Hi, have some Jjk fics, read and request what you like! Spoilers for the manga will be specified. [join the taglist here]
Non xReader
Up in Your Shoulders. Gojo walks up to a crying Megumi. He decides then to be there for the kid.
Under Nights Watch; Nobara has nightmares, Itadori and Megumi help. Platonic jjk trio. Slight Shibuya spoilers (nothing explicit). Mentions of near death experience. Slice of life. 672 word count.
Missed me? In which Toji lives and visits Megumi. ~300 words.
Dreams and Memories; Megumi dreams a memory about Gojo one day during the culling game.
Gojo x Reader
Before a Long Mission; the time spent in the early morning hours before Gojo leaves on a mission. Almost 2k, smut, NSFW 18+, fem!reader
Coffee Shop; In which your relationship with Gojo shifts. Slice of life. Gojo being Gojo. 1,051 word count.
I Thought I Lost You; the moments after Gojo hears about the humans murdered at the caffe, and he jumps to the worst conclusion. 550. Hurt/comfort. Angst. Gojo needs a hug.
Staying Alive; series in works. Major manga spoilers for the latest arc though.
Revelations and Cake; in which you find out about Yuji and Sukuna. Mainly slice of life. Comfort. 483 word count.
Check in; Gojo forgets to text you he’s ok while on a mission. Naturally he’s in the dog house when he gets home. Slice of life. Suggestive. Soft touches. 751 word count.
Breakfast Poison; Gojo makes you breakfast the day after movie night. Slice of life. Fluff. Pampering. Soft Gojo. 631 word count.
When Gojo says Hi; Gojo uses his money frivolously to annoy you. Slight crack but I’m sure that’s on brand for him. 359 word count.
If it’s with You; a brief conversation about kids with Gojo on an early morning. Domestic fluff. 763 word count.
Headaches and Soft Touches. Gojo comes home late one night with a headache. Slice of life. Soft touches. Stressed Gojo. Caring reader.
All I want for Christmas; Gojo invites himself over for Christmas. At least he has food.
Nanami x Reader
Quiet Evening; Nanami quits his job and comes home to you early. Fluff. 317 word count.
Reading and Nanami; He agrees to read you a book while cuddling. Soft slice of life. Fluff. 564 word count.
The Coast; [SPOILERS FOR MANGA CH 120] in the works
Sukuna x Reader
Mine pt. 1; in which Sukuna stakes his claim on you. Mature themes. NSFW but nothing too explicit. 394 word count.
Mine pt. 2; he doesn’t like sharing. Mature themes. NSFW. 499 word count.
Toji x Reader
It’s Networking; Toji meets you at an event for the rich and famous who have ties to the jujutsu world. He decides to take you back to the hotel. NSFW. 18+ minors DNI. Slight exhibition, praise kink if you squint. Orgasm denial. Thigh riding. 2k word count.
Summary: Gojo comes over while you’re sick. Masterlist.
“Satoru, don’t come over today. I’m sick,” you say as soon as he answers the phone. You could only breathe through one nostril with how congested you were and your throat hurts even just to talk. Right now you’re walking to your bedroom, eager to be unconscious to the world.
“Hmm,” he replies seemingly unbothered, “I’ll bring some medicine.”
“I’m serious, S—achoo.” Ugh, you hate this. Everything hurt. The pounding in your head is creeping back. You crawl under your sheets and shut your eyes against everything. The sun is shining brightly through the window, so you curse yourself for not closing the curtains.
“Aww, is that my new nickname, sweetheart?” His voice is playful, but quickly turns soft, “go to sleep, y/n. I’ll be there when you wake up.”
You don’t bother replying, knowing there’s no winning against him. Instead you nod as you pull the bed covers closer to your face. Pretty soon you’re asleep.
When you wake, the curtains have been pulled shut. That brings a small smile to your face until you realize how dry your throat is. You wince thinking about how uncomfortable it will be to swallow, but you need water. You disentangle yourself from you sheets and head to the kitchen.
Gojo is quietly humming to himself as he stirs a pot on the stove. He looks up when you come into view from the hall way. He stops stirring and points at you with the spoon. “You should still be resting.”
You make a face at him, “throat’s dry.”
“Sit,” he motions to the living room with the spoon. You make a beeline for the couch as he fills the mug with something from another pot he had on the counter. “The porridge should be done soon, but have some tea in the meantime. I added a bit of honey to it already.
“Thanks, Satoru,” you accept the warm mug, bringing it to your face and inhaling the cinnamon scent.
Gojo reaches out and rests the back of his hand against your forehead. You lean into his touch, sniffling. He turns his hand and begins carding it through your hair, disentangling the knots from your earlier nap.
“Sit with me?”
“As if that’s even a question,” he huffs. Gojo is careful to not jostle you too much so you don’t burn yourself with the tea; he settles next to you, wrapping you in his arms.
Satoru started leaving things at your place at two months. You never seem to mind it because you did get him his own pair of house slippers (which was too small because you didn't want to tolerate the possible bad jokes had you asked his shoe size) when he first visited, followed by a toothbrush when he began to spend the night more frequently.
His clothes were the first to find their way into your hamper, where you'd wash along with your laundry, fold neatly and tuck away into a drawer you emptied out for him. When you'd both go grocery shopping together to make dinner一he always covers the cost of course, because that means the bunch of snacks and sweets would always be available to him in your pantry for movie nights. And when appliances in your kitchen break like your kettle, he lends you one from his apartment but it's yours to keep. You even tease him that he smells like you now because he borrows your products when you both shower together, but what's not to love about your scent when it's so familiar and comforting to him.
Your heart nearly skips a beat when Satoru suddenly calls your place his home too. "I can't wait to come home to you," he confesses over the phone since he’s been sent on a week long mission. When you look around your space you're reminded of the little remnants that he leaves behind. The silly Gojo doodle wishing you a great day and to not miss him too much (but please actually do) stuck on your fridge by a magnet, his extra pair of sunglasses next to your keys that you keep on the table by the front door, and when you glance down you hadn’t realized you were wearing his shirt as your way of feeling close to him when he’s away.
So when the words, "Why don't we move in together?" finally reaches him when you're both sweetly cuddling in bed after he returns to you safe and sound, you can see the excitement behind his eyes as they burn brightly. He’s been waiting and waiting despite all his not so subtle hints for you to consider the idea since he’s ready to take that step only when you are.
contents. manga spoilers, satoru keeps the scars bc that’s character development ok, post canon, insecure! gojo / reverse comfort, you sit on his lap, ig angst to fluff, embarrassingly cheesy look away pls :,)
satoru, since he’s come home with those scars, has always evaded your hand. you’ve tried a few times, have reached out to cup those cheeks you miss holding—but he’s managed to grab your hand and kiss it every time.
it’s smooth—like everything else he does, satoru dodges your touch smoothly. with an easy grin. with a teasing glint. it’s slick and all too natural, and almost undetectable. but you know him better. you know him better than anyone has had the pleasure of knowing him, you like to think. and you know that satoru doesn’t let your hand meet his cheek, not even the edge of his jaw, on purpose.
“good morning,” you smile, reaching forward to lay a hand over his face. satoru, with his eyes still closed (as expected), grabs your hand and plants a soft kiss to the back as he hums.
you’re almost certain he can sense the way your lips tug into a frown.
“mornin’ sweetheart,” he says lowly, “watching me sleep? that’s a bit creepy,” he teases.
“i can’t help it,” you hum, “you’re too handsome.”
this is rare—giving satoru compliments easily is rare. usually, you make him work for them, keep him waiting on the tips of toes before finally giving him that praise you know will go straight to his inflated ego. but sometimes, like now, you think he deserves to hear it—unfiltered and raw and filled with truth.
satoru is handsome. always has been. always will be.
“aw,” he cracks an eye open, “maybe i should let myself get scratched up a bit more. maybe you’ll talk nice to me more often.”
“i mean it, toru,” you frown, insisting, “you’re handsome. so handsome.”
your hand reaches for his face again. he turns his head this time, feigning a yawn as he stretches before sitting up. there’s a slight bit of tension in the air now, his lips tighter in his smile as he hums before turning to you and poking your nose.
“well, aren’t you sweet,” he smiles almost bitterly.
you haven’t seen his smile reach his eyes for a while. he doesn’t meet your gaze through the mirror in the mornings as you brush your teeth together anymore, doesn’t wink at your reflection and make you roll your eyes. he doesn’t spam your camera roll with pictures of himself anymore when you’re in the bathroom, doesn’t leave you with those silly faces and smug grins that make good wallpapers. he doesn’t even crack those annoying jokes anymore, doesn’t whine for you to admit he’s the most handsome guy you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting as his face digs into your neck.
instead, satoru dodges your touch. he kisses you briefer these days, avoids looking in the mirror, smiles like he has to—not like he finds a reason to.
“you don’t believe me?” you ask gently, furrowing your brows, “you know i’d never lie to you.”
“i didn’t say that, did i?” he asks, waving a hand casually. “c’mon let’s go brush our teeth. you don’t wanna kill me with that morning breath do you—”
“satoru, you’re still handsome, you know,” you say gently. you decide to rip the bandaid off as you add, “even with these.”
for the first time, your hand manages to reach for his face without him pulling away. you think it’s more out of surprise than anything, that it’s because he wasn’t expecting you to be so straightforward instead of trying to be subtle like usual. for a second, you think he might just put his infinity up—but he doesn’t ever. not around you.
but you can see it, the way his knuckles twitch a little like he’s clenching them. the way he’s so still, it’s almost like he’s willing himself not to tense. the way he doesn’t even lean into your touch like he always does.
he doesn’t want your hand on his face, but you stroke a thumb over a scar anyway, cupping his cheek as you study his face up close.
it’s still him—still satoru with that sharp nose and those rosy cheeks, still satoru with those long lashes and perfect jawline. there’s rough, marred bits of skin that meet soft, supple ones. you feel over the dips of where each scar starts slowly, committing each one to memory.
they’re newer parts of him, ones you don’t know very well yet, ones that remind you of the ugliest parts of the world—but they’re a part of satoru now, and anything that’s a part of satoru can never be ugly. no matter where they come from, no matter what they’re a reminder of.
not if it’s him.
“you think so?” he asks with a tight grin, “is my money maker still money making?”
“don’t be greedy,” you quip, “you have plenty of money.” and then, softly, you add, “but i’d pay a good fortune or two to wake up to this every day.”
“good thing i give it to you for free,” he hums, “i’m generous, you know?”
“what a catch,” you grin, “generous, strong, rich,” you list, making an amused grin stretch across his lips, “handsome,” you add. his smile falters a bit at that. “satoru, i’m serious.”
“oh, i love when you get all serious,” he whistles. he’s deflecting—you expect him to, but you’re not backing down. one leg swings over his hips, and then you’re climbing onto his lap, right there where he can’t avoid you. but he finds his attention to your lips, still smooth as ever as he avoids meeting your eyes.
“satoru—”
“oh? you want to do this already? it’s barely—” he makes a show of glancing at the clock before turning back to you with a suggestive grin, “—nine am. but i guess we can have a little fun before—”
“i don’t care about these, you know,” you murmur, pulling your head back when he leans in for a kiss. your finger lightly traces the scar by his left cheekbone, making him frown.
“see? you’re basically admitting you have to look past them,” he groans frustratedly—it’s the first time satoru’s acknowledges his scars. it’s the first time he’s finally let himself look upset without trying to hide it behind a forced grin and a dry chuckle.
“i don’t,” you frown, “sure, they’re new,” you admit softly, “and i don’t like being reminded you got hurt. but they’re not ugly—you’re always pretty.”
“there’s so many,” he mumbles, “they’re everywhere.”
“i think they’re cool,” you shrug, “they make you look tougher. less like a spoiled princess.”
“hey,” he pouts, “i’m not spoiled.”
“you’re a bit spoiled,” you chuckle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck—his lips quirk up, and you can’t help but notice how real it looks for once. “but i suppose you deserve it. not because you’re handsome though. because you deserve good things—just for being you,” you insist.
his lips are quivering a bit, and he’s blinking faster now. you ignore it, though, taking your sweet time as you lean down and kiss along the edges of every scar on his face, tracing your lips along where the old skin meets new.
“that’s cheesy,” he mutters, “now you sound like a therapist.”
“i mean it,” you say firmly, “and i meant it when i said you’re handsome too.“
“handsomest guy you’ve ever met, right?” he bats his lashes—they’re a bit hopeful, though, and you smile as you gently kiss the corner of his mouth before nodding.
“definitely,” you nod, “you’re the prettiest.”
“am i?” he grins, “now i’m more spoiled. who’s fault is that really?”
“i’ll allow it for today,” you snort, “today you can be spoiled. i’ll humble you tomorrow.”
“we’ll see,” he hums.
your hands cup his cheeks as you lean down for a kiss, and satoru’s hands clasp over them gently, holding them in place—and when you kiss him delicately, like the sun meets the moon as your lips touch, like your world revolves around him as you pull him closer, you think satoru is unfairly handsome.
and you’ll have to remind him that a bit more often.
Summary/tags: Nobara has nightmares, Itadori and Megumi help. Platonic jjk trio. Slight Shibuya spoilers (nothing explicit). Mentions of near death experience. Slice of life of a jjk sorcerer. [masterlist here]
Word count: 672
A cry in the dead of night woke the sleeping first year boys. The walls in the dorms weren’t thin but they weren’t particularly sound proof either. Megumi was always a light sleeper and Itadori had been having trouble staying asleep in recent nights, so neither was really surprised when they woke up. Itadori was the first to step out of his room in nothing but a T-shirt and shorts, his bare feet exposed to the cold floor. Megumi had at least the fore thought to throw on a hoodie and slippers as he opened and closed his own door. He nodded at Itadori who walked to the room next his and softly knocked.
“Kugisaki?” Itadori called out through the wooden door.
“Go away, Itadori,” Nobara commanded from inside her room. Her voice sounded strained.
“We just want to help,” the boy pressed on. He glanced at Megumi, concern etched on his face.
Inside her room, Nobara gripped onto her sheets and shut her eyes, quietly cursing at herself for having woken the two idiots up. It was just a silly nightmare after all. The fried nerves around her left eye ache in phantom pain. It was proving difficult to get over nearly dying and losing everything.
“I’m fine,” she grit out, too low to be heard by the boys outside.
“Kugisaki, please?” This time it was Megumi’s voice outside the door. Soft and imploring.
It made her feel guilty. In a fit of frustration, Nobara threw off the covers and stalked to the door, uncaring that she was in just a tank top and short shorts. She glared as she threw her door open, “There! Happy? I’m not dying.”
She regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth. Itadori flinched and Fushiguro took on a cooler expression. It was a tense moment of silence. The three first years stood there. The cold from the hallway made Nobara and Itadori shiver almost at the same time.
“Neither of you thinks ahead,” Megumi criticized.
“Hey!” The two others complained at the same time. The awkwardness was momentarily forgotten as they both tried to one up the raven haired. Pretty soon it turned into a lively situation.
“Unlike you two, I prefer to take my beauty sleep at reasonable times,” Nobara said after a while, crossing her arms in front of herself.
Itadori frowned and Megumi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Clearly they didn’t want to leave her alone. She huffed, “What? Do you want a slumber party invitation?”
Immediately Itadori lit up and exclaimed yes, and to wait for him because was going to bring enough pillows and blankets. Nobara watched him scurry off to his room and rolled her eyes. She could feel Megumi’s eyes on her, studying her, so she stuck her tongue out at him.
Megumi sighed at her but was relieved her spirits were up. Itadori returned with an armful of supplies and walked straight into Nobara’s room.
“I’ll take the floor,” Megumi offered as he took a blanket and pillow off of Itadori.
“Wait, if we pack ourself like sardines we can all fit,” Itadori reminded them. It wasn’t the first time they had to share.
“If you elbow me in the head again, I’m throwing you out,” Nobara threatens, lifting the covers so Itadori could slide in and scoot closest to the wall.
“That was one time,” Itadori replied. He threw his own blanket on top. He patted the space next to him, and Nobara settled in nest. There was just enough space left for Megumi to lay down on her other side. The three of them shifted around until they were fully comfortable, intertwined in one another.
“Thanks you two,” Nobara spoke softly as sleep overtook her.
The boys didn’t say anything. This was as much for their sake as hers. Eventually all three first years succumbed to sleep.
