Jjk Drabble - Blog Posts

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

the moments after you got married to gojo were so hectic that you can barely remember anything. a marriage of convenience was usual, especially with your ranks in society, but usually people acted as if they weren’t what they were.

you’re barely able to get a good look at your supposed husband before he quickly makes and exit, your brows furrowing in confusion and leaving everybody else to wonder in hushed whispers.

his parents run after him, sending you a look of apology, but you can’t even think.

it’s only a few minutes later where you’re ushered down a row of halls, expecting to be shown into a ballroom, but instead you found yourself in an empty vast room, starring at your two pieces of luggage as your heart beats rapidly.

you’re not able to say your goodbye to your family, but you doubt they’d even want to hear it, and despite your insistent questions, your maids are just as confused as you are.

“will he be coming here?” you ask as your maids tug the dress off of your body, hours of tedious labor to make you look presentable being scrubbed away.

you’re sitting in a tub of scalding water, your arms and legs still raw from just this morning.

“i don’t know my lady,” one of the maids says, looking at another girl through frenzied eyes, just as lost as you were.

“is there going to be another gathering? if not tonight, then later?” you look around, eyes darting around and heart hammering loudly in your chest.

“i…” the girl, alina, swallows, “i don’t know,” she says, but you can tell she’s trying to be gentle.

even though you felt as if you hadn’t been prepared enough for this hasty marriage, everything you were told was going to happen hasn’t happened. he’s supposed to bed you…whatever that means. you’re supposed to see your husband fully, but you only saw a flash of his face as he laid a stone like kiss to your cheek.

you gnaw on your lips, chest heaving up and down as your eyes wilt with worry.

“did i do something wrong?” you finally ask, sinking deeper into the tub as the bustling noise around you stops for a second.

one of the older ladies who had been washing your arms gives you a soft smile.

“it’s best not to think about the past,” though you can tell she’s trying to soothe you, it only makes it worse, “look on the bright side! you’re a gojo! do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot?” she says with a chuckle that you can only muster up a shaky smile to.

you didn’t want to be a gojo if your husband didn’t even want you to be one, you thought. nervousness began filling your system.

were you lied to? did he not agree to this marriage?

you don’t say anything for the rest of the night, letting everybody else do what they needed to as you sit at the edge of your bed, watching the door, waiting for it to open.

you twirled your ring back and forth, eyes growing dry from not blinking.

your husband didn’t come that night. nor would he the night after that. later you found out he’s staying in a separate bedroom, on a another floor, in another wing of the estate.

unckuna 🥹

Sukuna is heavy.

It's a nice weight, you think. Blanketing and comfortable as he bears down on top of you. The weight makes sense; he's firm and sturdy and broad through his shoulders, tapering down into a trim waist that you can't think about for too long or it makes your head spin.

He's warm too.

There's a heat that seems to perpetually radiate from him, regardless of the climate, against all odds. It's just as soothing as his weight to seek out and leech from him—particularly when the two of you are out in the cold, inching closer to him on the sidewalk just to fight the frigid breeze or twining your fingers through his own to keep your fingertips from pricking with the chill. His hands are one of your favourite parts of him, usually.

But not at the present moment.

"Sukuna—" the warning is lost to his esurient mouth, mumbled into soft lips and swallowed down before it can elicit any actual response. Sukuna has you pinned down on the sofa, underneath his warmth and weight, and those hands you usually like so much are creeping dangerously up, up, up under the hem of your t-shirt—even in spite of your repeated insistence that this wasn't allowed to proceed any further.

His breath huffs against your slick lips, a laugh you think, and that familiar heat of his hands slithers back down towards your waist like it has every other time you've cautioned him.

"Stop bein' a tease," he mutters, slipping one hand underneath your back and pulling up so your spine arches and presses the two of you even closer together in that impossibly narrow space you occupy on the sofa.

Your breath hitches as your hips grind against his, and the look on Sukuna's face is deeply pleased by the sound. You huff a little. "I'm not teasing."

"Yeah fuckin' ri—"

"Yuuji's only down the hall," you don't even let him finish his snark, chastising him firmly.

"He's asleep," the man above you tries to reason, dipping down to nip at your pulse. Sukuna's nephew had only fallen asleep a short while prior, and as sweet a little boy as he may be, you were all too conscious of his bloodline—you didn't trust Yuuji to stay asleep any more than you trusted his beloved jichan to keep his hands off you, just because you said so.

Using the hand he still has tucked underneath the small of your back, Sukuna effortlessly tugs you up against him. Everything spins as you're righted, and before you know it you're straddling his lap on the sofa in his older brother's humble apartment, peering down the dimly lit hallway in the direction of Yuuji's bedroom. Sukuna mouths at your chest through the thin material of your shirt, sucking against the visible bud of your nipple. He'd weaselled you out of your bra soon after the two of you started fooling around—what had started off as a bit of innocent heavy petting—slipping it off and tossing it somewhere in the living room, and you've lost track of it now that things had kept spiralling out of your control.

You should have known this was how things were bound to turn out when Sukuna had asked if you'd accompany him to babysit his nephew that night. You had plans to see a movie, maybe grab dinner, and then almost assuredly end up bent over some piece of furniture in your/his/a hotel room by the end of the night. That's how things usually go with Sukuna. But then Itadori Jin had called his younger brother only a short while before the two of you were planning to meet, pleading with him to watch Yuuji for the night since he had to stay late at work.

When you first learned Sukuna had a nephew, more by accident than anything, it had surprised you. He didn't strike you as the type to get along with children when he barely gets along with other adults. Then you met Yuuji—even more by accident than simply finding out, happening to cross paths with them one afternoon—and it surprised you even more to see with your own two eyes just how deeply he cares for him. Upon first impression, Sukuna is rough and crass and unsympathetic—and while yes, those things might be true to some degree, the more you've come to learn about him, the more you've come to see other sides of him that you're not sure many (if any) other people have the chance to.

You spent your evening playing games and colouring with Yuuji while Sukuna prepared his dinner (which Jin had left in the fridge, but still, there was a certain level of preparation involved.) The three of you ate together at the kotatsu in the living room, and you laughed every time Sukuna barked at his nephew to stop trying to sneak his vegetables onto your plate. You watched Sukuna and Yuuji roughhouse before collapsing into a pile on the sofa to watch a movie, watched the six year old fall asleep on his uncle's arm, watched said uncle pluck him up (more delicately than you've ever seen Sukuna treat anything) and eventually take him to his room and tuck him into bed.

The Sukuna you thought you met six months ago would have never changed all his plans, with relatively little hesitation or complaint, to babysit a six year old, and he certainly would never have invited you along to accompany him—a bit awkwardly, endearingly clumsy—just so the two of you could still spend time together.

Sukuna pulls away from your chest, a little string of saliva stretching from his mouth to the wet stain he's suckled into the material of your top. He blinks up at you, eyes heavy lidded and gaze hot. You trace your fingers through his unkempt hair, brushing it back from his brow.

"What?" he asks, his tone guarded, as though he's suspicious of how gentle you've suddenly become. "Aren't you gonna tell me to—"

"Hey," you cut him off, your hands settling on his shoulders. He pauses, his lips still parted in speech though the words have stopped. "Kiss me?"

There's not a moment wasted before he cranes up, obeying your request without any hesitation. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to give you the chance to change your mind. Maybe it's because he can't say no to you. Maybe it's because he wants it just as bad as you do.

This time you don't stop Sukuna when his hands slip up your top. Don't stop him when he takes it off all together, either. He's not as talkative as he usually is, having grown used to the way he likes to mouth off when the two of you are intimate like this. He's as conscious as you are of his nephew sleeping only a few rooms away. He's careful with you, not unlike how like he was with Yuuji, in his own particular way.

You don't plan to stop him at all, anymore. Your resolve to deny him (and yourself) having melted under a strange warmth you feel kindling in your chest. You're happy to let him—the Sukuna you think you might be the only one who knows—have you.

Or, you would be, if not for the unexpected return of his older brother, who flicks on the light in the living room with absolutely no idea what he's about to expose.

Thankfully you've learned from experience that first impressions aren't so important after all.

You had never been the biggest fan of love.

That was until you met the bundle of nothing but love that was Satoru Gojo. A man who, on the surface, seemed childish and immature, but in reality, was a man who would lay down his life if it meant seeing you smile for all of eternity.

A man who would hold you as if you were made of glass. You'd lost count of how many nights you'd spent curled in his arms on the couch. His arms around your waist and one of his hands carding through your hair.

A man who spoiled you to the high heavens. Anything you stared at, even if it was for a millisecond, was suddenly pushed into your hands. Each time you denied it, Satoru pushed it further and further into your hold, a wide smile plastered onto that beautiful face of his.

Satoru Gojo was a man who loved with his entire heart, holding it out to you and smiling once you took it into his hands. You had returned his love with a love of your own, and for a long time, everything was absolutely perfect.

But now, staring down at the rain-covered headstone, you fell back into a mindset that had once debilitated you. With clenched teeth, you place down the bouquet you'd brought with you, exhaling slowly as you stand and turn away from the words carved into the stone.

After Satoru Gojo, there was nobody you'd ever love again.

Here's a little Nanami snippet to munch on while I write a much bigger piece.

“Ah, there you are. What are you doing out here my love?” 

You lift your head, turning just enough to cast a glance over your shoulder — then met with the sight of Nanami standing in the open doorframe of one of Jujutsu Tech’s many buildings. In his hands is one of his jackets, one that you no doubt would have draped over your shoulders the moment that he approached you.  

You don’t answer him, opting instead to listen to the soft patter of the rain that you had been so attentively listening to just moments before.  

“Jus’ admiring the rain,” you answer after a beat of silence, turning back to stare out at the outdoor grounds of Jujutsu High. Your lips turn upward at the sight of a few students walking about, their jackets tugged over their heads to prevent themselves from getting wet.  

Nanami hums, taking a step forward. Just as you had predicted, he lays the jacket over your shoulders, then lowering himself to sit down at your side. 

Your body shifts closer to him, like a magnet drawn to its opposite. Your cheek leans against his shoulder, with his arm lifting and coming to rest over your shoulders, holding you against his side.  

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Nanami inquires after a pause, tilting his head so that his cheek rests comfortably against the top of your head.  

You chuckle breathily, eyes fluttering shut as your body soaks up the warmth that radiates off of Nanami.  

“Nothing, just thinking of how pretty the rain is,” you murmur in response. Now it’s Nanami’s turn to chuckle, a deep rumble that brings a light pink tint to your cheeks.  

Not nearly as pretty as you, he thinks, still holding you tightly against him.  

!Redeemed Papa Toji is on the menu for tonight everyone. <3

< … >

“Mama pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

You pause from where you stand in the doorframe of Megumi’s bedroom, curiously peering in on the adorable sight that lays out in front of you. Sitting in the center of the room is Toji, his ankles crossed over one another so that Megumi could sit comfortably in his lap.

Nestled between Toji’s large hands is a scrapbook, one that you had been making long before you’d met Toji. There were pictures of childhood memories, birthday parties, high school events, college graduation, and so much more. But recently you’d added new memories; your wedding and Megumi’s birth to name a few.

Megumi had made Toji pause on the page that you had dedicated to your wedding. Pasted on the page is multiple pictures of you wearing white, of Toji standing crying at the alter, of you and Toji dancing during the reception, and (Toji’s personal favorite) you laughing with Toji with wedding cake smeared onto your face.

A chubby little finger was pointing to one picture in particular, one of you wearing your white gown with your hair all done up. You were only half-facing the camera, eyes focused on something just behind the lens. But Megumi was looking down at the picture with such a sparkle in his eye that you would have thought he were looking at a picture of a goddess.

His father’s expression mirrors that of his son. Fond eyes stare down at the same picture, a small smile stretching out the scar nestled on the left side of his face.

“Mama!”

Megumi’s happy cry breaks Toji from his trance, head turning to watch as you walk into the bedroom. With a smile, you lift the toddler into your arms, laughing breathily as he sloppily kisses your cheek. “Hi ‘gumi, what are you and Papa up to?”

“Looking at you!” Megumi responds, pointing down to the scrapbook in Toji’s lap. You chuckle, lowering yourself to sit beside Toji, glancing him and biting back a playful insult at the flustered expression that your husband wears.

“Is that so?” you question with a playful raise of your eyebrow. Toji smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging both you and Megumi against his chest.

You grin, leaning into your husband’s hold and glancing down at Megumi again. He smiles up at you, with all of his little teeth and those bright eyes that shined like stars. You lean down, kissing the toddler’s forehead.

Toji watches through fond eyes as Megumi quickly leans up to reciprocate your kiss. He squeezes you and Megumi tighter against his chest, cheek resting against the top of your head. If only he had a camera.

A/N - Decided to make the Sukuna and !Non-Trusting Girlfriend work a little series! I don't exactly know yet if I want to do full-length fics, drabbles, or a mix of both. But for now, I present y'all with this!

Read the original piece here!

"You're doing it again."

You stand up straighter, tilting your head curiously at Sukuna -- who bites back the chuckle that rises in his throat. He had noticed. Noticed the way that you eyed down the barista across the counter, how her eyes had raked over your boyfriend for just a moment too long.

"Doing what?" you ask, feigning innocence as he hands you your drink; your usual. It shocked you that he had even remembered it, elaborate as it was.

"Comparing yourself," he bends to whisper in your ear. You flush, cheeks burning a deep shade of pink. You avoid his question by taking a sip of your drink, ignoring the way that it burns your tongue.

Sukuna only shakes his head, hand slipping into yours as you both leave the coffee shop. The barista calls out her goodbyes behind you, but neither you nor Sukuna respond to her.

"She was pretty though, wasn't she?" you say to break the silence, eyes flickering away from Sukuna. He doesn't say anything, only sipping at his drink.

You deflate at his lack of an answer, he can feel it in the way that your grip on his hand loosens.

"You ask the dumbest fucking questions sometimes."

You turn your head. "What?"

Sukuna smirks down at you, his hand releasing yours. Your eyebrows pinch together, creating a small wrinkle between your brows. With that same smirk on his face, he bends to kiss between both of your eyebrows.

"You heard me brat," he bites back the chuckle that rises in his throat, "you and your stupid questions."

"It's not stupid."

"It is, because I think you already know the answer," Sukuna points out, smirking again to himself as you sip at your drink -- no doubt attempting to hide your bashful expression.

His arm tugs you against his chest, your shoulder knocking against him. You say nothing, though Sukuna doesn't fail to notice the little smile that curls the corner of your mouth upward.

Gojo knew that you absolutely adored his eyes, and in turn, he began to adore them as well.  

At multiple points throughout his life, Gojo would stare daggers into his own reflection. His hands would grip the sides of the sink, knuckles turning white from how tightly he curled his fingers.  

Your eyes are a curse, he would tell himself. They prevented him from proper rest, working on overdrive and spoon-feeding him information that he never truly wanted. The abilities and techniques of others constantly swarmed his mind, drowning out his own thoughts.  

That was before he met you. 

That was before you held his face in your hands and gazed at his eyes with such adoration that he felt himself melting on the spot. Before your soft lips parted to whisper to him, "Your eyes are gorgeous." 

From that point forward, he told himself that his eyes were gorgeous. He looked at them in the mirror with love, not with that burning hatred that he had known for so many years. He takes a second to admire them now in the morning, running the tips of his fingers against the skin underneath his eyes, smiling faintly to himself.  

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. 

He hears you say it to him every time he lifts his blindfold and catches a glimpse of his reflection. He can feel the ghost of your hands over his cheeks, how your thumbs stroked his skin and how your lips pressed to his closed eyelids.  

But you're not around anymore. 

It had been months since Gojo heard your voice, or felt your touch. Your last mission had ended in you never returning home – a fact that Gojo struggled to stomach. But shockingly, his hatred for his eyes never returned.  

"Satoru! There you are!" 

He pauses, feet suddenly feeling as though they were being weighed down by bricks. The heads of the transfigured humans he'd killed fall to the ground with dull thuds. He turns on his heel, heart dropping to his stomach.  

It's you. 

Your lips are turned upward in that soft smile that he had kissed so many times. You tilt your head at him, eyes opening as your smile begins to fade.  

His eyes roam over your figure, drinking in every detail about you and committing it to memory … not that he had forgotten anything about you in the first place.  

Gojo's Six Eyes kept repeating over and over again that it was you. You were alive … standing right in front of him as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.  

In that moment, at that very second … 

… he had never hated his eyes more. 

"Cleaning up?" Geto asks with a curious tilt of his head, watching as you lift another framed photograph from your bedside table. You smile, turning on your heel.  

"Yeah, that and I wanted to replace a couple of the pictures," you answer, gesturing to the photo frames lying face up on your bed. Geto follows your gaze, humming thoughtfully. "Want to help me pick them out?" 

Geto smiles, closing the distance between you both and placing a sweet kiss against your forehead. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close to you. His eyes wander down to the photograph in your hands – it was one of you, himself, Nanako, and Mimiko.  

Nanako and Mimiko are hanging off of Geto's outstretched arms, their lips turned upward in bright smiles. You're standing just in front of Geto, hands hovering beneath the twin girls just in case either one of them were to fall.  

"Don't replace that one," Geto says suddenly, reaching a larger hand out and taking the frame from you. He smiles at it, then returning it to your hand. You chuckle breathily, stepping out of his embrace and turning to glance at the other photographs you had laid out on your bed.  

"I like that one too. But what about these?" 

You receive no answer. 

"Sugu?" You turn back to where he had been standing, tilting your head curiously. The space he occupied was empty.  

"Mama? Who are you talkin' to?" Nanako peeks her head into your bedroom, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she pushes your door open. You still, eyes flickering down to the frame in your hands. Your fingers tighten over it, eyes pricking with tears. "Mama?" 

"Nothin' honey," you reply tearfully, smiling shakily at her as you swipe the backs of your knuckles against your eyes.  

"It was nobody." 

Hey hi hemlo

Love your writing style so much, that asshole Gojo fic made my heart squeeze like you wouldn't believe

Can I make a request?

A foreign Jujutsu Tech teacher/sorcerer struggling to do paperwork in Japanese. Satoru and/or Suguru try to help, but end up a distraction instead lol

A Welcome Distraction

Sypnosis - Working is already grueling enough, made worse only by the human-sized distractions that are ... the loves of your life.

Warning(s) - None, this is really just pure fluff.

A/N - This really just spiraled into Gojo being an absolute distraction, but I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"There she is!" 

"Satoru … restrain yourself, even if it's just for a second." 

With a smile already curling the corners of your mouth upward, you turn your head to your classroom door – which had been swung open by Gojo, a wide smile already plastered onto his face. Not too far behind him was Geto, whose apologetic eyes flicker to you and whose lips quirk upward in an equally as apologetic smile.  

You say nothing as Gojo enters your classroom, beelining to where you sit behind your desk and wrapping his arms around you. His chin lowers to rest against the top of your head, a content hum rumbling in his throat when you lean back in his arms.  

“Hello sweet girl,” Gojo says with a wide smile, tilting his head to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You hum, then turning your head to watch Geto as he approaches. 

“Hi. What brings you both around here?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, turning in your seat to get a better look at Gojo. He peers over your shoulder, glancing at the unfinished paperwork that you had been tending to for the better part of two hours.  

Geto leans down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and sneaking a glance at your paperwork. “Hi honey, we just wanted to check in on you.”  

You smile, accepting the kiss that Gojo leans in to steal from you, his hands holding either side of your face as his lips curl into a boyish grin against your own.  

Geto rolls his eyes, reaching out to grip the collar of Gojo’s shirt and lightly prying him away from you; though he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest at both of his lovers doting on one another.  

“That’s sweet of you both, but don’t you have physical training with your students today?” you tilt your head, remembering how Gojo was supposed to tend to the first-years and Geto the second-years.  

At the mention of fulfilling his teacher duties, Gojo groans childishly, hanging his head so that his forehead hits against your shoulder. His back arches uncomfortably, but his discomfort is lessened by the sound of your sweet laugh.  

“I let them have a small break, I couldn’t let Satoru run rampant,” Geto replies teasingly, grinning down at you. You set down the pen in your hand, lifting a hand to Gojo’s hair and scratching at his scalp — which he doesn’t hesitate to purr at.  

“Not true!” Gojo murmurs against your shoulder, removing his head from your shirt and turning to glance at Geto with a dramatic pout, bottom lip jutted out like a child who had been denied a snack before dinner.  

"It's entirely true love," you nod in agreement, chuckling breathily to yourself. Gojo huffs, this time completely disconnecting from you and taking a step away from your desk. He crosses his arms over his chest, still pouting.  

"You're both just so mean to me, and for no reason," he complains loudly, borderline stomping his foot against the ground as his gaze flickers between you and Geto. You turn to your raven-haired lover, both of you sharing a knowing smile just as Gojo grows annoyed with being ignored.  

Geto once again sneaks a glance at the paperwork scattered about your desk; ranging from mission logs given to you by Ijichi to student papers that you had procrastinated grading. His eyebrows furrow at the notes that you had scrawled into the paper's margins, but he doesn't bring any attention to it. 

"It's not being mean 'toru," you try to reason with your childish lover, but he merely presses his palms against his ears and hums obnoxiously. You sigh in exasperation, rubbing your temples before turning to Geto – your only saving Grace.  

Geto chuckles, catching Gojo as he dramatically falls into the former's arms, head knocking against Geto's broad shoulder.  

"Come now, you know she didn't mean it that way," Geto says, voice shaking as he struggles to hold back the chuckle that rises in his throat. "There isn't any reason for you to be this dramatic." 

It's your turn to chuckle now, the noise making both men smile lovingly at you. You half lean over your desk, arms covering your now abandoned paperwork as you turn your attention to both Gojo and Geto. 

"He's right, I don't mind that you both came to visit me," you say truthfully, lips still curled upward in that smile that your lovers could spend hours admiring. "I appreciate it actually." 

Gojo immediately disconnects himself from Geto's arms, beelining for you once again and wrapping you up in a bone-crushing embrace. You laugh heartily in his arms, squealing as he effortlessly lifts you from where you sit behind your desk.  

"'toru! I have work to do!" Your plea to return to working goes completely ignored by the snowy-haired man, who only tightens his grip around you and proceeds to spin you around. Geto joins in on the laughter, his chest warm and his eyes crinkled in a loving smile.  

Even with your complaining, and even with your pleading, you truly do love the distractions provided by not just one … but both of the loves of your life. 

A/N - I don't really know what this is, but I randomly thought of this because of those fucking TikTok slideshows.

"And Yuuji?" 

The pink-haired teenager turns, eyes meeting your awaiting gaze. His lips curl upward in a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  

"Yeah?" 

"Be careful out there." 

Yuuji's smile widens – if that was even possible – and he sends a thumbs-up in your direction. "You got it!" 

No, no, no, no. 

"Kugisaki! Run!" Yuuji shouts, hand desperately extending in the direction of his friend. His eyes widen as the sound of a slap echoes throughout the otherwise empty train terminal. He can feel his heart promptly stopping in his chest as Mahito continues running, only turning once he's skidded to a stop a few inches behind Nobara's back.  

His head turns, eyes casting a glance over his shoulder. A grin spreads over his face at the destruction he's caused, a childlike glint to his eyes as he watches Nobara's palm cover the eye that he had touched.  

You stare silently from your place, eyes wide at the scene that begins to unfold in front of you. You had seen this somewhere before, a muddled memory that featured different figures – but it was a dangerous similarity nonetheless. 

Yuuji freezes in place, watching as Nobara's eyes cast themselves to the ground, her palm still covering her right eye. Her expression conveys just how conflicted she is, but for a moment, there's a moment of acceptance.  

That's where you'd seen it before.  

A bright eyed girl with her entire life ahead of her and a boy who only wanted to help her. Then, just like the snapping of someone's fingers, gone is the girl.  

And left behind is the boy to grapple with the aftermath of her death.  

With a smile on her face, Nobara uncovers her eye, allowing Yuuji to see the veins beneath her skin. Already they are enflamed – both she and Yuuji know what is going to happen, and shockingly, she accepts it.  

Yuuji shakes his head, slowly approaching Nobara. He doesn't want it to be true … she knows that there's no other outcome.  

"Y'know … it wasn't so bad," Nobara admits with a closed-eye smile. She chuckles breathily, a tear slipping down from her uninjured eye. Her head tilts, her bangs flopping momentarily over her eyes before the veins in her right eye expand and explode.  

Yuuji stares, eyes widened in horrified shock as the body of one of his closest friends falls to the floor with a lifeless, heavy thud.  

You remember seeing that exact expression worn by another face, one that had blurred with time, but one that you had once regarded with a love so pure that surely anyone would be jealous of it.  

From your place behind Yuuji, all you can do is watch – just as you had done all of those years ago. All you can do is watch as he stares down at her corpse, just like another had done. 

But this time … 

… you approach Yuuji carefully. Extending your hand, you lay your palm flat against his back, turning him to face you while your eyes never leave Nobara.  

Her eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, devoid of any and all of the warmth that once encapsulated her irises. You'd seen that before too.  

"I--" Yuuji begins, but the thought is cut off as a sob rises in his throat. His eyes crinkle, tears falling from where they had been clinging to his bottom lash line. His body turns, arms wrapping tightly around your midsection.  

You say nothing as you return his embrace, allowing him to bury his face away into your shoulder – likely not wanting to stare into the lifeless eyes of one of his best friends. "Shh." 

"Geto-san," Yuuji whimpers into your shoulder, then dissolving into tears. You screw your eyes shut, trying your best to mask the shaky sigh that falls from your lips. You turn your head, laying your cheek against the top of his head and squeezing him tighter into your embrace.  

"I know," you say shakily, swallowing your own tears, "I know." 

Tagged - @quinnyundertow, @pweewee

A/N - This is a part 2 to this piece!

Word Count - 0.9k

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists.  

Shit. 

< … > 

"Let her go," he says, willing his voice to be firm, but it falls short. He knows that he must sound absolutely pathetic in comparison to what he wants, but words were his only weapon.  

He couldn't clench his fists and fight – not when it was you. 

"So desperate. This little body must mean worlds to you, am I right brat?"  

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, staring into your eyes and wondering if somehow, you're staring back at him. He hopes that you're there somewhere, and wherever you were, he could reach you. 

He just needed to stall for long enough to make that happen.  

"Just let her go," Yuuji begs, taking a brave step forward. You … or rather Sukuna … takes a step away from him, creating distance that only shoves Yuuji's heart further down into his stomach. "You can do whatever you want, but just don't--" 

"You dare order me around? I spared you," Sukuna growls, tipping your head upward so that you could glare down your nose at Yuuji. He gulps, the coldness of your eyes such a foreign sight.  

"You said that … that you wouldn't do anything to hurt her," Yuuji recalls, desperation seeping into his tone as he takes another step towards Sukuna. Sukuna retaliates by forcing your body backward again. 

"When was I ever known to keep such meaningless promises?" Sukuna curls your lips upward into a smirk, tilting your head to the side and watching as Yuuji's face pales.  

Suddenly, your body contorts, your right hand curling into a white-knuckled fist that you promptly ram into your chest. Sukuna coughs, tilting your head down to glance at where your fist had connected with your chest.  

Yuuji watches in shock – watches as your right fist reels back again, this time connecting with your cheek. Again, Sukuna splutters, legs buckling slightly under the force with which you had punched up into your own face.  

"(Y/N)?" he mutters to himself, tilting his head. Sukuna, or rather you, jerk your head towards Yuuji. For a split second, just a singular split second, he can see that flicker of warmth that was just purely you.  

"That brat is … damn it," Sukuna snarls, nose crinkling in both frustration and disgust. He reaches your left hand towards your right, curling your fingers around your wrist and roughly tugging it downward.  

Somewhere in the darkness, you clench your hands into fists, operating blindly. This was your body. 

“Fucking brat!” Sukuna suddenly yells, your fingers losing grip over your own wrist. Your left hand releases your right, and once again, your fist connects with your cheek.  

Yuuji watches, eyes widening as the realization of what you were doing slowly seeps in. He has been right — you were still somewhere in there. 

“(Y/N)!” Yuuji yells out, bravely sprinting from his place and locking his arms around your waist, ignoring Sukuna’s vicious yells of protest. He tugs your back flush against his chest, closing his eyes and ignoring the pain that erupts in his chest as Sukuna forces you to squirm in Yuuji's hold. 

"Unhand me!" Sukuna shouts, kicking out one of your legs in the hopes that it would loosen Yuuji's grip. It doesn't. 

Your right hand trembles before shooting upward, palm covering your eyes and gripping tightly onto your temples. Sukuna lets out a frustrated shout, lips pulling back in an angered snarl. 

"C'mon (Y/N), c'mon," Yuuji whispers pleadingly, digging his heels into the ground and tightening his grip. Your body trembles for a moment, shaking against him before falling completely limp. "(Y/N)!" 

"And just what makes you think that you can take this body back?" Sukuna tilts his head at you, circling you like a lion would its prey. Calculating red eyes narrow at you, pupils narrowed into snake-like slits as you stare helplessly back at the King of Curses.  

"I won't let you--" 

"You won't let me what? You do understand how absolutely powerless you are in comparison to me, don't you?" Sukuna barks out a laugh, roughly taking hold of your face and forcing your gaze upon him.  

Your eyes water at the sudden pressure applied to your skin, body shaking as Sukuna lowers his face to be inches from yours – nose to nose.  

"I'll kill him with your hands," Sukuna smirks at you, relishing in the expression of horror that falls over your face. He bites back the rising laugh in his throat, instead releasing his hold on your face.  

You stare helplessly, lowering your head and staring down at your hands. Sukuna bends, kneeling in front of you and tilting his head.  

"What'll it be?" 

"(Y/N) …?" Yuuji murmurs, hands cradling either side of your face. He blinks back the tears in his eyes, staring down at your face and smiling as your eyes flicker to meet his own. His lips part to greet you again, eyes already crinkling at the corners.  

The marks on your face and wrists haven't … haven't faded.  

"(Y/N) …?" Yuuji whispers again, watching as you remove yourself from his lap and rise to your feet. Your back turns to him, then your head tilts to catch a glance of him from over your shoulder.  

Your lips curl upward into a smirk, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing together. "(Y/N) is gone …" 

Yuuji's eyes widen, heart sinking as he too rises to his feet. His hands go slack as he stares at you.  

" … brat." 

HEHE if y'all want an alternate ending please let me know, but I had so much fucking fun writing this! 

Hey 💕 Can I request story about Sukuna being all soft and gentle with reader? 😩 Like soft morning with him, waking up together, and make out session or some gentle sex with a lot of praise. I love domestic Sukuna I’m sorry 😔

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Warning(s) - None!

A/N - Damn maybe I do like writing for Sukuna (I've been his #1 hater since season 1 of JJK dropped).

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Biting back the sleepy groan that climbs up your throat, you open your bleary eyes to peek at the sunlight that filters in through your bedroom's thin curtains. You shift lightly only to be stopped by someone's arms tightening around your waist, further rooting you to your place in bed – Sukuna. 

How ironic that the King of Curses would be a stage-five clinger come the morning sun. But of course, nobody would ever believe you if that admittance fell from your lips. And it wasn’t like he would admit it either. 

You yawn, lifting your fingers to swipe at the crust that clings to the corners of your eyes. As much as you wanted to relish in Sukuna’s hold, the urge to go to the bathroom and relieve yourself was becoming painfully apparent — though you knew that any attempt to leave bed would be completely futile.  

Even with that knowledge, you attempt to sit upward, only to be met with a sharp groan from Sukuna followed by the tightening of his arm over your waist. His nails dig into the exposed skin of your hips, effectively rooting you to your place in bed.  

“Quit movin’ around you brat,” Sukuna murmurs, shifting closer to you and burying his face into the waistband of your pajama pants, exhaling deeply and adjusting himself to be more comfortable. You chuckle to yourself, turning your head to stare down at the sleepy King of Curses — it would be funny if you were to “accidentally” take a photo of him.  

“I have to pee Ryo,” you reply, reaching a hand out and threading your fingers through his hair, nails raking gently over his scalp. Against his better judgement, Sukuna leans into the warmth that your touch radiates, eyes still closed like a content cat. It was humorous, this was the same man who could destroy entire cities with so much as a snap of his fingers.  

“Mmph.” His arms tighten impossibly further around you, his actions earning a breathy giggle from you. You can feel his lips quirk upward against the skin of your hip, but you don’t say anything, not wanting to ruin this incredibly rare moment.   

You decide to humor him, lowering yourself into his arms and tucking your head underneath his chin. Your arms circle his neck, nails scraping over his nape and toying with the hairs that reside there. Sukuna, shockingly, presses himself further into your touch, seeking more of it like a cat starved of affection.  

His forehead ghosts over your own, eyes closed in content the moment that your skin meets his own. He would never admit it to you, but the safety that stood in tandem with your presence was reassuring in a way that not even he could describe.  

"Five more minutes woman," Sukuna murmurs, tightening his grip on you and going so far as to tangle his legs with your own, only further trapping you to the sheets of your bed.  

You giggle, laying a kiss against his lips, not failing to notice the way that his quirk up against your own.  

"Five more minutes." 

TOJI who comes home late from work to a silent house. All of the lights in the house are off, the only source of illumination being the flickering screen of the television, and even that is stuck on a multicolored SOURCE UNKNOWN screen.  

“Baby? Y’in here?” he calls out to the empty living room, eyebrows furrowing in a mixture of confusion and concern as he toes off his shoes.  

He continues through the silent apartment, dutifully checking each room before finally standing in the doorframe of the master bedroom. Against his better judgement, Toji’s lips turn upward at the sight that lies in front of him.  

Toji approaches the bed, sitting at its edge and being careful to not accidentally crush your legs underneath the weight of his body.  

You look so peaceful wrapped up in the sheets of your shared bed, lips parted in gentle breaths with that tiny line of drool trickling down from the corner of your mouth.  

He reaches a finger out, stroking the back of it against your cheek and grinning to himself as you subconsciously move closer to the warmth radiating from his skin.  

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmurs, lowering himself to lay across from you. He opens his arms, scooping you into them and tucking your head into the crook of his neck.  

You hum sleepily against his skin, eyes fluttering open as your arms wind around his midsection, followed then by your legs tangling with his own.  

“Hi baby,” you murmur, bleary eyes blinking up at him as he cranes his neck to gaze down at you.  

“Hey,” he mutters, laying a kiss against your forehead and grinning to himself as you snuggle closer to him. “Sleepy?” 

“Mhm. Tried t’wait up.” 

His chest warms at your words, arms momentarily squeezing you. He’d never admit it to anyone — he’d rather die than say it aloud … but you made him so incredibly soft.  

Only you. Only you. 

Read part two here!

His head was so quiet. 

Your head was so loud. 

That voice didn’t belong to you, nor did it belong to the pink-haired boy who stares at you with widened, scared eyes. His hands shake as they reach out for you, but there’s something that stops him from closing the distance.  

You blink, eyes heavy as something inside of your chest twists — almost painfully so. You lift a hand to the front of your shirt, bunching up the fabric and glancing up at Yuuji. He still looks downright horrified, but you can’t seem to figure out why. 

And suddenly … everything in your head was silent.  

In front of you stretched an endless void, the light diminishing completely before you could even process that it was there. You open your mouth to speak, or to yell for help, but nothing but a pathetic garble falls from your parted lips. 

“Hmm, didn’t think I would enjoy a brat’s body quite as much as I do this one.”  

It’s your voice, but at the same time, it isn’t. 

Yuuji’s heart drops to his stomach, widened eyes burning with tears. Now he knew why you sounded so different.  

Those dark black marks. 

Those rings around your wrists. 

That sadistic glint to your usually softened eyes.  

No. 

Yuuji stares silently, his heart now in his throat as he stares at you … or rather … your body.  

Your eyes flicker up to meet his own, and he can see the last traces of you being promptly snuffed out like a candle left out for too long.  

“Let her go.” 

A deep chuckle that feels so unlike you tumbles from your parted lips. Your head tilts back, eyes glaring down your nose at Yuuji.  

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists.  

Shit. 

Do you guys wanna see this continued? I half-assed this in class LMAO.