#megumi just grits his teeth and bears it

[ikemenomegas]

the myy oc is simultaneously the one to make obnoxious little squeeing noises whenever megumi does literally anything and make tsumiki bring along disposable cameras on vacation because it's the only way to get her to admit what she's *actually* looking at, and the one to literally puke in the bushes or hide against a wall when Satoru does something that gives them secondhand embarrassment

literally the can't take it but can dish it out guardian XD

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ I WANT THE YOU WHO WANTS ME AGAIN ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, some comfort, in the end, | wc: 4.5 K | not proofread

warnings: death of a parent through sickness (unspecified), cheating (gojo with geto), r! goes through it (lmao), megumi is rooting for r!

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

Perhaps at one point in your arranged marriage, you had loved Satoru but that’s all but vanished away when you see how he looked at Geto. Still, you provide comfort to your husband when he seeks you even if his six eyes (and soul) all bear to you that he does not see you. Satoru realizes too late that he cares for you - that he loves you. He despises your empty stare, he wants you back. He desperately wants you back.

authors note: i know i said i was taking a break but writing this made me feel a little bit better — cathartic almost. it's been in the drafts since last year anyways so might as well. (autumn leaves by bts inspired fic)

It seemed as though even the clouds were pitying the sight before it. Grey and darkened, they gathered to block the sun as whispers of doubt combed through the trees surrounding the temple — they reach your ears despite the attempts of your mother. "Now, don't you look handsome". She tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, pursing her lips at the look in your eyes. "(Y/N)". Her hands grasp at your face. The warmth of someone's hands on your cheek jitters your brain awake, and your pupils contract back into focus. "Have you been eating well, darling?" For a moment, your heart squeezes at her kind words. It's been so long since another had asked you that question so sincerely. The tears well but your hair sways as you shake your head, urging your cheeks to form a smile. "I'm alright, mom. Just getting over a cold". She brushes her thumb over your cheek then presses a kiss to your forehead. "My son". You're pulled into an embrace and suddenly you're little again — clinging to her after she had bandaged you up from your training session. Your eyelashes darkened as tears slip past them, hands trembling as you grip her tightly. "My beautiful son". Eventually, the sun sets but the rain continues to pour. The sounds of the raindrops are violent, accompanied by flashes of lightning and thunder it seemed as though the Gods were angry. Angry Gods do little to scare your father. He gazes at you coldly from where your head is laid upon your mother's lap. Defiantly, you avoid meeting his eyes as you relish in the fingers smoothing out your hair. "Your husband will not be pleased with this," your mother's glare is reproachful. "Our son has come to pay us a visit, his husband needn't worry about him," his nostrils flare and he looks as though he's about to go on another rant about image, expectations, manners, servitude. But before he could, the shoji door slides open. It's one of the servant girls, her bow immaculate you could see the swirl pattern of her hair growth. "Gojo Satoru has arrived, Master (L/N)" She's addressing your father, you know because you are now Master Gojo. The air is filled with expectations. The rain does little to muffle it. Pitying her back, you rise from your mother's lap. "Inform my husband I'll be out in a moment" She bows deeper and straightens her composure to slide the door close but freezes as you address her. "Is my husband alone?" When her mouth opens to form the syllables of Geto Suguru your eyes turn to the floor. You're unsure if she's finished her sentence but find very little fucks to give as you silence her with raise of your hand. Wordlessly, she bows and closes the door.

"Ah, husband!" he slings his arm around your shoulder. His weight, his warmth, his presence — too casual it's an insult. You cared little for tradition, scoffing at it sometimes, but the way Satoru displays himself in front of your parents causes you to grit your teeth. Suguru shoes are in the peripheral of your vision, you will your gaze to the side.

Once upon a time, the four of you were friends. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and you.

Those blue summers and warm winters as first-year sorcerers. Memories so bright and heartfelt others probably only see on movie screens. Then you were betrothed to Gojo Satoru, family stuff, expectations and duty, and everything the both of you roll your eyes at. A part of you had been elated. Blinded by the idea of marrying the boy your heart beats for. Sure, falling in love would have been preferred but despite the arranged marriage, you were thick as thieves. So, in your foolish daydreams, you'd sigh at the idea of you two falling in love. Shoko could only watch as your dreams crumble before you. She tried her best to be some sort of support — shocked when she spotted you smoking her cigarettes after a year into the marriage. "I never noticed the way they look at each other". Your words follow the stream of smoke and Shoko settles next to you with her elbows placed on the railings. "I mean, I knew but I just thought...I just thought he'd look at me the same one day". She is silent as you curl over the railing, shoulders jerking with silent sobs. "How foolish, huh?" She places a hand on your back, saying nothing as you wept.

Suguru greets your parents with more tact than your husband who is smiling ear-to-ear. "How was your mission, Gojo, Geto?" the way their surnames sounded made your jaw ache as you continued locking your jaw. Your husband is squeezing you to his side, like a friend. Satoru feels your shoulders stiffening and he loosens his grip to look down at you but you slip out from under him and hastily walk towards the car. "Young Master —" a servant gasps as he attempts to match your pace, the umbrella he holds barely shielding you as you feel your tears mix with the rain. "(Y/N)!" Suguru calls, catching up to you with his own umbrella and you feel searing guilt stab at your chest. Suguru had never been mean to you — he's been there for you through the years and despite your sudden avoidance of him here he was trying to ensure you remained dry. A clap of thunder muffles your sob, the only mercy the Gods are giving you, and you will yourself to pass Suguru. The car door is slammed shut in Suguru's face and before he can wonder the driver is driving off. He stands in shock, the servant that had been chasing you sharing his expression. Satoru tilts his head, hands in his pockets as he Suguru gives him a look of apprehension once he reaches him. Your parents — his in-laws — are apologizing. More so your mother. Your father's anger is palpable despite his puckering lips. "We'll get you another car, Gojo, Geto" your father calls for his personal driver

Satoru’s eyes — with that bright, heavenly, blue that put the sky to shame — linger on the fading signature of your aura. Suguru’s bangs stick to his forehead due to the rain and the sight of him alone has Satoru tear his gaze away. They land on Suguru who offers a furrow of his brows and so Satoru reaches to wipe the wetness away.

“Hey!” the action is rough, anything but romantic. Suguru feels like a cat being pet too roughly — with their skin stretching back and eyes growing wide — and so he smacks Satoru's hands away.

Friendly. Playful. Banter. Boys being boys.

Your mother squints her eyes nonetheless. She had heard that Satoru had been less than willing to marry. Her husband had thought it was his hubris but bowed until his forehead met the floor of the Gojo clan’s home. Their name was no laughing matter — a strong line of curse users much like the Zenin’s.

But Gojo Satoru was sought after by many the second he turned 16 — the marriage proposals flooded in like a tsunami.

He refused them all. Except the (L/N)'s.

She had thought it was the dowery. Perhaps, even the fact that an alliance would soothe whatever ill tides their clans had once had. Or maybe it really was just a stroke of luck her son got along so well with Satoru while attending Jujutsu High (her husband had enrolled (Y/N) only when he heard whispers of Satoru attending).

But fear gripped her heart as Suguru tugged on Satoru’s ear.

Had he accepted...just so he could remain close to his true love?

“I’m sorry”. You pause the wiping motion, delicately lifting your head as your mother’s cloudy gaze floats aimlessly in the room. You were used to her nonsensical speeches, her random bursts of conversations and weepy apologies. It's been a year since the sickness unexpectedly came over her and you suppose that is what most people do when they’re close to death's door. Confessions of this and that just shooting out in a weak attempt to right old wrongs.

“Nothing to be sorry for, mother”. She places a hand over yours and squeezes. How frail. When has your mother looked so frail?

“Come home, be a (L/N) again”, confusion contorts your face. “Mother, whatever you’ve heard is all unfounded. Rumours. Father has dealt with them”, despite her fragility her fingers squeeze your wrists so tightly it forces your own to release the damp cloth.

“Then say that to me. Look into my eyes and tell me that bastard husband of yours is better than mine, that he’s not off loving another while you rot here”.

Colour bleeds into those lifeless eyes. She feels that same squeeze she felt when she saw Satoru wipe away the rain from Suguru’s skin rather than your tears just a year ago.

Just as quickly as they appear, that dullness returns in your eyes and she reaches to hold your face but you stand.

“Father is cheating on you?”

She’s lost you.

You walk to dip the cloth into the bowl, and your shoulders are too heavy for a 17-year-old boy. Her precious son, so forlorn and withdrawn; humiliated by the society he was in for being inadequate and unworthy.

Perhaps she deserved those titles, sick and bedridden and dying, it was no surprise that her husband is seen courting younger ladies. But not you, not her son.

“He’s no shame, you know your father. His pride comes before all”. It elicits a dry chuckle from you.

Then you suppose Satoru had more in common with your father than you knew.

The Star Plasma vessel incident, you can't believe it's been a year.

A year after that man that killed that Amanai and Kuroi and Satoru.

You remembered dropping to your knees as he admitted it out loud with such an ugly smile, shaking your head in disbelief as anger swelled within you.

Before you could even think, even grieve and rage, Geto had beaten you to it. As you looked at him with his anger so visceral it came off of him in waves you felt your torn heart crumble into pieces. It felt good to dish out that anguish on Fushiguro Toji even if you ended up eating dirt.

“Wasn’t he your husband?” Toji placed his foot on your neck. “Damn, he treats you that badly or something? This freak put up a better fight”, that day you had surprised Toji by smiling with your teeth all bloody.

“He did, didn’t he?” Your laughter bubbles and you choke on your own blood.

Toji knocked you out after a scoff.

That still wouldn’t have killed you as much. The torn pieces of your heart were still salvageable.

But then.

Then.

As Satoru came back. Warm and alive. Bloody but grinning. He did not race to you, he did not even look at you. To his credit, he simply stood there with his arms wide open.

But then.

Then.

Geto’s the one to race into them.

Ah.

Right.

Shoko was shocked to see you in her smoking spot. She hadn’t even seen you as Satoru was whisked away by the Gojo clan, only spotting Suguru following along. None had wondered where Satoru's husband was; Suguru was always next to him, so there was no void that one could spot.

“Are you alright?”

The darkness in your eyes makes her flinch.

You were dead.

She’s been around enough of death and you were dead.

Your once warm, cheerful, eyes now devoid of anything.

She held you as you cried, not knowing what more she could say to help you.

“Leave me alone”, Satoru is under the covers. He has been for days now.

Grieving.

Grieving Geto.

“Husband”, you coax. It was once a funny joke. The laughter you shared as the both of you exchanged formal titles of your marriage. It hurt to know that it truly was a joke for Satoru - not for you.

Satoru grits his teeth. His eyes were rimmed red, he himself was surprised they weren’t swelled up. His throat was scratchy, his skin uncomfortable and untended from his refusal to get up. His hair was tousled, unkept and disarrayed. It's been a week since Geto's betrayal and Satoru had been laid in your bed, burying himself under the blankets and deeper into the mattress; as if determined to be buried with his sadness and anger.

“Husband," he feels your hands on his shoulder. You know him by his shape alone. If you closed your eyes you could trace the curves that made up Satoru; even if it killed you slowly, your love was a loyal curse.

“Don’t call me that!” he raises in a grand move. The covers flew and his voice was in a yell. His glare was spine-chilling but they faltered as he saw the outfit you were.

“What should I call you then, Satoru?”

He takes you in, frowns deepening at the awful way his name sounds as you call for him. Not like his Suguru; his one and only.

“What the hell are you wearing, (Y/N)?”

He feels awful as you answer: “Funeral garbs. My mother has passed”.

There’s some satisfaction that paints your features as he is rendered speechless.

“What? How?”

“She was sick”. As he sits there with nothing to say you move to kneel in front of him. Your touch shocks him to reality. He pulls his shirt down, hoping you haven’t seen the hickeys Suguru had left on him before he decided to massacre that village.

You had. You’ve seen all of it. The lingering scent of Geto on his clothes, the hair ties on his wrist, the love bites that mottle his pale skin. Satoru may have those six heavenly eyes but he seemed so blind when it came to you.

The way he grimaces each time you’ve said his name now.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll help you wash up, Gojo”. He’d be an idiot to have not noticed that switch. Guilt is seeded into him. He stops your hands but you move them with a robotic stubbornness.

“Stop — Wait —”

“I know, Gojo.”

Silence drapes the room.

Your hands carefully thumb into his heart and cover the seed of guilt with such care Satoru’s pulse doubles its speed.

“I know you love him. So very much. I know, because when I go to clan meetings, my cousins whisper behind my back of the two of you holding hands and going on dates. When you come back late after a mission to go to Geto’s room. Or when you suddenly have Geto’s marks on you and yours on him”.

“(Y/N) — ”

“But this is my mother, Gojo”.

Your voice wavers just as he clutches your wrists in his hands. Your head hangs as your shoulders jerk up and down, twisting and squirming so you can help Satoru clean and dressed.

You know he was in pain and your heart feels for him. He needs your help. You were willing to strip down so you could wash him, and get back into this disgustingly heavy robe all over again despite how nauseating it was to do it the first time.

Funny. You can’t recall ever being one with Satoru. Your marriage was never consummated — he told you that there was no rush, you were still kids. What did he tell Geto then? Did he tell him that he had never taken you in bed? Was he fervent in his worship of him? Was their love akin to a religion? Did they worship each others temples like devout monks? How funny. The first time you’d get to see him naked and him you would be the day of your mothers funeral.

“She was my mother, Satoru!”

He has never heard you yell before. Satoru is struck by the that revelation.

It’s been a year since he was officially titled your husband and he knew you longer than that. But this was the first time he’s seen you in despair. Heard your yell.

Seen you cry.

“Please, I know he was your one and only but she was my mother. Please, please, don’t let me face this alone, Gojo”

“(Y/N)...”

“Please, Gojo...”

Your wrists slip away from his loosened grip. Crumpling onto the floor, your forehead meets the floor and his feet as your beg.

"(Y/N)". How long had your mother been sick? Why didn't you tell him — or did you? Why couldn't he remember? As his mind races to collect any memory of this past year, your tears that wet his feet water that guilt.

Satoru says nothing as the both of you appear at the funeral. The haughty eyebrows and curled lips sting more when he's there — was it shame? This burning feeling in your chest? Had you said too much to Satoru? Now he was acutely aware of how others looked at you, at your marriage. How awful.

Satoru is not used to this feeling. As a child, the eyes that lingered on him were hungry for the prize of beheading him. That had been more comfortable than this.

This was scrutinizing. They gazed on you with pity, even with his body attempting to shield you, the whispers reach your ears anyways. Have you been doing this all alone? All those clan meetings that you went to alone, the ones he'd excuse himself from saying he had a mission while he spent the day with Suguru to make him eat more and attempt to nurse him back to his side from the Star Plasma vessel incident.

Suguru had wept to him, telling him how terrified he'd been at the thought of Satoru leaving him. Why didn't you come to him? No. Why hadn't he noticed you?

The ride back home was silent. Satoru couldn't believe your father had brought his bride-to-be to the ceremony, you quelled his anger by muttering that your mother had given her blessing for their marriage.

You're staring out the window. Had those bags always been under your eyes? When did your cheeks get so sunken in? Had you...had you lost weight? He ignores the way your fingers twitch as he places his hand over yours. Your skin feels foreign — so does his. He offers a purse of his lips, sliding his hand up your arm and leaning in to embrace you.

But freezes as you pull your hand away.

"Don't force it upon yourself, Gojo". "Husband —" his smile falls as your shoulders tighten, lower lip quivering. "Please don't make me beg again, Gojo."

"What do you think, beloved?" Gojo grins brightly, bouncing his brow up and down. You were seated across from him in some cafe — he had been telling you all about how good the crepes here was a week before. "About...?" He pouts and places his elbows on the table. "My theory?" He watches as you blink, once, twice, then a faux smile climbs on your face. You turn your attention back to the melting ice cream. "Your theory about Okkotsu cursing Rika because of his love for her?" He nods vigorously. "It makes sense, right? His curse technique activating after seeing that brutal sight, it binding Rika to him". "Afterall, love is the most powerful curse", you said. Gojo's animated hand motions pause. He places his hand back onto the table. He reaches for your hand and you squeeze your eyes shut but allow it. He hates this.

Not you — He doesn't hate you. But he hates this.

After your mothers funeral, he looked through pictures. As first year students, all sunny smiles and bright eyed. The smiles got more tame as the four of you aged. His hands slung around Suguru's more tightly — even after they bared matching rings.

Satoru's never seen you smile like that anymore.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckles. Your jaw clenches.

"I love you, my beloved".

"...Thank you, Gojo".

"It's been awhile, Satoru".

No. No, no, no.

Nononononononnonononononononononononono —

Gojo can't take his eyes away from Suguru.

He tries and tries and tries but he can't. Pinned by his onyx gaze alone.

Satoru's ring burns viciously and he curls his fingers into fists.

Meanwhile, your dead-eyed gaze seemed to intensify. Everything is muffled, it felt like you were underwater. It felt like you were 17 years old again.

Abandoned. Unworthy. Unloveable. In love. Always have been. Always will be. In love with a man that was never yours.

"(Y/N), you look pale", Suguru condenscends. At least, that's what it sounds like.

Hah. Was he envious? Did he think that in the years he's been gone, you've filled the void he left? Or did he know that you never did but he was jealous anyways?

Fuck, Satoru thinks. His temples feel taut as his teeth grit together.

Kento steps infront of you and your eyes widen by an inch.

How pathetic, Gojo (Y/N). An underclassmen protecting you from your husbands ex-lover's gaze.

Why couldn't Geto Suguru just die already.

"What are you doing?" Gojo is grieving again. You should be elated but you're not. It feels too cruel. It wasn't your doing, you hadn't had any hand in killing Geto Suguru but a part of you wondered if your inner thoughts had been a wish you put out to the world. Now, Gojo was without Geto and Geto's daughters were without their father.

So you felt guilt anyways.

It was more feasible competing for Satoru's affections when his lover was simply exiled. How could you compete with a ghost?

"I'm praying for him", you replied. Gojo watches as you prepare to do so, kneeled on the floor. His eyes are rimmed with red again and he knows you've heard his cries; so here you are, sacrificing your happiness again for him.

"You don't have to do that, beloved". You say nothing as your eyes are closed in prayer. Satoru kneels behind you, his guilt had 10 years to grow and now it was a willow tree, with its leaves sweeping the lake of tears it grew from. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder; he fit so perfectly there, just like you knew he would. He's crying into your shoulder and your hand reaches back to card through the shaved sides of his hair. Your fingers lightly brushing the shell of his ear makes him shudder and he circles your waist to pull you against him. "Don't pity me, Gojo". He says nothing and neither do you.

"Say my name". His voice so close to your ear has you shivering.

"Gojo".

He shakes his head.

"My name, please, please, just say it".

Your heart clenches and as you close your eyes a tear slips past.

"I can't replace him, Gojo". He squeezes you tighter.

"I'm not asking you to replace him. No one can replace Suguru. I don't want them too, I don't want you too; I want you".

"I don't believe you".

He laughs, the slightest brush of his teeth on your skin has your stomach twisting into knots. Your breath trembles and you squirm in his hold, twisting away and getting onto your feet to get away from him. He doesn't allow you to. He blocks your way, shaking his head as he holds your shoulders next.

"I want you, (Y/N). I love you —"

How long have you wanted to hear those words. Your heart wants nothing more than to soar. But your brain knows better. "No, no, no, let me go". He doesn't let you. Satoru wraps his arms around you and your mouth opens to let out yells, fists pounding onto his chest as you try to get away from him.

"I hate you! You fucking bastard! I hate you, I loathe you!"

Satoru holds you firmly agaisnt him. Holding the back of your head preciously as he finally hears your voice raised above that whispering tone. "I hate you! I hate you so much! Why do you keep doing this to me!? I — I just wanted you, Satoru!" Your voice breaks and your sobbing turns into wailing. His heart squeezes, chest physically hurting as you sob and yell.

"I wanted you, Satoru! I just wanted you!" "Why didn't you love me, Satoru!?" Thunder rumbles and as your yells quiet down into hiccups, rain muffles it.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)". He feels your knees give out and he holds you, making you lean against him for support. "I'm so sorry, my beloved. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, (Y/N)".

When he tucks you in to rest, he isn't surprised Megumi is standing in the doorway with his eyes set into a glare. Satoru wipes your tears away, sweeping some of your hair away before placing a kiss on your forehead. He raises to answer Megumi's burning questions.

"You heard?"

"I'm not deaf".

Megumi has his arms crossed. He was an observant boy. Being raised by both Satoru and you — he notices the overexuberant Satoru's confidence wavering every time you give him smiles that never reach your eyes. Tsumiki even told him once that she finds it sad, how you both seem to be so familiar but foreign to each other.

"But one time I did see (Y/N) get flustered because of Satoru", she told Megumi whilst on their way back from school. He looked ahead, sipping on his drink as a prompt for Tsumiki to continue. "It was during breakfast. (Y/N) woke up a little late because he was traveling around for clan meetings and missions. So he was panicking so much, he burnt our rice and stuff! But then, Satoru walks in and tells him he prepared our bento. He kept it in the fridge. All that was needed to do was heat it up, he helped (Y/N) the entire time and then he just — "

Tsumiki kisses the air with a loud 'mwah!'

"He plants a kiss right on (Y/N)'s forehead. (Y/N) was so flustered he just stared down at the sink. It was cute, he's definitely still in love, they both are!"

Megumi peeks into the room. The sliver of light on your peaceful expression highlights the content curl of your lips despite the swollen eyes you bore.

"...Don't mess up this second chance", Megumi warns. He turns and marches away while Satoru huffs, scratching the back of his head as he sighs. "I wasn't planning to". He really does love you. He does. He loves you, from the ends of your hair to the tip of your fucking toes; he loves —loved, Suguru too. But this is different, you're different. But his love isn't any less or more.

He loves you.

Whatever it takes, he'll make sure you know it until his last breath.

[ponderingmoonlight]

After your answer I feel more confident🥰Request about Nanami. He survived Shibuya, but suffered burns to his left side and eye. Nanami began to develop a complex and hide behind a layer of clothing. He thinks his girlfriend deserves better. But she thinks differently and is still ready to give him love🥺I saw such a fic once, but your hands will make this idea much better, I know

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reaching out and that absolutely adorable request! Please let me know what you think, I hope you'll like it. Don't hesitate to reach out again🤍

Nanami hiding his scars from his girlfriend after surviving Shibuya

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: basically the request above lol

Warnings: if you need some comfort this one's for you, so much fluff I'm gonna faint

Tags: @hellkaiserinphoenix @polarbvnny @obeythebutler

It was a ride on razor’s edge. Yes, the Shibuya incident turned your life upside down. The countless injuries, Gojo being sealed, so many deaths.

And the love of your life almost losing his very own life through the hands of curses.

“Where is he, Megumi?”

“(y/n)…”

Your eyes filled with tears, that unwell feeling in your guts proved itself right all over again. You knew things weren’t going right when your boyfriend stopped replying. But that…Seeing Maki and that old man like that…

That was so much worse that you thought.

“Where. Is. He.”, you hissed through gritted teeth, the boy in front of you almost drowning in his own sweat.

“He’s back at Jujutsu High. When I last saw him…Things weren’t going well for Nanami…I…I don’t know if he’s still alive…”

You felt like fainting, throwing up, beating everything and everyone, crying in the corner. How? How did this happen? Your husband, a grade 1 sorcerer, so skilled that his sheer presence sends shivers down the spine of his opponents…Your fucking boyfriend.

On the brick of death?

Yes, it was a true blessing that he barely made it. Since that fateful day, you were on his side night in night out, talking him through the silence, holding his hand while Shoko changed his bandages. Until eventually, he was able to return back home. Back to your shared apartment, back into your normal everyday life.

But it was far away from being like it was before Shibuya. No, something inside Kento changed so drastically that you sometimes feel like you don’t know him anymore.

“Hey sweetheart”, he greets you softly, arms embracing you in a tight hug.

“Good morning”, you mumble, stretching out your longing arms to feel him a little closer.

Just before your hands are able to hold onto his biceps, he turns away again and leaves you alone in the bed. You stare at his covered back, sadness washing over you like a wave. Silently he stands up, busying himself with his wardrobe while all you can do is watch him closely in an desperate attempt to stop yourself from crying.

You have no idea when was the last time since you saw your boyfriend in a t-shirt, let alone shirtless. Since his burns aren’t covered in bandages anymore and his skin seems to be entirely healed into a scar, he hides his body from your hungry gaze very well. But why? This has to come to an end, right here and now.

You lift yourself off the bed, hugging his much larger frame from behind. God, it feels so good to press your head against his tight muscles, his delicious taste making you feel whole again.

It was hard to bear, the thought of losing him. Even days after he got burned to severely, Shoko wasn’t entirely sure if he’ll be able to make it. It became obvious that if he’ll survive, he will have to live with his left side covered in scare tissue for the rest of his life. And while your love for him and his body grew only stronger, you feel like this doesn’t apply to him. Yes, something inside you tells you that his change in behaviour might have something to do with that.

Why does he wear long-sleeved shirts all the time, while does he not allow you to see and feel his naked skin anymore, why does he seem to always turn away the left side of his face from you? It truly breaks your heart, knowing that he seems to have lost his self-confidence after surviving such a traumatic incident.

“Don’t turn away from me, love.”

Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, silently begging him to stay this one time, to allow your touch after months of turning you down.

“(y/n)”, he protests, body already on its way to shield itself from your longing hands.

“Why hiding from me when all I see is you?”, you question, hands intertwining with his.

“I’m not good enough for you.”

Softly, he pushes you away, walking into the living room while you try to process his words. Him, not good enough for you?

“Why would you even suggest something like that? Kento, please stop.”

Out of instinct you go after him, mind racing in thoughts. What is all of this about?

“You are such a stunning woman, your whole life is still ahead of you. Why waste your time with a scarred man like me? I have nothing to give you, (y/n). Not even beauty.”

You can’t believe your ears, mouth snapping open in pure shock.

“You have to be joking”, you breathe out, head shaking vehemently.

This is wrong in so many ways, almost an insult against humanity. Why would he say something so ridiculous?

“Look at me, (y/n)”, he blurts out.

With a swift motion he takes off his blue shirt, revealing the huge scar that covers the left side of his upper body entirely. His face darts towards you, completely twisted in agony.

“Why would a woman like you want a man like me? I don’t deserve your beauty, (y/n).”

“Stop it. Right now”, you reply so harshly that his mouth shuts in an instant.

With fast steps you cross the room, coming to a stand in front of his gorgeous body.

“This is the body of the man I love, of a man that fought hard in order to save countless people’s life. This is the body of the man I thought I’ve lost forever, the body of a man who always puts the well-being of others above his own. You, Kento Nanami, are the man I love. Even if you lost all your limbs, if you could no longer speak or see. Damn, even if you didn’t remember me, I would always choose you. Because you are the man who stole my heart entirely. These scars tell the story of what a brave man you are, what you survived despite everything spoke against it. I love every inch of your skin, no matter how scarred or wrecked.”

Your fingertips wander over his uninjured skin.

“From the part that I’ve touched so often…”

Slowly, you caress the scarred tissue on his right side, brushing over his shoulder, collarbone and buff chest while never taking your eyes off him.

“…to the part I have yet to discover.”

“Look at me, I am a crippled man. I look like someone out of a horror movie-“

“You look like a hero to me”, you interrupt him immediately.

It’s hard to keep your composure when the man you love more than anything else in this world stands in front of you with his face twisted in agony. God, if he only knew how beautiful he is, how you feel even closer to him since the Shibuya incident. Why isn’t he able to see himself through your eyes, why does he have to suffer even after surviving his burns?

“Why can’t you understand that you’re all that I want?”

Your voice cracks, tears now streaming down your face. The sheer thought of losing him alone makes you die from the inside. No other man will ever be able to replace him. Why would you leave Kento anyway? He still looks absolutely irresistible to your hungry gaze, the way his tight muscles flex underneath his shirts making your knees go weak just like always. And that scars just add to your affection towards him.

“Please, don’t hide from me. Let me love you with your scars and everything else. In my eyes, you will always be the man I fell in love with.”

And for the first time since knowing him, you the grown man in front of you break down in tears. His arms wrap around you hungrily, pressing you against his own body as if you’re air and he can’t breathe. Yes, you are the light to his darkness, the sun after rain. What would he do without you? Where would he be without you by his side? Through all these hellish weeks you stood with him, making sure he’s feeling well. Will he ever be able to thank you enough for that? Never.

“I love you more than words can say”, he breathes against your outer ear.

“God, how much I love you, (y/n)…”

“Please believe me when I say that I love you just the way you are, Kento. You will always be enough for me. A few scars won’t change that.”

His eyes lock with yours and there is no doubt that you are telling the truth. Yes, you really do love him the way he is. Even if his skin is scarred through the hands of fire, even if he’ll never look like the man you’ve met first. In the glimmer of your eyes he will always be Kento Nanami.

“So you’ll stay with me even though I look like this?”

You wrap your arms around him again, your head laying against his scarred chest. Oh, how much you missed the feeling of being skin to skin with him, how much your hungry gaze longed for him all bare.

“I’d say I even love you a little more since Shibuya”, you reply.

Gently, you cup his face with your hands. Yes, a few scars here and there won’t change the beauty you see within the man in front of you.

“You are my everything, (y/n).”

His lips brush against yours, arms caging you against his body.

God, how much you love that man. More than the entire earth.

[yutxsgf]

𖹭 Ignoring JJK boys after a fight.. 𖹭

Pairings : 𖹭 Megumi x gn!reader 𖹭 Yuji x f!reader 𖹭 Toge x gn!reader 𖹭 Yuta x gn!reader 𖹭

CONTENT : 𖹭 Fluff 𖹭 Kissing 𖹭 Moody reader 𖹭 Soft sorcerers 𖹭 mdom x fsub 𖹭 Yuji calls reader mamas 𖹭

𝓜𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓶𝓲 𝓕𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓸

It had been about roughly 4 hours since your fight with Megumi, the two of you remaining in separate rooms with you ignoring his entire existence. Anytime he tried to 'grumpily' offer you food, you'd just brush him off entirely with your back turned to him and your face buried in your phone.

At one point, he got fed up, an empty can of soda wrinkling in his grasp before tossing it aside, promising to pick it up later. Suddenly, he's grabbing you by your wrists, slamming both of them above your head and against the wall.

“Megumi— What the hell!?”

“Shut up.”

“Excus—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He raised his voice with that one as he towered over you, teeth grit and navy blue eyes narrow.

“Wanna keep ignoring me? Fine. But you better take a Goddamn plate of food and eat it.”

You were baffled, to say the least. You would've thought he was just simply mad at the fact you were ignoring him in general. But he was worried about you eating?!

He took a deep breath, eyebrows unfurling from their irritated state as he held the neutral expression he always wore.

“I made a few onigiris. Eat it and get your ass to bed. 'S fuckin' 2AM.”

𝓨𝓾𝓳𝓲 𝓘𝓽𝓪𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓲

It wasn't like you two to argue. Yuji had always been a strict lover boy, all over you 25/8. But his cluelessness for girls and their subtle hints weighed out his clingy persona.

One too many times of a certain cashier flirting with him at the local market and him not picking up on the hints and doing anything about it made you snap at him. In public.

He didn't know what he did wrong, frown painted almost permanently on his face as he sent you text after text despite being in the same vicinity as you within your shared apartment.

I'm sorry.

Pls repky.

I miss yuo. :(

What did I do?

R u crying?

Don't cry plz.

What did I do, mamaaas..

“Stop texting me!” You yelled from within your shared room, causing him to slightly flinch on the couch he was forced out onto.

He sent a frowny face before leaving your notifications empty, just as you wished.

Though, as the 5 hour mark rolled around, you had cooled off by then. Guilt began to rack up in your head as you read over message after message that he sent before ending at that stupid little frown face.

With a sigh, you made your way out of your room, the apartment oddly silent as you roamed down the hall. Just as you were about to turn the corner, a familiar pink haired boy suddenly popped out from behind the wall.

“Yuji! Oh my goodness..” You gasped, hand clutching the fabric of your— his.. shirt that wrinkled over your heart. “Don't sneak up on me like that..”

But once your eyes flitted back up to him, you immediately noticed the fat bouquet that he had no problem holding along with a white teddy bear decorated with a large pink bowtie.

“Please don't ignore me. Ever again.” He frowned.

𝓣𝓸𝓰𝓮 𝓘𝓷𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲

Whenever you'd get mad at Inumaki, he never failed to overexert himself in his training. He always seemed at the top of his game when you were frustrated with him, easily almost giving Maki a run for her money.

He was fine with giving you space, he didn't mind it. But when it got to the point where he was beginning to get impatient, that's when he'd start to act.

“Come here.” Tongue barely revealing his seal as his voice, as quickly as it escaped his mouth reached you almost instantly. Vibrations made their way over to you from across the room as he kept his arms crossed over his plain white tee.

Unable to refuse his cursed technique, your body moved on its own as you were suddenly in front of him with a couple of rushed strides.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he frowned deeply before pushing himself off of the counter he leaned on. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, thinking about what to do with you before slightly perking up.

“Kiss me.”

And with that, your lips crashed against his, eyes widened as you could do nothing but melt into his grasp, hands coming down to rest on your hip as his lips curled into a silent smile.

You were allowed to be upset, of course. Distance yourself? Sure. But if you still happened to be moody after that, he lost all form of patience with you.

𝓨𝓾𝓽𝓪 𝓞𝓴𝓴𝓸𝓽𝓼𝓾

He was a mess when you were upset, to say the least. Despite having grown a bit more confident after his brief trip to Africa, his overthinking never ceased. As much as he wished it did.

In times like this, all he could think about was you. He didn't want to overwhelm you with apologies, but he didn't want to make it seem like he didn't care.

He sat with his face buried in the palms of his hands, hair slightly pushed up between his fingers as his elbows rested on his slightly spread legs.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.."

He repeated the words over and over to himself as he stressed himself out. The thoughts of you happier with someone else graced his mind before he suddenly sprung up, immediately rushing towards your shared room before shoving the door open, almost breaking it in his wake.

When he found you sleeping with tear stained cheeks, he immediately let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived as he realized just how bad it seemed with him sighing in relief at your tears.

After a bit of hesitation, he gently closed the door behind him with a soft click before shifting into the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, careful as to not wake you up.

Later that morning, your back was pressed against his chest, his grasp around you iron clad as if you'd leave him at any given moment.

“Please don't leave me..”

[dreamkidddream]

hiiiii!!! your writing is divine, so i was wondering if you could please write, for the game, megumi + 👄 sharing their first kiss + ☁️ enemies to lovers + 🔥 slow burn.

Awwww thank you! 🥹💜 and I’m very sorry this is late (plus I needed this after the recent chapter 🫠😭 reader is gender neutral!

A/N: modern/college AU, aged up

Build-A-Blurb Ask Game! *closed

You didn’t like Megumi and Megumi didn’t like you.

That was the plan, the script that both of you were suppose to follow to perfection, with no changes or distractions.

It was cliche, and you could probably name whatever show you saw this exact trope off of- enemies from high school that ended up at the same college, and even matched together for a school project that would determine the rest of your academic career.

It was annoying, and you gritted your teeth each time you found yourself sharing the same air as him- and he felt the same.

It was obvious to your respective friend groups that you loathe each others’ guts. They would comment each time they saw the nasty glares and snide remarks you would give one another.

You abhorred him, and he abhorred you.

So when did he start to find him so tolerable?

Was it because you noticed how calm he was (a complete difference to the delinquent image you had of him years ago)? Or how he’s seamlessly able to focus on whatever’s in front of him with no issues? Or maybe because you saw how he was actually willing to help you with this project instead of abandoning you like you originally thought.

Either way, the tension wasn’t as thick as it was before between you.

And you began to notice a lot about Megumi these last few weeks, despite your constant denial.

How his eyelashes would gently brush his face whenever he glanced down at the pages of your textbook, how easy he was to talk to (surprisingly), how gently your name would fall from his lips without any animosity.

Even if the conversation was solely for the project (at least in the beginning), it felt…nice surprisingly. It wasn’t like high school all over again, it was something fresh.

But by the time you found yourself opening up to the possibility of connecting with Megumi, the project was almost completed. It was already time for it to be submitted, so surely it wasn’t a need for your paths to be crossing again right?

You tried to convince yourself that the only reason the pit in your stomach grew was because of your nerves concerning your grade- not because of the thought of drifting away from him. It made you laugh- you would have never pictured the day that you would worry about your relationship with Megumi Fushiguro, let alone actually consider having one with him.

But you wouldn’t notice that he was facing the same internal struggle.

He only put on with you in the beginning to get the project out of the way. He’s dealt with worse and it was only for a semester, so he would bear with it for the time being. But when he was able to see past the sufferable image he had of you and see…well, you- it was eye opening to say the least. His friends would tease him about the distracted look he would always have now whenever he was out, and he realized that when he became lost in his thoughts involving you.

The moment Megumi spotted a genuine smile actually meeting your eyes, he felt a strange sensation grow in his chest, and he started to have doubts if he truly hated you anymore.

And his conflict only continued throughout the weeks. The time he found himself dreading to spend with you soon turned into not wanting to leave, much to his shock.

You both could only pretend that everything was fine for so long, and it was only a matter of time before the truth would come out.

You both deviated far off of the original script.

But you found yourself being okay- and so did he.

Even now, just gazing at him outside of your apartment, you didn’t want this to be the last moment that you spend with Megumi.

And from the way his lips connected with yours, he felt the same.

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (18)

Fuck if his chest didn't hurt. Gojo stuffs his hands into his jacket pocket, resisting the urge to grip where his heart is. He miscalculated, not thinking much of that demon—void demon- to be specific. The last thing he needs is for Yuji to see how much it's affected him. He looks over at Kagome. Her shoulder brushes against him.

It's one thing to be vulnerable around her, but another to be weak in front of his student.

"Yuji-kun went to call Ijichi-san, so we wouldn't have to walk all the way back." She loops her arm through his. "You should take the rest of the day off. Your body needs time to readjust."

"You speak as though you have experience."

"Yeah, I went around with half of my soul for a long time."

"We should get away sometime and just talk." He lifts his other hand and waves at Yuji. He grits his teeth into a wide smile. "I'm alright Yuji-kun. Just wanted you to see what Gome-chan could do." Kagome twitches at his side.

"Ijichi-san will be here in just a few minutes. I sent him our location." Yuji stares at him with watery eyes. "I, uh. I didn't know that you could do that, Kagome-san. It was pretty incredible."

Kagome ducks her head, the blush spreads across her nose. "He managed to get away. But the mirror was broken, so that should solve the zombie problem. For now."

"Was he a curse user, too?"

"No," Gojo says, subtly leaning towards Kagome. His body is numb. His stomach hurts. Or maybe that's just hunger pains. "Demon." Kagome looks at him sharply. Ah, they were still keeping the demons a secret. Whoops.

"Satoru—"

"Baby, I've just gone through a traumatic experience. All for the sake of pushing you to the next level.

"I'll show you, traumatic."

Yuji rushes forward and envelops Gojo in a hug. He drops his infinity at the last second. He sometimes forgets how easily Kagome gets through. Kagome takes a step back, removing her arm from his.

"Please don't do that again, Gojo-sensei. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"I can't promise that. It comes with being a sorcerer. But I won't put myself in unnecessary danger to prove a point." He rubs Yuji's back. "Would your fox know anything about demons and curse users working together?" He asks.

"He isn't my fox." She shrugs. "I'd say chances are high that he'd know something. Foxes are tricksters, so I'd reason he'd be in the loop. But that can wait."

"I've never called off before." He frowns at the wetness staining his jacket. Right. How easily he's forgotten that Yuji saw him die. "Yuji, that's enough crying." He pats Yuji's back three times. "Besides, Ijichi is waiting outside."

"How do you know he's here already?" Yuji asks, pulling back and wiping his stray tears on his jacket sleeve.

Gross. "Six eyes." Gojo taps his temple and then reaches for Kagome. "I am all seeing, all knowing, all—"

"To think, I really thought this would humble you," Kagome says, shaking her head. She lifts their intertwined hands and pinches him. "C'mon. You want Ijichi-san to call in?" She bats her eyes as she leads them out of the store.

"I don't need Ijichi to call in for me." He scoffs as he ignores the wails of Ijichi asking what happened. "Quiet. Jeez. I don't look that bad."

"Be nice," Kagome admonishes. He sighs, loudly. As far as he's concerned, he's a delight. "Ijichi-san, do you think you can take us back to Yakeru's tomorrow?"

"The-the occult shop?"

"Uh? I wanted to go today," Gojo chimes in. Yuji tries to conceal his giggles.

"That shouldn't be an issue, Kagome-san. I'll need to double check Gojo-san's schedule. But I'm sure we'll be able to fit it in." Ijichi opens the back door for them. Like the gentleman he is, Gojo lets Kagome go first. "You have a meeting with Yaga-san at—"

"Not going. He'll get over it."

"B-but, Yaga…"

"Will get over it. I need food." He pulls out his phone and sends a quick message and another one to Megumi.

"Could we have a movie marathon? I can use that cursed bear thing for training," Yuji voices from the passenger seat. He turns around to look at them.

"I can make something back at home and we can just chill out. And yes, I'll make something sweet."

"Yay!" Yuji fist pumps the air and turns back around in his seat. Gojo unhooks his seatbelt, to the dismay of Ijichi, and lies his head on Kagome's lap.

"Wake me when we get there." He bends his knee. If it wasn't so inconvenient, he'd request that Ijichi start driving him around in a limo. But the streets are so narrow and that would draw more attention.

"Your mind is wandering," Kagome whispers into his ear. Her dark hair creates a curtain around his face.

"Is that cherry blossom?" He makes an exaggerated motion of sniffing the air.

"Rest." She lifts her head and threads her fingers through his white locks. He closes his eyes behind his dark shades.

"Yuji-kun, why don't you pick out some movies for us, and get the living room all set?" Kagome opens the door to the apartment. "Satoru, I'll get a bath going for you while I make us some lunch."

"I can't believe we missed breakfast."

"Can we watch something with Jennifer Lawrence in it?" Yuji bounces.

"Um, sure?" Kagome looks over at Gojo in confusion. "I don't care what we watch. Well, nothing too gory. We see enough of that in our day to day."

"Hey, can I ask you guys what you meant by demon?" Yuji scratches his cheek. "Sukuna hasn't stopped talking about how they're finally coming out of hiding."

Gojo huffs and throws his arms over Kagome. His head rests on the top of hers as he pulls her in closer. "It's exactly as it sounds. We've got demons popping up now. In addition to these special grade curses. I should have looked more into it when Buyo Jr came out of nowhere."

"Technically, I found him in a tree." Kagome wiggles, but it only makes Gojo tighten his hold. "My guess is that the demons that are still alive are probably pretty strong. They would have to be in order to blend in. But we aren't going to think about them right now. There's no point in theorizing when we can just ask Yakeru tomorrow."

"Still hungry," Gojo quips. His stomach cramps. At least the pounding in his head has subsided. He turns them around and walks them towards the bedroom. It's only once they reach the master bath that he unwraps himself from her.

"I really don't like the thought of demons and curses working together." She turns on the shower and then moves to start the bath.

"They may have something to do with that talking curse." He slips out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. "Wanna join me? I'm still too weak from earlier," he says, stepping into the shower.

"If you can still flirt, then you're fine."

"But…" His breath hitches as she locks eyes with him. Her skin flushes red all the way down her neck.

"We can have some 'us' time later. Right now, Yuji-kun needs this reassurance. He just watched the strongest person he knows, get their soul ripped out." She winks. "The bath should be about done when you get out," she says on her way out.

He bangs his head on the shower wall. She can't say shit like that and just leave.

"Wow! This looks amazing Kagome-San," Yuji praises, taking the bento from her.

She hands him his box. "This is the chicken soboro. This is the lemon sweet potato. I made dango, and this is tuna carrot."

He recognizes that she's speaking to him, but his mind is still stuck on the promise she made earlier. "Thanks." He looks down at the food. It does look good. Kagome takes a seat next to him. "There's room on the couch, Yuji."

"That's alright. I feel like we're having a sleepover." Yuji props his head up with his hand and turns the movie on. The coffee table was off to the side, so that Yuji could spread out on the floor. The cursed bear makes no movement, nestled into Yuji's side.

"You pick up quickly," he says, pointing to the sleeping doll.

"Thanks, Gojo-sensei!" Yuji stuffs his face.

"How many movies are considered later?" Gojo leans over and whispers to Kagome. She gives him an unamused look. "Just asking for a friend."

"Behave." She takes a strip of chicken from his box and feeds it to him.

"You guys aren't going to talk the whole movie, are you?"

"Yes."

"No."

Yuji leans his head back to look at them. Gojo puts on a blank expression and pretends to zip his lips shut. Once Yuji turns back around, Gojo steals a dango from Kagome. He wags his finger at her. His heart rate jumps as his mouth pops open. He expected her to nip at him, not take his finger in her mouth.

"This is bullshit," he mouths, sinking further into the couch at how her body shakes from keeping her laughter contained. His sweat pants are suddenly too tight. He nods to himself. He'll get her later.

[loving-from-the-clouds]

Not Going.

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader; Open to interpretation.

Summary: Yuta's never been one to lose his head but the one time he does death is ready to catch him and all he holds dear.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence and Injury, Swearing, Implied Character and Reader Death, No Happy Ending

Notes: Outside of Canon Timeline. All Characters Aged 21+

"Get Away!!!"

The words rip their way out of his throat before he can think, instinct kicking into high gear as his adrenaline reaches new found heights. The curse is thrown back violently, crashing into the store front behind it with a deafening crash. His throat is dry and burns, feeling like it's been torn to shreds by thousands of small razor blades but the sting is nothing to what you must be feeling. Yuta quickly closes the distance between you, skidding to his knees at your side and it looks so much worse now that he's close. Red is all over the side of your torso, leaking between your fingers pressed against the wound and from the corner of your mouth. It's all he sees, so much of it he fears the worst and his stomach plummets. The injustice and anger at the situation burns hotter than his throat and threatens to drown him but a weak whimper of his name from you is enough to ground him, at least for now.

He places a hand over yours, a swift look over his shoulder towards Yuji and Megumi to ensure their safety while he took a few precious moments to and at least start healing your more severe wounds, he had to if had any hopes to move you without making any internal damage worse. His heart pounds, pulse beating so rapidly his hands tremble as he lays one over your own on top of your side while the other cups your check. You're sweating, teeth gritted and eyes shut tightly to try and drown the pain out but you still try and force a smile for him. "S-" You hiss as his reversed cursed technique kicks in, back arching and doing nothing to help your pain. "Shit!" You grit, fighting back tears as your free hand claws at the loose debris below you. YOu don't feel the way the broken glass cuts your fingertips but Yuta does and he quickly grasps your free hand in his.

Usually your resistance to cursed energy would be a blessing but what healed others painlessly was almost too much to bear, tears streaking down your cheeks as you fight back sobs. Yuta looks up from your torso every so often, a guilty look in his eyes as he comforts you, words  just out of hearing that's been dulled by your pain. "Almost done, promise." He feels sick lying to you but he has to give you something to fight for. He knows how badly it hurts, having copied your technique for training and while irreplaceable because of its usefulness the cost was high. Your hand grasps his, cutting off the blood flow in his fingers but he can't feel it and even if he did he wouldn't say anything. "Almost. Almost." Your not sure who his reassurances are meant for but they only half register before your senses are thrown into overdrive at the sound of panicked shouts.

Yuta's head swivels on a dime as you force yourself up on your elbows to see what's happening. Your stomach drops from nausea and fear as the curse was no longer alone, a small pack of near identical copies melt from it's body to the pavement below. Yuji and Megumi curse off in the distance as the curse continues to multiply. Yuta looks back down at you, a prayer muttered under his breath for everyone's safety until his return. He has to move you and it feels selfish to choose you first but he can't let you die. He just can't. Yuta's arms shift, curling under you as carefully as he can but your cries of pain still grate on his mind. "I know." He whispers as you hide your face in his shoulder. "I know, I know, I know. Just hold on." He continues to channel the reversed energy, wishing that you weren't made to suffer by your own technique. A part of him contemplated using cursed speech once more, if only to render you unconscious so you wouldn't feel so much pain.

God, it feels like he's burning. He's too hot and too cold and his heart is racing louder than he can think and frustration takes root inside his chest followed by anger. You shouldn't be this hurt, shouldn't be hurt at all. His thoughts race of who to shift the blame to as he channels more cursed energy. He needs to be quicker, needs yo get you somewhere safe so he can put an end to all this once and for all because he can feel the way your body begins to go limp, getting heavier and heavier as he goes. "No. C'mon." He urges, jostling you just enough to get you conscious. "Stay with me, okay?" He says, unintentionally sending a wave of reversed cursed energy through you. "I'm sorry!" He can feel himself start to panic as he hushes your bitten back scream of pain. "I know, I'm sorry. You're gonna be okay, promise." Any other possibility has his gut twisting, a storm of emotions building in pressure in his chest.

His heart is racing, blood is boiling. The cursed energy he's been using to boost his body to get you out of harm's way has become hot and suffocating, the sickly red mocks him but he doesn't have the time to fix it. He doesn't have the time to calm down. He has to get you someplace safe so he can heal the worst of your injuries because he is not going home without you. He has to head back to help his underclassmen and save what other unfortunate souls had the bad luck of getting caught up in a mess like this. He gets a little faster in his desperation, the sudden increase in speed waking you further. "Backup?" You wheeze out through blood stained lips, half of your chest feeling clumped and sticky. "On the way, Megumi sent for help as soon as you went down." Your hand grasps at the fabric over his heart as you wince, tugging to try and ground yourself. "This, This is bullshit." You spit out, paling by the minute.

His eyes scan his surroundings rapidly, looking for a safe place to set you down and get you stable. He weaves between upturned cars and various chunks of debris. "Yu..." He can't think. You're bleeding and hurt, and you're dying. Everything he's trained for and learned has gone out the window and he can't get it back. It's terrifying. He knows what he's supposed to be doing but can't focus long enough on anything else but stable foot holds when something curls around his ankle and tugs, the cursed energy ties to registering far too late. "Yuta, Look Out!" Time slows down in the worst of ways, giving him a front row seat to the way you throw yourself forward around him. You force your body to move, lifting your dead weight arms to wrap around his neck tightly. Your body shielding his own as what looks like barbed wire shoots from the ground.

He feels your grip tighten, nails digging into his skin hard enough to break it even through his layered clothing but he barely feels it as your voice cuts off into a wet choke. He feels the wind in his hair and beating against his back before he realizes what's happened, holding you to his chest and tucking his chin over your head as he hits the ground and rolls. He rolls once, twice before you fall from his arms where you remain unresponsive. Yuta coughs as his back hits brick, fighting to get back the air the impact ripped from his lungs. Even with reinforcing his body with cursed energy the quickly growing, sticky feeling pressure in his chest lets him know that something is more than broken. He feels angry and numb, and hateful- and that hate  for everything wrong about the situation only increases once he sees one of the curses leering over your body, multiple eyes blinking rapidly as thin, razor sharp tendrils reach out for its next meal but they never reach their target. The curses head is wiped clean from existence in an instant.

Yuta's body feels heavy but he doesn't feel much other than that anymore. It's still there but muted. Everything feels fuzzy though he's not sure if it's the shock or a concussion. He turns swiftly, cutting another curse down. He's running low on cursed energy, back to back missions and his earlier panic a major hit to his reserves at the worst possible time. He's not sure where his old classmates are but forces himself into resignation of the worst case scenario. If he's struggling this bad then there's a good chance those two are far worse off but he pushes on, fighting with everything he has because he's not going home alone, even if it means dying here because he'd rather die here among those he loves than live on without them, without you.

[hhawks]

saturday night fever

✰ starring: megumi fushiguro x fem!reader ✰ synopsis: in which your best friend megumi is a virgin, and you want him to feel special. ✰ content warnings: smut, virginity loss, mutual? masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), megumi and reader are aged up and in college, megumi is secretly a soft boy who cries during sex, reader is all knowing) ✰ word count: 4.5k

now look, megumi’s been your best friend since you were kids. you’ve been through everything with one another; going to the same school, taking the same classes, working at the same ice cream parlour during summer break. he knew you like the back of his palm. and you knew him, well, more than most people did. megumi was never one to share what he was thinking, complain about his life. he was the listener in your friendship, and frankly, you were fine with that arrangement.

so it came naturally that when you two enrolled in the same university, you moved in together. suddenly he was all in your space; in the kitchen making breakfast, nothing but a pair of grey sweats that hung low on his hips. in the living room, with his books and your notes intermingling to the point where you couldn’t tell what was whose.

but you lived like that your whole life. the two of you were inseparable, moulded against one another. you couldn’t imagine a life without him. and in his navy eyes, behind his secrecy, he admitted he couldn’t imagine one without you.

it didn’t really matter, you both agree, that people were constantly on your backs about dating. “you spend all your time together,” your friends would pester. “you’ve got to be secretly dating.” you would laugh it off, and gumi would shake his head, and you both went on your way. there’s no denying that there was some sort of tension that always hung around, especially in the dead of the night when you’d confide in one another, or after the end of a romantic movie. one that makes you wonder, has he always been this broad? have his lips always been this pink? they’re questions you push to the back of your head, and you saunter off to bed, pressing a quick peck to the crown of his head in goodnight.

eventually, he starts dating nobara. you’re happy for him, you convince yourself. you’d been on your own dates, bringing guys that looked just a little too much like megumi back home and into your bed. you can’t lie; sometimes you’d imagine it was him, pressing his fingers into the fat of your thighs, driving his fat cock into your weeping pussy. sometimes you’d bite your tongue when you cum, because it’s better to be silent than to accidentally whine, “megumi!”

you quell the ember of jealousy that rises in you every time nobara comes over. you smile at her, offering her water or whatever she needs. she’s beautiful, she’s kind. you admit it, she’s the kind of girl you wish you could be. slender, pretty hair that bounces when she walks. no wonder gumi loves her.

you grit your teeth and you bear it. you bring home guy after guy to satiate the ache in your thighs that calls for the only guy you can’t have, and subconsciously you make yourself moan louder so he catches it through the thin walls of the apartment. you almost catch yourself slipping a couple of times, when you’re alone in your room and dipping your sorry fingers into your aching cunt, letting out his name in choked out whines. but he never looks at you any different. he still treats you like his best friend, like the girl he’s known all his life, and never thought of, never seen in any way romantic.

or so you think.

it begins when they break up. nobara leaves the apartment with mascara tear tracks down her cheeks. you offer her a tissue and she takes it politely. “i’m sorry,” you tell her, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. you don’t even know if you’re actually sorry, because there’s a wicked hope in your heart that burns bright. she smiles at you, eyes watery, and thanks you before she leaves.

you give it a while before you’re knocking at gumi’s room door, and he calls out, “come in.” he’s sitting on his bed, face still his natural stoic, and you almost feel bad for nobara. he’d just broken up with her, and he doesn’t even look in any way remorseful.

“what happened?” you prod gently, knowing this is the kind of thing that megumi never talks about.

“we broke up.” he says simply.

“i can see that. but why?”

“i just didn’t feel the same anymore.”

ruthless. still, you can’t help but sit by him at the end of his bed and take him into your arms. there aren’t too many moments where megumi confides in you about things private to him, so you’ve learned to savour them, let him come to you when he needs you. “i’m here if you need me, yeah?” you tell him. you feel him relax in your embrace, leaning his head under your chin. do you feel warm tears stain your skin, or is it your imagination? you don’t know, and you don’t try to find out. the two of you stay like that for a little while, and you drink it all in, the sensation of his soft skin against you, the smell of his shampoo.

weeks pass and he’s back to the megumi he’s always been, cracking the occasional joke while you make your morning coffee, burning the midnight oil with you as finals approach you. it’s going fine and dandy, and you almost forget that you want him in more ways than you have him.

and then you hear your name when you walk past his room.

first you think he’s calling for you, like he needs help. you pad to his room, hand ready to push down on the door handle when you hear a cry from his throat that sounds too much more like pleasure than pain. your hand freezes where it is, and the dots in your head connect.

you flush furiously, feeling guilty that you’re eavesdropping on a moment that;s so obviously private to him, but you can’t help it, can’t help but listen for your name again. and it comes, melodic and you would give anything to hear it closer. your heart is beating way out of your chest and your throat begins to feel fuzzy; what do you do with this, now that you know? panic strikes through you as you think, what if he knows, what if he’s heard you? your hands tremble with anticipation; do you open it, knowing what you do now?

you don’t. you leave him alone, you let him finish, but you can’t look him in the eye when he steps out of his room to use the toilet. you barely say anything over dinner, and you curse yourself for making it weird.

“you’re being weird.” he comments to you as you’re sitting on the couch, sharing a pomegranate. “what’s up?”

“nothing.” you answer a little too fast. “the pomegranate’s nice, yeah? i got it ripe this morning.”

you see a look of quizzical confusion cross his face. you’ve never been one to keep things from him. well, if it’s something you wanted to tell him, he thinks, you would have told him by now. so he lets it go.

but you don’t. suddenly it happens so much more frequently, hearing his moans and your name scattered into the mix in the middle of the night when you should be asleep but you aren’t. you dip your fingers into your cunt, trying to hear the pace of his hand slicking up his cock, murmuring a soft, “gumi, gumi please,” as you reach your release.

it becomes almost a nightly thing, where the two of you get off to each other with a wall between you, and then facing one another in the morning like nothing had happened. you know he knows about it by now, because he greets you with his lips tugged into a smile, and “long night last night?” you roll your eyes at him, brushing past him to get to the coffee.

you don’t want to talk about it. you’re fine the way it is now. you don’t want to risk your lifelong friendship, your best friend just because of some stupid feelings. you’re fine, you’re content with your fingers that never find the right spot, your hand that gets tired, the wall that muffles megumi’s moans--

you’re not fine with this.

and so you bring it up to him one saturday night when you’re on the couch together, watching reruns of criminal minds. you’re sharing a bowl of chips, his head laying on your lap. you feel the lump in your throat growing the longer you wait, and you’re certain you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. fuck, fuck, fuck. just fucking do it.

“gumi,” you start softly, and he turns to face you. fuck, his eyes are so wide, so pretty, all the words you’d spent hours preparing dying in your throat the minute he looks at you.

“yeah?” he asks, eyes flicking to the screen, then back to you.

“i think we need to talk about something.”

“oh?” he sits up, and you almost regret bringing it up. you always feel so small next to him, and now’s no exception as he looms over you, placing the chips bowl on the coffee table in front of you. “what do you wanna talk about?”

you blink at him, at a loss for words as you try to stutter out a sorry excuse for interrupting your nightly tv time. you breathe, and it calms you a little. “about us, getting off to each other every night.”

he’s taken aback, you can tell as he stills, and ponders his next words carefully. “oh.” he says. “so you finally wanna talk about it, huh?”

you whack him, hard on the shoulder. “it’s a scary topic, dumbfuck.”

he laughs, eyes crinkling. you roll your eyes at him, crossing your arms and shifting to continue watching the television. “no, cmon,” he tugs at your arms. “i think we should talk about it too.”

“don’t want to anymore.”

“you’re annoying.”

“i’m annoying? you’re the one laughing at me, when i’m so clearly in mental turmoil!”

“look,” he grips your chin to make you face him, and you finally comply. “let’s talk about it, yeah? i wanna talk about it.”

“what is there to say? hey, sorry i think of you when i get off.” you melt in his fingers, but your voice still puts up a fight. “okay, done, let’s move on now.”

“hey. you’re the one who wanted to talk about it.” he pulls you into him, and you’re greeted with the unfamiliar sensation of megumi holding you, finally not the other way around. “i… i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. if you want to leave it as it is, i’m fine with that.”

“i don’t,” you sigh. “but i don’t know what it’d mean if we, you know, do anything about it.” you look up at him, and your heart flutters. “i don’t want to ruin our friendship with stupid feelings.”

“i broke up with nobara for you.”

you pause. you search his face for any sign of humour, for any trace of a “sike!”, but you dont find any. he’s serious; megumi never jokes with you, not when he’s looking at you like this, navy eyes burning into yours, looking at you like you’re the only thing he can see.

“i heard you, one night.” he chuckles, and his lithe fingers begin to stroke your cheek. “you should have told you you wanted me.”

“i never wanted to--! i didn’t want to ruin things,” you slink into his touch. “you should have told me when you and nobara broke up!”

“i was waiting for you to cave first. and look, you did!”

you whack him again, but he holds you steady in his grip. he’s looking at you, really looking at you, and you feel your inhibitions shrink.

“can i kiss you?” he murmurs, your faces centimeters apart.

your voice comes out in a whimper. “please.”

his lips are warm. and soft, and inviting. god, they’re everything you’ve imagined and more. you melt into him, pulling his collar as if it would bring him any closer to you. the way he’s gripping your sides, lifting you onto his lap and letting you straddle his hips, it’s dizzying. he pulls away when you grind your hips into his, letting out a shuddering breath.

“gumi,” you mewl, arms locking behind his neck. “fuck, gumi, i’ve wanted this for so long.”

“me too,” his hand comes up to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb. “we waited too goddamn long.”

you kiss him against, chasing the taste of his mouth, and he rucks his hands up your sleep shirt. his hands are molten, leaving heated trails on your back. you tug at the hem of his own shirt, murmuring, “off, off, gumi,” and he pulls away to let you shuck it off his shoulders, and to take yours off too.

“fuck,” he inhales sharply when your tits bounce in his face. “no bra, hm? were you expecting this?”

you roll your eyes. “they’re my pajamas, fuckhead. you think i’m gonna wear a bra to be-”

he cuts you off as he pulls one of your tits into his mouth, and you keen at the warmth of his spit on your sensitive nipple. “fuck, megumi,” you tug on his hair. “n-need you.”

“i’m here, baby,” he breathes. he stutters out a groan when you grind your hips down again, feeling the growing bulge in his pants, a tangible reminder of his desire. “w-wait, wait.”

you stop immediately, looking down at him with wide eyes. “what’s wrong?” you brace yourself to hoist yourself off of him, but he stops you, big palms gripping you in place.

“nothing! nothing… just,” he gulps, and you can see the way his adam’s apple wavers. “i’ve never done this before.”

you gape at him. of course, megumi’s always been popular with girls, but the only girl he’s ever brought home was nobara. even then… “you never did anything with nobara?” you ask, genuine curious crossing your features. “you’re…”

“a virgin? you guessed it.” he smiles awkwardly, hands coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “i get it, i’m a los--”

“no!” you cut him off. “no, no, no. you’re not a loser. i just thought--”

“well, i just never wanted to. i never found anyone i wanted to do anything with, you know?” he looks at you sheepishly, like he was embarrassed that he’d never gotten his dick wet.

you nod shakily. “okay,” you start. “i-- you don’t-- we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, we can just--”

“i want to.” his hand grips your wrist, guiding it down his torso, ending at the waistband of his sweats. “god, with you. i want to do everything with you.”

fuck. you’re dizzy, you’re almost certain you’re dreaming right now and any moment you’re gonna wake up. you swallow thickly, and smile at him. “okay,” you press a kiss to his lips. “let me make you feel good tonight, yeah?” your hands trail ghostly touches, gently raking your fingernails on his navel, where you know he’s sensitive. he grits his teeth, throwing his head back and you bask in the image of him at your mercy, the stoic and graceful megumi fushiguro crumbling to pieces at the hands of his best friend.

“fuck-- please, i’ll cum in my pants if you keep grinding on me,” he grits out, and you giggle.

“sorry,” you halfass an apology, not really sorry at all. “c’mon, lemme take these off you.” your fingers dig into his waistband, lifting yourself off of him to drag them down his legs. you situate yourself in front of him, kneeling between his thighs as you face his boxers, a prominent bulge growing underneath. fuck, he looks big even in his underwear, and you can’t wait to let him out, take him in your mouth. but you stall, dragging your mouth over his clothed cock.

“don’t-- t-tease me,” he stutters as you mouth over the tip of his cock. “please, fuck.”

“just relax, gumi,” you coo, taking the waistband of his boxers in your fingers. “let me do the work.”

and you do. you pull his boxers down gently, watching as his cock springs up and out of its confines. he’s achingly hard, the tip of his dick blushing a pretty pink, drooling precum already. he’s long, a little on the skinnier side, with a pretty vein running up the underside of his shaft. he’s so, so handsome like this, arms braced on either side of him as he watches you with tentative eyes. you catch his gaze, not breaking the contact as you take the tip of his cock into your mouth, gracing it with a small kitten lick. his chin tilts up and he’s groaning, guttural and low and it fills your tummy with fluttering knowing you’re the one making him feel like this.

megumi’s head is spinning, dizzy with anticipation, and the way your hand looks so small against his dick. the way your sliding your hand up and down slowly, your eyes so concentrated on his, it makes him want to kiss you like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. “does this feel good?” you ask him, and he nods, a small moan escaping him. is he dreaming? this has to be a dream; you, kneeling in front of him, jerking him off, this is what he’s been dreaming of for years now. he squeezes his eyes shut and lets them flutter open, but you’re still there.

you take more of him, hollowing out your cheeks and dropping your jaw to accommodate to his size, not stopping until he’s hitting the back of your throat, and your nose is tickled by the neat curls of hair that stand at the base of his dick. he’s whining now, soft pants escaping his lips as you slobber on his dick, getting it nice and wet.

you’ve had experience. you know how to please a man, but your heart still pounds, eyes flicking up to look at him. you want to know he’s feeling good, you want him to feel good. you bob your head up and down his shaft, focused on suppressing the gag that threatens you, and megumi is bucking his hips up into your mouth, chasing his high. “fuck, i’m sorry,” he slurs. “i didn’t mea’ to, i--”

“it’s okay, gumi,” you pat his thigh. “do that all you want. here,” your fingers grip his wrist , bringing his hand to your head, letting it curl into your hair. “you can use my mouth, kepe the pace, if you want. be as rough as you need; this is about you, okay?”

he reluctantly agrees, but it’s all lost to him when you put your mouth back on his cock. he’s writhing in your touch, the way your tongue is swirling around the tip, pumping the part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. your pussy is throbbing now, and you grind your hips against nothing to relieve some of the pressure. you’re so turned on, and you know you’re not ending the night until he’s balls deep in you.

“shit,” you hear him curse under his breath. the hand on your hair tightens, and you groan softly, letting him push you closer to him, taking more of him into your mouth. “can i, please baby, i--” he cuts off in a whine, feeling the way the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat. “‘m not gonna last-- fuck-- not gonna last long, baby.”

you hum around him, feeling the way his thighs shake. you bob your head again, your slick lips dragging along the veins of his shaft. he’s close, you can tell by the way his cock twitches in your mouth, and his mouth drops open as he moans your name, the same way he always did late at night when he was alone. he bucks his hips up into your mouth, gripping your hair to chase his own high, and you let him. you let him use you, slobber all over his cock as you look up at him, doe-eyed, and you swear his eyes roll back.

“i’m gonna-- fuck, you’re so good to me, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbles. you keep your head bobbing on his shaft, taking all of him into your mouth, sweet and soft and warm for him. “you’re so good t’me, baby, please let me cum, make me cum--!”

he twitches slightly before you feel him release, holding your face against his hips as he cums down your throat. you take it all, looking up at him like you were made to be on your knees for him. you swallow around him, coaxing him through his high, and he comes down slowly, pulling out of your mouth.

“fuck,” he mutters, pulling you up back onto his lap. “fuck, baby, thank you.” he kisses you, never minding the taste of his own cum, fierce and passionate and blissfully fucked out. you feel his fingers tease at your tiny cotton shorts, and you squeal.

“we don’t have to,” you assure him. “i wanted to make you feel good, ‘sall.”

“i want to.” he tells you, fingers lightly tracing the edge of the waistband before dipping into your shorts. “please, let me? let me inside you, please?”

and what can you do but oblige? what can you do but toe off your shorts, letting him tease your clit through your soaked panties and whine as he slips them aside? he’s drunk on you, giving you sloppy kisses and gripping your thighs, begging you to let him make you feel good.

he slips a finger into you, and groans. “you’re sucking me in, baby,” he mutters, pumping his finger in and out of your drooling cunt. “lemme make your pussy happy? lemme fuck you, please?”

you nod, breathless. “come here,” you whisper to him, laying on your back. he looms over you, cock already half hard again, pressing against your clothed slit. “take my panties off.”

his fingers shake as he hooks his fingers on your panties, pulling them over the curve of your ass, and tossing them behind him. you take his cock in your hand, pumping it a couple of times, feeling it rile to life again as you stroke it. “you’re hard again, already? you really want this, don’t you?” you tease, watching the way his scattered eyes glaze over and he nods.

“please, let me fuck you, please, please.” he all but begs, and you shush him with a gentle kiss. you guide his cock into you, and he slowly pushes into you, careful not to hurt you. but you’re focused on him, on his face and how it contorts as he enters you, the way his eyes cross and his jaw gapes when he rocks steadily into you. “fuck,” he’s muttering over and over, overstimulated and he swears he could come just by being inside you.

he’s so deep in you. every time he rocks his hips forward it knocks a little bit of breath out of you, just how deep he’s hitting inside you. you’re squeezing around him involuntarily, and his hips stutter every time you clench.

“d-don’t do that, baby,” he grits out. “‘m gonna cum inside you if you keep doing that.”

you smile at him, wrapping your legs around his trim waist, and whispering, “maybe that’s what i want.”

his eyes go wide, hips bucking suddenly and harshly into you. “you c-can’t say that,” he whimpers. “baby, fuck, don’t say that.”

“why not?” you edge him on, your hips canting upwards to meet his thrusts. it’s so good, so fucking good, but you hold back your moans to keep babbling to him. “i want it, you want it. fuck, you’re doing so well f’me, gumi.”

you feel him thrust so deep into you as you say that. “really?” he whispers, and you nod.

“you’re fucking me so good, you make me feel so good baby,” you murmur to him, holding him close to you, throwing your head back in a soft mewl. “you’re gon’ make me cum, gumi!”

he curses softly, picking up the pace of his thrusts. it’s a little sloppy, a little mistimed, but it’s his first time, and it’s okay. he feels so thick, so good inside you that it doesn’t matter, and the way he’s running his mouth is enough to push you closer to your edge. “baby, baby, please, fuck, you’re so tight ‘round me.” he’s babbling thank you’s, skipping consonants and slurring vowels together as he approaches his second high.

“baby,” he groans. “kiss me? kiss me, please,” and you do, reaching up to catch his lips in yours, letting your hands trail over his broad back, rucking up and down his bare skin. he’s so warm, so good for you, snapping his hips into you at a pace that makes you see stars. and you’re clenching around him in a way that’s dizzying, that he never wants to give up, that he’s convinced he’s found god in your cunt. he’s crying your name as his hips stutter.

“you’re so good f’me,” you coo again, brushing his hair out of his face. “so handsome,” you whisper, and you see the way his eyes well up with tears. you don’t know whether it’s from the praise or the overstimulation, but you continue anyway. “cum for me, gumi, you’re doing so well.”

“w-wanna make you cum first,” he stutters, voice wavering. his thrusts are getting faster in an attempt to push you over first, and it’s working. he’s hitting the soft spot in your cunt, and you whine around him. “please, please cum first.”

he takes his thumb into his mouth, slicking it up with his slick before pressing it onto your clit, drawing gentle circles into the sensitive bud. you cry out, “gumi!” as he pushes you over, over, over into your release, clutching his back and clawing at his shoulders. “s’good, so good,” you’re mumbling, and in your haze, you whisper, “i love you, love you so so much.”

he cums in you. he can’t pull out in time, with the way he’s so drunk in your pussy, his cock aching with the need to cum, hot and thick and white. he whines as he cums, tears spilling over his long lashes and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. you can vaguely make out the endless string of, “thank you, thank you, i love you”s that run from his mouth as he comes down.

you two lie there for a little while, breathing and basking in your afterglow. “gumi,” you whisper, running your fingertips down his spine. “you okay?”

he pops his head up from your side, eyes glassy and cheeks dusted pink. “me okay,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

maybe your friendship's ruined. but maybe it's for the better, if it means you get to kiss megumi like you'd die if you stopped.

[fishstyx]

it's always the quiet ones.

featuring. fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

wc. 1.4k

genre. dark/taboo, smut

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, intoxication/alcohol, anal penetration, virginity, choking, dacryphilia, creampie

synopsis. a little bit of jungle juice and megumi is skipping bases.

Megumi tries not to think about it sober. 

That is, what it’d feel like with one hand wrapped around your neck, breath bated as he preps your asshole with the other. Would tears well up in your eyes as he forces his cock into your twitching heat? Would cum spill from your gaping hole when he finishes inside you?

He’s way ahead of himself and he knows it, doesn’t have the slightest clue what your other hole feels like—hasn’t had a single taste of you in bed before. He’s doing his best to curb his curiosity, really, but lately he’s finding it harder and harder to put his demons to sleep when he’s got a little something in his system.

You’re not exactly in your right mind either, tonight, clinging to his arm at the party when you know it’s all he can do just to tolerate the slightest amount of PDA. But the throng of moving bodies swallows you whole and it feels like just the two of you in this time and space; you’re only able to hear each other over the blaring music anyway, as if the reality between you both is the only one that truly exists.

But then you’re wobbling in place, antsy movements signaling your approaching departure when he’s been secretly hoping that you’ll never let go. Your words come out a slur, a poorly pronounced “‘m going to the bathroom,” no vowel left unstretched as you peel away and turn your heel.

And as much as Megumi would love to play it cool, to wait for you by the door like a responsible boyfriend should, the curve of your ass in your favorite night time outfit lures him in behind you. You’re so out of it that you don’t even notice when the door shuts closed.

It’s all a blur from the moment you realize you’re not alone in the bathroom. He’s crept upon you unawares, was probably the one to lock the door properly when you completely forgot to. And if the mirror’s reflection wasn’t proof enough, he’s hunched over you now, lips barely grazing your ear as he whispers:

“I bet we could get away with it in here.”

And you giggle.

A fit of giggles.

A string of them, all stitched together by a stray hiccup or two as you raise your arms in compliance.

“I bet we could.”

You never would’ve guessed that your first time would be in a place like this, surrounded by people yet visible to no one. You can feel the thump of the music even from here, the beat of the bass still thrumming at your feet, familiar pop melody buzzing in your bones.

Is this really Megumi? My Megumi? you question in fragmented wonder, but the thought quickly dissipates as he gets you undressed. It’s such a freeing change of pace from the oppressive air that hangs outside, a heavy blanket of heat and perspiration and sweat-slicked clothing.

You’re still laughing when his pants drop, head swirling in dizzying anticipation. Because it all feels so surreal, how honest you’re being, how honest he’s being. He’s hardly ever let his touch wander before, yet now he’s pressing his hard on against that perfect ass of yours, hands ghosting over your thighs and up your chest as he rocks his hips into you.

You’re still laughing when he tugs at your underwear. He could do this all night long, dry hump himself to completion again and again if only that were enough for you, too—but the wet patch evidenced by the fabric reminds him otherwise.

You’re still laughing when his fingers meet your slick, laughing at how someone’s banging the door while your boyfriend pets your leaking slit, laughing and laughing and laughing. It’s sloppy work at best, but he’s buzzed and you’re buzzed, the core of your body practically singing with praises at his every touch. It reeks of booze and stink and sour and you can’t get enough of it. You push your sweet spot into the palm of his hand in an attempt to help him out, unable to hide your disappointment when he draws back unexpectedly.

But then he’s thumbing at your neglected little puckered asshole, painting it glossy with your own dripping juices. It’s been distracting him this whole time, after all, practically presenting itself to him from this angle—wholly unbeknownst to you yourself. You stiffen, pressing your back flush into his chest, so very sure that he couldn’t possibly be into that.

“Gumi, that’s the wrong hole,” you say, voice hushed as you try to move his hand away, but it’s no use. Your eyes widen in panic as he pushes you down with ease, full weight anchoring you to the sink countertop. He’s never made show of it but he’s clearly much stronger, undoubtedly several times the brawn needed to overpower you. Your legs kick as his thumb sinks deeper—a knuckle? Two knuckles? Not that it really matters, since either way...

You’re not laughing anymore.

Because the person behind you, the one who’s ignoring your words of protest as he replaces his thumb with a pair of fingers, scissoring you apart exactly where you told him not to—that person is most definitely not your Megumi.

The knocking at the door has stopped; the silence is deafening.

And all of a sudden, you feel utterly alone.

“Megumi, it burns,” you plead, voice climbing until you can finally separate it from the thunderous quietude, but he only holds you down by the neck, spitting on his fingers before reworking your walls. 

It’s hard for you to stand still like this, but you can’t tell if your legs are shaking out of fatigue or in reaction to his ministrations. You struggle to deliberate—the sensation in your ass morphing into something familiar yet strange—while Megumi simply decides it’s the latter.

There’s little warning when he deems you ready. He comes to full halt in an instant, the instant when he finally snaps and can’t bear to wait another second. He doesn’t even give himself time to admire his handiwork, doesn’t relish in the way that your walls flutter around nothing the moment he pulls out. The very next moment, he finds himself violating you past the point of no return instead.

It feels impossibly full. 

You scramble for purchase on the counter as he doubles back, your forehead nearly hitting the mirror when he lurches forward again, desperate to relieve his pent-up fantasies.

“Holy shit, it’s tight,” he hisses, as if he isn’t fucking his lover but just some onahole fleshlight. With gritted teeth he snaps his hips repeatedly, chokehold stiffening as the pace devolves into rhythmless abandon. It feels new, it feels weird, it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your mind fumbles to make sense of it, forever oscillating between ‘oddly satisfying’ and ‘downright disgusting.’

All streams of consciousness seem to freeze when he hits a spot so sensitive you think you’re paralyzed from the waist down. You’re set ablaze, the pressure leaving you tingling and confused. Even when he misses the mark your body screams for more, pulsating with primal need.

You feel lightheaded, lack of airflow one of the few things you can focus on, and Megumi swears he can feel you suddenly clamp down on him. Every noise is blurring into each other, from your fruitless whines to the sound of his balls slapping your skin, and you can hardly tell up from down when he blows his load.

Maybe that’s what sends you over the edge: the warmth that fills your abused insides as if to reward them for all their trouble. No, you’re not cumming. You’re crying, the release of your frustration rolling off your cheeks and falling flat on the countertop, the only reprieve from the unfamiliar feeling, warm and sticky and unfair in your injured hole.

Megumi’s too busy riding out his orgasm to notice, grip on your neck loosening as you milk out the last of his semen. He watches the place where your bodies connect with intent, the thought of pulling out never quite crossing his mind. His gaze doesn’t so much as falter until you’re oozing his seed, his wildest dreams come true in vivid quality.

It’s only when he catches your eye in the mirror that he sees the trails of tears that stain your face, admires the way they catch the light when you shake your head, “No more, please stop, it’s too much…”

He hardens instantly.

🏷️ @levisbrattiestbrat

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[charmspoint]

Another drabble prompt, Megumi and Gojo chat after Itadori's death.

Drabbles 4, prompt 3! Great one anon this one got a little long hvhv Even tho in the end they don't talk much at all I hope you enjoy all the same!

-

Megumi doesn’t answer the knock on his door. He knows exactly who it is and he isn’t in the mood to get poked and prodded, to have this whole thing flipped around with some half assed joke.

He hadn’t known Yuji for that long, just a couple of meaningless weeks. He’d never been the one to give his heart away easily. That was one thing he always stood by. Being a sorcerer didn’t equate to being a hero, he never fooled himself into thinking he could save every innocent life he came across. He tried to be stingy with his care, stingy with the amount of people he would spill his blood for. But somehow Yuji had barreled past that in an instant, as foolish and naïve as he was.

Maybe it would have been more merciful, to allow him to be executed in the end. Megumi knew Gojo could do it painlessly. Yuji was conscious for those last moments, with his chest torn open and his heart torn out. Despite the smile on his face, Megumi knew it must have hurt.

The knocking comes again and Megumi bites his lip not to curse Gojo out.

“Go away.”

“Don’t be like that, I just want to check in on you.”

Gojo’s voice is light and airy, like it always is. Megumi hates it. He can never tell when Gojo is joking and when he’s taking things seriously, if he’s even touched by all the death sown underneath their feet. Tsumiki used to say he spoke like that because he didn’t want to worry them, but it was a stupid explanation even back then and it especially was now. Megumi was no longer a child, he didn’t need to be protected.

And Tsumiki was no longer there at all.

“You’re late.”

Again.

Strongest sorcerer in the world and never even there when he’s actually needed.

The silence from the other side of the door is blessed and Megumi hopes that in a moment he would hear Gojo’s footsteps walk down the hall and disappear entirely. He just wants to be left alone. He had taken a shower but he still feels stained with Yuji’s blood, every muscle still twitching in remembrance of the weight of his corpse. When he had made it to the infirmary, Nobara had just been released. Her eyes had been twin abyss’s in the few seconds it took her to regain her bearings, to try and brush the whole thing off.

Death hadn’t felt this close since he found his sister collapsed in their living room.

“I’m sorry. I wish I was there too.”

“Whatever.”

There’s a faint pop and Megumi lashes out on instinct, hurling his pillow at Gojo the second he materializes in his bedroom. He expects it to bounce off of infinity but it hits Gojo in the chest and tumbles to the floor. If Megumi was still a child, he would have tried his fists next. But he’s not, so he just turns his back to Gojo.

“Which part of ‘go away’ is so hard to understand?”

“I would be a pretty shitty guardian if I just let you mope here alone.”

“You already are a shitty guardian.”

“Ouch, my feelings, I’m wounded!”

Megumi grits his teeth and wishes there are more things on his bed he could throw. But as there are not, Gojo advances undisturbed, sitting on the floor with his back against Megumi’s bed. The whole thing is idiotic. Megumi isn’t a child; he doesn’t need to be comforted by someone who isn’t even really family. There isn’t even anything Gojo can say. Yuji is dead and Megumi should know better than to be surprised. Sorcery has been a part of his life ever since he was a child and he always knew just how bloody of a profession it was.

But it’s one thing to feel the tremors of loss from afar, another entirely to stand at the epicenter. Older sorcerers and then upperclassmen, people gone to never come back again. Megumi saw the raw grief on people’s faces before but it never hooked into his heart as raw as now, never felt so real and tangible. Even as Tsumiki wasted away in a hospital room there was still hope, still a chance that through stubborn determination he would find the curse that took his sister and tear it to shreds.

This isn’t the same.

This is a life cut right by his side, blade grazing his shoulder and leaving the putrid taste of death in his mouth, all blood and rot. A bright smile extinguished like a candle's flame, in barely enough time to take a breath. No warning given whatsoever. No dark clouds or ominous feelings crowding his chest in the morning just before. Just life and then death, with no crossing phase, with no time to prepare.

Megumi knew what sorcerer life was in theory, but now the death’s blade is a visible thing right before him.

And there’s nothing anyone can say that will cover the truth with the veil again.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo says again and it means nothing. “This is the last thing I wanted. Yuji deserved to live his youth.”

There’s bitterness to his words that Megumi doesn’t care for. Every sentence feels like a lash, tearing open the air around them and pulling things into reality without his permission. As if Yuji would still breathe air if no one acknowledged it. Megumi doesn’t want words because he knows, he knows, he knows everything that Gojo can say. That it’s unfair, that Yuji was too young, that the whole thing was a tragedy. He knows the script because he heard it spoken to so many before and Megumi wonders why people even bother with words when they are useless and senseless and can’t do anything at all to change what has happened. He doesn’t know if people think words to be life preservers thrown overboard, but right now Megumi just wants to drown in the suffocating depths of his own pain.

“Seriously, leave me alone.”

Gojo sighs. No the theatrical, dramatic sigh he tends to pull but a bone weary one that almost makes Megumi feel bad. Almost. He wants to be alone more than he cares about how others react to his prickly emotions.

It’s a relief when Gojo stands up, the force of six eyes stinging at the back of Megumi’s neck, familiar and annoying as it’s reassuring.

“Right then. I’ll go visit Shoko now.”

To look at the body. Yuji is Sukuna’s vessel before he is Yuji. Megumi doesn’t want to know what they will do to his corpse.

“It’ll dull out eventually,” Gojo says and Megumi hates him, “It never really goes away, but it does dull. That’s all I can promise for sure.”

With another pop of air, he’s gone, taking the last remains of life out of the room. Megumi grabs his pillow from the floor, cocoons himself in the blankets, letting the darkness take over his senses.

Tomorrow he’s expected back on the field like nothing happened.

Tonight all he can do is think about a bright boy who couldn’t last long in the senseless cruelty of a world Megumi forced him in.

[yeenybeanies]

Fujin But He’s A Giant

i wanted to make this longer, but i started it like nine months ago & i’m tired of looking at it, so y’all can have it half-baked lmao

mortal kombat | fujin & megumi hiraoka ( oc )

1,462 words

no warnings

enjoy! reblogs > likes!!

patreon ✨ ko-fi

A storm howled beyond the temple walls, a melancholic choir of wind to the rain’s rhythm. Most would think nothing of it, or perhaps, at most, think it an inconvenience. The Wind God, however, thought differently: he listened deeper, focused the choir of gusts and the percussive beats of rain on stone. He inhaled, pulling the winds into his lungs, and the smell of petrichor with it. 

Fujin was not one to revel much in his status as a god––unlike some others he knew. He was a humble deity, and a dedicated protector of Earthrealm, alongside his older brother. Raiden, however, was not quite as close to humanity as Fujin. Where Raiden typically kept to the Sky Temple or to his chosen champions, Fujin often spent time on the surface, among the humans. During his trips, he would usually alter his appearance and immerse himself into humanity, but other times, like now, he chose to retain his godly stature, glowing tattoos and titan’s height and all.

The shrine he’d chosen, a modest structure in the middle of rural, Japanese farmland, was only just tall enough to accommodate him––while seated. On the ceiling, there was a faint crack in the stone, matching a sore spot on his crown. Luckily, no one had been around to bear witness to his moment of clumsiness. 

It seemed that no humans were interested in braving this storm. Though the Wind God was not mortal, he could empathize with mortal discomforts the rains and winds brought. And lightning––countless spars with his brother had long-since taught him that lightning was painful. 

Fujin drew in another breath. He kept his eyes closed, blocking off his senses so he could narrow his focus on the sounds of the storm. Everything moved as it should. The winds sang their song, the leaves rattled in tune, and the rain kept the rhythm. 

Then something broke the rhythm. A new beat echoed just outside of the shrine. Fujin furrowed his brows, but did not yet open his eyes. He instead listened. The sound pitter-pattered, though it was not the rain. No, it was footsteps. They entered the shrine, bringing with them another pitter-patter––the sound of water dripping from soaked clothes. 

Curious. So there was a human willing to brave the storm. But why? The Wind God remained still as stone, listening to the human’s movements. They approached slowly, with trepidation, and stopped before the bell and offering box. Fujin waited as the ring of the bell and the coin offering echoed through the shrine, and still a few moments more, until he could no longer restrain his curiosity. One eye opened, and the other followed suit after finding the little body––smaller than he’d expected. Why, the human in the storm was none other than a child, from the looks of it, perhaps in her mid teens. Curious indeed. 

The child had her head bowed and her hands pressed together. Her lips moved, voicelessly muttering a prayer. What could she have to say that could not wait until the storm had passed? Furthermore, most humans did not respond so calmly to Fujin when he maintained this form—this forty-foot-tall form. Did she not know that he was here?

Fujin watched for a full minute. She didn’t seem anywhere close to being done. He dared to lean forward a smidge, trying to catch her words. It was then that he noticed yet another oddity: drops of water still rolled down her cheeks. It could have been the rain—she was positively soaked, after all—but the accompanying sniffles and telltale paths the drops took brought him to the conclusion that they were tears. The girl was crying, weeping quietly as she prayed. 

This story kept getting stranger and stranger. 

The Wind God leaned forward a bit more, mouth open to speak, when the girl looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes. Her sudden movement startled him, stopping any words he was about to say in their tracks, leaving him to stammer lamely. Her subsequent scream, too, startled him. 

This was more the reaction he was accustomed to. 

Positively frightened, the girl stumbled backwards, very rapidly backpedaling towards the shrine stairs. 

“No—wait!” Fujin tried to reach for her, but he only managed to knock over the  bell and make her scream again. Her heel found the edge of the top-most step, and, with a brief teeter, her weight tipped backwards. She let out a startled yelp and closed her eyes, bracing for the painful fall down the hard, stone steps. Fujin grit his teeth and motioned with his hand, commanding the wind at her back to lift her and pull her back into the shrine. She remained in a state of shock, even as the winds cradled her and gently set her back down on her feet, safe and sound. Fujin bit the inside of his cheek, feeling foolish and awkward, but relieved that she had not been hurt. 

“Are you—“ the girl flinched at his words, though he made sure to keep his voice low. He cleared his throat softly. “Are you… alright, miss?” 

It took the girl a long moment to find her voice. “You’re not a statue….” 

“Ah, no…. You thought I was…?” That would explain why she hadn’t been immediately afraid of him. 

“I… yes…. I have never been to this shrine before….” She stole a glance down at her feet and swiped a hand along her cheeks, brushing away the rain and tear stains. 

“I see,” the Wind God leaned forward, chin resting on a loose fist. “I would be lying if I said I was not curious: what brings you here, little one?” 

Her feet must have been far more interesting, for the girl continued to stare down at them. Sheepishly she toed at a stain in the stone floor. Her shivers did not go unnoticed. Fujin guessed that he was responsible, though he suspected the cold also played a part. She was silent for a long moment before she answered him. 

“My brother––he… he’s been missing for several days now… We were supposed to travel back home three days ago, but I have not been able to find him. Nor have the police.” Her voice quivered, and her eyes threatened to spill more tears. She inhaled sharply, trying to mask her sniffles, and glanced up at Fujin. “I did not know what else to do, where else to go… so I came here to ask the Kami for help. You… who are you?” 

Her question drew a soft snort from Fujin, but her story kept him from laughing outright. “I am not the Kami of this shrine, but I am a god, yes. I am Fujin.” Before he could say more, the girl went tense. Stiffly she dropped to her knees and bowed before him. He lifted his hands, but decided against touching her just yet. “Please––no need for that. Little one, rise.” 

She hesitated, fighting her compulsion to show respect to the Wind God and to obey his words. Tentatively, she chose to do the latter, though her stiffness remained. Her shaking only seemed to grow in intensity. Fujin frowned, feeling pity for the girl. 

“What is your name, little one?” 

“Hiraoka Megumi,” she said, head still bowed. 

“And your brother?” 

“Hiraoka Kazue.” Her shoulders slumped and her voice faltered a little. Just saying her missing kin’s name caused her great distress. 

A sudden gust from the storm billowed into the shrine, bringing cold air and chilled drops of rain. The girl––Megumi––flinched and tried vainly to shield her face from the ornery weather. Fujin stole a quick peek outside, then waved his hands, stilling the winds around them. Megumi looked around at the suddenly stagnant shrine, then up at Fujin––just in time to see his large hands approaching her. A startled yelp left her mouth. She retreated a few steps, and his hands paused. 

“Easy. You are cold, yes?” He said, hoping his voice sounded soothing. “I am not going to harm you.” Megumi stared at his hands warily, and flinched when they continued towards her, but didn’t move again. Fingers thicker than her arms gently cradled behind her back and legs, lifting her weight from the floor as if it were nothing. To Fujin, it was nothing. He took care not to move too quickly, lest he scare her more. Her little form already shook in his hands like the leaves in the storm outside. Unlike his brother, who was usually very warm to the touch, Fujin was rather cool. Nevertheless, being a god, he could easily adjust his temperature for the girl’s comfort. He smiled down at her, trying to put her at ease. 

“Now, tell me about your brother. I may be able to help you find him.” 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay :)

I am not sure if requests are open, but if it is;

Can I please request Stronger Reader x Gojo, where the reader is almost perfect with everything (beauty etc) and comes from another universe? It would be funny if they were annoyed with each other at first, but then slowly became friends and then maybe Gojo having one side crush xD?

Close win for your great idea, so there you go! Please let me know what you think as I'm not 100% satisfied with how it turned out...Enjoy <3

Golden girl

Pairing: Gojo x stronger!fem! reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: Satoru Gojo really hates everything about you, especially the fact that you are stronger than him. Is it even possible to get along with you, let alone like you?

Warnings: Language, Gojo is pretty mean from time to time, kinda enemies to lovers, but no real fluff

He fucking hated it with every fiber of his heart. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you looked, the way you smiled, the way your powers are so enormous. Why on earth do you have to be so fucking perfect in everything you’re doing? You came into his life like a meteorite, crushing his confidence in an instant with your outstanding abilities, charm and beauty. Like a supernova, you emerged everything that he stood for and just made it…better.

“This is way too funny”, Yuji gasps while clinging onto Nobara’s sobbing shoulder for dear life.

“I’m telling you it’s true!”, you demand, your very own voice shaking in laughter.

Even Megumi can’t hold back a little laughter for any longer. Gojo’s eyes darken as he crosses his arms over his chest. You have some fucking nerve, coming in here “from another continent” like you said, almost surpassing him in everything he’s been doing for years. Fuck, he is the strongest, he has always been the strongest. Who do you think you are to steal his life away from him?

“Actually not, no”, he grumbles under his breath, eyes darted towards your perfect falling hair.

“What’s up with that face, Gojo? Did you not sleep well?”, you questions, gaze of innocence piercing through him.

His blood begins to boil in an instant, he sees nothing but red. The way your big round eyes seem to stare right through him with a slight hint of tease glittering in them makes him want to shoot a bit of hollow purple your way.

“Since you’re here, I’m actually feeling bad all the time, golden girl”, he remarks sharply.

You can’t help but let out a little giggle. You have nothing against Gojo Satoru. In fact, you really do admire him, his abilities and personality. However, it seems like he isn’t so keen about meeting you. You’ve been here for a while now and his behavior towards you is as terrible as always.

“Evil tongues could say that you are…jealous of me, Gojo-bear”, you reply with damped voice.

“Jealous of you!?”, he breathes out.

His fast and enormous steps close the distant between your bodies in an instant, his hateful gaze hollowing above you like a fatal shadow.

“Time to get going guys”, Megumi murmurs.

“I am the strongest, remember that brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“You were the best, Gojo. Now I’m here. So get out of the sun for me, will you?”, you bite back, very own words dripping in venom.

If he’s treating you like shit, you’ll definitely do the same. You’re way too fucking tired to let him do this to you.

“We will see”, he spits at you.

With one last hateful glance in your direction, he turns around and simply walks away.

Wow, what an asshole. __________________________________________________________

“Would you mind getting out of the way so I’m able to do my job?”, you snap at no other than Gojo Satoru.

“You can’t do this alone, (y/n)”, he shouts over the deafening noises of battle.

Bullshit. You’re slaying curse by curse so effortlessly that it hurts his eyes. He hates to admit it, but you make it look so damn easy – too easy for his liking.

“I’m doing perfectly fine Gojo. Are you worried about me?”, you tease him while demolishing a curse with the blunt force of your little finger.

“Worried about you, that I don’t laugh. I give zero shits about you”, he screams into your direction without hesitation.

“It’s actually mutual, asshole!”

“Why are they so mean to each other? I have never seen Gojo-sensei leash out like that, but when it comes to (y/n) he seems like a different person”, Nobara comments, eyes hypnotized by your moves.

“I think it bothers him that she’s stronger than him. I mean, being told you’re the strongest your whole life just for a random woman to show up and steal your spotlight sound pretty rough to be honest”, Yuji guesses.

“Why the hell do you have to be so damn mean? I did nothing to deserve your hate towards me, what is your fucking problem?”, you yell at him, body trembling in pure rage while still fighting off curses.

“Everything about you is disgusting, that is my problem!”

His words hit you like a wall. How on earth did it come this far? What did you do to make him this upset? Jujutsu High is your refuge in a world that failed to understand you for so long, you thought you finally made it. But this? This…is not fair. In fact, you are too good to keep up with this bullshit.

“Listen up Satoru.”

Gojo’s heart skips a beat when you call him by his first name. You’ve never done this, always calling him by his last name or stupid nicknames. He was never Satoru to you except for now, when your voice is dripping in venom and your dangerous eyes are darted towards him in a way he has never seen before.

“What the hell is your problem, huh? I’ve never done something to deserve the way you treat me like shit. I came here because I thought I’ll finally find people that understand me, who accept me the way I am. It’s not my fault that I’m stronger than you, you hear? Instead of making me feel like shit, you should think about training in order to become better than me, don’t you think? Being the strongest also means being able to admit your weaknesses. It pains me that you reject me so vehemently.”

For him, time stands still. Your glistening eyes show nothing but sorrow, his very own reflection staring down at him in guilt. Fuck, why do your words cut through him like a knife? Why does it have to be so true? Is there a reasonable explanation behind the way he acts towards you? He can’t put a finger on it. Damn, all of this just because you broke his ego so violently? He shakes his head, gaze drifting away from your intense stare.

“Whatever. Seems like you don’t need me here anyway. I’m leaving.”

You can’t help but sign heavy as you watch him leave in the matter of a split second. Why does it have to be so damn hard to like him? Everything would be so much easier if the two of you would just get along.

You clench your hands into fists, gaze hardening. It’s not your fault though. You tried and tried to get to him, to show him that you are better off as a team, that there is absolutely no reason to fight. This is ridiculous. And you’ll do hell to beg him on your knees to fucking like you.

“Let’s get this over with and go home”, you shout towards your students.

Fuck Satoru Gojo for now. After all, you’re still having a job to do. ___________________________________________________________

“Efficient as always”, Shoko comments while stitching up a small wound on Megumi’s forehead.

“Don’t flatter me, that’s my job”, you quickly reply.

“Seems like you’ve got hurt yourself.”

You desperately fight against the urge to roll your eyes at the sound of his damp voice behind Shoko. What the hell is he doing here?

“Yeah? I didn’t even notice”, you remark dryly, gaze fixed on his shamelessly attractive face.

Why does he have to be such a decent looking man, especially when you know that deep down, he has a good heart?

He crosses the room in just a few steps and stretches out his index finger.

“Right here”, he mutters, touch brushing against your forehead tenderly.

“Oh, he’s right. Just a little scratch though”, Shoko confirms casual.

You can’t help but hold your breath. This is the first time since the two of you met that he didn’t insult you after one normal sentence. Even his face isn’t twisted in disgust. On the contrary, his features are gently outlined. It almost looks as if he…cares.

“Thanks for noticing. One of the attacks probably hit me slightly when I wasn’t paying full attention.”

“So you too are fallible, huh golden girl?”, he teases you mildly.

“As we all, Satoru”, you reply with a sly grin.

You can’t explain why it suddenly feels so different, nothing happened between your last fight and now. But something definitely changed. You can tell by the way he wears himself and the unusual softness that radiates from his voice that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t hate you as intensely as he did anymore. And this observation fills your chest with nothing but warmth.

“Hey um…Would you mind…Training with me?”, he stutters.

Your ears must play tricks on you. Did he really ask you that? Are you dreaming? The Satoru Gojo is standing in front of you and talks to you very nicely. And now, to top it all off, he even asks you about a training session? What the hell has gotten into him?

“I mean…Sure thing we can. I already asked you about that for over a year…”

He shifts his weight while avoiding your gaze, a slight brush creeping up his cheeks. Satoru Gojo is embarrassed. This is too good to be true.

“Meet me at 4. See ya.”

And with that, he turns on his heels and leaves the room as fast as he came while you stare at the door without moving an inch. Somebody has to pinch you. What changed? How did he go from “I fucking hate you more than anything in the entire universe” to “I might consider to spend time with you”? You shake your head out of your trance. Doesn’t matter why or how. What matters is that this might be the chance to finally get along with him after months of spitting venom at each other. You really still dislike him, the thought of his annoying voice alone makes your body shiver in annoyance, but someone has to be the bigger person.

And that person is you. ____________________________________________________________

“You’re late”, you comment while stretching your back.

“Good things take time”, he replies with a cheeky grin.

He takes off his blindfold and you can’t help but take in the gorgeous sight of his striking orbs. You don’t see them often, to be exact you only catch a glimpse of them when he fights. To a neutral eye, Satoru must be the man of every woman’s dream: handsome, well educated, mischievous and flirty. But to you, he is nothing but irritating. Even though you can’t deny the fact that he looks good as hell.

“Enjoying the view (y/n)?”

You let out a disregarding snort before you are able to stop yourself.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gojo. I’m not one of your girls and I’ll never be.”

“I wouldn’t want you as one of my girls anyway, you’re way too feisty.”

Something inside you snaps at the sound of his stupid comment, facial expression dropping to the floor. He has some nerves, talking to you like that when he’s supposed to train with you in a few minutes.

“I will wipe the floor with your ass.”

A swift motion is enough to knock him off his feet. Good, that’s exactly where he belongs.

“You know that was pretty unfair, right?”, he mumbles and rubs his butt.

“Life is never fair I guess.”

“Trust me, I know that better than you.”

You can see the way his expression drops after throwing his words at you. The first thing you feel is…sorrow. It must have been hard for him to give up his place as the strongest to the hands of a random stranger. You came into his life so fast that he didn’t even have time to get to know you.

“I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, Satoru. I just want to let you know that I never hated you.”

He stops in his tracks, fist only inches away from your face with his eyes widen in visible irritation.

“Satoru, I…I don’t want you to hate me. I see the way you treat all the others and it makes me kind of jealous…”, you confess.

“You’re a pain in the ass, (y/n)”, he replies dryly.

Silence hangs between the two of you, your eyes are glued to the concrete underneath. How stupid it was to think that something might change after over a year of him hating and avoiding you. You tried over and over to win his heart, to show him that you are a lovable person, but it seems like none of this matters.

“But maybe giving this a chance won’t hurt.”

Your eyes lock with his bright blue orbs, a grin creeping up his face. He never smiled like this at you before, your heart begins to flutter uncontrollably in your chest. Does this mean…?

“So you don’t hate me?”

“Woah, easy there. I’m only here because I want to learn from you. Nothing else”, he responses along with shaking his head vehemently.

You can’t help but gift him with a wide grin. That’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________ Bonus

“(y/n)’s coming”, Megumi mumbles between two bites.

“What? Do I look good? Does my hair sit right?”, Satoru frantically hisses while pulling at his uniform.

His heart beats out of his chest. Over the past months, he got to know you better, to catch a glimpse of your heart. Turns out you aren’t only shamelessly gorgeous, smart and powerful, but a wonderful person in general. All the negative feelings he had towards you turned into something completely different.

“And you say you don’t have a crush on (y/n), huh? That I don’t laugh.”

“Hi Megumi and Satoru! How are you doing?”, you greet them both with a welcoming smile.

“I’m fine, but Gojo-sensei has something very important to tell you.”

Satoru’s head darts towards Megumi, hands clenched into fists. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What is this about? He doesn’t have anything to tell you. Expect…That little shithead.

“Oh really?”, you question, your gaze now fixed on Gojo.

“Oh, y’know…It’s not that important anyway and you just returned from a difficult mission. I might as well just get going”, he responses and is already on the way to turn around when you grab his hand and force him to face you.

“Satoru”, you warn him.

“Just tell me what you want to tell me.”

“I was wondering if you…Want to grab something to eat with me”, he presses out.

Silence. Satoru swears he can hear his own heart hammering against his ribcage, not daring to look up at you. Did he really say that? Did he really ask such a stupid question?

“So, like a date?”

“Oh hell no, absolutely not!”, he cries out.

“Huh, too bad. Would have said yes in that chase. But if you don’t want to, I will leave now and get ready for the next lecture. See you around, Satoru.”

“W-wait, (y/n)! I didn’t mean it like that!”, Gojo calls after you.

“Wow, first you go from hating to crushing over her and now you’re even too dumb to talk to her. I thought someone like you is good in talking to girls all the time”, Megumi comments.

“Just wait until you fall in love, Megumi!”