xxsk8ergirlxx

Latest Posts by xxsk8ergirlxx

l’amour de ma vie — geto suguru.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that." He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Not Safe For Work (NSFW), R-18, Angst, Toxic Love, Romance, Break-Up, Situationship, Toxic Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Lack of Communication, Dysfunctional Relationship, Hurt/No Comfort, Depression, Emotional Distress, Emotional Manipulation, Disassociation, Anticipatory Grief, Smut, P to V Sex, Bathtub Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Smoking, Depiction of Dysfunctional Relationship, Depiction of Unhealthy Behaviours, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Cigarettes and Smoking, Depiction of Disassociation, Mention of Physical and Or Bodily Harm, Mention of Murder, Mention of Blood, Mention of Character Death, Mention of Future Events;

WORDS: 9.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if i should be honest, i think this little thing surpasses pretending as always and the other woman in terms of the sad meter. i really enjoyed writing this because it was just raw and emotionally revealing. if anything, this is my current favorite. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did and still do!!! i love you all <3

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EVER SINCE YOU MET HIM, HE FELT LIKE HOME. You and Geto Suguru had always been inseparable, two halves of the same whole from the very first day at Jujutsu High.

While the world often paired him with Gojo Satoru — the two of them known for their strength and partnership — there was something between you and Suguru that ran deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. You were his mirror in ways Satoru could never be. You understood him not just through the bond of shared power but in the quiet moments, in the spaces between battle and duty.

Where Satoru reveled in his god-like strength, you and Suguru shared the burden of understanding the world’s cruelty, the cost of being sorcerers. There was an unspoken connection between you two, built on a mutual respect for the world’s darker truths and the weight that came with protecting it. You saw him, truly saw him, in ways no one else could — not even Satoru.

It happened slowly, you're falling in love. It wasn’t some grand, sweeping romance but rather a quiet thing that grew over time, unnoticed at first. The little moments where you stayed back after training, talking under the stars, your conversations deep and philosophical, both of you sharing dreams, fears, and the weight of what it meant to bear the responsibility of a jujutsu sorcerer.

It was in the way he’d find you after a tough mission, silently standing by your side until you were ready to speak. The way his eyes softened just for you, in a way they never did for anyone else.

There was no sudden realization, no epiphany — just the slow warmth of knowing that his presence had become as necessary to you as breathing. You would exchange a glance across the room, and in that look, you would know what the other was thinking. It was as if your souls were entwined, slowly knitting together over time.

Suguru had always been cautious, thoughtful, but with you, his walls seemed to fall away bit by bit. He didn’t have to hide the weight of his worries, the questions that plagued him late into the night. And in return, you shared your own vulnerability, your own doubts, the moments of quiet despair that came with your duties.

Your hands would brush against each other during missions, the brief touch sending sparks through your veins, but neither of you spoke of it at first. It was too fragile, too precious to put into words. But those touches lingered, the brief glances became longer, and soon, the silences between you were filled with the unspoken understanding of what you both felt.

You fell in love in those small, stolen moments — not all at once, but in the way his gaze lingered a little longer on you during training, the way he would seek you out even when there was no reason to. You noticed how his voice softened when he spoke your name, how his laughter felt more genuine when it was with you.

It was gradual, this love. It wasn’t fireworks or grand confessions. It was a quiet, persistent thing, growing slowly but steadily, as natural as the rising sun. And before either of you truly realized it, you had become his other half — not just in battle, but in everything.

And Suguru, who had always carried the weight of the world so heavily on his shoulders, found solace in you, found love in a way that didn’t need words or declarations. You were his mirror, his equal, the one who truly understood the depths of who he was. 

And he, in turn, became yours.

The change was subtle, barely noticeable at first. It was in the way Suguru’s shoulders relaxed when you were around, the way his eyes would light up just a little more when you spoke. Your friendship, already so deep, had slipped effortlessly into something more intimate without either of you acknowledging it out loud. It was as if neither of you wanted to disturb the delicate balance, afraid to name the thing that had grown between you for fear it might shatter.

You began to spend more time together outside of missions and training. You’d sit side by side in the library, poring over old texts or discussing jujutsu theory long into the night. On rare afternoons off, you’d find a quiet corner of the campus to sit and talk about everything and nothing — your pasts, your dreams for the future, your shared frustrations with the world you were tasked with protecting. In those moments, the world seemed smaller, more manageable, as if it was just the two of you in it.

There were no grand gestures between you and Suguru, but the small things added up — the way he would bring you tea without asking, knowing exactly how you liked it; the way you’d patch up his wounds after a particularly difficult mission, your fingers lingering on his skin a little longer than necessary. He’d watch you as you worked, his gaze soft, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. 

And you? You found yourself looking forward to the moments when it was just the two of you, when the weight of your roles as jujutsu sorcerers could fall away and you could just be. You knew you were falling for him, slowly but irrevocably, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t need to. What you shared with Suguru was natural, inevitable, like the slow blooming of a flower. 

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after a particularly grueling mission, that something shifted. You had been injured — not seriously, but enough to warrant Suguru’s concern. He had stayed by your side, helping you back to your room after Gojo had left to handle the debriefing. You could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw was clenched, his usual calm exterior cracking just slightly.

“Suguru, I’m fine. Really.” you said softly, trying to reassure him as you sat on the edge of your bed. “It’s just a scratch.”

But he wasn’t listening, his eyes dark with worry as he knelt in front of you, his hands hovering over the bandage on your arm. “You shouldn’t have taken that hit!” he muttered, his voice low, almost angry. “I should have—”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Hey.” you said softly, your voice drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “It’s not your fault. We’re a team, remember? We look out for each other.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and something shifted between you. The air grew heavier, charged with an emotion neither of you had spoken aloud but both of you had felt for a long time. Suguru’s hand moved to cover yours where it rested on his cheek, his touch warm and firm, grounding.

“I don’t want to lose you, you know that....” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “I can’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching slightly as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. “You mean too much to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him, your own feelings rising to the surface, too powerful to ignore any longer. “Suguru…” you began, your voice soft, but he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’ve been falling for you, doll.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession was something too fragile to say aloud. “Slowly, but completely.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the truth of your own feelings spilling over. “Me too.” you whispered back, your hand still cradling his face, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I’ve been falling for you too.”

There was a brief moment where the world seemed to pause, where everything else fell away — the missions, the responsibilities, the looming sense of duty that always seemed to hang over you. In that moment, it was just you and Suguru, the quiet intimacy of your confessions binding you together in a way that was both new and familiar.

Then, as if some unseen barrier between you had finally crumbled, Suguru closed the small distance between you and kissed you, softly at first, his lips tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips met his, a flood of emotion rushed through you, and you kissed him back, your hand tightening slightly on his cheek as your other hand found its way to his shoulder, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, neither of you in a rush, savoring the moment as the truth of your feelings settled between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Suguru rested his forehead against yours once more, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

“Maybe we were always meant to find each other like this,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t known he was capable of.

You smiled, your heart full as you whispered, “Maybe we were.”

From that moment on, things between you and Suguru were different — but in the best possible way. The love that had been quietly growing between you had finally been given a voice, and while nothing about your relationship was rushed or flashy, it was solid, rooted in years of friendship and understanding.

You were two peas in a pod, and now, you were more than that. You were his mirror, his equal, his partner in every sense of the word. And together, you faced the world — not just as sorcerers, but as something more.

THINGS QUICKLY CHANGED. With all the highs came the lows, and you could trace the exact moment you began to lose Suguru. It was the day Riko Amanai died. Everything shifted after that. Geto Suguru had always carried a weight on his shoulders — the responsibility of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the burden of protecting the weak from curses that never seemed to end. 

But after Riko’s death, that weight seemed to grow unbearable. You saw it in the way his eyes grew darker, the way his silences stretched longer, how the light that had once shone in him began to dim. 

Where once his passion burned brightly, there was now only a smoldering ember, flickering weakly in the face of despair. The laughter you used to share felt distant, a memory that seemed almost foreign in contrast to the ever-present heaviness that hung over him.

He had always been quiet, thoughtful in his approach to life, but now that stillness took on a different shade — it wasn’t contemplation or a moment of rest, it was something far more unsettling. It was the beginning of withdrawal, of detachment from the very things that used to anchor him.

He no longer met your gaze in the same way; when he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing through you, as if he was trying to find something beyond the present — something that would ease the ache in his soul.

Conversations that had once flowed freely between you both became strained, stilted, weighed down by unspoken pain. He started questioning everything. Not openly at first, but in quiet, haunting ways — in the pauses between words, in the way he’d linger before answering, as though the truth was too bitter to speak out loud.

You knew Suguru was strong, resilient, but Riko’s death had shaken him in a way that left him fractured. It wasn’t just about losing someone; it was about what she represented — the possibility of something better, something worth fighting for. When that was ripped away, so too was Suguru’s belief in the world he had dedicated his life to. 

And as that belief crumbled, you could see him beginning to unravel, piece by piece, day by day. His sense of purpose, once steadfast and clear, became clouded by doubts and questions, and you feared that he might never find his way back.

There were moments when you caught glimpses of the Suguru you used to know — fleeting sparks of the person who still believed, still fought. But they were just that: moments. Each one shorter than the last, like the dying flickers of a candle on the verge of being snuffed out.

It was in those moments that you knew you were losing him, and no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, he was slipping through your fingers. And you were helpless to stop it.

At first, you tried to reach him. You stayed by his side, offering your hand, your presence, anything you could to help him through the storm of grief and guilt. But Suguru had already begun to slip away, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t pull him back.

The moments of warmth between you grew fewer and far between. Where there had once been easy conversation and soft smiles, now there was a distance — a hollow space between you that seemed impossible to bridge. Suguru, once so attentive, now drifted away even when you were right next to him. You’d talk, but he’d be somewhere else, his thoughts consumed by something darker, something you couldn’t touch.

It drained you, the slow unraveling of your relationship. The pain of watching the person you loved most in the world grow cold, distant, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on. But you stayed. You stayed because you meant it when you told him he was the love of your life. You stayed because you couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning him in his darkest hour, even if he no longer wanted you there.

And he didn’t. You could see it in the way his gaze no longer softened when it landed on you, in the way he brushed off your concern with short, clipped words. He no longer sought your comfort. When he was hurting, he turned inward, shutting you out completely. And yet, you stayed, clinging to the hope that somewhere deep down, the Suguru you had fallen in love with was still there, buried beneath the grief and the anger.

But it wasn’t just grief. You could feel the bitterness growing in him, a festering resentment toward the world that had demanded so much from him, toward the system that had failed Riko, that had failed all of you. He stopped talking about your future together, stopped talking about anything that wasn’t steeped in cynicism and frustration. He was changing, and you could feel it, a slow and terrible shift that left you standing on the outside, helpless to stop it.

The breaking point came in quiet moments, little by little, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You weren’t the love of his life. You weren’t his anchor, his equal, his partner. Not anymore. Suguru’s love had been replaced with something else — an obsession, a mission that consumed him, left no room for you or the bond you had shared. He became fixated on a world where the weak didn’t have to suffer, where sorcerers like him weren’t forced to bear the weight of protecting humanity. His ideals twisted, hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.

And you watched, heartbroken, as the man you loved disappeared into that darkness.

Even when he pushed you away, you stayed. You stayed because you loved him. You stayed because you believed, deep down, that there was still some part of him that loved you too. But with every passing day, it became harder to hold onto that belief. The way he looked at you had changed. There was no warmth, no affection, only a distant coldness that chilled you to your core. 

You would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling while Suguru sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts, the space between you stretching wider and wider until it felt like you were in different worlds entirely. You could feel the end coming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

Because he was the love of your life.

But you could no longer say the same for him. 

Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

The nights were the hardest. You would lay beside him, and though the silence between you was heavy, it was in the quiet moments leading up to those encounters that you found a semblance of the closeness you had lost. When Suguru touched you, it was almost like a desperate attempt to reclaim a part of himself that was missing — a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

When he made love to you, it was a paradox. It was as if he was trying to find solace in you, to fill the void within himself, even if the effort often left you both raw and aching. His movements were urgent, almost frantic, as if he was trying to escape from the pain that had consumed him. His touch, though sometimes rough, was filled with a fervor that betrayed the depth of his emotions, a desperate reach for something he had lost.

You would lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust a mix of pleasure and pain. Even as tears streamed down your face, even as your body shook with a mix of conflicting emotions, there was a strange sense of connection. It was in these moments of vulnerability and rawness that you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved — even if it was through the prism of his own desperation.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with yours, and the room was filled with the sound of your shared intensity. It was as if the pleasure was a balm for both of you, a way to soothe the fractures that had formed in your relationship. His hands gripped you tightly, his body moving with a fervor that spoke of a deep-seated longing to feel something, anything, that resembled the love you had once shared.

In those moments, when the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was the connection between your bodies, you felt a bittersweet semblance of closeness. Even as his pleasure mingled with your own tears, there was an undeniable intensity to it, a shared experience that temporarily bridged the emotional chasm between you.

But even as you felt him inside you, lost in the throes of passion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was also a form of self-medication for him — a way to numb the pain, to forget the pieces of himself that were missing. It was as if he was trying to patch up the voids within him, using you as a vessel for his own fleeting moments of relief.

And so you continued, both of you lost in it, in a dance of pleasure and sorrow that seemed to provide a temporary escape from the reality of what had become of your relationship. The intimacy, though deeply painful at times, was also a reminder of what once was, of the bond you had shared — a bond that was still there, hidden beneath layers of grief and change.

As he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensing above you, you could feel the release echo through both of you. And though the moment was fleeting, it was a reminder of the connection that still lingered, however strained and fractured it had become. You lay there, both of you panting and spent, the silence of the room wrapping around you once more, the echoes of your shared experience lingering in the stillness.

In those moments, you clung to the hope that despite the overwhelming changes, there was still a part of Suguru that needed you, that loved you in the only way he knew how to express now. It was a painful paradox, but it was all you had left — the bittersweet solace of feeling loved through the remnants of a passion that once defined your relationship.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru….” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. 

His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust, “I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder. “You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “Take it. Like the good girl you are. Take it.”

YOU WEREN’T GOOD AT BEING ALONE. Not even after ten years had passed. Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

The nights were the hardest. You would lay beside him, and though the silence between you was heavy, it was in the quiet moments leading up to those encounters that you found a semblance of the closeness you had lost. When Suguru touched you, it was almost like a desperate attempt to reclaim a part of himself that was missing — a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

Even after he left and defected, becoming Jujutsu society’s enemy — and in a way, your own enemy — Suguru still sought you out. It didn't matter that years had passed, or that he had crossed lines no one could return from. Ten years later, you still let him in. You still let him ruin you.

You told yourself you wanted to care. To be angry, to be disgusted, to shut the door on him the moment you saw his familiar silhouette lurking in the shadows. But the truth was, it was hard to care.

Even with the blood on his hands — the blood of innocent people, of those you once fought beside — you let him ruin you. Because you loved him. You always had, and some part of you suspected you always would, even if he didn’t love you anymore. 

And maybe that was the most painful part — knowing that his love had withered into something twisted, something tainted by his bitterness toward the world. But you? You held on to what once was, clutching it desperately, as if it could somehow bring back the man he used to be. The Suguru who laughed with you, who shared quiet nights under the stars, who believed in protecting the world no matter the cost. 

Now, all you could do was lie back in the tub, bright bubbly water enveloping your body, offering a moment of warmth in a life that felt increasingly cold. You have been there for a long while now. But you didn’t have the energy to leave. You’ve been on a mission for a whole three days, and you had nothing left in you. Nothing but bitterness and perhaps, the energy for a smoke. 

All that was left in you was the will to smoke the cigarette between your fingers. You watched it burn lazily in your grasp, a thin stream of smoke curling up. It was addicting, to watch it dancing above the tip like fleeting memories. Fleeting, unattainable memories that you couldn’t quite grasp with everything in you anymore. 

Your vinyl played those rough melodies, the loud boom of it filling the cramped, claustrophobic bathroom with anything but peace. Somehow the chaos was all that kept the thoughts in your head out. It was all that let you breathe. It was almost peaceful — almost enough to pretend things were normal. Chaos, you think, was the only thing that made your life have harmony. Even if it kills you softly.

You can only ever look up at him, leaning against the doorframe. Your deep, dead eyes looked at him as though there was still light in them. As though there wasn’t any resentment, any grief. As though there was nothing but emptiness. Perhaps all that will ever be left behind in them were those tired tenderness. 

That brutal acceptance of what he was, what you had become to each other. You took a deep hit of the cigarette, taking in the smoke as though it was the oxygen you needed. His gaze never left yours as the smoke snarled through your face. 

Suguru could only ever return the gesture, though you could see the deep set of  fatigue etched in the lines of his face. His once-bright purple eyes, the ones that used to light up with hope and purpose, now seemed dull, as though the weight of his choices had drained the life from them. He, just as much as you, had become soulless. Lifeless. Walking corpses. Nothing more, nothing less.

His purple haze lazily traveled over your body, taking in the curves, the skin glistening under the dim light. But there was no lust, no hunger. At least, not that you know of. These days, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But you suppose, his eyes tell more than his mind does. As empty as they were.

All you can see in him was acceptance, even if it was just a flash of a moment. That same old tired familiarity. He had seen you like this countless times before — vulnerable, exposed, both physically and emotionally. And yet, somehow, this moment felt different. More final, more resigned. More exhausted. More empty. Each and every time, you think it gets worse. But you suppose that’s just what it is.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did you. What was there left to say? You had given him your love, your body, your trust, and in return, he had broken you. Over and over again. But still, you let him. Because no matter how far he had fallen, no matter how many lives he had taken, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away.

You watched him as he stood there, wondering if he ever thought about what you could have been — if, in another life, things might have turned out differently. But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. You don’t wanna think about it anymore. Instead, you took another  heavy drag from your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs as the silence between you stretched on. Only the loud chaos of the vinyl remained, and maybe, the tap water’s flow on the sink.

You wondered if he was going to stay the night, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. Either way, you would still love him, even as he ruined you again. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you always did. And some part of you suspected that deep down, you didn’t really want it to stop.

You exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching as it twisted into the air before dissolving into the dimness of the room. His eyes lingered on the ash filled with water before returning to your face. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but the silence between you stretched on, thick and heavy.

"Suguru." you finally broke the stillness, your voice quiet but steady. He blinked, as if hearing his name after so long startled him. "What are you looking for? After all this time, why come back?"

His gaze faltered. You could see it in his eyes — the hesitation, the wariness. He didn’t want to answer, not fully, not truthfully. "I don’t know, if I’m being honest." he murmured after a pause, his voice hoarse. "Maybe I’m just… tired."

You offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "We’re both tired, Suguru. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here. Why do you always come back."

He pushed himself off the doorframe, moving closer to you, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the horrendous music. His large fingers brushed the edge of the tub, his eyes tracing the ashy bubbles floating on the surface.

 "Do you ever think about what we could’ve been?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You took another drag from the cigarette, the embers glowing brighter in the dim light. "I used to." you admitted, staring down at the water. "But thinking about it didn’t change anything. What we are now… it’s not what we could’ve been."

His expression tightened, a shadow of regret crossing his features, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt beside the tub, his fingers trailing through the warm water. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt intimate — too intimate for what you had become.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that."

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

You looked at him then, really looked at him. The lines of exhaustion, the hollowness in his once-bright eyes, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. He was a stranger now, and yet… he was still Suguru. The man you had loved, the man you still loved. Even after everything. And you hated it. You hated everything about it. You hated him. And yet….and yet, you loved him all the same.

"I don’t know how to stop coming back to you." he admitted, his voice raw. "I don’t even know if I want to."

You sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Maybe you’re not supposed to," you said softly, flicking the ash from your cigarette into the water. "But that doesn’t mean this is healthy. For either of us."

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was soft, familiar, and you closed your eyes against the warmth of his palm, against the flood of memories his touch brought with it. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things were different, that you hadn’t ended up here, in this cycle of love and destruction.

But when you opened your eyes, reality came crashing back.

"Suguru," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "You ruin me. Every time. And I let you."

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "I know," he said, his voice breaking. "I know. And I’m sorry."

You laughed softly, bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry doesn’t fix anything. It never has."

He lowered his head, the exhaustion in his posture more evident than ever. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can."

You took a final drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it slowly. "Then maybe," you said quietly, "you should stop trying."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a sadness that ran deeper than words. "And if I don’t know how to let go?"

You reached out, your fingers brushing his, before pulling away. "Then we’ll keep doing this. Over and over again. Until there’s nothing left of either of us."

Suguru stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his guilt, his regret, in the silence that followed. You wanted to believe he would leave this time — that he’d walk away and never come back. But you both knew the truth.

He wouldn’t.

And neither would you.

The splashes of the bathwater almost seemed to compete with the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding, creating a symphony of intimate noise that filled the cramped space. The small bathroom was alive with the sensory chaos of your passion. The ashy, bitter, bubbly water in the tub surged over the edges with each of your movements, cascading down the sides and creating a pool of frothy suds around the base.

Geto Suguru, relaxed and reclining against the porcelain tub, looked every bit the picture of serene indulgence. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, a reflection of the deep, contented sighs escaping his lips. His usual composed demeanor was softened by the way he surrendered to the moment, his purple eyes half-lidded as he took in the sensation of your body pressed intimately against his.

The rhythm of your bodies moving together created a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock in a silent room. The sound of the water mixing with the echoes of your shared breaths and whispered moans painted a vivid picture of the intense connection between you. Each splash and ripple seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, adding a physical dimension to the emotions that were already swirling around the small space. 

In this confined setting, every movement was magnified, every touch felt more pronounced, making the experience all the more enveloping and consuming. The heat of the water and the warmth of Suguru's body combined to create an almost intoxicating environment, where the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the sensory overload of the moment you were sharing.

Your fingers clutched the rim of the tub for support, knuckles turning white as his hands gripped your waist, guiding your hips with a slow, deliberate pace. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with lust and something darker — something that lingered between desire and destruction.

Geto Suguru’s gaze was heavy-lidded with passion, with pleasure. His tired eyes never leave your face with every moment. His lips parted slightly, releasing a low groan as your movements quickened, water splashing violently around you. It was intense, almost punishing, the way you moved together — like you were trying to drown out everything else, the pain, the guilt, the past. In these moments, nothing else existed.

He let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening as he thrust deeper into you, sending another wave of water crashing against the sides of the tub. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, mingling with the music still softly playing in the background. It was a strange contrast — the gentle melody against the raw, primal intimacy unfolding between you.

"Fuck…" Suguru muttered, his voice rough, barely audible above the splashing water. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I can’t… stop."

You gasped in response, your body arching against him as he pressed deeper, harder, his movements becoming more desperate. There was no tenderness, no softness — just need. Need for you, for the release, for the fleeting escape from the weight of everything that had come between you.

But even in the heat of the moment, you felt the familiar ache creeping back in, the realization that this wouldn’t change anything. You were caught in the same cycle, both of you — tangled in a web of love, regret, and ruin. And even as you lost yourself in him, in the way he filled you completely, you knew that this would never be enough to heal the wounds you both carried.

Your breath hitched as he buried himself deeper, your thighs trembling with the intensity of it all. His name left your lips in a soft, broken whisper, and for a moment, it felt like you were both on the edge of something — not just release, but something far more terrifying. The edge of losing yourselves to each other completely.

But as your climax built, the water splashing and your moans blending with the music, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not at that moment. You leaned down, your lips brushing his as your body shuddered around him, and in that fleeting second, it was just the two of you — all the pain, the guilt, the love, suspended in the air between the breaths you shared.

Then, with a final, desperate thrust, everything shattered.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure finally subsided, the water still sloshing gently around you both. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as the fog of lust cleared, reality settled back in — heavy and suffocating. You stayed there for a moment, leaning against Suguru’s chest, your breath still ragged, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

But as his hand slid up your back, a soft caress, something inside you broke. This couldn’t continue. Not anymore.

You slowly lifted yourself off of him, your body protesting the movement as the water rippled in your wake. You stood up, the warm water dripping off your skin, but you felt cold inside. Turning your back to him, you grabbed the towel from the rack, wrapping it around your body, trying to create some distance — any distance — between you and what had just happened.

"Suguru." you said, your voice quiet but firm. You still hadn’t turned to face him. "This can’t happen again."

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting. You could almost hear his thoughts, the confusion, the quiet disbelief. He probably thought you didn’t mean it. That you were just saying it because the guilt always hit harder after intimacy.

You turned to face him then, your eyes meeting his. His expression was calm, though there was a flicker of something — maybe sadness, maybe frustration — in his eyes. "You have to stop coming here," you continued, your voice shaking slightly. "This is… it’s destroying both of us. And I can’t do this anymore. I won’t."

He shifted in the tub, his elbows resting on the sides as he sat up, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to understand where this was coming from. "You don’t mean that," he murmured, his voice low and even. "You always say you’re done, but you never are."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I know. I’ve said it before. But I mean it this time, Suguru." You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "This… whatever we’ve become, it’s not love anymore. It’s pain. And I can’t keep letting you back into my life just so we can tear each other apart."

He ran a hand through his wet hair, his jaw clenched as he listened, his gaze never leaving yours. "You still love me," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s the problem," you replied, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I do still love you. I think I always will. But that’s not enough anymore."

You stepped closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tub, your hands gripping the porcelain, your face inches from his. "Every time you come back, I let you in because I hope… I hope something will change. Maybe, this time, you’ll stay. Or that you’ll choose me over whatever it is you’re chasing. But you never do. And I can’t keep living with that."

Suguru’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, just as quickly, his usual calm mask slipped back into place. "You think I don’t want to stay?" he asked, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place — regret, maybe, or guilt. "You think I don’t miss what we had?"

"Then why don’t you?" you shot back, the frustration and heartache boiling to the surface. "Why do you always leave, Suguru? Why do you keep coming back, only to walk away again?"

He didn’t have an answer, and in that silence, the truth was louder than anything he could have said.

"I can’t keep doing this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I need you to go. And this time, I need you to never come back."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw the same brokenness in him that you felt in yourself. But instead of pleading or apologizing, he stood up, the water dripping off him as he stepped out of the tub. He grabbed his clothes, moving quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Suguru," you called after him, your voice wavering. "Please. Don’t make this harder."

He paused at the door, his back to you, his head tilted slightly as if considering your words. Then, without turning around, he muttered softly, "You always knew this would end like this."

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the quiet room.

You stood there for a long time, the sound of the bathwater still rippling behind you, the music still playing softly. But the space felt emptier now, colder. You sank to the floor, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of his absence settle in your chest.

This time, you told yourself, it was really over. But as you sat there in the silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had truly meant it. Or if some part of you was still waiting for him to come back.

YET WORDS ARE EASIER THAN ACTION. And you know, you were born to be a liar. Both of you were. And in the quiet aftermath of Geto Suguru's departure, you knew deep down that the promises made were nothing more than echoes of empty words. The truth was, you weren’t ready to let go, and neither was he. The cycle, though painful, was one you both knew too well — and you were trapped in it, unable to break free.

As the door closed behind him, you sat alone in the bath, the water now cold and stagnant, reflecting the dim light of the room. You stared at your own reflection, the tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes mingling with the water’s surface. The silence felt heavy, oppressive, a reminder of the lies you had told each other and yourself.

Hours later, long after the bubbles had dissipated and the water had turned colder than ever before, you heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. He was back — just like always. The moment you heard it, a part of you felt a twisted sort of relief mixed with the sting of knowing you’d once again fall into the same pattern.

Suguru walked in, his face a mask of the same weariness you’d seen before. He didn’t say a word, but the silence between you was charged with the understanding of what was to come. It was a dance you both knew well, and despite the hurt, there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of it.

You stood up from the tub, wrapping yourself in a towel, and looked at him, your expression a mix of resignation and reluctant desire. "You came back." you said, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

Suguru nodded, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "You knew I would."

You swallowed hard, fighting back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. "I did. I guess I always do."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe forgiveness, or understanding, or just the old connection that seemed to bind you both together, no matter how hard you tried to sever it. "I’m sorry," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "For everything."

You shook your head, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Sorry doesn’t change anything. It never has."

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, his touch as familiar as it was painful. "Then why do we keep doing this?"

You didn’t have an answer. Instead, you reached out and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. "Because we’re both liars," you said quietly, your voice breaking. "And we both know it. We lie to ourselves and each other about what this is, about what we want. And then we repeat it. Over and over."

He nodded, a resigned look in his eyes. "Maybe we’re just afraid of being alone. Or afraid of facing what we’ve become."

You turned away from him, walking slowly back to the edge of the tub. The cold, wet surface felt distant now, a reminder of how you’d tried to distance yourself from this pain, only to find yourself pulled back in.

Suguru followed, his presence heavy and unsettling. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You sighed, looking at him over your shoulder. "We do what we always do. We pretend. We tell ourselves that this time will be different. Maybe, somehow, it will all work out."

He came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace, his warmth mingling with the coolness of the room. "And then what?"

You leaned into him, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence despite the turmoil it brought. "And then we repeat. We rinse and repeat. Until we can’t anymore."

The space between you was filled with the heavy weight of your shared history, the cycles of love and pain that had come to define your relationship. As his lips brushed against your neck, the old familiar spark of desire reignited, even though you knew it was just another fleeting escape from the reality that awaited you both.

For now, you let him hold you, let the old patterns resume. You knew you’d fall back into the same routine — the lies, the hurt, the fleeting moments of connection. And as he began to kiss you softly, you resigned yourself to the truth you both avoided: that the cycle was far from over, and you were both too entangled to break free.

And so, you parroted the same lies, whispered the same promises, and let yourself be swept up once more in the inevitable repetition.

THAT DECEMBER RAIN WAS A PARADOX TO THINK ABOUT. You began to think that maybe, just as much, the rain was just like your love for Geto Suguru. And maybe, that’s the only way to describe everything about these past twelve years of being a prisoner to love. An inescapable, rough paradox.

When Suguru made love to you, it was a rough paradox. His touch was both urgent and tender, driven by a desperate need to escape the pain that had consumed him, yet somehow still managing to convey a deep-seated longing for connection. His movements were frantic, as if he was trying to fill a void within himself that could never truly be filled. It was as though every thrust, every caress was a plea for solace, for something that would make him whole again.

As he pressed into you, you could feel the raw intensity of his emotions, a tumultuous mix of pleasure and anguish. His touch was sometimes rough, but there was a fervor behind it that betrayed the depth of his feelings. It was a paradoxical experience — he sought to find relief in you, yet his desperation often left you both feeling more exposed, more raw than ever before.

You lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust an amalgamation of pleasure and pain. The contrast between the physical sensations and the emotional turbulence was almost overwhelming. As his body pressed against yours, you could feel the heat of his desire, his need to escape from the emotional abyss he had fallen into. Each movement was a reminder of the complexity of your relationship — the way it was interwoven with both intense pleasure and deep-seated hurt.

Tears streamed down your face, not just from the physical sensations, but from the emotional weight that seemed to press down on you both. Your body shook with the conflicting emotions that came with these moments of vulnerability. The pleasure was undeniable, but it was mingled with an aching sadness, a realization of the cyclical nature of your interactions.

Yet, despite the tears and the pain, there was a strange, bittersweet sense of connection. In these moments, you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved. It was a love expressed through the prism of his own desperation — a love that was as flawed and tangled as the relationship itself.

His breaths were ragged, his movements increasingly frantic, as if he was trying to drown out the pain that clung to him, that clung to both of you. His hands gripped your hips with a fierce urgency, his gaze locked onto yours as if trying to find something in your eyes that could make everything right again.

Despite the intensity and the pain, there was an intimacy in these moments that was deeply profound. You could feel the depth of his need, the rawness of his emotions, and the connection that persisted even through the chaos. It was an unspoken understanding, a shared experience that bound you together in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As he reached his climax, his body trembling above yours, the release was a mixture of relief and sorrow. You could sense the fleeting solace he found in these moments, the temporary escape from the anguish that had become a part of him. And as he collapsed against you, both of you panting and spent, the room fell into a heavy silence.

In the aftermath, you both lay there, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the weight of the cycle you were trapped in. The connection was palpable, but so was the realization that, despite everything, you were both still searching for something — something that might never be found. And as you lay there together, the intimacy of the moment was tinged with a poignant sense of resignation, the awareness that, even in your deepest connection, you were both still haunted by the same demons.

In these moments, you were reminded of the paradox of your relationship — the way it was both a source of comfort and a reflection of the pain you both carried. And as you lay there, holding each other, you knew that despite the rawness and the tears, you would continue to navigate this cycle, searching for solace in each other, even as you remained trapped in the same, unending pattern.

But even as you felt him inside you, lost in the throes of passion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was also a form of self-medication for him — a way to numb the pain, to forget the pieces of himself that were missing. It was as if he was trying to patch up the voids within him, using you as a vessel for his own fleeting moments of relief.

And so you continued, both of you lost in it, in a dance of pleasure and sorrow that seemed to provide a temporary escape from the reality of what had become of your relationship. The intimacy, though deeply painful at times, was also a reminder of what once was, of the bond you had shared — a bond that was still there, hidden beneath layers of grief and change.

As he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensing above you, you could feel the release echo through both of you. And though the moment was fleeting, it was a reminder of the connection that still lingered, however strained and fractured it had become. You lay there, both of you panting and spent, the silence of the room wrapping around you once more, the echoes of your shared experience lingering in the stillness.

You both lay naked together, the warmth of your bed now replaced by the chill of the room. The silence was heavy, filled with the echoes of your shared vulnerability and the weight of what was to come. Suguru’s body was pressed close to yours, his breath warm against your skin, but the intimacy of the moment was overshadowed by the gravity of his next words.

“Satoru and the Jujutsu society…..” Suguru said quietly, his voice carrying a determined edge. “I’m declaring war on them tomorrow.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your heart raced. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and resolve. “You know I can’t let that happen,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’d have to kill you before I let you get to Satoru. You know that.”

Suguru’s lips curved into a sad, knowing smile. “Maybe it’s better that way, don’t you think?” he said softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and acceptance. “Maybe it’s better that you and I can’t be on the same side in this.”

The finality of his words was crushing, and tears began to stream down your face. You felt an unbearable ache in your chest, the raw pain of knowing that the love you had shared was leading to this inevitable end. 

“Why did you have to make a home in my heart like this?” you asked through your sobs, your voice cracking with the depth of your sorrow. “Why did you have to become such a part of me?”

Suguru laughed bitterly, a sound that cut through the room like a knife. “I should ask you the same thing, hm?” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “Why did you let me in? Why did you give me a place in your heart when you knew how this would end?”

The room fell into a profound silence, the only sound the soft, stifled cries that escaped you both. The weight of your shared pain and the knowledge of the impending separation hung heavily in the air. The love that had once brought you together was now the source of your deepest anguish.

Suguru’s voice broke the silence, soft and filled with a tenderness that seemed out of place in the current turmoil. “I love you, with everything in me.” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you the most in the world. And if there is a next life, I hope….our rebirthed souls would be happy together.”

You looked at him, your heart shattering at his words. The intensity of his love was clear, even in the midst of the devastation he was about to bring. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, to find some last shred of comfort before the end, but the reality of his decision was unchangeable.

Suguru rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He dressed quietly, his back turned to you as he prepared to leave. The finality of his actions was palpable, and you could feel the end drawing near, a dark and inevitable conclusion to everything you had shared.

As he opened the door to leave, you felt an overwhelming sense of finality. This was it. This was the end. There was no going back, no more second chances. The love you had for each other had brought you to this point, and now it was tearing you apart.

Suguru looked back at you one last time, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. Then, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

You sat there, alone in the silence, the tears flowing freely now. The emptiness of the room felt like a reflection of the void left in your heart. The weight of his departure, the knowledge of the impending conflict, and the finality of his words all combined to leave you in a state of profound sorrow.

As you wept, you felt the crushing realization that this was truly the end of everything you had known. The love, the pain, the shared moments — all of it was over. And as you cried out the last remnants of your heartache, you knew that you would carry the weight of this loss with you forever.

trio sketches

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

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@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

love me anyway — fushiguro megumi.

Megumi was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Then, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?” The question took you by surprise, but you nodded without hesitation. “Of course, I do. I love you more than anything.” Before you could say more, he cut you off, his voice firm yet tender. “Then love me anyway.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll love you like that too. But in my way. Okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Idol AU!

WARNING/s: General Audience, SFW, Fluff, Romance, Mild Angst, Comfort, Care, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Crying, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Confessions, Mutual Affection, Love, Hugging, Idol! Megumi, Idol! Reader, Someone Love Me Like Megumi Loves Reader;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the kanji translates to 1st bubble - 'love me anyway' and 2nd bubble - 'i'll love you like that too'; i was also supposed to publish this last night, but i was exhausted from the nightmare of trying to get admitted for classes at our unprepared uni. but alas, it is what it is. also, i keep thinking - would people be interested to ask commission me for fiction work??? if so, tell me~ anyway, i love you all!!!

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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IF ANYONE ASKS ABOUT YOU, MEGUMI SAYS NOTHING. When Megumi Fushiguro was asked about his personal life, especially concerning his relationship status, he always took a measured approach. His calm demeanor, coupled with his reluctance to divulge details, created a mystery that intrigued fans and media alike. 

Interviewers would frequently probe with questions about who he might be dating, their curiosity piqued by his silence. Yet Megumi, skilled at deflecting attention, would maintain an air of nonchalance. He would often sidestep the inquiries with practiced ease. "I prefer to keep my personal life private." he’d say with a polite smile, steering the conversation to his latest projects or upcoming performances.

When pressed further, his responses would be deliberately vague. "I’m not seeing anyone special at the moment." he’d offer, though his tone hinted at something more, leaving room for speculation. Occasionally, he’d indulge in playful ambiguity, saying, "That’s a bit of a secret." allowing the press and his fans to indulge in their wild theories.

In truth, his silence was not a mere avoidance of the topic but a carefully crafted shield. The reality was that he was deeply committed to you, his fellow pop singer. To the outside world, he remained an enigma, but those who knew him well understood that his reluctance to discuss his personal life was his way of protecting something precious. 

Away from the spotlight, Megumi cherished the moments he spent with you. In the quiet of your shared spaces, there were no prying eyes, no pressure to perform or maintain a facade. Here, he could be himself—a man deeply in love, unguarded and tender in ways the world never saw.

He would often steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, a soft smile playing on his lips as he marveled at how effortlessly you fit into his life. It was in the little things—the way you brewed his coffee just the way he liked it, the shared laughter over inside jokes, the warmth of your hand in his as you walked through the city late at night, hidden from the world. These were the moments that mattered to him, far more than any public adoration or recognition.

Megumi's commitment to keeping your relationship private wasn’t just about maintaining his image—it was about preserving the sanctity of what you both had built together. The love you shared was too precious, too delicate, to be exposed to the scrutiny and speculation that came with fame. He wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the prying eyes and intrusive questions that would inevitably come if your relationship became public knowledge.

In those rare instances when the pressure of the media became overwhelming, and the rumors started to swirl, you both found solace in the understanding that this was your choice. The secrecy wasn’t a burden but a conscious decision to prioritize each other over the demands of the world outside.

Megumi knew that one day, when the time was right, he would be ready to share his happiness with the world. But until then, he was content with the quiet, intimate life you shared—one that was filled with love, trust, and the unspoken understanding that you were both in this together, no matter what.

Fushiguro Megumi thought of this bubble as something sacred, a secret he held close, not meant for the public but for himself alone. It was his way of preserving the tenderness and intimacy of what you shared, a private world far removed from the demands and expectations of his public life.

If anyone took a closer look, they might notice the subtle signs—the small but significant traces of you woven into his daily routine. The Polaroids tucked into the inner pocket of his coat when he traveled were a tangible connection to you, a reminder of moments that were too precious to be left behind. These photos, capturing the essence of your time together, were his silent companions on the road, offering comfort and a sense of closeness no matter how far away he was.

Then there was the worn edge of the photo he kept in his wallet, a picture he glimpsed every time he paid for his usual iced Americano. The photo, though small, held a world of memories within its faded colors—a candid shot of you laughing, the kind of smile that made his heart feel lighter even on the toughest days. This simple act of seeing your face, even in passing, grounded him, reminding him of the life you had together beyond the stage and the spotlight.

During his live broadcasts, there was yet another clue—another Polaroid placed on his nightstand, visible only to those who looked closely. To the casual observer, it might seem like just another photo, but to Megumi, it was a piece of home, a visual anchor to the life he cherished with you. This photo was a quiet declaration, a subtle hint at the love that defined his private world, even if he chose not to speak of it aloud.

Each of these small, deliberate choices was Megumi’s way of carrying you with him, of keeping you close even when you were apart. It was a way of acknowledging your presence in his life without exposing it to the world, preserving the purity of what you shared. In this carefully constructed bubble, you were safe, your love shielded from the chaos and noise of the outside world. And for Megumi, that was all that mattered.

To the world, he was enigmatic, but in the quiet moments away from the cameras, Megumi’s heart was unmistakably yours. And he absolutely loved it. He adored having to see these polaroids, the ones only for his eyes and be reminded that you took them for him. Each one had notes behind it — the date it was taken, the place it was taken and unique declarations of love from you. One after the other. Only for him to see. 

It’s not that Megumi wants to keep you a secret—far from it. He dreams of the day when he can hold your hand in public, fingers intertwined without a second thought, and kiss you on the street, feeling the world fade away as his lips meet yours. He imagines looking up during a performance and spotting you in the VIP box, your face beaming with pride as you cheer him on, your presence a source of strength.

But he knows you’re not ready for that step yet. And he gets it, truly he does. Being public together is a huge deal, something that would bring your relationship under the intense scrutiny of fans and the media. The thought of everyone speculating, commenting, dissecting every interaction between the two of you—it overwhelms you. And Megumi loves you too much, loves you too much to ever subject you to something that could hurt you.

So he waits, never pressuring, always patient. He works hard to ensure you know how much he loves you, showing it in the quiet moments, in the little things he does just for you. He’s there for you in ways that matter most, understanding your needs, your boundaries. And you know that, feel that love in every glance, every touch, every word he doesn’t need to say.

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SOMETIMES, YOU THINK THAT YOU AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM. You know you really shouldn’t even be thinking that. But It was really hard not to think that. Even little things like this, being able to be together, he’ll make it possible. Just to be with you, he’ll move every schedule he has around. You watched him intently as he prepared for song rehearsals, the familiar rhythm of the venue buzzing around you.

Both of you had been invited to perform at the same song festival—two stars in your own right, each with a dedicated following and a unique presence on stage. Yet, despite the individual paths you had carved in the industry, there was an undeniable connection between you, something that always seemed to draw you closer, even in the vast world of music and fame.

The festival was a high-profile event, a convergence of talent and star power, where each performance was eagerly anticipated by fans and critics alike. You were no exception; your name alone was enough to generate buzz, your performance a highlight on the festival's lineup. But this time, there was something more personal, more intimate at stake.

His stage was scheduled right after yours, a coincidence that felt almost too perfect to be real. It provided you with the perfect opportunity to linger behind after your set, slipping into the shadows to watch him perform without drawing too much attention.

It wasn’t unusual for artists to stay and support their peers, but for you, it was more than just professional courtesy—it was a chance to savor the moments you had together, to see him in his element, knowing that soon, he would be gone, and the time you had now would be all you could hold on to for a while.

Megumi had only decided to attend the festival because he knew you would be there. The invitation had come at a time when his schedule was already packed with album promotions and interviews, and truthfully, he could have declined without anyone questioning his decision.

But the thought of spending even a few hours in the same space as you, of sharing the stage at the same event, was enough to make him rearrange his plans. It was rare for your paths to cross like this, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by.

The festival was not just a performance but a brief, precious reprieve from the hectic lives you both led. It was a chance to be together, to share a moment that was yours alone, even if it was in the midst of flashing lights and roaring crowds. The fact that you were both attending had turned what might have been just another event into something special, something you both looked forward to with a mix of excitement and bittersweet anticipation.

Because after the festival, there would be rehearsals, and then he would be off again, flying halfway across the world to promote his album. It was the nature of your lives, always moving, always in demand, but it didn’t make the goodbyes any easier. You knew that once he left, it would be weeks, maybe even months, before you could see each other again. The distance would stretch between you, filled with phone calls and texts, but it wasn’t the same as being together, as feeling his presence beside you.

Megumi was focused, his expression serious as he adjusted his in-ear monitor, the slight furrow in his brow showing his concentration. For a brief moment, his gaze shifted, landing on you. There was a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes, a connection that needed no words. You couldn’t help but smile, the simple act of being there for him filling you with warmth.

He caught the smile, and something softened in his features, though he quickly averted his gaze as the stage director’s voice echoed through the space, calling for attention. Megumi turned his focus back to the task at hand, but you knew that brief exchange had said everything it needed to.

In truth, it weighed on you—the thought that Megumi was always the one making adjustments, bending and reshaping his life around you. You couldn’t help but think it was unfair to him, that relationships were supposed to be a two-way street. Yet, here he was, always the one who seemed to be giving more, doing everything he could to be with you.

When you were upset and didn’t want to talk, he’d still reach out, calling you even in the middle of his hectic workday just to make sure you were okay. When you were sick, no matter how busy his schedule was, Megumi was always the first one by your side, taking care of you with a quiet devotion that left you both comforted and conflicted.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t doing enough to reciprocate the love he so freely gave. It gnawed at you, a constant reminder that no matter how much you loved him, it felt like you were falling short. And that hurt—hurt because you loved him so much, and the thought of him always giving more than he received felt like a wound you couldn’t heal. You wanted to do better, to be better for him, because he deserved nothing less.

That feeling lingered, a quiet ache that settled deep in your chest every time you thought about how much Megumi gave and how little you felt you were able to return. He never complained, never once made you feel like you were a burden. If anything, he seemed happiest when he was with you, when he could be there for you. But that only made it harder to bear, because it felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness, his patience, his love.

You wanted to be the one to call him during a tough day, to show up unexpectedly and take care of him when he needed it most. You wanted to be the one making the sacrifices, the adjustments, to show him that your love for him was just as strong, just as unwavering. But every time you tried, it felt like your efforts fell short, like you couldn’t quite match the depth of his care.

The guilt was a constant shadow, always reminding you of how much he did for you. And no matter how many times he told you that it was enough just to be with you, that he didn’t need anything more than your presence, the doubt remained. Because deep down, you knew how much he meant to you, how deeply you loved him, and the thought of not being able to show that love in the way he deserved made your heart ache.

You resolved, quietly and firmly, to find a way to show him—to let him know just how much he meant to you. Because loving Megumi was the easiest thing in the world, but making sure he felt loved the way he made you feel was something you were determined to do, no matter how long it took. He deserved nothing less, and you would do everything in your power to make sure he knew it.

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IT WAS UNCOMFORTABLE TO SIT THERE AT THAT MOMENT. The ride home was quiet, the hum of the car engine the only sound filling the space between you and Megumi. The silence was thick, not with anger or resentment, but with the weight of unspoken emotions.

You sat beside him, staring out the window, lost in your thoughts. The city lights blurred as they passed by, each one a fleeting reminder of the moments that had slipped through your fingers—moments where you felt you hadn’t done enough, where you had fallen short as his partner.

The guilt gnawed at you, growing heavier with each passing mile. It was the little things that lingered in your mind, the times when you were too tired to ask about his day, when you were preoccupied with your own worries and missed the subtle signs of his struggles.

You replayed the conversations where you had said the right words but lacked the sincerity behind them, or the moments when you were present physically but your mind was elsewhere, distracted by the pressures of your own life.

You stole a glance at Megumi, hoping for some indication of what he was feeling, but his expression remained unreadable. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his focus seemingly on the road ahead, yet you knew his thoughts were likely miles away. You wondered if he, too, was wrestling with his own thoughts, if he was questioning your connection, or if he noticed the same cracks you did.

The guilt weighed on you like a leaden blanket, stifling the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find the courage to voice. You wanted to apologize, to explain that your distance wasn’t a reflection of your love for him, but rather your own struggles—struggles that had nothing to do with him but had somehow seeped into the space between you. But the words remained trapped in your throat, swallowed by the fear of making things worse.

As the car continued its journey, the silence grew more oppressive, filling the space where once there had been easy conversation and shared laughter. You could feel the distance between you, not just physical but emotional, a chasm that seemed to widen with every unspoken thought, every missed opportunity to connect.

Megumi, ever perceptive, noticed your silence. The way you stared out the window, lost in your thoughts, didn’t escape him. He knew you well enough to recognize when something was weighing on you, even if you didn’t voice it. The quiet between you wasn’t the comfortable silence you usually shared; it was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that had settled in the car like a third passenger.

He glanced over at you, his eyes softening as he took in your expression—the slight furrow of your brow, the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He could sense the turmoil swirling inside you, even if he didn’t fully understand its cause. Megumi had always been good at reading between the lines, at noticing the subtle shifts in your mood, and this time was no different. He could tell that something was off, that you were shouldering a burden you hadn’t shared with him.

His voice was gentle as he broke the silence, careful not to startle you from your reverie. “Why don’t you stay the night at my place?” he suggested, his tone laced with a warmth that he hoped would ease some of the tension you were feeling. “I’ll cook for you.”

He offered you a small, reassuring smile, trying to coax you out of your thoughts, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry whatever it was alone. Megumi knew that sometimes, all it took was a simple gesture to bring you back to the present, to help you feel grounded again. And cooking for you, spending time together in the quiet comfort of his home, was something he hoped would do just that.

“And then we could watch a movie,” he added, his smile growing a little wider, a bit more playful as he tried to lighten the mood. “I know you wanted to see a film recently, and I finally bought the CD for it.”

His offer was more than just an invitation to spend the night; it was his way of showing you that he cared, that he was there for you, even when words failed. Megumi knew you well enough to understand that sometimes, the best way to show his support wasn’t through grand gestures or deep conversations, but through the simple act of being there, of sharing a meal, a movie, a quiet evening together.

He hoped that by offering this, he could help ease the guilt he sensed you were feeling. He didn’t want you to think you had fallen short as his partner because, in his eyes, you never had.

Fushiguro Megumi had always valued the quiet, unspoken moments between you—the shared silences, the comfort of your presence, the way you understood each other without needing to say much. And tonight, he wanted to remind you of that, to let you know that no matter what was weighing on your mind, you didn’t have to face it alone.

As he waited for your response, his hand reached out to gently touch yours, a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter what. The warmth of his fingers against your skin was a quiet reassurance, a reminder that in the midst of all your doubts and worries, you had someone who loved you, who would always be by your side, ready to lift the weight of the world off your shoulders, even if just for a little while.

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making the guilt even harder to bear. “I’m sorry, Megumi.” you started, your voice wavering as you spoke.

He furrowed his brow, turning his full attention to you. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his tone full of concern. “You don’t need to–”

You hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “I… I’ve been an inadequate partner to you.” you confessed, your voice heavy with emotion. “It’s not fair to you, Megumi. You’ve done so much, and I feel like I haven’t done enough in return.”

Megumi let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as he reached over to take your hand in his. “Don’t think like that, hm?” he said gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a soothing gesture. “You’re always worthy of love, of my love. You’ve done well to love me too, you know?”

“But it’s true!” you insisted, your voice cracking as the weight of your feelings pressed down on you. “I feel like I’m always taking, and you’re always giving. It’s not fair to you.”

Megumi was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Then, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded without hesitation. “Of course, I do. I love you more than anything.”

Before you could say more, he cut you off, his voice firm yet tender. “Then love me anyway.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll love you like that too. But in my way. Okay?”

The simplicity of his words hit you with unexpected force, the sincerity behind them bringing tears to your eyes. Your Megumi always knows what to do. He knows how to reach you, to calm you down. To love you back to life. He reached up, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall, his touch gentle and full of affection.

“Don’t worry so much about what you think you should be doing.” Megumi continued, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just love me, and let me love you. That’s all that matters.”

His words wrapped around your heart, easing the guilt and replacing it with a deep sense of peace. You leaned into his touch, nodding as you let his words sink in, knowing that with him, it was enough just to be.

You leaned into Megumi's touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your cheek as he gently wiped away your tears. His presence was soothing, a quiet strength that you could always rely on, and in that moment, the weight of your worries began to lift, even if just a little.

Megumi pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he held you against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a comforting anchor, grounding you in the moment. He didn’t say anything more, allowing the silence to fill with the unspoken understanding between you. 

As the car continued down the quiet streets, Megumi rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing calming patterns on your arm. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are, okay?” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you for you—not for what you think you should be.”

His words, so simple yet so full of meaning, resonated deep within you. The guilt that had been weighing you down began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. Megumi had always been like this—steady, unwavering in his love, never asking for more than you could give.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into his embrace, feeling the tension leave your body as you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him. “I just want to make you happy, Megumi.” you whispered, your voice tinged with emotion.

“And you already do.” Megumi replied without hesitation, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just being with you makes me happy.”

His sincerity brought another wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love for the man who held you so tenderly, who accepted you with all your flaws and insecurities.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly as the emotions overwhelmed you. “Thank you for loving me.”

Megumi’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “You don’t need to thank me, you know?” he murmured against your skin. “I love you because it’s you. And nothing will ever change that.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with an affection that made your heartache in the best way possible. “We’ll figure everything out together, okay?” he said softly. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the tears. “Okay.” you agreed, your voice steadier now. “Together.”

Megumi smiled back at you, a look of pure love and reassurance in his eyes. “Together.” he echoed, pulling you back into his arms, holding you close.

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epilogue

A few weeks had passed since that quiet ride home, and in that time, something had shifted between you and Megumi. The weight of your insecurities had eased, replaced by a growing confidence in the love you shared. You found yourself cherishing the little moments even more—the quiet exchanges, the smiles, the unspoken understanding that connected you both.

One evening, after one of Megumi's performances, you found yourself backstage, watching as he wrapped up his set. The energy in the room was electric, the audience’s cheers still echoing as Megumi made his way off the stage. He spotted you immediately, his eyes lighting up as he walked over. Without a word, you reached for him, pulling him into a kiss, a moment of pure connection amidst the chaos around you. A friend snapped a quick Polaroid of the two of you, capturing the tenderness of the moment.

Later that night, as you looked at the photo, an idea came to you. You carefully positioned the Polaroid against a backdrop of Megumi’s stage gear, the memory of that kiss still fresh in your mind. With a smile, you snapped a picture of the Polaroid and opened your social media, ready to share this piece of your world with him—and everyone else.

The caption came naturally: "Here's more Polaroids for you to hide." It was a playful nod to the many photos Megumi had tucked away over the months, small tokens of your relationship that he kept close even when the world wasn’t looking.

You hesitated for a moment before hitting ‘post,’ but something in you felt ready—ready to share this part of your life, ready to take that next step with him.

It didn’t take long for Megumi to see the post. Almost immediately, he shared his own Instagram story, adding his own words beneath your caption: "Only if you let me love you anyway."

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you both had gone through, every doubt, every moment of reassurance, every bit of love that had brought you to this point.

You smiled as you read his response, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was a promise, a reminder of the love you shared, a love that was strong enough to weather anything.

And as the notifications began to roll in, the world catching a glimpse of the two of you together, you felt at peace. Because you knew, no matter what came next, you had each other. And that was enough.

As soon as you posted the Polaroids on your Instagram, the reaction on social media was immediate. Especially on Twitter. Fans of both you and Megumi began flooding the comments with a mix of excitement, surprise, and overwhelming support.

Fan 1: "Wait, are they… official now? My heart can't take this! 😭❤️"

Fan 2: "These Polaroids are so cute! Megumi must be over the moon!"

Fan 3: "I knew something was going on! They’re perfect together. Look at that smile in the last photo!"

Fan 4: "This is the content we've been waiting for! I can't believe it's finally happening!"

Fan 5: "Only if you let me love you anyway" — Fushiguro Megumi, you romantic! 😍"

As you scrolled through the comments, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Megumi. You know he must be excited. More than he would let on to show. And you knew only you would know. You answered with a smile, hearing the familiar warmth in his voice.

"You saw the post, huh?" you teased.

"I did, I did." Megumi replied, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "I wasn’t expecting you to share those photos just yet. But I want you to know that I’m really glad you did. I finally get to love you in front of everyone.”

"Yeah, I know." you admitted, your heart fluttering. "I just… I wanted to take that step with you. I’m ready, Megumi. Don’t worry. Just let me love you the way you deserve, okay?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could almost picture the gentle smile on Megumi's face. "You already do love me. But let’s keep taking polaroids for me to hide, okay? I still want some things that are just for me, from you.”

You laughed, feeling a wave of affection for him. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

“I love you.” He whispers on the other side of the line.

You smile, feeling butterflies. “I love you too.”

Nanami Kento was not a father; not strictly speaking. Not technically speaking. Not metaphorically speaking. The absence of paternity, however, did nothing to eschew him of the shackles he wore with pride, wearing them as a mantle; a medal of honour.

For one with such a black hole in his life, Itadori Yuuji would not notice Kento's absence unless something took Kento away from him, so natural was it that the void was filled.

Nanami Kento's priorities altered so dramatically, with such quiet consideration, that he had no real words to explain his situation to you when he first took you out for dinner. Or, when he took you out to the beach. Or, when you took him to that art gallery. Or, when you came over to his, tumbling through the door into stumbling kisses, all hands and groans and desperation.

For Nanami Kento was not a father. He ensured that his relationship with Yuuji did not overlap with his relationship with you, fearful that you would reject the burden of not-parenthood.

Kento was so introspective in his attempts to hide his not-parenthood, that he failed to see how blatantly-fucking-obvious he was. As if you wouldn't notice that dinner was always made for three, with a portion put aside or frozen for a hungry visitor. As if you wouldn't notice that Kento browsed the teenage boy sections in clothes stores, making note of what he would come back for later. As if you had not seen Kento listed as "I.C.E." on Yuuji's phone screen at school one day.

As if you were not a mother. As if you were not fully prepared to be.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento was stalking through the belly of the beast when he spotted two missed calls; one from Yuuji, and one from Shoko. His heart leapt into his mouth, his blade hanging dumbly by his side as he cursed internally at his lack of signal. Torn by conflicting responsibilities, he focused on the task at hand, but as a noticeably sloppier Sorcerer when worry gnawed at the bones of him.

An hour later, finally free, he jogged to his car, panting. He slipped into his seat, and called Yuuji-- no answer. He called Shoko-- no answer. He swore again, hurrying to start the car...and his phone buzzed.

He looked at the screen, and opened a message from you. He sat, staring at it, a cold trickle of worry down his spine. A photo; of Yuuji's characteristic shoes, beside your own, with the caption:

Picked up a wounded stray. He looks hungry. We'll be at yours soon!

Kento churned through emotions, trying to read your tone on the screen. Angry? Cheerful? Exasperated? Would you want to talk about his deceit later? Technically he hadn't lied. Or, he had. A lie by omission perhaps? She's angry. She's disappointed at least. Is that worse? That's worse.

Kento stewed, the whole drive home.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento continued to stew, when he arrived home to an empty house. He paced, and sat, and paced, and sat. He cursed himself for not maintaining tighter boundaries between Nanami-Kento-the-Boyfriend and Nanami-Kento-the-Not-Father. So deep was he in his self-flagellation, he jolted to hear the door open, and two familiar peals of laughter rolling through.

"--Ieiri-san told me I should have waited for Ino to arrive, but I just had to do something, y'know--"

"--not jump through a damn window, Yuuji, that's excessive--"

"--not stupid if it worked though--"

"--as your Not-Mother, I cannot condone this."

Kento stood, watching the scene unfold in wonder. You and Yuuji, bantering. You reaching for the grocery bags, and Yuuji insisting he carry them instead. You directing Yuuji to the bag with the snacks. Yuuji totally bypassing Kento, jogging past him to the kitchen.

As if this was his home. As if Kento was his home. As if you were his home.

Kento was still stunned into silence when you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Hey! Sorry we're late. Yuuji was hurt on a mission, so I picked him up, but I wanted to get ice cream, and I noticed we didn't have enough in for dinner for three, and--"

Your words cut off with a muffled "mmf!" as Kento leaned down, pulling you in by the back of the neck, and small of your back, silencing you with a kiss which tasted of all the gratitude for which he had no words. By the time he'd released your lips, his forehead pressed to yours, you felt the air rush back to the vacuum he'd left behind.

"...Kento, are you oka--"

"I love you."

The air rushed straight back out of you, leaving you light and giddy. Your lips puckered, threatening tears, so long had you been wondering if he'd ever confess the depths of his feelings.

"...you love me?"

"I love you. I love you. I absolutely love you. And I'm sorry I didn't--..."

"...didn't think I'd be happy with you looking after a boy with no parents, who needs some?"

You let your question hang, so Kento could soak in how much of a fool he'd been. He sighed, tense and looking over at Yuuji rustling through grocery bags in the kitchen.

"...I didn't want to assume that you'd accept it."

"Would you choose someone like that, though?" Kento looked unsure, and you clarified. "I mean, would you choose someone who felt jealous of you looking after an orphaned child?"

Kento's gears turned. "...no."

You smiled up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Exactly. So, like I was saying...I put fresh sheets in his room. I'll go and make dinner. Yuuji will pick a movie. And you should have a word with him about jumping through plate glass windows to get to a Curse faster."

At that, Kento's head snapped up, fixing Yuuji with a frown that had Yuuji dropping bags of snacks on the floor.

"Yuuji."

"Shit, I'm sorry Nanamin, I--"

"Language."

"Shit, I'm sorry Nanami-san, I--"

You headed to the kitchen, pulling on an apron and stifling laughter at the Not-Father and Not-Son bickering in your wake.

꒰ 💭 INTOLEWD ₊˚⊹ᰔ ── kento nanami 𝜗𝜚

ᝰ.ᐟ “you’re a kind of angel, dancing by the table. i was doing fine, then i met you”

contains. nsfw so, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. f!reader, dirty talk, fingering, pussy slaps, “good girl,” squirting. cheating. mentions of age gap.

“awwh, my sweet thing. loosen up for me, baby” the palms of nanami’s large hands rub and soothe over your pussy. cupping, caging in your warmth like a little dove. with care, covering your entire cunt before dipping a thick knuckle back into your walls. “you were acting so needy earlier, baby, let me in. cmon, let me in that pretty pussy”

the sounds you’re making are just filthy and nanami drinks them in like that very first sip of morning coffee pushing past pursed lips. your body falls limp like a pretty rag doll against the broadness of his chest, caving into his warmth as you weakly grab and paw at the blades of blonded bahia on his wrist. scratching the polished metal of his watch “w-wasn’t begging, ken”

a laugh rumbles from deep in his chest with no other purpose but to make you feel so small in him. heat threatening to burn the flushed skin on your cheeks right off. “so grindin’ on my thigh like a needy mutt isn’t beggin’? was finishing up some work and you couldn’t even wait, baby. kept pressin’ that needy little clit on me.” his voice vibrates thick vocal chords, producing a rasped melody that lingers and releases a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your stomach.

“no i- aah!” another finger slips into your cunt, curling up, scissoring against your wet walls.

“there it is. riiiight there. that’s where you want me, huh, baby?” he’s pushing against that swelled spot he knows you love more than life itself with the lined sensitive tips of his lengthy fingers making your brain mush.

your thighs part instinctively, your neck failing, making your head dip and fall to watch how lewdly his fingers disappear into the folds of your fat cunt, “see look. so messy, but i barely started touching you. was this already here?” he pulls at the strings of webbed silk that drip out your cunt, “got all wet grindin’ on me, hm? left me a little present?” he coos at you from behind your neck. the blushed tip of his pointed nose brushes against warmed skin softly when you buck up and whine. “poooorr thing,” he drags, “what’s wrong? want me to fuck you? want me to stretch that little pussy out? talk to me, baby”

and you just can’t because your jaw slacks at the curve of his finger dragging and massaging against your fluttering walls. his thumb moves to draw his name on your clit, to soothe his existence onto every inch of your body so you’d never forget how he makes you feel, groaning at how you squeeze and hug him.

“uhn uh, i asked you a question,” slap “i expect” slap “an answer”

your clits throbs at how he swats down on your pussy, “hnngg— want it, want it so bad” you whine. thrashing in the solitude of his warmth. he eggs you one with a “yeah?” moving back to press up against your clit, “what are you, baby? tell me and i’ll give you what you want. you remember, hm?”

he sweetly kisses the hairs on the back of your neck, little pins poking across the length of your body. you give him a nod and a whine and he smiles at both, “y.. your good girl. i’m your good girl, ken.”

“mhm, always so good for me, yeah? now let me make you feel like it, pretty” his lips press against your neck, again, then he’s licking and whispering into your caved ear as he lets his fingers sink back into your pussy, “give it to me, make a mess for me”

he moves to hold down the curve of your hip, ”yeeaa, my twitchy little thing, cmon” stilling you as his fingers rush deep, deep inside you, reaching places only he can.

your knees fight and knock against each other and he pushes against the mound of your tummy, coaxing you to give him want he wants. make him proud. and you do. throwing your head back against the strength of his angled shoulder as you squelch and squirt on fresh fitted sheets, “ohhh, fuck baby. mhm, juuustt like that. let it all out”

he hums and encourages you while his fingers move out to messily rub at your clit and your body feels like it’s engulfed in angry blued flames, eyes squeezing so hard the darkness is punctured by coils of swirling colors.

tears brim as you come down and they fall when you finally peel your lids back open, nanami kissing you so gently you melt like warmed wax but harden and mold back into him.

“ino ever make you feel this good? does he make this pretty pussy squirt like that, hm?” he pets at your head as it shakes, then at your pussy before moving to lap up the mess you made on his fingers. “that’s okay, my dove. just need someone older, more experienced to take care of you. that’s what i’m here for”

© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.

Sometimes princess is a grown man who committed multiple crimes

yeah, my boyfriend’s pretty cool, but he’s not as cool as me

thank you to the lovely @/luvluvluv06 on twitter for my first commission of me and boyfie takuma! they still have commission spots open so check out their amazing art 💕

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 6

Contents: pre-relationship, establishing feelings, slow burn, dinner dates, slow romance, first kisses.

When Kento said that he wanted to do things the right way, he was being very serious. You received more phone calls from him on each day of the week, at exactly the same time. He would call even if he'd seen you at work, albeit briefly, during the course of the day. He always made sure to first ask if you were occupied with anything else.

Each time you spoke was like filling in a new blank space on a crossword. A cryptic crossword, to be more precise. Everything you learned about him was either slipped like a knife between the rich layers of your conversations or hard won through every verbal sparring match you engaged in. It wasn't as if your interaction with him had become more complicated or less easy. The flow of thoughts and their exchange was still the most natural thing you both had engaged in.

There was so much more now, though, so much that hinged on Kento being comfortable enough to show you the parts of himself reserved for his leisure time. This was the self that manifested when he was truly off the clock and the rigid persona that inhabited his daylight hours could be shelved in favour of the man who simmered like a delightful burst of flavour, hidden just beneath the surface.

Kento was sensitive to the feelings of others. He was far less self-reliant than he thought (as responsible as the man was, he had terrible sleeping habits and ran through suits horrendously fast considering the nature of his work). He bought lots of books that he hadn't yet read, told his protégés numerous times not to look to him as an example, and then acted as exactly that, secretly indulged in romantic serials and b-grade martial arts films, ate fried chicken with beer every Tuesday and liked to visit the aquarium on his down time because watching the fish relaxed him. He always ended those aquarium trips by eating a sushi meal set, something you told him was decidedly morbid.

As someone who had spent years feeling drained by the many social interactions that came with any working day, speaking to Kento was a refreshing change, and not just because he was the man you had rapidly deepening feelings for. There was something about talking to him that left you feeling a little more enriched each time, as if some mischievous spirit, leashed by the strings that left lovers hopelessly entangled, danced with a loaded paint brush through your life, esoteric colours in unheard-of shades splashing against the placid walls of your current life.

Kento was a hopelessly beautiful mess of contradictions. Solid, yet vulnerable. Dependable, yet never disguising his yearning to live for something more. Practical and no-nonsense, yet a dreamer and an idealist. A man who gave himself no excuses, nor shirked responsibility, but made no secret of his desire for a soft life on a sunny beach.

You would not exchange him for anyone else in the world.

The second time you go out together, he calls it a date. He is completely unabashed in his approach. He sees no need to conceal what you both know to be the truth, now that it has been acknowledged. It's something you have keen appreciation for. He doesn't message you the details, instead asking you outright in the break room, where you meet regularly for lunch.

He wants to go to a specific seafood place that he feels you will enjoy. When you cheerfully agree, he touches you with intention for the first time.  It is only momentary, as if he can't contain the desire to do so. He reaches across the table and gently brushes his fingers over your wrist before that same hand smoothly unwraps the packaging on his lunch. You think that it's almost unfair, the effect that this small contact has on you, but then you see that his hands fumble with the chopsticks slightly.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before the conversation that is completely necessary takes place. You didn't know when it would occur, but the second time you go out together turns out to be the occasion.

He waits for you in the garden after work, as he did the last time. You're starting to learn how important routine in small matters is to him. You take your stroll through the school grounds, lingering in the familiar spaces that now feel new, due to the person beside you.

Kento is amused by the turn your conversation has taken.

"So, you've never learned how to swim?"

"Never. Even though I lived fairly near the ocean when I was younger."

"But what was it about the water that scared you?"

"Do I really have to tell you?"

"Yes."

"Is that an order?"

"More like a strong suggestion."

"How considerate of you, sir."

Kento clears his throat, and you glance sideways at him. Smiling, you continue.

"It wasn't the water itself. It was more the idea of what was beneath it. It's wasn't about what I could see, rather what I imagined was there."

"And what did you imagine?"

"Sharks."

"There were sharks near where you grew up?"

"Very rarely. But I thought of them anyway."

"Did you, perhaps, watch - "

You laugh and shake your head.

"Jaws? No, so that wasn't the reason."

He hums thoughtfully.

"All human fear has its root in a primal cause. It's our desire for survival, our learned fear. But not all fear is learned. Sometimes, we fear things that we can't quite put a name to."

This time, you're the one that can't hold back. You reach for him, the back of your hand brushing his.

"What are you afraid of, Kento?"

He pauses, before gently entangling your fingers. The simplicity of the gesture, along with its weight, steals your breath momentarily. He seems similarly lost for the appropriate words, the contact of your skin and his forming all the communication you are both capable of in that moment. Eventually, when the car draws up alongside, he has an answer for you.

"I'm afraid of many things. And my list grows longer every day."

The place he has chosen, ironically, is a quaint seaside cafe, a fair distance from Jujutsu Tech. This was why he had asked to leave earlier today. The place is situated on a high ridge overlooking a long, winding staircase that leads to a faint strip of shingle below. The sea looks rough, the weather grey and uninviting, which makes the atmosphere within the cafe seem cosier by comparison. The table he chooses is private, and this time you are seated closer to him, the setting more intimate.

"How did you find this place?"

"I was on a solo mission in the area for a few days. Got caught in a storm and found my way in here."

"Lucky coincidence. I like this place a lot. It's warm."

Your eyes travel across to Kento whose posture is a tad stiff. You realise that because he had come here alone on the previous occasion, he hadn't accounted for how small the seating space at each booth was with two people present. The leather couches formed an 'L' which left your shins pressed against the backs of his very long legs. You never were good at disguising your amusement and Kento watches you with narrowed eyes as you peruse the menu and wiggle your toes slightly. He clears his throat and taps his fingers along the edge of his drinks list.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Very."

"Hmm."

"Why, aren't you?"

"I mean to say, does this seating arrangement make you wish for more space?"

"No. It's cosy."

He goes back to reading the drinks list and remains noticeably rigid, as if he is doing everything in his power to keep from making you uncomfortable. It's not long before he asks again.

"Are you sure that you don't want to move?"

"Oh no. Not at all."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Is this my first personal encounter with your stubborn streak?"

"Perhaps it is."

You look up and can't help the laugh that escapes you at his put-out expression. You move your legs further along until they rest beneath his ankles, a far more comfortable position for both of you.

"Better, my good sir?"

The corners of his mouth curve upward, as if against his will and he relaxes, leaning back in his seat.

"Better."

The appetisers arrive, soft shell crab thermidor for him and sake-steamed abalone for you. He insists that you taste some of his food and you manage to sneak a small sample of yours onto his plate. As you wait for the entrée, sipping on the piping hot tea served in a beautiful earthenware pot, your gaze is caught by the turbulent sea, the distant waves breaking against the shoreline with a muffled roar.

"What are you thinking about now?"

Kento is watching you when you turn back to him. His voice is soft, carrying that gentle undertone that you'd never thought you'd be fortunate enough to hear, let alone have directed at you. You close your eyes momentarily before swirling the tea in your cup, stalling for time.

"I was thinking about how happy I am right now."

"You are?"

"Yes."

There is something in his glance now, something so warm, but so heavy. Your meals arrive and there is no opportunity for you to address it. Kento tucks into his food with relish. It seems that colder weather increases his appetite and, you have to admit, you're very much the same.

He returns to the earlier conversation you'd been having. This was one of the things you appreciated most about speaking to him. You both instantly knew what the other was referring to, even if time and other topics had passed in the interim.

"Would you be open to learning how to swim?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, I've made resolutions to learn at the gym many times. But I'm not sure ... I've always ended up postponing it."

"Why?"

"Things become busy. I forget."

"Sounds like there's a deeper issue here."

"Do you plan to do something about it, then?"

"Possibly."

"Don't tell me that you were one of those kids who stood behind the scared ones at swimming lessons and pushed them into the pool."

"Do you really think I'd do that?"

"No. But how else would you get me into the water?"

"I'd provide an incentive."

"You'd feed me?"

"Just how one-track minded are you?"

"I can't think of a single other reason to get motivated."

"Maybe I'd get in first."

You almost choke on your miso cod.

"Hmm. That may work. Nanami Kento, grade one sorcerer and swimming pool siren. Has a nice ring to it."

"This conversation will never be repeated to another soul."

After supper, Kento does not call the car. There is an enclosed nook outside the restaurant, sheltered from the worst of the wind, where you both stand, his upper arm pressed against yours. It seems that many physical barriers are coming down today, something you're definitely not complaining about. There is something about the sheer strength of the man standing so close to you that is both intimidating and intoxicating. In this moment, you feel that you can say anything to him.

And, possibly, he feels the same, because his next question opens the topic you weren't able to broach earlier. The one that darkens the already narrowing spaces between your life and his.

"You said earlier that you felt happy."

"I did."

"Just for that moment in time?"

"No. Being here makes me happy. And talking to you on the phone does too."

"I'd hoped I wasn't bothering you."

"Your calls are never a bother."

That keen sweetness, the unspoken tension that always hovered so close to your tongues was thickening the air once more. Kento looked down at his hands, fists closed over the railing.

"Are you saying that I make you happy?"

"Yes, Kento."

"What if that isn't always the case?"

"Are you talking about your work as a sorcerer?"

"Yes, and ... other possibilities. If this goes any further, I need to know that you will be safe and have peace of mind. If it means me sacrificing my own happiness, and yours, temporarily, I won't hesitate to do what's necessary. I don't want to see you hurt."

You let out a soft sigh and meet his gaze. It was vital that you address this now. He was not the sort of person who would leave an issue like this hanging tentatively between you two. You cannot mince your words either, because to do so would be an injustice to someone as principled and straightforward as the man standing beside you. You realise that in this moment, there is a different type of courage surfacing inside you, one you didn't know you possessed until you met him.

"Kento, I'll be frank. If anything happened to you, I'd be hurt beyond measure. With, or without us ... progressing further than this. I can't help how I feel. It's too far beyond my control. No, I'm not ashamed to tell you so. Nor am I embarrassed. I want you to know that I will miss you when we can't spend time together. That I will worry for you when you're out in the field. That I will wait for your call and feel relief when I hear your voice. That whenever a fatality is reported, I will feel sick to my stomach and never cease looking for you until I know that you're safe."

You pause and collect yourself. It's too late now, too late to cram the words back into your mouth. Secrets like this can never be swallowed. In this business, words like these birth curses. But they also birth wondrous things, feelings you know you can no longer live without.

"I want you to know that all these things are true, but they don't make other truths lesser, simply because they exist. Knowing that I will miss you doesn't take away from the fact that I cherish the time I spend in your company. When I worry for you, it's only natural. You worry for people you care about whether they're near you or not. You can choose to do whatever you want, Kento, now or in the future. But your actions can't change the way I feel. Not now. Not ever. You can save many people, multiple times, as a sorcerer. But you can't save me from myself."

The laugh that escapes you then is a little wild, a reckless sound that you wish you hadn't uttered, but it's another on the long list of things you can't pull back into yourself.

Kento is watching you as if you've transformed before his eyes, spurred on by the treacherous ocean behind you, into some kind of weapon that holds him in thrall, as if you've dealt him some grievous wound that, somehow, births more pleasure than agony.

He doesn't speak, but his hand comes up, the broad palm unspeakably warm and heavy against the side of your face. His fingers are rough in certain places, strong and capable as they trail down your cheek, pausing intimately at the corner of your mouth, before they move down to enclose the side of your neck, thumb resting beneath your chin.

Your face turns to him, a hapless sunflower towards a solar flare that arcs across space to unfold and destroy it. Your mouth opens under his, readily, and his warm, slightly chapped lips cover yours with that gentle firmness, so characteristic of everything he does. Your head is pushed to the side, tilting as he leans into you, something desperate under the staidness of his kiss, as if he is the one who has swallowed all the words you've spoken and is attempting to breathe his own intent back into you.

Your head tilts even further, as the kiss becomes less chaste, as his lips move with greater firmness against yours. He steals every breath you attempt to take and repays it with molten honey that threatens to drown you. His fingers are now tangled in your hair and yours are clenched in the fabric of his coat.

When you separate, a necessity to keep you both from suffocating, his eyes are shut tightly, the bridge of his nose slightly creased, as if he is in pain. You don't think you've ever seen a more beautiful sight.

You echo his movement, gently cupping his cheek with your palm and guiding his face back towards yours. Not for another kiss, no. Not now. There'll be plenty of time for that later. For now, you rest his forehead against yours and close your own eyes in turn.

Something about the sigh that escapes him, the solid weight of his head against yours, the soft fall of his hair against your brow, reminds you of an illustration you've seen in one of the many storybooks you've read as a child.

A weary knight finds a safe haven in a perilous forest, his back against an old, gnarled tree, sword shoved upright into the earth before him. You are willing to be the sword, no matter how thin your edges are worn. You are willing to be the tree, no matter how scarred time makes you. You want to stand by his side, for as long as you are permitted, holding off the beasts of the forest until dawn arrives.

@tsukimefuku @kentocalls @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan

Satoru Gojo Mangá icons

𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ! - masterlist

‧ ˚. welcome to jujutsu tech university's course catalog, a list of classes offered by our esteemed (and hot) professors. from slow burn to pining to enemies to lovers, and even more to come, we offer it all! all course descriptions for courses in progress are subject to change.

a/n: this is a masterlist for my prof au! for jjk. all will be one or more parts and 18+ only. prof gojo (1) is coming soon :).

other courses planned: yuta okkotsu (t.a.), nanami kento (literature/math(?)), hiromi higuruma (criminal law), choso kamo (phlebotomy) and more (send in an ask if you have ideas!)

‧ ˚. 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆 :

CODE TITLE PHIL403 THE ETHICS OF RELATIONSHIPS (SUGURU GETO)

COURSE DESCRIPTION: Professor Suguru Geto is a renown ethics professor, and you're a 4.0, straight A student whose GPA he's trying to ruin (or that's what you think). Instead of dropping the class, you're more intent on making him see your brilliance — but you get more than you bargained for, when the two of you learn more about the other — and what you owe to each other.

SATISFIES REQUIREMENT(S): 18+ ONLY, AGE GAP, STUDENT-TEACHER RELATIONSHIP, SLOW BURN, LOVE TRIANGLE, ONLY ONE BED, MUTUAL PINING STATUS: AVAILABLE / COMPLETE

PHYS143 THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION (SATORU GOJO)

COURSE DESCRIPTION: Professor Satoru Gojo was used to getting everything he wanted -- so when he took an extended sabbatical, forced to attend yet another symposium to mitigate the failure of his research, he wanted nothing more than to blow it off. Until he met you - someone who matches him in pace and wits, and makes him want only one thing - you. So when he has you and returns to his university, why is it he's the only one seemingly pining?

SATISFIES REQUIREMENT(S): 18+ ONLY, ONE NIGHT STAND GONE WRONG, BOSS X EMPLOYEE, FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS, DEPT HEAD X PROF, SUB!GOJO, PINING, MORE TO COME STATUS: SOON TO BE OFFERED / INCOMPLETE

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland@ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

Kiseki no Sedai but make it Jujutsu Kaisen (lol please don't bully me)

"You know, Nanamin," Yuuji started, between mouthfuls, "when we first met, I thought I wouldn't like you at all."

Kento raised one thin eyebrow over the rim of his paper-cup coffee. He sat with you, and Yuuji, at a dirt road Konbi overlooking Tokyo. The sun was setting, casting the city as a silhouette against oranges, purples. You could smell the earthy petrichor of an incoming storm. Yuuji did not mind, thoughtful as he slurped at an instant ramen.

"Like, really," Yuuji continued, his mouth puckered up, "I thought you were boring. Unfunny, grumpy, miserable. Maybe even a little bit mean." Yuuji laughed now, becoming gradually more animated as he set the scene. "And when you tried to lecture me, while I was fighting that curse? Insane. I was like, 'Who the hell is this guy?'"

You covered your mouth, hiding a smile, eyes flicking between your unreadable husband, and the bubbling boy opposite him. Yuuji finished laughing, wiping his eyes and sighing into another slurp of noodles.

You placed a surreptitious hand on Kento's thigh under the table, and he barely reacted, but to tense and cross his arms. Yuuji rested his chin on one hand, eyes softening as he looked over the ant-like lights, moving in scattered formation across the city.

"But then...I realised. You just cared. I mean, really cared. About me. And if I wasn't being treated right. And if I was gonna be okay." Yuuji swallowed, his voice thickening. "And I...didn't have anyone left like that. The only person I ever did have was my grandad, and maybe he just took care of me because he had to, y'know? But you chose to. Even though I'm...I'm a monster."

You saw Kento squirm within. You knew he'd had his misgivings about Sukuna's Vessel, before Kento knew him as Yuuji. You knew the shame and guilt Kento carried for that. His shoulders ached, a pall-bearer of emotions for so many.

"And you're hilarious. Anyone can see it, really. And you're a rebel. And a protester. And you stand up for the little guy when nobody else wants to. And you don't do it to make us like you. You just...believe it's right. And don't get me wrong, I like Gojo-sensei too, but I love you."

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and trying not to tear up on Kento's behalf. Kento remained silent, arms crossed and frowning down at his steaming coffee. Yuuji looked at you, uncertain. You gently flapped one hand; don't worry, you're alright, you're okay.

Kento eventually broke his silence, his voice gruff. He pushed his bank card across the table to Yuuji.

"Itadori-kun." Yuuji sat to attention, wide-eyed. "Go and get yourself some snacks. As much as you like. And the other students, too, if you know what they'd want."

Yuuji took the card in confusion, with both hands and a little bow, and disappeared inside the shop, the automatic doors booping behind him.

Kento stood, your hand falling off his lap, and grasped the metal railings overlooking the city, with his back to you. His shoulders were taut, stiff, occasionally hitching with emotion. You felt him, as you always had.

"...Kento? Are you alright?"

A thick swallow and a sniffle before a single gravelly, "Yeah. I'm fine, I...I'm fine."

Suck it and see

| Megumi x reader

Hiding tonight

Your massive crush on Megumi Fushiguro is interfering with Maki's plan to win the exchange event.

Don’t sit down ‘cause I moved your chair

Expect the unexpected; Kugisaki and Panda are on a mission to get Megumi and you together. The two times, Nobara and Panda set you two up, and the one time they didn't need to do it.

Glass in the park

"Who needs sleep when you're with your crush, watching reaction videos to bad movies?"

Stuck in the puzzle

There's something about your magnetism that makes Fushiguro Megumi weak at the knees, compelling him to give you all of himself, even if it means exposing his most vulnerable side.

Piledriver Waltz

Brick by Brick

She’s thunderstorms.

Black treacle

The hellcat spangled Shalalala.

Library pictures

All my own stunts

Reckless serenade

Love is a Laserquest

Suck it and see.

That’s where you’re wrong.

Extras

Love language

can also be found under the suck it and see series tag

I don’t necessarily blame Shoko, Yuta, or any other sorcerer for the choices they’ve had to make regarding the use of Gojo’s body.

It is absolutely heartbreaking that Gojo, a man who consistently has questioned in his life what makes him himself, and is the titular person who wants to change the cycle of jujutsu sorcery and protect kids from being turned into weapons like him’s corpse is now being reanimated by the student he once saved and came to love. However, this is entirely quintessential of how being a sorcerer is a curse more than anything.

Being a sorcerer means that you have to slowly chip away at your own humanity when it really counts. They’re not just fighting any Joe Schmoe, but SUKUNA. And keep in mind that we’re at this body snatching point after they’ve witnessed tons of people die and have been feverishly saving as many people as possible so they can fight again. Literally every person in these chapters is a victim. These people have experienced immense trauma and have basically been raised by violence of course their perspectives are going to be warped.

What’s more heartbreaking to me is I don’t even think any of them thought in a million years Yuta would have to do this. I truly believe they just believed in Satoru because that is all they’ve ever known. And then he lost, and not too long after him losing they initiated the swap. Not even a second to grieve or process what’s happening.

—hit me hard and soft.

billie eilish-inspired song fics!

“skinny.” — yuuji itadori x ex!chubby!reader

“i could eat that girl for lunch!” — jjk boys smau

“man, am i the greatest.” — satoru gojo, angst, hurt/comfort

“birds of a feather.” — megumi fushiguro, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

“wildflower.” — yuuta okkotsu, angst

“l’amour de ma vie.” + “blue.” — suguru geto, his pov, angst, post-defection consequences and reminiscing on the sweet sweet past

jujutsu kaisen

✿ smut ✧ fluff * angst

one shots

i am currently in process of reworking some of these. i will reblog once complete. i have taken a few works out of this list to be re-written entirely, but they are still on my blog somewhere.

satoru gojo

with me ✧ summary: as you find yourself awake at night, you wonder if it’s time to confess to captain gojo. (pirate au)

gojo's bride 5.4k words summary: as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

morning after ✧ summary: after sleeping with Satoru for the first time, you wake up to him making you breakfast. just a cute little comfort drabble tbh!

new years kiss ✧ summary: gojo devises a plan in which you can share a new year's kiss in secrecy.

when flames dance 2.4k words ✿* summary: as prince gojo's bride is chosen, you're left to experience one last night within his chambers.

heat ✿ 2.6k words summary: gojo isn't human. even if you can't explain it, you can feel it, in more ways than one.

payback ✿ 2k words summary: after learning your boyfriend has been cheating on you, satoru devises a plan of payback.

blood,night ✿ (satoru x reader x suguru x megumi) 4.6k words summary: as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

suguru geto

pull *✧ summary: two years had passed since you'd broken up, but when suguru serves you in a coffee shop, you feel the pull to him once more.

blood,night ✿ (suguru x reader x satoru x megumi) 4.6k words summary: as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

choso kamo

red,blood ✿ 10.8k words summary: bitten by a stranger, you notice an extreme aversion to food - instead craving one substance above all. moments from taking a life, choso brings you back to normalcy; with only one issue. it's choso's blood that you crave.

christmas tree ✧ just you, choso and his little brother yuji decorating the christmas tree!

heart-shaped roach ✿ 0.4k drabble cw: smoking weed (dubcon)

a white christmas ✧✿ 3.2k words summary: you and your daughter spend christmas with choso and yuji.

toji fushiguro

mornin' ✧ 0.7k words summary: waking up beside toji!

you shouldn't ✿ 4k words summary: arriving at toji's home after a break-up, you decide to finally make a move.

good girl ✿ 1.3k words summary: after accompanying toji to the zen'in residence, he wants to thank you.

wedding night ✿ 1.4k words summary: after an arranged marriage to unite your clans, you're left alone in a hotel room with your new husband.

insatiable ✿* 2.3k words summary: falling for toji, you finally venture to his home in order to confess, only to be met with a questionable encounter leaving you confused through your admiration for him.

first time✿ summary: after toji finds out you're a virgin, you find yourself in an ultimatum.

choke ✿ 0.8k words summary: just a smutty drabble tbh

kento nanami

two lines 0.8k words ✧ summary: after finding out you're pregnant, you contemplate what to do.

overtime 1.2k words ✿ cw:office sex, semi-public

megumi fushiguro

blood,night ✿ (megumi x reader x suguru x satoru) 4.6k words summary: as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

reunion 2.1k words ✿ cw:spitkink

yuta okkotsu

a piece of advice 2.6k words ✿ summary: after you offer condom advice to yuta, you put forward a second suggestion.

yuji itadori

blood ✿ 3k words summary: you don't understand why your boyfriend won't come over while you're on your period. the secret he's been keeping from you surfaces as he's faced with the iron scent he loves - yuji is a vampire.

sukuna

lord✿ 2.5k words summary: After confessing your sins, Sukuna is unsatisfied by your devotion to an undeserving God.

the proposal*✧✿ 5.5k words summary: an evening within a club owned by sukuna had ended in a late night conversation, the beginning to a secret friendship between yourself and your sister's boyfriend. only, when pining over one another for so long, you can't keep yourselves from the truth; you were in love.

maki zen'in

girl ✿ summary: after maki arrives in your home riddled in self-doubt, she learns your true feelings toward her.

The Unknown Heir

Masterlist

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader.

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warnings: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, some plot changes.

Part one: "A Painful Decision".

Part two: "A Shadow from the Past and A Dark Secret".

Part three: "Time to go home".

Part four: "Back to the starting point".

Part five: "The little bridge of our love".

Part six: "A bitter reunion".

Part seven: "A complicated relationship".

Part eight: "A look back to the past".

Part nine: "the secret is beginning to be no longer a secret".

Part ten: "Do not touch me".

Part eleven: "A part of the secret is revealed".

Part twelve: "Very close and at the same time very far".

Part thirteen: "Painful Lies".

Part fourteen: "The morning you weren't by my side"

Part fifteen: "Everything or nothing".

Part sixteen: "I want my dad".

Part seventeen: "Birthday gift".

Part eighteen: "I'm so sorry"

Part nineteen: "Coward"

cannot believe gojo dies with nanami basically calling him a heartless weirdo that only cares about winning

when he’s literally not that at all and loves his students so much—

I’m about to start crying honestly — I had so much hope going in (and that was definitely misguided because Gege) but fuck this shit

this is the worst possible ending for gojo ever — I don’t care, I refuse to accept canon

Pictures Of You

by BakeySama9 YAfter the horrific incident where your classmate, Tomie, was murdered in front of your eyes, your cursed technique had emerged and cemented you as a Jujutsu sorcerer. Years later, you find yourself having to go on a very long mission to deal with a special grade curse. The only problem is... You had been so sure you watched this very person die right in front of your eyes. Stories of people falling deeply in love with her only to murder her in cold blood begin to emerge as you dig deeper into this mystery. You are one of the only survivors that has encountered this very curse before, and though she was only a classmate in those days, something dark is emanating from her. It was always there, but maybe now it's darker and more evil than before. You're joined by your two coworkers, Special Grade Sorcerer Gojo Satoru and Grade One Sorcerer Nanami Kento to help you dispatch the curse. As the mystery begins to unfold in front of all of you, you begin to realize that love and lust are two different things and that they are nowhere near the same kind of sick and twisted infatuation most people feel for Tomie. Words: 1512, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), Tomie - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Kawakami Tomie, Reader, Yaga Masamichi, Ieiri Shoko, Ijichi Kiyotaka, Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Kugisaki Nobara, Panda (Jujutsu Kaisen), Zenin Maki, Inumaki Toge, Okkotsu Yuuta Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento, Nanami Kento/Reader, Nanami Kento/You, Gojo Satoru/You, Gojo Satoru/Reader, Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento/Reader Additional Tags: Nanami Kento is So Done, Gojo Satoru is a Little Shit, Protective Nanami Kento, Nanami Kento Lives, Gojo Satoru Lives, Protective Gojo Satoru, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Inspired by Ito Junji Works, Death via https://ift.tt/r9V23EK

Nanami Kento who, when asked what his sexual orientation is, simply responds "my wife".

JUJUTSU BOYS + PDA

how the jjk boys are when you're in public with them

including: gojo, nanami, choso, yuuji, megumi, maki

word count: 3.6k (500-600 words for one character)

cw: intended as canon compliant, established relationships, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, public demonstrations of affection, can't think of anything else tbh

a/n: been reading some fics in this format so wanted to try my hand at it again. it's been years since I wrote short pieces like that, so I hope you'll enjoy them!

GOJO

Gojo has no concept of personal space, and that is something you had to get used to since you started dating — if anything, since before you started dating. Even when the two of you were at a more flirtatious stage, he’d always be leaning towards you to talk to you, face inches away from yours, hands on your hips if he needed to move past you, arm casually around you if you were sitting next to each other. It was all the better if it flustered you.

None of this has changed, except that he’s much more extra about it now. Holding your hand while walking? Nah, that’s boring. He’ll have his arm around your shoulders, even if it’s not convenient given the height difference. He’ll also try to put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, pout if you tell him not to do it. If you’re waiting in line with him, he has both of his arms around you, is resting his chin on top of your head, and wants nothing more than for you to lean back into his chest, relaxing into his embrace. You can both be doing totally unrelated things — you’re reading and he’s checking his phone — but you’re slotted against each other, and that’s how it is ideally for you.

You’re waiting for him to show up to your date when you feel yourself surrounded by familiar arms, and then his cheek is pressing against yours as he surveys the book you’re holding in your hands.

“Whatch’ya reading?” he asks, breath warm against your cheek.

“Just doing some research on emerging curses,” you say with a shrug as you close it and put it in your bag. “So, did you want to check out that new bakery?”

He hums in reply, and you wait for him to move so you can start walking.

He doesn’t.

“…do you plan on letting go of me?” you ask after a while, turning your head to look at him.

He pouts at you, inches away from your face.

“I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet…”

“We’re in public, Satoru,” you say, feeling your face heating up.

“So? Let ‘em stare. They might as well, if you ask me.”

You want to roll your eyes — one day, you’ll have to talk about that exhibitionist streak of his — but in the meantime, you just have to crane your neck a little to peck his lips. They’re soft, as always, and he follows greedily when you pull away, his hand coming up to tilt your chin up gently as he presses more kisses on the corner of your lips, then on your cheek.

“You’re impossible,” you say, badly hiding your laughter. “Let’s go, or we won’t make it to closing time. You’re late, by the way.”

He lets out a heartbroken sigh, but finally frees you, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you start walking towards the bakery. He keeps his strides short, so you don’t have to run to keep up with him, instead allowing you to keep a comfortable pace.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m just too good at my job, they can never get enough of me.”

“Aw, poor darling,” you say. You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and bring it to your lips to press a kiss on the back.

He lets out a cough that doesn’t do much to disguise the fact that he’s getting flustered, and you grin, satisfied. Two can play that game.

Fortunately, neither Satoru nor you have any intention of forfeiting any time soon.

NANAMI

Nanami is a private man. There is no reason for the whole world to know his business, and he doesn’t feel the need to put his relationship on display for everyone to see. His softness for you is still plain to see in how gentle his voice gets when he speaks to you, in how carefully he chooses his words, in how fond his eyes are when he listens to you tell him about your day. He knows you like him holding your hand, though, so he’ll indulge you, especially when you’re walking by his side through crowded streets.

That is for practical reasons, of course. First, it just wouldn’t do to lose sight of you. Second, people tend to steer clear of him, his serious expression and his broad frame, and that means they realize quickly to steer clear of you. It has nothing to do with how soft your hand is in his, or how the way you use your thumb to stroke his skin sends shivers down his back.

“That’s a lovely restaurant,” you comment, eyes drinking in the elegant decor while Nanami is examining the menu.

“It had excellent reviews,” he answers, not going into details as to the great lengths he’d gone to in order to ensure that this date was as perfect as humanly possible.

“I’ve been in the neighborhood so many times, and I had no idea this was here,” you say. The place is very small, only a handful of tables, all of them now filled. You’re sharing an alcove with Nanami, creating some distance with other customers.

“There aren’t many tables available, so they don’t advertise much,” he explains as he sets the menu down. “But they’re known for their excellent cuisine.”

You give him a smile, then lean closer to him to kiss him on the cheek. Your lips linger just a little too long, and then you move them close to his ear, which is already turning quite red.

“Thank you for planning all that,” you say sweetly. “It looks wonderful.”

He clears his throat when you pull away, avoiding your eyes.

“Of course,” he answers, voice wavering imperceptibly. “Anything for you.”

And you know he means it, too.

Under the table, his hand finds your leg, large palm easily covering your knee while calloused fingers carefully rub your calf. You bite your lip, welcome the warmth that spreads in your body. You know Kento well enough to be sure that that’s as far as he’ll go, that he wouldn’t dare to do anything more in such a public setting, and that makes you enjoy the intimacy of the gesture all the more.

Later that night, while the two of you are walking out, his jacket is around your shoulder at his insistence — “It’s cold outside” — and he’s getting ready to call a taxi.

“Kento?”

He lowers the phone to look at you, and you push yourself on your tiptoe, hand closing around his tie to pull him down towards you.

It’s late at night, he tells himself. There’s no one around, he tells himself. That’s why he closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the kiss, regretting it when you pull away too soon and catching himself before he grabs you by the hips to get you closer to him.

“I had a great evening,” you say. “Should we take this to somewhere more private?”

How much more merciless can you get?

“Certainly,” he says. “Just give me a second.”

There is nothing he can deny you.

CHOSO

Choso cannot wrap his head around what he can and cannot do around you. The rules for what is proper, what is acceptable, have shifted so much since he was last around, and he would die before he embarrassed you — or worse, before he did something that would make you push him away. He knows that you wouldn’t, and yet the fear is like a weight that tugs on his heart every time he thinks about it. He walks by your side, glancing at your hand that’s freely hanging between the two of you, and though he brushes his knuckles against yours, he just cannot bring himself to do it. It’s to the point where it’s the only thing he’s thinking about — and he just can’t do it.

Then you see something that catches your eye and you grab his hand and pull him with you in that direction, and he thinks his heart could just fall out of his chest. You make it look so easy, so natural, being with him coming as easy to you as breathing, and he couldn’t possibly ask for more. It takes him many other tries, many other dates, before he can take your hand in his. When he does, you glance down in surprise, then grin at him, and kiss his knuckles softly — and he’s so happy he could die.

“So,” you say, sitting on the park bench, knee pressed against his while you’re leaning into him to show him your phone, your hair tickling his neck, “that’s the movies they have on tonight. Think we should call Yuuji to ask him what to watch?”

“Hm,” Choso says, not really focusing on anything you’re talking about, not when you’re this close to him, “isn’t— isn’t that the one franchise he’s always talking about?”

You burst out laughing, then rest your head on his shoulder.

“No offense, babe, but there is no one in the world I’d go see a Human Earthworm movie for. Even if this one is supposed to have romance in it,” you shudder at the thought, “I’d like to go see something actually. You know. Watchable.”

Choso’s mind is going in overdrive. You’re so close, and he knows he should have gotten used to this by now. He isn’t usually like this, but some passers-by are looking — not necessarily being judgmental, though there was an old lady earlier who scoffed and shook her head, but… looking.

“Then I don’t know if Yuuji is going to be much help,” he manages to say as you keep scrolling on the cinema’s website.

“That’s fair,” you sigh, standing up from the bench, and even if he can now think again, he misses your warmth and your smell right away. “Well, maybe we drop the movie and just go get something to eat, what do you say?

“Sounds good,” he answers, standing up after you.

Hesitantly, almost clumsily, he reaches for your hand, fingertips brushing against your thigh as he does, then tightens his grip around your palm, ensuring that it wouldn’t slip away from you. You give him a fond smile, then take a step to get closer to him, and kiss him gently. His breath hitches, and his eyes dart around the mostly empty park.

“T-there’s people around,” he says quietly, and he hates that you step back to look around.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

He takes your hand to pull you with him, and you follow him through the grass as he finds a more secluded spot, behind a tree.

“There,” he says, and you chuckle at how satisfied with himself he sounds.

“Oh Choso,” you coo, leaning against the tree while you grab his shirt to pull him down towards you. His mouth is warm, eager, and his cheeks remain a fierce shade of red as he kisses you back insistently.

You would have missed the beginning of the movie anyway.

YUUJI

The thing about Yuuji is that any type of public demonstration of affection feels so natural coming from him. It’s almost never meant to be suggestive, it’s not something he thinks through, it’s just something he does. You’ll be sitting with Nobara when he appears, and he just puts his arm around you while talking to her, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You’re walking with him when he lifts his head up like he’s forgotten something, and what he forgot was to hold your hand, silly him.

If you walk by him while he’s sitting, he’ll grab your hips to pull you in his laps, fingers rubbing circles on the skin of your arms, absent-mindedly playing with your fingers as he holds your hand. After all, why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t even realize that it flusters you, and it just feels so natural for him to show his affection like that. He’ll look at you with stars in his eyes while you speak, not seeming to realize that his face is so close to him while you’re sitting in his lap.

No one pays attention to it anymore. You arrive just as Nobara is starting the movie — she’s putting on an action movie, thank you very much, even if Gojo just bought the collector edition of Human Earthworm 4 for Yuuji, with the director’s cut — and with all the students crammed in the room, including Panda, who’s taking most of the space on the couch, there’s nowhere left for you to sit.

“Come here,” Yuuji says cheerfully, waving you towards the armchair where he’s found his spot, “it’s about to start.”

You glance around the room for a reaction, but no one is paying you any mind. You walk over to him, perching yourself on one of the arms, legs over his. He doesn’t seem puzzled by it, just puts an arm around your waist casually.

Of course, you end up still sitting in his lap eventually, just slipping in it at some point in the movie. Can you be blamed? He’s warm and comfortable, and he wraps both arms around you so he can tuck his chin in the crook of your shoulder, nose brushing against your cheek when he turns his head. Not that he seems to notice how it makes your pulse quickens, eyes focused on the movie.

“What are the themes even supposed to be,” he mutters under his breath, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance.

“’Military good’?” you suggest quietly as a guy gets blown up on screen.

“The first half of the movie was about military bad,” he protests. “They can’t just act like that never existed.”

“Would you two shut up,” Nobara shouts from her spot, “or Maki will come beat you up!”

The two of you pipe down, knowing the threat is very serious and not one to take lightly.

When the movie ends, everyone gets up, stretching, but you’ve gotten comfortable against Yuuji’s chest, and you don’t feel like doing that just yet.

“That was terrible,” Yuuji comments, and you let out a brief laugh. Gojo has somehow made a cinephile out of him, and you love how worked up he gets over that stuff.

“Yeah, we should have been watching Human Earthworm 4 instead,” you say.

“Exact— oh, you’re making fun of him.”

You giggle, then tilt your head to kiss him. For a second, he freezes, eyes going wide. Kissing is the one thing he rarely initiates — but when you do, you get to see his gaze soften, before his whole body goes soft. His hold on your waist tightens — and then a pillow thrown with impressive precision hits him, and only him, on the ear.

“Not in public,” Maki shouts from all the way into the kitchen.

“Hey,” your boyfriend protests, “I’m not the one who—”

“You’re such a traitor,” you gasp, struggling to pull yourself free from his arms — but it’s no use against his strength, and he refuses to let go.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Now, where were we?”

You might have been at fault for the first pillow, but that second one is all on him, as far as you’re concerned.

MEGUMI

Megumi is a private guy. He can be affectionate in public, but there is a side of him that he only wants you to see. He especially doesn’t want any of your nosy friends, or worse, his adoptive dad to see how he can be around you. They would never stop teasing him after, and he doesn’t think he could live with that.

Or that they could live with that. Because he’d kill them.

It does annoy him that he’s supposed to deny himself because of them. If it was up to him, he’d spend most of his time alone with you, preferably in a small house in the middle of a forest with no one around, no curses, no sorcerers, no nothing. That, sadly, isn’t an option though, so he has to find his own way to do things.

“Don’t move,” he says sternly. “You have something on your face.”

You roll your eyes, but tilt your head up towards him, as he carefully runs his thumb under your eye, then over your cheek, blowing on it once it’s done.

“What was it?” you ask.

“Just an eyelash,” he says with a shrug. “You’re good now.”

You study him, waiting for him to give something away, but he doesn’t, just staring at you with the same expression he always wears.

“Should we get going?” he asks. “I thought we were supposed to catch a movie.”

“Sure,” you relent. “We should get moving.”

The streets are quite full at this time of the day, and you have to step aside frequently to let people pass, sometimes losing sight of Megumi. Eventually, with a sigh, he grabs your hand, pulling you with him as he walks, sending murderous glares to anyone who stays in his path.

“You’re going to get lost at this rate,” he mutters as he pulls you with him.

“I mean, worst case scenario we meet back at the theater,” you say, and you grin at the offended look he gives you. He notices it, but doesn’t answer, a light pink dusting his cheek as he glances away.

He hates the idea of being away from you on a day that’s supposed to be about the two of you — but since he refuses to say the quiet part out loud, you get to tease him all you want.

To be fair to him, having Megumi as your scary guard dog does make it much easier and much faster to reach the theater. He gives you a pointed look when you get there, and, to your regret, lets go of your hand quickly, though his touch lingers there a second longer than necessary.

“Should we get a couple seat?” you ask innocently as you approach the register.

Megumi glares at you once more while you give him a sweet smile.

“It’s better that way, right?” he says, clearing his throat. “Otherwise strangers might have to share one.”

“Sure,” you nod, not even bothering to hide your grin. “It’s just more practical, right?”

“Right,” he says stiffly.

Even once you are in the couple seat, he keeps a thoroughly appropriate distance from you, one that you might find a little hurtful if, at the end of the commercials, he didn’t fake a yawn to put his arm around you, in the least smooth way known to man.

“You know you can just do it,” you say quietly as the lights turn off, resting your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go through all that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.

Reaching for his face, you tilt his head towards you, and push yourself to meet his lips for a sweet, soft kiss. For the first time since you’ve stepped foot outside, his whole body relaxes into yours, and he stops trying to pretend.

“You had something on your lips,” you whisper when you pull away.

He snorts, then quickly goes back in to steal one more kiss from you before the movie starts.

“Liar,” he says.

As if he’s one to talk.

MAKI

Maki isn’t a demonstrative person as a general rule. She does compliment you without hesitation, words falling from her mouth so genuinely that it never fails to fluster you, but physical demonstrations of affection don’t come easy to her, maybe because she received so little of it as a kid. She does it sporadically, and she does very much enjoy teasing you, loves knowing that she can get those reactions out of you.

It’s the more spontaneous gestures that get to you though. She’ll kiss your forehead after a battle that left you bruised, a way of comforting you. She’ll pat your head after you managed to pull an impressive move during training. On one occasion, when you got injured, she carried you in your arms to Shoko, demanding that you be taken care of right this instant. She’d been the one to get flustered after that, hiding her face in her hand in embarrassment when it was brought up later on.

It might not come easy to her, but she does love it when you do it — when you show her your love in that way.

“You’re late,” she scolds you when you reach her for one of your dates, needing to take a second to catch your breath because you’ve been running since getting out of the subway.

“Sorry,” you say between deep breaths, “there was an emergency.”

Worry flashes on her face immediately.

“A curse? Were you hurt?”

She reaches for you, tilting your face towards her as she examines it, then study your body to make sure you weren’t injured. You let her, surprised at first, then endeared.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she frowns once she realizes how soft your gaze has become.

You grin, then push yourself closer to kiss her. You don’t care that you’re in public, and though it wouldn’t have occurred to her to do it, neither does she. The kiss is sweet, gentle. I’m alive, you’re alive, it says. No need for more.

“See?” you ask cheerfully. “All good. Now, I’m pretty sure you were going to buy me dinner…”

She clicks her tongue, but she’s grinning. It’s nice to see her so at ease, so relaxed. It’s a side of her you’d never see within the walls of Jujutsu High, nor on a mission. You’re the only one that can bring it out of her, and man do you love it.

“I’m buying? Again?”

“I did almost just die.”

“Nice try, but you told me you were fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you insist, “but…”

“Well, I was disowned by my family, so I don’t have money. You’re buying.”

The two of you keep bickering, but, as you walk, you reach for her hand. She pulls away at first, years and years of reflexes kicking in instinctively, and once she realizes what you were doing, she’s the one who takes your hand in hers. She holds it delicately, careful not to break it — to be fair, her strength would probably allow her that.

It’s so sweet and light, being out there with you like that. So normal. She hopes it never ends.

You squeeze her hand, and she lets you guide her across the street, content with just following, knowing that she can trust you to fill in her shortcomings in the relationship, like she does it for yours.

The sky is grey, the forecast said it might run later tonight — Maki’s planned an umbrella, she’s sure you didn’t think of it — but as far as she’s concerned, the day is as beautiful as it could possibly be.

this is my first time writing for... pretty much everyone here except gojo lol. i hope you enjoyed it and that the characterization wasn't too off, but any feedback is welcome! if you want to support me and my writing, please reblog/leave a comment or send me an ask, i'd love to chat! i'll see you later for some more jjk writing ^-^

you can find my gojo x reader work here

An alternate universe in which Higuruma works as a shaman and is on the same team as Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

An alternate universe in which Higuruma works as a shaman and is on the same team as Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

An alternate universe in which Higuruma works as a shaman and is on the same team as Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

— "hold still for a sec, nanamin!" ★

some close-ups!!

hidden gojo bc u are my special

gege im coming for u. better watch ur back.

Happy Choso ❤️