About me. I write fanfiction for x female readers. Plus, gifs. Plus, game reviews (kind of discontinued).
Also, my kitty Winifred. 1 & 2 ♡ (•́ ω •̀๑)
Current phases: Jujutsu Kaisen and My Time At Sandrock
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x Reader
Gifs
Game Reviews (also x reader--mostly fan made games)
Please, please, please tell me if I mis-tag anything--I am still new to fanfiction and tumblr!
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What I will write for: ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
⋆ fluff ⋆ marriage ⋆ pregnancy ⋆ slice of life ⋆ realistic smut ⋆ hyper romantic ⋆ realism (I like my world a fantasy but my people as real as possible!) ⋆ unapologetically feminine with a tomboy twist ⋆ many of my stories will have the man's POV--many not all
What I will not write for: (≖_≖ )
⋆ any character under 18 years old for x reader
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Fanfics coming soon:
⋆ JJK Men return Home From a Mission
⋆ Love Triangle: Kusakabe vs Higuruma
⋆ Jealous JJK Men
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carrd 🕸️🕷🕸️ charities I support 🕸️🕷🕸️to support Ukraine
Breaking up with Kusakabe ... only to get back together
SFW ⋆ x Female Reader ⋆ no use of ‘y/n’ ⋆ about 1,703 words
tags: angst ⋆ but fluff ⋆ established relationship then … ⋆ break up ⋆ SPOILER: happy ending ⋆ Kusakabe is an adorable idiot
Gif made by me (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
You knew what you were getting into. You knew he was cranky, grumpy, just a tad bit lazy. When you first met him—it was almost endearing, funny even. He always begrudgingly held your hands. Begrudgingly kissed you. Begrudgingly asked you out to dinner. Always showing a face when the receipt came. Even begrudgingly accepting when you made dinner for him or payed for the date, or asked him over.
After a while—you started to tire of all this. It got less and less funny. You started believing that you were nothing but a bother for him. Even after you spoke to him about this, he begrudgingly waved you off. After a while, you couldn’t take it, so you ended it. He said nothing, but shrugged and walked away.
At first it was all dandy. No obligations to call you, to spend time with you. Just him and himself to worry about.
At his fishing spot, he seats himself in his little chair, looking over at the side, he watches a man—his face tired and drained. Behind him—his wife, girlfriend, whatever, a loud mouth who won’t stop talking. She’s scarring away the fishes. Just as Kusakabe’s face turns sour, the man looks at him and walks the other way. A silent conversation of fisherman comradeship. Kusakabe knows that look—she invited herself. He huffs. Something he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore … Then again, something he never had to worry about.
A memory flashes before him:
“Am I too loud?” You sit next to him on the short dock, whispering ever so lightly.
“Nah you’re fine.” He looks at your rod.
“If I am, just tell me.”
“Mh-hm.” He tugs the line just a hair and you two sit there in silence. A comfortable silence. The view for you is beautiful—but his even more so. The way the light breeze blows you hair, how the sparkle of the lake from this angle perfectly frames your face.
The memory quickly flashes away as his hand jerks on the rod, ruining any chance of any fish coming to him. “Damn it …”
He’s reminded how he brought you a couple of times … and how you never made him feel guilty and even pushed him to have some alone there again without yourself. Making sure, he had food and drinks—and lollipops … Your rod still in the back of his trunk.
Yeah, that’s right … she was supposed to be here …
Just then, another fisherman—a regular—approaches him and asks about the ‘pretty lady’ that was sometimes there with him. But Kusakabe just shakes his head, “shes not coming here anymore.”
The man frowns, “oh …” a shame, but as he walks away, “idiot”. Knowing that it was him.
His eyes trace the man walking away, glaring the entire time.
~
Even the students start to notice a change—normally he was quick to yell or groan at them. But he was often lost in thought before doing so. Even during his lectures, he would fumble words, sigh and have to take a break. Normally, once he started on his lectures—it was like a boulder rolling down hill—there was no stopping him.
One day sitting on the bleachers, observing the students sparring with each other, his thoughts become scrambled. The ghost of you sitting next to him—even if you never set foot on Jujutsu High. Your image, a beautiful reminder of who and what he lost. Reminding him, or your smell, your touch. He looks down at his hand, remembering how you would always hold it. Your soft pampered skin rubbing against his large callused hand. You never shy-ed away from him. Kusakabe’s hand alternating opening and closing—almost imagining your own hand within it.
“Hi sensei,” His little daydream interrupted by Yuta, the original trouble child—now Kusakabe’s trouble child, walks up to him with a smile.
“What do you want?” Crossing each arm.
“I well … We’re all a little worried about you.”
“…”
“You’ve been off, lately.” Arms folded, Atsuya just sits and watches him. He’s been caught. “Is it about a woman?”
He nearly spits out the stem of his lollipop. “Why the hell are you always asking people about that!?”
The boy just shrugs, with a little smile. He knows though, Panda over heard the rumor and relayed it to other second grade students.
“Sensei, I had someone tell me that love is the greatest curse of them all. But sometimes, it’s the greatest gift. A curse can bring two people together becoming a gift.” He looks over at Maki, training in the distance. “Sometimes we have no choice on whether it’s a gift or curse—but when we do, we gotta accept that privilege and choose the gift. Not everyone is so lucky.” But Kusakabe just stares blankly at him, the stem of the lollipop hanging lazily from his lips.
The boy’s blank dark stare couple with his hopeful smile adding annoyance to the already aggravated second year teacher.
“Get outta here! Get! Go do something … gloomy or somethin’ whatever you do.” But Yuta just laughs and bows used to his teacher’s no nonsense.
“Have a good day Sensei. Stay safe!”
He groans, but lifts a hand, a mild wave to the boy.
His index and thumb fingers pinch and pull at his chin—deep in thought. His mind tracing the moment he saw you, the moment he first asked you out—to your first kiss, to the first time—he coughs, awkwardly shifting in his seat, face turning red from some not so safe for work memories.
He continues to reminisces about your angry face, how you stood there scolding him. You so little to him, but yet so powerful. The way your brows furrowed, the fast way your hands moved. Your voice growing louder and louder. Kusakabe’s lip turn up into a smile. You’re his gift.
He pulls out his phone, fingers find your number (there’s only about four numbers in his phone). But He kept yours—perhaps he knew deep inside that whatever you two had, was not over after all. A sigh escapes his mouth as he listens to the call. Your voice echos through the speaker.
~
You sit across from him—and he’s sweating HARD. The lollipop in his mouth twirling circles and dancing. He waits for the waiter to leave you both alone.
Atsuya sighs, rubbing the back of his neck plucking the lolly out and wrapping it in tissue paper, “listen. I’m sorry that I was a jerk.” His eyes travel to the table, searching for the right words. “It made me feel like shit when you would do all these things for me and I barely—did anything.”
His eyes turn back to you, sincerely, “I don’t know … what I did to deserve you or even get you to look at me but—all I know is that I love ya and—I just—please give me another chance. I won’t take you for granted anymore. I swear.”
Taken back by his sudden tenderness and sincerity, he continues, “I miss your snacks, I miss your hands, I just miss everything about you … Please,” his voice already shaky voice cracks, “I just want you back.”
He looks up at you, brown eyes so serious, scarred even. The tips of his fingers grip the table, his nails at times grinding into it, anticipating your next words.
“Please just …” Hesitating, you can’t find the words, “if you need me to pull back or if I smother you—”
“No!” He interrupts loudly, “no, don’t stop all the things you do … please.” Now his hands are on the table, fingers rubbing each other. His gaze right on them. “What part of ‘I miss everything about you’ did you not understand.”
He can feel his hear beating faster and faster. Eve more so when you pretty little hands come into view cupping each of his. His breathe hitches. “Were you ever really miserable with me?”
“No—I’m just used to being grumpy.”
You start to rub his knuckles, worn, rough knuckles, “my grumpy man.” You smile up at him.
“My beautiful woman …” With smiling eyes, you look down at those naturally hard working callused thumbs rubbing that are between your thumb and index fingers. How you missed them so.
~
Months later. Everything is going well. He is still his begrudgingly self, but now it’s always added with a kiss or a hug or an arm around you. That added touch and affection has made all the difference. You’re laughing more, smiling more, even him.
Trips to the fishing are once again continued. You go every so often, always smiling at that nice old fisherman who always there, then his head jolts to your boyfriend with scolding eyes. Atsuya just lazily waves him off.
Then, one day soon, you’re in for a treat. Watching him, bend on one knee pretending to be in lower back pain. Hiding a giggle and the ever rising heat of giddiness as he asks “marry me’. You say yes, of course, grabbing his face whilst still on one knee, into a soft meaningful kiss. Just when you pull back, he chases for more, reaching for the back of your head.
At your wedding, he dances with you like the princes and princesses one of those animated movies. You finally meet his students at that school he teaches. One is even dressed as a Panda to which Atsuya said he’s just a weird student whose obsessed with them. But you care not, he’s SO soft and so darn cuddly.
Later that very day, you walk up to Atsuya, just as he pushes an awkward—yet extremely nice and polite boy with a strong aura to some scary girl. Whilst watching on as they have their awkward first dance, Atsuya wraps an arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple. “Thank you.” He speaks softly near your ear, where only you can hear.
“For what?”
“Everything.” You nudge him, and he groans, his face resting on your shoulder. “God do I love you …”
Breaking up with Kento Nanami ... only to get back together
SFW ⋆ x Female Reader ⋆ no use of ‘y/n’ ⋆ about 1,342 words
tags: angst ⋆ but fluff ⋆ established relationship then … ⋆ break up ⋆ SPOILER: happy ending ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )
Gif made by me ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
Everything was practical. Such as that one night you both couldn’t sleep, you turned to him suggesting to go for a night-ride, maybe to go to some late-night restaurant with food that’ll shave a year off your lives, then go off to watch the sunrise. Kento Nanami looks at you as though said something foreign. Then he gives a lecture about the dangers of driving at night and eating greasy food.
Even that one time, when you both went on vacation, there was no spontaneity, everything was timed precisely to get the most out of it.
No-one is more handsome than Nanami. His face, his body—no-one comes close to him. No-one treats you better than him. However, life has become predicable, safe, like a plain hamburger with bland meat and no sauce.
So, it happened one night at his place, you couldn’t take it anymore and broke everything off. He stared at you—as though you once again said something foreign. And you to him—hoping that he would fight for you (for each other) or even ask why. But forever a gentleman, he accepted your choice without question.
Nanami pulled off his baking mitts, slowly, painfully even. He then reached for his sunglasses, turning around, his back to you, “if that’s what you wish.”
You leave the apartment—looking back to see that he turned his back to you yet again, never wanting you to see his face.
Once the door closes, he walks up to the dining table, gazing over the two plates. Grabbing one set—that would have been yours—and placing it gently on the nearby counter. He sits, hands in his lap, thumbs rubbing each other, and stares into an abyss of nothingness. Once again eating for one.
~
Days went on. Nanami, now without a job or girlfriend. Sits in his apartment, again making everything for one. He sits on his favorite seat, reading a book, but his eyes glance up hoping to see your beautiful form on the adjacent couch. But alas, you are not there.
He didn’t ask why because he knew why. “Wow you’re boring!”
Days later, Nanami sits with Ino, who has recently been promoted. Looking at him, one eye from his beanie. He gulps. “I-I didn’t mean to say that, Nanami.”
“It’s the truth isn’t it …” He sits, arms crossed watching as his young one time apprentice pokes at his food. “Ino be honest with me.”
“I kind of was …” Kento lets out a guttural sigh. “I mean, sitting and reading is nice but not all the time. How often did you guys do that?”
“…”
“Hm … Did you at least fight for her—or try to do anything?”
“It’s what she wanted … We’re too old for high school drama.”
But Ino laughs, “never too old for a little drama. Spice things up a little—might do you some good.” He points his wooden chopstick to his friend. “Call her. I think she’ll want you to. It doesn’t look like she totally wanted to end things—it’s just you’re a little too hard to talk to sometimes.”
“Even to her?” Ino nods his head, “why not to you?” But Ino laughs in response. “Right.” Because he’s Ino, the perpetual little or big brother depending on the other person.
“But—” He hates how whiny he sounded just now. Ever since leaving the Jujutsu world, he’s been embracing the silent, slow moments. It wasn’t fair for you either. Right. He has to make it right. “I’ll call her tonight.”
“Good, good,” the young sorcerer nods his head again poking at the food.
There is a silence between the two, only the mutterings of other people and the little scraps of utensils on ceramic plates. “Ino, Thank you.”
“Hey, as always, ‘what would Nanami do?’” Kento smirks, who’s mentoring who now?
~
A man who once fought curses, powerful, big, many times both … He stares down at the phone and like so many times before, he finds your number easily, his eyes land on your smiling face. His breath hitches a bit just as his heart skips a beat.
Your voice echos through the phone, more beautiful than any melody that man or Earth can produce. He calls you by your name and immediately spills out his feelings, his usual monotone now awakes with life and emotion—the thing you needed from him. And you apologize too, you should have never broke up—you took the easy way out.
“Listen, what are you doing now?” He glares at the clock, it 9:39 p.m..
“Nothing why? I was hoping to talk you some more.”
“Good.”
By 9:45—he’s already in his car driving to your place. There you wait for him outside, nervously pulling at the sleeves of your over-sized sweater. He soon pulls up, and to see that tall blond gorgeous creature emerge—still wearing his blue button shirt and ten pants—no tie though. Oh how you missed the sight.
You trek forward a little, arms loosening ready for anything—hoping for some sort of physical contact. But happily, he walks up to you, strong, never hesitating, his arms wrapping around your body and he squeezes, strong, yet gentle. His head resting on your shoulder, Kento’s voice in your ear, “I missed you.”
“And I missed you,” salty tears form at the corners of your eyes as you nuzzle your face into his broad shoulder.
He pulls back, his hand travels down your arm to your hand where his fingers intertwine within your own. “Come on, let’s go.” He leans down, his soft lips on your own. A small but in no way less passionate kiss. Feeling the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile.
“Where are we going?” He leads you the passenger seat, opening the door.
“I don’t know.” Once he sits in the driver’s seat, he rummages through his phone, “I’ve got it.”
The car drives off into the neon soaked city and through the warmly lit suburbs. “Kento, I—”
But he stops you, “next time—we need to talk about it. I want you to feel safe to come to me.” You nod your head, a promise. “I need to loosen up a bit.” His promise. “But there—”
“Still has to be order of course.” You finish your sentence. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, he just fell in love all over again.
That is the last you two spoke of this. For that night, he took you to some late night joint, with only greasy foods. It was wonderful. The best cheeseburger either of you ever had. It even had some special sauce—and it was perfect.
You both stayed there for a couple of hours just talking. He never smiled so much. He drove you around and around, finally stopping at the beach. There he leaned in behind you, one arm on either side of you gripping the weathered guard rail, keeping you safe and secure and his heat keeping warm. Your only audience—the rising sun over the blue sea.
In the coming months, you eventually moved in, and went on a few more late night adventures. He started to cook for two again. This time more adventurous dishes—from other countries and cultures—anew one each week. Sometimes more. One vacation where you took turns picking out activities. This time around he was the one who decided to go on the tours and walk around.
He didn’t totally change but he grew—as did you.
It was a nice night, he cooked the dinner of course (and you helped). Once finished, he went back to his room and searched for something—that little velvet burgundy box that he ordered a couple of months ago but just arrived the other day. Opening it, making sure it’s there. Yes, the shine and glint are almost blinding. He calls out your name to see where you are. “Come on, I got someplace to show you.”
Logan recounts his events of 'MTAS' & how he fell in love with you
SFW ⋆ Logan x Female Builder READER ⋆ no use of ‘y/n’ OR default name ⋆ POTENTIAL SPOILERS (if you didn't finish the game)
tags: fluff ⋆ fluff ⋆ more fluff
Being interviewed by Ernest for a newspaper article, Logan recounts his events of My Time At Sandrock and how he fell in love with you (the Builder).
Ernest: Logan I gotta say, thanks for letting me finally write about you!
Logan: Sure …
Ernest: Let me just *click* okay … we are good to go.
Logan: Wha-what is that thingy me jig?
Ernest: Oh this thing? It’s called a voice recorder. It records people’s voices and such. Your wife made it.
Logan: Oh … Right … So that’s what she was doin’... Then, why are you writin’ stuff down then?
Ernest: There are somethings that a recorder can’t pick up on. Such as reactions … *Logan clears his throat whilst shuffles in his seat.*
So, Logan, tell me about about the story of the great Bandit Logan and how his found the love of his life.
Logan: I uh … I was never – I—I … *sighs* This is what yer asking? I thought it was about my bandit days.
Ernest: Heidi thought this was a better subject. Jasmine too.
Logan: *scoffs* … Is she okay with this?
Ernest: She already gave me her version.
Logan: *Sighs again.* Well … if she’s okay with it …
Ernest: Are you okay with it? I could just go with hers … or let it just be “Logan fell in love the builder and the lived happily ever after … yada yada yada.”
Logan: No … No … Go ahead, you start.
Ernest: Right, if at any time you don’t want to answer anything or just take a break--
Logan: Sure, sure …
Ernest: So, Logan, what were your first impressions on the Builder?
Logan: Well … I heard the old guy left. Some new lady from Highwind took over. And yeah. *shrugs*
Ernest: …
Logan: …
Ernest: … Any more details like how you actually met—when you first saw her.
Logan: Well I saw some woman bolt out the ol’ builder’s house. We locked eyes. Fire. Just fire in those eyes. *He smiles.* And then she chased after me. I had a good laugh that day.
Ernest: Can you tell me about the kidnapping? She chased after you immediately. What happened?
Logan: It was the first time I fought her … But it was also the first time I got a close up look at her and *Whistles.* Damn she was pretty. Beautiful eyes. That fire again. Shooting daggers at me … *He takes off his hat, leaning forward in his chair, grinning ear to ear.* That night all I could think about was her …
Ernest: Rumor has it, Elsie lead her and Mi-an in your house—were you at all angry, surprised.
Logan: Surprised that someone actually still cared for me [Elsie]. But yeah, I knew she was snoopin’ in my house. Her tenacity was something else. Still is. Made me feel good that she was good with Elsie too. That girl ain’t the easiest to get along with ya know.
Ernest: I know … Oh boy do I know … *Ahem!* Anyway … It was a little while later when she fell off the cliff and infiltrated your hideout.
Logan: When she found our hideout—damn was I impressed! And it was sure as hell nice to see her again … *He reminisces, eyes staring fondly off into the distance.* We fought again that day. N-not so proud of that. Had to keep up appearances and all ...
Ernest: Who won?
Logan: We were interrupted before we could finish. But to give you an answer—her. I was never so happy to lose in my life. I actually wanted to—but I wasn’t gonna let her either. And then I came clean with her.
Ernest: Later on when Duvos attacked, she was with you the entire time.
Logan: Sure was. The best darn partner a man could have. Justice would agree to that too. She was just … I wasn’t surprised though. I knew she could handle herself.
Ernest: Afterwards, you repented. Were you at all worried that she would not return any feelings?
Logan: *sighes* I wasn’t tryin’ to get my hopes up … I was even hopin’ that these feelings would just go away. But she was just always there. She visited me in jail … Tried giving me and Haru snacks. We didn’t accept …
Everyday when I saw her through those bars, my heart done skipped a beat. But what would the town’s master builder want with a rogue like me. So I wasn’t gonna even try. If she spoke to me—then yeah of course I was gonna be a gentleman and talk back but … it did hurt. But I wasn’t gonna do anything until she gave me the go ahead.
Ernest: What was that go ahead?
Logan: I may be thick in the skull but I know when someone has a liken’ to me. She kept telling me that she cared about me. Kept bringing me presents and food. It was Jasmine and Grace that told me she has feelings as well. … So Maybe I am a little thick ...
It was a mission—some thieves were *a smirk forming on his face* doing some nefarious things. She and I went off to show ‘em what for. It turned into a monster hunt. I got hurt, she was there … Strong little thing pulled me to safety. Took care of me … Threw caution into the wind and I made sure right there and then to never let her go. Literally.
Ernest: Wow. Logan—this should be a novel not just an article for the newspaper!
Logan: H-how was her’s? Did she say anything?
Ernest: You’ll see, it’ll be out next week.
Logan: Oh … *He winces.*
Ernest: Nothing bad—I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. *Logan lets out a big goofy smile.* Any other stories?
Logan: Well there was this one time we went on a ‘date’ I guess—figured I’ll take her riding and all. Then Rambo chucked us off him … He always liked her too … But I almost had a damn heart attack. I grabbed her and … *His eyes trail off, face blushed with a deep pink hue, he bites his lower lip.*
Ernest: Okay then … How about the proposal. I heard from Jasmine but I’ll like your account.
Logan: How many people did you interview?
Ernest: … *clears throat nervously.*
Logan: *sighs.* I am not good with these things … My mother and father did not have the best relationship, so I wasn’t gonna do anything until I was one thousand percent sure. Especially for Andy. If she didn’t want him then … I didn’t want her … It would have been heartbreaking but thankfully, that was not the case. He loves her—more than me—and she seemed to take to him as well. So, there was that.
But on my part, all I could think about was her. Workin’ out there in the desert? Makin’ sure no monster got close to her. Makin’ dinner? Thinking about makin’ it with her or for her. Everything was about her. There was my answer. I had stop thinkin’ and do something about.
She doesn’t know it—an-and I’m ashamed to say this—but I used to follow her sometimes when she ventured out of town. An-and—hell with it. I still do. And she can’t stop me cause if something ever happens to her …
Back to the proposal, I wanted to make her mine as I was already hers. So I had to ask for help … from a couple o’ kids … *sighes*
Ernest: And she said yes.
Logan: She did. Thank goodness I fought plenty of monsters, but I never sweated harder than when I got on one knee for her.
Ernest: The wedding was beautiful.
Logan: It was … *He smiles.*
Ernest: Now what’s next for our residential golden couple?
Logan: Th-the what now? I … I don’t know. Just takin’ it easy. Lovin’ each other. Supportin’ each other.
Ernest: Is- *A knock, the Builder appears at the door with Andy in tow.* I think that’s all.
Logan: … Really?
Ernest: Yeah, if I need anymore—I’ll come find you.
Logan: Fine then. You know where to find me.
With a wave to the Builder, I watch on as Logan leaves. The way he looks at her. Such love and warmth. And her to him, gave even myself butterflies. Andy, their son runs around both—his family complete. The ex bandit tenderly places his hat on the excitable child, and snakes his arm around his wife’s waist as the three walk back towards their house.
I have interviewed many people about Logan’s life—no-one smiled more than reminiscing about these two. Owen recalls happily watch them talk awkwardly, the budding of something more. Elsie recalled while clearing the tunnel of monsters, “they were like two peas in a pod”. Haru, in his letter, explained that while in hiding, they would spy on the city, Logan’s binoculars tracing her every move. His commitment then marriage to her was no surprise.
Standing here, under the Blue Moon sign, watching the happy little family gives me hope. A hope not so different from this place called Sandrock. The once barren, dusted town of Sandrock—now a tourist destination with hints of green and flowers. No-one thought it could happen. But it did. With the help of these two. Proving there’s hope for us all.
To end, it is this writer’s wish that we all find our person as these two did.
It’s too early in the morning. Yawns echo the room one by one. You try your hardest to sit up straight, but your eyes are too heavy today.
At the far corner of your eye, the only awake person there, a tall white-haired man that you call your boyfriend is waving, not caring that he’s causing a scene. Yaga tries his hardest to push through Gojo’s idiocy, his fingers gripping the frail paper violently.
Finally, you look at him. With a beaming smile, he points to himself. Motions a heart with his fingers then points to you. Mouthing: ‘I heart you’.
Heat rushes to your face, and you throw him a kiss leaving whole room to look at the two of you in disgust.
To read the rest, please continue:
He watches on as you coach his little brother. Never yelling, or laughing at him but with the boy. You pat the young sorcerer’s back telling him now to go act his age. For youth is fleeting especially for a sorcerer. Thoughts about the future race through Choso’s mind. With you. So kind, so beautiful …
When you sit back on the bench, Choso can’t wipe the smile from face. “What?”
He hesitates only because he can’t find the words to do your compassion justice. Choso reaches for you hand stroking it gently. “I just love you, so, so, so very much.”
Kento stands, knuckles digging into the marble counter, hoping that the recent clinks and dings from the latest dish he’s cooking isn’t bothering your little reading session on the couch. He looks up to see if you are bothered. No, you sit reading peacefully.
But he, transfixed, by the way your little baby hairs float lazily in the air, the way your eyes move across the page, how your feminine fingers holding the book—and his personal favorite: how sometimes your mouth read the words silently out loud. He smiles and giggles to himself. “Hm?” Your voice echoes.
Startling him a bit but, “nothing, I was just thinking how much I love you is all …”
It's one of those quiet days. The twins are hovering over Geto as usual as he reads a book. They take turns brushing his hair. Only when you come over does he look up. The girls also light up as though some kind of Sun came out.
He watches on as you run your fingers through Mimiko’s short hair. Watching as her shoulders rise up, her cheeks pink with blush—she has butterflies. You ask them if they want to go to the new restaurant—saving Geto from going himself.
They immediately rush forward, you follow but he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in, “I love you.” Nuzzling his face into you, kissing you once, before letting you go.
Tired, thirsty … A long day of screaming, pubescent teenagers who think they know more than him will do that. Atsuya rubs the back of his neck while walking to the fridge. There, you are, cleaning the counter, turning back to smile at him briefly before grabbing him a drink with a wide smile.
The can in hand, he stands there like a fool—you’re the only person who actually respects him. How lucky he is. His heart swells just looking at you.
Atsuya comes up behind you wrapping his arm around your waist. His face angles to kiss your cheek, “I love ya.” And he means it. Before walking away leaving you dazed.
The annual festival is afoot. Sukuna, perched boringly on the throne these peasants made for him—watches as you run around, eyes widen at the beauty all around you. He on the other hand—this is all just business. At one point, you lock eyes at him and Uraume, waving joyfully at the two. Sukuna just broods but turns to see Uraume wave, glaring at them. Uraume shrugs.
Later, Uraume beckons you to a room, looking back you don’t see Sukuna. But the room, the view of the garden is gorgeous. Transfixed by the sight of trees, bushes, and flowers, until four arms engulf you. “Huh?”
Softly, he whispers, “quiet woman … and just take my affection.” Pink hair dips into your vision, as he rests his head on your shoulder.
It hits him out of no where. Perhaps it was when he glanced over your framed picture on his desk for the nth time today. Hiromi taps his pen rhythmically on the table. He turns to the cell phone lying out on the corner of the desk. A text? No—too impersonal. But a call perhaps … What if I bother her …
But today he is selfish. Your face lights up on the phone—from that one vacation you both took—and he clicks on your name. In seconds your voice echos from the speaker. Anyone near could hear his heart skip a beat, and see how adorably nervous he gets—that little shimmy in his seat, how he fiddles with his tie. “Hey,” he clears his throat, “I just wanted to tell you that "I miss you … and I love you.”
“I swear on everything I stand for—everything is going to be okay.”
Gojo holds your hand, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. His lips curving upward into a reassuring smile, making sure that you know you’re in a safe space with him.
After explaining to him about everything, and after a quick peck on your forehead, Gojo keeps his distance from you whilst in thought. He hates to see you like this. You don’t deserve to feel like this. He has to make this day better for you. Your favorite restaurant brought home? Done. That expensive thing be it purse, book, or video game? It all yours.
Then at night, wearing comfy baggy PJs, he picks a movie, and of course he spoils it immediately. As the girl dies in the end—you look over as watch as he smiles maniacally. But his smile is infectious, making you smile for the first time that day. And it’s certainly not the last.
The next choice is yours. This time, you two share your favorite dessert. Soon after, you fall asleep in his arms with him—like a guardian angel, watching over you.
For everyone else:
“It’s okay. Just let it out.”
Whereas most people would say, ‘stop crying’. Choso is different—he’s the type to hold you, rub your back, hold the tissue to your eyes, nose, wherever you need it. He’ll hold you for as long as you need. Even if it’s forever.
Once done, he suggests a shower—even brings you a fresh towel and shoos you off. Wash off all of the bad energy of today—he says. This all gives him the chance to line the table with snacks and treats.
He already has your favorite show paused and lit your favorite candle. Your favorite blanket and pillow is already waiting on the couch. Once seated within in his arms, your phone rings, it’s Yuji doing his horribly laughable impersonations. Choso must have called him …
Choso tries to chime in but the two end up going back and forth. Choso—as usual—is oblivious to Yuji’s own annoyance. You can’t help but to giggle as it also makes you happy that even Yuji cares enough to try to cheer you up. Thanking Yuji before hanging up, you nuzzle into Choso’s chest, his fingers rubbing up and down your back.
“It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright—I promise.”
He sits back, arms crossed—no different than most times. But this time, he looks back up, telling you to change into something comfy. He holds the car door open as you enter wondering what is going on. But he just shakes his head. He starts up the car and just … drives. Where to? *Shrugs* When will you two come back? *Shrugs* “But Ken,” you ask, “what about work tomorrow?”
“One day off won’t hurt.” This isn’t like him. The spontaneity. The mystery. It’s … comforting. During the ride, he asks you a plethora of questions—about anything and everything. Nothing to remind you of what happened today just everything to excite you.
You two visit a greasy diner—he always made sure you ate a healthy meal. But now, he’s sitting across from you, a tissue in his shirt as he engulfs a cheeseburger.
Back in the car, he continues to drive throughout the night. He drives you to your and his’ spot at the beach. Watching the sunrise for a new day—new opportunities—from behind, he wraps his arms you, head resting on your shoulder.
“It’s okay, tell me everything … Just let it out.”
In the temple garden, on a bench all by yourselves, you lay your head on Geto’s lap as you tell him everything whilst he combs his fingers through your hair—no matter your length. He absorbs each and every word, and emotion. Even if you cry, he gently wipes away the tears with his thumb.
His hand caressing your head, telling you that everything will be alright. He pulls you up while taking out his phone, “let go meet up with the girls—I got a surprise for you all.”
He takes you and the girls to the new hit bakery. Though he waits outside, he smiles at you every time you turn to look at him. While the girls walk on ahead his little finger wraps around yours pulling you in closer until he can intertwine his fingers within yours. He wants to ask if you feel better, but the smile on your face tells him that he doesn’t need to ask. So, instead, he leans down and kisses your head.
“C’mon, everything’s fine.”
After you explain to him everything, Atsuya rubs your back before grabbing a drink from the refrigerator. He asks if you want something, but you deny, waving him off. With your back to him—he knows it’s bad. You had it rough. His knuckles rubbing up and down the bottom of your back.
He chugs on his canned coffee—he’s not good at this kind of stuff (but he is). Wrapping his large arms around your shoulders, he pulls you in, feeling his body heat on your back. It’s soothing, comforting. He kisses your temple. Softly, “c’mon, let’s go.”
“Where?” With one arm still around your neck (gently), he pulls you into the living room—his favorite place.
He lays behind you, wrapping you in his arms, as you binge watch some show you both enjoy. Used take-out containers and empty cans line the coffee table. He’ll clean it later ... Throughout the rest of the day, he occasionally looks down at you—still in his arms—making sure that you’re feeling better, his fingers grazing your arm up and down every so often. Planting little kisses on the back of your head.
“Everything is okay, I’m here now.”
He meets you in the garden near the cherry blossom tree. Lays down next to you and motions for you to start. And you do. The entire time, his head being held up by his hand. He listens. Occasionally plucking petals from your hair, knowing you love the way he touch you. The only time he is gentle.
The occasional, ‘m-hm’ and low grumble as he plucks a little wildflower and places it in your hair—any excuse to touch you. He even asks some questions—as though to reassure you that he’s listening.
His fingers, roam up and down your spine creating goosebumps all over your body. Soon even creating little pictures. In time, you try to guess the little drawings. A tree, flowers, insects, animals, when he switches to weapons you swat at him, his nose wrinkling with his smile. In time, you forget everything. Lost in the silly little game.
“You’re not a bother. Let it out.”
Hiromi, closes his files and neatly places them elsewhere whilst you stand there twiddling your fingers. No matter how many times he says it otherwise—you feel guilty of taking up his precious time.
Once finished, he pulls you onto his lap, one arm around your back, and the other resting on your leg, looking up at you ready to listen. And listen he does. Ever so patiently. His hands taking turns rubbing against you—as though to rub off the negative energy. Comforting you even further.
Never once does he look back at the documents on his desk. When you do, he pulls your chin back gently, making sure you look back at him. Then turning the revolving chair to the window outside, allowing you to concentrate on yourself.
Once done, he signals for you to get up only to take you out. When you try to protest looking back at his desk, he just shakes his head pulling you along. Taking you to some late-night joint where the city’s warm lights cast a magical hue upon the two of you as you laugh among yourselves throughout the night.
Hey … Just to let you know: you are loved and appreciated. Here’s a hug if you need it: (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ❤︎
You were Sukuna’s right hand, until one day you couldn’t take his ways. Years later you wake up in another body but as you. You then join a movement against your old friend only to bond with their leader, Satoru Gojo. When the time comes, what path—or rather—who do you choose?
There is a common path that leads into two endings—pick one of your choice. Otome style!
SFW ⋆ x Female Reader ⋆ no use of ‘y/n’ ⋆ common path: 2,306 words ~ Sukuna’s path: 1,302 words ~ Gojo’s path: 1,283 words
tags: contains SPOILERS for people who did not read the manga ⋆ everyone is morally grey ⋆ trigger warning of kidnapping—you are captured from your village ⋆ lots of talk of death ⋆ slight angst ⋆ SPOILER!: you die but become reawakened ⋆ SPOILER!: but happy endings :)
You were taken from your village from afar. Taken, then gifted to a man with four arms and four eyes. The moment you were showed to him, all he did was stared down at you, curious at this foreign creature. The moment he nodded his head and accepted you as a gift, and you were released, you immediately attacked your “owner” much to the amusement of your new one. Two of his hands hiding the ear to ear grin—but his eyes betrayed him, upside down crescent orbs and giggling shoulders.
But Sukuna was different, he really didn’t care so long as you stayed close. You were able to travel to local towns, had a stipend. Truthfully, you could leave any time you wanted—but it was amusing being here with him. A lot better than your boring village where nothing happened.
And this man, genuinely enjoyed your company. Where Uraume stood to his left, you stood to his right.
In time though, he followed you around.
One time, under a cherry blossom tree, he picked the petals from your hair, ever so gently all while listening to stories about your home. If he actually listened was a mystery. All “mh-mh,” or “hmm” in his signature gravelly voice.
You thought nothing of it—he was … a friend.
That singular time, you were attacked. That night, the screams kept you up. All the while, it made your friend happy, ripping away the lives of those who hurt you.
On stormy days, as you watched the droplets of rainwater fall from the skies, he would sit behind you, watching, memorizing your face and features.
But you were not stupid. You saw how he treated other sorcerers. Though he was kind and sweet to you—he was in fact a vicious person.
One day, years into living with him—you have had enough. It was time to go, not before meeting with a man with stitches on his head. His honeyed words mixed with your blended feelings of sadness, regret, and hesitation, but you agreed. Not fully understanding what you were agreeing to.
You left Sukuna bowing to him, his eyes never even turning your way, he didn’t acknowledge you. His silence deafening.
Back at your village, you ended up living a long life, a curiosity in your village—the woman who left but came back speaking of a land far away. Respected, feared even. Sukuna aught you many things. Protecting yourself and others among one of them.
You never had kids—barely fell in love. Every time you almost did—it was as though heart closed off, knowing it was not the time.
On your deathbed—thoughts of Sukuna and your time with him left a smile on your face as you went into eternal slumber.
Until you awoken in a bed—in a body with memories you didn’t recognize. Looking around, you don’t understand what you are seeing. What is a TV? But yet you know what a TV is. These clothes? What are these?
You look at the calendar—October 31st 2018. It’s almost 1000 years since you died. Running through the chaos, you happen a reflection—it is yourself. What is going on?
Outside, a little monk waits with a smile—but they look different. But their smile ... “Uraume?”
“It’s been a while.” They then proceed to tell you the whole story. About Kenjaku, everything. You were tricked. And Sukuna knew.
“This body—did she know?”
“I don’t know … all I know is that you were to change into yourself, unlike many others.”
The poor girl … what was she like? Did she have family? A loved one?
“No need to fret over the girl,” a voice from the shadows echos. His voice drips like venom. “Sukuna instructed me to make sure your vessel deserved it …” A handsome young man walks from the shadows rolling his eyes … with stitches on his head. Confused, tilting your head to the side, those stitches …
“You!” You lunge for him but Uraume pulls you back.
“Still feisty after all these years. Sukuna will be pleased.” He turns to go back, “one of the many reasons he cared for you so much.” He smiles like a snake. Disgusted, you turn to your old friend.
“I’ll explain everything later.”
Uraume and Kenjaku leads you farther in, there lounging on on a rock, a young boy, black hair, but wearing the same clothes as he did a long time ago … “Sukuna?”
His eyes, only two, is the same crimson hue as all those years ago, and his smile, how they turn like upside down crescent moons. It’s him … in another body.
“What is going on?” You to Uruame who is about to speak.
“I will explain,” his gravely voice that you once adored hearing now emulates from this child’s body. It really is him. Even the way he lifts one hand, as he did years ago. It’s so odd. But you want answers more than anything now.
After shooing everyone away, he sits you down, having Uruame return only to serve you your favorite food before leaving promptly yet again. There he explained everything to you in detail.
At first your appetite was full but when he laughs about using a boy as a vessel … You pushed the plate away. Eyes grow heavy with pain and disgust.
To soothe you, he grabs your hand, “I was the one that told Kenjaku to do that to you—I wanted us to have a second chance.” His words stop, hesitating as he studies your hands, “I … wanted you to stand by my side once again—in this new world. But as something more.”
“You’re in a body of a boy!”
“Of course not now—I’ll be getting my real body back soon—then we can be together.” His smile, once contagious and mischievousness. Now you remember why you left. Because his maniacal nature overshadowed any other of his sides.
You rush out. Not knowing when or where to go. But anything is better than this place.
Uraume tries to chase you but his booming voice interrupts them, “leave her, she’ll come back around … eventually.” Even Sukuna is not convinced watching his fist clench and un-clench onto nothing. Feeling those emotions he felt all those years ago when you left. His lower jaw shakes just a bit before he clamps it still. Steeling himself.
~
Walking around, you have no idea what is going on. Perhaps you should have waited for Uraume to give you answers. But images of Sukuna in that boy’s body flash before your eyes. Shaking you head to release these images.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” a young woman’s voice appears behind you, turning around, you see no-one. “Up here.” Looking up, a blonde young woman with a halo and wings, squinting, with a face on her cheek.
“She’s with the dishonored one.” It says.
You know exactly who they mean, “… not anymore.” It pains you to say but you do.
This girl Hana takes you to meet this new group fighting against Sukuna and Kenjaku. You even meet his original vessel, the boy names Yuji Itadori. And he looks a little too similar to Sukuna, whom you remember who used to tell tales of his twin brother’s soul would eventually be reborn. Nephew? Great Nephew even? You don’t know. But you know that they are connected some how.
Each people, though keep you at arm’s length regail stories about the recent event. Yuji is the only person who seems to trust you entirely. He spends the most time with you helping the best way possible to answer all of those questions.
His “older brother” also seems to be close. His father is Kenjaku from 150 years ago. This Choso, who only was brought in as a tool from his own father, tells you all about Kenjaku. His technique, his story. He tells you of how Yuji’s father must have had stitches on his head. But no … you think it was his mother as Yuji said, his mother died before his dad …
Clenching your fist in disgust, you vow to help stop these two.
Their current goal now is to unseal the current strongest sorcerer, Saturo Gojo. Yuji spends hours bragging about him how he’s the toughest, strongest sorcerer there is. This even brings the other students who speak just as highly—though it seems no-one actually respects him. How peculiar.
One student, a nice girl named Miwa who brings you tea every so often, always brags how handsome this man is. He’s tall, blue eyed—though he keeps it hidden, snow white hair, and a lovely, boyish smile.
It’s quite nice watching this girl swoon over him. But pleasantries are soon over as Hana begins preparations to unseal him. It was a sight to behold. Loud, chaotic, full of light and such. Then nothing. While everyone was arguing with Hana if it worked or not, you knew it did. They just hide the Prison Realm elsewhere … and Sukuna was there.
He appears out of no where, with a mischievous smile. “Missed me?” You watch as all the students gather around him smacking his back. “So,” his eyes dart to all the new people around him, “who are the newbies?”
Back at Jujutsu High, you wait, these surrounding are still getting used to. But the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, someone is behind you. Oh, it’s him.
“Good instincts.” It’s Gojo. “I wouldn’t expect less from Sukuna’s right hand lady.”
“A pleasure,” you bow as you remembered, surely a man with his reputation—he deserves respect.
His face contorts, “yeah, I’m not a formal guy,” as you snarl already annoyed.
“Ever try Kikufuku? Did they even have it at your time?” He throws you a bag. How did he get it when pretty much all of Japan is—you know what, never mind … “The zunda and cream flavored are the best—try them first.”
That night neither of you are bothered as you once again explain your whole entire story. “You ate all the …” Gojo interrupts, he pouts and shifts his gaze to you, who sits there like a cute puppy who done something wrong.
“… They were really good …”
“I told you.” He looks up, and maybe it’s because you let your guard down, or was a little more relaxed, or how the moonlight carved out your features. But his eyes stayed just a moment more than he would have liked. Once he’s able to look away, “you really want to stop him?”
“Both of them.”
“Then teach the kids, everything you know. If I go down, then it’s up to them. They’re going to need every advantage. Deal?”
“Absolutely.”
“And I promise to protect you too.”
“I’ll be fine.” You say so a matter of factually that even he is taken back. He who is so used to people wanting, and needing him to protect them.
~
Training starts. With Gojo and the others, you relay stories of your era’s Jujutsu. Shoko turns to Gojo, seeing that he’s not only watching you, he’s watching you. Your arm movements, the way your mouth moves, everything.
He watches on even as you instruct them hands on. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the familiar scent of cigarette smoke crest his nostrils.
“… There’s no time for anything.”
“If you survive there will be. One more thing to fight for …” She walks away.
“How about you?” He nudges his head to her hands.
“I’ll quit when this all over. One thing at a time.” After she turns the corner, his back hits the wall, continuing to watch you.
“If Sukuna comes at you directly—” The way you say his name sends bile to his throat. When did Gojo start feeling this way.
~
“How’s my favorite devour of kikufuku?” He stuffs a bag into your face.
“Oh!” It’s like you turn into a playful child with him, grabbing the bag and immediately stuffing your face. You can barely speak but the words still come out.
He laughs at the sight as this reawakened sorceress tries to direct the kids all the while, kikufuku filling her mouth.
Many a times, you sit with Gojo explaining to him in detail all of Sukuna’s moves. “Wow, you really watched him huh?”
“He was an amazing fighter.” You so nonchalantly, he snarls, wrinkling his nose.
“So you have a thing for guys with multiple arms ... Got it!” With a wink and a sarcastic smile, he gives you a thumb’s up.
But you are taken back. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“… Nothing.” He pouts to you, then to himself, “nothing at all ...”
In the meantime, Sukuna has gotten word that you are helping the fight. Waving Urumae out, he sits silent. A feeling of something he hasn’t felt for the longest time. His eyes turn, and brows furrow, before punching the rock he’s perched on.
~
A night before the fighting, you fidget in your sleep. When you close your eyes, you remember that Sukuna who plucked petals from your hair. The low grumble of noises he made, as he pretended to listen. How he would sit behind you on those rainy days. His infectious smile. His wicked sense of humor.
Your heart breaks. Tomorrow, his death will be permanent.
Thinking on your new friends. Wholesome, safe. Yuji, Choso, Hana, even Kin and his partner. How many are going to get hurt tomorrow? … Gojo.
Miwa was right. His bright blue eyes, so full of hope and light, yet with such a dark past. He can die tomorrow.
There are two choices. What path will you take?
⋆ Sukuna ⋆
You dart out of bed, it’s worth a chance. Scouring Shinjuku, you easily find Sukuna, alone—as though he wanted you to find him.
“My favorite traitor . . .” You stand dumbfounded as he sits on a throne of concrete rubble. He doesn’t look up at you nor barely acknowledges you, instead playing with a pebble. “What brings you here?”
“To stop you.” He laughs at that. “Please stop, I beg of you.”
“We came too far.”
“Is it worth it?” But he does not answer. “We all have a second chance, why not use it for something better? To live a better life.” Now he scoffs. “You and me just live … again. Just us. No Jujutsu. No nothing.” His scoffs cease immediately, almost nervously, never staying still.
“And Uraume? They’re coming too, right?”
“Of course.”
But he once again steels himself. “And the great Sukuna runs from battle … is that how I am to be remembered?”
“Would you rather be dead?”
“It is not in my nature to live a quiet life.” He finally looks at you with bored eyes.
“For me, please. You will die tomorrow, if not by Gojo then by the others. I beg of you.” Your knees hit the cold hard floor, but you don’t care, you don’t even feel it. The pain in your heart is worse. With the stinging soreness, and your face squeezing with pain as salty tears flow down, you offer up one last plea: “Please Sukuna, we have a second chance, let’s not waste it. We can be a family.”
Family. What an odd word for him. But it stirs something within him.
“It’s his fault.” Your plead continues. “All Kenjaku’s, we could have been reincarnated together by now or been in heaven,” he laughs at the latter notion, “but he took that away from us. We’re all pawns in this little game. Even you.” You’re not wrong.
He hesitates. His head being held up by two of his hands, much like he did so long ago. And his eyes glow like fire to you. “You left once, what makes me think you won’t leave again?”
“If you give all this up—I’ll vow to stay with you this time.” But he’s not convinced. “When I left—I should have talked to you first, and for that I am sorry. But I couldn’t take it anymore. Yet every night I regretted not talking to you. Sukuna … you were my last thought.”
That last parts sends shivers down his spine. After a short minute, “let me guess, release the boy first?”
“Yes. But how—”
He shushes you with a hand, whilst up, Sukuna studies his it. Jumping down, closing in on you. With your frail current emotional state, you take a step back, but he grabs your wrist. He eyes never leaving his left hand, “this … is not going to be pleasant.”
~
Everyone is wondering where you ran off to. Some even speak about how you worked as a double agent but Gojo quiets them.
Soon they all see a shadow appear from the dawn’s shade. You. Everyone, but especially Gojo inattentively watches as you walk back, this time not alone, The boy Megumi walks beside you. Gojo’s eyes turn to you, your smile as infectious as ever, but with a slit under each eye. He looks back at the boy who is missing a pinkie. “Really?”
“Really.” Sukuna manifests on your face. “Leave us alone, and I’ll tell you where Kenjaku is.”
Gojo stares at you with revolt. How? He shakes his head, for you.“Never come close to Jujutsu High, ever. Never use your powers.”
“… A binding vow then.” You stand in silence as the two men go over the terms. Once they agree, Sukuna tells him exactly where Kenjaku is. Gojo looks back up at you as though you did the dumbest thing ever. And a bit betrayed. You have to stay there until Gojo returns holding Geto’s body.
“Go.” He looks back at you and off into the ruins you go. Never to see your new friends again.
~
At night, you meditate, going within, he sits on a throne of bones, watching you. It’s morbid, but it’s you. It’s odd seeing you, with his markings, red eyes, hearing his rough voice from your mouth, “we need to find someone. Fast.”
You hate to do this—because it was done to your body. Fidgeting on your pinkie on your not so dominate finger. You are bait. He can sense who would be a good vessel. Night after night, you roam the streets searching. He already disposed of a handful of men who tried “funny” things to you. It’s killing two birds with one stone, cleaning the streets, getting him a body.
Tonight’s man is especially rough, grabbing your wrist, he looks down at you canine’s bearing, only to see a small red eye and a grin form on your cheek. “This one.”
For a brief few seconds, Sukuna takes over your body, his only hesitation is to rip off your pinkie—but does so, so fast and stuffs it into the man’s mouth.
As you come to, standing before you, is your Sukuna, four arms and all. “You couldn’t change once we got home?”
“He was too weak,” cracking his jaw admiring his old self, smiling wickedly.
You sigh, wondering how you’re going to get home.
But you do. As soon as you do, you feel four arms snake around you pulling you in for a hug. His pink hair resting on your shoulder. “For so long I wanted this.”
~
It was not the life he imagined, staying home, nor deserved, but Ryomen Sukuna is a selfish man. You, him, and Uraume move far, far away from Tokyo to live life in seclusion. Days, barefoot in the forest. Splashing Uraume in the local river all while Sukuna watches on, all arms folded. Summer nights catching fireflies. Showing him your jar, his sharp features highlighted by the gentle glow. Admiring a different kind of magic.
He’s always with you. Tailing you. You notice at times, his boredom, it scares you. But like reading your mind, “I am fine. Trust me.”
And you do … but it’s wise to check in once in a while.
At times, you watch him look at the window, snapping into his predatory gaze. “Is he checking up on you?”
“He better be.” And not you, he thinks to himself.When he was in your body, the memories of your time with Gojo was apparent, if not to you, but to Sukuna. He knew that Gojo had feelings for you. And Sukuna has one rule: no ‘kukufuku’ or whatever it was called. And he knew that something was starting to stir within you about Gojo. Sukuna knows how lucky he was that you went to him.
Yet at the end of the day, there was no winner nor loser in the fight. But he won your heart, you choose him. For him, that’s what mattered.
His eyes scan the trees. He knows where he is. A manic smirk splays his face. After all, the vow was not use his powers—he can still use his fists.
When you tap his arm, snapping him out of the gaze, he pulls you in for a bear hug, kissing the top of your head. Almost showing you off (well … he is). You swear you hear a scoff in the breeze followed by a mischievous giggle reverberating from Sukuna’s chest. One hand pulls your chin up for a kiss. Even after he leaves, Sukuna doesn’t, kissing you deeper, and deeper. Like an unspoken promise to stay here with you, and to find you again and again once this one over.
End.
⋆ Gojo ⋆
Sleep never finds you, but just allow the minutes to pass by. Until it’s time.
You watch on as his students smack his back, but you lean back praying to be over quick.
As he walks past, you two lock eyes, “do not bring down your limitless.” He stops, tilting his head, “don’t until you see his body disappear.” He nods his head before leaving.
Whilst in this “Rika” (you don’t necessarily understand), you stand among everyone and watch as the fight commences. Your head spins and there is a knot in your stomach.
After a while, you watch as Sukuna uses moves he never had to. For a split second, you know Gojo turns off his limitless, watching the screen, you get up to watch his eyes widen before, you see it turn on again, just as Sukuna cuts him again.
You watch on whilst everyone else celebrates, watching as your old friend disappears into dust. The only other person with any sort of sadness is Kashimo.
Holding his former best friend’s body, Gojo returns greeting everyone, you watch from afar. Tears well up in your eyes. Gojo watches on as you run away.
Two friends died today. Two. You heard from Kin what happened with Uraume. It hit you—that they’re forever gone. As you pant for air, two long arms wrap themselves around you. “I’m sorry.”
“It had to be done,” leaning into his chest. “He was a rapid dog that cared more about killing and destruction than anything. You can’t change a person if they don’t want to be changed … Even for me.” The way your voice cracks at that last words—Gojo shuts his eyes knowing that is not entirely true.
Gojo understood Sukuna in more ways than he wanted to admit. Jujutsu. Power. Solitude. You. Your words and stories about him and you—Gojo knew that if you went to him—no. He pushes the feeling out.
Instead of celebrating with the rest, or telling you not to cry, Gojo holds you tightly for minutes.
~
Days later, Gojo finds you nervously pacing around one of the rooms, “hey I miss mochi just as much as you but you don’t see me having a nervous break down.”
“Should I … be executed?”
He snaps to you, “why?”
“I took this body and—”
“Kenjaku took this body,” he interrupts.
“But if we were able to extract Megumi from Sukuna’s body—can we—”
He hushes you with a hand. “We’re … looking into it.” He leaves, but his nerves catches up with. Sure the right thing to do would be to separate you and her. But you would die again … On one hand, he’s happy that yo would do the right thing. However, you were Sukuna’s left hand woman—how ‘good’ were you actually. Even he, himself, Gojo knows he’s not a morally great person. Maybe he can do something … No … Maybe.
He sighs, trying to find out what made him more nervous, the fight with Sukuna, or now?
Not long after, Gojo comes finds you again, this time fidgeting, “great news!” With a thumb’s up, “apparently the woman whose body you were put in, was a horrible person.” His smile is bright and out of place whilst he list all of her crimes.
“… And this means?”
“You are staying the way you are!”
“Oh … Okay … Is that right?”
“Who knows, maybe Sukuna knew you’ll feel less bad when put into someone horrible.” Remembering what Kenjaku said … In your first life, you were no angel, but you did have morals. So, perhaps Sukuna knew if you were put into a good person’s body, the first chance you got you would have freed her.
It’s apparent to Gojo that Sukuna and Kenjaku made you differently. Not that he’s complaining.
But to you, it still doesn’t feel right but you’ll take—make it worth it.
~
You become the new teacher, showing the next generation of Jujutsu sorcerers about your Heian era Jujutsu.
Whilst giving a lecture, you look up to see the new principal Gojo, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, grinning all while wearing the blindfold. Oh how you miss his bright blue eyes. He lifts up a bag and you know exactly what it is. He then points to the clock just as the bell rings.
You two sit at a bench overlooking the country side, “how’s it coming along?” The new principal asks while rummaging through his little paper bag.
“It’s … weird. Everything is new to me, but isn’t. How about you?”
“Soooo much paper work! I hate it.” He sticks a frozen fruit in his mouth. Gojo then lays out various flavors of kikufuku mochis on the table. Your finger tips taps each other in anticipation.
Trying each one. Savoring each and every bite. “So good,” with a full mouth, “so good, thank you Principal Gojo.”
His smile turns upside down, “seriously? I told you don’t call me that.”
But you don’t care. All you need now is kikufuku.
“Geez. Some table manners. Please.” He leans over and wipes some cream from your mouth. Stopping, to trace his movements. His knows that stance, guarded. But that wall crumbles once his finger brushes against your cheek. He knows that you’re starting to let him in. Probably for a while now ...
Gojo wants to ask something, but is too afraid to ruin the moment. Seeing your smiling gluttonous face. “Are you … lonely?” But it comes out anyway.
You stop eating, hesitating, your mind repeating that question over and over. “…” You don’t answer but he knows the truth: ‘yes a little’,—his head hangs low knowing this. “You?”
“Not so much … It’s weird. It feels … nice. That lawyer guy, that one dude that thinks he’s funny. Maki, Yuji, everyone—everyone grew so much. It’s not that lonely anymore.” You nod your head. “… You, and you’re here too.” You turn to him. “And I’m here … for you.”
“You are I guess. As is the students.”
“Yuji loves you … Yuta and Maki too … Yeah Yuji may love you a little too much.” He laughs.
“He’s adorable …”
“So I guess I’m not so lonely.” It hits you because it’s true. He lifts up his blindfold and smiles at you with one eye. Reminding you of his pretty blue eyes. “Can I try it on?” (any excuse to see them.)
So sudden, but Gojo just laughs. He stands as you do.
He leans down as you reach for his blindfold, tugging it off. (Any excuse to get you to touch him.) You smile and place it around your eyes—it’s far too big for you. He pinches some so that it fits. As you look around seeing … black. He just stares smiling.
“I’m going to kill Toge, he told me it had x-ray vision.” He laughs that you fell for Toge’s prank—plus that you know what he says.
Soon, you feel five digits on your head, turning you a certain way. Feeling a presence nearby, your walls completely crumble down. “Let’s vow to never feel lonely again.”
“I vow.”
“Good,” with that he leans gently caressing your lips with his. Almost immediately he kisses you so hard that it forces you back away, but grabs you all the same, pulling you into him.
He pulls back breathlessly, eyes still closed, but smiling like a fool in love (because he is one), “can I watch as you yell at Toge?”.
Once you nod, “only if I can keep the blindfold?”
“Deal.” Only to come back to his rightful place, kissing you.
It’s a hot day. Finding solace in the shade. All work lately left you exhausted, and this heat isn’t helping. Finding a comfy bench in the cool shade, soon you doze off.
A little while later, Gojo finds you. After much discussion with himself, he will not draw on your face, instead he settles with a boop on your nose, causing you to toss and fidget making him to grin from ear to ear.
But knowing that class is starting soon, he pouts at the thought of waking you up for real. Plus you won’t be in the shade for long as the sun rises and falls to the West. “Hey,” snapping his fingers but to no avail. Man, she must have been tired ...
He pokes you again, softer this time. “Hey.” This time, his finger curls and he smooths his finger over your cheek. But pulls away, did he overstep? He’ll apologize later.
For now, he’s transfixed, watching as the cool breeze gently blows your hair and clothes. You look so peaceful and content. Finally some respite from the daily grind of this horrible wheel that is Jujutsu High. But Gojo can’t find it in himself to wake you up.
So, he sits beside you, arms crossed. He himself doesn’t sleep much. But here, with you—he easily dozes off. Soon, his head falls onto your shoulder jolting you up gently.
Looking to see what was the matter, seeing—and feeling—the soft feathery white hair resting on your face. You’re at a lost for what to do. Instead, you stay there, knowing how tired this guy must be. How the higher ups call for him on each and everything.
Plus this feeling of him being so close to you, so vulnerable … makes heat rise to your face, as you try to hide a shy smile.
Your tilt your head allowing him more room to be more comfortable. Waiting until he wakes—whenever that is.
⋆ Choso ⋆
His brows furrow at the clock, you were supposed to wake up fifteen minutes ago. But you’re still sleeping. He doesn’t want to bother you, but knows you have work to do.
Choso goes into the bedroom, but the sight of your peacefully sleeping form causes a pain in his heart. He lays down beside you on his side watching you sleep. So innocent, so peaceful. He sighs before whispering, “hey. It’s time to wake up.” But nothing. Just a little louder, “hey it’s time,” his hand reaches for your face, caressing it entirely.
You start to stir, a smile cresting your face the moment you see his own. Immediately pushing your face into his chest. “One … more … minute.”
It’s still so foreign to him—your affection, not that he’s complaining. As it sends butterflies up and down his body. Choso loves you whole heartily and it pains him to disturb you in any way no matter how small or how great the need.
Perhaps in a sort of a silent apology, he wraps both arms around your body holding you even closer.
Rubbing your back, wishing this could last forever. You push back to get up, but his grip only tightens, “just a minute longer …” His deep voice cooing in your ear, as his finger traces your spine soothingly, up and down, up and down.
It is only until he falls asleep, (which is very soon) is when you are able to pull away from him. Begrudgingly so. Taking slow, careful steps to the bathroom, you stop to watch this angel of a man for a brief time before jumping into the shower.
Then even when you come back, he holding the pillow in his arms, his head nuzzling the soft fabric pretending it’s you. What a precious man … You kiss his temple before leaving, counting the seconds that you’re back in his arms.
⋆ Nanami ⋆
Nanami sits at the counter, sipping away at his coffee whilst reading the newspaper. Looking at his watch, it’s getting late. Though he hates disturbing your slumber, he better wake you up. Folding the paper in one fluid motion, he makes his way to your shared bedroom.
Turning the corner, as your back comes into view—he stops dead in his tracks. He stands there trying to decide in his head how best to wake you up in the most gentlest and lovingly way possible.
His knee finds the bed first then his body before he slides his left arm around underneath you. He buries his face in your hair, eyes closed at the sweet warm smell of you. His lips curves upward in a most satisfying smile as he says your name out loud.
But nothing. You don’t even stir. He looks over, hovering over you to see your face. Nothing.
Resting his face gently on yours, he notices your hand, the glint of your rings reminding him of one special fact. That you’re married to him.
Intertwining his fingers with yours. (The lefts of course.) Watching as your wedding bands shine and sparkle. They look good together. His—he wears for you. And yours—you wear for him. The latter, no matter how many days or months, or years go by. He can’t help but be is disbelief. Forever grateful for his luck.
When your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see, are the blonde strands of your husband’s hair in view. “Ken?”
“I’m sorry dear, but it’s time to wake up.”
“Okay, okay … I’m getting up.” You turn on your back coming face to face with him, he releases his arm. Your left hand—knowing that he loves the cold steel on your engagement and wedding ring on his skin—caresses his face. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he leans in, gently but passionately kissing you. The kiss grows deeper as your arms wrap around his broad shoulders.
But he has to break away lest he’ll be here in your arms all day. Though he was the one to (regretfully) break away, his face blushes and wears a perpetual smile, knowing that the sooner tonight comes, the sooner he can have back in his arms.
⋆ Geto ⋆
You were to supposed to wake up an hour ago. Geto knows this as he stands on the side of the stage. With furrowed brows, he sees an empty space between the girls. Your normal spot, but you’re not there. Texting them, they reply back that they tried but you wouldn’t wake up.
He walks to your bedroom (his bedroom also of course) only to witness a beautiful sight:
Sliding the door open, he sees the sunlight glow from the window. His eyes follow the beams to the huge bed, it’s canopy draped in mystical dark fabric. There, sleeping is you, slumbering like a princess waiting for her prince.
The bed dips down with a low creak when he sits at the edge. His fingers grazes your face, as though to memorize each and every detail of your delicate face. His thumb lightly rubs against your cheek before he gently pulls away any hair in your face—no matter how short.
Geto’s eyes turn down, watching as the covers slowly, and rhythmically go up and down, up and down. Your breathing so soft and sound. Seeing you so peaceful is contagious. It relaxes him.
Only when his finger traces your jawline, is when you finally start to stir. “Good morning princess.”
Stretching with one eye open, “good morning Prince Charming.” Then stretching into his touch as his hand never leaves, cupping your face. “What time is it?”
“Well …” He looks at the clock, it’s certainly not morning. Geto lets out a single scoff. “It doesn’t matter, just for today, lay back down.” He leans in to kiss your temple, gently pushing you back down..
In return, you smile at him. Such a bright beautiful smile, rivaling that of the sun. In truth, you have no idea what your little seducing grin does to him. He leans down and kisses you like the dark prince that he is.
⋆ Kusakabe ⋆
You told him that you’ll wake up in ten minutes, but it’s been a half an hour and you’re still not up. “Damn it,” he chugs down his coffee, slamming it down before stomping towards the bedroom with his usual grumpy demeanor. But your face betrays him. Your sleeping form erasing any annoyance, any anger. Immediately cooling down his hot temper.
He sighs, leaning his head on the door frame. Every part of him wants to let you sleep, but he knows you have to wake up.
“Hey,” his hand cups your shoulder lightly—ever so lightly shaking it.
“Hm?”
“It’s time to wake up.”
“Ten more minutes …” Your foggy voice causing him to let out a single chuckle. Even as you turn around, pulling the covers over you, he leans over the bed, shoulders rising and falling, a smirk on his face.
What the hell. He might as well.
The bed dips as he lays behind you, suit and all, just minus the jacket and shoes, wrapping an arm around you. Intertwining your fingers with his around your stomach, he nuzzles his face in the nook of your neck. Pushing his leg between yours, Kusakabe whispers, “it’s been thirty minutes. Come on.” His urgent words betrays his actions, kissing your neck. What he would give to stay here like this.
Feeling your body stretch under his own, he holds on tighter. “Okay, I’m up.” He releases you—regretfully—only when you push through. But he manages one last kiss on your back between your shoulder blades, before falling on his back. Turning back to him, “good morning,” your half lidded gaze causing him to chuckle.
“Morin’in,” he smiles at you, as the morning sun highlights your features. You’re even more beautiful than the day he met you. Hell, each day, you grow more beautiful than the day before. He doesn’t know how you do it., but you do.
“What?” Wondering why he’s looking at you with his smirk.
“Nothing,” he lazily traces your wrist, “get ready.”
With another stretch, you push off the mattress. The little pitter patters of your feet to bathroom paired with your adorably sleepy look—Kusakabe can’t help but to smile.
⋆ Sukuna ⋆
It’s the afternoon, Sukuna sits watching as some pathetic lord pleads for … something. He’s not listening, as he only wonders why you’re not standing to his right. Looking at Uraume to his left, they know what he’s asking even though Sukuna never opens up his mouth, “I believe she’s still sleeping.”
You can sleep but not him? No. Not good enough for the King of Curses. He makes his way to your bedroom to see that Uraume was right. You’re sleeping. His crimson eyes never leaving you, even as he slides the door shut.
He should grab you by your ankle and shake you awake. But no. You’re a delicate flower. His delicate little flower. He kneels before the bed, head tilting, resting on one of his forearms as though he’s studying something foreign. How on Earth are you his?
His finger traces the bridge of your nose. The moment you toss a little, he starts to giggle, only to do it again.
“Sukuna …” Now he fully chuckles. His raspy voice briefly growing soft. His entire hand engulfs your face as he caresses it, so, so gently. So uncharacteristic of the brooding King of Curses but not uncharacteristic of your Sukuna.
Resting his head on the bed as he continues to caress your face. You shoo his hand away to no avail. He mockingly mimics your hand movement with another hand. “Stop it.” Then it suddenly hits—even in this daze. “What time is it?” Your wide eyes, trying to stay open only continues to amuse him.
But he shuts your lids back close, his whole hand once again engulfing your face, “move over.” And you scoot over allowing him room to lay next to you. Two arms cup you and pull onto him. The rhythm of his breathing—his chest going up and down like a lullaby lulling you back to sleep.
He breaths you in, you that represents everything good in his life. Kissing the top of your head.
⋆ Higuruma ⋆
With your husband working late yet again tonight, and dying to see you, he called you to hang out at the office. Once there, you, him, and Shimizu share take-out. After deciding to stay to help out a bit and give moral support, the minutes turn to hours and soon, he finds you asleep at the empty desk to his left.
Shimizu watches with a smile as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders. He does the same to her of course—because he’s a gentleman, but with you, it’s the way he tucks you in, pushing and pulling the fabric so that it covers as much as it can.
Hours later, she’s gone but he’s still reading documents, his gaze every so often settling on your sleeping body. Looking at the clock—it’s very, very late. He doesn’t mind himself, but you, it’s another story.
Squatting down beside you, “hey,” he rubs your head, pushing away any strands of hair. He takes your hand and starts rubbing it with his thumb.
“Hm?”
“Come on, let’s go home.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, no, no, come on.” His deep voice dips down into a most wonderful whisper, not knowing that it relaxes you even more. Your eyes slowly open meeting his own. “Ready?” But you shake your head no. Hiromi laughs in response, kissing you, sending a bolt of lighting through your body.
You chase the kiss even as he slightly pulls back—he had no idea that, that would wake you up—now he knows. As an apology from pulling away, his hand finds it’s way into your hair as he pushes his lips back into yours. Engulfing you.
The whole way home, he walks holding your hand, chuckling at your half lidded gaze. Soaking up every moment as you lean your head on him whilst on the train. Still wearing his jacket all the while.
Finally back home, you collapse on the bed. Clothes and all. But Hiromi slides right next to you. One arm around your shoulders, and the other, intertwining fingers. He kisses your forehead as he falls asleep with you.
tags: fluff ⋆ mentions of violence & blood ⋆ angst: Nanami & Geto ⋆ but spoiler: all have happy endings ⋆ mutual pining ⋆ some has first kisses ⋆ true form Sukuna
not a sequel but there is also: JJK Men Healing You After A Mission
It was an off day—a lucky day though. No-one died, but a few did get hurt. Luckily, Gojo came in and saved the day, literally. As Shoko’s assistant, it was up to you to help with the lesser injures so that she can take care of the more critical injuries.
You follow her into the waiting room, there seated on the bench waiting, a student, a student, another student, a long legged smirking idiot, and another student.
“Gojo?” Shoko asks. He looks up pouting.
“I got an ouchie.~” His pout and child-like tone making the kids laugh. Even you giggle knowing that for a brief second, these kids found some sort of light in this situation.
“Couldn’t you heal yourself?” His neck turns to her, reminding her of something. “Oh right …” She walks off with a smile whilst escorting the youngest student.
The children are dealt with. The biggest injury being a rather nasty scrape. Thankfully. “Why don’t you get Gojo—I need a smoke.” You turn to see him still seated.
Now on a gurney, you clean off his ‘ouchie’, a little cut on his index finger. “There, all done.”
“Already?” He looks his finger.
“I know …” you say with a giggle. “But, since you did the right thing waiting your turn until everyone was looked after. I got something for ya…” Your rummage through the cabinet, “good boys get a sticker!” You place a little bunny sticker on his chest. He looks down at it.
“So, what do good men get?” Your face contorts, burning wildly, absolutely flustered. Waving him off, oh what a joker. “I’m serious.”
“Oh? What do you have in mind,” your fingers hovering over the HR department’s number in your pocket, glaring down at him.
“Oh I don’t know … A date … A kiss on the cheek … Nothing that will involve you calling the HR department.” He points to your pocket, you cough pulling your hand out of your pocket. How does he know? Oh, right. He’s Gojo.
He head turns down almost sad, “if you don’t want to—I’ll leave you alone—” But Gojo is interrupted by your soft lips on his cheek. You back up trying to smudge away your lipstick. “NO! Leave it. It’ll make the other guys jealous!” But you try to wipe it away with a napkin even as he squirms.
“Gojo sit still!” Meanwhile, Shoko walks past the room, eyes wide watching on as you try to wrangle Gojo’s huge frame like a huge overgrown child. She grabs the door knob and silently closes the door, wishing she could bleach her eyes.
The two of you still squirm but stop suddenly when Gojo grabs the side of your face, he smiles widely before giving a soft yet meaningful peck on your lip. “So, dinner tomorrow?”
“I got work,” you cringe.
An even wider smile, “yeah, not anymore.” He jumps off the gurney, standing before the door, wondering when it closed, opening it, yelling in the hallway, “Shoko!~ I need to talk to you about the schedule.~”
⋆ Choso ⋆
“Choso?” Your face contorts—he can heal himself surely, but your ‘boss’ Shoko just nods chewing on some gum (a new habit since she stopped smoking).
Walking in the room, he’s already sitting on the gurney looking at anything and everything. His arms and neck are scratched up—something is afoot here.
“It doesn’t burn?” He shakes his head. “If anything hurts just tell me, okay?” He nods his head. Once you finished patching up his arm, now you must help with the cut on his neck. “Choso, I need to see this one okay? I’m going to move your head up and down—then just stay still.” He nods his head again.
“Y-yes.”
The moment your delicate fingers touch his neck, pushing his head up, his face turns a bright red.
“Choso, I gotta ask: can’t you heal by yourself?”
“I uh …”
“Be honest.”
“I can.”
“Thank you for being honest. Now who told you to come to me?”
“Shoko and Yuji …” You sigh loudly. Those two... Meanwhile, he’s sweating because the following notion hits him,“are you taking care of me, taking time away from people who need it?”
“Nah, I made sure to take care of the others first.” Of course you did, knowing that he could heal himself.
“I uh … I can take care of you—” Biting down on his own lip to shut him up, he has no idea about the words coming out of his mouth. “What I mean is—if something ever happens—” Every word that comes out of his mouth hurts him more than any physical wound.
“It’s alright,” you hold a band-aid for him to choose, he chooses the black one. “But I’ll take you up on that offer. In the mean time, just make sure you take care of yourself, okay?” You smile at him.
He’s mesmerized at your smile, your kind, helping aura “… You’re a beautiful person.”
You giggle, “like you?”
“I’m … not a per—” He stops himself. “Thank you.” A small but meaningful smile making it’s way onto his face. “I would like to take you out for ice cream and maybe we could sit at the park and get to know each other.”
Your eyebrow furrow, “who told you to do that?”
He looks at you as though you said something foreign, and he just shakes his head, “no-one.” He is not lying.
“Oh!” Clearing your throat, “… Well. Yes then.”
He nods his head once whilst jumping off the gurney. “I will wait until you get off then.” Choso walks away, hands in his enlarged sleeves. Absolutely zen, whilst you hurry to fix your hair and make-up.
⋆ Nanami ⋆
While on a mission with Ino, he receives a call, within minutes a very angry Nanami arrives. Ino tries to talk him down but no avail. One night, you heard about the high school days of Nanami, Gojo, Shoko, and even Ijichi. Those many happy memories overshadowed by a few particular dark days.
One including one of his closest friends.
Nanami had every right to be worried, both of you were too under skilled to take on this curse. Poor Ino was seriously hurt, Gojo had to come to teleport him out of there.
Left alone, Nanami is seething, he is trying to keep it back, but it’s not working. Looking down, you can see blood driplets on the ground. Tracing them back to Nanami, you see his right hand drips red.
“Nanami.” You pull up his arm, pulling back the tan cuff. “I think you’re bleeding.”
“I’m … fine.”
“Please.”
Immediately getting to work, however, the wound is too high on his arm to just pull up the sleeve, “Um … ” You try to rip the shirt allowing you better access. He says nothing, but rips the sleeve off like it’s nothing.
Whilst you stand there, “okay …” adverting your gaze. This guy … looks like this. You are reminded of the old pictures of the high school crew. Shoko with her once bright eyes. Geto before all the stuff happened. And Nanami, skinny armed Nanami with the weird emo haircut. How?
Tying the jacket around his arm, he gets a ding, reading the message, “Ino is okay.”
A sigh of relief. “Good, good.”
You sit on the opposite side of him, “is there anything else I can do?”
“Just stay with me for a while.” You lean your head on him, and you feel him do the same. Taking the occasional deep breath. His hand gently gripping your own. The two of you alone at the bus stop, just the sound of the rains beating down on the glass panels.
“I think it’s time …”
“Time for what?”
“… I’m putting in my two weeks. No more.” The though of Nanami not walking around Jujutsu High anymore is a saddening thought. His thumb keeps rubbing that area between your own thumb and index finger. “You can always visit me.” The way he says that, more of a plea rather than a suggestion.
“Can you make two houses?” You jokingly ask, but truthfully you’re more serious than ever.
The corners of his mouth shoot up, his mouth opens but nothing comes out. “We can always share a house, you one side, me the other—if you’re comfortable with that.”
“I am.”
“… I’m sorry. Just a silly dream. But I am serious, I would enjoy your visit.”
“I’m serious.” He looks down at you, your eyes, not lying. As though fate agreed, Ijichi comes pulling up.
“We’ll be at Shoko’s in no time.” He looks up at the rear view mirror at you, “then where to?”
“I got to speak to the higher ups.”
⋆ Geto ⋆
You are the new nurse for the ‘family’. Hired just recently.
Geto returns from an outing, his dark garb darker than before, you immediately instruct him to take it off. He takes off the monk entire, coming back with his shirt off and hair, completely down. Yeah, it does not do him justice. This man is huge. But your sudden mesmerized dissipates when you see the large gash that runs across his wide chest.
But he walks like it’s nothing, sitting on the gurney, his luscious raven black hair flowing down. “May I?”
“Of course,” you push back his hair. It’s so soft … You immediately get to work, cleaning, disaffecting. “How do you like it here?”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in—that he’s talking to you. “Oh, um it’s fantastic. I’m really grateful.”
“That’s good …” a small smile making it’s way to his porcelain face.
“Mr. Geto—Master Geto—forgive which one is it?”
“Just Geto.”
“Mr. Geto, I’m sorry I’ll have to stitch this up.”
“You’re just doing your job.”
“Yes sir—,” you roll away on your chair fetching supplies, “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t need to.” Stop talking.
“Of course,” he says in a voice like silk. You hold you hands up to him, they tremble just a little. But he grabs each of them, softly, gently. “Right now, I am just Geto, just another sorcerer who just so happened to get hurt.”
“Y-Yes sir—Geto!”
“See? There.”
You stitch him in silence.
In the coming weeks, he comes in often, just sitting back watching you work on him. It’s almost as though he does it on purpose. The smallest bruise, cut or scrap, he comes in. Asking you each and every time how you are doing. The more you talk, the more he smiles, often drifting off. Your voice, almost like a sweet melody.
You even bought him a special blanket when he does fall asleep, tucking him in. He’ll sleep six to eight hours when with you. The girls say that has trouble sleeping, often just a couple of hours at a time. The stillness and quiet often making him ruminate.
Suggesting meditation, ASMR, and etc... he just smiles and nods, thanking you for your advice, but he’ll rather just head down to your office. You don’t mind after all, you welcome it. He’s nice to look at and fun to talk to.
At least once a week, you find flowers, stuffed animals at your desk. “They’re not necessary. But I am thankful.”
“I insist.” “Why would you rather not have me here?”
“No, no, it’s just … I have a feeling that just make up an excuse to be here. I hope that I’m not overstepping my station but is there something you want to talk about? I’m not a pro but maybe you just need someone to listen?”
His eye twitches, looking away he plays around with a pen. “I’m fine … thank you.” Looking back up at you, seeing your pleading eyes, making his shoulders slump. “I think I would like that.”
“Okay! Think about what you want to say, I’m going to get some water and close up so that no-one will bother us.” Immediately, after you leave, a wave of embarrassment and guilt flood him. He tries to protest when you come back but you gently urge him.
Hours later, he’s still explaining to you about his time at Jujutsu High. About Gojo. About Toji. You sit silently listening, his head on your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair.
At one point, a single tear drips from your face onto his. “Oh my God I am so sorry.”
For the first time that night he laughs, grabbing your hand, resting it on his lips. “Thank you for this.”
“Always. I’m your friend after all.” His eyes dart to you. Did I over step again?
“Just a friend?”
“Best friend?” You laugh nervously, your heart beating so fast that it might explode out of your chest.
His eyes turn back down your hand and he kisses it, “maybe … just maybe,” and the next few words come out in a pleading whisper, “… a little more?” A question? A pleading question.
“Are you hungry?”
“Hm?” Confused at the change of subject.
“Come on we need a proper date to start off with. Don’t worry, I’ll order, and we’ll away from everybody.”
You grab his hand and together, you both eat from the greasiest but homiest place you can find. Eating at a bench, whilst the sun rises, making new happy memories.
⋆ Kusakabe ⋆
Kusakabe walks into the nurse’s office with three students looking like they just came back from war. You and Shoko immediately get to work.
As always, the students are cared for first. Once—almost—finished and back into the waiting you and Shoko see Kusakabe still there, trying to unwrap a lollipop it seems with one hand. “Everyone is almost done and taken care of,” Shoko grabs the last student gently by the shoulders turns to the teacher, “what about you?”
“Eh it’s nothing.” Kusakabe lifts his hand from his pocket, it’s all bloodied and there is a dark slash on the back of his hand.
“Take him, start on him, I’ll come around as soon as I’m done with this one.”
Now seated down, he peels away his jacket, the whole side of his white shirt is painted red with blood. He’s still trying to unwrap a lollipop but it just keeps getting covered in blood.
“Here,” you have some for the students, unwrapping it and handing it to him.
“… Thanks.”
Nodding your head getting to work, disaffecting it. His hand is splayed on a sanitized table. Handling them, you can’t help but to surmise how they’re large, and rougher than most of the men here. But you can’t let these thoughts distract you. Powering on, sewing on stitches. He barely flinches, just sucking away at his trademark lolly.
Finally wrapping it in a bandage, “all done.”
His eyes seem different, not severe as it usually is, as he looks at his hand, “thanks.” Finally he look back at you, “really.”
“If you need anything, call me or come back.”
Still studying his hand, “… I don’t have your number.”
“Oh!” You grab a business card, “my cell is on the bottom.”
“Sure.” He grabs it in between two fingers, looking at your name, number, and the little kawaii animal in the corner in the nurse garb that says, ‘everything is going to be a-ok!’. He chuckles once.
A couple of days later.~
After break, you come in to see that familiar trench coat. Clean now … or is it a new one. Shoko asks, “Kusakabe, what are here for?”
“A change,” he lifts his bandaged hand.
“Very well. Follow me.” She leads him.
But he looks at you, “she did it.”
“Oh?” a mischievous smirk painting on her face. “And you want her to do it?” It hits him—she did it on purpose. Not coming in the other day, trying to take him in today. His head lowers, women.
“I don’t mind.” You interject. “Come on Kusakabe.”
He follows you but is stopped by Shoko whispering your favorite restaurant to him, “a way of thanking her …” Before walking off.
As you work on his hand, you notice, he won’t stop fidgeting, constantly rubbing his neck. “Hey uh, ever been to that one place--” to your amazement, you know instantly which restaurant.
“Yeah I love that place!”
“Why don’t I take you there, tomorrow? Or …”
“You don’t have to thank me, I don’t do this so for anything in return.”
“It’s not for … thanking …” Hiding your face—feeling the rush of heat, he continues frantically, “I mean it is sure but—” A bead of sweat slowly slides down the side of his face and he twirls the lollipop up, down, left, right and all around.
“Tomorrow then … I get off at 5.”
“Five then.”
All three of you smile, Kusakabe, you, and Shoko, who leans on the wall by the door listening.
⋆ Sukuna ⋆
He sits waiting for you, having just arriving back from a vicious fight with another clan.
Uruame hurriedly escorts you into the room, leaving you two alone immediately.
Bowing in respect, you start as soon as you retain your posture. Picking up his large arms, washing away the debris and dirt, bandaging it up with cloth. Working as efficiently as possible.
Even on his back, he has multiple cuts and bruises. Applying natural solutions to each and everyone.
Once you reach his front again, you suddenly stop—transfixed by the sight of him … sleeping? Seeing that all of his eyes are closed, his head propped up with one arm.
The last wound, a cut slashed across his face. Normally, you are not afraid to touch him—it’s your job after all. But him, here, sleeping… Is it appropriate? Your hand reaches, clenching and unclenching in hesitation. “Do it.” His voice booms—as though reading your mind.
You place the wet rag against his face, cleaning away the debris. You feel him slowly leaning into your touch. When you pull away, he grabs onto your sleeve and pulls you back, his head setting on your chest.
“I uh …” Not knowing what to do, you stay there, dumbfounded. Looking down at his pink hair, seeing some dirt, and still with the wet rag, you apply it, removing said dirt. When that doesn’t work, you brush it away.
“Don’t. … Stop.”
And you don’t, running your fingers through his hair, over and over. For a man like Sukuna, his hair is soft and feathery. He lets out a low groan, as he wraps two arms around you, using your body like a pillow. And it’s comfortable for you as well.
Eventually, your own eyes started to grow heavy as your body sinks into slumber.
The next day, you awaken in your own bed, sheets all the way up to your chin, as though someone tucked you in. Shooting up, your realize, you must have disrespected him. Walking at top speed through the estate, you find Uruame and fall into a bow.
“Thank you for putting me back in my bed—but I must first apologize to Master Sukuna.”
“Why?” they ask.
“Huh? You peer up, “didn’t you—”
“Master Sukuna put you back.”
“Oh … Oh!”
“And,” they come up to your ears, “I don’t think that there is nothing to apologize for.” They smirk whilst walking off, “but I think he would enjoy another audience with you.”
“Uruame?” asking one last question. “Master Sukuna can heal himself, why does he require me?”
“I don’t question what makes my master happy.”
⋆ Higuruma ⋆
After a mission, you stand watching this particular curse turn to dust. This was the toughest fight you have been through. “Are you alright?” A deep voice brings you back. It’s Higuruma, your partner during this particular mission, who is fixing his cuffs. You’re bruised and battered—but thankfully nothing more. “I’m fine.”
He lets out the tiniest of smiles and nods his head once before looking around. “Well I guess we better go—I think I need to go see Shoko.”
“Hm?” He pulls back his shirt to see that the left side of his torso is painted red. “Oh!”
“It’s … fine.”
“Sit, sit.” You push his to the nearest bench. Thankfully no-one else is around. “Call Ijichi, I’ll try to stop the bleeding in the meantime.”
“I’m—” you pull the shirt away from the wound, thankfully, it’s not deep, but it’s rather large. Sighing, he relents pulling out his cell phone.
As he calls Ijichi, you get to work, cleaning away at it. Thankfully, you brought a first aid kit. He hisses when you apply the alcohol. “Sorry.”
“No … I’m thankful.” Looking down, he watches the way your mouth moves but says nothing, how your nose scrunches, how long your eyelashes are. He feels so guilty to enjoy this whilst you seem like you were in panic mode for a brief time. The voice on the other line is speaking but he pays it no mind, just enjoying watching you.
Finally snapping back, “yeah we need a pick up … take your time—”
Your teeth clench as you grab Higuruma’s wrist, pulling it down with the phone, “hurry, he’s hurt!” His grin won’t leave, loving the assert-fullness. “All done, hopefully I didn’t hurt you … further.”
“Nah, it was …” trying to search for the right words, “you were very gentle.” His fingers trace around the gauze, not for him, but searching for your touch.
“Good, good.” You sit next to him, dejected.
“Hey, you did good.” But you glare at him—this mission was a disaster.
Frowning only once he watches the car pull up. Luckily, you sit right next to him. And even more thankfully, one of the gauze fall off and your hand rushes to push it back up. Not knowing he was doing the same.
But you were faster, with his hand resting on top of your own. You try to pull away, but his hand keeps you there. You don’t mind, of course.
Looking up at him, he’s already looking at you. Slowly, you two lean forward towards each other. Just as your lips are about to touch, you hear Ijichi whimper, griping the steering wheel. Face flushed red. He saw you two.
Opening the door for Higuruma, Ijichi whispers, “I’m sorry.”
You sit in the waiting room, tired. But thankfully, Higuruma soon comes back out, properly healed this time. You lead him from the building, but he grabs your wrist pulling you into his arms, whilst holding your chin still, he crashes his lips in yours. A kiss to take your breath away.
He pulls back smiling, red cheeked, like a love drunk teenager. Smiling so much so, that his eyes squint. "Sorry, I don't know what got into me."
You're mesmerized by his smile--he should do that more often. "I'm ... not complaining." All whilst your fingertips trace your lips desperately trying to find any lingering traces of him.
He walks forward, both hands in his pockets, "so ... are you hungry."
"Sure."
"I know of a place, if you're interested?" You only nod your head in response. "Okay then, come with me." He gently grabs your hand whisking you off into the night.
SFW ⋆ x Female Reader ⋆ no use of ‘y/n’ ⋆ about 4,342 words
tags: fluff ⋆ very, very slight angst ⋆ reader has slight insecurities (but you get over it—after all, you are smart, beautiful, and powerful) ⋆ first kiss ⋆ eventual relationship
You were hired to be the secretary of the Higuruma Law Office. Answer phone calls, grab coffee, sorting documents and making schedules little stuff like that. But you had no idea what a mess it would be working for him.
Luckily your pay is fixed, but damn is it a lot of work. He constantly looks like he’s going to kneel over. Poor Shimizu—who has become an overnight friend to you—is not too far behind. There is a tinge of regret when you’re the last to arrive and the first to leave. But then again, you’re not the lawyer here. Yet sometimes you daydream about them. These two are helping people. How you wish you could do the same.
At times, you even find yourself looking over to him, There is an everyday man quality about him—but there’s something else. His deep voice, large doe-brown eyes, broad shoulders. Peering over to see him reading some papers, noticing how the light illuminates him … No matter, you’re just a secretary. Shifting through the documents, you notice that your new boss has nice writing. Whilst absentmindedly tracing his characters, it would be nice … perhaps in some other world.
One day, as you sit with Shimizu, “what time do you get off tonight?” you ask.
She looks back Higuruma and then shrugs, not knowing exactly, only sure that it will be overtime for her. “My show was on tonight … I can record it sure, but … ah! Never mind.”
Not so much later, you’re done for tonight, but decide to stay knowing that you won’t get paid. Hoping you can help Shimizu so she can get home a little earlier. After all, one hour won’t hurt.
Helping out in anyway you can, even making phone calls for her trying to get information. Well the hour extends to two when you’re tasked to pick up something.
Throwing the papers on the desk, you sigh tiredly. “I don’t have to pick it up!?” She materializes out of no where.
“Nope, go watch your show.” She grabs you in a bear hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” many more thank yous as she runs out of the office.
Going into the office, “Mr. Higuruma, is that all today?”
“Yes.” He stops you from leaving, “you understand that—”
“I understand that’s there is no overtime pay—tonight I had nothing else to do. It was actually fun … kind of.”
He sighs, “thank you,” repaying you with a small smile.
You nod, leaving. As you walk out the door, you glance up at the picture on the wall, in the reflection. for a brief second, you swear he was looking up at you. But no … Maybe? He was.
A few days later ~
He leans over your desk explaining to you about the schedule, how he believes it could be more efficient. His voice is deep and subtly powerful, making your ears pop in the most spectacular way. Watching his hands, specifically his finger move from document to computer, he’s strong. And he stands there tall and broad shouldered. With you, minuscule in comparison. You shiver at the fact he’s leaning over you so close.
“Got it?” You nod, no you don’t—but you’ll wing it. He’s not convinced either but will leave you to it. “Just …” He plays with the tip of his tie, “apply yourself.”
All emotion, all tingles left from him gets burned up in the fires of rage. ‘Apply yourself.’ As though you haven’t. Since that first night of unpaid overtime, you’ve worked countless of days just like that and now he’s telling you to ‘apply yourself’. Mentally privileged …
Finishing work today, you grab your jacket and purse and rush out of the door.
~
Shimizu joins you at your desk, both of you are enjoying lunch and just chatting. Even when Higuruma comes in, he doesn’t mind, doesn’t bother either of you.
“Law school was a bit of a struggle for me.” Shimizu continues with the conversation. “The pressure!”
“God I could imagine. But, yeah I was never the smartest in the group. I just…couldn’t—p”
“I disagree with all that.” Both of you look up, Higuruma speaks without looking up, his eyes also reading a document. “I find that everyone is smart but just choose not to be. Choosing the easy way.”
You turn to Shimizu and using your thumb to point to him “take a look at this guy”. Having finished here, you walk past her, whispering, “people like him are a problem.”
“What’s a problem is that people don’t apply themselves.” He heard that too. “If you apply yourself—”
Triggered. “Forgive me Mr. Higuruma but not everyone is as smart—or as quick as you, you know?”
He sighs running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not a matter of that—most people don’t put in the time and effort—”
“You cannot comprehend that not everyone has the same … brain power as you.” Meanwhile Shimizu is continuing to melt into her seat, sipping away at her juice box. Much like a child watching mom and dad argue. He lifts a finger to you to interject—but, “no, no, don’t you lift a finger to me, don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” there he goes smoothing his tie over his chest.
“Hmp!” You leave to the other room.
His head twists as he tugs at the top of his tie before ‘pretends to read something’, but he’s just … not understanding how he’s feeling.
The next day. ~
With the two of them at the courthouse, you are left behind to answer any calls and to organize anything left behind. Suddenly—you get a call, it’s Shimizu.
They forgot an important document. You run as fast as your legs can carry you. Adrenaline kicking in. She told you that Higuruma is already waiting for you. Running up the marble stairs, he comes in your view, staring at a lady of justice statue, hands in his pockets. “Mr. Higuruma!”
He jumps up to you, handing him the folder, “thank you”. He waves you off.
You stand there … not understanding how you’re feeling. Here, you’re just a lowly secretary. Watching him walk off, all important, strong, his wide shoulders. He has a nice walk … He’ll never—
Shaking your head. No … It’s time to work on yourself. Not knowing what to do, you stand and watch the statue as well. Feeling incredibly tiny next to it, before finally sitting by a nearby bench. Yesterday’s outburst was embarrassing, but you’re going to stick by your guns.
Watching everyone walk to and fro. You can’t help but to feel so out of place. Not important enough.
~
“It’s not working out here.” He sits there staring blankly at you. Blinking nonchalantly.
“I never took you for a person to quit so easily.”
You tilt your head, “my mental health since working here has taken a toll—I don’t appreciate being insinuated that I’m dumb.”
“—I never said that.” He points a finger without hesitation.
“Don’t!” But his fingers remains there.
“I understand that not everyone is me nor am I like everyone else. But I said that to you because I believe in you and you can do so much more.”
“… Are you implying that I’m lazy?”
He intertwines his fingers on his desk, shaking his head, “absolutely not. You work hard but I believe that you just don’t believe in yourself so you’re satisfied to just keep playing this safe game of doing simple tasks when I believe that you’re capable of much more important tasks.”
“I am a secretary, sir. I was hired to get coffee, answer phone calls, and help out with minute tasks. What more do you want?” He just stares at you … You’re right. You’re absolutely right. “Two weeks.”
He sits there watching you leave. What exactly does he want?
~
Another day is over and Higuruma walks up to you, placing a hand on the back of your chair. “I want to apologize.” Nodding your head. “You were right. Personally, I think—with your capabilities—you should go back to school or something,” His mouth is going a mile a minute, talking so fast, not even to stop to breath.
“As I believe that it’s a waste that you are stuck here as a secertary. I mean, if you did decide to go back to school, we can make a schedule and hire you part time but that’s impossible with your salary. And I wish I can pay both you and Shimizu more, I really wish. Just as I wish for you to give me a second chance. Please …” He looks down at you with pleading eyes, “or at least until you find someone better to work for.”
Hesitating, allowing his words to sink in. Perhaps, one more chance. Oh how you’ll miss Shimizu … and him.
“I’m sorry too…”
“One more chance?”
“… Maybe a couple.”
“I’ll take it.” His fist taps your chair before a smile finds it’s way to his face. The first time all day.
In the coming days, you continue your usual duties, but you also started to trail after Shimizu. Having agreed with your boss, you apply yourself just a tad more, being tasked to double check the documents, lending a third set of eyes, learning about various terms and such.
At times, you’re even sent to interview people who would normally be frightened by the other two. Maybe all this good will, will lead to something when he makes big … but in the mean time, you are helping people, albeit not in the way you daydreamed, but you are none the less. Plus … it’s kind of fun.
Shimizu watches on as you pour over documents, organizing them, also watching as Higuruma eyes your face, tilting his head to get a better view. His eyes shine with a little sparkle. Perhaps it’s your concentrated face—but he can’t look away.
The moment you turn to him, his head whips to the other side—obviously pretending to read the paper in his hand. He walks away fidgeting with his tie, and Shimizu, wearing a smirk with the flimsy straw from the juice box dangling from her lips traces his movement in her swiveling chair.
Before a certain trial, you help them off, Shimizu being the only witness as she watches as your eyes turn down to his chest—his tie more specifically. You point to it, he looks down, you reach but ask something, in turn he nods his head. While you fix up his tie, your mouth moves but his eyes stay glued on your face.
~
He sits back, one leg kicked up across his knee, bouncing up and down. A pen tapping his chin. His eyes like daggers as he watches you grinning like a giddy schoolgirl as you laugh with his new client.
After the client leaves, Higuruma grabs a document from your desk, “is that your type?”
“Huh?” Turning to him.
“He’s on trial for assault …”
“Yeah, and if you took his case—he’s most likely innocent.”
“The money is good. I need to pay you and Shimizu some how.”
You walk past him, “too bad you’re not in it for the money,” tapping his chest with the document. He’s a horrible liar—and he knows it.
“Is he—” He turns and you’re not there. “You’re … type?”
~
“I’ll be right back,” Higuruma hooks a finger on his tie and pulls it down ever so slightly. He walks out, and Shimizu watches as you turn to him and grab his tie. You’re obviously complaining, not noticing the small smile cresting his face and the little shoulder raise with his giggle.
He comes back, folders in hand, that smile still plastered on his face.
“Geez Higuruma.” Shimzu twirls in her swiveling chair.
“What?”
“… Nothing.” A mischievous smile lays behind the straw.
A few days later. ~
A similar situation, he grabs a list of people for you to call and pulls down his tie a bit.
“Higuruma, pull the tie looser that way when she pulls it up, her fingers would graze your shirt.”
Confused, he looks down, flipping his tie up, then it hits him.If Shimizu knows, doesshe know? Eyes widen, he walks back to the front desk, occasionally looking back at Shimizu. On his way back, he stops. His mouth opens to say something but it just won’t leave, “she doesn’t know. After all, I think she thinks she’s not good enough.”
How absurd! His face wrinkles from such an absurd notion, “why?” Making his way back to his desk, then it hits him, if she didn’t care, why would she say that?
He props his face up with both hands, watching you. After the next trail ...
~
Today was a rough day. A young man—who was previously declared innocent was found guilty. This has been happening too often lately … Everyone is quiet today. Higuruma has an aura of silent rage.
Shimizu soon leaves, beckoning you a farewell. Just as it’s your turn, you enter the dark room, lit by a single lamp where Higuruma sits, reading document after document after document trying to find something, anything. You lay down a cup of coffee, steaming hot. He barely looks up at it, even as you poke it towards him.
You nod before turning heel and making your way back to the desk. “You can go now. Should have clocked out some time ago …”
“I got nothing to do …” But you walk back. “You know, if you take a little break—you can come back with fresh eyes.” He looks up at you. “I remember whenever I was up against a really tough boss, I would lose and lose. Then I would get so fed up that I would turn the system off only to come back and kick his ass, you know?” But he blinks blindly at you. “Come on, just five minutes.”
His eyes turn back to the cup, he takes it up and sips it, “it’s good …”
“Thank you—it’s a new blend.”
“Really?”
“Yep … Do you want to talk about it?”
“The coffee?”
“No—the, you know.”
“Nope,” he lightly shakes his head.
“Okay, I’ll be at my desk then.” He continues to stare at no-where, sipping his cup with slow precise movements. Almost like the calm before a storm. As though, he’s trying his hardest to keep whatever emotion in.
After some time—an hour or so, you look back to see him leaning over the filing cabinet. His eyes wild. Determined, you have to do something.
Asserting yourself between him and the cabinet—it takes a moment for his eyes to reach your own, “please, I’m worried about you.” Slowly he places the folder back before slamming the cabinet, making you jump.
“Sorry,” he rubs his tired eyes. “It was paid you know?” He smiles an ironic, sarcastic smile. “It was paid … It’s always the same people.” Not knowing what to say, you nod your head. “Right now, there is nothing to do.” He shrugs. “I can’t report them because … well everyone knows! And innocent people are taking the fall.”
“I don’t know what to say … Is there really nothing we could do?”
“Only find some concrete proof that he didn’t do it. Beyond, beyond reasonable doubt.”
Your hands are starting to shake finally understanding the weight on his shoulders, immediately you grab his tie, shimming it up. It has become a nervous twitch as of late.
He wraps his arm around your shoulder, engulfing you as a whole, before wrapping around his other arm. The weight of his body collapses you into the file cabinet. He was always a wide man—but never understood that for a lawyer, he’s actually pretty big.
His head rests on your shoulder. “Why are people so ugly?”
“I don’t know.”
It’s almost like a groan. You swear, his face is rubbing against your shoulder now. “So weak … Everyone is so ugly and weak.”
You blink at those words thinking of yourself. Of your previous arguments, ‘applying oneself’, etc… But you’re here. Yes at times you maybe weak—as is everyone—including him right now. All you can do now is to offer some words. As he did back then.
“It’s okay to be weak sometimes. Like now. But you have me. I’m here to catch you. It’s unrealistic to be strong all the time.” You start to rub his back, “you were there for me, you brought me back up. When I wanted to quit, you challenged me to stay and to tough it out. So … thank you.”
“You’re the strongest man I know, and I look up to you. But it’s okay to be like this sometimes. Take a step back to take two steps forward. Ya know?”
He pulls back, loosening his embrace. Those strands of dark hairs which never seem to stay back brush up against your forehead, he’s so, so close to you. A thumb traces your cheek, “you are the most beautiful person I know.”
A chuckle, that’s all you let out. But he’s dead serious.
His face hovers over yours, you watch as his eyes close for the briefest of seconds as he takes your lips. It’s warm and slow, he’s taking his time, embracing each and every second of you.
He pulls back for a moment to breathe. His eyes now a little wild, licking his lips before returning. Not more hungry than before, pushing you into the cabinet, one hand up against the cold steel, another around your waist.
You grab his shirt, closer, he most come closer.
Suddenly, he pulls back, twitching his head. “I—”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry …” For the briefest second, you reach for his tie before remembering that you just fixed it.
He grabs your wrist to pull your knuckles up to his face only to kiss it once. He’s thinking. It’s almost a light bulb moment. “Please go home, I got it from here,” he rushes back to his desk and starts rummaging through the documents.
You walk back to your desk, ready to get your purse and jacket—”Wait!” You turn to see his hand stretched out. “Wait a few minutes—I’ll walk you home. J-just …”
“I’ll take a nap on the couch—how’s that?”
“Fine. Fine! Tomorrow—take off.”
“Sure …” You flip off your heels and use your coat as a blanket as you slumber off.
You wake up groggy as hell. It was not comfortable at all. Peaking into his office, you see Higuruma, legs kicked up and crossed on the table, reclining in his seat, a towel over his eyes.
Standing there, last night’s events play again in your mind, his eyes, scared you. You were scared for him. Then that … kiss. You find yourself tracing the edges of your lips hoping to feel him. How? You don’t know. But no matter, no more beating around the bush, after the next trial, you’ll tell him your feelings …
After returning from your apartment, one shower and a donut trip later, you return to find him in the same exact spot. Now you are worried. Did something happen because he was so exhausted? Not even taking off your coat, you run over to him. Hovering over him, you see his chest heave up and down. Thank God, he’s alive.
Letting out a sigh, you turn, “I though I told you to take today off.” His deep voice—a sound you wanted to hear.
“Well I’m applying myself.”
“Just don’t overwork yourself.”
“Really? You should talk Sleeping Beauty.”
“No, that’s you.”
You can’t help but to grin like a kid. Thankfully he can’t see. “Go back to sleep, or at least come to the couch.”
“Nope, I’m waking up soon.”
Watching him laying there, a small smirk cresting his face. He called you Beauty. Is it in your head? Are you bold? Well apply yourself. You place your hand gently, on the towel, before lowering your face over his, he knows, his shoulders rise up and down in a giggle as you apply your lips around his lower lip. Something small, and modest, but meaningful all the same. “Wake up, I got donuts.” You kiss him once more on his cheek as a promise, that this won’t be the last time.
Higuruma walks in the room stretching his back. “Find anything last night?” Handing him a cup of coffee.
“I did. I just need Shimizu’s opinion.”
“Great! That’s great.”
He sits down dunking a donut in the steaming cup, his brows are furrowed, more than usual. And he’s hesitating about something. Just as you are about to ask him, he speaks out loud, “how about dinner sometime?”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s my job.”
He sits there staring deathly serious, eyes still half-lidded from the lack of sleep, “I’m not thanking you.” He bites down on the donut, he’s such a hot mess. “I’m asking to take you out”
“Oh … Oh!” The heat rushes to your face. “Sure. After the trial I assume.” He nods. “Then... yes.” Outside, you play it cool, but inside—how you wanted to jump out of your seat and do a happy little dance.
It was supposed to be after the next trial. With you two? Nope. It was later that week. It started with one date, immediately led to one date per week. Then moving in. You’re still his secretary. His secret weapon, as he so lovingly refers to you. Not being a lawyer, has it’s ups. People are not so afraid of you. They’ll talk to you.
Even whilst is the front office, people love to hang there. You watch the kids as the adults speak, putting on their favorite shows, even drawing for them. Giving snacks out to the waiting clients. Everyone loves you. You put them at ease, allowing them to be more calm around Higuruma and Shimizu.
An absolute asset.
~
Everyday, walking in, seeing that hulk of a man walk up to you. Just months ago, he would’ve just smiled, nodded and made his way in his office. Now, his smile is different. Loving. Not so afraid of his eyes to linger a bit.
Like that one time, when he was talking to another lawyer, you and him lock eyes, and he stays there, fighting back that smirk that wants to show.
Back at the office, stolen glances and light touches, his long fingers always seem to graze your own when you hand him papers, folders, coffee. It’s surprising how he likes to test the boundaries.
When no-one is there on late nights, he loves to ambush you. Kisses down your neck, arms wrapped around you.
You are more than content with being lovers behind the scenes—it’s professional after all. You’re both exclusive as well.
It doesn’t happen often, but Shimizu calls you, they forgot something. Much like last time, you rush to the court. Much like deja vu, you catch Higuruma standing before the Goddess of Justice statue watching it. “Mr. Higuruma!” You rush the documents into his hands, he lifts it up to wave it. But as you pull back, his face chases you, mouth rushing to your lips.
In. Front. Of. Everyone. He kisses you. Your eyes widen in shock. It was just a small peck but still. He pulls up, seeing your face, “what?” It’s so natural to kiss you he didn’t even know, even when you showed hima round. All the people watching the both of you. “Oh …” He shrugs, straightening his tie, “who cares what they think.”
You can see everyone’s eyes on you. How cliche that the secretary is sleeping with her boss … “But—”
“I’m sorry but this’ll have to wait afterwards,” he kisses your cheek this time, “I’ll see you soon.”
He meets you back at the office, “where’s Shimizu?”
“She went home.”
“Oh … How did it go?” He smiles and gives you a thumb’s up. “Good, good.”
“So, about today … I honestly didn’t think you’ll react that way.”
“I-It’s weird because I’m your secretary and you’re my boss so—”
“It doesn’t mean nothing. Please don’t care what people think.” He pulls back some strains of your hair before kissing your temple as he puts away some files. “after all, you made me look unprofessional.” He laughs.
“Oh um …” Not knowing what to say.
He leans down, hovering over you, a hand on the backrest of your chair, he kisses you, like sealing a promise. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“After all, I need people to know that you’re off the market. Wouldn’t it be nice for this to be a family practice one day right?”
“Yeah,” you smile at the notion—then it hits you what they mean, you turn back to see him mindlessly going through the filing cabinets like he said the most natural thing in the world.
~
One day, much like every other day. Hiromi hands you a folder, you open it up revealing a single piece of paper, just as you’re about to read it, something falls into your lap. Upon picking it up, a gold diamond ring, perfect in every way. Examining it, your eyes focus back on the paper. In regular pen scratch the words, in that familiar script that you love so much, “Marry me?”
Your head turns slowly to see him, smirking, face beet red, already on one knee. “Hm? What do you say?”
It’s a yes, as your arms fly around his neck. Catching you as your seat falls away. All whilst Shimizu records from the interior window.
You fog up the window pointing to your finger screaming, “Shimi he finally did it!”
“I know, I just wanted to try something different …” You hand Gojo that tie you found hidden deep within the closet. “No, no, no I want you to tie it.~”
“Wha-why?” Knowing he can do it do it himself.
“But I want you to do it.” His large blue eyes peering over the blackened glasses as he pouts like a bratty little child.
You let out an exasperated sigh, while taking hold of the simple black tie and twirl it around his neck. His eyes never leaving your face, even allowing his glasses to creep down all the way to the tip of his nose. The subtle touch of your gentle fingers brushing against his shirt is enough to send him the most wonderful tingles.
“There.” You smooth it down his chest before leaving. He looks down, to his surprise, you did it perfectly. Biting his lower lip, he gets a wonderful idea. Tugging down the tie, “oops!” He chases after you, “sweetie look what happened!~”
⋆ Choso ⋆
You hold up the phone so that Choso can learn how to tie his own tie. His face contorts into an agitated state. It’s already four times he tried. Defeated, he lets it fall. Standing before him, you reach out, “may I?”
“Please.” Setting the phone down where you can see it, you start helping him, glancing back over at the video. The moment your fingers brush the back of his neck, his lets out a small hiss, allowing his body a little jolt. You stop. “No! Don’t—” His face grows red.
“Okay.” You continue with a little smirk. Your touch soothing him, and much like a purring cat, he leans into your touch. Once done, you lean back, arms on your hips. “Eh … it’s …” He looks down, it’s not that good.
“Good enough,” he shrugs, not a care in the world.
⋆ Nanami ⋆
Kento bends down, watching the way your brows knit and furrow as you attempt your third? Forth try? He already lost count, not minding in the slightest, actually hoping that this never ends. Every touch of yours, like a gentle soothing breeze, sending butterflies throughout his body. No matter how many times you touch him, no matter how long, it always feels like it’s the first time. Gentle, loving, safe.
And he hopes he does the same for you. (He does.)
At he sight of your adorable determined face, he lets a near silent chuckle. You look up briefly but then continue. Kento then gently smooths back a lock of your hair.
“Like this?” you back away.
“Almost there, go ahead, try again.” And you do, again and again. All while he stands there happily patiently watching you, soaking up every second of this.
⋆ Geto ⋆
You always preferred him in a suit rather than the monk outfit. So, when he asked you to put one on him, you jumped at the idea. But it’s harder than you thought.
His eyes never leaving you, a sideways smirk gracing his perfect face. “Need help?”
“… Yes, please.”
Geto takes it from you. Then in such a gentle motion, he wraps it around you and skillfully ties it. “This is how you do it.”
“Why couldn’t you do it yourself?”
“Because,” grabbing the tie pulling you in for a kiss. “I love to tease you.”
*angry anime mark* You push him back, pulling it over your head and throw it at him. Hearing him giggle as you leave the room.
⋆ Kusakabe ⋆
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”
You rush over with two ties, a green and a purple one. Holding up one then the other to him—as he unwraps a lollipop, he taps the green one. You smile, typical.
Wrapping it around his neck, he lifts his head, making sure that the stick doesn’t get in your way. Once done, you shimmy it up a little too high and tight, briefly choking him, making him spit out the candy. “I am so sorry!” Luckily due to his reflexes, he catches it, eyes glued to you—believing you did it on purpose. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” your hand covering your mouth to hide the giggle, stepping to the side only once you smoothed it over.
“Yeah sure,” he’s not convinced, throwing on his trench coat.
“Have a nice day honey,” you give him the briefest peck. But just as you’re about to leave, Atsuya grabs your arm and pulls you back in and gives you a proper kiss enough to make you breathless. Once you pull back, blinking your eyes. “Oh …”
“Call if you need anything.” He leaves as though nothing happened, as though he didn’t give you the best kiss of your life whilst you stand there dumbfounded. Your fingers finding your lips trying to chase the feeling. All that’s left is the sweet after taste of his lollipop.
⋆ Sukuna ⋆
“Why do I need to wear this crap?” His view is off somewhere.
“Do you want a bow tie instead!?” You say so excitably, but his eyes snap back to you, an obvious no. “It’ll look adorable though.~” You say in a pout as he mockingly pouts back.
You suddenly tug at the tie, enough to pull him forward a bit, “do not mock me.” A wicked smile creeping on his face. As you continue, or at least try, he peppers kisses starting from your cheek and then down to your neck. Once there, you nudge him off. “Ryomen, no!” making him chuckle.
When finished, you smooth it down and immediately leave—or at least attempt to because he wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back, planting more mischievously delicious kisses on your jawline. He’s loving every second as you try to squirm out of his grasp (hell you enjoy it too).
⋆ Higuruma ⋆
As Hiromi reads various documents, preparing himself for today’s court case, you hurriedly wrap his favorite tie around his neck. To help, he lowers himself.
You even polish his badge, “have everything?”
“Yep,” He leans down, “kiss for good luck?”
You peck his lips tenderly, “Good luck, not that you need it.”
“Hm. But I want it.” He keeps pecking you even as he’s halfway out the door.
“Hiromi! Go!” You push him out—it’s all smiles though, you and him and his pretty smile as he walks off.
tags: established relationships ⋆ reader is also a gamer ⋆ AU modern day Sukuna + cursing
In order of appearance: Gojo ⋆ Choso ⋆ Nanami ⋆ Geto ⋆ Kusakabe ⋆ Sukuna ⋆ Higuruma
⋆ Gojo ⋆
Today is everyone’s off day, so, it’s decided that everyone will meet up in Mario Kart. Together on the couch, you’re playing on your Switch as your boyfriend, Gojo, takes the TV. He leans his long body over the couch with the brightest smile. Oh boy, today is going to be hell.
In the session is Gojo, Yuji, Kugisaki, Megumi, Ijichi, Utahime, and you. You can practically hear Ijichi sweating over the call.
The race starts with Gojo—on purpose—over revving his engine. A tongue sticking out of his mouth, he trails behind Megumi. Kugisaki is already screaming and hollering that she’s winning trailed behind Utahime, meanwhile, you, Ijichi, and Yuji seem to just play for the fun of it.
In the corner of your eye, you can see that Gojo is aiming for the two rainbow squares, poor Megumi. With incredible precision, he snipes the poor kid, with one, two, three green shells. Only a grunt, and an audible “!”. Gojo speeds down so that he can hit him once, twice more.
“Gojo, I swear to—” Megumi cuts himself off, knowing that his ‘guardian’ takes pleasure the more unhinged he becomes. He will not allow him to get under his skin.
Well, three red shells, and a star—the sudden impact of plastic meets floor and the message in the corner of the screen, all signals that Megumi left.
All everyone hears is Gojo’s insistent laughing. You look over to his smile, teeth gritting from the satisfaction as he glares at his cell phone. “Two minutes and twenty-six seconds,” he looks at you “a new record.”
“I’m proud of you,” you smile—playing into his game.
“Awwww,” his smiles from ear to ear, “I love my baby girl.” You give the cutest scrunch of the nose before he throws you a kiss. Then, it’s back to work, he speeds up, “Utahime ~ I’m coming for you.”
“Bring it, you idiot,” she sits tall at her desk, perfect posture. Arms perfectly squared. Her room darkened—she is taking this VERY seriously.
“So,” without looking at you, he says your name in such a honey sweet fashion, “when I win, where are we going to go after this?”
“Winner’s choice I guess.”
“Ugh!” Kugisaki groans. “Disgusting.”
“Hey!,” Utahime adds with your name, “you can’t let him or any man walk over you—especially him. A woman must be assertive!”
“Oh but *I* like it when she walks over me.” He looks at you, his white eyebrows raising from his sunglasses.
Throwing a pillow, “not in front of the kids!” but it stops midair.
“WTF is this conversation!?” Kugisaki continues to groan.
“What does that even mean?” a drowned out Yuji asks.
“Ugh, what does she see in you?” Immediately Ijichi realizes he said that out loud. Sweat starts to drip from his brow.
The immediate stop of Gojo’s character ahead of him, sends a chill down not only Ijichi’s spine, but yours as well. Foreboding as hell. Time starts to crawl as everyone is silent save for the clicks through the microphones. You look over at your boyfriend, leaning forward, no emotion. Dangerous. Poor Ijichi ...
Ijichi gulps and time speeds as he visibly sees Gojo’s character cute little character, smiling, one arm around the chair as it reverses behind him. The character, a far cry from how serious Gojo currently is.
Gojo’s eyes looking over his glasses. “What did you say Ijichi?” He makes sure that he is directly behind the assistant manager, “wanna say that louder?”
“Ijichi, leave, he wants to harass you, don’t allow him to,” Utahime interrupts.
“I uhh …” Within seconds, he is second to last. Repeatedly hit by any and everything Gojo can hit him with..
Minding your own business, and ignoring Ijicji’s cries, you see him past you and is hit with extreme precision, a green shell sending him off the course. Behind the cries of Ijichi are Gojo’s mischievous giggling as he speeds pasts you aiming for another rainbow block. Once he gets the stacked two, he reverses, just in time to chase the assistant manger.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God! I can’t! I just can’t” He leaves.
Your boyfriend, now adoringly pouting, “remind me to flick his forehead,” he flicks nothingness with a small jolt a blue lighting.
Oh poor Ijichi. There is nothing you can do. Knowing that you will not win, you at least attempt to have some fun. Gojo then sets his sight for Utahime, who he tortures with ease.
But alas, the entire race ends, and you can’t understand a word Utahime is screaming over the microphone, something about respecting elders. All while Kugisaki is also screaming about how she lost. Yuji chimes in that it’s just a game to which sets her off even more.
The yelling of woman and girl—absolute music to the winner’s ears. Gojo won … of course. His prize right next to him—you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders. “So … winner’s choice eh?” A sly smile etches on his perfect face, whilst his shades hang low on his nose.
⋆ Choso ⋆
You log on and are immediately met with the instant giggling of a grown man and his younger brother as they try out various emotes. Even after five minutes, they’re still going at it. You push against your table sending the rolling chair back to see in the living room, two goofy goobers laughing with each other.
“Guys can we um …” They’re ignoring you, so you slam your hand on the door frame. “Hey! Can we ready up?” Both simultaneously nod. But the seriousness doesn’t stop.
Because once in game, you’re driving the two who continue their little emote fun whilst on the car—until Yuji gets domed. Choso cocks his shot gun. “No-one shoots my little brother,” before running after the other team.
“Ugh!” you drive to a safe area to revive Yuji. While doing so, you notice that Choso’s shield and health are gone. He’s dead.
“That’s it!” You pull off your headset, whilst yelling loud enough for them to hear in the next room. “Playing with the two of you is like being water boarded and burned alive at the same time. I hate it. I’m leaving.” You sign off.
You walk by Choso, “baby!” You stop, hoping he’ll try to convince to come back on. “Can you get us those little orange sticks with the powder and some soda?” Your eyes narrow, glaring daggers at him. He looks at you then at Yuji then back at you again. “Please?”
Stomping into the kitchen. You rip open the cabinet doors, damn him with that voice and those pretty eyes, pulling out Cheetos and a bowl. Accidentally overflowing it, DAMN IT! and grabbing two sodas, lucky he’s so damn cute or else I’ll kick his ass to the curb.
You stomp back into the room plopping down the food and drinks. Both Yuji and Choso can’t look you in the eye. “What?” They look at each other before shaking their heads. “… Did I say that out loud?”
Neither of them answer. The silence is deafening, even as Yuji grabs a single Cheeto and bites down, the crunch loud enough to engulf the entire room.
“Well, I’m sorry—I’m going to go off and play some Story Of Seasons—to cool down.” Seeing that Yuji’s controller is already dirty, you snarl. “Just please! Please!” You show the boys a praying motion, “just clean up after yourselves.”
Yuji gives you an orange thumb’s up whilst Choso, nods. As you leave, “wait,” Choso grabs for you, he pulls you in whispering, making sure Yuji doesn’t hear (he has headphones on), “did you mean all that?”
You sigh, “not so much the pat of kicking you to the curb—but everything else, I meant,” planting a kiss on his forehead before leaving. He watches you leave with a wide dopey smile.
⋆ Nanami ⋆
After moving away, you stay in touch with the students and faculty in many ways. But with Ino, you two created the facility Minecraft server.
Every so often, the server wipes and sometimes exchange partners. But usually, you partner up with Ino was finally promoted to Grade 1 after your Kento left.
Speaking of, you look back to see him aimlessly pace around the house. Everything is new—nothing needs fixing. That pile of books he collected? Gone. Ever since he left the Jujutsu society and moved you out to Malaysia. He’s bored … too bored. And he can’t bake all day. Plus the house is almost done. You guys are just waiting for the next shipment of supplies to finish your office room.
“How’s Mr. Nanami?” Ino’s excitable voice echoes through your headset.
“He’s …” You watch as he opens a door and shimmies it—hopefully it’s loose. He sighs when it’s not. “Bored.”
“Hmmm” Ino ponders as the both of you mine away. “Hey!” You jump, your headset falling off. We should get him to play!” You raise an eyebrow—there is no way. You continue watching your husband as he opens up the cabinets testing each door.
“Why is everything square?” He says so deadpan whilst you stand over him.
“That’s just how it is, stay here.” You go back to the kitchen counter where your laptop is, “now come here, take this.” After dropping some tools, you lead him to Ino.
“Ino, take care of him, you’re a better teacher than me.”
“You were a teacher.”
“I got rusty, shut up.” You stand back.
“Yeah, Nanami can stay here and build. Here,” he leads Nanami to a chest, “everything you need is in this chest.”
“What--!” He yells.
“Microphone!” Both you and Ino scream.”
“Oh … What do I do …”
“Okay—” Ino sighs as you go off, even an hour later, you can hear all the questions Kento is spiraling to Ino who you can imagine is leaning back in his seat, beanie pulled over his face in frustration.
Finally coming back, you find him in front of a little square house, and he’s in the middle of planting flowers. “Oh, hello.” Heat burns in your face—he’s just too cute.
Days later. ~
At night, you pass by Kento’s office, the room dark, only his face illuminated by the screen. His face … so handsome framed by those feathery blonde locks. Also, it’s so nice that he’s found something to let off some steam creativity. He’s seems to be enjoying the building, cooking, and organizing, allowing you and Ino to go off and do what ever.
You and Ino log on at the same time only to see a mansion. Kento was cooking last night. Upon entry, he shows you to his and your room (how sweet), Ino’s room. The back yard, where there is a wheat farm. A cow farm, chickens and a stable. He gives you each 64 loafs of bread …
Everything is meticulously organized. He even hid all the diamonds in a secret spot.
Even after you and Ino come back from grinding materials, Kento greets you by the door, Every time you come back, the house is looking nicer and nicer.
Days later. ~
You all log on again to see the mansion on fire, Kento stands before a sign. Ino little block character walks up to look at Nanami and then back at the sign. The moment you hear Ino gasp, Nanami turns to you, then he abruptly logs off. You read the sign:
Thanks for the diamonds! With love, The Strongest :D
You get up and hide by his office door where you watch Kento, arms crossed, (those biceps …) just staring at the computer. No glasses on, biting his lip trying, trying so hard not to explode. Finally, he moves—only to tap one finger on his arm.
You slink back to the counter, putting back your headset on immediately hearing Ino calling you. “I think I forgot to explain the rules to him.”
“Same. We should have moved him to a private server on creative mode.” He finally leaves his office, the air around him tense. “I’m sorry Ken,” but he just nods his head whilst sitting near you.
“I … should have known.”
“I-It was our fault …” Your hands find their way to his shoulders, “He wasn’t supposed to do that until purge night.” You start to knead the hard flesh. This man is rock solid. Even though he’s tense, you know he’s enjoying it because he’s leaning into it eyes closed. “We can make our own server though, have it in creative mode…”
“Hm?”
“Yeah, just you, Ino, me. Just the three of us. No white haired buffoon to steal or burn down anything. We can just spawn stuff in.”
“Sounds nice …”
“Do you want to do it now?
He hesitates, then nods his head twice, only twice, amusing you.
“Okie dokie, let’s get started,” leading him back into his office.
⋆ Geto ⋆
You snuggle up on the couch waiting for Geto to return from changing out of that forsaken monk outfit. Once he does, he lifts your legs up only to lounge down and placing them back on his lap. “So, what’s this game called?”
“Outlast Trials.” Right now he wears a smug smirk not knowing what kind of game this is. No fighting, just running. He wanted a scary game (to show off in front of you) so, you choose this game.
Waiting for both of the girls to sign on, you and him play arm wrestling—he wins every time. That smug smile in full display as the girls sign on, ready to go.
Once in game, that smile immediately disappears as he immediately gets downed. Looking over to see his wide-eyed shocked expression, you can’t help but to giggle. “What is that?” he asks not even looking at you.
Making sure the mic is off, “oh you know.” This time you’re the one who smiles smugly, winking at him.
But he doesn’t find it amusing, after all, as the butt naked man is glitched on top of him. Finally he turns to you, slowly, never blinking, “what is this game?”
A little while later, after you revive him, you two part ways only to reassemble to watch as an inmate gets tortured. “This is disgusting.”
“Think of them as ‘monkeys’ darling,” you glare at him sarcastically. But his eyes never leave the screen in disgust. Pleasantly surprised that your boyfriend has limits—thankfully, you reach out to twirl his hair. Geto lets out a little scream, you scarred him. Te he.
Later on, when the trial is complete, all that’s left is to escape, you glance over again to see him lean in trying his hardest to run away.
“You can summon curses worst than anything on here—but you’re afraid of this?” He just glares at you.
This game is done, you all did horribly but had a blast whilst playing. All while Geto looks like he’s been to hell and back, sweat making his raven black hair to cling to his face and neck. You don’t dislike it.
The next game loads up and all four of you are immediately greeted by a chubby lady holding a sock pocket drilling into a man. You watch as his character zooms in a topless nun. That’s it. Geto throws down his controller, saying nothing whilst walking out of the room, surrounded by the giggling of a grown woman and two teen age girls.
⋆ Kusakabe ⋆
You walk hand in hand with your boyfriend Kusakabe down a busy street. Today there is no agenda—just to hang out with each other. But, upon passing by a retro arcade shop, you stop.“Can we go in?”
He looks over, immediately his face turns sours, “c’mon, c’mon.” He tugs you but you look back with pleading eyes. “Fine! ... Just for a little bit.”
Inside, you walk past familiar games you played when you were a child. The sights and sounds over stimulating in such a wonderfully nostalgic way. Until you happen upon a fighting game. “Ever played this?”
“… I played a little when I was younger.” He unwraps a lollipop and slips it into his mouth.
The two of you, side by side, slam on the buttons. He loses, but when you look back at him—you can see the cogs turning in his brain. “… Again,” he slips in two coins.
Within minutes, a small crowd surrounds him. He is now playing against the computer, everyone in awe of this dude playing this game, not even breaking a sweat. Even you, mouth gaping open. “… He’s like an idiot savant …” And you had no idea that you said that out loud.
“Excuse me?” He looks back at you not amused, still clicking away.
“Why that old man playing?” a child in the crowd tugs on his mother.
“Why don’t you learn how to speak in full sentences.”
“Atsuya!” You scold him. But he just nonchalantly shrugs in response.
“Hey dude! Play against me. I bet that I can beat you.” A little fat kid comes up to him, smugly smirking. But Kusakabe just stares back at the child.
“Get outta here kid.”
“Bet I’m better than you. I’m the best one here.” Then the kid places money down. “Come on … Unc.” Kusakabe’s eyebrow raise, it’s on.
Within minutes~
He watches on, grinning like a maniac, watching the kid cry. Even as you smack him (lightly) to knock it off—it only makes him giggle more.
“Really Atsuya, taking money from a kid?” Leaving the arcade embarrassed.
“Serves him right. If you’re gonna brag, make sure you can hold up to it.” He grabs your hand within his and pulls it into his trench coat, warming it.
You two walk past a child sending candy bars, he leaves you briefly. The little girl, excited to make a sale, happily gives him one, he hands the money—the money from that kid, “keep the change.” Coming back to you, handing you the bar. You keep looking at him smiling. There’s that kind heart of his. “Shut it.” His face blushes looking all around.
⋆ Sukuna ⋆
You're in the kitchen cleaning up after making some cookies. Baking has been known to be a tranquil, anti-depressant, it is (to you) even as the background soundtrack of your boyfriend Sukuna screaming emulates throughout your home. But it doesn't bother you anymore. Sure you play (it's your system anyway), and sure you can get a bit frazzled playing from time to time. But Sukuna, is on a whole another level.
He’s playing Elden Ring … You enter the room, trying not to laugh as he sits on the edge of the bed, eyes wide, the way his face gets when he’s trying, biting his lip, adorable. You come into vision with the platter. He does a double take and just as he is about to take a cookie, that iconic sound echos through the room ‘YOU DIED’.
“I am so sorry.” But he sits there, clenching and unclenching his hands. With one hand up, signaling to you it’s okay.
He’s really trying to be nice … until he re-spawns. “Why the FUCK is the grace—all—the—way—HERE!”
“Sukuna I’m so sorry.”
“I-it’s okay,” he’s so fake, his voice trembles but he’s trying for you. He even pecks your lips, smiling like a lunatic. The only real emotion here is his love for you.
Sitting on the far end of the bed, you proceed to clap as he gets his runes back, attempting to be his biggest cheerleader.
Just as he is about to pass through the fog, a notice occurs on the bottom of the screen. ‘SirUncSlayer18 is invading’.
Click, click, clickity click. His fingers move rapidly on the controller. It’s almost comical, because when you play—or even Uraume—neither of you play so frantically.
With a slash—His eyes is shoot open, and he is still, and quiet. The sound echos again, he’s dead. Your eyes zoom in on the invader, as he jogs over … No, please no … andteabags Sukuna.
He sits there again, breathing in and out. Until he gets a message from the invader, ‘u suc, get good’.
“Don’t, he’s an eight year old,” you lean forward to try to massage his back to calm him down.
“How do you know?” His fingers type out a message.
“18? He was born in 2018.”
But he’s already typing, looking up on screen, ‘piss off you little worm, you’re adopted, you’re parents don’t even love you.’ He sends it, proud of himself—for whatever reason—looking back to smile at you, all you can do is give him a thumb’s up and continue to watch as he attempts to retrieve his runes.
Whilst pushing back three enemies, he roll dodges … right off the ledge. And so, the runes are gone … forever.
He pauses yet again, breathing but, suddenly—the controller in his hand slams hard into the bed. Too soft, no destruction, no good. He punches it once, sending the joystick flying across the room, before slamming it twice on the dresser then spiking it to the floor where he stomps it repeatedly.
You watch it as though it is not new ... because it's not. But it is so cute how his cheeks turn red, his little earlobes burning, the way he bites his lip as he stomps on the overpriced plastic. Little sweat drips down his sideburns. And his little grunts are just so heavenly. It's horrible, you shouldn't feel this way. But he is just so handsome and gruff, and rough ...
He finally kicks it. Chest heaving. Finally he looks at you, you all starry eyed. “What?”
“Oh nothing.” You shake it off, "want to play with my controller?" He looks at your littler one, that lights up with moon and stars ...
"Nah, it's fine ..." He walks over to you as you lift up the plate of cookies. He takes two, leaves, but comes back to take the plate before placing the two gently into your mouth before giving your head a peck, finally walking away.
⋆ Higuruma ⋆
You just moved in your boyfriend Hiromi Higuruma. While he’s at work, you unpack and organize. Once home and after the both of you had dinner, finally, you’re free to relax. Reclining on the couch, you start up a classic, Crash Bandicoop. It’s been a while.
“I haven’t seen that in a while …” He looms over you, eyes squinted as he tugs off his tie.
“You played?”
“A little.”
You hand him your Switch. Pulling up his sleeves, he takes a seat next to you.
You watch as his character jumps but misses, he jolts the system, his face briefly contorting. You snuggle back on the couch. Game? What game? The show is right in front of you. Watching your star lawyer boyfriend coming undone and a decades old game.
With every jolt, watching his dark, dark hair bounce back and forth. The little angry wrinkles on his nose. You never imagined someone so adorable.
“It was much easier as a kid …” He’s starting to sweat, side eyeing you, he’s embarrassed but you are anything but for him.
“I ... I can’t.” Defeated he gives you back the Switch, making sure not to make eye contact. But you immediately brush that little clump of hair that always seem to hang over his forehead before kissing his cheek.
You lay on his lap as you believe he watches you play, head propped up on the armrest and running his hand through your hair. Funny enough, he watching something way better. You.
