#anyways gojo misses getou

[dollvied]

Fic ideas? You posted but I was too shy to actually write under the post AHHH

Yandere Milkman Gojo?

Getou Demon x Reader who thought it would be funny to summon something out of a cursed book BUT didn't expect it to actually work

Like Snow-white inspired: Hunter Gojo x "Snow-white" reader

Slasher Getou X Final "Girl" reader

Anyways I couldn't think of more, have fun writing!!

𖦁ׅ ࣪ ׂ 𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑲 ៵ 🐇 ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆

✦ summary . . . your husband is acting weird

✦ characters . . . yandere ! doppelganger ! milkman ! gojo x wife ! reader

✦ warnings . . . chubby reader in mind , use of " y/n " , uhh gore , blood , killing , people gossiping , kinda inspired by analog horrors , murder case , inaccurate breaking news script , not proofread

✦ notes . . . this js my first post and this one gets boring at the end cus i was rushing , it didnt turn out as i planned it to be :// this is kinda inspired by this post and i thoughg it would be funny lolol anw enjoy ! ! ! 💕💕

───YOUR HUSBAND is acting weird.

ever since he got hired as delivering milk, he‘s been acting strange, such as — looking at you for a longer time, going home later than usual, and in the morning you would always wake up with him just . . . staring at you.

you‘re not sure what it is about him (other than his behaviors), you‘re not sure if his eyes gets bigger and bigger with the more he stare at you, or when his eyes glows in the dark (you couldn‘t count with how many times you got heart attack when you woke up with him staring at you in the dark at your closet).

or maybe when you saw him glaring into another man who‘s looking at you for too long for his likings . . . but as soon as you looked back at him, his expression changes into his usual smile to you. whenever you bring it up, he always waves it off, “you‘re just imagining it, darling.” is what he would say to you.

and like a good wife, you trust him. of course you would trust him, why wouldn‘t you?

it was around 11:02 pm, you were currently waiting for your husband to arrive soon. usually he would be home at 10:30, but nowadays he arrived at 11:00. the dinner that you made for him was now cold, even though you covered it with the food cover.

after two minutes of ads on your television ended, a news came up on the screen;

“breaking news! a 22 year old harada kyou was found missing. her husband reported that she was gone since morning.” said the man in grey suit, pausing before passing the speech to the said woman’s husband. “i tried contacting her but she didn‘t respond to me. i called her family and friends to know if she’s with them, but unfortunately she’s not with them. she‘s been gone since this morning, when she promised to go home at 5:00 after going to supermarket.” the man continued his story, but you weren‘t paying any attention to that.

instead, you were trying to analyze the woman in the screen. she looks familiar, you thought. but after connecting the dots, you finally recognize her! she was your neighbor. you and her don‘t always talk, but whenever you guys would bump each other, you both would have a small talk before going to your destination.

your thoughts were interrupted when a bell on your door rang and you turned to see him. “hey darling!” he came up to you. you stood up and grabbed his face, planting a gentle and loving kiss on your husband‘s cheek. “welcome home, baby. how was your day?” satoru put his hand on your plushy waist, “it was okay, couldn‘t wait for the curry chicken!” he joked.

“don‘t worry sweetheart, this is a different type of milk! a scarlet milk . . — anyways, i‘m goin’ shower.” he says, but not before kissing your nose and let go of your waist. you stood there, just thinking whether you should trust him or not, especially with him covered in scarlet milk. then, the television spoke again, catching your attention.

you chuckled, but it died down when you noticed the huge red spot on his shirt (that you somehow didn’t notice). you were slightly hoping it wasn‘t something you think it was. “‘toru . . . what’s this red stuff on your uniform?”

“if you see a doppelganger, please immediately contact D.D.D. thank you.” and with that, the news continues with another speech.

your husband is weird, he act like he‘s not worried about the death of your neighbor.

“the neighbor beside us went missing? well that‘s unfortunate.”

“miss tagawa went missing? that‘s sad.”

“the girl who goes to the café all the time was found dead? damn, anyways!”

it‘s like your husband didn‘t care about the people, only caring about you. he laughs it off when you inform him about the concern death of your neighbor, as if it wasn‘t something he needs to worry about.

but still, you love him no matter what. even when he watches you from the dark, growing taller and taller.

“i‘m so sorry! please don‘t kill me—” the woman chokes on the sobs, when the creature grabs her by the hair. the wide blue eyes tells her not to mess with him, let alone his wife. “heard you were talking about my wife, mind to repeat?”

the hand that was pulling her hair is now strangling the woman. “i‘m sorry . . ! i promise not to do it aga—” her throat was slit by the sharp nails. he rapidly stabs the woman until satisfied. her body is then separated and was thrown in a lake, hoping someone to see them.

he then morphed into your husband, with blood on his uniform. he got a text from you, which read;

wife ❤

hi toru ❤ i got a curry chicken tonight

was wondering if you would like some sardine?

sent at 7:28 pm

he chuckled at his wife’s text, before replying

me

of course darling

i‘ll eat any food you cook

sent at 7:28

wife ❤

awww ❤🥺 thats so sweet baby

hope u like the lunch btw <3

sent at 7:29

you reacted their message "❤"

his smile dropped when he heard a footstep, he quickly sprinted and hid behind a tree. it was a policeman, he was patrolling the area that satoru killed the woman previously. he hid behind the tall tree and waited for the perfect moment. without hesitation, he opened his mouth, widely enough to eat the man.

he then walk on the road, looking for victims to kill, specifically, your neighbors. the one who gossiped about you the other day.

as satoru left the elevator, there was five women in a group, the were whispering. he usually ignores them, but then he heard your name in their conversation.

“i heard that gojo‘s wife has no job! how pathetic!” said the woman. “and not only that, but her husband has to work everyday! how sad, i could never.” the old lady said, snickering. “all she does is stay at home cooks for her husband a cold meal! i bet her husband didn‘t care about her.” the two other women nodded, agreeing at the so-called captain.

satoru‘s hand were tight, balled up into a fist. no such person should talk about you like that, never. he ignored the way his palm was bleeding. he ignored the urge to just slit off their throat and started to walk. he could hear them hushing each other when they saw him walking past the group, eyeing the man.

disgusting, he thinks. only y/n belongs to me, he thinks again, heart fluttering at the thought of you.

#💌 : dollvied #💌 : nonnie <3 #yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere milkman #yandere milkman! gojo #yandere doppelganger #yandere x female reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere gojo x you #yandere x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #plus size darling #yandere x plus size darling

[satvruu]

ೀ how they hug you

rewritten and reposted of my hc set from my old blog @/star-puff! thank you to all my old dedications as well as my new ones @kurooppi @wyllsravengard for making my return to this fandom possible <3

feedback is very appreciated!

ft. yuuji, megumi, gojo, getou, nanami

itadori yuuji embraces you warmly, fondly, sunlight streaming through the window and scattering over your bare skin. it's someplace safe and comforting, enveloped in his arms like he's taken it upon himself to protect you from everything horrible in the world; he is your knight, he is your shield, your safe haven to escape to, no matter how many wounds he will endure in the process. ("yuuji," you whisper, a hand coming up to rest gently on his arm. he bleeds desperation. "i'm okay, i promise." yuuji squeezes you tighter, trembling, and you wonder what you can do to make it true for him, too.) he holds you for far too long for it to be anything casual, but you can't really complain about it anyway—it's better this than to witness the alternative. after all, what is the sun without a place to hold its warmth; what becomes of a hero when they fail to protect the things that matter most?

fushigurou megumi comes to you slow, steady, a ripple of water in the pond. you coax him out gently, holding your arms out before wrapping them around him. his breath hitches (always, no matter how many times he tries to hide it) and his body stiffens, arms frozen at his sides. but slowly, surely, your head buried in his chest, megumi's arms begin to wrap around you in a manner you can only describe as tender—as if you could break if he held onto you too tight. (truthfully, megumi thinks he's just afraid. the jujutsu world is a dangerous one, after all, even to those who only know of it by name. megumi has lost too many people, and you're the one person he can't afford to lose.) he flinches at the thought, pulling away. you draw yourself closer in him, instead. moonlight behind the clouds, you'd gladly hold onto this night forever if it meant megumi was by your side.

gojo satoru is known as many things—a child prodigy, the strongest, a boy-god making his presence known on the lowly earth, but to you, he is simply just obnoxious. satoru makes it a spectacle each time he sees you: hollering, gallivanting, draping himself over you with his long limbs and impossible-to-miss frame. you huff and complain and uselessly try to drag yourself away from him each time, but satoru hooks onto you and refuses to let you go, nuzzling his face into yours. (they're mine, the action screams, a blaring warning to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the collateral. you've been too caught up in your irritation of him to notice this, of course, and you're certainly not someone who would take the explicit meaning of it kindly, but satoru finds that he doesn't really care. not when he has more important things to attend to.) gojo satoru is many things, but the one thing he absolutely isn't is someone who can share.

getou suguru smells of sandalwood incense, a musky amber you think you could identify blind. sometimes, you think you remember a different suguru, a kinder suguru, one that had easier things to worry about, a brighter look in his eyes, an easier weight to his gait. if you think back far enough, you suppose it might have been because he had somebody else by his side to keep it that way, a brighter light shining next to him to keep the darkness at bay. (but that was a long time ago. now, suguru is the one left to be lit by the fire, stuck in the ashes of his own kin for a future little understand. you're not sure who is to blame for that anymore.) you're not the light that can save him—no one can be, not anymore. when suguru reaches out to you, rare vulnerability bubbling over in a way you can only describe as drowning—as crumbling—the only thing you can do is curl yourself next to him in the incense burner, smearing yourself in the ash.

nanami kento thinks you need this, especially after a long, hard day. the melting comes slow: his hands on your back, gentle pats and quiet whispers of comfort as he rests his chin on your head. and then comes everything else. his hands slot perfectly into the dip of your back, the small of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric of your clothes, and in the eyes of no one but yourselves, the two of you begin to sway back and forth to a quiet melody nanami begins to hum. you cling onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to memorie the smell of his cologne, the rumble of his voice, the warmth of his arms. (it's too much, to have a memory of a future that will inevitably happen. you almost want to cry. don't go, you want to say, a lump in your throat, wishing for the impossible. don't go.) and still, selfish as you are, nanami hugs you like you're slow dancing in the dark.

#jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader

[enkvyu]

cicadas fill in the summer silence as you sit at your desk, waiting for class to start. you're vaguely aware of your three classmates seated beside you and perhaps it’s because you're caught in the ambiance of a perfect day, but something like sentimentality seeps in.

“today's the kind of day where i’m reminded how important you guys are to me.”

shoko hums, eye trained on her phone. “you’re reminded?”

“you forgot at some point?” gojo adds.

you groan as getou chuckles, the heartfelt speech dying immediately in your mouth. when he lightly presses you to continue, you wave away his feigned interest.

"but i'm curious!”

you jab your finger in shoko and gojo's direction, and the two ignore you as they continue playing multiplayer snake on their nokia 6610s. "blame those two."

getou grins. "if it’s anything, you mean a lot to me too."

you muffle a smile. "i changed my mind, you're the only one that means anything to me."

"fuck, i lost!" gojo exclaims, sliding back into his chair to throw a fit. "but i never lose, how is this possible? you cheated, shoko!"

"don't be a sore loser, that's even worse than being an ordinary loser."

"i wouldn't have lost if you didn't cheat!"

there's a hard glint in shoko's eye. "does that mean what i think it means?"

gojo leans in. "yes. that means another round."

you look over at them unamused. "any second now, yaga is going to walk into this room and complain our ears off for how noisy you two are being."

shoko yawns and you hear beeping as she plunges into another game. "it’s fine, we’ll know when he gets close enough to hear us anyway. he doesn’t walk, that man stomps down the corridor."

"he’s not the only one that’ll complain about the noise. i might join him in a minute if the two of you won’t shut up, it’s too hot for this." getou joins in, but no one pays him any mind.

"you're going down this time, shoko."

"eat my dust."

you catch gojo sparing shoko a quick glimpse before the starting music plays, and watch with interest as they flicker over to her again.

leaning back, you peer at shoko's screen as her desk was closest to yours, and find that she was once again slithering to victory, gobbling every apple she finds in her way. without a doubt, you were sure she would win.

"gojo," getou sighs. "you're really shit at games."

something bumps into shoko's side and she gives it a quick glance to find that it was gojo's elbow.

"sorry, my arm slipped." he says, but the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.

while shoko is not morally-just enough to condemn cheating, she's oddly passionate about games and thus her desire to win fair and square holds back her anger. she lets the action slide without a counterattack although that doesn't stop her from calling gojo trash.

but when gojo kicks the leg of her chair, causing her to fingers to tremble and miss an apple, she glares at him. "you're playing dirty!"

"i have no idea what you mean." gojo sings. "yes, i'm a point ahead! see what happens when you don't cheat, shoko? i guess that's why you have to do it, otherwise you would just lose lose lose all the time!"

you wince.

shoko clenches her phone harder and closes the point difference in a matter of seconds. but that alone is not enough to settle her irritation.

lifting her foot up, she slams her heel down hard on gojo's ankle and he yelps at the pain. "hey! now you're actually cheating!"

"so you admit i wasn't before!"

gojo doesn't answer and blatantly shoves at shoko's chair. she has to use a hand to steady herself, making her lose another apple and mess up her snake's path. in return, shoko hits gojo's face which presses his glasses in.

"hey!"

"you started this." shoko's victorious smile dims when gojo reaches for her phone and she pulls back just in time. "that's not fair!"

"you're only saying that now?" getou observes.

you look at him. "shouldn't we stop them?"

with gojo stretched out, trying to get shoko's phone, it leaves his stomach vulnerable. shoko rams her fingers into his side and he squeals at the sensation.

shoko yells your name over the chaos. "grab him!"

"getou, you have my back, don't you?" gojo says a second later.

the two of you stand instinctively as your names are called, but you both hover around helplessly. it's only when they say your names again, do you move.

gojo makes one more stretch for shoko's phone as you reach for him, only successfully managing to grab onto one of his wrists. it doesn't hold him back though, he still has his other hand after all, and now getou is beside shoko, hands out ready to tickle her.

shoko giggles slightly when getou's fingers meet their target and it might have been an opening if you hadn't clung onto gojo, pulling him back with your entire weight.

"get off me!" he says to you over his shoulder.

you look back, somewhat confused at your own actions. "no?"

shoko pulls back her arm holding her phone, jamming her elbow into getou's chest. though it doesn't hurt, he steps back anyway. "what are we doing?"

the struggle continues for a few seconds more until the classroom door is pulled to the side with a bang and someone steps through.

the shock of the sudden sound makes shoko loosen her grip and gojo catches that weakness. the tips of his fingers barely grazes her phone and with a final push, and an extension of his infinity, he knocks the phone from her hand.

he knocks the phone from her hand, too hard.

you watch in suspended awe as the object flies across the room in a beautiful arc—

"good morning—"

and hits yaga in the face. it rebounds off his cheek and clatters noisily on the ground. shoko ducks down as the three of you freeze in position, picking up her phone and pocketing it safely.

anger makes yaga's head burn bright red. "who did that?"

calmly, you sit back into your chair and hear the sound echo beside you. without saying a word, the three of you point to gojo.

"yaga! in my defence, shoko was cheating!"

you don't need to look to know yaga had crossed the room and landed a solid fist on gojo's head, his quick cry of pain is alone enough.

yaga fixes his sleeves and clears his throat. "are we ready to start class?"

cicadas chirp from outside your window, and the noise drowns into the bustling hum of a familiar routine. yaga picks up a piece of chalk and turns his back to the class, getou tucks away his bangs from getting in his eyes and shoko yawns into her hand. gojo sinks deeper into his chair, sulking, and you know that even without mentioning your appreciation for them, they could feel it just like how you felt theirs.

it surrounds you like the summer humidity.

dialogue prompt taken from going seventeen episode 61. just some quick silly sashisu + reader stuff because i miss them.

#gojo satoru #getou suguru #ieiri shoko #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sashisu #sss trio #gojo drabble #geto drabble #getou drabble #shoko drabble #gojo fluff #geto fluff #getou fluff #shoko fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you

[mari-the-bimbo]

Taking care of sick Dorm mate Getou is absolutely adorable but what about being taken care of by dorm mate Getou?👀

Dorm mate Geto: sick days

A/N: thanks for this idea hun, I’d do anything to be babied by this man 😩

“Can you pass me the salt y/n?”

The smell of sauce mixing with paprika traveled through the air. Geto and you were making cheese toast with spicy soup. Sure, he could’ve just had some store bought soup, but why do that when he could convince you to cook with him. Any excuse to have you alone.

“Sure, here” you said with a smile handing him the salt.

“Ahhh it smells so good” you praised, waving the smoke closer to your nose, eager to eat it already. Geto smiles at your excitement at he stirs the soup.

“Of course it smells good, I made it with the best assistant chef” he teases.

“Hey! Why am I assista- ACHOO!-“ your protest is interrupted by a sneeze.

“Oh?” he says.

You sneeze again. “Oh?” he says again but with amusement this time.

“You caught a cold doll?” He coos.

You would’ve replied to Geto but the throb of your nose didn’t make it easy. Geto even turns the stove off and leans back to watch you as you incoherently try to reply. You’re his favourite entertainment.

“Mhm that’s what you get for partying in barely any clothes on cold nights” Geto teases, referring to your night out yesterday. And although he said it teasingly, you could hear the snarky jealousy behind his voice, but you choose to ignore that too.

He smiles to himself as he covers the warm pan with a lid. “Don’t worry doll, we’re done now anyway, why don’t you get some rest hm?” He says so sweetly.

You nod in agreement. Walking away as slow as a snail. He chuckles as he watches your retreating figure.

But once you were out of sight, he immediately grabbed a bowl for the freshly made soup and grilled cheese. As well as grabbing your favourite mug to prepare a hot cocoa for you.

Once you made it to your bed, you didn’t rest for long until Geto invited himself into your room.

“Geto?” You look up to see your handsome dormmate skill fully manoeuvring the tray of food and cup in his hands. He places it on your bedside table before sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him in wonder, how could someone be so hot yet mature and kind?

“Well? You gonna eat or is it because you want me to feed you?” He teases. Right, his maturity was questionable, never missing a chance to pass a flirty comment so casually.

“Shut uppppp” you groan, hoping the blush on your cheeks just looks like a temperature.

He chuckles before moving closer to your face, your breath hitches but you release a sigh once you realise he was simply trying to grab the bowl of soup.

“C’mon doll, open wide” he says, your ears only burn more but you move forward to be fed.

You don’t stop him when he grabs your chin to tilt your head up higher as he fed you some soup. You can’t help but hum at the creamy tomatoey taste. “Taste good hun?”, you nod happily.

“But what about the cheese toastie Geto?” You ask, eager to be fed the toast too. He chuckles at you, before he replies “you’re a spoilt brat you know that?”

“Am not” you retaliate, contradicting your own point as you open your mouth to be fed the toast. “I spoil you too much” he explains, but this time, you don’t protest against it.

As much as Geto can be a meanie and watch Gojo brutally tease you or join in, there was no denying he spent rest of the time being affectionate with you and spoiling you.

“C’mon finish your hot cocoa now, so you can have you medicine, or do you want to be fed this too?” He teases, holding up the cup of hot choc, “shush” you reply playfully as you hit his broad muscular chest in retaliation.

But your reactions only rile him up further, “you like me taking care of you don’t you?” He says with an evil smile, grabbing your hand of his chest to pull you closer, “nooo” you manage to say between your own laughs.

But you inevitably end up being engulfed in his big strong arms as he cuddled you, “s’okay doll, I like taking care of you too”

You bury your face into his broad chest to hide the growing smile of your face. Nah, it’s just a temperature right? ;)

Meanwhile Gojo, who is still at the party from last night:

#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #getou x reader #getou x y/n #getou x you #jjk geto x reader #jjk getou #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk geto suguru #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen fluff #Geto #geto suguru x y/n #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto fanfic #geto fluff #geto headcanons

[arminsumi]

so happy you're writing for gojo and getou!! You make my day fr <3

Thinking of ex getou hc... he annoyingly drapes himself over you like your not broken up, still brings you lunch and snacks when he knows your craving them, hugs you for way too long Infront of other men until you break and take him again <33

He would not be afraid of being toxic if it ment getting you back

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱ ex-boyfriend

GETO x f.reader

A/N: i am in pieces at the word choice 'drapes' 😩 thank you for your request — so happy i can make your day 💗 i kinda... wrote an excessive amount srry if i deviated a bit i was in a real suguru state of mind

♪ NOW PLAYING: don't blame me, your love made me crazy

Wc: >900

Overview; Suguru just can't let you go. His mad love reels you back into his arms.

Content; fluff, (ex.bf) headcanons

Warnings; light toxicity, light obsessiveness/possessiveness (?), jealousy, he doesn't let you leave

arminsumi's library

— He is the definition of the "I'm not her ex" ex-boyfriend. Anyone who asks "Did you two split?" will be met with a firm "No. We're just working things out." from Geto before you can even open your mouth to speak.

— Soft, good-smelling, and good-looking; his aura permeates through the air of your apartment as soon as he walks in. He unashamedly invited himself over and said "Aren't you lonely without me? C'mon admit it. I'll make some tea, do you want? Okay then, I'll make you one anyways."

— Behind those abyssal eyes are all his unchanged feelings for you; his one and only. He can't move on. You have a death grip on his mind; he thinks about you in the shower, on the road, walking to the store, while shopping. Daydreams of you are plastered throughout his routines.

— He engulfs you in a consuming hug and peers down at you with a tender look. He's so much bigger than you; the broadness of his shoulders are laughable in comparison to yours. "Missed you, baby." he says, usually pressing a kiss to your cheek (smirking when you swat him away like a fly), and he says that a lot; you can feel the weight in each word.

— Of course... when in front of other men, his hugs seem to get clingier. Heavier. Longer. More possessive. He hangs on your body as if he's the clothes on your back. His scent lingers on you.

— Still lends you his oversized T-shirts and insists that you wear them before heading out for coffee with your coworker, Gojo. Asks for 'proof' pics that you really are wearing his shirt.

— He calls you by the nickname you always favored, the one that had the power to weaken your knees to the point of falling to them. Paired with that silken, dangerously attractive voice and the yearning glint in his eyes, you're a goner.

— He's always been able to read you like an unravelling scroll. As if you're a painting and he's an artist, he knows every brush stroke that creates an artwork like you.

So when you push him away, he knows that you actually want him to hold you tight. When you tell him to give up, you actually want him to try harder. And when you shakily answer no to his inquiry about "Do you still feel for me?" he knows you actually mean yes.

— Leans in to whisper something in your ear when you've got company or guests over at a party. He loves forming a barrier of intimacy between you and him in a public setting; he thinks that they should all witness how capable he still is of flustering you. His heart lurches when you react to his whispers with the same swooning smile as you did in high school.

— He pops up at your workplace, "I got you your favorite." he says with a smooth smile that you instantly succumb to.

— He selfishly drags you back into his arms like Hades mythically dragged Persephone back into the underworld.

— You want to move on from him ? Nope, not happening. He's dead set, completely determined, to dig his way back into your heart.

— Needles of jealousy prick his chest when he sees you laughing because of someone else. He can't stand that, not even for a second, so he invades the conversation and plucks you out of it like you're a gemstone lost among rocks in a dirty river.

"Let's go." he says, "Go where?" you ask, but he whisks you away without answering.

— Honest to god, if he could snatch you away and trap you in a castle, he would. In fact, he can, minus the castle — but his penthouse will have to do 🤷‍♀️

A few lavish invitations to dinner at his place lead to you sleeping over like how you used to. It's all part of his grand scheme. "Baby, come back to me." he murmurs into your hair. "This house is so cold without you."

— Come the morning, you're readying yourself to leave for coffee with your coworker again. Stupid Sunday tradition, Geto hated it. No, he despised it; it made his head spin with anger.

"I've got to go... Suguru?" He blocks your path down the hallway, his silhouette giving hint to his serious frown. It's dark in the hallway, but not darker than his eyes.

"You're not gonna let me leave, are you?"

"No." He admits heavily. "Come on, don't look at me like that; I love you. You'll be safe here. You know what, tomorrow I'll make you your favorite for breakfast, doesn't that sound nice?"

— All these sweet words are said in a smooth, murmuring voice... while his veiny hands firmly plant on the front door and force it shut with a startling bang after you attempted to open it.

"Stay." he demands in a threatening, low voice. "Please?" he lightens it at the end, aware of how scary that probably sounded.

— He's wrapping you around his finger like how he did in the beginning. You coil around his life until, without realizing soon enough, you're back in it.

— Just like that, his love ensnares you once more, and you're happily trapped in his big strong arms.

#♥️ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑 #geto #geto suguru #suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto #hcs #headcanons #jjk headcanons

[saksukei]

gojo satoru and his sadness

masterlist | getou version | it's so difficult to just see your beloved going through stuff and not tell you.

it's a well known fact that gojo satoru doesn't take help from anyone. no, not from you who is his best friend, not from his students and definitely not from his teacher. he thinks it's his burden to bear, to be so powerful and yet so alone.

he doesn't think too much about it. no, gojo avoids his thoughts at all times, otherwise he knows he's gonna slip into the spiral that he's been escaping. and he can't afford too. not yet anyway, when there's so much on the line, so many people to save, so many curses to fight.

so when he sits there in silence, you're scared. because the day gojo satoru falls silent, will be the day you feel like your heart will collapse.

“toru, is everything okay?” you ask, as you sit on the floor in front of him.

“of course,” satoru responds, a smile on his face, but you can't miss the sadness in his voice. he's always been so good with keeping up appearances, hasn't he?

so you do something out of the ordinary. something you've never done before.

you lean forward and slowly but gently pull off his blindfold. for once, satoru lets you. he doesn't stop you, neither does he pull away, until your eyes finally meet his cerulean ones.

“you know not everyone has the right to do this,” he mutters, his face inches from yours.

“if i’m so special, then why do you hide your sadness from me?” you retort, slight anger lacing your voice, as you tossed his blindfold to the side.

and he's caught off guard. he knows you read him well, a little too well in fact. god, why did you always know what to say? and so he does the thing he's been holding himself back from, the one that that could perhaps ruin the friendship you both have. but it's either now or never.

he presses his lips against yours, his strong and firm hands landing on your waist, his tongue exploring the cavern of your mouth as you put your arms around his neck.

and all satoru can think off about how he's been so stupid. why does he even bother hiding it from you of all people? you're the only one he's ever sought after, the only one he wants and the only one he's capable of loving. you taste like every divine thing that's ever existed to him. if he gets to do this more often, he might just start forgetting why he was ever sad in the first place.

you finally break the kiss off to breathe, chests heaving, as your eyes meet his.

“was that an apology?” you ask, a playful edge to your voice, as you stay in the same position.

“more like a promise,” he replies, as he begins to lean in again. “i won't ever hide my sadness from you again.”

#jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru imagine #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader

[rush-the-stars]

RUIN

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only.

pairing: suguru getou x afab!reader

summary: after your family has fallen out of grace in the sorcerer world and you lose everything, it is decided by the higher-ups that you'll marry someone worthy for you; suguru getou. a troublesome sorcerer with no prominent family lineage, sway, or power in your world. it is a punishment, a laughing stock, and a badge of disgrace.

| arranged marriage au. mostly smut. a little angst or comfort if you squint. |

word count: 5.7k....this is a drabble to me ://

tw: smut, loss of virginity, dub-conish, one slap from the reader to getou and he kinda likes it, strange and unhealthy dynamics, getou has a corruption kink, slight blood? overstimulation. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: first time posting writing on this blog!! this has been plaguing me!! this was supposed to be a little drabble!! and here i am!! anyways…this could be and i have thoughts on it being a whole fic. it could potentially take place somewhere before volume 0 and after he’s graduated from jujutsu tech. maybe. i didn’t think hard enough ab it so you shouldn’t either. is this out of character? likely!! enjoy!! let me know what you think!!

The night of your wedding to Suguru Getou, you are filled with ire and contempt.

The crescent moon is a sickle arch in the sky to look down on you, the curve of it as sharp as a mean smile, as a hooked knife. You glare hard at it through the window, hold tight to the silk robe you had been ushered into after the ceremony. All pearly on your skin and loose, shiny, smooth to the touch. Wrapped like a present for you new husband.

You grit your teeth.

("So proud for such a disgraced girl," Suguru tsks, your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up into the darkness of his eyes. You look up your nose at him defiantly. His thumb moves to your bottom lip, swipes there boldly, in a way that makes heat race over your face. It flusters you terribly. It makes you furious. It makes you shake.

You jerk your head from his grasp and he allows his hand to fall away, flutter down by his side.

"And so stubborn."

You sneer at him, gripping your skirts to hide your tremble, "what were you expecting? For me to simper and posture for you?"

His eyes dance bemusedly over you, the corner of his lips quirking up in the most horrible way. You have half a mind to strike him with nails and palm and bitterness, swipe the look right off his face.

"I'd hoped for someone a little sweeter, I suppose." He tells you and for some reason, this stings worse than it should, makes your anger grow teeth and claws inside of you.

"A good wife." You spit.

"Yes," he admits, "something that is finally mine. Only mine."

Later, he will tell you he always wanted something Satoru Gojo couldn't have but wanted. He wanted something everyone wanted. Instead, he got you. Instead, you got him.

"I will never be yours." You hiss through your teeth like a little asp. A warning sound, the way a dog growls before it bites.

"You'll be married to me whether you like it or not. Whether I like it or not." He says coolly, gazing down at you in a way that you can't place, in a way that makes you shiver.

"I may marry you, but I will never be yours–"

And when you catch the gleam in his eyes now, plum dark and glimmering, you know he took it less as a warning, and more of a challenge.)

You steel your courage. You breathe through your nose.

You untie your robe and let it slip from your shoulders.

It pools on the floor in a decadent swath of fabric. It looks like a swan, like a dead dove at your feet.

When you turn to look at Suguru over your shoulder, you are at least pleased to see that he is mildly surprised, brows arched upwards slightly, mouth parted.

He recovers quickly, "my, isn't this a surprise–"

"Don't." You snap. Your bottom lip trembles and you sink your teeth down into it to stop it. When you don't fear what your voice will sound like, you say defiantly;

"Do what you want. I'm not scared of you."

And you jerk your chin up again, too proud, too stubborn. Even when you are bare, even when your defenses have been stripped from you, even when his eyes are lightless, bottomless like the sea, infinite like the night sky as he gazes at you.

He approaches slowly, almost lazily, a predator that lopes closer to his prey. The breeze from the window makes you shiver.

"Look whose being brave," he coos, reaching out with his knuckles to touch your cheek, a brush of his skin. It's the first touch he gives you of the night.

He savors it. You try to hold still.

"Are you sure?" He asks and there is something unreadable in his face now, something monstrous at the edges, the flicker of it, of that hunger–a maw, opening wide in front of you to swallow you down like his curses, "I was going to let you have tonight."

"How merciful," you say, all heat and viciousness, all teeth. You jut your chin up, glare up into his face and say, "it doesn't matter. Like I told you; I will never be yours in any meaningful way."

The touch at your cheek becomes bigger, a palm that slides to the nape of your neck, fingers slipping into your hair. He holds you in a way that makes you feel the control, so you can feel the strength of his broad hand. The power in it. Horribly, it makes you feel small, too, to be cupped in his hands like that, to be guided.

His smile is lazy, almost aloof, like the sickle curved moon, but the burning of his eyes tells you differently. All violet heat, like the night sky swathed around that moon.

Tenderly, he promises, "I will strip you of your pride tonight. It will be the first thing you have to put down if you want anything good from me."

"I'll make you bleed," you promise back.

He laughs, low and soft and heated, before he says, "I'll tame you someday."

And he sways forward, lets his nose brush along yours, tilts your head up at the neck so your lips are offered to him like sacrifice, like a lamb.

"I'll kill you someday." You vow, just a whisper that brushes against his lips.

You can feel his smile when he kisses you, deep and slow and horribly burning. Leisurely, he forces you open, rolls his tongue into your mouth, forces you still, forces you to like it.

You feel your hands come up to tighten in his clothes, ruining them. You feel yourself go slack in his hold. You feel yourself warm to his touch, to his mouth, to his tongue.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if he's trying to devour you, too, if he also thinks of you as his curse.

He bands an arm around your waist, forces you to press your bare body to his clothed one, fits his big hand along the curved cage of your ribs. And you feel–

You twist in his arms when you feel how hard he is, when it makes your stomach flip and then frightens you, when it makes heat swim up your chest and neck.

He can feel your shyness, moves his arm down to the dip of your waist to force your squirming still. He makes you feel him.

You part from his kiss, panting a little, pushing against him fitfully. He tightens like a snake around you, until you go still for him again.

"Undress me," he murmurs.

You swallow hard.

But with shaking fingers, you move to begin stripping him of his layers. Tanned, bare skin is revealed to you; silvery scars race and arc over his chest, along his shoulders and biceps. His stomach is toned, dark hair running down, further into–

You look away stubbornly when you get to his lower half. Your hands work blindly, until he says, "ah, ah, ah–" and he grabs your chin, makes you look at his face, makes you look down at your little hands near his stomach, near his hips– "Don't look away."

You swallow hard. You glare at your hands, heat rising swift and harsh to your chest, up your neck, to your cheeks. His clothes come away beneath your hands, leaving him bare, too.

You fight the urge to look away again.

"Touch me," he murmurs, watching your face, and you don't–you don't know why you listen. But as if possessed, you obey him.

He's hot to the touch, heavy in your hand, and you realize you can hardly breathe.

His intake of breath is sharp, coupled with your forced little exhale. You glare up into his face, jaw set tight with ire, face on fire. Embarrassed. Angry.

"Oh, if looks could kill." He hums, pressing his hips up into your hand. Uncertain but trying, you stroke slowly, carefully, get used to the feeling in your hand. "Such contempt on your face right now, wife."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," you try to snap, but your voice has gone thinner. You've lost some of your bite.

He laughs when he kisses you, meaner this time, teeth in your tender lip, his brutality like a slow ambling leopard. It's still leisurely, intimate in a way that is frightening, in a way that makes you feel like he's got you between his jaws.

He starts walking you back to the bed, crowding you, guiding you. And not for the first time, but certainly the most concerning time, do you realize how big and broad he is. Blindly, you let him urge you back. You let him lay down first, you let him take your hand, you let him–

"You want me–" on top? Your voice has a tremble in it.

"Scared?" He asks, tugging your hand, tugging you onto the bed. Over him. Holding your hand in his, laced fingers, palm to open palm.

"No, I just thought you'd want to–" You don't finish the sentence as you ease into straddling his waist, keeping up on your knees, away from him.

"Want to what? Say it."

You can feel your embarrassment come back up to strangle you.

"In what ways did you think I'd want you? Underneath me? Belly up and vulnerable? On your stomach with your back arched? On your side?" He asks and his voice is low, soft to your ears, but dark. One large hand of his grips your waist, fits itself around the curve, and forces you forward. You stumble a little, catch yourself on his chest.

"How did you think of this night? What way did you hope for?"

"None of them." You snap. "I don't want you."

"Liar." He says back, and he moves so his palm is on your lower abdomen, thumb moving dangerously close to the apex of your thighs, "if I touch you here, what will I find?"

You jerk away from his touch as if burned.

He readjusts his hold on your waist to force you still again as if dealing with an unruly child. This time, when his thumb swipes between your legs, it is through silken folds, slippery and gentle.

You strangle the moan that dares to bubble up, stifle it with an even smaller noise. He is so embarrassingly slow and careful with you, almost loving with the way he strokes, that you want to hide. You want to cling to him. You want to kill him.

"Ah, see? That's what I thought–" Suguru's thumb dips barley inside, and even that, just one finger, is bigger than what you're used to. His whole hand spans wide across your body. "–so wet for me."

You look away, attempting to bare it, teeth firmly stuck in your bottom lip. He never breaches you. Just strokes, slow and soft, painfully good and sweet, enough to make your hips cant a little. He doesn't say a word now, just listens to you breathe, to the small, slick sound between your legs.

It's so–

"I won't prep you more than that." He finally says and you feel your heart rabbit hard in the pit of your chest, like it might take off and run away from you. You look at his face. He must see your fear. "Unless you'd beg for my fingers inside you. Unless you'll beg me to be kind."

As if to emphasize, his thumb pauses, just outside, barely inside.

You can't bring yourself to ask for it. You won't beg. Even if you're shaking in his hold, even if you want to drop your hips a little, squirm until his thumb slips inside.

"Do what you want." You say again, stubborn and furious.

Suguru sighs lightly the way adults do with children. Have it your way, he seems to say, before he takes his hand away entirely. You watch as he fists himself, as he strokes himself easily. And then he's there, at the crux of your legs, and you panic a little because he's big and you remember the weight in your hand and–

"Wait–"

He forces you down onto him with one large hand gripping your waist. Your nails sink into his shoulders, body bowing forward as pain spasms through you, in you. You hiccup a breath, strangled, tears pricking your eyes sharply.

His mouth falls open, brows drawing together in mock sympathy for you. "Oh, you should've swallowed your pride, wife."

You whimper. He hisses.

"Maybe there is something you're useful for," he breathes, fingers flexing in your waist, moving to your back and then lower to grab and ease you up, ease you back down. You can feel him now, through the pain, deep and heavy inside of you. It's so raw, so strange and vulnerable, that you can't help the sudden swell of emotions.

Searing anger. Shameful arousal. Lingering fear. They all blend and blur.

He curses softly against your temple, "–knew, if nothing else, that you'd be good for this–"

Bastard.

You strike him with an open palm.

It cracks against his cheek, whips his face to the side. His cheek blossoms all hot and pink with it instantly. Satisfaction sinks into you. You feel him twitch inside you, feel your stomach flip with the look on his face.

He laughs, seizes you in a kiss, forces you down deeper onto him, "–knew you'd be perfect. Knew for how wretched you were that you'd be perfect for me." He says against your open mouth.

He lifts you, drops you onto him even slower, not to mitigate the pain by suspend it. You can tell he's being cruel, grinding you down onto him, trying to etch the feeling of him like this inside you forever.

You can't even speak and you force any noise that might come out of you down, down into the depths of you. You can feel your walls cling to him, latched tight, fluttering desperately. You can feel the way he burrows himself so deep inside you that you might be sick with him. You try so hard to breathe, to bear it, to take it. But it's too much–it's too much–

A small sob finally bursts out of you, shameful and tender.

"Wrap your arms around me." He commands, soft, almost a coo.

You don't know what to do but obey, wrap your arms tight around his neck, chest to chest, press yourself as close and desperately to him as you can. You tuck your heated, angry face into the crook of his neck, tears finally rushing hot and quick down your cheeks.

"I hate you," you cry into his skin, mouthing there, teething there. He controls you as you go limp in his arms, lifting and dropping your hips onto him like you weigh nothing. "I hate you."

"I know," he hushes, consoling you, one hand soothing over your back, "I know."

He tries to pull away fractionally, just to look at you, but you whine and cling harder, nails digging into the skin of his back.

"Look at me, darling," he says again and tentatively, you peak at him through your angry tears, brows furrowed, glare firmly marring your sweet face. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, burning into you, and says;

"I will be the only person to hurt you like this. I will be the only person to soothe you like this."

It's a command. It's a vow.

You let your hand slip into his long, dark hair, tangle in it until it's a small fist. You pull to tilt his head back up to you, move your hips on your own finally, rock them tentatively, a small, aborted motion. And then you say, through your tears, through your anger and shame;

"And I'll be the only one you ever want like this. The only one you can't have fully."

"I have you now." He rasps, a little enamored, a little slack jawed.

You shake your head fractionally, lip curled, maybe in pain, in anger, "I don't love you. I won't ever love you."

You can tell this does something to him, hurts him in a way that he isn't prepared for. You aren't prepared for it, either, the look on his face. The way he kisses you after that, like he's trying to win you over, like he's trying to soothe you, just like he said he would.

"I don't need your love," he murmurs, spit-slick against your lips. Your hips stutter a little.

"Liar," you echo him and it's your turn to smile a little against his lips, the curve of it mean, your eyes still glossy with tears as the next roll of your hips becomes more sure.

You finally let out a little moan and he hums, "there, that's it, starting to feel better?"

And then, "maybe. Maybe this is all you're good for–"

A moan punches out of him.

He thrusts up into you this time, hard, a little spiteful. You yelp, tears stinging, and he kisses you as if to half-heartedly apologize.

You curl around him again, though, and he doesn't even need to guide your hips anymore. It still aches, in the core of you, throbs in pain, but it's beginning to feel syrupy and warm, the feeling of fullness becoming familiar. Almost welcome. A burning type of pleasure that you start to ease into.

You bite into his throat. You tell him how terrible he is, you dig your nails into his back, you warn him not to get used to this.

He kisses you hard and slow. He tries to own you. He let's you ride him, take from him, give to him. He draws his tongue over his teeth marks in your skin.

He builds you up, finally touches your breasts, your body, his hands feverish and scorching over you. He finally gives in to what he wants, gives in to your pleasure, lets you roll your hips in a way that has you crying out–in pain, in pleasure, in some horrible combination of both.

You can feel it all build in you, feel it all balloon beneath your skin, hot and too big for your own body. Too much. You need more, need just a little more–

You get just shy of begging, but don't, bite your tongue until it bleeds, let him lick into your mouth and taste it.

"So stubborn," he grunts against your throat, "I know you like this. I know what you want from me." And then, "is it everything you thought of? Or should I fuck you on your back? Press you down into the bed and–"

"You're vile," you moan brokenly, half cry, "you wish."

And when he forces you down into his lap, digs his face into the crook of your neck, into your hair, and comes deep inside you, you think it might be over. He groans into your skin, grips you so tight you're certain you'll bruise.

Whatever pleasure that had been growing inside of you comes to a frustrating halt. Your hips twitch, unsatisfied, seeking.

You can't decide if you're disappointed or relieved. You hold him against your chest, hands in his hair, body shivering. He holds you back, let's you squirm a little, let's you get used to the feeling of him filling you like this.

You try to move first but he tightens his hold on you and once more you are reminded of a snake constricting it's prey into stillness. You go limp again and that seems to appease him. He lays you back, into the bed. Into your wedding bed.

He pulls out of you slowly, gently this time, and it still makes you whine in pain. It still makes you wince. You're going to be so sore tomorrow–

At this point, you expect him to roll over and go to sleep.

But he kisses you tenderly, open-mouthed, tongue soft and pressing into yours. Seeking. Heat rekindles. He teases, drowns you in his lazy sort of affection; like he has forever to please you, like it is all he was meant for.

And then his lips cascade downwards, with his tongue trailing over your chest, and right over the bud of your breast to catch it in his mouth. So warm and soft, enough to make you arch a little, enough to make your hands come back up into his hair. You bite your lip but your hips twitch.

Dissatisfaction builds in you, squirms under your skin. It makes you become fitful in his arms, beneath the attentive warmth of his mouth. He moans a little around your breast when you pull on his hair. He rolls his eyes up to you lazily, half-lidded, almost asleep.

He is strangely content now, for all his unnerving, crackling energy. That restlessness that seems to live deep inside of him is soothed for the moment, with you beneath him, in his mouth.

His lips travel lower, over your stomach. You know it's a mess, can't imagine why he would ever–

"Suguru," you say and the fear in your voice is palpable. He pays you no mind, "Suguru–"

When his mouth opens against your core, warm and soft and wet, you aren't expecting it. You jolt a little but he's got his arms around your thighs, forces you open.

"Hold still for me, darling." And the lull of his voice does something to you, coaxes you to relax in his hold again. He hums lightly, "that's my girl. Going to let me enjoy you now? Suddenly quiet, aren't we?" he muses.

You glare down at him but it's lost a lot of the heat of your anger. Still, you say stubbornly, "just do what you want."

His lips quirk up and you feel it, feel it against your core when he drops a brief open-mouthed kiss there. A noise works out of you, small and desperate and unable to be kept down.

He tongues at you slowly, through soft ribbons of flesh, gentle and sweet. Adoring. He looks up at you with plum dark eyes, lashes fanning over his cheek.

He does what he should've done first.

You realize dully, faintly, through the haze of your mind, that he's done it purposefully. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to soothe you after.

And you are sore, aching horribly, but his mouth is so warm and soft, so eager and strange as it moves against you.

“I’ll make you feel better now,” he murmurs, “I’ll chase away the pain.”

He licks long and flat stripes up and down, making a mess, making you burn. Making you love it. Making you hate it.

You twist a little in his hold, start to get desperate for it. You fist your hands in his long hair, twine them around your fingers to pull, to feel the rumbling purr of his moan against you.

You try to resist maybe, at first, the peak he's bringing you to. The pleasure he's giving you. But then it sneaks up on you and suddenly your breathing hitches all tight.

And he stops.

You look down at him. His mouth is on your inner thigh. His eyes flick up to you. He watches you keenly, like a cat, and waits.

He bites into the flesh of your thigh, sucks a love bite into it. Leaves the marks of his teeth in your skin. And when your breathing has slowed enough, he moves his mouth back to your center.

His tongue lolls out again, sliver of pink muscle darting out to taste you again. You whimper. You throw your head back. You give in to this one easily. He works harder, gets a little rougher, tongue moving quicker.

But then he's gone again, when you're about to fall over that edge. This time, you sit up onto your elbows to look at him. He quirks a brow at you, mouth all over your thigh again.

"Something wrong?" He asks, dropping a messy kiss to your core.

"Suguru, stop it–"

"Stop what? You said do as I please and I am."

He opens his mouth against your center again, scorching hot, dirty in a way that makes you keen sharp and high. You tilt your hips up into his mouth this time, offer yourself willingly, open yourself to him. His tongue delves inside, squirms and pushes and slides through you. It's almost gross– too vulnerable, too close, and makes your eyes slam shut.

He muffles a soft laugh, you can feel it against you, can feel the flush of your embarrassment and annoyance.

He pulls away. This time your glare is pointed. Sharper.

"Say what you want." Suguru says. "And I'll give it to you."

You stare hard at him, chest heaving, face overcome with heat. Your pleasure ebbs away, held back.

He does it again. Mouth on you. Thumb holding you open, dipping inside barely again. He pulls away when you move at all, when you allow yourself to give in.

You come down again. You get built up again. Until he finally presses his thumb inside, makes his tongue roll slow and tender against you.

His name comes out, desperate, almost pleading–

He stops.

And this time, frustrated tears rush back to your eyes.

"Stop it," you try to snap, but its wet and soft sounding, a little cry.

"Poor thing," he coos, "but you know what you have to do."

"I hate you."

He smiles like the cat that has got the canary between his sharp, sharp teeth.

"C'mon, it's not so bad–"

You grit your teeth. You try to breathe. He tongues at you again, slow and soft and teasing.

"Just let it go, let go of your pride and ask me. I'll indulge you. I'll give it to you." He opens his mouth against you again, adds pressure, adds suction, adds a finger inside you again. You twist, desperate, so close it hurts.

He draws off you again.

"Let go of your pride and I'll give you everything." He murmurs.

And again he builds you up and again you refuse to give in. Again and again until you're outright crying, until you're heaving with it, until you're just a live-wire, an aching, open wound.

And again he does it, adjusts so he sits up with you, so you're near bent in half, so he can look down at you now. It's so horrible, it's so embarrassing–

One more. He knows it, can feel it, hear it in your little hitching sobs.

And then finally, finally;

"Suguru, please–please, I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry–"

It hits you so hard that all you can manage is a strangled gasp. Your peak is a head rush, a full body surge, a wave that goes still for a moment before crashing hard and fast. You cry openly, twist in his hold, let him lay you back down, let him guide you through it. You pulse and burst on his tongue, throbbing, aching in a way you've never felt before.

"Good girl," he rumbles, and it's so–it's so proud. It's so condescending. You want to be mad. You want to push him away and scratch and kick and bite, but when he holds you, you just cry. And cry. And he kisses you hard on the mouth again so you can taste yourself. He says it again while you're still mindless, "good girl. That's it–that's my girl. My good little wife."

"You're the worst," you get out, even as you let him bundle you into his arms.

"I know–I know." He hushes. "And I'll be worse still."

When you feel his fingers prod gently at your entrance, you start fighting him a little, "no–no, I'm done–I can't–"

"Yes, you can." He hums, "because I said so. Because I want you to."

His fingers slip in gently, so big, bigger than your own. Two feel like such a stretch and all he does is move them slow and crooked. You whimper, tears leaking out, cascading down your cheeks.

And he makes you come like that, too. And again on his mouth. The next all he does is fit his thigh between your legs, while he kisses you slow. Humiliates you. Strips you of all your dignity. For the last time, he lines himself back up, let's his length slip through your folds a few times. He watches himself against you, admires how deep he must reach in you, how wet you are for him.

You're so swollen. So sore and tired. You barely realize it at first. And then you feel the head of him catch and you stir, "wait–no, no–please, I can't–!" You hiccup.

He fills you in one smooth thrust. Makes you claw down into his back until you're sure you've drawn blood. You wail a little, embarrassingly, into his throat. You claw and fuss and fight him this time, renewed a little, feeling him root down inside of you.

He kisses at your tears, tastes them, "Look at you–" he husks, "crying like this for me. Look at the mess I've made out of you. Not so proud now, are we?"

He kisses your palm that tries to push his face away.

He bites your tender lip. He takes your hands in his own and laces his finger between yours to force them down onto the bed. He quells your fight. He ruts into you deep and hard.

He does that until you come again, so brutally around him that all you can do is tremble in his arms, that you feel as if you've fractured apart into little pieces. Your walls get so tight that he can't help himself, starts to babble a little, thrusts growing reckless;

"I'm never letting you go–you'll be mine if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to covet you. I'm going to ruin you, I'm going to fucking ruin you–"

You bite his shoulder so viciously that you start to taste blood.

He grabs your jaw, he squeezes until it hurts. He squeezes until you release.

"I'm the only thing you have now." He growls, thrusts turning mean, ruthless. Desperate. "I'll be the only thing you'll ever have now."

You glare through your tears, and get out his name, and then you croak, "I've already ruined you–look at you. Look at you."

A few more artless thrusts and he comes with a broken groan, raw, against your jumping pulse. You feel him fill you again, deep, and warm. Strangely soothing after everything, after all of it. You go slack for a moment as you heave, as you feel him breathe against your chest.

And this time he is done. This time, he holds you, even when you try to weakly push him away.

"Stop fussing," he scolds softly, stroking slow over your sides, petting you, soothing you. You feel so boneless that you listen, settle down into the bed, into his touch, into his weight still atop you.

He's weakened you to him, stripped you down so you're limp and exhausted, and in need of care. His care.

He bathes you. And before that, he makes you wrap your arms around him to carry you to the bathroom. He doesn't carry you like a bride but with your arms around his neck, with your legs around his waist, wants you to nose into his throat, to be pressed fully to him. He doesn't allow you something so dignified as being carried like a bride.

And he doesn't allow you privacy, either, not to use the bathroom or to clean yourself. He does it for you. You think about asking him to leave you. You think about begging him. You swallow it down and can't decide if it's pride now that holds your tongue or something else. If it's worse to beg now or if it's worse to be cared for like this. You can't decide if it's more embarrassing to ask him to leave or to let him stay and see it all.

He sits in the tub with you and wipes your tears. He runs the warm water over your shoulders, along your arms. He cleans inside you, even when you make a noise of protest.

He shushes you gently as his fingers delve into you again, "just settle. Relax." And when you go limp against him, head on his shoulder, he praises you in low, soft tones, "that's it–there. That's all, darling."

He is surprisingly gentle. Surprisingly subdued and at peace while he cares for you.

He dries you. He carries you back to bed. You're sore and tender, can feel all his marks and bites and the ache between your legs now very acutely.

He lays atop you, head on your chest, limbs thrown around you. You allow your hands to delve into his hair and you realize much of what he said is true;

He is all you have now. And the sorcery world is to blame, the ones who outcasted you and your family. Him.

Shyly, you draw a finger over the line of his brow, the slope of his nose. He is all you have. He is who you're stuck with, for better or for worse. You let it settle in you, deep and unmoving.

He is all you have.

You hold him tighter, know that maybe he could ruin you or that you could ruin him. You hold him tighter and know that he'll be yours. Or maybe you'll be his.

But more importantly, you know that he could ruin for you. He could ruin all of them.

As if possessed, you whisper it.

You whisper what you want him to become in his ear, as you trace over the scratches and the bites and the wounds. As you hold him to you. As you willingly wrap you arms around him. You tell him you want him to become a monster. You want him to avenge you, avenge himself, to tear it all down. You give him all your ire and contempt. You give him everything ugly while he sleeps and dreams and sighs into your neck.

You poison him. You curse him.

You will ruin them all. You will be something powerful. Something horrible. You will change everything. You will ruin everything.

All I have to do is ask, you think. All I have to do is ask.

And he will give you everything.

#getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #getou suguru x you #suguru getou x you #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #cielo writes

[vrisrezis]

Geto x reader angst I’m really not alright (also some gojo x reader too)

based off of Taylor swift right where you left me

Not proof read forgive me for any mistakes I’m too tired to read it myself I made this rlly late

Friends break up, friends get married.

Strangers get born, strangers get buried.

Suguru Getou was now a traitor. Words you never thought you’d ever hear, come from your friends mouth. Gojo wouldn’t even look at you, and honestly it’s the first time you’ve seen him upset at all. You two weren’t the closest, but you were still friends. You were dating his best friend after all, being friends was a must. Suguru and Gojo were a package deal, after all. So to hear of their sudden falling out, you felt sad for the both of them.

In the moment, you felt the need to console him. You didn’t consider your feelings at all. The two were inseparable, the best of friends. You know the two separating is hard for gojo. As he describes his confrontation with suguru, how he just couldn’t kill him, so you hugged and comforted him. Knowing his best friend had betrayed him, you knew he was broken. He felt deep regret for not being there for you in that moment, so he’d pay you back for it in the future by totally spoiling you with his love and care.

Little did you know, that moment of consolation, would be the start of something special between the both of you. It would lead to the start of something entirely new. A new chapter in your lives. It would take many years for either of you to be ready for your newfound relationship, but it would eventually come with getous absence. Time would go on as it would, you’d marry gojo. You’d even have a child.

However, the affections you held for your first love, suguru getou, will always remain. You are reminded of that on December 24th.

Once again, you felt the need to console your current love for being the one to bite the bullet and end suguru’s life himself. After all these years, after all the maturing and aging, you two still cared deeply for that man. But a part of you is just happy it’s over. Even though it hurts, even though it’s unfair, maybe you can both move on. Maybe you can finally be at peace. Even though you never got to say goodbye, this is okay. That’s what you tell yourself. You tell yourself satoru has it worse than you anyway, because he had to be the one to kill him. He was the one that had to find out about his betrayal, about the innocent lives he murdered, he was the one to confront him, lose him, and feel that failure and loss. He’s the one that feels he cannot be vulnerable, because it caused his best friends insanity.

Trends change, rumors fly through new sky

But I’m right where you left me.

But no matter how much changes in this life, he is always on your mind. One way or another, you will never be able to truly move on. Satoru knows that, deep down. He doesn’t say anything about it, cause he doesn’t blame you and he knows you don’t want to acknowledge it. For as much as suguru has done, you loved him for the kind soul he was. You fell in love with the old suguru, and satoru can’t blame you. In a way, he had fallen in love with suguru too.

Neither of you could bring it in you to leave the place he left you both stranded in. In that school that the both of you now teach in.

You’re both reminded of your loss now and again. Getou left satoru behind, and you were left to pick up the pieces. To make him whole again. Getou left you behind too, without a trace. Without even a proper goodbye. You tell yourself, that’s okay. It’s fine. Because he got to say goodbye to satoru. That’s all that matters. He died in peace, he’s gone now. That’s all.

Matches burn after the other

Pages turn and stick to eachother

Wages earned and lesson learned

But I’m right where you left me

“Life goes on.” you tell yourself.

But deep down, you wait for his return. A sign, anything. You miss him, so much. And you, after all these years, still refuse to acknowledge it. So many different times you’ve listened to satoru pour his heart out, and yet you never let out yours. Satoru doesn’t know how to get you to open up about it, because it’s like you want to pretend he didn’t just leave you behind without a word. The betrayal weights so heavy on you, that you refuse it’s existence.

Deep down there’s so much you never told satoru. Your trust had completely left after suguru betrayed you, the man you loved.

Help, I’m still at the restaurant

Still sitting in the corner I haunt

Cross legged in the dim light

They say “what a sad sight”

You often visit the places suguru used to take you. The memories are fond, but the feelings bring you immeasurable grief and dread.

Satoru starts to recognize the places. Suguru used to ask Satoru where to take you out for your first date, your second, third, and so on. Satoru knows that you miss him.

You refuse to talk about it. And satoru can’t help but watch you longingly stare at sugurus favorite ice cream shop you two used to frequent in highschool.

I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

You never told satoru but, suguru did visit you. In fear for his safety, you were silent about it. Because you loved him, even if you felt stupid for doing so, it was undeniable. Despite everything your brain told you, you kept any contact you had with him a complete secret from even satoru. It’s not like you and him did anything too special.

But the first time you saw him again, the silence between you both was deafening. Time felt like it completely stopped, seeing him for the first time, upon learning of everything he had done.

He was the one to break the silence. And confess to the murder of an entire village, including his parents.

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

You said nothing. You were silent. Getou understands why. He didn’t exactly come here for forgiveness, rather a final goodbye to the person he loved. He doesn’t blame you exactly if you no longer love him.

“I love you.” he says.

You don’t say it back.

That’s the last time you see him.

And that’s when you both had to move on, and start your new lives, without eachother.

I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned up hair

They expected me to find somewhere

Some perspective, but I sat and stared

After that meeting, you didn’t move for awhile. You didn’t cry, or scream, or anything. You were silent and still.

In fact, you stayed like that for a couple days, losing sleep, losing your appetite too. But satoru was there, he always was, you’ve realized. Unlike suguru, satoru is always there for you.

And yet you refuse to acknowledge getou. You don’t talk about him. You’d rather forget he ever existed. Maybe your life would be better that way.

Right where you left me

You left me, oh, you left me no

You don’t utter a word to satoru.

You bitterly wonder to yourself why he had to leave you, why he had to kill all those people, even his words, his explanation to you, made no sense. This was not the suguru you knew. The suguru you knew wanted to help people, protect them, and saw them as that. People. Not some fucking animals. Some monkeys.

Being in love with a man like that is a cruel joke.

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You left me, you left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You had tried to keep it all in, and you certainly have. And you would, for many years.

However, despite you bottling everything up, your pain shows in other ways. Such as simply staring off into space, not uttering a word. Recalling your last meeting with suguru, recalling everything you felt in that moment.

Your face doesn’t give anything away, but your clothing suddenly becoming baggier, the circles under your eyes, certainly does.

Satoru can’t get you to snap out of these states, but you are somewhat in reality when he forces you to eat.

You never want to talk about it.

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won’t know it

You refuse to be stuck in time and think about him any longer.

As much as you hate the idea of suguru having so much power over your life, he ruined it.

You just want to be happy again. You want to be happily in love without remembering of him, without feeling guilt, you want to be as hopelessly in love with satoru as he is with you, you want to be truly happy with him without the both of you thinking about how getou has effected you both.

You push your feelings for suguru further away. But it only makes you worse.

She’s still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be

But for as much as you try to push it away, your mind goes back to highschool.

You think about all the memories you had, the time he asked you out, your first date, even the time you two hung out outside of school as friends for the first time. The first time he hugged you, held your hand, kissed you.

There’s no point dwelling on the past.

And yet, you still keep coming back to it.

Did you hear about the girl that lives in delusion?

Break ups happen everyday, you don’t have to lose it

You wonder if you’re crazy, dramatic even, for still missing him. Maybe you’ve gone mad. You feel more miserable than ever. You’ve tried so hard to make a new life for yourself. With satoru, with your newfound child. And you are, you’re happy. But that sadness lingers, it’s always there. He’s always there.

It’s like you stopped trusting people entirely, like you’ve lost your mind completely. Maybe that’s because of suguru.

You feel wrong for not being able to tell satoru everything. About seeing suguru, about lying to him and telling him suguru never said a word to you after leaving.

It’s so hard to let people in.

She’s still 23 inside her fantasy

And you’re sitting in front of me

But suguru was just so easy to let in.

You always had trust issues. But with him, it felt right to trust him, to love him. Unapologetically, wholeheartedly.

You barred your entire soul to this man, he broke down your walls without much effort at all. Something nobody had ever done.

His sweet smile, his adorable laugh, his eyes that pulled you right in. He was home.

At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross legged in the dim light, everything was just right

For the time you had with suguru was good. This ice cream shop was a place you two went to often. Sat and ate at the table, you’d quietly eat and listen to him talk about anything. Pretend to be mad at him when he lightly teased you for getting such a basic flavor.

Moments like these were special, because it gave you the sense of normalcy you lacked.

You know it was special to him too.

These memories of him used to make you smile. You can’t help but wonder what changed?

I could feel the mascara run

You told me that you met someone

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

You two happened to meet, one more time, per his request.

“To catch up” as he worded it. You stupidly said yes, because you missed him. You wondered if he missed you too. It was weirdly casual, and maybe back then you would’ve been mad at him for the audacity of him to act like nothing happened, but you loved him too much to care.

It was only then did you realize how much he had changed these last couple years. He had children. He was a father. He had a life. And you were still caught up on him. You missed him, so much. Did he even miss you at all? He did leave you after all. If he really loved you, he would’ve stayed.

You kept things civil with him. Pushing down everything you ever felt. It was what you excelled at. You weren’t as silent with him this time, which made him a bit more pleased that he could have a conversation with you. A part of him couldn’t stay away from you, despite how things ended and despite how he promised himself he wouldn’t be weak and see you again.

In his mind, you had moved on. You had a child, you were dating satoru, fucking satoru gojo. The rage he felt, he pushed down. Only for you. Only so you didn’t have to watch him seething with jealousy. Only so you didn’t have to love him even less.

You both have new lives now. That was something you both accepted that day.

Help, I’m still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross legged in the dim light

They say “what a sad sight”

“Hey..” satoru says softly, finally grabbing your attention.

You look away from the ice cream shop, but gojo just smiles sadly at you.

You let out a sigh, you’re a terrible partner. “I’m sorry..” you say, “this is supposed to be our date.”

“It’s okay.” Satoru says, uncharacteristically soft with you, “I get it, yknow? We’ll take it slow, okay?”

You nod slowly, “okay.” you say, and it’s nothing more than that. Cause he knows you don’t want to talk to him about it. You never do. And he respects that. He understands.

I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned up hair

You continue to stare, pulled back into your trance for a moment, before you eventually try to continue your date with satoru. You’re distracted throughout the date, and he knows it.

But it’s okay, he understands. Everyone is dealing with losing getou differently, even now.

He allows your silence and he allows you to think about whatever it is. Because this doesn’t happen too often, because he loves you. Because you were always there for him when he cried in your chest about suguru. Because he knows that it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You just need some time.

I’m sure that you got a wife out there

Kids and Christmas, but I’m unaware

Cause I’m right where

If he has kids, does he have a husband too? A wife? Wasn’t that what you were supposed to be? Supposed to have? Wasn’t that not meant for you?

He has moved on from you so quickly. You still mourn him. Is this really what you’ve become?

I cause no harm, mind my business

If our love died young, I can’t bear witness

And it’s been so long

But if you ever think you’ve got it wrong

In the end, for as much as you try to deny it. Suguru has your heart. You will always be there for him. Even if he leaves you, even if he moves on like you never mattered, even if he kills all the people in the world, even if you’ve found somebody new. Even when you both live separate lives and even when you both have children of your own. Even when he’s gone and out of this world for good.

And even when he comes back, seals away your husband, and haunts you once more.

You love him endlessly.

I’m right where you left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

Even when you’re the one that has to kill him this time around, finish him off, even if it’s not really him. You do it, because there’s no way you let satoru do it again. Because for as much as you love suguru, you love satoru too.

And then, it’s over.

He’s on his dying breath, but you see him. The real him. He speaks. You can’t help but notice he’s beautiful even when he’s dying.

For the first time ever, since he left, the realization sets in. He will die, for real this time. He will leave your life, once and for all.

“Stay..?” he says, no other words needed to be spoken. Cause he already knew everything you ever thought or felt. Because he always does so effortlessly. He sees right through every wall you’ve ever built. Something your husbands six eyes simply cannot do.

And you see him for who he is, in turn. You see how sorry he is, not sorry for what he did, but that he hurt you, that he left you. He’s sorry he couldn’t be good for you.

You left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You’ve pushed away every feeling you’ve ever had for suguru for so long.

It’s the first time you allow yourself to truly cry over him.

“I’d stay with you forever, suguru.” you admit, the tears finally leave your eyes, it feels good to finally let it all go. But it’s bittersweet. Because in the end only suguru can get you to truly be vulnerable. Because even after everything he’s done. He has your love. He has your trust. You give into him wholly, and unapologetically.

You have come to the understanding that you will miss suguru deeply, but you will finally be able to move on. You’ll live your life with satoru, with your daughter kido. You’ll be happy, you won’t feel guilt, you won’t be constantly reminded of your loss. You’ll even learn to open up to satoru finally, after all these years. Things will be okay.

But for now, you’re with suguru. Even if he will leave you, again. You’ll always be there for him, no matter how many times he leaves you in the dust.

#suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

Tradition dictates that your friends visit the lake during the first day of summer. Tradition does not dictate that you go skinny dipping with Gojo Satoru, but you do anyways. 

wc — 4.5k 

Tokyo summers burn. Like its own personal firestorm, the atmosphere of the city seems to form an oppressive dome that traps warmth. Heat rises and brings oxygen with it, leaving a devouring void behind that makes each breath a laborious fight. 

Summers are still your favorite, anyways. Non-sorcerers spend their whole year clawing their way to a break, and the relief that washes over the entire city when they finally make it brings the appearance of cursed spirits to the lowest it will be annually. 

Even when your back is damp from sweat and cicadas buzz incessantly outside your window, nothing feels better than this. This summer, however, brings with it a tension that didn’t previously accompany the years prior. 

Entering your third year at Jujutsu Tech feels like a door unmistakably closing shut behind you. It’s entrapment to a brutal world that demands your allegiance to protect non-sorcerers, yet claims the bodies of your friends one by one. Everyone can feel it. With the desperate strength of a drowning man who knows his fight only prolongs the inevitable, you cling to your last days before you’re thrust out into the viciousness of jujutsu society for real. 

Technically, Jujutsu High students graduated at the end of their fourth years, but by that time, they were already functioning sorcerers. Their education was in name only. The school only existed as a command center, of sorts. They slept in the dorms, but in every other way, they were true sorcerers, already working on missions. Gojo was viciously jealous of Utahime and Mei Mei, but you dreaded the day that would be you. 

You missed Utahime. She transferred to Kyoto last year on account of familial issues, but she’s been offered an opportunity to return this summer, combined with a stipend and a dorm. In exchange, she’s supposed to shadow Masamichi, ostensibly in the name of preparing her to become a teacher. 

You know privately that Masamichi just wants his favorite student back, and to keep everyone out of trouble. There was no need to pay for a babysitter if Utahime was there. With her presence, Gojo’s rate of unsalvageable collateral damage due to his sheer existence went down by 20% and Utahime’s blood pressure went up by 65%. 

A knock on the door startles you even when you expect it. Sliding open the screen door, you nearly walk into a wall of black fabric. 

Gojo and Getou both hit growth spurts last year at around the same time. Where once you would’ve at least been able to ruffle his hair without tip-toeing, now you stand eye-level with his chest. He’s ridiculously tall, lanky in a way he’s only just growing into. All his pants had to be thrown out and replaced with new clothes, not that it was difficult with the funds he has. Trust fund baby, you think affectionately. 

His glasses sit delicately on the bridge of his nose, those famous eyes peering down at you over the top of them as he grins, a flash of canines that’s too sharp, too much. “You ready? Poor Utahime’s going to be stuck there for hours if we wait any longer. You know the traffic sucks at 5:00.” 

Instead of answering, you steal his sunglasses off his face and slide them onto your own, leaving him to catch up to you as he walks down the hall. It only takes him three steps before he’s next to you, slinging his arm around your shoulders. 

Utahime looks pristine despite the sweltering heat. All around her, children are crying, parents are complaining, and conductors are trying desperately to pacify irate customers. People are more irritable than normal. Utahime, however, is as warm and personable as ever. By the time you reach her, she has just sent a child off with a lollipop. He promised her to be more careful in public, brushing off the dust on her nearly spotless skirt from running into her. His grateful mother thanks her again before she ushers her son off. Utahime was just sweet like that, easy to love, hard to anger. There was only one person that could infuriate her. 

Gojo reaches over and flicks her forehead, “Utahime!” He draws out her name, making it sound like Utahimeeeee. “How does it feel to be back in Tokyo?” 

She turns and looks at you. “I want to go back to Kyoto now. This was a mistake.” 

You laugh and lean forward to hug her. She smells like green tea and orange blossom and white chocolate, a curious mixture of the natural and artificial, but so homey and comforting. She smells like familiarity, and you drink it in, resting your cheekbone against her shoulder for a brief second before you pull back. Utahime gives you a surprised look that melts into tenderness. “Missed me, huh?” 

Gojo gags. “Get a room, you two.” 

When you smack his shoulder, he doesn’t even flinch. “Shut up, Gojo.”

You give yourself one more five second hug with Utahime. “It’s just good to have you back.” 

You don’t know how to explain how you feel. Having Utahime back means everyone is all together again, all the people you love most in the world collected in one place. They’re not too far out of reach, never more than an arm’s length away. You’re not clingy to the point where you can’t stand it when somebody has to leave, but it just always feels more right when the seven of you are together. Something settles back into your place under your breastbone, a feeling of mild but perpetual discomfort that had been present since she left melting away. 

“Come on,” Gojo calls. He’s already ahead of you, those long, long legs striding through the crowd with ease. There’s more than a few eyes on him, men and women alike watching in appreciation. “Everyone’s waiting in the car.” 

A man bumps into Utahime, nearly spilling her luggage. You steady her, and Gojo is already heading back. He shoots the man a nasty look as he takes her suitcase, and after giving your own purse a considering look, grabs that too. 

You laugh. “It’s not heavy, I don’t mind holding it.” 

“Oh,” he says. “I’m not doing this for you. It matches my shirt.” 

You and Utahime share a look. Narcissist. (You love him.) 

Utahime nearly slaps Gojo when she sees what he’s decided to drive today. It’s sleek and silver, a gorgeous beast built for luxurious speed. On the way here, you didn’t feel a single bump in the road, some ridiculous technology built into it prevented it. For all its beauty, it is, however, way too small. 

Utahime gives him a disbelieving look. “Are you serious? Are you an idiot? Are you insane?” She jabs a finger into his forehead and twists it.

He bats her away. “It’s fine, it’s fine, look! You can just sit on Nanami’s lap, and we’ll throw your luggage in the trunk with Haibara and he’ll keep it safe. It’s a win-win!” 

“You put Haibara in the trunk?” 

Gojo knocks on the top of the trunk instead of answering. 

“Yes, Gojo?” Comes the dutiful answer. 

Utahime looks horrified. “None of you said anything?”

Getou laughs. Everyone seems to forget that he and Gojo are best friends for a reason, and for all that he hides it, they’re just as bad as each other. Shoko wouldn’t expend her precious energy on something like this. Nanami’s making a face that says everything he doesn’t need to: would Gojo even listen to him? Utahime raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I called shotgun,” you say in lieu of an explanation. 

“Ugh,” she shakes her head. “Thank god I’m back.” 

She’s exasperated but smiling as she walks to the other side and pops the door open. Nanami’s hands hover over her hips when she gingerly climbs into his lap, clearly torn between keeping her secure and trying to be respectful. 

Gojo cackles. “Look at his face!” Nanami’s turning red, either from lack of oxygen because he’s holding his breath, or embarrassment. 

“First time you had a girl in your lap?” He jeers. 

“Stop that! I know you planned this just to tease him,” Utahime says. 

“Yeah,” you chime in. “Eyes on the road before you total your nice car.” 

“As if I couldn’t afford another,” he grumbles, but he does as you say. 

Shoko pulls out an earbud. “Oh, Utahime!” She hadn’t even noticed. “We picked you up! Wow, I was so sure Gojo messed up again and got the wrong station-“

“Hey!” 

“What are we doing now?” She continues, ignoring the driver’s protests. 

“Lunch,” Getou suggests. 

“I’m hungry!” Echoes Haibara, voice muffled. 

“Sure,” Gojo says, and the car accelerates a little more, the engine a smooth purr. “I’ll get us a reservation.” 

“Actually,” Utahime says. “As much as I love abusing the Gojo connections, I’m kind of craving breakfast right now.”

You check the clock on the dashboard. 6:15. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going to get breakfast at 6:15?” Gojo asks, echoing your thoughts, though not as politely. 

Getou looks up from his phone, open to twitter. 

“There’s a chain restaurant nearby that serves 24/7 breakfast. It’s back there, though.” 

Gojo groans, but it’s Utahime’s first day back. He puts the car in reverse. 

Gojo’s car stands out in the parking lot when he pulls in. It’s purposeful, especially the smooth loop he does before he parks. He’s watching the group of teenagers outside gawking at the expensive vehicle. Everyone shares a long-suffering sigh. 

You all climb out and are halfway into the diner when Utahime shrieks. “We forgot to get Haibara!” 

A family of four gives you a terrified look when you pop the trunk and finally pull Haibara out.

“Don’t worry, I’m not kidnapped!” He hollers at them. You think it makes it worse. 

Surprisingly, he doesn't look like he’s been kept in a trunk for an hour. His collar is a little rumpled, but Utahime smooths it out for him. True to his word, he kept her luggage secure. 

The booths aren’t small by any means, but there’s eight of you. Gojo and Getou are over six feet already and Nanami’s shooting up like a bean sprout. At least Haibara’s still your height. 

“The little ones should go first,” Gojo teases, and  earns a kick in the back of his knee for his efforts. Still, Shoko obligingly crawls in, followed by Haibara, then Utahime. Getou and Gojo sit opposite each other, on the outside as always, which leaves you and Nanami to fill in the other side. It’s a cramped fit. Nanami is leaned as far into the wooden wall as he’s physically able, but you and Gojo are still shoulder to shoulder. To make more room, you nudge his stupidly long legs shut. He slouches further in protest. 

Getou orders for all of you and Utahime cuts up the meals. Everyone has their own idiosyncrasies. Gojo piles his waffles with powdered sugar and berry jam. Shoko, by contrast, hates sweets, and is wolfing down a smiley face made out of bacon and eggs. Haibara steals a bite from Nanami’s healthy, balanced plate of greens and protein. He receives no rebuke. 

You’re easily the loudest table there. Gojo and Utahime argue nonstop, while Haibara tries to break up the fights when he’s not busy pilfering everyone’s dishes. Shoko is fiddling with her phone, trying to find the right song, and one of her earbuds is out, sharing the tinny sound of the cheap speakers with everyone else. You’re a naturally attention drawing group, and even more so now. 

You leave a couple hundred dollars worth of a tip as an apology. Gojo’s bank account won’t feel a thing, anyways.  

Piling back into the car after it’s been baking outside under the summer sun is an ordeal, even though it’s night and the air is cooler. Gojo rolls down all the windows and the sun roof. The wind combs through your hair like the fingers of a lover, bringing the sweet smell of summer with it, burnt sugar and caramel. The radio is playing. Utahime leans over the console. Nanami makes a choked noise. Gojo’s eyes slide over to you, amused. Getou laughs outright. The seven of you play off each other so easily.

Utahime switches the station to something American, the soft strains of a melody achingly beautiful floating through the car. It’s some blonde pop singer, her voice strong and clear. Soon enough, you and Utahime are singing along to the chorus, not worrying about making it perfect. Off-key, scratchy, and hoarse, it feels good regardless. You reach through the sunroof to let the air resistance of Gojo’s car on the highway bat against your hands, letting the wind carry your voice away with it too. 

Utahime throws one leg over Shoko’s lap as she tips her head back, out the window. Nanami’s hand goes out, spooked; he settles it between the crown of her head and the outside world, as if to protect it. Eventually, Gojo joins in. He’s flawless, as always. The perfect pitch he discovered he had in violin class leads him to hit every note. 

“Stop!” Haibara calls out. Gojo breaks so hard the car squeals. You swear you can smell burning rubber as the tires spark against the tarmac. 

“What?!” Utahime’s already halfway out the door, distressed. In a minute, she would say that she told you so, it was a bad idea to let Haibara stay in the trunk no matter what he said. 

“I see a convenience store on Google Maps! Can we get ice cream? Please?” 

Everyone not in the trunk lets out a collective breath of relief. 

They scatter once inside, you included. Nanami and Haibara, joined at the hip, head for the ice cream. Shoko, Getou, and Utahime make a bee line for the slushy machine. Gojo disappears into the thin air. 

At first, you’re tempted to go for the slushy machine too, but you spot the snack aisle. Although you came in planning to get one or two items, not even five minutes in and you have to grab a basket. Whatever, you were planning to have a beach bonfire tonight to celebrate Utahime returning anyways. 

Someone presses up against the small of your back. Fingers dip into the curve of your waist. You flinch, but the flash of snow white hair out of the corner of your eye relaxes you. It’s just Gojo. You keep forgetting how much he’s grown now. 

He looks startlingly attractive under the fluorescent lights that wash everyone else out. His eyelashes are frosted in the cold glow of the blue tinted light, and his skin is perfectly poreless. Gojo is always the exception. The world would roll over itself to do him a favor. 

“What are you looking for?”

“Getou sent me a Tik Tok last night of these limited edition heart shaped chocolates.”

“These?” He pulls it off the shelf. 

“Yeah, thanks.” You make a grab for it. 

He holds it just out of reach, over your head. 

“Gojo!”

“Ask me for it.”

“Are you serious? How old are you?”

“Come on,” his voice drops an octave, becoming soft, quiet. Something for your ears only. His words feel like a caress. You’re tipping dangerously close to something the two of you have been dancing around all year, ever since Masamichi sent you two together on that overnight mission in second year. You’d shared a house, played at a family - or at least Gojo had. He liked to tease like that, sneaking up behind you and placing his hands over your eyes to announce he was home like a husband returning from work. But that wasn't the problem. 

The problem was that you’d caught him half naked, fresh out of the shower, in your shared bedroom, only a towel slung low on his hips. 

“I forgot my clothes,” he stammered uncharacteristically before you had jolted back to life and slammed the door shut. That image of him, hair damp, water trickling down his hip bones, had been seared into your memory. 

That makes this, whatever this is that he’s doing, dangerous. For both of you. 

Fighting to avoid his demanding eyes, you snatch a box off the shelf yourself.

“Guys,” Utahime’s voice calls, vaguely annoyed, “are you done yet?” 

“Coming!” Gojo calls back. He doesn’t pull away from you, in fact, he pulls you closer into his side as he tugs you towards the register where everyone waits. 

As you turn to leave, you spot a group of three boys watching you, clearly interested. Your eyes dart between them and Gojo, sudden understanding dawning as you place your items with the rest. 

It’s past midnight by the time you get back to campus. Everyone piles into Utahime’s room, too small for the mass of bodies inside. It’s a cramped, tight fit, but you’re all used to each other. A leg in a lap here, someone piled half on top of someone else there, and you make it work. Gojo and Nanami trade insults idly as Utahime unpacks, Shoko digging through her suitcase for souvenirs. She spots a bullet of maroon lipstick and snatches it up. 

Though it’s late, no one’s tired. The steady thrum of energy throughout the room is sustained by seven bodies. The minute someone flags, another is there to prop them up, almost as if Gojo’s perpetual six eyes now extends to the rest of you as well. This is how it always is, the first day of summer, and now it’s time for another tradition. 

Getou starts first, of course, everyone following his lead. “It’s hot,” he complains, and he means it, but he’s saying it just to say it. It’s the first act in a play that’s become routine. 

Shoko hums in agreement, then pulls a bikini out of Utahime’s bag. She yelps in embarrassment and tries to pull it out of her hands, but Shoko gapes and clings on to it, then presses it to Utahime’s body. 

“Uta! My god, that looks incredible on you!” 

Utahime blushes, the white strappy fabric falling as neither she nor Shoko make an attempt to hold it up. 

“It’s hot,” Gojo says again. 

Utahime pauses. “Lake?”

“Lake.” Nanami agrees. 

Just like that, everyone’s off to their own rooms, grabbing bags of clothes and towels. 

The lake is only a short walk from campus, surrounded by a dense crop of trees with an opening one has to know to look for. Above the lake is cloudless and starry, the moon’s gentle light making things appear as through a filter. Gojo’s white hair glows in the night, so he goes first, picking a path through the trees, easy to spot. He carries Shoko on his back. Utahime goes after, Haibara at her side, and Nanami on the other. One steep step in, and she’s already kept Haibara from twisting his ankle once. Getou insists on bringing up the rear, so you follow the rest, making your way towards the singular earth-bound star of bone white hair in the distance. 

The lake looks like another universe, reflecting the sky back at you, perhaps an otherworldly portal, if you were imaginative enough. Gojo steals a marshmallow from the supplies Utahime is setting out, meant to be reserved for the bonfire later, and is slapped in return. 

Everyone’s following an easy rhythm of old traditions falling into place, scavenging for wood or unpacking supplies. Gojo alone stands still in the chaos, an isolated island. There’s a wicked look in his eye that never bodes well for anyone. 

“Uh oh,” Shoko says warily. “What are you thinking of now?” 

“Let’s go skinny dipping,” he suggests. 

Utahime rolls her eyes. “Cute,” she says blithely, returning to her skewered marshmallow. 

Getou shrugs, his hair slipping off his shoulder. He’s already pulling his swim trunks off, unashamed of his body and the clear strength in it. The terrible two, always backing each other up. People seemed to forget they were two sides of the same coin. 

“Why not? Come on, Uta. It’ll be fun. Take a risk now and then,” he says, heading towards the dark waters. 

Utahime stammers, fingers toying with the edge of her bikini. Shoko goes next, undoing the straps of her top and sliding the bottoms down her pale, creamy legs. She goes to help Utahime with the ties of her own swimsuit, slipping it off the other girl, who’s blushing, but participating nonetheless now that Shoko’s clearly in. 

Nanami makes an expression of oh-what-the-hell and starts undoing the strings of his own trunks too, tugging them off. He runs down the dock and jumps into the water, submerged for a moment before he comes back for air. 

He gestures for Haibara, who follows him like a puppy. He shivers, but he climbs into the water, slipping his trunks off once he’s in and tossing them back on shore. Nanami shakes his head, trying to get the water out, slicking his hair back from his face. 

Gojo and you are the last ones left. You’re a little surprised by this fact, assuming it would’ve been you and Nanami or Utahime. Gojo has made no attempts to hide his body before, all lean muscles and sharp angles. 

Gojo looks over at you and arches an eyebrow. “You coming?”

You laugh, still thinking it’s a game, but you should’ve known better. Gojo takes it as a dare, because being the savior of the Jujutsu world comes with having an ego bigger than the moon. Very little genuinely gets a rise out of him. He thinks he’s above it all, and how could he not, when he so often physically is. But he picks the oddest moments to take offense to his pride, and somehow, your laugh provokes it. 

His hands slink towards his shorts, thumb dipping under the elastic waistband with a quiet snap. You know him. He never backs down from a dare. 

“Gojo.” You’re not sure how to continue, shrinking away from looking directly into his eyes. His were a peculiar white-blue. In a monochrome photograph, they would be a true negative, an empty space, a vacuum. 

It’s always hard to hold eye contact with him. You preferred him with longer hair. It softened him. Blurred out the edges and made the innate violence of his existence almost palatable. Last winter, Getou had convinced him to grow his hair out into a mullet. He had looked good, he always did, no matter what he did to himself. But for summer, he had cut it shorter. It was still long by most people’s standards, and soon his bangs would fall into his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to protect you from the piercing ice of his gaze. 

“You don’t want to come?” His voice is as if you’ve rarely heard it, speaking as softly as to a wild animal he doesn’t want to startle. He only ever uses this tone when he’s alone with you, too shy or embarrassed to allow the others to catch him like this. 

In a sudden burst of courage, you demand, “Only if you do it with me.” 

As he peels off his trunks, you shed your own swimsuit. This is more Gojo than you’ve ever seen in your life, swathes of moonlight pale skin that remains completely unblemished. Every sorcerer has scars, but not Gojo. 

You stand shivering, arms around yourself as the two of you face each other. 

“Come on,” he says, reaching out to touch your arm. “The water’s warmer.” 

You’re not shivering from the cold, but you obey. Utahime and Nanami are the strongest swimmers, and they’ve made it out to the middle of the lake, where they paddle in circles, testing each other. They race for the dock, then back out. Shoko and Getou remain on the edge, passing a cigarette between each other. They refuse when Haibara wants to share, too.

No one notices when you and Gojo slip into the lake a little further down, in a secluded area shaded by trees. 

He wades in just enough for the water to lap at his waist, his hips, the angular bones leading lower. Under the light of the moon, his skin glows with an ethereal blue that makes him look like he climbed out of a fantasy, highlighting his hair. You look away. 

You think this often: Gojo’s violently beautiful. Everyone knows it, most of all him. He’s difficult and terrible to look at, but his face calls for attention like a siren. In the water, more than ever the analogy rings true. 

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” He asks. 

The heat and exhaustion make you honest. You’re tired of fighting whatever unnameable force is pulling you and Gojo together like magnets. “You’re pretty.” 

He swims closer, his hands ghosting up your sides, or perhaps those are fish in the lake. The water ripples with his movements as he breaks the surface. He has nice hands, you notice, pretty like a pianist’s. He cups your cheek. 

“Am I?”  

“Don’t fish for compliments,” you murmur into the steadily disappearing space between the two of you. He’s too close. It makes it difficult to breathe. Gojo was always greedy. 

His technique manipulated space, made him capable of acting larger than life itself. When he walked into a room, he sucked all the air out of it, drew every eye. 

Now, in front of you, he blocks out the moon. All your senses are overloaded with Gojo and just him, superseding anything else you would have noticed. Your body catalogues what belongs to him and prioritizes it. His smell, his touch, even his taste when he finally leans in and brushes his mouth across yours delicately, only for you to lean forward and kiss him harder. 

He hoists your legs around his waist, still dripping water as he angles his head. He kisses like he’s got fever in his veins, burning and consuming and needy. He’s not careful enough. His teeth nick your bottom lip once, to your surprise, it feels good. You bring your arms up over his shoulders, pressing closer, closer, chest to chest. If Gojo’s a greedy god, you’re a willing sacrifice. 

“Gojo! Get back here, the s’mores are ready!” 

“Utahime,” he groans. 

In the distance, a bonfire glows. Your friends are waiting with marshmallows and chocolate, and yet, a part of you doesn’t want to leave this space with Gojo and lake water. It feels separate, somehow, from the rest of the world, almost as if Gojo’s technique is active. 

It’s a Tokyo summer, and the air is stifling. You can spare a few more minutes to cool off.

#sera writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff

[yuujism]

Tainted Promises (geto suguru x reader)

Part 1: Tainted

| PAIRINGS: gojo satoru x gn!reader x getou suguru

| WARNINGS: suggestive, explicit language, smut soon (next chapter will have tags) woo plot, established relationship, cheating, toxic, revenge, angst, kinda modified so it can fit the story (implied to be set after riko's death and geto's spiralling but uhh...), reader's sex and physical appearance is never mentioned, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 2.1k

| A/N: i'm back but im not really back lol this is the first part of a small series I started writing like 2 years ago and found in my notes app so... why not publish it and let people read it even if i am not currently writing? anyway idk if people remember me but thank u for supporting my works even after all this time and liking them :) see you in 2 more years LOL (jk ... unless...)

They were the strongest.

Those words resonated as an echo in Suguru’s mind since that day, the meaning behind those words still a total mystery. Perhaps it was meant as a responsibility. An inevitable fate. 

An implicit promise. 

He didn’t think much of it before Satoru’s serious words struck him like a lightning inside the eye of the storm, coming back to Suguru in form of dreams. Nightmares. Images of welcoming bloody hands spread towards him, an invitation, perhaps even a threat, to join a lawless world dictated by the untouchable. The strongest.

No. That wasn’t Suguru’s ideal.

Who cared about being the strongest among all? Rules were necessary. Listen to the higher-ups, complete missions, save and protect humans, swallow curses, taint yourself. Swallow, taint, conserve the peace. That was the job of a jujutsu sorcerer. That was the job of Geto Suguru.

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong.

So why was Satoru—his teammate, his accomplice, his best friend—different from him? A rule breaker, a rebellious soul with god complex issues, an idiot, incapable of seriousness and apathetic.

Why, even with all those flaws to Suguru’s eyes, could Satoru get someone like you in his life?

You, just like Suguru, followed the rules. A professional sorcerer that cared for the weak, getting out of their way to protect the smallest and even the biggest. Top of the class after him, Yaga’s right hand, the favourite of the higher-ups, probably even more trustable than Suguru himself. However, now with your brand new relationship with Satoru? Not that much. He knew that way too well.

Tainted. Making a promise with Satoru would get anyone tainted. 

The probelms seemed to have started one month after the beginning of your story together. A few weeks later, they were too obvious for Suguru -or anyone- to ignore. Hints of sleepless nights appeared on your features and the memories of an unknown scent that followed Satoru’s clothes kept haunting you along with the jealousy and hurt in your body. Missed calls, ditched dates and  a small bruise on your lover’s neck. It quickly became toxic. Almost unbearable. Suguru knew it. You knew it. 

And you both played dumb.

Responsible. You had to be responsible for your actions. You made a promise after all, and, ever the diplomatic sorcerer, you were intending to keep it. Swallowing the pain and hatred, the sadness and sorrow, the embarrassment and anger, you decided to keep living with the lie that was Gojo Satoru as proudly as your shattered dignity allowed you. You were better than him but for how long? 

Rules were necessary. You followed the rules as a religion. But what good did that ever bring you? 

Suguru could already sense it, perhaps even before you noticed. The corruption that anger and impotence could bring you. It was unstoppable once it started spreading, taking over your thoughts and ideals to then consume your actions. Satoru was the strongest in almost every sense that he became a poisonous time bomb for the ones surrounding him. It just happened to explode in your face to suffer the majority of the consequences. 

But were you the only one living them? You certainly weren’t the only one ignoring the menace that Satoru was. And definitely not the only one involved closely with said sorcerer. 

Suguru vividly remembers the shared laughs between him and his best friend after the story of how Satoru cheated on you. Repeatedly. A good fuck, he described you, his favourite toy so far. But Suguru knew him too well, right? He understood him better than anyone to even expect him to get in a serious relationship, right? That’s why they were best friends, the strongest, the rulers of the new to come sorcery world. Right? 

Right. Satoru was right. Even if Suguru’s brain didn’t stop replaying images of you with clenched teeth and hands closed in a tight fist, angry eyes staring at Satoru’s figure from afar to quickly change into your usual loving and submissive demeanour when he turned to look at you, he agreed. Even if Suguru felt himself become worse than he ever was when you gave him the sweetest of smiles even after laughing at you with Satoru for the nth time behind your back, he agreed. 

Because Satoru was hard-to-swallow for Suguru, yet he kept indulging himself into the bittersweet taste that was that friendship over and over again. 

Rules, responsibilities, strength, empathy. None of that mattered when Satoru was in the picture. The only thing that mattered was a promise. At the end of the day, they were best friends for a reason and you were with him for a reason.

That didn’t change the fact Suguru could treat you so much better. Be so much better. His heart dropped at the thought. Was he in the position to even think that after being accomplice of Satoru’s actions? After playing along and laughing at you? At this point, he was as guilty as your current cheat of a lover. But he could still have a chance, could he not? He was strong, responsible and professional. Would he be any better than Satoru? He thought he would. He hoped he would. 

Suguru’s mind started flooding with questions once again, self-doubt dripping from every single one of them until his thoughts were flooded with insecurities and rage. Rage? Strange yet oddly familiar. The warmth travelling over his body felt nice for once. No longer suppressed and set free to quickly come down from that high to feel guilty once again. Why would he feel rage towards Satoru? He was his best friend.

Was he?

Oh, how Suguru missed that little voice inside his head. A voice that he silenced long ago. The one that told him to commit the unbelievable, that went against all his morals and ideals, the one that ordered him to swallow and swallow, not for the greater good but for him to become stronger. Because he could. Because he wanted to. The voice that was as tainted as his thoughts were right now.

And now, as his chest tightened with anger and his body ached with hunger of power, Suguru never felt more as himself as he did now. Strong and capable, the maker of his own rules and own world. A perfect world. He was right back then when he thought of the weak as simple as that: weak. And he was right to feel what he avoided to feel all that time.

Power.

Suguru had the power to ignore the responsibility that came along with it. He had the power to follow his own path with his own decisions without having to live behind someone else’s shadow. To get what he wanted whenever he wanted. 

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. 

That was Geto Suguru. And right now, he wanted you.

And nobody noticed. Not Satoru, his proclaimed best friend, who kept playing around lost in the pleasure of both you and the freedom of being the strongest. Not the higher-ups who kept relying on him to keep an eye on the threat that was Satoru. Not his acquaintances that followed him mindlessly into a slowly growing empire. His empire.

Nobody noticed the power growth in Suguru. Nobody except you. 

Strong. Suguru was strong in your eyes. With sly movements, smug smile and a powerful stance. Completely overshadowed by the confidence of your current lover until the day he looked at you from above. Both figuratively and literally. His eyes held a promise, a completely different kind from Satoru’s that you understood way too well it scared you. 

Carnal, passionate and angry. That was his promise. A shiver ran down your spine at the mere sight of Suguru, responsible and respectful Suguru, smirking at you. Dark and dangerous. A different Suguru. Because you both shared the same ideal. Rules were necessary. And this time he was the one who made the rules. 

You weren’t interested. At least you tried to convince yourself you weren’t. Rules weren’t meant to be broken nor renewed, not by Suguru, not by you, not by anyone. So why did you feel excited at the thought of going against your own morals? To break, destroy and betray everything and everyone along with your lover’s best friend? It shouldn’t surprise you, in fact, you were not surprised. 

Your promise to Satoru started losing importance when you considered meeting with Suguru. You lied to yourself by thinking it would be to have a small talk, to ask for an explanation behind the meaning of that moment between the two of you and kindly reject whatever he wanted to propose. It sure didn’t matter anymore when you were under his dark gaze at the step of his door, mouth open in a silent gasp at the power Suguru, overshadowed Suguru, radiated, never losing his gentle and highly demanour as he let you in with a soft smile on his face and the smooth sound of your name leaving his mouth. 

A treacherous silence filled the room as time seemed to freeze between the two of you, staring at each other seconds after closing the door. 

You wanted to yell at him for even thinking he could get away with whatever he had in mind. For deeming you so low to think you would break the promise to Satoru and betray him when you were better than that. But were you when excitement was making your legs shake when Suguru’s eyes landed on your lips for a small second? Were you better when you couldn’t stop thinking in the way his large hands would feel on your body?

The answer was crystal clear: you weren’t. You never were. 

And realisation hit you. It hit you harder than Satoru’s cheating. And it sure hit you harder than the surprise you felt when you threw yourself at Suguru’s arms, lips crashing in a desperate kiss.  

Because all those times, Suguru could see through you and he was a great pretender too. He saw your hatred and your thirst for revenge, the constant fight within you to stop yourself from breaking the rules. To disobey the higher-ups. To betray Yaga. To hurt Satoru. They all deserved it. How pretentious of you to even think you were any better than any of them.

You and Suguru were the same. Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. Suguru just happened to be stronger.

As Suguru’s large hands roamed over your waist to push you closer to his own body as his tongue entered the warmth of your own mouth, you realised something else. You didn’t want Suguru and neither did he want you. What you both wanted was the power taht was long taken away from you. 

Power over a certain sorcerer.

It seemed Suguru noticed your change in demanour as your tangled your hand in his long silky hair and slightly pulled, the aggressiveness of your tongue along with his making him let out a groan that you swallowed with a whimper before he pulled away, a sly smirk on his face.

“You sure didn’t need any explanation, did you?” Suguru muttered as one of his hands traveled to your cheek, his thumb caressing your now wet lips as he eyed you. Such a gentle move yet so dominant. Expected from someone like Suguru. “Finally grew tired of Satoru cheating on you?”

That was unexpected.

Rage filled your body once again as you slapped his hand away from your face, glaring at him just the same way you’ve glared at Satoru when he wasn’t looking. Suguru chuckled as he grabbed your face once again, this time a little rougher as he turned you to face him again, other hand sneaking under your shirt to feel the soft skin under it. You held back a moan.

“Oh, come on. It was a small joke.” He playfully stated, long fingers drawing circles on the side of your waist as you grew impatient and angry. At what? You weren’t sure.

“An unfunny one at that.” You finally spoke and Suguru raised an eyebrow at the unknown and new stern tone your voice held. The sweet, professional and kind goody two shoes forsaken under his influence. “I didn’t come here for a stand-up show.” 

Your hands made their move again, landing on the collar of his shirt as you got closer again, anticipation giving you the confidence you lost before.

“I can see that.”

And just like that, your mouths crashes again, this time angrier, hungrier. Suguru’s comment about Satoru cheating on you lit an agressive fire within you that you tried to extinguish. But here, between Suguru’s arms and the feeling of his mouth now travelling down your neck, you finally felt free.

Next chapter (spicy) preview: "Your boyfriend likes sloppy seconds, did you know that? Should I just cum inside you and send you off to him dripping with my seed? Hm?"

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x geto suguru #geto suguru #gojo satoru #suguru x reader #satoru x reader

[herrsherofsorrow]

Both stories will take place in season 2 (also call Gojo’s Past Arc) but I won’t be following out the anime as it currently been make or the manga incase people who haven’t read the manga don’t get too much spoilers. (I can’t guaranteed that I won’t mention some things about the manga/anime)

Seer of Cursed: This story isn’t gonna be anything serious other than imagine Gojo, Getou, and Shoko being task with capturing and taking care of a 11-13 year old boy who has no cursed energy yet Cursed Spirits seem to be afraid on him? The three are to observe the boy until The Higher-ups decided what to do with him. Will the boy be killed off or used a tool? Doesn’t matter because Gojo isn’t going to let either one happen anyways.

Preview: It was late in the night as Gojo, Getou, and Shoko were being driven to their destinations. Shoko sat in the front seat as Getou and Gojo sat in the back, between Shoko and the driver rest a computer displacing a picture of a huge building. Shoko flipped through the pictures as the driver was giving a briefing of their mission, “Apparently, this built was a psychiatric hospital a place where people could go and stay to be treated. Over the years, family and friends of patients expressed concerns and complaints when noticing they were getting worse and on top of it patients were going missing or found dead, it closed down do to many health violations. The building was to be demolished but locals fought against that, it server be a reminder of the horrors that took place. Local rumors claimed the place to be haunted by those who died in the building. Others theorized that the building workers were performing inhuman experiments on unwilling patients so local school kids, college students from outside the prefecture, and others would visit it in hopes to communicate with the dead and subsequently go missing. As of recently, it was fenced off to the public but even that didn’t stop the distance when people in the area of the building go missing.” The last picture showed the entrance of building and a towering chain fence blocking any point of entry. 

“I thought they already sent someone to deal with it?” Getou questioned whether he reminded Yaga of mentioning the building to him before he was assigned a different task. 

“Please select the next file,” the driver asked Shoko who did so, a picture of a young boy ranging from the age of eleven and thirteen appeared. “Two sorcerers that were sent, returned heavily wounded, one of them barely conscious. The building had attracted multiple Cursed Spirits on the outside merely lower grades but when entering the building they were ambushed by many seemingly controlled by a Cursed Spirit, potentially a special grade, and wouldn’t survive if that boy hadn’t appeared.” Gojo let out a snicker when hearing two sorcerers were saved by a child. The driver ignored him and continued, “The picture you see here is {Name} {Last Name}, he was reported missing recently by many neighbors who claimed to not have seen the boy in weeks but their claims were dismissed until the boy’s school called in claiming the same thing. The police were given a warrant and searched the house to no avail, both of his parents were investigated, their stories never match on the boy’s disappearance and they are facing five years in prison for child neglect, although they might face murder charges despite there being no concrete evidence for such a thing.” 

“And… we should know this because…?” This time Shoko asked.

The driver sighed, “The one sorcerer claimed to see the Cursed Spirits cowered away from the boy yet they didn’t sense any cursed energy from him. Yet, the boy placed his hand on said Special Grade causing it to wither away or simply exercising it immediately while the others ran away with the boy following after them. Your job is to deal with the remaining cursed spirits and to capture the boy. You will then keep an eye on him until further notice.” This caught the trio’s attention, someone so young has a powerful cursed technique.  

A Mother’s Woes: Haibara Yu struggles to keep Jujustu a secret from his Mother, who is beginning to question his school. All seems to fail as his mother decided to get some answers for herself discovering not only the truth but a shocking revelation that her beloved husband had been at her side even after death. What will Yu do when he figures out his mother own discoveries? What will {Name} Haibara do now knowing the truth?

Preview: They stood on a concrete path that led to the front door of a house neither taking a step. Nanami was waiting for Yu to make a move but noticed how his friend was nervous and decided to place his hand on Yu’s shoulder giving it a squeeze in an attempt to comfort him. As for Yu to say he is nervous is an understatement, do get it wrong he wants to see his mother and sister after all it has been months since his last visit, that’s just not what he’s worried about and he has still yet to warn Nanami of it. 

Yu took a deep breath at the contact and looked to his friend, “Kento, before we go in I have to warn you about-“

”YOOOO!” A familiar voice yells followed by someone else calling out their names, ”Nanami! Yu!” The two stiffened upon their names and slowly turned their heads to look behind them. Gojo with both of his arms up in the air waving them around wearing a grin on his face, Getou only had one arm in the air and waved it around, and Shoko simply waved at the two. 

“What are you guys doing here? How?!” Yu demanded the trio as they made their way over to him and Nanami. 

“Aww, we can’t join you on your family visit?” Gojo pouts, placing his arms around Yu and Nanami and behind them closer to him.

”You talk a lot about your mother and sister, we got curious.” Getou said.

”They bothered Yaga until he blurted out that you were taking time off to visit family and took Nanami with you,” Shoko informed but Gojo intervened, “Blah Blah Blah, what are we waiting for!” And began dragging the two towards the door with Getou and Shoko following behind. 

“No- Wait!” Yu begged while trying to break free from Gojo’s grip but to no avail. ‘Shit Shit Shit’ Yu thought, this wasn’t going as planned. “Can-I have to tell you guys something-.” Just as they all reach the door, it opens to reveal a woman. But, that not what caught their attention behind the woman was a Special Grade Cursed. The air was tense, Yu hoped his mother couldn’t feel it as Gojo’s grip got slightly tighter.

“Yu, welcome home.” The voice of his mother rang out breaking the tension and he couldn’t help but let out a breath ‘she didn’t notice thank goodness’ he thought. Oh, how wrong he is. 

#jujustsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #nanami kento #haibara yu #female reader #male reader #jujutsu kaisen #child reader #jujutsu kaisen season 2 #jujutsu sorcerer #mother reader

[avtrbee]

please more gojo and fushiguro kids or gojo and his first years + yn moments!!

Notes: a little angsty and implied past!SatoSugu/Reader, Sugu still loves them, but they aren’t his goals anymore. reader is a female here w/ she/her pronouns. this is more getou centric than it is yn x gojo but there are a sprinkle of fushiguro kids here!! hope you enjoy (more notes at the end of the fic :>)

Three's a Crowd

summary: Suguru leaves and massacres his village, leaving you and Satoru with the consequences. 

tw: jjk0 spoilers, mentions of murdering children

Satoru marries you as soon as it settles within him that Suguru was never coming back. 

It came to no surprise to no one, you two were betrothed in childhood, after all, only you weren’t supposed to marry a year earlier. Satoru tried to play it off, waving his hands dismissively,  with an easy smile on his face. “Why bother waiting? We’re only delaying the inevitable.”

In truth, he sees you fading. You were quiet most of the time, a far cry from the firecracker of a sorcerer you once were. He would spot you in the most random places staring into space, trying your best to recall every conversation you had with Suguru. Maybe you were trying to recall the past to see hints you overlooked, any clue that might have foreshadowed Suguru’s sudden change. Either way, Satoru sadly watches you walk around the campus aimlessly, with no real destination in mind, staring at the sky, the grass, and the trees, but never really in your head.

There is a certain look in your eyes, the kind that tries its best to look normal but it’s only a mask to hide utter numbness. It grips Satoru’s heart like a vice when he recognizes it and sends him into a blind panic. He’s seen that look before. You were a ship without an anchor, mindlessly floating away to the sea, oblivious to where you were heading. 

So he’ll be your rock if it meant he could keep you here with him. He had not noticed Suguru fading away, spiraling deep inside his own head, the world collapsing on his shoulders until he finally snapped, leaving him to run away from high school and back to his hometown. If only Satoru noticed, if only Satoru saw, then maybe he would still be here. 

He knows of your dutiful nature. Satoru knows every detail about your upbringing and how your clan has instilled into you how to be his perfect bride and wife, and he knows how you hated being reduced to such a thing. But he married you anyway knowing that this marriage will override anything else going inside your brain. He knows that your childhood lessons will take over. It is manipulative, but if this is the only way he could keep you from leaving, leaving like Suguru did, then he’ll take it. He can’t lose any more people. That is a lie. He can. He can’t lose you. 

“Hey, welcome back.” 

Your voice greets him as soon as he closes the door and Satoru can’t help but to sag his shoulders in relief. It was always good to be home. Home is where he could relax, let his guard down in peace knowing that no assassin or curse would even dare to enter it. Home is where he could shed the skin of the Strongest Sorcerer and simply be Satoru. Home is where his wife is. 

You give him a bright smile as he trudged down to the hallway with his heavy steps echoing on the floor before he threw himself on you, his arms encircling you to a hug. 

“Hey-” The scent of apples fill his sense of smell as his nose nuzzles on your neck like a cat, promptly ignoring your protest. It was when he felt your hands run through his hair and settle on his neck did he finally relax, almost melting onto you on the spot. Home is safe. Home is you.

“Someone’s needy today.” You tease, but never for a second loosening your grip. You need this as much as he does. He is home. 

“I just missed you, ‘is all.” His response is muffled on your neck. He sniffs you loudly, like some dog sniffing for bombs- prompting a short laugh from you- before letting you go with a grin on his face. 

The past few years have been bliss. Satoru is happy and you’ve been so happy recently which makes him even happier. There is a certain bounce on your step, one that he hasn’t seen since the Star Plasma Vessel, and you’ve been smiling and laughing more- a far cry from the void and empty look you gave everyone months ago. And your eyes, god, Satoru is willing to kneel and praise whichever god exists if it meant your eyes were back to their usual sparkle. 

Getting you back was hard, but you were worth it. Satoru would have to drag you to cafe’s, encouraging you to try out their menus, desperately trying to ignore the way you seem to function in autopilot, like you’re doing things but you’re not really there. You would raise your spoon to your lips, tasting sweets that Satoru knows is tasteless in your mouth, and whisper quietly how you like it just to assure him.

But now you’d casually hint on new stores or cakes you’d like to try, you even insisted on watching movies every first Sunday of the week- barely any watching and more kissing and fucking, if he’s honest- but god, he’d do whatever you’d ask him to. Sometimes he’d come home and you’d surprise him with a date with a reservation to some steak restaurant in some skyscraper with the view of all of Tokyo below you. 

If this was what marriage was like with you, he would have married you sooner. 

But he had news. Bad news. The kind that punches a hole in his heart, leaving him numb and hollow. The kind that would make you spiral again. Satoru finds his hand on your cheek, and he relishes how you nuzzle it.

He wants to stomp his feet on the floor like a child, throw a tantrum, break a vase or two. It wasn’t fair. He just got you back, and now you might drift away again- floating through each room looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.

“What is it?” You ask, and your voice brings him out of his thoughts. Satoru has realized too late that he has let his guard down way too quickly around you. Again. You do that to him. 

He feels your palm grip his hand that was on your cheek like you were bracing yourself for a storm. On your hand he sees your marriage ring glint under the light. Satoru takes a deep breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” he admits. Yaga would have definitely contacted you, but maybe his sensei had wanted him to break the news. “All sorcerers above Grade level 2 are ordered to prepare for war.”

Satoru braces himself for your response. He’d protect you from all of this if he could, but even he knows what the enemy is capable of. They need every sorcerer they could get, especially one as valuable as a semi-special grade Gojo Y/N. You are not an anomaly like him, but Satoru has seen you in battle. He would win the fight against you, but you would make him work for it. 

“I see,” you whisper, bringing his hand down back to his waist before letting go. “What are my commands?”

“We will gather in Shibuya as soon as we can. The Night Parade of 100 Demons will start at sundown.” A glance at the clock shows that it’s already 5PM, and he didn't need to look at the window to see the sunlight slowly fading. Satoru has tried to delay this news as long as he could. 

“But what about Megumi and-” You begin but he cuts you off. 

“They will be safe. I’ve put up extra enchantments and you know that no one can beat your talismans,” he teases. “No curse will be able to enter this house once we leave. And if they do, Megumi will know what to do.”

“Does Tsumiki have her glasses?” 

Satoru nods. Tsumiki had begged and begged for a pair, and despite your protests, you found yourself embedding your cursed energy in a pair of glasses when she shed a few tears admitting she felt left out. 

A pregnant pause holds the room and finally, you ask, “Did he do this?”

Satoru freezes and braces himself. There was no use on lying to you. You know him inside and out just like he knows you. “Yes.”

To his surprise, you flip your hair and scoff. “Figures. Only he would name an attack that dramatic.”

It made Satoru’s mouth twitch in amusement. “Let's go say good night.”

-

“Something is wrong,” you murmur, looking at the Tokyo skyline. You stand before your colleagues, squinting at your environment. Civilians have been long evacuated, with veils covering the entire city. Tokyo’s skyscrapers look so unimpressive with all the curses curling and floating around them in different shapes and sizes.

From your position, you could already spot several curse users taking their positions. You spot a foreigner and a woman on top of a building looking down at you. At your peripheral, you see a huge curse open its mouth widely, revealing two girls inside. Those must be his daughters, you think. 

You see the blonde one stand and scream enthusiastically, “Here we go!”

And as if by cue, the battle has begun. You feel your cursed energy surge through your body as you reach out feeling a cursed sword materialize out of a pocket in space in your hand. You run to the nearest curse with one thought in mind- where was Suguru?

-

You were either rusty or you just miscalculated how many curses Suguru had at his disposal, so it must be the latter. You defeated the first curse you had pretty quickly, but another has popped up in its place as soon as you exorcised it. But that was a few hours ago.

You don't know what time it is, and somehow you've been pushed back to the outskirts of Tokyo as this snake-like curse had you following him like a car chase. You hear an ear-deafening boom! and the ground beneath your shakes violently. You suspect it was another one of those giant curses that you saw back in Shibuya, so you quickly materialized throwing knives out of the air to throw at the snake to end the battle quickly. Your knife hits its head, and almost immediately the curse sizzles away in smoke.

Your head lifts and searches the sky for the source of the boom or any sign of a giant curse, but instead, you found yourself frozen in your place. You didn't even realize you were near Jujutsu High, which sends you into a short panic after remembering that Yuuta and Maki were left on campus.

It was almost painful to see him this way- struggling to walk, relying on the wall to hold his weight. His right face was scarred and his right arm is so bloody you were surprised he hasn’t passed out from blood loss.

You have never seen Suguru so weak…yet so strong. His eyes that used to look at you with such warmth are replaced with cold determination. His mouth that spoke comforting words to your ears now mutters about a ‘next time’, whispering reverent mumbles about Rika. Suguru is far too gone. 

But why does your heart still yearn for him all the same?

It takes him 5 exact seconds to notice you.

“I was wondering when I’d see you,” he greets as Suguru slumps on the wall before sitting down. He has an easy smirk on his face- an expression you’ve seen a hundred times before- like his left hand wasn’t squeezing his right shoulder to soothe his missing arm.

“Suguru,” you managed to greet him without stuttering. 

Suguru’s eyes rake your body up and down before finally settling on your hand where a ring shines on your finger. “Finally tied the knot, huh? I suppose I’m years late to offer my congratulations…” He sniggers, before looking you in the eye. “I visited your house before I dropped by-” Suguru said as you felt your blood run cold and your stomach drop. “I understand why you took the Zenin kid under your wing, but the monkey? I-”

“If you lay a hand on Tsumiki,” You warn, your hand buzzing with cursed energy as an axe appears on your palm.  I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Suguru taunts daringly, with a smile on his face. He stares up at you from the floor like he was a king staring down at a peasant. “What will you do to me, if I did? What would you do if I said you’d go home to two rotting corpses in your house, Y/N-chan?”

“Then I will kill your daughters,” You reply with a cold tone as a newfound anger you’ve never felt before surges through your body. You walk towards him slowly, before crouching down to his height. “You think I didn’t hear of a Buddhist monk supposedly creating miracles in the countryside with two girls following him around?” You whisper in his ear. “My children for yours, Suguru.”

It was a lie if you ever knew one. In truth, you wouldn’t know what you’d do, but Suguru didn’t need to know that. But as you met his unflinching gaze, you somehow knew Suguru had caught you bluff like you caught his. 

Suguru let out a huff of laughter while you suddenly realized how close you were as you felt his breath warm your face. He looks at you again, this time with the eyes you were so familiar with- cold eyes now looking back at yours with a warmth like he always did. And with a whisper so soft and gentle that you’d think Suguru wasn’t dying or insane, that you weren’t in an alleyway, but instead in your bed at jujutsu highschool, sandwiched between two men who loved you the most, with each hand clutching the other, he whispers, “You’ve changed.”

You fight back a scoff. It's been a while since you've seen each other, but you suppose he's right. High school Y/N have just hit him in the shoulder for such a statement. You were a sorcerer, and being indifferent to death is a common thing. You've experienced missions where your partner loses his life while you got to go home- high school Y/N was alright with that. But you were still so naive. You thought you knew loss and death well enough to be numb until you lost Suguru. Maybe it's why you cling to the people you have left so tightly because you aren't sure you'd survive another loss again.

He raises his remaining hand to cup your cheek with his thumb caressing your face. You close your eyes trying to relish in his warmth. When was the last time he spoke to you like this?

“You changed me,” you admit as you gave him a sad smile. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many apologies threatening to burst from your lips, countless unsaid confessions that want to spill out but your lips only quivered when you opened your mouth. But then Suguru gave your cheek a soft squeeze like he was telling you that all of the things you wanted to say but couldn’t- he knew. He always had. 

“I’ve done many things that I don’t regret,” he confesses, “but the last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you.”

A breath hitched at your throat. You opened your mouth to say something- anything, but Suguru has dropped his hand from your face and turned his head away from you and towards the street. “You finally made it, Satoru.”

The mention of Satoru made your head twist to the street to find him standing in all his glory. Without a word, you stood back up and walked towards your husband. You feel your axe disappear as Satoru reaches for your hand, pulling you close to him as soon as you were near. His two large hands cup your face, twisting gently while eyeing little cuts and specs of blood littered across your face. His eyes stare at you asking a silent question, are you okay? 

You give him a smile. What have you ever done to deserve such a husband? Always so attentive and kind to almost anyone but himself. Instead, you kiss his cheek in response before walking away from the two men. You stopped after a few steps, closed your eyes, and blocked their conversation out of your ears.

You had your closure. It was time for his. 

-

“You should atleast curse me as I go.”

-

here's my masterlist

a/n: (skip to the break ("-") if you don't wanna read this extra bits of info about this fic :3

Gojo mentioned Maki and her glasses once in passing and ever since then she has been begging for a pair. I think Gojo also enrolled her in some sort of self-defense classes just in case.

Y/N"s cursed technique here is something a combination of Steven Universe's Pearl and Fairy Tail's Erza's abilities. Like Erza, she can summon weapons and armor to enhance herself, and like Pearl she stores said weapons in some kind of "arsenal" (like how Pearl stores her staff inside her gem). I imagine her arsenal will be her Domain Expansion tho hehe

Y/N can also make cursed weapons with her cursed energy!!

-

i love gojo,,,but lately ive been deep inside my satosugu feels :(( theyre like my dream tag team honestly, THE dream tag team tbh. this fic was supposed to be longer with the ending supposed to be of satoru's initial breakdown after he blasts suguru but i felt like i was stretching the fic wayy too much. (i'd probably still post it if you guys wanna read it but pls dont expect much lmao) please dont be scared to comment or express how you think, or if you have any tips/suggestions on how i could improve my writing <3

#satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu

[bunnieshoneys]

Jjk cheerleading au??? It’s like you know my soul lol. Any headcanons you can share? You know … for science lol.

i have started writing this!! so yes!

worth noting i have set this in the US, they cheer collegiate in a four year program and they cheer co-ed. i am not a cheerleader but ive been doing quite a bit of research and ive watched netflix cheer more times than i can count lol

- gojo is a stumbler, but his tumbling in particular is extraordinary.

-getou tumbles less proficiently, but his stamina is insane

- shoko: top girl, flyer, tumbler, miss worldwide

- top girls in the team are riko, shoko, utahime :)

- sashisu do stunts together - shoko trusts those two more than anything or anyone else on the team

- yuki is a really proficient tumbler, as good as the boys, but doesnt fly or stunt

- suguru and satoru are roommates

- yuki is older and keeps doing degrees to stay in cheer

- gojo was offered a scholarship and declined bc his parents would pay anyway - the school only gives a very small number per year and he didnt want to deprive someone else of the opportunity

- getou, yuki, shoko, haibara, nanami and riko are all on scholarships

- yaga coach :) or assistant coach, i havent decided yet

- they all help each other with taping injuries, icing, etc. getou gives a killer sports massage. gojo will break ur spine trying to give u one

- haibara has a little youtube channel focussed on vlogs and fun stuff, and gojo stumbled into being an influencer through his competitive career, but he doesn’t try lol (this might not make it, idk if im gonna set it in 2020s or in 2007)

- most of them also cheer allstar on the side - getou, gojo and shoko go to the same allstar gym, yuki goes to another one where choso coaches, and nanami, haibara, and utahime go to a diff one

- gojo managed to convince getou to stunt him once. it went awfully. they still did it again

- getou broke his nose in HS cheer, and gojo drove him to the hospital

- gojo, haibara and riko are the most invested in cheer culture beyond the sport, but getou and shoko know a lot more history than them

what im writing currently is JUST the older guys. the 2007 gang, if u will. if the fic does well i might end up writing a sequel for it inc the younger gen, but we will see

#bunny answers #jjk #stsg

[andypantsx3]

This is going to sound weird, but do you have any tips on how to gain traction as a fanfic writer? I've been trying for years and I get next to no interaction on my writing. I know I shouldn't care because I should be writing for myself, but it's still frustrating to see other writers get thousands of notes, and reblogs and asks praising their fics and I get maybe 20 likes. I've been looking into discord fandom groups but a lot of them don't allow people over 30, and I don't do well with busy groups anyway. I try to be active on my blog, and interact with other people and make myself approachable, but I'm getting so incredibly tired of talking to an empty space. Sorry, I think I ended up venting instead >_<

WARNING: DISCOURSE AHEAD

Omg hello my love!! First of all, I'm so sorry you feel this way! I have so many conflicting thoughts on this, let me try to get them in order for you!!

I guess, let me first start with some tips that I think actually answer your question, and then I'll just monologue about the ways I've been thinking about fandom recently, and you can skip that part if you wanna!

Part 1: Actual Thoughts on Your Question (lol)

I am possibly not in the best position to ask about this because I mostly happened to be in the right place at the right time, publishing my fics in the early part of the pandemic when people were more actively engaging in the fandom. But in my experience, outside of discord groups, other good ways to meet people and get your work out there are joining zines & collabs.

I'm not completely up-to-date with what the accounts are now that track these things, but there are several tumblrs and twitter accounts like BNHA Zines that exist to retweet & publicize zine posts. Look for zines that are in the interest check & application stages!! You can apply during the application phase and the good thing is that most zines will ask for an application piece and will judge you on your work rather than your follower count!!

Collabs are usually even easier because many of them are just open to whoever wants to join! I've only participated in server collabs but I've seen several posts cross my dash that are open to anyone. I'd probably monitor the collaboration and x reader tags on tumblr and join in on anything that looks fun!!

Another thing that I've noticed people do a lot is self-reblog their fics a couple times just to maximize their circulation. I've seen a lot of moots trying to make sure they hit good hours for different time zones and different days of the week to ensure their followers are at least aware that they've posted something if they don't have notifs on (I don't have notifs on so I'm grateful for these because otherwise I miss a lot!!). Even I have srb'd a time or two if I'm particularly proud of something lol.

And I think, if I also wanted to be a shark about things, I would try to get in on the ground floor of a fandom in its early stages!! For example, the second season of JJK is coming out soon and it's sure to bring a wave of new readers to the JJK fandom, especially for the characters like Gojo and Getou who look like they're gonna be the main focus of the season.

I think if you wanted to be extra sharp about things, you might time a fic release with some of the first couple episodes of a new season where you can be sure more people than usual will be poking around in the tags!! And if your fic is published during the early stages of a fandom, it's going to have more eyes on it overall than a fic published towards the conclusion of the series.

Anyway this is what I could think of. I hope this advice is practical and useful!! Now onto me blathering.

Part 2: Resisting Influencer Culture in Fandom Spaces

This part might be kind of controversial. I want to first acknowledge how easy it is for me to think and say these sorts of things when I'm already more than pleased with the amount of engagement I get. And I want to recognize that it is so, so deeply human to want recognition, community, and support for the things that we write.

I think it is so completely natural that you want interaction on your writing. All of us totally do, otherwise we wouldn't be publishing it publicly. If our work was truly, singularly for us and us alone, we'd keep it in the drafts lol. We put it out there hoping for praise and appreciation and connection, and in my opinion there is no shame in that.

So, admission time: I also definitely compare myself to other writers, and I have several times thought about transitioning more towards the type of content that drives higher note counts on tumblr: smuttier one-shots usually under 10k! I can see a huge difference in terms of just my own work on how my one-shots typically do in comparison to chaptered fics. And I definitely see how fast smutty imagines shoot up there in terms of note count.

But I was listening to a podcast episode recently on trying to sort of transition away from a metrics-focused approach to fandom. In the podcast, they talk about how in trying to legitimize fanfic as a literary mechanism, we've also sort of accidentally subjected it to our capitalist-influencer-mindset, where we see fic as more legitimate the more kudos it gets or the more followers it nets you, because in traditional influencer spaces, those followers are potential capital.

I'm definitely not saying you or I see people as potential revenue streams, but I think probably neither of us are immune to the culture at large, and we both probably carry some of internalized sense of our own value based on metrics, reach, and influence. And that sucks!!!!

Fandom, of all things, is supposed to be a specifically anti-capitalist space. We can't make money off of fanfic or fanart (legally, anyway lol), and we're all not the owners of the franchises either so none of our takes are necessarily more "valid" or weightier than others!! We're all supposed to just be trading stories around a campfire with no thought to their literary merit or monetary value. We're just supposed to enjoy the stories.

So, I don't know what the right answer is about how to try to resist the influences of our capitalist culture at large; I'm hoping someone smarter than me will tell me. But I do know that in fanfic, the value of your story can absolutely never be determined by how much engagement you get. Because fandom is not about metrics, and there is no inherent value in metrics. There is only the fun you had creating the story, and the depth of the connection you made with someone over it--even if that's just one other person.

And so I personally am at least trying to resist the lure of transitioning to smutty one-shots even though I think a lot of people would like that. Because what I like doing is writing my little 30k multi-chaps; those are my fave kinds of stories to tell, I'm not letting my metrics tell me what I should be writing.

I hope, at the very least, you know that your worth and the value of your story is not defined by how many other people have read it. And if you ever wanna chat more about this let me know, I'm still figuring this all out myself and could use friends to explore it with!!

#ask andie #tw: discourse

[episodeoftv]

Round 1 of 8, Group 5 of 8

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

Jujutsu Kaisen: 2.05 Premature Death

tws: maybe cartoon violence, blood, death? (It's animated)

Gojo becomes the strongest and starts handling missions alone. Geto feels lost while tirelessly exorcising and absorbing cursed spirits until another sorcerer appears, spreading her ideology on Geto.

First of all the animation is amazingly beautiful!! Second, this episode tells the backstory of the main antagonist of season 1 - Getou, while contrasting with the hero/mentor Gojo. It shows how they both reacted differently to the same circumstances, and how that led to them "breaking up" and going separate ways. It shows exactly how getou arrived at the decision he had and makes you very sympathetic (while retaining his framing as a villain because no genocide is NOT the solution). The story is told short bursts of scenes, each one telling and showing just enough. You follow getou's journey and every step makes complete sense for the character and is the right way for the character to go, letting you understand him very deeply. Also it includes the break up scene between Gojo and Getou (who have been very close friends before the events of this episode) and it is so emotional and ahkagsjksgdjdk. And I say close friends but there is a lot of gay subtext (whether intentional or not). Anyway yeah spectacular episode and I am not doing it justice with this explanation / here is the "KFC" scene as a highlight (it is sooo good, especially with the context but i think you can get some idea of the emotions - and animation! - without context too): https://youtu.be/71KKen_Q_Jo

Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid: 1.13 Emperor of Demise Arrives! (It Was the Final Episode Before We Knew It)

Tohru's father, the Emperor of Demise, suddenly appears and drags her back to her world. Tohru escapes and returns, but her father and her battle.

#jujutsu kaisen #miss kobayashi's dragon maid #mkdm #poll #polls #round1 #r1g5

[ikemenomegas]

So its established that the alpha is the one that keeps their silence when things get hard right? but then in the nightmare piece, megumi was the first one to notice that the alpha had a nightmare and wasn't in the right state of mind. And that gave me a thought, megumi noticing that they had a nightmare obv wasn't the first time so i headcanon that when megumi was still a child, whenever the alpha was depressed and needed comfort but shut up abt it to avoid troubling satoru more, megumi was the first to notice and comforted the alpha in his own megumi way like sending one of his divine dogs to play with the alpha

Just to clarify, I don't think the alpha is necessarily unique in the way they deal with difficulties! Most of sorcerer society is like this. Some people are lucky to have someone with whom to share their difficulties, but when they lose that person (like Nanami did), they go silent.

Gojo and Getou were that person for each other, but even then they never got to have that supportive relationships as adults, never learned to seek it out (understandable when you realize they don't consider anyone else their equal), and they seldom seemed to talk about what was bothering them head-on even as students (see the argument Shoko runs away from in the flashback arc). I can only speak to my experiences with the east asian part of my family, but that's pretty typical anyways. It takes trust and you still have to entice your loved ones into telling you what's up to them. It's not uncommon to get just as much information from careful observation as from an actual conversation. (Gojo actually doesn't say much either - he knows there are bad situations you can do nothing about, and in those cases sometimes the most you can do is just be there with someone in the shit)

Also, here's another old jjk fandom joke for you: that these people thought [single] parenthood at about 17-18 would fix them. The odd age gap between Megumi and the adults that inserted themselves into his life is part of what makes that relationship much less straightforward than just parent/child or student/mentor. If you like to read post 1800 British literature, benefactor really suits Gojo's role - he acts like one of those wealthy people in novels, snatching up talent because he knows that it will benefit him later, but also truly caring for his charge's well-being. It's a unique kind of relationship that's seldom recognized or codified in the united states, but it wouldn't be uncommon to cultivate these kinds of relationships for someone raised like modern day royalty the way Gojo was.

Shamans live a hard life. Alpha would definitely have had nightmares about something when Megumi was young, and they probably wouldn't have been very good at hiding it, being young themselves. Plus Megumi was an abandoned kid living in an unstable series of situations. He was probably hyper aware of his surroundings for a good little while until things settled with Gojo taking him in.

That said, this headcanon is adorable. Alpha really did have more room in which to be family to the Fushiguro siblings and that means Megumi in turn has more room to show emotion around them.

(I'm bad at social cues... especially online. I don't know if you wanted to see from my point of view what you're describing, but I blurbed it below <3. Thank you for sharing the headcanon anon!)

When staring at the dead TV screen had faded away into a restless sleep, you didn't know. At least this was a formless nightmare, which was both better and worse. Dreams in which you could fight, even with the world sticky-slow or slippery as ice woke you up irritated. The dreams which were made more from the hazy memory-stuff of too many battles, too many near misses and if only we'd been here yesterday's, left you with no specific images but hung themselves like weights in your chest upon waking, robbing you of much needed true rest.

At least, you thought, your consciousness bubbling rapidly back to awareness, it would be over soon. That was truly the best that could be said of bad dreams.

You snapped awake when a warm tongue licked your wrist and a low whine sounded by your ear - distinctly canine rather than human.

In the dark, the shape of White Jade dog glowed like the moon.

You sat up, looking around the room, but neither saw nor sensed anyone (or anything) else in it. Still you crept slowly through the little apartment.

Satoru and Shoko were out of town and you'd come here because you couldn't stand another night alone and now you were glad. The neighborhood was safe enough, but even so...

You trailed your fingers along the wall, the white dog padding along behind you and then slipping past into the kids' room ahead of you.

They were both in bed still, but if the shikigami were out, then that meant someone was awake.

You knelt in the space between Megumi and Tsumiki's beds. She was doing a much better job at pretending than her brother, but if he was awake, then so was she. You sighed softly to yourself. They were both so nervous, even though they hid it. And you didn't blame them.

Too tired for words, you chose to wait instead, and eventually, when you were almost drowsing sitting upright, Megumi rolled over and cracked open one eye. White Jade dog wriggled a little but at the slightest movement from Tsumiki, it stilled again.

Eventually, soon really, they would need separate rooms. Tsumiki had insisted on staying here until the school year was over, but as Satoru had described it, the situation was delicate enough without negotiating for a non-sorcerer to be exposed to the world of curses.

You reached over and tucked her duvet higher over her shoulder, grateful to see at least that some tension unwound from her.

When you turned back, Megumi was no longer pretending to be asleep at all, although that glaring stare of his was softened.

"I heard a noise," he said to your silence, whispered but still defensive.

It didn't take a genius to figure out at this point that you were probably the noise. When this used to happen on overnight missions, Suguru used to shake you awake and sometimes curl up behind you. Satoru would grumble his own reply to your murmuring until you woke and throw a spare pillow, still warm from his embrace, at your head. Shoko would have tugged you slowly into her arms and soothed you back to sleep with her precise fingers rubbing into your neck.

"Well thank you for sending White to come get me," you whispered back, shaking away the memories. "We should go back to sleep though."

Megumi frowned at whatever face you were making and looked at where the white dog was sitting, head cocked almost like a real dog, at the foot of his bed.

It was sweet that he'd sent his favorite of the two to wake you. Black Jade dog seemed to scare him sometimes, literally making him jump at his own shadow as it melted from the darkness.

When he said nothing in reply, you tried to unfold yourself from the floor. Megumi latched onto your sleeve. His face was turned away.

You carefully crouched back down. "How about I stay here tonight?"

He nodded after a moment, just once, barely noticeable except a shift against the pillowcase, but this time he let you go.

You smoothed down a blanket to sleep on and one to sleep under and pulled one of the couch cushions under your head in between the two beds in the narrow room.

Both of the children responded to your prompting "goodnight" and shuffled around to curl up again. Tsumiki's breathing evened out quickly, but the White dog's presence meant that Megumi was still awake.

It was curled around it's masters legs, head propped on his hip as it watched over you.

"Megumi?--"

Neither child nor dog made any noise apart from Tsumiki's sleepy snuffles.

"--I'm okay."

A barely perceptible little hmph came from the bed on your left.

You could hear a clock - the only thing that still had working batteries when you and Satoru had first visited the kids - ticking in the other room.

Almost five minutes later to the second, White Jade dog settled its head heavily over Megumi's side and disappeared with a sigh.

#ask answered #io.myy #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro siblings #from the notebook #feel free to tell me if you do or do not want things blurbed #maybe that's another asian thing haha. “it seemed like you'd like it so I go it for you” is how gift giving wars start... #i am not beating the sleepy allegations and we are all going to bed right now #midnight fics #io.omegas