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kissing ryomen sukuna, in its essence, feels like cannibalism.
it's all-consuming, entirely devouring - you sometimes start to wonder where he begins, and you end. every rational bone in your body is saying that you shouldn't submit to his wicked tongue or let him sink his sharp canines into the plush of your lips; and yet, against all odds, you find yourself baring your neck for him to feast on, led here by no other than your own traitorous two feet.
no longer are you just existing within his orbit, helplessly drawn to him like how objects are to a black hole - no, you're actively seeking him out.
at least, that's what you tell yourself when the crowd has died down, and you find yourself standing as one of the two last people left in the room.
"what brings someone like you here?" he asks, tone laced with nothing but bad intentions as he leans casually against the wall next to him.
you’re not an innocent fawn who’s stumbled unknowingly into the den of a beast; you’ve heard of the reputation that precedes him. the same kind of reputation that makes sure people walk faster on the sidewalk and avoid his gaze when he’s near, the kind of reputation that inspires whispers of both fear and awe, one which speaks of a type of status only earned by leaving trail of broken bones and bloodied fists.
but there’s something the rumours forget to mention: that he’s terrifyingly handsome as well.
you take in the man in front of you. sharp hawk-like eyes, a strong jaw that looks like it could cut diamond, piercings and scars galore, with spikey pink hair that looks deceptively soft. you note the black ink that marks his features, and you let your eyes linger, for longer than what anyone would consider socially appropriate, on the trail that dips below the collar of his shirt, which has seemingly moulded itself around the hard contours of his muscles, each movement accentuated by the sheer strain of the fabric at the concept of containing him.
there’s only one conclusion you can come to: he looks like sin incarnate.
"i'm new in town." you bite down on your lip in a failed attempt to hide the faint tremble in your voice, nerves bubbling dangerously under your skin. he notices, of course, a curious eyebrow raised at you as if, finally, there’s something worth his attention now.
"is that so?" he grins at you, the harsh corners of his mouth twisted into something with a little more edge than any friendly smile should have.
you feel your mouth go dry under his watchful gaze, brown eyes with an unnatural tint of crimson raking over your form much like how a predator would size up the creature in front of him to determine if it was worth making a meal out of.
someone with a stronger sense of self-preservation and better judgment would take this as their chance to leave before things could get worse. if there were metaphorical danger bells around you, they would all be ringing at full volume right this moment, signalling for you to get the hell out of there. but unfortunately for you, the longer you stay in his presence, the more you can feel your head, and subsequently your judgement, get more and more clouded with a delicious mix of fear, curiosity and desire every second you spend around sukuna.
"yeah. you think you can show me around?"
this is no little red riding hood story: you're not running away from the wolf; rather, you're offering yourself on a silver platter into his waiting jaws.
in the moments when you’re without him, in the dead of the night with no one but the still moonlight as your sole witness, you find yourself closing your eyes as you clasp your hands together, posed in what some might call a prayer. to be honest, you don’t even know what you’re praying for at this point - a sign from above that this isn’t what you should be doing, or even worse, this is exactly where you should be, in the arms of a man whose promises of salvation are more so a suggestion rather than a guarantee, masked under the minefield of danger he exists within.
he tastes of smoke, bitter sake and bad decisions, and unluckily for you, it's the best thing you've ever tasted. so when he cradles your jaw, calloused hands large enough to swallow the lower half of your face whole, you let yourself melt into his grasp as his mouth moves against yours in an act that cannot be called anything short of devouring you.
it's depraved what it is.
you want him to tell you that he's thinking about you as much as you are, that you're consuming his thoughts as much as he has been, to the point you don't think you want anything else other than him. when he takes, you give it all willingly, and whatever he gives, you take with the greed of someone who's been starved for their whole life until this very moment. a move he very much enjoys, as signalled by the satisfied hum he lets out when he pulls away at just the right moment to leave you high, dry and wanting more.
the taste of iron on your tongue does nothing to deter you. whether it's from you or him, you don't care. matter of fact, it spurs you on to cling onto him even tighter, having no regard for the red trails your nails are definitely leaving on his back as he bites down another mark onto your soft flesh, relishing the way you squirm against his grip.
you've never been good at taking things in moderation, so why begin now when the alternative of falling headfirst, completely untethered, into him seems so enticing? if your fate is to be consumed by sukuna, then you'll gladly accept it just as long as he makes sure the road down feels as intoxicating as he does.
kissing ryomen sukuna, in its essence, feels like cannibalism.
it's all-consuming, entirely devouring - you sometimes start to wonder where he begins, and you end. every rational bone in your body is saying that you shouldn't submit to his wicked tongue or let him sink his sharp canines into the plush of your lips; and yet, against all odds, you find yourself baring your neck for him to feast on, led here by no other than your own traitorous two feet.
no longer are you just existing within his orbit, helplessly drawn to him like how objects are to a black hole - no, you're actively seeking him out.
at least, that's what you tell yourself when the crowd has died down, and you find yourself standing as one of the two last people left in the room.
"what brings someone like you here?" he asks, tone laced with nothing but bad intentions as he leans casually against the wall next to him.
you’re not an innocent fawn who’s stumbled unknowingly into the den of a beast; you’ve heard of the reputation that precedes him. the same kind of reputation that makes sure people walk faster on the sidewalk and avoid his gaze when he’s near, the kind of reputation that inspires whispers of both fear and awe, one which speaks of a type of status only earned by leaving trail of broken bones and bloodied fists.
but there’s something the rumours forget to mention: that he’s terrifyingly handsome as well.
you take in the man in front of you. sharp hawk-like eyes, a strong jaw that looks like it could cut diamond, piercings and scars galore, with spikey pink hair that looks deceptively soft. you note the black ink that marks his features, and you let your eyes linger, for longer than what anyone would consider socially appropriate, on the trail that dips below the collar of his shirt, which has seemingly moulded itself around the hard contours of his muscles, each movement accentuated by the sheer strain of the fabric at the concept of containing him.
there’s only one conclusion you can come to: he looks like sin incarnate.
"i'm new in town." you bite down on your lip in a failed attempt to hide the faint tremble in your voice, nerves bubbling dangerously under your skin. he notices, of course, a curious eyebrow raised at you as if, finally, there’s something worth his attention now.
"is that so?" he grins at you, the harsh corners of his mouth twisted into something with a little more edge than any friendly smile should have.
you feel your mouth go dry under his watchful gaze, brown eyes with an unnatural tint of crimson raking over your form much like how a predator would size up the creature in front of him to determine if it was worth making a meal out of.
someone with a stronger sense of self-preservation and better judgment would take this as their chance to leave before things could get worse. if there were metaphorical danger bells around you, they would all be ringing at full volume right this moment, signalling for you to get the hell out of there. but unfortunately for you, the longer you stay in his presence, the more you can feel your head, and subsequently your judgement, get more and more clouded with a delicious mix of fear, curiosity and desire every second you spend around sukuna.
"yeah. you think you can show me around?"
this is no little red riding hood story: you're not running away from the wolf; rather, you're offering yourself on a silver platter into his waiting jaws.
in the moments when you’re without him, in the dead of the night with no one but the still moonlight as your sole witness, you find yourself closing your eyes as you clasp your hands together, posed in what some might call a prayer. to be honest, you don’t even know what you’re praying for at this point - a sign from above that this isn’t what you should be doing, or even worse, this is exactly where you should be, in the arms of a man whose promises of salvation are more so a suggestion rather than a guarantee, masked under the minefield of danger he exists within.
he tastes of smoke, bitter sake and bad decisions, and unluckily for you, it's the best thing you've ever tasted. so when he cradles your jaw, calloused hands large enough to swallow the lower half of your face whole, you let yourself melt into his grasp as his mouth moves against yours in an act that cannot be called anything short of devouring you.
it's depraved what it is.
you want him to tell you that he's thinking about you as much as you are, that you're consuming his thoughts as much as he has been, to the point you don't think you want anything else other than him. when he takes, you give it all willingly, and whatever he gives, you take with the greed of someone who's been starved for their whole life until this very moment. a move he very much enjoys, as signalled by the satisfied hum he lets out when he pulls away at just the right moment to leave you high, dry and wanting more.
the taste of iron on your tongue does nothing to deter you. whether it's from you or him, you don't care. matter of fact, it spurs you on to cling onto him even tighter, having no regard for the red trails your nails are definitely leaving on his back as he bites down another mark onto your soft flesh, relishing the way you squirm against his grip.
you've never been good at taking things in moderation, so why begin now when the alternative of falling headfirst, completely untethered, into him seems so enticing? if your fate is to be consumed by sukuna, then you'll gladly accept it just as long as he makes sure the road down feels as intoxicating as he does.
it’s a quiet night, and for what feels like the first time in forever, actor!you and ceo!ryomen sukuna finally have a moment to yourselves away from the demands of the world.
you’re lying halfway on your back, halfway on your side on the couch, as to your right sits sukuna with one arm curled around you protectively whilst the other sits sprawled out on the armrest. the room is mostly dark, save for the glow of the tv in front of you, which is playing one of your old dramas.
to be fair, if it was up to you, you would probably put on something else, but sukuna always demands to rewatch your old shows. he never says why directly, always making up some excuse about how all the other things on right now are “terrible wastes of time” and “garbage that barely passes for television, much less entertainment”, and yours just happens to be the only acceptable thing nowadays or some other similar excuse along those lines - but if anyone were to ask you, you just think it might be because he likes seeing you anywhere he can (even if you’re right next to him as you are now).
a fuzzy blanket rests askew upon your laps under his insistence that you should warm up since you’re always falling sick for some reason and that he doesn’t want to take care of you when you're sick since you’re always especially whiny then (he still does regardless).
you think it’s unnecessary considering the room is not even cold, alongside the fact that the man is basically a portable space heater with how much heat he radiates to the point you start to sweat sometimes at night, but you don’t say anything - just like how you don’t say anything about the shows because you know that this is his way of showing you his love, no matter how unorthodox it can be at times.
“come on, kuna.” you pout at him, shoving the arm draped across your waist in an unsuccessful attempt to free yourself from his iron-clad grip. “i called you over here to help me out with my lines, not just laze around, you know?”
as if to spite you for even attempting to escape him, he tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer towards his chest until you can barely see the screen in front of you. your cries of protest are muffled by his bicep, and out of the corner of your eye, you swear you catch the corners of his mouth turned upwards, almost as if in a satisfied grin.
“who said you can order me around, brat?” he huffs out, his chin now resting on top of your head so he essentially engulfs you in this new position, though you know his annoyance is nothing more than a smoke screen - all bark and no bite (only for you, though).
“fine, let me see the script.” he sits up and reaches out towards the forgotten booklet on the table before returning to his prior position; the glare of the tv casting a sharp shadow against his face and outstretched arm, letting you see every tiny detail of his face up to the way the black ink curls around his taut muscles.
“my 99th first kiss?” he murmurs absentmindedly under his breath, skimming over the pages with his free hand. suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, fingers frozen mid-air as if he just now registered what he read out mere seconds ago. a beat passes. he looks at you incredulously, his features twisted up in a show of disgust as his eyes flicker between you and the title page of the script.
“WHAT-” his voice booms out before he stops himself midway when he sees your confused expression, taking a moment to clear his throat midway as an attempt to recollect himself. “are you telling me that you’re gonna kiss your co-star 99 times?”
before you can even answer, he scoffs, shaking his head before he flicks the script out of his hand, landing somewhere on the other side of the couch behind him as if to get the offending item out of immediate sight. the papers land with a soft crash, and you wince slightly at the idea of your once perfect script now being crinkled.
“no, don’t do it. cancel it.” he states plainly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if to further assert his point.
an annoyed sigh leaves your lips at his sudden proclamation.
“sukuna! i can’t just cancel starring on a show when the shoot is just in two days!” you explain, exasperated at your boyfriend’s antics. you grab onto his shoulder in an attempt to shake some sense back into him, but unfortunately, you’re met with what is essentially an unmoving block of stone - resolute in its place. you know that sukuna’s always had a protective streak that sometimes veers into the territory of jealousy when other people try and get too close to you in that sense, but you didn’t think that he would act this way, let alone be this childish about it.
“i’ll buy out all the advertising spots. uraume will call the studio tomorrow. just cut out all the kissing.”
you’re sure that if the script were still in either of your lines of sight, the glare he would have sent in its direction would be enough to set it aflame in the blink of an eye. he brings a hand to his chin as if in a faux display of deep thought before he speaks again. “my 99th eye contact, that sounds much better if you ask me.”
the suggestion itself is so lame you’re fighting the urge to not roll your eyes out of your skull and punch him for even offering it up, especially with how certain he sounded about it.
“are you crazy? who would want to watch a romance show with no kissing?” you complain back at him, arms raised in a show of frustration - to which he only offers you a half-hearted shrug to silently say ‘that’s not my issue.’ at his reaction, or better aptly put - his lack of one, you throw yourself back dramatically against the back of the sofa with a loud huff. if he wants to act childish, two can play this game, you think to yourself.
you decide to switch tactics since it seems like sukuna doesn’t feel like listening to reason right now and lean against his chest as your arms snake around his chisled form, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his fitted t-shirt. “i have a career, you know, kuna.” you frown, sticking out your bottom lip in an attempt to pull on his heartstrings.
“then just live with me. problem solved,” he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
you jump back in surprise at his suggestion, arms immediately unfurling from around him, and you try to process what he’s just said and the oh-so casual tone it was delivered in - like it was him saying that the weather was going to be clear and not a major turning point for both of you and your relationship.
“wait, hold on- i never agreed to that! slow down for a second!” you start to wave your hands at him in a panic, like a confused traffic marshal trying to get a grip on rush hour traffic, in an attempt to get sukuna to actually understand the impact of what he’s saying. clearly, it’s not working because instead of being deterred by your reaction, there’s a wicked glint in his eyes and you freeze because you know what that means - he’s got an idea.
“since you wanna act like such a brat, time for your kissing scene with me.”
“huh, what are you doing-” you’re cut off by a calloused hand grabbing onto your chin, holding you in place as you’re met with a pair of lips pressed upon your own, and your eyes flutter shut instinctively. you feel a soft giggle escape your lips, one which he swallows as his lips move against yours, as you sink gently into the plush of the couch, guided by his touch.
it’s a quiet night, and for what feels like the first time in forever, actor!you and ceo!ryomen sukuna finally have a moment to yourselves away from the demands of the world.
you’re lying halfway on your back, halfway on your side on the couch, as to your right sits sukuna with one arm curled around you protectively whilst the other sits sprawled out on the armrest. the room is mostly dark, save for the glow of the tv in front of you, which is playing one of your old dramas.
to be fair, if it was up to you, you would probably put on something else, but sukuna always demands to rewatch your old shows. he never says why directly, always making up some excuse about how all the other things on right now are “terrible wastes of time” and “garbage that barely passes for television, much less entertainment”, and yours just happens to be the only acceptable thing nowadays or some other similar excuse along those lines - but if anyone were to ask you, you just think it might be because he likes seeing you anywhere he can (even if you’re right next to him as you are now).
a fuzzy blanket rests askew upon your laps under his insistence that you should warm up since you’re always falling sick for some reason and that he doesn’t want to take care of you when you're sick since you’re always especially whiny then (he still does regardless).
you think it’s unnecessary considering the room is not even cold, alongside the fact that the man is basically a portable space heater with how much heat he radiates to the point you start to sweat sometimes at night, but you don’t say anything - just like how you don’t say anything about the shows because you know that this is his way of showing you his love, no matter how unorthodox it can be at times.
“come on, kuna.” you pout at him, shoving the arm draped across your waist in an unsuccessful attempt to free yourself from his iron-clad grip. “i called you over here to help me out with my lines, not just laze around, you know?”
as if to spite you for even attempting to escape him, he tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer towards his chest until you can barely see the screen in front of you. your cries of protest are muffled by his bicep, and out of the corner of your eye, you swear you catch the corners of his mouth turned upwards, almost as if in a satisfied grin.
“who said you can order me around, brat?” he huffs out, his chin now resting on top of your head so he essentially engulfs you in this new position, though you know his annoyance is nothing more than a smoke screen - all bark and no bite (only for you, though).
“fine, let me see the script.” he sits up and reaches out towards the forgotten booklet on the table before returning to his prior position; the glare of the tv casting a sharp shadow against his face and outstretched arm, letting you see every tiny detail of his face up to the way the black ink curls around his taut muscles.
“my 99th first kiss?” he murmurs absentmindedly under his breath, skimming over the pages with his free hand. suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, fingers frozen mid-air as if he just now registered what he read out mere seconds ago. a beat passes. he looks at you incredulously, his features twisted up in a show of disgust as his eyes flicker between you and the title page of the script.
“WHAT-” his voice booms out before he stops himself midway when he sees your confused expression, taking a moment to clear his throat midway as an attempt to recollect himself. “are you telling me that you’re gonna kiss your co-star 99 times?”
before you can even answer, he scoffs, shaking his head before he flicks the script out of his hand, landing somewhere on the other side of the couch behind him as if to get the offending item out of immediate sight. the papers land with a soft crash, and you wince slightly at the idea of your once perfect script now being crinkled.
“no, don’t do it. cancel it.” he states plainly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if to further assert his point.
an annoyed sigh leaves your lips at his sudden proclamation.
“sukuna! i can’t just cancel starring on a show when the shoot is just in two days!” you explain, exasperated at your boyfriend’s antics. you grab onto his shoulder in an attempt to shake some sense back into him, but unfortunately, you’re met with what is essentially an unmoving block of stone - resolute in its place. you know that sukuna’s always had a protective streak that sometimes veers into the territory of jealousy when other people try and get too close to you in that sense, but you didn’t think that he would act this way, let alone be this childish about it.
“i’ll buy out all the advertising spots. uraume will call the studio tomorrow. just cut out all the kissing.”
you’re sure that if the script were still in either of your lines of sight, the glare he would have sent in its direction would be enough to set it aflame in the blink of an eye. he brings a hand to his chin as if in a faux display of deep thought before he speaks again. “my 99th eye contact, that sounds much better if you ask me.”
the suggestion itself is so lame you’re fighting the urge to not roll your eyes out of your skull and punch him for even offering it up, especially with how certain he sounded about it.
“are you crazy? who would want to watch a romance show with no kissing?” you complain back at him, arms raised in a show of frustration - to which he only offers you a half-hearted shrug to silently say ‘that’s not my issue.’ at his reaction, or better aptly put - his lack of one, you throw yourself back dramatically against the back of the sofa with a loud huff. if he wants to act childish, two can play this game, you think to yourself.
you decide to switch tactics since it seems like sukuna doesn’t feel like listening to reason right now and lean against his chest as your arms snake around his chisled form, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his fitted t-shirt. “i have a career, you know, kuna.” you frown, sticking out your bottom lip in an attempt to pull on his heartstrings.
“then just live with me. problem solved,” he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
you jump back in surprise at his suggestion, arms immediately unfurling from around him, and you try to process what he’s just said and the oh-so casual tone it was delivered in - like it was him saying that the weather was going to be clear and not a major turning point for both of you and your relationship.
“wait, hold on- i never agreed to that! slow down for a second!” you start to wave your hands at him in a panic, like a confused traffic marshal trying to get a grip on rush hour traffic, in an attempt to get sukuna to actually understand the impact of what he’s saying. clearly, it’s not working because instead of being deterred by your reaction, there’s a wicked glint in his eyes and you freeze because you know what that means - he’s got an idea.
“since you wanna act like such a brat, time for your kissing scene with me.”
“huh, what are you doing-” you’re cut off by a calloused hand grabbing onto your chin, holding you in place as you’re met with a pair of lips pressed upon your own, and your eyes flutter shut instinctively. you feel a soft giggle escape your lips, one which he swallows as his lips move against yours, as you sink gently into the plush of the couch, guided by his touch.
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hey guys i am so sorry for going mia i'm unfortunately really busy and tired from my law internship but i promise i will post something this weekend‼️‼️‼️ ♡
content: geto suguru x reader, angst, kissing, making out, jealousy, from geto's pov, cursing, set in canon during the cursed inventory arc, complicated feelings from suguru, he hates you but also wants you and satoru (it's very confusing), implied satosugu x reader, implied love triangle (ish)
summary: suguru can't shake off his feelings about satoru's childhood friend, and that might be exactly the problem
wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be a drabble but got out of hand...)
a/n: title and inspo from fuck me eyes by ethel cain, thank you so much to @waddles-88 for helping to beta read this ilysm twin <33, header art by @/gumi778 (on X/twitter), i have unfortunately been in such a writer's block recently, so this was basically my exercise to try and help me get out of that funk
It was Satoru’s insistence that you and Geto Suguru should meet.
“A blast from my past, meeting my present, how crazy would that be?” is what Satoru said to Suguru and Shoko as some sort of shoddy sales pitch to convince them to meet his ‘long-lost childhood friend’. He remembers the way Shoko rolled her eyes at Satoru and the obvious scepticism on both their faces at his idea, the two of them brushing it off as another one of Satoru’s hare-brained schemes. Contrary to Satoru’s dramatic retellings involving far-fetched fairytales of missed connections, the reality was that you moved abroad with your parents for a while, and now you’ve finally returned. And as luck would have it, you’ve decided to come here, to Tokyo Jujutsu High.
The first meeting went off without a hitch; you fell into an easy rhythm with all of them. Unlike others, you weren’t turned off by Satoru’s teasing condescension or Shoko’s dry humour. Instead of cowering or cursing them out as people would usually do, you threw back your own biting retorts like it was second nature, and the grin Satoru and Shoko shared just cemented your place amongst them. Then one outing evolved into two, then five, and soon it was like you were always there, the missing oil to make their cogs turn even better, the days without you now a long forgotten past.
Well, you got along with all of them except Suguru. It wasn’t like he was openly antagonising you. Still, for some reason, there was always a distance between the two of you – like some sort of invisible wall that prevented you from getting close to him. Even when you were sitting next to him, he wouldn’t throw himself onto your lap the way Satoru would or even how Shoko would sometimes rest her head on your shoulders. Instead, the closest he would ever allow himself to get to you was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers twitching nervously at his side in contrast to the aloof expression he wears.
He’s caught your eyes drifting a few times to his fingers, the way they drum absent-mindedly against the hard surface of the wooden bench, and how they betray the front he puts on. But strangely enough, for someone so ready to call people out on their bullshit, you don’t say anything, and he’s not sure if he wants to count that as a blessing in his favour.
He doesn’t want to say it’s a competition. Suguru wants to sneer at the thought of that alone. It sickens him to think of the possibility of him unwillingly competing with you for Satoru’s affection, like he’s some prize to be won (as if the thought of that alone wouldn’t make the snowy-haired man’s ego grow impossibly bigger than it already is). But when you and Satoru share a secret smile over an inside joke from your childhood, a reminder of the past that the two of you share – something he’ll never be a part of no matter how hard he tries, he has to bite down on his tongue in an effort to quell the storm brewing inside of him.
The worst of it was the fact that he understood why Satoru’s gaze lingered on you longer than what was normal for a friend to do because he felt drawn to you for the exact same reasons, whether he wanted to acknowledge them or not.
You’re a hurricane; so beautifully terrifying in your own right that no one wants to look away from, despite the dangers. Suguru has never heard of a person having two cursed techniques, let alone one that can charm people, but he wouldn’t be surprised if, by some miraculous measure, it turns out that you had it, considering the way you seemed to draw everyone in without even breaking a sweat (him included). He wouldn’t expect anything less of Satoru’s fabled childhood friend. It makes sense that you, too, would be a force of nature on your own to be able to keep up with him; the thunder to his lightning. (he muses what that would make him, the pouring rain that follows?)
His nights of lazing around in Satoru’s room soon become nights where the three of you push the limits of logic and reason under the guise of teenage stupidity. With how loud the three of you, mainly you and Satoru, tend towards being, he’s surprised that they haven’t gotten a noise complaint yet from any of the staff or students who have the unfortunate burden of being stuck in the same space as you all.
Tonight, however, is one of the quieter nights, where instead of impromptu pillow fights, you, Satoru, and Suguru are all sprawled out on top of each other in some way, shape or form as a movie plays on in front of you. technically, this movie is still showing in cinemas, so he’s not exactly sure how satoru has managed to get a copy of it to play it on the projector, but the two of you seem content to just watch instead of asking questions like that – perhaps he should take that as a sign to quiet his overthinking mind and to just “shut up and enjoy the movie” (as Satoru would put it).
Halfway through the movie, you announced that you were getting tired of leaning on the cold wall behind you before unceremoniously plopping yourself down on Satoru’s lap, legs sprawled out on top of Suguru’s. His treacherous heart skips a beat when you shift legs in an attempt to get comfortable, completely unaware of the effect that you have on him. Despite Satoru’s whiny complaints about you being a nuisance and that “you’re interrupting the movie”, he doesn’t push you off; instead, he leans back and silently moves around his legs to better accommodate your head. He even stops bouncing his leg, a bad habit of Satoru’s, only shaking it occasionally to jostle your head a bit and annoy you.
Suguru doesn’t know what he hates more: the fact that you’re here or the fact that he doesn’t hate that you’re here. Quite the opposite, actually, he thinks he might desire it, and for some reason, this thought scares him more than he would care to admit.
Satoru leans down to loudly whisper a presumably stupid joke about the scene right now, one that elicits a laugh from your place on his lap. You reach out a hand to playfully shove his face out of the way, bright grins plastered on both your faces and the knot in Suguru’s stomach twists tighter.
Maybe the real thing that he hates is that neither of you is looking at him right now.
The credits soon roll, and Satoru remarks that he’s gonna head out to the vending machines for a bit, clearly itching after something sugary to satisfy that insatiable sweet tooth of his. he does offer to get you and Suguru something, which the two of you quickly turn down, and the door creaks closed as he leaves. You’re back to sitting against the white wall behind you, your legs are no longer on his lap, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge the pang he feels when the familiar warmth of your body slips out of his grasp.
He turns over to look at you. Your eyes are transfixed on the words in front of you, the glow of the projection illuminating the two of you against the backdrop of the night. In that light, he realises that you’re crying, or at the very least, your eyes are watering as you watch on, but you don’t try to blink them away. Instead, you let them fall silently, and he thinks how unfair it is that you look so heavenly even when tears are rolling down your cheeks.
Before he can stop himself, Suguru reaches out to wipe away a tear with a soft swipe of his thumb. The touch is gentle and delicate, like how one would handle a baby deer – tenderly and carefully to make sure you don’t scare it away. You don’t bat his hand away, and he takes that as an opportunity to let himself linger and feel the warmth radiate off your cheek; how you burn up under his touch and how he wonders if he’s sporting a matching flush.
A beat passes, and when he comes back to his senses, as if horrified by his actions, he jerks his hand away from your face like someone who got too close to a raging wildfire. His shoulders jump up, ready for some sort of divine retribution for his actions, like how Icarus’s wings melted when he flew too close to the sun – but much to his surprise, nothing happens.
You don’t scream bloody murder, you don’t shove him off, nor do you run for the hills; instead, you just look at him all doe-like with those pretty eyes of yours staring back expectantly into his, lips slightly ajar. He muses that he must really like testing fate because he finds himself reaching his hand back once again to caress your face. His thumb accidentally catches the corner of your lip, but instead of pulling away, you lean into his touch, so soft and pliant he wonders if this might be a dream. Your eyes, now wholly focused on him, drop to his lips, and his breath hitches for a second.
For the first time in a while, his mind is finally quiet, and he takes that as a sign to lean forward and press his lips against yours in a chaste kiss before pulling away. Though the kiss is fleeting, it’s enough to already have him hooked; you taste so, so, so divine, and he wonders if he’s been a secret masochist this whole time for depriving himself of you for so long.
If this is the fall, he hopes he never hits the ground.
Like a man possessed, his lips find their way back to yours with a renewed fervour, a second hand moving around to the back of your head in the hopes of keeping you tethered to him. Suguru is everywhere in your senses: his soft lips against yours that taste like the long forgotten coke that he was drinking during the movie, his hands that are intent on committing you to memory, the faint scent of sandalwood and incense emanating off of him like a warm blanket you want to tuck yourself into. He feels you bite down softly on his bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but sharp enough to remind him that you’re there, and he moves to deepen the kiss.
Reaching out to tangle your fist in his shirt only serves to spur him on even more, tilting his head slightly to the side as his tongue darts between your lips. You welcome this intrusion gladly with a quiet moan of your own, your jaw going slack under his touch. Neither of you wants to break for air, as if scared of not having the other’s lips on them for even a split second, settling for shallow gasps instead as you dive back into each other, hands tightening their clutches with lips moving in sync – sucking and biting like that was all that mattered.
“Fuck.” He pants out, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. You’re practically huffing for oxygen by this point, kiss-swollen lips agape as you try to come down from it all. Your pupils are so dilated, he feels like he’s staring into a black hole. He doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now. His neat raven hair is probably a nest from the way you ran your fingers through it, but that’s the least of his worries. When your lips start to curve upwards, he feels a similar euphoric smile start to tug on the corners of his mouth, and an easy giggle escapes you.
Your hand is still tangled in his shirt, and he’s sure you can practically feel the erratic beat of his heart. Like two opposing poles, the two of you start moving back towards each other, lips barely ghosting the other’s until you’re jolted apart by the sound of ever-approaching footsteps. Suddenly, Suguru scrambles away from you and stands up like he’s been snapped out of a trance.
“Shit, I– I have to go.” He splutters out pathetically, panicked glances dart between you and the door as he stumbles towards the exit in a daze. Your pleas for him to stay just fall on deaf ears; he’s already too far gone down the hallways to the point they’ve faded into the night. A million thoughts run through his head, some good though most of them are bad, and his hand drifts up to touch his lips, still slightly swollen from the kiss. Instinctually, he wets them with his tongue, and he finds that they still taste like you – the feeling of your lips lingering like an aftershock.
When he’s managed to get far enough away that the only thing he sees when he turns back is the endless darkness of the dorm hallways, only one thought rings true in his head. What has he done?
content: geto suguru x reader, angst, kissing, making out, jealousy, from geto's pov, cursing, set in canon during the cursed inventory arc, complicated feelings from suguru, he hates you but also wants you and satoru (it's very confusing), implied satosugu x reader, implied love triangle (ish)
summary: suguru can't shake off his feelings about satoru's childhood friend, and that might be exactly the problem
wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be a drabble but got out of hand...)
a/n: title and inspo from fuck me eyes by ethel cain, thank you so much to @waddles-88 for helping to beta read this ilysm twin <33, header art by @/gumi778 (on X/twitter), i have unfortunately been in such a writer's block recently, so this was basically my exercise to try and help me get out of that funk
It was Satoru’s insistence that you and Geto Suguru should meet.
“A blast from my past, meeting my present, how crazy would that be?” is what Satoru said to Suguru and Shoko as some sort of shoddy sales pitch to convince them to meet his ‘long-lost childhood friend’. He remembers the way Shoko rolled her eyes at Satoru and the obvious scepticism on both their faces at his idea, the two of them brushing it off as another one of Satoru’s hare-brained schemes. Contrary to Satoru’s dramatic retellings involving far-fetched fairytales of missed connections, the reality was that you moved abroad with your parents for a while, and now you’ve finally returned. And as luck would have it, you’ve decided to come here, to Tokyo Jujutsu High.
The first meeting went off without a hitch; you fell into an easy rhythm with all of them. Unlike others, you weren’t turned off by Satoru’s teasing condescension or Shoko’s dry humour. Instead of cowering or cursing them out as people would usually do, you threw back your own biting retorts like it was second nature, and the grin Satoru and Shoko shared just cemented your place amongst them. Then one outing evolved into two, then five, and soon it was like you were always there, the missing oil to make their cogs turn even better, the days without you now a long forgotten past.
Well, you got along with all of them except Suguru. It wasn’t like he was openly antagonising you. Still, for some reason, there was always a distance between the two of you – like some sort of invisible wall that prevented you from getting close to him. Even when you were sitting next to him, he wouldn’t throw himself onto your lap the way Satoru would or even how Shoko would sometimes rest her head on your shoulders. Instead, the closest he would ever allow himself to get to you was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers twitching nervously at his side in contrast to the aloof expression he wears.
He’s caught your eyes drifting a few times to his fingers, the way they drum absent-mindedly against the hard surface of the wooden bench, and how they betray the front he puts on. But strangely enough, for someone so ready to call people out on their bullshit, you don’t say anything, and he’s not sure if he wants to count that as a blessing in his favour.
He doesn’t want to say it’s a competition. Suguru wants to sneer at the thought of that alone. It sickens him to think of the possibility of him unwillingly competing with you for Satoru’s affection, like he’s some prize to be won (as if the thought of that alone wouldn’t make the snowy-haired man’s ego grow impossibly bigger than it already is). But when you and Satoru share a secret smile over an inside joke from your childhood, a reminder of the past that the two of you share – something he’ll never be a part of no matter how hard he tries, he has to bite down on his tongue in an effort to quell the storm brewing inside of him.
The worst of it was the fact that he understood why Satoru’s gaze lingered on you longer than what was normal for a friend to do because he felt drawn to you for the exact same reasons, whether he wanted to acknowledge them or not.
You’re a hurricane; so beautifully terrifying in your own right that no one wants to look away from, despite the dangers. Suguru has never heard of a person having two cursed techniques, let alone one that can charm people, but he wouldn’t be surprised if, by some miraculous measure, it turns out that you had it, considering the way you seemed to draw everyone in without even breaking a sweat (him included). He wouldn’t expect anything less of Satoru’s fabled childhood friend. It makes sense that you, too, would be a force of nature on your own to be able to keep up with him; the thunder to his lightning. (he muses what that would make him, the pouring rain that follows?)
His nights of lazing around in Satoru’s room soon become nights where the three of you push the limits of logic and reason under the guise of teenage stupidity. With how loud the three of you, mainly you and Satoru, tend towards being, he’s surprised that they haven’t gotten a noise complaint yet from any of the staff or students who have the unfortunate burden of being stuck in the same space as you all.
Tonight, however, is one of the quieter nights, where instead of impromptu pillow fights, you, Satoru, and Suguru are all sprawled out on top of each other in some way, shape or form as a movie plays on in front of you. technically, this movie is still showing in cinemas, so he’s not exactly sure how satoru has managed to get a copy of it to play it on the projector, but the two of you seem content to just watch instead of asking questions like that – perhaps he should take that as a sign to quiet his overthinking mind and to just “shut up and enjoy the movie” (as Satoru would put it).
Halfway through the movie, you announced that you were getting tired of leaning on the cold wall behind you before unceremoniously plopping yourself down on Satoru’s lap, legs sprawled out on top of Suguru’s. His treacherous heart skips a beat when you shift legs in an attempt to get comfortable, completely unaware of the effect that you have on him. Despite Satoru’s whiny complaints about you being a nuisance and that “you’re interrupting the movie”, he doesn’t push you off; instead, he leans back and silently moves around his legs to better accommodate your head. He even stops bouncing his leg, a bad habit of Satoru’s, only shaking it occasionally to jostle your head a bit and annoy you.
Suguru doesn’t know what he hates more: the fact that you’re here or the fact that he doesn’t hate that you’re here. Quite the opposite, actually, he thinks he might desire it, and for some reason, this thought scares him more than he would care to admit.
Satoru leans down to loudly whisper a presumably stupid joke about the scene right now, one that elicits a laugh from your place on his lap. You reach out a hand to playfully shove his face out of the way, bright grins plastered on both your faces and the knot in Suguru’s stomach twists tighter.
Maybe the real thing that he hates is that neither of you is looking at him right now.
The credits soon roll, and Satoru remarks that he’s gonna head out to the vending machines for a bit, clearly itching after something sugary to satisfy that insatiable sweet tooth of his. he does offer to get you and Suguru something, which the two of you quickly turn down, and the door creaks closed as he leaves. You’re back to sitting against the white wall behind you, your legs are no longer on his lap, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge the pang he feels when the familiar warmth of your body slips out of his grasp.
He turns over to look at you. Your eyes are transfixed on the words in front of you, the glow of the projection illuminating the two of you against the backdrop of the night. In that light, he realises that you’re crying, or at the very least, your eyes are watering as you watch on, but you don’t try to blink them away. Instead, you let them fall silently, and he thinks how unfair it is that you look so heavenly even when tears are rolling down your cheeks.
Before he can stop himself, Suguru reaches out to wipe away a tear with a soft swipe of his thumb. The touch is gentle and delicate, like how one would handle a baby deer – tenderly and carefully to make sure you don’t scare it away. You don’t bat his hand away, and he takes that as an opportunity to let himself linger and feel the warmth radiate off your cheek; how you burn up under his touch and how he wonders if he’s sporting a matching flush.
A beat passes, and when he comes back to his senses, as if horrified by his actions, he jerks his hand away from your face like someone who got too close to a raging wildfire. His shoulders jump up, ready for some sort of divine retribution for his actions, like how Icarus’s wings melted when he flew too close to the sun – but much to his surprise, nothing happens.
You don’t scream bloody murder, you don’t shove him off, nor do you run for the hills; instead, you just look at him all doe-like with those pretty eyes of yours staring back expectantly into his, lips slightly ajar. He muses that he must really like testing fate because he finds himself reaching his hand back once again to caress your face. His thumb accidentally catches the corner of your lip, but instead of pulling away, you lean into his touch, so soft and pliant he wonders if this might be a dream. Your eyes, now wholly focused on him, drop to his lips, and his breath hitches for a second.
For the first time in a while, his mind is finally quiet, and he takes that as a sign to lean forward and press his lips against yours in a chaste kiss before pulling away. Though the kiss is fleeting, it’s enough to already have him hooked; you taste so, so, so divine, and he wonders if he’s been a secret masochist this whole time for depriving himself of you for so long.
If this is the fall, he hopes he never hits the ground.
Like a man possessed, his lips find their way back to yours with a renewed fervour, a second hand moving around to the back of your head in the hopes of keeping you tethered to him. Suguru is everywhere in your senses: his soft lips against yours that taste like the long forgotten coke that he was drinking during the movie, his hands that are intent on committing you to memory, the faint scent of sandalwood and incense emanating off of him like a warm blanket you want to tuck yourself into. He feels you bite down softly on his bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but sharp enough to remind him that you’re there, and he moves to deepen the kiss.
Reaching out to tangle your fist in his shirt only serves to spur him on even more, tilting his head slightly to the side as his tongue darts between your lips. You welcome this intrusion gladly with a quiet moan of your own, your jaw going slack under his touch. Neither of you wants to break for air, as if scared of not having the other’s lips on them for even a split second, settling for shallow gasps instead as you dive back into each other, hands tightening their clutches with lips moving in sync – sucking and biting like that was all that mattered.
“Fuck.” He pants out, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. You’re practically huffing for oxygen by this point, kiss-swollen lips agape as you try to come down from it all. Your pupils are so dilated, he feels like he’s staring into a black hole. He doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now. His neat raven hair is probably a nest from the way you ran your fingers through it, but that’s the least of his worries. When your lips start to curve upwards, he feels a similar euphoric smile start to tug on the corners of his mouth, and an easy giggle escapes you.
Your hand is still tangled in his shirt, and he’s sure you can practically feel the erratic beat of his heart. Like two opposing poles, the two of you start moving back towards each other, lips barely ghosting the other’s until you’re jolted apart by the sound of ever-approaching footsteps. Suddenly, Suguru scrambles away from you and stands up like he’s been snapped out of a trance.
“Shit, I– I have to go.” He splutters out pathetically, panicked glances dart between you and the door as he stumbles towards the exit in a daze. Your pleas for him to stay just fall on deaf ears; he’s already too far gone down the hallways to the point they’ve faded into the night. A million thoughts run through his head, some good though most of them are bad, and his hand drifts up to touch his lips, still slightly swollen from the kiss. Instinctually, he wets them with his tongue, and he finds that they still taste like you – the feeling of your lips lingering like an aftershock.
When he’s managed to get far enough away that the only thing he sees when he turns back is the endless darkness of the dorm hallways, only one thought rings true in his head. What has he done?
― the ways in which they kiss you when you aren't actually together yet ₊˚⊹♡
contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn! reader, choso x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, slightly suggestive for some of them if you squint
a/n: just some headcanons i wanted to write after listening to i like the way you kiss me by artemas plus i needed a short writing break from my risk - megumi fic that i've been working on. hope you guys enjoy this !!!
gojo satoru kisses you like he misses you already despite barely being apart for more than a few hours. it didn't matter to him that he just saw you moments ago. that was nothing more than a trivial fact to him, just like the fact that you two still weren't actually together yet, in the grand scheme of things. why should he be waiting any second longer to feel your touch on him? he was never good at being patient anyways.
"missing me already huh?" you murmur against his lips, his hands securing you against him as he pinned you against the brick wall of the restaurant behind you two.
he scoffs at your comment. "oh shut up." his lips are on yours again in a matter of second. you weren't going to lie, you were enjoying this. to see someone so powerful like gojo satoru yet so susceptible to your presence to the point where he couldn't wait anymore to have your lips against his. with his flushed cheeks and slightly puffy lips, you want to forever immortalise this image of him in your mind. silently, you thanked whatever was out there that he decided to forgo his sunglasses tonight as their absence allowed you to truly appreciate the beauty of his eyes, even being able to notice the tiniest specks of what appeared to be gold in his pupils.
as he tilts his head to the side to better fit his features against yours, you swear you can feel his every breath with how flushed his chest is against yours. you even earn a soft groan from him when your fingers dance across his undercut, taking your time to run your hands through his snowy locks.
you're glad that his eyes are closed right now, getting a ticklish sensation as his long eyelashes kiss the expanses of your cheeks with the slight flutter of his eyes so that he isn't able to notice how the red blush that was once contained on your face has now expanded outwards to the tip of your eyes. he bites at your bottom lip gently, as if asking for permission to go further and you grant his request with a faint gasp of your own.
"noisy, aren't we?"
"oh shut up."
geto suguru kisses you like you're his already. the way he snakes his arms around your waist and presses his lips against yours only makes you sink further into his touch. if he wasn't holding you up right now, you would probably melt into the floor just from his proximity alone. you've been dancing around the issue for a few months now, fleeting touches in a dark room, longing glances across the room. it was all fun and games for both of you, seeing how long you could drag out this game of teasing and temptation until the other had enough. you thought you were doing pretty well. that is, until he decided to show up here again and well, just imagine the feeling of his lips against yours wasn't enough anymore.
you've always wondered what it would feel like to card your hands through his raven tresses and now, with your fingers tangled in up there, you can safely say it was better than you could have ever imagined. if it wasn't you who was the one messing up his hair, he would have some choice words to say about it, but as of right now, that was the least of his concerns. right now, his priority was seeing how long it would take for him to become consumed by his desire for you and it seemed like he wasn't going to last long. not with how you would let out a low whine every time his teeth grazed your lips or with your wandering hands taking this opportunity to explore the expanses of his well-sculpted back.
you feel like you've just had your breath stolen from you with how heavily you were panting against him, your faces flushed with want and kiss-swollen lips as evidence of what had recently transpired between the two of you. neither of you make the move to break apart as he leans down to ask.
"so what does this make us?"
nanami kento kisses you with so much restraint it only incites you to try and break down his defences further. his kisses barely feel like pecks, leaving you to subconsciously chase him for more every time he pulls away. he doesn't dare to try and do more, to push the boundary further. not only are you not technically together yet but also he's afraid. not of you, but rather of what would happen if he let his resolve fall and indulged in his selfish desires for what would be the first time in a long while.
he stops for a moment, his face barely hovering centimetres above from yours as his eyes flicker between your slightly agape mouth and your half-lidded eyes, watching him closely as you try to anticipate his next. he couldn't tell which one was drawing him in more at that moment. his breath hitches momentarily when he feels a soft tug at his tie, your right hand absent-mindedly toying with the edges of it as you place your other hand against his chest as if attempting to brace yourself against him. he couldn't tell but your legs felt like they were about to give out at any second with how every single cell in your body felt electrified with the amount of desire and anxiety coursing through your veins.
silence dragged on for what felt like ages, both of you unmoving in your positions until you muttered under your breath. "kento..." your voice was barely above a whisper but at that moment, it turns out that he was not as strong in his resolve as he thought he was with that being all he needed to dive right into you, fully untethered this time as his lips crashed against yours.
kamo choso kisses you like he's scared that this will be the first and last time he'll ever get to do so. there's so much fear and hesitation in his movements yet at the same time, you can feel the fervour and passion that is pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against you. his hands are hovering around your figure, scared to fully let himself hold you as if he's worried that the moment he makes contact, you're going to snap out of whatever daze you're in and run away from him. you aren't going to do that of course, if only he knew how long you were waiting for this to happen. as you feel the cold of the concrete wall against your back, the two of you part, albeit reluctantly, from each other to catch your breaths.
"..are you sure?" he asks breathlessly. his pupils are blown wide open as his eyes seemingly turn into infinite purple voids, watching your every movement unblinking.
you run your fingers across the back of his neck, toying slightly with some of the loose black strands that were clinging to his skin. he looks pretty like this, you think to yourself. he looks at you so eagerly, so soft and pliable in your hands, as he nervously awaits for your response.
"never been more sure."
fushiguro megumi kisses you like you're the air he breathes. who would have thought someone so famously reserved like megumi had it in him like this? you aren't given long to ponder on that thought as his lips are against yours once again, moving in sync with an imaginary rhythm as you frenziedly grasp at the material of his shirt in a weak attempt to try and ground you against his closeness to you. with every slide of his lips past yours, you're pretty sure that he's simultaneously taking and giving you back your breath which you previously thought would be impossible to do but are now sorely proven wrong.
you're not even a lightweight or anything when it comes to alcohol but you're pretty sure you're drunk on the feeling of him the moment his mouth was on yours. much to your surprise, the spikes that he calls his hair are actually pretty soft as you run your hands through them, a soft tug at the hair beneath your fingers drawing out a barely disguised groan from him. you giggle softly against his lips at his reaction and he silences you with another kiss, not that you were complaining as you ardently respond by tilting your head off to the side slightly to grant him better access to your face. your eyes are closed but you can imagine the half-hearted scowl on his face with how his brows furrow in the way that they always do against your forehead.
even though it was barely minutes ago, your mind is hazy as you try to remember the circumstances that led to this situation right now. it was probably a stupid argument that you guys got into, like the two of you usually do, and somehow that resulted in him wanting to prove his point more unconventionally. you give up on trying to recall the details as you can feel your face start to burn up as one of his hands start to wander down to rest against your hips.
"so," he pants, the heat of his breath is warm against your lips. "does that prove my point?"
itadori yuji kisses you eagerly, trying to savour every single moment of his lips against yours. you could feel the excitement basically pouring out from him with each movement of his lips against you, even eliciting a giggle from him that reverberates against your mouth as your noses bump against each other. it's a messy, disorganised sort of kiss with you being sure this is the third time you've accidentally grazed your teeth against his. fortunately for both of you, you're all way too engrossed and intoxicated on the sensation of the other's lips to care.
every time one of you tries to catch your breath, the other tries to chase your lips as they attempt to recapture that feeling again. as your arms encircle his neck, pulling you close to him, you're pretty sure you can feel him groan quietly against your lips with his hands reaching up to cup your face. with a deep sigh, you sink into his warm embrace, taking the moment to fully breathe him in like your life depended on it.
one of his hands falls from your face and gives a tentative squeeze at your waist to which you gasp quietly. taking this opportunity, he breaks apart from your lips and presses a flurry of kisses across your face which earns him a wide grin from you as you half-heartedly attempt to defend yourself from his sudden kiss attacks.
if you knew that a simple, experimental peck on the cheek could earn you this, maybe you should try to do this more.
okkotsu yuuta kisses you like you're a dream come true. hear him out. he never thought that he would get to experience touch like this ever again in his life, nevermind it coming from you in this manner. to him, you were what sweet dreams were made of, so ethereal, so delicate and so much better than whatever could exist in such a cruel world like this. but once again, defying all his expectations, you were here right in front of him and your lips were on his, faster than in the blink of an eye.
cradling the back of your head with his hands, he leans into the feeling of your lips against his as the two of you move in sync with each other. as if the moment couldn't get better, it was as if your lips were perfectly moulded for his or vice versa. he didn't care which way it was, all this fact did was solidify the thought in his mind that you were sent down onto earth from whatever heavenly plane people like you come from just for him to bask in the presence of.
his eyes are closed for two reasons. one, because he's scared that if he opens his eyes, this will be nothing more than a dream that he has to wake up from and two because he's pretty sure that if he was able to see you in your flushed, kiss dazed glory, he would explode on the spot.
despite being able to tell how badly he's been wanting to kiss you, he doesn't let it overpower him, instead taking the upmost care to make sure that you were still unharmed, treating you as if you were some piece of delicate china that could break at the slightest of wrong moves. while it was nice, you were feeling particularly greedy in that moment. you wanted more.
right as he breaks apart for air, you're already back to pulling him closer than humanly possible at this point by the collar of his shirt and you find that you're rewarded with a soft gasp escaping from him as your lips find each other again, this time with a renewed sense of desire and want.
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꒰ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ──── content warnings: satoru gojo x fem reader, friends to potential lovers, banter, grumpy x sunshine combo with a side of yearning, reader is a teacher at jujutsu tech
“how come you never want to hold my hand in public?”
you take a long sip of your lemonade refresher, feeling your thirst automatically quenched by the cold drink. the semi-melted ice cubes clinked against the glass and the warm summer breeze gently whistles, filling the small momentary silence.
as you reach the end of your drink, you prolong the activity as long as possible by intentionally slurping on the straw rather slowly and swishing around the remainder of the drink in your mouth before loudly gulping down.
the empty glass hits the table with a thud. “not this again," you sigh with irritation as you lean back against your seat with your arms crossed over your chest.
“yes, this again!” satoru exclaims with a whine reflecting in his tone. he slumps his larger frame forward onto the patio table with his hands flat against the surface and a frown embedded on his face.
grabbing lunch with satoru had its ups and downs.
while you greatly appreciate his generosity of inviting you out to eat with him —even offering to pay for the joint meals— and his vast knowledge of different cuisines and restaurants, moments like these really damper the mood.
his knack for constantly talking about anything and everything instead of enjoying the meal and your company in silence, really soured the activity for you.
the days where he personally ventured out for you like a mission after his lessons with his students were arguably the worse; looking high and low in different locations of the establishment just to link arms with you and swiftly drag you away from whatever you were occupied with at that moment.
today were one of those days.
he idly shifts in his seat. “i just don't get it. i mean, it's not like a little hand holding is gonna hurt anyone~” a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth due to the scowl that was present on your face.
you scoff. “i don't even hold your hand in private, why would i want to hold it in public?” you lean forward against the table, coming face to face with him as he sat across from you.
you attempt to flick his forehead but he quickly puts up his infinity before you could get the chance, rendering your planned attack useless.
satoru has been pretty adamant on this oddly specific subject for some time now. saying how if you two were to "platonically hold hands", it'll strengthen your friendship with each other. even going on about how him, shoko and nanami did it and now they're the "closest" they've ever been.
however, when you inquired to shoko about the accuracy of this statement, she looked at you dumbfounded. which told you everything you already knew.
he evades your question and dramatically gasps. “don't tell me you're afraid of physical touch, that might be a problem for future partner,” he quips.
he takes a small slip at his water and hums in content, “gosh, don't you just love h2o. it's the best, right?”
“sure. i'm a big fan,” you deadpanned. you can feel a vein in your forehead become more prominent as the scowl on your face deepens.
you tilt your head and raise an eyebrow at him. “how does my love life correlate to me not wanting to hold your hand?” you can quickly see him attempt and fail to contain his piqued interest.
you're finally asking him the right questions.
“i'm so glad you asked!” he stabs his fork into his desert —a strawberry covered cheesecake— and silently notions the fork towards you, offering a bite. you softly shake your head to decline and he shrugs, taking the bite instead.
“if you can't even hold hands with a friend how do you expect to get all touchy with your significant other, hm?”
he stumps you a bit with the question. there's a thin line between a friend and a romantic partner, but with having a significant other also comes with a gained friendship. while you're not touchy with most of your friends, you still hold respect for them and put enough effort to maintain those bonds.
physical touch has never been a problem for you. it's something you don't really mind but would pick another love language over it in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity.
before you could answer him, he speaks up again.
“all i'm saying is that i would make good practice so when your knight in shining amour comes around, you’ll already know what to do.” he lowers his head as he peeks at you from above the small cracks of his sunglasses.
the gears rapidly shift in your head, noticing inconsistency. you narrow your eyes at him, “but wait, i thought you said us holding hands would strengthen our bond? where's all this other stuff coming from?”
satoru freezes his movements with his fork in mid air nearing his opened mouth. he slowly takes a bite and swallows nervously. he follows by clearing his throat, “let's just say we'd be killing two birds with one stone, yeah?”
“sureee,” suspicious laced in your voice, "but that won't be necessary. we're adults, practicing things of that nature, like we're middle schoolers, is strange to say the least."
satoru frowns at your words. “you're never too young or old to learn and practice new things.”
you huff. “true but holding hands isn't a new concept to me, satoru.”
the waitress soon comes into view at your table and ask if you'd like to close the tab. before satoru can answer with an expected no, you interject, asking for a takeout container for his cheesecake and the bill.
you let out an agitated groan while gathering your purse, "we're running late for training again. every time we eat out, we spend way longer than expected."
he snickers and takes his wallet out of his pocket, “yet you don't show too much resistance when i bring you out.” he smugly smirks to himself, as if dining with you is one of his biggest triumphs.
“that's because you force me out, i don't have much of a choice.” you put emphasis behind your words as you kick his foot under the table. your blow presumably lands as you hear a small stifled grunt from him.
“oh please. you would've been eating away at those stale donuts in the staff room everyday if it weren't for me.” he pays for both of your meals and the two of you venture back to the school.
the walk back is surprisingly silent, something you’ve yearn for the whole day. the sky now paints itself with orange hues, blending seamless with pretty blues and pinks while cicadas mingle with the faint sound of traffic.
it’s peaceful but quickly becomes unnerving.
“…by the way, i'm choosing the restaurant next time.”
satoru dryly chuckles. “oh? there'll be a next time? lucky me i guess. and here i thought you didn't enjoy my company.”
“oh my god, do you ever shut the hell up?” you roll your eyes biting the inside of your cheek to hide away a formina smile.
i am being possessed by violent visions of satosugu x reader serving toxic love triangle realness where they are all in love with each other but also simultaneously jealous of each other at the same time...
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just found out this blog turned 3 years old like 2 days ago, which is actually insane omg... so happy 3 years to my blog baby jasmineoolongtea <333 ty guys so much for reading my works and keeping up with my posts, it means the world to me!! hope you guys continue to stick around for more, mwuah xx
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no matter where he goes, no matter what he’s doing, for some unknown reason, he always sees you.
it’s not always literal; sometimes it’s figurative. like the way that person orders their morning coffee at that cafe the two of you went to, liked to visit, or the way that person leans down to the local stray cat in the way that you would insist on doing every time you saw it or even the way someone sneezes and how he would always playfully tease you about it, much to your lighthearted chagrin. he’s not doing it on purpose, he muses to himself, it just happens like the way a fish knows to swim with the current in a river – naturally and on instinct.
the worst ones are when he actually sees you, in all your glory, standing there. just the sight of you alone is enough to have him winded as his heart stutters in a frail attempt to keep him alive. he swears you’re just as beautiful as the day you left him (or more aptly, when he made you leave him in a poor attempt to protect you from what he would become) or even more gorgeous if that is even humanly possible.
sometimes, yuji wonders if the universe itself is conspiring against him every time he sees you in some sort of cosmic bid to draw out his sufferings. however, that thought is quickly extinguished when his gaze drifts back to you, some hidden magnetism bringing him back to you, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you.
when you suddenly turn towards his direction, he freezes for a second before pulling the hood of his jacket to better obscure his face. a part of him questions if you really did see him, but you don’t. instead you shake your head and walk away from the ghost of him.
a sigh escapes his lips. he thinks it’s good that you didn’t see him; it’s better for both of you – for him to stay in the shadows and far away from your sight. this way, you can move on more easily if he’s there like a waking reminder of everything that was lost and could have been (like how you are to him).
fuck, even if by some miracle you were near enough to him for the two of you to have a conversation, he wouldn’t even know what to say. just the thought alone of having you there close enough to hear him, to touch, has his hands sweating and his heart palpitating. he’s sure his throat would close up and that he would fumble all over his words so badly that it would just be another wasted opportunity as you slip further and further away from him. (it’s what he deserves after all).
the moment when he lost you plays back in his head on repeat like some cursed film highlight.
“i think we should break up.”
you scoff, brushing his words off as you go back to absent-mindedly playing with his hands. “yeah, right. don’t joke around about stuff like that, yu. jokes are supposed to be funny.”
“i’m serious.” his tone is sharp and unfeeling, a far cry from the boy, now man, that you know and love. “i think we should stop seeing each other.”
the room’s temperature drops to zero the second the words leave his lips, as the two of you sit in silence processing them. it all fades into a blur of hot tears and pained shouts that make him wince every time he has to relive it in his mind – he tries to skip over it as best as he can, pressing fast forward on the metaphorical remote. that is, until he gets to your last words, which, for some reason, is where his mind refuses to skim past.
“hope you’re happy with this, yuji.”
a small part of him, made brutally bitter by the cruel passage of time and all its consequences, doubts if this might have been a curse placed on him by you in some sort of backwards twisted way. though it leaves as fast as it comes when he realises that this is the one curse he wouldn’t mind because it meant that he was still tied to you in some sort of gnarled string of fate.
he’s not a paragon; he knows that. in all honesty, he slipped a few times during the first few years, where he ran back into your warm embrace, and he could forget the weight of the world that he’s been carrying without you as his north star to guide him home. for some reason, you accepted him each time, and he wants to ask why you would even spare him a glance after everything, but he learns very quickly to not question good things. and so he chooses to pretend for just a moment that everything is as it should be – with you in his arms.
however, yuji always makes sure to slip away before you wake up, a final kiss goodbye on your forehead before he disappears back into the dark corners of society. because after all, you don’t deserve to be with this undying monstrosity he’s doomed to be. you deserve the antithesis of everything that he’s now fated to become; someone who can grow old with you, who can be there for you completely without having to owe their life to some grander cause than loving you, and above all, someone who isn’t him.
he ‘s stopped having birthday celebrations. hell, he’s even stopped counting the years. what’s the point by now? there’s no difference between this year and the next and so forth, so no reason to look forward to them or even acknowledge them more than one might note the temporary shift in the breeze before turning your attention to something better. yuji wonders how you would feel about this, knowing he used to insist on cherishing every single moment he had with you, birthday included, as a marker of the time he had with you.
anyway, if he still believed in birthday wishes, all his wishes would go to you.
most recently, the last time he saw your face was at hana’s funeral.
he’s hidden at the back of the congregation, far away from all the other mourners, that is, until you walk in and decide to take a seat three rows in front of him. even with a veil over your face, he could pick you out of a line up blindfolded fifty times over and over again. it’s bad, he knows, but for some reason, his eyes always dart to your left ring finger, and a sick giddiness fills his chest momentarily when he realises that it’s empty before the familiar feeling of grief and self-loathing floods his veins again.
he thinks this will be the last funeral he’ll go to for a while.
occasionally, when he does sleep, he gets to dream of something good instead.
“so, do you think we’d be like them, yu?” your fingers are entwined with his as the two of you exit the cinema in high spirits after watching a movie you’ve been dying to see for ages. there’s a rogue kernel at the edge of your lips, and yuji reaches out to brush it away with the soft touch of his thumb, the gesture is like second nature to him, and you fight the blush that grows on your cheeks.
“like who?”
you giggle softly at his question, clearly amused by his slight confusion. “duh, like the characters in the movie that we just saw. do you think we’d find each other no matter what, even if time itself was against us?”
“of course, baby!” he nods his head so enthusiastically, absolutely resolute in his words, you’re a bit worried he might sprain his neck in his fervour. “i’d even fight time itself for you!”
“you mean you would fistfight the intangible concept of time for me?” you raise an eyebrow at him, an incredulous expression on your face at his words.
fortunately for you, your expression doesn’t deter him; in fact, it does the opposite – it spurs him on even more as he goes on to excitedly detail how he would defend you from the evil clutches of time and in the end, the two of you would ride off into the proverbial sunset in loving embrace. this earns him a kiss from you, one that he eagerly returns as you melt into each other.
the problem, he soon learns, is that life is not a movie, and worst of all, yuji is not the shining movie star who gets the girl in the end and saves the world.
if it’s not a trip back to the past, he sometimes dreams of the future. in there, he sees a quiet life – maybe even a kid or two running around that look like the perfect mix of the two of you, but the most important thing is that you’re there with him, and in this world, nothing bad happens to you two. he didn’t leave; you stayed despite everything, including him, and best of all, you two were happy.
perhaps that could have been another alternate timeline, where there are no curses, no sorcery, no greater calling – just you and him as normal people working your way through the growing pains of life together. a world where his dying moments are when he’s old and grey, surrounded by family and friends, with your last thoughts being of each other and the life you both got to fully share.
the cruellest of them is when he questions if he could have had all that in this world, this lifetime, if only he were a little bit more selfish. but that’s the problem – itadori yuji doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body. he’d rather stab himself a hundred times over and cough out his bloody insides with every haggard breath if it meant that you were safe.
he loved you – no, he still loves you, more than you will ever know, and the truth of it is the reason that he had to let you go. unfortunately for him, this will be just a cross that he has to bear for the rest of his damned existence.
