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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.
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.
I LOVE HOW U WRITE YUTA UGHH i hope u write him more 😍😍
eeeeek omg this is literally one of the best compliments i could have ever gotten thank you sm anon!!! i'm so glad you enjoyed my writing, and characterisation is really something that i try to do well, so i'm really happy that it's being conveyed <33 i literally cannot stress how much this makes me and i'll work hard to make works that you and others will enjoy as well (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
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.
He’s seen things no sane person should have. He’s done things no person should be able to come back from. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even think he deserves to be in your presence. No one does, that’s the problem.
To him, you are divinity incarnate, wrapped in the flesh of nothing short of an angel. And as a mere mortal, or worse – something less than that after everything he’s been through, he knows he’s on borrowed time when it comes to you, so he’s going to savour every moment like it’s his last.
You’re all he craves. Is that such a sin to admit that? He doesn’t think so – he’s not a philosopher, but the fact that he desires you so enormously must be proof that he’s still human underneath it all, because what is it to be human if it is not to want and desire?
“Open.” Your tone seems cold, even aloof, but your fingers tell a different story, the way they grip his jaw like you don’t want him to run away from whatever this is. You don’t have to worry about that, though, he muses to himself, only a fool would do that and a fool he is not. He obeys your command like second nature, jaw slack in your hands as your thumb runs over his soft, swollen lips, pursed in anticipation.
The mattress underneath you creaks slightly as you shift up onto your knees, fingers still tightly pressed against his lower cheeks. From your new position where you’re angled above him, you watch as his tongue slips out to wet his lips – so eager, you think to yourself, just for you.
His hands twitch nervously at his side. You can tell he’s aching to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin.
When Yuuta starts slowly to trail his hands up your body, they stop just shy of your waist, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his palms, but far enough that he’s not actually touching you, their presence just ghostly lingering in a silent plea; he would never dare to touch you, not without your permission at the very least. You shoot him down with a sharp glare, and he immediately retreats, metaphorical tail between his legs, as his hands drop back down to his side.
It's okay, you can be mean to him; he doesn’t mind; after all, he’s the only one who can take it.
You open your mouth and a globule of spit, shiny in the dim light of the room, falls out of yours and into his. His tongue immediately darts out to gather it into his mouth, like he’s afraid of potentially wasting a single drop and disappointing you. Yuuta stops for a moment, almost as if he’s savouring the taste of it before he swallows dutifully, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the sheer effort of it.
It’s filthy, it’s disgusting, and he loves that; more specifically, the fact that it’s him who’s drawing this degeneracy out of you. If you can’t go up to their level, drag them down to yours.
As a reward for his little show, you slip your thumb in between his lips experimentally, and he devours it like there’s no tomorrow, tongue twisting around it like it’s the latest sweet he’s dying to get a taste of. When you finally remove your thumb from his mouth, his shoulders almost visibly sag at the loss of your digit, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a whine followed suit.
However, you don’t get to linger on that thought for too long, as he surges forward and presses his lips against yours. The sheer force of him almost sends you tumbling back against the bed if it weren’t for your other arm acting as a support in the nick of time.
The kiss isn’t gentle – far from it – it’s the opposite: messy, violent, teeth clashing against each other as lips part in an attempt to wholly consume the other. You think if you stay here long enough, he might actually succeed in that, and the thought of that alone sends a rush of heat downwards. The way he nibbles at your plush lips coaxes an unexpected soft moan out of you, and for that, you punish him with a brutal bite of your own against the juncture of where his neck meets the curve of his shoulder. That earns you a small yelp from him, but whatever hurt or shock he was feeling quickly dies down with a few small kitten licks and sucks against the fresh wound to tide the pain over. When you eventually let go, you notice the beginning stages of a bruise begin to form, and a swell of pride rushes through your body.
He takes this as a cue to move down to where you really want him, leaving a trail of kisses that feel like they’re burning brands into your body as he works his way downwards. Reaching your hips, he presses two fleeting kisses against your hips, one for each side, before eventually stopping at your knees. From this position, midnight blue eyes framed by long lashes and ghostly shadows stare back at you expectantly, like two little voids boring into your soul, and you have to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine as you fight the urge to drown in their sheer intensity.
A part of you wonders if you should drag this out any longer, make him work for it until he’s on the verge of tears, but the throbbing from between your legs wins, so you part your knees and sink into the mattress beneath you.
You’re already in your underwear, so there’s not much for him to remove. It’s cute, he thinks to himself, the fact that you still keep up this veneer of detachment even when it's just the two of you and no one else. You still feel the need to perform even when no one is looking. Just like how you try to pretend like your breath doesn't hitch when his deft fingers reach the place where you’ve been aching for so long at last.
By now, you’re soaked through; thus, when he runs down his fingers in a long stripe, your puffy folds suck in the wet fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. A soft gasp escapes him, and the hot puff of air that follows, the flimsy cotton gusset does little to shield you from him and the salvation you’ve been craving for what feels like ages at this point.
One thing about Yuuta that people don’t know is that he’s mean, meaner than you would expect someone who’s so publicly timid to be. He’s mean in the way that he’ll trail kisses up the insides of your thighs, starting all the way at your ankle at one side and slowly making their way up right to where you want him to most, but are too ashamed ever to say out loud, before only pressing a fleeting kiss against your neglected clit with the sensation fading faster than your mind can process as he makes his way down the other side to begin this painful cycle all over again.
You don’t know if it's your own impatience or his, but soon he tires of this routine, and his fingers loop around the waistband and roll them down your thighs to fully expose you to him. You half-expect him to throw them somewhere across the room to be forgotten about in a corner until you eventually leave and need to search for them, but instead, he brings them up to his nose and inhales, letting the sweet scent of you fill his lungs. It’s downright obscene, the sight in front of you from the way his chest physically heaves with the sheer effort of breathing you in, to how he moves the fabric into his mouth so he can taste you on his tongue.
The worst part of it all is the fact that if you weren’t before, you’re sure dripping now.
After he’s done savouring his appetiser with a satisfied moan, he places the ruined fabric into his back pocket and returns his attention back to the main course in front of him. A beat passes, and you wonder if anything was going to happen, if that show was all for nothing, before you fight off a yelp as you’re suddenly dragged onto his mouth. Long, lewd licks against your core already have you squirming in his hold with his teeth grazing you just right where you need him the most, and you pitifully wonder how long you’re going to last under his touch.
When his tongue finally makes it past your puffy folds and inside, he laps at you like a man starved, practically suffocating himself in an effort to chase the nectar in between your legs. Involuntarily, your thighs wrap around his head like a vice, and you would be worried about his ability to breathe, given his current situation, if only the newfound pressure didn’t seem to slow him down – on the contrary, it seemed to have spurred him on, tongue bullying its way deeper into your quivering hole as he moans open-mouth and unabashedly at the novel sensation.
He thinks that if he died here in this moment, it would be a good life lived by any standards. Maybe he is a depraved man after all.
His eyes make sure to never leave yours as he does so. That’s the problem, he’s always watching. It used to scare you when you caught him staring at you; there was no malice or anything like that, but something else instead. You want to call it curiosity, the same way someone would dissect a frog in a lab, watching its still-beating heart pump out its final breaths under the glare of a scapel, but that feels incomplete – like you’re missing an integral part of whatever story makes up the man that is Okkotsu Yuuta.
Sometimes, an inkling of whatever remains of your self-preservation by now nudges at your brain, and you try to pull back in an attempt to get a moment of respite away from him and his starved tongue, but unfortunately for you, his grip is so iron-clad you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up with fresh scars on your hips in the shape of 10 crescent moons. At times like that, you wonder if this is the fear his opponents feel when they face him on the battlefield. It’s like you’re staring down the barrel of the gun, just waiting for the bullet to come for good. However, it never does, and you’re not sure if this is a blessing or a curse in disguise.
You always scold him for leaving those marks, but he knows as well as you do that they’re nothing more than empty threats; a dog that only bears its teeth to bark but never to bite. In fact, the opposite is true – you enjoy it. Perhaps if he bites down hard enough, he can carve a place for himself in your soul – something so permanent that it’ll allow him to follow into the next life or whatever great beyond awaits the two of you.
When your fingers find their way into his raven locks, tugging at their roots in a frail attempt to get back at him for the torture he’s put you through, the pain seemingly has the opposite effect in the sense that it spurs him on even further to fall deeper into his frenzied hunger. Unlike you, he doesn’t fight off the loud groan that effortlessly tumbles out of his mouth, the vibrations sending you into a new high.
You’re already so close to seeing stars by now, so when a thumb starts rubbing gentle circles against your throbbing clit on top of everything else, you feel yourself ascend to a higher plane of consciousness, building up like a crescendo, before it all comes crashing down over you.
You knew it would have been too good for you to have gotten a moment of respite because as soon as you make your way back into your body, riding out the final waves of the orgasm on his tongue, his lips are back against yours again. It’s absolutely vile, the way you taste yourself on him, and it’s truly horrific how it only encourages you to dive deeper into the kiss.
A strange sense of emptiness pools in your lower half, but you barely have any time to even mourn the loss of anything as two of his deft fingers slide down and back into your cunt like second nature – almost as if he’s read your mind.
“Tell me I’m yours.” He huffs pathetically against your bitten lips, hips rutting against your thigh in an attempt to find any form of relief. A third finger soon joins the fray, and god, you feel so full as you clench tightly around them.
“Yuu, please–” You stutter out, your mind is splintered by this point as it tries to pull itself together to form a coherent sentence, when the band in your lower stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the minute.
He doesn’t give up. “Tell me I’m yours. Lie to me if you have to, I don’t care.” He repeats, breaking the kiss to do so with a string of saliva still connecting the two of you.
“Please.”
His fingers speed up their ministrations, twisting and curling just right where you want them, and you think about how you’re about to fall apart for the second time on his hand this time. When you don’t respond, his thumb returns to where it once was on your clit, but instead of the gentle circles of before, his touch is now downright violent from the way it pinches and pulls at the bundle of nerves.
It’s all just too much.
“Y-you’re mine.” Your whisper is barely above a sigh; hell, you’re not even sure he heard it, but that seems like it's enough for him as his mouth finds its way back to yours, and the band that’s been building in your lower half finally snaps, the force of it alone causing your vision to turn white momentarily.
As you come down from your high, his other hand rests against the valley between your breasts. To some, this touch might appear to be sexual, but that would be a shallow reading of the situation, and Yuuta hates shallowness. With his palm pressed flat against your ribcage, he can feel the way your heart pounds within its confines, and whether consciously or not, he starts to mirror your stuttered breaths, letting your hearts beat in sync with one another.
Sometimes, he finds himself having the urge to crack open your ribcage and his to let your hearts meet each other at long last, like they were meant to be in his mind – and he quietly asks himself if you would hate him if he ever did so one day.
When you leave, and it’s always a when, he lets himself linger like a ghost in the room, too afraid to move on to the proverbial afterlife, as he sinks back into the sheets in a desperate attempt to soak up whatever remains of you. Nose pressed so hard into the mattress, he’s sure that when he gets up, there’s going to be an imprint in the shape of his face. However, much like everything else, it, too, will fade with time – gone much too soon for his liking.
You never tell him when, you always try to make every encounter seem like the last, but both of you know that you’ll come back, you’re just as addicted as he is, except the only difference between the two of you is that you’ll never say it – too prideful ever to admit you might want something more than just his temporary touch and flesh.
But it’s okay, he’ll wait. That’s what he’s good at, right? He’ll wait, kneeling until he bleeds – or perhaps on all fours if that’s how you prefer him – at the shrine of your love as its most devout follower.
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, panty sniffing, 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.
He’s seen things no sane person should have. He’s done things no person should be able to come back from. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even think he deserves to be in your presence. No one does, that’s the problem.
To him, you are divinity incarnate, wrapped in the flesh of nothing short of an angel. And as a mere mortal, or worse – something less than that after everything he’s been through, he knows he’s on borrowed time when it comes to you, so he’s going to savour every moment like it’s his last.
You’re all he craves. Is that such a sin to admit that? He doesn’t think so – he’s not a philosopher, but the fact that he desires you so enormously must be proof that he’s still human underneath it all, because what is it to be human if it is not to want and desire?
“Open.” Your tone seems cold, even aloof, but your fingers tell a different story, the way they grip his jaw like you don’t want him to run away from whatever this is. You don’t have to worry about that, though, he muses to himself, only a fool would do that and a fool he is not. He obeys your command like second nature, jaw slack in your hands as your thumb runs over his soft, swollen lips, pursed in anticipation.
The mattress underneath you creaks slightly as you shift up onto your knees, fingers still tightly pressed against his lower cheeks. From your new position where you’re angled above him, you watch as his tongue slips out to wet his lips – so eager, you think to yourself, just for you.
His hands twitch nervously at his side. You can tell he’s aching to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin.
When Yuuta starts slowly to trail his hands up your body, they stop just shy of your waist, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his palms, but far enough that he’s not actually touching you, their presence just ghostly lingering in a silent plea; he would never dare to touch you, not without your permission at the very least. You shoot him down with a sharp glare, and he immediately retreats, metaphorical tail between his legs, as his hands drop back down to his side.
It's okay, you can be mean to him; he doesn’t mind; after all, he’s the only one who can take it.
You open your mouth and a globule of spit, shiny in the dim light of the room, falls out of yours and into his. His tongue immediately darts out to gather it into his mouth, like he’s afraid of potentially wasting a single drop and disappointing you. Yuuta stops for a moment, almost as if he’s savouring the taste of it before he swallows dutifully, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the sheer effort of it.
It’s filthy, it’s disgusting, and he loves that; more specifically, the fact that it’s him who’s drawing this degeneracy out of you. If you can’t go up to their level, drag them down to yours.
As a reward for his little show, you slip your thumb in between his lips experimentally, and he devours it like there’s no tomorrow, tongue twisting around it like it’s the latest sweet he’s dying to get a taste of. When you finally remove your thumb from his mouth, his shoulders almost visibly sag at the loss of your digit, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a whine followed suit.
However, you don’t get to linger on that thought for too long, as he surges forward and presses his lips against yours. The sheer force of him almost sends you tumbling back against the bed if it weren’t for your other arm acting as a support in the nick of time.
The kiss isn’t gentle – far from it – it’s the opposite: messy, violent, teeth clashing against each other as lips part in an attempt to wholly consume the other. You think if you stay here long enough, he might actually succeed in that, and the thought of that alone sends a rush of heat downwards. The way he nibbles at your plush lips coaxes an unexpected soft moan out of you, and for that, you punish him with a brutal bite of your own against the juncture of where his neck meets the curve of his shoulder. That earns you a small yelp from him, but whatever hurt or shock he was feeling quickly dies down with a few small kitten licks and sucks against the fresh wound to tide the pain over. When you eventually let go, you notice the beginning stages of a bruise begin to form, and a swell of pride rushes through your body.
He takes this as a cue to move down to where you really want him, leaving a trail of kisses that feel like they’re burning brands into your body as he works his way downwards. Reaching your hips, he presses two fleeting kisses against your hips, one for each side, before eventually stopping at your knees. From this position, midnight blue eyes framed by long lashes and ghostly shadows stare back at you expectantly, like two little voids boring into your soul, and you have to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine as you fight the urge to drown in their sheer intensity.
A part of you wonders if you should drag this out any longer, make him work for it until he’s on the verge of tears, but the throbbing from between your legs wins, so you part your knees and sink into the mattress beneath you.
You’re already in your underwear, so there’s not much for him to remove. It’s cute, he thinks to himself, the fact that you still keep up this veneer of detachment even when it's just the two of you and no one else. You still feel the need to perform even when no one is looking. Just like how you try to pretend like your breath doesn't hitch when his deft fingers reach the place where you’ve been aching for so long at last.
By now, you’re soaked through; thus, when he runs down his fingers in a long stripe, your puffy folds suck in the wet fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. A soft gasp escapes him, and the hot puff of air that follows, the flimsy cotton gusset does little to shield you from him and the salvation you’ve been craving for what feels like ages at this point.
One thing about Yuuta that people don’t know is that he’s mean, meaner than you would expect someone who’s so publicly timid to be. He’s mean in the way that he’ll trail kisses up the insides of your thighs, starting all the way at your ankle at one side and slowly making their way up right to where you want him to most, but are too ashamed ever to say out loud, before only pressing a fleeting kiss against your neglected clit with the sensation fading faster than your mind can process as he makes his way down the other side to begin this painful cycle all over again.
You don’t know if it's your own impatience or his, but soon he tires of this routine, and his fingers loop around the waistband and roll them down your thighs to fully expose you to him. You half-expect him to throw them somewhere across the room to be forgotten about in a corner until you eventually leave and need to search for them, but instead, he brings them up to his nose and inhales, letting the sweet scent of you fill his lungs. It’s downright obscene, the sight in front of you from the way his chest physically heaves with the sheer effort of breathing you in, to how he moves the fabric into his mouth so he can taste you on his tongue.
The worst part of it all is the fact that if you weren’t before, you’re sure dripping now.
After he’s done savouring his appetiser with a satisfied moan, he places the ruined fabric into his back pocket and returns his attention back to the main course in front of him. A beat passes, and you wonder if anything was going to happen, if that show was all for nothing, before you fight off a yelp as you’re suddenly dragged onto his mouth. Long, lewd licks against your core already have you squirming in his hold with his teeth grazing you just right where you need him the most, and you pitifully wonder how long you’re going to last under his touch.
When his tongue finally makes it past your puffy folds and inside, he laps at you like a man starved, practically suffocating himself in an effort to chase the nectar in between your legs. Involuntarily, your thighs wrap around his head like a vice, and you would be worried about his ability to breathe, given his current situation, if only the newfound pressure didn’t seem to slow him down – on the contrary, it seemed to have spurred him on, tongue bullying its way deeper into your quivering hole as he moans open-mouth and unabashedly at the novel sensation.
He thinks that if he died here in this moment, it would be a good life lived by any standards. Maybe he is a depraved man after all.
His eyes make sure to never leave yours as he does so. That’s the problem, he’s always watching. It used to scare you when you caught him staring at you; there was no malice or anything like that, but something else instead. You want to call it curiosity, the same way someone would dissect a frog in a lab, watching its still-beating heart pump out its final breaths under the glare of a scapel, but that feels incomplete – like you’re missing an integral part of whatever story makes up the man that is Okkotsu Yuuta.
Sometimes, an inkling of whatever remains of your self-preservation by now nudges at your brain, and you try to pull back in an attempt to get a moment of respite away from him and his starved tongue, but unfortunately for you, his grip is so iron-clad you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up with fresh scars on your hips in the shape of 10 crescent moons. At times like that, you wonder if this is the fear his opponents feel when they face him on the battlefield. It’s like you’re staring down the barrel of the gun, just waiting for the bullet to come for good. However, it never does, and you’re not sure if this is a blessing or a curse in disguise.
You always scold him for leaving those marks, but he knows as well as you do that they’re nothing more than empty threats; a dog that only bears its teeth to bark but never to bite. In fact, the opposite is true – you enjoy it. Perhaps if he bites down hard enough, he can carve a place for himself in your soul – something so permanent that it’ll allow him to follow into the next life or whatever great beyond awaits the two of you.
When your fingers find their way into his raven locks, tugging at their roots in a frail attempt to get back at him for the torture he’s put you through, the pain seemingly has the opposite effect in the sense that it spurs him on even further to fall deeper into his frenzied hunger. Unlike you, he doesn’t fight off the loud groan that effortlessly tumbles out of his mouth, the vibrations sending you into a new high.
You’re already so close to seeing stars by now, so when a thumb starts rubbing gentle circles against your throbbing clit on top of everything else, you feel yourself ascend to a higher plane of consciousness, building up like a crescendo, before it all comes crashing down over you.
You knew it would have been too good for you to have gotten a moment of respite because as soon as you make your way back into your body, riding out the final waves of the orgasm on his tongue, his lips are back against yours again. It’s absolutely vile, the way you taste yourself on him, and it’s truly horrific how it only encourages you to dive deeper into the kiss.
A strange sense of emptiness pools in your lower half, but you barely have any time to even mourn the loss of anything as two of his deft fingers slide down and back into your cunt like second nature – almost as if he’s read your mind.
“Tell me I’m yours.” He huffs pathetically against your bitten lips, hips rutting against your thigh in an attempt to find any form of relief. A third finger soon joins the fray, and god, you feel so full as you clench tightly around them.
“Yuu, please–” You stutter out, your mind is splintered by this point as it tries to pull itself together to form a coherent sentence, when the band in your lower stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the minute.
He doesn’t give up. “Tell me I’m yours. Lie to me if you have to, I don’t care.” He repeats, breaking the kiss to do so with a string of saliva still connecting the two of you.
“Please.”
His fingers speed up their ministrations, twisting and curling just right where you want them, and you think about how you’re about to fall apart for the second time on his hand this time. When you don’t respond, his thumb returns to where it once was on your clit, but instead of the gentle circles of before, his touch is now downright violent from the way it pinches and pulls at the bundle of nerves.
It’s all just too much.
“Y-you’re mine.” Your whisper is barely above a sigh; hell, you’re not even sure he heard it, but that seems like it's enough for him as his mouth finds its way back to yours, and the band that’s been building in your lower half finally snaps, the force of it alone causing your vision to turn white momentarily.
As you come down from your high, his other hand rests against the valley between your breasts. To some, this touch might appear to be sexual, but that would be a shallow reading of the situation, and Yuuta hates shallowness. With his palm pressed flat against your ribcage, he can feel the way your heart pounds within its confines, and whether consciously or not, he starts to mirror your stuttered breaths, letting your hearts beat in sync with one another.
Sometimes, he finds himself having the urge to crack open your ribcage and his to let your hearts meet each other at long last, like they were meant to be in his mind – and he quietly asks himself if you would hate him if he ever did so one day.
When you leave, and it’s always a when, he lets himself linger like a ghost in the room, too afraid to move on to the proverbial afterlife, as he sinks back into the sheets in a desperate attempt to soak up whatever remains of you. Nose pressed so hard into the mattress, he’s sure that when he gets up, there’s going to be an imprint in the shape of his face. However, much like everything else, it, too, will fade with time – gone much too soon for his liking.
You never tell him when, you always try to make every encounter seem like the last, but both of you know that you’ll come back, you’re just as addicted as he is, except the only difference between the two of you is that you’ll never say it – too prideful ever to admit you might want something more than just his temporary touch and flesh.
But it’s okay, he’ll wait. That’s what he’s good at, right? He’ll wait, kneeling until he bleeds – or perhaps on all fours if that’s how you prefer him – at the shrine of your love as its most devout follower.
˗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
working on the how to lose a guy in 10 days gojo fic, and i know that ben from the movie rides a motorcycle, but like the problem is that i just can't see satoru riding one?? maybe it's a me problem, but to me toru isn't a motorcycle guy, he's an obnoxious convertible car guy — you know the one where it's vintage because he tells you that it is within the first minutes of seeing it, and he's probably spent an embarrassing amount fixing it up and bringing it back from the car grave because it's his baby that he got when he was freshly 18 as a graduation gift. he's also weirdly protective of it and refuses to hear any criticisms of it, even from the mechanic, which is stupid; however, he refuses to use logic when it comes to his baby. satoru also knows the car makes him look good, but it's a look-don't-touch situation for everyone — except for you, because for some reason, all his rules go out the window when it comes to you, and he wonders how much of it is just his commitment to the bet and how much of it is from you.
i want a love like the movies! - 400 followers event
ᯓ★ welcome to the movies! the place to go for all the lonely hearts, lovers, hopeless romantics and sceptics alike! wherever you are, whoever you are, there's always a place for you at the movies. now, since you're here, why not grab a bucket of popcorn, a refreshing soda and take a look at what's showing?
ᯓ★ the cinephiles: @heeknow, @ladybugsandbeesposts, @icyshadewhisper, @sleepy-waffle
📽 how to lose a guy in 10 days - gojo satoru
starring: gojo satoru, reader
genre: romance/comedy, fluff, suggestive
summary: 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?
runtime: tbc
ᯓ★ ticketed: @h3artz4soph
📽 secretary - higuruma hiromi
starring: higuruma hiromi, reader
genre: erotic/comedy
summary: following your release from a mental institution, you're looking for a way to acclimate back into society when you stumble upon a job posting looking for a secretary to work at a small law firm. intrigued, you apply and meet mr. higuruma, a stern lawyer with sharp downturned eyes and an even sharper tongue, who decides to hire you despite your lack of experience. however, as the days go by, your relationship with mr. higuruma begins to evolve into something that stretches beyond the boundaries of professionalism.
runtime: tbc
📽 lisa frankenstein - okkotsu yuuta
starring: okkotsu yuuta, reader
genre: horror/comedy
summary: it's 1989, and you're pretty sure you've hit rock bottom: your whole school thinks you're weird because you write poetry, your parents tragically misunderstand everything about you, and you and your stepsister could not be more different. thankfully, you've managed to find solace in the statue of a long-dead poet, okkotsu yuuta, in your local cemetery — that is, until a set of playfully horrific circumstances brings him back to life! the two of you then embark on a journey to find love, happiness... and a few missing body parts along the way.
runtime: tbc
📽 set it up - fushiguro megumi
starring: fushiguro megumi, reader
genre: romance/comedy
summary: there's a lot you're grateful for: you live in new york, one of the most expensive cities in the world, your job pays you well enough to live there, and you're in a field many would sell their soul to even step foot in. except for one thing, which is your workaholic boss who is intent on working you into an early grave at this point. one day, you run into fushiguro megumi, a similar overworked and exhausted assistant, and the two of you hatch a plan to make your lives easy by setting up your bosses with each other.
runtime: tbc
📽 she's the man - itadori yuji
starring: itadori yuji, reader
genre: romance/comedy/sport
summary: on the cusp of going to nationals and achieving your life-long dream of playing there, your school's football team suddenly gets disbanded out of the blue! feeling that your dreams are beginning to crumple in your hands, you decide to pose as your twin brother at his fancy boarding school and to play on his football team there instead. the problem is, it turns out that it is much harder to try and not get caught when your roommate turns out to be the school's star striker, itadori yuji.
runtime: tbc
ᯓ★ ticketed: @mistofwhimsy1, @sunnydesert
📽 10 things I hate about you - ryomen sukuna
starring: ryomen sukuna, reader
genre: romance/comedy
summary: your family is mostly normal aside from the elephant in the room in the form of a strict rule: your younger sister is forbidden to date unless you, notoriously ill-tempered and 'completely un-dateable' (in the words of everyone at school), start dating someone first. to you, this rule is the least of your problems, something you couldn't care less about, which your younger sister absolutely loathes you for. when the opportunity arises in the form of a new student who's head over heels in love with your younger sister, he goes and singles out the only guy who could possibly be a match for you: ryomen sukuna, a mysterious loner with a nasty reputation of his own.
runtime: tbc
ᯓ★ ticketed: @mistofwhimsy1
📽 the princess diaries 2: royal engagement - geto suguru
starring: geto suguru, reader
genre: romance/comedy
summary: after finally settling into your role as the new crown princess of genovia, you're all ready to take the throne, until it turns out that because of some strange archaic rule, you can't become queen if you're unmarried. while a setback, yes, this wouldn't be such a big deal if your coronation was not in 30 days — but unfortunately for you, it is, and the clock is ticking! thankfully, you and your grandma hatch a plan, but it seems a charming noble named geto suguru may have other plans.
runtime: tbc
📽 notting hill - nanami kento
starring: nanami kento, reader
genre: romance/comedy
summary: nanami kento has grown blissfully used to his life of quiet mundanity in his London bookshop, spending his days with a warm cup of tea and a good book to pass the time behind the counter, and he's quite content to spend the rest of his days like this — until one day, you, the current superstar actress, come crashing into his shop. though from two vastly different worlds, for some reason, the two of you are just drawn together and now have to navigate what it means to be worlds apart.
runtime: tbc
📽 mr and mrs smith - fushiguro toji
starring: fushiguro toji, reader
genre: action/comedy
summary: if anyone were to ask you how your marriage to fushiguro toji was, you would say it was fine, boring even. it's not like the two of you haven't been trying, it just feels like there's some sort of great divide between the two of you, like both of you are hiding something from each other — but that would be crazy, right? Unbeknownst to the other, you've both been moonlighting as assassins, and now, your assignments are kill to each other.
runtime: tbc
📽 27 dresses - jason todd
starring: jason todd, reader
genre: romance/comedy
summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride — that's what they say, right? but you couldn't care less about that after being a bridesmaid 27 times; after all, when was it a crime to be a loving, supportive friend and also happen to love weddings? however, it seems like your worst fear has come true when your younger sister announces that she's marrying the guy you've been in love with for basically half your life, and to top it off, she wants you to be her maid of honour! meanwhile, you meet a reporter named jason todd who takes a keen interest in your 'unusual story', almost as if he has other motives, but you're probably just overthinking it.
runtime: tbc
ᯓ★ and remember, if you enjoyed your watch, let the cinema know! if anyone wants to join the cinema's newsletter, please inform the attendants. p.s: the cinema is always taking recommendations for what to show, so don't be afraid to drop suggestions in the handy suggestion box right next to the popcorn stand.
omg guys what the freak i woke up to seeing that we reached 400 followers i'm like in genuine shock. thank you all so much for liking my silly little writings and sticking around to read more. i genuinely cannot thank every single one of you enough for all the love you guys have shown so far on my works. i promise i'll work hard to give you guys good, or at the very least fun to read, works no matter how busy life may get <333
i have a 400 follower event coming out so please keep an eye out for that and i love you all so so much ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
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.
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.
hi guys just a quick announcement that i'll unfortunately be mostly offline until the 14th of May because i really have to lock in for my exams because they are on my ass 😭😭😭. i hate to do this so soon after coming back from my hiatus but i promise i will be back with new writing the moment i survive my exams (T_T)!!! thank you so much for your patience and love so far, it truly means the world to me <33
