behind the veil

modulo!itadori yuji keeps seeing your face. 

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.

"it's filthy, digusting, so ugly, i'm sure"

contents: okkotsu yuuta x afab/fem!reader, all characters are aged up here, smut (18+), potentially unhealthy obsession from yuuta, switch!yuuta, cunnilingus, biting, fingering, spit, making out, edging religious imagery/symbolism, allusions to body horror, character study of yuuta

summary: someone so depraved and vile as yuuta surely doesn't deserve you but for some reason, you always come back to him

wc: 2.8k

a/n: title and fic inspired by spit by show me the body ft princess nokia, thank you to @waddles-88 & @bluelotuselephant for helping me beta read this and making sure that it is legible <3, first time writing smut so please be kind and don't burn me at the stake love y'all x

The universe works in strange ways – that’s what they all say.

Putting someone like you, a person who rejects any form of romanticism and love wholeheartedly – as if being in its presence would set your skin off in hives – in the path of a die-hard romantic like Yuuta, who loves like it’s breathing – easy and essential to life, would constitute a cruel joke to most. On paper, the two of you appear like fundamental opposites, like oil and water or even two north poles of a magnet, forever forced to repel each other. 

wips/updates *ੈ♡⸝⸝

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗  this is mainly for myself as a way to keep track of my ideas/progress but is also here for anyone if you're curious `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗  i will try to update this page as often as possible but also check the date stamp for each update to get a better idea

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ the priority of each work and the work itself are subject to change

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 0-10%: planning stage

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 10-80%: writing stage

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 90-100%: editing stage

series ⋆˙⟡♡

-`♡´- coffee jelly and parfait - fushiguro toji (a sesame salt and pudding!au): chapter 2 - strawberry tart

↬ date: 28/04/26

↬ progress: 50%

↬ priority: 2nd

↬ contents: based on the manga 'sesame salt and pudding', age gap relationship (16 years), marriage of convenience/accidental marriage, fluff, slice of life

↬ notes: n/a

-`♡´- i want a love like the movies!: how to lose a guy in 10 days - gojo satoru

↬ date: 23/05/26

↬ progress: 25%

↬ priority: 1st

↬ contents: gojo satoru is a handsome, cocky, young advertising executive who thinks he has the world in his hands — so what does he do when faced with the bet to make a woman fall in love with him in 10 days? obviously, he takes it. on the other hand, you're a spirited writer with dreams bigger than the advice column of the magazine that you've been assigned to. when the chance to finally escape it comes around on the condition that you have to write an article on how to lose a guy in 10 days, you dive into it headfirst. what could go wrong? - based on the movie 'how to lose a guy in 10 days'

↬ notes: plan is to be out by 2nd week of june (8th-14th)

one-shots ₊˚ʚ

-`♡´- run for the hills - ryomen sukuna

↬ date: 02/08/24

↬ progress: 0%

↬ priority: n/a

↬ contents: inspired by run for the hills by tate mcrae

↬ notes: n/a

-`♡´- snow on the beach - okkotsu yuuta

↬ date: 25/03/26

↬ progress: 0%

↬ priority: n/a

↬ contents: second chance trope (but not in the getting back together way), death, angst, fluff, hurt + comfort, no curses/modern world!au, slow burn for a oneshot

↬ notes: inspired by snow on the beach by taylor swift ft lana del ray

-`♡´- hard times - geto suguru

↬ date: 28/04/26

↬ progress: 30%

↬ priority: n/a

↬ contents: oneshot, exploring canon (to an extent) angst, hurt, suicidal ideation/poor mental health from both, reader x geto x gojo (but geto x gojo is more of a mention/heavily implied)

↬ notes: you answer a door that you shouldn't - inspired by hard times and waco, texas by ethel cain

headcannons/drabbles ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

-`♡´- soft spot

↬ date: 25/03/26

↬ progress: 0%

↬ priority: n/a

↬ contents: the ways in which you're their soft spot, inspired by soft spot by keshi

↬ notes: n/a

-`♡´- coconut (pt 2)

↬ date: 26/04/26

↬ progress: 5%

↬ priority: n/a

↬ contents: the ways in which they open up to you - inspired by coconut by sailorr

↬ notes: n/a

fushiguro megumi is a lot of things. 

to gojo, he’s the favourite son – despite being the only son gojo even has, if you can even call it that, so that’s not necessarily high praise. to itadori and kugisaki, he’s their begrudging straightman to whateverr comedy duo act the two of them have going on. to his sister, tsumiki, he’s her baby brother who cares about things very deeply but refuses to show it even if it kills him. to todo, he’s boring and a disappointment, per his taste in people (he still doesn’t understand the correlation between those two things even to this day). and apparently, to his parents, he was a ‘blessing’, if his name is anything to go by – but he’s unsure how much he actually lives up to that meaning. 

all things considered, megumi is a lot of things, but at least he’s not a coward; that is, until he met you.

you, who never pushed his boundaries, choosing to quietly accept him with a soft reverence that very much mirrors his own. you, who anchors him to the simple things in life, the ‘mundane beauty of it all’ in your own words, when the storm inside is getting too loud for him to weather through. you, who manages to worm your way into his heart before he even realises and by the time he does, he does the one thing he knows that jujutsu sorcerers shouldn’t do; he gets attached to you.

it starts small, as it always does. when something funny happens, you’re the first person he looks to, waiting with bated breath for your reaction, only to be soothed the moment a smile breaks and a giggle escapes you. soon, it evolves into finding his way to your side, always and without fail, like a silent guardian angel watching over your shoulder, or, in his case, a guardian shadow more like. it’s not intentional, he swears with a scowl plastered on his face; he just happens to drift there naturally, like two opposite poles of a magnet forever drawn to each other, nothing more and nothing less. eventually, he finds himself unable to sleep, or at least, not as well as when he’s without you and the steady drum of your heartbeat to lull him to rest. finally, he knows he’s too far gone when you start creeping into his every waking thought, and he doesn’t want to force them away; on the contrary, he finds himself fighting the urge to chase that train of thoughts if it means he gets to make sure that you’re never too far away from him for too long. 

maybe his sister was right – maybe his feelings were too big for him to know what to do with them, that he cared too much and too deeply about things, and his complete denial of this fact would become his eventual downfall. too bad for him, he’s also unfortunately incredibly stubborn, which makes any chance of possibly moving past this in any semblance of a healthy way near zero. if that fact turns out to be true, he knows that he can never tell tsumiki if he ever hopes to live it down – but that’s besides the point. 

he can deal with brushing off the occasional tease from itadori and kugaski, making exaggerated kissy faces at him whenever they spot the two of you together, he’s basically immune to it by this point in their friendship, knowing that they’ll take any opportunity to pester him. gojo’s attempts to drag out any sort of answer from megumi have failed so far and will continue to fail, considering he’s basically a bank vault when it comes to saying anything, which is to say, absolutely nothing will be revealed from him if it’s up to him. anything else, and you’ll come in like his knight in shining armour and just hit them with the classic “we’re just friends”, and he’ll nod in agreement, biting down the bitter taste of regret and disappointment for some reason, as if that was all there was to it – as it should be.  

unfortunately for him, the people around him aren’t blind – either that, or he’s the most obvious person in the world to everyone around but himself. eventually, the teasing dies down, and soon enough, all he gets are quiet knowing stares from the people around him, like they see something that he doesn’t and are just waiting for him to catch up and make the same realisation that they did long ago. to be honest, megumi can’t tell if this newfound silence is better or worse than whatever it was before.

the increase in paired missions is nothing; you’re both similarly skilled, and your cursed techniques go well together, that’s all, and everyone can see that – that’s why you’re paired together in the first place. he’s just worried about you as a partner; that’s why he takes longer to look over any injuries you might have gotten and insists on getting you to Shoko asap or taking care of them himself in the bathroom of his dorm, lingering for a moment longer than necessary when placing those stupid colourful cartoon plasters you bought for him a while back as a joke and hoping that you don’t notice the way he runs his fingertips along your face in a frail attempt to commit your features to memory. friends normally care about each other; that’s why he asks you to stay the night to make sure that if you need anything at any point, he can get it for you, so you don’t have to lift a finger, and he pretends like his heart isn’t beating out of his chest when you smile at him and tell him ‘okay’.

so when the two of you crawl into bed, and your bodies slot together like two perfect puzzle pieces, and your hands find their way into his, he tells himself that this is normal for friends to do and that this is all he wants; comfort from a close friend, not the friend themself, or the way that said friend’s lips are so close to his that if either of them moved anything more than half an inch they would touch and he could stop dreaming about what it would feel like to touch those lips or to have those lips against his own – breathing in each other like they couldn’t bear to go another moment seperated. 

there’s a part of him that tells him what he’s doing is cruel to both you and himself – keeping the two of you on a yo-yo string just cause he can’t face his feelings and because he’s too afraid to envision what a life without you would be, even though he’s lived up to a certain point somewhat fine before you and will probably continue to do so. though, very selfishly, he doesn’t want to, and megumi thinks that makes him an even worse person.

how much can a person survive just on stolen moments while pretending that they weren’t drowning in the enormity of their emotions, all whilst lying through their gritted teeth to pretend like everything was fine? while there haven’t been any studies on this yet (trust him, he’s checked), he’s sure that it’s not supposed to be forever and that a slow, painful self-inflicted death is awaiting him in his near future (probably the future he deserves, but that’s another can of worms to unpack at a later date, or maybe never). 

god, maybe he should add melodramatic to the list of things he apparently is now. 

he knows that it’s wrong, that he can’t try to deny his way out of this, but he’s too stubborn to accept any other fate for himself, especially if it means losing you and whatever the two of you have. so because of that, and who he is as a person, he’ll gladly stay a coward if it means that you won't leave.

there are two things that frat!gojo satoru does not do: one is jealousy, and the other is regret. 

he’s managed to skate by the last 20-odd years of his life without ever experiencing a drop of those emotions. why would he ever have to? when you’ve lived your entire life up on a pedestal, why bother with looking at whatever lies beneath it? that was, until tonight.

as usual, friday night rolls around and the doors of Gamma Kappa Kappa (ΓΚΚ), the university’s hottest and most storied fraternity, are wide open for one of their typical ragers – ones that have gained immense notoriety for all the right (and wrong) reasons. With how often they throw these parties, they should be like second-nature to satoru at this point; so why then is he pacing around the living room, nerves on fire, like he’s waiting for something, or more specifically, someone. 

taking a moment away from his anxious pacing to check his phone, his eyes light up for a second before another wave of disappointment washes over him when he realises that nothing has changed. his message to you is still left on read, so have the other 5 messages since last week’s incident. ugh, a bitter taste fills his mouth at the thought of it. he didn’t even think it was such a big deal anyway, especially not to the extent you were making it out to be, considering the arrangement you two had going on. you should have known better, or at least expected less from him, right, right – right?

If it wasn’t such a big deal as he’s saying it is, then why is there now a pit in his stomach eating away at his insides ever since that night? he’s always pushed everyone’s buttons and gotten away with it scot-free, no regrets – what makes you so different? 

as the party begins to fill up like clockwork, he starts to make the rounds throughout the growing crowd. on the outside, it just looks like satoru is taking up his role as the resident life of the party and the ever dutiful frat president, chatting up strangers and hopping in and out of beer pong games with practised ease. however, this time, there’s something deeper behind his actions, swimming through the crowd like a shark on the hunt for its prey, and eventually, he finds what he’s been looking for this whole night.

there you are, dancing with some random like you’re the only two people on the dance floor. he fights down a visceral urge to wince when he notices the guy’s hand moving lower down your back to rest on your hip, and an even worse urge to throw up when he realises you don’t do anything to push him away. on the contrary, you pull the guy even closer, sliding your deft fingers down to his belt loops to use them as leverage until there’s barely any space left between you and him.

the red plastic solo cup he’s been nursing the whole night suddenly crumples under the weight of his grip. The sound of the plastic crinkling into nothing but a ball causes a few of the partygoers around him to jump, slowly edging away from him all wary eyed, but he couldn't care less about them in that moment. right then and there, all he could focus on was you.

do they know you’re with him? do they know that he’s the one that you’ve been spending all your nights with? does he know that his name is the one you chant like a prayer, like he’s the only one that can bring you to salvation? no, of course they don’t. it’s by design that no one knows; his design, as if that knowledge alone doesn’t rub salt in his wounds.

satoru is well aware he’s not a saint – not by any means of the words, actually, he might even be the devil incarnate if you ask around the right people. he goes through hookups faster than one can flip a page; in with the new and out with the old is his motto, so why are you the anomaly? By anyone’s calculations, the first few times you were in his bed should have been the end of that chapter, and by next week, he would have already been flirting with the next one in his long line of admirers. 

but that isn’t what happened, the opposite, in fact – he wanted you to stay. But the problem is, gojo satoru, the oh-so popular president of Gamma Kappa Kappa (ΓΚΚ) fraternity, doesn’t ask people to stay; they just want to, and it's his job to push them away so he can move on to the next new thing. So instead, he comes up with thinly veiled excuses to keep you around him, a project here, some random movie tickets there, and occasional (frequent) nightly visits on top of it all until it eventually culminates in him just straight up suggesting to be “friends with benefits, nothing serious, just casual,” and to “keep it just between you and him.”

to his surprise at the time, you actually agree, twirling a stray piece of hair between your fingers in contemplation. 

“sure,” you shrug, “but make sure you just don’t fall in love with me by the end of it.” 

yeah, right, he thinks to himself as he scoffs at what you’re implying, gojo satoru – falling in love? not in a million years. 

“are you sure that it’s not gonna be the other way around, baby?” he leans closer towards you, the stupid backwards cap that he always wore as if it was super-glued to his hair now sits askew with snowy white tendrils threatening to escape from underneath it. from this distance, you’re barely a hair’s length apart, noses on the verge of touching at any second, with electric blue eyes watching your face for any reaction – you have half a mind to push him back and throw this ‘proposal’ of his in the bin, but for some strange reason, you don’t.

“oh, i’m sure, toru.” you say, rolling your eyes at him and his antics.

at your words, he clutches a hand dramatically against his chest, right where his heart would be as he stumbles back as if you’ve just taken out a metaphorical knife and stabbed him with it.  

“you wound me, sweets.” he pouts.

“please, your ego will survive it.” you take a step away from the half wall you were leaning against, backpack hanging from one shoulder as you get ready to leave. 

before you do, you step closer towards him and push a finger against his firm chest, the white t-shirt he was wearing barely hiding anything from the imagination at this point with the way it was clinging to the contours of his body. “also, don’t call me sweets. i’m not your sweets, satoru.”

“so i can call you baby but not sweets?” he calls out to you, cupping his hands around his mouth, your figure getting further and further away from him as you walk down the quad. 

“your words, not mine!” you shout back at him, turning around to give him one final look. 

a jolt on the shoulder from a random drunk partygoer snaps him out of the memory, leaving him with the cruel reality of the sight in front of him. you’re not stupid; you know that he’s been watching you, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your back with how hard he’s been staring for the past few minutes. was it childish of you to saunter into his party and start flirting with another guy in front of him? maybe, but maybe this was finally a chance for him to get a taste of his own medicine – and who would better serve it than you?

maybe he would have an actual right to be pissed if this wasn’t entirely a predicament of his own making. if you were by his side right now, you would find this the funniest thing ever, laughing at him. 

“if it isn’t the consequences of your actions, toru.” is what you would say, in that smug ‘i told you so’ tone he would hate hearing if it wasn’t coming from you. shit, what he wouldn’t give in that moment to hear you call him ‘toru’ once again, something he very much could have had if he didn’t decide to act like the world’s biggest jackass and fuck it all up. 

his jaw tenses up, teeth grinding against each other as he tries to pretend like his blood is not absolutely boiling at the sight in front of him. 

the cheap vodka he usually downs by the dozen burns in a way he hasn’t felt since he was 16 and chugging stolen drinks from the illicit stash he and Suguru stole from his parents’ secret alcohol cabinet. fuck, his throat is on fire, and he’s still sober enough to see straight (at you), which makes this the absolute worst case scenario for him. it’s already bad enough that suguru has been giving him concerned looks the whole night, and now he can’t even get shit-faced drunk to pretend like he’s not feeling the things he’s experiencing right now. 

If this were him before you, he would have thrown himself into another warm body from the sea of people in front of him and drowned out his emotions with the feeling of someone else against him. But ever since you, it feels wrong to be with someone who isn’t you – trust him, he tried it that time, but all he gets in return is that ugly feeling of regret flooding his veins instead of whatever rush he used to feel before.

somewhere along the line, it became less about the sex and convenience and more about him actually wanting to spend more time with you doing anything. brief kisses during eventually morphed into long, drawn-out make-out sessions where all he wanted to do was sink into you, chasing after your lips like a man starved and whining softly whenever you broke contact with him, even just for a split second. quick visits during the night slowly became sleepovers, where nights morphed into days, and soon he was finding excuses to stay just a little bit longer, to which you would agree just a bit quicker each time.

was his passion not enough? weren’t you able to see, to feel how he felt about you? he’s never known what love means; to be honest, he’s not even sure if he’s ever truly experienced a love that wasn’t fraught with conditions and transactions, but at the very least, he thinks that you might be the closest he’s ever gotten to it. and now, he’s gone and messed it all up.