Just Finished Watching Jujutsu Kaisen… Lets Just Say I’m A Huge Simp Now For This Dude

Be gentle with yourself, you are healing.

JJK BOYS + WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I DIED?

[includes] gojo satoru // ryomen sukuna // fushiguro megumi [warning] ment. of implied suic1de (megumi’s part) [notes] i feel like i gave realistic answers?? i did gojo too serious LMAFO

— GOJO SATORU

“‘toru, what would you do if i died?”

your plethora of questions started from boredom, having nothing to do on a humid wednesday afternoon so you decided to randomly interrogate your boyfriend. tiny questions about his favorite color or dessert evolved into meaningful ones that had him quiet for ages, gathering his thoughts to give you a truthful answer. though this one, he didn’t hesitate much answering.

“my place in the jujutsu world wouldn’t let me grieve for long, so i’d probably be forced back to work. but.. i’ll never be the same. i’ll do my job, but the life in me would go.”

you really didn’t know how to react other than stare at him silently, watching the sincerity in his eyes before smiling and lightly shaking your head. “well”—bringing himself up from his position on the couch, he slides down to accompany you on the floor, dragging the blanket down with him for the two of you to share—“you don’t need to worry about that. i’m the strongest after all.”

— RYOMEN SUKUNA

you could see that slowly, your lover was getting irritated by your questions. maybe it wasn’t the best idea to settle down and ask dozens of the most random things that pop up in your head while your boyfriend works, but you knew when to or not tease him and right now seemed like it was an okay time.

“sukuna, what’s your go-to line to say?”

“prepare to die.”

“fair enough. what’s your favorite time of the day?”

“when you’re asleep.”

“hey!” you fake offense at his snapback, maneuvering your way so that your head was on his lap and both of your hands were wrapped around his bicep, squishing the muscle. “sukuna, what if… i died?”

“what type of question is that.”

“just answer it,” you grumble at his nonchalant attitude, not once looking up from whatever paper he was writing.

“you can’t die, i won’t allow it.”

“never mind that! answer the question: what would you do if i died?”

“i would make sure that person or curse will never see the light of day again. i’ll take the roughest form of revenge and give them a slow, painful death.”

maybe you struck a nerve, because when he looked down at you in his lap, you couldn’t really depict the look in his eyes. “like i said, i’ll never allow it.”

“the universe doesn’t need your permission. what if i died in my sleep?”

he ruffled your hair in response, stretching his back before putting his focus on his papers once more. “i don’t like thinking about stuff like this.” and that was his attempt of showing his feelings. you know it’s hard for him to express, and you got the message he was trying to send, so you decided to not push any further, smiling to yourself silly for the rest of the day.

— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

it was late. way too late to be snuggled next to your boyfriend, your hair tousled from the jump you had to make to sneak in. at this point you would’ve left, but tonight was different. moonlight dripped from the open window, adding an extra layer to the intimate moment you both were having, spilling out your darkest secrets to each other in the confinement of his little dorm room. you fell into comfortable silence, providing solace with touch rather than words.

“megumi, what would you do if i died?”

the thought popped in your head like any other, and you were pretty much unfiltered with your boyfriend so you didn’t hesitate to ask. he studied you for a few seconds, letting your question sink in before saying, “guess i’ll go down with you.”

you blinked. “what. don’t say that!” ogling at him in disbelief, he simply stares back before lacing your hands together underneath the sheets. “my life would be nothing without you.” he mutters.

“we’re sixteen, i think after a few months you’ll move on—”

“you dont have any idea. ive been best friends with you my whole life and your lover for six months. my heart cant take another loss.” he was talking about yuji on the last part, you realized. you were quiet once more, drinking in every curve and bump of his face as if you were trying to engrave it in your mind. “well then, you’re now stuck with me for a looong time.” you grinned.

and he grinned back, “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

@ httpmiriko 2021 - all rights reserved.

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU x FEM READER

Being hot at the grocery store should be illegal.

wc — 800

tags — grocery store meet cute, set in the same universe as the way to the heart is through the stomach

“There is an attractive man on the other side of the grocery aisle,” you hiss at Kiyoko. Your roommate had dragged you out for a grocery run, but as the person who forced you out of the comfort of your home, she could stand to be a little nicer to you. 

Instead, she raises an eyebrow; her face conveying utter disdain, confusion, and slight pity at all once. It’s a little impressive, honestly. 

She peeks between the cracks in the shelves. Looks at you. Looks at the man. Looks at you again. She makes a motion that could be what are you waiting for or let the grandma pass so she can get her multivitamins. 

Sometimes it’s complicated when it comes to Kiyoko. She’s not great at talking without words. It’s because she’s spoiled. Must be nice to have a boyfriend who loves you so fully you don’t have to try to be understood, you think with a hint of jealousy. 

Then, she pushes you towards the other aisle in a gesture that’s unmistakable. 

“Kiyoko!” You’re appalled. “You’re not making me go over there. I’m wearing my pajamas!” 

Your pajamas are grey sweats with multiple suspicious stains from ketchup or blood or some other substance. You’re not sure. That’s why it’s suspicious. 

“Okay? He looks worse,” she says. Notably, she doesn’t tell you that you look fine. 

She probably thinks that’s reassuring. It’s not. 

The fact that he’s also in his pajamas and still looks hot is infuriating. 

And very sexy. 

Terribly so. 

“Just go talk to him,” she says. “You know if you don’t you’ll be thinking about him for days, anyway.” 

“I will not!” 

“Excuse me,” says the hot stranger, who in the time that you spent arguing with Kiyoko, has suddenly moved behind you. “Do ya mind?” 

He’s gesturing at the package of cereal behind you. 

You freeze. How did he move so quietly? And had he heard the conversation between you two? 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in your face - a little rudely. That deducts one point from his overall hotness score. You scramble away, giving him access to the shelf. 

“This is my favorite brand,” he says conversationally, “but my brother got a girlfriend lately, and every time she comes to our apartment she eats all of mine. I’ve told her not to like six million times! And he’s a chef! Why are ya even eatin’ processed junk if ya can get yer professional chef of a boyfriend to make ya whatever ya want? He’s so whipped, I swear.” 

“Aren’t- aren’t you also eating processed junk, then?” You say with trepidation.

He brushes you off with a “No, that’s different.” 

He’s…a little weird. Who just talks to a stranger like that? You have to admit that confidence is attractive - even if you’re not sure if it’s confidence or narcissism as he continues. 

“So, like. Are ya going to ask me out or what?” 

You choke on your own spit. He had overheard. There would be no better time for one of these shelves to fall on you and crush you instantly.

“Woah!” Says the hot stranger, who still hasn’t told you his name before commanding you to ask him out. “Ya okay?” 

He slaps your back as you wheeze for breath - hard. Is he an athlete in his spare time? How does anyone have that kind of arm strength? 

“I-“ You shut your mouth because actually, you don’t know what to say. How do you respond to that? 

“Come on,” says Mr. Bad Bleach Job. “I heard ya and yer little friend talking about me all the way down the aisle. I know you want in on this sexy ass.” 

He’s ridiculous. Are you - are you into that? You’re seriously reevaluating your mental health even as you say, almost to your own surprise, “Can I take you on a date?” 

He wrinkles his nose. “I dunno. Can ya make it a little more romantic?” 

“Why don’t you ask me out if you’re going to be so demanding?” You challenge. 

“Sure,” he says easily. “Wanna go out? We can get fancy sushi for fun and eat McDonald’s after cause that’s real food.” 

Even you can’t tell if the noise that escapes you is a laugh or a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into? 

“Whatever,” you say, handing him your phone. “I think mine was better.” 

“They both kind of sucked. 5/10 for execution, -2 for sheer cringe, -3 for awkwardness.” 

“Kiyoko, read the room.”

stop defining yourself by what you lack. you are not the absence of qualities, you’re the presence of them.

for a while my question was “how does bokuto have both big brother and little brother energy at the same time” and i think i know the answer. he’s a youngest sibling but he’s also the cool older cousin at every family function that let you play on his phone and taught you how to do a cartwheel and made a competition out of making faces at each other behind the adults’ backs whenever conversation at the table got boring

ding!

. . . fushiguro megumi. sinking into an abyss of despair, time and fate sure are cruel.

note. spoilers ahead.

megumi understands that he, himself, is human as well. and just like any other human being that roamed the earth, he is one to make mistakes; mistakes that would then teach him a lesson he'd either utilize to make up for his shortcomings or disregard the moral lesson he’s supposed to take and continue on with his life.

he knows, megumi knows, that he’s made so many mistakes in his lifetime, but he’s always had the right people to look after him.

satoru was there, and as much as megumi wouldn’t want to admit it, his teacher was a pretty good figure that helped shape the young jujutsu sorcerer into who he is today. though he may be a bit childish, he was a good man through and through; both a mentor and a sort of paternal figure in megumi’s life.

you were there too. a true parental figure to megumi in tandem with satoru. he often thought about how you’re constantly doting on him, treating him as though he were a little toddler who could barely stand on his own two feet, and how you coddled him most of the time—reminding him of how reckless he could sometimes be when it came to his assignments.

he acted a little annoyed when you did this, but looking back at it now, he begs the gods out there to hear his pleas—to bring back time or to even change the fate set upon him.

he loathed this with every fiber of his soul.

being a mere vessel for the king of curses made him shiver and almost want to lose what was left of his reasonable wit.

he loathed how he couldn’t do anything as sukuna held you by your throat, his grip on you so tight that your body went limp against his hand.

“f– fuckin’ hell,” you wheeze with a chuckle.

the curse coos at this; he’s enjoying this. enjoying how you’re physically being tormented by him, all while megumi’s consciousness is being tormented emotionally.

it’s like killing two birds with one stone, and he finds absolute delight in what he’s doing.

megumi’s breath is caught in his throat the moment he sees your battered body get launched into the air, then get pummeled down to the pavement with great strength.

the absolute agony in your cry shatters his heart into a million pieces. in the consciousness in which he’s trapped, megumi could only watch in horror as your life flashed before his eyes.

he remembers the times you always checked up on him, taught him how to improve his cursed technique, and even taught him how to ride a bike when he was still little.

it hurts to even remember them now when he didn’t pay much attention to them before.

you lay there, unmoving, your eyes half-lidded and dull. you’re gone. and he couldn’t do anything but watch as your life cuts off within a quarter of a second.

sinking into an abyss of despair, what’s left of megumi’s soul fades into a hollow void of space. time and fate sure are cruel, not only to him but to you as well.

one of megumi’s most regretful mistakes he’s made in his lifetime was, perhaps, taking you for granted.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

NANAMI KENTO || yours

request: bestie i saw that you’re open for request so hear me out 👀 what about a husband’s duty but with Nanami? 😳 I’d like to think there must be people around thinking that he is a stoic as he is with his s/o when we all know he’s a soft, gentle lover 🥰

(I hope i don’t sound pushy in my request. I really LOVE your writings especially the domesticity ones Nanami 💕)

note: domestic!nanami is always in my head because the man is a comfort character and my standard when it comes to husband hunting - like pls sir 🥲🥲 give my crusty ass a chance. 

pronouns: them/they, afab!reader/use of kimono (traditional female clothing)

nanami kento masterlist  |  jujutsu kaisen masterlist

“Who do you think got married to Nanami-san?”

It was that time of the year again - where sorcerers gathered at the grand hall located at Jujutsu Tech; everyone mingling between one another in hopes of rubbing shoulders while also getting the latest scoop of Curse and Curse Users activities alike. Rumours flew about as usual - who would get married next, who was the sorcerer who blew up the other side of Kyoto two weeks ago, and which poor soul was being harassed by Gojo Satoru. However this time around, there was whispers of something more exciting; some say scandalous, even.

“I don’t know…but whoever that person is, they must have a few screws loose,” One of the men seated at the corner of the ballroom admitted to his companion, both of them sharing a laugh before they returned to their attention to the crowded ballroom before them. Or more so, to a specific blonde sorcerer who was nursing a glass of whiskey at the other end of the ball room.

Nanami leaned his elbow on the edge of the standing table beside him, ignoring the whining Gojo that was nested on his side as his dark brown eyes glanced around the room without a specific target in mind. Like any other day he was dressed in a suit; creaseless and almost too perfect for how much movement his job requires. The only thing that truly stands out on his day-to-day outfit would be the silver wedding band that rests on his ring finger; silver polished so well that it shone even at his slightly of movements.

When Nanami’s marriage had been revealed to the jujutsu world (courtesies of Gojo), it sent shockwaves throughout. Not only are weddings huge social events, where you invite everyone you can think of to increase your contact building, it’s also shocking that Nanami even chose to get married while still being an active sorcerer. Of course, Nanami had chosen an intimate and private service, which had angered many of the older generations; since they felt almost entitled to go to every wedding that happens in their world. 

But Nanami had never really cared of what others’ opinions; hence his calmness from the moment he entered the hall filled with people whispering and staring at him expectantly.

Keep reading

ding!

. . . gojo satoru. to me, to you.

note. vague manga spoilers ahead. i’d love to elaborate more on this dynamic; please let me know if you want me to as well.

satoru does not remember much of his childhood.

to him, memories of forever ago are left as though they were faded film strips, too damaged to even try and make something out of them. he doesn’t dwell on that part of his life because all he could ever recall was when he’s enlightened of his fate and the omnipotent power he possesses from a very young age.

but he did, however, catch a glimpse and managed to hold on—cling to—a few of the good ones.

and those memories were mostly with you.

“someone’s lost in their train of thought.” he hears your voice approaching from behind. he merely shrugs his shoulders, relaxing against the marble railing of his estate’s balcony.

“mm. yeah, guess i am.”

you offered him a can of soda—his favorite brand and flavor—that you brought with you. satoru’s lips curled into a small smirk as he awed at the thought of you remembering despite almost two decades of not seeing each other.

“you remembered.”

“of course. why wouldn’t i?” you reply with a quick, feeble chuckle. “you always used to nag me about how you could only ever enjoy a few sodas.”

“i just have preferences,” he tells you with a slight nudge to your side. “and it just so happened to be very specific.” he glances at the can he held, and though he had his blindfold on, he could still tell that you got it right; you got it down to a t. “i knew you loved me.”

“in your dreams.”

“mhm. in my dreams, indeed.”

“oh, god. i hate you.”

“i knew you missed me.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark, glancing at his soda, then taking a gulp of your own. “still your favorite, right?”

satoru doesn’t know what you’re referring to. whether you’re asking if you’re still his favorite or the soda, though he does have a concrete answer.

“yep! you’re so thoughtful, even though you pretend to have not missed me.”

“don’t feed your little ego, ‘toru. your head’s going to keep on expanding until it’s the size of a hot air balloon.”

“hey!”

conversations breeze by like the chilly night air, creeping in and making their way known. he thinks this is the most he’s ever felt like he’s home. his childhood home, a haven where he felt safe and could truly live a life that his younger self was deprived of duty to a handful of “duties” and whatnot.

it’s like the calm before the storm. the rest—his rest—before he takes on something that he should’ve dealt with a long, long time ago. he’s not afraid, oh no.

because he is satoru, after all. the strongest.

and then the memory of someone he also held close to his heart replays, like a sudden alarm that wanted to remind him.

“are you the strongest because you’re gojo satoru? or are you gojo satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“a penny for thought?” you ask, noticing his sudden quietness.

he perks up, a bit stunned in place. “just a question,” he sighs, setting his drink aside for later. “who am i to you?”

he thinks it’s stupid because he’ll always feel that there’s a barrier that separates him from others. from you. because he’s the strongest, and that’s what it means to be the strongest, right? to feel as though you’re being distanced from everybody else.

“who you are . . . to me?” you said, tilting your head to the side. “like, how i see you?”

“yes.”

god, satoru swallows the lump in his throat, anticipation clinging to his whole body as he waits.

“oh, well . . .”

he expected a handful of answers, but none of them ever came close to yours.

“is it weird that i still feel like i’m talking to fifteen-year-old you?” you told him. “it’s like my mind’s still processing to bridge the gap of our memories together; to fill in the years we haven’t seen each other, y’know?”

“i see you as ‘toru. and to me, you are just ‘toru. that same ‘toru who i’ve been with since when we’re literally in diapers,

who kept on annoying me to wear matching pajamas when we were kids for the sleepover he begged his parents to agree to,

that same ‘toru who was spoiled to the core that he was so surprised that he went quiet when little me decided that they were over it with your incessant whining of wanting to play on the seesaw when they wanted to play on the sand box,

thee ‘toru who’s eyes almost always surprised me during the most random times, in a good way, of course.”

ah, now he remembers. those good memories, which were probably his core ones.

“you’re satoru—no, ‘toru,” you hum, thrumming your finger against the marble top. “my best friend. not the strongest sorcerer, not the wielder of the six eyes, not the teacher at jujutsu tech, but just ‘toru. my ‘toru. ”

satoru swore he’d lost his voice upon listening to your answer. and suddenly he feels as though he were a little kid again, looking at you with the utmost adoration—slight infatuation, even—as you told him through his little tears that it was normal to scrape his knee when he’s learning to ride a bike to be able to join you!

“thanks,” he says with a chuckle. “didn’t know i needed to hear all of that until now.”

“don’t mention it, ‘toru,” you nod. “ah, now that sounded sappy. ew! bleh, thought i left all of that behind.”

“heh, i like it when you’re a sap,” he mused.

“of course you do. but we have a lot to catch up on, so you better not die out there, mr. sorcerer.”

he smiles at that. “yeah. i’ll keep that in mind.”

“you still have those big, blue eyes you always used to get out of trouble?”

“knew you missed my eyes, too.”

“do not. you sure they’re not neon green now?”

“ha. ha. funny.” for a moment, he takes his time to remove his blindfold, his hand shaking a little as he does so. he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

“look.”

satoru notices the way you paused, examining how his features have matured over the years, and yet he’s still the satoru you knew. your ‘toru, as you said so yourself.

“eh. put the blindfold back on.”

“y/n!”

“i’m just saying,” you laugh a little. “your eyes haven’t changed; still as ethereal as ever.” you slid your half-empty soda next to his, signaling that you wanted him to finish yours. he’s known this for so long.

“let’s catch up again when you’re free, ok? i already gave you my number, right?”

he glances at the can, seeing the number—your number—written against the glossy layer. “yeah, do you want me to walk you home?” he offers, soft and warm.

you shook your head. “some other time, ‘toru.”

he nods in understanding as he watches you leave. as you fade alongside the background, slowly yet surely, satoru’s memories of his childhood are rekindled, outdoing his dim ones.

he’s glad that you’re home.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

for @tsukkiangel ’s this magic moment collab

it’s the drive to his game alone that makes sakusa realize that he’s grown dependent on your company. the silence through his journey to the stadium, the lack of your voice singing along to the music you blare in the background, the absence of your fingers fiddling with the loose curls at the base of his neck, they’ve grown a part of him, and now it feels missing.

he’s restless when he has to start his game without a kiss from you sending him off, and by the third service ace he scores and doesn’t see you cheering when he turns to your usual seat, his heart is aching painfully in his chest, and he needs you to know he’s sorry. he figures you’re watching the game from home, that he’ll see you in a bit and he can make up for the argument then, but he still can’t focus.

and when the msby jackals lose their first game of the season, sakusa can’t help but shoulder the blame himself.

he drags himself through your front door, plopping down on your couch with his face in his hands, hunched over with both elbows resting on his thighs. it’s silent, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it—to be here in your home after how he acted, but he craves the catharsis your touch provides him, the warmth of your skin against his and the sweetness of your words as you whisper them against his forehead.

but sakusa figures he’s never deserved them in the first place, and he’s proved that last night. you’re bound to leave him behind by now.

but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when a hand is laid gently on his shoulders, a weight sinking down beside him as an arm wraps tightly around his waist, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“i saw the game, omi,” you whisper. “it’s okay, baby. sometimes you just can’t win them all. don’t let it get to you,” you mumble into his hair, and sakusa’s breath hitches, the curve of his lips exchanging the frown for a slight wobble, his fist clutching your shirt.

“i messed up,” he whispers, and his voice cracks in the middle. and he thinks the hole in his heart is nothing compared the gap your absence would leave him—he realizes he’ll miss the tiniest of things.

the way you shake your hands over the sink three times before moving to wipe them on a towel, the way you twist his doorknob even after he checks if he’s locked it before you both leave—just to double check as you always say, the way you carefully set up the pillows on your bed to lay how you want. they’re all habits he’s watched plenty of times, and they’re mundane to anyone else, but they’re precious to him.

you’re precious to him.

“omi, it’s one game, baby. and it wasn’t just you—”

“no, last night,” he interrupts. his chin is propped on your chest as he looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked—and just the slightest bit broken if you look deeper. “i…i messed up last night. i’m sorry. please…please don’t leave,” he croaks.

sakusa realizes the little crinkle of your nose when you smile at him is enough to turn his coldest days warm. he leans closer into you, cheek pressed against your chest as you hum.

“it’s just one fight, they’re bound to happen. i know you didn’t mean it,” you murmur. “i’m right here, aren’t i?”

glancing up, he crinkles his eyebrows. “you’re not mad?”

“i am, kiyoomi,” you glance down at him, booping his nose, and it’s his turn to crinkle his. “i’m still quite mad, but you need me right now. we’ll figure out last night later.”

oh.

sakusa realizes for the first time that he’s encompassed by a feeling so raw, so inexplicably and undeniably light, it makes him forget for a moment the despair of just a moment ago. he smiles into your chest.

he doesn’t hesitate a seconds longer to mumble “i love you.” and you pause, your fingers that thread through his hair coming to a halt as you process his words. he feels you press soft kisses along his forehead, taking extra care to gently kiss each mole at the end, like they’re something precious of their own in your heart too.

and that’s what love his, he realizes, finding the raw beauty in the tiniest, mundane things, looking past the large flaws for the little blessings in between. and it takes him the softness you still gift him despite the jaggedness he shows, but he knows this feeling is nothing but love, and he knows even past his jagged edges, you soften him up because you love him too.

and you prove it when you whisper “i love you too, omi.”

if all you did today was get through today, it’s good and it’s enough.