#and then you have Satoru “flexible’ Gojo who is just so …..

[tojiscursedtool]

A reverse of the "Male!R sucking hung!Gojo's dick" headcanons. Like hung fellow Jujutsu High teacher male!R in a "Colleagues with Benefits" relationship with Gojo, and loving how Gojo is just S+++ at handling his magnum dong and making him cum.

⟢ : Satoru HC’s !?★.ᐟ

Note ~ kicked my feet when writing this fr

MENTIONS — Male!reader, Blowjobs/Handjobs, dick riding, cock warming, bulging, praising, mean/rough sex, degrading, begging, gentle sex, teasing, fingering.

꒰ 🪕 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

— !SatoruGojo whose clothes are baggy but underneath them he’s a well built guy with a slim ass waist. His body is really flexible too especially when you’re fucking him.

— !SatoruGojo who wraps his arms around your neck pulling you towards him making you look at his eyes while you fuck him, making you look at what you’re doing to him.

— !SatoruGojo who absolutely loves sucking your huge dick, he loves the feeling of you making a mess of his hair as you tell him how good he’s doing. It motivates him to keep going and he’d even use his tongue to get more praise out of you, he loves that shit. He’d keep looking into your eyes with his pretty blue ones, making you feel a bit embarrassed by the way he’d look at you as he sucked your cock.

— !SatoruGojo who loves drinking up your cum like it’s a dessert for him. He always begs for you to either cum in his mouth or his slutty ass, he prefers to be filled up to the brim especially when you’re fucking him in his ass. He begs for more until he’s practically pregnant but..he can’t that’s just the pleasure talking.

— !SatoruGojo who loves to tease you in public and tries to provoke you, he knows you can be sorta sweet to him when you wanted but he forgets you can also pin him against a stall and fuck his mind out. That you could rearrange his insides with your ridiculously huge cock, he gets drunk on it. Hell he’s even moaning so loud to where everyone can hear and gets the both of you kicked out of places.

— !SatoruGojo who has a big ass ego especially in bed, sometimes you have to be mean just for him to listen but that’s what he likes. He wants you to be mean to him he loves when you tell him how much of a whore and a disobedient slut he is..how much of a brat he is and that he needs to start listening or else you were really going to fuck him dumber than what is already.

— !SatoruGojo who loves feeling your cock buried deep inside him, as you’re pumping him full of your cum and cock he always gets fucked stupid. He always ends up begging for more even if he’s already full of your cum, he still wants more of your cock and you’d happily give it to him. He loves the feeling of you rearranging his insides as you used him like your own personal little fuck toy. He was perfect at making you cum and you’d use that to your advantages, of course you wanted to make him feel good too so you did just that.

— !SatoruGojo who loves to cock warm you when you’re busy, when you felt cold or were just turned on in general you’d ask Satoru to cock warm you. Of course he’d agree with no hesitation and try his hardest not to move as you did your work, some times he wouldn’t be able to handle it and he’d distract you by riding your cock..

“Satoru, can you come here and cock warm me while I get some work done? Please.” You’d ask him gently kissing his neck and he’d comply, next thing he knew he was on your large cock trying his hardest not to move earning a whine here and there, you’d tell him how much of a good boy he was for not moving and that would motivate him. He already had a big ego but you praising him for the smallest things just made his ego bigger and bigger..but when he couldn’t control himself he’d end up fucking him self stupid on your cock screaming your name. You’d end up punishing him but not coming on him and pulling out to cum on his stomach or thighs letting your huge loads go to waste. He’d pout snd whine, maybe get upset that you would waste your loads like that instead of emptying yourself into him, but that was his fault for not listening.

— !SatoruGojo who doesn’t understand why you’re randomly so clingy and needy until he looks down and notices you’re bricked..you always look into his eyes and ask..no you beg him for you to fuck him. You don’t care where you just wanna get off and you also wanna look at his cute face as your huge cock is going deep inside him. Where you wanna hear his dumb babbling and his slutty moans. Where you wanna grab his nice plump ass as you fuck him, you love looking into his eyes as you fuck him but sometimes you get distracted by his ass, he has a curvy waist with a nice ass who could blame you for watching it move as you fucked him?

— !SatoruGojo who arches his back when he’s sucking your dick so you could use your fingers to play and finger with his ass. He enjoys when you hit his prostate as he’s sucking your dick, he loves how full your cock makes his mouth and throat. He loves when you face fuck him too, he goes cross eyed when you go to rough, sometimes you’d notice a change in his eyes how his pupils became In a heart shaped form. He’d have his hands resting on your legs for support as he’s deep throating you, sometimes when he goes completely down on your cock you could see the outline of your cock in his throat.

— !SatoruGojo who is being fucked up against his bedroom wall, you’d usually come over to his place unexpectedly to hang out with him but that results in you railing the fuck of out of him in the end of it. You’d be holding onto his hips as he’s gripping onto the wall as you ruined his insides. Ruined him. He’d be screaming for you to never stop and to keep going and you’d give him just that, occasionally you’d slap his ass harshly if he was too loud, you didn’t want the next door neighbors to hear the strongest sorcerer being railed by his co-worker.

— !SatoruGojo who loved when you were also sweet and gentle with him, asking if anything hurts or if he was uncomfortable at all..when you took your time with him pampering him with kisses and ‘I love you’s’, the times you’d fuck him just for him to feel good and special. You’d tell him how much you loved him and how good he felt, how he was taking you so well, how he was so pretty like this. You’d slowly move yourself in and out of him as he’d occasionally kiss you whilst he latch onto you not wanting to let go of you or this moment you both were in.

“Satoru, I love you.” You’d whisper in his ear as you towered over him, both of your hands were interlocked with his, you looked at him in the eyes and noticed his sweet smile. He then spoke in a soft tone, “I—I love you..too, baby..” his moans and whimpers were soft, you made sure to spoil him as much as you could that time, kissing him all over his neck, shoulder, and face as you went gentle with him. You made sure to take care of him as soon as you were done, cuddling up with him allowing him to sleep on top of you.

— !SatoruGojo who notices that when you’re hard or horny you don’t say much but try to get Satoru to notice by other ways..he knows what you want but he acts dumb until you ask him and then he starts to praise you. Sometimes he’d take advantage of your shyness and top you while you’re fucking him, he’d have you pinned against his bed as he was riding your cock telling you what to do, he’d leave hickeys and bite marks all around your torso and neck. When he’d kiss you he would bite your lip causing it to bleed or bruise up, as well with him shoving his tongue in your mouth as he deeply and sloppily kissed you.

— !SatoruGojo who takes pride in being able to make you cum, he knows exactly how and what you like. He loves that he’s the one you always go to for pleasure or to de-stress yourself. When he’s sucking your cock he’d make sure to deep throat you completely as he’s jerking you off, he’d also use his long tongue and probably use infinity to fuck around with your sensitivity making you cum more quicker than normal.

— !SatoruGojo who occasionally lets you fuck him in his domain when the two of you are out and have no where quiet or private to go, his domain causes you to feel more vulnerable and sensitive when you’re both doing it. You’re confused on why but never question it, it feels fucking amazing..

— !SatoruGojo who wants to keep eye contact with you no matter what, he could be sucking your cock, letting you fuck him, grope him, tease him, he doesn’t care what he wants you looking him in the eyes. He needs your eye contact badly, sometimes when you’re fucking him and you look at him a certain way he cums instantly.

— !SatoruGojo who wants to keep eye contact no matter what, you could be fucking him, groping him, having him suck your cock, teasing him, etc and he’d want you to look at him. He wants you to know how good you made him feel and that he wants to make you also feel good. You loved it just as much as he did, to look into his pretty eyes. The way they looked at you with love and desire, those pretty bright blue eyes that glowed with desire when you fucked him. Those pretty eyes who admired and loved you, who loved looking just as deeply into yours. He wants you to know that you are his no matter what and can’t stop looking into your eyes.

— !SatoruGojo who loved how sweet you were most of the time, he did tease you though most of the time you didn’t mind but when he was REALLY testing you, you were kinda mean when fucking him. Aggressive and rough as hell, he didn’t complain tho he’d keep going and mock you until you wanted to fully destroy everything he was. You’d glare at him with such an angry agitated look as you were slamming yourself into him harshly slapping his ass causing it to be red and sore in the aftermath.

— !SatoruGojo who enjoys teasing you with his infinity, it could be right when you’re about to come and he’d tease you making it harder for you to cum and he’d have you release causing your load to fill him up completely, sometimes he’d blankly pass out from it and wake up hours later still feeling completely full.

— !SatoruGojo who loves how determined and genuine you get when you really want something, if you wanted something you’d take it..with his consent of course. You’d ask him pushing your shyness aside or end up hinting that you really needed it, that you needed him and him only. That shit really fed his ego.

— !SatoruGojo who loves when you look down at him staring into his eyes while he sucked your cock, he loved it so much. He loved making you watch him tease you and kiss all over your cock and sometimes let it rest on his face as he gently kissed the shaft, he’d even thank it like it was benefiting him in some way..well it was. He was feeling pleasure by you, by your cock. He’d even use his tongue to play with the tip of your cock whilst gently stroking it, teasing you. He’d lick the slick and his tongue was gently licking across your tip down onto your shaft back on your tip again. And right when you’re over stimulated he’d deep throat you unexpectedly causing you to cum instantly in his mouth. After he swallowed it all he’d swallow it all and over his mouth to show you he took it all, Satoru would thank you.

꒰ 🪕 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

#gay #jjk x male reader #male!reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #smut #x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #smut gay #gay smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader

[getousatoruu]

Canon…

#idk why but geto does look like a person who would fucks in missionary only #and then you have Satoru “flexible’ Gojo who is just so ….. #yeah #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #gojo satoru

[satoruhour]

giving gojo head through his pants 😔😔😔 and him whimpering, completely drunk on how you’re making him feel.

a/n: anon u so big brained 4 this / giving a clothed bj just like this where spit and cum spills everywhere eeek! i love messy sloppy bjs / @hyomagiri @jabamin teehee

warnings: fem dom!reader, sub!gojo, irl p*rn link above, mommy kink (was debating long n hard if i wanted to include this), oral (m! receiving), handjob, overstimulation, n*sfw under the cut

it was absolutely adorable how gojo reacts to your hands, reaching and chasing for you, grinding his hips into yours, pale skin of his body turning so so red at the attention you give him. normally he would have you crying and begging for more but today he’s more than pleased to let you take the reins.

“that feel good, huh?” you whisper against his neck, switching between sucking and licking at the sore spot that’s bound to turn darkish purple. your hand squeezes and teases his hard-on, feeling him nod and you coo inwardly at his soft, needy moans.

“s-so good . .” gojo shivers at the hot breath on his neck, cock twitching under your hand that you giggle at little. “but i need your mouth . . mommy.”

the name does things to you, but on top of it was the way satoru had said it: pleading and whiney, voice breaking and a little nervous. it’s clear he’s thought long and hard about saying something about it, but gojo could do no wrong in your eyes.

“y—yeah, mommy will treat you, don’t worry that pretty head of yours, alright?” your boyfriend nods again and your thighs clench together at his obedience and how his mouth falls open in surprise. “relax, satoru.”

the other hums, letting you pull away from his neck and settling between his thighs. but you don’t quite give him what he wants just yet. there’s an obvious, throbbing tent in his underwear, all rendered wet and flexible from his pre-cum and you resist the urge to just peel it off him and suck him off.

“w-what’re you doing, baby?” he asks breathlessly, blue eyes barely showing from how sensitive he was.

“relax . .” you murmur, hands closing around his clothed dick. you start stroking through the underwear and satoru’s back arches, a beautiful moan escaping his throat.

“m-mommy . . f-fuck—” his lids struggle to stay open, thrashing around on the sofa and you struggle to hold his thighs down. you give one good squeeze to his shaft, an intimidating glint shining in your irises.

“behave, ’toru.” he whines, albeit softer this time. “you want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

“yeah— yes, yes i wanna!” you try not to let his pleas affect you, swallowing before you’re leaning down. your tongue sticks out and give him the lightest lick upon his tip and the moan he lets out is divine. “m— mommy, p-please . . ”

the taste of his underwear is a little weird, sure, but the soak through of his cum and your saliva is so hot, white cloth sticking to his cock that show off the prettiness of it. you can see each vein and the angry tip peeping through his underwear.

“yeah, baby boy?”

you don’t let him finish, rather cutting him off by sticking his dick right into your warm mouth. that pushes satoru into a descent faster than lucifer, moans penetrating the walls of your bedroom as bob your head. the sensation is not quite there but it’s still so good, letting your drool drip all over his covered cock.

“mmfm— always taste s’good, ’toru . .” gojo preens at the praise, quick breaths and whimpers leaving his person as he tangles his hands in your hair. it’s a sloppy ponytail, he makes, and he can already feel his hips buck into your mouth. “who’s making you feel this good?”

“mommy, mommy . .” the name is soft, coming from his lips, like he’s embarrassed. he gulps when your hands sneak under his jujutsu uniform to play with his nipples, flicking and squeezing the buds with your fingers. your spit gathers at the base of his cock, slurping it up and licking a long stripe up the base of his length and by now his underwear doesn’t serve any purpose except for maybe your own pleasure.

you peel away the soaked fabric, enjoying the way you don’t even have to do anything and yet his dick twitches ever so slightly. it’s pulsing and hoping to cum — your hand plays with his balls a little and he squeals in surprise.

“g’na cum?” you ask innocently, eyes switching between his teary azure eyes and his sensitive dick. satoru nods, little “please’s” coming from him.

“i need words, baby.”

“wanna cum— i want to cum, mommy— i wanna cum, i wa—” once again, you don’t let him finish, rather covering his tip with your mouth and the warmth is enough for gojo to shoot his load down your throat. there’s a mixture of your name and mommy, along with high-pitched moans leaving him. you pump him quickly right after and his eyes widen.

there’s desperate whimpers from him and the bucking of his hips into your hands. he says one thing and his body means another. “no, no— mommy, p-please! too sens’tive, please!” you draw another cry from his name when he cums a minute later and you have a sick grin on your lips, his semen dribbling out of your mouth and onto his cock.

“c’mon, give mommy one more, yeah?”

ty for ur request anon hehehh, request something here ✶

#now normally i dont even do mommy kink that much but #gojo just ignites something in me #anon #asks #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

JJK Men and Their Preferred Type of Woman. 🩷

Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo

_______________________________________________

Kento Nanami

Kento is not very picky when it comes to a potential girlfriend. He needs someone who is kind and empathetic, those are two traits which he absolutely cannot go without. Luckily for him, most women fit that criteria.

Additionally, he would like someone who would be interested in being a mother. Kento has a dream of providing for his future wife and having at least two children. He needs his girlfriend to be serious about pursuing marriage eventually. Of course, he would never rush or force anything. But Kento is the type of man who dates with the intention of marrying at some point in the future. He needs his girlfriend to be capable of commitment.

Intelligence doesn’t matter too much to Kento. He doesn’t care if you got really bad grades in school or anything like that. He is much more interested in your heart. He really wants someone who is emotionally mature and sweet. Everything else pales in comparison.

As for appearance, he truly does not care. Kento’s only desire is that you are physically healthy. He doesn’t have any preference when it comes to hair color, eye color, or any other physical traits. Again, he is much more interested in your heart. :)

_______________________________________________

Suguru Geto

Suguru never really spent too much time thinking about what his type could be. But after constant pestering from his curious best friend Satoru, he finally started to consider it.

Suguru began to study himself. See how he reacted to different types of girls. He came to the conclusion that he likes the shyer type. Confident women can be really fun to converse with, and he finds them attractive, but there is just something about a shy and sweet woman which really makes Suguru weak.

He loves women who wear baggy sweaters or dress cutely somehow. He likes when a girl gets flustered or embarrassed easily. It’s so goddamn adorable to him. It makes Suguru feel protective.

He also wants someone who has a cute laugh. If his girlfriend is good at baking or cooking then that is definitely a plus.

And for appearance, Suguru really needs a lady with a cute ass. He needs to be able to stare at it sometimes, so it has to be a nice one ;)

_______________________________________________

Toji Fushiguro

Toji definitely has a soft spot for women with nice thighs. Whenever he sees a pretty lady with thicker thighs in a pair of skinny jeans he instantly gets dirty thoughts. Thinking about those delicious thighs wrapped around his waist as he thrusts into her. Goddamn, he often has to fight the urge to get hard in public.

Toji needs a girl with a high sex drive. There, I said it. He is the type of man who wants to fuck a lot. Of course he would never do anything forceful, which is why he needs his girlfriend to be enthusiastic about sex like he is. That would be a dream come true for him.

When it comes to personality, Toji is very flexible. He really doesn’t care what your personality traits are, as long as you aren’t a complete brat towards him all the time. He needs someone who he can hold a decent conversation with. You could have the most obscure interests and he wouldn’t mind as long as you are a good person.

Toji doesn’t mind how you dress. If you wanna be modest, that’s cute. If you want to dress like a whore, he will kill anyone who looks at you the wrong way. :D

_______________________________________________

Satoru Gojo

Satoru likes confident girls. The kind which aren’t afraid to make comebacks for his teasing jokes. It’s no fun if he teases you and you don’t fight back much. He’s very into bratty women because he likes to be a brat tamer.

A good sense of humor is essential with him. He loves to crack jokes and it would be troublesome if his girlfriend got offended easily. It’s important not to take his playful banter too seriously. It’s all done in good fun. Teasing is honestly like his love language at this point.

Satoru wants someone who doesn’t get jealous easily. He has a lot of admirers and he can’t prevent them from flirting with him. You would just need to have a lot of trust, he would be sure not to let you down. He is very loyal.

As for appearance, Satoru likes all sorts of women. Tall, short, skinny, chubby, brunette, blonde, redhead. Doesn’t matter. All that he asks for is a pretty girl with a good style. He likes to have arm candy to show off ;)

Master list link

#kento nanami #toji fushiguro #satoru gojo #suguru geto #headcanons #girlfriend #wife #smut #imagines #fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #toji smut #nanami smut #geto smut #gojo smut

[just-jordie-things]

hello hello!!!!! hope ur having a good day <33

I wanted tk know if i could ask some hcs about jjk charcters (preferably inumaki and yuuta but any you want/feel like will do too!!) with a dancer s/o?? or someone who just really likes dancing and dances often. Perhaps asks them to dance with them??

Feel free to ignore it if it's not to your taste!! tyvm 🥰🥰

this is so cute but also i'm not a dancer so bear with me for some of this ok? :) dance related brainrots comin right up!!!

gojo satoru hates slow dancing. he's got nothing against bopping around to a song that's been stuck in the head, or when the rest of the club is feeling it... but ballroom dancing? slow dancing? no way. for one, it's so cheesy he could die of embarrassment. for two- he doesn't have the time to slow down that much. but for some reason, when you're playing that pretty slow song you like while doing the dishes, you catch him passing by and holding out your hand, his feet are carrying him over to you without question. but you're smiling as you wrap your other hand around his neck and pull him close. his hand finds purchase on your hip just as naturally as he'd walked over to you, and before he knows it, you're slowly rocking around in a lazy circles in your kitchen. it's all against his will, of course. it's some spell you've put on him that brings him to pull you closer and spin you like you're his princess- which you are- and cradle your head lovingly against his chest. ___

okkotsu yuuta has never tried his hand at dancing before. but then he finds you one day in one of the training rooms and you're not wearing your usual workout attire, no, today you'd decided on a slimming black leotard and pale pink tights and as his eyes travel and see a pair of ballet flats on your feet he can't help but laugh a bit. you? ruthless, nunchuck weilding, you, do ballet? you scoff at his laughter, and tell him that it actually helps to keep you limber, and balanced- all in all a better sorcerer. after some back and forth on other methods to keep you flexible, you decide to put him to the test. as it turns out, yuuta can't back down from a dare, and just like that you're guiding him through the different positions. it doesn't take long for him to realize that ballet while elegant is not easy. you work him hard for the next few hours, but at least he gets to dance with you up close and personal while you teach him ballet. and hey, maybe he'll stick with the method. ___

inumaki toge loved watching you dance. you danced all the time, and everywhere. you're doing chores? you've got headphones on and you're bopping all over the place. cooking? you're shaking our hips and mixing up a delicious smelling pot with an extra flair to your stirring. he's watched you dance around while pushing a cart at the supermarket. he assumes there must always be a beat stuck in that pretty head of yours, something to make you want to boogie. it's cute! but it's even cuter when you make him dance with you. sometimes you ask him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and beckoning him over with your swinging hips. but even better is when you just grab him and make him join you. by his hand, by his belt loop, by the back of his neck, sometimes you just don't have the patience to wait for an answer, you need a dance partner now! no biggie, toge's never turned down a chance to swing you around in his arm or twirl and dip you dramatically... even if you are dancing to oldies in the laundromat. ___

kamo choso had never really danced before... at all. so when you find yourselves at a small event with other sorcerers, and people start to fill the open space to dance to the soft live music, you seize an oppurtunity. you can tell he's uncertain and a bit lost when he's watching people couple up to dance together, so you take his drink out of his hand, placing it aside with yours, before you take his hand again. "choso, do you want to dance?" it's so sweet he wouldn't dare refuse your offer- not when the idea of holding you close and having you hold him too makes his heart stutter in his chest. you're already starting to pull him with you to the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor when he mumbles "i don't- i've never really done this before" and you have to bite your cheek to stifle your laughter at the innocent statement. you don't have to say the words i'll show you how, he gets the gist when you place his hands at your hips. you're not doing much, just swaying side to side, moving in slow circles, and you both stay pretty far from the other dancers... but he loves it. he loves everything about it, from holding you, and getting to see how much you light up from the simple action. he hopes this event goes late into the evening, so he has every excuse to keep doing this with you.

#satoru brainrot #choso brainrot #toge brainrot #yuuta brainrot #gojo satoru x reader #kamo choso x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #inumaki toge x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[sixeyescurseuser]

Modern AU with painter Geto who prefers real-life models instead of just going off of pictures. Thus, he’ll have Gojo pose for him, physically moving Gojo’s body this way and that, going through all sorts of motions.

“This is for my reference, Satoru, so hold still,” Geto orders. Gojo sighs forlornly.

“Just using me for my body, I see.”

Geto flicks Gojo’s forehead, stating: “This is what you signed up for when you began dating me.”

Gojo playfully snaps his teeth at Geto, a last attempt at payback before he becomes a living statue for however long Geto needs him to be.

When Geto has his art exhibitions, Gojo stands in front of the pieces while explaining to Shoko, Nanami, and all their other friends how he was the reference for all the paintings and had to pose tirelessly for hours on end.

Sometimes, Gojo will even demonstrate the poses with all the drama of a troubled maiden.

Then, during times when Gojo is busy, Geto usually asks a past model acquaintance to pose for him. Gojo feels so betrayed!

Gojo: “I thought that what we had between us was special!” 😭

Geto rolls his eyes fondly: “Satoru, you will always be my favorite model.”

Geto truly adores drawing the curves of Gojo’s body. It also helps that Gojo is as flexible he is. When Geto poses Gojo, he makes sure to let his appreciative praises slip out.

“Jesus, look at you,” Geto breathes out. “You’re just gorgeous. I could gaze at you forever.”

Gojo’s cheeks become rosy, but he makes sure throw his boyfriend a wink: “I do aim to please.”

Lastly, it’s the way Geto draws every detail of Gojo - his chest, collarbones, abdomen, hip bones, thighs, legs, etc. - so deliciously, with purposeful strokes to capture the raw essence of the moment.

But when Gojo draws Geto, it looks like a sims character.

Geto, rubbing his temples: “Satoru, why do you just have my chest and…dick drawn out?”

Gojo shrugs. “That’s my creative process. I start with my favorite parts of you.” :)

Geto: “You have five seconds to run. Go.”

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #goge #cerdrabbles

[tojissubmissivewh0re]

Fumiko Gojo, who she is, what she can do.

Warnings: may contain spoiler of jjk! art and ideas about my character are ENTIRELY made by me, and it is not allowed to repost those without credits!

- Basic Information:

Fumiko Gojo, 15 years old (anime/manga timeline), first year student at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, along with Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki, as first years.

Their teacher being Satoru Gojo, similarities between the two were absolutely obvious, and it wasn't harsh to understand their being father and daughter. Not only for how Satoru’s genes are so strong that Fumiko is a mini version of him, just female, but also because, in personality, they are alike. Fumiko’s mother, and Satoru’s ex wife died when giving birth to her, but Satoru keeps many pictures of her around, and Fumiko appreciates that. Although, her name was never disclosed between the two.

Regarding Fumiko’s choice in her uniform, she kept it as the plain, dark blue uniform of the school. She didn’t personalized it at all, even if her father protested and told her to have a little bit more of personality. She didn’t mind him too much, and just kept it plain. Although, as the picture shows, she wears a dark dress with a few leather strands on her thigh and her neck. The center metal belt connected with four pieces of fabric in the dress are attached to her hips.

Fumiko was trained by her father since young age. Something she mentions quite a lot, was her father teaching her sorcery from the moment she started to be able walking on two feet. Satoru never gave a particular reason, aside from getting her be strong and ready for the world.

About her powers/abilities, Fumiko is very strong. She is super agile and flexible, and she liked close combat style. She can cast a Domain Expansion properly, and it is formed to be similar to her father’s, at the moment. She speaks about refining it, but has failed many times, and prefers to not mess it up without proper training. Aside from that, she can summon a Spirit Animal, or Shikigami, named Salem, a big, black cat, mostly like a panther, that is very strong, heavy and protective of Fumiko. Fumiko cares about Salem as a member of the family. She learnt to cast him when she was around four years old, and as her father reassured her that he wasn't a threat, the two grew together; infact, Salem is very much like a pet for the Gojos, and he is very warm as a normal cat would be around Fumiko and Satoru.

- I’ll be making a part two about the relationships with the characters, so that this doesn’t get too long. 🫶🏻

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for your attention<3

Any support is appreciated!

Don’t repost without credits !

#fumiko gojo #anime oc #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x oc #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #itadori yuuji #animeoc #nobara kugisaki #original character #original art #artist #writer #fanfiction

[shintin]

Forget Me Not: Chapter 34 (Lullaby)

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Description: Imagine that from the moment you opened your eyes into this world, you had no choice but to kill and shed the blood of others, that you had to fight alongside Toji Fushiguru and die with him

What would you do when they force you to do something you don’t like? When the torment of conscience presses on your throat, will you give up? Now think about a day that life gives you another chance; how would you use it?

This is the story of a murderer who seeks salvation. Will she find it in the arms of Satoru Gojo? Or will pain find her sooner than redemption and drive her out of heaven forever?

Genre: heavy angst, sad love story, maybe tragedy, violence, lonely hearts, broken souls, +18.

Author Note: It will take me a while to write the following chapters since they'll be the last ones.

After finishing "Forget Me Not," I'll start writing "Forget Me Too" the sequel :)

Tags/Warnings: Blood, blood, and blood.

Song Recommendation: HUSH LITTLE BABY Don't Say a Word Lullaby

Chapter index -> Next Chapter

Year: 2019

Here's a true story from the author. Eagles have the most extended lifespan and can live up to 70 years. But to get to this age, the eagle must make a tough decision. In its 40th year, its long and flexible talons can no longer grab prey, which serves as food, its long and sharp beak becomes bent, and its old-aged, and heavy wings, due to their thick feathers, stick to its chest and make it challenging to fly.

As a result, the eagle has only two options left at the end of this change process: to die or endure a painful process. The process requires that the eagle fly to a mountaintop and sit on its nest. The eagle knocks its beak against a rock until it plucks it out. Then the eagle waits for a brand-new beak to grow back.

It will pull out its talons, and the eagle starts plucking its aged feathers when the new talons grow back. After five months, the eagle takes its famous flight of rebirth and lives for 30 more years.

The so-called opportunity was not given to Y/N that rainy evening. Fate only granted her five days. Five fucking days and she woke up covered with sweat, feeling pain all the way to the bone marrow, but she didn't open her eyes. She begged it to be just another one of her nightmares, but deep down, she knew it was real.

An unsettling truth buzzed in the room as if it was always with her, but she couldn't see it. But now it seemed more obvious, nocturnal, and intense than she could ignore anymore.

The heaviness of her chest made her breathe hard, and the burning cold she felt didn't make it any easier. Something was taken away from her, something she longed for, something she was looking for, and it hurt. It hurt so much. It would have hurt less if she had pulled her heart out of her chest and squeezed it in her hand.

Her hand slowly shifted under the blanket, and that's when she realized there were needles attached to her hand. Now the sound of the beep penetrating her brain made more sense. Apparently, she was in a hospital-like room, but she still didn't dare open her eyes to confront reality. She was alive, contrary to her expectations, making the reality more bitter than it ought to be.

Y/N seized her stomach as pain ran through it. She covered her mouth with her hand, and her breath crushed her trembling fingers. She was no longer a mother, or perhaps she was a childless mother. Sadly, no word in dictionaries could be used for mothers who had lost their children before they were even born. Nobody thought a situation this painful required a word.

Y/N recalled how, as a last resort, she had attempted to absorb the negative energy of that curse, and now she knew she owed her life to her daughter's sacrifice.

Y/N never had a mother to learn maternity, but she knew it wasn't fair for a child who didn't even have a name to protect her mother. A hard-to-swallow lump formed in her throat as she tried to press her hands to the fabric of her clothes to hide her fear.

Everyone has the right to mourn the loss, but who says life gives a rat's ass about our rights? A wave of new pain came toward her, like a blade moving its sharp point upon her being. Her breath snagged in her throat. She was quick to open her eyes and sat. Her chest was barely moving back and forth.

She held the collar of her gown firmly because repeated coughs drained the air from her lungs. She had to get some air. Immediately. Her gaze soon found the window at the corner of the empty room. She had to get herself there.

With a panic gripping her throat, she grabbed the bedpost to get off, but her legs betrayed her. She screamed and shuddered and struck the floor, curled up into herself. The wires and syringes attached to her hands were suddenly removed. A small trickle of blood ran down her elbow, but she didn't care. She was fainting, and for sure, the continuous beeping of the machine was not helping her in this condition. She needed to stand up before collapsing again.

Y/N reached out to grab the nightstand, but her hand slid, and the small table rolled onto the floor. Napkins, a glass of water, and a vase full of Forget Me Not flowers fell on the floor and were broken into pieces. Her eyes were fixed on the blue petals of the flowers. Was that some stupid joke? He got her flowers? They lost their daughter, and he bought her a bunch of flowers? Did he presume foolishly that she would feel better after opening her eyes and seeing these flowers? In this sort of situation?

Suddenly, the world shifted out of focus. She was overcome by a hatred, an intensity, a resentment so forceful, she felt she was boiling with blind anger and disgust.

The ache in her heart was intact. She knew the flavor of every pain. After all, she was a half-curse, right? But the latter had a particular taste. The last time she felt it was months ago on a rainy day like today. About a year ago, when Sukuna ripped Yuji's heart out of his chest.

She was familiar with this sadness. The grief of loss, the dismay of the death of those she could have saved.

She could have saved her brothers, if she had been awake. It was like when a glass tumbled to the edge of the table, and she couldn't do anything but wait for it to fall to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces.

Maybe if it were the old Y/N, she would have cried, screamed, and destroyed everything, but they say when pain exceeds a limit, silence prevails over everything. She took a deep breath, not paying attention to the broken glass on the floor. She grabbed the metal bed firmly with her hand and got up. Yes, her legs were shaking; her feet soles were bleeding, and her white garments were stained with blood, but she squeezed her jaw shut until the negative emotions scared away her pain.

After all, this was her true nature. His hands were built to be bloodstained, kill, and seek vengeance. It took her a while to finally accept herself as she was.

Y/N took a step, and the feathered petals were crushed under her feet while the sound of other shards of glass filled the room. Then, the door suddenly opened, and a woman in a white robe appeared in front of her. Shoko's widened eyes moved from broken pieces of glass to the bloodstained gown and then into the soulless eyes of Y/N. She had bent her head over her side and looked at her as if she didn't know her.

Cautiously, holding her hands in front of her, Shoko marched gently toward her. "Calm down, Y/N." She took a sharp look at the blood flowing from her elbow.

Y/N straightened her head and looked at the sorceress. Shoko was scared of her, and why would that make her feel right? Did being a curse feel this good? Had she known, she would have switched off her human half long ago.

"Y/N, listen to me. We thought..." Shoko didn't go on because Y/N approached her, and she had to retreat till her back hit the cold wall. Shoko glanced at the door, and the next thing she felt was a rush of blood hitting both of her arms and pinning her against the wall. She tried to release her hands, but it was a futile attempt. She looked up, and her eyes fell upon the sinister eyes of Y/N. She guessed this was the look her victims remembered a few seconds before they died.

"We thought," Y/N repeated under her breath. She was still in disbelief, with a face filled with anger, betrayal, and confusion. 'WE," she thought. So all of them had decided to kill her brothers, and only one had volunteered to finish the job. Such noble sorcerers! Why did this surprise her? Toji has been saying for years that sorcerers only care about their own fortunes, but she was so dumb that she never believed his words. "Why them?" Y/N asked. "Why now?"

Shoko didn't respond and just bowed her head. Y/N's bloody hand quickly caught her throat and started tightening. Now they were eye to eye. "I was loyal to you, sorcerers! I did all the filthy things you told me to do!" She shouted. Sadness poured from her hoarse voice. Unlike usual, Shoko could feel her pain this time, which was excruciating. "WHY?" She yelled and smashed her fist into the wall.

Shoko closed her eyes. Hearing the sounds of something breaking, she hurried here to check on her and was shocked by the scene she had encountered. However, she was aware that Y/N's anger was fully justified. Therefore, she couldn't find the words to comfort her. Is there even a proper sentence to calm down the one you have killed their family? No. It was one of those times when only blood washes blood. She raised her head and looked into her bloodshot eyes. How much pain had the world of jujutsu brought her? It was time for the sorcerers to acknowledge the consequences of their decisions. So she started with herself. "Curse users," she paused. Her voice was riddled with shame. Good. " They stole the cursed wombs: death paintings from school and—" A quick blow to Shoko's head knocked her unconscious.

There was no need to hear the rest of her words. Jujutsu society had kept her brothers' presence at school a secret, and when they were stolen, Higher Ups got rid of their threat without a second thought. Just what they wanted to do with her as well. They did not even wait to see whether her poor brothers had evil intentions. After all, they were wombs that the world had no place for.

This was the hardest part of being cursed wombs. They were strangers everywhere. Many considered them a curse. Others believed them to be ruthless murderers and curse users.

Despite the fainting, Shoko's body was still standing and glued to the wall due to the manipulation of Y/N's blood. Y/N released her throat and grasped Shoko's chin. She lifted her head and searched her face. Although Shoko was among the hundreds of sorcerers Y/N hated, she had saved her life and those she cared about on numerous occasions. She was the first person who approached her in prison, accepted her as a human being, and treated her as such. She was…she was her first friend. Y/N shook her head. No. She was never a friend because friends don't play a role in the murder of friends' loved ones.

Y/N unleashed her technique for Shoko to fall and made her way to the hallway. She was as guilty as anyone, but she was better alive than dead.

Blood was still running from Y/N's hand when her bare feet touched the dirt wet in the rain. Her hair was soaked with rain and her locks stuck to her forehead. She felt disconnected. Parts of her were moving without her mind even knowing what was happening. But she had to keep moving. There was no time for human deficiencies, and her legs seemed to have found their destination.

Flickering lights, a white door with a morgue panel, and dead bodies from two half-curses on cold, dissected beds. Her brothers. Siblings she had never met, but they were close enough to feel their pain.

With slow steps, shaking hands, she reached to the other side of the damp room and stood beside them. They lay there like broken dolls in sleep with painful holes in their chests. It was like whoever wanted to kill them tried to get the job done quickly, but knowing this didn't keep her from feeling a hole in her chest swallowing her inside.

Take a moment to think. Have you ever thought about someone in your family being ugly? Even if they were different from everybody else in the world? Was it possible for you to be literally disgusted with your family? No. There is a connection between the family members that still binds them together despite everything, which cannot be changed or denied.

Therefore, when Y/N leaned over their bodies and stroked their faces, she didn't care that, contrary to her, they had no human appearance. She was indifferent to the blotches of dried blood on their faces. They were dead, and she was on her own. The weight on her shoulders had doubled, and she felt even worse because she was unprepared. She stared at them and knew deep in her heart that her life would never be the same again.

She began whispering the lullaby she had sung to her daughter in the last few days. Her trembling fingers caressed their wounds.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird doesn't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring is brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass.

Maybe weeping would make her feel better, but she seemed to have lost that ability. All her tears had been used up. The only thing left in her was anger and a grudge that kept her knees from bending. With her eyes closed, she continued to hum her lullaby with a gravelly voice. She kept singing and didn't look back even when she sensed a considerable amount of cursed energy at the door.

And if that looking glass gets broken,

Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat.

And if that billy goat don't pull,

Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull.

Satoru had missed the delicate warmth of her voice. It had been so long since he had heard that tone that he had forgotten what it was supposed to sound like. He knew some days her sadness was a mild lisp. It barely scratched the surface of her voice, but today Melancholy had waged a full-scale assault on her vocal chords. Her current anguish had put deeper edges around her words. The phrases came out sharp like her favorite knives, as if her tongue had sharpened each end of her words before they were made.

And if that cart and bull turn over,

Mama's gonna buy you a dog called Rover.

And if that dog called Rover doesn't bark,

Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart turn round,

You'll still be the sweetest little babe in town.

The lullaby swelled. The ache in her tone hit him, causing a cascade of memories and regrets. The melody told him everything she had gone through, everything she had experienced, was the terrible price she had paid just because she had opened her heart to him. Could he see the rage creeping up her neck?

The sound of rain and thunder could be heard from the room. "Eso and Kechizu (her brothers),  did they suffer?" The question came suddenly, causing Satoru to raise his head. He couldn't see her face, but undoubtedly her clenched fists spoke volumes. There seemed to be nothing left of happiness in her voice.

She knew something was coming, but she didn't know it would be Satoru. She didn't think he would be the one to hurt her, to kill her brothers, to make her wish for death more than she ever had before.

There was no handbook for teaching him how to tell the woman he desperately loves that, no, your brothers' death was swift and painless. He inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but whatever words he had, died in his throat, and only a "No" could escape from the claws on his tongue.

And there it was. Every memory, every belief, everything she thought she knew about Satoru sank in. He admitted to murdering them. She squeezed her eyes shut. "You still have a bit of honor left in you." Her voice was so loud and thunderous that he couldn't concentrate on what she said. Irritation vibrated through her every word. There was no trace of that sweet Y/N whose voice had filled his ears a little while back.

She was gone. Everything was gone.

"I didn't want to do it," he mumbled. "But I had to." He knew from the beginning that what he wanted to do would win him nothing but Y/N's hatred. But he had to do it for the cost of awakening her and proving her innocence.

Her heart cracked. Her eyes flashed. She was so hurt, angry, horrified, humiliated, and burning with indignation so raw that it was like a fire raging within her. A wildfire of decimated hopes. She wanted to crush his spine in her hand. She wanted him to know what it was like to wound, to inflict such unbearable agony on others. She wanted him to know her pain. She wanted him to hurt. Because maybe Toji was right. Maybe some sorcerers did deserve it.

Unaware of the wrath thrummed through her veins, he wanted to go on and apologize, but what his eyes showed him made every effort meaningless.

"YOU HAD TO DO IT?" Anger curled hot and unstoppable in her gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn her from the inside out. She slammed her hand against the metal bed so loud that the sound resounded in the room. "NO!" An ear-piercing shout filled with terror rang through the damp room as the rotting, crumbling walls rattled. "ALL YOU HAD TO WAS TRUST ME!" She yelled and quickly spun around to send a blade-edged blast of blood to Satoru without even looking at him. "YOU HAD TO BELIEVE ME!" She struck him again with her blood no longer cared to spill. Fury had overpowered her. "YOU HAD TO STAY WITH ME!" Her pain traveled up and out of her chest, mixed with frustration, guilt, and despair. Another blood blade mixed with rage rippled through her. "YOU HAD TO BE THERE!" The next blow was weaker than the previous ones. She had lost much blood, and it seemed she didn't intend to bring it back into her body. What was she doing to herself? "YOU HAD TO BE A … GOOD FATHER!" Her voice cracked while saying it. She gave up and dropped to her knees. "You…had…to…be…a…good…father." Her voice trailed off as she sent one last blow.

Y/N was on her knees, her body cracking from the pain she had swallowed so many times, heaving with sobs she could no longer suppress. The agony of his past of the past weeks ripped her skin to shreds.

Satoru knew that these strokes could not hurt him, but what hurt him was the fact that Y/N had only targeted his heart. How much do you have to break a woman in love to turn her into your nemesis?

She looked paler and thinner than the last time he had seen her. His Six Eyes showed him her racing pulse and heavy breaths, almost as if she would burst. So he let her last shot, the weakest, cut off his palm. A reminder of the cruelty he had committed that even Reversed Cursed technique wouldn't cure.

There was blood all over the floor. Her once-white gown was now stained red and brown. His hair was still wet but sticky due to blood spatter. Her tears never spilled. She held them with deep breaths, focusing on the grinding pain in her knees and hands to distract her thoughts.

The sound of the strides reached her ears, and before she could retire, he knelt before her. She slowly lifted her head, and her eyes finally met him after weeks. Her blows had done him no harm. Just a little scratch off his hand. She didn't even realize she was shivering until her eyes caught a glace on her fingers. She was ashamed. She was ashamed of her weakness, but a part of her didn't care.

She was no longer the Y/N he knew. She had turned into a different person. Quite different than he remembered. It was as if she were an egg, cracked open and poured out, and all that was left were the tiny fragments of a hard shell.

Y/N had become stronger, and it was no surprise for Satoru. In the end, he aroused her hate on purpose to make her stronger, didn't he? But how come her wounds hadn't been healed? Or rather, why wouldn't she want her injuries cured? "I know you hate me, and you should. But we should get you to the infirmary."  Deep concern was embedded in his expression, hunched over and with a sense of loss so powerful that his muscles wouldn't respond to commands. Shoko's words kept repeating in his head. "Your love is fatal for her. You shouldn't even touch her!"

Nobody could understand how he would do anything, throw it all away just to save her.

"Get away from me!" Her eyes were dull and empty, yet they told a story of sadness. She held so much agony in her eyes that he could almost touch her soul's scars and cry. Her shoulders were slumped, and her breathing was slow, as if her heart barely wanted to beat.

He wanted to hold her tightly, squeezing her between his arms and kissing away all the pain in her eyes. He wanted to sit in this blood bath, and she let him kiss her, kiss her, and kiss her. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness, but a sudden certainty struck his chest like a cold fist. He knew he had caused so much pain that she probably wished she was fortunate never to know him, that she was one of the billions of people in the world who didn't know he existed.

He was sure that she wanted to turn back the clock, go to the beginning, to New Year's Day he kissed her for the first time. Maybe she wouldn't open the door for him and never fall in love. Plus, he couldn't even touch her. He dropped his raised hand to his knee, desperate. His body had no idea how to react in such a situation. So he lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Y/N." Words slid out of his mouth. "I let you down," he paused. The empty, emotionless expression swept over his face as the moment's realization gradually seeped in. It was as though a giant boulder had landed on him, and he couldn't straighten out.

Y/N could almost reach, and touch the guilt growing on his shoulders. She had to ball her fists to control the thrills tripping her heart. She was almost too distracted by the feel of his voice to understand the significance of what he was saying.

A heavy sigh. She felt him shift in the darkness, and soon his body was too close, so disarmingly close to hers.

"I let our daughter down," he said, his voice quiet. He hung his head and let the tears flow. He lost a child, too. He was also grieving. And even before he could lament or punish himself for being such a coward, he had to let go of his child's mother as well. He had to lose her forever. Silent tears spilled over and flowed down his face like a river escaping a dam.

When she saw him, broken with crying eyes, she wanted to rip her heart out and feed it to him because she knew he no longer had one of his own, but she was no different than him—a state of misery that had no end. No parent should experience the death of their child.

She remembered all the moments she missed his skin, his smell, his feet, his hands, her hands on him, his heart, his tenderness, his touch, his stubbornness, his bitchiness, his favorites, his insights, his outsights, his power, his force, his wait, his food, his smile, his muscles, his hair, his secret places, his closeness, his distance, his problems, his troubles, his sweat, his tears, his spit, his occupation, his protection his brutality, his dark, his light, his cock, his laughter, his moan, his curse, his walk, his move, his needs, his fun, his peace, his war, his gifts, his dreams, his desires, his sex, his attitude, his cockiness, his smirk, his strength, his weakness, his history, his past, his future, his beauty, his ugliness, his truth, his lies, and his eyes.

There was something in his eyes. Worry? Sorrow? Appeal? She wanted to forget that she was supposed to hate him, that he betrayed her, that he worked with the same people trying to destroy the very little that was left of her family. She wanted to wash her soul in the bottomless blue of his eyes.

BUT NO. She couldn't delude herself anymore. She had to be careful not to look at his eyes, not to let her imagination cripple her. Not here. Not now.

 If he hadn't done what he did, maybe she could have hugged him, and they would have cried together. But she didn't feel that way. He killed her family members, and now the scale of her anger was heavier than her forgiveness.

Her eyes remained upon him. Sometimes a look between two people can last so long that it shakes you and forces you to look the other way. Did he still have a place in her heart? It didn't matter! Satoru Gojo was nothing but a murderer. He was the hardest lesson she ever had to learn. Her nails dug into her palm. "Why did you kill them?" She looked at his injured hand.

He clenched his jaw, and his shoulders dropped in resignation. "Because I love you." That was one pathetic confession. He knew you don't get to say I love you after ruining someone's life. All the bridges behind them were destroyed, and there was no path back. He had no home.

Suddenly the sound of Y/N's laughter filled the cold room. She guffawed like this was the dumbest thing she had ever heard in her entire life. Did he think he could get away with this absurd emotional game? No! Not this time! Not today! Not when those two dead bodies were lying behind her! "You killed them because you love me?" She scoffed.

The sting of agony in her voice made him flinch internally, but he remained as stoic as possible. Her laugh once made him feel like everything was beautiful, but at this moment, it sent a shiver down his spine. Just as her hysteric laughter had started, it suddenly stopped. She drew her face close to his. He could feel her warm breath on his nose. "No, fuck, you don't!" She was looking right into his eyes. All six of them. "You love being loved!" She raised her index finger in front of his face and watched how his Adam's apple tightened. "You're a fucking greedy man-whore who just likes sucking the life out of people, and it fucking hurts!" Her voice quivered. Her knuckles turned white.

Now, now, do you remember the story about eagles? Well, it's a myth, a made-up story. Eagles do not live for 70 years, more like 30 in the wild; they do not lose their beak and never go through a rebirth stage. But let's accept that the story was so inspirational, right? It's as if you could survive great pain, you would be born again. It looks like Y/N had had enough too.

"I love you, Y/N."

She had realized love was too strong of a word to have used so soon. "NO, YOU DON'T!" The next thing Satoru felt was Y/N's fists landing on his chest. "STOP-SAYING-THAT!" She was hitting him with all her remaining strength. None of these strokes affected him but seeing his eyes hurt him more than a thousand punches. Sadness. A word that can be used to describe her eyes in various ways.

"YOU-DON'T-LOVE-ME!" She tapped again and again and again. Even the blood on her hands didn't rub off on his uniform. "YOU-FUCKING-LEFT-ME!" Her breaths became harder and harder to control, as if her lungs had stopped expanding, but this didn't stop her from hitting his chest. "WHEN-I-" she paused. "WHEN-I-NEEDED-YOU!"

Her shouts were tearing his heart apart. He wanted to grab her hands and stop her, not because of himself, but because he was worried about her, but on the other hand, he knew he deserved worse. So his hands remained as they stood beside him.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't catch the oxygen around her and be dry-heaving into her gown. She could feel it through her body, that feeling of tiredness and lethargy. It was like drowning in the air. She stopped tapping him, sucked in a rush of air, and brought her hand to the base of her throat.

There was still no tear in her eyes. Y/N was no different from a rock. She didn't know if she had officially lost her mind. "If someone loves you, wouldn't do some shit like that."

Satoru's hands clenched, but in a second, they unclenched. She was right. When you love someone, you protect them from the pain. You don't become the cause of it.

Y/N raised her head in a gasp. When he met her red-rimmed eyes, they were a reflection of his own. They were broken and lost and stared at him with a hatred that he never thought would fit in her heart.

"You're fucking dead to me." She pushed him back. "You sucked the life out of me, and there is nothing there anymore!"

Satoru shook his head in denial, but something grew inside him like her words sank and expanded in his chest. Instead of accepting, he preferred to be killed by her than to live and know that he planted such a grudge in her heart. But fate was a bitch, and even this option wasn't available. Because according to their Binding Vow, if Y/N killed him, she would die as well, and Satoru didn't want that for her. This world needed people like her. His students needed her. He needed her. She was the best anyone could have in their life, yet his actions had turned her into the woman he was facing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, but then her eyes dropped to her pale and cold hands, washed with blood.

"You know, I have a lot of regrets in my life; I had told you about them," she said and glanced behind to her brothers. Dead brothers. Then she turned and smiled maniacally. "But I got to tell you." She tapped her finger on his heart. "Not killing you in that bar is got to be at the top of my list!"

As she spoke those words, she realized her anger was not as furious as it had been a few moments ago. It felt different. It was slow and cold. As soon as she sensed it, she realized those words had been hidden within her for a long time and crystallized as a pond that slowly froze entirely on a long winter night.

And this was it. The last nail in the coffin. Now she could feel his anguish. She could feel the power pouring out of his body. She could hear his heart beating in her ear and her head spinning with the rush of adrenaline fortifying her being.

She wished it hurt her. She wanted it maimed her. She hoped it repulsed her. She wished she hated the potent cursed energy wrapping itself around her skeleton. But she didn't. Her skin was pulsing with her lover's sorrow, and she didn't hate it.

She hated herself for enjoying it.

His pain gave her a pleasure she had never asked for. But unlike what she expected, it didn't taste sweet, maybe because his pain was still hers too. Maybe because part of her still thought the whole thing was another one of her nightmares. Maybe because part of her still wanted to believe that the man she loved would never commit such cruelty to her. He was the one who brought light into her darkness so she would not be lost in the shadow of her past, but then he was also the one who squashed that light.

She didn't look at him to see his expression. She placed her hand on her chest. Her heart must be bleeding out of her chest, but when she looked down, she couldn't understand why there was no fresh blood on her gown, why this pain in her heart felt so real.

Her body had lost its strength. Her mind had shattered, and the rest of her followed suit. This hatred devoured her, but without it, she would die. There wasn't any part of her that felt anything else. Without it, she would be nothing, feel nothing, so why eat? Why sleep? Why continue to breathe? So she had to hate. It was the fuel that kept her heart pumping and brain ticking over. But she was weary, too. She could hardly hold herself together.

"Satoru," Y/N called his name for the first time. It took her a lot to call him by his name.    She looked at his face. Tears had gushed in his eyes, like storms agitating the oceans. This face once belonged to a boy who went to the brink of death to save a schoolgirl. A boy that had to burden weights so heavy for his shoulders. Then there was the regretful face of the man who had killed his friend. A man who never seemed to be truly happy. And now it was the face of a man who….

Satoru was just glad to hear his name out of her mouth, but that didn't last long. He watched as Y/N reached out and took his hand. He couldn't feel her touch.

Y/N was barely breathing, nervous and petrified but somehow counting the drops of tears tumbling over the hills and valleys of his mouth. She wanted to memorize the shape of his lips, the strong lines of his face, the eyelashes any girl would kill for, and the ocean blue of his eyes that she had learned to swim. She could almost feel his lips breathing before her lungs. She could almost taste him on her tongue.

He didn't resist when she raised his hand and folded her second and third fingers tightly. He couldn't understand. His mind wanted to reject all possibilities. She then looked at his face and carried his hand to her throat. Her world had grown so dark that she no longer wanted to live in it.

No. No. No. He would rather die than do that. He tried to pull his hand out of hers, but her grip tightened. Her nails would scrape his skin if it weren't for Infinity. "You took everything from me."

"No!" His voice was a fearful plea. He was a stone's throw away from going insane. He shook his head.

"You were supposed to kill me, remember? Think as if it's just a delayed execution." She didn't have the energy to come up with the right words. She just needed to be free, or her curse would follow her everywhere. It was like a scream that couldn't be stifled, a stinging numbness that would never go away. "Kill me too. There's a meaning to that."

"Stay away from my sister!" shouted Yuji, and he stood in between with inhuman speed. He picked her up and kept her behind him. He had heard the news and knew what his Sensei had done. Now seeing his hand on her throat, it was not surprising for him to be concerned for the life of someone he believed was his sister. How? It didn't matter at this point.

With wide eyes, Y/N stared at Yuji's hand, which had held hers firmly. Why didn't she feel any pain? Why were Yuji's hands so familiar? Her eyes moved and stayed fixed on the pink-haired boy standing in front of his Sensei, trying to protect her. Did her ears hear correctly? Did he call her his sister?

"Yuji, I would never harm her!"

"Like you didn't hurt my brothers?" He pointed at the corpses.

What was going on? But before she could conclude, she felt dizzy, and with a smile on her face, she fainted. Her body never touched the floor. Her little brother caught her. Maybe she still had something to lose.

Tag list: @hecateria @whattowritewhattonot @readxeer00 @sunamew @yoongi-holland @sanokana @soft--grunge--burrito @move-in-mysterious-ways @tanu003097 @spookytreeeagle @wonderlandjthedaydreamer @littlecarrot06 @kurooyy @angeliccutie007 @misaki17 @yungliddysyx @nanamiswh0r3 @smokeyfuzz @sumii @zukisbabe @geidly @evalynanne @antheialy

#gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fanfic #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo x you #gojo smut #satoru gojou smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojou x reader #gojou angst #satoru gojo fluff #jjk smut #satoru gojo x y/n #gojou smut #gojo satoru x y/n #saturo gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo sex #gojo fluff #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x oc #gojou satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

[nanamimizz]

Hello! For your 1k event, I would like to request special grade with Gojo Satoru <3 The inspo is Estelle & AJ Michalka's Here Comes A Thought song: Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust. My preferred pronouns are she/her and I'd like to be referred as lynn/sweetie. Please and thank you in advance Lamb ^w^~

NOT A GOD IN NEED OF YOUR LOVE

Despite all that would say Satoru Gojo is not a god. He is not the divine, he is not an idol to be worshiped - merely a man born to replace Atlas the titan in his burden of holding the sky of expectations on his back as his legs give and shake from the cuts tragedy leaves him with. Everyone sees Satoru as what he lets them see - he’s arrogant, frivolous, and annoying but undoubtedly the strongest. No one sees what Satoru shows you; that is by design, he can’t bear himself to others, and the cruelty and irony of the world won’t let him.

But then, there’s you.

You are his constant, the only person who has stood by his side when fate has taken everything from him and left him a script of who he must be and not who he wants to be. You’re his betrothed, he’s known you for all his life so maybe that’s what he can attribute his love to. He always knew you were there, through the absence of his parents, the betrayal of his true friend - there you remained, unmarred by the cruel rake of time.

Satoru comes to you, the day before Christmas, his head down and you know why. You two are arranged - the marriage date looming over you two in the spring but you know that’s not it. He has to walk through the street to get here, where the betrayal of his life happened. Though the years have passed, the wounds on his guarded heart still ache. The night that he left, dark hair disappearing into the night, and Satoru came to you eyes red from despair you promised you’d bring your fiance his head, ridding the one single thorn that haunts the life of the man you loved.

You let him in, and watch as he phases into your apartment like a ghost - it suits his pale hair and skin. He shuffles to your room and you here the padded flop of his body meeting your bed and you go to the kitchen, knowing what it his he needs. Coco powder, the kind with added vanilla and is so powdery taking a breath near it makes you hack as you taste it in the back of your throat. Shuffling from your room makes you sigh fondly, you can see him now - Satoru who look likes a little boy again, lanky form curling up like a cat around your pillows and covers his face with your pillows.

The milk is warm, and you pour the powder into the warm cup - if Satoru had ears and a tail, you wonder if they would perk and wang at the tinkling of the spoon against the mug. You place the spoon in the side of the sink for dirty dishes, and make your way to the bedroom. Your sock clad feet make soft sounds against the wooden flooring of your apartment and you huff at the blob you see in your sheets.

You also notice how the small bear you’ve had since childhood is peaking next to wisps of white hair. Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you hold out the mug - an open invitation for Satoru. He’s always loved having a choice, you always seek to give him one. You smile softly at how first his hand peeks under the covers, then his head emerges and you see him take the mug. He brings it close, as if the warmth from the ceramic would soothe the ache from the part of his heart you know you can’t fill. His palm, larger than yours, opens itself up to you and you rest your own hand there, bringing his hand to you and you kiss it.

“Did something happen?” you ask, voice soft. He shakes his head, and he drinks from the mug. You watch him from your eyelashes as he enjoys the overly sweet drink. You find him adorable unfortunately, you like how he puts the mug to his wind bitten cheek and he looks at you from under the length of his hair.

“I thought I saw him. It was just someone else but - you live close by and he knows about you, so I thought…” There’s a crack in his voice and his lips twist into a pained pout, like just saying what he assumed had happened was too horrible to say. You bump into his shoulder, squeezing his hand once then twice and letting go.

“It’s okay Satoru.” He leans in and puts his head on your shoulder, letting his forehead rest against the bone of your body and tries to dispel the fears that raced through his mind. Your hand comes up and caresses his locks.

“He won’t be able to find me, it’s okay.” you soothe him, voice like a wind chime in june and he nods, your apartment is sealed and armed to the teeth. Nothing and no one you don’t want to get in can get in, the conditions of your technique you added to your home and he’s relieved that you can protect yourself to this extent.

“Thank you.” he says quietly and you know what the soft candace of his voice means, you encourage him to finish the mug and you keep your gaze on him - long white eyelashes, high cheekbones and soft lips and you sigh. You let go of his hand in favor of rubbing his cheek with your knuckles and he leans into the softness of your skin.

“You worry me sometimes.” You mutter.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He says. Nothing else can be said.

“Stay here tonight. It’ll do you some good.” You say as you reach over for the empty mug. He nodes and pull it out of reach with a small but playful smile. You huff at his antics but let him have his way, it’s been a rough night for him.

“I’ll wash it, let’s go to bed.” You nod and climb over him, settling down in your sheets, watching as he gets up to turn the lights off. You like how he has to bend down a little when he walks through the doorways of your place, it’s cute. He comes back and slides into your bed, you had to buy a bigger one for him back in the day.

Blue eyes meet yours and they blink 3 times.

‘Goodnight.’

A smaller hand fits into his and squeezes it 3 times.

‘Goodnight.’

#lamb’s 1.k event #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk. ♡ #gojo. ♡ #SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE #i had a hard time getting an idea for this #so im sorry for how long it took but i hope you like it none the less 🫶🫶🫶🫶 #thank you for being paitent with me!!!!

[g-on-ef]

Your Eyes Tell

☾~☆~❀~☆~☽

A/N: after a long, long time of me wanting to update this story I have finally got around to update my first goyuu story ^^ I'm so excited to start this fic and I am hoping you guys enjoy what I have in store for you ^^ heads up there might be some oc going but I'll do my hardest to keep them in character ^^ alright enough of my babbling on wit the show ^^ also I was thinking of the movie Wanted when I watched this so if yall seen that movie be prepared to see a reference or two from that movie ^^

☾~☆~❀~☆~☽

Summary: Gojo is an assassin who is hired to kill whomever his client wants dead he's the best at his job and the most sought out killer in the underworld one day he gets a call to kill a stripper because they refused to sleep with the sleazy old man Gojo takes a look at the picture and kills the creepy man once dead he goes and search for the stripper because the stripper is Yuuji Itadori his lost lover who disappeared 5 years ago and had been missing since little does he know Yuuji is hiding something from Gojo something big ...

☾~☆~❀~☆~☽

Chapter 1- prologue

Gojo Satoru stared at the sleazy old man as he ranted about a stripper who refused to sleep with him, complaining how he paid the whore a shit tone of money so he should be able to spread his legs for him regardless of his no touching policy.

Whined as he was forced out the club and the owner refused to refund the large amount of money he spent on that bitch.

Gojo tried his hardest not to throw his head back and let out a noise of annoyance he didn't care to know why his client wanted the whore dead, he just wanted to get this shit over with and be on his way.

Sadly he didn't get his wish as the old man kept going on and on about them and wouldn't shut up.

Deciding he heard enough the silver hair man interrupted his never ending rant,

"Sir, if you want this person dead please just give me their information as quick as possible so I can be done with the job and you can be on your merry way,"

And so can I

"OH right," The old man grabbed the picture that was resting face down on his desk and handed to Gojo.

Ordinarily, Gojo would have his clients send the details of the assassination via email but for some reason his gut was telling him to meet this man in person and decided to listen to it.

Was he regretting it...well he was until he flipped the picture over and saw who his target was.

"Pretty thing, right? Damn you should see when the little whore is dancing got a beautiful body and knows how to use it,"

Gojo remained silent as he continued to stared at the picture.

"It's a shame I didn't get to see exactly how flexible he is,"

"Yeah...such a shame,"

The old man didn't see it coming nor was he prepared for the bullet being shot through his head.

Gojo than folded the photo in half and placed it in his pocket before heading out.

He stepped out of the room pulled his gun out and shot a bullet that was able to go through the three goons outside the office before the bullet curved and shot a fourth one around the corner.

He than stepped outside and without looking shot three more goons and headed to his car.

Once inside he pulled out the picture and stared at the image before him.

The picture was taken without the young man's knowledge as it showed him wearing civilan clothes and was walking through a crowded mall.

He wore an old hoodie that looked oddly familiar, sweat pants, and wore out sneakers. He was talking on the phone and had a huge smile on his face while carrying a bag of what appeared to be clothes from Victoria Secret.

Gojo crumbled the photo before removing his blindfold.

Rage filled his oceanic eyes as the old man's words kept playing through his head.

"Whore,"

"Stripper,"

He tried to calm himself down so he wouldn't do something stupid like go on another killing spree that'll leave a pissed off Nanami and even more pissed off Geto.

After taking deep calming breaths he looked at the picture.

"So...after 5 years I have finally found you Yuuji and when I get my hands on you I'm not letting you go..."

☾~☆~❀~☆~☽

A/N: love it hate tell me what you think ^^ next update will be on the 20th ^^

#goyuu #gojo x yuuji #gojo satoru #yuuji itadori #prompt fill #my writing #your eyes tell #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen

[erigold13261]

Some HCs about NSRverse Shoko bc why not?

-They get along with Noir really well. It's because they both have a pessimistic/pragmatic view of the world while looking chill. (enjoying each other's company too) (Satoru surprisingly gets along with Hobie, after Hobie realized how fucking smart the brat was and Satoru loves to banter with them. Suguru gets along with Margo, and they definitely Judge You In Queer)

-Shoko's parents... are neglectful and controlling. They don't care enough for their kid to realize it is smoking behind their backs, but want to use the kid to climb up the social ladder.

-Although Shoko's parents heavily encouraged them to get in medicine, Shoko genuinely enjoys studying more about powers/medicine

-They knew that Utahime would come in a heartbeat if they asked for help, but didn't. It was because going against the Gojo clan was a really bad idea. (Miles was a bit bummed out to hear that no one in the JJK gang were able to have buddies help to come over)

-Shoko actually doesn't like sweet things, but eats a lot of lollipops to stop smoke cravings.

-Shoko has a slight mad scientist streak. It doesn't like Olivia because she sometimes reminds it of its personal flaws.

-Canonically Shoko has said that it will never have romantic/sexual feelings for Satoru or Suguru. (But in this AU I like to think that SaSiSu are in a QPR, although they don't have a name for their friendship)

Dang these characters are really growing on me

Have a great day/evening!

-Friendships: Noir and Shoko being critical of the world together is something I love! Also Suguru and Margo being friends is so funny but good to me! Satoru and Hobie def have a sort of frenemy vibe going on!

-Parents: Another poor kid with parents using them instead of loving them. It will probably have a lot to talk about in common with the Sayu Crew when/if they all meet.

-Work Study: I can see Shoko finding some interest in medicine, but only because that field helps them understand more about powers to an extent. So they are using their love of powers to help them actually study regular medicine (otherwise it would be too much of a chore to get enough motivation to study by itself).

-Utahime: I can see Miles being bummed out makes Shoko (and maybe the rest of the JJK gang) feel bad because they all think the reason Miles is upset because the revolution was lacking force, while Miles is actually upset that the gang doesn't have as much support and friends directly with them to help support (or something like that). Like yes, Miles would have loved to have more forces, but in honestly I can see him just wanting the JJK gang to have more support that was closer to them (that the gang had more history with, because the gang still had support from the Arachnikids, but that's not the same as like a lifetime friend or family support).

-Sweets: Shoko forcing itself to eat sweet things to get over cravings probably isn't going to help it as much as it does with Noir who does like sweet things. Apparently just being able to chew on something can help reduce the craving to smoke, so maybe Shoko ends up eating a bunch of raw vegetables, like carrots or celery to help reduce cravings while not forcing sugary sweet things into its mouth.

-Mad scientist: If Shoko knows Jurassic Park, or is shown it, I can see it loving the line "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn't stop to think if they should." I don't know why that is what came to my brain but it is. Shoko loves science but wants to figure out when enough is enough and when to not push things too far (something Olivia is absolutely okay with ignoring to push science).

-Feelings: You can still be in a QPR without being romantically or sexually involved with someone! QPRs are very flexible and just about any relationship can actually fit into a QPR. Shoko cares deeply about Satoru and Suguru, enough to possibly spend the rest of its life with them, possibly move in together, maybe even help them raise a kid if that is ever an option. All of this can be done without ever having romantic/sexual feelings for the other two. Shoko still loves them, but in a different way from how Satoru and Suguru love each other (and they love it just as much as it loves them, just in a different way!)

And you have a good day too!

#jjktalk #spidertalk #eriverse #eritalks #noart #asks #gonna be honest #it's been a bit since i say u/tahime's name #almost forgot about them #so i'll need to make sure to add their name to my little j/jk cheat sheet #so i remember

[suna-reversed]

JJK || tiktok prank where you put them in s*x positions

(Yuuji, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Naoya)

warnings/tags: suggestive content, crack || all characters are aged up

A/N: this is so bad i apologise, I basically saw a tiktok where this girl puts her boyfriend in different sex positions under the guise of yoga, and now here we are😭 (this is “child’s pose” btw)

Yuuji :

genuinely excited to try out yoga positions with you, it’s like one of those “cute couple things” for him.

“Okay, so I get on all fours like this?”

“Uh huh, and then you just press your head forward in between your arms and arch your back.”

“Ahh, I definitely feel the stretch...wait, why aren’t you doing it?”

You die laughing while babyboy is just confused. Wakes you up at 12 am when he sees it on his tiktok feed and you’re confused as to why his hands are kneading the flesh of your thighs while he looks at you worriedly.

“I never thought you felt that much of a burn in your thighs while doing that.” 🥺

Megumi :

god knows how you’ve gotten him to agree to this, and even then, it’s still very begrudging agreement. Plus, you have to dress up in full yoga gear for him to actually take you seriously.

“Okay so this one is called a ‘froggy hop’. You squat down low and then you bounce- but keep your feet on the ground.”

He had sensed that you were upto something from the start so he’s pretty quick to catch onto it, the sincere concentration on his face turning into a scowl as he realises it “mid-hop”.

You’d be tackled down on the couch within seconds, him groaning into your neck in embarrassment, while you’re still laughing.

“We’re never-ever doing yoga again.”

“Sure sure, whatever you say ‘gumi!”

Your eyes widen, laughter dying down a bit as his hands pin your hands above your head, pout still evident on his face as he mumbles,

“I don’t think I mind the yoga pants though.”

Gojo :

we’ve all seen this man and his giraffe legs, so this was basically a way for him to show off his “flexibility”. Plus, he makes the effort to wear one of your yoga pants. When you mock him- he simply declares that you’re jealous his ass looks better in it.

“Huh? I’ve never heard of this one before- but it’s nothing Gojo Satoru can’t handle.”

He’s so dramatic with his movements, full on pokes his ass out while he bends his knees on the couch and holds onto the arm of it.

“Okay now you just put one of your leg up and arch your back- yup just like that.”

“Oh-”

Your attempt at running away is butchered by the 6’3 man throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom, a loud smack being delivers to your ass midway.

“Well, let’s see if you can handle a little more yoga for the rest of the night.”

Nanami :

another one who begrudgingly agrees, and you think it’s because of the rant you went on about the “stress-relieving” benefits of yoga, but in reality he saw you so excited about something and simply couldn’t deny you.🥺🥺

“Okay, so now we put our legs up into the air, and then you just press them to your chest.”

“Is this some new type of yoga? I can’t say I’m familiar with any that we’ve done today.”

Nanami still does it though, and you feel a little bad but at the same time you’re trying so hard to stifle a giggle that you end up snorting instead.

It all clicks pretty quickly after that. And before you know it, you’re being pulled on top of the man, his hand sliding inside the back of your shirt, a lazy but knowing smile resting on his lips as he says,

“Well, my love, allow me to teach you of the yoga positions I know about.”

Toji :

he will not do it. period. and you’d end up pouting and telling him about the prank.

“Ok, we’ll do it-”

“Really?!”

“...but you wear those grey yoga pants and I get to put you in the positions.”

“That’s just...regular sex in yoga pants Toji.”

“Exactly, now go change.”

“...”😐😐

“I’ll get you takeout afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Sukuna :

you’d probably have to sell your soul or something for it to happen- orr really hurt his ego.

“You’re just scared your ancient curse body can’t handle it.”

(Safe to say, your body was not able to handle what came afterwards). But, here you were in your living room later, the curse smirking while looking up at you from the floor where he laid in “child’s pose”.

He was a little suspicious from the start anyways, and it all came to him as he waited for you to look a little defeated, only to find you clutching your chest from laughter instead.

“Oh, so you think you’re the boss now huh?”

He made sure he took you in all those positions combined and more 😀

Naoya :

“yes, you just bend over the couch like that, and put your head on your forearms.”

You realise you’ve finally got him in a vulnerable position.

Seeing your chance, you kick him in the ass before driving a knife through his back. Then you run away to find a much better man (perhaps King Kita who drinks respect-women juice, unlike the fucking doormat you were dating.)

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #sukuna x reader #megumi x reader #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #yuuji x reader #naoya x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #jjkxreader #jujutsu kaisen crack #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen drabble

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #fushiguro megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #feral megumi #suki: 500 milestone event

[shesinmy]

Hey!!! How are you?

I hope you're well

I can request JJK characters with a s/o that has the physique like Kanroji Mitsuri (from Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer)

In Kimetsu no Yaiba's manga, Mitsuri ripped Muzan's arm off quickly with all her strength (Her strength is equivalent to 8x an ordinary man)

The s/o could hold her strength and use a weapon like Mitsuri's (a sword that can be used as a whip) and look cute and innocent (appearance only), and also have flexibility (like Mitsuri)

They could have discovered her strength through a fight against an unidentified special level cursed spirit in which she would have forgotten her weapon and then resorted to physical strength and used all her strength.

I'm sorry if something is spelled wrong, I'm using Google Translate because I'm afraid of spelling something wrong and/or with the wrong meaning of what I wanted to say, my native language is Brazilian Portuguese

And I'm sorry for sending lots of pictures, and talking about some ideas of things s/o could use/look like and how the characters discovered her strength

And I'm putting the s/o pronouns as feminine because I'm kind of used to using feminine pronouns to call the reader (And I think the neutral pronouns strange (much more the ones in Brazil where they use U/X/I))

If you don't want to make this request, then you can delete it.

JJK WITH PHYSICAL SUPER STRONG AND FLEXIBLE S/O

Warning: suggestive

1. Gojo Satoru: he thinks you are the owner of the world. He tells everyone about the amazing things you can do and how you easily defeated that stupid curse. He also let you do the missions while he just sits watching the show. "My Mochimochi, sure is the strongest s/o of the strongest Gojo Satoru". He surely uses this on bed.

2. Nanami Kento: he finds it really hot. He specially loves when you use your legs to defeat the enemy. So much so that he is standing there staring you in awe. You were one of the reasons for him to go back to jujutsu's world. He just wanted to see you fighting everyday.

3. Itadori Yuji: oh, this boy is the happiest boy in the world. He wants to train with you, spar with you, go on missions with you. He wants to do everything possible to see you using your strength. It was love at first kick.

4. Fushiguro Megumi: he wonders if you came from the Zenin family. He still can't believe that such raw power is possible to even exist. He wants to study you by giving you lot of challenges and seeing how far you can go. He is always impressed and flustered, ending his research on the bedroom.

5. Kugisaki Nobara: she loves it. She does thousands different posts showing your fight moves. She also walks around with you making people recognize your value. Whenever someone give her a side look she comes with a "My Y/n here is going to destroy you in a blink of an eye".

6. Inumaki Toge: he likes to pass his fingers on your muscles gently drawing their lines. He loves when you carry him around, he abuses from your strength. He also puts you to spar against Panda betting on who's gonna win. He always bets on you because he knows the s/o he has is something out of this world.

7. Okkotsu Yuta: the first time he saw you fighting he was speechless. He burns inside seeing how you can keep up with him by only using your amazing strong body. So he loves to spar with you. It always ends with him turned on though.

THIS WAS FUN! I hope I could get everything you meant. Let me know if something was missing or if you want more development anywhere!! And brazilian here recognize your brazilian there ahhahahhaa :))))

#jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jujutsu headcanons #jujutsu reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #itadori x reader #megumi x reader #kugisaki x reader #inumaki x reader #okkotsu x reader

[fishstyx]

featuring. college au!gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru

wc. 9.2k

genre. dark/taboo, smut, angst

tw. 18+ nsfw, non/dubcon, toxic/abusive relationships, manipulation, victim blaming, dry humping, penetration, masturbation, irresponsible practice of bdsm, hair pulling, mild exhibitionism, size kink (both 6’3”, gojo can lift you), implied corruption kink, degradation, creampie, intoxication/alcohol, incel behavior, misogyny, dacryphilia

synopsis.

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

notes. title inspo: love the way you lie (eminem, rihanna). you’re dating gojo, a charming, manipulative, self-entitled bastard. geto is, of course, his best friend, written as an aloof, self-righteous, bitter incel. please stay safe, read all the warnings, and enjoy. this is the most personal fic i have to offer. it draws from not-so-savory past relationships... i hope it remains the only testament to them. <3

links. broken toys. (sequel)

You were stunned into silence when he first suggested it.

And how couldn’t you be? Any sane person would, or at least should, have recoiled at the proposition. Isn’t that right?

But he makes it seem so harmless, so innocent, somehow. Like it’s no big deal, far from uncharacteristic for either of you—just a walk around campus, nothing new there. He tells you this like you’re overreacting, slow on the uptake, taking far too long to reach a final decision. The rational part of your mind says it’s out of the option. But the irrational part is louder, all-consuming, domineering.

The irrational part says, out of all your options, it’s the only viable one.

“Come on, babygirl. What’s the harm of trying it out once?”

It’s always this way, always has been. He takes your hands in his with a dramatic swell, the sparkle in his eyes big and bright and gleaming, and you bite back the urge to pull away. You would break your gaze if you could, if he didn’t look so determined, if that twinkling blue galaxy wasn’t sweltering with hope and adoration. But you can’t, and he does, and it just about swallows you whole. 

The fact of the matter is, Gojo Satoru wants to take you out on a leash today.

Never mind today; he wanted this yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that, never one to shy away from his desires as you deliberated the entire time. By now he’s asked you to do this one, single thing for him far more times than you can count—initially playing it off as a joke, slowly feeling you out, gradually seeing how far he could push and pull until you explicitly told him no.

Except it’s never just one, single thing with him, and you—with the way you dance around the topic, hoping to give him the illusion that you might give in, or perhaps yourself the illusion of control—you never say no.

A simple line of defense, yes. Even you agree with that. But its execution? Around Gojo, it seems anything but.

Geto would beg to differ.

Geto.

The only other person privy to your latest concerns. The only other person you can bear knowing. And he’d be disappointed if only he could see you now.

Who are you kidding? He’s already disappointed.

A vague outline was all you gave him. A vague outline, you knew, not-so-deep down in your heart, was all you dare tell him—or anyone at all, really.

Because, sure, you’ve adopted a rather experimental lifestyle around Gojo, but that was supposed to be private. Reserved for behind closed doors, you thought, until now.

You were right in that the brooding brunette didn’t need every last grueling detail of Gojo’s newest request. He’s his best friend; he’s seen you at every single step of your whirlwind relationship together. The fervid beginnings, when the two of you couldn’t be physically separated, let alone in different rooms from each other. The ups and the downs, each one more intense than the last, each one blowing up in your faces before you ran back into each other’s arms and kissed and made up. You knew that much.

What you didn’t foresee, however, even as you recounted your latest grievance to him, was that nothing you were saying was new. To Geto it was regurgitated rhetoric, distorted and distressed, yesterday’s news—whereas you saw it as a unique conquest, a new hurdle to overcome.

“It almost amazes me how you can come up with so many new ways to say the same old thing,” he said, slanted eyes dull with apathy as they panned away from yours. “Almost.”

You could only choke on your words in response.

What Geto told you next is now a hushed murmur in the back of your head. It reverberates against your skull, pinballing against the walls of all that empty space and showing no signs of slowing down. It tells you to just say the magic word and it’ll be over, every last bit of Gojo’s borderline demands, washing away all of that white noise if only you’d breathe some life into it. That one word, the one that plagues your mind night and day, it begins to materialize upon your lips, poised and ready to spring into action, flexing on the tip of your tongue as if it were a wind-up toy. 

Just say it already.

Just say no.

But you’re always holding your tongue around the both of them, together or alone, whether on the bony roof of your mouth or its flexible, fleshy floor, biting your words back for an eternity and more. Perhaps you were only faking yourself out, simply going through—no, barely feinting at the motions so you can come back to this chapter of your life and say that you tried. The moment passes, the pause your boyfriend gave at the sight of your mouth ajar long over, his words beginning to bleed into your reality once more.

And he’s saying, “I bought such a cute collar for you, too,” voice rising and falling with lovelorn disappointment. You can’t help but wince at his gentle timbre, all too painfully aware that such a small investment is far from the root of Gojo’s displeasure. You can hear it in his tone, too, how his carefree singsong runs steely as his thoughts begin to wander, settling on a resigned indifference.

So you wander, too. Tear your eyes from his in search of something, anything that might lend a reason to divert your gaze. Your fingers encircle white leather before you realize it, turning the thin strip over in absentminded idle, silver o-ring jingling in place. The metallic clank doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You should at least try it on before I return it, don’t you think?” 

And you can’t find it in your heart to disagree, stiff choker tightening around your neck as he fumbles with the clasp. You trace the sanded edges before latching a finger—two fingers—beneath the leather material. 

Perfect. 

Perfectly irritating. Irritatingly perfect. It sits in the center of your neck without slipping, just snug enough that you can still breathe easy, comfortable and almost disturbingly so. 

“Well?”

White lashes flutter idly as he considers your reflection as if studying it. And with the hint of a smile behind you, large hands on your waist in the mirror’s image, you start to think for the first time that the collar really is a pretty number, and a shame and a waste to throw away. 

Because he looks so pleased now, creased cheeks and crinkled eyelids as he smooths his palms over your hips, like maybe you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever held. Because instead of the pouting you’ve come to expect, the declarations that you’re “no fun,” or that you’re “overreacting,” or that you need to “relax” you’ve come to accept, he simply brushes your hair to the side and rests his cheek against yours, warm breath just about tickling your chin.

It begs the question.

“Will you love me more if I do this for you?”

And it sends his eyes into a frenzied state, hungry void for pupils swallowing crystal irises with unabating greed, all frisky lashes and overeager ridges. 

Ideally, he’d take your hands in his, tell you that that wasn’t his intention at all and beg for your forgiveness. Ideally, he’d hold you close, say that he loves you no matter what and promise to never push you this far again. You know all of these self-evident truths and more, yet you still can’t stop your heart from skipping a beat when he tells you, voice hushed in awe, triumph washing over you in spite of yourself:

“Of course I will.”

It’s different when you actually go through with it.

You try not to regret your decision immediately when you’re chained to Gojo’s hand in public, dog leash swinging in the wind as you round the campus loop. What a waste of a beautiful day for you to be hanging your head low, tips of your ears burning with shame. You don’t even believe that you’ve agreed to this yourself as you search the faces ahead of you for a trace of anyone you might know, pushing down the urge to cross your fingers behind your back.

But Gojo himself? He loves the lingering stares to tiny little pieces, practically basks in the attention as he pushes his sunglasses back so they rest above his hairline. Airy tufts of white spill over the tinted lenses, billowy strands coming to rest upon his forehead. When you think of it as your gorgeous boyfriend showing you off, it makes it all a little more bearable, has you standing up a little straighter. But your heart nearly stops every time you think you recognize the passerby, and eventually you dread the sight of absolutely anyone in the distance, for fear they will finally be a person who knows and calls you by name.

Gojo takes quick notice, realizes you hardly want to take another step in this undignified manner, and thinks to himself that there must be a better way to go about the arrangement.

His solution is to turn your walk of shame into a crawl of shame.

“On your fours,” he says, delighted when you actually crouch to the pavement, thankful for an excuse to hide your face. He ruffles your hair and slaps your hand away when you try to pull your skirt down, enamored by the way it rides up and reveals the lacy material below. You suppose it’s a trade-off you’ll just have to take, and in a confession that gets caught up your throat, you don’t wholly mind it: the pairs of eyes you can feel burning through you, though real or imagined you can’t be entirely sure. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were Gojo. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were you.

In the corner of your eye, you think you see someone sneaking a picture, but you don’t dare lift your head for a closer look. Instead you track the ground for rubble, hoping you’ll get away without scraping your knees, shaky line for a pair of lips as micro cuts come to crisscross your legs.

The rest of the walk is spent with you crawling the ground, light breeze tickling your backside, every part of you flaunted as if you’re Gojo’s most prized possession. You had better be, you think to yourself as you circle back to his building, and luckily enough, he’s about to make good on that expectation. 

Maybe it’s the collar around your neck, or maybe it’s the surge of relief you get from returning, but by the time you meet the first glass door, you’re aching for whatever Gojo’s planned next.

He’s moving on predatory instinct the second you’ve set foot in his apartment, flushed lips curling around your own as soon as he pulls you up from all fours. A hollow knock sounds behind you as your heels strike the door, lower lip traced with a wet warmth until you’re gracious enough to grant him full access. He easily cages you with his entire frame, pressing that cute pink muscle in your mouth flat before writhing his own to the rhythm of his heartbeat, booming and ricocheting and alive.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you, of course, his hands beginning to roam all over your pliable form, all over his property, skirting along your outline and creeping closer still to the innermost curves of your contour cutout. Flitting fingers brush against your navel, dancing lower as you suck your tummy in by reflex, stopping right before the tingling bundle of nerves that just might explode as soon as he touches them. 

But he takes pause instead, presses his forehead flush against yours, jewel colored eyes waiting on you with intent. You swear they can see right through you, even sheathed behind a cluster of wild white lashes, gauge everything there is to know about you faster than you can say “blue.” The moment freezes over, two bodies still and unmoving until you suddenly remember your need for air, gasping when you realize you’ve been holding your breath. 

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

Your body bounces back from the force with which he tosses you into the mattress, giggles erupting from your throat when he climbs atop of you, tugging at your leash. A thin stripe of saliva trails up and down the column of your neck, laving intermittently over the leather that encases your flesh. A coppery taste, of earth and salt and smoke, dances on his tongue as his front teeth sink into the stretch of your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh. You sink into the bed as you ease into his touch, but he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable.

“Touch yourself, then,” he says, “if you like to be watched that much.” 

It almost sounds like a suggestion, especially with the way in which he uses the lightest touch to brush the stray hairs from your forehead, but you know better than that. Your fingers fly to the wet patch on your panties, thin material almost see-through with your slick, working the fiber flat against dampened skin. An echo of a chuckle reverberates throughout the room as he watches you, undoubtedly pleased by the way in which the fabric clings to your already dripping folds. 

Large hands have your legs spread wide open by the time you’ve traced the outline of your clit, your little show put on full display for him. They stay pressed against your thighs as you venture loose, round motions around your sensitive nub. Too timid. You tighten the circles into a coiled spiral, mustering the courage to go harder, faster, the friction of cotton against delicate skin drawing small mewls and sputters out of your trembling form. The delayed relief is sweet, your arousal crying into the pads of your fingers as you pick up the speed. The image burns itself into his brain, watchful eye unfaltering as you play yourself to your heart’s content.

The very air itself seems to buzz as you hold the other end of his gaze, thick fingers running along your sides as you start to roll your hips into the palm of your hand. He’s bent over you with the twitch of his pants, too worked up to remain a bystander any longer as he blows and sucks up your neck. The open-mouthed kisses only hasten the buildup, sensation shotgunning down your body from the surface of your nape.

But the coil in your core knots itself far too early for your taste, and you reel your hand back right before you can realize your peak. You opt to drag a lone finger down your slit instead, afraid that with too much pressure, you’ll come undone before Gojo has the chance to get his fill. 

Too late, too slow; he takes notice of your negligence immediately, eyes darkening at the pitiful way your hand skitters with abashment. He pulls away from the crook of your neck to get a good look at your dwindling handiwork, smirking to himself when you shrink in response.

“Having a little trouble there?” 

His voice is deceptively singsong as he takes your sluggish hand in his, guiding your knuckles back to that aching button that has you arching your back and curling your toes. He repeats the motion, half a mind to force an orgasm out of you right then and there when suddenly, a whimper—yours—sends his eyes darting back towards your own.

“No, not like this,” you say with strained breath, and he quirks an eyebrow in response, working your fingers into the fabric despite the interruption. “I want more, I need…” your voice trails off, a sorry attempt at stalling.

“Need what?” he asks as he catches on, shit-eating grin somehow audible without you even looking. You don’t know how he does it, how he locks his desires up as you squirm underneath him, waiting ever so innocently for a proper response.

“Need, need you,” you say under your breath, and he cocks an eyebrow, a clear sign of an underwhelming response. 

“Oh? I couldn’t quite catch that, princess.”

As if.

“I need you inside of me. Please, claim this filthy cunt,” you whine, determined to play, determined to win. Your hips buck into your interlaced fingers, searching desperately for the one word that’ll send him over the edge and finding it as the leather accessory rides up your neck—as if to remind you of its existence—“Master.”

And it does, it sends a jolt of heat to his groin, has him kicking his pants off and pinning your wrists into the sheets. It’s got him surging with primal need, tugging the pathetic mess of your soaked panties to the side with limitless hunger.

Because even though he’s drawn many names from your lips before, they’ve always been ones he’s insisted on, ones he’s downright pestered you about. Even the simplest “Satoru” was, admittedly, a struggle to pry out of you the very first time you got tangled in his sheets; you shielded your eyes then, cheeks burning and voice low as you whispered it in his ear. And look at you now, sprawled out beneath him as you edge yourself with a hand steeped in your own concoction, begging for his cock with that delicious nickname of your own admission, and it rings throughout his head like an addictive melody.

Master.

Master.

Master.

You can hardly recognize the noises he fucks out of you for the remainder of the night. He showers you with an unsavory slew of awful names, phrases you’ve never even heard aloud before, tells you that you’re his “freaky cocksleeve” and a “bitch in heat” as he jerks your leash without warning. And that’s exactly what you are, twitching for him like an animal as he screws you senseless, the most guttural of responses rising from your throat as he asks:

“Who do you belong to?”

And of course you respond, between labored pants, “You, master,” muscles taut as you fight for air, fingernails scrambling for purchase on his back but finding absolutely none.

It’s not until you’re entangled in a breathless mass that he pulls your head into his lap, strokes your cheeks and coos that you’ve been a good fucking girl, a thick mixture of his seed seeping from your gaping hole.

Morning always comes when you least expect it, sneaking up on you and peeking through the blinds before you’re ready to get going.

Gojo’s still passed out cold when you creep out of bed, only the most languid of movements used to pry yourself out of the mattress as your arms and legs ache for need of rest. The dull pain humbles you, delayed post-nut clarity finally hitting as you rub into your bleary eyes.

It feels like you’ve been struck by a train.

Your gait is but a tiptoe as you stalk towards his dresser, trembling hands slowly rummaging for something, anything that can provide you some cover. Your classes are starting soon, and whether his are, too, or whether he’s simply skipping out today, you know better than to rouse him from his toil-induced slumber. 

It’s nearly inaudible, the sound of the door closing behind you, clank of metal but a whisper as the soles of your shoes kiss up carpeted floor. You’ve left it unlocked, just the way your boyfriend likes it, a small assembly of what you hope he’ll recognize as breakfast perched upon the kitchen table—the last traces of your visit left behind in a neat and tidy little package.

Your eyes find Geto’s once you turn down the hallway, small black beads peering into yours before taking a lap around the block to assess the damage. He must not like what he sees, this tousled morning-after apparition, faint patches of indigo and violet creeping out from under your—no, Gojo’s—oversized sweatshirt, because it’s a solemn sigh that hits your ears next and not a “good morning” or even a simple “hey” that acknowledges you. 

Because he knows your average person wouldn’t notice the marks, too sheltered by all that thick cotton riding up your neck, purposefully pulled up just far enough that you wouldn’t see them unless you were looking. He knows your average person couldn’t have the slightest idea how you really scratched up your knees, pointillistic constellations of reddish purple threatening, however empty that threat is, to inch up your thighs. He scoffs.

“What do you even see in him?”

The words cloud the air before he’s completely aware of them, surprising the both of you as they surface.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water: for starters he’s charming, engaging, lively and free-spirited. He’s beautiful and he adores you, you want to say, but even though you have all the correct phrases picked out, all strung together in the same time and place, they don’t seem to roll off your tongue quite right.

You seem so tired, forced laugh falling short where it should flutter out of your mouth, the usual cotton candy you spout crystallizing before it can materialize.

“I could ask the same of you.”

It traipses out of your mouth before you can give it permission, easing itself into the atmosphere before sinking like a stone. Truthfully you don’t care to hear an answer, if only to avoid giving your own. You usher yourself out, pushing yourself past the towering wall of a human and stalking down the nearest stairwell. 

Gojo knows just how to toy with your pride. But Geto? Geto knows how to slash it down to shreds. 

The silence is deafening.

Geto sighs once you’re out of earshot, turning his heel to continue his trajectory. If anything, he didn’t want to run into you today, either. He cringes at the small collection you’ve no doubt assembled yourself, of iced matcha and a granola bar, staring him in the face as he stalks into the apartment. For some reason it only feeds into his mounting dread, the rising unease of what he might find waiting for him in the bedroom. 

So he raps the bedroom door with his knuckles instead of barging in like he normally does, hoping in vain that he can get its sole inhabitant to lumber out himself. But of course Gojo doesn’t make it easy, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn before stretching his lanky limbs with an equally obnoxious groan.

“You said to swing by this morning,” Geto half-yells, half says to himself, already prepared to turn tail and leave. He’s honestly surprised when he gets a legible response instead of the hungover mumbles he’s grown used to.

“Oh, that? Come in, it’s unlocked,” Gojo calls out, each syllable punctuated with tardiness. So Geto braces himself, puffing his chest out before giving the doorknob a firm handshake, stepping deeper into the belly of the beast. 

Geto was prepared to see many things when he walked through that door. Something like lipstick stains and flavored condoms, S&M paddles and ribbed dildos. Instead he’s met with something completely other, the evidence already cleared away. Whatever late-night exploits you enjoyed are long gone, not a trace left behind by now, privy only to a grown man slumped over the edge of his mattress, grabbing around under the bedframe. 

“Ahh, got it!”

With sleepy eyes Gojo lifts his head and presents to Geto the chrome colored box he’s fished out. It’s small and compact and ridiculously outdated, a conspicuous red button jutting out of its interface. He holds it up to his friend’s face, and the device finally registers.

A voice recorder.

“What, they still make those things?”

Geto schools his features easily, wiping the shock off his face before it can even materialize. It’s not exactly a lie; he knows he shouldn’t be surprised at all that Gojo has kept such an antiquated device for the occasion. 

“You act as if you’ve never seen one before.”

It’s a smirk that’s plastered all over their faces now, one that nearly matches the one across from the other, and knowingly so. The two burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, Gojo slapping his knee and Geto clutching onto his sides. They’re not sure who starts it, but one of them high fives the other.

Girls like you are oh so naïve.

Your wish is granted for about a week total.

Gojo keeps his promise, of loving you more and loving you better, throughout the remaining weekdays. 

He takes you out for brunch, picks you up after class, and best of all, doesn’t ask anything more of you, doesn’t ask for anything better.

He opts to shower you with gifts instead, of stuffed animals and chocolates and bite-sized amenities, insisting that you take them all, no strings attached. Your nightstand overflows with his presents, mismatched tokens that remind you of his affection even when you’re not together. And although neither of you explicitly verbalize it, it seems like his way of apologizing. Silently.

You whole-heartedly accept.

This is the Satoru I fell in love with, you think to yourself as he pets your head one sunlit afternoon, grogginess setting in after a particularly big meal. You nuzzle into his lap and relish in the soft filtered light, sprawled out on your side on the living room sofa. He has you gazing upwards at a tap of the shoulder, all softened eyes and unkempt locks of hair, the smell of sandalwood and fresh dry cleaning enveloping you entirely as he leans in for a faint forehead kiss.

“What’s up?” you half ask, half mumble, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Just wanted to see my princess’s face,” he says, a fleeting grin on his rosy lips. A hollow thud sounds as you play-punch him in the chest, but you roll over from your side to look up at him anyway.

“You happy now?”

“Overjoyed.” 

The two of you lock eyes, slivers of white hair undoing themselves from behind his ear as your breath syncs up slowly, gradually. He stares at you with such longing that you would think you weren’t laying right atop of him, and you struggle to hold your ground. 

“Are you—”

“Yup.”

You groan, eyes overcome with on demand prickling. “No thank you,” you proclaim as you squeeze them shut, uninterested in indulging him a staring contest. Moments pass and your eyes stay closed, a tide of tiredness washing over you. You loosen up, head rolling back as you allow yourself to relax. 

Big mistake. He takes it as an invitation for his hands to descend upon you, attacking your sides in an attempt to tickle, and you jerk away instantly.

“What the—Sato, cut it out!” You bat his arms away, one eye open as uproarious laughter fills your ears.

“If you’re gonna fall asleep then at least let me lay down too,” he says, drawing out the last word as he props your upper half up. He takes your place on the sofa before pulling you on top, and you huff as you fall into a pile.

“Jerk.”

“Your favorite jerk, though.”

Oh, he definitely feels it when you smile into his chest.

The weekend arrives without issue.

Wednesday night you’re watching the sunset over melon sodas.

Thursday night you’re falling asleep on Facetime.

Friday night you’re in the midst of downtown Tokyo, multicolored lights casting your faces in ethereal glow as you work against the hustle and bustle of regulars and tourists. Karaoke songs eat up the most of your visit, Gojo’s voice slowly going scratchy until the crowd finally works the nerve to drag him offstage. You spend the remaining time hopping restaurants, ordering exactly one dish at each location, slowly working your way through a full course meal. The waitress who serves you nothing more than a plate of gyoza gets an especially generous tip.

Dessert is by far his favorite dish: a deluxe parfait, served in a tall, American-style glass and filled to the brim with sorbet. You can still taste the fruit toppings, fresh and fragrant and honeyed on your tongues as you swap saliva in the back of his car. He cups your face with one hand and holds the small of your back with the other, pressing dangerously close against your body. When you finally have the chance to breathe, a thread of spit trails between your lips, in memory of your union. It glistens in the color of the muted city lights, persevering through the window tint in all of their electric might. A mischievous glint reaches his eyes, and all of a sudden he’s pulling you on top of his lap.

“We can get away with this much, can’t we, princess?”

And you oblige, patch of wetness already creeping through your panties as he starts to move, clothed cockhead grinding against the curve of your ass. He’s louder than usual, quivering groans crumbling as they reach your ears, his hips rolling in stuttering motions. You feel as if you’re aflame, pulsating with need, decadent sweetness enveloping your senses every time he pulls in for a kiss, every time he grazes you with his pubic bone. Your clit sings with praises as he pushes you down by the hips, whispering how good you’re being for him, how gorgeous you look in the dress he bought you, and you make a silent wish in the faint moonlight that the moment will never end.

But it seems that good things always meet their end, and come Saturday night, the monster rears its ugly head again.

Because on Saturday night, Gojo’s got you hanging on his arm, the two of you ascending concrete steps to the usual place. Same group of people, different game every week. The two of you are greeted with sweet sighs and boozy smiles, clink of bottles surrounding you as they prepare this week’s drinking game. Gojo’s a lightweight and Geto sticks to designated-driver duty, so it usually works out just fine.

Just not this week.

If Gojo was the sun, then Geto was the moon.

It always seemed to Geto that his best friend had everything in the world he could possibly need: looks, charisma, and status, all readily available to him without much effort of his own. And honestly? He loathed him for that.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, Geto knows there’s absolutely no way he’s making it to the party. Instead he opts to spend Saturday night alone in the comfort, or perhaps the prison, of his own room.

Because the sun is a star that births brilliance, instilling vitality and inspiring vigor wherever it goes. Whereas the moon only picks up in the after hours, left to guide the lost and the wandering in the nighttime. He feels like he’s always scraping the bottom of the barrel, the pool of women he can choose from limited to the gaggle of bumbling stragglers who lament, still, the absence of the blinding sun. And for the past twenty or so years of his life, those bumbling stragglers have not so much as glanced back at him, too enchanted by the liveliness of day.

Worst of all is that softheaded people, scatterbrains just like you, they think they can fix Gojo, super-fucking-nova Gojo who burns it all up, destroying everything in his course of direction. Part of Geto thinks it’s absolutely deplorable, the way in which pea-brained whores throw themselves at him, hankering for his attention and jumping through all the hoops necessary to get just that. But part of Geto also wants to have his own stake in the fun, and Gojo—pretty boy, genetic-lottery winner Gojo knows this all too well.

The glint of the moonlight taunts Geto as it reflects off the silver-toned box in his hand, bold “STOP,” “REC,” and “PLAY” lettering practically chanting his name in the dim illumination. He was told that the handheld device was safer with him, well out of your reach in the confines of his single dorm, and he supposes that’s the truth, what with the lack of foot traffic in this cramped room that lacks of fresh air and sunlight.

It’d be doubly safer if he’d just tuck the abomination away, stick it deep in the corner of his sock drawer or perhaps somewhere underneath the bed frame, but he’s kept it well in sight ever since he first laid hands on it. He clutches it tightly as if it just might disappear when he lets go; chances like these are rare for him, to be so close in proximity to the wanton whines of someone he knows and sees almost daily. And if it’s anyone’s fault that you’re still fucking an immature bastard, a privileged manchild who gets pretty much everything he wants, it most certainly isn’t his own.

It’s just so exhilarating, to be able to cradle the cool metal in one hand, throbbing cock in the other, drawstring sweats already halfway down as he thumbs at his flushed, pink head. He’s kicking his pants off as he leans into bed, flat of his slicked-up fingers laving over the sopping tip that cries and weep for release. He’s already imagining it, the kinds of o-shaped faces you make with a leash dangling from your neck, bubbling with excitement and intoxication and jealousy at the mere thought. But he doesn’t start the audio yet, fumbling for his stash of lotion before moving to fist his cock in its entirety, twitching creature red with excitement as he jerks it up and down.

It feels so intimate to him, the fact that you’re so close yet so far away, musical mewls available on demand whenever he so pleases. He quickens the pace, palm of his hand practically flattening the vein on the underside of his cock as he starts to buck his hips into his tightening fingers. He’d just love to ram his dick down your throat one day, but for now he’ll have to make do with his hands.

He hits “PLAY” with bitter determination.

The very first sound of crumpling bedsheets has him curling into a full-body tingle. He’s close, so close he can almost taste it, but he keeps his concentration on the audio speaker, waiting for something, anything to heighten his arousal. He sucks in the cold air between his teeth, curses threatening to pour from his lips at how right, how wrong it all feels. The anticipation is short-lived, however, broken by the sound of Gojo’s voice, just barely recognizable in the speaker’s tinny, superficial quality.

“My, my,” the silver-haired deviant says, corners of his mouth undoubtedly upturned as he leans into the microphone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Geto?”

The voice recorder hits the floor at the sound of his own name, blood pressure rising as his arms and legs tense up in disbelief. His own orgasm slips away and out of reach in an instant, petering out in wretchedly slow motion as his stiff cock throbs with pitiful languor. He wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to curse the world for ever thinking you were actually within his reach, wants to chuck the accursed gadget across the room and watch it scatter across the floor in glittering smithereens. Or maybe he just wants to cradle his head and sink into the ground, face his back to the despicable device for the rest of the night as the cold seeps into his sides, but he’s not even sure where the damn thing skittered off to and his head is spinning and his eyelids clench shut and the world just grinds to a halt.

Gojo doesn’t take the news well.

Gojo doesn’t want to take it at all.

You’re chatting up the party’s host, a premed student in the same year as him, when you first notice him glancing at his phone.

“So how are things? Between you two, I mean,” Shoko asks as she follows your gaze. 

“Couldn’t be better” is your absentminded answer, and she stifles a laugh—a perfect relationship with the Gojo Satoru? But you’re only half listening as she expresses her disbelief, eyes never quite leaving Gojo’s back as he shifts away from the mass of people and shuffles towards the windows, cell phone in balled-up hand.

The first call is inconspicuous enough—Geto has a habit of running late, after all. But when you excuse yourself to the bathroom and come back find to Gojo still holding the phone to his ear, half crouched with his lips screwed up in a pout, you know something’s off. Part of you doesn’t want to take your place beside him, but he pulls you down by the wrist, grip strong enough to leave dime-sized bruises.

They’re explaining the game of the night before you can ask him what’s up: a  pitcher of beer will round the group of players, all sat in a circle on the carpeted floor, each and every one taking turns trying to steal the last drop. It’s a familiar setting, the music but a hum in the background as the participants buzz with idle chatter, but the person beside you feels alien somehow. The woolen material pills underneath your toes as you curl them into little balls, eyeing him with a sideways glance. You know better than to raise the issue when his foot’s tapping the floor with such force, rapid rhythm almost matching the incessant pace with which he thumbs at his phone. He’s calling Geto three, four, five times before changing tack, demanding an explanation through text.

Shallow breaths are all that fill your lungs as you keep as still as possible, trying your best to get a good read on the screen. If the slump in his shoulders is any indicator, you’re sure he’s seething at the words that light it up. But before you can make out a single phrase, he’s slamming the phone down with one hand, clenching the pitcher of freshly poured beer with the other.

His turn to take the first swig.

He ends up gulping until you’re sure he’s out of breath.

“Whoa there, Satoru,” the person next to him says when he sets the pitcher down, nearly emptied. “What the fuck was that?” 

His wrist rises to wipe the corner of his mouth and he exhales sharply, as if his simple reply requires strenuous effort.

“DD bailed on us,” he announces, “fucking flake.”

“Maybe we should have you sober up, then,” someone else, likely Shoko, calls out from across the room.

The change in his demeanor is instant.

“Ah, we’ll make it back in one piece, won’t we?” Gojo’s glance darts sideways, playful lilt betraying the ice he has for eyes.

The room hushes, waiting for an answer, and you sit up straight when you realize who he’s asking. You quirk an eyebrow, amused. With his cheeks already flushed, what seems to be a pointed gaze unfocused and glassy, you can’t help but beg to differ. You know the answer he wants to hear with every bone in your body. But every fiber in your being knows the truth.

“Bullshit.”

The entire room erupts and it’s decided, against his will, that you’ll be spending the night.

Everything falls apart from there.

Shoko shows you to a guest room once the others begin to clear out, dark circles carved out by cool white fluorescents that cast shadows behind her puffy eye bags.

“Sorry it’s so small,” she says, gesturing at the lone mattress, creeping moonlight like a spotlight on its linen-lined surface.

“It’s everything we could ask for,” you say as Gojo falls into bed, sprawling out against the twin sized sheets. “Thanks for letting us crash.” She shoots him a tight lipped smile before placing a deft hand on your shoulder, brown locks cascading as she leans into your ear.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

The night is long and never-ending. 

Teeny tiny bits of skylight taunt you from above as Gojo proceeds to keep you awake well past twilight. He’s tossing and turning in the guest bed, kicking the blanket off the both of you with spiteful purpose, inviting in the cool night breeze. It nips you from your face to your toes, colder still even as he tightens his hold on you, and you decide to finally break the silence.

“You still mad about that one thing I said?”

He scoffs, huff of breath like a shot to your neck.

“You seriously have to ask?”

You tense up immediately, spine straightening flat against his chest as he continues, edge to his voice swelling as it looms behind you. “Honestly, who do you think you think you are? Always acting like you’re better than me.” Razor thin needles lodge themselves into your scalp as he pulls your hair back, your chin meeting chilled air as you offer up a whimper. 

“It’s not like that.” 

He only tightens his grip on your hair, pulling it back harder still.

“Think I need to remind you of your fucking place,” he mumbles as he presses into you, something stiff rocking against the fat of your thighs.

“Not here,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize his intent, the alcohol in your system seeming to swirl in your head. He staggers his hips in response.

“Wasn’t a problem in the car.” 

“Satoru, they might hear us,” you say, the steel in your voice cracking as his free arm snakes around your side, searching for the hem of your pants. “Mercy,” you try again, the familiar, agreed upon safe word sounding foreign and unfamiliar when it comes out but a croak. It hurtles from the shelter of your lips, forever lost as the strain in his pants only grows, breath going ragged as he ruts into your hips.

“Just let me have this.”

And he revels in the way in which he easily overpowers you, enamored in how his towering frame nearly swallows you whole. When a particularly loud groan—one you’re sure anyone in a neighboring room can overhear—escapes his lips, you blister with shame, burying your face in the pillow, limbs aching for need of sleep.

And then his breath hitches as he chases after fireworks and explosions, captivated by the way that you squirm in vain. His palms claim your hips as his own, cockhead grinding behind you, servicing himself with feverish concentration. He presses your side into the mattress, ass cheeks squeezing together like a homemade fleshlight, and you arch your back in a sorry attempt at evasion. 

He groans in response, knees buckling together as he brushes up against the makeshift curve, and you stop struggling altogether. Your body buzzes from the touch, head swelling like a balloon, skin crawling from the jerky movements as you go limp as a ragdoll.

“God, you’re so good to me,” he says, praise anything but endearing when it hits your ears. It’s the same kind of acclaim he gave up just the night before, but it cheapens as he repeats it, banal phrase playing over and over in your head. He’s still humping your butt when he cums, shaky and delirious as he rides out the high, profanities rolling off his tongue until he’s shuddering himself to sleep. All is still once he’s blacked out from the stimulation, pitter patter of salted frustration the only movement left over as it soaks the pillowcase through and through.

You lay awake, caged by his toned muscle, trapped by his carbon curses, praying for sleep until the birds begin to chirp. They sing a song that they borrowed from the night, a harrowing lullaby that has you in a panic, slipping out of his grasp as you crawl out of bed. 

By the crack of dawn you’ve tiptoed into a cab, belongings clutched tight to your chest, apartment complex shrinking in the distance, but it never seems to get further away.

Geto hasn’t breathed a word about the voice recorder.

Geto doesn’t want to think about it all.

He’s paying for it now with a barrage of daily phone calls from none other than Gojo himself, who dials him day and night and morning, no regard for moderation. Geto regards the fallout as both of their instant karma, still miffed by the prank he’d just fallen for, but unwilling to reveal his folly. He fills the role of trusty confidant nonetheless, his betrayal as M.I.A driver long forgotten. It’s a spectacle, the frenzy Gojo is bound in, and he might as well watch from a front row seat.

But he hasn’t made a full recovery yet, forever irked at the pretty privilege Gojo takes for granted, the privilege he downright hoards for himself, barking into the speaker when he feels his blood begin to boil.

“Seriously, what did you do this time?” He wants to tear his hair out at Gojo’s stupidity, his utter lack of tact, wants to pull out his front teeth and pulverize the dental tissue into a fine powder when he’s met with momentary silence. 

It’s been a few days since you left the guest bedroom alone in the wee hours of morning, and Gojo hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since. You haven’t been answering his texts, his calls, Christ, he even tried your personal email, and now Geto finds himself shouldering the brunt of his correspondence, trying everything in his power to get him to calm the fuck down, albeit fruitlessly.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Gojo insists once he’s found his choice of words, spitting them out one by one, raking stiff fingers through colorless locks. “I got a little handsy, but it was seriously nothing.” Geto shakes his head and rubs his temples; nothing isn’t enough to make you walk out on him. 

“If you’re telling the truth, then stop worrying already.” A stray section of his bangs fall forward, sweeping over his eye as he slumps over in his chair. “But if you’re lying—” he starts, cut off by the sound of chaste knocks, an unassuming 1-2-3 kissing up at his door before he can finish. 

Saved by the mystery visitor.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d sigh relief, eager to break away from the droning and moaning of the spoiled brat on the other line. Instead he gives pause, as if weighing the cost of answering the door against the merit of staying put on the phone, moment’s hesitation only giving way to a guaranteed getaway.

“Hold on, I need to get this,” is all Geto says as he hangs up the phone, equal parts appreciative and skeptical of the person at his door. He isn’t exactly friendly with anyone on his floor, and few would show up here without asking first, so he peers through the peephole, curiosity getting the better of him.

And lo and behold, speak of the devil, it’s Gojo’s missing girlfriend, standing alone with her hands twisted together.

Amazing. You’re quite literally the very last person he wanted to see right now.

“Do you have any idea how worried he is?” Geto snaps when he answers the door. You have no idea what kind of mess he has on his hands. “Go and make up with your boyfriend already.” He moves to close the door but you react quickly, wedging yourself before the doorframe, eyes wide and pleading.

“I’m in trouble, so please...” You scramble for something half believable. “I can’t turn to anyone else.” He laughs in your face, eyebrows quirked with mirth at how genuine it almost sounds.

Almost.

“Don’t give me that.”

“No, I mean it,” you press on, unwilling to admit that anyone else who’d listen to your cries for help, from trusted family to doe-eyed friends, would undoubtedly have you in a beeline for the authorities. “You—you’re the only other person who can put up with Gojo.”

That gets him stopping in his tracks.

“Barely,” he scoffs, but the pressure on the door lets up. He hates that you have a point there. Hates that he can’t look away from Gojo and his silly antics and his daring ploys and especially hates that he has that in common with you. He wants to turn you away but you look so hopeful, ignoring the dulling pain of the door trying to crush your foot flat.

He bites the bullet.

“You know he’ll be pissed if he finds out you came to me first, right?” You screw your lips together when he cracks the door slightly.

“Well, he doesn’t really have the right at the moment,” you sniff, barging in when he lets go of the door completely.

The room is impossibly smaller than you ever imagined, in direct contrast to all the empty space in Gojo’s rental. It’s a wonder how all his necessities fit in the cramped shelves and tiny drawers, and you almost marvel at the scale of it until the sound of wood on vinyl tiling snaps you back to focus. A few stray articles of clothing are plucked from the ground and chucked to the corner before he’s pulling two chairs up, one for you and one for him. Once he’s sitting, you have his full, unadulterated attention.

Not that you know what to do with it.

It takes a while to find your voice, fiddling with your fingers as you try, unsuccessfully, to hold his gaze. There’s no clock but you swear you can hear the second hand ticking. The curtain’s closed but you’re sure you can feel the heat of the sun disappearing. You’re certain that it ebbs below the curve of the horizon as you watch, timidly, the tap of Geto’s wooden sandal. It remind you of the clack of Gojo’s dress boots, impatience slowly exceeding its carefully drawn bounds.

You time out a moment of silence.

And then another.

And then another, until Geto is staring you down expectantly, pinpricks for eyes. You take the hint.

“I said it.” You look down, fidgeting with your shirt. “I said no.”

His eyes soften immediately, struck by the raw edge of your voice, your inability to look him in the eye.

“And he didn’t respect that?”

“He touched me. When I asked him to stop.” The words have to force themselves out your throat, the little bit of courage you have all that keeps the walls from collapsing in completely. You take as deep of a breath as you can manage when the memory flickers through your mind, clear as yesterday. “He—he fucked me through his clothes.” Your head’s buried in your hands as you fold into yourself completely, rocking in place, and something rages inside of Geto.

“Wait, what?” Geto looks at you incredulously, disbelief scrawled all over his face, eyes narrowing when you keep your head down. “Through his clothes?”

You nod slowly, knowingly, and he feels as though the world is spinning all over again. The ground seems to shift beneath him as your face contorts in pain, saltwater already beading up along your lower lashes. That’s it? That’s what this entire circus is on about? He cards his hands through his hair as he tries to process it, shaking his head when you fail to respond. That’s all it takes for your whole body to quake, hard lumps bubbling up your throat at the bite of his words, breath stuttering irregularly as your windpipe starts to clench up. 

And then you’re crying, body wracked with hiccups as you try to quell the chills crawling up your skin. Your chest heaves in a sorry attempt to keep up with the lurch of your lungs, sputtering as you try to suppress your voice.

“God, you’re all so fucking annoying.”

He watches you bubble over, feeling his own emotions swell as they hit a critical mass, stomach churning at the sight. You couldn’t manage a comeback if you wanted to, a blubbering mess as you try to wipe your eyes dry. The small bit of composure that’s kept him whole these past few days finally snaps when the tears trail down your hands, no end in sight in the onslaught of waterworks.

“I bet you wanted it,” he continues, unfazed by the fattening tears, fingertips digging into his thighs as he spots the yellowed bruises he jacks off to at night. He leers at the fading brown and imagines them overlaid with fresh, new marks, gleaming blush and fiery crimson. “I bet sluts like you don’t care what happens as long as they get dicked down in the end.” A quiet sob tumbles out of you and your cheeks tingle with hurt, like you’ve been backhanded once, then twice.

“It’s n-not like that,” you finally manage to say, gasping through choked noises as he creeps closer, cloaking you in shadow. He stares vacantly from his vantage point, as if looking at an ant on the tiles.

“Then why don’t you walk away for real?” 

And that’s exactly what you should be doing right now, cornered by a large man in his dark, dingy room, but by the time you think to stand up he’s grabbing you by the wrists. He sends you barreling into the desk, spinning you around so your hands clutch the edge, chest pressing up against the surface. He pins an arm behind you with ease, kicking your legs wide open, and you flail the other in no particular direction.

“You secretly enjoy all of it, don’t you? You secretly get off on the idea of being raped by your boyfriend.” He sneers as you buckle underneath him, grazing his growing erection. “All worked up over a little dry humping? Get over yourself already. You females want to be hurt so bad.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between muffled sobs, chest feeling as if it’s about to break in half. “You’re j-just like Gojo.”

“Just like Gojo?” Geto echoes, free hand coming to snake between your thighs, voice catching as he speaks. “You’re sorely mistaken.”

You fall limp as he draws a single finger under your panties, tracing your hipbone as he muses. He imagines their contents, imagines how easy it would be to take you by force, sighing aloud at the prospect of doing it without.

“I can never be him.”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

#gojo smut #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #tw. dark. #tw. noncon. #tw. dubcon. #tw. influence. #tw. toxic. #tw. penetration. #tw. showoff. #tw. size. #tw. degradation. #tw. corruption. #🍣.food #fishstyx.jjk

[yinses]

college au! headcanons

gojo satoru, geto suguru & nanami kento

rqst: college au for nanami, geto and gojo?

a/n: so i divided it into three categories to help keep my head straight. honestly almost straight kicked gojo out of college bc i couldn’t decide on a major for him. the jjk discord server is heaven sent for my sanity. ty everyone again 🌺

last time i should have to post these. hoping everything is fine now. 

gojo satoru

MAJOR

—he starts off undecided for a long time. the fact that he’s on scholarship allows him to be more flexible with his classes given that he’s not responsible for costs. he grew up with expectations from his family but university is suppose to be his opportunity to spread his own wings and grow from his experiences.

—so he tries a bit of everything- sciences, music and social studies- anything to prompt a spark. (took a business class once and made a point to sit next to nanami everyday just to annoy him) by his second year he’s getting as frustrated as his counselor because if he doesn’t decide soon he’ll be a potential 5th year senior.

—he’s overthinking it but gojo wants to invest in what he believes will make the most significant impact to his ability. his counselor takes those crumbs and runs with it.

—he gets steered towards political science and actually excels at it (that advisor gets a raise). surprises most of the class with his analytical skills because they thought he was just a pretty boy- surprise he’s beautiful and smart.

—develops a vested interest in governmental policies. might run for president one day idk. brings donuts to his early am class. doesn’t share.

SOCIAL

—he’s not the jock per say, but as the star athlete of the basketball team, the school likes to take advantage of his image to draw in sponsors.

—his face is plastered all over the auditorium whether they’re in season or not. sometimes it’s not even to promote basketball, gojo is pretty and they’re not afraid to use it. which also makes him one of the most recognizable faces on campus.

—due to his student athlete contract, he’s not allowed to sign autographs freely in the event they’re attempted to be sold as quick cash. but yikes, he can barely walk to class without someone stopping him for a picture. to the best of his ability he tries to laugh it off, poster boy image and all, but it gets pretty fucking old and annoying quickly. especially when it makes him late for his next lesson and the instructor shows no sympathy.

—his height didn’t only help him get into basketball, but its also convenient when it comes to shouldering politely through the student masses. his golden rule is don’t make eye contact. the busier the crowds the easier it is for him to pretend like he could’t possibly have heard them.

—gojo doesnt scout fraternities, fraternities scout him. but he’s not interested in the slightest. as an athlete he already gets into any social circle he wants without the additional effort. that and he doesnt think he could tolerate an alpha male trying to exert his dominance without barking back.

—loves to show up to parties but always arrives late enough to the point where they don’t think he’s coming. it helps him slip in when he wants too. he’s a connoisseur of all alcohol varieties and a master of beer bong. he’s not necessarily the life of the party but his presence is kind of hard to miss.

RELATIONSHIPS

—he gets too much attention to date casually. most potential suitors are in it more for the benefits they receive than him anyway. he’s got enough on his plate with career indecisiveness and games to try to pursue anything serious before third year.

—he’s not completely celibate though. he tries to keep the same partners as long as he can. not only to keep himself clean and safe but because he often goes into an agreement to keep it casual. sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. either way he gets coined as a ‘heartbreaker’ before the end of his freshman year. frankly the rumors obscure most of the truth and give him more freedom. people always expect that he’s with someone even when he’s not, which helps keep his invasive teammates off his back.

—gojo can easily graduate without securing something tangible but there is still a window for potential.

—you’re both his consistent classmate and occasional friends with benefits. its the former title that keeps bringing him back around. he cant exactly avoid you without subjecting himself to 8am classes. it helps that the sex is good too.

—he can text you an offer to study together for the next test and roll over after an hour and wreck you for the rest of the week. its hard to tell who gets addicted first but he does appreciate the way your skin looks when youre wearing his marks.

geto suguru

MAJOR

—he’s a STEM kid, particularly interested in bio-genetics to improve overall health. he believes that simply becoming a physician just keeps the issue at bay and his goal is to eradicate the problem at its source.

—since high school he’s been cataloging different programs across the country before deciding what he wanted and putting all his efforts into it. so it’s no surprise when he gets in.

—geto doesn’t need counselors but they’re required so he listens to them prattle on about using university as an opportunity to explore. this man came in with more college credits than most sophomores, he knows what he wants.

—always on-time to class and never misses an assignment. also that kid who goes above and beyond, even on the simple stuff. he rarely gets teased about it, not even behind his back. geto straight up scares some people even when he’s smiling.

—not afraid to correct teachers when they’re wrong. in fact he lives for it.

—he’s the one who graduated early and starts his master’s program before most of his age group declare their own majors.

SOCIAL

—he tends to frequent the same circles- handpicking his acquaintances out of class rosters, clubs and honor lists. he’s less in it for the friendship and more so to scout for potential research partners.

—met gojo in one of his science electives and literally carried him through the class. they somehow end up friends but only really hang out at each other’s places- bunch of chill movie nights and pizza.

—there is no interest in fraternities, but he does join university funded clubs that allow him to further his research. they give him unique access to labs, take him on trips to different conventions and have an alumni list a kilometer long for future collaborations.

—the man does not party but he will occasionally slip into quieter bars to ease some of his frustrations. he actually enjoys karaoke thursdays , not to sing for himself but the drunken antics of others bring him some amusement.

—smokes weed occasionally, but only his own product. it helps him relaxand fan out the stress. he never sells it but sometimes gojo nicks some of his stash. given that he gets drug tested often, geto doesn’t know how the athlete never gets caught.

RELATIONSHIPS

—not interested in seeking out relationships in the slightest. the man has a plan and he’s already married to it.

—he’s not completely immune to sexual advances though and occasionally splurges but none of the friends with benefits crap. he’ll hit it once and stay celibate for the rest of the year easily.

—you might be able to squeeze in as his fellow lab partner. remain invested in the work and not him and he’ll start noticing the little details of your company- the way you subtle perfume lingers on his lab coat hours after you’ve adorned for the day, how he knows you have to keep your hair up for safety precautions but he thinks about running his fingers through it daily and your mind, damn, he wonders what else you can come up with when he has you laid out on his sheets.

—if he’s interested, geto won’t hesitate to broach the topic. he’ll ask you out for coffee and when you try to bring up research he’ll be upfront about his attraction. ultimately if you start dating the two of you are an absolute unit- not that you weren’t before.

—you’re the one variable he didn’t plan for but he’s glad to have added you to the equation.

nanami kento

MAJOR

—he was made for the business world, brought by a CEO who raised him to inherit the company. administration major marketing minor.

—takes initiative in all his classes and is often coined as group leader for projects. mostly keeps to himself  and only speaks up when prompted or disagrees with something.

—he takes the earliest sessions possible because it means less people more often than not. doesn’t really care if its in the front, middle or back but always sits near the edge.

—doesn’t really want to but it looks good on his resume so he joins the marketing team where they present mock business plans for competitions. they win a lot. nanami honestly doesn’t care. but again it looks good.

—it only took him a brief summer internship to learn that he found nothing satisfying about board meetings and macro management.

—he decides to invest in law school to handle the company from a legal standpoint instead.

SOCIAL

— sort of like geto, only wants to make friends on a need be basis.

—he would rather keep to himself but knows the benefits of socializing so he interacts with his frequent classmates when he can- through study groups or car pooling to seminars.

—he does join a fraternity, its the same one his father did (and uncles, cousins, whatnot. its a generational thing). its geared towards bettering future leaders. they focus building resumes, charity events and run the organization like a proper business. nanami gets elected president by his third year and runs two terms.

—the only parties he attends are networking events- full of wine and fancy horderves. wine is plentiful but he’s always nursing a scotch on top of his headache. if one more person squeezes their stocks into a conversation he’s going to personally take down the whole market

—zero interest in college party life. spends some of his downtime at the campus theater watching old time movies and classic plays.

—he’s the coffee shop hoe. he wakes up early sometimes just to sit by the window and read some casual literature. has his own thermo that gives him free refills to cart to class. do not talk to this man before he’s had his caffeine.

RELATIONSHIP

—he probably has a high school sweetheart that he’s still clinging too, whether on the same campus or long distance. it helps him because he can’t really see himself pursuing a relationship while focusing on school.

—he’s been with you long enough that you understand his ambitions and won’t feel bested by them. the two of you have a system- starting the day off with sweet ‘good morning’ texts before class and ending the day with long conversations as you digest the last 12 hours.

—nanami is independent but he is thankful to have you to rely on when classes start to overwhelm him. the two of try to escape briefly for the weekend when you can. often going to near by reservations just to get off campus

—other times the two of you will cuddle close on your dorm bed, his long fingers combing through your hair while he reads over some notes for class.

—sometimes you have to be the one to tell him to take a break and to enjoy life while he can. even if that means dragging him the events and concerts hosted on campus. he resists at first but you can see the tension ebbing away as the night comes to a close.

—the two of you start living together in your senior year just because you can. he insists on buying a house. not only because he can afford it because it can be rented out after graduation. always the business man.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #nanami x reader #geto suguru x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo blessings #gojo satoru x reader #geto blessings #nanami blessings