#sort: jjk

[shinuko]

promise ring

#: tattoo artist boyfriend!geto, fluff, gn!reader, implied college au, gojo cameo

wc: 1.4k

tw/cw: unusally suggestive (my brain was in the gutter…), the f word (f*ck, a couple times), use of pet names (baby, sweetheart)

“ya like it up there?” geto chuckles, setting his book down above his head. he’s lying on his back, using his hands as a pillow, as he watches you. your legs are straddling his waist and you’re tracing the tattoos that decorate his chest. you hum, curling your fingers to scratch softly at his skin. “mm…” he groans, “mercy, baby, they’re healed but still a little… mmh… tender...”

“yeah?” you tease, letting your fingers slide lower down his abdomen, “then what about here?” you’re inching closer to his waistband when he flips you over, caging you underneath him, his hand pulling you close from the small of your back. his gaze drops to your lips and he licks his hungrily. 

“fuck around and find out,” he grins, “you fucked around, so now you get to find out.” you didn’t get a chance to retort as geto quickly closes the space between you, trapping your mouth with his and hands wandering every part of your body. he’s lifting your shirt, the tantalizing skin of your stomach peeking through, and trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck, collarbone, and then chest, looking up at you before continuing any further. “this okay, sweetheart?” he presses a kiss against your stomach, “do you want me to stop?”

your fingers find his hair, keeping his head in place, and you arch your back, chasing the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin again. “no,” you breathe, “keep going.” too caught up in the pleasure rippling across your body, you don’t register the sound of the door unlocking.

“what the fuck- suguru, why didn’t you- ohhh, i see… nevermind! carry on!” gojo quickly turns on his heel and walks out, the door slamming shut behind him. geto lets his head fall into the crook of your shoulder, sighing when you leave a few comforting strokes on his hair, before heaving himself up to retrieve his roommate. after he leaves, you sit up, fixing yourself, and bring your knees up to your chest, waiting for their return. 

“honestly, satoru, why do you have a phone if you don’t even use it?” you hear geto grumble as he unlocks the door. 

“i’m sorry! i just didn’t see it! hey y/n.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever… sorry ‘bout that, baby,” he says, sitting down beside you, “looks like we got ourselves a guest.” he glares pointedly at gojo, who crosses his arms in response and sticks out his tongue at geto. 

“this ‘guest’ also happens to pay half of the rent here, you know,” gojo huffs, muttering, “i should’ve stayed in the library longer…”

“yes you should’ve, why didn’t you?” 

“because i was getting hungry and tired,” he shoots back, “anyways, let’s get takeout. what would you like to eat, y/n?” 

“oh, uh, how about sushi?”

“i want ramen.”

gojo hums, “okay, sushi it is. sprite okay with you, y/n?” tapping away at his phone, gojo quickly finishes putting in the order and rises from his spot on the couch. “i ordered it, and it's gonna be 30 minutes. please keep the noise to a minimum… i’m gonna take a nap, wake me up when it’s here.”

geto scoffs, rolling his eyes, as you laugh. the door closes behind gojo with a soft click. geto pulls out his ipad, opening the application he uses to sketch tattoo designs. you lean your head on his shoulder, peeking at the screen, and look at his drawings—this one looks to be a spine tattoo.

“is that for you?”

geto sighs, “for a client. he wanted something symbolic, has something to do with his girlfriend or something like that…”

you notice the wrinkles forming from his furrowed brows, “hm... so, what are you thinking about?”

“...tattoos based on relationships are dangerous,” he murmurs, adding more lines to his design, “and if things go wrong, it gets very difficult. i don’t understand why they would do that to themselves. don’t you think it’s stupid?.”

“i think it’s pretty sweet actually,” you say, “you’re making that conscious decision even while knowing the consequences. pretty telling about their determination and loyalty, don’t you think?”

geto hums, still touching up the design, “...if you say so, baby.”

—

“feel free to talk about something. it might help with the pain.” geto smiles sympathetically at the man lying down in the chair. 

“what… would i even talk about?” the man asks through gritted teeth. 

geto wipes away at the excess ink, examining his work, “what about why you’re getting this tattoo? you said it had something to do with your girlfriend?”

some of the pain seems to disappear from his face, and a shy smile stretches across his lips: he’s obviously lost in thought about his girlfriend. “it’s a reference to one of those k-dramas that she’s been watching lately. before we got serious, we were watching this one called ‘guardian’ something… the title is too long for me to remember,” he chuckles, “but the flower the guy gives the girl—buckwheat flowers—it means ‘lover,’ and it got me thinking about my relationship with her. and it just hit me, like, it’s her. i want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“buckwheat flowers…” geto murmurs softly, “they mean ‘lover,’ you say?”

“yeah. at least according to the drama they do. didn’t really google it to check. and so that’s why i wanted to get that bouquet tattooed on me. it also has her favorite actor, so naturally she really loves the show too.”

“i see…” geto stops working on the tattoo completely, “i know i already asked you this before we started, but are you really sure about this tattoo? what if… things go wrong? it’s not too late, i could improvise the design right now and get you something that you might be happier with in the long run.” 

the man blinks, “no, but i understand your concern. it must be frustrating to spend hours on tattoos only for it to become meaningless the next day…” geto stays silent, staring at the quarter-finished tattoo, so the man continues, “i love her, and i’m choosing her. you know that ring ceremony thing that those engineer people have? how the ring is supposed to remind the engineer of their obligation or something like that? i want the tattoo to be like that. i want it to remind her that i’m choosing her and that i’m promising her my forever, and i want to remind myself that she’s who i want and that the thing we’ve built together is worth it for me.”

“i… never thought of it like that,” geto admits, picking the pen back up and preparing to start work again, “should i continue?”

“...how about a 5 minute break?” the man asks, tone hopeful, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.

geto laughs, “you got it.”

—

“hey, what’s this?” you grab at geto’s hand, peering at his latest tattoo, “a line?”

“a band,” he corrects, “got a little bored at the shop today, so i just did it.”

you look up at him quizzically and he shrugs. it was a simple black stripe that went around his ring finger. flipping over his hand, his palm facing you, you continue to study the tattoo, when your eyes widen at your newest discovery. “suguru…” your voice comes barely above a whisper, and a hand comes up to cover your mouth, “my initials?”

geto glances away, cheeks flushing, as he scratches at the back of his head sheepishly, “yeah, i uh… yeah.” 

“weren’t you the one who said that people who tattoo something of their partner’s are a different level of idiotic?��� you say,  quirking an eyebrow and a playful smile curling the corner of your mouth. 

geto hid his face in his other hand, “don’t remind me...”

you thumb the tattoo thoughtfully, “were you thinking about me?”

“i’m always thinking about you.”

you smile at that, meeting his steady eyes, “when you did it, i mean.”

“i don’t think that changes my answer,” geto says, raising an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

you pretend to glare at him, straightening up and crossing your arms over your chest. “...just shut up and kiss me already,” you tell him, and he obliges immediately, pulling you in close and kissing your lips sweetly. coaxing your mouth open, he turns his head to deepen the kiss. he presses his forehead against yours when he pulls away, your lips parted still as you catch your breath.

“my forever,” he tells you, voice barely audible, but you can still hear him clear as day, “it’s yours.”

you smile, “i know.”

he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you close, and rests his head on your shoulder, “and your forever is mine.”

“it is.”

koi's notes: okay but did they get the sushi though??? 🧐🧐 anyways dedicated to @omgeto and a huge thank you to emp and mothe (@planetxiao) because i love and appreciate y'all so very much

#s.k. #sort: jjk #jjk: fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto suguru fluff #jjk fluff #geto x reader #geto x you

[prettyboykatsuki]

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone. 

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it. 

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity. 

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

__

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him. 

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally. 

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful. 

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance. 

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks.  Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way. 

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true. 

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read. 

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time. 

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice. 

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties. 

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm. 

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane. 

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.  

It's relieving in the worst way. 

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little. 

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago. 

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you. 

You look at him. 

“You’re horrible.” 

“Tell me something new.” 

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.” 

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already. 

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.” 

“The contract. Are you serious about that?” 

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.” 

“And that’s me?” 

“Seems like it,” 

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol. 

“...Fine.” 

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to. 

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy. 

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower? 

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all. 

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.” 

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid. 

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle. 

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears. 

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery. 

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria. 

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least. 

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression. 

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face. 

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.” 

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is. 

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness. 

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it. 

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions. 

“How would I know?” 

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?” 

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.” 

Sukuna barks a laugh. 

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?” 

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.” 

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can. 

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors. 

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh. 

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.” 

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?” 

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy. 

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that. 

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again. 

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up. 

“Thought of something, brat?” 

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine. 

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.” 

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?” 

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.” 

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?” 

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want? 

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.” 

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter. 

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him. 

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat. 

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad. 

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.” 

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it. 

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you. 

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear. 

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.” 

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.” 

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,” 

“There what is?” 

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?” 

“What is it, oh.” 

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical. 

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire. 

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice. 

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation. 

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.” 

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers. 

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.” 

You don’t even think about asking what he means. 

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.” 

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?” 

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”  

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static. 

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body. 

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins. 

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you. 

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you  - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago. 

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge. 

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.” 

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.” 

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs. 

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity? 

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you. 

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes. 

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name. 

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades. 

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.” 

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly. 

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.” 

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.” 

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.” 

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross. #THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

[geombyu]

GOJO SEES YOU WEARING HIS SHIRT !

Pairing. student!gojo x student!gn!reader

Genre. fluff, friends to hinted lovers perhaps

Word count. 0.6k | Warnings. swearing, the reader is smaller than gojo (the shirt is big on them)

A/N. i see a lot of these and like 7/10 times theyre smut LMAOAO so i wanted to write a fluff ver! i also did Not think id be writing for jjk but 😭 ig we are + not rlly proofread sorry :(

Today was Gojo's day off, and what better way to start it than waking up at four pm?

He was a busy guy - despite only being in high school - he's already taken on many jobs, it was only right he could get sixteen hours of sleep.

When he arrived at your shared dorm at twelve in the morning, you were already asleep, so when he got out of his room and laid his eyes on you wearing his t-shirt, he couldn't help but gasp.

"Oh, hey Satoru." You spoke, sparing him a quick glance before going back to cooking. His mouth was still wide open; he couldn't respond—he tried, but he couldn't. No sound could leave him. Who knew all it took for the strongest to be left speechless was the sight of you in his shirt?

You look back at him, seeing how his jaw was still on the floor, you realize it was probably because of what you were wearing right now.

"Oh! This? Sorry," you chuckle, "none of my clothes have been washed yet—call me gross, whatever—so I decided to steal from your wardrobe. Hope you don't mind." You stuck your tongue out before placing the eggs on a plate.

You moved to put the plate on the dining table, giving him a better view of you in his shirt. It fit him so perfectly, so seeing it so big on you absolutely made his heart melt.

There was a light tint of pink on your friend's cheeks now; you were so cute he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Are you okay with just eggs? There's more stuff but I wanna save them for next time—oh, actually, you might not be here tomorrow…" You mumbled the last part, choosing to ignore how he still hasn't responded to any of your sentences.

Gojo tried to get a word out, but all he could manage was a strange, strangled noise, which you respond to with a confused hum. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't organize any of his thoughts. He was screaming over and over in his head, but there was a thought slightly bigger than the rest (the rest which consisted of AAAA's, OH MY GOD's, and WHAT THE FUCK's)—that thought was: "holy fuck you're so adorable," which was also exactly what he just blurted out.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, "I—what?"

Gojo's eyes widen before he covers his face with his hands, his face now fully red. "Ignore what I just said," his voice was muffled, but you could still hear what he said.

You never thought you'd see the Gojo Satoru blushing so deeply with his face in his hands, but here he is. You laugh, "can you repeat that?" You were teasing him, I mean, it's not every day that this happens, but any more teasing and his heart might actually blow up.

"Y/n, shut up—oh my God—I hate you!"

"I thought you said I was adorable? Or do you hate cute things?"

He yells into the palms of his hands.

Although you're being bold right now, him calling you adorable caused your brain to shut down for a good millisecond. Gojo complimented you all the time, but somehow, this felt different.

You walk to where he's standing right now, hands still covering his pretty face. You put your hand on his, and the feeling of your warm and soft hands comfort him.

He could tell you wanted to pull his hands away, and while he didn't want that, he was so weak to your touch.

He had no other option but to give in, so he did. You put his left hand away first, then the right. With his hand still in yours, you softly spoke, "if that's the case, then you must really hate yourself."

Oh, he was so in love with you.

© geombyu

#if this has a gendered term or smthng of that sort i am soosos sorry i didnt proofread but i will once i wake up #so trust if there is any ill fix them tmrw #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #gojo scenario #anime fluff #anime x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[getosugurusbangs]

bleaching the bathtub puts me at ease.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LOVELY WIFE #guys. the song rolling out the red carpet by hail the sun is SO GETO POST-RIKO OMFG #it’s the song that inspired this painting #also one of the lyrics from it is the caption for this so… #i was gonna do a completely different painting with the same sort of theme but i went for this instead #also this is supposed to be in geto’s house after killing his parents #i wanna know how he killed them so bad… #i think about it too much #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk art #jjk fanart #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujutsu kaisen art #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto fanart #suguru fanart #geto angst #my artwork

[matchamiko]

Being sandwiched between them and the mattress, ass nestled in the cradle of their pelvis, thighs framing the outside of your hips. Deeeeep long strokes, the kind that have you sighing and moaning like a melody. Grinding hard and purposeful, big big hands fisting the sheets either side of your chest where the fat of your tits spill out from being squished into the bed. Hitting so good, hips dragging up your ass with every thrust, balls catching on your spread pussy, tacky with arousal. Makes you wanna bite the pillow by your head, makes you wanna scream and thrash, makes you wanna cry and sob; but all you can do is take it with glassy eyes and drool drying on your lips.

When they press their nose to the top of your head and breathe in your scent, when they turn your head to the side and pant against your cheek, when they struggle with keep such a long deep pace that they begin to shudder and they’re begging to hold on, begging you to just lay there and keep taking it. Kicking your legs wider, a broad hand spanning your hip to shove you back and back and back on to their quickening pace, their deepening pace. A usefulness only you can provide, a cock only you can take, yelps and gasping grunts only you can give. Smacking deep into your belly, hips loud against your ass, all gritted teeth and sneering winces when you cum loud and messy and creamy over their pubes. Shoving harder, taking harder, fucking you right down into the mattress like it’s their only business with you. You know it’s not, but right now, it’s all you want from them; to take and take and take.

#I’m DISGUSTING IM SORRY IM JUST #fucked really #I’m like literally in heat it’s absolutely abominal #I’m thinking only of Bokuto SOBS HED SORT ME OUT IN A JIFFY #miko.online #bnha x reader #haikyuu x reader #jjk x reader #genshin impact x reader

[soup-guts]

I frequently think of that one ‘strongest Legend of Zelda Character’ ranking

As a result I’ve pinned legend as gojo.

Legends getting way more off model every time I draw him. Today he got diagnosed with mullet.

#hero of legend #legend lu #lu legend #legend linked universe #linked universe legend #Marin lu #Marin loz #dark link #linked universe dark link #jjk au #sort of #rough comic #linked universe fanart #linked universe #digital art #soup gut art

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

where you go, i go (2)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: angst, toji being toji, reader thinks about killing someone, gojo is in his tweaked out enlightenment era soooooo gojo a little creepy and eerie

Part 2 of what you see, i see

She had been going through the motions for the rest of the day, she hadn't even bothered to stop by her school clubs, until she arrived home. A sickly sweet scent of pastries attacked her senses the second she entered. Her house doubled as a bakery for the first floor. It was a popular hang out place for people her age especially for couples. There was a parade of them this time - cheerful couples were already sharing their coffees and sugary pastries.

The universe was laughing at her. It had to be. Why else would there be so many happy couples in the store right now? It was pointing and laughing hysterically on the ground saying: "That's what you get for ignoring me! That's what you get for resenting my gift to you!" Because that's what a soulmate was, a gift. A rare and wonderful gift that no one believed in, except for those who have experienced it themselves, and she had lost it; lost him.

She almost cried on the spot.

Her mother waved gleefully from behind the register, her daughter seldom returned it as she went up the stairs. She dropped her school bag in her room besides her desk and, face first, flopped on her bed.

She closed her eyes. Nothing, there was nothing.

Her lip quivered as tears began to sting her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not when her mother was expecting her to change and put on an apron and help as she always did after school. She could silently mourn him tonight.

She let out a shaky breath. Did she even have the right to mourn him? She had never met him or talked to him. Everytime she thought of him recently was only to insult him or dismiss him entirely. No, she did not have the right to mourn him and she deserved to feel empty on the inside.

She put on a clean apron and slugged her way down stairs with a smile as she took over her mother's place at the register. Her mom kissed the top of her head and beamed at her with a thumbs up.

She never understood why so many people hated working retail, but now, she did. She had to force a smile and treat every customer kindly, all the while, she was dying on the inside.

A man had come in. Tall and insanely buff, a scar on his mouth. He ordered the cheapest pastry on the menu and handed her a wadded up yen. Her blood turned cold when their fingers brushed.

Her mother quickly took the money away from her as she gave her a quick command to check on the oven in the back.

She swallowed and listened to her mom. Her steps were quick as she pushed the double doors that led to the kitchen, she hugged herself.

It was him. It had to be him. That was the man who killed Gojo Satoru. She reached for a knife and gripped it tight. She should kill him. Her soulmate was dead and he was the reason why. She should try and avenge him.

Sheshouldsheshouldsheshouldsheshould-

The oven blared next to her. Her head snapped to it as the knife clattered on the ground, and with shaky mitted hands she opened the oven, and took out the fresh pastries.

Those were dangerous thoughts; thoughts she never thought she would ever have against anyone. She took off the oven mitts and looked outside the circle window of the kitchen - he was leaving and her mother was watching him like a hawk, even when the bell rang sharply with a muffin in his mouth as he walked outside with the rest of the crowd. She didn't know what possessed her to run after him, but she did. Maybe, all she wanted to know was why he had killed Gojo Satoru. Maybe, she wanted this man to kill her too, so she wouldn't feel empty inside anymore.

A blur of a conversation as the words tumbled out of her mouth: "Why? Why did you kill Satoru?"

She didn't register anything other than his gruff voice, "Ah, he had a soulmate. If I were you I'd keep that information to yourself from now on." Uninterestedly, he continued, "You wouldn't want the Gojo clan to know about you. No doubt, they'll try to marry you off to another member of the clan." and then, kept walking.

She didn't hear the interest in his voice when he said to himself, "But she would be worth a lot of money if I did take her to them." He would negotiate a price first to see if he was right about her being worth any money. He would worry about that later, right now, he had a star plasma vessel to turn in.

A sharp tug on her arm is all that stopped her from running after him again.

"______! What were you thinking?" her mother gritted out as she led her back into the bakery. Her mother's voice is strict and unwavering, "Go to your room."

And she did.

She tossed the apron on her desk and kicked her school bag. How was she supposed to live like this with the rest of her entire life half-full?

A sob violently escaped her.

This was how everyone else in the world lived, she realized.

Aching and alone.

Desperate and searching.

Wanted and unwanted.

Now, she was just like everyone else like she had always wanted. She supposed, she couldn't complain.

She laid in bed, wrapped herself in a blanket - trying to keep warm, but she doubted, she'd ever feel warm again as she cried herself to sleep.

She dreamt about Satoru. Flashes of a long chain, of red, of purple, of blood, of a crowd clapping, of someone wrapped in a white sheet, of a long dark hallway.

The universe was laughing at her again. Why else would it give her dreams about him?

An uneasiness settled into her bones. Someone was watching her. The grim reaper, no doubt wearing the face of her soulmate's assassin. If death wanted her, so be it.

She kept her eyes closed.

She saw herself sleeping soundly in death's gaze. She saw the time pass through her window changing from sundown to night as death continued to watch her intently.

Hours had passed.

00:57:39

She wondered at what specific time the grim reaper would take her.

1:13:01

Did it want her to open her eyes?

1:13:10

Probably.

1:13:15

The grim reaper has been patiently waiting for her.

1:13:17

Why keep death waiting then?

1:13:20

Her eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful, vibrant cerulean blue.

It was not death. It was -

"Satoru," she whispered.

"______," he whispered back.

Satoru was sitting down on the floor extremely close to her bed with his legs crossed while his hands rested neatly on his ankles. There was dry blood on his face and on his white dress shirt.

Her mouth moved but no sound came.

"You were crying," he said as he caressed her cheek soothing his thumb along the trail of stained lines that her dried tears had left, "alot."

So, he had seen everything.

She put her hand over his and gently rubbed circles.

Satoru scooted closer to her bed, "I didn't like seeing you cry," his hand trailed up to her scalp, "or frown," and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

He laid his head down on her bed and stared at her with those vibrant, sparkling eyes; eyes that could see everything she could never see.

She touched his cheek gently, "I didn't like not feeling you."

Her whole body shivered. Satoru was here, in front of her, and she was still cold.

"Are you still cold?"

She nodded.

Never letting go of her, he kicked off his shoes and climbed under the blanket with her. He wrapped his legs around hers as her arms wrapped under his uniform jacket.

With his hand still tangled in her hair, he said, "Better?"

His heartbeat had returned to her. They were beating in unison again.

"Better," she hummed. "You?" She asked.

His lips pressed softly on her forehead, "Much better." He tugged her in closer into his chest.

She smiled.

She was warm again.

@whatamidoing89 @mr-underhills-things

Part 1: what you see, i see

Part 3: you know i adore you

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

#toji stop trying to sell children for money challenge #is okay gojo kills him before he does anything #basically if you were wondering about the gojo clan comment then here is tldr: #seeing as reader is gojos soulmate they assume she can bear another six eyes and limitless curse technique user #or at least have a higher chance of there being another one born sooner rather than later unlike gojo being the first to be born in 400 yrs #so in the gojo clan she would be seen as valuable for that reason and would try to force her to marry someone closely related to satoru #thankfully that doesnt happen cause gojois alive and he busts out the micrsoft paint eraser on toji #if it did geto probably try and stop it from happening out of respect for his bff #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #teen gojo #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #hope you enjoy #gojo has not changed from his bloody clothes #was supposed to give a creepy but a peaceful sort of vibe at the end #But hey!!! they finally meet #part 2 #maybe a part 3??? #idk #this is no proofread #reader is a bit of crybaby #leave her alone she is trying her best #tumblr ruined the quality of the gojo gif so sad #like his eyes are glowing white instead of blue #thats is not how it looks on my google photos

[gojosbf]

if you think you're pathetic remember it's 2024 and there are still people out here who'd rather burn themselves to death than admit satosugu exists and it's a gay ship

#i am seeing this discourse so much on tumblr suddenly which is really fucking weird considering this is a gay dominated website and 99 #percent of the userbase here are gays if this was twitter i wouldn't be this surprised because all sorts of crazy straight people exist #there but the sudden increase of heterosexuals here that are arguing against the most established and popularly acclaimed gay ship on a #gay website?? this place is not for y'all you can leave thank you very much #reminded me of the very first anons i used to get #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #stsg #gojogeto #jjk gojo #jjk geto #200

[ikemenomegas]

There's that scene in Phantom Parade where Gojo tells nanami that if he didn't go with him, he would scream and cry on the spot and in your au, id expect nanami to slowly turn to gojo's alpha and go: 😕😮‍💨

😆i have no idea the context of that interaction, sounds like something inspired by Gojo and Nanami's terrible Hokkaido work adventure, but it did make me giggle bc you're absolutely correct

"Why is he like this?"

"Hmm?" you turned slowly. Satoru had kept you up last night. You stifled a yawn. You'd spent over six hours humoring him through losing spectacularly at final fantasy fifteen. Or at least you thought it was losing, could you lose that kind of game? Either way, you were pleasantly sleepy and the world felt washed in cotton.

So you thought Nanami had spoken, but maybe that was just many years of getting good at reading the gradation of Kento Nanami's Shades of Exasperation.

Nanami was staring at you and so was Satoru, with a kind of familiar hesitation that indicated he was awaiting some kind of reaction from one or both of you. So you decided that whether or not Nanami had spoken was probably irrelevant.

Your kouhai's expression now told you he was seriously wondering whether or not you'd been hit on the head when he wasn't looking. It wasn't like you'd complain about it if you had been.

"I'll go with you, Satoru," you said, equably, gazing up into your mate's covered eyes and falling back on something that occasionally satisfied whatever mood he was in, although efficacy tended to depend upon what exactly he wanted. Where were promising to go? No clue, but hopefully somewhere where you could get something to drink. As you'd grown older, staying awake all or most of the night seemed to make you more inclined to dehydration the next day.

A loud, whiny "Noo-ooo," left Satoru's lips. They were glossy with just a slightly darker shade of pink at the center like he'd freshly applied the lip tint you'd bought him last week. He'd said it was some limited edition thing that tasted, or at least smelled like it should taste, like umeshu.

"Of course you'd come--" Satoru had continued with making a scene, and Nanami looked like he was starting to grind his jaw a little, which was a bad habit both you and Shoko had been trying to break him of, "--unless you're the kind of alpha to leave me alone--".

You reached for Nanami's shoulder to prod him but your hand was snatched from the air and enfolded into Satoru's, a jealous tint to the air that you knew was all performative. Probably.

At least that had worked. Nanami looked like his mouth was about to drop open.

You wanted to point out that Satoru was already well on the way to crocodile tears by this point. "I thought the crying was going to be for Nanami," you teased with a tired, almost fond sigh.

A loud, near approximation of a whining, petulant sob left Satoru's pink lips. You wondered if there was actually any alcohol in the lip tint. Maybe the fumes were going to his head.

"Why are you ganging up on me!?" he exclaimed, ridiculous and provocative, and clearly angling to see where this was going.

Fine. Never let it be said that you didn't know how to go for a killing blow, even against Gojo Satoru,

"Well, you look awful pretty when you cry. I just thought I'd give you a chance to show it off," you said, reaching up to cup his cheek, the very image of an alpha placating an omega.

Nanami's palm hit his face with a near audible little smack. Whoops.

Satoru snickered as he drew you up the street, long legs eating up the distance so smooth it was almost like he was gliding. You followed along, trailing for a bit just to make sure Nanami was in fact, grudgingly, trudging along in Satoru's wake.

It occurred to you that you still didn't know where he thought you were going.

#omegaverse #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #myy oc #they're both freaks by the way #kento nanami #who has to learn to live with that #i do think he loses a little bit of respect for you once he leans you've married gojo while he was away and sort of hates himself for that #because he thinks it's unfair to you #shoko thinks it's more than fair lol #ask answered #from the notebook #omega!gojo #alpha!reader #barely edited #midnight fics #goodniiight #io.omegas

[shinuko]

to be human (is to make mistakes)

#: academic rivals au (!!), rank 1!gojo & rank 2 gn!reader, assumed college au (irrelevant ranking system), gojo gets kind of sick (unrealistic + very cliche), a dash of angst (for the flavor!!), implied (obvious) pining (mutual? ;3), brief one bed trope! (sfw), no beta we die like ...yeah (i'm sorry)

wc: 2.1k

tw/cw: reader has a hairdryer and clothes that fit a ~190cm man, angst (kind of?), reader likes floral tea, one (1) curse word

*ni-i = 2nd rank/place (please feel free to correct me if i have it wrong in any way ;-;)

you jolted, the clap of thunder scaring you awake. in the gray area between awake and asleep, you thought you heard a knock on the door, but you weren’t expecting anything so you figured it was a trick of the wind of some kind. you checked the time—2:57 am—you definitely weren’t expecting anyone either too. looking down at your desk, you sighed and your nose crinkled at the spot of drool that pooled on the page of your notes. you wiped at it with your finger when there was a sudden knock at your door. 

you froze.

a beat passed. then two.

quietly, you rose from your chair, grabbing your phone and the nearest object that looked like it could be useful (a swiffer). tiptoeing across to the door, your thumb hovered over the dial button, prepared to call the campus police (though the night ra would have been more realistic). you peeked through the peephole and saw a hunched figure wearing a hood that covered their eyes. you stepped away from the door, waiting to see if they would leave without any intervention.

three beats passed. then four.

 “ni-i…”

the voice was weak but you still heard it. (and you knew of only one person who had the gall to call you by your rank.) dropping the swiffer, you opened the door and gojo stumbled into your arms, skin hot to the touch and breaths labored against the curve of your neck. his hair clung to his forehead, dripping water onto your clothes and floor. you struggled to keep yourself up straight, so you helped him to sit on the floor, his head leaning against the wall. 

you stood again, staring in disbelief at your… guest. 

raising his head, he looked around, taking in his surroundings, and cocked his eyebrows at you teasingly, “so… you trying to beat me this time around, ni-i?” he tried to make a joke, seemingly regaining some of his strength now that he was out of the rain.

you cringed, heat rising to your face as you remembered that the evidence of your desperate studying was within his line of sight. “that’s not important right now. what are you doing here!?” you hissed, trying to change the subject, “and what kind of idiot do you have to be to be walking in a storm with a thin jacket!?”

gojo just smiled, closing his eyes, and mumbled something about locking himself out of his room and not knowing where else to go. you remembered hearing something about how his roommate was going to be out of the country for a few more days at least. huffing, you threw him a towel and rummaged through your closet for your hair dryer. “here,” you said, handing the hair dryer to him, “bathroom’s the door over there. i don’t have any clothes for you so just dry your clothes with this.” surprisingly, he complied easily, rising slowly from his spot on the floor and shuffled to the bathroom. only when the door closed shut behind him did you pull at your hair and scream as silently as you could. 

“oh, mind if i use your shower by the way?” gojo’s voice came muffled from the other side of the door. 

your eye twitched. “…be quick.” 

“thanks~!”

wanting to kill time and keep yourself distracted, you decided to boil water for some tea. gojo came out from the bathroom smelling like your shampoo as the kettle began to boil. 

you did a double take. 

gojo came out of the bathroom, smelling like your shampoo and holding a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. 

“why are you only wearing a towel?!” you screeched, cheeks blazing as you rushed to your closet and threw him whatever clothes you could find. 

“my clothes took too long to dry,” he whined, grinning as he caught the clothes against his chest with his other hand, “and look, you do have clothes for me~”

“just hurry up and put that on! and don’t you dare drop that towel in front of me!” you quickly turned around, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering apologies and prayers to anyone out there who would listen. 

“okay, i’m done now…” you could hear the pout in his voice and you swore you saw red. almost at least. by some miraculous event, you regained your senses and composed yourself. exhaling slowly, you reached for the two cups and handed one to him. he stared at you, “it’s 4 am.”

“it’s 3:47. and you won’t die, it’s just tea.”

he shrugged, accepting the cup, and took a careful sip. his eyes widened at the taste and he took another sip. “hey, this is good,” he said, raising the cup to his lips again, “why didn’t you give me this the last time i was here for the language arts project? first you’re trying to beat me, and now you’re holding out on me? i’m hurt, ni-i…”

“didn’t have it then.” you rolled your eyes and took a sip yourself, deeply inhaling the fragrance of it, and couldn’t fight the small smile it brought to your face—floral tea, your favorite, and so it seems was his too. holding the cup with two hands, you looked out the window, following the droplets of rain as they raced each other down the glass. 

five beats passed. then six.

“want me to help you study for the exam?”

you raised an eyebrow at him, “confident you won’t lose your rank to me even after teaching me your secrets?”

he laughed, throwing his head back, and set the cup down. “please, you’re taking my GPA too lightly. you’re gonna need more than that to take me down.”

you shrugged, bringing your books and notes over to the spot on the floor where he sat. he scooted to sit next to you and skimmed your notes. as he flipped through the pages, you looked back at the practice problem you were trying to solve before, tapping the end of your pencil against your chin. 

“1.15 N.”

“huh?” 

“that’s what you’re looking for, right? the tension? i recognize that question. it’s from the practice midterm, what was it… question number 2?”

looking between him and the page in front of you, you weren’t sure what to think. “how… how did you do that?”

gojo smiled again, “here look, there’s the given free body and if you draw two more for the block and pulley…” he paused and looked around for a pencil. without thinking, you give him the one you were holding. “thanks. so yeah, draw two more and then you can apply the 2nd law here.” quickly, he wrote down more steps to the problem. “so applied force minus the tension force equals the 2nd law, does that make sense?” 

you started to nod, the lightbulb going off in your head, “and then because only the tension force will affect torque, i can use the torque equals r times force equation? and then equal it to the moment of inertia multiplied by angular acceleration to find the acceleration?”

“bingo,” gojo said with a grin, handing you the pencil, “as expected of my rank 2.”

too preoccupied with finishing the problem, you didn’t hear him. making quick work of the rest of the practice exam, you beamed triumphantly. your victory was fleeting though, interrupted by a violent sneeze from gojo. instinctively, you placed the back of your hand against his forehead and the other on your own to compare.

“idiot, you’re burning up! why didn’t you say something?”

“the tea helped so i thought it was fine…” 

“it’s obviously not fine… get up.” you pulled him up by the arm and hesitated in front of your bed. gojo at least had the decency to blush.

“shouldn’t you ask me to dinner first… i didn’t know you were so quick about things, ni-i.”

the heat scorched your cheeks as you quickly let go of his arm, panicking and tripping over your words to salvage your dignity. but he stumbled, lost his footing, and fell face-first onto the mattress. with a bit of struggling, you finally managed to push him under the covers and tuck him in. 

you couldn’t deny that he looked cute like this: cheeks and the tip of his nose tinged pink, peeking out from under the blankets, and bangs brushed back with his forehead bare, allowing you to place a cool towel there. you watched his long eyelashes flutter as he closed his eyes, the lull of sleep relaxing his features and pulling him under. the rise and fall of his chest began to steady and you laid the back of your hand against his cheek again to check his fever. 

still warm. 

you stood up, trying to remember where you kept your medicines.

“where are you going?”

“to find some fever reducer for you…” you blinked in surprise, “weren’t you sleeping?”

“no. i don’t need any.”

“don’t be ridiculous. gojo, you nee-”

“can’t you call me satoru now?” he whined.

“gojo, you’re delirious. you need to-”

“satoru,” he corrected, “please.”

seven beats passed. then eight.

gojo was fully sitting up on your bed now, towel fallen onto his lap, and his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. his cheeks were redder now, but you couldn’t tell if it was from his fever or embarrassment. you exhaled slowly, returning to the bedside and looked at him expectantly. gojo shifted, making room for you. 

you could feel his gaze on you as you fiddled with the cloth of your covers. “tomorrow. after we’ve gotten some sleep, ask me again.”

“what?”

turning to face him, you forced yourself to maintain eye contact (his eyes are so blue). “tomorrow,” you repeated, “ask me again tomorrow. let’s not do something we’ll regret right now.”

“i don’t think i could ever regret you.” 

you faltered and slid off of the bed, trying to create some physical space between you and him, “you don’t mean that. you’ve been up all night. you don’t know what you’re saying. you-” your voice caught in your throat. the pained expression on gojo’s face awoke an emotion you never knew you had, clawing at your heart and ratting at the bones of your rib cage like a trapped beast. his eyes dimmed and lips turned down ever so subtly. but you saw. gojo looked down at his hands and you wished you knew what he was thinking. the silence was thick and suffocating and you wanted to do anything to break it. you opened your mouth to speak again, to apologize, to do something, anything. 

“oh, look at that! suguru’s back already!” gojo beamed, tapping away at his phone.

(his smile looked too forced.)

but all you could do was nod as gojo got out of your bed, fixing the pillows and blankets as best as he could. you watched as he hummed, gluing his eyes purposely to his phone (was he avoiding your eyes?), and continued to your door. he turned back to look at you. his eyes softened and he gave you another smile.

sorry, he mouthed to you before opening the door and walking out. 

the door closed shut behind him, leaving you alone again. (you could hear him yelp “shit, it’s still raining!” through the door and could picture him running through the rain with nothing but his jacket as any sort of defense. that got you giggling a little.)

nine beats passed. then ten.

you sat down on your bed, legs dangling off the edge, before letting your head fall back and hit your pillow. 

it smelled like him still. the smell was faint, of course, but there nonetheless. you chased it, initially unaware, searching for it. yearning—

no. 

you turned the other way and closed your eyes. 

the sun was blinding, glaring at you through the glass windows. dust particles floated about and large, messy words written in chalk spelled out “EXAM SIT IN YOUR ASSIGNED SEATS” on the blackboard and bore menacingly at no one. 

you sat at your desk, glancing at gojo’s still empty seat. thoughts of him from that night continued to plague your mind. you shook your head, trying to bring your thoughts back to your exam that was going to happen any minute now. F = ma. torque equals radius times applied force which also equals moment of inertia times angular acceleration. vaguely, you heard the back door of the classroom open, and whispers filled the room, gradually getting louder. a collective gasp and more excited (and jealous) whispers as your classmates murmured amongst themselves. a shadow loomed over you, and you looked up. they couldn’t believe their eyes, and honestly you couldn’t either. gojo peered down at you, his hand outstretched, and flashed you his charming smile.

“hey, i’m gojo satoru, but you can call me satoru,” he grinned, “wanna be friends?”

koi's notes: inspired by a gojo fanart i came across by the extremely talented @saterise (i meant it to be like a little rainy inspired fic but i got a little too carried away...)

link to fanart also here: https://www.tumblr.com/saterise/739526714812678144/to-be-human-is-to-feel-the-rain-on-your-skin?source=share

ALSO BEFORE ANYONE ASKS, gojo and geto are tied for rank 1 because there is no way in HELL i'm making geto 3rd i will not disrespect him like that!!!!!

#s.k. #sort: jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader

[wolfiesmoon]

You and the cosmos

megumi x gn!reader

me breaking my "no angst allowed" rule just this once bc i feel sad and i will make you feel sad too 😈nobody's allowed to be happy today

still this is pretty lighthearted for angst since i based it off andromeda andromeda by nayutalien

You could say that you have a huge crush on your classmate, Fushiguro Megumi. He always looks so effortlessly handsome and you can't help but stare at him when his back is turned.

And you're not the only one who's all for getting together with him. Your friends always support you in any way they can and hear you out on your delusions regarding him. You always have so much fun talking about him.

Truly, you feel the most happy when in his presence. And today, you will make a move.

After much convincing from your friends, you settled on placing a confession note under his desk. That'll get him to notice you. All your attempts of approaching him in more subtle ways didn't work out, after all.

You re-read the note for the thousandth time, making sure every word is spelled correctly before slipping it under his desk quickly and walking away as if nothing happened.

'Meet me behind the school next to the oak tree at 5 pm. I have something important to tell you.'

Now you just have to wait.

.

You might have gotten a little excited and came to the meeting place a whole 30 minutes early. Your friends were already waiting for you there, though. They helped you fix up your hair and helped you recite what you wanted to say, wishing you luck and leaving for club activities.

Oh, it should be about time for him to arrive. You can't believe it took you 20 minutes to properly recite your feelings. You're sort of scared, but also really excited.

You can feel your heart beating in your ears, and you're sure you're properly sweaty right now. It's a rush only someone in love can experience.

You lightly slapped your cheeks, looking at every possible corner he could arrive from and practiced your smile for a bit.

...

He's kind of taking a while, isn't he?

You checked your phone. 5 minutes over 5 pm. He must be busy today, or something. Five minutes isn't a big deal.

You opened your phone camera, making absolutely sure that you look good right now. This is a very important moment that you absolutely cannot mess up by looking strange.

But the minutes kept ticking away, and he still didn't show. Maybe he got asked to help someone clean up or got called to the office by the teacher. You mumbled your script to yourself for the final time.

The wind blowed against your face, making the leaves of the nearby oak tree rustle gently. The setting sun painted everything in a slightly orange hue.

It feels like you've been standing there for an eternity at this point. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other.

Sighing, you checked the time. 26 minutes over 5 pm.

...He's not going to show up, is he?

You knew it. You shouldn't have let your friends convince you to put that stupid note under his desk. You were so stupid for thinking he would even look your way when he talks to you like he does to everyone else. Like you're just another classmate.

It'll be okay. He isn't the type to bring these things up after they happen. You can always keep staring at him from afar. That way, both you and him are happy.

It's not like he's leaving forever. You can still look at him every day.

You slowly walked away from the oak tree, going to your shoe locker and putting on your shoes to head home.

He could have atleast showed up and told you "no". Well, you suppose that you got your answer either way.

You're perfectly okay with him not liking you back. So why are tears running down your face right now?

.

"Huh...? What's this?" Megumi felt an unfamiliar piece of paper when he reached under his desk the next month. He's looking for a missing science paper and he figured he might have left it under his desk. He took the mystery paper out, inspecting it.

"Meet me behind the school next to the oak tree at 5 pm. I have something important to tell you." he read the note quietly as to not raise attention from anyone in class.

"A confession note...? How long has that been there?" He whispered.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗ #jjk x reader #jjk angst #angst #unrequited love time (sort of) #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi angst #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #x female reader

[kuroowo]

Modern AU Suguru whose guilty-non-guilty pleasure idea of fun is to make people fall in love with him (just because he can) meets you, the new transfer, at the office and instantly decides you’re his next target.

He’s befriends you right off the bat. Seeks you out between breaks for a quick chat. Tries to get to know you more. Invites you out for an occasional drink that turns into full blown dinners and walks home. He gifts you little trinkets he finds reminding him of you— hold on. Wait a minute, Suguru’s world screeches to a halt with utmost urgency. Since when did he start to look forward to texting you first thing in the morning? Since when did he carve out a routine to see you outside of work at least once a week? Since when did he anticipate to see your smile, hear your laughter? Since when did his thoughts start to run circles around you every night before he sleeps? Since when did he start planning to have you meet his two disaster best friends? Since when, since when, since when—

Geto goes through a ‘minor’ crisis realising that he ended up falling in love with you instead of the intended other way ‘round. Gojo cackles so hard his sunglasses slips off his face, boisterous laughter only amplified by Ieiri’s, “I told you, dumbass.”, but the dark-haired man is still in denial nonetheless.

“There’s no way, Shoko—”, because where did he falter? When did he slip up? It’s not even his first rodeo, so why did this happen?? “—and shut up, Satoru!”

“And there’s no way his hair isn’t white.”, unimpressed and utterly over Geto’s shit, Ieiri blows a cloud of smoke into his face, strangely annoyed and sympathetic. Okay, maybe not that strangely. Maybe it’s her conscience kicking in because you’re actually a great friend to her and she’d hate to see you gone because of the man bun wearing block-head. “Get your shit together before it’s too late, Suguru.”

And maybe Geto should. Yeah. No. He definitely should. Like hell is he losing you to some lame baker who makes stale pastries 3 blocks down from your home (it’s not stale, he’s just jealous) or to that desperate creep from the company next door (they’re actually just an extrovert, he’s just jealous), and especially not to Fushiguro fucking Toji of all damn people (that’s a married and devoted man to his wife, he’s just jealous). So yeah, Suguru’s going to get his shit together alright.

#modern au suguru because I CAN AND I WILL #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk #I REFUSE to do any sort of canon compliance or timeline for jjk #ESPECIALLY FOR GETO #low-key jerk suguru bc I have a horrible thing for jerk men who turns soft & sweet for the one they fall for #he going through a crisis but that’s ok he’s just being dramatic #as usual yk <3 #jjk.fics

[getosugurusbangs]

girlbosses…. save me….

#uhhh i love how these turned out #part of me feels like i didn’t make maki buff enough but whatever #i also kinda made maki look like casca from berserk 💀 #i was thinking while doing these. that at this point for me it’s sort of a rite of passage for me to draw someone in a fashion illustration #if i’m gonna continue to make fanart of them #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanart #nobara kugisaki #kugisaki nobara #maki zenin #zenin maki #zen’in maki #maki zen’in #nobamaki #nobara x maki #maki x nobara #jjk art #nobamaki fanart #watercolor #my artwork

[tojisun]

WHY DIDNT I THINK OF THIS SOONER? we all know baby megumi is a menace and toji is a potty mouth. i can imagine tiny little megumi with his big adorable eyes following toji around with a swear jar to make some extra pocket money but at the same time makes toji bring him to buy gifts for the reader. (and toji catching on and playing along for megs)

this is so cute and comical omggg!! i love soft toji and baby gumi interactions so much, they make me so happy fr! ahhh i had fun writing this short thing and i hope you’ll like this one <33

> megumi calls reader his ‘mommy’ but i didnt specify if shes mamaguro or toji remarried or smthn. lapslock. dad toji and baby gumi centric. no curses au!

━━━━━━━━━━ ʕ•㉨•ʔ ━━━━━━━━━━

“ow, what the fuck!” toji curses, swiveling to see what hit his shin only to gape at the sight of megumi holding out the swear jar at toji while managing to look smug even with his face smoothed out blankly. beside the boy is his damned scooter which he must have used to whack toji’s leg.

“daddy, you swore,” megumi replies when toji still doesn’t move to drop a yen.

toji glowers at his son, but megumi only blinks at him.

another slow blink. like a cat.

…okay, that was adorable.

“fine,” toji finally grumbles, digging into his pockets for all his loose change and drops them into the jar. the corner of megumi’s lips quirk up slightly, before he is running away, his tiny feet padding silently on the floor.

toji sighs, exasperated but fond, before turning back to his call. he ignores shiu’s soft chuckles.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“shit,” toji whispers, raising his leg and scowling at the lego piece stuck on his foot. he plucks it out, and turns to the floor where megumi’s now-ruined spaceship lay, flattened and ugly. 

toji frowns, remembering the hours that his son has poured into creating the spaceship, often forgoing his other toys and focusing most of his after-daycare hours to work on the spaceship. toji also remembers how you and megumi bonded every afternoon as you helped him make a bunch of tiny spacecraft for the spaceship, muffled giggling shared between you two as if the lego-building was a top secret mission. 

well. he better get to fixing it before megumi comes back. he doesn’t want his boy being all sad and–

“gumi?”

“yes, daddy?”

“since when were you here?”

“since you said the bad poo word,” megumi answers. a beat of silence. then, the clattering of a handful of coins against ceramic. 

toji holds back a sigh as he looks up from the mess and meets megumi’s mirthful eyes, the boy crouching by toji’s side with the swear jar in his hands. “so. ‘shit’ counts?”

megumi nods. “and you have to pay two times because you said it two times.”

“right. okay. makes sense.” it doesn’t.

but toji has no loose changes in him this time so he stands up, heads to your shared bedroom, and rummages around the vanity. he finds twenty yen which is probably enough for megumi’s swear jar. 

“here you go squirt,” toji says as he holds out his hand towards megumi. 

megumi takes them with another of his small smiles. “thank you daddy.” he walks away. “please keep swearing.”

toji blinks. “y’mean not to swear, yeah?”

“no,” megumi replies, not once stopping to entertain his dad now that toji has paid his swear jar fees, and leaves him in your shared room.

toji pinches the bridge of his nose before returning to megumi’s room to fix the broken lego spaceship. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“daddy, what’s satoru-nii again?”

“an asshole.”

toji pauses, frowning as he turns to megumi. megumi’s blinking at him innocently, meeting toji’s eyes wordlessly, then, ever-so slowly, he presents the swear jar.

toji processes the whole situation, gaping as his eyes widen in astonishment. “gumi, what the hell?”

megumi smiles wider, so boyishly excited. “you said ‘notha one!” he shakes the jar harder in his excitement.

toji drops his newspaper and turns to megumi, serious but mostly concerned. “baby,” he starts, not knowing how to ask why his son was hell-bent on making him cuss, even going out of his way to instigate it.

toji remembers his poor shin and suppresses a groan.

“what’s with the swear jar?” he asks.

megumi’s brows furrow. “you din’ pay yet.”

“right,” toji utters, pulling out crumpled money from his pockets and placing them inside the jar. “so, y’gon’ answer me?”

megumi hums, baby face going giddy again. “mother’s day gift!”

oh. 

“gumi,” toji says, pulling his son into his arms. “y’know you coulda just asked for money, right? you din’ need to make me swear.”

megumi hums again, shrugging. “but i wanted to earn by m’self.”

toji almost laughs, his shoulders shaking from quelling his barks of laughter at the thought of megumi thinking that making toji swear and pay for said swears is earning for himself. 

he presses a kiss on the crown of megumi’s head. their precious darling boy is so comedic sometimes. toji smiles, fond and full and bright.

“i see,” he murmurs. “want me to help you buy mommy a gift?”

megumi nods, grinning so happily as he says, “yes!”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

(the swear jar money ended up not being enough to pay for the gift that megumi chose for you so toji paid for it whole, letting megumi keep them as his pocket money.

megumi doesn’t know anything about this interaction and toji intends to keep it that way.)

━━━━━━━━━━ ʕ•㉨•ʔ ━━━━━━━━━━

#suns.rq #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #baby megumi #jjk #these two deserve to have a close relationship so here you go 😭!! #just need toji forgiving himself and loving himself. his son. you #and megumi growing up with so much love and surrounded by his parents #a fix-it of some sorts because i yearn #suns.f #suns #anon #ask

[gojuo]

Gojo last chapter: Shoko will tell Megumi about me murdering his father

next chapter: Megumi dies

#we'll see gojo opening next chapter with a 'hey!' and then the next panel is megumi being all sorts of confused saying 'blegh!' #and they'll be in an airport sitting next to each other. i guess 😮‍💨 #bakma bana #jjk 237 #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #jjk

[posletsvet]

I had another one of those thoughts that are bordering on slightly delusional.

Chances are it's already been pointed out by someone before me, but. How come Geto's body reacting to Gojo calling out to him was 'a first' for Kenjaku? Did they only ever choose those who happened to have no loved ones that would want their person back? But we have Itadori's parents, and they deeply loved each other and didn't stop loving till the very end. Is the bond between Satoru and Suguru really so strong as to surpass the one between a happily married couple? And then it sort of struck me that perhaps it's the first time Kenjaku so openly and directly violates their host body's will.

I like to entertain the thought that Kenjaku is not at all detached from human connections and emotion. While they are capable of seperating their conscious from the experience that comes along with the body they're inhabiting, this experience is still an intrinsic part of that body. All romanticization aside, one's personality is dictated by one's physiology. Our feelings are something biological, a network of interconnected structures and chemical levels within our bodies. Who we are is engraved upon our hearts, in a literal sense. To quote Kenjaku themself, 'The body is the soul, and the soul the body'. If it were otherwise, they probably wouldn't be able to mimic various people's personalities so accurately and convincingly as to fool their closest friends and family.

So maybe Kenjaku does feel their host's lingering emotions and is to some degree influenced by its impulses. Maybe while in Kaori's body they did feel the love that remained in her for Jin, did feel the body's budding affection towards a child it gave birth to, did have some maternal instinct. But knowing full well those feelings are but a product of their current body, I imagine they have a far better grasp on them, too, and treat them as tools at their disposal, just sometimes indulging in what the body tells them to do. In Kaori's case, I think they could afford to go with the flow more. They felt the body's urges and responded by acting upon them -- because why not? They're an epitome of 'mess around and find out'.

With them taking over Geto's body, it's different. They're no longer eminence grise operating from the shadows, they've entered the game they'd been orchestrating for so long. Now they're truly proactive, and no longer being under disguise they're more themself than ever, too. And it directly contradicts with the person Geto is (or was). We do not yet know what Kenjaku's true intentions are, but it's unlikely they align with what Geto would want to put his mind to.

And Geto never wanted to do any harm to Gojo. In those ten years, never once did he make a move directly against him. Meanwhile it's an inherent part of Kenjaku's plans. So when it comes to it, Geto's very nature, those tiny glimpses of him still lingering somewhere within his body, cries out against it.

Caring for people around him was Geto's defining trait, and his body still carries those attachments, that love. Responding to Gojo is an instinct his flesh still remembers. Trying to protect him is engraved upon Geto's muscle memory. Kenjaku's actions are essentially at odds with all that, so that puts the body and the soul in discord -- and they clash eventually, getting out a reaction from otherwise dormant and inanimate flesh. No wonder Kenjaku calls that poetic.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk analysis #kenjaku #kaori itadori #jin itadori #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #alright i'm back and come bearing angst again #actually i think kenjaku has some sort of strange fascination with gojo #be it satoru or the gojo clan with their six eyes technique in general #they believe that next stage of evolution lies in optimizing cursed energy #and the six eyes allow for insanely high precision and control when it comes to manipulating cursed energy #if i were them i'd fascinated by this fact alone #aside from this whole 'bound by fate to tengen' business #*rattles my cage* #gege pleass i need to know #side note: god kenjaku is an incredibly interesting character #and a great villain too #i'm dying to learn more about them #jjk meta