The Phrase “curiosity Killed The Cat” Is Actually Not The Full Phrase It Actually Is “curiosity

A/N: HI! I rewrote these, because I hated them. Now you can expect a part two lol.

Synopsis: These are separate drabbles of Megumi x reader encounters where his dogs come and visit you when he’s getting it on. These are just progression encounters in an strangers to lovers timeline. I intend a part two, but here are the first five in the series.

All of the characters in this are aged up, despite still living on the campus of Jujitsu Tech. (They live in the teachers yard) I never really specify, but the readers job is to research the places sorcerers are to vacate curses from. They then hand the info over to ijich. They are called the Jujutsu Librarians.

One

Your cheeks coat in cold moist streaks. Your half asleep state chalks it up to a window left open, likely a November chill nipping your skin, but then its warm, then cold and wet. Licking.

You snake your hands around your attackers neck, pulling them into a snuggle, soft fur puffing between your fingers. You beg for five more minutes with a promise to give them all your attention at a waking hour, but as your mind begins to slip back into a blissful rest you are presented with two absolutes.

You are not home, and this is not your dog.

With a grog you have to fling yourself from a black dog leans on your side while another white on peaks at you from the foot of your bed frame. You’d ask who they belong to, but the red symbols on their foreheads tag them as Megumi’s.

The black dog weaves through your still packed suitcases hopping to your unoccupied side. You look around wondering why they could be here.

The only times you’d seen the pups was when they were hunting curses and from the look and feel of your surroundings their was none.

White dog pants onto your nose, slathering you in a slobber gooped kiss.

“oof,” you say, rubbing your nose, you voice caught between normal and sandpaper. “thanks for that, um-” you look around the shut window and door. “how did you?”

Behind your studio apartments door three knocks echo through the room pulling your and the dogs attention.

“Come in-”

Megumi peaks over the lip of the door, freshly showered hair dripping onto the rug. “hey,” His eyes find both butts of his dogs wagging at him as he steps inside. “I’m sorry about them. They uh- Tend to wander when not working.”

“it’s fine. I don’t mind the company,” you say, thinking about the millisecond of peace you felt in the animals familiarity. “My dog hasn’t yet arrived from my home country, so they’re being very comforting.”

“right um-” he holds out his hands, the dogs dissipating from reality. He goes to turn before pausing in the doorway. “you’re the new librarian, right?”

You pull your pajama shirt straight wishing this wasn’t your first official meeting of the sorcerer. “At standing yes.”

He nods. “what is your name?”

“L/N.”

“Hm,” he says, “nice to meet you L/N, sorry again about the dogs.”

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fellow like-minded creatures, with the overwhelming (to a little creator like me) support from my new megumi drabble i’ve decided that i’ll start taking requests from everyone (if that does happen at all)

let’s keep ‘em sfw but i’ll do suggestive ofc

istg pippa fitz-amobi from a good girl's guide to murder and stevie bell from truly devious would be besties

i can just imagine them sipping black coffee while listening to true crime podcasts and doing their things solving crimes

Nike Air Force 1 Low “Valentine’s Day” (2023)

BAM: Empty Beds

in which king gojo satoru returns from a diplomatic mission to find his bed empty, and has qualms with it

gojo satoru x fem!reader

word count: 3k genre: kinda hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, royal au, childhood friends to lovers type: one-shot reader: fem (she/her pronouns, fem terms, fem clothing including dresses) warnings: gojo picks up the reader, the end is a little bit intense emotionally but not super bad the reader just has intimacy issues and gojo confronts her abt it

usurper!gojo tag || masterlist

“embrace me,” he orders, muffled against your throat. it’s sullen, demanding, and you make no move to comply.

your husband whines wordlessly at you—it’s that noise which calms the tumultuous unease within you, an assurance that whatever mood he’d been in is quickly passing (or that your touch is so important he’ll cast aside any other thoughts in favor of pleading with you). he kisses up your throat, along your jaw, only to nose against your cheek like some affectionate cat. when he speaks it’s a beg; beseeching. “embrace me, wife.”

“talk to me, husband,” you retort. “your sulking is bad for my health. i was terrified.”

against your skin, his lips quirk into a teasing smile. “you’re adorable when you’re terrified.”

Someone has slipped into your room.

You’re asleep. You have been for hours, yet Satoru’s borderline paranoid insistence on you learning to defend yourself even while resting have led to a far less deep manner of slumber, and so you’re roused by the simple sound of the door opening and are made aware of this unwelcome visitor the moment they enter.

It’s all you can do to keep still, even out your breath. Your mind conjures thoughts of your guards slaughtered just beyond your door, your maids and your ladies-in-waiting massacred in your vast array of rooms meant to be a sanctuary, your king returning home from his diplomatic trip east to find your own body not even in your shared bed but in the lonely one occupying the queen’s bedchamber, yours in name but so rarely used.

You hear the figure’s footsteps approach you; they sound large, imposing, though you dare not open your eyes until the ornate dagger beneath your pillow is in hand and the possible assassin close enough that it can do you any good.

Your fingers find the heavy hilt, wrap around it securely just as the mattress beneath you dips with the weight of the trespasser. The motions are ingrained in your body from weeks of practice with your husband; you lash out, knife against the intruder’s throat before they can realize you’re not asleep, aiming to slash at the throat—but then you pause, thankful that you’d opened your eyes to see the face of your attacker before you spilled their blood.

“Satoru?”

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If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

Same my guy

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