Jjk Characters Asking You Out On A Date (pre-relationship)

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ FIRST KISS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fluff + mutual pining if you squint, it’s literally just you being satoru’s first kiss <3, he’s just a loser boy beneath all his facades !!

it’s summer the first time you kiss satoru. his lips taste like the lingering sweetness of kikufuku. the cicadas are calling, and the sun finds every crevice of your skin to hug.

it’s hot outside—but you don’t mind the heat so much when it’s the fan of satoru’s breath against your skin. you can feel his hands tremble as they finds your hips. hesitant, you note as he pauses a moment before finally letting them rest against you.

“you’re eager, sweetheart,” he hums—because satoru, even dazed from the taste of you, is still persistently himself. large hands are gently cradling the curves of your waist—he’s warm there too, where he holds you and pulls you closer to his chest. he grins when you press a kiss to his jaw, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

“it doesn’t feel like you’re kissing me while held at gunpoint either, gojo,” you roll your eyes. your hand cups his face, thumb tracing over the swell of his cheek gently.

gojo—his lips, rosy and just a bit swollen, pout at the use of his surname. surely, now that you’ve stolen the innocence of his lips, you can spare him a bit more than that. surely, the intimacy of his given name doesn’t outweigh the intimacy of exchanging breath.

satoru—he imagines the way the name would sound from you, carefully whispered like a secret. everything you do is careful, he’s noticed, everything about you is thoughtful and soft.

more than anything, you’re careful in the way you touch him. you’re delicate in the way you let yourself explore his skin, like he’s fragile and easy to hurt. like all he’s ever known is pain. it’s ironic—someone like satoru should know very little about pain, should never feel the devastating blows at its hands when infinity leaves more than enough room for him to remain untouched.

but you’re funny like that; take him by surprise as you carve out the slant of his cheekbone with your thumb slowly enough that you might almost think your touch is enough to slice the skin.

it’s nice, he thinks distantly, being handled with care is nice. it’s not something this world affords so easily.

“this your first kiss?” he asks shamelessly, throwing you that lopsided grin of his.

am i your first? is what he means to ask. what he wants to ask. what he aches to ask.

is he your first? or are you only his? has anyone else tasted the strawberry of your chapstick? was it a different flavor before it was ever strawberry? satoru hopes he’s the only one to ever explore the flavors your lips might come in—maybe you’ll try cherry next. he’d like that.

“it’s certainly your first kiss,” you giggle, thumb moving down to trace his bottom lip, “i can feel you trembling, y’know.”

not many people catch gojo satoru embarrassed—you do, though. that enough should make you feel like god, perhaps. who else is powerful enough to feel the strongest quake? who else feels the quivers of his hands and the uncertain hesitance under his touch?

no one but you—and you’d like to keep it that way.

his face flushes a little, against his control. even gojo satoru is not above the rush of blood rising to his cheeks, even he cannot stop the hue of color that paints across his face. he’s human, after all—and he deserves to be treated as such: with the fragility of being human.

“no it’s not,” he scoffs, “i’ve kissed plenty.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, admiring the rosiness of his flesh, “name one person.”

“i don’t recall anyone’s name,” he shrugs, hands still making sure to keep you painfully close. if you pull away, satoru thinks he might die—thinks he might never recover from the aftershocks of such devastation. “no one was ever worthwhile enough to remember.”

he’s too much sometimes—but never less than enough. you snort, huffing out a small laugh that rings in his ears and makes him gulp.

perfect—you sound and look and feel and taste perfect. gojo satoru is the strongest, but is he deserving of the one thing this earth has that’s devoid of flaws? he’s not so sure. but he can try to be worthy, and perhaps that’s enough.

“well, then tell me, gojo,” you murmur, gently slipping the bandages from his forehead to fall to his neck. he’s only recently left the sunglasses behind—you like him better this way. you can see the outline of his features better, even if you do miss his eyes.

“hm?” he quirks a brow, breath almost hitching when his eyes meet yours—since when have you looked at him like that? since when have your pupils housed so much affection for him? have you always done so, and he’s never noticed?

it would be a crime to not have noticed before this, he thinks, a cruel and terrible reality of missing every soft and affectionate gaze.

“will i be long forgotten after this kiss? or has this one finally caught your attention?”

there is no prior kiss to compare yours to—but there never needs to be one after, either. this is the best kiss he’ll ever have, the only kiss he wants to have. no one will ever feel like you, he’s sure of it. no one will ever make him feel what you do, and even infinity is something that cannot protect him from the risks.

but satoru is not scared, not of you—and never with you.

so he grins, tapping his chin in thought as he hums, “give me another, and i’ll decide.”

you scoff in disbelief—amused, if anything, before shaking your head. he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him.

“you never change, gojo,” you say fondly, “do you know that?”

“say satoru,” he says quietly. it’s almost a plead—it sounds like a plead.

you smile. it’s an innocent little thing, untouched by the cruelties of life—or maybe it has, and you still find a reason to stay pure. maybe it’s the latter, he realizes, maybe you’re just resilient enough to remain unwavering in the way you love so unapologetically.

“come here, satoru,” you whisper, gently pulling his face closer as you hold his cheeks.

desperately, he needs to taste his name rolling off your tongue—so he comes closer, bridging the gap and kissing you again. and again—and he can’t find it in him to stop.

the same day satoru has his first kiss, you call him by his first name. it’s summer. the flowers smell sweet as the cicadas call, and you put the sun’s heat to shame.

he’ll always stay warm wrapped in you.

tbh this was supposed to be y’all fucking for the first time but then it just turned into this. alas, we prevail

Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops

credit

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ

K e y:

🤍: soft rock| fluff

🖤: alternative rock | angst

⭐️: kids bop | sfw

🌙: parental advisory | nsfw

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ

                                          i t a d o r i y u u j i 

dramaturgy- one shot |  🤍 ⭐️

sending them risky pics- SMAU |  🤍

yuuji comforts you after sukuna acts like a d*ck to you- one shot|  🖤 🤍 ⭐️

showering with them- HC  🤍 ⭐️

multilingual s/o- HC |  🤍

seeing them shirtless for the first time- one shot |  🤍

first time- one shot |  🤍 🌙

                                                s u k u n a

✧･ﾟ: * coming soon! ✧･ﾟ: *

                                          g o j o u s a t o r u 

sending them risky pics- SMAU |  🤍

coffee babe- one shot |  🤍 ⭐️

multilingual s/o- HC |  🤍

seeing them shirtless for the first time- one shot |  🤍

                                 t o g e i n u m a k i

showering with the jjk guys- HC | 🤍 ⭐️

                                        m e g u m i f u s h i g u r o

sending them risky pics- SMAU |  🤍

megumi has a crush on you, but youre dating yuuji- request/one shot |  🖤 ⭐️

showering with them- HC  🤍 ⭐️

multilingual s/o- HC |  🤍

seeing them shirtless for the first time- one shot |  🤍

random HC I have of the JJK characters- 🤍 ⭐️

© Violetnote 2020

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

♡ TEXTS WHEN THEY’RE DRUNK

FEATURING: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, kamo choso, yuta okkotsu, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, toge inumaki

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, mentions of throwing up, fluff

relevé

ngl wanna start a succubus girlfriend au from this kinktober fic

18+ succubus reader x 21+ megumi. cw: reader has non human features; wings, horns, tail, pointed ears. she can turn invisible. voyeurism (watching him). mutual masturbation. edging. dream bj/m. oral. wc: 2.4k

After a few strange encounters on this campus, you've taken to hiding in the little den you've made in an unused dormitory, only venturing out to stretch your wings now and then.

You're out for an evening stroll when you notice a particular dark haired sorcerer you haven't seen before. You were only going to the vending machine to get a soda, but you may be getting a bit distracted.

Using your invisibility, you step to the side of the illuminated machine and watch him approach, shoving some coins in and selecting his desired drink.

He looks pissed off. And tired.

He snatches the can of coffee from the machine and starts striding away. You follow him on impulse, ignoring the nagging voice telling you this is dangerous, don't you remember what happened last time?

You get to his apartment door, but you at least have the sense not to enter tonight.

He shrugs off his jacket and approaches the window, where you're hovering just outside, peeking through the open curtains. Squinting his eyes, he peers into the night and seems to make direct eye contact with you. You panic momentarily, flitting about, until you realise he's looking through you, at the moon.

He sighs, rubs his forehead and rests his head in his palms, leaning on the windowsill.

He looks deep in thought, perhaps worried. But that doesn't take away from his breathtaking beauty, especially in the starlight.

He tilts his head up, allowing you to see his pretty features, and you watch the way his deep blue eyes stare so longingly, his dark lashes batting with every tired blink. He runs a hand over his neck, ruffling his inky black mess of hair, and to your pleasure he reaches further back, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head.

You can see his whole upper body now, illuminated in the pale glow of the moon.

He's enchanting.

You watch him for a moment longer, your eyes lingering lower and lower, until he pulls the curtains closed and you hear him step away.

In your agitated disappointment you try to follow him from the outside, searching for another window. But to your dismay you find his bathroom blinds closed as you hear him turn on the shower, so you withdraw for the night and return to your room.

During the following days you cannot get his image out of your mind. You desperately chase after him, but he's just so busy you can barely keep up.

You watch him work like a dog, up to his nose in assignments and missions, some with other sorcerers, most by himself. He sometimes advises students when he gets time, but he seems too busy to be involved in teaching like some of the others. Whatever his role is, he seems to be working himself to the bone, leaving him exhausted.

You hear the students calling his first name in the corridors... how rude, you think.

But you get to hear his name, nonetheless.

Megumi.

And you commit it to your memory, each syllable seared into your mind never to forget.

At the end of each day you watch him trudge to his apartment, often with stacks of books and supplies, other times with blood stained uniform, sometimes both.

Despite his punishing schedule, the man still finds time for himself, allowing you to watch his routines as you start following him closely, daring to enter his cosy home.

You've seen his nighttime habits play through for the whole week, and on Friday it's the same deal; showering, eating, cleaning, relaxing. He often reads or perches on the small balcony, sometimes playing music to fill the silence of his solitude. Perhaps he likes it like this. He seems quite content.

You watch him flick off the stereo, turn the lights down and head to bed, humming softly to himself. He sets his book on the bedside table and you know your favourite part is coming next.

Every time you see him you have to bite your lip so tight so you don't make a noise.

But you can't take your eyes away when he strips himself.

He gets into bed and to your surprise, doesn't pick up his book.

He props himself up against the headboard and his hand starts running down his defined chest and abs.

Oh my god, he's finally masturbating!

You manage to hold back a delighted squeak and watch him massage himself, the covers pulled over where you need to see him most.

But he grunts and sighs until there's an incredible tent in his sheets.

Wow. Your mouth hangs open.

He gets hotter, his pent up frustrations building, until he rips the covers down and exposes himself fully.

"Oh" you accidentally whimper out loud, seeing his erection for the first time.

Luckily he didn't hear you over his heavy breathing, and your hand was already covering your mouth in anticipation of letting something slip.

You watch him in his pleasure filled state, his usual frown replaced by bite swollen lips and flushed cheeks. His eyebrows bunch up, his mouth hanging open with a quiet moan. His hips stutter and quiver looking as though he's about to release, but his hand only slows.

Oh fuck.

You have to start touching yourself to the sight of him. It's very rare that you do this, the pleasure does not satiate you, but tonight you can't resist. You want to feel connected to him.

Your fingers snake down into your soaked panties and you start tracing your clit while he edges himself.

You catch up with him quickly, bringing yourself up to the precipice of a hard orgasm only for him to stop again. You let a little whimper slip and your body freezes, in tandem with his.

Then you go again, watching him look down as if to question what he's doing to himself. You follow his pace carefully, tapping and circling yourself in sync with his pumping.

This time his abs start clenching up and you watch the way his waist dips in so beautifully. You can tell he's going to do it this time, now his jerking and thrusting is getting harder and faster.

Out of all his sexual pleasure and beauty, the sight that brings you down is him spitting on his cock.

Your body trembles and clenches around absolutely nothing, watching him get dripping wet, thighs shaking, and he finally releases his hot load over his abs.

You watch him deliver a few final tugs until he reaches for some tissues.

In your countless experiences of edging men, you've never seen one do it to himself and enjoy it so much. Although he's just finished, you can't wait to see him like that again. Hopefully next time you'll be the one giving him such feverish pleasure.

Desperate to get your fix of him, you get to work entering his dreams and finding your way into his fantasies.

To your disadvantage, despite his exhaustion after each long day, he's tough and resilient, making it difficult to break down the fortified walls of his mind.

It takes you multiple attempts for him to finally let you in, but when he gives in to your temptations, you get him whimpering in seconds and cumming in minutes. It's a rushed meal, but you're starving and the way he's moaning is giving you exactly what you need. It's like pure ecstasy, his body taking you higher than any man you've tasted before.

And you get addicted.

You visit him over and over.

He trudges home. You follow.

He takes care of himself. You watch.

He gets into bed. You enter his dreams.

Again and again, you appear before him and take your fill.

During your visits he's usually out cold, in a deep, restless sleep, but as the weeks pass you notice his eyes starting to flicker open, still seeming too tired to acknowledge you properly.

But he sees you. And you stare into those dark blue irises that hide secrets in their depths.

From Megumi's perspective, he realises he's been feeling very sexually satisfied recently. He feels hornier and he's getting turned on so easily

One day he's settling down on the sofa after cleaning his apartment and your image enters his mind. He gets so turned on from the thought of you and slowly starts to realise what you've been doing to him.

He ponders it for a moment then looks down to find himself growing hard.

You watch this predicament unfold from outside. You know exactly what's happening. The look of confusion and anger that initially crosses his features, slowly clouded by a look of desire.

You hover for a moment longer and notice how he's rubbing himself through his trousers. That isn't going to work, you think.

After your countless evenings in his bed, you finally work up the courage to present yourself to him tonight.

So you gently tap at the window, peeking through and revealing yourself.

To your relief, he isn't startled, but approaches the window with a curious expression.

"It's you..."

You hear him through the panes of glass.

You nod with a shy smile, watching him slide the catch and pull the window open.

"Come in"

You shift around awkwardly then flutter in, and he watches you land on the carpeted floor of his living room.

And before you utter a word to each other, you're drawn closer and he pulls you in.

The way he treats you makes your ego swell. He's giving you the softest kisses and placing such respectful, thoughtful touches over your body.

"You've been in my head," he breathes out between your passionate movements, "in my dreams?" He sounds confused, disbelieving, perhaps.

You nod, gripping his hands as he continues sliding his tongue over yours, clearly not dissuaded by your immoral actions.

"I, I needed to..." you whisper into the small gap between your lips.

"You needed..." he looks down, "this?"

His hand works over the bulge in his pants and you nod hesitantly, your lip between your teeth.

He looks into your eyes again and finally smiles. Your stomach flips, your eyes flying wide as if you can take in any more of him.

It's a little cocky, more of a smirk, but his face lights up regardless, seeing the way you're looking up at him so innocently.

"Hey, don't act all coy..." his smile grows, teasing you now, "how many times have you sucked me off already?"

How he's acting, how he's speaking to you, how he looks- how have you found a man so perfect?

He's got you all muddled up, your eyes blinking at him slowly, his question entering your ears and flooding to your cheeks.

"I- I... don't know"

"No, neither do I," his little smile is making you dizzy now, "but I'd like you to do it again, if that's ok?"

You're amazed. You can't believe he's offering himself to you- a winged, pointy eared, sharp toothed demon- so freely.

"A-are, are you sure?"

You look down over your body, suddenly doubting yourself.

But you get butterflies through your chest when he tilts your chin up again, your face resting in his cool, firm hand.

"It's more like, I need you." He pauses, looking down, "My body... reacts to you." He looks up again, his thumb tracing your chin.

All of your hesitation is dispelled when you hear his next words.

"I want you."

With that, you drop to your knees and let him get inside you as quickly as possible.

He yanks down his pants and frees his hard cock, slipping himself between your eagerly waiting lips.

"Ohhh, fuck," he slides in and he gives you more than you can take, fucking your throat and getting you drooling and messy.

But he's in a state himself, bucking his hips while trying desperately to ease his hard grip on your hair. You only encourage him, moaning and taking him deeper every time he pulls.

"You like that?"

"Mm, mmmm" you hum over him, loving every second of him fulfilling his instincts, his deepest pleasure filled urges becoming reality.

"Fuck- good, I like a girl who can take it a bit rough-" he mutters between his now laboured breaths.

"Wanted to fuck your pretty mouth like this... before-" his eyes squeeze closed, his head falling back, allowing you to feast your gaze on his neck and jaw.

The way he compliments you with such dirty words gets you gushing. You swear you could absorb pleasure from his voice alone.

A thought suddenly dawns on him while his abs are clenching up, the familiar feeling of his impending release flooding through his body.

"I-I don't even know your name?" he huffs, questioning you, but you don't stop. You can't stop now. However much he seems to love edging, you can't do it tonight. You need him.

So you suck and feel him shake and deliver the hot mess you've been craving, taking every drop, its potency ten fold now you're taking his conscious, consenting pleasure.

You drink in his every shaky vocalisation, watching him come down as you clean him off, pulling away and admiring him from below.

After licking your lips and enjoying your meal, you peer up at him and finally answer his question.

"y/n. I'm a succubus. Nice to meet you."

From there, you entered a rather curious relationship with the dark haired sorcerer, striking up a deal so you can get a reliable fill.

He agrees, under the condition that you'll let him have sex with you and won't go to any other man.

"I want you for myself."

You nod in agreement, his every gesture thus far telling you that he's not going to hurt you, and that for once, you've found a man who needs you as much as you need him.

megumi

Megumi falling in love for the first time?

Attempts at Friendship are Unappreciated

Synopsis: Megumi doesn’t have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.

pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader

content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.

If you were to ask Megumi, he didn’t have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.

Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, it’s still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes weren’t permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasn’t constantly avoiding others, like he didn’t wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.

Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fate’s spinning wheel.

You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. He’s never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.

Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.

He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for. Your motive – the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask.

“I don’t have one.”

It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. He’s never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said he’d never learn to make friends if he didn’t put himself out there.

Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.

“Would you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?”

Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

“They’re all fine,” he grumbles out. It’s the maximum he allows.

Megumi doesn’t have a type. It’s another one of those trivial things he’s never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.

He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.

Megumi never thought he’d have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isn’t capable of it. He just isn’t wired that way.

It’s comforting in a sense. It means he didn’t have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but he’s never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.

When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zen’in clan in exchange for becoming his student, it’s hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).

Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. They’re fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that you’d find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.

Kugisaki’s is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.

Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes he’s next.

It starts when you step in front of him; there’s a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.

“These probably aren’t your thing but I made one for you too,” you preface. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.”

You’re right. Friendship bracelets aren’t his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. It’s against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?

Most importantly, he doesn’t need it, and there’s no reason for you to give him one.

“You keep it,” he starts. However, it’s already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.

“I don’t—” he starts again; there’s a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where it’d be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “Only because you already made it,” he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.

Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.

He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the two—four—of you together.

Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he can’t hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.

It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.

It broke.

Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didn’t even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.

Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what you’d think if you noticed he wasn’t wearing it. You’d probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didn’t like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. He’s frustrated to acknowledge why that’s the case.

It’s only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.

When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.

“Do you want me to make you another one?” you ask cautiously.

Megumi can guess why you’re hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.

But…

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He wants it.

So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesn’t have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isn’t too silly, of course.

He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.

“I think this one is good,” you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.

You smile as you work. It’s nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.

Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyone’s opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think he’d like or if it means more than that.

“Why do you always keep trying to talk to me?” he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.

Your head snaps up from what you’re doing.

“What do you mean? We’re teammates,” you answer simply.

“Aren’t missions enough? We don’t need to interact aside from that.”

You pinch your eyebrows at him, and there’s a frown on your face. “Sure we do.”

“There’s no reason.”

It’s not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. It’s not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. You’re not his sibling or his parent; he’s not the friendlist either so there’s no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.

“How about because I like talking to you? I think you’re pretty funny, and you’re a kind person.” You shake your head, laughing. “I don’t know. I just like being friends with you.”

Megumi doesn’t know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?

Maybe.

There doesn’t need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesn’t really need a reason either.

“I see.”

“Finished,” you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. “I poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it won’t break so easily next time.”

Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.

“What about me?” you ask, drawing his attention. “Do you like being friends with me?”

Megumi can’t answer that, not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.

His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time he’s gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.

“Can I make you one?”

The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory you’re wearing on your wrist.

“Hey, you got one too now.”

You smile, holding it up proudly. “Megumi made it for me!”

“Megumi?!” Itadori blurts out.

“Made it for you?” Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.

“He did a really good job.”

It’s like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. “I didn’t do anything special; a monkey could do it,” he mumbles out.

Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.

“He’s so modest,” Itadori points out.

“Loverboy,” Kugisaki whispers.

“Can we call you Megumi too?” Itadori asks.

Megumi doesn’t have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick “shut up” before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. It’s enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.

“That was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.

Megumi sighs.

This is why he doesn’t want friends.

“Did you just sigh at me!”

“If that’s what you heard,” he tells her.

“You better sleep with both eyes open!”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Yet if it’s those two then he guesses having friends isn’t completely unbareable.

Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.

“You guys are starting early today.”

You’re still laughing at them, harder now actually, and it’s precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if he’s ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that he’s the reason for your laughter.

Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.

Friendship is something he’s coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out. 

୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 jealous much ?!

req ! making the jjk men jealous jus because.

ಇ. summary. fem!reader, hints at yandere!yuta since i can’t resist him☺️💗💗

ಇ. including. gojo, nanami, toji, yuji, megumi, yuta, toge, sukuna.

geto stole satoru's chair