JELOUSY ISNT A GOOD LOOK, GIRL!
Content: When a new girl shows up, what do you do? Go get your man!
TW: Implied angst, hurt/comfort, reader is a lil bit dramatic, implied FEM!READER but could be read as NB!READER, BLOOD and DEATH warning in Sukuna's, swearing
Including: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna! (In order)
A/N: SAGDSAGGSDJAGDJHSA FIRST JJK WRITE WHATTT, anyways, ASK BOX IS OPEN PULEASEEE
Masterlist requests rules about me
âBabycakes! I don't know her, I promise!â
Your boyfriend sobbed after you as you sped down the aisles of the shops, displaying expensive clothes and expensive items which you know damn well you'd beg Satoru to buy in another day's time.
You winced as you heard another sob fall from Satoru's lips, his blue eyes all teary as he sniffled to exaggerate the blueness swelled up inside him. You knew what you were doing was silly and childish, but you couldnât help the anger that bubbled up in your stomach as that woman disregarded your existence. She batted her eyelashes innocently at your boyfriend. Her voice was stuck in your head, her coos and soft giggles of âhello mister, how may I assist you today?â, the thought makes your frown twitch despite knowing her terrible attempts of seducing while working.
Never shopping here again. That thought replayed in your head within every step you took, your breath growing heavy as the pulse in your skin boiled, youâre overreacting, but can you really blame yourself? Satoruâs sobs of protests and begging fell from behind you as he wished for nothing more but a simple glance from you at this point.
âIâll buy the whole store for you! Just say something to me! Hell, just look at me!â
Sighing, you face Satoru with a nasty side eye, glaring at him despite knowing it wasnât his fault. The bubble of insecurity started to deteriorate as his tensed state now turned soft, his blue eyes refused to acknowledge everyone in the room, his gaze was full of softness, a softness that was protected far away from the world of jujutsu, a softness only you got to experience every single time.
âNever been more happy, honey.â
You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, a groan coming out from you as you grabbed out for his hand. Your footsteps dragged against the floor as you strayed further to the exit, wanting to leave as soon as possible. You must admit, his groveling was amusing, but you know heâd never leave you for anyone in the world.
âI love you, or whatever.â
You then hear a squeal from behind you, muscular arms wrapping around your middle body as a pair of lips made contact with the side of your head, a soft mutter; quiet enough for you to hear was whispered.
âI love you more, from the inside and out.â
You slam the door open, walking through it with an angry motive as you push and shove anyone in your way. That damn new assistant. With those short skirts, and seductive poses she strikes towards your boyfriend. And that? Wasnât even the start of it, she brings him lunch instead of your usual bentos you make for him, all that time and effort wasted as you leave the discarded (and now wasted) bento box on the floor.
You hear him. His voice. You felt irritated, angry, jealous? You couldnât quite comprehend your emotions right now. The emotional rollercoaster came to a halt when you felt an arm around your wrist, the instant smell of Suguru filled your senses as you attempted to resist melting at the continuous but inviting feeling deep inside your chest.
âListen to me, okay? It isnât what it looks like. She looks like a disgusting rat compared to you.â
Suguru exclaimed with a snarl, his grip tightening around your wrist despite the small hesitance in his touch. His shoulders slowly releasing the built up tense during the whole confrontation, his eyes slowly softening as he looked for any aggression in your facial features. Behind him sat your homemade bento box, rice smushed against the hard floor, Tamagoyaki splattered in all separate directions.
âWhat a waste.â He muttered.
âYou werenât gonna eat it.â You spat back, voice poisonous.
âI was! I seriously do eat your bentos.â He promised, sincerity laced in his tone.
You looked skeptical, reluctantly meeting his soft gaze; staring into those irises that had you mesmerized for hours, big mistake, you note: you immediately folded. With an irritated sigh, you shifted your position straight into his arms and melted into his robes.
âHow about this, I'll fire that damn assistant and we can go home, hm? Maybe cook dinner together?â
And with that, you ended the day in the kitchen with the radio on. The soft aroma of sizzling food filled the kitchen as you both swayed side to side, his arms rested on your sides; and your head rested on his chest.
âI love you, Suguru.â
âI love you more, angel.â
You were at a dinner party next to your husband Kento, all sitting around a table eating dinner while discussing business and other stuff relating to the economy. Multiple of his co-workers introducing themselves and chatting along, it wasnât until you heard that irritating and annoying voice.
âHi! Iâm Kento's work wife.. Well, it's not official but we see eachother everyday.â
Oh. Oh. This bitch pisses you off.
You softly clinked your wine glass down on the table, the silence deafening as everyone stared at the small introduction. The soft clink could be heard as someone quite literally dropped their fork on the ground, a small sniffle and an awkward cough later you finally decided to find your voice.
You forced down, voice saccharine-sweet. A firm hand was placed onto your thigh, small comforting circles being traced against your soft skin as you clenched your jaw slightly. âThough, it would be a lot more fun if you joked about someone who isnât married.â
She laughed nervously, waving her arm around while side-eyeing Kento for support. âAhh.. itâs a joke! A nickname we use in the work industry. Haha! You know, harmless fun!â Her sentence brought out many hisses of disagreement and even more awkward coughs from your husband's co-workers, an audible âOh shit.â was whispered from one of his guests.
Eventually, Nanami spoke up, his voice low and strict. âShe didnât mean to offend, my love.â His voice was steady, though the edge of his voice made the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. He looked across at the woman across the table, his eyes glaring at her through his glasses, âBut it's clear that the joke didnât land. It's about time we move on.â. That sentence brought everyone looking down at their plates, suddenly finding the seared steak on their plates fascinating.
The woman sat stiffly, nodding robotically as she reached for her fork.
Nanami leaned over and whispered in your ear, âJealousy is a good look on you, darling.â, the rest of the night flew by with flying colors, but the tone changed ever since that confrontation. No more flirtatious comments, no more suggestive jokes, no more âwork wifeâ talk.
At the end of the night, youâre wrapped in each other's arms, legs tangled as you both embrace in the comfort of one another's warmth. You both knew that at the end of the day: Youâre his and he is yours.
You sat down with your boyfriend at a fast food restaurant, discussing anything that came up to mind while repeatedly changing topics. The conversation bounced from what toppings are objectively superior on a burger, to whether youâd survive a zombie apocalypse, to the weird dream you had last night that made no sense but was strangely vivid. It was comfortable and easy. You leaned in to give your boyfriend a kiss, lips just brushing his, when suddenly..
âStacy, look! That guy over there is totally your type!â
âHeâs totally my type too!â
âOh my GOSHH he looks like such a loser, it's so cute!â
A flock of college girls huddled around your table with red faces and giggly voices, getting all close and personal in your guys personal space. Choso blinked slowly, clearly overwhelmed, lips parted as though he was still catching up to what just happened. He stayed still, too polite to push anyone away, but you could see his brows twitch with unease.
You let out a tight sigh and calmly set your drink down.
âHi,â you said, loud enough to cut through the noise. âYeah, he is hot. I kiss him daily. Sometimes hourly.â
A few heads snapped toward you.
âI understand heâs a walking thirst trap,â you continued, voice sweet and laced with fire, âbut maybe, just maybe, you can admire from a distance without climbing into our booth like youâre about to join us for fries and foreplay.â
The girls stopped moving for two whole seconds, just staring at you before rolling their eyes at you âyeah right,â one says. Choso finally moved. Slowly, like he was shaking off a daze. His hand slid across the table and took yours, his thumb brushing your knuckles with a firm, steady stroke. He didnât look at the girlsâhe didnât need to.
âSheâs right,â he said plainly, his voice low and even. âIâm not single. Iâm not interested. And Iâd like to get back to my food now.â
The girls collectively shuffled back like someone had hit a rewind button on a movie. A few tried to save face with nervous laughs. As the group finally dispersed, leaving behind a faint trail of perfume and secondhand embarrassment, Choso exhaled slowly. His grip on your hand stayed tight.
â...What just happened,â he muttered, as if his brain had just rebooted.
âYou got mobbed by the thirst squad,â you said, reaching for your fries again. âCongratulations. Youâre a campus-wide problem now.â
You never thought of yourself as the jealous type. You prided yourself on being cool, collected and unbothered. But all of that went straight out the window the moment Toji Fushiguro came into your life. There was something about him, something infuriatingly magnetic, that made your heart twist and your blood heat. But it wasnât only you who felt that kind of magnetic pull, women from the other side of the street, workers from local cafes, women who were also married continued to stare at him with awe and a hunger that made your stomach drop every time.
You'd be walking beside him, hand laced in his, and still they'd look at him like you werenât even there. One girl even went so far as to bump into you to get closer to him, pretending she didnât see you, giving you a fake apology while giggling at him like sheâd just unlocked a level in some dating sim.
And Toji? Of course he noticed.
He didnât comment on it often, but you saw the twitch of his jaw, the subtle scoff under his breath. You knew he didnât care about them. Hell, he barely gave them a glance unless it was to glare them back into place. But that didnât stop the fire that lit in your chest every single time.
You tried to play it cool. Bit your lip. Look the other way. But it reached a breaking point when one woman, mid-30s, perfect hair, wedding ring flashing like a mockery, tried to hand Toji her number right in front of you.
Toji didnât even blink. He looked her dead in the eye, took the paper, and without a word, crumpled it in his hand and dropped it in the nearest trash bin. Then he turned to you, wrapped a heavy arm around your waist, and said loud enough for her to hear,
âLetâs go, baby. Iâve got something better waiting for me.â
What was waiting for him? You two at home, embraced in his big beefy arms, head on his chest while he watches some random sports on the tv. Pizza boxes lay all over the coffee table as you continued to slumber comfortably in your man's arms.
Jealousy wasnât something you liked to admit; not to yourself, and definitely not to Megumi. He wasnât the kind of boyfriend who gave you reasons to doubt him. He was quiet, loyal, frustratingly composed, and sometimes too emotionally distant for his own good. But he was yours, and that meant something.
So when a new student from your class saunters up to Megumi and giggles up at him, you feel something seriously shift inside your gut as you stand there motionlessly. She's pretty, too pretty, like the type of pretty that makes anyone drop to their knees to grovel over, like she was a model straight out of a magazine.
You watch her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear like itâs a well-rehearsed move, leaning in as she says something to him that you canât quite hear. But what you can see is the way she places a hand on his forearm. Lightly. Casually. Like she has any right.
Megumi, for his part, looks⊠neutral. Maybe mildly annoyed. His arms stay crossed, his eyes not quite meeting hers. But he doesnât pull away either. And thatâs what gets you. Not that heâs entertaining her, exactly, but that heâs letting it happen.
The ugly, uncomfortable heat inside your chest simmers like a warning. Itâs irrational. You know it. He hasnât done anything wrong. But your jealousy has teeth, and itâs starting to bite.
You finally step forward, sliding in next to him with a casualness that feels like a performance, your hand slipping into his like itâs second nature, because it is. Megumi glances at you, his eyes softening immediately, thumb brushing your knuckles in a way that sends something warm down your spine.
âOh,â the girl says, blinking. âI didnât know you had a girlfriend.â
You smile politely, sharp as glass. âYeah. For a while now.â
He flaunts you like youâre a sacred gem, like youâre a prized possession in a world full of oil and clay. This girl looks like a piece of shit stuck on the bottom of someone's shoe, he would word casually. You snort. She shrieks. She leaves. Being alone with him once more as he looks over at you casually.
He appreciates you, he cherishes you, and you know that.
Yuji was definitely a blind bat when it came to flirting, I mean, he was never good around girls anyways right? He was open-hearted, affectionate, and wore his emotions like a second skin. He made you feel loved in the loudest, sunniest ways, and yet... that didnât stop the sharp sting of envy when someone else tried to bask in his light. Because Yuji was magnetic. He smiled at everyone, talked to anyone, made people feel like they mattered, and sometimes, they mistook that warmth for something more. Something they could have. Something that wasnât already yours.
So when you see one of the third-years from another class walk right up to him during lunch smiling, giggling, flipping her hair, leaning just a little too close, you feel your stomach twist in a way thatâs anything but friendly. Sheâs cute. That kind of effortlessly pretty, the kind you could never compete with because it wasnât trying, it just was. You watch her press her shoulder into his as she laughs at something he says, touching the sleeve of his uniform like sheâs been given permission. You canât hear the words, but you donât need to. The body language is loud enough.
Yuji, the sweet, oblivious Yuji, is smiling, his usual sunshine grin, like this is just another conversation. Like he doesnât notice the way her eyes linger or how she bats her lashes like sheâs trying out for a drama club role. And the worst part? He doesnât pull away. Not that heâs flirting back, not at all. but heâs letting it happen, and thatâs enough to make something ugly coil in your chest.
You donât hesitate. You walk up to them with a calmness that feels paper-thin, your fingers sliding into his with an easy, practiced grace. He turns immediately, eyes lighting up in that way they only do when he sees you, and squeezes your hand like he forgot the rest of the world existed. The girl pauses, blinking like sheâs only just realized youâre there. âOh,â she says, her voice a little too high. âI didnât know you two were-â
âVery together,â you reply, voice sweet but sharp.
Yuji grins at you, then glances back at her with no real interest. âSheâs kinda the best thing thatâs ever happened to me,â he says simply. The girl falters, mumbles something, and backs off like sheâs been gently but thoroughly dismissed.
Later, when itâs just you and him walking home, he tugs you closer and says, âYou donât have to worry about anyone else, yâknow. I only look at you.â
And fuck, you know he means it.
Sukuna didnât care for weakness, and thatâs exactly jealousy would look to him. Weak. Pathetic. But it was hard not to feel it when he was so visibly admired, even in the most twisted of ways. It wasnât the soft, flirty kind of attention youâd expect from schoolgirls or coworkers. No. People were drawn to him like moths to a flame, hungry to get close to something ancient, powerful, terrifying. They flirted with their lives, not just their words. And still, it made your blood boil. Because Sukuna let them. Not because he wanted them, but because he didnât care. He was bored. Indifferent. Sometimes amused. But never loyal, not in the traditional sense. He didnât flirt, he didn't entertain, he barely acknowledged, but he didnât stop them, either. And you hated it.
Today, it was some fool of a cursed spirit, low-grade and delusional, female in form but barely conscious in mind. She bowed herself in front of Sukuna like he was a god, because to her, he was. Her voice dripped with something too reverent to be respectful. âMy lord,â she purred, crawling too close to his throne of bone and ruin. âMay I offer myself to you?â Her meaning was clear, the way she bared her throat, her chest, her entire trembling form. It wasnât just fear. It was a disgusting desire; a wish to be his concubine.
Your jaw tightened. You stood beside Sukuna, arms crossed, shadows in your gaze. You said nothing. Neither did he. He watched the spirit crawl, her face nearly pressed to the floor at his feet. He didnât move. Didnât speak. Just let the silence stretch on like a blade.
You wanted to say something, to do something, to scream out at her. You knew Sukuna. You knew who he was, and he wasn't afraid to show it. So in one gesture, her head came flying off, her blood pooling on the floor as her body flopped onto the ground. Two heart beats later and he finally speaks: âJealous, Petal? Fear not, for I will never feed into these harlots. I only need one person to fully devote themselves to me.â
