Gojo Knew That You Absolutely Adored His Eyes, And In Turn, He Began To Adore Them As Well.  

I feel like Geto would mesh really well with a !Non-Affectionate partner.

Personally, I don’t see Geto as the biggest cuddle bug or being the biggest fan of PDA. I feel like his love languages fall more in line with quality time and gift giving. That doesn’t mean that he despises physical affection or anything of that sort — I just feel like he would rather use other methods in order to display his undying love for you.

"Cleaning up?" Geto asks with a curious tilt of his head, watching as you lift another framed photograph from your bedside table. You smile, turning on your heel.  

"Yeah, that and I wanted to replace a couple of the pictures," you answer, gesturing to the photo frames lying face up on your bed. Geto follows your gaze, humming thoughtfully. "Want to help me pick them out?" 

Geto smiles, closing the distance between you both and placing a sweet kiss against your forehead. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close to you. His eyes wander down to the photograph in your hands – it was one of you, himself, Nanako, and Mimiko.  

Nanako and Mimiko are hanging off of Geto's outstretched arms, their lips turned upward in bright smiles. You're standing just in front of Geto, hands hovering beneath the twin girls just in case either one of them were to fall.  

"Don't replace that one," Geto says suddenly, reaching a larger hand out and taking the frame from you. He smiles at it, then returning it to your hand. You chuckle breathily, stepping out of his embrace and turning to glance at the other photographs you had laid out on your bed.  

"I like that one too. But what about these?" 

You receive no answer. 

"Sugu?" You turn back to where he had been standing, tilting your head curiously. The space he occupied was empty.  

"Mama? Who are you talkin' to?" Nanako peeks her head into your bedroom, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she pushes your door open. You still, eyes flickering down to the frame in your hands. Your fingers tighten over it, eyes pricking with tears. "Mama?" 

"Nothin' honey," you reply tearfully, smiling shakily at her as you swipe the backs of your knuckles against your eyes.  

"It was nobody." 

DENJI who knows from the moment that he laid eyes on you that he wanted to be yours. He didn’t want you to be his, oh no, that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to be at your every beck and call — any time that you needed something, he wanted to be the one that you turned to.  

He doesn’t care how simple the task or how stupid the question, he just wants you to look for him. He wants your eyes to fall on him and for your hand to extend in his direction. He wants to be the one you look for in a crowd, he wants to be the one who carries your shopping bags, he wants to be the one who lays his jacket down on every single puddle. He wants you to call him ‘yours’. 

“Shit,” you murmur, placing your hands on your hips and glaring up at the offending pack of chips — which sits on a shelf just barely out of your reach.  

Huffing, you push yourself onto your tiptoe, hand extended towards your desired snack. As if to taunt you, the tips of your fingers brush against the outside of the chip bag.  

Just as you give up, a familiar orange-haired boy slides into the kitchen, lips pulled back in that adorable fanged smile. “Oh, hey (Y/N)!” 

You turn, nearly losing your balance as you glance at Denji, who only smiles in response. His eyes flicker between you and the too-high shelf that prevents you from enjoying a mid-afternoon snack.  

“Hey Denji,” you reply, smiling at him as you turn away from the open cabinet.  

Denji notices your flickering gaze, following it and humming at the bag of chips in the cabinet. He smiles, then returning his focus to you.  

Without saying a word, Denji steps past you, his shoulder brushing affectionately against your own as he easily plucks the bag of chips from the shelf. He offers it to you, heart warming at your immediate smile.  

“Thanks Denji!” you bubble happily, hugging around his arm and placing a thankful kiss against his cheek.  

He smiles, practically purring at the affection.  

DENJI who greets you as if you had been separated for years. The moment that patrol ends and he’s able to return to Aki’s apartment — where he knows you’ll be — he’s sprinting with a speed that not even he knew that he possessed. He doesn’t care to see if Power is behind him, his sole focus being the fact that he was returning home to you.  

The moment that he steps through the door, Denji’s eyes are darting around the apartment for you. He accidentally slams the door in Power’s face, beelining for you in the living room and promptly hugging you like he was your husband returning home from war.  

“Denji—!” Power’s voice is cut off by the slamming of the apartment door, her angered groan falling on deaf ears as Denji excitedly enters the apartment.  

He looks around quickly, heart pounding in his ears as his eyes search for you — finding you in the kitchen snacking on the leftovers from the dinner that Aki had made the previous night. He beelines for you, arms locking around your waist and the entirety of his body weight pushing against your own.  

“Denji!” you exclaim, wobbling on your feet and nearly choking on the forkful of food that you had been ingesting. He ignores you, burying his head into the junction that connects your collarbone and shoulder, lightly biting down and smiling as you yelp again. You can feel the curl of his smile against your skin, and suddenly you weren’t as angry with him. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled from where his face is pressed impossibly closer against you, his nose practically inhaling your scent and committing it to the deepest depths of his memory. 

You smile to yourself, lifting a hand and threading your fingers into Denji’s hair, nails raking lightly over his scalp. He curls further into you — if that was even possible — placing a chaste kiss against your neck (as if he hadn’t just bitten you there).  

“Yeah,” you agree, leaning back into his arms and allowing your eyes to momentarily close, “I missed you too.” 

DENJI who treats you as his own personal pillow and may (WILL) suffocate you when it’s time to go to sleep. He can’t help it! He hugs you to his chest just as you’re both dozing off, your head tucked comfortably underneath his chin with your own arms wound loosely around his midsection. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling that oh-so-familiar scent of your shampoo — it was so distinctly you.   

But somehow, in the ungodly hours of the morning, you’re suddenly confused as to why it’s so hard to breathe. Denji, somehow, had rolled completely on top of you. His nose is buried into the crook of your neck, mouth hanging open as loud — and borderline obnoxious — snores fill the otherwise quiet bedroom. His arms are still locked around you like iron, but this time, you genuinely don’t know if they’re going to be the weapons that kill you. 

Your eyes shoot open at the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe, widened irises flickering around the room until you’re suddenly aware of why you can’t breathe— 

“Denji,” you whisper urgently, desperately shaking the figure that lays on top of you. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning out over the skin of your neck. He mumbles something incoherent, only snuggling further into you and pressing more of his weight down onto you.  

In any other situation, you would have ‘awed’ at him and lovingly pinched his cheek. 

But right now you were a little more focused on remaining conscious.  

“Denji,” you say again, louder this time. You try your hardest to shove him off of you, but even in sleep, he fights against you, wanting to practically be melded to you. He grumbles sleepily, and you could only pray that he chokes on his own spit so that he would wake up. 

Your hands brace against his side, trying one last time to push him off of you. Denji’s nose scrunches adorably, a snore getting caught in his throat as his grip tightens impossibly further over you. You groan lightly, sighing through your nose.  

“Denji, come on,” you murmur, screwing your eyes shut and giving Denji’s limp body one more shove. Denji grunts, finally opening his eyes and turning to you with a tired glint to his eyes, sleepily blinking at you.  

“Wha—?” Denji hums, smacking his lips together and blinking away the last bits of exhaustion from his eyes. He rolls off of you, resulting in you greedily inhaling. Denji only stares curiously at you, now wide awake and wondering why you were breathing so heavily.  

“You were squishing me,” you say simply, sitting up and glancing at Denji, who is quick to sit up beside you. He pouts, jutting out his bottom lip as he stares at you, guilt swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, you do it every night.” 

“I do?!” 

DENJI who always has to have a hand on you when you’re out and about — even if it’s while the two of you are paired together for patrol. Most of the time, Denji’s fingers are locked together with your own, his thumb sometimes brushing over the backs of your knuckles (mainly because Aki mentioned ONCE that it was a romantic gesture). It’s sweet…when you’re not working obviously.  

Standing in line results in the both of you receiving glances from those that surround you, some of them looks of jealousy, but the majority of them are those disgusted glances usually thrown at the PDA obsessed couples in amusement park lines. Does Denji care about those glances? Oh, absolutely not, he could care so much less. He loves you! So why would he sit back and not show you that he absolutely loves and adores you? 

“Hey Denji? I can’t really fight this Devil with one hand,” you comment offhandedly, glancing down at Denji’s fingers that were so tightly interlocked with your own — you honestly don’t know if he has any plans of genuinely letting go. He glances down at the Devil in question, acknowledging its existence before turning with a lovesick smile back to you.  

“I’m sure you can,” he responds, figurative tail wagging as you roll your eyes. You squeeze his fingers three times, a silent way of you saying ‘I love you” — a little something that you had both established somewhere near the beginning of your relationship. Denji’s smile impossibly widens, his fingers returning your affectionate squeeze.  

“Two seconds, count it,” you say with a smile, leaning forward on the tips of your toes and pressing a fleeting kiss to Denji’s cheek. He all but purrs at you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before he (reluctantly) lets you deal with the Devil that you had been sent out to exterminate.  

DENJI who texts you so many times throughout the day that you have to silence your phone at the beginning of your shifts at work. Otherwise your phone would be buzzing every three seconds with a new message from Denji, be it a random selfie of him and Power or a pinecone that he claims “looks like you!” Sometimes his messages don’t even make sense, but that can be blamed on Denji’s inability to type properly — considering that he had never had a cell phone before. 

Snuck between those fun messages are genuine heartfelt texts that make your heart melt when you scroll back to reread them. Every morning the first message that pings on your phone is from Denji, telling you to make sure that you eat something and that he would see you later on patrol. And the last message that you see every night is Denji telling you sweet dreams and that he would see you in the morning.  

“Is that your phone again?” Aki asks with a raise of his eyebrow, taking a drag of the cigarette between his lips before blowing the smoke out in a small gray cloud in front of him. You pause, tilting your head before becoming aware of the constant vibration against your thigh.  

You dip your fingers into your pocket, taking out your cellphone and looking down at the 34 messages sent to you by Denji. You bite back the smile that threatens to curl the corner of your lips upward, scrolling through the various texts of ‘Miss you!’ and ‘Tell Aki that we’re out of cereal’.  

“Sorry, it’s Denji,” you murmur, remembering that you and Aki were currently on patrol, “I’ll silence it.” 

Aki nods, flicking away his cigarette and turning away from you. You heart a few of Denji’s messages, smiling down at the illuminated screen before silencing your phone and jogging to keep up with Aki. 

DENJI who enjoys having late night conversations with you — talking about whatever it is that you want. Sometimes you both have deep conversations with one another, revealing parts of your past and in turn learning a little bit more about Denji. Or sometimes you have silly ‘what if’ conversations, where you’ve learned that, yes, Denji would love you if you were a worm, Denji would be able to identify your pussy in a room full of others, and Denji would happily lay over a puddle so that your shoes wouldn’t get wet.  

He likes to ramble, he likes to get stuck on one topic and just pour his heart out about whatever it may be. Denji also just loves the sound of your voice, listening to you ramble about topics that you’re passionate about or listening to stories from your childhood. He’ll keep his eyes on you the entire time that you’re speaking, his chin leaned into the palm of his hand as you continue speaking. If you quiet down for even a second, he prompts you to continue with a chipper “And then what happened?” 

“You tired?” Denji asks, eyes fixed on the ceiling and watching as the small fan spins in seemingly endless circles, giving the room a small breeze that momentarily cancels out the warmth that radiates from the outside.  

You shake your head, hair tickling Denji’s shoulder. Your leg is hiked up over his own with your arms wound loosely over his midsection. “No, not really,” you murmur, suddenly aware of just how awake you truly are.  

It was odd, considering that patrol lasted much longer today and Makima had quite a few words to say to you and Denji before you left the offices for the day. You thought that by the time you had finished up dinner with Aki that you would be completely exhausted — and yet you weren’t. 

“What was your life before being a Devil Hunter like?” Denji asks, rubbing a thumb up and down your side. You hum, closing your eyes for a moment and simply remembering; remembering blurry figures of people that you may or may not have loved and muddled memories of a time that you may or may not have enjoyed.  

“I dunno actually, I don’t really remember it,” you reply with a small shrug, shuffling your body closer to Denji’s and letting out a sigh, your breath fanning over his neck. He ignores the shiver that crawls up his spine at the sensation, momentarily tightening his arms around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.  

“Well…what do you remember?” Denji inquires. You smile to yourself, knowing what it was that Denji wanted — he just wanted to hear you talk. Humming to yourself, you tilt your head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of Denji’s jaw. 

“There is one thing, I had a best friend growing up,” you begin, squeezing Denji’s waist and smiling as he returns it, excitedly listening and waiting for you to tell him the tale from your childhood.  

DENJI who just loves and adores you more than anything. The moment that he becomes yours, the moment that you become his, he’s completely devoted to you and to you only. To him, you’re the one person that’s worth sticking around for, the one person worth protecting from Devils. In a way, Denji is just glad to have someone that doesn’t look at him like he’s a freak — as he’s used to eyes widening in disgust and lips curling back to spit out venomous insults.  

But then Denji met you; you with the warmth in your eyes and the glitter to your smile. You with the kind words and tight hugs that were warmer than any summer’s day. You with the kisses that managed to steal his breath every single time and you with the ability to make the gloomiest days bright.  

Denji is so happy to have you in his life, and every day he manages to convey that love and adoration to you. And the moment that you reciprocate it, Denji falls harder and harder.  

My first time writing for Chainsaw Man and Denji, go easy on me.

singledad! nanami having the hots for yuji’s kindergarten teacher who has the tendency to overwork herself to the bone in the name of her precious students

he gets her to unwind with him 🫣 they fuck LMAOOOLLL

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Pairing - !SingleDad Nanami x !Kindergarten Teacher Reader

Warning(s) - None besides some foul language.

Word Count - 2.6k

A/N - Hi, yes, okay, I know the request had a smut element to it, but I took a fluffy route. If you want a part two that has that smut element or an alternate version that focuses on that smut element, please send me a request and I will get to it as quickly as I can! But I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

ENCOUNTER 1 : 

“There! He’s over there!” Yuuji says happily, his grip over your hand tightening as he points to a blonde-haired man standing in the crowd of awaiting parents. You follow his gaze, smiling kindly as the man lifts his hand in a wave, grinning at both you and Yuuji.  

“Alright, off you go then,” you smile down at Yuuji, releasing his hand and watching as the six-year-old toddles over to his father, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s leg and smiling widely up at him. His father stands straight, waving once more to you before vanishing into the crowd. 

ENCOUNTER 2 : 

"Mr. Nanami, correct?" You cast a glance down at your clipboard before your gaze returns to the blonde male standing in front of you. He nods, smiling apologetically as Yuuji tugs once again on his arm, trying his hardest to get his father's attention. "You can both come inside." 

Nanami smiles again as he walks past you, taking a seat on the too-small chairs that you had set up in the center of the classroom. His knees curl up to his chest, but he says nothing as you sit in front of him, smiling first at Yuuji before your gaze shifts to settle on him.  

"Yuuji is an absolute pleasure to have in class. He's very helpful with others and myself, he focuses on each task he's given – he's a very gifted student," you explain, lifting up the pages on your clipboard and smiling as Yuuji's toothy grin widens, gleeful with the praise you were giving him.  

"Is that so? I'm very glad to hear that," Nanami nods, turning then to Yuuji and placing a palm over the top of his head. The six-year-old giggles, leaning into his father's touch with a closed-eye smile.  

You watch the interaction with a gentle smile of your own, fingers releasing their hold on the papers of your clipboard and listening as they quietly fall into place.  

ENCOUNTER 3 : 

"Papa, look! It's Miss (Y/N)," Yuuji bubbles happily, tugging on Nanami's pant leg and pointing in the direction that he had seen you. Curious, Nanami allows his gaze to follow Yuuji's finger – the scolding he wanted to give about pointing falling dead in his throat.  

You're preoccupied with whatever shopping list is curled between your fingers, lips pressed firmly together in thought as you struggle to decide which brand of potato chips to buy. Nanami can't help but silently admire you from his place farther down the same aisle. His lips tug upward in a soft smile – maybe one day he would have enough courage to stride up to you. 

ENCOUNTER 4 : 

"Oh, hello. Did Yuuji forget something at home?" you inquire curiously, raising an eyebrow as a very disheveled Nanami straightens himself out in front of you. His fingers fiddle with his tie, trying to make it look a touch more presentable – but to no avail.  

"I apologize for my appearance, this morning has been hectic. But yes, Yuuji accidentally left his lunchbox," Nanami answers, holding up the small metal lunchbox decorated with superhero stickers – some scratched and some brand new.  

You smile gently at him, reaching out to take the lunchbox from his fingers. "Don't worry, we all have those mornings," you say reassuringly, chuckling gently at Nanami. He returns your smile, cheeks warming at the lingering feeling that your fingers had left behind.  

ENCOUNTER 5 :  

"Hey, isn't that Yuuji's teacher?" Gojo asks, lifting his index finger to point across the bar. Nanami's eyes follow Gojo's finger – which then widen at the sight of you mingling with a few friends, nursing a fruity cocktail in your hand.  

Nanami hums in response, trying his hardest to return his attention to his drink, but your outfit is much too tight, pushing up exactly what needs to be pushed up and making your figure just that much more attractive. Behind his eyeglasses, his gaze roams up and down the dips and curves of your body, his lips quirking up in tune with his wandering eyes.  

"Yeah, it is," he mutters offhandedly, lifting his glass to his lips and resting it against the skin there. Gojo smirks, lowering his finger before standing from his place at the bar. Nanami's eyebrows pinch together in curiosity, watching the snowy-haired male swagger his way across the bar – not stopping until he reaches where you stand with your friends, then throwing a slender arm over your shoulders.  

The once loose grip Nanami had over his glass is replaced by a tight curl of his fingers, one that could surely shatter the glass should he apply the right amount of pressure. His eyes narrow in an almost predatory manner – watching as Gojo smiles at both you and the friends that had come along with you.  

You return his smile and laugh at the cheesy jokes that he throws your way, but Nanami can see the hint of discomfort that lies behind the curl of your lips. Oh, so that was Gojo's plan. 

Downing the rest of the whiskey in his glass, Nanami stands from his place at the bar, striding across the small space until he stands just a few inches away from you, your friends, and Gojo – the latter of whom is wearing that shit-eating grin he always wears when his plans work out just the way that he wanted them to.  

"Oh! Mr. Nanami! I didn't expect to see you out here," you say, turning quickly to glance at the blonde as he wanders into your line of vision. Your smile, once uncomfortable and forced, was now that same smile that you flashed at him when you noticed him at dismissal. "It's nice to see you." 

Nanami's cheeks heat, and he silently thanks the bar for being so dim, its lighting hiding the gentle pink hue that imbues over his face. "It's nice to see you as well Miss (Y/N)," Nanami nods at you, feeling himself smile as you shift an inch closer to him.  

"Oh, would you like to join me at the bar? Your friends can as well, if they'd like," Nanami offers, shooting Gojo a pointed glare. Gojo only smirks, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. That bastard. 

You glance to your friend, who nods encouragingly at you. You turn back to Nanami, smiling at his offer and reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm – your touch lights a small fire underneath his skin, one that he most certainly does not complain about.  

"We'd love to, thank you." 

ENCOUNTER 6 : 

"Where's your father Yuuji?" Your voice is a quiet mumble, your fingers still closed around Yuuji's as the both of your gazes sift through the crowd of awaiting parents – and yet Nanami is nowhere to be seen. The pink-haired boy sinks back onto his heels, a saddened look falling over his face as he leans into your side.  

"I don't know," he mumbles in response, his eyes already glossing over with tears. You soften, kneeling down to be at eye-level with the boy and smiling as reassuringly as you can at him. "Did he forget me?" 

You shake your head quickly, squeezing the tiny hand that still rests in yours. Yuuji sniffles, his cheeks puffing out in an adorable pout. "No! No honey, your father did not forget you. It could just be that work is keeping him a little later." 

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Yuuji nods, rubbing his free hand against his tear-filled eyes, sniffling. You smile again, squeezing his fingers before guiding him back to the entrance of your classroom.  

He follows, sitting down at his seat and taking the coloring sheets and colored pencils that you offer him, already scribbling away at the black-and-white monkey that laid in front of him. You take the seat at his left, feeling your heart warm as Yuuji tilts the sheet towards you – a silent invite for you to color with him.  

You take one of the colored pencils that he offers you, coloring in a small section of the page and occasionally looking up to your classroom door – where the hell was Nanami?  

"Wait here for a moment Yuuji, I'm going to call your father, okay?" You lift a hand to ruffle the boy's hair, smiling at him before silently moving towards the chorded phone tucked into the corner of your classroom, located just behind your desk.  

Just as you finish dialing in the now familiar number, the door to your classroom opens, revealing a disheveled Nanami. He leans quietly against the doorframe for a moment, catching his breath before Yuuji turns, smiling widely at the sight of his father.  

"Papa!" 

You turn from where you stand beside the phone, smiling in relief as you watch Yuuji bound up to Nanami, wrapping his little arms halfway around his father's legs.  

"There you are. I have to admit, I was getting a little worried about you," you admit with a smile, waving to Nanami as you walk closer to the pair, watching through softened eyes as Yuuji reaches for his completed coloring page, wanting to show his father.  

"I apologize for my lateness. I had not expected my office to keep me as late as they did," Nanami apologizes, bowing his head at you. You wave him off, then folding your fingers together in front of you.  

"It's not an issue at all. Though you did give Yuuji quite the scare," you admit, not failing to notice the way that Nanami's smile fades for a quick moment, but returns when Yuuji lifts his coloring page up to him.  

"Oh," he hums, turning to Yuuji and laying a palm against the youngster's head, lovingly ruffling his hair. "I apologize Yuuji, I didn’t mean to frighten you." 

"It's okay Papa! Miss (Y/N) and I colored together!" Yuuji bubbles, his eyes crinkling in a wide smile as his eyes momentarily flicker to you. "See? I made this one look like you." 

Nanami smiles fondly, then turning to you and once again mouthing his thanks. You merely wave him off, watching with a smile of your own as Yuuji continues to explain each little character that he had colored in.  

ENCOUNTER 7 : 

"Good morning Miss (Y/N)!" Yuuji exclaims happily, smiling brightly up at you as Nanami leads him forward, releasing the little boy's hand as he tugs his father towards you.  

Biting back the yawn that rises in your throat, you will yourself to smile back at your student, waving politely at him and watching through half-lidded eyes as he lets go of Nanami's hand. He opens his mouth to question you, but is immediately distracted by the call of one of his friends.  

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)," Nanami bows politely at you, one that you return clumsily. His eyebrows pinch together in a mixture of curiosity and concern – you weren't acting like your regular self. Your once bubbly attitude and bright greetings were replaced now by half-assed "good morning's" and small waves that carried none of your usual warmth.  

"Morning Mr. Nanami," you return, your smile wobbling as your eyes flicker to meet his own. It's then that he notices the exhaustion that weighs heavy on your eyelids, practically tugging them down to a point where you look as though you're about to fall asleep standing upright.  

"Are you feeling alright this morning?" 

"Oh yes, just tired is all," you wave off his concern, smiling once again at him before a comfortable yet uncomfortable silence falls over the both of you. "I'll be seeing you later?" 

"Yes, have a good day," Nanami smiles at you, his heart warming when you return it – though it doesn't quite reach your eyes that way that it would normally. You wave again at him as he walks off, then turning to your awaiting students and clapping your hands once together.  

ENCOUNTER 8 : 

"Oh! Miss (Y/N)! My papa wanted to talk to you after school today," Yuuji mentions to you, smiling as he glances up from the worksheet that he had been previously occupied with. Your eyebrows pinch together in intrigue, glancing down at the pink-haired boy and tilting your head at him.   

"Alright then, I'll be waiting for him," you reply with a kind smile, then continuing your routine check on the rest of your students, being sure that none of them were struggling with the work that you had handed out.  

< … > 

"Yuuji mentioned that you wanted to speak with me?"  

Nanami swallows the growing lump in his throat, suddenly feeling oddly choked up as you stand in front of him, lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. His shirt feels tighter than before, the air surrounding him is suddenly hotter than it had been previously.  

"Yes – uhm – my apologies if I am taking up your time," Nanami begins, fiddling with his fingers and scratching at already existing hangnails, "but there is something that I wanted to ask of you." 

You smile kindly at him, a gentle laugh falling from your parted lips – a sound that Nanami wishes that he could commit to the very depths of his memory.  

"You're not wasting my time at all," you're quick to reassure him, your gaze momentarily flickering to Yuuji as he takes advantage of the empty classroom, organizing the books in your small-shelved library.  

Nanami inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest and wondering if what he was about to ask would make you view him in a different light – though he sincerely hoped that you wouldn't.  

"I was wondering...and forgive me if this is too forward...if you would like to join me for coffee sometime this weekend?" His voice is dangerously quiet, a light shake to his voice as the fear of being rejected finally sinks into his bones – maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.  

Your laughter dies down, fading completely as you stare at Nanami – you certainly hadn't expected him to ask you that.  

Just as Nanami opens his mouth to apologize again, you cut him off.  

"I'd love to." 

With cheeks dusted pink and a smile that could only be compared to a lovesick fool, Nanami glances up at you, feeling his chest warm at the sight of your dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes.  

< ... > 

"So that's how you and Papa fell in love?" Yuuji tilts his head curiously, biting back his yawn as he nestles further into his comforters. You smile gently at him, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle his hair, threading your fingers through his pink locks.  

"That's exactly how Papa and I fell in love. He took me for coffee that very weekend, and the rest is history," you recall with a lovesick smile plastered onto your face. Yuuji smiles sleepily, a sight that you mentally commit to memory.  

"I'm happy you and Papa met," Yuuji whispers adorably, yawning again before his heavy eyes finally flutter shut, exhaustion taking over him. You smile again, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss against his forehead before you stand from his bed. 

You turn your head, jumping at the sight of Nanami standing in the doorframe to Yuuji's bedroom, leaning against it with crossed arms and a gentle smile on his face. "How long were you there for?" Your voice is almost accusatory as you walk into your husband's arms, resting your own around his neck and tracing your fingernails along his nape.  

"Long enough to hear you retell that story for – what – the eighty-fifth time?" Nanami perks an eyebrow at you, leaning down to slot his lips against yours. You hum against his mouth, tugging him a bit closer and biting playfully at his bottom lip.  

He pulls away after a moment, the tip of his nose affectionately brushing against your own, his large hands squeezing playfully at your waist.  

"And every time I tell it, you hang off of my every word, don't you?"  

Nanami smiles, his lips ghosting over your own as he tugs you impossibly closer, your chest pressed flush against his own.  

"That I do." 

This is self-indulgent comfort because hey, guess who just read chapter 236?

Also, consider this my official apology for this post.

This wasn't real.  

"C'mon Satoru, get up," you all but beg, fingers folding uncomfortably into one another as you stare forward. You already know that everyone else is staring at you, watching you, gauging their own reactions based off of what you display.  

He wasn't losing, was he? 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, continuing to watch as he pushed himself further and further towards a limit that you didn't know if he could bounce back from. The pit in your stomach only grew with each blow that he sustained, it grew with each drop of blood he lost and it grew with each Domain Expansion that he managed to pull off. 

No. He was the strongest, he'd be fine. 

At your side is Yuuji, his hand holding onto yours so tightly that you can feel your bones begin to crack. Even with the slightly uncomfortable sensation, you say nothing – Yuuji needed to feel the comfort of something familiar, and that just so happened to be you.  

And then … silence. 

Satoru Gojo … on the floor … eyes staring blankly up at the sky … blood everywhere.  

"…'toru?" 

You begin to tremble, the shake beginning in your fingers before slowly traveling up your body like a snake, coiling and twisting over your bones and biting into you – its fangs leaving behind a poisonous panic. 

"Satoru--!" 

"Hmm? Wha – what happened?"  

Your eyes shoot open, beads of sweat dripping down your forehead and making your hair cling uncomfortably to your skin. Your body propels itself upward, feet kicking off the blankets that cover you – it was warm, too warm.  

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?"  

Your head swivels to the side, nearly giving yourself whiplash. There, at your side, is that familiar tuft of snowy-white hair and bright aquamarine eyes that soften at the panicked expression you wear. Satoru. 

You open your mouth to say something, but instead of a coherent sentence, all your body is able to produce is a broken sob. And right on cue, Satoru's arms are locked around you, tugging you to his chest and allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. 

Your nails bite into his back as you sob into him, body trembling with the weight of your cries. Though the feeling of you scratching him was a touch painful, there was nothing that would stop him from comforting you – not when you were this distressed.  

"Hey … hey. Shh, 'm right here," Satoru murmurs into your hair, laying gentle kisses against your hairline as his fingers rub comforting circles into the small of your back. "Shh." 

You feel yourself begin to calm as the familiar tingle of Infinity washes over you, draped over your shoulders like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Its warmth reminds you of the safety that Satoru's arms provide, how he would never let anything happen to you. That you were safe. That he was safe.  

That whatever you saw when your eyes were closed was nothing but a story told by your imagination.  

"Don't leave me 'toru … ever," you mumble into Satoru's shirt, voice breaking to release a small sob. His arms tighten around you, cheek pressing into your hair. He can feel his heart tightening in his chest – mind wrapping around just how small you sounded. How desperate. Frail.  

He sighs, craning his neck and laying his palm against your cheek, lifting your head and guiding your tear-filled gaze to meet his softened one. His lips turn upward in a smile, the pad of his thumb swiping against the tears that roll silently down your cheeks.  

"Hey, there she is," he murmurs warmly, tone dripping with affection and a softness that he could only ever reserve for you. Satoru leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. At the contact, your eyes momentarily shut, as if committing the very feeling of him against you to memory.  

"I'm here. Not goin' anywhere just yet." 

His thumb swipes against your bottom lashes, wiping away those last few tears that cling so desperately to your waterline, wanting to fall but not being brave enough to make the final choice. Satoru smiles again – silently wanting you to do the same.  

Even though your heart still aches and your mind still reminds you of what you had seen … you smile too.  

Because deep down, in that little safe kept in your chest, you know that Satoru wouldn't go down so easily. At the end of the day, just like he had promised you … 

... he would always be on the other side of the front door.  

A/N - I don't really know what this is, but I randomly thought of this because of those fucking TikTok slideshows.

"And Yuuji?" 

The pink-haired teenager turns, eyes meeting your awaiting gaze. His lips curl upward in a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  

"Yeah?" 

"Be careful out there." 

Yuuji's smile widens – if that was even possible – and he sends a thumbs-up in your direction. "You got it!" 

No, no, no, no. 

"Kugisaki! Run!" Yuuji shouts, hand desperately extending in the direction of his friend. His eyes widen as the sound of a slap echoes throughout the otherwise empty train terminal. He can feel his heart promptly stopping in his chest as Mahito continues running, only turning once he's skidded to a stop a few inches behind Nobara's back.  

His head turns, eyes casting a glance over his shoulder. A grin spreads over his face at the destruction he's caused, a childlike glint to his eyes as he watches Nobara's palm cover the eye that he had touched.  

You stare silently from your place, eyes wide at the scene that begins to unfold in front of you. You had seen this somewhere before, a muddled memory that featured different figures – but it was a dangerous similarity nonetheless. 

Yuuji freezes in place, watching as Nobara's eyes cast themselves to the ground, her palm still covering her right eye. Her expression conveys just how conflicted she is, but for a moment, there's a moment of acceptance.  

That's where you'd seen it before.  

A bright eyed girl with her entire life ahead of her and a boy who only wanted to help her. Then, just like the snapping of someone's fingers, gone is the girl.  

And left behind is the boy to grapple with the aftermath of her death.  

With a smile on her face, Nobara uncovers her eye, allowing Yuuji to see the veins beneath her skin. Already they are enflamed – both she and Yuuji know what is going to happen, and shockingly, she accepts it.  

Yuuji shakes his head, slowly approaching Nobara. He doesn't want it to be true … she knows that there's no other outcome.  

"Y'know … it wasn't so bad," Nobara admits with a closed-eye smile. She chuckles breathily, a tear slipping down from her uninjured eye. Her head tilts, her bangs flopping momentarily over her eyes before the veins in her right eye expand and explode.  

Yuuji stares, eyes widened in horrified shock as the body of one of his closest friends falls to the floor with a lifeless, heavy thud.  

You remember seeing that exact expression worn by another face, one that had blurred with time, but one that you had once regarded with a love so pure that surely anyone would be jealous of it.  

From your place behind Yuuji, all you can do is watch – just as you had done all of those years ago. All you can do is watch as he stares down at her corpse, just like another had done. 

But this time … 

… you approach Yuuji carefully. Extending your hand, you lay your palm flat against his back, turning him to face you while your eyes never leave Nobara.  

Her eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, devoid of any and all of the warmth that once encapsulated her irises. You'd seen that before too.  

"I--" Yuuji begins, but the thought is cut off as a sob rises in his throat. His eyes crinkle, tears falling from where they had been clinging to his bottom lash line. His body turns, arms wrapping tightly around your midsection.  

You say nothing as you return his embrace, allowing him to bury his face away into your shoulder – likely not wanting to stare into the lifeless eyes of one of his best friends. "Shh." 

"Geto-san," Yuuji whimpers into your shoulder, then dissolving into tears. You screw your eyes shut, trying your best to mask the shaky sigh that falls from your lips. You turn your head, laying your cheek against the top of his head and squeezing him tighter into your embrace.  

"I know," you say shakily, swallowing your own tears, "I know." 

The Shibuya Incident

JJK characters in Shibuya.

INCLUDED - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto (!Non-Defected), Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Ino Takuma, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

WARNINGS - mature themes, foul language, mentions of death, explicit death, gore, canon JJK violence, mental breakdowns, mass murder

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"Hey, hey. Take a breath for me," Gojo says softly to you, his thumbs smoothing over the skin just beneath your eyes. You're panicking in his arms, eyes flickering wildly about. Your body is shaking in his hold, fear radiating off of you in frantic waves.  

Even with his soft-spoken command, you can't. The ability to breathe feels like it's been ripped out from underneath your feet, replaced instead by sharpened inhales that only make your head spin and your throat burn. The feeling of his skin on your own, while it would've calmed you in any other situation, seemed to only make you feel worse.  

"Satoru," you try to bite out, but his name comes out like a breathy plea. His shoulders sag, the eyes behind his blindfold softening as he watches you descend into your own mind. He's just as scared as you are – walking into that veil was the exact same as walking into the belly of an angered beast.  

He didn't want to do it, and hell he wished that you would've stayed home where at least he knew that you were safe. But duty called … duty always called. "Honey, you have to breathe. Take a breath." 

Though you struggle, you inhale shakily. Gojo nods at you, encouraging you to take another breath. His shoulders raise in an emphasized show of breathing, which he only lowers once he sees your body mimicking the movement of his own.  

"There you go--" 

Gojo's words fall dead on his tongue as you tug his body against your own, arms winding around his waist and holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. In any other situation, he would've laughed at you – teased you even. But this time, he doesn’t.  

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you against him while his cheek lays against the top of your head. He sighs, feeling you shake against him as you conceal your crying into his chest, sobs caught by the thickened fabric of the shirt that he wears.  

"Promise me that you'll come back," you whisper, voice barely audible, but he hears you. Gojo sighs, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his. Your hands shakily lift, pushing up his blindfold to see that his eyes shine with tears just like yours do. "Promise me 'toru." 

He smiles tearfully at you, nodding his head and craning his neck to place a loving kiss against your forehead. He lingers there for a moment, feeling you sigh against him as you close your eyes.  

"I promise." 

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), c'mon, answer me!" Geto must sound like a madman to the sorcerers' that accompany him, but their opinion of him holds no importance – not when he can't find you. 

Your phone had gone dead the moment that you entered the station, which he had expected and anticipated. But it didn't make his heart sink any less when he suddenly couldn't reach you. That meant that he wasn't sure if you were safe, or if you were even alive.  

And now, with an entire portion of the station infested with transfigured humans, Geto had one singular goal. That was to find you and get the fuck out of Shibuya, mission be damned. 

So he sprinted through the train station in a manner akin to a rabid animal, tearing through anything that stood in his path with whatever curse he was able to conjure up. It felt like he had been caught in tunnel vision, only able to see in front of him – all he wanted was to make sure that you were safe. 

"(Y/N)! Thank God, there you--" He pauses, his breath catching in his throat. It feels like he's been punched in the gut. His body stands rigid, eyes widening slowly at the sight that lies in front of him.  

You're there, you're right there in front of him. But your body is held in the hands of a transfigured curse, one with devilish eyes and a wicked smile that quickly burns itself into Geto's memory. He'd never forget that smile, ever.  

Weakly, your head turns so that your gaze meets his. "Suguru," is the only word that you're able to muster up in your current state. The freakishly large hand around you tightens, and with a painful grimace, you're gone before Geto could even process what was happening.  

And he stands there, eyes wide and body stiff, mirroring a position that he stood in years and years ago. 

"Kento …?" Your heart sinks as you slowly approach your husband's back, feeling your chest tighten in fear at the curse that stands behind him, hand raised – Mahito.  

Nanami's spine momentarily straightens at the sound of your voice, head turning just enough that he could watch you walk closer out of the corner of his eye. He wants to open his mouth to tell you to run, to reunite with the others and save yourself. But selfishly, he doesn't. 

He waits until you walk completely into view, shocked that Mahito even lets you. He had expected the child-like curse to round on you and promptly blow you to oblivion in front of his very eyes. He looks tired, exhausted even. You soften, tears already pricking at your eyes. 

"(Y/N)," he murmurs in that silky voice that always had the ability to make you weak. Even now, in a moment where you know that you were both completely and utterly doomed, you smile. Sure, it's a weak little quirk of your lips, but Nanami feels his heart soar at the sight of it.  

You shake your head, eyes flickering between your husband's and Mahito's, struggling to focus on one. Shakily, you lift your arms, readying yourself to attack Mahito. Even as you shake underneath your own fear, you still try to protect him – even if was in vain. 

"I love you," Nanami says to you, breaking your focus on Mahito and returning it to himself. Teary (E/C) eyes flicker to meet dulled hazel, and again, Nanami smiles. Your chest tightens, coiling with guilt over the lack of control that you had over the situation. "I love you … so much." 

"Kento," you breathe out, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I love you too, but--" 

Mahito doesn't let you finish your thought, and in a flash of crimson, Nanami is gone. Your eyes widen, your body stands as still as stone. The curse only smiles, then rounding on you. You exhale shakily, eyes flickering down to what's left of your husband before Mahito's palm hovers in front of your face. 

With closed eyes, you accept your fate. 

"You better fucking be here," you murmur to yourself, skidding on your heels and sprinting through the empty train station. Apart from your ragged breathing, the only sounds that fill your ears are the distant screams of the innocent and the garbled communication between curses.  

Halfway through a one-on-one fight with a low-grade curse, you had felt a prickle of energy across your skin. It was energy that you were familiar with, one that you had committed to memory for occasions just like the one that you were currently living through.  

The moment you felt it, you followed it. Choso. 

You nearly roll your ankle as you skid to a stop, eyes having caught sight of what you had been so desperately searching for. He’s looking around for you just like you had been for him, and the moment your eyes meet, you’re running at each other.  

His arms are around you the moment that you brush against him, tugging you against his chest and burying his nose into your hair.  

You don’t mind being crushed against him, not when you had been out-of-your-mind worried about him since you’d stepped foot in the Shibuya station. 

“(Y/N),” Choso murmurs into your hair, squeezing you tighter as he screws his eyes shut. Your nails bite into his back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t care, he truly doesn’t. Not when you were safe, not when you were breathing.   

“I’m here Choso, and I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, voice muffled by the thickened fabric of his shirt. His arms squeeze you again, and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you.  

You could both go home and hopefully, just hopefully, you could forget about Shibuya entirely. 

It had been years, fucking years, since you heard that voice. Years since you’d heard that snarky voice either insulting you or telling you that he loved you — there was never a healthy in-between.  

And now, you were standing in front of him. Your ears were hearing his voice, your eyes were seeing his face. Toji fucking Fushiguro. 

But unlike the other times that you had seen him, this encounter was drastically different. He was trying to kill you, not bed you. 

“Toji?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, watching as the broad man stalks you like a lion would its prey. “Toji? What’s …?” Your words fall dead as he swipes at you, fingers closed around the handle of a weapon that you definitely didn't know the name of.  

You jerk back away from him, widened eyes flickering up between the weapon in his hands and his face – which for some odd reason remains blank; you can't read him at all. His eyes are a void, his expression completely void of anything that might even entertain the idea that he was human.  

With every time he lunges at you, you retaliate by taking a quick step back. Your eyes flicker up to Toji's face, and for a fleeting moment both of your eyes meet. His entire body freezes, eyes staring into your own as if you were an alien. The weapon that had been pressed against your chest is pulled away from you so swiftly that you barely process the movement.  

"Toji what the fuck--" 

"(Y/N)." The utterance of your name had you pausing, watching him as he straightened up, rising to his full height. The eyes that once looked like two small black voids are full of life now, their irises that very same color that you once spent hours lovingly staring into.  

How is it that he looked exactly the same as the day you lost him? 

You don't say anything as he steps towards you, his hands dropping the weapon that he had been holding so tightly onto just a moment before. Those same, calloused hands cup either side of your face, holding it just as tenderly as you had remembered.  

You don't know when, but at some point your eyes welled up with tears – tears that Toji thumbs away. He stares down so softly at you, a stark contrast to the hatred that had filled his eyes just seconds before. This was the Toji you remembered, not whatever had attacked you. 

There were very few things that you feared in the world. Being a sorcerer had done that to you, had worn down your ability to feel true, genuine fear. But now? Right now? 

All you felt was icy fear searing through your body as if someone had dunked you naked into an ice bath.  

There was an endless pit where an endless pit definitely should not have been. And standing over it was the one person you had trusted with your life, even if trusting him meant simultaneously putting yourself in immense danger every time that you spent a moment with him.  

His hands are in his pockets, his eyes staring out over the destruction that he had caused with a proud smirk etched into his face. He holds no remorse, you know that he doesn't, but the calmness of his demeanor only adds to your fear.  

"Ryo …?" Your voice is laced with hesitance as you approach his back, legs shaking with each step that you decide to take. He doesn't turn completely to face you, but you notice the small nod of his head in your direction. "What … what did you do?" 

Sukuna sighs – a long and heavy breath that is riddled with pride over his actions. The lives that were potentially lost amidst his destruction meant nothing to him, and they would never mean anything to him.  

"I had my fun," he says plainly, turning completely to face you. He spares you no reaction even though he can so clearly see the fear painted onto your face. It makes him smirk, the tip of his nail running along the underside of your jaw. "Come now, I'm not quite finished with this body yet." 

You shiver as Sukuna walks past you, tearing your gaze away from the gaping hole right smack in the center of Shibuya. You didn't even want to begin to think about the lives that had been lost, how painful and slow their deaths must've been. How much did they scream? How many of them begged for mercy? 

You shake your head, dispelling those thoughts. Hesitantly, you turn to glance at Sukuna, noticing that he had stopped — waiting for you to join his side. You bite your lip, and regretfully, you move to follow him.  

“Hey, there you are. Someone’s been asking for you,” Shoko says with a barely-there smile as you sit up. Immediately, a dull ache douses over your body like someone had dunked you underwater. You groan lightly, pressing a palm against your forehead and glancing up at Shoko.  

“Really?” you murmur weakly, rolling your shoulders as Shoko takes a step back. Ino stands behind her, his arms and legs bandaged just like yours were. His face morphs into relief as your eyes meet his — and even though he stumbles over his own feet, he beelines for you.  

He’s careful not to accidentally upset any of your injuries as he tugs you into his arms, crushing you against his chest and burying his nose into your hair. He can feel you shudder against him, your own arms returning his bone-crushing embrace with one of his own. 

“You’re okay. Holy fuck you’re okay,” Ino murmurs into your hair, barely registering your hands as they comfortingly rub up and down the length of his spine.  

“Yeah,” you whisper into his chest, voice barely audible over the thickened fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, I’m okay.”  

Ino squeezes you tighter, then allowing you to pull away. His hands cup your face, thumbing away the tears that roll down your cheeks. He smiles, and his heart soars when you mirror it. Ino is quick to lean in, lips pressing to yours.  

You return his kiss immediately, leaning impossibly further into him and chasing his lips with your own. He breaks from you, much to your dismay, and leans his forehead onto yours. You can feel his shaky sigh as it fans out over your face, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against your own.  

"Don't go anywhere." Ino's voice shakes as he speaks to you, the grip that he has over you momentarily tightening as he tugs you against him. You sigh, returning his embrace just as tightly and burying your face away into his shoulder.  

"Yuuji? Yuuji!"  

He turns at the sound of your voice, ears perked like a curious puppy. The tears sliding down his cheeks feel as though they've paused at the sight of you – stumbling over your feet as you reach him. The moment you do, your arms are locked around his neck, throwing yourself against him with enough force that he stumbles back. 

He hesitates, hands shaking as they hover above the small of your back. Do you even know what happened? Could he tell you? 

You pause at the feeling of his body trembling against your own. His arms were locked at his sides as if he had lost all ability to even use them. You slowly take a step back from him, noticing the faraway look glazed over his eyes and the way that he struggles to focus on one single thing – including you.  

Hesitantly, you lift your hands to his cheeks, palms laying against his skin. Your touch almost immediately brings him back to reality; you can see it in the way that his eyes snap to meet your gaze, wide and slightly fearful. But not scared of you, rather, scared of himself.  

"Hey, what's--" 

"Don't. Please don't," he interrupts you, shaking his head against your hands. His palms lift to lay over your own, fingers squeezing you in a way that silently begged you not to leave. You nod, steering his head down to yours so that your forehead can lightly rest against his own.  

Wordlessly, you nod. Your hands shift in position, arms wrapping around his neck again and bringing his body back to your own. His hands immediately go to bunch up the back of your shirt, fingers curling into the fabric in a way that screams 'Don't leave me'.  

And you don't. You stand there, closing your eyes and letting Yuuji cling to you as if you were the last bit of what could keep him sane – and in a way, that was exactly what you were. To Yuuji, you were a lifeline – a resemblance of the humanity that he continued to throw away the more that he switched with Sukuna. 

"I'm right here Yuuji," you whisper into his shoulder, receiving a loving squeeze in response to your words. "And I'm not going anywhere." 

“Promise me you’ll come back safe,” you say, squeezing Megumi’s hands and blinking back the tears that had slowly begun to gather along your waterline. He sighs, reaching one of his hands up to lightly cup the back of your head.  

He brings your forehead to his own, closing his eyes the moment that his skin comes into contact with your own. He can feel you shudder against him, a shaky sigh falling from your nose. “I promise you … with everything I have in me, I promise you.” 

But that had been hours ago, and you had no idea if Megumi was safe. You had separated from him shortly after that conversation, with you joining Nobara and Nitta and Megumi going off to find Yuuji. In the two hours that you spent fighting against curses and transfigured humans, you hadn’t heard anything about any of the others — including Megumi. 

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s with Yuuji after all, isn’t he?” Nobara says reassuringly to you, nudging your shoulder with her own. You turn to glance at her, swallowing the lump in your throat and forcing your head up and down in a nod.  

“Yeah … I guess so,” you answer hesitantly, smiling weakly as Nitta places a comforting hand on your shoulder. The three of you continue walking, a comfortable yet uncomfortable silence falling over your heads. Surrounding you are the sounds of a distant chaos, bystanders scream, transfigured humans gurgle out grotesque noises — reality doesn’t quite feel like reality.  

You pause at the sound of something approaching you, both Nobara and Nitta stopping as well. Three pairs of eyes gaze down a darkened alleyway, and your heart stops at what waits at the alleyway’s end. 

Megumi’s Divine Dog. 

Its ears prick upward at the sight of you, eyes fixed on you in the darkness. Its tail flicks back and forth before it approaches you, not stopping until it nudges its head into the palm of your hand. You scratch lightly behind its ears, eyes flickering to Nobara.  

“You both need to go … I need to find—“ 

“No way. What if something happens to you too?” Nobara interrupts you, reaching out and clasping your shoulders. The shikigami barks angrily in Nobara’s direction, protectively stepping in front of you and making the brunette stumble back.  

“Nobara, I can’t just leave him where he is,” you insist, blinking back tears. “I have to. I have to go and find Megumi.” 

Nobara shakes her head again, and instead, she pulls you into her arms. You still, glancing at Nitta, who only looks away. “You can’t (Y/N).” 

“He sent the dog to make sure that you don’t look for him.” 

Hey! I saw that you’re writing for JJK characters - do you have a limit on your requests? I have some ideas!

My first one is yuta x sorcerer reader where they’re starting to develop romantic feelings for each other and reader begins to put themselves down by comparing themselves to rika (yuta is unaware they’ve been feeling this way)

Thank you!!🫶🫶🫶

Sypnosis - As odd as it was, you were jealous of a curse. But in truth, your own self-worth was to blame for the situation.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, mature themes, foul language, RIka (I love her but she terrifies me)

A/N - I feel like this request would actually be me if I was at Jujutsu Tech, so thank you Anon for unknowingly making me feel very seen.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

It all started when you slowly began to distance yourself from Yuuta.  

"Hey, Maki!" Yuuta waves, jogging towards Maki with a smile plastered onto his face. His arm is lifted in a friendly wave, one that Maki returns as he makes his way over to her. "Quick question, have you seen (Y/N) anywhere? I've been looking all over and I just can't find her." 

Maki hums in thought, the tip of her weapon tapping against her lip. She shakes her head shortly after, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. "No idea, I haven't seen her either." 

Yuuta's face falls, an expression of worry overtaking the smile that had previously turned his lips upward. His fingers fidget with one another, nails scraping against the sides of his skin as worry crawls into his stomach.  

"I'm sure she's just caught up with her own missions, that's all," Maki says reassuringly, taking a mental note of the concerned expression that had slowly wormed its way onto Yuuta's face. She reaches out, placing a gentle palm against his shoulder and squeezing, smiling at him.  

He nods in agreement – there had been times where his missions piled up and he was left with little to no time to relax. Maybe you just so happened to be caught up in the same situation, it wasn't unlikely.  

"Right, yeah," he mutters offhandedly, his gaze shifting to the floor. He stares down at his shoes for a moment, feeling the pit of worry in his stomach only deepen.  

< ... > 

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Yuuta smiles widely upon seeing you walking beside Inumaki. He lifts his hand in a wave, pausing as he notices the darkened expression on your face. Your eyes flicker away from him, and through the side of your mouth you mumble something to Inumaki before quickly departing.  

Yuuta slows as he grows nearer to Inumaki, eyebrows knit together curiously. Already, you were halfway down Jujutsu Tech's front stairs, back turned to both Yuuta and Inumaki.  

He watches as you leave, turning then to Inumaki, who also stares curiously at you. The sudden change in attitude was unlike you — and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t curious as to why you acted out the way that you had. 

“Is everything okay with (Y/N)?” Yuuta inquires, lifting his finger to his mouth, nibbling nervously on it. Just over his shoulder, Rika watches curiously, her head tilted slightly to the side in a mixture of jealousy and intrigue.  

"Salmon," Inumaki responds, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.  

< … >  

Groaning to yourself, you catch your head as it falls into your hands. Laid out on your desk are your schoolbooks, none of which have anything written into them even though your original intention had been to catch up on the homework that you were missing. 

But, of course, your mind had wandered elsewhere, too focused on a different situation entirely – your avoidance of Yuuta.  

You hadn't meant to avoid him as much as you did, but it wasn't as if you could help it. Each and every time you did so much as look at him, she was right there to curl a protective hand around him, tugging him further and further away from you with every interaction.  

Was it a little pathetic that you were comparing yourself to a Cursed Spirit? Maybe. But that didn't eradicate the fact that she actively kept Yuuta from doing anything with anyone – Maki was lucky to be within a five mile radius of Yuuta for training purposes.  

Rika was protective – but it wasn't that fact that bothered you. What bothered you was the fact that, unlike Rika, you weren't able to protect or be there for Yuuta in the same way that she could. You weren't nearly as strong as she was, you were a measly Third-Grade after all.  

You couldn't even keep up with your classmates – even Maki was too swift for you sometimes. Of course, there was always room to improve, but watching everyone else improve while you remained the same stung, like a fresh wound that you had just poured peroxide over.  

Even with your lack of skill, your classmates still respected you like they would any other Jujutsu Sorcerer. Maki always made sure to offer her hand to you after training with you, Panda would offer you helpful advice when you ran the track with him, hell, even Inumaki would fix your form when you practiced your Cursed Technique.  

And, of course, there was Yuuta.  

He was the one to cheer you on during training, he was the one to help you patch whatever scratches your body sustained after lessons, he was the one to crack muttered jokes to you while Gojo lectured, he was the one to cut his lunch in half on the days that you had accidentally forgotten yours in your dorm – Yuuta had been there for you since the very beginning.  

So then why did she make you as insecure as she did? 

Rika was a curse, a manifestation of negative emotions. Her sole purpose is to protect Yuuta in situations where he's incapable of protecting himself. And even then, you had only really seen her in action once – and that was when she had lost control of herself watching Maki overpower Yuuta during a physical lesson.  

You sigh to yourself, fingernails scratching against the sides of your head. A gentle sound rouses you from your thoughts, and it's then that you realize you had unintentionally started crying. You stare down at the tear marks that had fallen onto the pages of your notebook, smudging the lines and your writing.  

You lift your fingers to swipe your tears away, already feeling pathetic at the fact that you found yourself crying over an issue that you genuinely had no control over. It wasn't as if you could exorcise Rika and suddenly all of your problems would have fixed themselves.  

A knock at your dormitory door stops that thought before it can escalate.  

"(Y/N)? It's me!"  

Yuuta. 

Quickly, you swipe your palms against your eyes, no doubt leaving the skin there red and irritated. Huffing in annoyance, you wipe the end of your shirt against your eyes, praying that he wouldn't be stupid enough to point out the obvious once you opened the door.  

You stand from your desk, not bothering to push in your chair as you stride towards the door. On the other side is Yuuta, his lips pulled upward in that smile that always seemed to brighten everyone's day, no matter how dark it may have been.  

You don't say anything, already feeling guilt seep into your bones. Even with you avoiding him constantly, Yuuta still came to find you. God, you felt like such a bitch.  

"Hey," you say quietly, swallowing the waver in your voice and forcing yourself to smile at him.  

"Hey. I – uh – noticed you've been distant lately. Is everything okay? Is there anything that you want to talk about with me?" Yuuta offers softly, wringing his hands out nervously in front of him. He did that often, mainly when he spoke to Maki. It was cute to you, how nervous he was.  

"Oh," is all you manage to get out. Your eyes flicker away from his, instead watching as a group of students wander the hallways, turning the corner before vanishing from your line of sight. You know that Yuuta is still watching you expectantly, wanting you to say something but also not wanting to force you into an uncomfortable conversation.  

No time like the present, right? 

"It's a stupid issue, really. I wouldn't want to--" 

"It's not stupid if it's you (Y/N)," Yuuta cuts you off, his cheeks immediately burning a bright shade of pink. He swallows quickly, lifting his hands and waving them back and forth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to cut you off! But it's true!" 

You stare in awe at him for a moment, your mouth dry as you stand silently in the doorframe of your dorm. Neither of you say anything for a second or two, staring at the other as if they had sprouted a second head.  

"Sorry...how about we just talk, yeah?" Yuuta offers, his lips turning upward in another one of those smiles that melts your heart.  

You nod, stepping to the side and permitting him entry. He walks past you, taking a seat on the small couch in your dormitory. He had been in there many times before, but recently, many of your little traditions had faded into nothing but little memories.  

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, tugging the skin upward before you release it just as you feel blood beginning to drip from the self-inflicted wound.  

Hesitantly, you sit on the couch beside Yuuta, lifting your legs and crossing your ankles over one another. He waits patiently for you to start talking – the last thing that he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.  

"I swear I didn't mean to be so distant," you begin. A buzzer sounds loudly in your head – liar. You continue anyway, ignoring the little nagging voice nestled in the back of your mind. "It's just, I don't know, I haven't felt great recently." 

Yuuta remains silent, his hands folded in his lap as he watches you intently. He can feel his heart clenching at your words, how had he not noticed that you were suffering before?  

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not like you or anyone else. You all are special, you're all talented in your own way. Hell, even Rika is--" 

You cut yourself off before you bite out an undeserved insult towards Rika. Your jealousy of her was strong, obviously, but you never wanted to verbalize that to Yuuta. What if then he turned his back on you too? Then you'd really be left with absolutely nothing.  

"I just don't feel like I'm supposed to be here – at Jujutsu Tech," you finally admit. Internally, you cringe at just how childish your voice sounds, how it breaks between words and shakes as you bite back the sobs that rise in your throat.  

You pause at the feeling of someone's fingers slipping into your own. Your gaze flickers down to where your hand had been resting on the couch, shocked to see that Yuuta had bravely reached out to hold your hand.  

"You do belong here (Y/N). You're just as good a sorcerer as any of the rest of us, if not better. I mean, who else could take on Inumaki in a fight and stand a chance?" 

Your lips quirk apprehensively into a smile. Yuuta smiles at the sight of it, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his fingers momentarily squeeze your own.  

"I've always thought that you were the strongest," Yuuta whispers, talking as if he's sharing a secret that he wants only you to hear. Your cheeks heat at his words, eyes widening slightly.  

"Really?" 

Yuuta nods happily, squeezing your fingers again. "Yeah." 

You find yourself smiling at him, feeling your heart warm at his sentiment. Suddenly, every single negative comment you had ever uttered to yourself fades into the void – replaced instead by the warmth that Yuuta's words had provided you.  

"And I've always love-" Yuuta cuts himself off, pressing his lips together into a firm line before he's able to finish. You glance upward, already feeling your heart sink at the sight of Rika hovering behind Yuuta, her clawed hand resting on his shoulder. It feels like she's tempting him to finish, wanting to have an excuse to begin screaming and throwing a tantrum. 

You retract your hand from Yuuta's grip, but amazingly, he reaches for you again. For the first time, he ignores the curse behind him, keeping his focus solely on you. Only you. 

"Yuuta-" 

"I've always loved you (Y/N). And I hate to hear you say that you think you aren't as strong as the rest of us because in all honesty, you're stronger than any of us could ever be," Yuuta explains, wincing as he feels Rika claw into his shoulder, but he continues to ignore her presence.  

"If it wasn't for you, I don't think that any of us would be where we are right now." 

Weirdly enough, you feel yourself tearing up at Yuuta's words, the burning sensation of tears blurring your vision, obscuring your view of Yuuta. He smiles at you, using his other hand to brush away the tears that just barely cling to your bottom lash line.  

He opens his arms to you, smiling as you shift into them, pressing your face into his shoulder and allowing yourself to be wrapped in the warmth of his embrace.  

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice caught by the fabric of his shirt, but he hears you all the same.  

"You don't need to thank me for anything." 

hihi! im a newer follower of yours, so I apologise if you've already done this, but if you haven't would you mind doing an smau of the jjk men if their child took their phone/ took your phone? no pressure at all, and thanks! your writing is amazing :)

Phone Thief

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

Here's a little Nanami snippet to munch on while I write a much bigger piece.

“Ah, there you are. What are you doing out here my love?” 

You lift your head, turning just enough to cast a glance over your shoulder — then met with the sight of Nanami standing in the open doorframe of one of Jujutsu Tech’s many buildings. In his hands is one of his jackets, one that you no doubt would have draped over your shoulders the moment that he approached you.  

You don’t answer him, opting instead to listen to the soft patter of the rain that you had been so attentively listening to just moments before.  

“Jus’ admiring the rain,” you answer after a beat of silence, turning back to stare out at the outdoor grounds of Jujutsu High. Your lips turn upward at the sight of a few students walking about, their jackets tugged over their heads to prevent themselves from getting wet.  

Nanami hums, taking a step forward. Just as you had predicted, he lays the jacket over your shoulders, then lowering himself to sit down at your side. 

Your body shifts closer to him, like a magnet drawn to its opposite. Your cheek leans against his shoulder, with his arm lifting and coming to rest over your shoulders, holding you against his side.  

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Nanami inquires after a pause, tilting his head so that his cheek rests comfortably against the top of your head.  

You chuckle breathily, eyes fluttering shut as your body soaks up the warmth that radiates off of Nanami.  

“Nothing, just thinking of how pretty the rain is,” you murmur in response. Now it’s Nanami’s turn to chuckle, a deep rumble that brings a light pink tint to your cheeks.  

Not nearly as pretty as you, he thinks, still holding you tightly against him.