iamarealmicrowave

[iamarealmicrowave]

New hair, new me! Summary: You dyed your hair the same color as the JJK boy!

ꕥincludes: S Gojo. S Geto. K Nanami. T Fushiguro. S Kong. A Todo. Y Itadori. M Fushiguro. T Inumaki. C Kamo. N Zenin. I Takuma.

TW: Slightly suggestive. Naoya Zenin might be a trigger warning in itself.

AHH my first smau! Sorry if anyone is ooc I'm still getting the hang of it! I DID make a typo in toji's!! (it's supposed to be ears, not knees)

Also PLEASE ignore the read receipts thats so embarrassing omfg.

thank you for reading!! <33333

[iamarealmicrowave]

whoopsie daisy!

; synopsis . . . sometimes, things don't work out the way we want them to. the vision of a sweet confession between you and your crush is long gone - the reality of an accidental confession over text settling in.

; warnings . . . use of y/n throughout, sorry! thirteenth reason joke, litttttlleee bit of language, fluff

; featuring . . . satoru gojo. suguru geto. kento nanami. choso kamo. toji fushiguro. takuma ino. shoko ieiri.

a/n. - you cant just say perchance... HEY GUYSSSS sorry for the hiatus, i’m probably not going to be super consistent due to going back to college, but i will try to post as much as i can 😚

[iamarealmicrowave]

15:02 ♡ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

You and Megumi typically play video games together. It’s always been your go-to thing. So when the doorbell rings, you already know who it is. You head downstairs and open the door to find him standing there, hoodie half-zipped and a plastic bag in hand.

“I brought snacks,” he says, holding up the bag. “You always forget snacks.” 

You roll your eyes. “That happened once.”

“Three times.”

You ignore him and both make your way to the couch. He tosses the bag beside you and takes his usual spot on the floor, like always. You dig through the contents, half-expecting the usual boring picks. But then your eyes catch something familiar.

“Wait. You brought sour cream and onion chips?”

Megumi glances over lazily. “What about it?”

“These are my favourite—and this brand too? The store never has them!” you say, practically cradling the bag like it’s made of gold.

He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs like it’s no big deal, though you catch the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Time passes, the game now paused while the two of you snack in silence. He’s joined you on the couch, sitting closer than he used to—closer than you expected. He’s munching on gummy worms, you’re still working through your chips, and like always, quiet moments like these somehow turn into weird little Q&A sessions.

You lean your head against the cushion and ask, “Okay… what’s your favourite soda?” He barely glances at you. “Orange.” Your eyes widen. “For real? Me too! How do I not know this about you?”

He laughs softly, the sound low and rare. “You never asked.”

You grin and nudge him with your knee. “Your turn.”

He pauses, like he’s actually taking the dumb game seriously. You can see him thinking, chewing on the question before finally saying, “What was your longest relationship?”

You blink. “I’ve never been in a relationship… You know that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just messing with you,” he says, a smirk taking ahold of his face.

You shove his shoulder, making him laugh, but you don’t let it go. “Okay then. What about you? You haven’t been in one either, idiot!”

He doesn’t answer right away. There’s a pause. An unusually long pause. But then you see it. A flush in his cheeks. A taint one, barely there, but definitely real. His voice drops, a little softer this time.

“That’s just ‘cause… I’m waiting for someone.”

You turn to face him, blinking. “What do you mean waiting? That’s just an excuse.”

He looks at you. Really looks at you.

“Y/N,” he says, voice a little quieter now, but unwavering. “You seriously haven’t caught on?”

Your heart trips in your chest. It’s subtle, but it’s loud enough to echo in your ears. You hold his gaze, lips parting slightly as the moment stretches.

"Caught on to what?” you ask, though your voice comes out smaller than expected.

He doesn’t answer with words.

Instead, he leans in slowly, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. You can’t. And then, his lips brush yours. Soft. Still slightly hesitant, even after your lips have already touched.

Your hand grips the chip bag a little too tight. But your eyes flutter closed, and you kiss him back.

It’s brief. Barely more than a moment.

When you pull back, both of you are quiet. Your heart is pounding, and you don’t know if you should say something, joke about it, or pretend it didn’t happen.

But Megumi being Megumi just smirks, eyes still on yours. “So, uh… chips and orange soda. Looks like we’re compatible.”

You laugh. A little breathless.

“Shut up.”

But you’re smiling.

And so is he.

[iamarealmicrowave]

Still here, still safe

Update to:

This is not AI generated, what is this ⬇️ lovingly drawn by my hands, thank you very much.

[iamarealmicrowave]

asking choso to be your fake boyfriend ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

content: smau - how choso responds to your request that he act as your fake boyfriend as a favor warnings: none really! mentions of light pda, can be read as platonic or romantic note: i love my lil choso and this IS very self-indulgent <333 also idk if it is a universal experience buy me and my friends have always held hands so imo it is not strictly romantic. im writing this prompt for many more jjk characters so stay tuned!!!

[iamarealmicrowave]

Texts when you’re sick

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

my smau masterlist

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

Texting them random updates

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

Something is going on and they question you

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, and special guest… Suguru !!

Synopsis: They start to question you’re secretiveness but something else is going on

pt. 1 - pt. 2

the inverse of this smau

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

They see you for the first time without makeup

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

Under anesthesia

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, Megumi, and special guests… Toge and Suguru !!

Synopsis: they just woke up and seem a bit less inhibited and a bit more honest when loopy…

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

Asking to be big spoon

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

"The line is breaking up"

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, Megumi, and special guests… Suguru and Ino !!

Synopsis: In which you end a phone call with them because of reception issues but they misunderstand…

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[iamarealmicrowave]

satoru and yuji are so dramatic omg 😭

Smau: "I want you back." ☹️❤️‍🩹

The guys getting you back after a breakup. ♥️

(nanami, geto, choso, toji, sukuna, and gojo)

contains: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, a bit of crack

a/n: thank you all so much for 100 followers! here's a little treat. 🥰

[iamarealmicrowave]

you think you’ve seen every version of nanami kento.

you’ve seen him tired, in the glow of the bathroom light, rubbing his face with one hand and brushing his teeth with the other.

you’ve seen him angry, voice low and calm and cutting.

you’ve seen him unguarded and soft and flushed pink under you, so in love it aches to look at him.

but you’ve never seen him like this.

his shoulders are relaxed, and not the kind of relaxed you’re used to — not the slow unwinding that comes when you’re both tucked away in the safety of your shared home. no, this is different. there’s something in the way he carries himself now, standing at the edge of his grandfather’s garden outside of copenhagen, speaking in low, fluent danish to a man who looks so much like him — taller, older, gruffer, but with the same nose, the same quiet strength behind his gaze.

you’re still holding the wine glass someone handed you. barely. your fingers are numb with surprise.

you didn’t even realize he knew danish. he never said, never even hinted.

and god, it’s like hearing him for the first time.

his voice, always so deliberate, so gentle in japanese — in danish, it’s something else. it’s soft, still, but there’s an ease to it, a rhythm, like it’s the language of his bones. like he learned it curled into his mother’s lap, or at the knees of the grandfather who just clapped a broad, affectionate hand on his shoulder.

he laughs. you’ve never heard him laugh like that. not even once.

“du stirrer,” comes a voice near you — a soft, amused one. his aunt, maybe? cousin? you’re too busy staring to remember the polite thing to do and answer. she is shaking her head at the sight of nanami’s grandfather ruffling his hair whilst he tries to dodge his hand. “you’re the girlfriend, right?”

you blink. “yes— sorry, i didn’t mean to stare—”

“it’s alright,” she says, smiling. “we don’t see him like this often either. not since he was a boy.”

you nod slowly, but it doesn’t help ground you. something in your chest is still flipping, turning over itself again and again. watching him. hearing the way he slips between languages like second skin. watching the subtle shift in his face — like this is a part of him you’ve never been allowed to see until now. one he keeps quiet, tucked away, only brought out for these people. for this place.

it makes your throat tight.

because god, you love him. you love all of him.

you love the quiet, tired man who presses his lips to the top of your head when he gets home from work and sits on the couch to remove his shoes.

you love the stubborn, gentle man who folds laundry while muttering about how much he hates folding laundry.

you love the fiercely intelligent man who talks about justice and economics and hard, impossible things in that even, thoughtful tone that makes you listen even when you don’t understand.

but now— you love this, too.

you love this version of him that is suddenly brand new to you, even though he’s been here all along. this version who is, for once, not split between the weight of the world and his sense of duty. this version who is someone’s grandson, someone’s nephew, someone’s childhood made grown — someone whole, in a way you’ve never seen.

“hey,” he calls gently, when he sees you from across the yard. switches back to japanese without thinking. “you okay?”

you nod a little too fast, then take a sip of wine to hide it.

“you were staring,” he says again, stepping close, eyes searching yours. “was it something i said?”

you blink up at him, a little dazed. “…i didn’t know you spoke danish.”

he hums. “it doesn’t come up often.”

“it’s really hot.”

he blinks. “what?”

“really, really hot.”

he looks away then, down at the ground, the tips of his ears turning a faint, warm pink. “you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk.”

“you’re a little drunk.”

“i’m flabbergasted,” you whisper dramatically, and he actually laughs. he hides it behind the wine glass he’s just stolen from your hand.

“ridiculous.”

you grab his wrist gently. “say something again.”

“in danish?”

you nod eagerly.

he eyes you. and then — quiet, playful, low — he leans in and murmurs something soft in your ear, too quick to catch all of it. but the lilt of it is beautiful. it ends with your name, and you nearly melt at his feet.

“what did you say?” you breathe.

“not telling.”

“kento—”

“later, sweetie,” he says, and the look in his eyes makes your heart squeeze. “i’ll whisper it to you again when we’re alone.”

you’re going to die.

and he — now smiling, pearly whites and all, the kind that reaches his eyes — knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

because this version of nanami kento speaks danish, and teases you, and is loved by a loud, warm family who call him by his childhood nickname and pull you into their arms like you’ve always belonged.

and you think — no, you know — this is the moment your life changes.

because this is the moment you realize, you haven’t seen every version of him yet, but you’ll spend the rest of your life trying.

[iamarealmicrowave]

tags/warnings ⋆·˚ ༘ * explicit language, stablished relationship, smut + crack kinda, you knee him in the ribs

you’re both tangled in sweaty sheets, half-naked, mouths pressed together in a kiss so hot it makes your head spin.

nanami’s big hand is cupping your jaw, the other braced behind your back as you straddle him, hips grinding slow and filthy over the hard line of him through his boxers. it’s good. he’s good—warm, solid, golden and tense and whispering all these low praises in your ear like he’s losing his mind.

but then you get a bright idea.

“wait,” you pant against his mouth. “let me get on top.”

he nods, eyes hooded, voice rough as sin.

“go ahead.”

you brace a hand on his chest, move to swing your leg over him—and miscalculate horribly.

your knee comes down way too fast, and instead of planting it safely on the mattress, you slam it directly into the side of his ribs.

the sound he makes isn’t even a yelp. it’s a grunt of betrayal. he goes flat on his back, one arm flung out like he’s just been shot in a war zone.

“jesus—!”

“oh my god—oh my god, are you okay?” you scramble off, wide-eyed, hands hovering uselessly over his body. “i’m so sorry—i didn’t mean to—”

he’s just lying there, eyes closed, breathing like he’s trying not to die.

“you’ve… effectively winded me.”

“i’ll go get ice. or like—advil? or a funeral home?”

nanami groans and grabs your wrist before you can flee the room.

“don’t you dare leave me alone like this.”

you hover over him guiltily, stroking his hair back.

“i really didn’t mean to crush your lungs. i just got excited.” you whine, wincing at the sight of the redness on his skin.

“i noticed.”

“…you still wanna have sex?”

he opens one eye.

“give me a moment to consider whether or not i trust you again.”

you pout and flop down beside him, dramatic.

“this is so embarrassing.”

he turns his head to look at you, completely deadpan.

“you tried to mount me like a horse and nearly ended my life.” he’s tends to be more dramatic than you sometimes.

“kento—”

“it’s fine. i’m only thirty. my ribs will heal before i’m dead.”

you shove his shoulder lightly, and he laughs—actually laughs, low and fond and breathy, before tugging you gently back on top of him.

“carefully this time,” he murmurs against your lips. “ease me into it.”

“you’re never letting me live this down, are you.”

“no,” he says, kissing you again with an amused smirk. “but if you stop trying to murder me mid-positioning and ride me really nicely, i’ll consider forgiving you.”

[iamarealmicrowave]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you and nanami talk about your firsts.

it’s quiet. the air is thick with warmth and tired laughter and the buzz of the tv you forgot to mute.

nanami’s sitting against the headboard, half-dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, glasses sliding down his nose. his arm is heavy around your waist, and your legs are tangled up in his. there’s a leftover mug of tea on the nightstand, long gone cold, and the faint scent of his cologne clings to your sheets.

you’re laying on your side, head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. it’s slow. steady.

“hey,” you say quietly, fingers brushing over his ribs beneath his shirt. “can i ask you something?”

“mm?” he hums, eyes still trained lazily on the tv. “you can ask me anything, sweetheart.”

you love when he says that. like there’s nothing he wouldn’t give you.

“when was your first kiss?”

that gets his attention. he tilts his head down, one eyebrow raised. “my first kiss?”

“yeah,” you smile, poking at his chest. “don’t act like you’re surprised. you knew it was coming.”

he exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying not to laugh. “you do have a habit of catching me off guard.”

“that’s part of my charm.”

“it is.” he pauses, looks thoughtful for a second. “it was in secondary school. i was fifteen.”

you blink up at him. “oh?”

he shrugs. “i was… quiet. the girls thought i was boring.”

you make a scandalized noise and grab his face in both hands. “i would have kissed you. every day. multiple times.”

he rolls his eyes but smiles. “i believe that.”

“so? was it good?”

he huffs a quiet laugh, like he’s remembering something embarrassing. “not particularly. i was nervous. i didn’t know where to put my hands. and it was over in about four seconds.”

you giggle, dragging your fingers along his jaw. “i wish i could’ve seen teenage kento. awkward and flustered.”

“you still can,” he says dryly, “whenever you decide to make me do anything public.”

you snort. “true.”

he runs his fingers through your hair, slowly, gently. “what about you?”

you bury your face in his chest. “do i have to tell you?”

he kisses the top of your head. “only if you want to.”

you sigh, your voice muffled. “it was… stupid.”

“i doubt that.”

you pull back enough to look at him. “i was thirteen. i kissed a boy at summer camp. he told me afterward that he only did it because his friends dared him to.”

the crease between nanami’s brows deepens.

“i punched him,” you add quickly, “right in the stomach.”

his mouth quirks. “good.”

“yeah.” you grin, pride lingering through it. “i made him throw up.”

“very good.”

you both laugh softly. it fades into something gentle and close.

“but it made me feel like i wasn’t… kissable,” you admit, eyes flickering down. “like something was wrong with me.”

nanami is quiet for a beat, and then he leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” he says softly, against your mouth. “you’re the most kissable person i’ve ever met. annoyingly so.”

you smile against him. “annoyingly?”

“i want to kiss you all the time. it’s distracting.”

you grin. “poor baby.”

he kisses you again—longer this time, sweeter. his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. when he pulls away, your lips are a little swollen, your cheeks warm.

you tuck yourself closer to him. “what about your first time?”

he pauses, breath catching slightly.

you lift your head. “too much?”

he shakes his head immediately. “no. no, just… you’re very good at asking questions that no one’s asked me before.”

you smile softly. “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want—”

“i want to,” he says, and his voice is quiet but sure. “it’s easy with you.”

you wait, fingers playing gently with the fabric of his shirt.

“it was in university,” he says eventually. “i was nineteen. i wasn’t… ready, really. but i thought i should be. everyone else had already done it. there was a girl in my economics class who was interested. we didn’t know each other well. she was nice. i liked her.”

he pauses, his hand still petting your hair.

“we didn’t talk again after that night.”

you look up at him, eyebrows drawn. “was it bad?”

“no,” he says honestly. “just… empty. i think i felt lonelier afterward than i did before.”

you press your cheek to his chest again. “i get that.”

“what about you?” he asks quietly.

you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “i was eighteen. it was with my boyfriend at the time. high school romance. we thought we were gonna get married or something.”

“what happened?”

“he cheated on me,” you say simply. “with someone else in our friend group. and then told everyone i was ‘bad in bed’ to cover his own guilty ass.”

nanami’s jaw tightens along with his hold around you.

“i don’t really care anymore,” you say. “but back then… it made me feel like i’d done something wrong. like i’d messed it all up. like i’d been too much or not enough or something.”

you don’t say anything for a few seconds, and neither does he. his hand strokes your hair slowly. grounding you. anchoring you.

“he was wrong,” nanami says finally, and his voice is so firm, so steady. “so wrong. about everything.”

you look up at him again.

“you’re kind. generous. thoughtful. funny. beautiful. and—”

you hold up a finger. “if you say ‘good in bed,’ i’m gonna roll off the bed and die.”

he smirks. “i was going to say incredible in every way.”

you melt instantly, throwing your arms around him and hiding your face in his neck. “you’re so embarrassing.”

“you asked.”

“yeah, but i didn’t think you’d be so nice about it.”

he squeezes your waist. “what, would you rather i said something cold and detached?”

“maybe just a little unhinged.” you grin. “like ‘i’d commit tax fraud for your pussy.’”

nanami stares at you.

“…what,” you laugh.

he shakes his head slowly. “you are the most ridiculous woman i’ve ever loved.”

your heart skips.

you look at him, eyes wide. “you love me?”

he blinks. like he hadn’t even realized he said it.

“i mean, i—”

“no, no, you said it,” you grin, practically climbing into his lap. “say it again.”

he groans softly. “you’re going to make it weird.”

“kento,” you say sweetly, kissing his cheek. “say it again.”

he exhales. “i love you.”

you press another kiss to his jaw. “again.”

“i love you,” he says, a little more breathless this time.

you kiss his lips. “again.”

“i love you,” he murmurs against your mouth.

you smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “i love you too.”

he pulls you in tighter, hands warm on your waist, forehead resting against yours.

“can i tell you something?” you whisper.

“always.”

“i think… my real first time was with you.”

he goes very still.

“not like, that first time,” you clarify, cheeks warm. “i just mean… you’re the first person i’ve ever felt really safe with. the first person who didn’t make me feel like i had to perform or shrink myself or pretend. you were the first one to make it feel like… like maybe i wasn’t broken.”

nanami wraps both arms around you and pulls you tight against his chest.

“you were never broken,” he says softly. “you’ve always been whole. they just didn’t know how to hold you.”

your eyes sting a little. you bury your face in his shoulder and whisper, “you make everything better.”

he kisses your temple, your cheek, your nose.

“so do you,” he says. “you make me feel like i deserve softness.”

you smile through the lump in your throat. “we’re such saps.”

“terrible,” he agrees, smiling.

you shift so you’re lying on top of him now, your nose brushing his, your body warm against his.

“what about our first kiss?” you ask softly.

his eyes soften. “that was the best one.”

“really?”

he nods. “you were babbling nervously the whole time, and then you tripped and fell into me, and kissed me right on the nose.”

you groan. “don’t remind me.”

“i think about it every day.”

you kiss him. properly, this time, like you mean it. like it’s the last one or the first one or maybe both.

you pull back, just enough to whisper, “can i give you another first?”

he exhales, his hands already sliding up your thighs. “you already have.”

[iamarealmicrowave]

you’re pacing.

in your shared apartment. barefoot. fuming. muttering something about “fucking incompetent coworkers” and “why the hell am i the only one with a brain cell” and nanami, your poor husband, is sitting at the dining table, his tie loosened and his reading glasses off, sipping calmly on his tea.

“they’re lucky i didn’t throw that stupid report at their stupid—!”

“darling,” he says, gently.

you whirl around, eyes wide. “don’t ‘darling’ me, kento, you should’ve seen it! two hours i spent redoing everything— again! and then that smug little intern said, ‘you look tired, maybe you should go home early’ like i’m the one who’s—”

he gets up slowly, clearly unbothered. always patient like he’s been through this dance a hundred times, which, to be fair, he has.

“i know,” he says, walking over to you. “you worked hard today.”

you blink at him. “yes! i did! and for what?! so some child can tell me i look tired like i’m not carrying the whole—!”

he cups your cheeks.

warm palms. a firm but gentle grip. thumbs brushing under your eyes. and it’s like your rage hits a wall—no, a soft cushion—and folds in on itself, confused and tired and shaky.

you huff. “you’re doing that thing again.”

“what thing?” he murmurs, tilting his head just slightly, watching you with soft eyes.

“that thing where you use your stupid calm voice and your pretty eyes and your hands to make me forget i’m furious.”

he smiles, slow and fond, and dips in to kiss your forehead. “it’s working, isn’t it?”

you scowl, but your arms are wrapping around his waist before you can stop them. “you’re cheating.”

“i’m surviving,” he says into your hair.

you mumble something into his shirt about how next time you will throw a stapler, but it’s muffled by the way he’s rubbing your back. slow and comforting and steady, like him.

like he’s grounding you without trying. like he’s memorized the blueprint of your storms.

and all you can do is melt into him.

“…i’m still mad,” you mumble, even as you curl closer into his chest.

“of course you are.”

“i deserve a raise.”

“undoubtedly.”

“and maybe a neck massage.”

“you’re getting one after dinner.”

“and cake.”

“chocolate?”

“yes.”

“then you’ll have cake.”

you pull back a little and look up at him, narrowing your eyes. “you know how annoying it is that you always know exactly what to say?”

he leans down and kisses your nose. “you know how adorable you are when you’re angry?”

“stop. you’re making it worse.”

“am i?”

“…maybe a little better.”

his lips curve, and then he’s kissing you properly—soft and slow and just a little smug.

“come on,” he murmurs against your mouth, “sit down. i’ll warm up dinner. you can yell some more while we eat.”

you sigh dramatically but let him take your hand, let him guide you to the couch. “you spoil me.”

“i do,” he says, pressing another kiss to your temple, “because you deserve it.”

and somehow, just like that, the fire in your chest flickers out—left only with warmth, with the familiar, quiet love of the man who always knows exactly how to hold you when your world feels too loud.

and you think, for the hundredth time, you married the best man alive.