Work Text:
The sun was setting over Tokyo, casting a warm, golden glow through the windows of their shared apartment. Itadori lounged on the couch, flipping through a manga, while Fushiguro sat at the kitchen island, surrounded by his usual stack of books and notes. It was a peaceful evening, the kind of rare downtime they didn’t take for granted.
“Yuji,” Fushiguro called without looking up, his pen scratching across the paper. “Did you finish the laundry like I asked?”
“Yep! Folded and put away.”
Fushiguro hummed his approval, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good job.”
Itadori froze, the manga slipping slightly from his hands. His heart skipped a beat, and heat crept up his neck. He cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. “Uh, yeah, no problem.”
Fushiguro glanced up, catching the faint pink dusting Itadori’s cheeks. Curious.
The moment passed quickly, and they returned to their respective activities, but Fushiguro couldn’t shake the thought. Itadori had looked… flustered. Over a simple “good job”? He tucked the observation away for later.
It started innocently enough.
The next day, Fushiguro deliberately tested his theory.
When Itadori handed him his drink order after meeting up at Jujutsu High after running an errand on his own, a few minutes late he had expected some light scolding. Instead, Fushiguro offered a calm, “Thanks, Yuji. You’re so thoughtful.”
Itadori blinked, his grip tightening around his cup. His face flushed a light pink, and he stammered, “Oh, uh, yeah! Anytime, Megumi.”
Fushiguro didn’t say anything, but he noticed. (And if Kugisaki noticed anything, she would pretend she didn’t see anything, sick of the two new lovebirds.)
From then on, Fushiguro made it a point to slip little compliments into their interactions.
“You did great in training today.”
“That was a smart move, Yuji.”
“I’m proud of you for sticking with it.”
Each time, Itadori’s ears would turn red, and he’d fumble for a response. It was adorable.
“You realize this plan of yours is torture, right? Not just for him, but everyone that has to witness it.” Kugisaki groans. She was a victim of the majority of the instances that involved Fushiguro’s “evil” plan. “I’m surprised Gojo-sensei hasn’t tried to foil your plan.”
Fushiguro sighed, watching Itadori and their sensei in line to get ice cream, the two were laughing about something. He couldn’t help but softly smile at the sound of his boyfriend’s loud laugh.
“First off, you’re just jealous.” He ignored Kugisaki’s retort. “Second, there’s no plan. I just like seeing him like that.”
He had never thought of himself as particularly mischievous but found himself enjoying it far too much.
Kugisaki rolled her eyes, “You’re gross.”
“I didn’t say anything when you got with Maki, my aunt.” He deadpanned.
“Thank you for the reminder!” The brunette laughed before gaining composure, “In all seriousness though, keep doing it. It’s annoying seeing him all flustered and seeing that ugly smug look on your face, but he needs the reminders.”
Fushiguro’s eyes grew wider, he didn’t realize that maybe his words had sunk deeper than he thought they had. Throughout everything they had been through together, there were times when Itadori still blamed himself for everything. There were nights, before them getting together when Fushiguro would wake up to Itadori crying himself to sleep. It hurt hearing him hurt. “Right.”
Kugisaki leaned back on the bench they were sitting on, watching Itadori and their sensei walk over with their ice cream. “Just don’t do it near me.”
“Hm, I’ll think about it.”
By the end of the week, Fushiguro had taken it to a whole new level.
They were walking back from a mission, a rare solo one that Itadori had handled while Fushiguro stayed on standby. Itadori had performed well—better than well, actually—and he was practically bouncing with energy as he recounted the details.
“And then I managed to exorcise the cursed spirit before it even got to the school!” Itadori said, his grin wide.
Fushiguro nodded, his voice calm as ever. “You really are incredible, Yuji.”
Itadori stumbled over his own feet, nearly face-planting on the sidewalk. He caught himself quickly, turning to Fushiguro with wide eyes.
“What—what was that for?” Itadori stammered his face crimson.
Fushiguro shrugged, feigning innocence. “What do you mean? I’m just being honest.”
Itadori grumbled something under his breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, but the goofy smile he tried to hide didn’t escape Fushiguro’s keen eyes.
The teasing continued, subtle but relentless.
Fushiguro would lean in close during training, his voice low and soft as he whispered, “You’re doing so well, Yuji,” just to see the way Itadori’s hands faltered.
He’d pat Itadori’s shoulder after a mission, the touch lingering just enough to make Itadori squirm. “You’re always so dependable.”
And then there were the moments in private, when they were alone in their apartment, and Fushiguro would casually say something like, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Yuji,” leaving Itadori a flustered mess on their bed.
It was addicting.
It all came to a head one lazy afternoon.
The two of them were sprawled out on their bed, (technically Fushiguro’s bed as Itadori had abandoned his own and was on the other side of the room) with some compilation video playing on one of their phones. Itadori was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, while Fushiguro lay on his side facing the former, flipping through a book.
“Hey, Megumi,” Itadori said suddenly, turning to face him.
“Hm?”
“Why do you always, like… say nice things to me now?”
Fushiguro raised an eyebrow, setting his book aside. “Do you not like it?”
“No! I mean, yes, I do, but—” Itadori fumbled for words, his cheeks turning red.
“We’re dating, you’re my boyfriend.”
Itadori grew redder by the minute, “But it’s just… different recently. That’s all.”
Fushiguro smirked, leaning forward slightly, closing his book, and putting it behind him. “You don’t like being praised?”
“I didn’t say that!” Itadori shot back, turning on his side to face the other.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Itadori groaned, burying his face in his free hand. “It’s embarrassing, okay?”
Fushiguro chuckled, unable to resist. “Embarrassing? Why? You deserve the praise. You’re such a good boy, Yuji.”
The room went silent.
Itadori’s head shot up, his face burning up, “What—what did you just say?”
Fushiguro froze, realizing what had slipped out. He opened his mouth to backtrack, but Itadori’s reaction stopped him in his tracks.
Itadori looked completely flustered. He settled for laying back down on his stomach and screaming into the bed, his arms flailing as if unsure what to do with themselves. “Megumi!”
“…Sorry?” Fushiguro offered, though he couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips.
“You can’t just—just say things like that!” Itadori sat up and sputtered, his voice rising an octave.
“Why not? It’s true.” Fushiguro followed.
“Because—” Itadori cut himself off, groaning dramatically as he buried his face in his hands.
Fushiguro couldn’t help but laugh, a rare, genuine sound that filled the room. “You’re too easy to tease, Yuji.”
Itadori peeked out from behind his hands, his pout not quite hiding the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the worst.”
Fushiguro brought his hands up to gently remove Itadori’s hands from covering his red face. He held the rough calloused hands in his own, his voice softening. “But you like it, unless…you want me to stop?”
“What? No, I never said that.” The latter replied a little too quickly. Itadori sighed, his blush finally starting to fade. “Yeah, yeah I like it. Don’t let it go to your head, though.”
“No promises,” Fushiguro replied, slowly scooching himself closer. “Do you want me to keep doing it then? As much as I’ve been doing it in the past?”
Itadori sheepishly looked away, anywhere but meeting the eyes of his teasing boyfriend. “Yeah…”
“You know,” Fushiguro murmured, his voice quieter than usual, “you’re cute when you get all flustered.”
Itadori blinked, his breath hitching. “Megumi—”
Before he could finish, Fushiguro leaned in, closing the gap between them. Their lips met, slow and tentative at first, then deepened as Itadori responded eagerly. His hands clung onto Fushiguro’s shirt, trying to pull him closer than they already were. Eventually, Itadori was on his back with Fushiguro on top of him, their lips never separating. The latter broke the kiss, planting smaller kisses along his jawline, down to his neck, and at last, his collarbone. Itadori let out a soft moan, one of his hands creeping its way up Fushiguro’s shirt and the other combing through the black spikes of hair.
Fushiguro planted a few more kisses around his shoulder, before going closer to Itadori’s ear and whispering, “Good boy.”
He felt his lover underneath him shudder and felt a tighter tug at his hair. He sat up, sitting in between Itadori’s legs, and admired the boy under him. He let out a laugh at the painful look he had on his face, bordering desperation.
Itadori groaned. “You’re impossible.”
Fushiguro leaned back down and continued kissing him, feeling him. It was something they would never get tired of. They stayed like that for a while in the golden light of sunset filled room.
And despite the teasing, Itadori couldn’t help but think that being praised by Fushiguro might just be his favorite thing in the world.