⋆ur name is still my password*ೃ༄

kakucho - kokonoi - kazutora x reader. 𐙚 part №2

kakucho being the softest lover ever is an understatement. when he falls in love, he is completely head over hills. he is obsessed with you. he gets annoyed at himself for thinking about you so often. his friends also notice how he's almost always distracted and zoned out, only to be imagining being with you.

yuji had a problem—his greed was through the roof.

as many kisses, hugs, and gifts you gave him, it was never enough. he loved your undivided attention, and he would do whatever it took to keep it. so, when you were on the phone with kugisaki, expect yuji to be right there with you.

you lie on your side, your phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear, yuji's head on your stomach, his thick arms wrapped around your back. you didn't mind at all, hell, you took the opportunity to play with his hair. he wasn't asleep, just using you as a body pillow.

as the conversation went on, he started getting touchy—he laid kisses on your stomach, as one of his hands moved to grope and squeeze your ass. you were used to that though; but when he started placing wet kisses below your navel, that's when you shot him a soft glare.

"yuji," you whispered, "not now."

he looked up at you blankly, still placing kisses. cheeky. when you removed your hand from his hair, he stopped. he moved up more so his head was in your chest. his hand moving to your hip; rubbing tight circles there. he was trying to break your focus, and it was working a bit.

at some point, you weren't fully registering kugisaki and what she was saying; asking her to repeat things she said because yuji's hands had slipped under your sweatshirt and squeezed your breasts, or it had slid under your pants and started groping you gently.

"yuji."

"what? i wanna touch you."

you sighed softly once more, continuing to let yuji do as he pleased. you had a feeling kugisaki was getting suspicious, but she didn't say anything. she just kept going on about her shopping experience in tokyo.

his kisses trailed up your neck to below your ear, across your jaw, and finally—your lips, cutting you off mid-sentence much to your surprise. the kiss was sweet. everything about yuji was with sweet intention.

when kugisaki noticed you stopped talking and sounded like you were being smothered, her voice rang out over the phone. "itadori!"

he groaned, kissing you harder to drown out her voice. "stop being rude. you're bothering us."

"you're inturrupting our alone time, kugisaki." her voice didn't need to be put on speaker for yuji to hear her; she spoke loud enough.

"and you're inturrupting our conversation, idiot."

"i'm not!"

"you are!"

yuji bit his lip—kugisaki was right, unfortunately. you sat there watching them go back and forth until yuji hung up on her mid-sentence. it was much to your disappointment, not-so-much surprise. "yuji-"

"can i have a kiss?"

you blinked. "i just let you have one."

"yeah, but she interrupted it. therefore it's not an actual kiss."

"that doesn't make sense."

"kiss me."

"do you just want an excuse for a kiss?"

"yes." he hooked your leg around his hip.

"yuji."

he puckered his lips. you roll your eyes and sigh, kissing him like he wanted. he'll always find a way to sabotage you and when it doesn't work in his favor, he'll always find a way to make sure it will. you both know he was too cute to just turn down like that.

𓂃 ⭒ Megumi wants to wait until you are both adults

“Not even a blowjob?” you pout, leaning into his shoulder.  

Megumi sighs, the kind of long, resigned sound that says he’s already been through this conversation in his head a hundred times before.  

“Yes… even that.”  

You groan dramatically, throwing your head back against the couch. “You’re impossible.”  

“I’m responsible,” he corrects, deadpan, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t look at you right away, eyes fixed on the muted TV light flickering across the room. “We’re not old enough for that kind of stuff. It’s—” he pauses, brow tightening, “—inappropriate.”  

His voice carries that quiet seriousness that’s so him. The same tone he uses when explaining a curse technique or when he thinks you’re about to do something reckless. You can tell he’s set on this—not out of coldness, but because he really believes it’s the right thing to do.  

You nudge his arm with your knee, half teasing, half earnest. “What about kisses?”  

That gets his attention. His eyes finally meet yours, dark and steady. Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders soften. “I guess those are fine,” he mutters.  

You grin, already scooting closer. “Fine enough for one right now?”  

Megumi lets out another sigh—this one softer, almost fond—and leans down just enough so your lips meet. It’s slow and warm and cautious, everything unspoken hanging between you. 

“See?” you whisper, smiling. “Nothing inappropriate about that.”  

He brushes his thumb against your cheek, eyes half-lidded. “Let’s just keep it that way,” he says quietly. But the way his lips linger near yours… 

Over the next few years, it turned out to be a lot harder for Megumi than he expected.  

You really had believed him back then every word about waiting, about being “responsible,” about things being inappropriate for your age. You’d agreed, because it made sense, because you loved how seriously he took things. 

But what Megumi didn’t account for was how that trust, that comfort of knowing he’d never cross a line, made you feel safe enough to get comfortable… maybe a little too comfortable.  

The shorts got shorter. The sleepovers started happening more often. Sometimes you’d climb into his bed without thinking, hair messy, wearing an oversized shirt and little else, stretching out beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was until he’d catch your thigh brushing his or notice the steady rise and fall of your breathing, and suddenly all that quiet composure would start to crack.  

He told himself it was fine. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You still had those same soft, innocent smiles, still fell asleep tangled in the blankets before midnight. It was just that he wasn’t as unaffected as he used to be.  

He’d thought you’d be the one struggling with waiting. Turns out, it’s Megumi who lies awake longer these nights trying to remember why “inappropriate” had ever sounded so simple.  

It wasn’t just about rules anymore. Somewhere along the way, things began to change quietly, naturally, almost without either of you noticing.  

Megumi started to feel it in the smallest of moments: the way your voice softened when you said his name, or how your hand lingered on his arm just a moment too long. Sometimes, when you leaned in close enough that your breath brushed his neck, he’d forget how to breathe entirely.  

You never did anything overtly bold, but you didn’t have to. The warmth of your skin when your legs touched beneath the blankets, the soft scent of your shampoo, the way your shirt would slip off one shoulder while you read beside him.

it all piled up, until every inch of space between you felt alive with something unsaid.  

He still told himself that waiting was the right thing. That it mattered. But lately, it wasn’t easy to rest his hand beside yours without his pulse quickening, or to look at you too long without his thoughts wandering somewhere he shouldn’t let them go.  

You could tell he was fraying at the edges, even if he’d never admit it. When you caught his eyes lingering, you almost asked him if he still thought it was “inappropriate.” But you didn’t. You just smiled, leaned a little closer, and let the silence balance between you

His eighteenth birthday came quietly, just like him. A small dinner with Yuji, Nobara, and you, nothing elaborate, just laughter, a cake Nobara nearly dropped, and the warmth of being surrounded by people who had grown up together through too much. 

But all night, Megumi couldn’t stop looking at you.  

You’d done nothing different—just worn that soft sweater he always liked, hair tied up loosely—but it was enough to undo him in small ways he tried not to show. Every time you smiled across the table, every time your knee brushed his under it, something tightened in his chest.  

Later, when everyone had gone to bed or disappeared into separate rooms, you were lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone. He walked in quietly, the floor creaking just enough to catch your attention. Before you could say anything, he lay down on top of you, his weight warm against your back.  

“Megumi—” you started, laughing when his breath brushed your neck.  

Then he kissed you there—just a soft press, almost shy—and you froze for a second before your laughter melted into something quieter.  

He lifted himself just enough to turn you onto your back, his eyes searching yours before his lips met yours again. This time it wasn’t gentle. It was deeper… slower… certain. You felt his heartbeat racing, his hand trembling slightly against your waist.  

It wasn’t unusual for him to react like that—he’d always been affectionate in his own careful way—but what was unusual was that he didn’t stop right away. For a moment, he allowed himself to stay there, breathing you in, caught between control and something new.  

Then, that familiar pull of restraint hit him like a wave. With a low sound—half frustration, half discipline—he pulled back completely, pressing his forehead to yours for a heartbeat, then standing up. No words. Just the sound of his footsteps leaving the room.  

You didn’t go after him; you both knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. And somehow, that silence said everything.  

Then came your eighteenth birthday.  

Your eighteenth birthday came on a quiet night too, though everything felt different this time. Maybe it was the way Megumi couldn’t seem to relax, even when Yuji and Nobara were teasing you both about being “the old ones now.” Maybe it was the way his hand lingered against the small of your back when he passed behind you, how his eyes kept finding yours and then darting away like he was afraid to get caught.  

By the time everyone had gone home, the air between you two felt thick with something neither of you could name.  

You were sitting on the edge of his bed when he came in, hair still a little mussed from the shower, shirt loose at the collar. He stopped in front of you, looking down with that same mix of calm and uncertainty that always seemed to exist in him at once.  

“Happy birthday,” he said softly.  

You smiled up at him. “Thank you.”  

He hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t trust himself to. His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally gave in to impulse and reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair off your face.  

“Did you make a wish?” he asked.  

You nodded, smiling faintly. “Maybe.”  

“What was it?”  

You tipped your head, pretending to think, even though you both knew you wouldn’t tell him. “If I say it, it won’t come true.”  

He huffed a soft laugh, the kind that barely made it past his throat. Then he sat beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, your knees almost touching.  

For a moment, neither of you moved. The clock on the nightstand ticked quietly. His eyes flicked to your lips, once, then away again and your pulse jumped.  

“Megumi,” you said, barely above a whisper.  

He looked at you then, really looked. Like he was searching for a sign, a word, anything to justify the way his hand slid to rest against your thigh, tentative but steady.  

“It doesn’t feel wrong anymore… I hope,” you murmured.  

He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath for years. “No,” he said, voice rough, quiet, “It doesn’t.”  

When he kissed you this time, there was no hesitation

His mouth moved against yours slow, like he was memorizing the shape of it all over again. 

One of his hands stayed on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy half circles over the inside seam of your shorts, warm through the thin cotton. 

The other came up to cradle the side of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, holding you.

You shifted closer without really meaning to, knee sliding against his, and he made a low sound in the back of his throat—barely there, but enough to send heat curling low in your stomach.

When you finally parted—just enough to breathe—he didn’t go far. Forehead resting against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly, not mocking. Just noticing.

You let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “So are you.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead he kissed you again, softer this time, lips catching yours in little pulls and releases until your mouth parted on its own. 

His tongue brushed yours, tentative at first, then deeper when you sighed into it, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.

The hand on your thigh slid higher, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted. You didn’t. Your legs parted just a fraction and his palm settled fully against the warmth there, not pressing, just resting, like he was giving you time to feel how badly he wanted to touch more.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, foreheads still touching. “Megumi…”

He hummed, low, waiting.

“Take them off,” you whispered.

His fingers paused, then hooked under the waistband of your shorts. He tugged gently, waiting for you to lift your hips before he slid them down your thighs, past your knees, letting them drop to the floor. 

Cool air hit your skin and you shivered; his hand immediately returned, warmer now, cupping you through your underwear. 

You reached for the hem of his shirt next, tugging it up. He helped you pull it off, muscles shifting under your palms as you ran your hands over his chest, his sides, feeling the way his breath hitched when your nails grazed lightly down his stomach.

When your fingers found the strings of his joggers he caught your wrist, not stopping you, just holding for a second. His eyes searched yours again, quieter this time.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rougher than before.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been sure for a long time.”

He exhaled through his nose, something almost like relief, then let go of your wrist. You worked the ties, and he lifted his hips so you could push the joggers and boxers down far enough. He kicked them off the rest of the way himself.

Then it was just his skin against your skin.

He pulled you into his lap carefully, your knees bracketing his hips, and for a long moment neither of you moved…just breathing, foreheads pressed together, feeling each other. 

His cock rested warm and heavy against your inner thigh; you could feel how hard he was, how much he was trying not to rush.

His hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just under your ribs.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured.

You kissed him instead of answering and rocked your hips once, just enough to slide against him. He groaned softly into your mouth, fingers tightening on your waist.

You did it again, slower this time, dragging yourself along his length until the head nudged your clit through the damp cotton still between you. His head dropped to your shoulder, breath ragged against your neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself.

You smiled against his hair, reached down between you, and tugged your underwear to the side.

When you sank down onto him it was careful—despite the pain—until he was buried deep and you both went still, breathing hard.

He pressed a shaky kiss to your throat. “You okay?”

You nodded, fingers threading through his dark hair. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”

He did. Just held you close, one arm wrapped around your lower back, the other hand cradling your face so he could kiss you again

When you finally rolled your hips, testing, he groaned low in his chest and matched your small, shallow thrusts that made your breath catch every time he bottomed out.

It stayed slow like that for a long while with no rush.

The pace stayed gentle for a while longer with your slow rolls of your hips meeting his careful upward thrusts.

The room was quiet except for your shared breathing and the soft, wet sounds your bodies made each time you sank down onto him fully

little noises that filled the space between you every time you lifted and slid back down. 

His eyes flicked down between you, watching where you took him in, then back up to your face. The sight seemed to pull another low groan from him, and he pressed his thumb firm against your clit, circling in time with the slow grind.

You whimpered softly at the added pressure, and the next roll of your hips drew out an especially wet, filthy squelch that made you both freeze for half a second. His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging in just enough to leave the faintest sting.

His hands roamed now: one splayed wide across your lower back, guiding without forcing, the other sliding up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your bra. His thumb brushed over the peak of your nipple once, twice, until your breath hitched and you arched into his touch.

You tugged the bar down your chest yourself, impatient suddenly, and let it sit on your rib cage.

The second his mouth found your collarbone you felt the shift in him—still careful, but hungrier. kisses trailed lower, pausing to suck softly at the swell of your breast before he closed his lips around your nipple. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Megumi—” It came out like a half-plea

He hummed against your skin, the vibration pulling another shiver out of you, then switched to the other side while his finger still played with your clit

You rocked harder without meaning to, and he groaned low against your chest

“Lie back,” you whispered.

He blinked up at you, dark lashes heavy, then nodded once. 

You lifted off him carefully—both of you making small, involuntary sounds at the loss—and he let you guide him down until his shoulders hit the pillows. 

The sight of him like that—hair messy across his forehead, lips swollen from kissing, chest rising and falling fast—made your stomach flip.

You straddled him again, this time facing him fully, and sank back down in one smooth glide. Deeper this time. His head tipped back, throat working on a quiet curse.

You set the pace now with slow lifts and drags that let you feel every inch of him.

His hands found your hips, just holding on like he needed the anchor. His thumbs pressed into the soft skin above your hipbones.

When your pace stuttered, he sat up suddenly, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. 

The new angle made him hit something inside you that turned your next breath into a broken moan.

“There?” he murmured against your lips.

You could only nod, forehead pressed tight to his, noses brushing, breaths coming out hot and ragged against each other’s mouths. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close, dragging him in that last little bit until there was no space left between you. 

Your bare chest rubbed against his with every move, nipples scraping over his skin, the friction sharp and hot, making you shiver each time your bodies slid together. 

You moved with him, keeping him buried so deep that the base of his cock pressed against you every time you rolled forward. 

You felt the warm, soft weight of his balls settle right up against your skin with each grind, shifting slightly, adding that extra press of fullness that made your stomach flutter low and hard.

Your thighs trembled around his hips, muscles jumping every time you rocked down. Your feet dug into the mattress, toes curling in the sheets as you tried to pull yourself even closer, chasing every bit of contact you could get. 

His hands slid down from your waist, palms rough and warm as they cupped your ass, fingers spreading wide, digging in just enough to make you gasp softly. 

Then he pulled you forward, harder, guiding your hips down deeper onto him with a firm, steady push. 

The motion sank him even further inside, stretching you fuller, the thick base grinding right against your entrance while his balls pressed warmer, snugger against you. 

Every time he tugged you in like that, the angle shifted just right, hitting deeper, making your walls flutter around him without warning.

You whimpered into his mouth, the sound swallowed as he rocked up to meet the next pull of the short, deep thrusts that never let him slip out far, just kept grinding him in tight circles inside you. 

Your fingers curled at the back of his neck, nails scratching lightly into his skin as you clung to him. 

His grip on your ass stayed strong, fingers kneading the soft flesh, spreading you open a little more with each push so you took every inch without resistance. The wet sounds between you grew louder with filthy squelches every time he forced your hips down and your bodies met completely.

“Megumi,” you managed, voice cracking, nails biting into his shoulders now.

He swallowed hard, eyes half‑shut, breath stuttering. “Yeah?” he rasped, voice low and rough. “I—mhh—feel good”

He just kept pulling you deeper with those firm hands on your ass, rocking his hips up in time so the head of him dragged over that spot inside again and again. 

Your chest slid against his with every movement, nipples catching and scraping over his skin, the raw friction making your breath hitch, your thighs shaking harder as everything narrowed to the stretch of him filling you, the way his palms squeezed and guided you down harder, your feet pressing into the bed like you could force him even deeper, the slick heat where you were joined so completely.

Then it broke.

You came hard, a choked moan muffled into his neck as your walls clamped down around him in pulsing waves, squeezing him tight. 

He groaned low, hips jerking once—twice—his fingers digging deeper into your ass as he pushed you down one last time and spilled inside you, arms locking tight around your back like he needed to hold on just as much as you did.

For a long minute after, neither of you moved. Just clung. Breathing hard against each other’s skin. Your arms stayed around his neck, holding him close, your chest still pressed to his as you tried to catch your breath. His hands stayed on your ass, softer now, thumbs stroking slow circles over the marks he’d left.

Eventually he pressed a slow, open kiss to the side of your neck.

“When did you become such a pro” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You smiled into his hair, fingers tracing lazy patterns down his spine.

“Don’t get mad ” you said despite still trying to catch your breath . “But those fanfics you told me to stop reading helped ”

“ what “

the snow started falling during the afternoon, soft at first, then thick and heavy. by evening the dorm was buried, windows frosted over, doors impossible to open. everyone else had left for winter break days ago—yuji dragging nobara to some family thing, gojo off on a mission that conveniently kept him away.

just you and megumi, stuck in the old jujutsu high dorms with one thin blanket between you and the cold. power flickers once, twice, then dies completely. the heater clicks off. the room drops fast.

megumi curses under his breath, rummaging through drawers for candles he knows aren’t there. you’re already shivering on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. he glances over, dark hair falling into his eyes, expression unreadable as always.

“come here,” he says finally, voice low. he’s on the floor in front of the low table, the only blanket spread out like a bed. his dorm room is tiny—just a single futon, a desk, and shelves of books. no space for two people to stay warm separately.

you hesitate, then crawl over. the blanket is barely big enough. he lifts one side, and you slip underneath, pressed close. your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist like it’s the most natural thing. he’s warm—always runs hot, even in weather like this. you feel it immediately, the solid heat of him seeping through your thin sweater.

minutes pass in silence. the snow taps against the window. your shivering slows, but awareness creeps in—his breath on your neck, the way his hips shift slightly when you move. you try to ignore it. this is megumi. quiet, reserved megumi who barely speaks unless necessary. who’s never touched you beyond a hand on your shoulder during training.

but the blanket traps everything. your ass brushes his lap when you adjust, and you feel him—half-hard already, thickening against you. he stiffens, arm tightening.

“sorry,” you whisper.

“it’s fine.” his voice is rougher than usual.

libido, as choso understood it, had always ranked somewhere beneath the immovable fact of loving and protecting his brothers. sex never held much meaning when your earliest existence was as a cursed object, preserved in a jar and suspended in fluid for over a century. even after he was given form, physical desire remained abstract. he hadn’t imagined anyone wanting him. hadn’t thought it would matter.

but then you happened.

and now, desire is not only present but constant. he thinks about you incessantly. the softness of your body lingers in his memory, along with the way your voice tilts shyly whenever you try to initiate. you always kiss the corner of his mouth first, and sometimes giggle when self-conscious about the ferocity of your own ardor. you want him, and he wants you. what you share is jun’ai—pure love.

the only obstacle is scale. once, you’d reached down, fingertips barely ghosting along the length of him, and whispered, “how’s that supposed to fit inside me?” tone a mixture of awe and dread. he kissed your knee and told you he’d try anything that made you feel good. “you’re gonna have to practice, cho,” you continued, “like… really work me open. or—” you’d hesitated, teeth sinking into your lip, “we could do something else for now.” he agreed. of course choso agreed. you were his love, and he’d rather die than hurt you.

which is how he ends up here, on his knees at the foot of the bed, thick cock gliding between the plushy flesh of your thighs while you lie back, panting, biting your lip to keep from making the kinds of sounds he knows would ruin his resolve. hands stay on your hips, thumbs pressing gently into your skin to dictact the motion. with a look of mild detachment (his resting face) his eyes are locked on where he’s fucking you. the swollen head of his cock drags through the sticky seam between your legs, catching against your folds, smearing precome across your lower belly with every thrust.

“feels good like this too,” he mumbles, “you’re so warm. i could stay here forever.” and part of him means it. this is heaven, in its own way. your thighs slick and plush, pressing tight around him. the heat of your pussy so so close he can feel it pulse when he hits your clit by accident, drawing those sharp little gasps out of you—ones you try so hard to hide. your pretty tits bounce slightly with every thrust, which is a bonus.

now you’re looking up at him now with glassy, fucked-out eyes despite never being touched where needed most.

“next time,” you promise, wetting your lips. his cock twitches between your thighs. “no need to rush. you’re perfect,” he assures, “i can wait as long as you need.”

he’s being a good boy. so fucking good. and you have no idea how much restraint it takes. how badly he wants to line himself with your cunt, and push in until you scream. but he won’t. not until you stop stalling. because one day you will.

Thigh guy — Megumi Fushiguro

pairing: bf!megumi fushiguro x reader synopsis: while you and your boyfriend stay up way too late to play video games, he learns something new about himself... cw: none, fluff, already established relationship, gn!reader wc: 1k

“Could you actually do something useful for once.”

“What do you mean? I am being useful!” you retort. “Who else is going to take care of our farm?”

Megumi lets out a small huff, but doesn’t say anything more.

It was well past midnight, and you should’ve gone back to your dorm hours ago. But instead, here you were. In your boyfriend’s room, playing split-screen Minecraft. 

Satoru Gojo, Sukuna Ryomen, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

“Oh, that’s cute,” Gojo says, looking at the glowing chain connecting your wrists.

“Cute? CUTE? Get these off right now”

He tries to pull them off. They don’t budge. He tries using Infinity. Doesn’t work. You try to smash them against a wall. Nothing.

And then the curse, before dying, has the audacity to laugh and say, “Only breaks when you resolve your issues”

“What issues?” you both yell at the same time.

So now you’re stuck. Literally handcuffed to Satoru Gojo, the most annoying man on the planet.

“This is your fault,” you say.

“How is this MY fault?”

“Everything is your fault.”

“Wow. And you wonder why we have ‘issues’ to resolve.”

The first hour isn’t terrible. You go back to Jujutsu High, and Ijichi takes one look at you both and just… walks away. Smart man.

Shoko examines the cuffs and basically says “lol good luck” and refuses to help.

“You’re a doctor”

“I’m a doctor, not a relationship counsellor.” She’s already walking away, lighting a cigarette.

“We’RE NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP.”

She just waves without turning around.

The problems start when you realize you have to do everything together. EVERYTHING.

Eating…. He’s right there, stealing food off your plate because “we’re basically the same person now.”

“We are not the same person.”

Bathroom breaks are a nightmare that you’ve both agreed to never speak of. He stands outside the stall facing the wall and hums loudly while you die of embarrassment.

Sleeping is worse. You’re in your room, trying to sleep on your bed, and he’s… also on your bed because where else is he gonna go.The chain is like three feet long.

“Stay on your side, Satoru”

“This is my side.”

“Your side is not the middle of the bed”

“I’m a big guy, I need space.”

“I’m about to murder you and then we’ll really have issues to resolve.”

He eventually falls asleep, and you’re lying there wide awake because you’re hyper aware of every single point where his arm is touching yours and how warm he is and how his hair is falling in his face and…

Nope. Not going there. You’re just tired. That’s all.

Day two is when things get weird.

You’re making coffee and he’s attached to you, obviously, and he’s humming some annoying song and you realize… it’s kind of nice having someone there in the morning. You immediately hate that you thought that.

“Stop hovering.”

“I’m literally chained to you.”

At breakfast, Yuji asks how you’re both doing and Gojo says “Great. We’re basically married now” and you kick him under the table.

“We are NOT….”

“I mean, we sleep together, eat together, spend every waking moment together…”

You kick him again.

“..ow, okay, okay, I’m just saying the handcuffs have a point.”

“What point, Satoru”

“That we should probably talk about… stuff.”

“What stuff?”

He suddenly gets really interested in his food. “You know. Stuff.”

Day three and you’re losing your mind. Not because he’s annoying, okay, partly that, but because he keeps doing weird things like making sure you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk, and adjusting his pace to match yours, and reaching for things on high shelves before you even ask, and it’s making you feel things that you don’t want to feel.

“Can you stop being so…” you wave your free hand vaguely, “….like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like… nice”

He laughs. “You’re mad at me for being nice?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know! Just stop it”

“What if I don’t want to stop it?”

You freeze. He’s looking at you with this expression you’ve never seen before, and your heart does a very inconvenient backflip.

“Satoru…”

“You know what I think?” He’s closer now, and you can’t step back because you’re literally attached to him. “I think the curse knew exactly what it was doing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our issue isn’t that we hate each other. It’s that we’re both too stubborn to admit we don’t.”

Your face is burning. “That’s…you’re….shut up.”

“Awe, you’re blushing.”

“I’M NOT”

“You are. You’re doing that thing where your ears get all red.”

“Okay, okay” You’re covering your face with your free hand. “Stop talking”

“Not until you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me.”

“I…” You want to deny it. But he’s looking at you like that and you’re tired of pretending and the words just come out, “So what if I do?”

He’s grinning like an idiot.

“I’m already regretting it.”

“Liar.”

He’s right. You are lying. And when he leans in closer, giving you plenty of time to pull away, as much as you can while handcuffed, you don’t.

The kiss is soft and sweet and when you pull back, you’re both smiling like idiots.

There’s a soft click.

You look down. The handcuffs are gone, just dissolved into nothing, leaving just a faint warm feeling on your wrists.

Later, you find out Shoko absolutely could have removed the cuffs at any time.

When confronted, she just shrugs and says “You’re welcome” and walks away.

Felix Fathom in love with you headcanons.

Summary: It wasn't in Felix's plans to fall in love, but with each day that passed and his thoughts returned to you, he fell into reality.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

You two met through Adrien. Since you and his cousin went to the same school, you seemed to be good friends and you would go support him when he played with the band Kitty Section. It was a certain day where you were with Adrien at the mansion, having a good time when Felix arrived.

He wouldn't lie, he was apathetic towards you from the beginning. Felix didn't seem very interested in his cousin's friends or in becoming friends in particular; it was the least of his concerns, but by chance, you two seemed to coincide at various times. Like the day you arrived early at the Agreste mansion and Adrien hadn't finished his private lessons yet, so Felix greeted you. He didn't seem interested in participating in long conversations with you, but it seemed like you knew how to treat him with certain topics. His crush on you wasn't something easy for Felix to digest, starting with the fact that he wasn't planning on falling in love, so this would take some time.

Felix is a born observer. He wouldn’t immediately jump into the fight, but rather he would analyze every detail about you. Without you noticing, he would start to intervene in your life in small, but significant ways: if he saw that you were uncomfortable in a situation, he would subtly intervene to get you out of it. If he noticed that you had a preference for certain things, he would “coincidentally” make them come your way. Felix wouldn’t openly admit that he does it out of love, but his actions would show his devotion more than words.

Felix’s displays of affection would be meticulous and meaningful, as would his gestures. If he were to give you something, it wouldn’t be a common object, but something that had a special meaning for you. His way of caring for you would be indirect, making sure that you always have what you need or silently protecting you and even being on the lookout for any danger that could put you at risk.

He doesn’t trust anyone easily, so, being in love with you, his greatest display of love would be to allow you to see parts of him that no one else knows. As the two of you begin to grow closer over time, Felix would share details about his family life or his true thoughts, especially around you, even allowing you to see him in moments of vulnerability. He wouldn't fake a personality in front of you, but would be more natural and sincere. He wants you to fall in love with him for who he really is, not just for an outward facade.

Felix isn't someone who expresses jealousy in an obvious way and he probably wouldn't feel that way that often, so there would be few times when you could see him that way. His attitude could become colder or sharper if he perceives someone trying to get closer to you romantically. Even with this he would have a kind of internal struggle; the idea of someone else conquering you before he could do anything would make him react with some annoyance. This could play a role, forcing him to make a decision about what he really felt for you and wanting to confess.

If Felix loves, it is with exclusivity. He would make you feel that you were unique to him. He wouldn't confess directly at first, making subtle comments implying that he only trusted you. But despite all this, Felix would for a while try to keep convincing himself that love was a weakness. However, the more he tried to pull away, the more he realized that he couldn't help but care about you and want to protect you.

Finally, when it came to the point where he accepts his love for you, his loyalty would be absolute. Planning his confession meticulously, even taking days to make everything perfect, whatever the outcome. His confession would be more subtle, with implications, letting you get the message without needing a bunch of words. Felix would confess in a private place or where he felt safe, where everything was planned so that the atmosphere would be perfect. He would treat you very well and be gentler than usual. In a seemingly normal conversation, where his confession comes out naturally and unexpectedly.

After confessing, at first glance, he might seem calm, even indifferent, but if you knew him well, you would notice the small details like his rigid posture, as if he were trying hard not to show his nervousness. His more intense gaze than usual, or his lower tone of voice, as if he were revealing a secret that only you deserved to know.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean. If what I just told you means nothing to you, I’ll understand… But if it means something, then tell me.” His words would be direct and firm, wanting to get straight to the point without so much plot. If you were to appear unsure or doubtful, he wouldn’t insist. Felix wouldn’t beg, but if he senses that there is reciprocity in your words and gaze, he would protect and care for you with absolute intensity. You would have the last word.

𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮 𝓫𝓯 𝓽𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓼 ࿔ ᝰ .ᐟ

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 with a dry partner hehe

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 hii i’m back!! (i think) anyway here’s another smau cause i felt bored :P also in the first slide i meant to say said instead of send

© SUGARMOUCHIE. do not copy, translate or repost ᰔ

hi everyone. i can’t believe i have to do this but i’m i’m really desperate need for some help. a couple days ago i had $2400 stolen from me… yeah i know. this all happening right before my birthday and right before i’m getting ready to move out into a new place. i’m honestly super distraught right now and i’ve been on the phone crying to the bank trying to get the situation solved to no avail. if i can’t get the money back that i worked so hard to save i’m afraid i’ll end up with nowhere to live in a couple months. i know everyone’s going through tough times but if you have the means i beg you to consider donating to my ko-fi

if you can’t help i understand but if you don’t mind boosting this i would be eternally grateful to you. thank you all and sorry for bringing all this to your attentions but i honestly don’t know what else to do.

KO-FI

GOAL: $81.56/2400

the full story for context