of it.”

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could pick me up? I was in the mood of painting in the woods, somewhere by the trailhead off the one-ten, but I have no way of getting there.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you if you have something to do.” 

“It’s absolutely no problem, (Y/N),” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

After he hung up the phone, (Y/N) went ahead and finished packing the rest of the supplies she would need, as well as food and drinks for the trip. If she was going to make him make the trip to and from Forks, she could at least make it worth his while. In a lunchbox cooler, she placed the remaining slices of a cake she had made the week before, BLT sandwiches she quickly put together, and anything else she could find in the fridge and around the kitchen that would be good to snack on –crackers and cheese, some assorted vegetables and fruits, chips, and bottles of water and a couple of cans of soda.

By the time Paul reached her front door, she was carrying a full backpack on her back and a couple of bags in her arms. “Are you moving to the forest?” he chuckled the moment he saw her reaching for the heaviest ones. “I didn’t think this outing would be so life-changing.”

“Well, my things are on my back,” she explained. “The lunchbox is filled to the top with food and drinks, then that bag has a blanket and some other dry snacks. I might be forcing you to make this long trip, so I thought I would at least feed you in exchange.”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” Paul smiled softly. “But I appreciate the food. I may have also brought along some things to eat.”

“Great minds think alike, it seems,” she returned his grin. “Then, thank you for driving me. I’m sure there are a million other ways you would rather spend a Saturday.”

“Not really,” he shrugged as he opened the passenger door for (Y/N) after placing all of the bags in the back. “You honestly saved me from a very boring English paper on The Great Gatsby.”

“I actually read that book last year,” she added as Paul turned the truck on. “It’s really good once you get into the story.”

“How have you already read it? I thought you were a sophomore.”

“I didn’t read it for school,” she chuckled. “Surprisingly enough, you can read things without being graded on them and like them. It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Then I guess I will just have to give it a fair chance,” he said. His eyes snapped to hers for a quick second before focusing on the road once more, and she couldn’t help the rush that it sent through her. “If it’s one of your favorites, then it must have some type of redeeming quality.”

“I’m sure you’ll like it,” (Y/N) smiled. “As long as you give it a chance.”

As soon as they reached the end of the dirt road that took them to the trailhead, Paul took hold of all of the bags before opening the door for (Y/N) and helping her out. And the second she went for a bag, he started walking.

“I just want to help carry something,” she called out with a chuckle as he put distance between them. “I brought most of the things.”

“Why would you have to carry anything when I’m right here?”

“Because I want to help.”

“You’d have to catch up to me to do that,” he smirked, walking backward through the trail. “Which is impossible, so I guess I’m carrying the bags.”

“I don’t even know where we should go,” she laughed, taking off in a small trot to reach him. “This is as far as I thought.”

“Good thing you have the best guide then. I’m as good at moving through the woods as I am at carrying bags.”

“Lead the way then,” (Y/N) smiled.

Paul allowed (Y/N) to catch up to him once she renounced the idea of carrying anything. She followed every step he made, wondering what destination he had in mind. The last time she had even come close to being in the midst of the trees of Washington had been when she was a child. Too many times, little (Y/N), Bella, and the Black children would escape to the woods even when Billy and Charlie had warned them many times not to.

Those were the moments she missed the most. When the only thing they were worried about was having fun and keeping their escapades from their parents. There were no complicated feelings or uncertainty in their relationships. There was no confusion or pain. No ill will or misguided intentions. They were just kids trying their best to make the most out of their summer.

When Paul finally came to a stop, (Y/N) felt a sense that she had been in that very spot before. From the rays that peeked through the treetops that reached each other to create a covering to the flat expanse of grass; from the quiet pond to the rocks that bordered its shore. She could bet almost everything she had on the fact that, if she hadn’t been there, she had seen it before.

“This is perfect,” she found herself muttering. “How did you know about this place?”

“I told you I was the best guide for these woods,” he smirked. “I know all of the best spots in these woods.”

They settled close to the pond, one of the only places the sun shined onto. In the cold of February, the warmth made that place that much more perfect. She straightened the blanket onto the ground, setting the food in one corner and the paint supplies in another, leaving the center empty for them.

(Y/N) sat first, pulling item after item from her backpack, setting them in between her and where Paul sat after. He watched her every move, curiosity filling his eyes. Especially as she handed him a piece of canvas paper and a set of brushes.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked as he eyed the items in his hands. “I can’t paint.”

“You don’t have to know how to paint to just have fun painting,” she offered. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just get very quiet and in my own head when I paint, so I thought it’d be good for you to have something to do while I basically disappear for a while.”

“I’ll give it a try then,” Paul smiled, taking back the items (Y/N) had reached for. “But you have to promise you won’t laugh at it.”

“I promise.”

The younger Swan had not been lying when she said she got quiet. As soon as her brush hit the canvas and she felt inspiration rush through her, it was as though she was by herself. Her hand moved before thoughts could fill her head. She couldn’t see or hear anything but what was coming to life in front of her. Stroke after stroke, color after color, her painting was the only thing she could think of.

Before (Y/N) knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and her painting was done. As she slowly came back into the present, she looked up for the first time since she had sat down. Paul was staring at her with something in his eyes that was there every time he looked at her. Even if she didn’t know what it was, she knew that it made her feel good.

“Hi there,” he said with a slight chuckle. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d disappear.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, growing red with embarrassment. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Nah, you’re good. It was honestly fascinating,” Paul smiled. His brown eyes looked like they were on fire under the orange sun, drawing her in like nothing ever before. “What were you working on?”

“Show me what you did first,” (Y/N) responded, shielding the canvas from his line of sight.

“It will definitely not be as good,” he frowned. “I was not blessed with this kind of artistic talent.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. Show me.”

He turned his canvas paper slowly, revealing a painting that was amateurish at its best but still adorable. It seemed he had drawn the view before him. A striking blue pond with vibrant green grass, fluffy trees that met by their branches with thick dark trunks, and what seemed to be the shape of a girl looking down at a piece of paper. Anyone would have thought that a child had done it, but it made (Y/N) smile so hard it made her cheeks hurt.

“Please don’t laugh,” he said sheepishly. “I told you I’m not good at this.”

“No, it’s cute. I love it. I don’t know how, but it’s very you.”

“Very me? You mean painfully childish?”

“Oh god, no!” (Y/N) quickly corrected. “It’s fun, it’s vibrant, it’s… it’s present. Sure, I can tell it’s by a beginner, but it still speaks to the way you view the world. And it’s beautiful.”

“Woah, well, I never thought of it that way. Much less that you could say so much of such a basis painting.” A smile spread across his face as he looked at his work with different eyes. They were kinder now, appreciative of the art he had made. “Now, let’s see yours.”

Once he asked again, she turned the notebook, careful not to smear whatever parts were still wet. Paul’s eyes opened big, and his mouth fell open in amazement. On the sheet, a dark grey wolf howled back at him. Its fur was completed with a mix of yellows and oranges to give it dimension, and its head was raised to the sky as it called out. She didn’t know how she had such a vivid image of a wolf in her mind, but she loved how it had turned out.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing!” Paul exclaimed as he took the notebook to inspect the art closer. “I knew you could paint, but I didn’t know you could paint like a professional.”

“I would hardly call myself a professional,” (Y/N) smiled. “And it’s been years since I’ve actually painted anything. But weirdly enough, I have been able to get the image of this wolf out of my head since I got to Forks.”

“That is weird,” he coughed awkwardly. “But it’s a beautiful painting, (Y/N).”

“Keep it,” she offered. “I will probably paint many more if it’s the only source of inspiration I’ve gotten in a long time.”

“I couldn’t. It’s your work.”

“And I want you to have it,” she insisted. “Please.”

“You’re twisting my hand, but fine,” he said with fake nonchalance. “It’s really good, though, (Y/N). You’re really talented.”

“Thank you, Paul. I’m just glad it’s something that ties me to my mother.”

“What do you mean?”

(Y/N) sighed before she answered. It was a topic she had never brought up to anyone. She had never felt like she could. Not to anyone close to her, at least. “I don’t know,” she breathed. “I guess I’ve always felt like I’ve needed to fight for people’s attention. Especially my parents. Everyone just seems to gravitate toward Bella, and I’m always left in her shadow. As we grew older, I found anything artistic came easy to me, and it’s one of the only things I have over my sister.

“And I know it sounds bad, but it made me feel good that she was bad at it. My mom would always go through some moments when all she wanted to do was paint or knit or whatever, and she’d always look for me when that happened. So, I made sure I would always practice so that she would keep asking me to join her.” (Y/N) could feel tears prickling in her eyes, threatening to spill as she finally said out loud what she had been keeping inside for years. Her head fell as she stared at her fingers, her attention falling on a little piece of skin that had lifted on her thumb. “With my dad, it’s a bit more difficult though. I feel like we get along well, but right now, he’s worried about Bella, and that takes up a lot of space in his mind. And somehow, I just keep falling through the cracks.”

“You should never have to beg for anyone’s attention, (Y/N),” Paul said, wiping away a tear she had not felt fall. “Have you ever told them about this?”

“No,” she answered sheepishly. “And right now, it’s not the best time. Bella seems to be getting better, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, Paul. Really. I’m used to it by now,” she smiled as she dismissed the topic. “Now, let’s open up that lunchbox. I’m getting kind of hungry.”

She handed Paul one of the sandwiches as she placed the rest of the food and drinks between them. Not many words were exchanged between them as they ate, the boy downing most of the items at a surprising speed.

“So, tell me about your Great Gatsby assignment,” (Y/N) said, breaking the silence. “Maybe I could help you with it.”

“Well, I’m supposed to pick a central theme in the book and write how it’s presented in the story. But I’ve only gotten as far as the cover page, and the paper is due Monday.”

“Paul! You should be at home working on it! You made it sound like you had a lot more time to finish it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Okay, well, I could tell you one of my favorite themes. But I don’t know how interested you’ll be in writing about it.”

“Can’t be any worse than I already have,” he shrugged. “So, go ahead. Tell me about The Great Gatsby.”

“Well, I’ve always found the use of love and romance in the book very interesting,” she started, setting her food down on her lap as she got into what she was saying. “There’s this big debate on whether Daisy actually loved Gatsby, but I don’t think that’s the right question. What we are looking for in the story is whether Daisy loves Gatsby more than she loves wealth and status. Which, spoiler alert, she does not. Regardless of how Tom treats her, she stays with him because of what he can give her. She may have been infatuated with Gatsby, but the second something better came along, she forgot all about him. Until he shows up with money, and suddenly he’s at the top of her list. But new money can never be as strong as old money.

“Now, there’s the question of whether Gatsby is in love with Daisy, which is a completely different side of the same coin,” (Y/N) continued, settling more into her position. “I would say he isn’t. He is in love with this idea of Daisy that she simply is not. She’s cold and materialistic, and she’s only driven by what others can give her. She wants an easy life that she knows she will never get from Gatsby. Sure, he would never hurt her or cheat on her like Tom has, but she can never part with the simplicity she gets by staying with Tom. The Great Gatsby is painted as this unfortunate romance, filled with forbidden love and circumstantial obstacles, but truly it’s about a cunning woman that loves money and excitement more than she loves the men in her life.”

At that moment, (Y/N) didn’t note the irony of the story and how closely it related to her own situation. She didn’t feel like a Gatsby or a Daisy, much less did she see how she had her own version of Tom. But Paul drank each of her words like they were honey spilling from her lips. Not because he particularly cared about the story but because she loved it.

“You know what, you’ve actually convinced me to read the book,” he smiled before taking the last bite of his sandwich. “Don’t know if I’ll finish it by Monday, but I will definitely try.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh as a dollop of mayonnaise smeared on his cheek. She tried to point out where it was, but his comically outstretched tongue could not get to where it was. “Here,” she chuckled. She pulled a napkin out of the bag and wiped away the stain as they laughed. “Much bet…”

Suddenly, a rustling startled them, followed by laughter. For a moment, (Y/N) had forgotten that she was in the middle of the woods and that anyone could walk by at any moment. The pair got up on their feet, cautiously following where the sound came from while shielding themselves from view. But nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see.

Bella and Jacob were coming down the trail, walking side by side as they talked and laughed. They had no idea they were being watched at that moment, and they were acting as much. Jake offered Bella his arm after she buckled in her step, and she gladly took it. And all she could think of was how that should have been her; that Bella should not have been the one to be holding onto Jake.

At that point, (Y/N) couldn’t hold her tears back anymore. It seemed that Jacob had decided that their relationship was over, and he was gladly moving on with the person that was closest to her. It made her heart wrench inside of her chest, shattering whatever hope still remained inside her. She didn’t know when it had happened, but her knees gave up on her, and she could only stay up by the hold Paul had on her.

But she couldn’t blame her sister. Not entirely, at least. (Y/N) hadn’t confided in her sister about any of the problems she’d had with Jake, and they had been friends long before (Y/N) had come back to Forks. Still, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by the fact that her sister would lie to her about spending time with her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend?

Paul made a move to walk toward them, possibly to try and confront them, but (Y/N) stopped him, pleading with her eyes to wait until they were gone. “Why didn’t you let me go after them?” the boy asked the second the others were out of view. “Don’t you want to know why he’s been avoiding you and why the hell your sister is with him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she sniffled. “Jake made it clear that he didn’t want to be with me if I couldn’t get Embry to leave you guys, and he’s just making good on his promise. And Bella doesn’t even know about all of that. He definitely didn’t tell her.”

“Then, why didn’t you expose him to her? Don’t you want her to know what he did?”

“(Y/N)…”

“Just take me home, please?” she asked. Her eyes were filling with new tears, and her lips quivered as she tried with all her might not to let them fall. “I just want to go home.”

“Alright,” Paul conceded.

They packed everything in silence, the air around them shifting and thickening. Long gone was the comfortable sunny day, now replaced with a coldness that seeped through their bones. All (Y/N) wanted now was to go back home and sink into her bed sheets. Seeing Jacob and Bella together had hurt her a lot more than not seeing him at all.

Closing up the taglist for this story because Tumblr has been going crazy and won’t allow me to post with the amount of people in the tags. If you don’t want to miss out remember to turn on the notifications for my posts 😬 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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[failingtoberelatable]

“stop liking my posts! this isn’t instagram! re-blog them!!!”

me using the like button as a form of bookmarking: 👁️👄👁️

[failingtoberelatable]

YOU HAVE (1) NEW REQUEST FROM @ITADORI YUUJI . . .

WANNA PLAY SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN?

➤ seven minutes in heaven series masterlist.

NEW MESSAGE @WARNINGS : f! reader, college!au, frat party / exhibitonism, aged up!characters, jock / quarterback!itadori, he is the sweetest best boy, alcohol mention, gojo cameo, cream pies, pussy drunk yuuji, unprotected sex, pussy eating, minor marking.

(1) ATTACHMENT @WC : est. 5.5k

NEW MESSAGE FROM EMMIE @GAROUJO : hello ! ! it’s been a week or two since the last update for this series but i was feeling v unmotivated — but ‘ts back n i hope u enjoy this <3

“pssst—so you’re coming, right?”

the sudden interruption to your note taking makes you jump slightly, raising your head to lock eyes with itadori who is so obviously turned round in his seat to lean across your desk, and you can tell by the stupidly cute pout on his lips that he thinks he’s being quiet.

“coming where?” you hum, you know he’s talking about the frat party on friday — it’s all anybody had been talking about all week. your college football team have a game on friday that you know they’ll win and then the whole school will celebrate at the frat, it was tradition at this point.

but you still feign ignorance because you haven’t had enough time to come up with an excuse to not go yet.

“to the party! you’ll come right, please? it’s not fun if you’re not there, you said you’d cheer for me at the game too.” yuuji replies, enthusiastically and the whispers that he seems to think are leaving his lips are only growing louder with each word.

“i don’t know.. i might be busy.” you grumble, trying so hard to avoid his bright gaze while you scribble down whatever comes to mind — a whole load of stuff that doesn’t make sense while you think of a real excuse because you know that won’t cut it.

“hey, come onnn. you’re lying.” yuuji whines, playfully shuffling at your paper so you’ll look up at him and you regret it immediately when you notice the way his lips are jutted out, in addition to the wide eyes he’s sending you so shamelessly — is he really using puppy dog eyes to get you to go to a frat party?

“please! you can come with me and fushiguro, we can go together—“

“itadori! are you even listening?” your teacher finally hisses, narrowing their eyes at the back of the class which unfortunately includes you also.

“sorry, sensei~” yuuji calls back, but he turns round to pout at you again before he faces forward. “you gotta come okay.”

but unfortunately, like most of the school, you had a soft spot for the quarterback— he was different from the usual douchebags you would expect, the ones in the movies who break hearts and have you swearing to never love again.

itadori yuuji wasn’t like that. he was athletic, your typical jock with rippling muscles and a varsity jacket, bubbly, goofy and in shape. he didn’t do great in studies but he tried and with what he lacked in general knowledge he made up for with spirit.

he knew every one of his classmates by name and stood up for them against bullies (even the ones on his team), he was charming in a sense — like when he’d get flustered after confidently answering a question wrong or when he’d make playful jokes with your teacher back and forth, there was a natural charm to him that made you want to know him.

and you did, you don’t know how it happened — his seat was right infront of yours in class, he’d made a habit of collecting papers for two whenever it came to handouts and if he was ever having trouble with a question, he’d much sooner turn round to ask you than stay behind. you wouldn’t call you guys best friends by any means but what you had felt nice, you walked with him to practice on wednesdays because you went that way home and he invited you to games — always shooting you a bright sort of grin through his helmet whenever he noticed you in the stands.

which makes it even harder to avoid him even after class, because it is unfortunately a wednesday and you’re standing at your desk, packing your things away while said quarterback rambles to you about all the reasons you should come to the party on saturday. his pleas don’t even falter when he’s expectantly grabbing your bag from you and slinging it over the shoulder opposite his own as you both leave, making your way down the hallway that’s now mostly clear from students despite a few stragglers.

“i was being serious, you can come with me and fushiguro! he hates parties but even he’s coming.” yuuji smiles in earnest, you’re honestly surprised that he’s even convinced fushiguro to go — him hating parties was definitely true but you’re pretty sure hes had to deal with the exact same loveable jock that you are right now, so you also can’t really blame him for giving in — most likely just so he’d stop going on about it.

“i don’t want people to think i’m following you both around.” you argue, but there’s no real annoyance to your tone when you nudge into his side — trying and failing to playfully knock his well trained body even a little off balance.

“they won’t think that cause we’re friends, right? it’ll be fun. even gojo and geto will be there and you know them too. i want you to come.” the blushy haired jock next to you grumbles and there’s a real honesty in his tone despite it being spoken through a smile.

although you find yourself mentally cursing the warmth that blooms along your skin when you finally turn to look at him, painted in a warm hue by the swirls of amber in the sky and you feel yourself soften when you realise that yuuji’s eyes were already on you.

but any tension pooling in your mind is quickly broken with a hopeful grin followed by a see you tomorrow and a pat on your shoulder, watching yuuji hand you your bag before he runs to practice and you can’t help the exasperated sigh that falls from your lips when the silence finally settles after he’s gone.

you’re aware your soft spot for the quarterback was probably just as much of a curse as it was a blessing, because now, that same bright grin is staring back at you while you stand in the kitchen during the very frat party that you were trying to avoid — just because itadori had insisted through the remaining days before that he wouldn’t have any fun if you didn’t come.

the atmosphere at the party is as you expected, there’s students littered around the fraternity — an ocean of red cups and gossip, places like this were breeding grounds for rumours and drama.

but you’re with itadori and megumi so you don’t really care, leaning against the kitchen counter and too preoccupied with yuuji’s enthuastic rant about the game while the bass thumps through the walls. but his eyes are on you and his gaze is just as warm as the humid air around you.

although just before he can ask you if you were cheering for him like he was hoping you were, he’s interrupted by a familiar drawl.

“oh? you really came.” you hear a smooth tone echo from behind you, the ragged sound pulling you from your hazed mind before it’s followed by an arm being hooked over your shoulder and you’re being pulled against a hard chest.

“so itadori really convinced you, huh.” satoru hums from where he’s got both you and megumi in some form of makeshift hug, although it feels more like a chokehold given his stature and the way you’re both swaying to look up at him.

“quit it, satoru.” geto sounds from behind him, sighing before hes shifting to stand next to him to send you all a kind-hearted sort of grin - one thats vaguely different from the menacing one on his white-haired counterparts lips, who chooses to ignore his interruption.

“you guys are just in time, we need you for the game. you’re in, right?” satoru goads, but you notice that the smirk on his lips is a lot more devilish than the ones you’ve seen before. even when you make a curious sound, you can see the way his crystalline eyes reflect amusement when he looks at you. he was always one for joking around, more times than not he had you laughing — mostly at him, but his words felt different this time.

you’re not surprised when you watch itadori send him a starry-eyed glance, but there’s a certain thickness in the air that you’re pretty sure goes completely over the loveable jock’s head when the next thing you know, the three of you find yourself squished together on an old worn couch in the living room.

satoru’s situated himself in the middle of the room, like a sort of game-master you guess you’d call him — expected considering he was one of the oldest in the frat, listening to him list out the rules to a game that you’re more than familiar with, and now you understand the sort of amusement that was present in his smirk earlier.

you should’ve known you’d made a mistake as soon as your eyes met his and the soft light was glinting off the playfulness in his gaze, ending up with you being roped into going first — which surprisingly seemed to pull an almost uncomfortable shuffle from itadori at your side as his thigh bumps yours.

“hey, you okay?” yuuji smiles, his voice low and barely audible but he knows that you hear him — his attention taken with you so casually when your face twists to meet him at the sound, but his question is appreciated and heartfelt.

you nod when you look at him and he blinks quickly at the sudden close proximity before you’re turning to face the room again with a sigh.

but itadori’s gaze is still on you while satoru’s giving you a hooded look thats entirely too perceptive for your liking, a smirk curling at his lips as his brows arch from over his glasses and he’s spinning the empty beer bottle that’s lying in the middle of the floor with a quick twist of his wrist.

you were fine atleast, until that same bottle lands on a man who has bile turning in your stomach when he shoots you a smirk that’s thick with desire, dark and expectant. you didn’t know him, but you knew of him and he was the kind of person who you’d rather smack than be locked in a closet with, especially alone.

he was a playboy and a loser, you’d only ever seen him trailing behind satoru and itadori — kissing their ass and sucking up to the rest of the team, or drooling all over women who definitely did not want him. he was a sleaze and a douchebag, and before he even has the chance to move you’re already curling back against the couch.

“not happening.” you hiss, fingers squeezing against your thighs when you narrow your eyes at satoru, and you watch him raise a brow at you before he’s rising to his feet.

“you agreed to the game, princess.” the white-haired male shrugs, although you can even see the sorry distaste on his features when he notices the hungry grin on the other bastards. but just as your mouth opens to protest a second time, you feel a strong arm wrap around your middle before you’re pulled to your feet.

“i’ll do it, gojo-senpai.” yuuji grunts from beside you, curling his arm around you to press you protectively against his chest and there’s a burning hot rush of blood under your skin where his thick fingers grip at the dip of your waist. “there isn’t a rule against it, right?”

the frown on his face seems almost unnatural when you tilt your head back further to look at him, unfamiliar given the smile you were normally used to, but when you feel his hands squeeze at your restless figure you still can’t help but feel safe. you watch the gears turning in satoru’s mind at yuuji’s outburst though, shooting a glance at suguru from over his shoulder before his dark haired friend shrugs and he’s sighing with a click of his tongue, failing to hide the soft smirk of amusement that’s twitching at the corners of his lips.

“i’ll allow it, yuuji-kun. just you kids behave, yeah?” he drawls and you hadn’t realised your heart was racing until those words leave gojo’s lips and you’re squeezing yourself closer into your.. saviour of sorts, before you’re both ushered down the hall and thrown into a darkened-closet by the same white-haired upperclassman.

but you don’t fail to notice that itadori’s arm never left your figure, even as you strolled down the halls or when you both crowded into the equally small closet — it feeling even smaller giving his broad physique, even now his fingers on your waist were still present and grounding— a feeling you could quickly find yourself yearning for.

“i’m sorry you got roped into this.” you speak first into the shadowy darkness of the small space, the soft light glinting prettily off of yuuji’s eyes when he meets your gaze, and you know you probably look as awkward as you feel when your fingers trace along the lettering on his varsity jacket. but he still grins before he squeezes your waist — like a sort of reassuring touch, like he knows you need it.

“hey! i volunteered you know, and well i was kinda hoping it would be me anyway.. but that guy really sucks.” yuuji’s grinning, a little flushed in the face but you put it down to the stuffiness of the closet rather than anything else when you blink up at him. but you watch him scratch at the back of his neck with another grin when his words finally sink in and you're casting him a wide-eyed glance.

“what did you say?” you reply quickly, something unfamiliar curling down your spine as your hands twist nervously in the fabric of his shirt — fingertips grazing the sharply carved planes of muscle underneath and part of you wants to explore more at the first, almost intimate touch.

“huh? that guy sucks. he’s really mean to girls and it’s always made me mad, even gojo-senpai doesn’t like hi—“ yuuji taps at his chin, his eyes never leaving yours before you cut him off again.

“no before that.” you gape, feeling your fingertips against his chest again when he hums and thinks back to a few moments ago before he’s smiling again.

“oh! i was kinda hoping it would be me anyway.” he grins in earnest, his tone never once faltering and there’s a sincerity to the way he pats down the curve of your spine. “why?” you swallow, and the atmosphere in the closet suddenly feels stuffy with the question.

“because i like you.” itadori answers, voice unwavering, again, and you don’t know if the tingling in your skin is embarrassment or desire when you flutter your eyes back up to meet his and notice the sudden heaviness that stares back.

he doesn’t look nervous at first glance but his hand almost trembles along your back when you press closer against his front, feeling the way his heart is pounding against your palm as his broad chest expands with every exhale he takes, and if you looked closely you’d be able to make out the slight dusting of pink on his ears underneath the soft curl of his hair.

“yuuji, um—“ you start, laughing quietly in disbelief and you watch itadori’s eyes glance down at your lips before he’s swallowing dryly and hugging you closer, “i mean like really like, that’s why i like seeing you cheer for me at games and that’s why i asked you to wear my jacket, even though you said no..”

the last few words of his sentence are said through a pout but when you find yourself patting at his chest at his confession, you watch an earnest, bright grin curl at his lips before he’s sending you a vulnerable sort of look that’s is so handsomely unfair.

“i—just didn’t think of it like that.” you breath, a whispery sort of tone to your voice and you watch itadori’s eyes jump over your features before you hear him gulp and take a nervous breath. but a hardened look of determination comes over him as his cheeks flush deeper, and his fingers twitch against your skin when your hand comes up to rest against his cheek — encouraging him to lean closer.

“would you take it now?” he asks, words almost an exhale across your lips and you don’t realise just how close you’ve become, until you feel itadori’s heart kicking against his impressive chest under your palm. “yes.” you answer quickly, and the closet suddenly feels stuffier when his wide eyes jump from yours to your lips before he’s grazing them with his own.

he’s a little distracted once he sees just how pretty you are up close, so you decide to take matters into your own hands when you twist your hands into the fabric of his shirt — pulling him in for a kiss that feels natural despite how he stiffens at first.

but when itadori feels the way your lips press against his, it’s like something dangerous snaps in his self control and suddenly your body is thumping against the wood of the wall, his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he licks messily into your mouth, drinking you up and groaning at the first, wet glide of your tongue along his.

you curl your arms around his neck as you croak his name, noticing the way his eyes are screwed shut as he pins you to the hard wood behind you, feeling you wiggle against him and he groans before his warmth leaves you.

itadori is breathing hard when he pulls away suddenly, pupils blown wide as they scan over your features with parted lips and desperate pants. “fuck, i’m sorry, is—is this okay?” he gasps and you’ve never answered faster than when you rasp out a yes, kissing him fiercely as he grinds against you — large palms roaming along the new dips of your figure he’s yet to explore until you’re mewling against his panting mouth and hitching your leg around his waist.

“can i touch you? p-please..” it’s messy, rushed the question as you feel him smear spit along your chin as his mouth moves, but he doesn’t pull away — if he had a choice, he never would given how breathless and eager he feels.

“please, yuuji! i want you.” itadori feels blood rush to his thick cock at the breathless plea, his dark jeans suddenly feeling tighter as his arms leave you — in favour of almost tearing off his varsity jacket to throw it on the floor, and you feel your world shift suddenly when your back is pressing against the thick fabric after as you both hit the ground.

“needed you s-so bad, for you so long.” he purrs, voice cracking under the heavy weight of his desire and arousal as his big body pushes its way between your thighs, and you feel dizzy when you melt under the weight of him, letting him rut desperately into you like an animal.

he’s absolutely enamoured by you, panting as he smears kisses along your jawline — sucking at your neck as his hips rub and grind into yours, groaning when he feels you grab at his broad shoulders with each press of his lips.

you feel one of itadori’s rough, strong palms stroke down your thighs — pushing your skirt around your waist as he continues to press kisses along your skin, igniting your nerves along the way as you twist, looking down to meet his wild eyes as he crawls down your body — pushing your shirt up to suckle pink, blooming marks against the skin.

“you’re s-so pretty, ‘s this okay? want you, fuck.” there’s a carnal drop in his tone, a low lull and you feel the sound vibrate against your skin before he’s pulling away with a wet pop — trembling hands moving to quickly pull down your panties only when he hears you gasp out another yes, followed by a tentative swipe of his fingers along your already embarrassingly slick pussy.

itadori smears kisses down your hips, spit coating your thighs before he’s lifting your weak legs over his shoulders — panting like a dog when he gets his first glimpse of your pretty pussy and he lets out a wrecked groan, low and long before he’s immediately shoving his face between your thighs, taking a long taste of your cunt.

your back arches at the sudden stimulation when you feel his tongue flatten against your clit, but it only takes a few seconds before his muscled forearms are keeping you pinned beneath his huge body, your hips twitching as you cry out for him — grabbing at the blush strands of his hair before your thighs and lungs tremble on your next inhale.

everything about how he eats you out is messy and itadori feels lost in his own pleasure as he loses himself in your addictive cunt, the taste feels like fucking heaven on his tongue and he moans; ragged and hungry when his hips instinctively rut into the carpet below him, the sudden stimulation on his heavy, leaking cock causing a pleasured vibration to rumble through your clit.

every swipe of his tongue feels like it sends bliss racing through you, arousal pooling dangerously in your stomach as your eyes prick with pleasured tears — his pace never eases and you feel like you can barely breathe as he showers you in strong licks, panting warm along your glistening folds when he pulls away to admire the way your slick shines when it’s mixed with his spit.

it’s embarrassing how quickly you feel your orgasm, the sight of itadori’s huge frame humping the floor between your thighs as he loses himself in your taste only making it approach faster. you feel his nose knock against your clit as he smacks lewdly, feeling your warm walls flex around his thick tongue when he dips it past your fluttering hole. he’s panting and fucked out, and you’re pretty sure the lower half of his face and cheeks are soaked as you feel your arousal pool onto his jacket below you.

he feels so fucking good, and you feel lost in a dizzy dream when you meet his heavy gaze once more, watching the muscles of his back move through the tight fabric of his white shirt — you would never have thought that your college’s loveable quarterback ate pussy like it was his first meal in days, but you think the realisation might just make you like him even more when you feel his lips close around your clit to suckle lightly.

you feel something dangerous spark along your nerves when his huge palms rock you against his mouth, reducing you to pretty pants and babbles of his name before he’s pulling away with a long whine that makes it sound like it physically hurt him to pull away from you.

“p-please—don’t cum yet, can you make you feel even better—fuck, i gotta feel your pussy ‘round me, baby.” itadori moans, voice tight with need as he rips his belts and pants open — messily tossing them down his thighs until he’s groaning at the sudden freedom from the loss of the restrictive fabric.

even in the darkness of the old closet you can see the thick curve of him in his boxers, he’s huge and you can almost see the way it twitches with carnal need — not that your surprised with how impressive he is. but it only makes your mouth water when you watch him pull down the final layers of fabric between you, the throbbing, silky curve of his cock grazing along your thighs as he looms over you with a growl, letting his cock drag through the messy, glistening folds of your cunt.

“do you think you can take it, baby? i know you’re gonna take it s-so well. oh so fuckin’ good.” itadori chokes, wide eyes meeting yours and your lips part to sound out a sweet uh-huh when his swollen head catches under the hood of your clit, your legs squeezing around him impatiently before he’s breathing hard through clenched teeth and reaching down to grip around the base.

your mouth drops open to moan when you feel him rub against your clit, hips twitching up wildly and needy as you chase the stimulation and he feels so fucking dizzy at the way you moan for him — shameless and uncut and he’s all but forgotten you’re both about to fuck on his varsity jacket, that’s spread out on the floor of some gross frat closet.

the next swipe of his cock through your folds presses it against your twitching hole and itadori tries so hard to keep his eyes on you through the pleasure when he finally sinks in. but you’re so fucking warm and tight, and the way your fisting at his shirt makes an almost animalistic growl vibrate through his chest as you twitch at the thick spread and he’s pulling you in for a sweet kiss — a contrast to the way he’s bullying his cock into your tight cunt.

“too big, yuuji—ah!” you moan brokenly against his lips and itadori can’t help the pride that swells in his chest as his eyes flutter, his grip dragging you across the floor as he pushes himself deeper into the desperate hug of your walls, shushing you as his teeth drag along your bottom lip.

“but you take me so well, baby—fuck, feel so good. you’re doing s-soo good.” he growls and groans like a man possessed with a slow, wet withdrawal of his cock, rolling it back into you a little each time as your pussy squelches lewdly and his hips press tight against your hips with another mewl.

you can barely breathe with how deep it feels like itadori reaches, the pleasurable sting making the room below you spin before you’re caught off guard with the first harsh smack of his hips between your thighs — the sudden quick pace fitting for someone with such an athletic prowess as you dig your nails into his broad back just to keep yourself grounded.

every wet withdrawal of his hips is so fucking loud and each deep thrust of his cock feels like it reaches even deeper as you a moan of his name kicks from your throat, your desperate attempts at keeping quiet being fucked out of your mind with the way your body is crumbling under each of his thrusts, your orgasm already so close as you hear him babble, wet against your cheek.

“never wanna stop..hnnn, you feel so good. need—shit, need more, wanna feel you, baby.” itadori growls against your skin, and you can hear all his need and want for you in the way he moans your name with each exhale — grabbing at your body like he’s afraid you’ll disappear as he splits you open beneath him.

his eyes are hooded when he looks at you, pink hair smeared along the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead as he presses deep into your body — blunt head of his thick cock pressing against the swollen spots inside of you and all you can do is take it. your voice bounces of the walls of the small, darkened closet as you pant and lilt your head back — clawing red marks down the ivory skin on itadori’s back.

it’s almost inhumane the way his quick, intense pace grows heavier — your body jolting beneath him as he digs his cock up inside of your pussy, the bruising grip he has on your hips being the only thing keeping you underneath him or else you would’ve bounced rignt off with each heavy, wet connection of his hips — driven by the brute strength in his muscled body.

your orgasm hits you suddenly, so hard and good that it almost hurts and your toes curl as your fingers move to grab at itadori’s hair, trembling and clawing at his biceps with the other as you cream around his cock. but he doesn’t stop, not when you’re panting and gasping with each shockwave of bliss below him — the vibration of his groans echoing somewhere deep in his chest as his cock thickens inside of your soaked cunt.

“please, baby—lemme give y-you my cum, will look so good. let me, baby.. fuck, gotta hear you say it.” he slurs and you hiccup before you’re moaning out another needy yes, tightening your thighs around his waist in the hopes it’ll keep him trapped inside.

but itadori’s pace stutters at the first too tight, milking compression of your walls, gritting his teeth with a surprised grunt when his jaw clenches and his eyes watch more cream pool around the base of his thick cock, your walls throbbing with every unforgiving push of his hips.

then he looks at you as he cums thick and heavy inside of you with a long, agonised groan, you’re underneath him and fuck—you’re so pretty. his classmate who sits behind him in class and who he walks to practice with on wednesdays — who cheers for him at games and looks so fucking ethereal when they’re cumming around his cock, he’d fucking dreamed of a moment like this.

it’s addictive, you’re addictive, itadori thinks when he pushes his thick load into your tight cunt, babbling out curses and praises as they curl down your skin while he pins you completely. his primitive instincts take over as he continues to fuck into your messy, sensitive pussy until you’re both spent and a mixture of your cum is smeared along your thighs, only following it with a few shallow thrusts to accommodate the thick rush of cum he unloads inside of your puffy walls.

“baby, you with me? does it hurt?” you finally hear him mumble against your cheek, pressing his lips to the skin after as he kisses you back to him, back to where he’s got you pinned to the closet floor while his fingers massage at the probably soon to be bruises on your hips.

you blink slow, hazy before you’re looking up at where itadori is still looming over you, he’s flushing deep as he catches his breath but he’s still quick to scoop you up into his chest — making sure he’s not hurt you as he looks at you with a pouty, sleepy expression.

“yuuji.” you whisper, throat dry and raspy but you watch him smile as he holds you delicately, a hard contrast to his rough grip a few moments ago as he gives you puppy dog eyes.

“you’re alive, baby! you scared me, did i hurt you? you’re okay?” he asks again and there’s a tenderness to his words when they’re not spoken through his usual bright grin. but you look at him again before you’re smiling and snuggling into his strong shoulder.

“i’m okay, it was so good.” you sigh, shaking slightly when itadori pulls you to stand with him — supporting the trembling of your thighs with a strong arm around your waist before he’s grimacing as he picks up his jacket, sending you another cute pout before you’re both laughing at the cum and other fluids that’s soaked into the fabric.

“awww, does that mean you won’t wear it, baby?” yuuji whines, and you smile again before you let him curl you against his chest — pulling you in for a kiss that’s slow, but still a little messy as he presses you close and you let yourself pull him even closer for a moment, not ready for it to be over yet as you wind your arms around his neck.

he squeezes you to pull away, only to help you clumsily smooth down your clothes, making you both look semi-presentable. “does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?” he grins and you scratch your fingers through his still slightly damp hair as his hands smooth along your sides and he tilts his head at you.

“first you gotta clean your jacket so i can finally wear it.” you reply quickly and the sound seems to make itadori’s smile stretch even wider, but just as he leans in again, your lips parting when his brush against them —the door of the closet is abruptly torn open.

“there you are, yuuji-kun! how was the confession?” satoru drawls but his hazy eyes reflect an unfiltered, knowing sort of amusement when they look over your disheveled appearances. but it’s just as charming as it always is when you watch itadori flock to the older student, big warm hands resting on your hips to keep you wrapped up in him.

you listen to them ramble, trying to ignore the teasing gaze of both gojo and geto as they drawl and hum their words — wigging their brows at you when itadori tells them ( while missing a few details ) about how he needs to wash his jacket before you wear it. but your attention is quickly stolen from a certain dark haired, disgusted looking fushiguro from where he appears next to itadori.

“you’re both gross.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[failingtoberelatable]

a/n: this is rushed but i just love suguru so much

“at any rate, tengen-sama is stable.”

the sounds of motorcycle’s engine roaring further away from him brings him back to reality.

“figures.” geto mutters under his nose and and looks around for a second before turning away to go back into the building.

“suguru!”

your voice, loud even from distance and full of joy, startles him as he looks around for you. soon, he is able to make out your figure from afar, running towards with your suitcase stumbling behind you.

suguru forgets about the whole world, his eyes only focused on you. you leave your suitcase behind and jump into his already opened arms, wrapping yourself around him. the impact of your jump is enough to shake him but he is strong enough to stay upright.

your joyous laughter fills his ears, bringing out a chuckle out of him as he hugs you closer to himself.

“i missed you, sugu,” you rub your cheek against his affectionately and peck his lips, “did you miss me too?”

geto smiles teasingly, hand roaming up and down your back, “a little.”

“only a little?”

“yeah, a little.”

you squint at him suspiciously and let go of him, standing on your own again, and he laughs, “alright, i missed you a lot.”

the corners of your lips quiver in attempt to stiffle down the smile that wants to take over your face, but you fail, looking down with red dusting your cheeks. you look so cute, geto smiles too.

—

“oh, i saw yuki-sensei on her way out, she said she talked to you earlier.”

the conversation with yuki tsukumo wasn’t the one he wanted to discuss with you; anything that involved his inner battles wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss with you, simply because he wants to protect you.

geto hopes you don’t notice how he tenses beside you, his gaze lowering from your face for a brief moment before he continues listening to you.

“she said you didn’t answer her question about the type of girls you’re into.”

he exhales softly, his body relaxing as he takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“i don’t like that woman, she’s so weird,” you frown, putting a carrot in your mouth. “who goes around asking boys ‘what kind of girl is your type’?”

suguru hums in response, “she asked others too?”

“nanami said that earlier when he and haibara were training she asked them, and nanami didn’t say anything too until she forced him to give some kind of description,” you laugh, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “so what kind of girl is your type?”

“no, not you too.”

“please~” you whine, clasping your hands under your chin, “i wanna know!”

“dumbass,” he flicks your forehead, corners of his lips uplifted, and leans his head back into the soft cushions, ignoring your loud ‘ow!’, “i don’t have a type, y’know.”

you hum curiously, putting away your snacks, and lay your head on his lap, smiling when his hands start caressing your face.

“why would i have a type when i have you?”

suguru’s smile widens as he watches you squirm and bury your face in his tummy, arms wrapping around his waist. you say things into the fabric of his shirt, your speech muffled by it, and seem to not care about the fact that he can’t understand you clearly. 

suguru can only think about how cute you are when you’re so easily holding onto his heart.

[failingtoberelatable]

in which megumi isn’t the first to have gone through embarrassing friends… sashisu x reader.

you lose the trio sometime in between navigating through different shops. you’re not worried though, they’ll find you at some point when gojo needs to pout at you, trying to convince you to ditch the other two because they’re “bullying” him.

in your distraction of finding the next store that piqued your interest, you bump into a figure and you find the items held in your clutch fall upon the impact.

“i’m so sorry.” the guy you bumped into apologises and you notice that he also dropped the things he bought as well.

“oh my gosh me too, i was too distracted by the make up store to notice walking into you.” you both crouch down and begin picking up your purchases.

“that’s totally understandable. i saw that jacket in the windows and developed a one-track mind.” he chuckles and you mirror him.

“glad to see i’m not the only one who gets lost in their own world when shopping” you chuckle and he nods in agreement, standing up along with you.

“you must be doing something wrong if you don’t.”

“you’re so right.” your eyes shut in a smile and the mans cheeks heat up.

he opens his mouth to say something but before he could utter anything you hear the sound of a familiar whiny voice travel to your ears “baby, where’d you go?” 

you’re joined by gojo satoru in the blink of an eye, his hands wrap around your shoulders as he asks “who’s this guy?” and looks the man in front of you up and down “are you cheating on me? i thought you said we had something special!” he cries out and you’re left speechless, eyes travelling to the area around you in shock. your eyes zero in on an approaching geto and you feel yourself relax, he can take gojo off your back and stop him from embarrassing you-

“darling, what are you doing here?” he asks, mischief glinting in the back of his eyes but a frown tugs at his lips “we’re meant to be going on a date.” he grabs your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

by now you’re sure that your mouth is hung open and certain that you’ve attracted a crowd to spectate the drama of the situation. you only pray that shoko saves you from the two idiots, god knows that geto isn’t any better than his counterpart despite popular belief.

“babe, why are you surrounded by these three strange men?” 

you have lost all faith in humanity as shoko tugs your arm releasing your geto and gojo’s hold “i told you to stick by me, you know i hate it when random perverts hit on you.” now by her side, her hand rests on your hips and she leans her head on your shoulder.

“she’s not interested, you homewreckers, get away from her.” she spits and the stranger from before sweatdrops.

“umm here’s the lipgloss you dropped.” he hands you the beauty product and your friends dramatics halt as the 3 stare at each in what would induce you to laugh had the embarrassment of the situation not been at your expense.

“thank you so much.” you bow deeply in gratitude and shame. you only stand up when he leaves with a wave.

“no worries.” his escape into the shop you came out of is quick, leaving you to turn to your friends with a few deep exhales.

“now what the fuck was that?” you ask, hands on your hips as you move your bags to hang around your wrists.

“we thought that guy was hitting on you.” gojo mumbles, fingers scratching at the back of his head as he gave you a weak smile, shifting slight so that he stood behind shoko and geto.

“he thought that,” geto confesses with a shrug and shoko chimes in “he told us you were getting taken away and that we should act quickly.” the two split exposing gojo as he scowls.

“way to rat me out, bastards.” gojo huffs with a pout.

“and so you think a guy asking me out beckons you to act like i’m a whore who cheats on three partners?” the trio shrug at you and your eyes roll so hard that you feel as though they might get stuck somewhere in the back.

“well that man did no such thing, he was being nice because i bumped into him.” you huff.

“umm excuse me, he was blushing just talking to you, had we gotten here any later you would’ve ditched us for him.” gojo interjects, pout stuck on his lips.

“if only you had, maybe then i’d be free from all your stupidity.” a snigger sounds from shoko and geto who assumed they were from your scolding after betraying gojo.

“you two are included, idiots.” you cross your arms in front of your chest as they all stand in line “never do that again, that was single handedly the most embarrassing thing i’ve ever been through.” 

“but what about the time you accidentally fell on saturo and suguru in the subway-” your glare stops shoko and she pulls out a cigarette as she smiles innocently at you.

“to make up for this,” you announce to the three, ignoring the blush that tinted the boys’ cheeks “satoru hand me your credit card and suguru hold these.” you deposit your bags in getos hands before extending your palm towards gojo.

“but what about shoko-” gojo and geto ask but you snatch the card and walk with your arm in shoko’s, now heading towards the store you were eyeing earlier.

the quote “i support womens wrongs and rights” rings in their minds as they follow after you.

[failingtoberelatable]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose suguru is a step closer to suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if suguru is what you need right now. not suguru, not suguru, and certainly not geto suguru. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto suguru, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly, grabbing all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughs off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

��stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[failingtoberelatable]

YOU HAVE (1) NEW REQUEST FROM @GETO SUGURU . . .

WANNA PLAY SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN?

➤ seven minutes in heaven series masterlist.

NEW MESSAGE @WARNINGS : f!reader, college!au, best friends to lovers, frat party!au, exhibitionism, mutual pining, unprotected sex, one of those very cliche bickering / fighting to making out scenes, fingering, confessions, seven minutes in heaven scenarios that definitely last longer than seven minutes, creampie, dry humping.

(1) ATTACHMENT @WC : est. 5.3k

NEW MESSAGE FROM EMMIE @GAROUJO : i’ve done hcs about kissing during an argument before n ngl they kinda inspired this so :3 another lil instalment to the series + only two to go!! fank yew for sm support on these fics <3

geto suguru had always been a constant in your life, he was the consistency despite the inevitable change of everything else and you still think fondly back on the years spent together with your bestfriend.

he’d always been kind to you, well mannered and polite despite being a little fragile but he was your other half in a way and always pushed you to achieve everything he knew you could. he was your rock and the shoulder you’d cried on a few too many times than you’d like to recall. but he’d always treated you with an honesty and a respect that you basked in and held close to your chest through the years.

you remember sitting in the same tea shop you still visit now five years ago, you’d sigh with a “suguru” when you didn’t get a question in your homework, and you’d hear him break into laughter before crossing his arms over his chest when you rested your head on the table, pouting while he pinched at your cheek and told you to let him see.

you still have your notebooks that you’d both use to doodle in class, steady scratches of ink and his name signed across the top, but now it’s been replaced by a laptop that he’d help you pick out when you graduated. it’s the same as his and you’re glad you’d stood your ground when it came to your insistence on a webcam, because you still found comfort in the late night cram sessions with suguru — pulling your laptop onto your stomach while he scribbles away at his notes, with the same type of pen he always used.

“we’re gonna need coffee in the morning, it’s almost 1am already.” you’d groan, rubbing at the your eyes with the heel of your palm and you’d watch your bestfriend lean back to stretch, his shirt rising slightly to show off the smooth ivory muscle that dips into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“it’s your turn, i got the last two.” suguru would hum, soft syllables as a teasing sort of smile twitches at his lips and you’d always feign a pout just so he’d look at you like that a little longer.

you remember it was the same way he looked at you as you both sat on the roof of your childhood home before you left for college, the one that was on the same street as his while the packed up boxes sat stacked in your room. your suitcase sat right next to his at the door and how both help the tangible pieces of your life, and it’s something that you still smile at.

“i’m still here with you.” is what suguru had told you in honesty when he noticed you staring into the same spot in the night sky, shuffling closer to wrap you in an embrace and rub at your back, and you still smiled despite the ache that settled in your chest that night at the thought of your cleared bedroom and the empty space it left.

“always?” you’d asked with uncertainty but the “always.” that fell quickly from your best friends lips in reply was nothing but earnest, honest.

it still hurt, but when you turned to meet his kind-hearted smile you noticed that the pain dulled, and maybe it was then that you first found yourself realising that he would always have you, your love, your vulnerability and you’re truth.

and maybe that’s when love began to take its first few tentative steps to meet you both.

“are my good looks distracting you, sweet thing?” satoru laughs, pulling you back to where you are now, in the overheated living room of the frat party he’d dragged you and suguru too, and a look over your shoulder would reveal your dark haired bestfriend who gives you a grin.

he looks a little tired, you think. suguru’s kept his hair a little longer than how he used to back in high school, back when he didn’t used to style his hair and it hung around the front of his eyes. he pulls it back, it’s still slightly messy but it fits, and it frames his features when he blinks at you, soft and slow before he’s raising his brow in a way that never fails to make you feel warm.

it’s become almost an immediate reaction when you turn back to roll your eyes at whatever seems to come out of satoru’s mouth at this point, snorting before he’s righting himself with a laugh and shooting you a cocky sort of wink.

you’d become comfortable in the push and pull you’d found in your group of friends, you and suguru had both met gojo in your first year and it warmed you from the inside at how quickly you three came together ( with the addition of utahime, who’s excuse for not coming to the party tonight was the exam she has in a few days, and how she couldn’t afford to lose the braincells that she claims hanging around with satoru would melt )

but with your blooming friendship you had realised just how perceptive gojo satoru was, having him pick up on your crush on your bestfriend fairly quickly, and maybe it was his realisation that made you truly realise it yourself.

even though you basically had to swear your trust to him for life when he’d teased you about it, making you tickle relentlessly at his sides until he was wiping his tears with his loud laughter and swearing secrecy.

you hear suguru laugh at gojo’s teasing in the now but then his eyes are back on you, and he really looks at you before he’s nudging into your side and mouthing a “you really okay?” because at the root of who he was—suguru has always been kind, and you can’t deny that you’re a little inwardly delighted that he still checks on you even now.

“we gotta do something to get people excited, this needs to be wilder.” that same gojo hums, sending you a look that seems a little calculating and a dangerous sort of menacing when he taps on his chin with a long finger before he’s grinning.

“what are you smiling about?” suguru drawls, giving gojo a humoured sort of grin that makes him lean back to laugh before he’s falling forward again, shooting you both a teasing look from above the rim of his glasses.

“oh? you scared?” he hums and you feel your best friends arm hook around your shoulder before you’re pulled into his chest, feeling the warm muscle through his shirt when it presses against your side and you hate the way it makes your breathing hitch before suguru speaks again — his lips close enough for you to feel the way his breathing rolls over your shoulders.

“heh, nah. i’m sure we’ll be fine.”

—

but fine wasn’t exactly what you’d call this situation, gojo’s grand plan it seems was a good old game of seven minutes in heaven, and you’d be lying if you said that watching him round up a drunken group of students with the simple words wasn’t amusing.

you’re sinking into the plush (but also grossly soaked with college mysteries) seat of the arm chair in the corner of the living room, while suguru takes his place on one of the thick arms. his thighs are spread at either side of the cushion as he leans against the back to balance his huge stature, knocking his calve against your thigh to pull your attention from the dramatics satoru is pulling in the middle of the room.

“you sure ‘bout this?” he grunts from his place beside you, the question is spoken in earnest and you know that if you ever said you were uncomfortable he’d be pulling you out without a second thought.

but if you were honest, you weren’t sure of this.

infact you hadn’t realised just how tightly your hands had been nervously curling against your thighs for aslong as you’d sat here, because every couple that left the room with hoots and haulers, was one couple less infront of you and suguru — and watching your bestfriend and life-long crush being whisked into a darkened college closet with anyone who wasn’t you for seven minutes of fucking heaven, wasn’t exactly how you’d describe a good night.

“you’re next, sweet thing.” satoru drawls, breaking you out of your own internal spiral just as your turn finally circulates and you don’t notice the way that suguru also seems to tense at the words, shuffling uncomfortably by your side before he’s resting a heavy palm against your shoulder — his means of comfort, you tell yourself.

“spin it for me, please~” you ask, your words a smooth sort of plea and you watch a grin curl the sides of satoru’s lips before his eyes sweep to suguru quickly, a look that goes unnoticed by you from where his crystalline gaze is hidden behind his black, tinted frames.

you feel like you watch the amber of the empty beer bottle spin forever and you feel like you’re just about to climb the walls when it finally begins to slow, your heart rate climbing into a heavy sort of thud against your chest when you openly cringe about some of the possibilities scattered along the room.

but a possibility you don’t consider, was the bottle landing just slightly to your left, shamelessly pointing towards your… bestfriend and crush geto? who’s sending you a curious look from where he’s manspread at the side of your fucking arm chair — like he’s gauging your reaction before allowing himself to reveal his own, and you hate the way you feel hope dangle in the space where you take a breath.

you’ve convinced yourself everything is fine, like you’ll totally be able to resist the absolutely irresistible man you’re about to be trapped in a darkened closet with for seven minutes of fucking heaven, the same guy who you’ve been crushing on for as long as you’ve known him.

“i’m glad it’s just you i got, suguru.” you say nervously as you’re both marched towards your destination, desperately trying to feign like you’re not completely freaking out and this is totally normal.

but then you turn with your words and you don’t miss the way suguru’s biceps twitch slightly with your effort to hide your true feelings, hearing him hum lowly before his shoulders drop with a sigh and his tongue pokes at his cheek, but just as quickly as his irritated expression forms it vanishes.

“yeah, just me..” there’s a change in his tone with his reply, it’s not the usual smooth and soft tone he seemed to reserve for you — it was sharp and honest and… hurt? before the door of the closet is suddenly shutting behind you both and you sway when you look up at geto to realise his eyes are already on you.

you’re so aware of the close proximity between you both and if you weren’t so hellbent on trying not ruin your friendship with geto suguru you’d gladly melt closer, pushing yourself against the soft muscle of his broad chest just so you can feel the way his warmth curls down your spine in blissful waves.

but then you’re suddenly aware of the awkward silence that settles in the darkened room, one that was so unfamiliar you feel a sudden nervousness twist in your abdomen before you finally speak. “i didn’t mean it like that.” you say quickly, suddenly reminding yourself of your previous words and you watch suguru’s shoulders drop again when he exhales.

“is that all you’ll ever see me as?” geto says plainly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he casts you a heavy look that you almost mistake for a glare in the dim lighting.

“what does that mean? we’re best friends.” you reply quickly, your hands twisting into the hem of your skirt when you search desperately for the warmth hidden behind suguru’s gaze, noticing that he almost flinches with the title you still speak in earnest — like you’re trying to convince yourself he’s just that, despite the way your bestfriend always seemed to make your heart jump.

“fuck, see that is exactly what i mean.” he grunts and the bite to his tone catches you off guard as you watch him place his large palm across his face, and you feel some form of instinct turn in your stomach before you’re biting back with a tone that’s even colder.

“no, you’re not making any sense, sugu. i’ve known you foreve—“ you hiss and suguru’s volume rises with his breath when he cuts you off just as the final thread of his patience snaps. “and i have loved you for just as long. do you know how many times i’ve seen your heart broken knowing i could treat you better? do you know how annoying that is to watch?”

“and why didn’t you say anything then?” you hiss back, the sudden confession from your bestfriend making your emotions run rampant, ensuing chaos on your train of thought and clouding your judgement when you glare back, not realising he’s taking a step closer.

“would you have listened?” he bickers back and you realise that you both really sound like some old married couple you normally see in the aisle of the supermarkets fighting over fruit.

except maybe not as cute, because suguru clicks his tongue and your heart kicks against your chest with a sharp thud before you’re leaning closer, poking your finger against his chest to emphasis your reply. “yes because if you actually looked at me for one second. you’d know that i’ve thought about the exact same thi—“

the end of your sentence is cut off when suguru’s lips suddenly find your own and his imposing stature is pressing you tight against the door behind you.

the way he kisses you has you reeling, it’s lazy and slow but so very satisfying, and you gasp when he licks into your mouth with an instensity that makes you whimper, feeling his tongue drag messy along your own, and you can’t help but exhale in a reverence before your hands are twisting in his hair to pull him closer.

“do you know how long i’ve waited for you to say that, sweetheart?” suguru grunts when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his soft pants cooling the mixture of spit on your pouty lips while his large hands grab at your hips.

“well i’m saying it now. so kiss me, sugu.” you laugh and there’s a subtle curl to the corners of his lips before he’s on you again, turning your positions to lead you back against the small cabinet hidden in the corner as he moves his lips against your own followed by a content sort of sound.

“shit, sound so fuckin’ pretty when you say that.” suguru hears himself groan before he’s shooting you a softer, tilted grin. he feels like he’s caught in a stand still and when he feels your fingers pull tighter at his hair he feels the last of his resolve snap, his tongue dipping past your lips to glide along your own and he hopes you can feel the years of pining and feelings he buries into the kiss.

“you’re sure about this?” he asks as his hips cage you against the countertop, bunching your skirt up around your hips and you feel heat burst along the new skin he reveals when he squeezes, giving him a soft, keening “y-yes.” in response and you’ve never felt so sure of anything in your life when you breathe heavy with him — fingers tangling in his hair to keep kissing him.

“shit—you don’t know how many times i’ve thought about this, sweetheart.” your thighs wrap around suguru’s hips to squeeze around his middle and you gasp when you feel him roll his cock forward into you. “fucking me in a frat closet?” you giggle before it breaks into a gasp when the blunt head catches under the hood of your clit through your panties and makes your abdomen twitch while suguru smirks down at you. “nah, finally getting to call you mine, pretty girl.”

you can feel his heart thudding against your chest where he’s got it pressed tightly to your breasts, brushing his nose against yours as his shaky breath rolls over your lips and his fingers flex in your skin.

he’s barely touched you and suguru already feels like he’s losing his mind, the way your body feels against his really is like fucking heaven and the doe-eyed look you cast him when he pulls away only reminds him how tightly you have him wrapped around finger.

“you are so fucking beautiful.” he drawls, dark eyes sweeping over your disheveled appearance when he casts you a heavy look from under his lashes before his lips are trailing down your skin — smearing messy kisses along your jawline.

you feel him growl, low and rugged while his teeth nibble along the sensitive spots that have your head dropping back to moan when he rolls the delicate skin gently between his teeth, smoothing his tongue over the blooming marks after, and the deep throb of desire you feel in your gut almost drowns out how loud the bass that still echoes through the closet from the other side of the door is.

you whimper, words spoken dreamily like a half-drunken mantra and fuck—were you intoxicating, suguru thinks.

the way you smooth your fingers through his dark hair before you’re pulling at the roots—making his bun fall into a messier style as it begins to frame his flushed features with an unruly but charming effect, and he pulls away to cast you a look that reminds you just how pretty he looks when he’s a little wild, a little needy.

it feels like there’s a fire in the darkened closet that almost consumes you both, and you feel like you’re losing yourselves in the fiery, lustful spark but you can’t stop, you’d rather beg to continue — to burn longer, together as you both plead for the carnal release you crave.

you feel suguru’s head dip to kiss along your collarbones, tracing his lips along the low neckline of your shirt, and the catch of his soft lips on your skin makes your thighs squeeze around his hips before he’s groaning. breathing heavy and eager when his fingers climb the seams of your body to flick the thin straps off your shoulders, letting him pull and tuck your shirt under your tits.

one of his hands move quickly under your bra, pulling it down to grab a slow, languid handful of your breast while his calloused thumb swipes back and forth over the firmed, pointed bud. the way you moan for him has his cock twitching in his pants, heavy and throbbing as you arch into his touch with warm need before he leans down, messily tracing his tongue along the same trail his thumb created moments ago.

suguru suckles languidly, dragging his tongue in slow, agonising, mindless patterns across the sensitive, aching skin of your nipples and he feels like he could watch you like this forever. his awe of you feels like it burns you as the unruly, charming fall of his hair lies across his cheeks.

“holy shit, sweetheart. look at you.” he mumbles against your tits, continuing his lewd, messy movements as his own spit coats his cheeks—soft pants cooling where it lies along your skin while his other hand trails its way up the inside of your thighs to pull your panties to the side.

you feel the first swipe of his fingers pet along your glistening folds as he traces the rough pad to part the petals of your pussy—gathering your slick before he’s smearing it under the hood of your clit and rolling the puffy bud with two fingers as your voice echoes through the walls of the darkened closet. “i want you, sugu—ah!”

suguru peers up at you through heavy eyes before his fingers are sinking into you, they’re thick enough for you to hiss at the stretch but he’s already making the whole fucking room tremble when he presses them up into you, grazing them along the swollen spot inside of you until your eyes feel like they’re rolling back towards the ceiling.

“always known you better than anyone else—fuck, know exactly what you need, angel.” his fingers drag more of your slick out everytime they sink into you and it’s lewd, the loud squelching sounds that you’re convinced he’s determined to engrave into the walls with every twist of his wrist.

it was true that suguru knew you better than anyone, even now — when he’s languidly pumping his fingers in and out of your wet heat, using his thumb to roll your clit as he brushes against the spongy spot inside of you with a precision that’s almost scary considering this is the first time he’s touched you.

you’re whimpering and rolling your shoulders already, and you hope that the heavy bass that’s echoing through the frat is loud enough to drown out the way you’re crying out for him when your lips tremble, and he pushes his fingers deeper, feeling your walls twitch and squeeze around him at the new pace as he grins at you.

“see, sweetheart. gonna take such good care of you.” suguru drawls, scissoring his fingers inside of you and he fucking loves the way you’re grinding into his touch with needy little humps, brushing your clit harder against his thumb as your warm walls pulse around his digits, sucking him back in everytime he draws them out.

you’ve never been so sure of anyone in your life, he always treats you like you were made of glass and maybe he truly was your other half. but this was new territory, a new lesson and he wants nothing more than to burn your pleasure to memory, the way your brows fall in bliss or the way your lips part to moan.

geto suguru knows everything about you; from how you look when you lie, to your tells when you’re about to cry, so maybe that’s why you feel your orgasm tingle and burn along your skin almost embarrassingly quickly, because he could tell that the way youre twisting your hands in his shirt and whining so prettily for him was truth because he knows you.

your thighs quiver around the width of his huge stature when he works your body with smooth but intense precision, the heated desire that’d been twisting in your stomach finally snapping with the first too-much touch of his fingers. the way you’re crying out for him is addictive, your bestfriend, who’s kissing you dizzy once more as your pussy throbs around him, hips rocking back and forth as you hiccup and mewl and he greedily swallows up the sounds.

“c-can’t get enough of you, pretty.” suguru pants before he’s kissing you again, words raspy and muffled when he draws his fingers back to scoop his heavy, throbbing cock out of his pants, sighing at the sudden sexual freedom when it springs free. he feels the cool air roll over the sensitive glands as it smears pre-cum along the skin of your thighs, and he sucks on your bottom lip before he pulls away.

his fingers wrap around the thick base before he’s giving it a few rough strokes of his hand, grunting when it throbs against his palm and he’s pulling his shirt between his teeth to let the fabric pool above his thick chest. he taps the blunt head teasingly against your clit, sending you a grin that’s a little cheeky as much as it is sweet when you twitch in the remnants of your tingling pleasure.

“you gonna take all of it, sweetheart?” you hear suguru’s question drop to a growl when he rests his heavy cock along your pelvis, giving you a taste of how deep he’s going to reach inside of you.

the deep throb of want with the sudden realisation has your breath catching before you’re leaning back, sliding your fingers between your folds to spread them lewdly like a silent plea. the action pulling a long, hum of amused approval from your bestfriend before his large palm is keeping you pinned to the counter beneath him, and his lips are curling into a smirk.

“fuck, that’s my girl.” he drawls, squeezing playfully at your sides with his fingers but it’s just enough to have you both laughing together before he lines himself up, letting his cock part it’s way through your folds to find the entrance of your flexing cunt.

you watch the way suguru’s lips part to groan before his head is falling forward to rest his forehead against yours, the dark ends of his hair tracing featherlight touches along your cheeks as he finally pushes past your folds. you feel his large hands squeeze at your hips when he finally begins to sink into your warm cunt, breathing deep as he drags you along the thick spread of his cock, and it feels like he sinks into you forever —your walls flexing around him the deeper he goes.

“oh fuck—look how well you take me, sweetheart.” he grunts, lavishing and indulging in the way your body feels like it was fucking made for him, his eager hands stroking down the curve of your hips before they’re flexing almost too tight in the skin when he finally bottoms out with a pleased hiss.

suguru’s broad chest expands with a deep inhale before he moans, drawing his hips back until only the head is left inside of your twitching pussy before he’s sinking back into you, and it feels like he reaches even deeper this time. the thick spread of his cock feels like it punches the air out of your lungs when he begins a steady pace, and the needy push and pull of your cunt rewards each heavy thrust with a twitch around his cock that has him groaning deep.

“really been made for me all these years. fuckin’ k-knew it.” there’s a carnal drop in his tone now that he’s finally buried in you, now that you’ve given your all to him and he’s drinking it up so eagerly, like he wants to be glued to you for eternity, to eat, drink, breathe your pussy and your pleasure in every lifetime after this one.

“feels so good, suguru—fuck!” you gasp and suguru can’t help but think that his name has never sounded better than when its breathed from your lips in whispery bliss.

the force of his hips pick up as his grip on your skin tightens, the loud and clapping force of his thrusts echoing through the walls of the darkened closet, feeling him melt into you as you drag your nails along the skin of his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

“yeah? fuck, y-you like that? sound so sweet for me.” suguru grumbles, an air of playfulness to his tone with the way he exhales a crooning sort of chuckle. but his movements are becoming sloppier despite the way the strength behind them remains, he feels like he’s losing himself in the dizzy spin of the room, the way your body is clapping against his and the hug of your warm walls around his cock.

you can hear the way the old countertop beneath you is banging against the wall in time with the rhythm of his hips, and you’re pretty sure whatever frat’s keep stored in cabinets hidden in dark closets is clattering around inside also. but suguru’s got you feeling mindless, and you can’t bring yourself to care about anything except how fucking good you feel when his cock brushes against your swollen spots with ease, fucking every thought out of your mind that isn’t him.

“shit, let me feel you sweetheart.” suguru breathes ragged as he hugs you closer, pounding away at the spot that has a pleasurable warmth pooling in your abdomen and you feel his huge stature tremble when he curls over you.

“so pretty.” is spoken against your skin when he rests his face in the crook of your neck and the praise feels like it drips down your body as he smears messy, wet kisses along your shoulder — bathing you in confessions that make your limbs feel weightless.

the blunt head of his cock feels like it kisses every part of you when he hooks your thigh higher around his waist, following it with a particularly sharp roll of his hips as his trimmed pelvis grinds against your puffy clit. you can almost feel the way he’s thickening and throbbing in time with the needy coax of your cunt, the grip he has on you almost bruising as you cry out into the darkened closet, your hips trembling and pulling a drunken laugh from your bestfriend before his eyes close for a moment in pleasure of his own.

suguru’s sharp eyes cut down into you with the first jolt of your body, the coiling, tight heat in your stomach finally snapping as your hands move to twist tightly in the dark roots of his hair, making you gasp and jolt with the familiar rush of your second orgasm finally washing over you, and it feels even more intoxicating than the last.

“fuck, there w-we go, sweetheart. love you like this, shit—i love you.” your dark haired bestfriend groans with the first milking compression of your walls, pulling back only to pull you in for another feverish kiss, lewd whimpers of how tight you are mixing with more hormone-drunken, slurred confessions as your cunt continues to squeeze him and he gives more to you than he has anyone before.

“i love you too, sugu—“ you breathe and your whispery, drawl is all it takes for suguru to finally spill into you with a sharp grunt as your cunt milks him, swallowing your moans with deeper ones of his own as he kisses you dumb with low growls and babbled curses hissed between your lips.

his thrusts are shallow as he fucks his thick load into you, pushing a mixture of both your orgasms out the tight seal of your walls everytime his cock sinks back into you with a lewd, wet sound. his movements only cease when you’re both hissing from sensitivity and he’s holding himself above you, pressing warm kisses along your lips and cheeks as you both bask in the drowsy, warm moments following your orgasms before the silence settles.

“so you were right here all along?” you break the silence with a laugh, and you feel suguru straighten up over you before he’s sending you a smile that’s pink cheeked, but just as gentle and comforting as always. so when you inhale, you don’t hold your breath because you exhale just fine at the warmth you still feel in his gaze.

“yeah, told you didn’t i. for now and for always, sweetheart.” he promises and you smile before you’re elbowing him playfully “stop that, you’re so cheesy, sugu!” you smile and suguru chuckles before he’s speaking “i love you.” out loud instead of whispering it and kissing you again. he hopes you notice that his tone doesn’t waver, his words laid on the line, bare and honest and hoping you know he means it from this lifetime until the next.

the way he touches you after is gentle, both souls stripped bare for eachother and it would almost be romantic if you still weren’t stuck in some dingy frat house closet. but just as suguru curls you against his chest you feel a familiar drone sound from the other side of the closet, led lights and the stuffy atmosphere seeping into the room when the door cracks open and satoru is sending you both a narrowed, playful smirk that’s a little too observant for your liking.

“oh? arent you two sweet. was countin’ on ya to finally get together, utahime owes me for this.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[failingtoberelatable]

Tell Me to Stop: Part 2 (NSFW Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Ice Pillar)

A/N: oh man, it’s here. This took a lot out of me, so I hope that you all like it.

Part One can be found here: post-Mugen AU where Kyojuro lives; events take place post-Entertainment District.

Multiple POVs (Y/N, Shinobu, and Kyojuro). There are several flashbacks, which are in all italics and separated from the main text.

Massive TW: trauma/PTSD, anger, nightmares, descriptions of corpses, violence and violence between characters (shoving, grabbing/shaking). One character triggers another and it’s dubious whether it’s intentional or not.

CW: 16.7k words; explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex/oral (F!receiving), creampies, cursing, light scar worship, intimacy, angst.

For the song that inspired this, listen here.

Without further ado!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N began her rehabilitation training within one week of awakening from her coma.

For those seven days of rest, Y/N had fielded all sorts of visitors — the Master, escorted by his two daughters; the Love Pillar, who had wasted no time throwing her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and sobbing in relief; and three of the Mansion’s youngest girls, all of whom crawled up on her bed and cried while hugging her.

Uzui had sent her a note by crow telling her he would be by to see her as soon as his wives finished making her favorite treat — red bean mochi — and said they could compare battle wounds in celebration of their feat.

Y/N had neither seen nor heard as much of a whisper from the Flame Pillar.

The Ice Pillar resolved to distract herself from the glaring absence of the man who embodied fire, though every day that passed without word from him only seemed to make that absence more pronounced.

Y/N had thrown herself into her rehabilitation training, as supervised by Shinobu. Because she was a Hashira, her recovery was vastly different from that of lower-ranked slayers, and she worked with the Insect Pillar directly, rather than with the haughty Aoi and other younger Mansion girls.

That particular morning, the Love Pillar had joined them in an effort to recuperate Y/N’s loss of flexibility as the result of the nearly two months she’d spent sedentary. Y/N cherished the one-on-one time she had with the other two women Hashira; the three of them had formed a tight bond with one another since ascending as Pillars, united amidst the predominance of male demon slayers.  

“Good! Now just bend this way-“ Mitsuri Kanroji kept a steady hand at the small of Y/N’s back as Y/N arched over backward, teeth grinding as her stiff spine resisted her movement.

“Almost there! Just touch your other hand to the floor and hold it!” The Love Hashira said encouragingly.

Y/N stretched her left arm over her head as hard as she could. Her fingers had just graced the wooden grain of the training room floor when her body seized, and her legs gave out from under her.

“Oh!” Mitsuri caught Y/N effortlessly before she could crumple to the floor, gently helping her to sit while blushing at the stream of colorful curses that poured from the Ice Pillar’s mouth.  

“This damn wound,” Y/N moaned, her hand pressing against the angry red mark that curved from below her belly button to her right hip. “You would think it would have healed by now.”

Shinobu frowned as she crouched next to the Ice Pillar, fingers lightly prodding at the scar left behind by Upper Moon Six. “It has healed; if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have scarred already.” Shinobu pursed her lips. “Though, I suppose it could just be a residual effect of the Upper Rank’s blood demon art – after all, it was no ordinary blade that he pierced you with, was it?”

Y/N shook her head, though she tried to suppress the memory of the demon’s cursed flesh blade ramming through her back and into her stomach. “The blade was his conduit for his blood demon art – but I think it was made from him.”

“How often does it hurt, Y/N?” Mitsuri asked, rubbing soothing circles on her friend’s upper back. Mitsuri was one of the few people Y/N knew who preferred to give physical comfort, and Y/N was grateful for it.

Y/N furrowed her brows in thought. “In a way, there’s always just this dull ache I feel, though it becomes sharper whenever I move a particular way.” Y/N pulled at the band of her uniform bottoms in discomfort. “And, it doesn’t help that these damn pants chafe and rub against it. I’ve even foregone the belt, and it still feels like they’re cutting into me.”

Mitsuri hummed in thought. “Have you considered one of the uniform skirts? They sit a little higher on the waist, so they’re less likely to aggravate it.”

Y/N scowled. “I would rather be stabbed by Upper Six again than request a skirt from that pervert tailor,” she said severely, “Sorry,” she added when she saw the Love Pillar flush with embarrassment.

“Lecherous Corps tailors aside, you may have a good point, Mitsuri.” Shinobu said, eyeing Y/N’s uniform pants in thought. “Y/N, do you mind if I brainstorm some designs for you? I can’t promise whatever I come up with will be suitable for public appearances or assignments, but I might be able to come up with something that will at least keep you comfortable while you heal and build back your strength.”

Y/N smiled as she stretched her legs out, bringing herself into a pose meant to flex her hips. “I’d be grateful for anything you could do, Shinobu.”

The Insect Pillar nodded. “Mitsuri, you know how to sew quite well, do you not? I’m afraid my proficiency with the needle is limited to sewing up wounds.”

The pinkette glowed with enthusiasm. “Yes! I have an entire room dedicated to sewing at my Estate – if you bring by your designs, I’m sure I could put something together!”

Shinobu smiled. “Then it’s settled. I’ll see what I can come up with tonight, and I’ll bring it by in the morning.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the dedication her two friends showed towards her comfort and recovery. “Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart.”

Shinobu’s smile turned wicked. “Don’t thank us yet, Y/N. You have agility training next.”

Y/N groaned and pulled on her uniform top, buttoning it over her bindings. As a Hashira, agility training meant that she was to meet the Wind Pillar outside of Kocho’s estate where she would endure two hours of having to dodge his relentless attacks. Y/N got along just fine with Shinazugawa – he’d even welcomed her back, and gruffly complimented her work in the Entertainment District – but that did not mean he eased up in his ruthless training.  

By the time the Wind Pillar had dismissed her with a satisfied nod, Y/N had all but limped back to her room, wondering whether she could even summon the strength to bathe after such an arduous day. She almost decided against it, but when her newest scar began to pulse and throb once more, she knew nothing else would soothe it better than the hot water in Kocho’s private hot spring.

Y/N greeted the bowing Kakushi who guarded the entrance to the northernmost wing of the Butterfly Mansion’s hospital as she passed by, and she hoped that Aoi had remembered to restock her room with fresh towels so she could go straight to her bath from her room.

She drew short at the sight of a familiar figure which stood outside of Kocho’s office, leaning against the wall of the small hallway.

“Rengoku!” Y/N was startled, taking a step back in surprise at the sight of the Flame Pillar.

“Y/L/N.” The man who reminded her of the sun nodded in greeting, but his familiar, sunny disposition was noticeably absent, his face impassive and his voice detached.

“I am happy to see you in good health.” Rengoku spoke with unnatural formality; he’d never used that cold, detached manner of speaking to her, not once since she’d caught him staring at her right before the commencement of Final Selection all those years ago.

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“Ice Pillar Y/L/N!” His sunny voice boomed, and Y/N groaned. She’d just gotten her migraine to calm down.

“Rengoku,” she nodded politely, as her comrade came to stand beside her, all smiles and warmth. 

“It’s been a while, Y/L/N! I was beginning to forget what you look like when you roll your eyes at me.” He laughed, and Y/N scowled.

“Perhaps I’ll pay to have my photograph taken, Rengoku. That way, you can carry it with you wherever you go.”

Rengoku turned to her, an eyebrow raised in surprise at her willingness to engage with his banter so quickly. “If that’s the case, Y/N, I’d prefer to have one of you smiling. It would do well to keep me warm on those cold nights away from home.”

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“I heard you were called away on another mission— some train?” Y/N asked him as they strolled through the Master’s garden following their meeting.

“Yes, we’ve unfortunately lost a number of slayers. Perhaps it’s an upper rank!” The Flame Pillar responded jovially, but he stopped in front of Y/N when he saw her frown.

“What is it?” His voice was gentle, and Y/N shook her head, focusing her eyes on the blooming wisteria saplings that had been planted.

A warm finger curled under her chin and tilted her face up until her eyes clashed with pools of golden ore. “My dear Ice Pillar, are you worried for me?” He was smirking, and his thumb lightly caressed the underside of her jaw.

Y/N gingerly took his hand and removed it from her face, though she did not let it go right away. “You are the Flame Hashira, Rengoku. If anyone is capable of defeating an Upper Rank, it most certainly is you.” 

Rengoku smiled broadly at her, his hand nearly grazing her own. “For someone whose prowess lies in ice breathing, Y/L/N, you sure know how to start fires.”

Under any other circumstance, she would have changed the subject, or not said anything at all. But Y/N couldn’t help her sudden desire to flirt back, just to see if she could knock him off his feet as he so often tried to do to her.

“Yours is the only one I’m interested in stoking, Rengoku.” She said sweetly.

She’d laughed at the Flame Pillar’s beet-red face for the rest of the day.

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“And I, you.” Y/N responded, her eyes still wide with surprise as she came to a stop before him, maintaining a cautious distance between them.

A pregnant pause followed, and Y/N made to speak once more, but she was cut off by another deep throb from the wound on her lower abdomen, her hand unconsciously flying to press against it as she swallowed the gasp that threatened to leave her.   

“You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.

Y/N shrugged in a feeble attempt at nonchalance. “I suppose it’s to be expected for a while yet. At least until I recover.”

Rengoku said nothing, and the silence felt suffocating.

“Would you-“ Y/N hesitated, and inwardly she’d never felt more embarrassed, or more uncertain than she did then as she stood before the uncharacteristically stoic Flame Pillar. “Would you like to sit down?”

Rengoku’s face remained impassive, and he turned away from her, dismissively.

“I cannot. I came only to retrieve a salve from Kocho.” His voice was just as cold, just as unfamiliar as the rest of him had been.

“Rengoku, is everything all right?” She stretched out a hand to touch his shoulder but was alarmed at how quickly he flinched away from her as if her touch could burn him.

“Everything is fine, Y/L/N. I need to be on my way.” Rengoku’s voice was flat, monotone, and wholly foreign to her.

“I’m sorry for not thanking you sooner — for everything you did to help me that night.” Y/N blurted, and to her relief, Rengoku froze mid-step, though he did not turn towards her. “I owe you my life.”

She did not miss the way Rengoku’s fists clenched at his side. “You owe me nothing. I would have done the same for any other comrade.” He replied, voice tight. “I must get going now. Farewell, Y/L/N.

She was so stunned that she’d not bidden him farewell back. Rather, she’d stood helplessly in her doorway, even long after the edge of his haori had disappeared around the corner of the Butterfly Mansion’s hall.

He had not looked at her once.

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(Kyojuro’s POV)

Kyojuro’s fists remained clenched the entire journey back to his estate.

He felt disgusted with himself. He felt like a coward.

It had nearly knocked him to his knees to see Y/L/N up and standing and talking because for so long, he had feared he would never again see the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed, or how she tucked that one loose strand of hair behind her ear whenever she was concentrating — the one that never stayed put in her braid.

But he had not been able to meet her eyes; couldn’t bear to bring himself to try, because he had been terrified of what he would see.

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Every night for the last two months, he has dreamed of her.

They were not pretty dreams, not like those he had before when he’d wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she laughed, the two of them living in a monster-free world and at peace.

Now, he dreamt of vacant eyes-tinged blue, unseeing and unblinking and frozen, just like the rest of her. He dreams of iced skin and blood and poison pouring from her mouth and her nose until she chokes, her chest rising once with a final rattle before it falls still.

He dreams of Upper Three, smiling deviously as he aims his fist to deal his final blow, and Kyojuro wrenches his blade down, desperate to finally win.

Only, his blade decapitates Y/N, not the Upper Rank demon and he is helpless to watch her head bounce pathetically to the ground. His hands are covered in her blood, and instead of disintegrating, her body falls uselessly to the side. Human.

As quickly as he kills her, the dream changes. He is in a lively street, filled to the brim with street vendors and women and men offering their services. It is night but the lights of the shops and gambling dens and pleasure houses are so bright that it looks like daytime.

He recognizes her by the back of her haori, and his feet move towards her, relieved to see her amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, her name whispering on his lips. But she turns before he can make contact, and though she looks healthy, her eyes — her eyes are white and unseeing.

I don’t understand, she pleads with him, it doesn’t make sense.

Kyojuro looks around in alarm and they are no longer standing amongst eager entertainment seekers, but among flame and wreckage, the once-ornately decorated stalls now smashed to splinters as fire slowly consumes the skeletal remains of the entertainment district.

He turns back to her right as a blade pierces through her gut, lifting her from the ground before letting her drop.

His hands shake as he reaches for her, desperate to check her wounds, but when she looks up at him, he stumbles back.

She is all wrong. Her skin is mottled and rotting from her face, and her hair is gray and matted. In place of her eyes are black holes, empty and cold.

Why can’t I come with you? Why can’t I go home, Kyojuro?

Please take me home.

Every night for the last two months, he awoke screaming.

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Y/L/N was alive; he knew that. He knew that if he looked at her, he would not see a corpse; but terrifying visuals aside, Kyojuro had not been able to look at her because he knew what his nightmares were telling him.

He’d been responsible for her near death.

If the Kakushi had returned with a box rather than a Pillar, it would have been his fault.

The thought that Y/L/N — his Y/L/N -- had almost obtained her own headstone in the Master’s graveyard had rocked him to his very core, for that had almost become a reality. She had actually died – for the briefest moment – in his arms; and it had been his fault.

Why can't I go home, Kyojuro?

And though Y/N had awoken from her slumber, her corpse still haunted Kyojuro’s dreams.

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(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was sprawled on her infirmary floor, preparing her limbs for another day of rigorous recuperation training at the hands of her fellow Hashira.

She stood to stretch her arms and lower back, wincing slightly at the pull of her scar. “Don’t you start,” she warned her body, willing total concentration breathing to dull the persistent ache that threatened to derail her entire day.

Y/N sensed movement near her doorway and knew, without looking, who watched her as she warmed up her aching muscles.

“Uzui retired. It’s time for you to do the same.”

Y/N who had been in mid-stretch, righted herself and blinked at the Flame Pillar. “Pardon?” Both the news of Uzui’s retirement and Rengoku’s words were a shock to her.

“Retire, Y/LN.” Rengoku repeated in that detached manner of his that she hardly recognized. “You helped take down an Upper Rank. You’ve done enough. Let someone else shoulder the burden, now.”

“I see no reason to retire, Rengoku.” Y/N retorted, voice hardening. “And unless and until the Master requests it or I perish, I see no reason to do so.”

Rengoku exhaled harshly through his nose. “You were injured — seriously so.”

“As were you, and yet you seem to have no intention of slowing down.” Y/N said, coolly.

Rengoku’s attention stayed fixed on the garden outside her window. “And I was only unconscious for three weeks. You were out for nearly two months, Y/L/N. That is unheard of and frankly, unacceptable for a Hashira.”

“What is your problem?” Y/N was growing more irritated the longer this inane conversation dragged on, and it wasn’t helping that Rengoku still refused to so much as look her direction, let alone meet her eyes. “Is this about what happened after you brought me here? Kocho told me everything — I’m not mad.”

Rengoku’s shoulders tensed. “It was necessary. Again, I would have done it for any one of my comrades.”

Y/N felt like she’d been slapped.

“You keep saying that, yet you won’t look at me— why?” Her confusion and hurt were beginning to melt into anger. “If I am just another comrade, then you should be able to meet my eyes.”

Rengoku said nothing.

“What Uzui did for me— that was what comrades do,” Y/N continued, her voice growing stronger as her blood grew hotter. “But you? You and I both know you were under no obligation to bring me back from the brink of death the way you did.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Y/L/N,” Rengoku answered after a long moment.

Y/N took a step towards him. “I want to know why.”

“It was necessary.”

Y/N felt like throttling him.

How long had they danced around each other? How many times had they caught themselves staring at the other for a breath longer than normal, had allowed an otherwise friendly touch during a spar linger?

How could he have held her, half nude for hours, putting himself on the brink of death all for the sake of keeping her alive — and then tell her she was the same as any other comrade?

“What are we doing Rengoku -- is this to be our destiny?” Y/N demanded, exasperatedly, her voice hard. “We continue to pretend like we don’t care about one another until one of us dies?”

Rengoku remained silent, back still turned away from her.

“We’ve each had a near-death experience in a matter of months,” Y/N continued, throat working hard to keep her voice steady despite the telling burn of angry tears in her eyes. “By all accounts, one if not both of us should be dead.”

“And yet, somehow, you expect me to act as though the fact you carried me back here— that you put yourself on death’s door to keep my heart beating — doesn’t mean anything?”

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense for him to fight so hard for her, to make her believe that someone valued her life that much, only to cast her aside.

She hadn’t wanted to wake up, initially; she’d felt relief for the hair’s breadth she’d thought she’d finally met her end. He was the one who dragged her back, and now he wouldn’t even look at her.

It didn’t make sense.

Y/N’s fists shook beside her, and she felt the venomous words fly from her mouth before she could stop them.

“You should’ve let me die.”

No sooner had she let the poison drip from her mouth had she felt herself flying backward, back slamming against the nearest wall of her temporary room.

“Never,” Rengoku snarled at her, his arm pressing firmly against her shoulders to hold her in place against the wood. “Never say those words to me again.”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, and she trembled beneath him, her fury threatening to explode out of her.

“There is no place on this earth where you could be in peril and I would not find you,” he said quietly, his eyes a simmering, fiery orange. “Where I wouldn’t find a way to bring you back home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Y/N said softly, breath still coming hard from her nose but no longer from her anger.

“Doesn’t it?” Rengoku was close, dangerously close.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the distance that barely existed between Rengoku’s face and hers and finally be done with all the nonsense. But he had spent so much time avoiding her gaze until that moment, and Y/N felt more lost than ever, set adrift by the look of heat and longing that was mixed with the burning rage in his eyes.

Something tugged incessantly at her gut and it would not allow her to move from her place against her recovery room’s wall.

Instead, her arms came up to rest against Rengoku’s chest before gently, but firmly, pushing him away.

“No, it doesn’t.” She repeated. “And I am tired, Rengoku.”

The Flame Pillar allowed himself to be pushed away, but he looked at her with a small, cruel smile.

“Then you’re right; it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

She flinched against the ugly slap of his words. Y/N had expected him to hit back, but she hadn’t anticipated his venom to sting as much as it did.

She felt all of the fight within her gutter out, leaving her with nothing but a heavy weight in her chest that she wished she couldn’t feel.

“Y/L/N, I-“ the Flame Pillar almost sounded remorseful.

“Thank you, for your clarification, Lord Rengoku,” she said numbly, formally, parroting his earlier tone with her. “And thank you for your assistance that night. Please, next time — don’t trouble yourself.”

Rengoku hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach for her. He swallowed hard, and turned away, shutting the door to Y/N’s infirmary.

The moment the door at clicked shut, Y/N exhaled harshly, stumbling back against her bed as she hugged her arms around herself, and she tried to keep herself from falling apart.

It shouldn’t have hurt this bad. They were both in the Demon Slayer Corps; they saved strangers all the time without it ever meaning anything other than good will and a desire to exterminate all demons.

So why did his insistence that she was no different hurt so badly?

Because she wasn’t a stranger.

Because, while she’d always known she wasn’t his, she’d still thought she’d been something.

As Y/N curled against her blanket, an unsettling numbness began to spread from her heart, quieting even the dull ache from the scar across her belly, Y/N realized that she’d meant nothing to the Flame Pillar all along.

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(Kyojuro’s POV)

He hated himself.

He utterly and truly despised himself.

He’d been hurt by her insistence that she did not know his feelings even though he was the one who’d opened the door, yet somehow, it still felt like a rejection.

So he’d hit back, only for her to visibly recoil at the sharp blow of his words.

He would not forgive himself, for as long as he lived, for the way the light in her eyes had winked out.

He did not know what bothered him more: the fact that she’d assumed that he regretted keeping her alive, or that she’d said “next time” he needn’t bother. As though she were counting on there being a next time.

He knew he should turn around; knew that he should barge back into her hospital room, drop to his knees, and beg her to forgive his cruelty.

He knew that he should explain to her why he found it so difficult to admit his feelings for her — that he had watched his father turn into a shell of a man and abandon his children in the wake of their mother’s death, leaving them to raise themselves. That he had vowed, as he’d watched his father drink his days away, that he would never be like him, would never abandon those who relied on him most.

He’d promised that he would never be a coward, even if, in all honesty, the idea that he, Kyojuro, could ever love someone that fiercely only to have them ripped from his grasp terrified him to no end.

As he forced his legs to carry him to back to his estate, Kyojuro wondered if perhaps, in his desperation not to turn into his father, he’d become the old man after all.

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(Shinobu’s POV)

Shinobu felt the Flame Pillar’s presence in her office before she saw him, though she was in no rush to give him his salve, especially not after what she’d overheard him spit at her friend.

“If you do not mind, I would like to send my crow to collect this from here on,” Rengoku said tightly, and Shinobu could sense his failing attempt to keep his fury in check.

“Very well then,” the Insect Pillar responded just as tersely, turning away from the papers and books on her desk to pull out the small tin containing the salve the Flame Pillar used to soothe the ache of the scar he now bore across his pectoral and shoulder. Rather than handing it to him, she tossed it through the air, the Flame Hashira catching it swiftly in his hand.

Rengoku nodded his thanks and turned to leave.

“I didn’t realize it was against Corps’ rules to care about our comrades,” Shinobu said icily, if not to signal to him that there had been spectators to his ugly outburst.

He couldn’t resist taking her bait. “Maybe it should be. It would be easier that way — for everyone.”

“Is that so?” Kocho sneered, no hint of familiarity or kindness in her features; nothing but that poisonous, deadly smile. “Well, if that was the case, then you would’ve preferred Uzui to leave Y/L/N for dead among the rubble in Yoshiwara, correct?

“You would rather us be searching to fill the newest Hashira vacancy, with her corpse barely cold in the ground-“

“Do not say another word, Kocho.” Rengoku warned, quietly.

But for Shinobu, anger was her vice, and so his warning only spurred her on.

“Tell me, Rengoku, if the new Pillar had been a woman, would you have held her the way you held Y/N?”

Shinobu’s smile was chilling as she relished the way the Flame Pillar began to tremble. “Or perhaps, would you finally confess to her, having learned your lesson from the missed opportunity with Y/N? Would you live out your days with her, while Y/N rotted below the earth, having never known someone loved her?”

“ENOUGH.” Rengoku roared, and for a moment, Shinobu thought the Flame Pillar might put his clenched fist through her wall. The silence that followed was tense and long as Rengoku struggled to calm his breathing.

“What do you want from me, Kocho?” Rengoku finally snapped, wheeling around to glower at the Insect Pillar, eyes half-crazed in his frustration.

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(Two months earlier)

Dawn was still far off, but the hall of her estate was a mess.

Shinobu knew that at any moment, another group of Kakushi would be coming through the hole Rengoku had left in her wall bearing the unconscious body of the Sound Pillar, and if they did so, they’d be stumbling upon the chaotic scene that had unfolded before.

Rengoku was still on the floor, legs on either side of Y/N, who was slumped against his chest and fully exposed from the waist up.

With some satisfaction, Shinobu noted that the dark purple bruising around Y/N’s chest was clearing, a sure sign that she had chosen the correct antidote for the Flame Hashira to slam into her heart.

But her hypothermia persisted.

Rengoku, on the other hand, was beginning to breathe rather loudly, no doubt as he continued to maintain his high fever for the sake of the unmoving woman braced between his thighs.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu crouched down next to the Flame Pillar, her hand coming to a rest on his shoulder, which burned beneath her palm. “Rengoku, we need to move.”

The man lifted his head up to meet her eyes, his own glassy and unfocused. Shinobu clamped down on the swear building on her tongue — he had fever fog.

Rengoku grunted at her before his head slumped back down, chin nearly touching his chest.

Shinobu tried again. “Rengoku, we are in the open hallway of the Butterfly Mansion. Others will be arriving soon. Y/N is completed exposed.”

That seemed to get his attention. Rengoku’s head lifted, his eyes narrowed slits, but nonetheless open. He grunted in some sort of acknowledgement and began to shift Y/N in his lap.

He turned the unconscious Ice Pillar so that her back rested against one arm that curled around her bare waist. His free arm slid to grip beneath her knees, shifting her into a bridal-style position to carry her.

Two of the Butterfly Mansion’s staff moved to help him stand, but Rengoku shrugged them off, surprising Shinobu as he managed to rise steadily to his feet, Y/N secured against his chest.

He looked at Shinobu expectantly and she began ushering him towards a secluded wing of the Manor, towards her private hall. Across from her personal office was a special infirmary room, walled off from the rest of the recovery ward.

Shinobu withdrew a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked the heavy, wooden door.

“You two can stay in here until her body temperature returns to normal,” She said, as Rengoku made his way towards the recovery bed.

Shinobu watched as Rengoku, still wearing his zori and uniform pants, ever so gently lowered himself and Y/N down on the bed, repeating his earlier positioning of her between his thighs. He propped up one leg slightly to keep the Ice Pillar from slumping over, her back pressed to his bare chest. Rengoku leaned against the headboard so that Y/N’s head could rest against his clavicle, though it slumped instead towards her left shoulder.

Shinobu made to grab a blanket to throw over the two topless Hashira but stopped short as Rengoku made to move again.

He seemed to realize that Y/N, while also still in her torn uniform pants and zori, was still bare from the waist up, her body positioned towards the door. He frowned, his hand coming up to graze the side of her arm. He flinched slightly, no doubt at the persistent chill that lingered on her skin, and he moved both of his large hands down over the back of hers as they lay limply on either side of her thighs, intertwining their fingers.

Awestruck, Shinobu watched as Rengoku brought Y/N’s arms up to cross them over her chest, locking them in place by covering her arms with his own, as though wrapping her in a sweet embrace. Shinobu knew that he’d done so to avoid touching her bare breasts himself, or at least to do so as minimally as possible, while still providing her cover. And, due to the breadth of Rengoku’s muscled forearms, Y/N’s sensitive area was almost entirely obscured from view.

Rengoku had barely been clinging to consciousness himself, and once she was sufficiently hidden in his arms, his head dropped forward until his forehead came to a rest on Y/N’s shoulder, opposite of where she’d rolled her head.

To the unassuming eye, it would have appeared as though the pair of Hashira were simply engaged in an intimate moment, rather than one desperately trying to anchor the other to life.

Shinobu moved to place the blanket over the Pillars’ laps, before quietly exiting the private room.

“Seal this wing off entirely,” she murmured to Aoi, who had been waiting dutifully outside. “No one comes down here without my explicit permission.”

Aoi bowed to her before she ushered the other Kakushi out. Faintly, Shinobu heard the arriving shouts of the group bearing the Sound Pillar. She took a single deep breath, steeling herself once more, before moving to check on her incoming patient.

-------------------------------------------------------

Shinobu raised her chin, looking down her nose at him in disgust. “I’m waiting for the man who would have set the world ablaze to save Y/N to reappear.”

She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m waiting for the man who used his own body as her lifeline, and who tried to smash open the infirmary door when he was delirious with fever because he thought that she had died while he was asleep.”

The Insect Pillar’s masked smile finally slipped from her face and her true rage towards the Flame Pillar shone through. “It is cruel to make her feel as though she’s done something wrong,” Shinobu’s arms folded across her chest. “And it is cruel to you both for you to pretend as though she does not mean anything to you. Haven’t you both been through enough? Are you not exhausted as well?”

A tortured look passed over Rengoku’s face. “It is better this way, Kocho. I do not want to be the cause of her pain, and I cannot survive going through what happened to her again.

“For all your talk about either of you dying, I’ve yet to hear you mention the equal alternative,” Shinobu sighed, gathering her papers and books. “The one where we win and you both live. What do you suppose happens then?”

Rengoku said nothing and so, Shinobu continued. “Suppose we emerge victorious – would you truly prefer for you and Y/N to go your separate ways – to never see one another again, or never acknowledge the bond the two of you share?”

“There is no guarantee that either of us survives, Kocho,” Rengoku said quietly, his eyes falling to his feet.

Shinobu smiled but it was no longer cruel or bitter; it was wistful. “And there is no guarantee that either of you die. That’s the fickle nature of humanity, is it not? The very reason we fight?”

The Insect Pillar gathered her papers and stacked them neatly on her shelf. “For the possibilities of it all.”

--------------------------------------------------------

The sun was high in the sky by the time Shinobu had a moment to check on the two unconscious pillars in the back room.

Uzui had required quite a bit of attention in order to stop the poison from becoming deadly, though the fact that her combination of the wisteria antidote with the amphetamine had been so effective on Y/N meant that Shinobu was able to administer the same to the Sound Pillar in half the time.

She was exhausted; the strain of the night’s events weighed heavily on her, but she had to check on Y/N’s temperature — if the Ice Pillar still had not recovered, she feared that hope was lost.

She pushed the door to the private infirmary room open and saw the two Hashira, still in the same position she’d left them in. Rengoku was deeply asleep, no doubt from the exhaustion wrought by his high fever.

Enclosed within his arms, Y/N remained unconscious but pink.

Shinobu felt the relief course through her, but she did not allow herself to relax until she reached out a hand to lightly pinch the Ice Pillar’s cheek.

It bloomed red beneath her fingers, and it was warm to the touch.

He’d done it. The Flame Pillar had staved off her hypothermia. Their only obstacle now lay in getting her to reawaken.

Shinobu laid her hand across Rengoku’s forehead, frowning at the scorching heat of his brow; his fever had worsened more than she’d anticipated, and he would need intervention soon. She turned to nod at the Kakushi who waited by the door to the recovery room, and the three of them moved to separate the Flame and Ice Pillars.

“Put him in one of the other single-recovery rooms. Tell Aoi to administer the fever medication I keep in my cabinet – it should dispel his fever within a few hours.” Shinobu ordered, as the Kakushi, with great effort, lifted the Flame Pillar from his position behind Y/N. Shinobu gently eased her friend down against the bed and pulled a blanket over her exposed torso. “I will also need a fresh hospital gown for Lady Y/L/N.”

The Kakushi nodded their assent and got to work, heaving the unconscious Flame Pillar towards the door when he awoke. At first, his eyes were dazed, and confused as they darted around him, but as he took in his surroundings, he began to struggle against the grip of the Kakushi.

“Please, Lord Rengoku, your fever is dangerously high! Allow us to help!” One of them cried, though his efforts to tug the Pillar away were futile. Shinobu supposed the only reason he had not yet succeeded in completely throwing them off was the fact that his fever had severely weakened him.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sternly, coming around from her position by Y/N to meet his eyes, though he only thrashed harder against the Kakushi as he began to mutter incoherently under his breath. “Rengoku, that’s enough. You’re safe. You’re in the Butterfly Mansion, and you have a high fever. Please, let the Kakushi do their job.”

But the Insect Pillar’s words fell on deaf ears as Rengoku began to hyperventilate, his muscles straining as he tried desperately to break free from the Kakushi’s hold. Shinobu was at a loss; her comrade did not merely look frantic – he looked terrified, desperate, and utterly beyond reproach or reason. His heart rate had spiked considerably, and his breath was jerky and uneven, as though he could not fully understand where he was or that he was amongst friends.

As she strained to make out what the Flame Pillar repeated, over and over, under his breath, Shinobu realized that his eyes were not unfocused at all; they were locked on the unconscious Ice Pillar in the bed behind her.

“I can still save her!” he roared.

It all made sense then.

Shinobu realized that he thought they were moving him not because he’d successfully thwarted her hypothermia, but because he had failed — and that she was now dead.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sharply, trying to force the irate and delirious Flame Pillar to meet her eyes. “Rengoku, Y/N is alive. Her body temperature has returned to normal. She is safe.”

But the Flame Pillar seemed not to hear her, as he only struggled harder against the Kakushi desperately trying to usher him out of Y/N’s room.

Rengoku was becoming more violent, even as the Kakushi finally managed to shove him through the doorway of Y/N’s room. Just before they’d managed to slam the door shut, Shinobu caught Aoi’s eye and nodded, the younger girl quickly disappeared into the Pillar’s office.

Shinobu watched in stunned silence as the Flame Pillar broke free from the Kakushi and began hurtling his body against the door, Y/N’s name falling from his lips in an anguished chant.

Rengoku was so delirious in his fevered panic that he did not notice Aoi slip behind him and plunge a syringe into his neck, depositing a thick stream of the clear liquid that Shinobu knew would have a near-instantaneous effect on his consciousness.

The Insect Pillar felt a strange sense of pity and remorse as she watched her friend slump to the floor outside of the infirmary room, a final cry out for the Ice Pillar falling from his lips before the sedative lulled him back to sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV – three days later)

He didn’t know why he’d returned to the Butterfly Mansion.

Kyojuro tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to wait for his crow to return with Kocho’s salve, but he knew it was a pathetic excuse. He’d sworn to himself that he would leave Y/L/N alone after their last argument. He’d vowed that the door between them had been closed for good, and they would only ever be colleagues. Nothing more.

But he couldn’t stay away. Perhaps it was because he’d spent the last few days stewing over their last argument, and somewhere, amidst his endless supply of self-hatred, he’d also grown angry with the Ice Pillar.

Angry, because she had put herself in harm’s way when he’d specifically told her not to.

Angry because she’d nearly died, and she’d threatened to take the last vestiges of his sanity with her to the afterlife.

Angry that she insisted on remaining in the Demon Slayer Corps despite having given more than enough of herself to their cause; angry that she didn’t understand why he couldn’t yet do the same.

Angry because she didn’t seem to understand his feelings at all.

Perhaps in another life, they could have had each other. Had they both been born into a world without demons, then maybe they would have still found each other and maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to love her the way she deserved.

But for Kyojuro, their relationship would always be defined by a series of maybes, and nothing more.

--------------------------------------------------------

It would have been a lie for Kyojuro to say he’d not been struck dumb by her.

She was stretched out on the steps of Kocho’s engawa, legs dangling off the edge of the porch as she leaned back on her elbows, eyes closed dreamily as she kept her face tilted up towards the cooling night air.

Long, lean, bare legs, he realized, an uncomfortable heat creeping up his collar. He couldn’t help running his eyes up their length, fixating hard on the supple curves of her thighs.

Why were her legs bare?

She looked…so unguarded this way. Her haori was draped around her shoulders, one of its sleeves hanging loosely to the side and exposing her bare shoulder – how exposed was she, the idiot – and her hair was completely unbound, falling in a silken river to her waist.

It was a stark contrast to the braided crown she wore at the base of her neck. It hit him that, not counting the night she’d nearly died, he had not otherwise seen her with her hair down.

He liked it. A lot.

“I finally rid myself of one migraine only for another to appear,” Y/N’s lofty voice snapped him out of his reverence, as the Ice Pillar opened her eyes to glare at him. 

“If you’ve come for Shinobu, she is not here. She’s on an errand and will not be back until early morning.” Y/N turned her attention away from him and back towards the garden, her voice stony.

At that moment, there were a million things Kyojuro could have said to the Ice Pillar.  

How are you?

I missed the way you glare at me.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Any of those options would have been far better than what came tumbling out of his mouth.

“I hadn’t realized you were indecent. My apologies.”

Y/N’s head snapped back to him, her eyes chips of ice. “Indecent?” She rose from her seat on the engawa and faced him fully, and Rengoku nearly groaned.

Indecent, indeed.

Y/N was showing more skin than Kanroji did on a regular day. As she stood, Rengoku saw that she was hardly wearing any clothing at all, save for the haori draped loosely around her frame.

The Ice Pillar wore no top but the bindings around her chest, leaving a sizeable swath of her midriff exposed to the summer air. Whatever she wore as bottoms could hardly be labeled as “pants,” given that their hem ended just short of the middle of her thigh, leaving the vast majority of her legs exposed to anyone who would happen to walk by.  

The Flame Pillar felt as though he were overheating, and he tugged uselessly at the collar of his uniform shirt. As he looked over the scowling Ice Pillar, Rengoku found himself unable to remember why he had come to the Mansion at all.  

------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N’s POV)

(Earlier that day)

“Ta-da!” Mitsuri sang as she pulled the small bundle from behind her, a grin wide on her face. “A gift from Shinobu and myself!”

Y/N peered down quizzically at the small, folded bunch of cloth in the Love Pillar’s hands. “What is it?”

“A new take on the Corps’ uniform,” Shinobu replied crisply, sitting down on the tatami floor of her office. “I designed it myself, and Mitsuri sewed it.”

“But what is it?” Y/N pressed.

Mitsuri joined Shinobu on the floor. “Your new training pants. Altered, so that you have more flexibility and less irritation against your wound.”

Y/N held up the tiny scrap of fabric between her index finger and thumb. “Are you telling me these are pants?”

Mitsuri and Shinobu nodded, smiling.

Y/N looked incredulously at the two women. “But where are the pants?”

Mitsuri laughed. “Think of it as a cross between the uniform skirt and pants, but more modified.”

Shinobu nodded. “I used the same material that our uniform is made out of but designed it in a way to be more flexible – it will mold to your body rather than require you to use a belt to keep it up.” Y/N unfurled the cloth and gaped down at it. “They likely aren’t suitable for public, but around here and during your training, they should be perfectly adequate.”

“Perfectly adequate?” Y/N repeated, turning the garment over in her hands. “Shinobu, these are underclothes! Not pants!” The Ice Pillar could not stop herself from giggling. “My legs will be entirely exposed!”

“Try them on!” Mitsuri urged. “Shinobu and I estimated they would hit around mid-thigh, so you’ll still have some coverage.” Mitsuri looked down at her own skirt in consideration. “Slightly more so than I do.”

Y/N groaned but removed her uniform pants and slid into her friends’ gift. She was surprised at how comfortable they felt; they had a similar feel to the chest bindings most of the women in the Corps wore, in terms of fit. The black bottoms had no true waistband, but fit snuggly at the dip of her waist, before hugging her hips and thighs until the hem cut right above the middle of her thigh.

“How do they feel?” Shinobu asked as Y/N inspected the new garment.

Y/N turned from side to side, testing their flexibility. “Good. They don’t seem to rub against the scar at all.” Y/N smiled devilishly at her friends. “Even if they do leave little to the imagination.”

MItsuri giggled. “I hadn’t noticed Y/N, but you have – oh, what did Uzui call it?” She scrunched her eyebrows in thought. “Oh! An ‘easy and deliverable type of butt!’” The three girls laughed, carefree as Y/N wiggled her hips suggestively in front of her friends, her heart warm at the care and consideration they had put into their gift.

------------------------------------------------------

Y/N mused that Mitsuri’s assessment of how she looked in the undershorts had been correct as Rengoku’s eyes raked over her as she stood tall before him, an unmistakable glint of hunger glowing in his amber pools.

Until they snagged on the thick, curved gash that extended from the band of her bottoms to just over her belly button.

In an instant, simmering fire of the Flame Pillar’s gaze had been snuffed out, something harder and colder taking over as he glared at where Upper Moon Six had buried his poisoned sickle within her.

Under any other circumstance, Y/N might have felt self-conscious at the mixture of frigid contempt that pulled on Rengoku’s face as he ran his eyes over her scar, but at that moment, it only made her blood boil.

“You should return to your room. You shouldn’t be out here exposed like this.” Rengoku said after a moment, his eyes moving away from her to stare over her shoulder, resolutely avoiding her gaze.

Y/N wondered briefly if it were possible to make someone combust with the fire of their stare. She was so tired and so angry at the way in which he demanded she stay at arm’s length yet felt utterly entitled to boss her around.

She decided then that she would not comply. Instead, Y/N took one step and then another, and again until she pushed past him, marching intently up the path she knew led away from the Butterfly Estate and to a secluded, grassy, hilled clifftop.

“Stop — Y/L/N” Rengoku growled, lunging after her, but Y/N, despite her injured state, was still faster than he, and she twisted out of his grasp before he could grab her and haul her back to the Mansion.

She probably looked insane, and maybe she was -- barely dressed, hair unbound, and striding towards that grassy hill up the winding path from Shinobu’s estate like she had any idea what she was doing.

The Flame Pillar followed.

—————————————————————--------

Apart from her close friendship with the Insect Pillar, there was another reason Y/N spent so much time in and around the Butterfly Mansion — its view.

Though she supposed this secret area she’d discovered couldn’t really be counted as part of Shinobu’s Estate — it was, after all, up a rather steep and twisting climb from the western-most point of her friend’s manor, and one could scarcely see the lights of the house once they ascended the small cliff.

Her thighs ached after nearly two months of disuse as she stormed up the steep incline, narrowly avoiding the sharp, twisting branches of the ancient trees that had concaved over the beaten path, forming a tunnel of gnarled wood that forced her to duck her head to navigate.

Y/N’s chest tightened as she neared the end of the path, the steady beat of the Flame Pillar’s footsteps trailing closely behind her.

When she finally emerged from the thicket of branches, she felt as though she could breathe again.

The path had given way to a cliff-top clearing. Soft, emerald grass covered the earthen floor, peppered with various wildflowers in vibrant hues of periwinkle, white, and pink. Towards the center was a thick, ancient oak tree, with a trunk as wide as a small hut, Its leaves ruffled lazily in the slight summer breeze. Fat hotaru floated idly above the grass while the crickets hummed.

The clearing extended to a point before dropping into a rocky cliff. Had it been a night of a new moon, Y/N would never risk coming out here for fear of stumbling too close to the cliff’s edge. But that night, the moon was full and its silver light was so bright that Y/N could see all the way to the opposite of the clearing, down to the summer irises swaying in the warm night air.

It was a pity that instead of feeling the warm serenity she normally had when she came out to her little hideaway, she felt nothing but boiling anger and a growing headache.

“You need to go back inside,” Rengoku said from behind her. Y/N ground her teeth, turning sharply on her heel to face him.

“Why do you care — I thought you only did that when I’m unconscious.” She bit back, and it felt good to see him be the one who flinched for once. “Or maybe it’s when you think I’m dying?”

She laughed, derisively. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve long since forgotten the rules of your game. You change them so often, you see.”

“Go back to the Butterfly Mansion, Y/L/N. You shouldn’t be out here. Not in your current state.” He said, voice as hard and unforgiving as stone.

“I’ve told you already that you are not in a position to order me around!” Y/N snapped, her words and her eyes chips of ice as she glared at him.

He was so infuriating — he had told her, in so many ways, that she meant nothing to him, and yet here he was, glowering at her as though her very existence incensed him.

“You’ve been nothing but unkind to me since I awoke, and you’ve given me no explanation!” She took a step towards him.

“Stop,” the Flame Pillar bit out, barely concealing the way he trembled with rage. “Do not take another step. Turn around and go back inside.”

If Y/N had looked pissed before, she looked downright furious now.

“Why did you come to see me while I was unconscious?” Y/N demanded, shaking. “You came every day, yet the second I wake up, you stop?”

His refusal to answer her, to even look at her, only made her seethe.

“You’re a coward, Rengoku.”

Rengoku’s teeth gnashed together, his fists balling tightly by his sides as he drew upon every ounce last shred of sanity, of restraint, left within him.

“Go. In. Side.” He ground out dangerously, his voice dropping into a growl on the last syllable.

But the Ice Pillar took another step towards him, her eyes blazing with a fire that could outburn his own.

“No.”

Rengoku’s jaw flexed. “Y/L/N-“

“I said no, Rengoku.” She was now within arm’s reach of the rigid Flame Pillar.

His eyes met hers, cold and hard, but she did not balk. She went in for the kill. “You have no say over my choices when my life is meaningless to you.”

Y/N watched the blow land, and land hard.

“Meaningless?” Rengoku looked at her and there was a new fire in his gaze, a hot, angry fire that threatened to burn the grassy overlook around them to cinders. “You believe I think your life is meaningless?”

This time, it was Rengoku who advanced towards her, bringing her within an arm’s length, and forcing her to tilt her head up to hold his raging stare.

“Do you have any idea — any at all — what it was like to see you, half dead in Uzui’s arms?” Rengoku’s voice dark, and harsh as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Or what it was like to have to carry you to Kocho, not knowing whether your heart would give out before I could get you there?”

Y/N refused to cower beneath the intensity of his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. “Do I know what it was like?” She hissed; hackles raised.

“Thank you Rengoku, truly — thank you.” Y/N laughed, but it was devoid of any humor. “I am so glad that you’ve finally given me something to work with — so those are your rules, are they?”  She was toe to toe with the Flame Hashira, glowering down at her.

“Well since we’re keeping score, Rengoku, do you know what it was like to see you broken and bleeding out on Kocho’s table after the incident on the train?”

“That’s not the same thing,” Rengoku shot back bitterly.

“How the fuck is it not-?”

“Because it wasn’t your mission to take!” Rengoku finally broke, his voice rising to a shout. He could not stop himself as his hands shot out and gripped Y/N’s shoulders, shaking her lightly in his torment.

“You have no idea how it felt to know that you had died — no matter how briefly — because you went on a mission in my place!”

“To know that — that you could still die because I had been too weak on that fucking train. Your death would have been my fault, Y/N!”

----------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV)

And there it was: the truth that he had tried so hard to suppress, laid flat out in the open.

Everything that had happened to Y/N, the whole entire mess — had been entirely his fault.

His fault because he had been too weak to finish off Upper Moon Three, too weak to do anything but let the demon’s punch a hole through his chest like it was nothing.

Y/L/N and Uzui had saved themselves in the end; they’d completed their mission, defeating not just one, but two upper ranks. They hadn’t succumbed to their injuries until after they’d fulfilled their duties.

But him? He’d only been saved by the grace of the sun and the tireless efforts of the Kakushi.

He’d nearly lost his life and he had nothing to show for it. Rather than do anything to further the Corp’s ultimate goals, he’d only set them back, and nearly cost them something priceless in return — their Ice Pillar.

The woman he loved.

He had no right to love her, of course — not when his reprehensible weakness had forced her to be offered up to two upper moon demons on a silver platter.

She’d been there, the morning he awoke from his three-week-long coma. She’d been right by his bedside, a sob choking from her throat as she’d called for Kocho to come quick!

At first, he’d been confused, because he hadn’t understood why she was crying. He’d tried to reach for her, to wipe the tears spilling down her cheeks when the pain had slammed into him, causing him to seize, arm suspended in mid-air.

Never before had he not been in control of his body; it had sent him into a panic.

“No, Kyojuro, please don’t move!” Y/N had cried, calling him, for the first time, by his given name. a warm hand wrapping around the one he’d stretched out towards her, lowering it gently down to the bed. “Your injuries are too grave!”

He didn’t remember much after that, only what Kocho had filled him in on later — namely, that he’d begun to panic, his breathing flaring out of control as he’d tried to fight off Y/L/N, a Kakushi, and the Insect Pillar.

His recovery had been long and slow. His wounds from the Upper Three demon had resulted in significant muscle damage that had required weeks of intensive care and training in order to build it back up again.

Those long days spent at the Butterfly Mansion had given him time to stew; to rage against himself. He’d been frustrated, so unbelievably frustrated over his inability to swing his own sword for more than five minutes that he almost considered giving in and retiring.

And then Uzui arrived, and he’d mentioned an upcoming mission to the Entertainment District, that they had discussed prior to Kyojuro leaving for the damned train, and the Sound Pillar revealed that his intel suggested the possible presence of an Upper Rank.

Kyojuro had promised to accompany him, and then he’d woken up in Kocho’s hospital, and that mission had been taken off the table and given to her.

The panic he had felt had been indescribable; he had narrowly survived an encounter with an Upper Rank, but then he was forced to watch the woman he loved walk straight into the wolf's den, and he had been incapable of convincing her to stay behind.

While she had been gone, he had railed against and prayed to and cursed at the gods, begging them to bring her home, to let her come back to him alive and whole.

Instead, they’d sent her back as a near-corpse and had laughed at his pitiful attempts to save her.

And then, she had straddled that narrow divide between life and death for nearly two months, and he had been as helpless as a cat chasing a string — his desire forever in sight yet somehow always just beyond his reach.

After his brush with death, he’d made a commitment to himself not to think of his battle with the Upper Three demon, to not waste his skill and energy on the past, but rather focus his fury on ensuring that when they did meet again, he would emerge victorious. He’d certainly not given any thought to the demon’s slime-tongued words.

He’d been disgusted when the demon had propositioned turning him into its like — and outright offended that those creatures could ever compare to the beautiful transience of humanity.

But then he’d cradled Y/N, broken and dying in his arms, and for the first time, Kyojuro had understood the appeal of the Upper Three’s offer.

Because he would rather have lived in a world in which Y/N had been turned into his enemy than in one in which she did not exist at all.

The very thought had shaken him to his core; because it meant he was not fully dedicated to their cause. He had no right to call himself a Hashira; nor did he have any right to claim to love Y/L/N. Not when he’d so easily damn her out of his own selfishness. So he had run.

A coward, after all.

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(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was panting, her fury rippling off her in near-tangible waves.

“So, this whole thing,” she seethed, her voice shaking. “Your whole fucking attitude — has been because you’ve had your head so far up your ass, that you thought my injuries were your fault?”

It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. And yet it was so Rengoku that it made her ears ring, made her see red as she tried to keep herself from imploding.

Rengoku said nothing, but she could see the way his eyes shuttered closed, his walls flying back up as he remained intent on keeping her out. He turned and began walking back towards the path back to the Estates.

“I was right — you ARE a coward!” She shrieked after him.

He froze. She stood there, heaving, daring him to turn around, to face her.

“Do not call me a coward again,” he said quietly, his back still to her, but his shoulders tensed, his fists balling once more at his sides.

Y/N smiled ruefully. “Then exactly what would you call what you’re doing now?.” Her lip curled into a sneer. “Run away, Rengoku. It’s what you do best.”

A flash of orange and white clouded her vision as Rengoku turned on his heel and closed the distance between them before she could draw another breath.

Y/N did not have time to react before his hands gripped either side of her jaw as he slammed his mouth down against hers, furious and heated.

It was not gentle; it was an angry clash of lips and teeth, but it also stoked a fire so hot in Y/N’s belly that she did not care, and she fully gave herself over to the bruising press of his lips against hers. She gladly opened up to him so that his tongue could slide into her mouth as one of his hands snaked behind her head to press her harder to him, demanding that she let him take and take until he was sated.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. They broke apart with a gasp, leaping back from one another as though burned. Their chests heaved as they stared at one another.

There was a line drawn in the sand between them. If either of them crossed it, there would be no going back.

He was a coward, but she wasn’t. And she’d grown tired of this tedious dance of theirs.

Yet it surprised her all the same that he reached for her at the same time she moved for him, the two of them colliding like magnets as their mouths clashed together once more.

Rengoku kissed her like he was drowning, and she was his lifeline.

Y/N threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down closer to her, determined to take from him as much as he wanted to take from her.

The pair of them stumbled back against the ancient oak tree that sat back from the grassy cliff, Y/N caged against its bark by the Flame Pillar.

His hands gripped fistfuls of her haori as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or tug her away. His lips devoured each breathy moan he pulled from her as one hand tangled in her hair and pulled, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She ran her hands through the fiery strands of his hair, gripping and tugging it as he explored her mouth was his demanding tongue. Y/N, emboldened by the way his fingers dug into her haori, let her hands roam from his hair and to his neck, and then to the rocky planes of his broad chest before settling on his hips as she tugged him flush against her. 

His control was slipping, and fast. “Y/L/N, I can’t- I won’t be able to hold back.” Rengoku moaned into her mouth, his hands scrunching the fabric of her haori, his fingers desperately seeking to hold her closer to him. “Tell me to stop, Y/L/N.”

Y/N’s hands only buried deeper into his hair, tugging him harder against her as she slid her tongue into his waiting mouth.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth between breaks for oxygen. “Never stop, Rengoku.”

Y/N pulled back from him, just enough to unlatch his hands from where they were buried in the back of her haori, and moved them inside its folds, right on her bare waist.

The burning weight of his hands felt exquisite.

Rengoku shuddered as he felt the smooth, soft dips of Y/N’s waist, his fingers digging into her flesh as he sought to touch more of her, his hands running across every inch that was not covered by her bindings or those glorious undershorts.

Lips still moving furiously against hers, Rengoku bent slightly to run his hands down the silken expanse of her thighs, gripping under her knees before hoisting her up to carry her away from the tree and lay her down in the velvety grass below.

Y/N felt as though she were on fire. The ache between her legs was almost maddening, and she was desperate to have the Flame Pillar sheathe himself inside her, to make her forget even her own name.

If she could not have his love, she could at least have this.

Her hands dragged down Rengoku’s front, coming to a rest at his belt before she began fumbling with the clasp. Y/N had just managed to undo it when Rengoku’s hands — large, warm, and much stronger than her own, wrapped around her wrists, stilling her.

“Not yet, you impatient woman,” he smirked against her mouth. He moved one wrist to join the other in his left hand before bringing her arms up over her head, pinning her to the ground.

Y/N whimpered and rolled her hips against his, impatient and demanding, wanting desperately to feel some relief as her core clenched wildly around nothing.

Rengoku chuckled darkly, the rich timbre of his voice causing her blood to nearly boil with her want, as he made his way down her body with his lips.

He first came to her chest bindings, growling in impatience as he nipped at one breast over the tightly wound fabric.

His fingers brushed against her sternum as he ripped her bindings straight down the middle, Y/N shuddering as the warm summer night’s air caressed her sensitive skin, her nipples pebbling at the change in temperature.

She waited for him to lavish her soft mounds, but the Flame Pillar paused, eyes narrowed on the valley between her breasts, right on the pale, lilac mark where he’d plunged Shinobu’s antidote into her heart.

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. He’d reacted poorly to the ribboned scar on her lower belly already, and now her once chance to finally have Rengoku in the way she’d so desperately longed to have him was about to be ruined.

But instead of pulling away from her in disgust, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against it the healed wound.

“I hadn’t realized I wounded you,” he murmured softly, reverently as he kissed it again. Y/N watched in bewilderment as he pressed his ear against her chest, letting his head rest there for a moment.

Listening to her heart hammer against her sternum.

“The sweetest music,” he whispered, pulling away to look at her not with lust but with unbounded tenderness.

Don’t look at me like that, she silently begged, don’t give me hope.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed and the esurient flame in Rengoku’s eyes flickered back to life. His lips continued down her abdomen, hot and needy until he reached the source of her near-fatal injury.

His mouth paused at the scar left by Upper Moon Six, the one he’d so callously glared at not even an hour before. This time, he ran his tongue along it, from the top to its base near her hipbone, pressing a fierce kiss against its end before continuing his descent.

“I will either have to thank my old Tsugoku the next time I see her,” Rengoku whispered darkly as he pulled at the soft waistband of Y/N’s undershorts with his teeth. “Or I shall have to burn her sewing room to cinders.” Rengoku’s fingers slid beneath the short hem of her bottoms, pulling them down inch by inch to expose her sensitive flesh.

Rengoku groaned when he saw Y/N was not wearing anything else beneath her scandalous bottoms. “Definitely burning.” His hands, so large and warm ran up the outer curve of her thighs, marveling at the silky smoothness of her skin. “Because you are far too tempting when wearing them.”

The Flame Pillar looked wild as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the lower indent between Y/N’s hipbones as he kissed his way down to where she ached the most.

He ducked around the center of her desire in favor of sucking softly on her inner thigh. Y/N’s chest heaved as her hands flailed next to her, desperately seeking purchase, until the Flame Hashira caught them in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her palms as their fingers interlaced.

“Rengoku - just fuck me already,” Y/N groaned as the Flame Pillar’s face settled between her thighs, his hot breath against her bare cunt causing her legs to attempt to clench shut.

“Well now, that won’t do,” Rengoku tutted, his hands withdrawing from hers as he wound his arms underneath both of her thighs, spreading them as wide as he could to expose her core to his heady gaze.

Rengoku leaned forward and lightly traced up her damp slit with the tip of his tongue. His amber irises which had been locked on hers, rolled back into his head as he groaned at her taste.

“I’m going to take my time with you. I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time, Y/N.” He warned, hands tightening around her thighs as he pressed a light kiss against her slit, teasing her.

In the back of her mind, Y/N registered that he’d used her first name. But the graze of his lips against her most sensitive flesh had her crying out his name, high-pitched and breathy, and she watched helplessly as the sound made Rengoku’s eyes turn black.

In an instant, he was upon her, and he was ravenous.

His mouth latched to her center as though she was an oasis in the middle of a blazing desert, and he was a man dying of thirst.

The way Rengoku’s teeth grazed her sensitive nub made her abdomen clench, and she fought against his ironclad grip on her thighs as they spasmed, desperate to clench around his head.

Y/N moaned, head thrown back into the soft summer grass as she felt herself grow wetter and wetter beneath the Flame Pillar, her hands desperately tugging and pinching at her breasts in an effort to feel more pleasure.

Y/N felt as though she was hurtling towards a cliff that she could not stop herself from tumbling over as Rengoku increased the intensity of his ministrations against her needy cunt.

“You taste,” he ground out through harsh drags of his tongue up her drenched folds, “like fucking paradise.”

His mouth latched around her clit, giving it a sharp suck that had Y/N seeing stars. She barely had time to recover, to acknowledge that she was at her tipping point when Rengoku thrust his tongue into her core and began to fuck her.

Y/N came apart the moment she felt his tongue enter her, a rush of her juices spilling over his relentless maw, but he held her hips down and continued his feast. His teeth grazed her clit over and over while his tongue pumped steadily in and out of her, and Y/N was close to sobbing at the overstimulation.

The Flame Pillar kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, the amber orbs glowing almost ominously in the indigo night.

“I- fuck.” Y/N breathed, grinding unrestrainedly against the blonde’s greedy mouth. “Rengoku!”

The Ice Pillar tried to sit up, tried to grab her comrade’s hair to tell him that she couldn’t take it anymore, that she needed him, but Rengoku was faster. Unfurling a steely arm from where it had been locked around her thigh to hold her open to him, he reached up her torso, his large hand splaying across her upper abdomen to restrain her.

“Sit down,” he growled between thrusts of his tongue into her aching cunt, nipping harshly at her inner thigh. “I am not finished.”

Y/N whimpered beneath the weight of his hand holding her down against the earth and the nearly painful ecstasy that Rengoku bestowed upon her between her legs.

Whether it was in praise for her obedience or a further act of torture, Rengoku then pressed his face flush against her core and rocked it harshly from side to side, his nose and the burgeoning stubble along his jaw scraping against her overstimulated and sensitive flesh.

Y/N slapped her hand against her mouth to stifle the howl that tore from her throat. Rengoku repeated the movement; it felt wonderful. It felt obscene. It made Y/N’s thighs contract around his head as her stomach dipped inward and a gush of her juices spilled out of her, more powerful than before, dampening the collar of the Flame Pillar’s haori.

For a breath, Y/N thought she would die of embarrassment until she felt Rengoku’s mouth vibrate against her from his groan of satisfaction. His tongue thrust once, twice more into her aching core before he withdrew completely, satisfaction tugging at the corners of his smirking lips.

But Rengoku looked nowhere near sated as he gazed down hungrily at her, wantonly spread out against the grass, the shredded pieces of her training attire strewn about, save for her haori.

“I will give you one last chance to end this now,” Rengoku whispered, kneeling above her but no longer touching her. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will walk away, and no one will know.”

Though her body already ached from the intensity of Rengoku’s mouth upon her, she could not fathom stopping here, not when she’d barely begun to taste him herself. The thought of rolling aside to pull on the tattered remains of her clothing, to return to her estate and awake tomorrow as though he had not melted every icy reservation she’d held with his touch, was enough to make her want to cry.

Though her limbs felt boneless, she summoned all her strength to reach toward the Flame Hashira, to beckon him to return to her.

“I want you, Rengoku,” Y/N said, her voice a breathy whisper as tears clung to her eyelashes. “Please.”

Rengoku’s pupils exploded, his eyes darkening as he covered her nude body with his own. Y/N nearly sobbed in relief as his lips roughly caught hers, one hand coming up to cradle her face while the other snaked beneath her head, tilting it to the side so he could deepen his claim over her mouth.

Y/N’s hands rose, shakily, to pull at the buttons of his uniform top, desperate to feel his skin burn against hers.

“On one condition,” Rengoku said, moving his lips from hers to press against her ear, Y/N shivering. “You must call me by my name,”

“Rengoku?” Y/N questioned her mind too fogged by her own desire.

He nipped lightly under her jaw before pulling his face back from hers, smirking slightly at the way she whined when avoided her attempt to kiss him again.

“My true name.”

With clarity, Y/N realized what he desired. But he had teased her far too much already, and she yearned to return the favor.

So she looked up at him through her eyelashes, teeth sinking into her lower lip in such a way that made the Flame Hashira’s eyes darken.

“Please, please, Kyojuro,” she whispered, lancing a hand up his bicep. “Take me.”

The growl that clawed its way out of the heaving chest of the Flame Pillar made Y//N’s thighs clamp together. Rengoku — Kyojuro — pounced on her, and Y/N summoned all her residual strength to rip his uniform shirt open.

Kyojuro moaned into her neck as his shirt gave way and Y/N’s hands came to rest against his bare skin, her nails raking down his taut pectorals to the rigid planes of his chiseled abdomen.

Her lips began descending the path carved by her nails when she drew short at the dark, thick starburst-shaped scar that covered his shoulder and left pectoral. Kyojuro’s breath seized as she pressed her lips ever so softly against it, turning so she could look up at him from beneath her lashes.

Kyojuro was panting as she nuzzled against his scar, kissing it once more before gently gliding her hand over his heart and resting it there, letting herself savor the strong, sturdy beat from within his chest.

Just as he did before, she resumed her trail down his body, her lips coming to the edge of his pants when his hands wound themselves in her hair, every nerve in his body alight as she licked her way up the small happy trail that stopped just below his belly button.

As much as he wanted to feel her mouth around him, Kyojuro had been driven to the brink of insanity by Y/N’s touch, and his resolve was quickly dwindling.

“Y/N — my flame — I can’t wait,” Kyojuro said by way of apology, as he covered her hands with his own to still them on his belt. He slipped his hands down to grip her wrists, bringing them together in one hand and moving her arms up over her head, pinning them against the grasp. With his free hand, Kyojuro loosened his belt and his pants, and shimmied them down, kicking them off behind him. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of his proud length as it bounced against his belly button.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She was no stranger to the male body, but this – she’d never had anyone compare to Kyojuro’s size or girth.

Kyojuro noticed her hesitation. “Is this – have you ever --?” Kyojuro breathed, hovering above her. It did not matter to him whether she had or had not, but he wanted to ensure that he did not hurt her.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s not my first time – but you are the first one to be so…well endowed.” Y/N flushed as Kyojuro laughed softly above her, and she felt his lips graze hers.

He pulled back slightly, reaching to grip the base of his aching cock tapping it against her soaked cunt in a warning and in permission.

Y/N seized beneath him at the spark of hot pleasure that was sent crackling up her spine as he rubbed his velvety head against the most sensitive part of her core. “Kyojuro,” she hissed through clenched teeth, rolling her hips impatiently towards him.

The mushroomed tip of his cock pushed into her entrance and Y/N felt herself go cross-eyed. It was heaven; pure, unadulterated, blissful heaven.

He was insistent on easing his thick length into her, but the throbbing between Y/N’s legs had grown nearly unbearable. He still wasn’t close enough, not nearly as much as she needed him to be.

Boldly, Y/N locked her ankles against Kyojuro’s backside, and with all her might, hauled him into her in a single stroke.

“Fuck!” he yelled, unable to restrain his volume as Y/N forced him to become fully seated within her. Her core was impossibly tight and so fucking warm and wet that it had been a true exercise of self-restraint not to spill himself inside her right then.

Y/N nearly screamed in pleasured relief at the way her body burned and stretched around Kyojuro’s considerable length, his base pressed flush against her sensitive clit as she began to grind furiously against him, desperate to relieve the friction that made her ache.

Kyojuro was still panting from the way Y/N had slammed him into her, nearly trembling with restraint as he willed himself not to finish before they’d truly begun.

Once certain that he would not climax like some green boy, he laughed quietly under his breath. The dark sound caused Y/N’s eyes to fly open, and her stomach flipped at the wicked glint in his eyes as he stared at her like a hunter stalking its prey.

Kyojuro leaned forward and took one of her breasts, harshly into his mouth, grazing his teeth over her nipple hard enough to make Y/N cry out in slight pain before he lapped at it soothingly with his tongue.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” He murmured between his ministrations, leaving fresh marks all over aching mounds.

Y/N could hardly make a sound as Kyojuro withdrew almost completely from her heat before slamming into her once, the Ice Pillar nearly choking on the breath that flew from her chest with his force.

Desperately — pathetically — Y/N nodded, whimpering.

“If that’s how you want it,” Kyojuro growled against her breast, giving her nipple one harsh nip with his teeth before pulling himself off her.

He sat on his knees, back straight as he began to pound relentlessly into her, his hands gripping her backside and holding her flush against his strong thighs. Y/N’s head remained thrown back against the earth, her fingers tearing at the soft grass beneath her.

Rengoku’s movements were just like those he wielded in battle — powerful; all-consuming; relentless; and unforgiving.

Y/N had never considered herself to be a particularly vocal person when engaged in carnal activities, but the way that Rengoku’s cock hammered into her spasming core over and over had reduced her to a moaning and whimpering mess. The only intelligible thing that fell from her lips was his name — Kyojuro.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” Kyojuro grunted out between forceful snaps of his hips against hers, the night air alive with the lewd squelching of Y/N’s dripping cunt as he pistoned into her.

Y/N looked to see the Flame Pillar’s eyes locked on her breasts as they bounced with the force of his thrusts. Between the moans and whimpers he pulled from her with every punishing thrust of his hips against hers, she lightly dragged her fingers from their place in the grass to her hipbone, and then up to trace teasingly around her peaked breast.

Kyojuro’s eyes followed every move, his thrusts hardening as she pinched her nipple and let out a breathy little scream, her walls pulsing around his aching length.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro grit, feeling himself twitch within her as he watched Y/N play with herself, spurring him to go faster, deeper within her.

He moved his hand under one of her knees and lifted her leg over his shoulder, allowing him to plunge deeper into her silken heat, and he teasingly drew his fingers up and down her outer thigh.

At that moment, as Kyojuro was poised against the silhouette of the moon, his amber eyes glowing as he watched where he appeared and disappeared inside her, the realization hit Y/N like a storm, and it knocked her entirely off her axis.

She was in love with Kyojuro.

Who else could make her feel so sacred and yet so angry? Who else had been capable of slipping past every wall she’d built within herself, capable of getting her to let her guard down before consuming her so furiously she had not realized she’d ever been in danger?

He was fire, she was ice. One of them had to give to the other. She’d just always thought it would be him giving into her.

Yet there, beneath the moonlight, her climax rising above her like a tidal wave, Y/N realized that she was powerless against the waves that rose to pull her under, to never again let her up for air.

Distantly, Y/N felt the Flame Pillar’s callused thumb find her clit and her climax slammed into her, and she succumbed to the endless sea called Kyojuro.

--------------------------------------------------------

As Y/N broke apart around him, Kyojuro swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.

She shattered over him with the prettiest scream he’d ever heard, and he could barely make out the drawn-out syllables of his name as her hips jerked up against his while her inner walls threatened to squeeze the life from him.

Y/N finally collapsed back against the ground, her body limp from the exhaustion of her pleasure. Kyojuro then moved in chase of his own release, his hips pressed solidly against hers as he rutted his cock deep within her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands tightening around Y/N’s waist. The familiar electricity of impending release tingled at the base of Kyojuro’s spine, and his stomach began to clench as he began his ascent to his climax.  “Y/N — I am going to finish soon,” his head was thrown back, and his groans were loud enough to alert anyone nearby of exactly what was transpiring between the two Hashira. “Please — tell me where--”

“Inside,” Y/N gasped, her legs tightening around Kyojuro’s hips in a feeble attempt to keep him within her, to ensure that he wouldn’t yet leave her. “Please, Kyojuro, stay.”

Kyojuro was a rational man, and he knew of one major reason not to allow his seed to spill inside Y/N’s heavenly body. But all those rationalities flew out the window at the sound of her wanton and needy whimpers and the way her heat fluttered around him and Kyojuro did not think he could pull out of her if he wanted to.

Kyojuro’s thrusts became more and more frenzied and bruising, with the Flame Hashira hardly dragging his twitching length out of her as he neared his own climax.

“Hold onto me,” he panted, falling forward so that his chest was pressed flush against Y/N’s, one arm going to wrap around her waist while the other snaked over to where her arm lay in the grass, gripping her wrist to pin it up over her head as his fingers interlocked tightly with hers.

Y/N hiked her legs higher up his waist, crossing them at her shins so that he was buried deep within her. Her free arm looped under the one he had braced above her head to wrap around his back, her fingers digging into the rippling muscle and scarred skin that littered his shoulders.

“Make me yours, Kyojuro,” she whispered against his neck, squeezing his hips with her thighs.

Y/N felt his entire body tense at her words and Kyojuro’s moans turned into shouts as he gave one final, deep thrust within her before he exploded. His hand tightened fiercely around hers with the force of his climax,

The pleasure that surged up his spine had been white hot as he pushed himself as deeply as he could possibly go within Y/N’s vice-like core. Kyojuro was not a novice to pleasure, but he had never finished as hard or as much as he did buried within her.

Kyojuro canted his hips, prolonging his release as he continued to empty himself into her, coming down from his earth-shattering high. Y/N mewled against his throat, her lips brushing against his sensitive pulse point as her legs spasmed. once more around his hips.

He finally stilled within her, arms shaking as he braced himself above her, to keep from crushing the exhausted woman beneath him.

He lowered his head down to her level. “Are you all right, my flame?” He panted, pressing a kiss between her brows before he rested his forehead heavily against hers.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and nodded shakily.

He no longer could keep himself from collapsing against Y/N, but as he fell forward, he gripped her and rolled, pulling her to his chest with his leaking cock still nestled deeply between her legs.  

“I don’t want to push you away,” Kyojuro murmured softly after a moment, his chest finally easing as his breathing slowed.

Y/N made a show of looking down to where they were still joined, the Flame Pillar’s pearly seed slowly leaking out of her and onto the grass below them. “I think I’m about as close to you as physically possible, Rengoku.”

Kyojuro rolled his eyes and ground his hips slightly into her, causing Y/N to squeak against him.

“Quiet, woman, I’m trying to apologize to you.” He trailed his fingers up and down her spine as she nestled back against his chest, chin perched on his pectoral as she waited for him to continue.

“I was just so angry. After the incident on the train, when I woke up in Kocho’s hospital — I was furious. With myself.” Amber eyes met hers and softened to pools of melted honey. “It was never you I was angry with.”

Y/N held his gaze evenly, her voice firm. “But you took it out on me all the same.” It wasn’t an angry accusation — it was the truth; ugly and sharp. But it was real, and so was the tentative, knowing hope in her eyes.

“Yes,” Kyojuro breathed. “Yes, I did. And I am so sorry for it, Y/N.” His hand reached up to gently cup the side of her face, thumb smoothing over the soft expanse of her cheek. “May I ask for your forgiveness?”

Y/N leaned her head into his warm palm, and smiled, softly.

“You may ask, Kyojuro.”

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

Y/N threw a leg out over his other hip, straddling him beneath her, though moving so fluidly that they remained connected at their base.

She rolled her hips against his, and he felt himself begin to harden within her once more. Kyojuro moaned softly, head falling back against the earth as he brought his hands up to steady her, fingers digging gently into her hips as she repeated the movement, again and again, until he’d fully stiffened within her.

“Yes Kyojuro,” she sighed, hands coming to brace themselves against his abdomen as she began to ride him. “I forgive you.”

Kyojuro groaned, his head thrown back as he began to gently grind up into her, goosebumps erupting over his flesh as she lightly raked her nails over his pectorals and the hard ridges of his abdomen.

He wanted so very badly to lose himself within his pleasure, to allow Y/N to consume him whole and never let him go again, but his atonement was not complete.

Because Y/N had given him every opportunity to confess to her before, and he had been careless with them; she would not open that door herself again.

So he would.

“And may I give you my heart, Y/N?” He asked, his hands gliding sensually up from her hips to brace themselves on either side of her sensitive waist, squeezing her firmly.

Her pace had stuttered slightly once his words registered, eyes widening as she looked down at him, and Kyojuro hated that he was the reason the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes.

“Is it truly mine?” She breathed, resuming the intoxicating rise and fall and push and grind of her hips, breasts beginning to bounce as she picked up her pace.

Kyojuro’s mouth watered, but he restrained himself, holding her gaze. “It was only ever yours, Y/N.”

Y/N cried out then, her hips beginning to drop and roll into his with urgency. By the way her damp heat began to pulse and constrict around him, Kyojuro knew that she was barreling towards her release once more.

One hand left its searing position at her waist to drift down to where they were connected, his rough thumb toying with the sensitive nub that had her heavenly cunt squeezing him for dear life.

“My beautiful flame,” he moaned, “how lucky I am to have such a darling god be the keeper of my heart.”

Kyojuro rolled into her from below again, the hand still braced on her waist guiding himself to push deeper into her, as his thumb began to press harder into the apex of her thighs.

“Sweet tempest, please,” Kyojuro panted, the relentless squeeze of Y/N’s walls around his aching length beginning to drive him to the point of madness. “Please, may I have your love?”

Y/N’s moans were piercing as she half-sobbed above him, head thrown back into the night sky, the hoary glow of the moon making her look like a celestial deity given human form as she writhed above him.

“Yes!” Y/N cried, “Yes Kyojuro, you have always had my love!”

The moment the words fell from her lips, Kyojuro jolted upright, coming into a sitting position as Y/N’s legs instantly wrapped around him. He wound one arm around her waist to bounce her in his lap, the other moving to circle his fingers around her nub.

Kyojuro nuzzled her nose with his own, his lips mere centimeters from hers as he pressed his forehead against her and held her eyes. “Then come for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath tickling her lips as he nuzzled her again. “Come for me, my love.”

Y/N seized around him like a vice, her head falling back as she unleashed a euphoric cry.

The force of her climax had caused her to arch backward in Kyojuro’s lap, thrusting her breasts up and forward, and Kyojuro bent to suck one into his greedy mouth, his own release imminent. The warm sticky rush of her pleasure combined with the way her velvety, molten walls constricted around him had Kyojuro seeing stars as his seed shot into her, hot and fast, his strangled groan muffled only by the soft plush of Y/N’s breast as he filled her to her brim for the second time that night.

For a long moment, neither Pillar said anything as they came down from their mutual highs, Y/N’s head pressed against Kyojuro’s shoulder while the Flame Pillar kept his arms firmly around her waist, his fingers trailing up and down her spine.

“Y/N, are you all right?” He murmured into her ear, still buried deep within her heat.

Y/N nodded sleepily against his skin, savoring how full and complete she felt perched in his lap.

“I love you, Kyojuro.” She said so softly that the Flame Pillar thought his heart might break. Kyojuro pulled away slightly to bring his fingers beneath her chin where she lay against his shoulder. Gently, he tilted her face towards his and captured her lips with his own.  

“My darling flame,” He murmured against her lips as they broke apart, his eyes sweeping over her face, committing every detail of her beauty to memory. “Thank you.”

Y/N gave him a lazy smile. “I cannot be your flame, Kyojuro,” she teased, “Not when I am made of ice.”

Kyojuro flipped her back beneath him and danced his lips teasingly across the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you know, my beautiful foil, that ice can burn just as well as flame?” He pressed a feather-light kiss against her lips. “And I have been consumed by your silvery fire since I first laid eyes on you at Final Selection.”

Y/N looked up at him in wonder, her hand coming to rest against his face as she adoringly caressed his cheek.

“I love you, Y/N. I am so sorry it took me until now to say it.”

-------------------------------------------------—

Epilogue

Y/N made back it into her room, sight unseen, just as dawn had crept over the horizon.

Feet bare, she padded softly over to her waiting bed, shrugging out of Kyojuro’s uniform shirt and falling into her blankets, not caring at the growing discomfort she felt as the Flame Pillar’s seed dried in her undershorts.

She just wanted to sleep.

Y/N and Kyojuro had come together twice more before the pair realized that morning was imminent, and they needed to return to their respective dwellings before anyone noticed they were gone.

Y/N had lamented that Kyojuro had shredded her chest bindings beyond salvation and had worried she’d be forced to sneak back into the Butterfly Mansion with nothing but her haori to cover her bare chest when Kyojuro slid his uniform shirt over her shoulders.

“No one will think twice if they see me bare,” he’d said by way of explanation, gaze dropping momentarily to appreciate the marks he had left dotted across her breasts before rising back to her face. “I would like to keep you hidden, however.”

Kyojuro then fastened each button one by one, beginning from the bottom as he kissed his way up Y/N’s torso until his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, which he’d nipped.

It had taken everything in her not to throw him down and have him for the fifth time.

Kyojuro had walked with her as far as the edge of the path back to Shinobu’s before parting her with a sweet kiss and a promise to return to her later in the morning. He had also mentioned, somewhat mischievously, that he would be inquiring into when Y/N could expect to be discharged from the Butterfly Mansion and return to her own Estate.

Her empty, person-free estate.

Y/N collapsed into her bed, ready to sleep for a precious few hours before her training would begin anew.

“So, do you mind sharing where you’ve been all night?” A dangerously sweet voice chirped from over by the door.

Y/N shot up out of her bed, stomach falling out of her ass, as she faced the smiling, enraged Insect Pillar seated primly atop her wooden stool opposite of her.

“I was quite worried, you know,” Shinobu tutted, the honey of her smile poisoned by the violence in her eyes.

Y/N had never been one to be at a loss for words, a quick comment, or a snappy retort always on hand when the situation called for it.

But to her horror, her mind had gone dreadfully blank, and her tongue was swollen stupid in her mouth.

Shinobu smiled like she knew, eyes slowly looking her over, and Y/N was left with the uncomfortable feeling that her friend could see every way she’d allowed Kyojuro to utterly defile her.

“Will you be in need of a contraceptive?” Shinobu asked lightly, and Y/N felt like she would drop dead right then and there.

“…Yes, please.” She managed to squeak, and the Insect Pillar turned to leave.

“I will bring it with your breakfast.” Her hand closed around the doorknob but stilled.

“And Y/N?”

The Ice Pillar whimpered as her friend turned to look back at her, all smiles and throbbing forehead veins.

“If you ever keep the younger girls awake from the sounds of your activities with the Flame Pillar again, I will poison you both.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

[failingtoberelatable]

Tell Me to Stop (NSFW Rengoku x F!Ice Hashira Reader, Part 1/2)

Once more, I have ZERO self-control.

See this post for a synopsis, but as a refresher: post-Mugen Train AU where Rengoku lives and Y/N, the Ice Pillar, takes his place on the mission to the Entertainment District with Uzui. This is the angsty part, and Part Two will be SUPER NSFW. So absolutely no minors.

There are three POVs in this part -- Y/N's, Shinobu's, and Kyojuro's. Each is clearly marked. There are also several flashbacks, and they are marked in all italics, to make the reading a bit more seamless.

CW: 5.9k words. Angst. 18+, cursing, graphic descriptions of injuries and poisoning. Mention of amphetamine use and likely improper medical procedures, but I'm not a fucking doctor and this is fiction.

PART TWO POSTED HERE

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(Y/N’s POV)

At first, she thought she was in the afterlife.

Her eyes struggled to focus as the brilliant white lights above her nearly blinded her, and for the briefest moment, the Ice Pillar had felt a flood of relief, because at least she could then rest.

But then the pain hit.

It hit her like one of the heavy training rocks Himejima used on lower-ranked slayers, and briefly, Y/N wondered if she had misjudged the situation — wondered if she was, in fact, in hell.

Her heart was slamming against her chest, however, and the pain was far too acute for that to be a plausible explanation, especially as the lights above her sharpened into focus.

The light was not the soft, beckoning afterglow of a world beyond; rather, it was the collection of sterile utility lights that the Insect Hashira had specially installed in the recovery rooms at the Butterfly Mansion.

To her slight disappointment, the Ice Pillar found herself alive.

Fuck.

She was alive and her body felt like it had been dropped off the tip of a mountain. There was not an inch of her body that did not feel as though it had been smashed open and flayed.

“L-Lady Y/L/N!” A surprised squeak came from Y/N’s right.

It took a great deal of effort to turn her head to see one of Kocho’s girls standing in her doorway, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the now-conscious Ice Hashira.

Y/N truly had meant to greet the young girl, but the only thing that came out was a long, pained groan.

“I-I’ll go get Lady Kocho, right away!” The girl hastily bowed before scampering out, the sounds of her excited yelling growing dimmer as she ran away.

Y/N had briefly fallen back out of consciousness before she felt a pair of cool, soft fingers brushing against her forehead, and her eyes fluttered back open.

“Good morning,” Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira and her dear friend, said, smiling down at her, her eyes full of relief.

“We were starting to worry about you, you know.”

Y/N responded with something between a smile and a grimace as pain wracked through her once more. “How long have I been out?” Her voice was weak and cracked, which led Y/N to conclude it had been at least a few weeks since the battle in the Entertainment District.

Shinobu’s smile faltered for half a second, before her friend recovered. “Almost two months.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, what little breath she had in her chest wheeze out, as the horror of Shinobu’s words sunk in.

She, a Hashira, had been unconscious for nearly two months. She’d be surprised if she was allowed to keep her title at all.

“Uzui?” Y/N asked quietly, remembering that her comrade had also been quite injured following the battle with the dual Upper Moon Sixes.

Shinobu smoothed Y/N’s hair back, an affectionate move that eased some of the tension she felt. “He was in rough shape as well, but not nearly as bad as you were.” Shinobu pressed her fingers against the pulse point on Y/N’s neck, silently counting the number of beats. “He managed to carry you back most of the way before his body gave out — luckily, just as the two of you came across the Kakushi team dispatched to assist you both.”

Shinobu’s gentle fingers pried Y/N’s eyelids back to check her pupil dilation. “He’s back home with his wives. I discharged him about two weeks ago.”

Shinobu motioned for one of the girls to fetch pain medication, now that she had sufficiently apprised herself of all Y/N’s vitals, and Y/N felt a rush of gratitude for her friend.

“How bad was I?” Y/N asked after a moment, once she and the Insect Pillar were left alone.

Shinobu’s practiced smile finally dropped, and for once she looked tired. “Uzui said you took a direct hit from the Upper Six’s blood demon art. Not only did he manage to impale you, but he discharged a massive amount of poison into you.”

Shinobu’s lower lip wobbled slightly. “That poison should have killed you — it would have, had you not used your Ice Breathing to lower your body temperature. Doing so kept the poison from spreading as quickly, but it also made you hypothermic.”

“You were…near death when you were finally brought in. Your body temperature had dropped so low in an effort to keep the poison from reaching your vital organs, but it was already doing so.” Shinobu sat back into a stool she’d rolled over beside Y/N’s bed. “Honestly, you were so touch and go that I thought I was merely prolonging the inevitable.”

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding. Perhaps her initial reaction when she’d awoken hadn’t been too far off — she had nearly died.

The two were silent for a moment, the weight of the events of the day weighing heavily in the air around them.

Shinou broke the silence first. “Your vitals seem relatively stable for now, but I’m going to need to keep a close eye on you over the next few days to judge your recovery.” She stood, brushing non-existent dust from her lap. “Do you feel like eating anything at all? Or drinking some tea?”

Y/N shook her head as much as she could, though her movement was limited by the stiffness in her neck. “No. I’m in pain.” She groaned.

The Insect Pillar smiled softly at her. “I’ve held off on administering any pain medicine to you – I didn’t want to risk prolonging your coma.” Shinobu paused. “I suppose I can mix a good dose in with some broth – I would really prefer you to have something nutritious, if you think you can stomach it.”

Y/N nodded again, her lips suddenly feeling cracked and dry. “Broth would be wonderful. Thank you, Shinobu, truly.”

Shinobu patted her friend’s hand in response. “The medication will likely put you to sleep for the rest of the afternoon – but your body needs rest now. I’ll check in on you in a little while. You’re in the private infirmary room just down the hall from my office – I wanted to ensure you wouldn’t be disturbed by the regular chaos wrought by the younger slayers.”

Shinobu made to exit the small room, but paused in the doorway, her back turned to Y/N.

“Y/N…I am so thankful that you’re all right.”

Y/N smiled, and for the first time since she’d awoken, she felt glad to be alive.

—————————————————————————

Shinobu had been right – the medicine she’d mixed into the warm miso broth had been potent. Y/N had barely consumed half the cup of the soup before she’d felt drowsy, slumping back against the soft down of her bed and falling back asleep.

Hours later, judging by the darkness of her room, Y/N had awoken briefly, and in her disorientation had cast her eyes around her private recovery room in alarm until she distantly remembered that she was safe and in the comfort of her friend’s hospital.

As she looked blearily around, she’d noticed a pair of vaguely familiar amber eyes staring owlishly at her from the wall across from her bed. Y/N, however, had collapsed back against her pillow, unconscious once more, before she could investigate any further.

But she dreamed of fire.

—————————————————————————

When Y/N awoke the following morning, she was still in a great deal of pain.

“I don’t understand why I can’t use my breathing to help,” she’d complained to Shinobu’s second-in-charge, a pig-tailed, severe-looking girl who bustled around Y/N’s room as she restocked the Ice Pillar’s medications.

“Lady Kocho was very clear that you shouldn’t be using your Ice Breathing for a while yet, Y/L/N-San,” the girl, Aoi, said as respectfully as she could, though Y/N could hear the slight reprimand edging its way into her tone.

“After all, when you arrived, your body temperature was barely 75 degrees — and it had been lower than that already, according to Lord Uzui”

Y/N’s head snapped up and she pinned the girl with her icy stare. “That’s not possible,” she said sharply, “I may be a Hashira, but a body temperature below 75 degrees will kill anyone.”

Aoi audibly gulped. “Well, it was probably because of Mr. Rengoku-“

“What?” Y/N snapped, sitting up straighter in her bed. “He was there?”

The awkward girl nodded frantically. “Yes! He was the one who brought you here!”

Y/N sat silently in her bed, jaw slackened as she stared at the pig-tailed attendant.

Aoi fidgeted under the intensity of Y/N’s gaze. “He met you and Mr. Uzui a few miles outside of the Butterfly Mansion. He carried you the rest of the way because Mr. Uzui had passed out.” Aoi busied herself with replacing the used towels next to the small sink in Y/N’s room to avoid looking at the Pillar.

“Lady Kocho said he had turned up his body temperature while carrying you to keep yours from falling any further.” Aoi finally turned back to Y/N, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You were so cold and so blue by the time he barged through the doors, that Lady Kocho assumed you had already died. Mr. Rengoku kept you alive long enough for Lady Kocho to intervene.”

Y/N didn’t remember getting out of her bed, nor did she remember the way her legs shook as she took her first steps in nearly two months, stumbling awkwardly down the hallway to her friend’s private office.

-------------------------------------------------------

(Shinobu’s POV)

Shinobu startled at her desk when Y/N flung the lacquered wooden door open.

“Y/N! You should not be up-“Shinobu began to reprimand her, but Y/N cut her off.

“You lied to me, Kocho.” Shinobu froze at the terse, formal way that Y/N used her surname — a sure indicator that she was irate. “You told me the Kakushi found me. You never said anything about Rengoku.”

For once, Shinobu felt sheepish.

“I wasn’t lying to you, Y/N,” she promised, her palms turning up towards the Ice Pillar in supplication. “Please, I’m happy to explain everything, but you need to get back in bed.”

Her friend swayed in the doorway, hand shooting out to weakly clutch at the frame in an effort to remain upright. It seemed that she had only managed to make it all the way to Shinobu’s office out of pure spite, and now that it had worn off, her weakened body threatened to fold beneath her.

Y/N may have been as stubborn as an ox, but she was not a fool when it came to recognizing her limits. Her chin dipped once in a jerky nod, and Shinobu clapped her hands. A Kakushi appeared in an instant, lifting Y/N onto her back and whizzing her back down to her private quarters.

Once Y/N was settled back and bed, and the two women were alone, Shinobu pulled a chair over and sat down.

“I wasn’t planning on keeping the details from you for very long,” Shinobu began, holding Y/N’s searing stare evenly. “But the circumstances of your arrival were…extreme, and equal measures had to be taken.”

Y/N’s mouth set into a hard line. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Y/N, when the Flame Pillar kicked down the front door, with you unconscious in his arms, I thought you were already dead.”

Y/N’s eyes widened softly. Though Shinobu had devoted years of carefully crafting her emotionless mask, she could not stop the small shake in her voice as she recalled that horrible night.

—————————————————————————

(Two Months Prior)

Shinobu had flown into the entry hall of her estate the moment the loud crash reached her ears. Her hand had been on her blade, ready to eliminate any threat that had come knocking on her door, but she came to a skidding halt when she beheld who stood in the ruined splinters of her doorway.

For half a heartbeat, Shinobu’s world had come crashing down around her for the third time in her life. Because there was the Flame Pillar, looking wild and frantic and angrier than she had ever seen him.  His uniform shirt had been missing completely, and his eyes were bright and glassy with the first signs of what Shinobu knew to be a high fever.

Clutched in his arms was the woman that she’d considered as much a sister as Kanae and Kanao were to her. Beneath the streaks of red and odd purple and black staining on her skin, Shinobu could see she was deathly pale, the areas around her mouth and eyes turning an unsettling blue.

She wasn’t moving.

She was barely breathing.

“ANTIDOTE.” Rengoku bellowed, his volume jolting Shinobu into action as she began barking orders at the Kakushi that arrived behind him.

“Get her over here and lay her down on the floor — we don’t have time to get her into an examination room.” Shinobu shrugged out of her late sister’s haori and spread it out on the floor — Y/N was one of the only two people left in the world whom she would be willing to do such a thing for.

In a matter of seconds, Shinobu had deduced three, critical facts:

First, Y/N had been poisoned — severely so, and was mere minutes, if not seconds away from death.

Second, that she was bordering on hypothermia, given the chill of her skin and the discoloration around her orifices.

Third, the only reason she’d not succumbed to said hypothermia was because of the bare-chested Hashira who held her like she was his entire world, who was willingly burning with a near-deadly fever in an effort to keep Y/N alive.

Shinobu dug into the pocket of her hakama pants and produced a sharp pair of medical scissors — the only pair she owned sharp enough to cut through the resilient fabric of the Demon Slayer Corp’s uniform.

Rengoku had made to lay Y/N on the floor and pull away, but Shinobu lunged to stop him.

“Don’t you dare let go of her, Kyojuro Rengoku,” Shinobu snarled as she cut Y/N’s shirt from her body, exposing the purple-mottled skin of her chest where the Upper Moon’s poison had spread. “Keep her warm— her body is going to try to keep fighting the poison.”

Rengoku maneuvered so that he sank to the floor of the Butterfly Mansion hall under Y/L/N, the Ice Pillar still pressed to his bare skin.

“Aoi,” Shinobu called for her second-in-charge who appeared instantly by her mistress’s side. “Bring me the wisteria antidote and the amphetamine,” she ordered as she checked for Y/L/N’s pulse, her mouth settling into a hard line as she realized the Ice Pillar barely had one.

Rengoku was burning, his skin nearly sizzling against the now-bared skin of Y/L/N. “She just keeps getting colder, no matter what I do.” He readjusted his arms to grip around Y/L/N’s waist and press her tighter against him.

Shinobu inspected where the poison had turned the veins beneath Y/L/N’s skin black. “She’s been using her ice breathing to slow the poison by lowering her body temperature,” she said quietly. “It stopped the poison from spreading long enough for Uzui to bring her back, but this is the most potent poison I’ve ever seen.”

Y/L/N’s chest rose shakily once but it did not fall.

“AOI.” Shinobu half-shrieked, and the girl finally came flying around the corner, the two syringes clutched in her hand.

She moved her scissors beneath the bindings around Y/N’s chest, cutting them open in one fluid motion and exposing Y/N’s breasts to the air. Out of reflex, Rengoku turned his head up towards the ceiling, if not to help preserve the girl’s modesty.

“We don’t have time for that nonsense,” She snapped at him, her tone forcing him to look back at her, frantic.

Aoi handed the two vials to her madam, who began flicking her index finger against the cylinder glass to dispel any remaining bubbles within.

“The sternum is the thickest bone in the human body,” Shinobu began, turning her attention to the second vial, filled with a clear, thin liquid. She unscrewed the top of the second vial and dumped its contents into the syringe full of purple liquid, repeating the process of tapping out any bubbles. “It takes an alarming degree of strength to penetrate it.”

She pinned Rengoku with her sharp eyes. “I do not have that strength,” she said plainly and moved to press the syringe into his hand.

“But you do. When I tell you, you need to slam this into her heart, right here.” Shinobu tapped her index finger precisely in between Y/N’s breasts, directly over her heart. “And then push down on the top of the syringe until all of that liquid is gone.”

Rengoku clutched the syringe in his hand tightly as he looked down at Y/N. Her heart had slowed to the faintest patter against her chest, and her breath had become nearly nonexistent.

There was no more time. He brought the fist clutching the antidote up over the spot that Shinobu had marked.

“Forgive me, Y/L/N,” Rengoku said, and without hesitation, he slammed the syringe down into the Ice Pillar’s chest, pressing every ounce of the purple antidote directly into Y/N’s heart.

Syringe still buried in her chest, Y/L/N bowed out of his arms with a deep, guttural gasp, her eyes flying open for the briefest of moments before she collapsed back against him, unconscious once more.

But breathing.

“What— what was that, Kocho?” Rengoku breathed, looking in wonder at the feebly breathing but alive Ice Pillar.

“The strongest antidote I have,” Shinobu grimaced. “And an amphetamine. To restart her heart.”

Rengoku’s eyes shot up to meet hers. “Re-start?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes. For a moment, we no longer had an Ice Pillar.”

The Flame Pillar swore under his breath, his arms unconsciously tightening their hold against Y/L/N.

“She is not out of the clear yet,” Shinobu warned, her fingers brushing against the skin of her friend’s wrist as she measured her pulse. “Until the antidote is able to fully abate the effects of the poison, she will continue to subconsciously try to freeze her body.”

She winced. “As a doctor, I shouldn’t even be asking, but it appears you’re the reason she hasn’t fallen to hypothermia — “

“I will stay,” Rengoku promised, looking back down at the woman barely clinging to life in his arms. “Of course, I will stay.”

(End of Flashback).

-------------------------------------------------------

“Rengoku stayed with you until your body temperature rose back to normal,” Shinobu said, her tone entirely clinical. “Though by the time that happened, he’d given himself a nasty fever from the amount of time that he’d kept his body temperature so high.”

A faint smile ghosted over her face. “He actually put up a bit of a fight when the Kakushi came to pull him away. His fever had made him delirious.”

Y/N flushed. “I’m sure that was quite the sight - two half-nude Hashira in a bed together. The poor Kakushi.”

Shinobu’s eyes flashed. “Not a single person thought it was anything more than a persistent effort by the Flame Pillar to keep his comrade alive,” she said sharply. “And I will discipline anyone who may suggest otherwise.” 

Her friend smiled at her, unmistakable gratitude in her eyes.

“I ended up having to keep him here for three days before his fever broke. He kept trying to come see you, too,” Shinobu chewed on her lip in thought. “I don’t think he understood that you were just unconscious and not half-frozen to death.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Y/N asked, softly. “I understand — and appreciate — you telling me what happened immediately after Rengoku brought me here, but…”

Shinobu reached for her friend’s hand and gently took it into her own, squeezing lightly.

“I just thought you should know the lengths that man went to to keep you alive.”

————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N laid awake for a long while after Shinobu had left.

Shinobu had told her that the Flame Pillar had visited her on a nightly basis for the entire period she’d been unconscious.

But that news hadn’t been able to hold a candle to the larger revelation that Shinobu had shared with her.

Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira, had fought to keep her alive; and she didn’t know what to do with that information.

At best, her relationship with the fiery man had been complicated.

The two had survived and endured Final Selection together and had risen through the ranks of the Demon Slayer Corp at about the same rate. Their breathing styles were symbolic opposites – so much so, it was almost comical that they had been drawn to one another at all.

For years, their relationship had been defined by a series of almosts.

She’d almost asked him to accompany her on an overnight mission in the far-off mountains – what would have been their first solo mission together.

She’d almost accepted his haori when he’d offered it to her after her own had been shredded in a battle against a lower moon when they were Kinoe.

He’d almost brushed his hand against hers at the last Hashira meeting they’d attended – the one right before that fateful mission he took involving that cursed train.

She’d almost kissed his forehead when he lay unconscious in his bed at the Butterfly Mansion after Upper Moon Three had nearly stolen him from her for good.

But this game of cat-and-mouse they had played since they were Mizunotos hadn’t ever actually led them anywhere. Y/N had always assumed they were doomed to long for one another from afar, both too emotionally closed-off and too stubborn to ever confess their true feelings.

And in spite of the series of almosts that had defined their relationship, Kyojuro Rengoku had also been her biggest pain in the ass. The man burned as bright as the Sun itself; he was warm, jovial, and supportive to every Demon Slayer regardless of rank – even her.

Until it came time for her to actually do her job, in which case, Rengoku would never fail to corner her and demand her to sit out, or to let him accompany her, despite the fact that she had become a Hashira before him.

Truly, she thought he gave her emotional whiplash; he flirted with her one moment before openly questioning her competency as a Pillar the next. But she could not deny the slight flutter of her heart at the thought that he had been so concerned with her well-being, that he had checked on her every night since he helped to save her life.

There was no way he could have known that she had regained consciousness – at least, Shinobu had not mentioned that anyone had told him -- and so, Y/N felt slightly giddy at the prospect of finally confronting him. Perhaps she’d even goad him into admitting that he cared for her.

Pressed against her pillows in the dark, she waited.

But the Flame Pillar never came.

————————————————————————

(Kyojuro’s POV)

He’d been training when he’d received the news.

Y/L/N had awoken after nearly two months of being in a coma.

His crow had flown to his estate the second it had observed the commotion within the Butterfly Mansion, having lingered just long enough to confirm that the Ice Pillar had regained consciousness and was being attended to, before rushing to inform its master.

Kyojuro dropped to his knees as the crow reported its news, the relief he felt almost overwhelming.

He’d begun to lose hope — they all had — that she would ever recover. These last days, he’d half expected his crow to return with the dreaded news that the Ice Pillar had finally succumbed to her injuries and left them all — left him — behind for good.

A Hashira being unconscious for that amount of time was nearly unheard of; after all, his fight with Upper Three had only knocked him out for three weeks.

Then again, Kocho had said the amount of poison Y/L/N had taken, coupled with how much time had passed before Uzui had limped into the Corp’s territory, with her cradled in his arms, would have killed most people. Including the other Pillars.

But she had lived. She was conscious.

Anger, righteous anger, chased away the relief he’d felt.

Now, Kyojuro was downright furious, nearly shaking with his rage.

It had not been her mission to go on.

It had been his. But he had been too injured after the battle on the Mugen Train, too wounded after his encounter with Upper Moon Three, that Kocho and the Master had refused to clear him to accompany Uzui to the Entertainment District.

So Y/N had gone in his stead.

 ----------------————————————————-

(Two Months Prior)

“I refuse to allow this,” Kyojuro said severely, leaning heavily against the door frame of the Butterfly Mansion’s recovery room, panting. His rehabilitation training had been underway, and he was making steady progress towards full recovery — but not enough so that the Master would permit him to resume taking missions.

much less one against a suspected Upper Moon.

Y/L/N had come to the Insect Pillar’s estate to retrieve some last minute supplies before she was due to depart with the Sound Pillar for the Entertainment District.

“I don’t believe you’re in a position to give anyone orders,” Y/N said frostily, turning her back to him as she continued to organize her supplies.

She moved to brush past him when his hand shot out to grab her by the upper arm, stilling her.

“Orders be damned,” he snarled under his breath, his grip tightening as his fingers dug into the muscle of her bicep. “This is my mission, not yours. You have no business going there.”

Y/L/N bristled at his words, her smaller hand coming up to wrench his from its grip on her arm. “I am a Hashira, the same as you. You do not get to dictate what I do or what missions I accept.” She shoved him off her. “You do not get to play God, Rengoku.”

And so, he’d been powerless to stop her from breezing by and joining Uzui as the pair set off towards the Entertainment District.

In his fury, he’d reduced nearly half of the training dummies the Butterfly House kept to splinters during his rehabilitation training.

More than a week had gone by before they’d received any word from the Entertainment District — or, what was left of it.

Uzui and Y/L/N had succeeded in taking out the two Upper Moons, becoming the first Hashira in nearly one hundred years to do so — the victory had been immense, but not priceless.

They’d heard that there had been a near-total destruction of Yoshiwara as a result of the battle with the Upper Moons, as well as a number of civilian casualties. But by the time the Kakushi had arrived on scene, neither the Sound nor Ice Hashira could be found.

The Master’s crow had nearly exhausted itself flying urgently back and forth between the ruins of the Entertainment District and Headquarters as it searched urgently for the missing Pillars.

Kyojuro had been restlessly pacing the grounds of the Butterfly Mansion when Kocho’s raven swooped down from overhead.

“The Butterfly Mansion must send out a group of Kakushi!” It had cried, causing the staff mulling about the Estate to freeze. “The Sound and Ice Pillars are two miles east and both critical! Go now!”

Had Kocho been around, she might have been able to stop Kyojuro from taking off at a full sprint after her crow, but she had not been within earshot; and so, Kyojuro raced for his comrades.

The night was dark, and the light from the waning moon had been feeble. The crow led Kyojuro and a trailing group of Kakushi to a small clearing before the edge of a forest on the outskirts of headquarters.

With bated breath, the group waited as a shadow emerged — slowly, and gasping for breath, from the dark cover of the trees.

The glow of the moon had been just enough to illuminate Uzui’s bloodstained, and ashen face as the Sound Pillar limped into the clearing.

He was carrying someone.

Though bloodied and bruised, Y/L/N somehow still looked ethereal, her skin glowing beneath the faint moonlight. Her arm hung limply to her side, swinging idly back and forth with Uzui’s movements. Kyojuro squinted and saw that a great chunk of her haori had been torn away, exposing the bare skin of her arm — and the veins that had turned black beneath her skin.

After a considerable pause, Uzui crumpled to his knees, Y/L/N still clutched tightly against his chest, and Kyojuro rushed forward to catch him before he and Y/L/N fell to the earthen floor.

Kyojuro had moved to help him stand, but the Sound Pillar feebly shrugged him off.

“Not me,” Uzui panted out, “Take Y/L/N — she doesn’t have much longer.”

Kyojuro dared to look down at the unconscious woman cradled against Uzui’s chest, and felt his heart seize.

Beneath the splatter of blood crusted to her skin, Kyojuro could see that she was devoid of any and all color, her face frozen and hard. The skin around her slightly parted lips had turned a sickly shade of blue.

He reached out to check her pulse but snatched his hand away in shock before he could feel it.

Y/L/N had been colder than ice beneath his touch.

“Bastard impaled her on his poisoned blade,” Uzui managed, laboring for breath. “Got me, too. She used her ice breathing to help stop the poison, but she fell unconscious right after we decapitated the pair of ‘em.” Uzui pushed Y/L/N towards the Flame Pillar. “She’s just been getting colder since. I couldn’t even hear her heartbeat for the last mile.”

“Get her to Kocho, Rengoku. Now.” Uzui begged.

Kyojuro growled in frustration as he tore at his uniform shirt, ripping it in one clean stroke down the front and exposing his burning flesh to the cool wind.

As he gingerly plucked the rapidly fading Ice Pillar from Uzui’s arms, he burrowed deep within himself to use the breathing technique that would increase his body temperature beyond that of even the most dangerous of fevers. He felt his skin begin to burn and cradled Y/L/N tightly against his chest as he took off towards the Butterfly House at top speed, willing his body heat to seep into her icy skin and to burn life back into her.

Don’t you die on me, he thought as he flew towards the Mansion. Don’t you try to fucking leave me, Y/L/N.

————————————————————————-

He had expected her to awaken within a few days after Kocho had administered the antidote, but she’d remained unconscious.

Each day had followed the same pattern: he would wake up and wait for his crow to return with news from the Butterfly Mansion, and when the bird inevitably informed him that there was no update, he would engage in his rehabilitation training until his still-recovering muscles gave out.

And late each night, once he was sure most of the staff had either left on assignments or were peacefully asleep in their chambers, he would return to Kocho’s manor and keep silent vigil over Y/L/N’s comatose form.

But after the first month of that littke routine, Kyojuro had lost his patience.

“It’s been a fucking month, Kocho,” Kyojuro had growled, bursting through the door of the Insect Pillar’s private office and slamming it shut behind him. “Have you made any progress in finding out why she hasn’t woken up?”

Kocho hadn’t bothered to look up from where she sat at her desk, charcoal stick in hand as she made notes from a hard bound book spread open before her.

“Y/N sustained massive trauma from her battle in the Entertainment District,” her voice had been strained under her effort to keep it cool and clinical.

“So did I, and I awoke after three weeks,” he grit out through clenched teeth.

Kocho finally looked up at him, a vein in her forehead growing prominent in her ire. “You endured significant injuries, yes,” she conceded, though her tone was not kind. “But Y/N also was infused with a massive amount of highly potent poison — almost double what even Uzui took. That, combined with her blood loss, was in some ways worse than your injuries, Rengoku.”

“There is only one other person in the Demon Slayer Corp who would have survived that kind of poisoning,” the Insect Pillar had said frostily, “And that is me.”

He’d been annoyed at that, though he’d known it was irrational. “She’s a damn Hashira. Her recovery time is supposed to be better than that of an average slayer’s.”

Kyojuro scoffed. “She shouldn’t have gone on that damn mission at all if she was that weak.”

He’d regretted his words the moment they’d left his mouth, but it had been too late. The Insect Pillar slammed her charcoal stick down and rose from her seat, her eyes narrowed dangerously at him.

“Strong words from someone who had to be sedated after he tried to beat down the infirmary door to get to her,” Kocho had said coldly. “Your anger fools no one.”

She’d walked swiftly past him and opened her office door, refusing to meet his eye.

“You may leave now.” She’d said dismissively, and Kyojuro had known better than to fight her anymore.

Wordlessly, Kyojuro had slipped out of Kocho’s office, the latter slamming it behind him the moment he’d cleared the door jam.

He’d wondered the emptied halls of the Butterfly Manor until he found himself outside of Y/N’s private room.

Dejected, he’d pushed the door open and shut it behind him, leaning against the wall to the side of her bed and watching her, willing her to just wake up.

He had tried cursing at her, insulting her, goading her back into consciousness, all in hope that maybe he could incense her into opening her eyes.

But it had all been to no avail.

So that night, he knelt beside her bed, took her limp hand in his, and brought it to his lips.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he’d murmured against the cool skin, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Please, open your eyes.”

Under the glow of the moonlight that beamed through her window, Kyojuro swore that he would tell her the truth about his feelings if she would just reawaken.

[End of Flashback]

———————————————————————-

He had sworn that he would tell her the truth, but she hadn’t kept up her end of their one-sided bargain; she hadn’t awoken.

At least, not for damn-near another month. By the time he received word that she’d finally, finally opened her eyes and rejoined the world of the living, Kyojuro’s heart only felt cold and leaden.

He had gone to see her once — while she’d been asleep — just to confirm for himself that she truly had not left him.

At first, she’d looked no different sleeping soundly in her bed than she had every night for the prior two months.

But he’d been able to discern a difference between that night and those prior by the stringent smell of the pain medication Shinobu used — a drug that she would only administer after someone had regained consciousness, given its tendency to make the ingestor drowsy. 

Kyojuro had only been watching her for a few minutes before she’d shot up in her bed, eyes glazed and unfocused as she looked around the room in alarm.

He’d been silent as she’d fixed her eyes on him, he knew she likely hadn’t even recognized he was there at all, given how quickly she’d slumped back against her pillows, asleep once more.

He’d not since returned to the Butterfly Mansion.

And, though the thought filled him with bitter self-hatred, he found that he could not make good on his promise.

So Kyojuro stayed away.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸��🌸🌸🌸

Don’t worry friends, Y/N will get her shit rocked in part two.

Tag-list (if you reblogged/replied, I'm tagging you, but I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)

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