finallysunflower

[finallysunflower]

hello~~~~~

sorry i haven’t been writing here, my life has kinda gotten caught up and i’m so far behind on jjk i don’t want to write until i read up! please wait for me <3333

[finallysunflower]

Megumi Fushiguro x reader/unnamed oc

no warnings. 1.2k w.

a/n: I had this idea based on a song that I was listening to! and the end result has nothing to do with the song! so we’ll revisit that later! but in all honesty, this piece stressed me the heck out, and I’m not to proud of it but I hope you all think its okay! If you have any comments or request feel free to hit me up! xxx

Megumi scrubs his hand down his face before pocketing his cellphone. 

He doesn’t have time for this.

When he offered to take up this small task for Gojo-sensei, he thought he was getting a quick one-and-done exorcism. At least that’s what he was made to believe. 

However, after spending six days scouring the city for any signs of a curse, he has turned up empty handed. 

He rubs at his temple, trying to ward off the migraine he feels kicking in. 

Several people have reported sounds of a young woman crying at night, and almost immediately after, witnesses describe experiencing a pain in their chest, reminiscent of a heart attack. 

These attacks have occurred every night for the past month before anyone from the academy could check it out, and now that Megumi is here, the curse has all but vanished. No crying, no pain, not even a hint of cursed energy. And after almost a week of inactivity, Megumi is ready to call this mission a dead end.

His phone rings in his pocket, and he reaches to fish it out before answering it. 

“Hey Fushiguro!” 

Megumi winces, pulling the phone a few inches away from his ear as Itadori continues to yell through the speaker. 

“Me and Kugisaki are gonna head over to Shibuya to grab some eats. You wanna meet us there?”

Megumi sighs. Honestly, it's cold, he's tired and he can see the edges of a rainstorm creeping on the horizon. The last thing that he wants to do, second to last if you count wandering around these vacant buildings, is fight his way through the crowded city streets looking around for somewhere equally as crowded to sit for a meal. 

“Fine. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Itadori whoops loudly into the receiver. 

“Alright! So what were you thinking about eating, because Kugasaki was talking about tonkatsu bowls, but I told her that wasn’t gonna happen because I already had that for lunch, and I wanted sushi instead, right?”

Megumi hums in affirmation as he turns in the direction of the train station. 

He continues to walk, letting Itadori continue rambling off in his ear like white noise to his background, mentally ticking off things he has to do once he gets back to the dorms. He’s about to turn onto a new block, when it begins. 

A single wrenching sob rings through the dark. It comes so quietly, Megumi wonders if all these nights out are messing with his head. He lowers the phone from his face, straining his ears to see if he can find the source, before a piercing wail cuts through the air, so sharp Megumi feels as though it has sliced through every nerve in his body. He whips around to scan the empty street he stands on, body poised to summon his shadows. 

His eyes flit from each building, looking for any sign of the curse responsible. Just then, another soft sob calls out. Megumi catches the tail end of the echo, spotting a small compound building hidden by the darkness. 

“I have to go.” Megumi states into his phone, hanging up before Itadori could get in a word of protest, and makes his way to the building. 

Silence rings in his head, buzzing on the edges of his mind. The lack of noise doesn’t feel organic to Megumi. The quiet vibrates like static in his bones. He can admit that it is unnerving, at the least.

And then he hears it. 

Soft splashes against the concrete floors echo through the warehouse. Megumi straightens up, tilting his head to the side to try and get a better listen. Water?

Megumi’s hands drop to his side, and he begins to follow the sound up the stairs, deeper into the building. He wanders the halls, searching for the source of the noise, before he hears them again. 

Not water, he thinks. Tears. 

As he continues wandering the upper level of the building, another soft sob pulls through the empty air surrounding him.

At this, Megumi feels his chest tighten. He presses his palm over his heart to stop it from squeezing in his chest.

He doesn’t think he’s ever experienced a sound so tangible in his life. He probably should turn around and call for backup. But he continues on into the darkness anyway. 

With every step he takes, Megumi feels the space between his ribs grow smaller. By the time he meets the end of the hall, it feels as though a thousand ton weight rests on his chest. He looks up at the closed door in front of him, before resting his head against the frame. 

It has to be here. He reaches up and grasps the collar of his uniform in his fist. The pain in his chest is unbearable, the energy from this curse, this… whatever it is, is crushing Megumi. He takes a deep breath before throwing the door open. 

He expected anything but this. 

He expected to find a gruesome curse, monster, thing at the center of this. 

He never expected this. 

He never expected you. 

Megumi feels his feet moving forward before he could register what was going on. 

You were looking out of a window, back facing him. The robes you wore slipped off of your shoulder, exposing your back. In any other instance, Megumi’s face would heat at such a view. 

When he finally stops, he is standing directly behind you. This close, the soft tinkling of your tears sounds like waterfalls crashing. He lifts his hand, moving it to grasp your arm, when suddenly, you turn to face him. 

Megumi falls to his knees, writhing. His hands press against his chest, clawing at the material of his jacket as he gasps for air. 

In all of his time at the academy, Megumi has never experienced such raw agony. He feels hot tears slide down his face and pool on the ground in front of him. Mind racing in a frenzy, he wills his body to move, but remains piled on the ground, hopelessly. 

Megumi was going to die. He was sure of it. He was going to die without a fighting chance, at that.

He feels the edges of his vision blurring, as he continues to fight the losing war of remaining conscious. Just as he is ready to offer up his surrender, he feels hands, soft and light, cup his face. 

The pounding of his heartbeat slowly starts to subside. You tilt his face upward, and finally, Megumi gets a good look at you. 

Objectively, if this was a coffee shop and not Megumi’s final resting place, he would think you were cute. However, in the face of his own mortality, Megumi thought you to be ethereal. 

Unshed tears danced on the edges of your eyes, tipping over to follow the tear streaked skin of your cheeks. Your cries had softened, leaving gentle hiccups to fall from the plush of your lips.

Upon your touch, the invisible weights on Megumi’s limbs melted off, and before he could think, his palm moved to rest against your face, thumb swiping a stray tear as it rolled over the swell of your cheek. 

Megumi takes a shaky breath to still the cadence being drummed by his heart, before he speaks.

“Hey.”

[finallysunflower]

ah ah ah i keep rereading and this megumi piece i’m so scared of it pls help help HELPPPPPP

[finallysunflower]

i haven’t forgotten about this btw! just trying to edit and i.... decided i wanted to change the whole ending 😁 love that for me!

hey! remember how i couldn’t think of what to write? WELL! that’s been solved!

A new Megumi x reader fic will be posted on here this Thursday!

again thank you guys so much for all of the love that you have given “fear”. i hope that you all will love this next one just as much!

[finallysunflower]

hey! remember how i couldn’t think of what to write? WELL! that’s been solved!

A new Megumi x reader fic will be posted on here this Thursday!

again thank you guys so much for all of the love that you have given “fear”. i hope that you all will love this next one just as much!

[finallysunflower]

👹⚠️cursed kids ⚠️👹

[finallysunflower]

so, firstly thank you to anyone and everyone who read my little drabble! you guys are too kind, really!

secondly..... i have no idea what else to write? 😅 i only made this blog to post that piece for sal but now i kinda feel like i should add some more? i might just continue writing about Gojō and that particular reader insert, but if you all want anything else! let me know!

[finallysunflower]

Oh fun fact! this is a *side blog* so I can’t like or reply from this page! any of that is going to come from my main:

@thefinalsunflowershop

[finallysunflower]

i just posted my first thing! now we wait in anxiety :D

[finallysunflower]

fear.

gojō saturo x unnamed oc/reader

angst. 1.1k w

a/n: Hey, hi and hello! this is my first original posting on this site! I originally wrote this as a short headcannon for @elysianslove but! It kept getting hella long lol! So I decided to write it up as a short one-shot instead. If anyone else reads this, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think or if you have any questions. I got, like 10 other scenarios bouncing in my head because of this one alone. Peace out!

If he is being honest, there isn’t anything that Satoru fears in this world.

There isn’t really anything for him to fear.

At least, there wasn’t.

Until now.

When he was younger, a freshly graduated sorcerer, he feared being bored the most. He was thankful for the life that he chose, as it suited him well. Not many people could encounter a curse and survive. Satoru did more than that. He thrived.

The more he fought, the more he gained. He became stronger. Smarter. And apparently, more attractive?

At least, that’s what you told him.

Small and unsuspecting, Satoru believes that your underdog facade is the best weapon you have. You were dangerous in a way that no one would notice. But he could see the power that ran through you. He respected you. But, he never understood you.

Because despite living in a world that was so cruel, you never hesitated to fill it with love. It was very odd to him. You, who claimed to love everything and everyone. You, who was never loved back.

“Even curses? You could even love a curse?” He questioned.

You smiled at him before responding, 

“If curses didn’t exist, then neither would I. Nor would you. Curses built me into who I am.”

It didn’t make sense to him, at the time. You constantly poured love into this world. And yet, you never expected to receive love in return. He thought it was odd. He thought you were even odder. But, he never felt bored with you.

In exorcisms, he knew he could count on you to handle your part. You never weighed him down or held him back. You never held yourself back either. It was all or nothing with every curse you met.

“What use is loving someone or something if you won’t give it everything you have?”

You didn’t make sense, but to him, you were exciting.

As time went on, Satoru faced a new fear.

It followed him on missions, and in the halls of the academy. It hid in the corners of his mind and spaces in his lungs.

Gojō Satoru feared… you?

Not you. Something about you.

Eventually, Satoru began to play your game back. You, who loved everything, had no problem letting it be known. Even if it was a little embarrassing.

You’d carelessly flirt, batting eyelashes and sending heart filled stares to everyone who crossed your path. You showered those you met in complements and offered an abundance of affection every chance you got. Your romanticizing ways were off putting to most people. Not to Satoru though. When you claimed you loved him, he started to toss it back. Flowery words don’t really mean much to him anyway. Besides, as your friend (soulmate, you once stated, though Satoru didn’t mind either way), it was kind of sad to see. You were a sweet person, and if tossing a few “I love you’s” here and there made you feel good, then that was the least Satoru could do. Even if he was the only one to do it.

And every time you heard it, you seemed shocked. And your shock left him confused. You weren’t ugly, at least not to Satoru, and he felt like he had good taste. The way you were casually affectionate with everyone, surely someone had to have returned your sentiments at least once? But with the way your face heat up, Satoru began to think that wasn’t the case. And just when he had gotten used to your odd behavior, you became even odder.

You began avoiding him.

Before you would go out of your way to be in his company, almost seeking Satoru out for comfort. And now, you hid from him every chance you could. You stopped accompanying him to missions. Your free time suddenly became occupied that anything and everything that wasn’t him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t think much of it. But after 3 months, it started to bug him a little. Especially because no one else would come with him to the daifuku stand.

“So do you not love me anymore?”  

Despite the teasing in his tone, Satoru was genuinely curious. You didn’t avoid anyone else like you did him. He even saw you give Yaga a hug the other day. It’s only fair to question your actions.

Your eyes never lifted from the ground before you.

“Of course I love you. You just… you don’t understand. I’m not sure if you can.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder before looking up at him.

“Its okay.”

You came with him to the daifuku stand that night. And every night after that. At the time, you were right. Satoru didn’t understand. Not right away.

Not before it was too late.

He had exorcised every curse. He had saved everyone.

So why, why were you growing cold. What is happening? Why is this happening?

He can hear his blood rushing through his veins.

What does he do? What can he do? Why won’t you tell him what he should do?

Let go, Satoru. You have to let go.

That’s not the answer he wanted. Try again.

Satoru believed that a sorcerer who died in a battle, was a casualty to be expected. One that is to be acceptable. You shouldn’t mourn a life that given for another. He shouldn’t mourn you.

You gave your life for another.

So why did it feel like you were being taken from him?

In this moment he realized he never feared you. He feared losing you.

And so he held on to you as tightly as he could. He gripped your hands as though the could tie your soul to your fingertips. He pressed you to his chest as if his heart could beat for your own.  He understood. He did. He wanted to tell you. He wanted you to hear it. To feel it in the way that he spoke to you. The way that he held you. The way that he cared for you.

The way he loved you.

But unfortunately, in his life, Gojō Satoru would have to face all of his fears.

“Gojō-sensei! What’s goin’ on?”

Satoru’s feet are cemented to the ground as he watches as the world around him rip to shreds. The energy from this curse fills every space in his body with dread. Pain. He can’t move. He can’t think.

What’s going on? For once, Satoru has no idea. It must be fate. A cruel one at that. There’s no other way to explain it.

Satoru knew, that when he lost you, he would forever have to live with his regrets.

But you.

You died with yours.

And as a result, his greatest wish, became his biggest fear.

Seeing you again.

[finallysunflower]

Borp Borp! I really had fun with the shadow doggo :D

[finallysunflower]

Hello thank you accepting requests and spending time writing for us all! Could I request something like a timid Succubus!reader or some sexual curse thinking Yuji would be good to feed off on a night where she’s really hungry, but then bumps into Sukusa taking control and just fucking reader until she feels so full she doesn’t need to feed for a looooong while? (⌒▽⌒) Have fun!!

hi!!! thank you so much for your words eeeeee 

anyways! more sukuna smut yay! eat up, simps <3 it’s not a yuuji smut but he’s still aged up here due to the sexual implications towards him at the start

warnings; angry unprotected sex between two creatures, with so much degradation and a lotta hair pulling. some choking. yum. this is so filthy pls

━ you first take notice of him on the cloudiest night in japan, where the moon is barely visible behind the curtain of wispy fluff. it still manages to shine through, just enough for you to spot him from where you stand among the trees. hungry eyes scan his body: he’s tall, strong and muscular, and there’s a lingering sense of innocence that makes your mouth water all that much. as he tilts his head back and laughs, exposing his throat to you, you feel an overwhelming sense of desire bubble at the pit of your stomach. with one last look at him, you make your decision, and fall back with the shadows.

it’s humid in the small cabin you reside in, the world around you lulling itself to sleep. the boy is in a deep slumber on your couch, snoring softly, and you resist the urge to bite into his flesh while he’s so vulnerable. you’ll take joy in his reactions, in something so strong and sturdy beneath you. of course, you’d played your part, seducing him until the consent fell off his tongue in pretty waves, because it’s never fun if they try to resist. it’s always better when they succumb to the overwhelming pleasure you pull out of them.

the clock ticks three times before you let out a restless sigh, opting instead of waiting around for him to wake up to walk out of the small room into your kitchen, a cold glass of water finding its way into your hand. you gulp it down quickly, but the shiver that courses through you isn’t due to the ice that lingers in the glass.

there’s something behind you.

someone.

you’re inhumanely fast as you spin around, nails sharp and teeth bared, but they’re much faster. your wrists are in their grasp in seconds, and you’re pushed up against the wall quicker than you can blink. blink and register that this is the same boy you’ve lured into your domain, but it’s also not. the surprise upon seeing this — this man, in all his angry, tattooed glory, brings your guard down a moment too long, and you find yourself stuck between the physical wall behind you, and the wall of flesh before you.

“why do you have my vessel captive?” he sneers at you, and your anger boils back up into your chest.

it clicks into place, all at once, and you narrow your eyes. “curse,” you spit at him.

“demon,” he bites back. “answer me.”

“i owe you nothing,” you retort angrily. your wrists twist underneath his grasp, attempting to get away, but he doesn’t budge, and fuck is he strong. he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move an inch, only tightens his fists, digging his nails into your skin. you bite back the urge to flinch from under his stare. “you’re not who i want,” you add in a low voice.

for a moment, his grasp loosens, enough for you to lift a knee aimed at his abdomen, kicking at him with all your might. it does more to injure you than it does him, especially because of the fact that you dwell at your weakest, hungry and unsatisfied. you’re about to slip out from underneath his arm, but his hand finds your hair, tugging at it so harshly it emits a surprised and pained shout from your lips. your face is roughly pushed up against the wall, hands pressing to steady yourself, his hand remaining in your hair.

he tugs again, and another yell falls from your lips. his lower body is pressed against yours, hips keeping yours from moving, while his other hand rises to grip your jaw, carelessly digging his nails in. “answer me,” he repeats himself, and you notice his voice is surprisingly lower.

when you shift your hips, in an attempt to move away from him, an attempt to fix this uncomfortable position, you feel it, hard and poking at your lower back, and you laugh, loud and boisterous and mocking. he digs his nails deeper as a show of anger, but he only grows harder, so you laugh, and laugh, and laugh until your breathless.

and then, with a sultry, taunting, and dismissive voice, you say, “you’ll have to do.”

it doesn’t take long for him to finally understand, to process that you not only identify as a demon, but one that feeds on sexual intercourse. and it doesn’t take you long to realize that you may not be the first of your kind to come across him. you are, however, the first who’s face he’s fucked.

your back is once again pressed up against the same wall, but your on your knees, hands gripping his thighs, and face stuffed with his cock. it feels so good, and he tastes even better. you can feel every drag of his cock as he thrusts into your mouth, and you gag and choke but it’s everything you’ve ever needed. the desire doesn’t fade away, though, it only thrums and builds in your stomach and chest and spreads across your limbs. he’s so big in your mouth, stretching your lips and jaw wide, and it’s aching, it hurts, and there are tears stinging the corner of your eyes and your face is flushed and your chest is heaving, but your eyes are also rolling back from the pleasure.

it’s dizzying how obscene this is, and it hits you with outstanding suddenness that the other boy, the vessel, would have never done this. the control would have been entirely in your hands. you yourself would have led his cock down your throat, swallowed around him and choked until you had no air left in your lungs. but this curse, sukuna as you’d found, holds the reigns entirely himself. you have absolute no control over the way he thrusts in your mouth, even when he buries himself deep, holding your head steady as the lack of oxygen hits your brain, even as you start thrashing and your arms start flailing and you continuously slap at his thighs.

he doesn’t relent, and the scariest part is that you fucking love it.

your throat bobs as you swallow around him, gagging as he sinks deeper and deeper until your nose is pressed against his pelvis. your mouth widens to accommodate his size, your throat spasming in an attempt to get accustomed to the intrusion. “fucking whore,” he spits out as he drags you away by your hair. drool spills from your mouth, your lips glistening with spit and precum, a single line of it connecting you to his dick. you don’t attempt to shy away when he tilts your head back, instead, you smirk up at him, sucking in a sharp breath and licking at your lips.

“so you still need that brattiness fucked out of you?” he taunts. his hand twists your hair and he pulls you up. instinctively, your hands fly up to curl at his wrist, gripping it tightly. with anger guiding him, he leads you to the couch in the living room. “need to put in your place, hm?” he adds, pushing you down across the couch’s arm, baring you to him entirely, the thin shawl you’d had on completely disregarded in the kitchen.

your hands fall before you, steadying your body, as his hands grip at your hips, down to your ass, where he kneads at the flesh. small whimpers fall from your lips as he continues to squeeze and pinch at the back of your thighs, quick pants tumbling out while his nails scratch and mark you. fuck, you are going insane.

with a breathless gasp, you turn your head, fixing him with a challenging glare. “sounds like you’re all talk,” you tease, reveling in the way his face twists furiously.

unexpectedly, his palm strikes down against your ass, and you squeal, hips rutting and legs swinging at the shock of the impact. “shut the fuck up,” he warns you, his hand landing another harsh smack, and despite the pain that shudders through you, and the heat searing from your ass, your back arches into him, pushing back against him. “yeah,” he encourages in a low voice, his other hand smacking your other cheek. “that’s all you’re good for.” he hits you again, and you have to bite back a whimper of pleasure, opting to bring a hand to your mouth and biting into the flesh of your palm instead as he continues to smack at your ass, unrelenting and unforgiving, never once holding back on you. “getting fucked and used— i know you’re fucking enjoying this,” he adds.

if he continues to deprive you of what you really need, you’re afraid you’ll have to resort to begging for it. “then fuck me,” you groan. “use me.”

you expect him to break, to falter, to finally satiate you, but he doesn’t. instead, he falls forward, leaning close to you with two steady hands gripping your hips. and then, against your ear, with his heavy, wet cock pressed against the small of your back, he growls, “beg for it like the whore you are,” and you find you have no option but to do so.

humiliatingly, you dissolve into a fit of sobs, your hips pathetically and aimlessly rutting and pushing back against him, desperate and wanting as you cry out a chorus of, “please, please, please—“ like it’s the only word you know. his nails dig deeper into your skin as your pleading rises in volume and without warning, he sinks into you, bottoming out. the scream of shock and pain and confused pleasure that tumbles out of your lips is terrifying, and it dies out into a sob, your head falling back down, forehead pressing against the cushions of the couch.

he feels so good. he’s filling you up in ways you’d never imagined you could be, and the pleasure he drowns you in is stupefying you, numbing all your limbs. you feel on fire with how overwhelmed you are, and you doubt the need to feed will overcome you for months.

the drag of his cock against the tightness of your walls is intoxicating, and you can feel every part of him as he pulls out, only to sink back in deeper. with every thrust, a yell is dragged out from your lips, broken, helpless sobs tumbling out. he fucks you stupid, hard and fast and deep, exactly the way you need it. you can feel yourself dripping and drenching your thighs and the couch’s arm beneath you, and you can hear the squelch of your cunt as it sucks his cock in with every thrust.

“so,” you sob, “fucking,” another hiccup, “full.” you yell out again, grip on the edge of the cushions whitening your knuckles.

“taking it like the good, little cum slut you are, hm?” he keens. your eyes roll back at the words, and fuck, who knew you’d be like this? one particular harsh thrust pushes you forward, brushing your clit against the rough fabric of the couch. it has you trembling uncontrollably, how with every thrust your clit is being stimulated, and his cock keeps brushing and dragging along the sweet spot within you until your orgasm is hitting you all of a sudden, sending you into momentary shock before your lower body is shaking terribly, hips pushing and pressing and trembling.

the couch’s cushions are damp with your drool and spit and tears as you gasp and shake and shudder and cry. he doesn’t stop. he’s not stopping.

oh, fuck.  

with a hand in your hair pulling you up, and another hand finding its way around your throat, he squeezes tightly, pressing his lips against your neck and whispering, “i’m not done with you yet,” before sinking his teeth in, marking you in every way possible.

end note; brb gotta cleanse myself