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If there was something that stood out about Megumi Fushiguro, it was how attractive his hands were. Obviously, the boy had other redeeming qualities as well—a strong personality, attractive features, a fascinating cursed energy technique, were only some of them. But there was something so compelling about his hands, and you found your attention focusing on them far too often. You tried to push away these intrusive and perverse thoughts, but it never worked. This semi-obsession had started one day in class, and it had continued to get even worse from then on.
You shifted uncomfortably in your desk in the semi-quiet classroom—usually most of the teaching was done outside by active training and with the use of more hands-on learning, but Jujutsu Tech was still technically a school, so some actual educational learning had to be done as well.
Fushiguro shifted in his desk beside you, you had noticed. Your eyes danced over to look at him, and you tried to keep your head turned to the front as much as you could. You noticed how he was spinning his pen in his right hand; it was one of those cool tricks that you had never gotten around to learning—or maybe you just were incapable of doing so.
Your eyes moved away from the spinning pen, and down to the hand that was holding it. Surprisingly, you hadn't noticed how pretty his hands were. His fingers were long and slim, and it looked like he took good care of his nails and skin. It was kinda shocking how long his fingers were, you realized, and you were a little mad that you hadn’t really noticed before now. You wondered how it would feel to hold his hands; how soft would they be? An image of you gently sucking on his pointer finger shoved its way into your brain, causing you to feel warmth on your cheeks.
“[name]?” A soft voice brought you back to reality—your eyes shot up to be greeted with his beautiful seafoam ones. “Are you feeling okay?”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah… why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, your face is kind of red, and you were zoning out… you were staring at my hands.” He said quietly, leaning over in the middle of the aisle, Gojo was at the front of the class, luckily his back was facing the students as he was busy writing something on the board.
Your eyes widened the tiniest bit; how long had you been staring? It only felt like a few seconds for you… what if you had been staring at his beautiful hands for minutes on end? What if he thought you were some freak with a hand kink… wait, you kind of were-
“I was just watching you twirl your pen.” You said simply, sinking back in your desk a little. That seemed like a good enough excuse.
A look of confusion graced his features. “I wasn't even spinning it anymore…” He said quietly, leaning away from the aisle and back into his desk. “But if you want me to try and teach you how, I can.”
Your gaze looked up at Gojo, who was still writing something on the board, then you nodded at Fushiguro. “Sure, I’d like to know.” This answer seemed to justify the staring you had previously done, so it seemed like the only viable option.
Fushiguro leaned over again and reached up to almost touch your hand, before stopping an inch away—his hand hovering over your own that rested on your desk. “May I?” He asked.
You nodded, and you felt butterflies in your stomach; why was he so damn respectful all the time? He delicately grabbed your hand and positioned it to mirror how his own hands had previously looked. His hands were sort of cold, and it sent chills throughout your body when he made contact—you tried hard to think of something other than how attractive he was, though. He placed the pen in your hand and adjusted it in a way where you could tap it with one of your fingers. His other hand, though, was resting delicately on your wrist, and you weren’t sure if he had forgotten about it and had just gotten used to it being there, but it made your chest feel warm and tingly.
Before you could even attempt to do the spinning trick, you looked up to see Gojo standing in the aisle in front of you and Fushiguro. His arms were crossed and his head tilted; Fushiguro slowly moved away from your desk and back into his own. Kugisaki and Itadori, who sat in front of you, had turned both their heads to stare at you—Kugisaki was covering her mouth to stop her laughter.
“Isn’t it quite rude to disrespect your dear teacher in such a way, especially as he’s so graciously taking time out of his day to improve your knowledge and wits?” Gojo said, leaning down to get closer to the two of you, a large grin on his face.
Fushiguro scoffed a little and looked out the window of the room. “Maybe it’s because we’re too bored with your lacklustre teaching abilities.”
All of the students in the room practically snorted, but you all tried to cover it up quickly—I mean, Gojo was your teacher after all, even if you barely respected him in that sense.
Gojo brought a hand up and clutched his chest. “You wound me, Megumi-kun.” He turned around and began to walk back up to the front; but before that, he stopped and raised a hand. “I better not see any more flirting between the two of you, or I’ll have to separate you~” He sang, and made his way back to the board.
Kugisaki laughed again and turned to the front, and you didn’t miss how Itadori gave Fushiguro a thumbs up before doing the same. Your gaze moved over to Fushiguro next, who had his eyes shut, and his head resting against his hand. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk anymore, so you sat up straight and faced the front fully.
The next time you had found yourself freaking out over his hands, was after a long day of training outside. It was hotter than you had expected—the uniforms did nothing to provide relief—which only added more fuel to your exhaustion. After a more physical day, you had liked to stretch your muscles out, and today was no exception.
You waved goodbye as Kugisaki and Itadori began to walk back to the main part of the school, you froze when you realized that Fushiguro had stilled beside you. You looked over at him and your eyes widened at what you saw.
His head was tilted back as he drank out of his dark blue water bottle, exposing his sharp jawline—you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. That wasn't even the worst part of it all though; his hand looked so attractive as it gripped the water bottle. The veins were protruding more so than the last time; maybe because of the physical strain that had been put on them, nonetheless, you found yourself staring at his hands—they seemed even more attractive now. You imagined how it would feel if his hands ran down your hips and waist, or how they would feel wrapped around your-
You were brought back from the intrusive thoughts once again, this time it was because of Fushiguro flicking your forehead lightly. “What are you staring at?” He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
You blinked and looked up at him, his gaze already looking at yours. You couldn’t say that you were having impure thoughts about his attractive and veiny hands, so you picked the next best thing you could think of…
“I really like your water bottle.” You said quickly, mentally facepalming at how stupid you sounded.
Fushiguro cocked his head slightly, but he didn’t seem to want to press further; instead, he held the bottle in front of you, to your confusion.
“What?” You asked.
“Are you thirsty?” He questioned, moving the water bottle a little closer to you in the air.
“I mean, a little… why?”
“You can have some of my water, if you’d like.”
Your brain lagged for a second—if you shared from the same bottle, would that be considered an indirect kiss of a sort? Why were you getting so worked up over this… you were literally having thoughts about him choking you with his hands a few moments ago-
You waved your hands in the air and took a step back. “Uh, no, I’m okay. Thanks for the offer though.” You began to walk backwards towards the main buildings again leaving Fushiguro there by himself. “I’ll see you later!” You said quickly, before picking up speed and getting the hell out of there.
A confused look graced his face. “You didn’t do your stretches yet!” He shouted, hoping you could hear him—you were sprinting away from him, after all. You were kinda happy that he even remembered that you did stretches, it sent a warm jolt throughout you.
“I’ll do them later!” You shouted back, leaving a confused Fushiguro behind.
The next time you had a chance to fangirl over his hands was a week after the second encounter—and in all honesty, you were grateful for this moment in some ways.
“When I was your age, I had babes hitting me up left and right.”
You physically reacted to what just was said to you. You desperately wanted to vomit, but you were in the hallway with a garbage nowhere in sight, and Gojo stood in front of you, blocking the path to your room—for a reason unbeknownst to you.
“I could’ve lived my whole life without knowing that, Gojo-sensei.” You said solemnly, eyes gluing to the ground ahead of you.
Gojo let out a chuckle and rested his hands on his hips. “If we were in high school at the same time, you definitely would have fallen for my charm, [name]! Hey, hey, are you feeling okay? You look sick…”
You waved a hand in the air. “I’m fine, this conversation is just making me want to hurl, though.”
His smile was replaced by a straight line. “You sure know how to deflate a man's ego, huh?”
You were about to respond, but stopped when you heard footsteps form behind you. “What are you bothering her about, now?” Fushiguro was standing beside you now, a little too close for comfort.
A smirk appeared on Gojo’s face. “I was just telling [name] how she would have had a little crush on me if we went to high school together!”
A disgusted look graced Fushiguros usually blank face. “Well, she would never go to high school with you because you’re an old man.” He said simply, and you almost let a laugh slip out.
Gojo’s mood dropped instantaneously—it felt like a black cloud had fallen over him. “Megumi… how could you say that to me?”
Fushiguro just scoffed quietly at him and grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the older man. “Let’s go before this gets even more uncomfortable than it already is… if that’s even possible.”
Your eyes immediately moved down to his hand that was intertwined with your own. As he pulled you away, you were so distracted that you almost tripped over your own two feet. Fushiguros hands were much softer than you could have imagined—for some reason, you sort of expected them to be rough to the touch. Fushiguro turned to look at you now, and he wasn't all too surprised to find your attention glued to his hands again.
After walking for a few moments, he stopped in the middle of the hallway, causing you to halt as well; he didn’t drop your hand though, you noticed.
“[name]... you’re staring, again.” He said, bringing his gaze up to your face—you turned your own down to your shoes.
You really needed to get this under control, because you couldn’t keep thinking all these obscure thoughts, and then have to pretend like nothing was going on. But, you didn’t exactly know how to tell him either; you were certain that Fushiguro would get creeped out at your fantasies involving his hands. Instead of telling him anything though, you wiggled your hand out of grasp and pulled it back towards you—Fushiguro let his hand fall down to his side.
“You didn’t need to pull me away, I was fine.” you began, mentally slapping yourself right after at how stupid and small you sounded. You had no real reason to let go of him, but here you were, pulling a shitty lie straight from your ass.
A hurt look appeared on his face for a second, only to disappear soon after—his usual stoic one reappearing. “Sorry. I thought I was helping.” He began to walk past you, but you grabbed onto his hand again quickly. You weren’t even thinking, it had been a reflex of a sort.
“Wait.” You said louder than you had meant to, his eyes widened a little at that. “I’m sorry… I should be saying thanks. You saved me from an awkward convo with Gojo, so thank you.” You gave his hand a little squeeze, and you felt him run his thumb up and down softly.
He gave you a small smile and said, “Don’t worry about it,” Then he let go of your hand and started to walk down the hall. “I’ll see you later, [name].” And with that, he was gone.
You weren’t too sure if you had offended him or not—he was hard to read at times. Sometimes he was all too serious, and other times he would try and crack a joke, only for no one to laugh. He never really discussed his feelings with any of the other first years, and he didn’t show his emotion very often, which made it hard to know how he truly felt about things.
You shook your head at your own stupidity and began to walk back to the direction of your room, hoping Gojo had left already.
Nearly a week after the incident in the hallway, you had noticed that Fushiguro had been avoiding you. He had made no effort to talk to you, and it seemed like he was avoiding being alone with you altogether. You knew that you deserved it, so you made no effort to contact him either.
That changed when Gojo had given two missions out to the first years. Kugisaki and Itadori had noticed the uneasiness between you and Fushiguro, so they graciously offered to be partnered up on one mission, leaving Fushiguro and you to be partnered up as well. It was like a sick joke with no punchline, you had thought, and Fushiguro didn’t seem to like the idea of it either, but neither of you said anything about it.
“I suggest meeting tonight and discussing the important matters of these missions.” Gojo said, giving all four of you a thumbs up; you groaned quietly to yourself and slammed your head on your desk.
Fushiguro came up to your desk and stood beside it, his hands in his baggy uniform pockets. “We can meet in my room tonight.”
You removed your head from the desk and looked up at him with half opened eyes.
“To talk about the mission of course.” He added quickly, looking away from you and at the front of the classroom.
You sat up straight and nodded. “Sure.”
He gave you a nod and left the classroom, when you knew that he was gone—along with everyone else—you slammed your head into the desk again, harder this time.
…
He didn’t give you a specific time to arrive at, so you came at 7:30—it was a safe time, you thought, not too early or late in the evening. If anyone asked how long you pondered what time to arrive at, you would’ve changed the subject, though.
You knocked lightly on the door; a couple seconds passed before he opened it. Fushiguro stood in a black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants—he looked too good that you wanted to run away right then and there. He motioned for you to come in, and you did, slipping past him to sit down at his desk. Fushiguro sat down on the end of his bed, leaning back on his arms behind him. You tried really hard not to look at the grey sweatpants, and he did nothing to help out with that.
“So we’re going to a bakery that is said to contain a curse for our mission?” You asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had filled the room.
He nodded, then tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. Your eyes immediately went to his jawline. Why was he so attractive? Did he know what he was doing to you? Maybe he was doing it on purpose?
Your heart stopped as you noticed his eyes looking over at you—watching you watch him. You looked away quickly and played with your hands that were resting in your lap. Fushiguro sat up straight now, and turned his attention to your lap.
“Your hands are so small.”
You froze, and then brought your hands out in front of you, spreading your fingers to take a good look at them. “No they aren’t.”
You heard the squeak of the mattress as he pushed himself off the bed, making his way to stand in front of you. He brought his hand up and pressed it against yours—the sudden contact made you feel warm inside. It had never occurred to you how big his hands actually were in comparison to your own.
Sure, you had noticed his slender fingers, and you had even held his hand in your own, but seeing his hands against yours really put it into perspective.
“Maybe your hands are just big… and ugly.” You said quietly—you were finding it hard to even force any words out.
Fushiguro gave a low chuckle and pushed his hand against yours harder, his fingers slipped down your own and wrapped around your hand. He leaned down closer to you, putting his free arm on the armrest of the chair you sat in, basically encasing you in. “You really think my hands are ugly, [name]?” He said into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers throughout your entire body.
Your eyes flickered down to his hand that rested on the armchair, and soon those impure thoughts came flooding back in. He must’ve noticed you spacing out, so he let go of the hand he previously held, and brought it to your chin, tipping your head back up so you were looking at him.
“I asked a question.”
Your mind was going a million miles per hour, and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. His seafoam eyes were staring holes in your own, and you had to look away. Quickly, you pushed his shoulder away and hopped out of the chair, pushing past him quickly and walking towards the door. “I have to go now.” You said frantically.
Fushiguro said nothing as he watched you slip out of the door; he sank onto his bed and rubbed his forehead out of frustration, and hoped that things would sort themselves sooner or later.
A week had passed since the incident in Fushiguro’s bedroom, and this time it had been you who was avoiding him—not that he made a vast effort to talk with you, anyway. When you did have to engage with him, nods and usually one word answers sufficed. Kugisaki and Itadori noticed that something was off again, but this time, they didn’t butt their heads in where they didn’t belong.
You couldn’t say the same for Gojo, though. During training—specifically sparring without the use of cursed energy, of course—he used his authority over everyone to force you and Fushiguro to spar each other, and on top of that, he gathered Kugisaki and Itadori and told them to give the two of you privacy; you had never wanted to punch that man more.
At first the sparring went fine—the two of you threw punches and kicks at each other while the other dodged it. You were actually surprised at how well you were holding up against him, as you had landed a couple hits on him. It was all swell until you found yourself spacing out again; your eyes had made their way down to Fushiguro’s balled up fists and your head became literally empty. You really needed to do something about this because you were getting frustrated at yourself and your hormones.
He noticed this, of course, but he made no attempt to punch or kick you; instead, he stepped forward, and swept your legs out from under you and pinned you on the ground. It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even think about countering it. Fushiguro sat on top of your waist, straddling you—his hands were wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head. You squirmed around on the ground in an attempt to free yourself, which made him push down into you harder. His face was still as stoic as ever, and his eyes were glued to your widened ones.
“I think I know the reason you get distracted all the time.” He said, leaning down so he was a couple inches away from you.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “I’m not distracted, I just get lost in thought sometimes.”
A low chuckle sounded from the boy above you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. “Whenever you see my hands, you space out.”
Your eyes widened at the words that had just come out of his mouth. So he had noticed then? Of course he did—Fushiguro had always been perceptive, you had underestimated that. But what was he planning on doing about it? He never seemed to be a romantic guy; hell, you weren’t even sure if he’d even had a partner before, or if he even knew what sex was.
After a moment, you finally responded by the shake of your head. “That’s not true. It's just a coincidence-” You began, but stopped abruptly at the feeling of him pushing down into you harder, you tried to ignore how good it felt—his grip on your wrists tightened as well, it didn’t hurt, but it had more force now.
“Stop lying.” He said simply, his eyes not leaving your face, which sent shivers up your spine.
There was no point in lying to him any further. He wouldn’t believe you even if you tried, and frankly, you were kind of a shitty liar at the moment. You squeezed your eyes shut and hit your head against the ground in annoyance.
“Fine, fine, I’ll tell the truth, but can you loosen up a bit? It hurts.” You opened your eyes again to see a look of worry dance over his features. He loosened up his grip on your wrists and lifted himself off you a little, alleviating the pressure building up inside of you. You let out a shaky breath and finally brought your gaze to his.
Fushiguro gave you a look that begged you to continue, so you sighed. “Okay, how do I put this? Your hands are… well, they’re hot.”
He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What?”
“You have attractive hands. You have really long fingers and the size of your hands is hot as well.” It felt so stupid saying it out loud, but you felt kind of relieved to get this off your chest—it felt like a weight had been lifted.
“You think my hands are attractive and that’s why you get distracted when you’re with me?” He repeated out loud, more so for himself it seemed.
You nodded. “It’s really dumb, I know. I swear I’ll stop thinking thoughts like that right this second! I won't even look at them again, I swear.”
Fushiguro tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He mumbled something to himself that you couldn’t quite catch.
“What?” You asked, raising your head up off the ground slightly.
“What if I don't want you to stop.”
Your eyes widened as he leaned down an inch away from your face, his eyes staring holes into yours. He pushed deeper as he straddled you as well—the friction made you feel warm inside. “Fushiguro…”
He let go of your wrists and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, you brought yours down to grab onto his forearms.
“What was I doing with my hands whenever you thought about them?” He said softly.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “W-well, it was different every time.”
He let out a sigh, and to your surprise, Fushiguro shoved his thumb into your mouth. Your eyes widened at the sudden contact, but as he shoved it inside your mouth deeper, you closed your eyes slowly, leaned up into his touch even more, and swirled your tongue around his thumb.
He finally pulled his wet thumb out of your mouth and rested it on the middle of your bottom lip. Your eyes opened to see him above you, red tinting his cheeks. Fushiguro closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, you felt the air fan your face. He began to run his thumb side to side on your lip, spreading your saliva on it.
He leaned down, practically hovering over top of you, and cupped your cheeks again—the way he was looking at you sent shivers up your spine. “If you wanted me to shove my ‘hot’ hands in your mouth, you could’ve just asked politely.”