#ITS NOT WHAT I THINK i do not think gojo has a god complex

[mmmmuffins]

thinking about the time i made a gojo presentation for my cca bc some people said i liked him for his looks

[cu7ie]

💋 big mouth ☆ ～('▽^人)

⠀⠀✿`` content warnings : gojo can't shut up. cervix fucking. switch reader and gojo. (gojo gets dommy at the end.) porn w/o plot. dirty talking, throat fucking, handjob, face humping, a lot of cum bc i said so nyeh nyeh, oral (dick-sucking/pussy licking), big dick gojo (and he knows it), reader has experience, gojo a little less so. stamina, gojo has it, you don't. cursing (lots of it). name-calling (both sides), afab reader. raw sex minors do not interact! 3.8k words Y'ALL.

⠀⠀✿`` author note : gojo cock is good. based as fuck please talk to me about gojo cock <3 also i fr think hes so annoying hes never quiet!! in my mind he so blah blah blah blah blah during sex . even if he dont like u he blah blah blah. also if you like my porn, reblog it! oh yeah!!! and leave comments omg... this fic got so away from me, idk how long it is its just so much fucking porn- also! @enchantedforest-network partner! join us hehehe

Gojo has a bit of a talking problem.

He's a blabbermouth at the best of times, and maybe in any other situation would you appreciate his insight. He's good at making mountains out of molehills, take your nothing and make it something; even when it's as mundane as the weather, he'll draw up his own storyboard and play all the different actors - reporter, news anchor, cameraman and "Satoru, coming to us live with the forecast,"

and at first it's charming, right? It's what endears most people to him; what attracted you in some respects. Bordering on bit of a god complex, Gojo's always been effortlessly confident; disarmingly charming; handsome to the point of aggravation. He's never a dull moment, always gives it his all, extra even when he's lazy.

But you thought maybe, just maybe,

if you shunt his pants down till they bunch around his ankles, and licked his cock from shaft to tip,

would he shut up then? Would he allow you a moment of silence (relative, because the sound of you sucking all up on his dick is decidedly extremely loud) to let your hair down, let your head bob back and forth, tongue slurping on the underside of his cock while your lips are wrapped firmly round the middle of his shaft?

"You really like sucking my dick, don't you?"

No. The answer is no.

His face has broken out into a smile, and you don't know if he's giggling out of incredulousness or nervousness - but you are surprised that all his blood hasn't gone to his dick, cause his cheeks are red. His hand cradles the back of your head graciously, sweat sliding down his nose because he has to crane his neck to ogle you.

"C'mon. You can take more of it inta your mouth - suck. Fucking suck." His hips shifty as you work your way towards the base of his shaft, and you chose to ignore the comment, what with cock in your mouth and all. He's gotten mouthy before, not like this, but it's nothing you can't handle.

See, Gojo's kinda ... easy. He can act all hard to get - er, mysterious and what not, but he's like any other aloof man with a pretty face. Afraid of gettin' close and not knowin' what to do with it. It, you know, -

And you do, but he keeps fucking up your rhythm by trying to fuck your hand. You give full strokes, rotating your wrist and pumping steady and quick, trying to look Gojo in his eyes as you're doing it, where as his gaze is dead set on your point of contact. "You're just a dog aren'tcha? Hump, hump, humpin', away." Your smile curling at the corners, at how easily he's giving himself to you. He's dripping pre,

His fat fucking cock. Thigh clenching, pussy watering, eye-widening kind of fat. Shit is so big can't even hold itself up, so you tell him "I can hold that for you," and he pants out as he nods rapidly, "Yes, please do." You get to jerking his cock and he's a whiny little bitch. "Faster" this, "More" that, moving your hand up and down his cock like you don't know what you're doing.

"Back up Satoru, I got this."

"Look at you - you're fucking panting."

And you think you'll get away with it. Get just grunt or a sigh in response. But of course his motorboat mouth starts going on...

"Yuh ... you're good, but, " He attempts nonchalance in a cherry tomato cosplay. Red red red all over. "You're holding out on me..." His tongue lolls at you playfully, and you decide anything not singing your praises wasn't worth hearing. He opens his mouth to say something else.

Your stutter your stroke (effectively cutting him off,) working your way to the head and massaging it between your thumb and forefinger. Sweat is pouring from Gojo's forehead. He's hiking his leg further apart on the couch so you have more space to touch him, your body snaking over his thigh, getting close enough for him to be able to feel your steady breaths on his cock. "Fuck! Stop - haah.." He groans like you're working him. You most definitely are. "Stop teasing.."

"A blowjob?" You purse your lips, ponder it over. "Think you'll be able to make it to the fucking?" Your breathing gets closer, and you feel him throb in your hand. "You sure seem excited! Just don't blow your load down my throat, save it for my pussy." You're teasing, licking your lips and pressing a sloppy kiss to his mushroom head. You could swear it'd gotten a little harder than before.

Only in those moments could you have recognized you gave the man a little too much power. When your pillowy, spit slicked lips wrapped around his throbbing cockhead, licking up the pre on your eager tongue, looking down and breathing deeply through your nose. He can hardly keep himself from lifting his hips and trying to pop through the other side of your throat with the damn thing!

Now, he's just a boy too big for his damn britches. He knows you give good head because of the way you move your tongue and jerk off whatever you can't reach, but it's not good enough head. He's big, sure, but for someone who talks like they fuck n' suck on the regular, something about the performance is feeling a wee bit lackluster...

And while you're busy thinking about how you got here, he's impatiently jutting his hips against your face.

"You listening to me?" His finger teasingly taps at your forehead, getting you out of your train of thought. "Don't tell me - I've already fucked your brains out? Maybe you're just a lil' cock-drunk. Got a remedy for that..."

He thrusts his hips and the rest of his dick tucks itself snugly into your wet warm mouth, head brushing past your uvula and nestling comfortably in your throat. You can't see the way your throat bulged a little, but you most definitely feel it. You make a noise, half-choke-half-whine, and he laughs gaily at the way his balls pap your chin. "Ah? You said something?" He peers down curious, your nose mingling well with the fluffy little hairs at the base of his cock.

You don't forget to breathe, although your eyes tear a little from his size. Your jaw and throat are being stretched to capacity, but you remind yourself 'through your nose'. It's fine for a bit longer - you bob up and down in relatively uninterrupted peace, til Gojo's hand on the back of your head gets a little too comfortable. "Just a little more... suck a little harder..."

Your face burns and you clutch at it, staring at him your the gaps in your fingers as he tucks into your pussy like it's supper. He's alright at it. He doesn't do it like all he's seen is shitty porn - he's really ... getting in there, actually. Oooh.... Ohh..

He starts trying to take over your flow, his grip firm enough to start bobbing your head up and down all on his own. Like your throat is just some fleshy, tight hole to fuck. Kinda makes your pussy drool, but that's besides the point. "Oh fuck.."

You moan and take it. Let him hump up into your mouth as his musk sorta clogs your nose. He's moaning so loud it drowns out most other cohesive thoughts in your mind, the plumpness of his balls cushioning your chin a little every time he tugs your head down. He's muttering stuff you can barely hear over the sound of sucking.

"Pretty baby. Here's to hoping you'll never suck anyone else's dick this good again.... holy shit..."

Eventually his grip lets up a little. It allows you more freedom in your movement for a bit. Though your jaw starts hurting sooner than later, so you give his balls a little pinch and he finally lets you up to take in a big good gulp of air.

His voice is a little shaky. "That was ... fuck ... that was nice." Your voice is a little raw, more croaky when you respond, "Just nice?" flicking his balls in irritation as you take huffing breaths. His cock twitches, shiny and coated in saliva, your drool dripping down over his sack - altogether one of your prettier pictures. "Y'know... what'd make that blowjob just a bit better?" He breathes like he missed oxygen, his sigh half content and mostly wheedling as one hand creeps towards the base of his cock, and his other gets comfy on your ass.

"You wanna fuck, Satoru?" He feigns a gasp, his mouth popping into a little surprised 'o' shape. His face can't belie his excitement, his palms clasping together almost comically before he realizes what he's doing and stops.

"Where could you have ever got that idea from...?" He says, jerking his cock a little and pointing it up to the sky. "Get over here." He pats your cheek with it. You're not against the idea, but Gojo hasn't impressed you enough yet. You poke it away with your finger, sitting up and shuffling out of your underwear. There's enough space on the couch that you can flop onto your back, looking at Gojo from between your legs, pussy pretty and glistening with your arousal.

The way he looks at you makes you squeeze down on absolutely nothing. Flustered yet wild like an animal, apprehensive like he's never sucked a clit before.

"Head first, then we fuck."

"Oh?" Gojo starts fighting to get his shirt off his head, scampering forward so fast he nearly falls into your pussy lips. "Easy boy! Down, down..." You mutter, his fingers digging into your thighs and spreading them clumsily. The aforementioned effortless confidence of Gojo seems to break away into something more sincere and somber when he lowers himself down to kiss your clit. The way he chooses to maintain eye contact throughout makes your heart flutter, and you get a bit of slick on his lips on accident.

His tongue darts over it. "Itadakimasu."

"Oh my fucking god..." Your chest almost deflates at how serious he is, nodding like he's bowing before going in with his tongue.

"Mmf..." Your sigh flutters out of you, becoming a full blown moan as his mouth firmly suctions over your clit and little labia, licking firmly and decisively. Like all of a sudden he knows what he's doing. His attention is most often directed towards your clit, suckling on it and making your thighs twitch. You push them against the side of his head but he forces you to spread them wider again, just to fuck a finger or two into you first.

Your pussy makes a little schlick noise, readily accepting him in the hot warmth of your cunt. "That's a good sign.." He meanderingly strokes his chin. "Take dick that well too?" Your head perks up, teasing underlined with irritation.

"Course. Now suck please, I liked you more with a mouth full." You smile shakily and Gojo seems to laugh in kind. Your smile is cut off by a gasp and shudder as Satoru firmly presses his finger into your wall, lifting his mouth to get a better look at your pussy as he's stretching it open. "M'sorry, did I cut you off?"

He licks the remnants of you from his damp lips, two fingers slowly thrusting in and out. All you can do is sigh, one legs flopped off the couch and the other slung over the back of it. He's alright at this. Not as good as him giving head, but it's not terrible either. Maybe you just like seeing him be quiet for more than a second.

His fingers feel like they're looking for something. First he's pushing down, and when you only grunt in response, he starts gently feeling around for that little pocket of sunshine...

"Up." You whimper, aroused but irritated with his finagling. Your hand slides down the front of your stomach, pressing softly on a spot right before your lips start and where your hair would begin to grow. "Around th-there... You got thaat?-" If his grin is anything to go by, he most certainly does. First he presses up into it like it's a button, which makes you squeak and yelp and clutch the couch, bracing for impact. Then he slowly opts you into the pleasure, trying to apply the right kind of pressure to massage a couple moans out of you, your juices coating his hand and dripping to his wrist.

"Oh, oh.." He winks cheekily as you sling your leg over his lap, positioning his cock till it's brushing up against your pretty lips, pre-cum dripping from the head of his cock as your warmth beckons him further. "...save a horse..." He sighs happily as you sink down onto him.

"Hey - don't turn my couch into a slip n' slide now." You groan, clenching down on his fingers like you mean to squeeze the life out of them. "Need - I need more." You snort when he tries to go for a third finger. He clues in quick.

"Dick? I gotchu, don't even worry about that." He tries to slide atop you to complete this jigsaw, but you got a different idea in making these pieces all fit. You push him backwards with your foot a little, getting up off your back in one motion. He backs up to allow you space, clocked in to your movements just a tad.

"Oh my God Satoru." You groan out as the tip of his cock stretches you out, your pussy sucking him up so so greedily, like you'd been waiting all night. "What... don't like my banter babe?" Gojo grunts and your brows furrow, his hand jumping to your hips and steading you when you swoon.

"N-no... Just ... aaaah .." You squeeze his shaft and he actually honest to god chokes on air. "Just - oh fuck - just shut up for a sec. Let me have thissss..." You're halfway down now, Gojo gently coaxing you further and starting to rock his hips.

Pulling up with ease and sliding down further on his fat shaft with effort, Gojo stretches you open so good your legs keep trembling, your breathing hurried even after a couple minutes - and while Gojo seems to be enjoying himself (very, very much so), he's smiling up at you and your effort, very plainly amused. Sweat starting to trickle down your forehead, you're sat wondering what's so funny.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Go on - I'm definitely not stopping you." He sighs deep, his head lolling over the couch as you start lifting yourself up and down, your hand reaching up and going for your nipples. He's too focused on your wet pussy to pay you mind for a bit, but then he's drawn to them, hypnotized. He pulls on your left with his fingers, nibbles on your right with his teeth.

"Oh!" Gojo's blue eyes flick up, wrinkled at the corners. "Mno teef?" He says, still attached to your nipple. The vibration makes you laugh, more of his cock pressing into you as your muscles relax. "Teeth is ... teeth is fine." Gojo resumes his plucking. He lets you use his cock a little like a dildo. In fact, he kind of reminds you of a perfect Ken doll. Smooth muscles you can run your hands over, nice built shoulders, pornstar dick...

"Nuffin..." He mumbles around your areola, going back to sucking and scheming. Whatever. You focus on bouncing on this cock.

...

Opting to do most of the work probably wasn't the best decision. Your legs are championing through, but you're pretty tired, and after figuring out Gojo's dick is big enough to meet your cervix you've been having the time of your life. Sometimes you get too tired to lift yourself, so Gojo is oh-so-very helpful in grinding up into you, smearing his little pre-cum kisses up against your cervix.

"I'll even do all the work." His grin was smarmy, but you didn't clock it at the time. It's cute and still makes your pussy throb, so "Go," you say. "Go off, babe."

You're gonna cum soon. Gojo notices how tight you get when it's about to happen. His take over is a little subtle, but you're so interested in reaching that stiff peak, that tightening in your stomach, just chasing, chasing, chasing,

Gojo thinks, "like a dog." He smirks into your chest. Your cursing abruptly cuts into his thoughts, however -

"Shit! - fuck fuck fuck - ugh!" Every word is punctuated by a last effort of raising and falling, raising and falling, raising, and then being pulled. Gojo tugs your hips down and your pussy spasms as your body jerks.

"Satoru!" You yelp reflexively before something like a whimper weasels itself from your lips. You tighten around Gojo and it hurts a little because he's so thick, but you moan into his shoulder unbothered. A little broken, voice horse, but mostly unbothered. Til he starts moving his hips again.

"The fuck?" You stutter, a little caught off guard as you're suddenly shifted, up and down not from your own movement, but Gojo's rabid humping. "I'm almost there - soo close - can we keep goin', pretty please?" He grinds his hips into your orgasm terribly slowly, trying to get your brain to clock into overtime.

He carefully saws himself in, making your back arch at the sensation. He slides your knees apart and holds the back of them firmly, tugging you the rest of the way onto him. The meandering pace of sex before is tossed to the side.

And regret isn't quite the right word, but you'll feel something a little like it in a second.

"Whatever you say."

Your body is boneless, so it's pretty easy for Gojo to scoop you up, though it doesn't surprise you any less. Says there's not enough space on the couch for him to spread his wings, so he lugs you back to his cozy little room, and plops you onto his bed. Towards the edge of it, so your legs dangle off as he positions himself in front of you, holding his cock at the base - which now looks angrier than before. Instead of the blushy pink dusting it at the tip, it's a deeper, aggravated red now - slapping against your cunt like this motherfucker has places to be. "Open uppp~"

You were fucking Gojo before. Now he's fucking you. Any apprehension, slow-to-start bashfulness, gone with the wind. Once the head pushes past your entrance, a good five inches of cock go alongside it immediately after. Gojo's hiking your legs onto his shoulder's as he watches your eyes suddenly blow wider than saucers, laughing genuinely at the break in your nonchalance and worn facade.

"I should have answered you properly earlier." He says, brushing a stand of sweat slicked hair away from your forehead. He leans down so close, lips a little touch and go, the intention in his eye serious and cutting. With the movement, the last couple inches of cock fill you out, making you eep! But not breaking his focus in the slightest. "I want to fuck." He drags his hips molasses like, till the head is back at your entrance. He slides it back in smoothly, earnest chuckle overshadowed by your pitchy whimper.

"But I assume you got the memo - so," The sound of skin slapping against skin resumes, his pace almost breakneck. His balls slap against your ass with such ferocity it makes you yelp the first time, whimper the second, moan the third. Gojo seems more serious now, the balls in his court and the way you squeal and reach out for anything to hold only spurs him on further.

And are promptly cut off by a vigorous pounding, the sounds of your own moans, and an downright visceral embarrassment when you realize this is the second time you're cumming and in spite of all your fucking and sucking, Satoru hasn't even came once. And as if hearing your thoughts, Gojo's playful expression closes in - his brow furrows as each roll of his hips gets more decisive.

"Pussy tryna close up shop?" He mutters near your ear when you clench on him a little too tight. "You tryna break my dick or something? I know it's good, but you can't keep it -" You don't know if your sigh is from pleasure or exasperation.

"Gojo, please." He tweaks your nipple and makes you squirm.

"Ohhhh, I see how it issss. It's Gojo now?" With every drag of his words he slows down dramatically, dragging his cock along your walls so painstakingly sensual it makes you want to scream. "What happened to Satoru?"

You start placatingly. "Satoru, I-"

After a moment, his hand comes over yours, your fingers weakly folding over his. His pumps grow harder, but slow down, his eyes clamped shut as he looks up, and -

"I'll try to make this one a two-fer." He speaks with that same smile in his voice, and you're two far gone to offer a groan or snap in response. "Y-yeah. Cum, Satoru - I wanna, I wanna cum," His eyes dart up to yours, and it's a little hard to hold his stare, but you manage.

"Yes yes pretty baby. You'll - we'll cum. Soon... real s-soon."

Your muscles feel tired, used from your last orgasm and forced to prolong operation just to take more dick. It's harder to take the full length of his shaft, your tummy flipping and your mind beyond fuzzy and fucked out. But you hold out. Just a little bit ... longer.

His thrusts start getting sloppy. The bruising piston of his hips edge off their intensity, and -

You're cumming again. Your legs are shaking and your ass feels a little numb and you're clenching so so so hard, for dear fucking life-

"Fucking hell!" Gojo bites his tongue, and pumps into you for the last time.

"Good." You gasp. "That was good." Satoru runs a thumb over your clit, teasing.

He heaves sighs like he's moved mountains, but really he's just offloading hot cum from his throbbing nuts, pressed into you very closely before going entirely still. You thought you were full before? Now you're kind of... bursting. Is that the right word? Feels that way. Gojo does a full body shudder and stretches his back out, trying to fuck his load you before he's even came it all out.

There's so much that it spurts around the sides of his dick and you can feel some of it slip out, run down your thighs, and you quiver one last time before feeling strength leave your body. Satisfaction blankets over you, a nice, full-bodied comfort. When Gojo slides out, he spurts a little cum on your tummy, the rest of it oozing out of you slow.

"Haha," His voice is a little raspy, like yours now. He arches a brow before he bends down, planting a loving kiss on your lips.

"Just good?"

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

[banjjakz]

convection currents ; yuuta x GN!reader

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?” God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. “Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.” 

word count: 7.6k

warnings: horizontal hanky panky, obsession, possessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, codependency, semi graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes + reblogs appreciated!

Yuuta wants to like you. 

And he does – like you, that is. He really, really does.

But there have been some moments that give him pause.

Don’t get him wrong! You’re sweet, kind, doting, attentive, and very clearly an anxious bundle of painful self-awareness. He finds comfort in the kindred connection between your loner spirits. Training is made infinitely easier when he steals a glance at the gentle flash of your sweet smile, the soft flutter of your hair in the breeze, the twinkle of your laugh, floating through the air as a windchime’s ephemeral melody serenades the breeze. Everything about you seems to be perfectly enveloped and embedded within his daily reality at Tokyo Tech; natural, easy, right. That is what it feels like, to be at your side. 

The budding affection between the two of you kicks his foolish, stuttering heart into overdrive. How long has it been, since the blood pumping through his veins was motivated by a sensation other than mortal terror? 

You make him want to envision a reality wherein he’s embedded into the fabric of the living, breathing world, rather than continue to occupy his perch as a pariah, perennially scapegoated to the periphery. 

Each sidelong glance thrown your way is accompanied by the erratic twitch of his clammy hands, as he tries and fails to pay attention during one of Gojo’s rambling, nonsensical lectures. The light in his eyes revives when you call his name. Innards undulating in and out of place, he tracks your body’s every movement, your muscles contorting fast as quicksilver during scrimmages, lethal and alluring all at once. 

These are some of the objectively positive aspects of his attraction to you; the things that pull him from his bed in the morning, calling to him like the abyss compels a creature of the night to rise from its coffin.

And then, there are the more…er, complex moments.

“Did you just come back from a mission, Okkotsu-san?”

Like today, for example. Yuuta had just arrived back on campus after a fun afternoon spent with Toge traversing around Tokyo, patronizing various cafes and konbinis. You were lingering at the entrance of the dormitory, back to the front door, effectively coming between him and his bed.

“Ah, no. I was with Inumaki. We were hanging out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“Just in the city…”

“What did you do?”

He stills, uncertain. “Um…that’s…”

“I’m sorry.” Your head ducks in shame, hiding your face from his quizzical glance. “It’s been hard adjusting to student life as a mid-year transfer. I keep up well enough in classes, and on missions, but I don’t think any of the other students like me all that much. Forgive me, Okkotsu-san. To be honest, I’m jealous of how easily you get along with Inumaki-san and Maki-san.” 

Of course. How could he assume anything different?

As a non-lineage sorcerer, you were haphazardly discovered by one of the senior sorcerers on a mission gone south and roped into the jujutsu world without prior knowledge of its existence. From a firsthand perspective, he of all people should be able to understand how isolating that must be.

Kicking himself for his judgemental first reaction, Yuuta forces his skeleton to release the tension it harbors. “No, don’t worry. Have you been sleeping well? Did you eat dinner?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

This is how he finds himself alone, with you, in a secluded alcove on the outskirts of campus. The afternoon has matured into a thick, syrupy evening, the sky bruised with a smattering of warm hues. You sit on the grassy bank as a pair, shoulder-to-shoulder, your union celebrated by the rhythmic thrum of the cicadas’ song. 

“Here, take it.” He offers you the last flavored onigiri leftover from his spoils of konbini adventures. 

You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “No, no, no. I’m fine with just a plain one. Please. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Plain is my favorite,” he lies. “I don’t even like yaki.”

“...Then why did you have one in your bag?”

“Haha! That’s a great question! I don’t know!” Beet red, Yuuta scratches the back of his head. 

Out of mercy, and perhaps pity, you graciously accept the yaki onigiri. Munching in companionable quietude ensues for several minutes, as you both watch the sun impale itself on the dark horizon, bleeding out across the sky in dark, inky tones. 

Without sitting face-to-face, it’s easier to speak to you, somehow. The insistent pressure on his chest lifts long enough for some words of actual substance to slip forth. “It’s hard, the first year.”

You remain silent.

“My first year was hell, too. Although that’s probably because I was being haunted.” 

“By who?”

He blinks, your question knocking him off balance. Not by “what,” but by “who” had he been haunted? You’ve always been observant. This is why you’ve survived for so long. 

“Um, it’s a long story… I’ll tell you in full one day. For now, I’ll just say that there was someone very special to me when I was a child… and it was hard for her to let go of me, when push came to shove.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

Although August has yet to conclude, the air around him is significantly chillier than what is characteristic of Tokyo’s late-summer hazy heat. Yuuta shivers, pulling his knees up to his chin. 

“Yeah. But, um, anyways. If you need someone to talk to…to be by your side… I would like to be that person for you.” He utters your name like a prayer, too concentrated on not stuttering to be embarrassed at the earnest tremble in his voice. “I wish I had a confidante when I first got here. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.” 

“A confidante? But didn’t you have your friend?”

Your reply jolts him into looking at you. The expression on your face tells him that you truly mean it as a genuine inquiry. 

“Well, um. I was being haunted…and Rika – er, she didn’t really listen to me. She actually got a little overprotective, I think.” 

“Do you think she was evil?”

“No!” The denial explodes from his mouth before Yuuta can even fully process the nuance of the question posed. “No,” he repeats, at an appropriate volume, this time. “She was clingy, and protective, and possessive, and honestly violent, but she wasn’t evil. I loved her. I think a part of me always will.” 

Love? What is he doing talking to you, alone, at night, about love? How embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to say all that! 

Quickly, he stuffs his mouth with the remainder of his onigiri. No more talking. Just chewing. 

If you are perturbed by his sentimental ramblings, you show no sign of it. If anything, your face remains impassive, serene, undisturbed like the surface of a tranquil pond. 

“You loved her for that, then. Was she haunting you if you were in love?”

After he finishes choking down the final, sticky remnants of his dinner, Yuuta frowns, mulling over your words which are heavy by the virtue of their implication, yet hang and sway in the air as an empty noose dangles from the gallows. 

“...I don’t know.” Yuuta says, at length. “That’s what I was diagnosed with when I came here. And it was hard for me to function, back when Rika was still here. I didn’t have any friends. And people close to me got hurt a lot.” 

“It sounds like she was always trying to protect you… even when you were apart. I only wish one day, I find someone who would have the capacity to care for me like that…”

“You want that?”

“I do.” Not an ounce of hesitation in your firm, forthcoming reply. “I’ve spent my whole life as something worth less than notice or acknowledgement. Always feeling invisible, never having anyone – not even one person – who cared about me. Up until this point, I’ve lived life wanting to die every day.” 

For lack of a better reply, Yuuta simply asks: “What changed?”

“...I met you, Okkotsu-san.”

Oh, wow. 

It’s kind of funny – where other people describe feeling hot, Yuuta has always been chronically, terminally cold. Your words induce a rapidly onsetting deep-freeze which permeates every layer of his skin, every molecule of his bones, every wretched atom of marrow lying dormant inside of him, all of it, every fiber of being rooted to the spot in an indescribable emotion. 

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.” 

That’s wrong. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t, I swear. Just… um, I’m also a person who is lonely, like you described. So I’m not used to, err, being, ah, important. To people? I guess?”

“Oh… I see.”

Clearly, the higher function of critical thought has abandoned him; this is the only explanation for how he reaches to grab your hands, sending the half-eaten yaki onigiri tumbling down to the dark earth beneath your anxiously shifting feet. He squeezes you, tightly, and is delighted in a morose sort of way to find your digits even colder than his. 

“Let’s teach each other. How to be important to someone else.”

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?”

God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. 

“Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.” 

;

Field missions have been a part of his daily life as a sorcerer since the day he arrived at Tokyo Tech. Battle has always been challenging for all the obvious reasons, but never before has Yuuta had to deal with the added hardship of fighting alongside you.

This, of course, is not meant to imply that you aren’t able to hold your own; on the contrary, your physical and cursed prowess has granted you the rank of semi-special grade despite this being your first year enrolled in any kind of formal jujutsu schooling. Your cursed technique is innate to your personality and sensibilities, which helps. But even if that weren’t the case, you would still be one of Tokyo’s top-performing students.

Missions are difficult because, despite all of this being true, Yuuta is powerless to curb the instinct to protect you during fights.

It manifests in small ways, at first: insisting to be paired up with you for assignments, always volunteering to partner up when splitting from the larger group during an investigation– things like this. 

His behavior starts to stray into problematic territory the longer he is allowed to get away with it, unchecked.

“After Ijichi casts the veil, we’ll sweep the building. Inumaki and Yuuta, you two take the upper levels. We’ll do the bottom half,” orders Maki, gesturing between you and herself.

Immediately, Yuuta objects. “No. I’ll do the bottom half. You and Inumaki should go up together.”

“What?”

“I have a phobia of heights,” lies Yuuta, shamelessly. “It will impact my performance.” 

“I have literally never heard you talk about being afraid of heights before.”

“Shake sushi,” agrees Inumaki. 

You remain silent, pupils trembling, bottom lip severed between your teeth in a display of bashfulness reserved only for Yuuta’s blatant favoritism, which he wields frequently, in hopes to catch a even a single glimpse of you just as you appear now. 

“I’m self-conscious about it,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you both for understanding.”

“Wait! Okkotsu, we didn’t–”

And with that, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you away with him, sprinting into the abandoned love hotel before Maki or Inumaki can prevent you from absconding. 

The two of you are laughing, tickled as usual at the effects of pissing Maki the hell off. Consequences will rain down in due time, no doubt, but for now, it feels best to bask in each other’s presence. 

Once through the front door, Yuuta halts to an easy jog, guiding you past the cobweb-covered front desk, around the decrepit scraps of the once-ostentatiously decorated lobby, all the way to the far back corner, where a solid, heavy metal door obfuscates the emergency stairway. 

“Oh, it looks jammed… Should we–”

Your stumped musing is cut off by the ricocheting cacophony of Yuuta’s boot violating the door. The metal itself bends and warps, caving in on itself in a hurry to make way for the unstoppable force of the sorcerer’s impassioned blow. He didn’t have to activate any cursed energy.

“Let’s go!” Chirps Yuuta, cheerfully. 

In another context, maybe, it would be appropriate for his pulse to spike, for his hands to clam, for his breath to quicken, at the prospect of being alone with you. However, the reality of the current situation is that Yuuta is dragging you down into some dark, unknown depth, where neither of you will be disturbed. As you descend the concrete flights, visibility is increasingly hard to come by, and this, too, excites Yuuta. He is now forced to rely more heavily upon his other senses, which naturally prioritizes the scent of your sweat; the sound of your rabbit-paced heartbeat; the feeling of the paper-thin skin of your inner wrist; the taste of his own desire. 

The cursed spirit they’re looking for has been wreaking havoc on the surrounding commercial strip, to the point where several businesses have had to draw their shutters in the wake of the love hotel’s primary foreclosure. Evidently, recurring, unresolved muder-suicides did not bode well for business. 

“Um…if we’re supposed to be searching for the curse behind all of the couples’ deaths, shouldn’t we be looking in the bedrooms?”

Your voice echoes, tinny, in the thick, humid air of the emergency stairwell. They haven’t hit the bottom yet. 

“Eh, maybe. This doesn’t feel like that kind of case, though.” 

“Huh? How do you figure?”

Although moving swiftly, at the speed of light, your footfalls make barely a whisper against the aged concrete steps. Still, it’s enough for Yuuta’s hypersensitive ears to pick up on. Deprived of the sight of you, he drinks in the intimation of your existence, greedily. 

“Heat rises,” he says, slowing pace as they approach what can only be the door to the boiler room, which has been left ominously ajar. “Cold sinks.” 

“...Um, I’m not sure I follow.”

Stealthily, he slithers inside the slender crack between frame and the door itself. The angle of its opening doesn’t even waver. He pulls you along with him, replying as he moves, “Crimes of passion carry a kind of hot, frenetic energy. Panic, impulse, instinct – all of those things have lots of, hmm, friction? Like an explosion. Really hot at first, dangerously hot, and then it fizzles out into nothing.”

Unfamiliar pieces of enormous machinery tower in the dark. As much as you are able to while crouching so low to the floor, you take care not to trip over any errant pipes.

“So this isn’t a hot curse?”

“No,” Yuuta confirms. “The curse–” murder-suicides in a love hotel, how on-the-nose could it be? “–is premeditated by nature. Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice.” 

He stops short. You would’ve crashed straight into his shoulder blades if he weren’t painfully cognizant of your whereabouts at all times. He preemptively steadies you on your feet before you can even begin to stumble.

“At some point in this building, someone,” says Yuuta, quietly, as he cautiously eyes the opaque blackness before them, “spent a lot of time thinking about their beloved.” 

“How can you tell?”

“Cold sinks,” Yuuta repeats. 

Violence explodes, seemingly, out of nowhere. The curse attacks all at once, aiming perfectly towards you as though it had been lying in wait, stalking your every move. Yuuta always takes point whenever you pair up together, because he always insists on taking the first hit. It is this presupposition that leaves you wide open, vulnerable for attack from behind. 

“Yuuta!!” You shriek, desperately dodging the grotesque appendages reaching out to you. Your body hits the floor just seconds shy of what would have been a gory fatality. 

When you lift your head to identify the exact form of the curse, you still in uncomprehending terror. 

“...Yuuta?” 

How can this be?

Not even seconds prior, Yuuta had been a whole, living, breathing, intact person, guiding you as solidly as your own personal anchor. Why, then, does he appear to you now as a corpse, brain matter spilling down his temples, bloated limbs belying days of decay, flesh pale and tender and loose around the bone. 

No, no, no. Had you been too late? Had the curse gotten to him first? Are you next?

Despair fills you, overflowing your sensibilities with the intrusive desire to rid the world of your miserable existence. How could you have let him slip through your fingers? How could you be expected to return to any semblance of a life, with Yuuta gone? You don’t deserve a future without Yuuta – you don’t even want to imagine one.

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

Cursed energy welling within you, threatening to tear you apart at the very seams, you are about to implode with all the conviction of an abandoned lover– but a familiar, desperate cry of your name halts your ministrations.

That was Yuuta’s voice calling out to you.

But there he is, lying before you as nothing more than a desecrated body.

Unless…?

Yuuta calls your name again, sharply, this time in a tone adjacent to something scolding. The fear of disappointing Yuuta outweighs all else. It’s enough to snap you back to reality, to clear your clouded faculties and reveal to you the real Yuuta, who stands on guard just a few paces away, living, breathing, sweating, crouching, preparing for action.

“The curse,” he calls, eyes never leaving the thing in front of you. “It’s the curse. Don’t worry, it’s not real. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive?” You parrot incredulously. “That’s your corpse over there!”

“...Huh? My corpse? But I see yours–” He cuts himself off, face going eerily blank. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t flinch.”

In your defense, you try your best.

Remaining sightless and motionless is difficult as the rest of your senses are inundated with the disgustingly explicit soundtrack of slaughter. The sound of flesh forcibly sliding apart on the edge of Yuuta’s cursed katana is familiar, at this point, but no less gut-wrenching to bear witness to. When he deals the final blow, the evidence sprays all over the front of you, drenching you from head to toe in what should be the curse’s blood.

And yet, the liquid is frigid. Like you’ve been assaulted by the waves of the cruel, immortal sea. 

“You can look now.”

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open. You’re met with the sight of Yuuta, also covered head to toe in the viscous liquid produced by the corpse’s demise. Now that the exorcism has been completed, the preternatural heaviness is lifted from the building. But still, you struggle to breathe.

“Why didn’t you let me fight?” Something horrible announces itself, crowing from an ugly, dark corner of your mind best kept away from public view. “Was I going to slow you down?”

He sheathes in katana without sparing the gory weapon another glance. The space between your bodies is quickly extinguished, as Yuuta crosses the space in a matter of heartbeats. Blood roars in your ears, drowning out all which does not consist of Yuuta’s fixed gaze, Yuuta’s shaky breath, Yuuta’s pallid, sweaty skin, Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta.

“No.” 

A large, wet palm meets your cheek. The soft squelch should be repulsive. Your stomach flips for entirely unrelated reasons.

“Why do you think all those murder-suicides happened?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, nonetheless. “The curse.”

“What do you think the curse made people see, for them to do something like that?”

You want to ask what the hell this line of questioning has to do with anything, with the mounting intensity in his stare, with the firm hand on your face, calloused thumb rubbing miniscule half-crescents into the crux of your jaw where the bone and flesh is pliant and breakable, could crack open like the shell of a creature already cooked alive, prepared to be split open for gluttonous consumption–

And then, rudely, the memory of mere moments prior hits you:

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

“Oh,” you whimper, pathetically. “They see– the curse makes them see, um, someone special to them.”

“Not just ‘special,’” Yuuta corrects. From this close you can see the faint trail of blue-green veins spiderwebbing their way from his eyebags, metastasizing every which-way, just underneath his skin. “What is a curse?”

“The coalescence of negative energy secreted by human non-sorcerers.” You rattle off the elementary answer without second thought. 

“What kind of curse was this?”

The moisture evaporates from your mouth. “A cold one.”

“Why?”

“‘Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice,’” you mimic back. 

Although, your tone doesn’t quite replicate the self-assured way by which Yuuta had originally imparted the information. No, your voice shakes apart, just as disjointed as the rest of your body feels at this moment. 

“What did you see when you looked at the curse?”

He already knows. He wants you to say it. You want to plead for mercy, if only to savor the eroticism of begging for something you know will not be spared for you. 

“I saw you, Yuuta.”

The curse’s blood is bitter and cold, like soured juice, when it is thrust upon your tongue. Yuuta is uncaring of the gore coating the both of you, the time-sensitive nature of this mission assignment, the way your knees sway and buckle as the adrenaline begins to leak from your body, replaced by a new, even more exhilarating sensation.

Opaque darkness still shrouds the boiler room; and yet, it isn’t enough to prevent your souls from recognizing one another. Hands wrestle with buttons, fingers grapple with zippers, teeth gnash into flesh, and the two of you take each other apart not with the reckless abandon of lovers under the duress of a transient liaison; no, you are methodological, thorough, all-consumed by the well-marinated desire that has been fertilizing from the moment you first came into contact with one another. 

Yuuta throws you down to the floor and moves his body at a preternatural speed so that he beats you there, his hand cradling the back of your skull before it can strike the concrete. 

“I saw you too,” he huffs into your mouth. 

“You were d-dead…” The way you struggle to say the word is cute. You’re so fucking cute. God, he’s no better than a fucking curse. 

It’s impossible to curb the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck, eagerly feeding off of the intoxicating effects of your pained, thrilled squeal. “You weren’t,” he murmurs into the abused flesh, pressing a kiss where he’d just gnawed. “You looked close, but you weren’t dead.”

“...Huh…?”

Can you even think right now? Do you understand what he’s saying to you? How could you possibly grasp the implications of what is transpiring, right now, when you’re laid out on the floor, snow-angeling in the blood and guts and gore of a murdered curse, delirious off of a heady combination of lust and adrenaline and fear?

“You were just barely alive. On the edge.” He moans, rocking the hard line of his body into your own. “Do you know what you said to me?”

“Tell me.”

“You asked me to finish the job.” 

Back arching off of the grimy, gritty ground, every fiber of your being reaches out for the fingers that tear at the cloth of your uniform as though it is nothing more than some cheap costuming. “You know what? I knew it wasn’t the real you, when it said that. ‘S not like you.” 

He’s monologuing to himself, it seems. You are far beyond the hope of verbally communicating in anything other than your strained, hoarse whines. 

“You’d never ask me to do that. You’d stay with me until the very end, wouldn’t you?”

Desperately, hopelessly, you nod, your fingernails carving your intentions into the meat of his shoulders. When had his shirt come off? Did you do that? 

Are you the one tearing away the last bits of offending clothing, or is that him? Do you growl in stoked desire as he breaches your entrance, or does that inhuman noise come from the both of you?

When Yuuta is buried inside of you, he feels like he’s finally been laid to rest. There is the warm, comforting embrace often described as death – but instead of an eternal bliss found at the conclusion of his life, Yuuta is able to access this euphoria by burying himself inside of you. You are his headstone, his tomb, his coffin: all of you exists to house the death of all of him, and without him inside of you, you would live on in aimless unfulfillment, anxiously awaiting the day a beautiful boy will come to die under your care and linger with you in eternity. 

You are–warm, hot, burning up, self-immolating beneath his fingers. Every thrust forward threatens to scald his hips on your molten flesh. 

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu–” you stutter, body shuddering to life, rising from the ground, seizing and contorting in strange shapes as you struggle and fail to cope with the insurgence of pleasure coursing through you. “Yuu–ta–”

“Promise me.” 

“Wha–”

“Promise me,” he hisses, hands coming to your throat. “Promise you’ll stay. You’re too important to me, I c-can’t lose you too, hnnnnn–”

Promise you, I’ll never leave you, is what you are able to only mouth, breath and voice held captive in his unrelenting grasp. Because you cannot voice it entirely, you pour all the contents of your heart and soul into the sentiment. Fingers rising weakly to clasp onto his, you tighten his grip on your windpipe and take comfort in the drowsy haziness that cradles your consciousness. 

When he comes, he holds you to him like he’s afraid you’re going to crawl off and die somewhere else if he doesn’t keep you right where you are, crushed against, his shivering frame, so tightly bound to him that he can hear your diaphragm contract and expand, over and over and over again, each breath cut short by a wheeze or a sob. 

Through it all, he cradles you. Naked, bruised, and forever scarred from the sight of not-Yuuta’s rotting corpse, you cling to him and release your sorrows into the dark, empty abyss of the boiler room. 

Back and forth, he rocks your body, soothing your nervous system into an illusion of safety. There is no such thing as “safety,” not for jujutsu sorcerers – but together, with limbs intertwined as one, this is the closest you can come to fooling yourselves into hoping, one day, for a safe place. A safe person, even.

“Shhh,” he simpers, thumb swiping your cheek, which is damp from an unholy mixture of cursed blood, sweat, spit, and tears. “We’re together. It’s all okay.”

“T-together…”

“Yeah. Just you and me.” 

;

“You don’t think that’s an issue?”

“I’m not saying there isn’t an issue. But we should tread lightly, here. We don’t know what could happen if we interfere.” 

“If we don’t interfere, the newbie might die.”

“It won’t get to that point. I won’t let it happen. Oi, don’t blow smoke in my face. That’s unladylike.”

“Don’t lecture me on what’s ‘ladylike,’ cocksucker.” 

“Wow! That burns!” 

“Come here, I’ll show you what else burns.”

Lingering outside the door to the infirmary, you shift your weight from foot to foot, unsure of the appropriate course of action to take. Clearly, Gojo and Ieiri are in the middle of a conversation that is not meant to be heard by prying ears – not that you can make heads or tails of what they’re talking about, anyways. 

All you wanted to do was come see Ieri for your weekly check-up, as was customary following the love hotel mission. The adrenaline must have numbed your pain receptors in the moment, because as soon as you’d arrived back on campus, your entire body felt like you’d been through a grinder. 

You were kinda confused, at first, because you didn’t even engage the curse in combat. In due time, of course, you remembered what–or who–had actually bruised your ribs, broken your skin, sprained your joints, left you carrying the contours of his wanting.

Why were they talking about you dying, anyways? Yuuta saved your life. Nothing was going to happen to you as long as he was by your side.

“Hey.”

Jumping out of your skin has started to feel good, kind of. You look forward to Yuuta’s unceremonious greetings as he creeps up on you in silence, futilely waiting for you to detect his concealed presence. 

“H-hi,” you demure. Why are you shy? He’s been so far inside of you he practically fused into your skeleton. Blushing because he caught you unawares is ridiculous. 

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

Wondering how he knows what you’re here for is pointless. Equally as useless is trying to deduce how he was able to figure out your recurring appointment time. He’s Yuuta – it’s natural for him to acquire knowledge about you, as easily as one picks low-hanging fruit from a tree. 

“Umm, I think they’re talking about something.”

He frowns. “About what?”

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you heard? “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Are you sure?”

You remain silent, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to bare your innards at all times, whenever Yuuta is around. It feels natural, like a rabbit’s cowering. On the other hand…

Somehow, the thought of telling Yuuta the truth–yeah, Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei think there’s a chance I might die soon–would not end well for anyone involved. If there was something you truly needed to know, you’re sure your senseis would tell you. 

Right?

“Please trust me,” you whisper, only feeling a little guilty. You’re doing it to protect him. If something dangerous is going to happen to you, Yuuta shouldn’t be involved at all. He must live. You must make sure of it. 

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, although he insists on accompanying you to your check-up that week. Strangely, neither Gojo nor Ieiri seem surprised that he is here with you, and make no effort to question why. Yuuta is allowed to linger at your sides as Ieiri takes your vitals, reviews the status of your various injuries, and even holds your hand when she scans your cursed energy levels. Thankfully, you are on track to make a perfect recovery. 

In fact, not only are you replenishing the strength and ability that had been impaired during the love hotel mission–you are regenerating cursed energy at rates which exceed your natural capacities. 

When Ieiri relays this to you, Gojo, who has been lingering in the infirmary for some unknown reason (you suspect it’s simply to annoy Ieiri with his very presence) speaks up: “Do you know what that means, kid?”

“Um…” You start, nervous. Everyone’s eyes are on you. It feels like you’re under a microscope. “I’m moving up a rank?”

Gojo bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “Wow, what an opportunist! Haha, maybe in the future, if your cursed energy continues to compound exponentially. I’m asking you about the cause. Any idea why you’re suddenly overflowing with power?”

“No.” Your answer is as truthful as it is anxious. 

“Typically, a dramatic increase in output like this only occurs after a Binding Vow. Make any life-or-death promises, recently?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, the way Gojo says it. You can tell because his crow’s feet dip down just far enough away from underneath his blindfold that you can tell whenever he smiles with his eyes. And he is smiling, after he cracks the joke. You’re also able to intuit when he stops smiling, as the depressions on his face smooth out into a careful blankness. You are thirty seconds too late to the punchline. Instead of laughing along, you remain damningly silent, and Yuuta shifts uncomfortably at your side. 

“Okay,” says Gojo, clapping his hands. “Alright.” 

Although you’re fully clothed in your school uniform, it makes you feel chillingly exposed when what feels like all Six of his Eyes bore into the collection of dark marks ringing your neck in a brutal, makeshift collar. Those were not, in fact, the work of a curse. 

Yuuta fidgets with the flimsy paper lining the examination bed. You kick your feet like a child in time out.

“You owe me seven thousand yen,” Shoko deadpans. 

“Hey! Didn’t we say forty-five?”

“Don’t kid around.”

Am I in trouble? The terrified plea swells to the front of your mouth, begging to escape. You force the words to sit, stay, and curdle on your tongue. 

“Can we go now?” Asks Yuuta, uncharacteristically direct. 

Given the odd gravity in the room, you don’t expect Gojo’s easy wave of his hand, dismissing the two of you with a flippant hum. Not having to be told twice, you hightail it out of the infirmary, grateful to be released from the constant invasion of privacy and security that is a prolonged existence within the reach of Gojo’s Six Eyes. 

Finally alone once more, the training grounds are a welcome reprieve for you and Yuuta, who crash into the grass clearing hand-in-hand, heartbeats synced. 

“Did we make a Binding Vow? When we…you know…”

Yuuta’s voice trails off, lamely. 

“What if we did? Would you regret it?”

“Huh? No, of course not! It’s just…well–”

“Well, what?” 

“That’s kind of permanent,” Yuuta whispers, dark pools of obsidian sorrow holding your gaze in its cruel, captivating clutches. “And we don’t know what will happen if it breaks.”

For one second, the rawness of it hits you. Fear washes down your back, prickling your flesh, raising goosebumps, locking your spine rigidly into place. The two of you had certainly made a life-or-death promise, infused with cursed energy and blood and…other…bodily fluids. To inadvertently perform a Binding Vow meant that the sheer intensity behind both of your wills was purely, wholly devoted to the promise. 

Which is why you take a step closer to him, voice steady. “I didn’t make that promise with the intention to break it. Ever.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t…you can’t be sure of that.”

“I am.”

“You won’t be able to guarantee it.”

“I will.” 

Familiarly calloused hands grab your shoulders, jostling you with charged intention. “You don’t get it! My favorite person in the whole world already left me once. If that happens again, I can’t… I don’t know…”

“Yuuta.” You don’t have to lay a finger on him for his entire body to stand at attention, drawing tall and taught, when you call his name. “I will never leave you, even if I die.” 

The ensuing kiss tastes like metal. 

Despite the passionate fervor with which he devours you, his mouth his cold, and his digits even more so as they dig into your cheeks, your throat, your waist, your chest, groping and pulling and kneading your flesh to loosen the rigor mortis that has arrested your willingness. 

“D-don’t, ah, make any m-more marks…” 

Your protest is, at best, unconvincing, the person least of all convinced being yourself, as Yuuta’s teeth and tongue on the tender flesh of your neck make you feel like you’re about to leave your body. “Hnng–Gojos-sensei already knows, I think.”

“Good.” He’s crazed, nipping and slurping at your sensitive soft bits like a man starved. “Let him know. Everyone should know. I shouldn’t even–” he kisses “–have–” he bites “–to say it–” he licks you in between speaking, as though it goes against the grain of his being to part ways with you for more than just a few jagged inhalations. 

The ground hits you hard, reprimanding you for your clumsiness with a firm impact on your backside. Yuuta pursues with haste, hands slamming down on either side of your head, ripping the grass in retribution. 

“Yuuta,” you hiss, hands flying to his dark mop of hair, trying to reel him back – in vain, of course. “We are outside. In the middle of the day. Anyone could walk by!”

“Don’t care.”

His eyes are glazed, half-lidded, pupils blown wide and deeply dark as a gunshot wound, uncaring of your anxiety as he attempts to dive back into you.

“Wait! What if someone sees me?” Now, he rears back. “I don’t want anyone else to see, Yuuta… only you get to see me like this.” 

Even the ants traipsing across the clearing stop dead in their tracks, rendered motionless, silent, at the abrupt onslaught of highly charged cursed energy that washes through every living and non-living thing within a five-mile radius. 

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, your world upends as you are thrown over a wide shoulder clad in spotless, wrinkled white. You’ve always thought it was funny – how Yuuta’s uniform never managed to permanently stain itself with any of the gore he frequently encountered, and yet, there was always a noticeable depression in the seams, ever-lurking, complicating the otherwise flawless expanse, evoking a sense of pity. 

Even when the shirt flies off, abandoned to crumple sadly in the corner of his bedroom, you can’t get its image out of your head. That spotless white. Those gleaming gold buttons dripping in iridescent rivulets down the front of the garment. Only within the intricate designs etched into their surface is one able to glean the barest hint of blood, staining the metal a pale crimson. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.

But you have always sought out his ugly, twisted parts. Even when he tries to hide. Even when he might duck from them himself. 

That’s okay. 

That’s why he has you. 

When he bites you so hard that the wound draws blood; when his palms squeeze around your windpipe so deftly that you lose vision; when pins down your bruised hips, ignoring their wriggling avoidance; when his unquiet nature makes itself known, eclipsing the carefully bashful performance he puts on for his peers so that he might be liked, or loved, even–that is when you feel most connected to him. That is when your affections burn brightest. 

And during the comedown, as he holds you close and rocks your brutalized body back and forth and back again, you are well aware that it is he himself who he seeks to soothe.

He doesn’t know, you realize, broken out of your post-coital mental haze with a pointed moment of clarity. 

Yuuta has no clue what lurks inside the haunted catacombs of his soul. 

What does it say about you, then, that his naivete only serves to further incense your want, smoldering like an inferno brewing at the base of a pyre, threatening to engulf your sorry corpse in entirety? 

;

As third year trudges on, instruction takes less time in the classroom, or on campus. More frequently, you find yourself out on missions from sun-up to sundown, running around Tokyo-to and even surrounding prefectures. The grades of the curses you go up against only increase with time, and so, to, does your proximity to mortal danger.

Through it all, Yuuta is present. Indignantly so. Despite your rank as a semi-special grade sorcerer, you have yet to embark solo on an assignment. The pair of you are one combative unit, at this point so intertwined in sentiment and instinct that rarely is it necessary to reach for verbal exchange while engaged in battle. It is as though the reserve of cursed energy you draw from is a pool shared between you, a combination of your innate abilities plus an additional overflow, supplied by the Binding Vow you had consummated all those months ago. 

So close are you, now, that Yuuta grows comfortable – confident, even – with your hold on his proverbial leash. These days, he is less neurotic when you inquire as to his whereabouts. Your prying questions provoke within him nothing other than a deep-seated sense of reassurance. He no longer doubts where he stands with you, as he once did when you were still a fresh-faced, mid-year transfer adjusting to life at Tokyo Tech. 

In retrospect, he recognizes that he should never have let his guard down.

It’s his fault, really. Entirely his fault. The extra strength provided by the powerful effects of the Binding Vow deluded him into a false sense of security. 

He shouldn’t have been so careless with your life. He shouldn’t have strayed so far from your side. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left you alone, even if it was only for a split second–not even. 

Once again, he has failed to save the most important person in his life. Somehow, losing you is worse than losing Rika. He is no longer a child. He possessed both the skill and ability to save you. 

And yet, he had been absent in your time of need. 

The one time you’d been off on a mission without him. The one and only time. Principle Yaga’s sorry excuse was that the higher-ups found it strange that you, as a semi-special grade, had never completed a solo assignment. Apparently, your rank was being threatened if you refused any longer to display independent capability. 

Well. Now there’s no rank for you to claim, anymore. 

After news of your death reaches him, he roams campus like an aimless specter, as though he is the one who has been robbed of life. 

In a way, he has. Half of his being has perished. He limps, lopsided, dragging the phantom weight of your body with him wherever he goes. 

It takes a while to get used to the absence of your physical, living, breathing manifestation. As a fellow sorcerer, you have been wholly eradicated from the fabric of his reality. 

But as a spirit…?

Death is not enough to break a Binding Vow – this, Yuuta knows better than anyone. He retains his augmented cursed abilities, along with your presence. The two of you join once more in battle, as he summons you to protect and guard him in life as he failed to do for you. Your selfless nature has never been more clearly evident. Not a single call goes unanswered, not a single need of his unmet. 

Is this a haunting?

No, he doesn’t think so.

When the two of you had still been skittish and shy around one another, nothing more than a pair of innocently covetous children, you’d dared him to reflect on his relationship with Rika. What had been translated to him as a haunting, you reimagined as something more corporeal, something genuine, something worthy of gratitude, and love.

This is how he chooses to think of you – the both of you, together, still joined in perfect union. No matter the fact that you will watch him age, change, develop, and eventually die, one day, should he be so lucky. You do not haunt his waking hours. You do not terrorize his dreams.

You love him in a way that transcends the bounds of space and time.

He has not been cursed. Rather, he has been blessed with your unconditional love.

To earn true forgiveness, he must show you his, as well. You must occupy his every waking thought. You will invade his every intention. You are at the forefront of his mind when he rises with the dawn, and the memory of your breath against the shell of his ear whispers to him good night. You dress him. You urge him to sustenance. You machinate his combat. You heal his wounds. You wipe his tears when he sobs, alone, terribly alone, sobbing into his knees after each time the life of a friend meets a senseless, violent conclusion. 

You are still there when he wraps a rough, harried palm around his throbbing arousal, thrusting up into an elusive, now long-gone pleasure. You guide his hands’ journey across the hazardous dips and valleys of his rib cage, the grotesque concave of his stomach, the sharp blades of his hip bones. His skeleton threatens to crawl outside of his flesh. It yearns for something beyond this senseless cycle of bloodshed, grief, and rage.

 Never does he feel closer to salvation than when he is on the precipice of ecstasy, dehydrated, underfed, delirious, heart beating so fast that it limits his vision, his lung capacity. When he occupies this liminal space, it is not the brink of orgasm which he straddles. As he approaches climax, he yearns not for an explosion of wet heat, but for the euphoric embrace of a final ending: your arms around him once more, real, tangible, warm. 

Until then, he will trudge onwards. Miserably alive. Cold inside and out. Numb to physical pain, constantly inundated with the wounds inflicted on his spirit, his sentiments, his soul. 

Solace finds him in the fact that you committed to remain by his side, forever. How could he wallow in total despair when this remains true?

You chose this, after all.

You chose him.

You did. 

Didn’t you?

[hnychn]

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME

SUMMARY — If there is anything that is universally acknowledged to be wholly true and incontestable, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything in the world. But does she know that?

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i got into a huge argument with my father a while back and it’s been weighing on my conscience. this series is largely based on our relationship and it’s been so therapeutic to write everything out and indirectly give myself an ending i want. the series isn’t complete, if anything, it’s no where near done. i want to make sure everything is perfect before i even think about posting the first chapter. its been so long since i’ve felt this strong need to write and i forgot how much of a beautiful feeling it is. everywhere i look and everything i see gives me so much inspiration for this series. but for now, here’s a little sneak peak of my new child.

(i am him as he is me spotify playlist)

SERIES WARNINGS — heavy religious themes, female reader, sugugeto, heavy angst, child abuse, childhood neglect, reader is a brat in the beginning, reader is assumed to be a person of color…

TOTAL WORD COUNT — tbd…

BEFORE YOU READ — the reader is mentioned to be a third year at jujutsu tech, and i completely understand the ages and time line don’t add up, but for the sake of creativity, let’s all just pretend it makes sense and ignore the age inconsistencies. <33 thank you!! <33

PREVIEW —

The rhythmic buzz of the cicadas and the sweltering humidity of the summer air marked the beginning of summer and the end of… everything. Satoru could feel the material of his pants begin to stick to his legs the longer he sat on the rotting wooden bench. The train tracks before him were rusted and old; they had weathered the storm of time and had the marks to prove it. These tracks were the end. The led you to the beginning. All Satoru had to do was wait.

—

“Maybe it was because I knew she would always come back to me. Maybe I was testing her love for me. Maybe I wanted to push her away before she pushed me away.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“There’s a lot of regret.”

Satoru could still feel the weight of that nostalgic love and regret in his stomach. It has buried itself so deep within him, he’s hardly sure anything would make it go away. The woman next to him looks different now; youthful, free. Satoru wants that. But does he deserve it?

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME [MASTERLIST]

— CHAPTER ONE: “He Doesn’t Know I Learned it From Him.”

Gojo Satoru, in all aspects, is a God reborn. He holds the world and its universes in the palm of his flaming hand; unknowingly burning everything he holds dear.

— CHAPTER TWO: “I Was a Girl Gulping a Woman’s Grief.”

With an emotionally distant mother and a father plagued with a god complex, there weren’t many people you could look up to. maybe, you have to look down.

— CHAPTER THREE: “Do You Believe Me When I Tell You I’m Trying to be Better?”

With tensions at an all-time high, it’s hard to ignore what has gone neglected for so long. Dams are broken and feelings are hurt, but if there’s one thing everyone knows, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything. But does she know that?

— CHAPTER FOUR: “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

There is nothing more heroic than the sacrifices made by a mother. But what is born of those sacrifices made? Virtue? Honour? Strength? You knew the answer to that question all too well: Guilt.

— CHAPTER FIVE: “Desperation Sits Heavy on my Tongue.”

You and your father are more alike than either of you are led to believe. He doesn’t reach. You don’t beg. Where does the tension snap?

— CHAPTER SIX: “Through Heaven and Earth, I Alone am the Honoured One.”

Hymns were sung at his birth and prophecies were written for his future, in all aspects, Gojo Satoru was a god reborn. But who is a God to a little girl searching for her father?

[fortunatelyenchantingtaco]

Its funny cause technically its not like Gojo even has a God Complex. Like yeah you can think that but also thats the dude who can teleport and level cities. His birth altered fhe world. For all intents and purposes he is the God

Every time you think “oh no one’s gonna know about it im not that important” and you just ignore something? Yeah Gojo cant do that actually. The only thing ever that he tried to keep for himself were his feelings for Geto and even that was used against him

Like damn, imagine what hell it is to live while literally all your actions have worldwide consequences. Oh you wanted to go take a shit? This is so sad, while you were shitting a dozen of people died on the other side of the country. Yeah, your fault, should have teleported there immediately

I would go insane if i were him actually

[lemmetreatya]

Hey Mun! Not sure how many characters you take but can you do headcanons of turn ons and turn offs for Geto Gojo Toji and Nanami? Bless 🙏🏻

wgw1!! idk if this req was actually meant for me or nawt but why tf not!! lool lets get into it!

JJK MEN HEADCANONS: TURN ONS AND OFFS

ft. Geto, Gojo, Toji and Nanami (ft. Megumi)

contents: modern au, strong language, slight glimpses of gaslighting idk

Geto

Turn OFFs:

Dislikes strong smells!! deffo think he’d be one to faux gag if something even vaguely annoyed his senses (he can be so childish at times lol).

doesnt even have to be a bad smell, it could literally be perfume

He refuses to say its sensory overload, which you’d even be able to accustom and understand better, but no he literally just… doesn’t like it

“Eurk! Wha’ the fu’k?!”

Geto loudly makes a display of gaging as the two of you were sat on the train. With a face of surprise, you look at Geto with annoyance.

“Really?! In public?!” You hissed.

The man only held his nose as he sideeyes the lady that just passed him by. Subtly sniffing yourself, you scoff at Geto’s reaction.

“The perfume didn’t even smell that bad. It was kinda nice even.”

Geto disregarded your comment by making even a bigger heaving sound.

“It’s infiltrating my fucking nose, oh my god.

You had to look away with a sigh. He really could be dramatic sometimes.

He gets turned off when a significant other asks for his opinion and does the exact opposite. he says it’s a waste of his ‘sacred wisdom he chose to bestow upon you’

especially if its to make a decision they’ve been pondering on for time. if they do or pick the other option, he feels like his opinion is so bad that in giving the wrong answer, the person chose the right one !!

it gives him a very phat inferiority complex but he wont admit it so anytime he sees it he’s like RedFlagRedFlagRedFlag 😭😭

Turn ONs:

he gets turned on when a significant other plays with his ears.

its kinda weird because he’s very particular about who touches him and its a part of him that normally people would look at in wonder but not go out of their way to ask to touch because he’d probably say no

and in all honesty, he would dsodjsj but if you’re both laid up with each other and you subconsciously do it, he won’t complain

he secretly loves the stimulation of it

With his head laid up in your lap, Geto’s eyes were glued to the screen.

He was so adamant to watch this documentary and you had absolutely no interest or intention in watching it with him. Yet surprisingly, you found yourself rather interested in the topic of discussion and so ended up sitting with him.

Subconsciously, your hand stroked down from the crown of Geto’s head to the shell of his ears, your fingers aimlessly fiddling with the soft flesh.

Geto hadn’t voiced anything about it so you didn’t realise for awhile, but when you noticed it was his ears you were touching, you made a short ‘ooh’ sound before retracting your hand.

“What? What happened?” Geto used his arm to sit up and look back at you, eyes beady as he made sure everything was okay.

You quickly shook your head.

“No, its nothing. I just realised I was touching your ear and I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, Geto only lowered himself back onto your lap with a huff. He gingerly wormed himself back into a comfortable position as his eyes were already trained back onto the TV.

“I thought it was something serious.” He mumbles.

Oh he loves intelligent conversations — this doesn’t mean the content of the conversation has to be strictly complicated or about something big brained. it could simply be something you’re both passionate about and therefore can talk in great depth about

he loves being able to have bartering points and see different perspectives or discover new possibilities together with someone who knows what they’re talking about!!

Gojo

Turn OFFs:

Excessive swearing

Gojo’s own mouth isn’t the cleanest in the book, but he hates when there’s just too much bad language flying around

In his words: “It disturbs the Holy Spirit in me.”

“And I swear to God! If you ever touch my fucking wife ever again, I promise you I’ll fuck your shit up so bad, you’ll fucking wish you were pissing out your own’s mother’s cunt!”

You were practically on the edge of your seat at the confrontation scene that was going down. The movie had built the climax up so well, you couldn’t believe that this was how it turned out.

However, before you could see what happened next, the TV turned black and you were left with looking at your reflection within the screen.

“Wh—”

You turned round to see Gojo with the remote in his hand as he shook his head in fake solemn conviction.

“It’s just way too much foul language. How are you even watching this?” He sighed.

Leaning up from your seat, you grabbed the remote back from the man.

“Boy, JustGimmeThatShit.” You gave Gojo a stank face before turning the TV back on. Only this time, you lowered the volume.

Big turn off is when people are too much in his business — Which is real contradictory because Gojo’s the King of Tell Me The Drop, but he really believes that he’s superior in the sense that when he knows something, it’s because he rightfully should

Its kinda toxic tho because if you try and pry something out of Gojo because he may well be hiding something, he will vilify you for wanting to know shit from him

Turn ONs:

Kinda the opposite to Geto, but he loves strong smells (but only nice ones)

Use too much detergent in your clothes? Dont worry, Gojos inhaling the scent right tf out of it

New perfume? He notices right away and demands he get to smell all the areas you’ve used it

Cooking something zesty?! Gojo’s first in line to try it out (and sneaks nosefuls directly from the pot throughout the day)

“Gojo!”

Caught red handed, Gojo looked towards you like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes wide as he had the opened pot lid in his hands.

“I saw that!” You pointed.

Dropping the lid and quickly scrambling away from the crime scene, Gojo let out a high pitched cry. Walking over to the abandoned pot with a sigh, you placed the lid back on top to close it.

“We’ve spoken about this.” You say into the air.

You couldn’t see him but you heard the soft sound of pitiful shuffling from somewhere within the vicinity.

“I’m sorry…” You heard whine from a far away place. “It just smelt so good.”

He gets turned on from a good rub session.

It doesn’t even have to lead to sex, but Gojo just loves rubbing up on others and being rubbed on (permitted he likes the person)

Hes got langly arms so hes able to reach all parts of you regardless of your positions

Just being able to snuggle up with each other for hours on end is his thing; to the extent where you have to ask him if he needs to go toilet because he’d rather be busting to go than not suggle

Toji

Turn OFFs:

Things that take too long!!

Hes a very impatient man and wants everything instantly

you sometimes worry about doing things in public with him because his patience is vey minimal

“I’m not waiting any longer, gimme the car keys.”

You were just about getting the last of the items off the shopping list when Toji had popped up in front of you with a very constipated expression.

Sighing, you fling your head back in annoyance.

“I— TJ, just hold on! I only need to get the last of the stuff then we can go. Just queue up in line and by the time it’s our turn I’ll be back with the rest.”

“But I’ve been waiting for too long!”

“And I’ve only been gone for two seconds!” You say with open eyes.

Shrugging, Toji sorts his hands inside your pocket before pulling out the car keys.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going back to the car.”

You couldn’t even stop him slugging off regarding your hands were full. Looking left and right, you called out to him.

“Wh—So where’s our shopping trolley?!”

Toji shrugs, his back towards you as he made his way towards the exit.

“In line.” He shouts back.

Nagging. This man absolutely hates when people nag him. It’s even more annoying because he will not get shit done on the first listen/ask so sometimes nagging is all you can do

He’ll literally switch off if he thinks you’re nagging him and it’s so jarring when he does because you could be telling him something so crucially important but because he was nagged an hour ago he’s not listening for shit

Turn ONs:

when you automatically co parent with him

now again, yes hes a bit of a lazy guy so any prospects of a potential babysitter guardian for his kids he’ll run at

but its that energy of treating his kids as your own (and no less to your other kids if you have any) that really turns him on

“Alright, ‘Gums, you know how this goes, right?”

The black haired boy nodded, a subtle smile on his face as he met you in the middle to shake hands.

“Of course. Win the match, or at least MVP, and then coerce dad into taking us out for a congratulatory meal.”

With a wide grin, you ruffled Megumi’s hair before patting him on the shoulders.

“That’s my boy. Now go get’em.” Surging him off onto the playing court, you gleamed upwards as you felt Toji come stand behind you.

“What’dyou tell ‘im?” He gruffly asks as he passes you your requested confectionery from the stand.

“Oh, nothing too much.” You grinned. “Just your usual pre-game encouragement!”

turned on by the exposure of flesh in subtle places

hes not talking barely no clothes (which he doesnt mind) or nakedness (which he even more doesnt mind) but when you wear an outfit that is supposed to be modest but theres a lil slip or cut in the cloth that shows just that sliver of innocent skin, hes bearing his teeth in glee

its the prospects that you could be showing a lot more or covering up way less but you choose to go sensible. yet that lil fun side to you still peaks out

Nanami

Turn OFFs:

overworkers

a bit canon yes but he hates when people dont know when to take a break. like my goodness its not everyday work yourself to the bone

hes very serious about holidays and clocking in overtime so the very scent of doing more than you should aggravates him.

“Where are you?”

Nanami’s voice over the receiver sounds plain but you can tell there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Hey Ken, I’m still at work. I’m just packing up now. You outside?” You say as you hold the phone between your ear and shoulders.

“It’s five past.” He grumbles.

Pausing in your tracks, you make a confused face.

“Yeah, and?”

“You should have been packed up ages ago.”

Noticing where he was coming from, you sighed loudly albeit with a smile tinted on your lips.

“I was just catching up with a colleague. Don’t worry, I’ll be right down.”

There was a slight pause, almost like a thought, before he spoke again.

“As long as you weren’t working past your finishing time—”

“Yes, of course! Never would I ever dare to work past clock-out!” You laugh as you make your way out of the office.

hes turned completely off when people have no regard for others

whether that be not tidying up after themselves or not being aware of their surroundings or even deciding to eat something shareable in the presence of others without othering

hes a very considerate man when it comes to these things and he genuinely hates when people are just really selfish with shit

Turn ONs:

Seduction

Seems quite vague because isn’t that how everyone’s caught?!

But no, someone having confidence to seduce him always works. It doesn’t mean he’ll always be receptive to it but simply having the guts to approach him will definitely have him thinking about it at night

As the music played throughout the apartment, you couldn’t help but dance playfully onto Nanami, backing up onto him as he stood rather distracted with the dishes.

“Versace on the floor, Ouuuh! Take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now girl!”

The man kept his head stoically focused on the dishes, trying his best to not engage with your antics.

“Come on, Ken, dance with me!”

You laid your hand out in his direction, beckoning him to your patronage. Nanami shook his head although he had a slight smile on his face.

“I’ve got to finish the dishes.” He excuses.

Leaning forwards to look at him, you lift your hand up to drag a smooth palm down his chest.

“Forget those for a second, handsome. They’ll always be here. Just come dance with me. for a bit.” You said in a sultry voice, you eyes hooded as you bit your bottom lip.

Nanami looks between the dishes and you three times before dutifully succumbing.

Cleanliness!!

Having a clean place, person and home is very important to Nanami! Even more when it comes to his significant other because he aint going down on nobody with glued shut booty flaked cheeks or poor grooming habits

but in general, just being graced with the cleanliness of others is his thing

[8honeydew]

CHASING THE DRAGON

i think the reason gojo went so freaky in shibuya pre-box was because he was chasing a high he could never feel since he battled toji. god complex on this kid must've been monumental. set the scene.

____________________________________________

gojo felt warm. his mind was red, his brain pink. sweat poured over his body in gallons, the warmth and density the same as being washed in blood and it was something so pleasant that he'd like to feel it again forever. he was the lamb bathed in blood.

gojo was the sun. he was warm, and he was the star everybody could see, could not escape from.

he laid in his lovely puddle of sweat and blood and thought, if this is the kingdom of God, He will have to pry it back out of my hands. it is warm and mine, and this is how i will die.

except, he did not die this time. he sat up slowly, a jolt of pleasure throbbing at a point in his head and running up his spine. there was no pain when he sat up, but even if there was, he would be surprised at such a useless feeling that impeded him. only on his mind was himself. every thought he could think could be traced back to him. he was the center of the universe, and he would show this illusory his complete hold on the universe.

every step vibrated under his feet, the earth was welcoming and accepting him. no, it was submitting. it was submitting under his path just like the lowest of the maggots were, who were about to feast on the unholy body of the fraudulent, and like the highest of dogs.

gojo is of the dogs, for a dog always finds its way back home. to toji he went, because toji was the last thing on his mind before he was reborn, and will be the last thing on his mind before he dies. but today was not his time. oh no no. toji will not have the pleasure of killing him. he was a failure, and needed reminding that he had failed.

gojo was toji's father. he yearned to beat the failure in and out of him. he would knock out tooth after tooth to make room for the improvement. he would watch him beg for forgiveness, but gojo didn't need remembrance that he was all powerful. amen.

gojo was toji's son. in his chest, he felt a tightening, of pride and delectation. he must present him with this power he has attained, as if he stole if from the Lord Himself. he will relish in the reaction of toji, swallowing every expression of astonishment, jubilation, and envy in big swills. he will take pride in toji's reluctant pride. i'm your creation, do you love what you've done with me? you put the pieces together, i am whole. i will pry my chest open and stick it out to you. look inside, it is whole. you made me whole. forgive me father, for i have sinned.

toji was everything gojo imagined on his fateful walk back. his walk back home.

his face, his words, gojo wanted to worship him for his predictability. he wanted to worship him for what he made for gojo. he validated everything gojo had thought of him and himself. it was like toji was worshipping him, too. the lamb will show God what sin it had cured.

gojo had walked straight into the double-edged sword. it pierced the wholiness that toji had pieced together in his ribs, which he had realized was mashed together harshly. in his own way, toji had still won. he walked straight into this sword, and walked to find the end of it. but there was no hilt to catch him. he spiraled down, down, for toji was not there to stop him or fix the pieces he never really fixed. his own selfishness led him to this path, and he would have to choke it down. he was mortal, and he had killed the cause of his godliness.

he could not fill this void. it never got larger, but it never shrunk. he lived with the same pain for years, one unchanging.

until the rapture.

this was the closest he would get to the drug he has been addicted but withheld from since he was a boy. such a foolish boy he was. if only toji could see him now, gojo would stomp his sole into his face and grind it down. this is what you did to me, but i have used it and i am stronger, i am better, you are below me like the maggots who feasted on your body. i hope you felt below those degenerates, as you are so below me. but as the same, he wanted to kneel and clasp to toji's legs, begging for forgiveness. i was a good boy and used this power you gave me, why have you abandoned me? you left me to rot the same as i did you. but how dare you? don't look at me with your empty eyes, so depleted of love.

the creature crucified to the wall had no eyes. its appearance furthered gojo to make it aware of its insignificance and infirmness. it was gutless, eyeless, and gojo could still feel it looking at him, through him. he smiled, pleased. can you see these broken pieces of Him in me? you cannot take them from me, you cannot pry them out. they are mine.

he closed his eyes for a mere moment, and when he awakened, there was nothing. no, he was not empty inside. he was filled. the pieces wadded together crudely, but it was warm. gojo was filled with warmth and sudden eagerness to show off his new wholeness. his ribs felt as if they were dilating, making it easier for him to tear his chest open and brag. there was the feeling, and he would not let it escape again, not after all this time of him walking down this sword.

he caught the eye of the replacement. and there was an actual eye there instead of the hollows of the last maggot. it made gojo's heart pulse, his intestines careen. his brain throbbed behind the point where he first felt this burst of pleasure from toji. this one was different than the hollow one. he would surely make gojo feel complete.

"next."

gojo could not help but feel deja vu as he laid in his warmth. his puddle. sweat and blood. the warmth was familair, more nurturing than the first one. like a womb, it was encouraging and gentle. the first one was tough love, don't let him beat you, it told him in its splashing pulses. the man he who he thought would finally replace toji stood off to his side, preaching, and all gojo could feel was tranquility and even melancholy. he did not hear a word he said. his warmth was singing to him, lulling him gently. it sung his name a way that even his mother could not compare to.

"i won't forget you for as long as i live."

and as he laid there, he did think of toji. he looked like him, fought like him, but wasn't him. if he was, gojo supposed he would've won. gojo will rather take the punishment of losing than the pity. i failed you, and you must cram it down my throat as a i gag. but you can't, you won't. so, i lay here as my punishment instead, which is unbearable.

he laid in his sweat, which weakly trickled out of his pores. it did not flood, and gojo felt delicate. the blood was there to substitute, but that was another reason this was different from his rebirth. this was it.

they would come to collect his body. and all his blood would be there. he would share his warmth; it was no longer important to him. or was his. they would scoop it up with their greedy hands and gojo would say:

"drink this, all of you. this is my blood. God's new covenant poured out for many people for the forgiveness of sins."

would love to do a separate post ab correlations/metaphors if some didn't understand what i was putting down, jus lmk!

[jarimaa]

Gojo Satoru, a mind study

This is not his character analysis, more like a study of his mindset and personality. I think the fandom has a little rosy understanding of him. Not saying that what I am about to say is completely accurate, but I am presenting my personal understanding of him with some points.

Now let’s imagine life of Gojo a little, it might be completely unrelatable to us, but looking into it is important.

Gojo Satoru is a boy whose birth shifted the balance of the world. He was not only born with one of the most powerful techniques but was also born into one of the most important families with political power and influence. Born with a silver spoon with a rich socio-economic background, and not only that, he was absolutely adored and maybe even put on a high pedestal since childhood.

In the modern-day study of human patterns and behaviors, we study how integral our childhood is to our overall personality and how we perceive our reality and surroundings. There have been studies time and again about the impact on "power" on the human brain. It is even noted in some studies that leaders of countries should not be in power for more than two terms because of the overarching impact of what power does to the human brain.

_________________________

__________________________________

(Sorry for the badly cropped article)

Now Gojo is an individual who always had that power from birth, unfair isn’t it. But in very profound words of my personal favorite character, Megumi, “the only thing granted equally to everyone is an unfair reality.” Like literally what can you do, that despite all your hardwork put in becoming strong and powerful, you will always be behind someone who got genetic lottery in terms of technique.

It's easy to picture Gojo behaving like one of those snobby kids from elite families who look down on everyone as a child.

It’s hard for a person to relate to people weaker and less intelligent than them, because they don’t think in the same bandwidth as them. Since they are better than others its even hard to understand others, how can you empathize with someone who can’t do something that’s as easy as breathing for you.

There is always this disconnect, separation, and ISOLATION. When someone is a natural genius it’s very hard to explain to people how they do what they do. Imagine having this feeling that everyone around you is so weak and idiotic since the formative years, the thing is its not even coming from some sort of God Complex at that point of life, because that’s actually the reality. This breads arrogance, ego, and extremely individualistic mindset, which is basically service of self or putting personal needs before anyone else. Unfortunately, this is the mindset required to be your absolute ‘strong’ self in the jujutsu world. The more ego and greed one has, the more they will improve oneself.

Take Mei Mei for example, she was born with a weak technique but the greed to be more powerful so that she can hoard more money made her work on her other attributes and when that didn’t work either, she decided to use her own brother in battlefield and kill the crows she controls for a powerful attack, through a bidding vow. She literally abuses her younger brother for her own benefit and has probably groomed UiUi to be loyal to the point that it's like slavery.

Now, this Mei Mei is also a person whose strengths are acknowledged by Gojo. Her morality is extremely questionable but she is still in high books of Gojo. And this is for the same reason, individualistic mentality.

Now imagine this mentality of extreme individualism paired with natural genius and having one of the strongest techniques in the world, you will get two cases; Gojo and Sukuna. The same two individuals who are so isolated because NO ONE is like them, absolutely no one but each other.

They are both too similar, alike to the point that the only thing differentiating them is principles. Gojo is a principled asshole, but an asshole still. And those principles he has are only because of Getou, his dead best friend. Getou kind of instilled the importance of ‘meaning’ in the most crucial moment of his life, his enlightenment (even though Getou was going through his lowest moment of his life and was probably questioning his entire philosophy that very moment). Both Toji and Getou are two very important individuals who, kind of unknowingly, in a twisted way, saved Gojo from becoming the next Sukuna.

For Sukuna only his pleasure and displeasures matter, he does not believe in hierarchy that is not based on strength. Gojo could have very well been like this. It’s not like he is very kind towards weak people either, he still finds looking after them painful, he is just doing it cause he have his own principles, in a way.

I would even say that Gojo didn’t particularly ‘see’ any fault in the system even after Haibara and Riko’s deaths, more like knew everything but didn’t really think much about it. And why would he, he is one of those individuals benefitting from the system the most, he is everything a system loves in a sorcerer, a man born in one of the three great families with inherited techniques. It's hard to find fault in a system that kind of worships someone like you, in a way. It was only after Getou went astray that Gojo actually “realized” that the system sucks and needs change. Getou was an outsider to the system, a boy from a non-sorcerer family, who just happens to have a powerful technique and worked hard enough to be very strong. Gojo realized that saving someone who don’t want to be saved is not possible. Nothing he could have done would have saved Getou. He further decides that the things need to be changed and he can’t do everything alone, and he decides to foster strong and powerful allies.

Gojo doesn’t do things out of goodness of his heart. He didn’t save Megumi because he was a helpless child of man he killed and will possibly be sold to even rotten people. He did because he saw a potential ally in him. He couldn’t give two shits about Hana, a child that Megumi saved from a curse. He doesn’t bother with people not strong enough. He takes questionable measures for teaching as well. He sent Inumaki and Panda to get their asses beat so that Yuta gets a powerup. He only saves students who are strong, that’s why Tokyo school has a bunch of powerhouses. Furthermore, save for Yuta and Yuji. No one genuinely respects him as a person (only as a strong sorcerer)

He is not a kind person people make him out to be. He very much still looks down on the weak. He was so angry while fighting in Shibuya, he couldn’t believe the nerve of those ‘weak’ ass curses banding together to defeat him, he was angry at the audacity of those curses to even think that they could match him. He was even pissed at Agito in the recent chapter cause he concluded agito was not keeping up with him.

This in contrast to his fight with Sukuna, where he is genuinely enjoying himself, making funny remarks and also feeling satisfaction of finally having an equal fight.

He is way more like Sukuna than anyone in JJK. They probably understand each other in a way no one does. They are basically the same. The only difference is that Sukuna doesn’t have any principles. Only his pleasure and displeasure matter. Whereas Gojo does have principles and hence takes the responsibility and even decides to teach next generation. Gojo’s nastiness is very waterdowned in the fandom.

I have noticed that people love proving or making the character they like as “good person.” More like using sad backstories or a few panels, they did something “good” to excuse their actions instead of making their current motivations and arcs more compelling. I am not talking about Gojo here, but even many "bad guys" "evil" characters are excused of their actions because of this.

Gojo is a not “good guy,” he lies in a very grey region. He is a man who is isolated from birth and, to some degree, even by choice. He doesn’t care for people who are weak or not of use to him. Empathy and kindness are not the words I would personally associate with him. Let him be nasty, let him suck, it doesn’t take away from his character, he is still amazingly written, he IS a nuanced character. Don’t take away his nastiness for you to like him. Also, the other end is also true, don’t make him a complete demon either.

Yo people, I really liked the recent jjk chp, some cool developments there for sure. Also, I am not a fan of unnecessary discourse, so don't do that here. I don't mind criticism (but WITH points and evidence to back up the claim).

[linkspooky]

What would you say to people who say Gojo only cares about Geto? 😭 I've seen this take go around that Gojo doesn't care or want to risk his life for anyone BUT Geto, and there's another take in Geto's case where the whole reason he defected was for Gojo. Which.. are both obviously wrong, but I was wondering about your thoughts on this?

A lot of the "Gojo only cares about Geto" takes come from a misinterpretation, or romantization of this line that Geto was "his one and only..." This line does not indicate that Gojo never cared about anyone else but Geto, in fact the story does go painstakingly out of its way to give several indications of Gojo showing the indirect way he cares about both his students and his fellow sorcerers. At the same time, I do believe that Gojo does mean that Geto is his "One and only friend..." that for various reasons as attached as he may feel to his coworkers, they'll never be friends to him because friends implies they're equals and the only person he ever saw as one is Geto.

The three years of Gojo's youth stand out to Gojo because meeting Geto was the only time he ever really experienced a normal friendship with someone on equal terms, and that was because for that brief period of time they were the strongest together. Gojo who's birth apaprently changed the balance of the world for Jujutsu Society, just happened to meet a boy with curse manipulation who didn't come from the clan system, could hold his own against him in a fight, and constantly lectured him and tried to keep him following regulations.

It's something which draws them together and also eventually drives them apart, because Gojo thinks the basis of his friendship with Geto is that Geto will just "Get it..." because since they're both the strongest he's the only one that can understand Gojo. Gojo's entire character revolves around the fact that he's always observing other people from a distance, his technique is called the infinity and it makes it so people can't touch him no matter how close they come. His assumption that because Geto is as strong as him and they so naturally connect that is enough, but that assumption is proven wrong via Geto's downfall.

Here's where I quote another meta because they put it way better than I could, but a big factor sabotaging Gojo's relationship is his own superiority complex.

gojou 100% has a god complex and thats why getous downfall hit him harder than anyone else. he saw himself and getou as above everyone else and exempt from ‘regular’ peoples flaws, he never thought either of them could be led astray and when getou finally snaps hes bewildered that something like that could ever happen to either of them. hes not just heartbroken over his best friend becoming an enemy, hes thrown for a loop because getou, the one person he thinks of as just as above everyone else and incapable of failing as he is, could ever do something wrong, could ever be wrong. hes finally put into a position where he has to face the fact that hes just as capable of screwing up as anyone else and he can’t make sense of it. gojous hesitance in killing getou isn’t just a byproduct of their friendship, it’s also him realizing that it could have easily been him on the other side of the conflict, which breaks the illusion of him being better than everyone for a second. and like that’s still not enough for him to reject this idea, personally i think that his comment about him and getou being 'the strongest’ in volume 0 is indicative of the fact that despite everything he still hasn’t grown out of this delusion

Gojo didn't really descend down to Geto's level to understand him, he just assumed that him and Geto were standing above others on top of the same pedestal which is why they so naturally clicked. Which isn't the real reason why they're friends, they're friends because well they like each other, Geto's stricter personality keeps Gojo in check, but Geto's also good at noticing that Gojo's a much more considerate person than he appears to be and sees the good in Gojo and how he indirectly tries to help people. Gojo also tries to do in return with Geto, like how he changed his entire speech pattern based on a lecture from Geto that he needed to be more respectful when addressing others. The reason they're friends isn't their power level, but Gojo thinks it is (and Geto probably did too) which is why their relatioship starts to crumble. It's actually foreshadowed in a pretty well directed scene in a first episode of the anime.

Geto and Gojo are talking about their ideologies about protecting the weak, or how Gojo doesn't believe strong people should have to limit themselves. Geto throws a basket jumping into the air to do so, he hits the rim and then falls off.

Gojo on the other hand not even looking picks up the ball with one hand, and effortlessly throws it into the net and makes the basket. Implying the fact that despite both of them being compettitors, Gojo just has the natural edge in talent. Which is what happens by the end of their third year, Gojo just gets way too far ahead of Geto to the point where he's always doing missions alone from then on.

Gojo forms a friendship with Geto because he wants to be an equal with someone else, but he never gets over the belief of his inherent superiority. This is also his foiling with Sukuna, and why we see Sukuna and Yorozu's fight right before the final fight between him and Gojo.

Sukuna and Gojo both suffer from the "Solitude that ultimate strength brings" because they only person they'd acknowledge as their equal is someone as strong as they were. Heck, even Sukuna the nastiest character in the manga has a companion in Ura Ume, who despite Ura Ume acting like a slavish devotee he doesn't really mistreat that much. When Ura Ume fails and apologizes, Sukuna tends to just let it go. The two of them even laugh together. However, despite Sukuna treating Ura Ume marginally better than he treats literally anyone else, their relationship is entirely based off of the fact that Ura Ume is Sukuna's devotee. He's just a subordinate that Sukuna seems sort of fond of, nothing more. They're both unable to let go of their own egos, and therefore don't really form relationships between equals, they form relationships as barters or transactions.

So to reiterate there's a lot of evidence that Gojo will go out of his way to take care of his colleagues and his associates. Gojo's pretty famous for his bullying of Ijichi, but there's a light novel story where he goes out of his way to take Ijichi drinking when he realizes the strength of his work is becoming too much for him.

This could all be attributed to being able to take a proper break after so long but a larger portion was due to sweeping away the “haze” within his heart and most importantly, Gojou’s concern for him had an immediate effect that was better than expected. Even though Gojou was self-centered, did whatever he wanted and had Spartan methods, he was still a teacher. As a top Jujutsu Sorcerer, Gojou was extremely reliable and Ichiji’s own hard work was acknowledged by him, and in Ichiji’s opinion, this sense of sincerely had an immense power of motivation.

Then, of course there's the recent chapters where Gojo reiterates he's asking Ijichi to do things for him because he trusts him.

At the same time I think there's a clear parallel between Ura Ume and Ijichi, Gojo's fond of Ijichi but in the end he's still a subordinate that Gojo trusts on the basis that Ijichi will do things for him. Ijichi thinks that he OWES Gojo and therefore must serve him to the best of his ability. His self esteem is incredibly low such as when he openly remarks that he expected Gojo to say that he should have died instead of Nanami, and he sees himself as inferior because he's weaker.

A lot of Gojo's relatioships work on the basis of transactions, because he is a cog in the machine of sorcery society and that's how you navigate that same society. For example he seems to get along better with Mei Mei than say Utahime, but that's not because he thinks Mei Mei is a better person, he can just pay her off and she'll do what he wants.

Gojo puts Gakuganji the guy who killed Yaga in charge after the higher ups are killed, because that's just how the machine keeps running you gotta find replacement cogs. If Yaga's gone then you just need someone capable of doing the job that Yaga did. Gojo prioritizes function above everything else in regards to personal relationships.

I'd also like to point out that despite Gojo went behind Yaga's back a bunch of time, he also had respect for his position as principal. He does stuff like let Yaga wrestle him down and lecture him in front of everyone after learning that Yuji is still alive, and Gege calls it "reading the room". He acknowledges also that Yaga's position as principal requires him making harsh decisions to compromise between protecting his students and catering to the elders. Gojo gets it, because he's a cog in that same society too.

When Gojo goes out of his way to rescue Megumi and Tsumiki from being forcibly taken in by the Zen'in Clan? Well, they have to still work for Jujutsu High otherwise he's not even going to give them money for food to eat.

Yet, Gojo's also capable of being really fond and considerate towards these same people. He clearly watches over Megumi closely and when he saw Megumi was sacrificing himself too much by summoning Mahoraga as a last resort suicide attempt, he did his best to try to fix Megumi's behavior in his own Gojo way. He watches Megumi close enough that he could notice that pattern of behavior from one tiny detail like Megumi choosing to bunt in a baseball game.

Gojo does things like pet Megumi on the head and act fondly towards him, but at the same time he's taking Megumi on missions to exorcise curses when Megumi's like... eight. Gojo will go out of his way to recruit Nanami because he realizes that Yuji needs someone to take care of his emotional needs and teach him the basics which isn't something he's good at as a sorcerer.

Which was why he decided to talk about such a topic with Nanami. “For people like us, we naturally know how to get rid of the poisons within their heart. But for youths who hold onto a lot of sentimental feelings, it’s another matter altogether. Their heart might collapse just from getting struck by poison once.” “Isn’t it an adult’s duties to rid poison from a child’s heart? As a teacher, you should know this better than me, right?” “Of course I know that’s my duty, which is why I’m talking about this with you here.”

Gojo notices that Yuta is lonely, and is the first one really to advise him to make friends with his fellow sorcerers, something Maki also repeats later in the first chapter of JJK 0 that if he works hard as a sorcerer he'll find someone who needs him and a place to belong. Gojo is also someone who threatens the higher ups if they turn against Yuta that he's going to take Yuta's side and not theirs.

Gojo is also the person who sent Yuta's friends to get beaten up by Geto, because he knew it would piss Yuta off and power him up.

Gojo constantly mocks Utahime and derides her as weak, Gojo also goes up to Utahime personally and asks her to track down the spy leaking information in the sorcerer college because he admits it's something he can't do and she's good at.

My point in highlighting all of this is that Gojo is not a good or bad person, but that his behavior is extremely contradictory. I can point out just as many occasions where he's considerate to people he's close to and tries to take care of them, as I can point out where he uses people in selfish ways to push forward his own agenda.

The central reason why being this, that Gojo's incorrect belief that being the strongest makes him alone, and there's no one who could understand him with the exception of someone on the same level of him.

When that's just not true.

[ikemenomegas]

Now MYY oc needs to die during the shibuya incident 😭 because seeing Shoko go with the flow in letting her friend's body get used (i know that its the most practical and necessary thing to do in the situation but it still hurts) and how Gojo remarked in the flashback that he was annoyed that Shoko didn't object to the idea of using his body as a weapon. Now I want MYY oc to die and have them reunite with gojo in death because shits too sad :((

Okay okay, I think you actually make a good argument for myy oc dying. Mostly because the whole point of myy oc is that it seemed impossible that there was no one else besides Suguru who treated Satoru as human (an equal, not a god or monster).

A tight story works really well with the characters it has, and despite all our complaining, jujutsu kaisen trends towards be a pretty tight story (for a weekly release) with some really distinct themes. Probably one of the reasons the reaction to ch261 has been so visceral was because there were all kinds of threats against the catharsis achieved earlier on, because we're not just seeing the end of a character, we get to see all these little hints of the ways Gojo could have continued to grow as a person, but now never will. There's rightfully a lot of complex emotions from the audience there! In a way, Gojo's perennial childish presentation and his subsequent death still places him within the group of those sacrificed young for the sake of the sorcerer mission (and he's really only 29? so he IS still young, just no longer a socially recognized child)

Therefore, in this au which adds a romantic interest character, the only way things make sense is if Gojo actually did have an attachment to myy oc, if he felt connected and understood in some way. This is very different to canon Gojo whose primary constant tether is to a past that is impossible to retrieve.

The "canon compliant" way I been playing around has Gojo intentionally severing his connection to myy oc in order to undertake his run at Sukuna. He has grown enough to realize there is a vital attachment there, and feels bad about hurting myy oc's feelings, but not enough to risk more selfishness and try and preserve it, to be more (and somewhat less) than just the peak of sorcery. He's trapped in this self fulfilling prophecy that he himself has played into in just about every au that has to do with curses though. (In this au, it's actually myy oc who gets to survive and learn to become something more than a sorcery. I even have a very poor draft of myy oc meeting gojo and geto in the afterlife /sigh)

What you're talking about makes sense and is almost "canon compliant" in a different way, it just plays into this passive l'appel du vide we see from Gojo a few times. A technique is tied up in one's personality some way, and there is this urge Gojo has to just dive off the edge, seeking the void, only he's never met a peak that's actually higher than the place he's standing on, he's never met something more than the "everything" he experiences with his Six Eyes. Until Suguru who opened his eyes to the importance of other people, Yaga who dared to really try and teach him, Shoko who could do something he couldn't and would never be able to explain, and in this au, myy oc, who refused to ever want him as something more or less than human (even if framing him in that context took work).

Shoko lets others make their own beds. She was never going to stop Yuuta or Gojo because she doesn't believe in that kind of meddling, but she also doesn't believe in making useless displays of emotion when something is going to happen/needs to happen anyway. She will bury her own hurt until it is a soft place to lie in. Gojo is someone who can and may take and take and take if given the chance, Shoko is not going to get through to him by letting him move around her, but unfortunately, that's what the less nice part of their friendship is like.

Losing myy oc in Shibuya (when he's not even there to try and stop it) would push Gojo further into this disconnect which sorcery often demands a lot faster. He won't blame himself, just like he sees how Suguru needed to make his own choices (cannot save someone who does not want to be saved), but it makes it that much easier to let go and love only the fight, to try and reach that peak, to finally take that step to destroy the structure he's been part of for so long, and want to go back and do it all over the right way when he's given the chance...

[prismimic]

Uh oh people are poor little meow meow-ing gojo again

Like the "raised as a weapon & dehumanized his whole life" thing is true, but i also don't think it's a reason to paint him (primarily) as a victim or a selfless martyr. Gojo's dehumanization didn't just happen to him, it's something he chose and actively participated in. It's still tragic, but his agency in it is a crucial factor that, if left out, makes it a different and less compelling story.

He was raised with the expectation to fit a certain role, yes. But the ways he destroys and deceives himself to fit that role aren't motivated by a need to meet anyone's expectations. It's a god complex that he has been socially and systematically enabled for his whole life. He was never actually alone, & never actually anything more or less than human. He just let himself believe this was true, because it made him feel safe and in control, albeit lonely. But he always had people who he could have relied on, and chose not to. Shoko even calls him on his bs: "What do you mean alone, i've been here this whole time".

Nanami does too, during the afterlife scene. He directly tells gojo that his primary motivation has always been power for its own sake. He's not a god brought down to earth, he's a man addicted to power, who hinges his entire identity on it and can't let go. "Are you gojo satoru bc you're the strongest" etc was a warning that gojo did not heed. He was literally asked "is power all that you are" and ran from that question for 10 years.

Toji also had this problem but in the opposite direction. They both thought they had shed their humanity, one by rising above it and one sinking below. Yet that part of them comes back to haunt them in their respective final moments.

Anyway it's mainly the implication that gojo took on the burden of being inhuman for selfless reasons, or that he was forced into it, that bugs me. I don't think that's what yuta was implying, but he isn't necessarily exempt from idealizing him either, so maybe it was. But honestly, I think it's more likely he recognizes that facade for the same lie he used to tell himself, and pities him for it.

[blog-of-hubris]

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 187 - The Battle Junkie Collision

“One of those chapters that remind you why Gege is so awesome..”

Legitimately I am always floored when Gege decides to go all in on a fight and not because of the typical “meathead” - for lack of better term- reasoning. This chapter was Gege showing off his ability to complicate his power system , within the battle without it feeling a forced moment of complexity to the power scaling (i.e Kashimo’s cursed energy having electrical properties). Don’t get me wrong, I hate power scaling - with a burning passion, like Jogo’s meteor burning. 

However, this is a battle shonen and a top tier battle shonen will always have power scaling at its core. The very fundamental of it derives from a character (usually) trying to attain a goal that requires them be powerful, the strongest even. Jujutsu Kaisen is no exception- if anything it is an example of how the power scaling leads to such intriguing discussion, which sometimes cannot be fully explored without involving (accurate) lore; void of headcanon or bias. I say all that to say that the culling game has taken jujutsu kaisen to the core of this concept, making the fights we see become a form of character development, (the real meaning of development, as in learning about a character and how they tick - not character growth which is the evolution of a character’s mental disposition, actions etc) - while also entertaining the reader, even causing some to miss those little details that make jjk characters so good, but more on that in later sections.

Basically this chapter, without a doubt was one of those chapters that remind you why gege is so awesome, the sheer amount of raw action with meaningful nuance fuels this manga. The narration that Kashimo received the information for Hakari’s domain faster than he could activate Hollow Wicker basket, as well as the information that his activation is even faster than Mahito’s in Shibuya - it puts a lot of things into perspective. First - the fact that this version of simple domain was confirmed to be able to be used by Reggie and Kashimo has me wondering what exactly caused the creation of simple domain. Since Hollow Wicker Basket is a prototype or original form of simple domain, it really makes me want to see how Simple Domain’s founder (forgot his name too lazy to look up) created it and why he felt it had to be kept within his own clan. 

See? I’m talking about an entirely different lore piece and that all came from Gege simply adding that narration - and not to mention the confirmation of Hakari’s activation speed.. absolutely insane on top of his other buffs.. I get why Yuta said what he said! 

“To Kill an Immortal is to be...”

I love Kashimo for the simple fact that he reminds me of a story about a man who wants to become God. It sounds like I’m making a Black Star reference now that I think about it, but really thats the exact vibe I get from Kashimo. He’s talented, ruthless and clearly gifted with his cursed energy property - however what really grips me about Kashimo is his ruthless fighting style combined with his confidence. He's a scary guy, in a way that I think even Gojo would appreciate (even though he’d get obliterated by Gojo and would do so happily). I think thats what makes post gojo sealing such a phenomenal “era” for this manga, it makes characters like Kashimo feel more like a threat because we know Gojo can’t just come and show him up or guide the students to win.

It was perfect to use Charles as a means to introduce Hakari’s technique/domain then transitioning to the action packed fight - skipping out on the needed explanation for a complex ability like Hakari’s. Its really fucking cool how Gege does that so seamlessly.. I know some people hate to hear it but Gege really took Togashi’s writing style and ran with it. I love it though, he gave it his own modern and more meathead spin while keeping the core of the writing there and thats impressive. 

Back to Kashimo, he really was a warrior in his day and we didn’t need to see the scene at the end of the chapter to know that. The fact he is completely unphased by this powered up Hakari is WILD. He is going toe to toe with him no problem, and in my opinion has the upper hand. The only thing (it looks like) Hakari has going for him is the immortality - but apparently that doesn't mean anything to our lightning man cause he wants to kill an immortal. To me, to kill an immortal is to be a God, thats why I get the vibe that Kashimo is really chasing God-hood. Do I mean that in a literal sense.. sure(?), but really I mean it in the spiritual sense. We know that back in the day jujutsu sorcerers were a lot more connected to the spiritual aspects of cursed energy. Just the idea of them accepting their souls being brought back hundreds of years later requires a level of spiritual awareness that I think modern sorcerers lack a bit - but to me that means Kashimo is fighting so hard because is in his spirit, he has the soul of a warrior so he consistently stayed in battle, always fighting until his body couldn’t keep up anymore. I’m head canon ranting I know, but seeing old man Kashimo really honed in to me that these sorcerers who come back are (probably) chasing after a spiritual fulfillment. I may do a different Meta on that entirely but to me Kashimo is chasing Godhood, as Ryu was chasing “fulfillment “ and Uro chasing “Recognition”. Not to mention chasing after the “King of Curses” to fight and prove who is stronger just sounds like a story out of a folk tale or mythological story of a man chasing “God”. Could be just me though-

The only thing that can confirm my head canon would be more insight on Kashimo as he is fighting Hakari, or a small flashback at the end of the battle, maybe even both. I will say, I am nervous for Hakari a bit!! (but then again not really).

“Hakari is a violent manga fan..” 

All of Gojo’s students are crazy. Inumkai might be the only sane one. Maki committed genocide (in self defense, thats important), Panda is a comical Panda with multiple souls, Yuji is Yuji (need we say more?), Megumi is a psycho- the best kind of psycho, Yuta is a psychotic romantic, and Hakari is a violent manga-head. I love every single one of them and I just need one arc with them all together under Gojo.. please Gege.. I'm begging.. pleading.. I’ll pay--!!!

I mean really though, Hakari’s whole approach to fighting being based around using his luck in a skillful manner, then getting on a jackpot roll then becoming immortal while a song plays for 4 minutes and 11 seconds is hilarious. However, what it is more than hilarious is intriguing. One thing I feel like I haven’t seen anyone talk about is the core to jujutsu kaisen and thats the soul, body and cursed techniques. That has been the key things that have kept this series so interesting and adding twists and turns to what we know about the world. What I mean by saying this is that I feel like people haven’t discussed how insane it is that Hakari’s technique is a romcom manga that exists in real life combined with a pachinko game. His technique revolves around his domain activation just like Higaruma (also, notice how gege introduced the concept of rule-type domain expansions, then introduces higaruma, then shows us hakari’s domain - a character who could do it before the culling game unlike higaruma) and as explained with Higaruma he learned the concept of domain expansion and how it works due to his technique. It wouldn’t be far fetched to assume Hakari was the same! 

Lets take it one step further - we know that Higaruma’s technique revolved around the motif of a suspect, judge, lawyer and executioner. This was obviously to play on his personality and occupation as a lawyer so what does it say about Hakari whose domain is a pachinko game using a romance manga as the motif? I’ll let you come up with your own personal conclusions on that but I will say, to me it makes him fucking awesome. He’s a cultured dude bro. Hakari is a warrior, he loves battle but also he’s a softy for love and romance to a large enough degree that its engrained in his body & soul, and I say that because of what Mahito and Kenjaku showed us about the body, soul and cursed techniques. Hakari is really special.. he’s a gambling addicted manga fan who likes violence at his core. I love him and seeing him confidently go at Kashimo gave me CHILLS. I hope he shows out in the next chapter , but who knows how long Gege wants this fight to last. I do hope we get to see a lot more of the action break down in the paneling like we did for this chapter, it was really cool and seeing the shirtless Hakari panel breaks were the best part. Dude is just Todo x5. 

“Kenny is the cockiest bastard..”

I aspire to be the level of confident Kenjaku is. I mean truly Kenny is the cockiest bastard on earth, I think he rivals Sukuna in that regard honestly. Having the confidence to jump multiple eras and change bodies, tap into different souls and personalities, Kenjaku really is doing his absolute to accomplish his goal. He casually approached Kashimo who had just finished slaughtering people, and calmly shrugs off a taunt from Kashimo. He really is confident in himself, what if Kashimo just attacked? Kenjaku claimed the body he had wasn’t built for fighting, so what does that mean?? He is clearly a powerful barrier user, so why pick a body he couldn’t utilize his strength? A lot of questions I have for him and his motives. 

 What also stood out to me is the similarity with all the people Kenjaku has taken over. I might be over analyzing (per usual) but hasn't all of Kenjaku’s bodies shared the same features? Aside from just the black hair, its something about all of them that seem very very similar, kind of like victimology in profiling. What is it about the victims that caused the suspect to attack them? I feel like there is a profile to be dissected through Kenjaku’s choices for hosts as well has his movements throughout the series - can you tell I been binging Criminal Minds? Seriously though, Kenjaku seems to be showing his true nature through the scenes Gege has been choosing to show us since Shibuya ended, and I love every second of it. Give me more Gege, expose the crevices of Kenny’s mind bit by bit until his real backstory comes to life. 

Random thought i had while typing - since Kenjaku has been around so long its like he is the direct foil to Tengen who was hiding and living “immortal” while Kenjaku was on the other side of the fence living for years “immortal” by jumping bodies and searching for his “truth” - the “potential” of cursed energy. Kenjaku is for sure a very very interesting character and I can’t wait to see more.

“A true Jujutsu Sorcerer ..”

I just want to point out that Kenjaku said Ryu had the most output of cursed energy during Kashimo’s era and we just seen Yuta take him head on.. with two other enemies at once and defeating someone they couldn't beat prior.. he’s a menace. A true jujutsu sorcerer.. and so is Kashimo, but maybe even more so because he has no care for others, only what he is interested in. He only cares about getting stronger and facing off against the strongest - im assuming because he simply loves the thrill of battle. This to me exemplifies what Uro was talking about to Yuta in regards to the strongest sorcerers being like calamities. That was what Uro witnessed, and Kashimo fits that perfectly. And honestly.. so does Hakari! Thats what makes this such an amazing match up because we are seeing true jujutsu sorcery! These battle junkies are going all out to wipe each other out and its that wild battle style that makes jujutsu Kaisen my favorite battle manga to follow fight wise (aside from hxh), 

We’ll see how this battle unfolds but no matter what happens you can tell it will take both them to go all out and have no regrets to come out on top! 

FIGHT CLUB FIGHT CLUB FIGHT CLUB!

[osachiyo]

idk why but I feel this random urge to rant about Gojo and how mis-characterized he is.

⚠️MANGA SPOILERS⚠️

He does NOT have a god complex and people only think this because of how he sees his opponents as inferior and weak. This is NOT because he has a complex but because he is simply the strongest. He’s known that he’s the strongest since a young age. Even before what happened with Toji, he called himself and Geto “The strongest.” And when the star plasma vessel incident happened he solidified that position because of his awakening. Before his awakening he could only use blue and had to manually turn on infinity not to include his six eyes. His six eyes to many peoples misconception is NOT a cursed technique, but a gift inherited and passed down in the Gojo clan. Another thing I’ll rant sometime also but Gojo is not his name, but his last name. His name is Satoru. But to get back on topic those were the only things he could do pre-awakening. After his awakening he had his infinity on at all times, his reverse cursed technique was automatic, learned red, learned hollow purple, and unlocked infinite void. He is the first person to bring out Six eyes and limitless to its full potential. Due to the insane power up he got he became untouchable and no opponent (beside Sukuna) could compare to him. Again, he does not have a complex. He’s just the strongest guy around (before his battle with Sukuna.) And people fail to recognize that he only lost to Sukuna because Sukuna had a lot of prep time and an insane battle iq. He was tossing Sukuna around before getting hit with dismantle

I did not mean for this to turn into a yapping session 😭

I’ll also go more in-depth on more topics in JJK because sleeping is for the weak 🥱

-Gojos number one defender

PREACH !!! 🙌

[firein-thesky]

Hi there Cielo :) May I say the latest chapter of Godmaker was a stunning addition to the rest .. You put so much foreshadowing into the story and it's definitely paying off now - it was so suspenseful!

"He wanted to be human. Mortal. Man." I can't stress enough how much I loved this line .. Gojo's humanity (or lack thereof) is one of the most important and interesting things to explore about his character (definitely my favorite) and you've been dealing with this concept in such a meaningful and intense way :).

One thing I didn't mention in the last comment I left is how well you've portrayed all the other "side" characters, especially Nanami .. He's still so young yet he already feels so tired 😖 .. The family scenes feel so bittersweet and nostalgic, and this chapter was no exception! And Tsumiki - given the way the last three manga chapters have evolved (big sigh) the scenes that involved her and Megumi gained an extra layer of intensity.

Second to last, the desperation in reader's words when Yuta made his appearance .. Knowing his arrival is when things start to seriously unfold in JJK made the moment even more dramatic (I don't know if that made sense 😂).

And last but not least, can I just say .. the very last passage! With what I've said about Gojo's character in mind .. I think it's the best part of it! The way everything slid in place, his painful realization, and both the past and future implications of it ..

I'm as always in awe :,) Thank you so much again for spending your time to work on this and for sharing it with us .. I really mean it! I hope you have a great day :)

oh gosh im sorry im getting to this a few days late!! its been sitting in my asks and i've been rereading it 💕

first of all, thank you AGAIN for taking the time to read and then come into my inbox to share your thoughts 😩😩💕 as always, it means the world to me!!

i think gojo has a...human complex lol. i've seen it go around the dash recently but it was something i'd thought/had been the basis of godmaker for a long time which is that gojo doesn't have a god complex because he just is a god. and he wants to be human. or he wants another god. he doesn't want to be alone anymore. and i took it the next level in godmaker LMAO

god the tsumiki bomb dropped on me and i went SHIT. bc i was not planning on THAT. and then megumi...oh megumi. either way. i had to continue godmaker despite whatever akutami is putting out lol. but im glad you're enjoying the side characters! i actually love writing nanami always. even if he's a tough nut.

it makes total sense!! that's what i intended for it to be! i do feel like yuuta marks the beginning of the end, in the reader's mind. she'll get to meet him next chapter and she. kinda sees him as a bad omen in her life lol.

but gosh THANK YOU! i really really really appreciate you taking the time to send this message and share your thoughts! honestly one of my fav parts of posting on here is when i get to do this!!

thank you again and sorry this is late!! i hope you're doing well friend 💕💕

[tomonari-nue]

Hi! May i ask what you think of fans who keep preaching that Gojo has a god complex/that he's a whore and has a massive whore behavior?

Also how he's a narcissist because he took of his glasses for those pre-teen girls at Riko's school and where teacher gave him her number/ or tried to at least? Dude was shook. That was literally just a "shitty" teenage behavior more than anything else ff

Am I missing something? I know for a fact that Akutami's comments, especially regarding Gojo are more often than not trolls but fandom really likes to take it at face value and put Gojo into this one-dimemsional petty character.

But yeah, popular characters do tend to be done the dirtiest by the fandom.

honestly i dont really care for them. like sure i'll joke that perhaps they arent reading the same manga as me and everybody knows that i, a random stranger on the internet, am always correct and right in whatever i say–

that said, due to the generous use of symbolism of buddhist belief in the manga, i believe Gojo's whole God-Speech is more in line with Enlightenment than the acquisition of godhood. my friend @nanamispto actually had an amazing theory on that!! also, i wouldnt really call Gojo a narcissist as much as he's mostly just arrogant and eccentric. but to be fair, he IS the most powerful person in the world, so i guess he's earned that and also i think he's just very aware of the power he wields and the potential for total annihilation it holds.

my belief is that Gojo basically plays an act of being uppity, arrogant and annoying in order to mask the fact that he's the world's most powerful entity. in a way, he just likes making ppl think of him that way in order to cover up his vulnerability as he knows how painfully human he actually is. like, him getting locked into the Prison Realm was basically caused by him having a very emotional and human moment – Kenjaku was literally betting on Gojo having a one second reaction to seeing them in Geto's body. one second of genuine emotions, thats all it took. i think the concept of humanity and Gojo are very closely intertwined.

however, i do sometimes joke that this guy is a harlot but mostly only bc he always gets those needlessly extra poses like he's trying too hard to be good-looking like sir why do you need to spread your legs like that, there is literally no need. i love him and his complex characterisation, but i also think he's annoying and i want to grab his silly little mask and let it snap back against his face. this man is canonically bitchless, like GETO was the more popular one between the two of them – sure Gojo would attrat ppl by looks alone but as soon as he opens his mouth its game over kjDKBJKJF–

but yeah! i think it's sad a lot of really great and multifaceted characters are taken and then molded into one prominent trait, disregarding any cause for it or origin that made the characters act the way they did. it takes everything interesting away i think.