﹙ must read ! ﹚ helin
rules ~ ♡𝅼 ͡ ׅ ۟ 兼 ָ֢ ֹ 🏹⃝ ֹ ۪ masterlist
✿ུ. ﹙𝐟𝐞𝐦. ﹚ ' storu luvr - ㅤ 𝟣8+ㅤㅤ ۫
꣑୧ ۠ ⭒ intj
AnasAbdin

JBB: An Artblog!

#extradirty
trying on a metaphor

JVL
Game of Thrones Daily

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sheepfilms
ojovivo
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium
One Nice Bug Per Day

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izzy's playlists!

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

Discoholic 🪩

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@hel1nn
﹙ must read ! ﹚ helin
rules ~ ♡𝅼 ͡ ׅ ۟ 兼 ָ֢ ֹ 🏹⃝ ֹ ۪ masterlist
✿ུ. ﹙𝐟𝐞𝐦. ﹚ ' storu luvr - ㅤ 𝟣8+ㅤㅤ ۫
꣑୧ ۠ ⭒ intj
Writing about rap3, non-con or inc3st doesn't make you a versatile writer who's "not afraid to tackle sensitive topics" or whatever. It literally just makes you a massive weirdo.
There's a huge difference between writing about these things with actual context and tact, and writing a few-hundred-word one-shot about a character getting rap3d or two characters being inc3stu0us.
Give me a break
And what's worse is that some even weirder person will always try to justify it.I feel like most of you don't have real problems, or at least not enough of them, so you feel the need to make things up.
Seriously, stop
Headcanons ~ First Love/Summer Fling ft canon!Gojo
Pairings: First love!Gojo x f!reader
Rating: Explicit (MDNI) 18+
Content Warnings: Heavy angst, explicit sexual content, Bullying, Unresolved love
Art credits to my favorite Gojo artist @/3-aem
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who met you when you were 16 and he was 17 while you were on a summer mission trip to Japan with your church. You met at the beach and he teased you relentlessly for your modest swimwear, your small boobs (you were just a late bloomer!), and the shy way you wouldn’t look right at him. He started going down to the beach every day to look for you because, from the very first day, he saw how your cheeks bloomed crimson when he teased you, and yet couldn’t stop talking to you. You were just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who was sweet and mean to you in equal measure. You clung to every scrap of attention though because back home, well, it was some kind of hell and your parents were your own personal demons. He would say something mean to you in one breath and then be kissing you senseless with the next. He had to be mean to you! Otherwise, he’d give away the feelings racing through his heart. He knew being with you was a bad idea from the get-go. It was dangerous, even then. Everyone wanted a piece of the Six-eyes. He had to be mean to you because he was so hopelessly in love with you that he was liable to do something insane to keep you by his side.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who ate up how shy and repressed you were, how innocent, and took great pleasure in seeing just how much he could sully his pretty little lily, because that’s what you were to him. Not Easter lilies either. Calla lilies. Pretty, pure, delicate, and most definitely his. With every “No, we shouldn’t,” and “I can’t do that,” and “But that’s sinful,” he only wanted you more. He became your first everything. Your first kiss, the first guy who fingered you, the first one who ate you out, the first one whose cock you sucked. Well, everything except that final step. You never did let him take your virginity.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who did everything he could to push you away. He was mean, he flirted with other girls, teased you relentlessly, hoping that you’d walk away. But you never did, but he just couldn’t understand why. He never looked close enough to notice the constant melancholy in your eyes or bothered to ask enough questions to find out why you were so shy and anxious all the time. And despite it all, neither of you could walk away. You kept meeting up, kept giving away pieces of yourselves to each other.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who you overhear telling some girl that you definitely weren’t his girlfriend and he would never in a million years date you. At the girl's smug pointed expression, he turned around to see you standing there with a stricken expression on your face. For the whole summer, the two of you had been attached at the hip. Movies, late-night swims, lying on the beach, fogging up the back of his car. You pretend everything is fine, but when you get back to the host’s house you cry yourself sick. Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was fate, the mission leaders sat all the youth down and told them the mission trip was ending early and they’d be leaving in a week instead of two.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who showed up outside the host’s house again and again only to be turned away with some excuse. For some reason, he had this horrid sense of unease in his gut, like he’d massively screwed something up—a feeling he ignored. He didn’t give up though; he couldn’t. Every day he showed up only to be sent off again, until the day after you departed from the country when the host family finally put him out of his misery by informing him that you were gone. You were gone and you never even said good and Satoru was fucking sick to his stomach. Then, to top it all off, it wasn’t even a week later that he lost his best friend.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who never stops thinking about you as the years pass. He remembers the way you looked at him, the soft expression in your eyes, like you were just seeing a boy you liked, not the strongest. Those memories are his precious secret. No one knew about you. Not Nanami or Haibara, not Shoko, and not even Suguru. You were his sweet precious hidden lily and he had ruined it all in an effort to keep you safe, to keep you at a distance. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t regret that day. And yet, a part of him hates you a little bit for not saying anything to him, for just sitting there and taking it, for not having the nerve to say goodbye. He never forgets you, even as weeks slip into months and months slip into years.
৻ꪆ First love!Gojo who is sitting exhausted and sleepless in a random park in Tokyo ten years later on Christmas morning. The ghost of Suguru’s blood is on his hands. Between the guilt he buries and the heavy loneliness of knowing that there’s no one in this world who just sees him anymore, he’s never felt lower in his life. But then he looks up and walking into the park is you. Older, yes, but somehow more beautiful than he remembers. His heart nearly jumps out of his and he’s standing and moving before he even really thinks about it. The only thing on his mind is one question: Do you remember him?
A/N: And in this one we give the reader ✨religious trauma ✨
© All works created by utterlyobsessedprincess. Do not repost, translate, or reproduce these works in any capacity. Do not feed these works to ai or use them to create ai chat bots.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ Seen Through You
⋆.˚ synopsis: word has been spreading around that there'll be a new teacher at jujutsu tech highschool—you! excited to finally fulfill your dream of teaching and nurturing the next generation of sorcerers, you're ready to give it your all. your co-worker satoru gojo however, doesn't seem too thrilled at the idea of having (what he assumes to be) a spy for the higher-ups hovering over him all the time. but the more he gets to know you, the more of his expectations you completely shatter. and he can't help but find himself intrigued...
⋆.˚ starring: ── sunshine!reader: bright, optimistic, and hardworking, a real bucket of sunshine. grade one sorcerer who was approved to teach by the higher-ups. people tend to underestimate you because of your kindhearted nature and easygoing attitude, but you're quite strong. ── satoru gojo: overworked, exhausted, and still being expected to shoulder the world's responsibilities, gojo doesn't have the time nor the interest in playing ice-breaker with his new co-worker who probably won't last a week.
⋆.˚ tags: sfw, smau/chatfic (might add actual writing though), strangers to friends to lovers, bantering and competitiveness, fluff, happy ending, canon universe
── part 01
── part 02
── part 03
── part 04
── part 05
── part 06
taglist: @jennyistrendy @superstaargirl @leyypqd @v3is @ynackerman9499 @cridtiins @sal1mav @dreamyreadinglover @in-aa @ivorysheart @5quidja @pjselee @boomgshakalaka @dlemmaonsight @hanges-wife @luvleyliaxx @mychemicalryomen @fixated29 @amazedfor @angel-bina @gojostit @mimisayss @outpostsworld @junghoonbooty
(if you want to be added, just comment!)
⤶ back to gojo m.list
sometimes i try to read fanfics of other jjk characters and all i can think abt is gojo and how much i wish this character was gojo then i go back to only reading gojo fics.
I know i dont have a following but im hoping some bigger creators in the fandom will spread the word...came accross this blog who is blatantly using gen ai to make jjk x oc? x reader? art and they dont seem to take criticism about it. gen ai has NO place in our spaces!!!!
Gojo x Reader
Reincarnated as a Doomed Villainess, I Must Marry the Duke of the North to Escape My Execution!!
A modern girl wakes up as a villainess in a manhwa and quickly learns her fiancé—the Crown Prince—is destined to kill her, so in pure panic and survival logic she does the only thing she can think of: rewrites her fate by aiming for the one man even scarier than him—the Duke of the North.
Warning: Contains stronglanguage, suggestive humor, and mature themes.
Part 1
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Duke of the North—Sir Gojo, or whatever your title is! Please, marry me. I don’t have much to offer except my family name and my body—”
Y/n’s POV
“Wh—what?! Wedding?! Me—?!”
My voice came out louder than I meant to, slightly hoarse like I’d just woken up mid-argument.
I pushed myself up too quickly, my head spinning for a second.
Okay… pause.
Think.
What happened last night?
I blinked, trying to piece it together.
I didn’t drink. I’m pretty sure I didn’t. And even if I did, there’s no way I ended up… here.
My hands pressed into the sheets beneath me. Soft. Way too soft.
Slowly, I looked around.
This wasn’t my room.
Not even close.
Everything looked expensive. Clean. Put together in a way that didn’t feel real—like something straight out of a historical drama.
“…What the hell,” I muttered.
“My lady?”
I froze.
A woman stood nearby, dressed like a maid. Not “cosplay maid.” Not “theme café maid.”
An actual maid.
“My lady, are you feeling unwell? Should I call for a physician?”
“I—I think I’m fine,” I said, slower this time.
My eyes moved around the room again.
Why does this feel familiar?
Not like I’ve been here before.
More like—
“I’ve seen this somewhere…”
“My lady?” she asked again.
I frowned, pressing my fingers lightly against my temple.
“I feel like I’ve seen this room before.”
She hesitated, then said carefully,
“…My lady, this is your bedroom.”
My stomach dropped.
“My… room?”
That didn’t sound right.
At all.
My gaze shifted to the vanity beside the bed.
There was a mirror.
Of course there was.
“…No way,” I whispered.
I reached for it anyway.
The moment I lifted it—
I stopped breathing.
…
That wasn’t my face.
Clear skin. Different features. Hair styled too neatly.
And the eyes—
I knew those eyes.
I’d seen them before.
“No… wait…”
My grip tightened slightly.
“Isn’t this that bitch from that manhwa—”
I cut myself off.
Because it clicked.
The room.
The clothes.
The maid calling me “my lady.”
“…You’re kidding.”
A quiet laugh slipped out, but it didn’t sound amused.
More like disbelief.
“I got… transmigrated?”
Silence.
“Into a manhwa?”
My eyes stayed locked on the reflection.
“…As the villainess?”
And just like that—
I remembered.
The engagement.
The Crown Prince.
The ending.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Two days.
Two whole days in this absurd life, and I had done absolutely nothing except sit in this room and spiral.
I hadn’t stepped out. Not for meals, not for fresh air—nothing.
Thankfully, this body came with privileges.
As the favored second daughter of House Valemont, locking myself away wasn’t questioned. No chores, no responsibilities. Just silence.
Which would’ve been perfect…
If not for one thing.
The wedding.
“…This is insane,” I muttered, dragging my hands down my face.
A knock came before I could continue panicking.
“Enter,” I said quickly, forcing my voice steady.
The door opened, and she walked in.
My—so-called—mother.
Elegant. Composed. The kind of woman who didn’t need to raise her voice to be intimidating.
“My dear daughter,” she began, her gaze sweeping over me, “you’ve let yourself go. You must tidy your appearance.”
Right.
I glanced down at myself—half-slouched on the couch, the corset digging into my ribs, the dress wrinkled from how long I’d been sitting like this.
“…Yes, Mother,” I replied, straightening slightly.
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction.
“Posture,” she added calmly. “A lady of this house does not slouch.”
I immediately fixed it.
God, even sitting properly feels like a full-time job.
She took a seat across from me, lifting her teacup with effortless grace.
“Still,” she continued, studying my figure, “I commend you. Your discipline with your diet has shown results.”
Ah.
Right.
The “diet.”
More like I’ve been too stressed to eat without feeling like I’ll throw up.
“…Thank you, Mother,” I said, offering a polite smile that felt a little too tight.
“I appreciate your concern. Though, I wouldn’t wish to take too much of your time—”
“You cannot dismiss me so easily,” she cut in smoothly.
Of course I can’t.
Her gaze settled on me, sharper now.
“We are here to discuss your wedding.”
…There it is.
My fingers curled slightly against my lap.
“Your long-awaited union,” she continued, as if this were a pleasant topic, “one you have insisted upon since childhood.”
Yeah.
Not me, though.
Wrong girl.
“I have arranged for you to meet His Highness, the Crown Prince, tomorrow.”
“…What!?”
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
My hands hit the table with a soft thud.
Silence.
My mother slowly raised a brow, taking a delicate sip of her tea.
Right.
Fix it.
“…Forgive me,” I said quickly, forcing a small laugh. “I was merely… surprised. And—excited.”
Excited to die, maybe.
Inside, my thoughts were anything but calm.
No, no, no—this is bad.
I can’t meet him.
Not now. Not ever.
That man—
He didn’t just dislike the villainess.
He hated her.
In the story, he had already tried to get rid of her more than once before the wedding even happened.
And tomorrow?
That’s basically me walking straight into his line of sight.
“…Mother,” I started carefully, keeping my tone soft, “might it be possible to… reschedule the meeting?”
Her teacup paused midair.
Then, slowly, she set it down.
“…Reschedule?” she repeated.
The temperature in the room dropped.
“That is a most unreasonable request, Y/N.”
I swallowed.
“The Crown Prince’s time is not something to be adjusted on a whim. You, of all people, should understand the importance of this engagement.”
I do.
That’s why I’m trying not to die from it.
“You must present yourself properly,” she continued, rising from her seat. “Do not forget—you carry the name of House Valemont. You will not embarrass us before His Highness.”
She turned toward the door.
Panic spiked in my chest.
“Mother—wait—”
She paused, but didn’t turn.
“You will attend tomorrow,” she said firmly.
And just like that—
The conversation was over.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Silence filled the room again.
I stared at the empty space for a long moment.
Then—
“…I’m actually screwed.”
I let myself fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
“Meeting him tomorrow?”
A humorless laugh slipped out.
“Great. Amazing. Fantastic.”
My hands covered my face.
“I just got here and I’m already about to die.”
A pause.
Then, slowly, I lowered my hands, eyes narrowing with a hint of something sharper.
“…Unless I don’t follow the script.”
Because if there’s one thing I remembered clearly—
It was this:
I don’t have to marry the Crown Prince.
There’s another option.
Someone the original villainess never dared approach.
The man everyone avoided.
The one place even the Crown Prince couldn’t easily touch.
“…The North,” I murmured.
And more specifically—
“The Duke of the North.”
A slow breath.
“…Yeah.”
A small, determined smile formed despite everything.
“If I’m going to survive…”
“I’m marrying him instead.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Lyria.”
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice like I was sharing state secrets.
“I’ll be sneaking out later. You will help me—and keep this absolutely between us. Or I’ll… I don’t know, slap you or something.”
There was a beat of silence.
I nodded to myself, satisfied.
Yes. Very threatening. Very noble. Very convincing.
I straightened up again, hands folded neatly in my lap like I hadn’t just issued emotional blackmail.
The maid—Lyria—blinked at me.
“…Yes, my lady.”
Good.
I cleared my throat.
I’ve decided something important… since I already have a bad reputation. I might as well use the built-in privileges.
Lyria hesitated.
“…Shall I escort you, my lady?”
“No need.”
I waved her off casually.
“Instead, prepare a carriage. I need to meet the Duke of the North.”
That did it.
A loud gasp escaped her.
“My lady?! Surely you are not intending to meet that Duke?!”
Her face went pale like I’d just said I was going to wrestle a dragon barefoot.
I raised a brow.
“…I intend to! you’re dismissed!” can’t let her know much
She looked genuinely alarmed now.
“I will… I will prepare the carriage immediately!”
Ah.
So that’s the reputation he has here.
Perfect.
I smirked slightly as she rushed out of the room.
Alone again, I leaned back in my chair.
Okay.
Time to work with what I’ve got.
As someone who had read way too many manhwa at 2 a.m. instead of sleeping like a normal person, I remembered bits and pieces about him.
The Duke of the North.
Cold, untouchable, terrifying in battle—
…and apparently weirdly weak for sweets.
That was it.
That was the whole detail.
But honestly?
That was enough.
I stood up and looked down at the small box on the table.
Homemade mochi.
Not exactly something from this world, but close enough to pass as “foreign delicacy” if I played it right.
“…Alright,” I muttered to myself.
“If I’m going to gamble my entire survival on a man I’ve never met…”
A pause.
“…At least let it be with dessert.”
I picked up the box, adjusting my expression into something confidently unreadable.
Then I walked out.
“Duke of the North,” I said under my breath, stepping toward the carriage waiting outside.
“Please don’t be allergic to mochi.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Walking through a public market without attendants was something the second daughter of House Valemont had never done before. And yet, here I was—cloaked plainly, carrying my own belongings, surrounded by strangers who did not bow, greet, or whisper my name. It felt strangely peaceful.
House Valemont. One of the empire’s most influential noble families. A family famous for power—and for raising its greatest embarrassment.
Me.
In the original story, Lady Y/N Valemont was remembered for only one thing: her obsession with the Crown Prince. Since childhood, she had cried, pleaded, and clung to her parents’ robes, begging to be promised to him. The engagement had eventually been secured through political pressure rather than affection.
The result?
A prince who despised her.
A prince who loved another woman.
And a future where the “villainess fiancée” conveniently died before the wedding.
Poison. Assassins. A falling chandelier. The novel had been very creative.
I touched my neck unconsciously as I walked. I would prefer not to die repeatedly.
The moment my memories returned, I understood my only path to survival: cancel the obsession, avoid the Crown Prince, disappear somewhere he would never bother to look.
Which left only one option.
The Duke of the North.
Untouchable. Isolated. A man even the royal family avoided. If I married him, the Crown Prince would finally lose interest in eliminating me. A political marriage was infinitely preferable to assassination attempts.
I tightened my hold on the wooden box in my arms. Inside lay carefully prepared mochi. In the novel, there had been one insignificant line—the northern duke possessed an unexpected fondness for sweets. It was barely mentioned, but I intended to stake my life on it.
I turned a corner, focused on rehearsing polite greetings—and collided directly with someone.
“Ah—!”
The impact sent me stumbling. The box slipped from my hands. The lid flew open. Mochi scattered across the ground.
My heart stopped.
“No…!”
I dropped instantly, gathering them in alarm. Dust clung to the soft rice cakes. One flattened entirely beneath a passing boot. My shoulders slumped.
“…How am I supposed to bribe the Duke now…” I muttered helplessly.
Silence followed.
Slowly, painfully, I realized I was not alone.
I looked up.
A tall man stood before me, wrapped in a dark cloak. His posture was relaxed, almost leisurely, as though watching an amusing play.
Oh no.
He definitely heard that.
I cleared my throat and resumed collecting the sweets with dignity. Five-second rule, I reassured myself internally. Surely northern nobles value determination.
I brushed one piece carefully against my sleeve and placed it back into the box. Another followed. Waste was unacceptable.
Without hesitation, I ate one of the slightly dusty pieces.
The man spoke.
“You intend to bribe the Duke of the North?”
I nearly inhaled the mochi whole.
“I said no such thing.”
“You spoke quite clearly.”
His tone was calm. Curious. Infuriatingly composed.
I stood, lifting my chin. “A lady is allowed private thoughts.”
“You voiced them.”
“That was… intentional.”
It was not.
His gaze lingered on me, faint amusement hidden beneath his hood.
“A distracted lady walked into me,” he added mildly.
My eye twitched. “You cannot even apologize?”
“I believe we share responsibility.”
Unbelievable.
I gestured at the ruined sweets. “These were handmade.”
“You continue eating them.”
“I refuse to waste.”
I placed another into my mouth with resolve. He watched in silence.
“…You are a noblewoman,” he said slowly.
“Yes.”
“And this does not trouble you?”
“I have survived worse humiliations.”
Such as begging the Crown Prince for affection in front of half the imperial court. Compared to that, dusty mochi was nothing.
A quiet laugh escaped him—low and warm. It startled me. I straightened immediately, remembering my role. Elegant posture. Calm expression. I was still Lady Valemont, even while eating fallen desserts.
“I must continue north,” I said. “Please step aside.”
And there I go to my journey to live.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The audience chamber of the northern estate was colder than I expected. Not unpleasant. Just… severe.
Tall windows allowed pale northern light to spill across polished floors, illuminating banners marked with a crest I had only ever seen described in the novel. Every step I took echoed faintly, reminding me that I had walked willingly into the territory of the most untouchable man in the empire.
And now—I sat across from him.
The Duke of the North.
White hair fell loosely around his face, catching the light like frost. His eyes—clear, piercing blue—rested on me with unsettling focus. Broad shoulders filled the dark uniform he wore, posture relaxed yet impossibly commanding.
He was beautiful. Unfairly so. And far more terrifying up close.
A man capable of surviving political isolation does not become gentle, I reminded myself.
Still… he was beautiful.
Which only made this harder.
A table separated us, the wooden box of mochi resting carefully between my hands like a shield.
“So,” he said at last, voice smooth and calm, “what brings you here unannounced, my lady?”
His gaze moved slowly over me. Assessing. Measuring.
Was he… inspecting me?
He is definitely inspecting me.
I resisted the urge to adjust my sleeves.
Perhaps I should have worn something more revealing.
I straightened my back.
“Y-Your Grace,” I began, then corrected myself quickly, “Duke… I am Y/N Valemont.”
One pale brow lifted.
“Well, of course you are,” he replied, lips curving faintly. “You are quite infamous.”
Ah. Yes. The reputation.
The obsessive fiancée. The jealous noblewoman. The empire’s most embarrassing villainess.
I forced a composed smile.
He was smirking. He was absolutely enjoying this.
He’s cocky, I realized. Dangerously cocky.
Good. I could work with arrogance.
“I have come,” I said carefully, “to present a business proposal.”
He leaned back slightly, surprise flickering across his expression.
“A business proposal?” he repeated, clearly amused. “From Lady Valemont?”
His gaze sharpened. Then his smile turned knowingly wicked.
“My lady… are you asking for assistance regarding the Crown Prince? Are you not still engaged?”
I exhaled slowly.
Of course that was what he assumed.
Everyone believed my world revolved around the prince.
“You misunderstand,” I said quietly. “It is quite the opposite.”
Before he could respond, I slid the wooden box toward him and opened it.
The mochi rested neatly inside—carefully chosen, carefully preserved.
“My request can wait,” I added. “Please taste this first.”
He looked down at the sweets. Then back at me.
Suspicion flickered openly now.
“You traveled to the North… carrying desserts?”
“Yes.”
“…For me?”
“Yes.”
A small pause followed.
Then, slowly, he picked one up.
I clasped my hands together beneath the table, praying silently to every possible deity.
Please like sweets. Please let the novel be accurate.
He took a bite.
And the change was immediate.
The faint severity in his expression softened. His eyes widened just slightly, surprise replacing caution.
Hope sparked in my chest.
I might live.
He finished the piece without realizing how quickly he had eaten it.
“M-my lady,” he said, almost thoughtfully, “what is this delicacy?”
Relief nearly made me laugh.
“It is called mochi,” I replied, allowing myself a small smile. “I can prepare many varieties. Sweeter ones. Softer ones. Even better than this.”
His gaze returned to me, interest unmistakable now.
“…I see.”
Good. Very good.
I folded my hands together, gathering what remained of my courage.
“However,” I continued, allowing confidence to slip into my voice, “there is a condition. Surely Your Grace understands—nothing offered by a lady such as myself is free.”
A slow smile appeared on his face.
“Speak.”
His tone carried amusement… and curiosity.
I inhaled.
This was it.
“As the second daughter of House Valemont, my proposal benefits us both,” I began carefully. “You gain political connection to a powerful central family. Increased influence at court. And… a wife who will not interfere with your actions.”
He watched me closely now. Not amused anymore. Interested. Measuring every word.
My heart pounded.
Then I stood abruptly, bowing deeply before I could lose courage.
“Duke of the North—Sir Gojo… whatever title you prefer,” I said quickly, words rushing despite my effort at elegance, “please marry me!”
Silence filled the chamber.
I continued before fear could stop me.
“I do not seek affection. I will not demand attention. I offer only my family name, my loyalty, and—”
I hesitated.
Then forced the words out.
“bod—myself, as political value.”
The room felt unbearably quiet.
When I finally dared to look up—
He was staring at me.
Not menacing. Not amused.
Something far more dangerous.
Intrigued.
Slowly, the Duke leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand.
A smile spread across his lips.
“So,” he murmured, voice low with unmistakable delight, “the empire’s infamous villainess travels across half the continent…”
His blue eyes locked onto mine.
“To propose to me instead the Duke. While being engaged to the crown prince”
The smile widened.
“How bold, Lady Valemont.”
30 days to get in your pants | Gojo S. x Reader
Synopsis: You arrive in Japan with a soft heart and nothing to lose until the meanest, the most popular fuckboy in your class chooses you as a bet, smiling at you like it means something. While you fall for him counting the petals of the roses he gave you, he’s only counting days to get in your pants.
Tags: Angst, emotional manipulation, bet trope, power imbalance, fear of abandonment, slow burn, smut, college AU, soft reader, rich mean Gojo, lots of drama.
Preview
You arrive wrapped in soft colors. Pink hoodies, sleeves too long, hands hidden. Your smile is automatic, practiced, something you give away so people won’t ask questions you don’t know how to answer in a language that still feels borrowed.
Japan is beautiful. And it reminds you every day that you don’t belong to it. Finance classes are neat. Structured. Predictable.
People aren’t.
You sit alone because it’s safer. Because you’ve learned that attachment hurts more when you know you’ll have to leave again. Because your heart is too soft for goodbyes that never warn you before they happen. You don’t hear the whispers at first.
You don’t see the way eyes follow you down the hallway. You don’t know that your quiet has made you interesting. Or that interesting, to the wrong people, means target.
The bet doesn’t start with you. It starts at a party you’ll never attend.
Laughter. Alcohol. Ego.
“She won’t even last a week,” Toji says.
“She barely talks,” Sukuna laughs.
And then his voice cuts through them—lazy, confident, cruelly amused.
“Thirty days,” he says.
“Thirty days and she’ll be in love with me. Head over heels. Thinking about me when she wakes up”
A pause. A smirk you don’t see.
“And yeah—she won’t be walking away untouched, would practically be dying to have me bust in her”
They laugh because they know his reputation.
Because he’s never failed. Because girls are games and feelings are temporary for him.
Gojo Satoru doesn’t chase.
He collects.
You don’t know his name yet. You just know the feeling of being watched for the first time when he finally notices you.
You don’t know that your shyness feels like a challenge to him. That your politeness feels like permission.
That your softness is something he thinks he can bend. He doesn’t know how your chest tightens when voices rise.
Doesn’t know how deeply words sink into you. Doesn’t understand that you don’t fall easily—you fall completely.
He thinks this will be easy. That you’ll blush, giggle, unravel. That you’ll mistake attention for affection.
What he doesn’t realise is that the closer he gets, the harder it is to remember why this was supposed to be a joke.
Thirty days.
A bet built on arrogance.
A heart that already knows how to break quietly.
And a boy who has never learned what happens when the game stops being fun.
Masterlist
1. Transfer
2. Trope
3. Rumour
4. Close
5. Truth
6. Grief
7. Remorse
8. Almost
Taglist: Open
Art Credits: wp_63, __3aem
love from shimoda — satoru gojo (CHAPTER ONE)
when teenage!gojo's friends don't wanna go back to tokyo quite yet, and he spends that time befriending a very sunshiney reader
series masterlist · next
tags: sunshine x sunshine, teenage!gojo, teenage!reader, set c.2005, strangers to friends to lovers, puppy love, summer romance, reader's appearance is kinda described (her smile, how she fills out a dress, etc), very brief internalized homophobia for gojo, non sorcerer!reader, (3.8k words)
I'll get so excited that the jjk smau will have a new post that I'll come online to read hoping to find the jujutsu men just to see Jungkook. Can't they use jjkook smau 😭
Okay, but nobody can understand the disappointment I feel when I click on the jjk smau tag and instead of JuJutsu Kaisen, I find Jungkook
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓝.𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ and his pretty preppy gf who he adores
⤿ ꒰ he's the college's nerd and you're his preppy sweetheart :: college au :: fluff :: smut :: experimental sex :: f.oral ꒱
꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who gets surprised looks when his preppy gf throws herself at him in the middle of the hallway and showers him with kisses. your relationship isn't a secret, but it's not something people expect. what's the nerd doing with the prettiest girl on campus anyway? "wait, that's your boyfriend?" they ask, as your arms are hooked around his neck. you give his cheek a big smooch with a pout and huffy, "duh." while satoru grimaces at the stares and flips them off.
꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who can handle insufferable students on his own given his quick wit and sarcastic tongue buuut loves whenever you step in like a bristled candy floss. jabbing a manicured nail to whoever threw a meaningless comment his way and scolding them. yet somehow still being so sweet? he steals you away for kisses all over your face in his dorm.
꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who, on that note, gets so clingy after a long day and stumbles you around with his arms looped on you. mumbling about all his assignments as he fumbles you to the bed and flops his head into your chest. muffling his groans and complaints into your shirt while you play with his hair. loves when you give him scalp scratches.
꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who really enjoys studying with you even though you're his prettiest distraction. loves especially when you're sat between his legs, either reading the material to him while he rubs circles on your thighs or painting your nails while he hunches over to stare at his textbook. ( in actuality, he's just watching your pretty hands. he wants to kiss them. )
꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who feels so bad for you. you shouldn't be in this advanced biology course but your family pressure has forced you to. you're not dumb, no matter what anyone says, but this subject really isn't for you. he spends countless nights helping you study in the most efficient way possible. but whenever you walk out of the exam with those big glossy eyes? he's cupping your face in the middle of the hall and kissing all over with a quiet, "it's okay baby, did so good. did your best."
These bots in my asks defending rape is pissing me off so bad
why do people be writing weird shit bro 😭 i promise you no one wants to read your rape dead dove incest fanfic and anyone who does is a weird freak "oh but its what they like" doesnt change the fact that what your simping over is illegal and fucking gross?? "Fiction doesnt affect reality" oh okay i guess the 2016 clowns dont exist anymore 🙏💔??
This normalization/romanticization of rape / incest on tumblr needs to be stop like writing is such a precious talent imagine wasting that talent on writing about how you want to fuck your own brother or father or how you want be raped by your fav character. Im tired of blocking goated writers here because they're writing incest after incest and rape like girl your goated dont waste your talent on how you want to be raped by your fav character/idol or how you want to fuck your brother (characters or idols as their brother or father or uncle or as their relatives)
Me staring at the jungkook smau under the jjk smau /jjk x reader tag..
Literally what bro
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ his lap looks so lonely i could fix that. i could fix that. i could fix that just spread your l—