"Cleaning Up?" Geto Asks With A Curious Tilt Of His Head, Watching As You Lift Another Framed Photograph

"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." 

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. 

I love your writing so much!!

Can I request some comfort Sukuna where he finally breaks down the walls around readers heart who has been hurt previously years before…reader made him wonder why they didn’t ever let him see them cry before and that bothered him.

Sypnosis - Love wasn't for everyone, you had long since accepted that fact. But ... were you really okay with being alone?

Warning(s) - None besides mature themes and some foul language.

A/N - Oh my god I loved this request so much. Reader is definitely a little bit too much like me in this one, but it's okay because at least she somewhat fixed her issues!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Love wasn't for everyone. 

That was a hard pill to swallow, but it was one that you had swallowed after so many years of being constantly disappointed. One after the other, it was as if the heavens above were taunting you. Either that, or they were punishing you for some heinous crime. 

Even though you wanted so desperately to experience what everyone else did; stolen glances, random flowers, gentle kisses, passionate sex, late-night dates … you had just come to the conclusion that no matter what you did, it just wasn't for you.  

And you were okay with that. 

Yet, it was annoying to then hear others come to you spewing their bullshit. 

"You just haven't met the one yet!"  "Don't worry, love will come to you when you least expect it." 

"Trust me. The moment that you stop looking for love, it comes to find you." 

"You're quiet," Sukuna says harshly, dropping his finished cigarette onto the ground and snuffing out its orange hue with the toe of his boot. Your head jerks upward, blinking for a moment before you clear your throat – you hadn't meant to fall into a daydream.  

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm okay," you answer quickly, lifting your own half-finished cigarette to your lips and inhaling. You hoped that the smoke would ease your nerves, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.  

Sukuna's eyes roam over your figure, his mind taking notes on your expression and body language. Your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes flickering to look at anything but him, your lips are turned downward in a frown that he somewhat wishes would go away. Your shoulders are stiff, back standing as straight as a line. Your hands are shaking. 

"Tch," he clicks his tongue, turning his body and half-stepping towards you. His fingers close over your wrist, pulling the cigarette away from your lips. "You're a shitty liar." 

Your eyes cast themselves to the ground, embarrassment heating your cheeks. He falters, but he toes out your cigarette anyway, then turning to face forward again – he doesn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are.  

"What are you thinking about?" he asks after a beat of silence, hanging his arms over the railing of your apartment's balcony. Your eyes flicker to him for a moment, silently admiring the way that the moonlight illuminates his face and the tattoos inked into his skin.  

"Nothing that would interest you." 

Not when it comes to you. Talk to me, he wants to say. But the words fall dead on his tongue. He doesn't turn his head to look at you, only humming in acknowledgement.  

Another beat of silence passes over you and Sukuna. It gets you wondering … did he even like being around you? After all, the only reason why he kept meeting you after work was because he had offered you a ride home. In return, you offered him cigarettes. A fair trade. 

"Interesting or not," he hesitates, biting his tongue, "'s not good when you keep all that stuff in." 

You freeze, hands tightening their hold on the railing as you stare out at the cityscape. Already you can feel tears beginning to gather along your waterline. You try your hardest to swallow them away, but nothing.  

"I-I said it was fine," you manage to choke out, trying to subtly wipe at your eyes. Sukuna notices … he always did.  

He reaches into his pocket for something, then nudging your arm with a handkerchief closed between his fingers. You take it, mumbling a quiet thanks before wiping your eyes with it. "I'm sorry." 

Sukuna doesn't answer, he doesn't have to. It's more of a silent understanding that yes, something is bothering you, but in your own time you would open up to him about it. Maybe it wouldn't be tonight, maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow … but eventually, you would.  

He shrugs in response to your apology. "Nothin' to apologize for." 

Another beat of silence passes over you both, this one more comfortable than the last. Sukuna reaches into his pocket, taking out the cigarettes that you had given him. He opens the box with his thumb, hesitating on taking another one out.  

You eye the box out of the corner of your eye … it was the only reason he even came into your apartment, wasn't it? 

To your shock, he drops the box off of the edge of the balcony, watching it through half-lidded eyes as it falls out of sight. You turn your head to look at him, finding him already staring at you.  

Neither of you say anything.    

One minute turns into two, two into four, four into six.  

"Y'know, I get the whole … wanting to be alone thing," Sukuna says, turning away from you so that he wouldn't have to look at your slightly pained expression. He leans further against the railing, gaze focusing on the blinking lights of a nearby billboard.  

"You can tell yourself all you want that you want to be alone," he finally turns to you, "but do you really want that?" 

You freeze, eyes wide like a deer that had been caught in headlights. Blankly, you stare at him, mind struggling to mull over what he had just asked you.  

Did you really want to be alone? 

"I-" You pause, swallowing the lump that had settled in the center of your throat. "I don't." 

With that, Sukuna swallows all of his pride and tugs you into his arms. You fold into him, nails biting into the back of his leather jacket – the one that reeks of smoke and of must. But at the same time, those two comforting smells remind you that right now, in this moment, you aren't truly alone.  

Do y'all want a part two of this? Or like a series of Sukuna and !Non-Trusting girlfriend? 

now playing - jujutsu kaisen

" being a child is not a sin. " " the most twisted curse of all is love. "

featuring -> satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, ryomen sukuna, hiromi higuruma, ino takuma, yuuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, yuuta okkostu, toge inumaki

key : * = angst ~ = smut ^ = fluff

< ... >

entry 001 : who is (y/n)? ft. kento nanami * entry 002 : a quiet night in ft. kento nanami ^ entry 003 : voices ft. suguru geto ^* entry 004 : baked goods ft. suguru geto ^ entry 005 : girls night out ft. suguru geto, satoru gojo, choso kamo ^~ entry 006 : recharge ft. kento nanami ^ entry 007 : fix you ft. suguru geto ^* entry 008 : soft dom ft. satoru gojo ~ entry 009 : everyone but you ft. megumi fushiguro ^ entry 010 : cold, dead heart ft. ryomen sukuna ^* entry 011 : cat-like ft. choso kamo ^ entry 012 : opposites ft. yuuji itadori ^ entry 013 : starry night ft. suguru geto, satoru gojo ^* entry 014 : betting on you ft. satoru gojo * entry 015 : pink-haired matchmaker ft. kento nanami ^ entry 016 : firsts ft. kento nanami ^~ entry 017 : private, not secret ft. kento nanami ^ entry 018 : looking after you ft. suguru geto ^* entry 019 : jealousy ... insecurity ft. yuuta okkotsu ^* entry 020 : part of you ft. satoru gojo ^* entry 021 : aggressive dom ft. satoru gojo ~ entry 022 : why you? ft. suguru geto ^ entry 023 : everything was perfect ft. satoru gojo ^* entry 024 : deserved ft. hiromi higuruma ~ entry 025 : my love, mine all mine ft. multi ^ entry 026 : never alone ft. suguru geto ^* entry 027 : designated seat ft. satoru gojo ~ entry 028 : not her ft. yuuji itadori * entry 029 : shoulders ft. suguru geto ^* entry 030 : to you ft. toji fushiguro ^ entry 031 : softened edge ft. ryomen sukuna ^ entry 032 : not her (2) ft. yuuji itadori * entry 033 : mirrored image ft. suguru geto * entry 034 : drunkenly yours ft. megumi fushiguro ^ entry 035 : not yet ft. satoru gojo ^* entry 036 : across the universe ft. multi ^ entry 037 : what might've been ft. suguru geto, satoru gojo, ieri shoko ^* entry 038 : a welcome distraction ft. suguru geto, satoru gojo ^

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. 

jjk megumi pinning us to a wall and drunk confessing!!!!

#loveyou!!

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Warning(s) - None besides alcohol consumption.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"Itadori! Have you seen Fushiguro around? I've been looking for him," you say worriedly, silently grabbing onto Itadori's arm and lightly tugging him closer to you, your lips ghosting over his ear so that he could hear you clearly over the too-loud music.  

The pink-haired male turns to you, eyes narrowing before his gaze quickly flicks over the entirety of the room – a silent search for the unaccounted for Fushiguro. He shakes his head, his eyes returning to you, irises softening at the worried look that passes over your face.  

"I haven't. But the last I saw of him, he was at the bar getting himself and Kugisaki something to drink," Itadori admits, frowning as you release his arm, turning your body halfway so that you can get a better look at the bar.  

You smile at him in thanks before weaving your way through the crowd, muttering out "excuse me's" and "pardon me's" as you walk to the bar, leaning against it and peering around in search of Fushiguro, hoping that maybe you had just overlooked him by accident.  

But the bar is occupied by random people that you don't know, none of them are Fushiguro. An exasperated sigh leaves your parted lips as you turn from the bar, leaning your back against it and scanning the dance floor.  

In the center is Kugisaki, hand-in-hand with Maki and dancing to the upbeat music played by the DJ, who occasionally yells into his microphone to keep the club in full swing. Your lips turn upward in a smile as you continue to allow your gaze to wander about the club.  

Finally, you spot that familiar tuft of jet-black hair halfway across the club, haphazardly holding onto a half-empty glass and leaning against one of the booths – one occupied by Yuuta and Inumaki. You find yourself smiling, making your way through the crowd and approaching the booth.  

"Fushiguro!" You lift a hand to wave as you move closer to the booth, not failing to notice the gentle pink hue that coats Fushiguro's cheeks – it makes you wonder just how much he had to drink. You hadn't expected him to drink so much, especially considering that he had warned both Itadori and Kugisaki to "take it easy" before any of the four of you had stepped into the club. 

He turns to you, stumbling on his feet and placing down the glass that he had been holding, not caring about the high-pitched clink that it makes from how roughly he had set it down. "(Y/N)?" 

You giggle lightly, catching him as he walks over to you, hands on his arms to steady him. His eyes flicker up to meet your own, narrowing in order to decipher just who you were before his lips purse. You lift your hand, brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead.  

"Yeah, it's me. Why don't we get you some water?" you offer, steering Fushiguro to sit across from Inumaki, then looking around for a waiter who could give you the water that Fushiguro definitely needs.  

The raven-haired man shakes his head, fingers clasping around your wrist and tugging you clumsily to the dance floor. You follow, allowing yourself to be dragged around by Fushiguro, though you're definitely confused by his spike in boldness.  

"C'mon," Fushiguro mumbles, his voice completely drowned out by the booming music playing over the club's many speakers. Your eyes narrow in confusion as Fushiguro stops just at the edge of the dance floor – located near the back of the club itself.  

You tilt your head curiously at Fushiguro, his hands now settled on your hips, fingers lightly squeezing you. Your cheeks flush, shocked at the sudden contact — Fushiguro had never been this direct with anyone let alone you for that matter. 

“Megumi?” you inquire, glancing down at the pale hands that hold onto your waist as if you would vanish into thin air should his grip loosen. “Are you okay?” 

“M’fine,” he slurs, swallowing the growing lump in his throat as his head drops to the junction between your collarbone and shoulder. “Jus’ wanna be near you.” 

You flush from head to toe, feeling your entire body light aflame as Fushiguro pulls you impossibly closer, his grip only tightening around you. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears, pulsating in a way that is borderline uncomfortable.  

“Here, let’s go outside,” you say quietly, linking your fingers with Fushiguro’s and leading him to the back entrance of the bar. You push the door open, sighing thankfully as the cold night air licks at your skin like an excited dog — contrasting greatly with the stuffiness inside the bar itself.  

Slowly, you lower Fushiguro to sit on one of the small wooden chairs that the bouncer must’ve left outside. You sit down cross-legged on the chair beside Fushiguro, bravely leaning your head against his leg as he remains quiet, simply staring out at the busy road that the back of the bar faces.  

“I love you y’know,” Fushiguro says bluntly, not reacting even as you swivel to face him, a look of shock passing over your face at his blatant confession. You stare silently at him, wanting to see if he would continue without you prompting conversation — and continue he does.  

“Jus’ everything about you; your smile, your eyes, your demeanor, everything,” Fushiguro finally turns to look at you, staring silently into your awestruck eyes. Your lips tremble, struggling to decide whether they should turn upward in a smile or downward into a frown (likely because you thought that Fushiguro was bullshitting you).  

“And I want you to be mine (Y/N). And I want to … to be yours,” Fushiguro says, reaching a hand over and lacing his fingers with your own, squeezing. “Please.” 

Chuckling gently, you return the affectionate squeeze of his fingers, leaning up and pressing a fleeting kiss to Fushiguro’s cheek. He stills, watching as you rest back on your legs, keeping your gaze locked with his own.  

“Let’s sleep on it, then we’ll talk, yeah?” 

Fushiguro nods, closing his eyes and smiling at the lingering warmth that your lips left behind. “Yeah … okay.”