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sfw jjk blog! | muslim 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 reqs closed for now ❤︎⁠

[fushihearts]

MIRA. ⏾ megumi's girl , toji's doll , satoru’s love Ღ

ʚɞ jjk-centric sfw blog — masterlist. ✦ && join the taglist! ,,🪽

. ݁ꫂ᭪ she/her , xvii 🌘 check out the rules of equestria! ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

°˖➴ also ,, beware of nightmare moon! ᨳ𐔌՞҂ ˕ ֊՞𐦯ᜊ ⋆˚࿔

mw my babies @hangenism @rengoatku mwah!! .✦ ݁˖

dividers @uzmacchiato & pfp @not-a-comedian! ❤︎

[fushihearts]

sh comfort — megumi fushiguro kissing your scars (requested) 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ

tw mention of scars & past self harm!!!, husband!megumi fushiguro x f!reader, hurt and comfort | wc 1.6k

this fic will explore themes of self harm and will mention (healed) scars so please don’t read it if the topic is at all upsetting or triggering for you!! also please note that everybody’s experiences are different and that this fic will not reflect everybody’s feelings :( take care of yourselves

you’re curled up on the sofa, legs pulled up against your chest and your face buried into the neck of megumi’s your hoodie. you play idly with the drawstrings, waiting for him to return with the tea he’d offered to brew you both just moments earlier.

it’s evening — one of the particularly quiet ones, too. the world around you seems completely still, save for the occasional hum of a car passing by outside and the sound of your husband shuffling around in the kitchen every so often. small movements, like fetching a teabag, perhaps, or else simply turning off the kettle.

typically, the quiet seems to act as a kind of comfort for you both, like some kind of a crutch that you can allow yourselves to fall back on. in fact, you’ve become accustomed to the silence as of late.

each day that passes seems to be punctuated only by the slight rustle of life continuing outside, like some kind of soft, constant metronome counting the passing days. the softness of your shared lifestyle has become something you’ve both come to rely on.

after all, you love the bliss of simplicity. of spending evenings sat cross-legged on the living room floor folding laundry together. of sharing hushed conversations, conversations that felt too loud and too raw to let the rest of the world in on.

you suppose the quiet acts as a constant of sorts. it gives you a sense of routine, something warm and familiar that seems to settle comfortably in your chest.

today, however, the silence is unbearable, like a weight clinging to your body. it’s too much, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety settling in your chest, your ears rushing with thoughts. they’re too loud and fast to properly sift through them all, and amidst the mess of things on your mind, you find your mind slipping back to a familiar topic.

with a trembling hand, you lower the fabric of the hoodie on your arm, letting the oversized sleeve inch its way down until you’re finally staring at the very root of the thoughts gnawing at your mind. the scars. you let your finger trace over them, trying to swallow back the familiar lump crawling its way up your throat. slowly, you pull the sleeve back up again, instead staring blankly at the worn fabric.

you simply stay sat like that for a while, eyes fixed on where you’re sure the marks are under the fabric of your hoodie until they’re all you can really think of. in fact, everything else feels so distant that you barely notice megumi returning to the living room with two mugs in his hands, sinking down onto the couch next to you before placing the mugs upon the counter.

at first, megumi doesn’t say anything about your silence. it isn’t that he doesn’t notice — rather, the unusual lack of acknowledgement from you is the first thing he notices. the stillness of the living room is unnatural, totally unfamiliar compared to the usual comfortable noise that seems to fill the room whenever you’re around.

whether it’s the sound of your phone playing a random video, your laughter or simply you telling him about your day, he’s so used to your voice, so used to you filling the silence without having to think about it. it’s become such a prominent thing between you both, your voice lingering in every waking moment of his life so that now he can’t help but notice how wrong it feels for you to be so unusually quiet now.

his eyes remain fixed on you as he wordlessly takes in the sight of you like this: your hands tightened around the sleeve, the distant look on your face, all of it. but he doesn’t push, nor does he speak, as though he’s silently trying to determine what to say or do next.

after a few minutes, you look up, suddenly aware of megumi’s presence. you blink, faltering for a second before fixing your expression as best as you can.

“oh..hey.” you try to force a small smile, though megumi notes that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“hey.”

you try to subtly shift your position on the couch, your hand coming to pull the sleeve back up a little further whilst he isn’t looking, only to feel his hand gentle close around yours, his grip still loose enough for you to pull away.

pausing, you hesitantly raise your gaze, his eyes meeting yours, expression almost questioning. you both stay like that for a second as he watches your face through soft lashes, carefully studying your movements as though to gauge whether you’re okay with the suddenness of his hand on your arm.

you don’t move, don’t protest. instead, you stay facing him, swallowing thickly as you feel his free hand come up to tug tentatively at the sleeve. not quite pulling it down yet, just asking for permission.

hesitantly, you give a tiny, nervous nod, and that’s all it takes.

he slowly peels back the hoodie sleeve, his fingers lingering on the hem. it’s frayed from the way you’ve evidently worn it out for him by now. wordlessly, with tender touch, he rolls up the sleeve before letting his eyes flicker down to fall on your exposed skin.

you bate your breath, watching his eyes skim over your arm, expression unreadable. after a few seconds, you force yourself to swallow down the thick lump in your throat and look away. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and all you can think of is that the inevitable is soon to come — for him to look at you in disappointment, or disgust. in truth, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, nor that he’s reacted particularly badly in the past, but you can’t help the dwelling sense of dread nonetheless. it’s like an instinctual, deep-rooted fear that’s lodged itself deep into your chest by now.

quietly, his voice so soft you almost miss it, megumi speaks up.

“hey. look at me.”

you do so, albeit tentatively, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. you stare at him as though smoothing out each of his features in your mind. as though you’re trying to commit them to memory: the soft curve of his eyelids, the harsher lines of his hair and jaw, the calmness of the blue in his eyes. you can’t help but notice the fact that he looks totally unfazed by it all.

that’s always been something you’d loved about megumi: the unspoken constant nature of his love, the unconditional gentleness behind his actions. the normality. it’s always been so simple with him.

you lower your gaze once more before fixing your attention on the rest of the room, avoiding eye contact now. instead you choose to focus on the steam wafting from the mugs on the coffee table. hazy swirls of mist-gray curl against the warm backdrop of the living room, and you feel megumi’s grasp on your arm tighten a little. he gently brings your exposed arm up to his face, eyes dropping. his long lashes seem to brush over his cheeks as megumi presses a light kiss to the skin, his lips feather soft against your arm before he pulls away slightly as though to check if it’s still okay with you.

you nod.

carefully, so carefully, he presses a few more kisses to your wrist, his mouth just barely ghosting over the skin. he raises his gaze to meet yours, his eyes not leaving yours the whole while. swallowing thickly, you try to focus on his face, on the gentle flickers of warm light dancing up and down his nose and across his brows.

everything about the moment is so raw, his actions so careful and tender, void of flashy words or actions.

you exhale shakily as megumi continues to press kisses to your arm, his eyes still fixed on your face. he watches your features carefully, noting your reactions: each time your eyes dart away nervously, each tremble of your lower lip, the way your brows are pinched just a fraction into a look of subtle nervousness. it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there nonetheless. and of course, megumi being megumi, he notices what should be the unnoticeable.

truth be told, the vulnerability is unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcome. if anything, it’s somewhat soothing — a kind of raw, aching comfort that digs deep at your chest.

so you stay like that. you let him continue to press gentle kisses along your arm, lips brushing against the marks along your wrist. each peck against your skin is unexpectedly warm in contrast to his cold hands, his grasp on your wrist still kept gentle as you both let the hazy evening roll on.

you both sit like that under the cover of the dim evening light, enveloped in the faint scent of jasmine tea and the gentle hum of cars passing outside. in quiet, comforting silence.

he stays there with you through the evening. simply sat with you, letting his lips commit the path of your wrist to memory, eyes lingering on each mark and scar with a kind of unspoken softness.

and for what’s maybe the first time that evening, you don’t have to think about it. you don’t have to let the lingering thoughts suffocate you any further, don’t have to think about fixing anything, nor concealing them. in this moment, all that matters is him, and the sensation of the soft kisses being peppered with incredible tenderness across your arms.

author’s notes: thank you anon for the request and i’m so sorry for how long it took for me to post this :( i really struggled with writing it also criticism is welcome but please be nice!!

divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!

[fushihearts]

sh comfort — megumi fushiguro kissing your scars (requested) 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ

tw mention of scars & past self harm!!!, husband!megumi fushiguro x f!reader, hurt and comfort | wc 1.6k

this fic will explore themes of self harm and will mention (healed) scars so please don’t read it if the topic is at all upsetting or triggering for you!! also please note that everybody’s experiences are different and that this fic will not reflect everybody’s feelings :( take care of yourselves

you’re curled up on the sofa, legs pulled up against your chest and your face buried into the neck of megumi’s your hoodie. you play idly with the drawstrings, waiting for him to return with the tea he’d offered to brew you both just moments earlier.

it’s evening — one of the particularly quiet ones, too. the world around you seems completely still, save for the occasional hum of a car passing by outside and the sound of your husband shuffling around in the kitchen every so often. small movements, like fetching a teabag, perhaps, or else simply turning off the kettle.

typically, the quiet seems to act as a kind of comfort for you both, like some kind of a crutch that you can allow yourselves to fall back on. in fact, you’ve become accustomed to the silence as of late.

each day that passes seems to be punctuated only by the slight rustle of life continuing outside, like some kind of soft, constant metronome counting the passing days. the softness of your shared lifestyle has become something you’ve both come to rely on.

after all, you love the bliss of simplicity. of spending evenings sat cross-legged on the living room floor folding laundry together. of sharing hushed conversations, conversations that felt too loud and too raw to let the rest of the world in on.

you suppose the quiet acts as a constant of sorts. it gives you a sense of routine, something warm and familiar that seems to settle comfortably in your chest.

today, however, the silence is unbearable, like a weight clinging to your body. it’s too much, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety settling in your chest, your ears rushing with thoughts. they’re too loud and fast to properly sift through them all, and amidst the mess of things on your mind, you find your mind slipping back to a familiar topic.

with a trembling hand, you lower the fabric of the hoodie on your arm, letting the oversized sleeve inch its way down until you’re finally staring at the very root of the thoughts gnawing at your mind. the scars. you let your finger trace over them, trying to swallow back the familiar lump crawling its way up your throat. slowly, you pull the sleeve back up again, instead staring blankly at the worn fabric.

you simply stay sat like that for a while, eyes fixed on where you’re sure the marks are under the fabric of your hoodie until they’re all you can really think of. in fact, everything else feels so distant that you barely notice megumi returning to the living room with two mugs in his hands, sinking down onto the couch next to you before placing the mugs upon the counter.

at first, megumi doesn’t say anything about your silence. it isn’t that he doesn’t notice — rather, the unusual lack of acknowledgement from you is the first thing he notices. the stillness of the living room is unnatural, totally unfamiliar compared to the usual comfortable noise that seems to fill the room whenever you’re around.

whether it’s the sound of your phone playing a random video, your laughter or simply you telling him about your day, he’s so used to your voice, so used to you filling the silence without having to think about it. it’s become such a prominent thing between you both, your voice lingering in every waking moment of his life so that now he can’t help but notice how wrong it feels for you to be so unusually quiet now.

his eyes remain fixed on you as he wordlessly takes in the sight of you like this: your hands tightened around the sleeve, the distant look on your face, all of it. but he doesn’t push, nor does he speak, as though he’s silently trying to determine what to say or do next.

after a few minutes, you look up, suddenly aware of megumi’s presence. you blink, faltering for a second before fixing your expression as best as you can.

“oh..hey.” you try to force a small smile, though megumi notes that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“hey.”

you try to subtly shift your position on the couch, your hand coming to pull the sleeve back up a little further whilst he isn’t looking, only to feel his hand gentle close around yours, his grip still loose enough for you to pull away.

pausing, you hesitantly raise your gaze, his eyes meeting yours, expression almost questioning. you both stay like that for a second as he watches your face through soft lashes, carefully studying your movements as though to gauge whether you’re okay with the suddenness of his hand on your arm.

you don’t move, don’t protest. instead, you stay facing him, swallowing thickly as you feel his free hand come up to tug tentatively at the sleeve. not quite pulling it down yet, just asking for permission.

hesitantly, you give a tiny, nervous nod, and that’s all it takes.

he slowly peels back the hoodie sleeve, his fingers lingering on the hem. it’s frayed from the way you’ve evidently worn it out for him by now. wordlessly, with tender touch, he rolls up the sleeve before letting his eyes flicker down to fall on your exposed skin.

you bate your breath, watching his eyes skim over your arm, expression unreadable. after a few seconds, you force yourself to swallow down the thick lump in your throat and look away. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and all you can think of is that the inevitable is soon to come — for him to look at you in disappointment, or disgust. in truth, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, nor that he’s reacted particularly badly in the past, but you can’t help the dwelling sense of dread nonetheless. it’s like an instinctual, deep-rooted fear that’s lodged itself deep into your chest by now.

quietly, his voice so soft you almost miss it, megumi speaks up.

“hey. look at me.”

you do so, albeit tentatively, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. you stare at him as though smoothing out each of his features in your mind. as though you’re trying to commit them to memory: the soft curve of his eyelids, the harsher lines of his hair and jaw, the calmness of the blue in his eyes. you can’t help but notice the fact that he looks totally unfazed by it all.

that’s always been something you’d loved about megumi: the unspoken constant nature of his love, the unconditional gentleness behind his actions. the normality. it’s always been so simple with him.

you lower your gaze once more before fixing your attention on the rest of the room, avoiding eye contact now. instead you choose to focus on the steam wafting from the mugs on the coffee table. hazy swirls of mist-gray curl against the warm backdrop of the living room, and you feel megumi’s grasp on your arm tighten a little. he gently brings your exposed arm up to his face, eyes dropping. his long lashes seem to brush over his cheeks as megumi presses a light kiss to the skin, his lips feather soft against your arm before he pulls away slightly as though to check if it’s still okay with you.

you nod.

carefully, so carefully, he presses a few more kisses to your wrist, his mouth just barely ghosting over the skin. he raises his gaze to meet yours, his eyes not leaving yours the whole while. swallowing thickly, you try to focus on his face, on the gentle flickers of warm light dancing up and down his nose and across his brows.

everything about the moment is so raw, his actions so careful and tender, void of flashy words or actions.

you exhale shakily as megumi continues to press kisses to your arm, his eyes still fixed on your face. he watches your features carefully, noting your reactions: each time your eyes dart away nervously, each tremble of your lower lip, the way your brows are pinched just a fraction into a look of subtle nervousness. it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there nonetheless. and of course, megumi being megumi, he notices what should be the unnoticeable.

truth be told, the vulnerability is unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcome. if anything, it’s somewhat soothing — a kind of raw, aching comfort that digs deep at your chest.

so you stay like that. you let him continue to press gentle kisses along your arm, lips brushing against the marks along your wrist. each peck against your skin is unexpectedly warm in contrast to his cold hands, his grasp on your wrist still kept gentle as you both let the hazy evening roll on.

you both sit like that under the cover of the dim evening light, enveloped in the faint scent of jasmine tea and the gentle hum of cars passing outside. in quiet, comforting silence.

he stays there with you through the evening. simply sat with you, letting his lips commit the path of your wrist to memory, eyes lingering on each mark and scar with a kind of unspoken softness.

and for what’s maybe the first time that evening, you don’t have to think about it. you don’t have to let the lingering thoughts suffocate you any further, don’t have to think about fixing anything, nor concealing them. in this moment, all that matters is him, and the sensation of the soft kisses being peppered with incredible tenderness across your arms.

author’s notes: thank you anon for the request and i’m so sorry for how long it took for me to post this :( i really struggled with writing it also criticism is welcome but please be nice!!

divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!

[fushihearts]

sh comfort — megumi fushiguro kissing your scars (requested) 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ

tw mention of scars & past self harm!!!, husband!megumi fushiguro x f!reader, hurt and comfort | wc 1.6k

this fic will explore themes of self harm and will mention (healed) scars so please don’t read it if the topic is at all upsetting or triggering for you!! also please note that everybody’s experiences are different and that this fic will not reflect everybody’s feelings :( take care of yourselves

you’re curled up on the sofa, legs pulled up against your chest and your face buried into the neck of megumi’s your hoodie. you play idly with the drawstrings, waiting for him to return with the tea he’d offered to brew you both just moments earlier.

it’s evening — one of the particularly quiet ones, too. the world around you seems completely still, save for the occasional hum of a car passing by outside and the sound of your husband shuffling around in the kitchen every so often. small movements, like fetching a teabag, perhaps, or else simply turning off the kettle.

typically, the quiet seems to act as a kind of comfort for you both, like some kind of a crutch that you can allow yourselves to fall back on. in fact, you’ve become accustomed to the silence as of late.

each day that passes seems to be punctuated only by the slight rustle of life continuing outside, like some kind of soft, constant metronome counting the passing days. the softness of your shared lifestyle has become something you’ve both come to rely on.

after all, you love the bliss of simplicity. of spending evenings sat cross-legged on the living room floor folding laundry together. of sharing hushed conversations, conversations that felt too loud and too raw to let the rest of the world in on.

you suppose the quiet acts as a constant of sorts. it gives you a sense of routine, something warm and familiar that seems to settle comfortably in your chest.

today, however, the silence is unbearable, like a weight clinging to your body. it’s too much, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety settling in your chest, your ears rushing with thoughts. they’re too loud and fast to properly sift through them all, and amidst the mess of things on your mind, you find your mind slipping back to a familiar topic.

with a trembling hand, you lower the fabric of the hoodie on your arm, letting the oversized sleeve inch its way down until you’re finally staring at the very root of the thoughts gnawing at your mind. the scars. you let your finger trace over them, trying to swallow back the familiar lump crawling its way up your throat. slowly, you pull the sleeve back up again, instead staring blankly at the worn fabric.

you simply stay sat like that for a while, eyes fixed on where you’re sure the marks are under the fabric of your hoodie until they’re all you can really think of. in fact, everything else feels so distant that you barely notice megumi returning to the living room with two mugs in his hands, sinking down onto the couch next to you before placing the mugs upon the counter.

at first, megumi doesn’t say anything about your silence. it isn’t that he doesn’t notice — rather, the unusual lack of acknowledgement from you is the first thing he notices. the stillness of the living room is unnatural, totally unfamiliar compared to the usual comfortable noise that seems to fill the room whenever you’re around.

whether it’s the sound of your phone playing a random video, your laughter or simply you telling him about your day, he’s so used to your voice, so used to you filling the silence without having to think about it. it’s become such a prominent thing between you both, your voice lingering in every waking moment of his life so that now he can’t help but notice how wrong it feels for you to be so unusually quiet now.

his eyes remain fixed on you as he wordlessly takes in the sight of you like this: your hands tightened around the sleeve, the distant look on your face, all of it. but he doesn’t push, nor does he speak, as though he’s silently trying to determine what to say or do next.

after a few minutes, you look up, suddenly aware of megumi’s presence. you blink, faltering for a second before fixing your expression as best as you can.

“oh..hey.” you try to force a small smile, though megumi notes that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“hey.”

you try to subtly shift your position on the couch, your hand coming to pull the sleeve back up a little further whilst he isn’t looking, only to feel his hand gentle close around yours, his grip still loose enough for you to pull away.

pausing, you hesitantly raise your gaze, his eyes meeting yours, expression almost questioning. you both stay like that for a second as he watches your face through soft lashes, carefully studying your movements as though to gauge whether you’re okay with the suddenness of his hand on your arm.

you don’t move, don’t protest. instead, you stay facing him, swallowing thickly as you feel his free hand come up to tug tentatively at the sleeve. not quite pulling it down yet, just asking for permission.

hesitantly, you give a tiny, nervous nod, and that’s all it takes.

he slowly peels back the hoodie sleeve, his fingers lingering on the hem. it’s frayed from the way you’ve evidently worn it out for him by now. wordlessly, with tender touch, he rolls up the sleeve before letting his eyes flicker down to fall on your exposed skin.

you bate your breath, watching his eyes skim over your arm, expression unreadable. after a few seconds, you force yourself to swallow down the thick lump in your throat and look away. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and all you can think of is that the inevitable is soon to come — for him to look at you in disappointment, or disgust. in truth, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, nor that he’s reacted particularly badly in the past, but you can’t help the dwelling sense of dread nonetheless. it’s like an instinctual, deep-rooted fear that’s lodged itself deep into your chest by now.

quietly, his voice so soft you almost miss it, megumi speaks up.

“hey. look at me.”

you do so, albeit tentatively, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. you stare at him as though smoothing out each of his features in your mind. as though you’re trying to commit them to memory: the soft curve of his eyelids, the harsher lines of his hair and jaw, the calmness of the blue in his eyes. you can’t help but notice the fact that he looks totally unfazed by it all.

that’s always been something you’d loved about megumi: the unspoken constant nature of his love, the unconditional gentleness behind his actions. the normality. it’s always been so simple with him.

you lower your gaze once more before fixing your attention on the rest of the room, avoiding eye contact now. instead you choose to focus on the steam wafting from the mugs on the coffee table. hazy swirls of mist-gray curl against the warm backdrop of the living room, and you feel megumi’s grasp on your arm tighten a little. he gently brings your exposed arm up to his face, eyes dropping. his long lashes seem to brush over his cheeks as megumi presses a light kiss to the skin, his lips feather soft against your arm before he pulls away slightly as though to check if it’s still okay with you.

you nod.

carefully, so carefully, he presses a few more kisses to your wrist, his mouth just barely ghosting over the skin. he raises his gaze to meet yours, his eyes not leaving yours the whole while. swallowing thickly, you try to focus on his face, on the gentle flickers of warm light dancing up and down his nose and across his brows.

everything about the moment is so raw, his actions so careful and tender, void of flashy words or actions.

you exhale shakily as megumi continues to press kisses to your arm, his eyes still fixed on your face. he watches your features carefully, noting your reactions: each time your eyes dart away nervously, each tremble of your lower lip, the way your brows are pinched just a fraction into a look of subtle nervousness. it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there nonetheless. and of course, megumi being megumi, he notices what should be the unnoticeable.

truth be told, the vulnerability is unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcome. if anything, it’s somewhat soothing — a kind of raw, aching comfort that digs deep at your chest.

so you stay like that. you let him continue to press gentle kisses along your arm, lips brushing against the marks along your wrist. each peck against your skin is unexpectedly warm in contrast to his cold hands, his grasp on your wrist still kept gentle as you both let the hazy evening roll on.

you both sit like that under the cover of the dim evening light, enveloped in the faint scent of jasmine tea and the gentle hum of cars passing outside. in quiet, comforting silence.

he stays there with you through the evening. simply sat with you, letting his lips commit the path of your wrist to memory, eyes lingering on each mark and scar with a kind of unspoken softness.

and for what’s maybe the first time that evening, you don’t have to think about it. you don’t have to let the lingering thoughts suffocate you any further, don’t have to think about fixing anything, nor concealing them. in this moment, all that matters is him, and the sensation of the soft kisses being peppered with incredible tenderness across your arms.

author’s notes: thank you anon for the request and i’m so sorry for how long it took for me to post this :( i really struggled with writing it also criticism is welcome but please be nice!!

divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!

[fushihearts]

sh comfort — megumi fushiguro kissing your scars (requested) 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ

tw mention of scars & past self harm!!!, husband!megumi fushiguro x f!reader, hurt and comfort | wc 1.6k

this fic will explore themes of self harm and will mention (healed) scars so please don’t read it if the topic is at all upsetting or triggering for you!! also please note that everybody’s experiences are different and that this fic will not reflect everybody’s feelings :( take care of yourselves

you’re curled up on the sofa, legs pulled up against your chest and your face buried into the neck of megumi’s your hoodie. you play idly with the drawstrings, waiting for him to return with the tea he’d offered to brew you both just moments earlier.

it’s evening — one of the particularly quiet ones, too. the world around you seems completely still, save for the occasional hum of a car passing by outside and the sound of your husband shuffling around in the kitchen every so often. small movements, like fetching a teabag, perhaps, or else simply turning off the kettle.

typically, the quiet seems to act as a kind of comfort for you both, like some kind of a crutch that you can allow yourselves to fall back on. in fact, you’ve become accustomed to the silence as of late.

each day that passes seems to be punctuated only by the slight rustle of life continuing outside, like some kind of soft, constant metronome counting the passing days. the softness of your shared lifestyle has become something you’ve both come to rely on.

after all, you love the bliss of simplicity. of spending evenings sat cross-legged on the living room floor folding laundry together. of sharing hushed conversations, conversations that felt too loud and too raw to let the rest of the world in on.

you suppose the quiet acts as a constant of sorts. it gives you a sense of routine, something warm and familiar that seems to settle comfortably in your chest.

today, however, the silence is unbearable, like a weight clinging to your body. it’s too much, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety settling in your chest, your ears rushing with thoughts. they’re too loud and fast to properly sift through them all, and amidst the mess of things on your mind, you find your mind slipping back to a familiar topic.

with a trembling hand, you lower the fabric of the hoodie on your arm, letting the oversized sleeve inch its way down until you’re finally staring at the very root of the thoughts gnawing at your mind. the scars. you let your finger trace over them, trying to swallow back the familiar lump crawling its way up your throat. slowly, you pull the sleeve back up again, instead staring blankly at the worn fabric.

you simply stay sat like that for a while, eyes fixed on where you’re sure the marks are under the fabric of your hoodie until they’re all you can really think of. in fact, everything else feels so distant that you barely notice megumi returning to the living room with two mugs in his hands, sinking down onto the couch next to you before placing the mugs upon the counter.

at first, megumi doesn’t say anything about your silence. it isn’t that he doesn’t notice — rather, the unusual lack of acknowledgement from you is the first thing he notices. the stillness of the living room is unnatural, totally unfamiliar compared to the usual comfortable noise that seems to fill the room whenever you’re around.

whether it’s the sound of your phone playing a random video, your laughter or simply you telling him about your day, he’s so used to your voice, so used to you filling the silence without having to think about it. it’s become such a prominent thing between you both, your voice lingering in every waking moment of his life so that now he can’t help but notice how wrong it feels for you to be so unusually quiet now.

his eyes remain fixed on you as he wordlessly takes in the sight of you like this: your hands tightened around the sleeve, the distant look on your face, all of it. but he doesn’t push, nor does he speak, as though he’s silently trying to determine what to say or do next.

after a few minutes, you look up, suddenly aware of megumi’s presence. you blink, faltering for a second before fixing your expression as best as you can.

“oh..hey.” you try to force a small smile, though megumi notes that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“hey.”

you try to subtly shift your position on the couch, your hand coming to pull the sleeve back up a little further whilst he isn’t looking, only to feel his hand gentle close around yours, his grip still loose enough for you to pull away.

pausing, you hesitantly raise your gaze, his eyes meeting yours, expression almost questioning. you both stay like that for a second as he watches your face through soft lashes, carefully studying your movements as though to gauge whether you’re okay with the suddenness of his hand on your arm.

you don’t move, don’t protest. instead, you stay facing him, swallowing thickly as you feel his free hand come up to tug tentatively at the sleeve. not quite pulling it down yet, just asking for permission.

hesitantly, you give a tiny, nervous nod, and that’s all it takes.

he slowly peels back the hoodie sleeve, his fingers lingering on the hem. it’s frayed from the way you’ve evidently worn it out for him by now. wordlessly, with tender touch, he rolls up the sleeve before letting his eyes flicker down to fall on your exposed skin.

you bate your breath, watching his eyes skim over your arm, expression unreadable. after a few seconds, you force yourself to swallow down the thick lump in your throat and look away. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and all you can think of is that the inevitable is soon to come — for him to look at you in disappointment, or disgust. in truth, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, nor that he’s reacted particularly badly in the past, but you can’t help the dwelling sense of dread nonetheless. it’s like an instinctual, deep-rooted fear that’s lodged itself deep into your chest by now.

quietly, his voice so soft you almost miss it, megumi speaks up.

“hey. look at me.”

you do so, albeit tentatively, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. you stare at him as though smoothing out each of his features in your mind. as though you’re trying to commit them to memory: the soft curve of his eyelids, the harsher lines of his hair and jaw, the calmness of the blue in his eyes. you can’t help but notice the fact that he looks totally unfazed by it all.

that’s always been something you’d loved about megumi: the unspoken constant nature of his love, the unconditional gentleness behind his actions. the normality. it’s always been so simple with him.

you lower your gaze once more before fixing your attention on the rest of the room, avoiding eye contact now. instead you choose to focus on the steam wafting from the mugs on the coffee table. hazy swirls of mist-gray curl against the warm backdrop of the living room, and you feel megumi’s grasp on your arm tighten a little. he gently brings your exposed arm up to his face, eyes dropping. his long lashes seem to brush over his cheeks as megumi presses a light kiss to the skin, his lips feather soft against your arm before he pulls away slightly as though to check if it’s still okay with you.

you nod.

carefully, so carefully, he presses a few more kisses to your wrist, his mouth just barely ghosting over the skin. he raises his gaze to meet yours, his eyes not leaving yours the whole while. swallowing thickly, you try to focus on his face, on the gentle flickers of warm light dancing up and down his nose and across his brows.

everything about the moment is so raw, his actions so careful and tender, void of flashy words or actions.

you exhale shakily as megumi continues to press kisses to your arm, his eyes still fixed on your face. he watches your features carefully, noting your reactions: each time your eyes dart away nervously, each tremble of your lower lip, the way your brows are pinched just a fraction into a look of subtle nervousness. it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there nonetheless. and of course, megumi being megumi, he notices what should be the unnoticeable.

truth be told, the vulnerability is unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcome. if anything, it’s somewhat soothing — a kind of raw, aching comfort that digs deep at your chest.

so you stay like that. you let him continue to press gentle kisses along your arm, lips brushing against the marks along your wrist. each peck against your skin is unexpectedly warm in contrast to his cold hands, his grasp on your wrist still kept gentle as you both let the hazy evening roll on.

you both sit like that under the cover of the dim evening light, enveloped in the faint scent of jasmine tea and the gentle hum of cars passing outside. in quiet, comforting silence.

he stays there with you through the evening. simply sat with you, letting his lips commit the path of your wrist to memory, eyes lingering on each mark and scar with a kind of unspoken softness.

and for what’s maybe the first time that evening, you don’t have to think about it. you don’t have to let the lingering thoughts suffocate you any further, don’t have to think about fixing anything, nor concealing them. in this moment, all that matters is him, and the sensation of the soft kisses being peppered with incredible tenderness across your arms.

author’s notes: thank you anon for the request and i’m so sorry for how long it took for me to post this :( i really struggled with writing it also criticism is welcome but please be nice!!

divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!

[fushihearts]

can you write a megumi x reader oneshot on like kissing sh scars on thighs/arms ?

ps. i rlly like your the way you write . your fics are my sweetest form of salvation (victorian rizz) mwah

AHH HI ANON! thank you sm for your sweet ask and omg i’m so sorry it took me like literally 2 months to post it but here’s the request! i’m sorry i really doubted myself hence why i took so long

also, i hope you don’t mind but i chose to only include arm scars as i’m personally not comfortable writing about thigh kisses i’m sorry :(

but with all that aside, anon i truly hope you’re okay lots of love☹️

[fushihearts]

sh comfort — megumi fushiguro kissing your scars (requested) 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ

tw mention of scars & past self harm!!!, husband!megumi fushiguro x f!reader, hurt and comfort | wc 1.6k

this fic will explore themes of self harm and will mention (healed) scars so please don’t read it if the topic is at all upsetting or triggering for you!! also please note that everybody’s experiences are different and that this fic will not reflect everybody’s feelings :( take care of yourselves

you’re curled up on the sofa, legs pulled up against your chest and your face buried into the neck of megumi’s your hoodie. you play idly with the drawstrings, waiting for him to return with the tea he’d offered to brew you both just moments earlier.

it’s evening — one of the particularly quiet ones, too. the world around you seems completely still, save for the occasional hum of a car passing by outside and the sound of your husband shuffling around in the kitchen every so often. small movements, like fetching a teabag, perhaps, or else simply turning off the kettle.

typically, the quiet seems to act as a kind of comfort for you both, like some kind of a crutch that you can allow yourselves to fall back on. in fact, you’ve become accustomed to the silence as of late.

each day that passes seems to be punctuated only by the slight rustle of life continuing outside, like some kind of soft, constant metronome counting the passing days. the softness of your shared lifestyle has become something you’ve both come to rely on.

after all, you love the bliss of simplicity. of spending evenings sat cross-legged on the living room floor folding laundry together. of sharing hushed conversations, conversations that felt too loud and too raw to let the rest of the world in on.

you suppose the quiet acts as a constant of sorts. it gives you a sense of routine, something warm and familiar that seems to settle comfortably in your chest.

today, however, the silence is unbearable, like a weight clinging to your body. it’s too much, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety settling in your chest, your ears rushing with thoughts. they’re too loud and fast to properly sift through them all, and amidst the mess of things on your mind, you find your mind slipping back to a familiar topic.

with a trembling hand, you lower the fabric of the hoodie on your arm, letting the oversized sleeve inch its way down until you’re finally staring at the very root of the thoughts gnawing at your mind. the scars. you let your finger trace over them, trying to swallow back the familiar lump crawling its way up your throat. slowly, you pull the sleeve back up again, instead staring blankly at the worn fabric.

you simply stay sat like that for a while, eyes fixed on where you’re sure the marks are under the fabric of your hoodie until they’re all you can really think of. in fact, everything else feels so distant that you barely notice megumi returning to the living room with two mugs in his hands, sinking down onto the couch next to you before placing the mugs upon the counter.

at first, megumi doesn’t say anything about your silence. it isn’t that he doesn’t notice — rather, the unusual lack of acknowledgement from you is the first thing he notices. the stillness of the living room is unnatural, totally unfamiliar compared to the usual comfortable noise that seems to fill the room whenever you’re around.

whether it’s the sound of your phone playing a random video, your laughter or simply you telling him about your day, he’s so used to your voice, so used to you filling the silence without having to think about it. it’s become such a prominent thing between you both, your voice lingering in every waking moment of his life so that now he can’t help but notice how wrong it feels for you to be so unusually quiet now.

his eyes remain fixed on you as he wordlessly takes in the sight of you like this: your hands tightened around the sleeve, the distant look on your face, all of it. but he doesn’t push, nor does he speak, as though he’s silently trying to determine what to say or do next.

after a few minutes, you look up, suddenly aware of megumi’s presence. you blink, faltering for a second before fixing your expression as best as you can.

“oh..hey.” you try to force a small smile, though megumi notes that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“hey.”

you try to subtly shift your position on the couch, your hand coming to pull the sleeve back up a little further whilst he isn’t looking, only to feel his hand gentle close around yours, his grip still loose enough for you to pull away.

pausing, you hesitantly raise your gaze, his eyes meeting yours, expression almost questioning. you both stay like that for a second as he watches your face through soft lashes, carefully studying your movements as though to gauge whether you’re okay with the suddenness of his hand on your arm.

you don’t move, don’t protest. instead, you stay facing him, swallowing thickly as you feel his free hand come up to tug tentatively at the sleeve. not quite pulling it down yet, just asking for permission.

hesitantly, you give a tiny, nervous nod, and that’s all it takes.

he slowly peels back the hoodie sleeve, his fingers lingering on the hem. it’s frayed from the way you’ve evidently worn it out for him by now. wordlessly, with tender touch, he rolls up the sleeve before letting his eyes flicker down to fall on your exposed skin.

you bate your breath, watching his eyes skim over your arm, expression unreadable. after a few seconds, you force yourself to swallow down the thick lump in your throat and look away. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and all you can think of is that the inevitable is soon to come — for him to look at you in disappointment, or disgust. in truth, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, nor that he’s reacted particularly badly in the past, but you can’t help the dwelling sense of dread nonetheless. it’s like an instinctual, deep-rooted fear that’s lodged itself deep into your chest by now.

quietly, his voice so soft you almost miss it, megumi speaks up.

“hey. look at me.”

you do so, albeit tentatively, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. you stare at him as though smoothing out each of his features in your mind. as though you’re trying to commit them to memory: the soft curve of his eyelids, the harsher lines of his hair and jaw, the calmness of the blue in his eyes. you can’t help but notice the fact that he looks totally unfazed by it all.

that’s always been something you’d loved about megumi: the unspoken constant nature of his love, the unconditional gentleness behind his actions. the normality. it’s always been so simple with him.

you lower your gaze once more before fixing your attention on the rest of the room, avoiding eye contact now. instead you choose to focus on the steam wafting from the mugs on the coffee table. hazy swirls of mist-gray curl against the warm backdrop of the living room, and you feel megumi’s grasp on your arm tighten a little. he gently brings your exposed arm up to his face, eyes dropping. his long lashes seem to brush over his cheeks as megumi presses a light kiss to the skin, his lips feather soft against your arm before he pulls away slightly as though to check if it’s still okay with you.

you nod.

carefully, so carefully, he presses a few more kisses to your wrist, his mouth just barely ghosting over the skin. he raises his gaze to meet yours, his eyes not leaving yours the whole while. swallowing thickly, you try to focus on his face, on the gentle flickers of warm light dancing up and down his nose and across his brows.

everything about the moment is so raw, his actions so careful and tender, void of flashy words or actions.

you exhale shakily as megumi continues to press kisses to your arm, his eyes still fixed on your face. he watches your features carefully, noting your reactions: each time your eyes dart away nervously, each tremble of your lower lip, the way your brows are pinched just a fraction into a look of subtle nervousness. it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there nonetheless. and of course, megumi being megumi, he notices what should be the unnoticeable.

truth be told, the vulnerability is unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcome. if anything, it’s somewhat soothing — a kind of raw, aching comfort that digs deep at your chest.

so you stay like that. you let him continue to press gentle kisses along your arm, lips brushing against the marks along your wrist. each peck against your skin is unexpectedly warm in contrast to his cold hands, his grasp on your wrist still kept gentle as you both let the hazy evening roll on.

you both sit like that under the cover of the dim evening light, enveloped in the faint scent of jasmine tea and the gentle hum of cars passing outside. in quiet, comforting silence.

he stays there with you through the evening. simply sat with you, letting his lips commit the path of your wrist to memory, eyes lingering on each mark and scar with a kind of unspoken softness.

and for what’s maybe the first time that evening, you don’t have to think about it. you don’t have to let the lingering thoughts suffocate you any further, don’t have to think about fixing anything, nor concealing them. in this moment, all that matters is him, and the sensation of the soft kisses being peppered with incredible tenderness across your arms.

author’s notes: thank you anon for the request and i’m so sorry for how long it took for me to post this :( i really struggled with writing it also criticism is welcome but please be nice!!

divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!

[fushihearts]

hi lovelies ! so i wanted to say that i’m going to post a sh comfort fic that was requested of me shortly (i’m very nervous to post it) but just wanted to say some things before i post:

1 if there’s any chance the fic will trigger you at ALL please please don’t read it!! :( i don’t want to have that impact at all, anything mentioning sh could be triggering and it isn’t worth encouraging the thoughts accidentally

2 please feel free to give criticism but please don’t be mean im genuinely terrified to post it

3 remember everybody’s experience is different, the fic may not reflect everybody and that’s okay!

okay now i need to fix up a few stuff and then post but i’m so so terrified😓 i also won’t be tagging anybody because it’s a sensitive topic

[fushihearts]

larped so hard u got kicked out of larp city

flip off it’s hardly a city if you only have two people in it😕

[fushihearts]

masterlist!

ღ = fluff ,, ★ = angst ,, all in the context of a married couple!!

────୨ৎ────

the jjk men and their kids — 1K EVENT:

꒰ event masterlist ღ

────୨ৎ────

fics:

megumi:

꒰ dust bunnies. | pt2 [no ending, gave up😞] ★?

꒰ megumi takes care of you after a rough mission ღ

꒰ megumi comforting you after a nightmare ღ

꒰ bird watching with megumi ღ

꒰ pokémon nerd megumi headcanons ღ

꒰ whatever you say, handsome! i.e. flustering megumi mid-argument ღ

꒰ best friend megumi headcanons ღ

꒰ streamer!megumi fortnite headcanons ღ

꒰ kissing megumi’s scars ღ

꒰ your nerdy husband helping you and your daughter with her math homework ღ

────୨ৎ────

toji:

꒰ “hedgehog!” [dad!toji x reader] ;; i.e. baby gumi doesn’t recognise dad!toji without stubble ღ

꒰ when baby megumi wipes off dad!toji’s kisses ღ

꒰ late-night call between dad!toji and baby megumi ღ

────୨ৎ────

yuji:

꒰ mirror selfie! [bsf!yuji x reader] ღ

────୨ৎ────

gojo:

꒰ forgetting your face. ★

꒰ husband!gojo x pregnant!reader cuddling after a long mission ღ

꒰ dad!gojo loves bringing back souvenirs for his sweet baby daughter! ღ

꒰ satoru gojo passing his sweet tooth on to his baby daughter ღ

꒰ your husband, satoru gojo, turning out to be…spiderman? ★ | pt2 (fluff)

꒰ you and your husband, nerdjo, rewatching his old science vlogs from his high-school days ღ

꒰ gojo who can’t pick up his newborn daughter without her crying ღ

────୨ৎ────

nanami:

꒰ starting a bakery in malaysia with your husband kento nanami! ღ

꒰ bring your kid to work day + nanami! ღ

────୨ৎ────

sukuna:

꒰ ryomen sukuna loves taking care of his sweet wife! ღ

────୨ৎ────

higuruma:

꒰ objection! [girldad!higuruma x reader] ღ

────୨ৎ────

multi:

꒰ the jjk men as dads (+ girl/boy dad headcanons) ღ

────୨ৎ────

smaus:

multi:

꒰ loyalty test!

꒰ when the jjk boys are sick

꒰ the jjk boys (and gojo) missing you when you’re on a beach trip

꒰ send a selfie!

꒰ pranking the jjk men that you lost the kid! | pt2 [none yet]

────୨ৎ────

megumi:

꒰ bsf!megumi texts | pt2

꒰ nerd!gumi x reader

────୨ৎ────

choso:

꒰ choso x reader texts

────୨ৎ────

toge:

꒰ toge x reader texts

────୨ৎ────

.✦ ݁˖ all works belong to @fushihearts — no plagiarism or copying please!

[fushihearts]

"it's ai" i have way worse messages of u on discord, insta, tiktok... shall i continue mira? 🧐 toji would HATE his fans mainly u

I HATE YOU SHUT UPPPP ok so what if i love toji is that a crime😕😕 acting like i said something wrong NO i unapologetically love him xx

[fushihearts]

was anon on xx

idk you tell me xx

[fushihearts]

[fushihearts]

Mira, Hana and daisy go drinking

Hana drinks chocolate milk

Mira drinks red bull

And daisy drinks alcohol and we all stay happy

red bull involve me immediately.

can we not let daisy get her hands on alcohol tho😕 @revolvingsaturn

[fushihearts]

Are your hearts fushied

yes actually they’re incredibly fushied thank you for asking

@rengoatku

[fushihearts]

killer geto saves!!! ❤️😹😹

IM CRYING @hangenism @rengoatku

[fushihearts]

Mira the meanie

i’m almost 2 weeks to reply but this is so not true go away☹️