I thought that having to deal with the student that legit thought he was an anime character was the highlight of my week. But no. It was the bat shit crazy homeless man that descended the stairs to my workplace and decided that I was his next target until my manager rescued me.
You’d been quiet all day; too quiet. Reserved and occasionally snappy whenever one of the servants asked you a question. Sukuna hadn’t seen you participating in your daily hobbies; drawing, reading, knitting, some of the many you had.
When he searched for you at your normal places, you were nowhere to be found. Not in the bedroom, not in the living room, not in the flower garden where you liked to roam. No, instead he found you up the large willow tree in the back area of the estates gardens, legs dangling precariously from the high branch.
“Wife,” Sukuna growls. “Come down immediately. You are far too high, it is dangerous.”
Much to his surprise, his usually disobedient wife clambers down the tree immediately. The King of curses tries to hide his shocked expression, two arms crossing over his chest as you… walked right past him?!
He watches with one brow raised suspiciously as you strut down the garden, annoyance radiating off you in severe volumes, more than he’d ever seen from his precious, calm missus.
However, Sukuna is not a man to back down that easily. He follows you like a predator through the gardens, footsteps matching yours as you walked inside and towards your shared bedchambers. Only when he shut the heavy wooden door behind him did he speak again.
“Tell me what bothers you. I will not tolerate this silence.”
You huff, still facing away from him. “Leave me alone, Ryo. I want space.”
His frown deepens. “I can sense your frustration. You’ve infected the whole castle with it. Tell me your troubles.”
There’s a long stretch of silence as you refuse to answer for some strange reason that Sukuna is yet to know.
“Are you menstruating? Is that the reason?”
You finally snap, hands curling up in frustration to form a ball shape. You whip your head around quickly, tears already brimming in your waterline. “Why does everyone always think a woman is menstruating when she shows emotions? Am I not allowed to feel things if I’m not bleeding? I want space! So go. away.”
Now, tears are flowing freely down your reddened cheeks and your hands come up in vexation, tangling into your hair and dragging down your eyes to roughly wipe the tears away.
Your husband studies you silently during the whole rant, only stepping forward when you start pressing your palms into your eyes that looks more painful than relieving.
“My wife, cease your crying.” Two large hands take yours and pull them down to your side, whilst a third hand rubs your head and cheek in a soothing motion. “Please,” he murmurs. Ryomen was unaccustomed to fragile human emotions, especially those that involved the appearance of tears. Thanks to you, he had encountered a fair few since being married to you, yet he still classed them as strange and unfamiliar.
You bury your head into his chest, silky robes gaining small dark, wet patches from your tears. Your little hands grasp onto of his arms, fingers squeezing around his beefy biceps. “I’m sorry for yelling,” you mumble apologetically into his skin.
He tuts. “Don’t be foolish, woman. Lay down and tell me what troubles you. The servants will prepare a bath.”
He guides you slowly to your shared bed, settling you down like fragile glass against the soft covers. You grasp onto him like he’s your only lifeline, eyelids dipping in tiredness.
“Just a rough week,” you utter out to him, like a secret only for his ears. “I’m tired and everything seems to be going wrong. Everything feels wrong.”
He lightly taps your thigh, an encouragement to explain.
“The bed sheets are too heavy, the bread I made was too sticky, and the drawing I did was so disproportional it looked stupid.”
Red eyes study yours intensely until you can’t maintain the contact any longer, dipping your gaze to the sheets below you. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have-“
“Silence, wife. No complaints of yours are stupid. I will have the servants get new bedsheets, make new bread, and order new pencils.”
A small smile touches your once frowning lips. “Thank you, Ryo.”
sukuna when he runs into a classmate at the bus stop
the fluorescent hum of the bus stop was the only thing keeping the silence from swallowing you whole. you sat on the edge of the damp wooden bench, your thumb hovering over a screen filled with lies.
mom: i wish you were here
mom: can i video call you? grandma wants to say hi
mom: i'm sure sure you're alone again
you: i can't now
mom: why? at work again?
you: no, i’m just at a party too. hanging out with friends. it's just loud here, the music is too loud and there's a lot of people so i can't call.
mom: how nice! have fun!
your mother’s messages felt like tiny lead weights. she wanted to see your face, to hear the noise of a life you weren't actually living. behind you, the city was dark, and the "party" was just the sound of a distant siren and the cold wind biting at your ankles. you felt small, curled into your oversized blue hoodie, trying to blink away the sting in your eyes before it could turn into something more permanent.
the truth was that you're embarrassingly homesick. you miss your mom's cooking, you miss your childhood friends, you miss taking late night drives and sitting in the park, talking about nothing in particular. but you're the one who chose to pick the furthest university that accepted you so you're not about to admit it.
then, he walked into the light of the terminal, a flash of ink, coral and tan.
it was sukuna.
you recognized him immediately—the star athlete, the guy who usually had a trail of teammates behind him and a jersey that seemed three sizes too small for his frame. on campus, he was the guy everyone gave a wide berth to, not just because of his size, but because of that permanent, unfriendly scowl he wore like a warning to stay away.
but as he got closer, the scowl wasn't there.
you blinked, watching him stumble into the light. he looked different without the jock-squad. he looked human.
and then, he saw you.
he froze for a second, his hand flying up to cover his face, but he wasn't fast enough. “what the fuck is she doing here?”
in the harsh glare of the streetlamp, you saw it: his eyes were red, puffy and raw, the tell-tale sign of a long, heavy cry.
huffing, he pulled his jacket tight, his tough-guy persona struggling to click back into place. he let out a sharp, wet sniff and wiped his nose with the back of a cold hand.
"hey!" he called out, his voice cracking slightly before he lowered it into his usual tone. he walked over, trying to loom, though the effect was ruined by the way his shoulders slumped. "why are you sitting here alone? it's late."
he peered down at you, his intimidating height usually enough to make anyone nervous, but your eyes were fixed on the tears he was desperately trying to stem. his flushed face made the tattoos framing his face pop.
“are you okay?” he questioned, strong brows lowered as he stared at you down the line of his crooked nose.
his hair was a mess of salmon tufts, flames licking the tips and melting them into a burnt orange now that he's backlit by the warm glow of a streetlight that crowns his head like a halo.
"are you okay?" you countered, your voice soft. "your eyes... they're really red and puffy."
sukuna stiffened, snapping his head away as if he’d been slapped. he let out a sharp, defensive huff, his hand scrubbing at his face again.
"oh, um, yeah," he muttered, his voice thick. "i'm fine. it's just allergies. this damn city air, you know?"
he tried to laugh, but it came out as a wet, miserable sound. he sat down on the far end of the bench, looking everywhere but at you. despite his reputation for being mean and scary, he looked incredibly small right now.
"okay," you said gently, not pushing it. "i'm fine too."
he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, the tough facade slipping back into place, though it looked more like a mask than a reality.
"you shouldn't be out here," he grumbled, looking at your small frame and then back at the dark street. "a girl like you shouldn't be sitting at a bus stop alone this late. it’s not safe. where are your friends?"
you looked down at your phone, the screen still showing the lie you'd sent to your mom about being at a party. you didn't have the heart to tell him you were just as lonely as he clearly was.
"sorry," he added after a moment of silence, his voice dropping to a whisper as he swatted a fresh stray tear away. "i've just got some really bad allergies tonight."
you sat together in the silence of the rain, two people from the same campus who didn't know each other at all, both holding onto lies just to get through the night.
reaching into your grocery bag, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet night, you pulled out two small cartons of apple juice. you nudged his arm, offering one.
"here," you said softly. "sorry i don’t have a beer. we can pretend though," you sang, wiggling the box at him.
sukuna looked at the tiny straw and the bright packaging, a sudden, genuine bark of laughter escaping him. his hand dwarfed the juice box comically.
"apple juice? really?" he took it anyway, his large fingers clumsy with the small straw. "thanks. it’s actually better than a beer right now."
when the bus finally arrived, neither of you got on.
instead, he stood up and adjusted his bag. "look, it’s late. i’ll walk you home. i don't want to hear about some girl from my psych elective getting mugged because i was too busy suffering from allergies to be a gentleman."
the walk was surprisingly easy. you talked about the grueling professors you both shared and the way the campus dining hall always smelled like burnt onions. the scary aura he projected in the hallways melted away, revealing someone who was just tired.
as you turned down your street, you stopped and looked up at him. "are you sure you’re okay, sukuna?"
the wall went back up instantly. he shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the pavement.
"well, even if i'm not, so what? what would you do about it?" he shrugged with a bitter, self-deprecating huff. "i'm too big for anyone to hug me the way i’d want. like, i couldn't even rest my head on your chest. it’d just look dumb."
“would you want to feel small when you're hugged?” you tilt your head to the side, curious rather than judgemental as you nibble on your lips, your hair fluffy and ruffled by the breeze.
honestly that made it worse as he rubbed a hand down his face again, dragging his eyelids and cheeks, embarrassed, groaning into his hands, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes.
“when you say it like that it sounds even more embarrassing,” he grumbles, hands dropping as he glances up at the starry sky to avoid your gaze.
you looked around the dimly lit sidewalk. near a pile of construction debris sat an old, sturdy plastic bucket. without a word, you dragged it over and stepped up.
now, for the first time, you were looking down at him. you opened your arms wide. thinking better of his size, you spread them a bit more, expression expectant.
"what are you..." he trailed off, eyes squinted in confusion and incredulity.
eyes narrowing in suspicion, he frowned. “not funny if that's your joke.”
"it's not a joke," you assured him firmly. “come on, i'm not gonna stand like this forever.”
"whatever," he muttered, but his feet moved forward anyway. he leaned in, burying his face against your shoulder, his large frame finally relaxing as he let you hold him.
heat enveloped you. you stayed like that for a long time, the only sound was the distant hum of the city.
eventually, he started to chuckle against your hoodie that smells like fabric softener and perfume. "this is ridiculous. you’re standing on a bucket."
"shut up," you laughed, pulling back just enough to look at him.
the laughter died out. the air between you changed, turning thick and charged. you found yourselves staring deeply into each other's eyes, the streetlamp casting long shadows across his face.
tentatively, he leaned in, lips pressing to yours in. the kiss was soft at first, a hesitant question, but it deepened quickly when you moved yours too. as he began to tilt his head, his tongue flicking out against the seam of your lips to slip in, you let out a small, sharp intake of breath—a tiny, surprised noise.
he practically jumped back. "fuck, i’m sorry! shit, i... i shouldn't have—"
"it's okay," you interrupted, your face flushed. "i've just... never kissed anyone before."
sukuna’s face went from pale to a deep, panicked crimson. "what? like, ever? your first kiss? what was i thinking?" he started pacing the small patch of sidewalk. “what were you thinking?! you’re supposed to give that to someone important, not some random guy from uni you met at a bus stop!”
maybe those texts he got from his father earlier were right. maybe sukuna is a fucking disappointment. he kept fucking screwing up.
"no, no! i wanted to give it to you," you cut his rant off, stepping off the bucket. "i don't regret it."
chewing on the words, you peer at your sneakers, rocking on your heels, gaze dragging back up to him, eyes shimmering with sincerity. “besides, who said you're not important?”
that seemed to break his brain. for the rest of the walk to your apartment, the confident athlete was gone. he responded to everything in bashful grunts and short nods, his ears glowing red in the dark.
at your front door, you fished your keys out of your pocket. you looked up at him one last time, a playful smile on your lips. "so has your allergy gotten better?"
he blinked, looking confused for a split second before remembering his cover story. he cleared his throat, looking away shyly. "uh, yeah. it’s better now."
"good," you whispered, turning the key, a devastatingly sweet smile on your lips. "see you in class, sukuna."
“ryomen,” he offers, hands shoved deep in his pockets, mouth tingling and stomach fluttering as your brows raise, eyes doe-eyed and so fucking cute, he wants to smother you in his arms and kiss you silly again. “call me ryomen.”
“ah,” you nod slowly, suppressing a giddy grin. “goodnight, ryo,” your mouth rounds at the last letter, his skin prickling in delight.
leaving that encounter, you realise that maybe this city isn't that different from home after all and sukuna accepts that he isn't as disappointing as his old man thinks.
a pretty, kind girl like you shared your juice with him, hugged him like he always wanted and gave him your first kiss, after all.
Pairings: Choso x reader; Gojo x reader; Megumi x reader
Word Count: 3,5k
Warnings: swearing, heat but no smut, this didn't turn out how I wanted/thought at first but you get it anyway, sorry if it's shitty lol, I feel like enemies to lovers need a whole lot more tension + words for each character but if you have an idea pls hit me up I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers hehe
Guess what I had this sitting in my drafts forever by now so I finally finished it for you guys hehe, enjoy
Choso Kamo
There he stands. The man you’ve learned to hate more than anything else, the man who apparently outshines you in every single aspect of life. You were the one and only, the ultimate weapon within the twisted plans of Kenjaku, no one ever compared to your strength and compassion.
Until this bastard was created.
You stare at him through the rain that falls down on you forcefully.
It clings to your lashes, blurs your vision. But not enough to hide the way he looks back at you. Calm, unwavering, as if the storm means nothing. As if you mean nothing.
Your nails dig into your palms.
“Move,” you spit, voice rough, barely audible over the downpour.
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he, given the fact that he’d outclass you in a fight without really trying?
Water trickles down your face, mixing with something darker - blood, you realize too late. It runs from a cut along your cheek, down to your jaw, dripping off the edge like it’s part of the rain.
Why are you bleeding?
Oh. You were in the middle of a fight, ready to lose.
Again.
“You’re in my way,” you add sharply.
Still nothing.
Then, finally, he tilts his head slightly and studies you. Not like a hunter who investigates his prey, but like something quieter. Something that makes your skin crawl.
“You’re hurt,” he replies.
Your breath hitches for half a second - too quick for most to notice, too slow for him to miss.
“It’s nothing,” you snap immediately, straightening despite the ache spreading through your ribs.
“Don’t get soft on me now.”
A lie. And you both know it which guts you even more.
His gaze drops, just briefly, to where your hand presses against your side. Blood seeps through your fingers, warm against the cold rain, slowly but surely draining you to the core.
Silence stretches again over the both of you.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Wrong.
“You should have finished it earlier,” you bark, forcing the words out.
“You had the chance.”
His eyes flick back to yours.
“I know.”
No hesitation. No excuse. That… throws you, awakens your anger even more.
“Then why didn’t you?”
The question slips out before you can stop it. For a moment, the only answer is the sound of rain hitting pavement.
Then-
“I didn’t want to.”
Your chest tightens in a way you’ve never felt before.
No. That’s not how this works. That’s not how he works. He’s supposed to be better than you. Stronger. More efficient. Less… human. He’s the optimized version of you who never gives a shit about your well-being.
And yet…You can see it in his eyes.
“You’re pathetic,” you mutter, though it lacks its usual bite.
“Hesitating like that.”
“Maybe,” he responds quietly.
Another step forward.
You tense instantly, cursed energy flickering at your fingertips, ready to strike him one last time…
But he doesn’t attack.
He stops just close enough that you can see the faint furrow in his brow. The way his expression shifts faintly, like he’s trying to understand something he shouldn’t.
“Why are you still standing?” he asks.
“What kind of question is that?”
“You’re injured. Outmatched. You could leave.”
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
“And let you win?”
“That’s not what I-”
“Shut up.”
Your voice cracks, frustration bleeding through. Fuck, why are you getting emotional now?
“You think I have a choice? You think I get to walk away from this?”
He goes quiet. Because he understands what you’re going through, your suffering. Of course he does.
And that’s the worst part.
The rain seems heavier now, louder, like it’s trying to drown out the space between you. You take a shaky step forward, closing the distance this time. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to take in his dark eyes glowing in the street lights, his sharp facial features, the way he stands, his smell that drives you crazy. God, how much you hate that man.
How…how much you hate that man.
“I hate you,” you mutter, softer now.
More honest than you intended, with more undertone than you’d normally allow yourself. His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.
“…I know.”
But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t raise his guard, doesn’t look at you like something disposable.
And suddenly, that hatred feels… unstable. Like it has cracks running through it, thin but spreading.
Enemies don’t hesitate. Enemies don’t notice when you’re bleeding. Enemies don’t choose not to kill you.
Your breath trembles as you exhale.
Fuck fuck fuck.
This is bad. Very very bad. You aren’t supposed to feel this way about him. He’s your opponent, the only thing that stand between you and working with Kenjaku. You’re supposed to hate him, even to kill him now that you have the chance.
But instead, you choose to stand close enough to hear his heart hammer against his ribs, close enough to feel his warmth.
It’s wrong. It’s so wrong. Your fingers twitch at your side, cursed energy flickering weakly, uncertain like even it doesn’t know what you’re trying to do anymore.
“Next time,” you start, forcing your voice to steady, “I won’t-”
Your words cut off sharply because he moves. Not fast. Not like in battle. Not like an attack.
Slow.
Deliberate.
His hand comes up, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before it brushes against your jaw.
You freeze.
Every instinct screams at you to strike, to pull away, to do something, but your body betrays you, rooted to the spot as his thumb drags lightly through the blood on your cheek.
The touch is careful. Too careful for your position.
“…You’re losing a lot of blood,” he murmurs, voice lower now, closer than it’s ever been.
Your breath stutters.
“Why do you care?”
His thumb stills against your skin.
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His gaze lifts from the cut on your cheek back to your eyes. This close, there’s no mistaking it.
That look...Not pity, not mercy. Something heavier. Something that makes your pulse spike for an entirely different reason.
“I don’t know,” he admits quietly.
That honesty hits harder than any blow.
You swallow, your hand instinctively coming up, grabbing his wrist. It’s meant to stop this madness.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it makes everything worse.
“You’re making a mistake,” you whisper, your grip tightening just slightly.
“You hesitate like this again, and I will kill you.”
A lie. Or maybe a promise you’re no longer sure you can keep.
His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead, his gaze drops again.
To your mouth.
Your breath catches.
The rain feels colder all of a sudden, sharper against overheated skin.
“Then why aren’t you doing it now?” he asks, barely audible.
Your heart slams against your ribs. You should. You really should.
He’s close enough. Vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen him before.
All it would take is one move…
But your grip on his wrist shifts instead, sliding down just slightly, fingers brushing against his palm.
“…Shut up,” you breathe, but there’s no bite left in it.
He exhales softly, almost like a quiet, disbelieving laugh leaving him. Like he doesn’t understand this either. Like he’s just as caught in it as you are.
And then, his other hand finds your waist.
Not rough. Not forceful.
Just there to steady you.
Because your legs are starting to give out, whether you want to admit it or not.
Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, fingers tightening in the fabric of his robe, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
Your foreheads almost touch now.
“Don’t…” you start, though you’re not even sure what you’re telling him not to do.
Don’t touch you?
Don’t look at you like that?
Don’t make this worse?
His grip on your waist firms just slightly, just enough to make you lose your mind completely.
“Try not to die,” he murmurs, the words brushing against your lips.
You huff out a shaky breath, something almost like a laugh breaking through despite everything.
“Touched by your concern.”
But you don’t pull away.
Neither does he.
And for one reckless, irreversible moment…
You lean in first.
Not gentle, not soft. Messy and desperate and wrong, your lips crash against his like you’re trying to prove something - to him, to yourself, to the world that this means nothing.
That it’s just another fight.
But it isn’t.
Because he responds instantly, his hand tightening at your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Heated, consuming and clashing in the same way your cursed energy always does.
Your grip on him turns desperate, fingers curling into fabric, into him, as if letting go would mean losing something you didn’t even know you wanted.
It steals the air from your lungs.
Blurs the line even further.
Enemy?
Opponent?
Obstacle?
None of it makes sense anymore.
Not when he tastes like rain and iron and something dangerously addictive.
Not when youdon’t want to stop. Fuck, you really don’t want this to end.
When you finally pull back, it’s only because your burning lungs force you to.
Your forehead drops against his, breath uneven.
“…This changes nothing,” you manage, though your voice is wrecked.
A weak lie and you both know it.
Because his thumb is still resting against your cheek, because you’re still holding onto him, because neither of you has moved an inch away.
“…Yeah,” he murmurs.
But he doesn’t sound convinced either.
Gojo Satoru
The classroom is empty when you slam the door shut behind you except for him.
You weren’t supposed to come back. You definitely weren’t supposed to corner him like this.
But there he is, leaning casually against the desk like he owns the place (he does), blindfold pushed up just enough to reveal those infuriatingly bright eyes.
Satoru Gojo smiles the second he sees you.
“Back for extra lessons?” he hums.
You scoff, arms crossed tightly over your chest.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh?”
He tilts his head, grin widening.
“Then why’d you come all this way just to see me?”
God, you hate him. You hate the way he always turns everything into a game. The way he looks at you like he already knows how this ends.
“I told you to stay out of my way,” you snap, stepping closer.
“That mission was mine.”
“And you almost died,” he replies lightly.
“I had it handled.”
“Sure you did.”
Your jaw tightens.
Fuck, you hate that dismissive tone, like he doesn’t take you seriously. Like you’re just another student he has to babysit.
“Get out of my way next time,” you mutter, voice low.
He doesn’t move. Of course he doesn’t. After all, this is Gojo Satoru.
Instead, he straightens slightly, pushing off the desk – way too tall and way too close in seconds.
“Make me,” he murmurs.
Your breath catches.
Instead of arguing, you swing. Fast. Precise. You’ve trained for this, patiently waiting for a moment to finally punch him into his pretty face.
And just like always…
you stop inches from him.
Infinity. Fuck that.
Your hand trembles in the empty space between you, so close you can feel the heat of him but never reach.
“Still not there yet,” he replies softly.
You glare up at him.
“Take it off.”
That earns a pause. A real one.
“…What?”
“The blindfold. Infinity. All of it.”
Your voice drops, steadier now despite the storm in your chest.
“Or are you scared?”
His smile shifts. Of course you’d catch him with an invitation like that.
“Scared?” he echoes,
There’s something underneath his voice now. Interest? Challenge? You swallow hard. Whatever it is, it does sound absolutely dangerous.
“Yeah,” you push despite the urge to run away, stepping even closer, invading what little space exists between you.
“You hide behind it. Makes it easier, right? Not having to actually try.”
Silence.
For once, you’ve really hit something. His gaze lingers on you, longer than usual. Not playful. Not teasing.
Assessing.
“…Careful. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
And for a split second, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, if you went too far.
Because something in him shifts, the air changes. Suddenly the distance between you is gone.
His hand comes up abruptly and catches your wrist midair when you try again, this time slower, testing.
No Infinity.
Your pulse spikes.
Fuck, why does his heat feel so good?
“You wanted fair,” he murmurs, fingers tightening just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Now you’ve got it.”
You should pull away. End this madness, get out of this classroom, escape those captivating eyes.
You don’t.
Instead, your free hand grabs the front of his shirt, grounding yourself - or maybe pulling him closer. You’re not sure anymore, your mind going back and forth in spirals.
“Don’t hold back now,” you challenge, though your voice is quieter than before.
He lets out a soft laugh.
“Trust me, I’m trying not to.”
Your heart stutters.
Damn him. Damn the way he does this so effortlessly. Damn that knot that tightens inside your guts.
“You’re insufferable,” you whisper.
“And you keep coming back,” he shoots back instantly.
Your grip tightens.
“That’s because someone has to put you in your place.”
“Oh?”
His eyes flick down, oh so briefly and deliberately, to your mouth.
“I’d like to see you try.”
You don’t think.
You act.
You shove him back - hard.
He lets you.
The desk behind him creaks slightly from the impact, but he doesn’t break eye contact for a second.
And now you’re the one pinning him.
Chest to chest. Breath uneven.
“You talk too much,” you mutter.
“Yeah? Then shut me up.”
That’s all it takes for your primal instincts to take over.
You grab him by the collar and kiss him.
Sharp, heated, full of everything you’ve been holding back - frustration, anger, something else you refuse to name.
For once, he doesn’t have a comeback. For once, he lets you take the lead.
But only for a second.
Because his hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer, turning it into something deeper, something that makes your head spin and your grip falter just slightly.
There’s nothing effortless about this.
Not anymore.
When you finally break apart, it’s because you have to, gasping for air and vision going blurry.
Your breathing is uneven, mind still trying to process what the hell just happened. His is barely affected - but his grin?
Completely wrecked.
“…Huh, guess you can keep up.”
You roll your eyes, even as your pulse refuses to calm down.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late,” he replies easily.
His fingers are still resting at your waist. Yours are still gripping his shirt.
Neither of you moves away.
Megumi Fushiguro
This is a simple mission. In, kill the lower class curses, save the little children. Out and carry on. No complications, no big add-ons.
So why on earth are you pinned against a wall with Megumi Fushiguro standing way too close, his shikigami dissolving into shadows around you both after what definitely fights like grade 1 curse tried to shatter the both of you into pieces yet again?
Your chest rises and falls unevenly, eyes and mind unable to focus on what’s happening. The ‘easy’ mission blurring in front of you or rather…The boy you’re supposed to hate pinning you against a wall.
“Get off me,” you mutter, though there’s no real force bite it.
“I’m not on you,” he replies flatly.
You glare at him.
“You’re close enough.”
That much is true.
One more inch and your bodies would touch fully. Right now, it’s just barely avoided by his stretches out arms.
“You were about to get hit,” he adds, quieter now.
“I stopped it.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You wouldn’t have had time.”
Your jaw tightens. You’ve had this discussion with him countless times before. Megumi always has to be right, always has to play the knight in shining armor. God, you’re so full of it, you hate that guy.
“I could’ve handled it.”
“Yeah? Like earlier?”
That hits worse that the curse who surprised you and slammed your body against the pavement.
Of course it does.
“You don’t trust me,” you snap.
Megumi exhales through his nose, gaze flickering away for a second before settling back on you.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Heavy silence.
Rainwater drips from his hair, sliding down the side of his face. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger. Not on your stance, not on your hands…
But on your expression. Like he’s trying to read you.
“…You’re not my enemy,” he finally says.
Your breath stutters.
“Well, I’m your classmate-“
“No, you’re not my classmate either…”
Your pulse spikes to an all-time high. This tension, the way his gaze drops…This means trouble and you know it. This doesn’t feel like hatred at all.
“That’s your problem,” you shoot back, though it comes out weaker than intended.
“You hesitate.”
“And you don’t,” he counters.
“Exactly.”
Another beat, this time far away – help arrived. Neither of you moves though.
Your back presses harder against the wall, suddenly very aware of how close he is, how warm he feels compared to the cold air, how steady his breathing is compared to yours.
“Then why don’t you leave?” he asks quietly.
You blink.
“What?”
“You have the chance,” he says, voice lower now.
“Rith here. You can just walk away.”
You open your mouth.
…and nothing comes out.
Because he’s right.
Again.
Fuck. Truth is, you don’t want to leave. Truth is, his warmth feels captivating, feels safe and sound. Truth is, you want to stand here just a little longer. Away from the darting eyes of the others, away from the mocking of jujutsu high.
Truth is, you don’t want to hate Megumi Fushiguro.
Your fingers curl slightly at your sides.
“I…”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, like he already knows.
God, that annoys you.
“You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” you snap, pushing lightly against his chest.
He doesn’t move.
Instead, his hand comes up, catching your wrist before you can push him again.
Your breath catches.
Not because of the movement.
Because of how gentle it is.
“Stop,” he says firmly.
Your pulse quickens.
“You’re always like this,” you mutter.
“Acting like you know better, like you can just decide what I should do.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what are you doing?”
For a second, he hesitates.
Megumi Fushiguro.
Hesitates.
“…Trying to understand you,” he admits.
That knocks the fight right out of you.
Your grip loosens. So does his, but he doesn’t let go completely.
The space between you shifts again. More dangerous than ever before.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper.
“Like what?” he asks, genuinely.
“Like I’m… not just your classmate.”
He studies you for a long moment.
“…Are you?”
Your heart stumbles.
You should say yes.
You don’t.
Instead, your gaze drops,just for a second, to his lips.
Big mistake.
Because when you look back up he’s noticed.
Of course he has.
A faint tension settles in his shoulders, like he’s holding himself back from something he doesn’t fully understand either.
“You should move,” you murmur, though your body doesn’t follow through.
“So should you,” he replies.
Neither of you does. Your wrist is still in his hand. Your other hand slowly comes up and rests lightly against his chest. Despite the distant cries in your head, your mind pleading you to come to your senses. Despite every muscle of your being is trained on hated Megumi Fushiguro, you stay.
You can feel his heartbeat.
Steady.
Strong.
Faster than before.
“…You’re not as calm as you act,” you mutter.
“Neither are you.”
That’s all it takes.
The last bit of distance disappears when you lean in - not fully, not like a decision, more like a question.
He answers it without words.
His free hand comes up to your jaw, fingers brushing your skin, hesitant at first, like he’s giving you time to pull away.
You don’t. How could you.
So he closes the gap.
The kiss is quiet and gentle, but it burns anyway.
Not rushed, not messy like a fight, just slow and sweet, like both of you are trying to figure out what this even is while it’s already happening.
Your hand tightens against his shirt, pulling him closer despite yourself. He exhales softly against your lips, the sound almost surprised.
Update: my forehead is down to it's normal size again so I'm very happy cuz I cried my eyes out feeling ugly for that and my ears are waaay better too, next time I'm thinking of doing something to my hair I might just go bald
"I feel horrible" you hiccup, fat tears streaming down your face as you struggle to breath against Sukuna's hard chest.
"You're not." But his reply is muffled out by your sobbing getting more hysterical, he's trying to be helpful, he truly is, but he's also a practical men, so he spits the first thought that crosses his mind. "Are you thinking about cheating on me?" You stop mid sob, your puffy eyes turning to look at him in disbelief, what the hell!?
"No?" You reply unsurely.
"Are you seeing other people?" He asks again, making you even more confused.
"What? No!" You protest, your crying stopping to try and understand his nonsense.
"Then why do you want to be seen as pretty? I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world and that's enough." You raise your eyebrows, being shoved against his chest once more as his large hand rubs your back reassuringly.
"Ok!" You muttered to yourself, the strange thought setting a weird relief in your chest, if he thought you were pretty, you guess it could be happy with that for now. He kissed the top of your hair.
"What do you want to eat?" He started again, thumbs swiping the remaining of your tears, yeah, you would be just fine.
Thank you for tagging me @holdmyduffelbag and @musty-old-claptrap I loved reading some of your lore, so here's some of mine!
1) origin of your username
I don't really have anything interesting to share lolol I just wanted to convey my love of both reading and writing in my user name - sometimes I wish I'd chosen something else not as long but it's what we've got so we're working with it
2) I will always order this food
french fries. always. no question. People who get sides of salad or broccoli, I just can't understand - you're so much stronger than me. I can never say no to french fries, my beloved
3) overused emoji(s)
😂🥹😭💀 and 👀 I love the eyes. I always be lookin.
4) current favorite show/movie/book
show - still probably Heated Rivalry, can't get enough
movie - hmm...I'm honestly not much of a movie person, I don't see them very often - but I am excited to finally watch Frankenstein! So let's say that.
book - I'm currently reading Save Me by Mona Kasten, which is the book Maxton Hall is based on! Loving it so far.
5) song on repeat
currently loving
6) last thing you hyperfixated on
Espresso - my husband got me an espresso machine for Christmas and I’ve been nerding out so hard learning about the perfect dose and the perfect pull. My next goal is to learn how to do latte art.
7) oddly specific thing that brings you joy
Oh man, so much brings me joy tbh, it’s hard to narrow down. But I think going on walks with my husband and noticing how beautiful the world is. I have so many pictures in my phone of gorgeous sunsets and lovely flowers that I see on my walks and just have to take photos of.
8) phone wallpaper
Currently got a variation of this photo I took on a roadtrip this fall as my background. The little glimpse of a rainbow makes my heart so happy.
9) smell that makes you happy
Anything vanilla. I loooooove vanilla candles and perfume and body wash. So soft and sweet.
10) morning, night, or other type of person
Uhhhhhh I wish I was a morning or night person. I don’t really thrive during either lololol. But I think I’m more productive in the morning.
11) work/profession
I’m a play therapist!! I hang out with kids all day and it’s a blast (most of the time)
Very gentle tags! @limeandorange @brekkershadowsinger @temperedink @guess-who-posted @whatishowedyouinthedark @popjunkie42 @reverie-tales
1) Origin of your username: I have always been fascinated by the moon and the night, and after reading ACOTAR and falling in love with Azriel, who inspired me to write again, it just felt right to use the two as a username lol
2) I will always order this food: VERY VERY VERY SPECIFIC region based food, but I'm always up to order some Xis and eat it, especially with my best friend
3) Overused emojis: 🥵🤪🤡 but I use stickers waaay more
4) Current favorite show/movie/book: I just finished Stone Ocean and the ending left me in shambles, I love Emporio so much, so I'm currently obsessed with it and it's definitely my favorite. I haven't watched many movies lately but Perfect Blue was just so interesting to watch, definitely worth the time. And I haven't read much lately as well duo my busy schedule but I'm hoping to go back to buying my Jujutsu manga to finish the series.
5) Song on repeat: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac
6) Last thing you fixated on: Can I say Weather Report? His design and his story is just so good, love how he helps Jolyne so much
7) Oddly specific thing that brings you joy: The dog on my street that demands a pet fee whenever I need to get home. He just pops out of nowhere, barks at me until I pet him for at least a minute, then he allows me to continue my journey
8) Phone wallpaper: Silly little wallpaper of my cat
9) Smell that makes you happy: Fresh coffee
10) Morning, night or other type of person: I'm definitely becoming a morning person, I wake up at 6am to do things before gym and I'm done by the time I come home from work, so I just shower and go to sleep basically lol
11) Work/profession: I have a degree that allows me to work as a x ray tech, the only ones that won't allow me are the hospitals that refuse to hire me, so at the moment I work on the administrative part in a college, which is nice and I really learn a lot everyday and it's better than my previous job so I'm not complaining hihi
He blinks twice, staring at her face, memorizing every little detail, and stopping at her violet eyes, her brother's eyes looking back at him.
He sighs, closing his eyes and clenching the fist above her head. His lips, mere inches away from her. She can feel his warmth, smell his scent, but she cannot taste his lips, and he pulls away, making it alarmingly clear. He wasn't going to kiss her tonight, or ever.
It's so simple but we can't stay
Over analyze again, would it really kill you if we kissed...
Respect and pride getting in between them once again. He forced those feelings back to the depths of his heart, burying them in the dark. Her lips wobbled and she wanted to protest, so fucking unfair. But she knew better than to question his resolve.
His loyalty to Rhysand bigger than anything, even bigger than the love he felt for her. And then she finally realized, as he retreated, his shadows pulling him back towards her. He would never break the vow he made. Never letting anything bad happen to her. Not even him.
