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Saihara liked clothes, it was as simple as that.
He liked to think he had a bit of a fashion sense, his friends always told him so, even his boyfriend admitted to liking his style, as roundabout as he did it. Saihara was proud of how he looked, despite feeling so self-conscious out in public. At home, in the safety of his house, he could wear whatever it was he wanted to.
Except, he wanted to wear more…feminine clothes.
It’s not for any important reason really, he’s always just had the craving to wear what other women do. He’s had these thoughts for years. Years upon years upon years, and yet he’d never gotten the chance, never gotten the courage, to just try it.
Society wasn’t appreciative of ‘crossdressing’ as they called it. Saihara didn’t exactly know if he wanted to call it crossdressing. He was fine with the term, but they were just clothes right? What was the harm in wearing clothes?
Societal judgement and discrimination, apparently.
“Saihara-Chan!”
Saihara jolted with a small hum, realizing he had been spacing out for the past…how long now? Ouma, his beloved boyfriend, was holding out a box of coffee flavored Mochi , the ones Ouma knew Saihara enjoyed.
Saihara blushed softly as he smiled, thanking the other as he took the box from his hands. “Thank you, Ouma-kun. You didn't have to, you know.” Ouma scoffed at that with a roll of his eyes, one hand resting on his hip.
“But of course I have to, beloved! A king must always greet his queen with fervor ! And passion !” He declared as Saihara stood up from where he had been seated waiting for the other, opening the box of Mochi and taking one, popping the nice treat into his mouth with a delighted hum.
He noticed out of the corner of his eye Ouma’s pleased expression, the soft pink tint of his own cheeks giving it away for him. “These are splendid, Ouma-kun! You made them, yes?” He asked, receiving an answer he expected.
“Me? In the kitchen ? C’mon Saihara-Chan, You know me waaay better than that! My servants do all the cooking and baking for me! I don’t have to lift a single finger!” He dramatically spread his arms up as they began to walk.
Saihara did know him, Ouma did spend a lot of time in the kitchen, as unlikely as it sounds. In fact, his own friends didn’t believe him when he said that Ouma would cook food every time Saihara swung by his house. But Ouma was just so good at it, he couldn’t help coming by more frequently, and Ouma certainly didn’t seem to mind.
Saihara merely hummed in agreement. “Of course, I suppose being in the kitchen,” He then leaned down, pressing a surprise kiss to the little liar’s temple, mumbling the rest, “ Juust isn’t like you, is it?”
Ouma buffered at that, blank face reddening as his pace stuttered a bit, Saihara simply giggling as he ate another Mochi , the taste melting oh so delectably in his mouth. “Now that is just so mean Saihara-Chan! Being all slick like that!” Ouma puffed and pouted as he sped up to Saihara, who merely chuckled some more.
The couple found themselves wandering the mall, their place for a date, searching for something to do as they window shopped along the way, looking at the many different game stores and jewelry stores around.
Saihara’s attention though, was trained mostly on the clothes.
Specifically, women's clothes.
Every clothes store they found themselves wandering into, Saihara’s eyes would train on the things like nice dresses, patterned skirts no matter the size, he even took a peak or two at the crop tops around, cute designs of all kinds and they all just looked so nice.
He felt…restricted.
And he found himself staring into one of the full body mirrors in the store, his loving boyfriend off to try on an outfit he had found interesting.
A deep blue T-shirt with a few basic designs, combined with navy jeans, his belt tight and secure as only part of his shirt wasn’t tucked in. A black jacket hung around his shoulders and a beanie sat on his head, with merely a pair of sneakers to match.
He felt so…boring.
It all looked so, so boring.
He wanted something brighter. Not in the way of color, he was fine with dark colors. But he wanted something that made him feel a little more…lively. The outfit was okay, but maybe if his jeans were at least at his waist, maybe swap the shirt and jacket for a turtleneck and cardigan.
The jeans were a bit uncomfortable, maybe he should have gone with some shorts, he’d look a little cuter, most definitely. Maybe stockings? Those were always cute, in his personal opinion.
Saihara sighed softly, numbly picking at a loose strand on his sleeve, mind running off in it’s own little world of what if s. What if he wore this? What if he changed that?
Was it so wrong to want to wear something a bit more…lady-like?
He wouldn’t have even minded one of those pencil skirts, they always looked so professional and neat. Every lady, every woman looked so beautiful in whatever they wore, they had so many less restrictions than he did. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all .
Just as Saihara turned away from his bland figure, he jumped as a certain checkered fool came tumbling through the dressing room stall, bee-lining it to Saihara.
“Saihara-chaaaaaaaaann!!!”
And he just looked so…astounding.
The checkered scarf remained on his neck, but his wardrobe was almost completely different. Muscle-tight white shirt, sleeveless. It definitely defined the bits of toned muscle his boyfriend had gained over the two years of insistently caring Saihara around his house.
The jacket he wore slipped down to his elbows, black in color with a few white highlights. Many little hair clips were still in his hair from their earlier stop at the jewelry store across. His shorts were puffed and child-like, suspenders included that added to the look.
Saihara could just feel the burn on his cheeks as Ouma threw himself against the detective, getting a little squeak out of him. “O-Ouma-kun! Y-you look..” Saihara pushed him back a bit to take in the sight once again, a soft, blissful smile creeping onto his face. “You look stunning, Ouma-kun!” He responded.
Ouma laughed boisterously, ignoring the other people that might hear. “But of course I do, my beloved! I’ll always look my best.” He boasted pridefully, yet it couldn’t hide the dust of a blush that creeped up his cheeks at such an honest remark.
“Now hurry up! Go find something for yourself already, silly!” Saihara blinked twice, brows furrowing as Ouma began to walk back to the dressing stall, glancing back and catching his rather distressed looking expression.
“...Shumai?” Saihara shook his head. “ Ah n-no, it’s fine! There’s just..so many things to look at I’m uh…I’m a little puzzled?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, and made him wince internally, it was clear as day Ouma didn’t seem to buy it.
But he left it alone anyway, “Welp! Make sure you find something up to your god awful standards! Or I’ll have my hitman after you~!” Saihara sighed with a small smile and quick nod, watching Ouma wander out of his sight before allowing his shoulders to droop.
Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought.
Wandering around the store, Saihara noticed that there weren’t as many people around, much to his delight, there were just two or three people, two out of them being women, the other a man.
So he found himself mindlessly looking around, trailing his way through the clothes, sifting through a few.
Then he found…a virgin killer sweater, and oh God did it look nice .
It was plush to the gentlest touch, the blackest shade with a heavily open back, strings patterned on it and the nicest golden accents flowing down the sides. It looked to go just down to his thighs, which he wouldn’t have minded wearing privately.
And it was just his size too , and oh did he want to wear it so bad. It just looked so nice and soft, he could sleep in it if he wanted! He couldn’t help but find himself smiling, eyes lingering on the gorgeous little outfit in his hands.
But…that smile faded away as he placed it back.
Because he couldn’t wear it, no matter how much he wanted to. They were clothes made for women, it would probably look so awkward on his, much more masculine, figure. Sure he could sometimes pass off as a girl, some of his friends had first mistaken him for one when he first met them, but…
Saihara walked off to the men’s aisle, the boring t-shirts and jeans swimming in his vision as he glanced around. Sure, Ouma always managed to find the good clothes in a pile of shit, but what could he do? All of these clothes just felt so boring and bland. So little decisions to him, even if it might be an ocean to any other man.
But to him, the variety feels so….insignificant. Like he barely has any options that are to his own appeal and desires. And really, there weren’t. There wasn’t much that he really liked, nothing he wanted to try that was in the men’s aisle.
Saihara wished that they had gone to a hot topic, at least some of the boundaries of clothes were stretched there. It’s why he loved those stores so much.
And totally not because of the emo clothes. Nope. No, he wasn’t emo.
Saihara sighed, shaking his head gently to himself as he turned around, walking back to the dressing room, where he could see Ouma standing there, looking absentmindedly on his phone, apparently waiting for him to come back, if he had to take a guess.
The other looked up, raising a brow when he saw Saihara come back empty-handed. “I couldn’t find anything I wanted.” Was his response, generously taking Ouma’s new clothes off his hands.
Ouma huffed at that, Saihara smiling sheepishly as he did so. “C’mon, really? You can’t be serious Shumai! And after all these years, you treat me like this? I can’t believe it, truly can’t.” He sniffled and sulked, but one peck on his forehead was all it took for Ouma to be bouncing back, looking revived.
“Sorry, Sugarplum. Wanna get cake instead? I’ll even get you a panta, my pay.” Ouma seemed to easily agree to that, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him towards the register, Ouma getting ready to pay for his clothes as Saihara set them down for the cashier.
And yet he couldn’t help looking back to where he had seen the sweater, noticing another young lady taking it off the rack. His heart swelled a little, knowing she’d probably buy it. Who wouldn’t want such a pretty looking sweater like that? It was gorgeous.
And as they left, he didn’t notice the pair of eyes that followed his gaze.
…
“Mmmm, Shumaaaai! I love you!”
Saihara yelped as Ouma planted a kiss to his cheek, face flushing as he turned to him, pressing a hand to his cheek, which still tingled with affection.
“W-where’s this coming from?” He chuckled, to which Ouma stuck his tongue out, Saihara taking the quick chance to dart his own tongue out, pressing it against Ouma’s. The other squeaked and shot back, much to Saihara’s amusement as he laughed.
“You do that but you can’t even reciprocate my kiss!? So meaaaaan!!” Ouma cried, the crocodile tears spilling like waterfalls as Saihara waved a hand dismissively. “Oh hush, Ouma-kun, eat your cake already.”
Being in a large, open mall had its perks, one of them being that they could sit almost anywhere outside to eat their food, which Saihara was happy they didn’t have to stay in one place. As much as he loved doing things like staying cooped up in his room with a good book and warm blanket, he didn’t always wanna stay in one spot. Neither of them really did.
Ouma continued to scarf down the chocolate cake Saihara had bought (who knew there was a cake vending machine in this mall? He’d been here so many times, yet never saw the entirety of this place…)
As Saihara snacked on his own little treat of chocolate macaroons, he noticed Ouma started to space out, eyes flitting around a bit and all. But he didn’t seem to mind, the other didn’t look distressed or anything, what harm could a bit of spacing out do? None right now, as far as he knew.
“Hey, Shumai?”
Or not.
The tone Ouma took up was a bit more flat, but much more so compared to his normal peppiness that was only a few mere seconds ago. Saihara turned his head to him for a moment, sipping his coffee as he hummed in acknowledgment.
“There was something you wanted in there, right?”
Saihara choked.
Ouma was immediately patting his back as Saihara coughed into the back of his hand, a blush like one thousand suns burning his face to ashes. Saihara turned his head away, but the tint of his ears gave him away easily.
“So I’m right?” He could just hear the smug smile in Ouma’s voice, and it only made him feel more embarrassed. “It’s n-not that important, Ouma-kun! I-it was too expensive anyways!” Saihara tried.
“Honey,” Kokichi started. “Ouma-kun-” “Beloved, Shumai, my love,” “Ouma-kun noo-” “We were in the fucking sales aisle .” Saihara shut himself up after that, simply grumbling out a ‘you’re mean’, Ouma chuckling in that unapologetically cute way he always had.
Damnit, those little ‘nishishi’s were going to be the death of him.
“C’mooooon, Shumai! Ya can’t just leave me hangin’ now can you?” Saihara sighed heavily at that. “Tell me what you waaaant! C’mon, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me-” Ouma bugged on and on as Saihara sputtered, quickly placing his hands on his shoulders.
“Okay! Okay! Calm down, I’ll tell you!” God, he was always way too quick to give into Ouma’s nagging. “J-just…just promise you won’t…you won’t j-judge. Okay?” Ouma tilted his head, but nodded nonetheless. (Maybe he noticed Saihara’s nervousness? It was way too obvious anyways.)
And yet, Saihara found himself struggling.
Was it really so bad to tell Ouma this? He was his boyfriend for Christ's sake! It shouldn’t be this hard to tell someone that loves him, that he just likes women’s clothes! It’s not bad, right? It’s not a bad thing at all! Right? Right! So he can tell him! Of course he can.
…But what if he doesn’t approve? What if he doesn’t like that kind of stuff-what if he’s disgusted by it? Disgusted by him ? Saihara wouldn’t know what to do. Not when the love of his life was about to learn that he apparently liked to say ‘fuck off’ to clothing gender! (When did his breathing feel so off…?)
So what if he doesn’t like it, what would he do then? (His heart hurts…). What if Ouma just stands up and takes off into the crowd, never to be seen again? What if he finds him revolting for it, disgusting and weird, abnormal . (His eyes stung bad…was he crying?) And if he didn’t mind, would he just not like how they’d look on Saihara himself?
“-ara, Saihara- Shuichi! ”
Saihara gasped as two hands came down on his cheeks, holding them tender tight as Ouma stared him down. “Breathe with me, honey. Breathe.” Saihara nodded shakily, taking in ragged breaths he didn’t realize had gotten so shallow, fast-beating heart swelling in his chest as Ouma peppered his cheeks with kisses, smooching away the tears that began to slip down his eyes.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m sorry.” Saihara quickly shook his head as much as he could between Ouma’s small hands, but the other merely kissed his nose, pecked his lips and rested their foreheads together.
Saihara couldn’t even care that it was all in public, nobody was watching, something he realized belatedly. Nobody cared about what was happening to him, only Ouma. Only Ouma…
“Sorry, Kokichi…” Saihara mumbled, but the other shook his head. “No, no, no- I’m sorry, Shuichi. You’re uncomfortable, I’m sorry-” “Don’t say sorry, it was my fault-” “My fault also, beloved.” “‘ Kichi …”
Saihara whined as Ouma pressed another, much more firm peck to his lips. “Imma stop you right there, I don’t feel like playing the blame game right about now.” The other hummed, but Saihara could tell he still was playing that game, with himself at least. Saihara didn’t want him to feel this way, he didn’t want him to at all.
“I want to wear more feminine clothes.”
It fell silent between them, Ouma’s face falling into a blank buffer, as if he didn’t realize what madness Saihara just uttered to him. God, what was he supposed to do now? Back away and say that wasn’t the real reason? Tell him that it’s not his fault? That he’s always felt like this? That-
“That’s it?”
…what?
“I-I…yeah?” He mumbled as Ouma tilted his head. “Okay? We can go buy what you wanted then.” This reaction was so…mundane. So peaceful. Ouma just accepted it like he’d always known. But he hadn’t, so why was he acting like this?
“I…you’re okay with it?” He asked, clearly baffled as Ouma grinned and stood up. “I mean, yeah? What, you think I’m just gonna skip away into the sunset?” He chuckled, only to see Saihara avert his gaze, a dust of pink emanating his embarrassment.
“...You actually thought I was going to-” “Hush, let’s go.” Saihara huffed, standing up and grabbing Ouma’s wrist as he speed walked his way back to the store. It was a miracle he remembered the way back (Or just his brain insistently gushing over something that was probably already sold).
When they did get back, Ouma recognized where they were instantly, Saihara moving to the women’s section as he began to skim the racks for that familiar black outfit. “Where are you…where are you…” he mumbled to himself, Ouma pressed his arms up behind his head as he looked around, taking in all the clothes that Saihara so desperately wanted to try and-
“ Holy shit I found it-”
Shuichi was shell shocked as he took it off the rack, getting to admire it once again as he grinned wider than he ever thought he could, turning it this way and that in his hands. “What do you think, Ouma-” He started, turning back to Ouma.
Only to see his face a vibrant red, almost painfully vibrant red, eyes blow wide and glazed.
It took a minute for Shuichi to realize why.
“Wha- Kokichi!!! ” He squeaked, knocking the other out of whatever fantasies he was having. “U-uh, Yeeeeees my beloved?” He tried to save himself, but it was too late to be saved from Saihara’s deadpan expression.
“Your mind went in the gutter, didn’t it-” “My mind totally did not go in whatever kind of gutter you’re talking about. But are you trying to kill me, Shumai?” Saihara pouted as went to put it back on the rack. “Guess I’m not getting this then-” “Wait no, no, no, please put it on.”
Saihara looked over at Ouma, feeling a victorious smirk rise to his face as he cocked a brow, Ouma finding the audacity to stutter and try and come up with an excuse.
“You can’t excuse that, Ouma-kun.” “I-I know that! J-just uh, uhm, uh-” “I’ll wear it when we get home, no way am I putting it on in public.” Ouma’s jaw dropped at that, looking at Saihara like he was crazy.
“You’re such a fucking tease, Shumai.” He sulked, lowering his head as he pouted and pouted, Saihara merely rolling his eyes as he leaned down, tilting Ouma’s head up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Now, he could have left it at that, he really could have.
But, he kind of didn’t want to, you know?
So he smiled and pressed a kiss to the other’s flushed ear, muttering, “I’ll still wear it, don’t worry, Sugarplum.” And he simply moved away as Ouma’s head shot up like a bullet, ears redder than ever and a grin that outshone the sun.
He was so eager for the stupidest thing, it was hilarious.
But…as Saihara went around to find something else to wear, he couldn’t help but feel so, so giddy . Ouma didn’t mind, he didn’t mind his likes, in fact, he was excited to see him wear something new, something nice that Saihara liked and desired to wear.
He felt so light, so happy and even euphoric, sifting through the clothes, picking some he just knew would look nice together, and nice on him .
Because Saihara knew himself. He knows what he wants right now.
“I’ll be right back!” He said, brimming with excitement as he rushed into the dressing room, thanking any divine being above that nobody was here except the cashier, who just seemed busy on her phone and nowhere near the fitting rooms.
He dashed into the first open stall, shutting it hastily as he dumped his choosing onto the bench, beginning to change.
He threw on the outfit, careful not to rip or tear a single fabric, nervousness and excitement reaching their peak. He took multiple deep breathes, placing a hand on his heart as he did so, eyes squeezed shut as he turned around, slowly opening them to look in the mirror.
And all he could do was gasp.
A white button down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and shoulderless cut exposing those smooth parts of his skin. The skirt he wore fell just above his knees, black with a soft blue gradient at the bottom, flowing as it twisted about a little from his hand moving it. It accentuated the more feminine parts of him, the skirt’s hem pressed his waist along with the belt he had gotten to adjust there, and it just felt so comfortable.
He felt pretty. He felt so fucking pretty.
Looking down at the bench, Saihara took up a little clip, one of the one’s Ouma had in his hair that he oh so generously gave him. Combing a hand through his hair, Saihara used the silver clip to pin the left side of his bangs back, smoothing out the right side as he smiled giddily.
He looked a little further down, admiring the stockings he had chosen that were white in color, striped a baby blue as he smoothed out his skirt a little.
Fuck he felt so beautiful, this felt so amazing.
Right, Ouma. He has to show Ouma.
His nervousness was practically non-existent, making his way out of the stall and poking his head out. Ouma didn’t seem to notice him yet, good he wanted to surprise him anyway.
In a bout of playfulness he giggled quietly, shuffling over to Ouma, thanking the heavens these stockings muffled his movements.
Good God he loved the way this skirt flowed with his movements, it felt so airy and he felt like he was on a cloud and God he loved it so much. How many more could he get? Maybe he could bribe Ouma a little with a few kisses and cuddles for a few more skirts and a dress-
Saihara leaned in and whispered in Ouma’s ear, “ Ouma-kun~ ”
The other let out a god awfully adorable sputter, turning around and freezing upon seeing Saihara in all his giddy glory. His face was lighting up red, all the way down to his neck that was covered by that scarf he started fiddling at, looking him up and down with just this one look of utter awe .
“H-Holy shiiiiit, are you single, Shumai? I’d like to take you out to dinner and do a little somethin’ somethin’ at home~!” Saihara laughed at that, his own face flushed at the teasing.
“Oh hush, Ouma-kun!” He shook his head, hand pressed to his cheek as he averted his gaze, only to hum a bit as Ouma wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in a bit. “God, my Saihara-chan looks so pretty! ” Saihara snorted as he looked down at the other.
“Yup, yup, yup! Lookin’ like the prettiest God on earth! Ain’t no doubt about it, not a single one in my mind!” Ouma’s face was still so red, Saihara couldn’t help but kiss his forehead, running his fingers through his hair as he did so.
“I’m so glad you like it.” He muttered, eyes softening as he smiled happily. “I love this, Ouma-kun.” Ouma’s own smile gave way to something softer, gentler, so genuine and true.
“I love it too, just as much as I love you, Shumai..”
Yup, Saihara couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.
“Hey, Ouma-kun?” Ouma tilted his head, hugging Saihara’s midsection as the other smirked a bit. “Can we get more?” He asked, oh so innocently. “Oh, of course! Anything for my beloved!” Ouma grinned, to which Saihara responded with a chuckle. “Anything~?” He double checked, because if so…Ooooh, Ouma was so definitely going to regret allowing that.
“Anythi-....” Realization dawned on Ouma’s face as Saihara’s grin grew. “You’re gonna run my money dry, aren’t you?” He deadpanned. “Sorry not sorry~!” Saihara sung, pulling away and skidding back off into the dressing room.
He would have honestly felt a little bad for doing this to Ouma.
But they were both using one of Amami’s credit cards.
The guy was loaded.
It was fiiiine.
…
The moment they got back to Saihara’s house, the couple practically collapsed into bed.
A multitude of bagged clothes were left discarded around the door, Ouma groaning into the sheets as Saihara chuckled.
“Never agaiiiiiiiiiiiiin…” Came his boyfriend’s muffled voice, Saihara sitting up as he sighed, feeling so, so satisfied. “I’m sorry, Kichi ko, I promise I’ll buy you a box of panta to compensate tomorrow.” He promised, to which the other slumped and exclaimed a boisterous ‘You better!’
But Saihara paid it no mind, because of course he would do that. He didn’t really mind feeding Ouma’s panta addiction from time to time. But right now he was in search of something very important, rustling through the bags until he found what he wanted.
“I’ll be right back, Ouma-kun.” He announced, scurrying off into the bathroom before the other could reply. Once in the bathroom, he quickly changed into the one thing he had been dying to put on for who knows how long .
And just as he suspected, it was so. Fucking. Soft.
He loved it, messing with the sleeveless thing as he smiled so happily to himself, before going ahead and leaving the bathroom, sighing to himself as Ouma sat up. “Where’d you…go….”
For the first time today, Ouma was rendered speechless.
Saihara glanced down at the virgin killer sweater he wore, the familiar sheen of black and the gold accents complimenting his natural curves. “What do you think?” Saihara said, turning around to show him the back, strung up in that nice pattern he liked.
He looked over his shoulder to see Ouma’s wide eyes, face red and pupils blown as Saihara messed with the hem of the sweater, which fell to his thighs at the least.
“F-Fuck, Shumai…! You…” Ouma tried to say, but his words were lost on him as Saihara turned back to face him, smiling fondly as the smaller pressed his face into his scarf, looking away. “ God, you’re gonna be the death of me… ”
Saihara could feel his ears heat up like his cheeks, making his way over and taking a seat next to Ouma, leaning his head against the other’s shoulder as he hummed contently.
Ouma wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into his shoulder blade as Saihara returned it. “When would you even have the time to wear that?” He heard the chuckling other ask.
“When I sleep. Especially with you, seeing as you like it so much.” Ouma’s face burned more, and Saihara gave him a small smack on the back of his head, his own face reddening. “You know what I mean, Kimchi.”
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeahh, but stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill! You’re so mean, baby boo!” Ouma lifted his head and planted a kiss on Saihara’s cheek. Saihara sighed, reciprocating the kiss by placing one to the corner of his mouth.
“Ouma-kun. Kokichi,” Ouma looked up at him, and he almost laughed at his desperate attempts not to keep ogling his new nightly outfit. It was adorable, if a little embarrassing, but he couldn’t deny the happiness he felt knowing Ouma liked it.
“Thank you,” He spoke up. “For not…hating my choice in clothing, I mean. Thank you, thank you so much. I love you so, so, so much.” He was falling upon a whisper, eyes softened as Ouma averted his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a small smile.
“Yeah, yeah, of course! All the best for my Beloved!” Ouma answered, looking him in the eyes again as he pressed his hands to Saihara’s cheeks.
Saihara allowed Ouma to close the distance, their lips touching in a sweet sugar kiss, the smaller tilting his head a bit for a better position.
They parted from the kiss, but Ouma felt like being greedy, taking another one off the detective’s lips. And another, and another, and more and more and more as Saihara began to giggle. But he kept kissing back anyways, because who was he to refuse a kiss from his supreme leader of a boyfriend? Certainly not someone like Saihara.
“I love you,” Ouma muttered, pressing another kiss. “I love you,” A kiss, “I love you,” A kiss, “I love you so, so much.” Another kiss. Saihara smiled as Ouma peppered his face in kisses, from his nose to the cheeks, cheeks to the brow, forehead and chin, down to his neck and collarbone. He just really loved to kiss Saihara, didn’t he?
“No lies; You look beautiful, Shuichi.” Ouma muttered against his cheek, the taller one chuckling as he was helpless to the affectionate person that was Kokichi Ouma.
God, he was affectionate enough in public, but in private it just felt so, so much more personal, he loved it so much. He felt the need to be more truthful around Saihara, where it was just them, one on one, with nobody around and no reason to fear and hide behind the lies.
“I love how you look, always.” Ouma hummed, hugging the other close and kissing his neck. “Nobody’s gonna love you more than me. Nope, no-siree!” He chimed as Saihara huffed. That wasn’t fair, he wanted to give love to Ouma too!
“You say that,” He began, using his hands to bring up Ouma’s face. “But I think you look better .” he smiled, smooching his forehead as he began to reciprocate. “I love you, Kokichi.” He hummed, running a hand through the other’s hair as he pecked his nose, and then to his lips as he trailed down his jaw.
“I love you,” A kiss, “I love you,” A kiss, “I love you more than life itself.” Another kiss. Ouma looked appalled, and Saihara couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re adorable, Koki-dough. I know I will get to love you more than anyone else, and that’s a deduction I’m certain of .”
Pressing one more kiss to his lips, Saihara pulled away to see that Ouma was just as bashful as he was. The both of them were as red as could be, and they stared into each other’s eyes, Gamgogeish Gray greeted Plum Purple, and neither of them knew who dove in first, but they were kissing again.
Cause they’re always kissing, they couldn’t get enough of it.
They kissed and kissed until there were no more kisses to give, until both were tired and wanted to rest, but the urge kept them going, laughing and smiling and sometimes bumping noses but they kissed and kissed and couldn’t seem to stop.
They laughed and cursed and laughed and smiled, pecks and kisses and smooches and over exaggerated ‘ mwah! ’s and even more laughter .
And Saihara couldn’t help but think that this was right. This felt so right . So nice, he was so euphoric, high on cloud nine, drunk on love inebriated by the sweet taste of Ouma’s lips, it was all so much, it was all too much, it was all not enough .
God what he would give to marry this man , he’d drop it all to get down on one knee and-
Oh, he was so in love. He was so, so in love.