chatsukimi

[chatsukimi]

MALEVOLENT SHRINE (#13 universes)

#1. - (gore, mystery, action, serialkiller!sukuna)

#2. - (soulmates)

#3. STAR (smut, rivals to lovers, college/celebrity au)

#4. (gravedigger x ghost)

#5. (the handmaid's tale au, angst)

#7. (harry potter au)

#8. (zombie-apocalypse au)

#9. (time travel au, fix it, heian!sukuna)

#10. the heartbreak project. (high school au)

#13. (hospital au, road trip, tragedy)

_____________

updates: slow- very slow. this is a project i'm embarking on across two-three years so, depending on how busy i am, i'll try to update twice a month. these will be full fics (1k-6k each part).

#jjk #sukuna #sukuna ryomen

[chatsukimi]

ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋꜱ

featuring: touchstarved!gojo, slight enemies to lovers. synopsis: gojo satoru can't understand why he keeps wanting to spar with you... until one time, you two get a little too close. masterlist

sparring with satoru is a pain above all else. yaga has been assigning you to hand to hand combat with satoru for weeks now- a suspiciously long amount of time without switching partners.

you kick, dodge a punch, and stare up at his shameless smile. each time you come close to landing a hit, he turns on infinity, then poof! your opportunity rushes out the window.

"no techniques allowed." you grit your teeth.

"oops." he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "sorry, forgot."

he certainly did not forget.

this time, he charges at your torso, his annoyingly long arm closing distance on your shoulder at breakneck speed. you feel the limb dislocate. you wince. using his upper hand, gojo grabs your arms and pins you to the gymnasium floor. the air is knocked out of your lungs.

he's panting, his blue eyes clambering over you, under him. like always, he's too close to you- so close you see your own figure in the reflection of his watery irises. you could lift your hand up an inch to brush the sweat from his forehead. always. way too close.

his fingers trail across your elbow up towards your collarbone- whoosh.

infinity on again. he lets out a long exhale, scrunching his eyes shut as though pained.

that's when gojo thinks he's safe.

only, he's not really.

instead of giving up, you close your hand around the infinity and pull the whole thing, gojo and his infinity, towards you. your legs drag around his hips.

his eyes widen.

your hand pushes his chest then in the brisk manoeuvre, you're on top of him.

you think you see his soul poke its head out his mouth, tipped ajar in shock.

you don't know why you do what you do next. in some depraved performance, your fingers close in on his windpipe. you don't squeeze; the imagery is enough to satisfy. snowy white eyelashes fluttering to meet your gaze, the groan echoing out from his throat, the tight strain in his chest as he breathes shallowly, letting you way too close.

"they're watching," he murmurs.

shoko and geto. fear washes over you, and you're about to let go-

his own hand closes around your wrist.

he's staring at you darkly, goading you to move.

"they're watching," he says again, his hands suddenly at your waist pulling you closer. his tongue flicks over his bottom lip.

you're almost laying on his chest, face to face with your own deadly consumption.

"how long have you been beating me up just to get this close?" you tease.

"huh?"

truly innocently desperately confused, satoru has the gall to tighten his grip, hoisting himself up until he's sitting to lean over you again- if only slightly.

"we're just sparring, aren't we?" and he's telling himself this as his nose bumps against yours. and he's lying to himself that the way he's exploring your body is an act of aggression, not an act of compulsion. "you've been playing dirty tricks on me, but i can do it better."

dirty tricks? you think you see the thought passing through his concentrated face.

unfair, unfair, unfair-

how dare you provoke him let down his infinity? who do you think you are? how could you break him down through just one touch, leave him barrelling towards you for more?

unfair, unfair, unfair-

his hand rests by your jaw, stroking up your cheek, taking his precious time.

because sparring with you is the only time satoru gets to touch you.

he forces all his common sense out of his brain as he whispers, frustration coursing through his tone, "you're weak. your form is full of openings." and he's almost kissing you-

"time out, time out." shoko's voice cuts through the haze.

you feel you two being dragged apart by shoko and geto. the latter frowns at the white haired menace who's temporarily lost his obnoxious pride, silent.

the moment is awkward for everyone except for him.

gojo cocks his head to the side, looking at geto. "we were just fighting?"

geto sighs. just fighting?

you shiver as gojo's expressionless stare sticks onto you. curious.

the fight is over already...

but then why does he want to kiss you still?

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jjk humor

[chatsukimi]

POV. STREATRACER!TOJI asks to borrow your last name.

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

“What do you mean you don’t want your last name printed on your uniform?”

Toji, your trust fund racer and favourite bet, shrugs. “Already said, I won’t race with the name Zen’in.”

You sit down at your desk. It’s after school, and you and the spoiled soon-to-be college reject are sitting in the classroom.

You throw your hands up. “But why? What’s bad about Zen’in?”

“Everything,” he deadpans.

Staring at the guy for a flat five seconds, you realise he won’t change his mind, or explain himself, which you should have expected from a guy going broke despite his millionaire family.

Toji props himself up on the desk beside yours, leaning on his knees as though thinking. A few seconds pass.

He offers, “why don’t I use yours?”

“My what?”

“Your last name,” he suggests, breezing through the prospect at horrifying speed. “It works. You’re sponsoring me anyways.”

You blink twice. Delayed reaction.

“What?!” you squeak out.

Toji smirks, leaning on his palm watching you. “What?” he repeats, playing innocent. He sports a smug look in his green eyes and even bothers to scan your notebook splayed out on your desk, reading your last name out loud to himself. “Nice.”

No. Not nice. They’ll assume you're- you're- your cheeks heat up.

He looks at you, bearing a smile that's all teeth. 'We could be cousins.'

The guy even dares to pat you on the shoulder at that. You shake him off. No one at the race would believe you two are related.

"No."

'No?' he echoes, cocking his head, tempting you to speak. 'What could we be then?'

"We can be... can be..." you think to yourself, before noticing his hands landing on your shoulder, massaging them like a habit. He's sauntered over from his chair.

Comforting, but still...

Bad habit.

Your heart stutters.

Baaad habit.

"Hm?" He chuckles when he sees you realise. "What would we be?"

You swallow, the small proximity between the two of you taking your mind on a field trip; him standing behind your seat and you, fidgeting your hands under the desk like crazy.

"Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think taking your last name means nothing," he presses, serious.

How is he saying this with such a straight face? You're looking anywhere in the classroom but Toji, hoping he might just drop the subject. What's wrong with his last name anyways? What is he even insinuating? Does he really-

"I don't think I'll get tired of that face in ten years' time," he states.

Toji Zen'in is a blunt guy. When he said he hates his last name, he meant it. When he says he wants yours, well, no one's calling this guy a liar, are they?

It's been a while since you started sponsoring his races, and he's grown accustomed to your face in the stands. Always too far away, though. You always have on that dispassionate expression as a gambler, as though he's one of the rest.

For once, he cannot be just one of the rest.

“I'm... not sure what you mean." Your eyes move to the sunset outside, ignoring the way you bite your lip.

He studies your face for a minute before smirking again. "You're dabbling in illegal motorsports and can't look me in the eye."

You wince.

You murmur, "well then maybe you should say directly what you mean then."

You're so cute like this, pretending you don't like him too.

He walks around the table to face you properly. All of a sudden you can imagine your name on his back as he gets into the vehicle to race, as the stands to hear the cheers of the crowd. He'd wear it well. He coughs to get your attention.

“I’m saying.” He places his hands on his hips, shrugging as he goes. “Maybe let's be married. Just one day.”

Only, he doesn't intend for it to be one day. He wants you to remember your last name on him, keep the moment in your head; he'll wear it better than anyone else.

…

It is at that moment when the times come out and the trophies are awarded that he drapes his arm around your waist. The wink he throws your way, accomplice. Spectators ask what's his name.

And this is the moment you become more than his financier or the bets you place on him to win.

He speaks it into the microphone, proud for the stadium, the world. to hear.

And this is the moment you glance up at him with more than just a shallow smile, saying 'congrats'.

The word reverberates over the race track in a powerful wave.

He spoke into the microphone and the name is yours.

pt. 1

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk headcanons #toji dr #toji drabbles #toji headcanons #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

[chatsukimi]

eternal: ten cursed fingers, born from the flame

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: sukuna x fem!reader, fluff, some angst, heianera!sukuna. pt 2.

When Sukuna enters the workshop, he is fifteen and mortal, and you are tending flames by the furnace.

Afternoon sun casts through the straw ceiling. You blink twice as you stare at the doorway. Heaving against it, a boy. Sunspots dance in your eyes.

'Please. Please, I'm dying. Help me!' he begs, and his wrists come up to strangle either side of your face, blood filling your tunic in buckets.

Brutal.

He is a curse user, you sense, his energy pouring out like his soul. You could feel it, flooding the plain room, his impending death.

You are young and what the elders say about helping strangers don't faze you. 'Put your hands in the fire.'

'No!'

His eyes are rolling back. He doesn't have much time left.

You grab his arm, dragging his doll-limp figure to the fire. You shove it into the coal.

Observing the healing, your grandfathers' words echo vaguely at the back of your head. They would come asking for it over and over again. They would chase you like immortality. But maybe, you think, maybe he would save dozens with those hands.

What preoccupies you more, though, squatting beside the boy, is the wonder alit in this stranger's face as his hands glisten back to life by the flames until what touches her is not slime and blood, but tender flesh. Bare fingers.

When he leaves, he does not tell you his name, nor ask for his whereabouts, nor thank you. He does not smile, and he gives no compensation. With the rags on his body, though, you do not think he has enough.

He does not do a lot of things, but the last thing you remember of your first meeting with this boy is that he did not say goodbye.

...

He, indeed, returns. He wears a stone carved lion mask.

'I do not think it's fair that I give you weapons for free,' you say, holding up a sceptre for the -now- man.

He chuckles. Sukuna shows you his innate technique: slash. Examining his technique for hours on end, you welded weapons with similar precision.

Through the years, he arrives later and later at the footsteps of your house during the night. He stops calling out for you from the door. Instead, appears frankly at the furnace where you sleep.

'Fuga,' he whispers, like an inside joke, against your ear- open. At first, you startled awake and nearly bashed him in the face. But you know now that despite his stoicism he is smiling under the mask, appearing on the opposite side of the room in an instant.

A little part of you rejoices at knowing this was an important man you have saved, though your fingers never touched.

You can tell from how he stands with solidifying confidence, toys with the necklace around your neck with the symbol of the Sun, Moon and Stars Squadron without ever grazing your skin, and the cursed energy blistering the summer air now greater than any sorcerer you'd met, he was great. All of the Fujiwara Clan combined does not compare.

Electricity trills under your pulse.

Ten years, he comes and goes.

You do not ask for his name. He does not ask for yours. Sometimes you catch him glancing at you in the corner of your eye, as you're tending the flames.

Years pass.

You forget his face.

You wonder, in his aftermath, if he will forget yours. One day he will get tired of the same old swords in the same old countryside home, you're sure of it. But he drives on back each time like an old man seeking immortality.

When he leaves, you stare at the designs of weapons you gave him. What great things would he achieve with those at his side? Your grandfather never tells you about any jujutsu affairs. Leave the girl to sword-making is his motto.

...

A rumour passes from ear to ear from the Southern Clans to the North. A sorcerer is tearing up villages in a one-person massacre to consume their flesh.

Every villager now inks black prayers on their carriages. Prayers to the living god.

You think, it doesn't hurt.

You, too, stick up rice paper on your windows to shield against the monster you know does not care, roaming through the woods in carnage.

...

The next time he comes, the man is wearing a demon mask.

Half his body, gone.

You push him to a chair. You kneel between his legs. Your hand hovers over his abdomen, where the flimsy stitches had failed to ease the bowels from overflowing. You frown. A flame blossoms from your palm, piecing his body back together. He clenches his teeth and watches you.

Cursed Flame: burns anything back to its prior state.

'What Special Grade curse could do something like this?'

He does not answer.

His sheer height has you sinking into your ankles in respect.

As you back away from the fire, you stumble into his chest. Your feet catch in the mat. In the times before, he had never attempted to touch you. Now his hand is tilting your head up, holding your chin, to look at his face, whom she had never seen before in full view.

You flinch.

Your exhale escapes as a gasp.

‘Are you scared?’

Now you realise what is so frightening about the demon who brutalises whole villages, consumes their flesh- living god. So, this is what thousands died seeing. You swallow, because he is beautiful, this four-eyed demon.

Before you utter a word, he leaves the room.

You whip your head around to inspect the windows. Nothing but wind howls against the house. No shadows but your own etches onto the tatami mat by the fire.

Rippling from all four directions, a voice booms: ‘bow.’

Your knees hit the ground. When he enters the room again, he stops before her. You dare not look at his feet.

The Fujiwara Clan teach their daughters well.

‘Stand.’

Is this a trick? With your head still bowed, you press onto one knee. ‘I do not feel enough to equal your presence, Ryomen Sukuna.’

He laughs.

Oh, how he laughs. So his name truly has spread like wildfire through the Clans, big and small. But something nicks at him, that he cannot see your eyes flickering with your flame, or your mouth working the irregular candy you chew, sometimes, on the job, when you feel comfortable around him. In those moments, he would get the urge to reach out and touch your shoulder, just for your reaction. Would you drop the sword to wrap those flaming hands around him so that he could feel some warmth?

'No. I tell you to rise so you rise.' You stand up. 'What's my name?'

'Ryomen Sukuna.'

'No.' He cups your face with his palm as he'd often dreamt of, when he was a teenager. As he'd often planned, when he grew older into the adult he is now. 'For you, I am Ryo.'

...

Ryo.

He likes it when you look at his face. He tells you sometimes, 'this is what you saved.' The four eyes blinking back at you.

He likes the smell of ash by your neck and often pushes his nose against your skin. An animal, you think to yourself, smiling.

Ryo, he takes what he wants, as the powerful do, so when the day comes, he says, 'come with me.' Out of nowhere.

He leads you out, facing the fields of darling grass and daffodils.

He hasn’t thought this through but he doesn't need to. He opens his mouth, ready to ask the question.

‘I can’t…’ He turns around to watch you speak. ‘... can’t bear child.’

For once, although you have denied his request, his face remains void of anger. Void of anything at all.

At twenty five years old, that’s all Sukuna knows what to want. If he cannot have the girl, then steal something else- after all, what are you worth?

‘Then give me something else.’

‘Have my flame.’ His eyes widen. You press on, ‘but you will protect me, in case my family decides to kill me. The flame is a sacred technique passed down from the family. But when I die, it will be yours.’

Without her cursed technique, she would be ostracised.

Everyone comes to the negotiation table with some line they would not cross. And Sukuna swore to never become a protector.

His mouth pronounces, ‘no.’

'Then what do you want, Ryo?'

He stares at you. He's never denied himself any pleasure in his life, but the way his heart skips a beat- it's what's made his enemies weak to be culled, what brings down great empires (love).

Surely, you would be his downfall.

He could not have you.

'Never mind. I want your Technique.'

He would live 1000 years wondering why those flames in his palms would perform in silence. He’d move them with grace to murder. He’d stare at the sparkling embers in a lake, waiting for it to shift and shape into some form without his control. He would realise, ages and eons in, that he had forgot to specify the fusion of their souls.

‘Deal.’

You were always an abnormally weak sorcerer in body. Never trained to exorcise a curse. Perhaps that’s another reason he suggested it, his one mistake. You were his to protect -no matter how he’d protest- but never were you with him again.

...

The next day, Sukuna wipes out the Fujiwara Clan in its entirety. Destroys them so badly no one recognises the corpses.

Mangled. Twisted. Broken.

He destroys the only thing that would've destroyed you.

It is that night at the beach, rain and seawater tangling your hair, you swear to kill him, the boy you saved so many years ago, even if you would be his for eternity.

Your hands tremble. You almost set fire to the sea.

...

'Ryo.' You're brushing his hair as he tips his head back to look at you, unfazed. 'Why do you do what you do?'

He hums, tangling his fingers through yours. 'Why does it matter my purpose?'

'I was just wondering.' You rub at his hands gently, the living things you saved.

Apparently disliking the silence, Sukuna speaks again. 'I do whatever I want, however I want. I have no purpose.'

When you kill him, he almost grins, as though proud. Had he always acted like this? The strange and feral monster.

'Are you ready to die now?' you ask. Some part of you still recalls the child wailing at the prospect of death.

Sukuna cackles, but before he even flinches as the sword digs through his skin and bones, he props his head before yours, kissing your lips as though playing a trick on you.

His scarlet eyes forever haunt your memory, reflecting the silver of your sword and the red of your flames.

'I'm always ready for you... ... and anyways death is not eternal.'

When the flames extinguish, you realise you had left none of him behind, but the hands. Ten cursed fingers, born and killed from the flame.

pt 2.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #one shot #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[chatsukimi]

ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ: (cigarettes after sex geto x reader series, angst)

I missed you & I cried, but I said that I was alright & I know it’s been awhile since I needed a distraction.

Geto Suguru drips blood onto your doorstep. It's been six years since the incident and when he sees your face, tired from having been woken up in the middle of the night, his instinct still betrays him.

'Baby, can I come in?' Closing the gap, he opens up his posture as though you'd run back into his arms.

You cower away at the mass murderer. Why is he here? The familiar stranger deflates into almost a sorrowful expression, his eyes scrutinising the living room with such concentration. Pressed against the back of the couch, your hands curl into fists.

'You're here to kill me, aren't you?' You stand up properly, letting his gaze crawl over your body. 'Do it. Make it quick.'

His voice cracks like a distant record, mumbling in the same foreign and pathetic register, '... was thinking about you...'

Oh, that makes all the difference, doesn't it? He decides he wants you again and you come rushing back to the monster.

Only, you would. It pains you that you've held those bloodied hands, that you used to tidy up his wet hair, admonishing him for not bringing an umbrella, that he's carved his touch into your very consciousness. That the lack of him haunts you still, echoed in the shock of your wide eyes. He fixes you with that stubborn stare; he knows you remember.

Once you gather your stampeding heart back into the cavity of a hollow chest, you have it in you to flinch at the barrage of cuts and scratches littering his body. They bend with his every breath.

Must hurt like a bitch, you think.

'I can leave,' he offers, an empty promise.

'No... it's OK.'

You think you see him soften. It's been years... then again, it's been years since you've seen him at all.

'Close the door. Let's get you fixed up.'

You lead him to the bathroom and sit him on a stool. He hangs his head. Studying the heavy bruises dotting his back, your fingers flutter over his skin, casting a fragile burst of reverse curse technique to mend the harm.

Rainwater dribbles quietly through the pipes.

Geto thinks of a time when he could've laughed in this instance with gritted teeth, tell you not to expend so much cursed energy on him when Shoko could, and you had to save your power for the mission tomorrow. But now all he can bank on is your weakness.

He hums as your hand accidentally brushes a wide gnash on his shoulder.

'Careful. Dunno if the curse is still there.'

You remain silent.

You have the right to be.

'Who did this to you?' You wince at the way it sounds.

Like you care.

His heart lights up at the foolish idea. It truly mirrors a dream. But this time, he can turn around and your face is right there. There.

It doesn't vanish, but it also doesn't fray into warmth.

He lets out a frustrated exhale. 'It doesn't matter.'

But it does.

'Who did you fight?' you question again.

'... a jujutsu sorcerer.'

Your leg hits a cabinet door. He forces himself to raise an eyebrow.

'And what... happened... to them?' You're drifting further from him every second.

He knows exactly what you mean, what you don't want to say aloud. Horror shifts over your face before he even speaks- it's too far gone.

'I killed him.'

See, he wants to think he has the right to feel hurt by what you do next.

Fuck. You stumble back against the sink. You close your eyes, your hand moving over your mouth to stop you from retching to the smell of blood. A sorcerer's blood. An innocent sorcerer.

Just weeks ago, he stayed up all night listening to you cry on the phone, figured that as long as he didn't speak, he wouldn't be infringing on the moral code he set for himself. The sounds of your quiet sobs still wrack his body.

He figured he was smarter at the start. During the first two-three years, at every mention of your name, he'd depart, loading onto his schedule a series of exorcisms and executions to crowd you out of his mind. He was smarter then.

Now, he simply stands there, still. He waits for you to calm yourself because he knows he has no right to do anything else.

He was yours before he was ever slave to the cause- and fuck, does that realisation destroy him. (that he ruined the first good thing in his life)

'How old...' you mutter, '... how old were they?'

One shot after another, yeah?

'Seventeen,' he murmurs, his voice still damn silky smooth.

'How could you...' you stutter out. 'How could you?'

He remains silent. You have to think for yourself, he knows. He couldn't guarantee anything if he merely disarms you with his touch.

Though it doesn't hurt to hope.

'Seventeen,' you repeat. 'I was only seventeen when you left.'

'... I...'

He finally steps forward, unable to abide by his inner rules anymore. He is losing you. A small rebellious voice in him screams, finally! This is what you deserve!

'Please.'

'Leave.'

You're trembling.

He wants to close the gap. To reassure you that everything will be OK. But if he moves further by an inch, you'll call the cops. You'll call the higher ups. You'll call Gojo. He knows you.

'No.'

'You killed a child.'

'... I know.'

He knows, don't you get it? Nothing will ever be the same.

'I'm scared.'

'I won't hurt you.'

'Won't you?'

He stops. You, the image of his sparkling adolescence, crumbling away. With every little exhale you take, he sees the line he's drawn six years ago transform into a cliffside, the rift extending into a canyon.

'Don't you know I want you?' He bows his head like a man in prayer before you.

Wet hair against your warm breath. Strong arms beside you, locking you on the bathroom counter. The bitter lips you still remember now purple in the cold.

'You're leading me on.'

'No...' Geto buries his head in the crook of your neck. '... no...'

'I don't want this,' you say. He keeps his hands on your waist. 'I don't want you.'

At that, he lets out a noise truly pathetic for the man you once knew. He looks up and his purple irises still retain their watercolour beauty from back then. He looks up and, in you, he sees a lifetime. He presses his lips against your jaw and the scene blurs.

His thumb reaches up to brush the tear away.

'I'm sorry,' Geto says. 'For you. I don't care about those... non-sorcerers, but let me take care of you one last time, yeah?'

His eyes ache with that pathetic hope. He knows the future as well as you do.

You murmur out your words in a blank haze. 'Friends. W'broke up already.'

But did you? He still remembers how he never made things concrete, in the letter he left for everyone. He never spelled out the words 'over' or 'broken up' or even 'goodbye', perhaps because he knew he'd find his way back to you... too far gone.

If one puts a stethoscope at his heart, he's sure they can hear it break.

He swallows, nodding. OK. Friends. He can do that.

Friends. He'll make it up to you, he vows to himself. That night, Geto Suguru helps you take off your slippers, getting into bed. He notices how you don't say anything as he pulls you closer, cradling you as he used to do.

Missyoumissyoumissyou.

He scrunches his eyes shut. He feels no matter how close you are to him, you're not close enough- he sees the chasm of curses between you, haunting his sleep. Each time he wakes, he takes a moment to relish in the soreness of his arms, with you in them, and presses a chaste kiss on your head.

Your touch is all he needs in the world full of nightmares.

In the morning, before he leaves, he takes a cold shower in your bathroom. He pumps some coconut scented shampoo into his palm, lathering it through his hair. Sunlight eases through the curtains in your room. He paces to your bedside and lets his hand reach for you, touch your cheek, warm. Alive.

All he needs.

Geto Suguru leaves your house in the sixth year of his defection. He swears he'll never return.

...

Because I want to do everything that you want me to To tell you the truth

I need to stay alive, so sad that I could die

It’s leading me on, every time we touch Leading me on, every time it hurts series

#geto angst #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk angst #geto x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #geto suguru x reader

[chatsukimi]

ꜱᴋᴀᴛᴇʙᴏᴀʀᴅᴇʀ!ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ

★ ☄︎ he was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!

⤷ genre: fluff, frustration ⤷ tropes: reader fumbles, fluff, minor hurt -> comfort, popular!reader ⤷ series (jjk men as athletes)

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who is the school's nonchalant object of desire. he doesn't realise it, how those silver-onyx piercings speckle his ears or the devil-may-care bandaids around his body that has the school in a chokehold. he doesn't realise loads of things, as you'll find out.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who asks you out casually after school, his hands in his pockets, half lidded eyes as he inspects you. you bristle.

you've witnessed boys handpick bouquets for you, girls write you careful love letters, but this choso hasn't tried much at all.

you reject him, thinking nothing of it.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who you start noticing him at the cafeteria, composed beside his friends. in class, his habit of keeping to himself, bobbing his head to some invisible tune. it's almost as though nothing happened.

at the skate park your friend drags you to because she swears you'll finally catch feelings on one of the skaters, unaware of the prior rejection, you watch him glide seamlessly over the rails in the distance.

'hey, let's go. there's nothing much to see.' you tug your friend's arm, your face burning. what if he sees you? he'll think you're spying on him.

he catches your eye as he does a trick mid-air. your breath hitches. he says nothing. the skateboard hits the ground.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who's standing right beside you when a guy from your class comes over, shyly.

oh no, not now....

you compel your eyes on the boy before you as the same old stunt unfolds, ignoring not the guy beside you. when the confession finishes, you kindly send the boy off with a "sorry. i'm not super interested right now". you turn around, ready to flee.

humiliated, the boy asks, "do you flirt with guys for fun then?" your heartbeat staggers (what did he just say?), and you unconsciously lean away from him. no way he said that...

"don't harass those who have no interest in you." the taller figure steps forward. "did nobody teach you better than that?" the boy squeaks something incomprehensible at the sight of choso interfering and hurries away.

"thanks."

there's a super good question doing cartwheels in your brain... why are you so flustered?

you figure that's it, you'll leave and never speak about this incident again, about to step away, until you hear a low voice rumble behind you. "that's nicer than how you rejected me." all words die in your mouth as choso eyes you, not making a move. "you gotta be meaner," he instructs. his tongue works a piece of gum.

as he skates away, too fast for you to chase, you breathe out in the hot afternoon.

"you gotta be meaner" the words float through your head.

meaner, you think. choso returns to your head, with absolutely no ill intention but that sexy nonchalant gaze roving over you, gently splitting apart.

there's only one thing stuck on your mind.

"fuckk i fumbled."

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who's shipped with you in the weeks leading up to valentine's day. tiny conversations in class. absent-minded nods. disappearing to the skate park after school. the grade's ultimate unofficial couple... and he doesn't seem ruffled at all.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who teaches you how to skateboard, to the distress of your parents and friends. bruises and minor scrapes appear on your knees, contrasting your dainty baby blue shorts. it's a way to show you're his, even if unofficially.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who comments on your progress, the necklace you gave him tucked under his black shirt. he pats you on the back in a friendly way, too friendly.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO who lets you grip onto him when mounting the skateboard, strands of his black hair tossed over his face concentrated on your footing.

you hold your breath. he walks you slowly down the bank of the river, sunset illuminating his beautiful beautiful features, the lean curvature of his jaw. the peace he holds with his gaze.

you suddenly say, "are you going to ask me out again?"

"no," he states. your heart drops. "no, no- no." his expression contorts from apathy to sudden desperation. you flinch away from his hold.

you're wobbling. oh no-

he skids to the ground just in time, catching you before your fall. rough baggy pants grind against the rough concrete. he's holding you with a criminal care.

"i meant, no- i didn't know you liked me like that," he says. collecting himself again, he asks, serious, "i know this isn't the best time to ask, but i hope this time you can give me a chance." his inquisitive eyes are watching for your consent. "you don't have to, of course, but... wanna grab a bite after this? i know a place."

it's the perfect time to ask.

SKATERBOARDER!CHOSO whose baggy hoodie you wear to school to the surprise of nobody but choso, himself.

"you know they're all expecting this, right?"

he looks around the hallway. "what? oh. yeah." you're about to ask what he means when he explains, 'yeah the boys know i've liked you.'

this time it's you in shock. 'since when??'

he pauses, as though pondering, himself.

'freshman year.'

maybe you're the real oblivious one at the end.

#choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #choso x you

[chatsukimi]

STREETRACER!TOJI x WEALTHY!READER ('my mother's blind in one eye and she can drift better than that') ⤷ genre: sfw, fluff ⤷ tropes: reader's bf is a btch, passengerprincess!reader, trustfund!toji, caring!toji, highschool!toji, jealous!toji ⤷ series (jjk men as athletes)

STREETRACER!TOJI who skips school to street-race. you've had an eye on him ever since testing reaction times in Physical Education class, introducing him to drift back in sophomore year. he was a natural.

STREETRACER!TOJI whose life revolves around the illegal sport, catching on so swiftly soon you buy him his first car. you tell him he gets to keep it if he can win in the races.

you're half convinced he'll call you one day to tell you your baby's on fire... literal fire. but he never does- it seems he respects the trust you put in him. and he wins on your bets, so you don't question it.

STREETRACER!TOJI who's always pawing for your colourful gambling tickets (his name purchased first) and you're always removing them from his sight: beggars can't be choosers.

whatever. he never wanted to befriend the rich kid anyways.

STREETRACER!TOJI who tells you to go away right before the competition when you come to check up on him. 'you're distracting me. where's your prissy prince?' when you look at your boyfriend in the stands, he scoffs.

STREETRACER!TOJI who narrows his eyes as your boyfriend slides into the driver's seat of the car you gave him, the car with which he won the race, and begins to drive around like a little kid. no technique whatsoever. he is suddenly reminded of a scene from the movie Tokyo Drift you once forced him to watch at the beginning of showing him cars: 'my mother's blind in one eye and she can drift better than that.'

well isn’t that the perfect descriptor for your boyfriend.

STREETRACER!TOJI who doesn't speak to you for a week after he notices a scratch on the car. he's in cold disbelief. one, that you would ever let an idiot close to a fine car like that. two, that you would trust that idiot to lead you around in a relationship.

i mean, seriously, how can a guy who parks for fifteen minutes and still crosses the line pick out what you want as a gift? how can a loser ever make you happy? he'll drive you carsick. toji's not sure how you haven't gotten so already.

STREETRACER!TOJI whose heart definitely does not flutter when he sees the dinner you’ve eft beside the vehicle after a race. you've left a note too: i know you're mad about the scratch, but congrats on the win. you drove really well. i've left a share of the cash in the centre console.

when he shows up in class the next day, he doesn't return your smile. instead, he stalks all the way up to your desk, silencing the rest of the class as he drags a chair to sit down next to you.

'i thought you didn't wanna associate with me at school?'

he shrugs. 'changed my mind.'

STREETRACER!TOJI who, when your boyfriend ditches last minute from taking you back to your countryside townhouse, shows up within ten minutes of you calling him up. he arrives. running.

you start to wonder if you should've introduced him to track and field and made a new Olympic gold medallist instead.

STREETRACER!TOJI who observes the v12 aston martin, cocking his head to the side.

you admit quietly, 'i... don't know how to drive' and he sighs, pushes you to the side, enters the driver's seat, then looks at you with an impatient stare.

'what are you waiting for? get in.'

you hastily enter the passenger seat, trying to unglue your gaze from the thickness of his arm around your steering wheel, the ease of his large stature adjusting the seat to fit, exhaling slightly when it works.

'trust fund baby,' you hear him mutter.

'hey!' you speak before you realise it. 'you're also my trust fund baby.'

his eyebrows shoot up, dark stare piercing the side of your face. what did you say? you bite your lip and prays for the seat to swallow you up. why did you say that? you feel him shift in his seat, inching closer until both his hands cage your smaller frame.

'say that again..'

STREETRACER!TOJI who drives you home all night, no breaks. you listen to music and watch the stars above the dark countryside trundling past. as the scene becomes monotonous, your eyelids slowly droops close.

toji notices, immediately speeding down by the side of the highway. he walks around the side of the car, opens the door, removes his leather jacket and gently places it over your sleeping figure. his breath almost hitches when you stir.

a tiny voice in his head yelps, whipped.

it's not even his own jacket. you bought him it as celebration for his first victory and he hasn't gone a week without it since.

STREETRACER!TOJI who carefully withdraws your phone from your pocket at the end of the trip, pressing a couple digits, raising it to his ear to leave a voicemail.

'hey,' he says, 'you're the guy who can't drive, right?' any sane person knows to never insult a guy's driving skills. toji pats the hood of the car as he speaks. guess he’s not so sane then. 'now i gotta say, i'm just looking out for you, yeah? stay away from my girl. she too expensive for you.'

STREETRACER!TOJI who dreams of a day he spoils you. a day when your bets on him come to fruition, when he can say with full certainty, 'bet on me, baby. put all your trust on me'

(extra: 'did you compare me to a car??' you listen to the voicemail toji sent to your ex. toji winces. 'had to get the point across. he can't be crashing and burning shit he didn't pay insurance for.' you cross your arms. 'and how are you sure you won't drive this thing off a cliff?' 'oh baby, cause i tokyo drift')

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[chatsukimi]

i’m sorry but what is fuga? i don’t get the ending in “Sukuna saves you/flames” fic

i mean i loved it very much i’m just slightly confused with the ending

Ohh yea I just got inspired by the line “fuga” which Sukuna says before using his flaming arrow- I guess it is a bit open ended. The idea just popped up in my head. Glad you enjoyed it though

[chatsukimi]

ʜᴏᴄᴋᴇʏᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ!ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀᴛᴏʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ⤷ genre: nsfw, fluff, smut ⤷ tropes: doing it in the change rooms, kinda enemies to lovers, feral!gojo ⤷ series (jjk men as athletes)- more coming soon..

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who plays with almost superhuman stamina and precision. he eases through matches, no sweat. everyone knows he'll be scouted by the nation's top teams.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who revels in the cheer of his fan club after each victory (Go Gojo! Go Gojo!) and who's never had a problem with the commentator, until one day he notices a particularly difficult commentary over the speakers. 'second time gojo's missed. is he really worth the clout? who's this gojo, anyway? looks like he's lacking stamina.'

he seethes through his nose.

all throughout the match, it's the same gist. you make some crude remark about the team; he scores a goal and sends you that shit eating grin, whoever you are, behind the speakers; you talk him down; he misses, then gives double the effort to score next time; repeat.

but at the end of the day, though, they lose by a fair margin. his teammate has to drag him away to stop him from throwing a tantrum.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who learns your ex is on his team. that's why you never said a good word about them. he gets passed a photo and his jaw almost drops.

you're... beautiful.

but it doesn't change the fact you'll be commentating the finals.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who recognises you an hour before the match starts, standing beside the rink. he sidles on over. 'so this is the one who took my name and drove it six feet underground?' you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the snowy haired player. your ex wasn't on the best terms with gojo, but any bad commentary was good commentary when that cheater was on the same side. 'hey, so, i heard you broke up with a member of the team. you still like the jersey?'

he notices your eyes checking him out as he shifts closer, letting his minty cologne invade your senses. your throat swallows.

gotcha.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who fucks you hard and fast in the changing room. the door rattles under your weight and you hear curse words and yells at him to hurry up on the other side.

'this doesn't change how i commentate,' you hiss out.

'wasn't expecting you to.' he grits his teeth, pushing you against the wall, ready to fuck you so well it has you switching sides. he bunches up your hands behind your back so the only movement comes from your mouth. 'let me hear you, wanna hear you,' pistoning his hips with the same concentration as when his eyes narrow on the goal. you can't stop the pleas from dribbling out.

look at you, so eager for the enemy to score. he tuts, his blue eyes feral with glee, 'aren’t you professional.’

this time, when his name escapes you in a stutter, so desperate for him to hit that spot it drugs his own mind, let's just say he isn't so bothered.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who, in the daze afterwards, hovers over your lips with an evil smirk. 'spread the good word for me, love'

he helps you find your clothes, picking up his hockey stick left on the ground, tossing you his jersey from the youth national team as he changes into his gear. he returns to the rink as though he had never left. now that's stamina.

one hearty wink at you before closing the door, as though your legs aren't weak below you and one more when he enters the rink.

guess you're back on the team.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who secures the win and your number after the match, effectively earning the all around mvp for the day. he is positively glowing when he exits the stadium, and everyone on the team knows why.

... absolutely everyone.

(extra: 'gojo, maybe you went a little far' 'what? i got the commentator back on our side! i won us the game!' 'you screwed naoya's ex' 'it was only for ten minutes! if he's insecure about that, then i think it's a question of upping his game, not downplaying mine-')

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo smut #highschool!gojo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #athlete!gojo

[chatsukimi]

cigarettes after sex; geto suguru

if your journey with suguru were lyrics from these albums of tragedy

GENRE: fluff (♡), angst (𓂃), smut (⁺), humour (✤)

I. (2005-2006)

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby ◌

Starry Eyes

Cigarettes After Sex (2006-2007)

Each Time You Fall in Love: & each time you kiss a girl you never know what it’s worth

Apocalypse

Truly

Young & Dumb: you're a cheater; well so am i

Cry (2007-2017)

Don't Let Me Go

Touch: & I know it’s been awhile since I needed a distraction 𓂃

#masterlist #jjk geto #geto suguru

[chatsukimi]

polaroids- geto drabble. angst. hurt no comfort.

you curl up in the corner of your bed, shuffling through the faded pictures of you and gojo and suguru.

six years. almost your two thousandth night alone.

all you can blame is yourself. for falling in love with a pretty boy, all soft words and sly gestures, you'll pay the price.

and it is a heavy cost to bear.

in one of the photos, he has up a peace sign. in another one, his hand is around your waist, a leisurely smirk on his face. one more, an ugly one, blackmail worthy, of geto sleeping with his mouth open at one of those sleepovers gojo threw in nanami's room- because apparently their underclassmen "needed help socialising".

you think, maybe someone did need help, but it wasn't nanami.

the last was taken a week before it happened. he's in the kitchen. sunlight is passing through the window over his face. it was one of those days he looked actually alright, one of those days which used to give you hope- now, it's all the proof you have to convince yourself he was real. he's concentrating on the newspaper, though the title's cut out.

he looks angelic.

but you can't help but wonder...

(was he hurting?)

now you can't even go to the entertainment district of shibuya without flashbacks of his beautiful fucked up voice -ghost of your dreams- humming to karaoke.

fuck.

you throw the photographs away, each of them scattering on the floor in a pathetic mess.

you remember suguru had once grabbed one of these polaroids before out of your reach. you told him to give it back, but he just shrugged.

'don't need em. not like i'm going anywhere.'

now look at where you are.

you step off your bed, shuffling over and picking them up. one by one. you walk as though on needles.

as you return to your bed, hugging a plushie close, your fingers tighten on the photographs. easy, you imagine suguru putting his hand on you. steady breaths. in, out. in, out.

because in these polaroids, your suguru is 1am conversations as you stumble into his room and he listens to your nightmares. it's sprawling on the gymnasium floor, cheeks against to the rumble of cursed energy outside as gojo trains his technique. it's a world of beautiful imperfections and his husky voice telling you it'll all be alright, his hand smoothing your hair in a calming pattern, his other one pulling you closer.

it's safety.

two thousand nights alone, you think to yourself. if suguru returned, would he apologise? would it be too late?

you shed a final glare at the polaroids, revolted.

how could these photographs deceive you so?

#geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #geto angst #geto x you #jjk geto #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #geto hurt no comfort #jjk drabbles

[chatsukimi]

ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ (ex-childhood best friend!naoya)

TAGS: angst -> fluff

NAOYA who bores you in with his eyes at clan meetings. Tries to crack you open, this new foreign enigma which stands before him. White kimonos, well-done hair, kind whispers at the servants. You bow to him with a respect which puts a stake in his heart, as though you had never fought him in the dirt and mud and rain as kids. As though you had never seen him lose.

You wait for the Head of the Hei to address you, but he just looks lost. You bow all the deeper.

NAOYA who looms, ridiculously gloomy in the play room of Maki and Mai, after he hears you've taken a liking in the twins. As you enter, his mouth betrays him.

"My, my. Are you teaching the girls how to be a useless sorcerer like you?"

You turn away from the smug voice.

"Aww, don't ignore me," he says as he slowly stalks towards you. A menacing hand sets on your waist. "It's unbecoming of a woman."

You flash him a disappointed stare.

NAOYA whose heart stutters when you usher the twins into the other room, telling them not to worry, as though he would ever injure you.

"Zenin-sama," you acknowledge. He scoffs. Zenin-sama.

What happened to Naoya? Naorin? Nao-kun? Rest assured, he loves his last name: he loves his titles, his inheritance, and his power, all boiled down to a word. But Zenin-sama is just a waste of breath.

NAOYA who thinks, what is there to a woman if not a wife? He drags you through the Zenin estate in a desperate haze, his hand entangled in the cuff of your kimono. He clenches his teeth when his knuckles miss the touch of your hands. Servants scurry out of their way. You approach the garden sunlight. Maple leaves.

They've lost their colour, scattered on the pavement. Your eyes wide at the sight of Naoya crossing the garden fence and kicking the leaves into the wind.

"We used to play in these."

He thinks, maybe, like autumn, with the right woman, one grows and changes.

NAOYA who clacks his teeth disgustingly loud, lounging on his throne, when a messenger delivers the news. He sits up.

You are set to marry.

Men from all sorts of clans are scurrying to your door like ants. Gifts from gold to bronze stack up at the den of your clan, awaiting your decision. The first thing that drawls in his find goes, pathetic. Which high ranking man would ever throw themselves at a woman? Then, blinking again, he realises you are slipping away from him.

Before the messenger continues to the next objective of the day, he calls out, "stop."

Naobito freezes.

"Take my sword and deliver it to the woman." The hall descends into silence. Naoya says, "tell them I come unarmed."

NAOYA who tasted your love as a teenager and fucked it up so badly he blames his silence to your inadequacy as a woman after you confess to him. Barely sixteen. So young. He had known his father was listening in the other room. Automatically, he had wondered, was this a test? Your fingers, rubbing circles where his pulse was on his wrist. Your eyes were drawing up, in his chest, a storm. Yet you were just a ploy, a woman to distract him from a lowly clan.

You had to be.

After all these years, he guesses that he never learns. Women like you are sirens luring great men from their thrones with a promise; not of kingdoms, no. But whispers, dreams, feather-light touches, which has him stupidly reeling back in want.

When his father corners him in the corridor, interrogating him for the foolish move of disarmament, Naoya bites out, "you are not denying me this. Not again."

NAOYA who enters your room wordlessly. He makes his presence known with an awkward cough. He realises he looks stupid just leaning against your doorway.

Really, it was meant to be him that makes the offer and you who was the option, one out of many. He was supposed to have hesitated before picking you out, one of the many. But how could there be any other choice when you look at him like that?

There you stand, proud. Ready. His sword at your feet.

He steps over it. Sends it flying with a kick, the sound of a sharp rip ricocheting off the shoji screen. He laughs as he wraps his arms around you and your own hand runs over his jaw, sweetly.

"Naoya-kun," you breathe.

He lets you push him onto the bed, just as how you fought when you were kids. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in forever.

But this time, Naoya wants to be...

Weak for you.

#naoya zenin #naoya x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #zenin naoya #jjk naoya #naoya fluff #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #naoya zen'in x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #naoya zenin x reader

[chatsukimi]

•°*”˜ ʀᴇ𝕓ʟᴏɢꜱ! + ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ 𐐨ᴘᴘʀєᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ✢

🖍 MASTERLISTS : anime ✢ —— ↳ ☆ﾟjjk — ꒰ ♡ ꒱ haikyuu!! ✦ — • tokrev ꜝ— 𓆩♡𓆪 aot. ///content warnings: none unless specified. 🍒 CHAT for requests. update schedule, x2/week.

twitter + tsukimirecs (fic recs). ao3 (more character x character fics).

#masterlist

[chatsukimi]

𝕄𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕠𝕪

you live in a house next to the mountains in Tokyo and there is a magical boy who comes to visit. multi x reader (jjk)

There's a boy outside your window.

You live in a two storey house.

Midnight boy. He's been coming since you were both fifteen. He tells you he's just a runaway, so you let him stay with you one night when he was too injured to walk, but you know better. You've seen how he descends from the mountains, cloaked in a shady black uniform- you almost ask if he is a delinquent, but hold yourself back, several times. His shirt smells of forest. His hair, smooth like moonlight- sometimes with a tinge of blood.

His stories mirror that of a soldier, you tell him. And he stares at you as though shell-shocked.

In the shadows cast by the lamp, the two of you fumble around like fools. Half answered questions, hovering touches, nervous jokes. And so many apologies.

Who did this to you? you've always asked.

No one, he says. No one, just me.

Mysterious wounds on his hands and across his body which always take you tiptoeing to the drawer downstairs with the first aid kit. He always claims it's an accident- he randomly tripped, this and that.

The bandages end up migrating permanently into your room.

As you grow older, these "accidents" stop appearing so often. He moved with growing effervescent grace, a maturing temperament and greater care, as he steps over your windowsill. With time, you stop seeing him walking from the forest. He is simply beside you; his steps, utterly magically silent.

One night, he brings along two of his friends, two other "runaways". They prod at him and joke at you: "we've got to keep him on a leash at night, or else he'll slip off to you. He's whipped."

That night, you reach out across the space from one end of the bed to the other, sinking lips to lips, melting into the sheets. Stars explode in your head.

Since then, your midnights become noon. Board games played with a sudden squeal then a hand reaching to quench the sound from waking up your parents. Conversations about life, settled comfortably on the pillows and pillows stacked up on your bed. More stories. This time, he doesn't shy away from his identity- he's a sorcerer and kills invisible beasts.

His pearly smile hides a million secrets.

But not to worry, he will come back, he promises. The monsters do not scare him.

Midnight boy shows off his skills on the rooftop as you're watching falling stars. The pulse of wonder thrums through the air. Never before have you seen a human perform such feats.

You think, he shines the brightest of them all. You think, you can't imagine him ever burning out.

Midnight boy hugs you as you watch movies together, up until dawn. He presses long bittersweet kisses on your temple and lets you go, escaping out the window with the dawn.

Then, one night he doesn't show up. The window stays open, for months on, afterwards. Then, you screw it shut. You're left wonder if he existed, at all.

Midnight leaves no traces.

But when you're older, you tell your children, there are boys and girls from the mountain who come down once and then. You say, beware, keep watch, for they are boys and girls of magic.

gojo, GETO, yuta, itadori.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #geto x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta x reader #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #geto fluff #yuta fluff #itadori fluff #gojo angst #geto angst #yuta angst #itadori angst

[chatsukimi]

ｓｃａｒｓ： "ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴀʏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ"

Sukuna x deceased reader. pt 1.

Sukuna whose flames are unleashed solely on special occasions. One day, when Yuji wonders aloud why he has two, he tells the brat to "shut up and get yourself your first technique before asking for seconds." Yuji winces, shutting up nevertheless.

Sukuna who quietens next to the bonfire on New Years. The open conflagration bursts and wanes. He peers at the sparkling flames, dancing before Yuji's worn out sneakers. He wills the boy to let him switch places- one minute, just as he had promised when Sukuna restored his heart. Now the Devil will restore his own.

Sukuna who appears, silent, next to a mossy pillar in the middle of a redwood forest; a trick of Cursed Technique, long lost. He only has a minute: prepare the incense, plant the prayers, spare one longing gaze at your statue. He clenches his teeth as he hears Yuji banging on inside his mind, but it's the one chance he has of being with you, alone.

Sukuna who had always been concentrated compared to the other Special Grade sorcerers, capable of miraculous devotion. Suffice to say, he likes it best when there aren't passerby's, mistaking zeal for shortcoming.

He sinks to the ground, bowing his head, pressing his palms together, before wisps of flame start drifting from between them, touching every candle and incense to life. Wisteria scents float over him.

In this forgotten corner of the world, all who remember you are the monks who tend this shrine, and the strongest of them all.

When Yuji wakes up, on the stone floor of the Fujiwara Clan's tombs, sputtering at the cold. Shocked, later on, by the violent burn in the middle of his chest he had never seen before.

"Curious..." Gojo murmurs, inspecting the wound. "Yuji, you're growing more and more like him."

This used to be his scar.

Sukuna who doesn't come out for days when Gojo informs Yuji about the Fujiwara Clan's destruction. What was he doing at the shrine? Why did he kill them all, the children, the soldiers, the wives?

Everyone assumes Sukuna's just tired of Yuji's moral clamouring. No one suspects he is drowning in the shadows of his domain, his head collapsed back onto the animal skulls, exhales spilling out in long drawn out phrases, in the nightmare he created.

Sukuna who used to hate fire because it quashed the dark, until he saw you manoeuvre flames and arrows as though they were a second skin. He was the Disgraced One, but you- you were kind.

Sukuna who was killed by you, when he killed your clan. He was promised your technique when he said he would protect you. He made a vow. He had to keep it.

So, when it came time, he had simply let you press your burning hand upon his chest and feel him recline in agony. He knew it would be the last time you touch him. He wanted to feel it burn.

"Sukuna, you told me you would try to get better. You told me you didn't care how the others saw you, about us- how could you lie to me?"

He never wanted to lie to you, of all souls. If it makes you feel better, he still thinks of you when he uses your flames, only on special occasions. Your strength, your grace, and the look you wore as you killed him, they all come wobbling, like moth to a flame. Like a lowly cast-away boy on his way, in rage, to destruction.

Sukuna who thinks to himself, "you have given your technique to me, but what if I had asked for your soul with mine forever?", looking for your voice in the flames.

It only cracks and cackles.

It is Yuji who first notices you on the street.

"Hey! Hey!"

You turn around. A boy with pink hair is jogging towards you. He waves.

"Oh. Hi, do I know you?"

"Don't think so. You just look really alike to someone I saw a while ago at a shrine."

You can't pinpoint what but the slit on his face... you can't tear your eyes from it. You shake your head. What is wrong with you today?

"I don't go to shrines," you say. Your fingers itch to reach out to graze his cheek. "... that's a cool scar you've got there. Both sides of your face. They say scars are where you were killed"

"Oh I've got many scars," he mutters sheepishly. "A big one on my chest, s'kinda lame though, 'cause I don't remember how I got it."

You laugh. "Me too." You drag your T-shirt neckline down just an inch, pointing at it with your thumb. "I was born with mine."

A scar.

A burn.

A flaming arrow.

Right above your heart.

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #heian era #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori

[chatsukimi]

Jujutsu Kaisen Directory

⟣ Drabbles. ⿻ Headcanons. ❀ Fanfiction. ↳ Albums (more fics)

SUKUNA ↳ malevolent shrine

❀ Flames: hell is a pit of fire for a reason ❀ Eternal: ten cursed fingers, born from the flame ⿻ Scars: they say it's where you were killed in your past life

GOJO ↳ currently referring call:: caller busy...

⟣ Midnight boy- Geto, Gojo, Yuta ⿻ Hockeyplayer!gojo x commentator!reader: who's this gojo, anyway? (jjk athletes) ⟣ dirty tricks: sparring with satoru is a pain above all else

NAOYA ↳ zenin estate, north gate

⿻ Weak for you: women like you lure men from empires

GETO ↳ currently referring call:: caller busy...

⟣ Polaroids: how could photographs deceive you so? ⟣ Midnight boy- Geto, Gojo, Yuta ⟣ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?- coming soon

TOJI ↳ zenin estate, south gate. akita.

Moodboard ⿻ Streetracer!toji x wealthy reader: bet on me, baby (jjk athletes) ⟣ Streetracer!toji: can i borrow your last name?

ITADORI

YUTA ↳ grave of lovers

⟣ Midnight boy- Geto, Gojo, Yuta ⿻ Soccerplayer!yuta x soccerplayer!reader

CHOSO

⿻ Skateboarder!choso x popular!reader: the grade's ultimate unofficial couple (jjk athletes)

#jjk masterlist

[chatsukimi]

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ꜱᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ/ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ʜᴇɪᴀɴ-ᴇʀᴀ) "hell is a pit of fire for a reason" ｅｎｅｍｉｅｓ ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅｒｓ， ｓｕｋｕｎａ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ， Ｈｅｉａｎ－ｅｒａ.

A chill washes over your body, as though a presence has come to visit you. Your eyes snap open, drawn to the Cursed Spirit at the door.

Instantly, you recognise it's a Special Grade. And you sense more crawling down the hallway.

This cannot be happening.

You swing your bedside lamp through the paper window and clamber out, only to be greeted by more of those beasts. Never in your life have you seen this many curses in one place. Why are they here?

BOOM.

An invisible force thrashes you into a tree. You mutter, casting a wave of fire at the Curse behind you.

It's only been a week since you and Sukuna's... falling out. He couldn't have...

A little part of you knows the King of Curses bears no mercy. You've seen him slash a whole village. You've listened to his apathy when the numbers are read in court, the casualties. You, first-hand, had heard him say he could not care less if you went missing.

Maybe he sent these Curses after you, to punish you for disobedience.

As your body drags you further up the hill, away, away, far up from the chasing Curses, your soul is drawn like a magnet towards the tower in the distance. The turret stands tall and imposing over Kyoto, its shadows merciless over the temples. Sukuna's.

Another wall of flames.

The Curses dodge.

At the top of the hill, you hands fumble as you transfer your whispers into a tiny ball of flame. Your head doesn't register what you're doing.

A Curse lunges for your leg. Bites.

You shriek, whacking the Curse to tear it off. It is only getting darker.

Sukuna.

His name plagues your thoughts.

If only... if only Sukuna... Sukuna...

You send out the orb of fire surging into the night.

...

The King of Curses paces around his room in the darkness, until suddenly, he swears.

Something is blinding in the corner of his eye. He whips around and watches an orb glint, bobbing towards him.

Fire.

You.

He crosses the room in fluid steps.

"Special Grades... help. Kuna-"

The words seem to burn him. And he staggers back.

Special Grade Curses. What are they doing? Why are they coming for you?

He races out onto the balcony, tracing where the message originated to find you. He swears again. His fingers are shaking.

When he descends onto the scene, the remnants of smoke and ash linger in his memory.

...

Sukuna watches as the curses encircle you, each one trying to land a fatal strike. He sees you fight and thinks back to the last time he had seen you.

You had been running away from him.

His eyes narrow in rage, as he unleashes his domain expansion. He has to be careful to spare you. The shrine instantly obliterates the cursed spirits.

Upon noticing him, you drop down to your knees, your head bowed to hide the tears welling up.

It's been only a week, yet he cannot anticipate your reaction. Would you shout at him to get away? Had you forgiven him, why you called him to come save you?

"Thank you, Lord Sukuna."

Remember, that's all there is between you. A lord and his subject.

Despite the praise, Sukuna can't help but feel a tinge of guilt for how things had played out between you and him. Something more than hurt pride causes you to hide your pain. Sukuna notices the blood that stains your leg, which you move roughly behind your other leg, out of sight.

"You were about to die, and your first thought was to ask for my help," he mutters.

"I'm sorry." You try to keep yourself together. "It's the middle of the night- I'm sorry for waking you."

But speaking it out loud makes it sound all the more real, the distance between you. And you only bow lower.

He tries to swallow down the ache in his throat. Perhaps he had dismissed you too cruelly. He looks anywhere but you.

He had built you up then tossed you into the wilderness, yet here you are, not blaming him, not even asking for an apology. You only wanted to... to thank him.

"Don't apologise," Sukuna says, quietly, as if it were natural for a lamb to rely on the wolf's protection.

You take a leap of faith and look up, whispering, "if there is nothing else you want from me, I think- I should get this fixed."

You hobble to your feet. He looks down at your leg and his gaze softens. You wonder if he cares at all, stumbling away in a trail of blood.

Then, he scoffs (as if you could hide from him) and follows.

When you reach your living room, you close the shoji screen. But you still sense his familiar power, washing through the cold atmosphere, Sukuna.

He asks, hesitant, "may I enter?"

Why is he even asking? He's the King of Curses! He could knock down this place as easily as breaking an empire, he could destroy eons of progress, bend kingdoms to his will, but even he could feel like a little boy waiting outside your door, for your acceptance or refusal, like he knew he was just like the curse, dangerous yet longing for your touch. His need to pull you so close you were bound by blood and flesh. His heartbeat pounds in his ears at the silence.

You freeze.

You murmur, "... OK."

Sukuna inhales a deep breath and steps into the room. He takes in the condition of the messed up furniture, and you, the state of your attempt to patch up your leg. It hadn't worked in the slightest.

"Do you mind if I provide you with aid?"

You lean back in your chair, huffing out a light breath, attempting to cover your nerves. "I didn't know how to do anything but slice your enemies in half."

Sukuna reveals his teeth, a brutally rare thing. "Don't underestimate my abilities. They far surpass the notion of 'slicing my enemies in half'."

You bite your lip and stays sitting as he nears. Your heartbeat begins to quicken and you're too tired to fight off the instinct.

He has not forgotten your connection, no matter how hard he tried. You and your annoying technique of setting his heart alight. He continues to close the distance between you.

He tilts his head to the side, looking down at you.

"Are you not worried about my proximity?"

"No," you whisper.

You ought to be afraid. He is a thousand times the potency of a Special Grade. He could rip you in half- who says he wouldn't, just to play with you?

"I don't like it..." he mutters, his voice soft and hoarse. You cannot imagine the hatred he feels for you. "I hate it... I despise every second you are near me."

Just as you are about to advise that he leave, Sukuna stares at you -crimson eyes in the moonlight- and grits his teeth.

"... but I hate you more when you are far."

He wants to punish you, to make you endure what he had in the past week, but... he can't.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, his tone laced with resentment.

You close your eyes and feels him kneel to take a closer look at your leg. He slowly traces the gnash with his fingers, and as he does, a cold sensation creeps into your veins. He channels his cursed energy, and you feel the wound beginning to mend itself.

After a few minutes, the process is complete and he stands up.

Reverse-curse technique. You had never seen him use it on anybody. It is the opposite of slash, an abomination of a Technique. Yet something tells you he took his time with you. While you were blind to the vision, you could sense your weakness leaching onto him as he healed you.

"Thank you... Sukuna."

"Do not mention it," he utters, devoid of any emotion. His feet shift, turning towards the exit. Two weights.

You don't know why you do what you do next. You don't know if it's out of gratitude or out of nostalgia. All you know is that the King of Curses is a frightfully cold thing for a person so alive, one shade from freezing, and your palms are warm from the fire. You abruptly capture him in a hug.

He feels your body against his. You stay there, his flame.

He had never felt this close, so interwoven; his body feels more alive than it had ever been.

Sukuna reaches for your waist to push you away, but his arms only drape across. Break free, break free, break free-

The only thing left to lie is his tongue.

"Let go of me."

He had intended it to sound intimidating. It rings more like a plea. He would much rather you fight him, so he would have something real to slice, but this is warm and soft and weak... and it is the most human he has felt in a long time.

"No."

He pushes you against the wall. "I said, let go of me." He dips his head to your level, threatening, "understand? I said," -bumps noses, leans his forehead against yours- "- you will never survive next to me. You will burn out."

He touches his lips forcefully against the corner of your mouth, not willing himself any further. Already the isolation is seeping into his bones from the lack of you.

"Never," you hiss back. "You think you'd be the one to take me out?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You won't kill your flame,' you whisper.

"Fuga," he commands.

You part your lips. Just like that, he closes the distance.

Hell is a pit of fire for a reason.

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna angst #angst #jjk angst #enemies to lovers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenario #sukuna