ely

sfw fluff light angst light mode themed femboy he/she

elysian masterlist requests open (guidelines) img creds.

yuji itadori doesn't understand the difference between what he should do in private with you, and what he should do in public with you.

he just likes being near you. his brain chemistry is simple—make you feel protected, and make you feel loved; and he knows the physicality aspect of that is highly important to you. if you're close enough, he'll loop an arm around your waist and tug you closer to him. temple kisses whenever he senses you're upset because your cursed energy isn't stable enough, and big bear hugs when he's proud of you—which is most of the time.

megumi's absolutely tired of it. watching you both with disdain as you feed each other like the lovey-dovey couple you two are. nobara, on the other hand, still refuses to believe that yuji managed to get a boyfriend before she did. the idea of yuji managing to precede her in finding a partner still irks her to this day.

yuji itadori loves to see your smile.

you come back to your dorm from a mission disheartened after being scolded by nanami for reckless behavior, which, in other words, most likely means you tried to save everybody—again—, which both you and yuji know is impossible. yuji was lounging around on your bed, awaiting your return. he puts his phone away immediately when he sees your face. "you okay?" he asks, a small frown on his face which signals that he's worried.

silent treatment—usually means you're too discouraged to talk.

"okay, guess i'll try a different strategy." he says cheekily, approaching you with a giggle that could light up a dark cave, and oscillating fingers that threaten to attack your middle. he tentatively reaches out, but then stops when he hears how small your usually bright voice is.

"yuji, not right now," you murmur, crawling into the bed. when one finger brushes your waist, you squirm a little and roll away from him on the soft, silk sheets. "yuji, i said—"

"tickle fight!" he announces.

you yelp, but it's too late. yuji's already launched into his tickle attack. your pout cracks at the edges, a smirk and a few giggles. you swat at his hands but it's no use, he's got a superhuman grip on you. you break into full on laughter, throwing your head back as yuji tickles you.

"feeling better yet?" he chuckles, still relentlessly at it. ribs, side, underarms and neck.

"yeah, yeah!" you huff, "just stop tickling me!"

"alright, alright." he says, raising his hands in surrender. he leans closer and presses a kiss to your cheek. "you did amazing on that mission." he whispers softly, reassuringly.

"you weren't even there?"

"yeah, well ... i just have a feeling! i know you do great at stuff, so yeah." he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly now. it's a habit he's defaulted too ever since he met you.

you chuckle. "thanks, yuji"

yuji itadori loves talking about you, even when you aren't present.

yuji slides onto the beige cafeteria table bench with a tray of food in hand and a smile plastered on his face. four sticky onigiri, three perfectly cooked gyoza and a small bowl of rice is in the tray. megumi and nobara sit across from him, nobara halfway through her lunch and texting on her phone, meanwhile megumi hasn't started his and seems to be watching something on his phone as well.

"guys! guess what!" yuji exclaims, and megumi's head snaps up immediately. most likely muscle memory from fighting a particularly loud curse earlier that week. nobara's still looking down at her phone, uninterested with yuji's shenanigans by now. her typing stops as she groans and finally lifts her face from her phone. she takes a bite of her food before speaking.

"what?" she shouts.

"...it better not be about that guy again, i've heard enough about him this year i could probably write a biography." megumi sarcastically remarks under his breath. though he thinks it's great yuji has someone who can cheer him up enough that he makes it into their lunch conversations.

"my boyfriend finally learned reverse cursed technique!" he says, loudly enough that a few other students glance over in curiosity.

megumi's eyes actually widen a little in shock and a newfound respect for you. not that he didn't respect you before, but that learning a new technique—reverse cursed technique at that—is a huge accomplishment. "gojo told me he only learned that on the brink of death with his fight against my dad."

nobara scoffs. "what's so special about that?" she retorts.

yuji nods in delight, barely even hearing his friends. "gojo said he's got a natural affinity for it, like shoko or something."

"cool." megumi says, dropping his head back down and reopening his phone.

"whatever," nobara rolls her eyes.

yuji itadori swears that human earthworm two is better than human earthworm three.

"that's because three was boring!" he says. "no substance, no plot, just cheap jumpscares and gore. but two, two was a masterpiece," he makes a grand gesture with his hands. the air surrounding you both has a slight autumn chill as you both make your way to the cinema to see human earthworm two, again.

"the plot was amazing, the build-up, the deaths. all of it was amazing! they really had me believing the last guy was going to escape!" he adds.

"yeah, but earthworm three was scarier! and they actually delved into the gross anatomy of it all!" you retort. yuji makes a "bleh" face at that.

the rest of the walk is pretty much the same, you two arguing—affectionately of course—the whole way there. yuji acting dramatic whenever you mention that the anatomy of three was better than two, you rolling your eyes at the "plot", and you both ending up in accordance when you bring up that four was more of a sellout than either two or three.

when you finally reach the cinema, yuji holds the door for you as you enter. he shows the employee at the front the two adjacent seats you purchased, and she lets you both in with a smile.

yuji gets two large buckets of popcorn—partly because he knows the movie is around 3 hours long, and partly because he knows you plan on stealing his. he also gets two slushies before heading over to your theater.

the theater is dark, an ad about when the premiere of backrooms is going to be available and where. neither of you pay it any mind, still chatting about which one was better. once the lights begin to dim, you both quiet down, focusing on the movie. when gory, scary parts play, yuji holds your hand, tight. half because he wants to make sure you're okay, but also because he might be a little scared himself.

I've become so accustomed to your fluff posts and fics that I forget that 99% of jjk x reader fics are absolutely vile sometimes sigh. I always get jumpscared when I click on the tag 💔

I hope you have a great day and tysm again :)

-🌀

STOP IT TYSM IM LITERALLY AB TO CHECK OUT YOUR PROFILE RN you're so sweet 🥹🥹 how did i manage to get the nicest people to come across my works 😭😭 more in the making 🫡

I just started following you recently, and I absolutely love ur writing. There are barely any x male reader writers here on Tumblr and I really love what you do.

I have a request... Mahito x curse!reader at hot springs..g/n or m is fine.

-🌀

canon mahito x m!curse!reader | kenjaku & jogo make apperances | ornithophobia (fear of birds) curse reader | big spoilers, go watch s2. | some events altered. | licking

kenjaku's steps are light and calculated, just like everything else about the pseudo-curse manipulator, as you and him both approach the hot springs.

the foggy air is warm and humid, almost suffocatingly so, yet relaxing with the scent of iris and maple wafting through it. pale steam curls up from the saxe water, coating the air and forming condensation on the surrounding slippery gray rocks.

jogo has already arrived, and has already gotten comfortable, as evident by the steam gently pluming from atop his head that resembled an idle volcano. he's probably a huge contributor to the fog in area. jogo's one cyclops eye is half-lidded in relaxation as he leans back against the rocks, soaking in the heat from the water. he takes a long drag from brown pipe he holds in his left hand.

you carefully undress yourself, removing enough fabric until you feel comfortable enough to enter the water. rolling your shoulders, you look up at kenjaku, who stands eerily calm beside the water.

"not coming in?" you ask, slipping into the broiling water across from jogo. kenjaku's arms are crossed underneath those monk-like robes, it makes you wonder how he isn't sweating underneath all that fabric. and he has that same cheshire grin that makes you feel uneasy — almost like he's planning something sinister — plastered on his face. "water's warm."

"i'll be fine right over here." is kenjaku's silky smooth reply. voice eloquent and suave as ever.

you shrug in response, unfurling the four wings that decorated your back, and letting them soak in the humidity. two larger ones branching out from your scapulae or shoulder blades, and the smaller two from your slightly lower back. you sigh, finally being able to relax after weeks of planning shibuya, discussing and re-discussing the sealing of satoru gojo, and taking care of hanami — this was a nice change. just a soothing, theraputic moment of relaxation.

all of that shatters the moment you hear a cheery voice call out your name, extending the last vowel like they were happy to see you. you crack one eye open in anticipatory displeasure, while kenjaku chuckles that easy, ominous chuckle of his.

mahito dashes to the hot spring, discarding his clothes while running. he leaps, gaining a high altitude before cannon-balling right in the middle of the basin.

jogo resists the urge to combust everything within a twenty-five mile radius when mahito's splash hits his one-eyed face, extinguishing his pipe-slash-transfigured human he was smoking out of.

"mahito," kenjaku muses. the upward lilt of his voice is similar to someone reconvening with an old friend. "i see someone's better."

the blue-haired curse sticks his head out of the water with a cheeky grin. he lazily begins to float on his back while he speaks. "yup, turns out i'm unable to alter the shape of yuji's soul, since after eating the fingers, he practically shares that soul with the king of curses himself!" he notes. "it turns out that maybe this yuji kid might be a problem — nothing i can't deal with myself!"

"and you will deal with it." kenjaku adds. he sounds confident in mahito's soul-altering powers.

there's a small, momentary silence before mahito turns his half-submerged head to face you now. you try to ignore it, but his smile is infectious.

"and you look all better, too, huh?" he says, and you feel some sort of tendril grab at you from beneath the water.

"mahito, don't—"

too late.

mahito's already wrapped said tendril around your middle, being extra careful of those wings of yours, and brings you closer to his body. or soul. or whatever.

his actual arms, which are muscled and wet, wrap around your shoulders as he nuzzles against your cheek. his voice drops low, too low for a curse who was just cannon-balling into the water. "my favorite bird boy's good right?"

and before you can even answer, the normal mahito cheers right back up. "drop any humans from a skyscraper today!?" he asks like a proud parent of a two-year-old — not caring that you usally tend to remain more subtle in your killing tactics. "oh, how about ripping their faces off with those talons of yours!" he's getting genuinely giddy at the idea of killing humans. it's probably the act of human deformation that makes him excited.

"no mahito, none of that. we don't all go to movie theaters and blatantly kill eleventh grade boys."

mahito lets out a hearty laugh at your sarcasm. if the intensity of it is performative, or just due to his dramatic nature? you can't tell, but it's an energetic sound. he claps you on the shoulder. "funny guy, huh?" he says, mid-laugh.

jogo is completely over it, and kenjaku is watching from a distance like a farmer watches it's cows. love for utility as opposed to amity. love isn't even the right word. his gaze is more detached, yet somehow sharper at the same time.

"he's right, mahito for now we need to maintain keep a low profile. at shibuya, let loose, okay?"

mahito giggles, squeezing you a little. knowing mahito it's definitely on purpose. "we'll both let loose!" he declares through an overly wide smile, proud of you for doing nothing again.

you feel a wet, long stripe being paved up from your collar bone to the side of your jaw. mahito's resorted to licking you now. "isn't that right?" he inquires, serpent-like organ still pressed against you, making his speech sound a little odd. "we'll both go all out?" it's phrased as a question, yet spoken as a decision. you nod in response and he squeezes you like a big teddy bear — if that teddy bear had four wings, talons, and the capability to kill humans on a whim.

as time passes you four by, thoughts of hanami drift through your brain like the fog drifting through the air. is she doing okay? you wonder how she's upholding ever since her fight with the formidable vessel and the pesky position switcher guy.

moments flow by, mahito's grip doesn't weaken, kenjaku's grin doesn't falter and jogo's unamusement remains constant. despite the ruthless actions mahito has committed with his hands in the past — transfiguration and all —, you can't help but feel precious in his hold. you could fall asleep in this steamy paradise.

and as your mind clouds with dreams, mahito keeps holding you. the most unpredictable curse being the only constant in your sendoff to lala-land, where you'll probably meet mahito again. under some oneiric sakura tree or something.

mahito blinks down at you in surprise as he sees you've gone slack in his arms.

fluff fluff &more fluff

"can we?"

"no."

"please?"

megumi starts rattling off reasons as to why the two of you shouldn't go on this arcade expedition that seems, at least to him, like somewhat of a date. "we don't have time. gojo specifically alotted us thirty minutes for lunch. it's not a smart decision to just leave yuji and nobara alone—" yawn. eyeroll. whatever.

you cut him off, with an earnest glint in your eye and an unusually strong grip on megumi's hand, you've already decided — you're going to the arcade.

megumi is taken almost immediately by surprise, lips parting slightly in habit to scold you for your tendency to get distracted by the most arbitrary, trivial things. the arcade isn't going to move. it's not going to get taken down magically after 4:00p.m., when you actually have time to go. it's not going to disappear. so why does it have to be now?

he sees the way you look dead-set on dragging him to the dim-lighted, game filled establishment. you'll probably drag him there by his ear if he says no, so he decides he'll let it slide (although you've already decided for him).

the lighting in the building is low, various glows emanating from each machine that was in the place. the sparse light makes the surrounding air feel more intimate than it should on just a simple arcade trip with his friend.

you head straight for the claw machines, each one a glass box bolstered on top of a dispenser with an unpromising-looking claw inside. there are around 10 of them in a row and you look ready to conquer each and every single one.

"the claw machines, really?" megumi groans, dragging a hand down the lower half of his face in disdain. disdain for the fact that he knew that you would likely attempt to obtain a prize from every single claw machine (more like scam machine) in here, and for the fact that he could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the thought of you pouting and complaining to him later at how "all claw machines are scams."

"yeah! i'm really gonna win something this time!" you say with more sentiment than gojo, or even yuji, has been able to coax out of you for the entire year. your hand is still gripping his, even as you both come to a standstill in front of the first machine to be conquered.

"i learned a new strategy." you whisper, voice dropping low and secretive. similar to when you first learned to summon a new shikigami, and shyly presented it to megumi behind the school. gojo eventually found out of course — nothing gets past his six eyes. but the notion was still there — you trusted megumi enough to let him see the unfinished parts. the unpolished pieces that still had yet to be shined and completed.

"don't grab, nudge." you tell him, the pride in your voice evident. you're staring up at him expectantly, as if repeating a three word mantra from tiktok claw machine hacks would make any sense to him.

"which means..." he mutters back down at you. this look in your eyes is rare and utterly giddy. a hopeful quality to the shine in your eyes.

"which means, you don't actually grab the item you want, you have to nudge it inside the hole with the claw instead." you then stick your index finger up in the air, like a professor explaining quantum physics or a math teacher explaining calculus to the class. your other hand still holds his.

"claw machines are made to fail by design. the items placed inside are far too heavy for the claw to actually pick up. so, if you nudge the item inst—" your verbatim tiktok explanation is cut short.

a warm hand hits your cheek gently, cupping it.

"stop talking." megumi says flatly, doing his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he cups his classmate's face.

gojo would have a field day if he saw this — megumi and the other boy who completed the first-year friend group having a little romantic excursion to the arcade. and there's handholding involved too? sign him up.

your throat goes dry. the sweetness from megumi's action and the contradiction of his blasé speech drains the words (and hydration) from right out of your throat.

"how much is it?" he asks, looking down at you intently. he's as serious as you are about this now. maybe even more passionate, for your sake.

"it's uhm," you swallow, "a quarter. it's a quarter."

he nods solemnly, taking out his wallet from the pocket of his black jujutsu high uniform. he fishes through the creases of the wallet until he finds a shiny, silver quarter.

he pushes it into the slot with his fingers, and there's a gentle clinking sound as it hits the bottom of whatever money stealing container coins go into when you put them into arcade machines.

neither of you are holding hands anymore, but you miss the feeling. a lot. you hadn't even realized that in your arcade-driven craze, you had grabbed it. now you wonder why he never said anything.

the machine beeps, snapping you out of your megumi-influenced stupor.

he steps to the side of the machine, out of the way, and gestures vaguely to it.

"show me. nudge don't grab, right? go ahead." megumi crosses his arms over his chest.

you take a deep breath and step to the machine, placing your right hand on the joystick and having your left hover over the red, glowing drop button. megumi stifles a smile at his best friend preparing himself for a simple claw machine with the same demeanor a soldier preparing for war would have.

eyes focused, narrowed slightly, tongue peeking out from between your lips adorably.

nudge, nudge, drop. right into the hole.

realization flickers in your brain, like a candle flickering to life, before a smile slowly breaks through your face. megumi is genuinely impressed. he's never seen you win at anything before. and especially not at something as sketchy as a claw machine.

"i ... i got it?" you mumble disbelievingly. you reach inside of the dispenser, letting the cold metal brush your fingers, and taking out the stuffed miffy figure you had sought after. it feels unreal in your hands. if life was a simulation, this had to be a glitch. you look up at megumi, confusion and confidence both etched into your features.

megumi's arms are uncrossed, and he looks just as confused as you do. "yeah, you did." he says, before huffing and adding a snarky comment, even for him, under his breath. "for once."

he looks back down at you again, you're completely enamored by the simple miffy plush. she's a white bunny, two black dots as eyes and a small 'x' in place of her mouth.

he wonders what it'll take for you to look at him like that.

a/n: i tried my best to make this fic longer, since i feel like i've been uploading half-assed short, rushed fics 😭 i love megumi and i hope you guys like this fic too! i'm going to try and focus less on colors, photos, and images (like i do on my other fics) and instead focus on the actual writing — the part you get to enjoy, which means i might take longer with each upload, soo hopefully that doesn't deter anyone or anything

a/n: i'm kinda new to making these (this is my first one) so pls let me know how i did 😭 it's kinda short

nanami's heavy eyelids unbolt and open slightly. drowsy, hazel-brown irises meet the five a.m. darkness, causing his black, contracted pupils to dilate in search of any light.

kento finds his light, his world, and his everything with his face half-smushed into the pillow next to him. he lets out a minute exhale, amusement bubbling fresh and warm in his large, lethargic body.

"mmh... remember...dry cleaning," you mumble in your sleep. you then turn your head more into the pillow.

nanami rubs the crust out from of his sleep-fatigued eyes in minor disbelief. of course, even in sleep, his husband would be the most type a person to ever exist; literally listing off tasks he had yet to complete while unconscious. it's ironic — how the only sanctuary in his world of long missions and ugly curses is currently dreaming of doing his laundry.

"dry cleaning, baby?" he muses, attempting to get you to talk to him once more. he reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and rolling you over so that your blissful, incognizant expression faces towards him. his normally harsh gaze weakens at the sight of you so relaxed.

most days he wouldn't have the time to appreciate you properly. missions could come up at any time, and with the new abundance of curses and the increased ruthlessness of said curses meant he couldn't just call in sick.

his hand subconsciously rubs to and fro on your side. he's looking at you wistfully, wondering how you two managed to get so close, and still end up so distant emotionally.

your nose twitches a little, which he knows is what happens right before your occasional bursts of sleep chatter.

"kento ... friday." you decide in your sleep before snickering giddily into the white bedsheets. you snore once, and then it's back to sleeping normally again.

you're right. today is friday, and nanami is home, as he promised you.

"that's right baby," he coos, placing his hand on your jaw. his thumb rubs your chin tenderly. he chuckles heartily this time. nanami hasn't laughed like that in a good while — even if just a little bit. "friday."

nanami tugs you closer, resting your head in the crook of his neck and burying his face in yours. "sleep tight." he murmurs.

around thirty to forty minutes later, kento's alarm rings.

he groans quietly, so as not to wake you, and rubs his eyelids wearily. he taps his phone, the white screen casting a harsh, unforgiving glow on the room. the time is 5:45. his normal wake up and get ready time.

he slides out of bed as gently as a 6'0 and a half sorcerer can, quietly untangling himself from you.

he takes one last look at the bedside, eyes tracing your features with an apologetic sort of reverence, as he shuffles out of his boxers and into his slacks. he puts his left arm through his cotton button down, then the right arm. he buttons the shirt up slowly for the first three buttons, before deciding to speed up — slowing down and being late for work won't make leaving you any less agonizing.

he exits the room with a perfectly straight tie and a heavy heart. the walk to the metro is cold, with the sun still rising. as the sky fills with amalgamating hues of orange, blue, and the sweet in-between on the horizon, he daydreams of the beaches on malaysia, and maybe taking you there someday.

a/n: the next request is coming upp ilygs for requesting 💗

i love you all ❤︎⁠ i hope you enjoy what i have and what's to come

wc: 596.

mahito doesn't care what kind of trivial plans you have today with your 'expendable' friends. although you've asked him several times to stop referring your friends as purposeless meat bags, he won't listen. if they're getting you out of bed and away from him, they're useless in his eyes.

your alarm rings loud and high pitched in your ears. you stir a little in mahito's arms. he's conked out completely — face blissfully relaxed with sleep (finally, not in that chesire grin he always wears) and drooling a little bit on the pillow beside you.

this is the worst part of the morning — trying to get out of bed without waking mahito up.

as you try to wiggle free from his ridiculously strong embrace, he giggles at you with his eyes closed, before opening both of them and focusing them on you. shit.

"awh, look at him, trying to break free!" he chirps. he changes the shape of his soul, stretching his arms and making them drastically large with immense muscle. they wrap around your waist with a suffocating, vice-like amount of strength.

"you're not going anywhere!" he announces. he punctuates his declaration with a dramatic kiss to your temple. "muah! you're adorable," he coos, nuzzling that same spot obnoxiously.

"mahito, i can't just stay in bed all day." you mutter. your voice is strained due to the amount of sheer force circling your middle. your face is almost turning purple due to the lack of oxygen.

"can't...breathe..."

all mahito does is chuckle. he must think suffocation is endearing or something. he lets up a little, changing the shape of his soul back to his regular self. his grip on you is still tight.

"you're a brave little human aren't you? trying to escape me when i'm asleep. this isn't the first time you've done it either." he taps his chin twice in over-the-top, feined thought.

"hmmm," he starts, tracing your body with his eyes appreciatively and licking his lips unnervingly. "maybe i could break your legs so you can't walk out of the bed at all!" he decides. "or, i could just transfigure you and keep you in my pocket! you'd be with me all the time!"

yeah ... neither of those sound like good options. you just shudder quietly, letting mahito hold you for a few more minutes. they're tense minutes to you — your life is on the verge of ending on a whim, but to mahito? just extra minutes cuddling with his favorite human.

five minutes pass.

"uh," you clear your throat. "so, can i get up now?"

"nope!" he tightens his grip.

you just groan into the pillow, knowing your friends are going to be angry with you for flaking. again. if they could just see curses, they'd know what you'd gotten yourself into.

thirty minutes, and 3 message notifications.

"now?"

"still no!" he drags out the word 'still' like he's a commentator at a football game.

an hour and 3 missed calls later, and you realize you might be stuck cuddling this giddy, oversized child of a curse forever. it's your fate, and you should probably just accept it.

your phone buzzes on the bedside drawer, and mahito extends a hand — yes, a third hand — to squash your phone. the screen's glass cracks, and when the hand moves away, there's a huge dent. you wince at the sight.

"you gonna pay for that?"

he laughs, as if replacing your $1,000 dollar possession is some sort of joke. "be grateful, or it'll be your legs next time!"

yeah, definitely accepting your fate.

jock!kashimo hajime x ao3 writer roommate (gn!reader)

wc: 886

jock!kashimo hajime doesn't understand why his roommate doesn't play any sports. no hockey, no baseball, no volleyball, just nothing. he doesn't realize there might be more to life than 'conquering the game' and 'proving your physical prowess'.

he also doesn't get why you don't watch the games either. what's more interesting than watching a heated basketball game, and analyzing each team's strategy to crush them under the heel of your sneaker next game?

jock!kashimo hajime never passes to his teammates. scratch ball hog, kashimo actively steals the ball from out of his teammates' hands each game. he physically wrestles it out of their grip and when they (albeit begrudgingly) give it up to him, he sprints to the other team's net, and dunks on them. badly.

each dunk is poster-worthy. kashimo up in the air, ball halfway through the hoop, and the cowering member of the opposing team beneath him. you're considered lucky if your team is exempt from playing against "kash the killer".

the coach can't even do anything about it. suspend kashimo, and the team practically can't win a game to save their life. expelling kashimo? forget about it.

jock!kashimo hajime who's up at two a.m. planning strategies for himself next game. not the entire team, just himself. he'll run around the defenders, or maybe he'll just cut through them. he might just knock them over with his brute strength and speed to make it to the hoop quicker. there's no i in team, but there is in kashi—

"go to sleep." you're leaned against his doorframe, oversized sleepshirt and baggy sweatpants pooling on the floor, as you watch him bounce on the balls of his feet in front of a whiteboard. the board is decorated with a black rectangle — most likely meant to be the court, and other color coded arrows and symbols.

he doesn't even acknowledge you.

"kashimo. sleep."

no response.

"goodnight." you say, utterly fed up as you head back to your room, collapsing into your bed and straight to sleep.

a few hours later, kashimo's ready for bed too. he barely gets around 4 hours of sleep each night, and gods know how he runs off of so little rest.

he heads to his room, but not before passing yours and seeing your laptop left wide open on some website. he steps into your room, heavy steps not caring whether he disturbs your slumber or not, and looks at the screen. really looks it.

five minutes later he's 1500 words deep into some smut novel his roommate has written.

the laptop shuts abruptly in his face, and he looks up to find your mortified, sleepy face.

"i knew you were up to something."

"shut it."

he's unblinking, not backing down. "no wonder you're always peskily angling that computer away from me, i knew it."

"bed."

not to your knowledge, he's made an account and just needs a few weeks to get accepted.

jock!kashimo hajime who ignores every single advance made by others onto him. not because he's clueless — he's an intelligent guy — but because of his focus on sports. no, you won't see him on tuesday. no, you can't pick him up at eight for a dinner reservation. and no, he's not going on a coffee and study date with you.

jock!kashimo hajime who needs you for exercise.

you're sitting on his bare back, holding your phone as the 10 minute timer slowly reaches zero.

"okay, ten minutes are up." you say.

"right." he responds, and you yelp and wobble a little as he starts doing pushups.

fifty pushups later and he's back to planking.

jock!kashimo hajime stumbles across your ao3 again. laptop left open for the second time this week.

tall? blue eyes? sounds suspiciously like him — but what romance mmc doesn't isn't tall with colored eyes? or "orbs" as you put.

"a cyan-blue hairstyle that rests in some sort of weird half-up half-down hairstyle on top of his head."

his hairstyle isn't weird. is it?

jock!kashimo hajime who goes to you first after he finally does get kicked off the team.

he shouts on about how he's the best on the team, how they won't be able to function without him, and how he's the reason they even got so far into the tourney in the first place. voicing his frustration boisterously.

you don't agree. and you explain to him what he's been doing wrong. how his behavior actually hinders the team instead of helping.

he disregards your opinion, and disappears into his room in a few strides.

you can faintly hear the scribbling of expo markers on the whiteboard.

jock!kashimo hajime who finally got that ao3 account accepted.

he's been liking your work (kudos!) and commenting on each one, not with support, but with challenges. his comments range from genuine introspective advice to just a simple "write more".

jock!kashimo hajime who is shocked when he gets a message from his coach again.

show up to practice at 4 on thursday. thank your little friend for putting in a word.

when he arrives to practice he apologizes. kashimo hajime actually apologizes to his coach.

the first practice might've been awkward, but with each following practice the tension eases, and his teammates slowly accept the "kash the killer" again.

a/n: sorry irdk anything about this guy and i mean anything so it's def ooc, also it's kind of short so i'm really sorry about that 💔

megumi fushiguro hates letting m!reader around gojo

wc: 938

megumi hates letting you anywhere within ten miles of gojo's vicinity. he won't show it, not verbally, but his jaw might clench a little when his enthusiastic sensei flashes that knowing smile of doom whenever the you two are together around him. as if he could see the awkward teenage tension that saturated the air between the two of you.

megumi hates that gojo has definitely been gossiping about the small flower of romance blooming between his two quietest students with shoko.

after a mission, perhaps, megumi'll have an injury. a large wound on his torso — something non-lethal that can't be healed with the materials they currently have, but still requires attention.

when he goes to shoko, she redirects him to go to you if he wants someone to heal him. she'll remove the cigarette from her mouth, most likely her third or fourth that day, and say something blunt like:

"go to your friend for help. he's been practicing his medical skills. needs someone to practice on."

he can't help but feel like she knows more than she's letting off — scratch that — gojo has a big mouth, of course she knows something.

he'll appear at your dorm, not even looking at you in the eye, and lift the side of his shirt just enough to show off the injury. he'll try his best not to let his face redden when you lay him down on his back, and request for him to discard his shirt.

he'll listen with his eyes closed, trying to mask the mask the pain of the sterile saline you apply to clean the wound, as you recount your relatively boring day to him. he knows it's a tactic you use on all of your patients — talking to distract them from whatever pain they might be feeling, physical or mental.

he'll sit up with a grunt and thank you for the treatment, rolling his shoulders and testing out how the bandaged wound on his side feels. he's unable to stop his face from reddening when you mention he's forgotten to put his shirt on.

megumi hates that after a night together, he has to go early.

he'll wake up in your arms, or maybe you're in his arms — he can't really tell. it's more of a conglomerate of limbs than a sleeping position. he'll try to shimmy free, but he'll feel your arms tightening a little.

"mmh ... too early." you'll murmur. and your voice is slightly deeper with sleep. megumi's heart definitely didn't flutter.

as you bury your face in him, he'll know you've probably been awake for at least five minutes.

"look," he starts, and you shush him.

"i know, i know — you don't want gojo to tease us, you think gojo should mind his own business. gojo this, gojo that. when is it gonna be about us?"

megumi rearranges both of you. he places you atop him, placing his hand on the nape of your neck and pushing your head down so that it settles in the crook of his neck. his other hand, that has moved to your lower back, traces gentle patterns into your skin. you can smell the slight sweat clinging to his skin, as well as the faint scent of vanilla that lingers in his pores as well. has he been using your lotion?

he sighs.

"i don't want gojo to tease us because i know how embarrassed you can get." he says, his voice also deeper from speaking just off the wake up.

"i don't get embarrassed."

"you do get embarrassed." he scoffs. "and defensive."

he senses that he might've been a bit too harsh, and presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead. that shuts you up. quickly.

"now let me up." he tries to pry you off him.

"you put me on you in the first place. that grants me five more minutes."

"now."

a sigh. "fine."

he gets ready for class, jujutsu uniform, hair spikier than ever, and leaves. and in due time, so do you. he arrives to class ten minutes earlier than you on purpose so as not to arouse suspicion from other classmates.

megumi hates that yuji's so insistent he start's dating you — even if you've already been together for months.

it's lunch, and yuji has been non-stop rambling about how much megumi has been eyeing his classmate.

"i see how you look at him, especially when he shows up all worried after missions, it's cute y'know. you don't have to hide it! if i was eyeing someone like that, i'd for-sure ask them out!" he sounds supportive of something megumi has been trying so hard to keep silent.

"i have not been 'eyeing' him. and keep your voice down." he glances over at gojo who's a bit of distance away, looking at him like he's assessing a threat that could approach at any moment. if yuji's going to be so insistent, fine, he'll tell him the truth.

"we're already together." he whispers.

yuji's face explodes into a combination of excitement and shock. he blinks a few times, searching megumi's face for any sort of deception or sarcasm. he claps him on the shoulder, although he's a little taken by surprise, he's supportive.

"congrats man!" yuji shouts, before wincing.

"i mean, congrats man." he whispers that time.

yuji looks over at you, sitting one table away with nobara, maki and panda. he's looking at you in a whole new light now — not as a good, quiet friend, but as someone special to someone close.

megumi's just staring.

yuji chimes in, voice still softer.

"so, you must really like him then, huh."

"yeah."

a/n: google told me that sterile saline doesn't sting, but it made the fic cuter imo, also to the person who requested something (ilysm btw) that's coming up nextttt 💗