20 She/her, lowk call me anything , I love jjk and most of the things I do on here relate to that, also I only recently got tumblr so idk how to do most things
intro: hi, I recently started creating for jjk and am taking requests, if you have anything you want, want me to tag you in any posts, like something, have advice or just wanna talk, dm me , comment or click ask me anything and I will respond to you within the day as best I can
mahito
• mahito in love with a human girl (headcanons)
• mahito moodboard
•mahito using transfigured humans to show love to an equally deranged fem!reader
•mahito x partner in crime!reader
•texts between you and mahito
stalker!mahito (always ok to request more)
•stalker!mahito helps you deal with catcalling from an ex
•is it bad I think he’s pretty?-part two
mahito x vessel!reader (mini series or possible series if you all like it)
• part 1/intro
•Stitches
yuji
•yuji instagram posts and moodboard
megumi
•megumi instagram posts and moodboard
Gojo
•you and gojo’s instagram stories
•more smau and posts
My side of the Gojoverse
•dad!gojo x mom!reader
•you, dad!Gojo and Megumi’s instagram posts
URAUME!
•uraume x sick!reader
Geto
•you and geto’s instagram stories
Choso
•you and choso’s instagram stories!!
yuta…
•you and yuta’s instagram stories
•Yuji soft angst
ALMOST EMPTYY, I LOVE YALL DONT BE SCARED TO REQUEST
Comment or request to be tagged, if you are a frequent commenter I will probably tag you in the kind of posts you like! Other characters are definitely welcome I just have pretty much only gotten mahito requests so far!
gojo tells you exactly what mahito is: he’s resentment and hatred given shape and a heartbeat. but you just cant shake what you saw him feel.
masterlist
word count: 1.2k
────୨ৎ────
it had been 2 weeks since your strange encounter with mahito. and it still haunted you.
even now, with you sprawled out on your bed in the same pjs, groaning into your pillow.
the sun spilled into your bedroom, but instead of lifting you gently awake like it had always done, it made your head pound and blood boil.
too bright.
too early.
with an irritated groan, you reached for the nearest object on your bedside table, fully prepared to launch it at the offending curtains.
only for a hand to catch your wrist halfway.
firm yet familiar.
"that's a lamp."
gojo's voice drifted through the room.
"and i know you love your sleep, but you'll regret that one"
"why are you in my room?" you snap as you let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a scream.
"well... me and everyone else haven't seen you for weeks, and i'm here to confirm you're still alive"
"unfortunately."
"yeah, see, that's not helping your case."
with a dramatic sigh, he dropped onto the edge of your bed.
the mattress dipped beneath his weight.
"what happened?"
"nothing happened."
"liar."
“come on, let’s make breakfast” he warmly suggested.
“i’m not hungry.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow. you can’t stand his judgemental face.
“fine,” you groan as you peel yourself out of bed, “i’ll get you some tea while you explain how you got in here,”
if you stayed in that room any longer, you were going to lose your mind.
"success!!" gojo pumped a fist into the air.
"i'm throwing you out of a window."
"after breakfast?"
"before."
he grinned.
somehow, the conversation followed you into the kitchen.
sunlight pooled across the countertops. the kettle hummed quietly and for a brief moment, everything felt normal.
you busied yourself with stirring your morning tea, grateful for something to do with your hands. across the kitchen, gojo sat on the island counter swinging his legs idly, watching you with the patience of someone waiting for the truth.
"so?"
you paused. "so what?"
"what happened?"
you sighed, because of course he wasn't letting it go.
"it was just a really long mission and..."
"and?"
"and i had the... weirdest interaction with a curse."
gojo raised an eyebrow. "yeah but you meet curses every week."
"this one was different." you sighed.
the words left before you could stop them.
immediately, gojo's expression changed. he looked more serious and attentive.
"different how?"
you struggled to find the words to say so you turned to face away from gojo as you continued:
"well he sort of touched me and-"
a snort from gojo cut you off. you whipped your head around to glare at him and his smile immediately dropped.
"sorry, go on"
"my technique activated when he grabbed me."
"ah."
gojo's expression tightened ever so slightly... as if he already disliked where this conversation was heading.
"and he felt it."
"they usually do."
"no."
you shook your head.
"he really felt it."
gojo frowned slightly.
across the kitchen island, he leaned forward.
"what do you mean?"
your stomach twisted.
because that was the part you couldn't stop thinking about.
the confusion on his face afterwards and the fascination.
the way he'd looked at you like you'd just shown him the answer to a question he'd been asking his entire life.
"he's a curse."
"i know."
"a dangerous one."
"i said i know." you huffed.
"then stop looking for humanity in places it doesn't exist."
the kitchen suddenly felt too small.
too bright.
you hated how easily he'd dissected thoughts you'd barely admitted to yourself.
gojo's expression softened.
which only annoyed you more.
"i think you're overthinking a curse that could’ve killed you."
a slice of toast launched from the toaster.
in one swift movement, you snatched it from the air and hurled it directly at gojo's head.
and of course he caught it.
"at least its not a lamp this time."
you snatched your jacket from the back of a chair.
"where are you going?"
"away."
"that's not a location."
"well why don't go back to geto's and have breakfast with him"
"y’know, most people would appreciate my concern-"
"most people don't break into my bedroom before breakfast."
"that's because most people don't spend two weeks spiralling over a curse."
silence.
because that one landed.
gojo's grin softened slightly. "look."
he set the toast down.
"whatever you think you saw..."
your jaw tightened immediately. "gojo."
"i'm serious."
for once, there wasn't a trace of humour in his voice.
"mahito isn't misunderstood."
the room suddenly felt smaller and quieter.
"he's a curse."
"i know."
"then stop thinking about him like he's some complex puzzle waiting to be solved."
you stared at him.
then grabbed your jacket.
"okay."
"okay?"
"okay, get out."
⸻
the woods had always been your favourite place.
long before jujutsu high and before dealing with curses became your full time job.
long before everything became so complicated.
whenever the world grew too loud, you came here.
beneath the trees and the tranquil birdsong.
protected by the endless canopy of green.
it usually helped.
today, it didn’t.
because no matter how far you walked
you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
him standing beneath the relentless downpour, one hand pressed against his patchworked chest.
rain soaked through his dark shirt until it clung to him completely, outlining the sharp planes of his frame and the lean muscle beneath.
pale blue hair hung heavy across his forehead, droplets sliding from the ends and tracing slow paths down the curve of his jaw.
he looked carved from something beautiful and dangerous.
like a statue abandoned to the storm.
with a frustrated sigh, you dropped your bag beside your favourite tree.
ancient roots twisted through the earth beneath you, thick enough to sit on comfortably. sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, dappling everything gold and green.
for a moment, you simply sat there.
you tried so very hard not to think of him anymore. but the more you suppressed it, the more you felt yourself flush with annoyance and embarrassment.
you rest your head back against the solid tree behind you, gazing through the branches thinking hard - as you always did here.
when your first boyfriend broke your heart, you sat here wondering what you did wrong.
when you fell out with your friends, you hoped to find answers in the sound the wind made against the leaves.
you decided thinking about mahito wouldn’t be enough.
so you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small notepad you used to doodle or write in.
you needed an outlet. and you knew telling your friends at jj high wouldn’t end well. like gojo, they just wouldn’t get it.
so you find your hand moving in a rhythm against the pad, sketching out a familiar shape.
the scratch of graphite against paper settled something inside you.
your hand started moving automatically until after a while you froze looking down at the page.
long hair.
wide eyes and a crooked smile. a rain-soaked sharp frame.
it looked beautiful.
you’d almost captured the moment you’ve been reliving in your head for the past two weeks.
“that’s a pretty good likeness.”
every muscle in your body locked.
wind rustled through the leaves as your heart pounded so hard it threatened to burst out your throat.
because you knew that voice.
“you know, i’ve never had someone draw me before” he hummed thoughtfully.
tentatively, you tilted your head up towards the sky, your hair falling around your face.
and there he was.
perched comfortably on one of the tree branches overhead. like an innocent bird.
smiling down at you.
────୨ৎ────
authors note:
this was supposed to be a tiny drabble on mahito bc i rarely find fanfics of his character but im getting really into this now. i really hope you guys enjoy this!
thank you all so much for all the love and support especially you @kashimopilled and you @stillsearching1name it means a lot, I still wanted to give yall something even if I can’t really write right now, love you all to the moon and back
Btw photos are from Pinterest, screenshots of instagram reels and all words, texts and “drawings” are from me
I am so sorry to hear about your bsf, ml. i am sending her lots lots lots of love and prayers, and you too for staying by her side! i hope she'll figure everything out soon and that she gets well. super sad to hear about it. take care pookie!
thank you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner but it really means a lot, I love you all and hope to be more active in the next couple days, sorry again for prolonging the hiatus.
just finished finals, so I’m off hiatus + announcement/ apology/ disclaimer??
I finished my last two finals of the year so after graduation on Friday I will try really hard to get more written work out including my Yuji soft angst draft (I’m sorry @silvermayshapeshifting I promise I’m trying)
Now the not so fun part, first of all I am really sorry for the lack of posts recently, I’ve been dealing with finals, difficult professors, and my best friend since birth overdosing multiple times in a week so it all sucks right now (please send love, thoughts, prayers and whatever you believe in)
About my work, I know a lot of people hate it when the people in smaus and pictures are skinny, conventionally attractive women who are not their skin tone and just so that you guys know, I am a pretty curvy, NOT conventionally attractive woman, who is Black and indigenous (mattaponi so think Pocahontas family literally) so please try not to focus on what the people look like because when I get pictures I search by pose or outfit that I think best suits the character and click the one where the guy fits the character the most. I’m sorry if this offends anyone because that is definitely not my intention, I just want to make yall happy.
Love all of you so much and don’t be afraid to send advice or requests or ideas
Reader meeting gojo parents when since they’re confirmed to be alive ☹️
the next time gojo satoru claims to be a “grown man” you’re going to pull his annoyingly soft hair and shove him down a sink drain.
this child, this infant—the very same one who got lost exactly one minute after you told him not to wander off—is going to be the death of you.
you’d always thought that you might go out peacefully, in your sleep or lying in a hospital bed. or, at least, heroically. saving some innocent bystander, leaving the world with some witty last remark.
but no.
instead you’ll die of a heart attack. instead you’re going to look for gojo and accidentally wander into some den of cursed spirits and die before you get the chance to pull on his ear at least one last time.
even tsumiki doesn’t get lost this much—and she gets distracted every time she catches a glimpse of pink in a window.
you walk amongst the crowd, looking for long legs and a stupid blind-fold, thinking about how you should’ve brought megumi. he’s more observant than you are—he’ll look for any chance to get gojo in trouble.
namely, this one.
you sigh, dialing his number again. but you can barely hear it ring as you hold it to your ear, you can barely hear the, “it’s gojo, you must feel sorry that you missed me—“ before you hang up. he’s not going to listen to any short of breath voicemail you leave anyway.
he can teleport home, you suppose. it might be nice to have a couple of hours to yourself, to teach him a lesson for once—
(and no, you won’t miss him. that’s a ridiculous suggestion. why would you miss a third child that clings to you, and whines every time you’re not paying enough attention to him, and whispers sweet things in your ear when he’s bored, and follows you wherever you go, and always trails his hand down the small of your back because he knows—
no, okay? no.)
you’re thinking about how gojo satoru is the worst person you’ve ever met—and you’ve had to sit through meetings with the higher ups, so—when you run into someone.
you get your obliviousness from gojo, thank you.
“i’m sorry, i—“ but you look up and you’re met with the same smile you were just cursing out in your head.
though, maybe not quite the same? it’s usually not so pained and he’s usually sticking his tongue out a little bit—
“baby,” he breathes, chest inflating.
you frown. “i thought i told you to stay by me. i’ve been looking for you for, like, fifteen minutes, are you—“
he turns, just slightly, and usually you would pinch his cheek for trying to deflect but… there’s a woman standing there. looking at you—at him—like she’s seen some sort of ghost.
satoru has that effect, you suppose.
“oh, sorry,” you say, stepping so you wave at her. “did i—am i interrupting?”
“no, we—“
“it’s nothing—“
they both stop. and satoru may be blindfolded, as ridiculous as he is, but you can practically see the glance that they share.
the quick look away, awkwardness floating through the air like dust.
you tilt your head, brows furrowing.
satoru doesn’t necessarily like talking to strangers, but the man doesn’t know what social expectations are. and he’s certainly not awkward.
you wrap your hand around his arm, feeling the release of his technique (and yours), as you consider them. “satoru. who’s this?”
“she’s…” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, trying to telepathically communicate with you, and winces again.
you give him another strange look.
but the woman clears her throat, gesturing to satoru. “i am his mother.”
you still, keeping your eyes on satoru. he doesn’t look back towards you, doesn’t nod to confirm or acknowledge her in any way. his head is tilted up, eyes to the sky.
eventually, you look to the woman.
suddenly you see it, like a flash of light. her eyes are blue, and though not as breathtaking as satoru’s, still light enough to be beautiful.
her hair is a glimmering silver and her entire body is tense.
but she doesn’t look like satoru at all, you think. satoru is always smiling, always moving a million miles a minute. he’s gesturing and trying to make you laugh and he’s never nervous, he’s never caught off guard.
except for maybe now.
some hindrance in your mind thinks about how megumi resembles satoru at times—the model of his smirk or the tease in his eyes. you recall tsumiki’s laugh, the mimicry of sound when she’s laughing with satoru.
it’s not biology, you hear, but connection.
the way you mold each other, the tight grip that admiration has on the very material of your soul.
“oh,” you breathe out finally. but you don’t say anything else to her, can’t think of anything you might want to. you turn to satoru, leaning closer to him, hand gripping his arm. “satoru, do you want to—“
he finally looks forward, towering both of you. “this is my wife,” he interrupts, smoothly. “we were just shopping.”
“it’s lovely to meet you.”
the woman is trying to smile but it doesn’t mean much to you. she keeps glancing at satoru—staring like he’s some public attraction, hesitating like he might bite if provoked.
you pull on his arm a little bit, dragging him a step away. you don’t want to ask in front of her—dont want to take that means of distance away from him—but you don’t have a choice.
“do you want to go?” you whisper to him, wishing you could meet his eyes. “we don’t have to stay.”
his mouth opens, then closes. “i’m not—“ he swallows, stopping.
you’re about to say something—to tell him that he doesn’t owe her anything, that he doesn’t have to be afraid—but she clears her throat again and you turn, ready to say whatever you can to get your satoru back.
the one who’s never left speechless, never left not knowing what to say.
“satoru,” the woman speaks, saying his name like she deserves to. like it’s different when it’s in her mouth—a possession no one else can have. “i have to go—we aren’t supposed to be in the city for very long.”
you frown at her and satoru continues to stare at the side of your head.
“here’s my phone number. i would like—love. i would love to speak with you, if you have the time. whenever you want. if you want.”
she holds her hand out to him and you already know that he’s not going to reach out to her.
you already know that even if he did—she would never get past the world of space between them.
so you reach out instead, grabbing it from her. “thank you.”
“no—thank you. i am…” she pauses, looking away, finally. “i am glad you’ve found happiness, satoru. i… have to go. it was nice seeing you,” she blinks at you, a slight bow as she takes a step back. “and meeting you.”
you don’t say anything but wait, watching for satoru as she walks away from the two of you—keeping him safe for just a moment.
and as soon as she’s gone, you turn to look at him, not sure what to say.
it’s not like with your mom—if satoru understands your childhood at all, you’re completely lost to his.
“you okay, baby?” you ask, staying close to him. maybe it’s a defense mechanism—trying to keep him from shutting you out—or maybe it’s so he knows that you’re there.
“i didn’t think i would ever see her again.”
“did she…” his eyes meet yours, even through the fabric, his mouth a straight line. “did she say anything before i showed up?”
he shakes his head. “no. she just stared at me. i—i didn’t realize who she was, at first.”
“that’s understandable.”
“i don’t know why she would be here.” he looks around, seeming to come to, and then finds you again. “did i get lost?”
you laugh, a bit shocked, pushing your forehead into his chest. “ran away, more like.”
his arms wrap around your back, holding you in place. “sorry. i smelled dessert.”
“of course you did.”
he takes a deep breath, then pulls away. “okay. more shopping? did you check out at the gift shop?”
“are you okay, satoru?”
“i’m fine,” he answers immediately. you stare at him, unblinking, and wait. after a moment, he licks his lip. “okay. yeah. i don’t know.”
“that’s okay.”
three years ago, he wouldn’t have said anything to you. two years ago, he would’ve feigned indifference and hidden himself away for a week.
but you’ve learned to move past these walls, learned how to fill the space and not push too hard.
and you love satoru. too much to let him fall away from you, now.
he sighs after a moment, shaking his head again. “she.. she looks different.”
“it’s been at least ten years, right?”
“yeah.”
you wipe his cheek, adjusting his blindfold for him. “do you want to call her?”
“i don’t—“ he frowns, just minimally. “i don’t know.”
“that’s okay. but you can, you know?”
“would you help me?”
“help you dial her number?”
he grabs your wrist, his cheek quirking. “help me talk to her.”
“hmm…” you tap his nose with a finger. “maybe if you beg.”
“this is why i ran away,” he says, just barely pouting.
and that’s how you know you’ve gotten your satoru back. as annoying as he is.
ON YOUR KNEES! starring cult!gojo x sorcerer!reader x sorcerer!geto
૮꒰ ｡. ｡꒱ྀིა mdni. who wouldn't follow gojo to the ends of the earth? even when he's literally lost it?
You traded your soul for a spot by the strongest sorcerer's side.
Because back then, he was still just Satoru.
Still the boy who ruffled your hair and called you weak when you lost for the fourth time in a row sparring him. Still the object of your childish crush you just couldn't let go of.
He tried to tell you that you didn't need to follow him.
That he didn't need your help. Need you.
But you followed him anyway. Stood there and did nothing when he started spouting bullshit about being a god. Helped him set everything up, arranged meetings with rich assholes so that it wouldn't be his own family's funds he was spending.
Listened to him ramble about the higher ups, but even after he condemned them, after he returned to cull them, he still wasn't satisfied. Didn't think that the society of sorcery you'd both been raised in was cleansed enough.
It took you too long to realize that he just liked being worshipped.
Liked being lazy. Getting to sit around on a stage and spout nonsense while an audience eagerly agreed along with whatever he was spewing, able to act however he liked without anyone ever daring him to be different.
And you liked what little attention he gave you too much to leave.
Even when you were well aware what he did with the rich women who didn't mind spending their money on him if they got to share his bed.
You'd left him with another one tonight. Excused yourself from a meeting the second you saw a manicured hand drift up the inside of his thigh across from you.
The wind felt a little more bitter than usual as you walked out onto the roof of his little compound. Nipped at your nose until you were sure it was going to fall off. But it didn't.
And you stayed.
That was all you ever did. Held your breath and let your feet swing over the edge, wondering how far the fall would really feel.
If you'd ever be more than a splotch on Satoru's story after all.
Forever alone even in a fucking cult full of people.
Because no matter how many years you'd spent kneeling by him, hanging onto his every word, he still would have been able to do it all without you.
How were you any different from any other worshipper?
You felt him before you saw him.
The shift in the air, the energy creating a funny buzz. You sat up straight, glancing behind you in time to see Suguru's dragon getting close enough for him to hop off.
Satoru had to notice. To know he was here too. But he was probably too balls-deep in some sponsor's cunt to pay attention. Probably figured you'd take care of it for him.
It was a little funny. You had liked Suguru first, but he seemed so uninterested in you that it had just sorta fizzled out. Satoru had been there though, had sensed you were sad and dragged you out to get ice cream, dramatically leaning over to lick some the dripped off the cone onto your fingers.
You were pretty sure that was the moment your fate had been sealed.
Damned to be his fool for the rest of your life.
You hadn't seen Suguru since you left the campus. And irritatingly enough, he'd only managed to get more handsome, his frame wider, muscles packed onto him and his features all sharper, those piercing purple eyes swirling as they locked onto your face.
"Hi, pretty girl."
Your stupid heart fluttered - probably just at being paid a compliment for the first time in what felt like forever. His uniform had been traded for a loose sweater, his hair down for once, a hair band peeking out on his wrist.
You didn't say anything. Your stomach shifted, coiling in tight knots.
"I don't even get a hi?" He teased, as if you weren't meant to be enemies now.
"Do you want me to get him?" You asked, your voice tight as you wrapped your arms tight around yourself.
"I'm here for you," he shrugged casually, your chest constricting at the way his jaw clenched at just the mention of Satoru even when you hadn't said his name.
Was this it then? Your moment of reckoning had arrived?
Sure you hadn't killed anyone yourself, but your hands felt far from fucking clean. You had been labeled as a curse user the day you walked away.
You didn't care to put up a fight. You were too tired for that. But you would still prefer he do it somewhere else. Maybe take you out to the forest, or the beach, if he was feeling particularly gracious.
"If you're going to kill me-"
"I'm not going to kill you," Suguru interrupted, mouth curling down into a deep frown as he shook his head with...disappointment?
You didn't get it.
Why else would he be dispatched here then?
Your mouth opened, but you shut it again, unsure of what to say when he'd already caught you off guard. Reluctantly studying his face, familiar remorse rolling around inside you as you swallowed hard.
Seeing him here almost made you wish you had stayed back then.
But you had to wonder if you'd feel the same if you were the one a few floors down fucking Satoru.
"I'm here to take you home."
a/n: i've literally had this in my drafts since september lmfao oops i lowk doubt i'll do a part two but still wanted to post <3 div is by @/tsumiinum
A/N: Lowk self indulgent soz if this isn’t ur thing lollll also I forgot to keep his name in the first screenshot sorry guys lol. Hope you guys like it!!!
Sukuna is reluctant to let you tutor him, but when the professor threatens to fail him, thus kicking him off the basketball team, he has no choice but to accept.
is it bad I think he’s pretty?-stalker!mahito x reader p.2
p.1 My masterlist
f!reader, mentions of stalking/ living in your house for free?, one sided forced proximity
by silentfriday, please do not steal, and PLEASE NO AI, originally requested by @pesha1238
love you all and requests are perpetually open
Since the convenience store incident (after which Mahito had fled, torn between nervousness and excitement) you started to realize that your life was chock full of evidence of another living alongside you.
The navy blue checkered scraps that you don’t remember buying that somehow always end up in your fabric tote, the silvery blue hair with a texture unlike your own that you found in your brush, and in your hair after you used it, the tubes of bubbles around your window nook, as if someone had laid there and blown them out into the air, and most of all, the way you never truly felt alone, it was as if you understood you were safe, until your run in at the store you were rarely approached, and never threatened.
Maybe that’s the reason you weren’t afraid of him, because you knew he was the reason for all of this, a constant presence in your life ever since you moved in, as if he were a roommate that you had only just begun to understand. Even today, as you lay draped over your couch, clad in pajama shorts once again, as you always seemed to be, you wondered what it would be like if you shared a home, rather than just a house, lived together rather than, well, just living together.
Maybe that’s why you found yourself beckoning towards the shadow on the roof that you hadn’t dared look too closely at before, not necessarily for fear of him, per say, but for the fear of absolutes, Schrödinger’s cat, he would either be a terrible, horrifying thing, or the sort of companion you had grown comfortable to the idea of sharing a living space with.
However, as you stood there beckoning to where he sat, he was, or you were sure that he was, real and somewhat…pretty?
You push those thoughts out your head as he smiles and tilts his head at you, giggling to himself as though something was funny. “Hi, pretty, what’s up? Feeling extra bold today?” He says with a teasing lilt, except there was no bite, more so fondness.
“Um…I guess?” You said, sitting down on the couch and trying not to notice how he kept his arm around as he sat, pressed up close against you, his warmth seeping through your lacy sleep tank and his hand drawing idle patterns on your side.
“So…how long have you been, uhh, living with me?” you said, tone unafraid, as you had come to terms with the fact that this was not something you would be able to change anytime soon.
“Awwww, so serious,” he says with a pout “if you must know it’s been a little over five months, as long as you’ve lived here,” he smirks at you lazily, yet somehow his eyes hold more energy than any sane human, not that it was fair to judge him off of human standards anyways…
Speaking of any sane human, had you been a sane human you would have had more questions, or at least had the sense to be scared.
Yet you just laid there until you were lulled to sleep by his warmth and the sensation of his fingers tracing imaginary stitches up your bare side. The last thing you registered was his other arm coming to your other side, pulling you closer as his ethereal hair glowed in the pale moonlight.
Love yall and as always, comment or request what you want, like or hate, and are looking forward to!
