#gojo is unhinged

[rahuratna]

Geriatric Kaisen (Part 1)

Megumi arrives back at Jujutsu Tech after a day out to find ... some alarming changes to its inhabitants.

CW: Foul language

Genre: Humour, crack, fluff, suspense.

(A quick scribble in between updates. Please don't hurt me for this, dear readers.)

It started with a strange shift on the breeze. Barely perceptible, to Megumi's reckoning, but the honing of his senses told him that something may not be right. That, and the soft growling that came from the shikigami flanking him, their hackles bristling in coordinated aggression.

Sticking out a warning hand, he advanced along the winding avenue that led to the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech, alert and watchful. This certainly hadn't been the first time an attack had been launched on the school. Even with all of its protective enchantments, Jujutsu Tech was a known stronghold for the sorcerers, and was therefore a prime target for their more powerful enemies.

The cans of soda he'd purchased from the convenience store clinked softly against each other in the shopping bag he held, the rustling of the limited edition crisps a distraction. He set the bag down and proceeded, footsteps light and body tense, fingertips twitching. Wincing slightly, he remembered what else the bag contained.

A cupcake.

Probably squashed beyond recognition now. The icing was pink and white, stodgy, wrapped tightly in plastic, handed over by the wrinkled hands of the old woman he had helped count change at the till. Even Megumi could admit that the elderly had a known weakness for him, a tendency to pat his spiky hair and murmur about what a 'good boy' he was. If only they knew the half of it.

The imposing sliding doors of the tech had now come into view. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Megumi considered for a moment before deciding that reconnaissance was priority. He brought his hands together in an imitation of his shikigami's great wings, taking a breath before opening his mouth to speak Nue's name into the soft breeze, when the sliding doors opened.

Immediately, the hounds at his side went alert, but Megumi frowned. They were not reacting in the way he'd expected. Noses raised to the air, they were sniffing cautiously, but without enmity. Eyes narrowing, Megumi took in the man standing in the doorway.

Was this someone he knew?

The figure was coming forward slowly now, the russet afternoon burnishing their flowing silver hair.

Silver?

Yes, that's what it seemed like.

The person was obviously older, maybe the same age as the woman he'd seen at the pay point earlier. In spite of this, they still moved with an ease that spoke of strength and grace, the surefootedness of someone who could hold their own, even at this age. There was not much else he could make out at this distance, save for the dark glasses and walking stick they were twirling effortlessly in their hand. 

He approached, pace matching the elderly man's. Stopping a few feet away, Megumi frowned as his shikigami began to whine and wag their tails slightly.

How was this possible? He didn't know this man. Unless this was ... some kind of trap, possibly? But how could they have fooled the uncanny senses of the dogs? Taking a bracing breath, Megumi decided that the best way to clear things up was adopting a direct approach.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you lost?"

The white-maned head turned slowly in his direction. The man's voice was firm and clear, with only the slightest tremor of age. 

"Me? Lost? Are you for real right now?"

Well now. There was definitely something familiar about that tone. And using language like that ...

Brows pinching together, Megumi kept his hands at the ready.

"What do you ... You realise that this is a school, right? Did you take a wrong turn and get lost somewhere? I can direct you, if you like."

To his consternation, the old man started laughing so hard that the walking stick shuddered perilously in his grasp.

"Wait, you don't recognize me like this?"

"Should I?"

"Megumi, it's me."

"What?"

"You're super special, strongest in the world, hottest in the universe, perfect skin, perfect hair sensei."

Megumi was silent for minute, taking some time to process what was being said to him. Something clicked sooner rather than later, because now his eyes were widening and he took a step back.

"Wait .... Gojo? Is that you?"

"Course it's me. God, you're so dumb for a smart kid - "

"But what happened to you? Are the others okay? What's going on here?"

"Relax. It's some kind of field technique. Not a domain. Covered the whole campus and made us like this, but didn't do much else. That's why I came out here. To maybe draw them out, see what they're after."

To say that Megumi was horrified was an understatement.

"You came outside like this? Are you crazy? They'll - wait. Let's go back in, please. This place is exposed."

His eyes darted to the treeline, taking stock of their surroundings.

"Gojo, did you even stop to consider that this is exactly what they want? You, in a weakened state - "

"Weakened? Weakened?"

Gojo was laughing again, in that truly insufferable way he had, now with the added irritation of his hand slapping hard at his knee like a drunk salaryman egging on his co-workers at karaoke.

"Boy, if you think I'm weakened in any way, you've got another think coming."

Clicking his tongue in aggravation, Megumi grabbed elderly Gojo's arm and attempted to drag him back to the building. It was like dragging the heaviest sack of potatoes known to man. Gojo barely moved an inch.

"See? You still think I'm weak?"

"Did you turn off your infinity just to prove that to me?"

"Sure did. Now, let's see."

Gojo pulled off the dark glasses and suddenly Megumi was confronted with the irrefutable evidence that this was, indeed, his sensei. Those crystal hued eyes would have been exceptionally hard to replicate, by anyone's standards. Bordered by deeply etched crow's feet, stark in their brightness against the spotted skin and wispy hair, it was evident that they had lost none of their slightly unhinged daredevilry.

"I spy ... with my little ... damn, things are looking kinda hazy out here. Anyway, what's that? There, in the grass?"

Confused, Megumi glanced back the way he had come and spotted the shopping bag lying where he had left it.

"Oh. I went to the seven eleven for some stuff."

"Bring it over here."

"Are you serious right now? Can you please get inside?"

"I'll go inside if you get the bag," Gojo sang, voice quivering with cheerful infirmity.

"Oh, for the love of - Fine! Just ... just go to the door and wait there."

"Okay, sonny boy."

"Don't call me that!"

Stomping over to the shopping bag, Megumi snatched it up, pausing as the cold nose of his shikigami pressed comfortingly into his hand. The other hound had actually remained at Gojo's side, walking slowly beside the aged sorcerer as he made his way back to the sliding doors. Sighing, Megumi rubbed at the bridge of his nose before following.

"So, you said this field technique, whatever it is, made us like this? Are the others also affected?"

"Oh yeah. I had them all gather in the staff lounge. We've got our weapons and protections too, so don't look at me like that."

"So you don't think what you did was spectacularly stupid?"

"Not as stupid as you for not getting any sweets. Are these savoury snacks all you eat?"

"I eat them once a week! Unlike you."

"Wait, what's this?"

Gojo's questing fingers had encountered the soft give of the cupcake. He drew it out and gave a croaky chuckle.

"How kind! You did think of me!"

"I didn't. Someone gave that to me."

"It's pink! Does that mean it's strawberry?"

"It's just food colouring."

"But I wanted strawberry."

"Just eat the cupcake, please."

They had reached the staff lounge by now and Gojo raised his hand, a soft pulse echoing from his fingertips through the door. Probably a means to identify himself to whatever protective technique had been placed on the door. Entering, Megumi stopped dead in his tracks.

Now this was a sight.

Standing at the coffee machine, hands on hips, was a woman with narrowed, hawk-like amber eyes and bobbed salt and pepper hair, her frame and intimidating bearing very familiar in spite of the added height and wiry muscle she now possessed.

"What do you mean I shouldn't have another? Coffee is all I've got going for me, at this point."

"Kugisaki, just calm down. We don't know what kind of side effects this technique has. Your heart may not be able to handle that much caffeine!"

These words came from beneath the grizzled mustache of a man who could only be Yuuji. The phrase 'cool uncle' had never fitted anyone else so well. Even aged to somewhere in the region of his sixties, Yuuji was still hale and hearty, his much taller stature and rippling muscles making the uniform he wore look some kind of miniature cosplay. His pink hair was slightly faded, but tied back in a short ponytail that somehow suited him very well.

"Just step away from the coffee machine - "

"Like hell I will!"

"Oh my God. Maki-senpai, please talk some sense into her?"

"Don't called me senpai. That's weird right now."

Megumi's gaze moved reluctantly over to the woman in question. Seated cross legged on the floor, sharpening one of her weapons with the manner of one who did such things to calm down, Maki was definitely the epitome of aged warrior. Her green hair was now shot with grey, cropped short, jacket and shirt pulled open, her exceptionally powerful shoulders and arms exposed in the vest she wore underneath.

Megumi was secretly relieved that some of them were still clearly in great fighting shape, because he had no idea who had created the aging technique or why.

"Wait."

Gojo leaned forward on his walking stick, scanning the room with a squint.

"Where did Nanami and Ijichi go?"

Maki shrugged.

"Went to gather some supplies. Nanami said something about food and Ijichi went with him. We've been holed up in here all morning, so this lot is getting cranky."

Yuuji huffed, and the petulant expression looked exceptionally incongruous on his rugged, bearded face.

"I'm not the one who's cranky. Look at Kugisaki over here."

"I need to feel calm!"

"And you think five cups of coffee are gonna help you? Be for real!"

"Coffee calms me!"

"You're weird as hell, then!"

It was at this moment that Yuuji and Nobara spied Megumi who let out a silent, internal scream when they both swiveled to face him, eyes narrowing accusingly.

"Fushiguro?"

"What the fuck?"

"Wait, why didn't the technique affect you?"

"I was out all morning, running errands. I just got back from the convenience store."

Nobara threw her hands up.

"How is this fair? The guy who acts like an old man twenty-four seven is fine, but we're the ones with janky knees and back pain that never goes away."

Megumi frowned.

"I do not act like an old man."

At that moment, the protective technique across the door, probably effected by Ijichi, resonated once more and the two men who shuffled in made Megumi stare even longer.

Nanami's hair was now pure white, but his posture was still dignified and straight, the natural lines that defined his clear cut features more pronounced than ever. His imposing figure was a little spare, the distinctive suit now hanging slightly about the chest and shoulders. Age had only added to his dignity.

Ijichi was fiddling with his glasses, liver-spotted fingers pushing them further up his nose as he squinted through them at Megumi. The assistant manager was already shedding hair at an alarming rate, a distinct bald patch appearing at the top of his head, shoulders sunk in a permanent hunch, fingers bent arthritically.

"Who - ohhh, Fushiguro. Nice to see that the curse didn't get you."

Gojo growled and spun on his heel.

"Where did you two idiots go? I told you to stay put."

Nanami raised a thin, pale eyebrow.

"We went to get food. We needed it."

"You could have sent Yuuji or Nobara - "

"And you could have waited in here instead of going out to antagonize whoever did this. Looks like your ego got worse with age."

"And that stick up your ass got worse with age too."

Nanami scoffed and removed his signature shades. The eyes behind them were as sharp and calculating as always, in spite of the lines that graced their corners.

"On the contrary. Being in this state has opened my eyes to many things."

Yuuji glanced over curiously, his mouth already stuffed with the onigiri Ijichi had placed on the table.

"Whaddaya mean, Nanamin?"

"Meaning that the frailty of the human condition has impressed itself upon me."

He was met with a blank stare from the pink-bearded man, but Ijichi piped up from behind him.

"Oh, I get you, Nanami. I understand."

Nobara folded her arms.

"Well, let's hear it then."

"If this is what it feels like being old ... then why waste the time we have left worrying about pointless things?"

Yuuji waved his hands in concern.

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there. This is a cursed technique, meaning it can be reversed, right? Right?"

Gojo was examining his fingernails.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Are you being serious right now? I can't be an old man! I'm not ready."

Gojo nodded in commiseration.

"Oh, I know, I know. I wasn't ready to lose my youthful hot body either."

"That's not - "

Ijichi interrupted with a quavery shout that shocked them all into silence.

"Fuck paperwork!"

Megumi stared.

"Err ... what?"

"Fuck it. Fuck all of it. And fuck you too, Gojo!"

"Eh?"

"See how I'm losing my hair? This is your doing! You're the one who stresses me out every day! But no more! I don't have to take this shit. Look at the state of my knees! I don't care anymore. Nobody's going to boss me around!"

Gojo pointed a slightly unsteady finger at the manager.

"Oh, excuse me for being the strongest sorcerer who keeps evil at bay and saves your butt on the regular."

"Well, you didn't save us from this, did you? You're a sad old grandpa, just like me! See how the worm turns?"

"Why, you little shit stirrer, I'll - "

"Enough."

Megumi breathed a sigh of relief as Nanami once again proved himself to be the only sane adult in the room, even under these circumstances. 

"Gojo, please. This event has obviously shaken Ijichi. You should be more understanding. Here, you need food too. Take these onigiri. They have red bean filling."

Mumbling slightly, Gojo set aside the cupcake he held, taking the parcel and beginning to undo the paper wrapping. He picked out one of the onigiri and froze, his head slowly lifting to stare at Nanami. Megumi frowned and looked over his shoulder.

The onigiri Gojo held was shaped, very recognizably, as a penis.

Nanami stared back at the white haired sorcerer impassively, prompting Gojo to speak.

"Nanami. What the heck is this?"

"An onigiri."

"I can see that, you old fart! I mean, why is it shaped like this?"

"Oh, that? It's so that you can ... how do I put this? Eat a dick."

The rest of the room's occupants looked on in no small surprise as Ijichi snorted, covering his mouth, shoulders heaving. Nanami's mouth twitched, before a deep, hearty chuckle emerged from his chest. Before long, the two elderly men had doubled over, Gojo's angry expression apparently too much for them to handle.

"I ... haven't laughed like this since ..."

"Oh, oh, please. My bladder ... isn't what it used to be."

This set them off on a fresh round of laughter, which struck Gojo out of his stupor. He rapped the table sharply with his walking stick.

"Oi! Are you two assholes forgetting who's keeping everyone safe right now?"

"With what? The power of your Infinite Diaper?"

Megumi got between Gojo and the others before the purple glow he'd seen forming around the old sorcerer's hand could take out half the room.

"Let's just ... calm down. We need to find a way out of this technique. Any ideas?"

Nobara was looking at him in a way he didn't like at all. She came forward, a small, dangerous smile playing around her lips.

"And who made you boss, baby boy? I'm your elder now, and you do what I say."

It was Megumi's turn to lose his temper.

"Like hell I will!"

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. Now tell us your idea while you give me a back rub."

Maki grunted from her place on the floor.

"And when you're done with her, come crack my neck for me. Feels kinda stiff."

Gojo immediately forgot his feud with the two cackling sorcerers opposite him.

"Hey, Megumiiiii, I'm your sensei. You gotta listen to me first. Be a good boy and break this cupcake up for me. Then take out all the choc chips. I wanna eat them separately, cos they'll get stuck in my gums."

Feeling his blood pressure suddenly skyrocket, Megumi swore violently in his head at the crackpot curse user who had thought this would be a good use of their time and useless technique. If any of these old coots died, it would probably be by his own two hands.

[backstepping]

gege gave him those eyes and those lashes and then went: why are people obsessed with him????

[planetsandmagic]

Red

[suguru-getos]

The first time Satoru sees you naked he has the same expression as a 4yo going to an amusement park. Mouth agape and watering, jaw slacked almost unhinged as he blushes. You were feeling a bit insecure given his-- well, past. He’s definitely fucked models and almost everyone he wanted. A reaction like that definitely threw you off- for good. ;)

“Fuck- I’ll kill anyone who has seen you like this. Ex boyfriend names right now Princess.” He gets unhinged with his compliments too.  You found that out soon enough.

“Shut up, you’re so dramatic” You scoff, rolling your eyes and trying to pretend your flustered cheeks are his delusion. “I’m serious. Gonna keep you to myself. Not let anyone see you-” Satoru realizes he’s almost getting too carried away. "Sorry- you know you’re dating a possessive motherfu-”

“Yes, I do.”

[denamelesshuman]

There's no way Gege made Yuji with such a cute face and voluptuous sexxy body, then give him a beautiful, angel-like soul, good at cooking, then surround them with unhinged men who easily got weird attachment to him...not to mean something

On top of that, he seems to be good at house chores too as seen how since a little kid, he could whip up his own milk tea, shovel snow outside, etc. He must've helped Grampa around the house a lot since kid. Then he also took care of sickly Grampa...so good at taking care of others.

What more can you want from a wife, really...

[hinamie]

happy s2 day it's go(jo) time :>

[yutamayo]

you can't tell me he wasn't thinking maybe if I remind Geto's body of what I look like on my knees he'll come back

[nymphaeakiss]

INITIATION “I got a test for you, you say you want my heart.”

SYNOPSIS What are you supposed to do when 'rebelling' against Jujutsu society gets you an execution hanging over head and a bounty on your ass? run into the arms of a man who's played these games before, of course. but it's not that simple, he needs you to pay a price, to give him something in exchange of his protection.

CONTENT WARNINGS Suguru/reader, mentions of Gojo and other characters, Suguru is unhinged, dub-con, cult initiation, power play/imbalance, voyeurism, exhibitionism, eventual smut in later chapters.

Mainly posted/updated on AO3 first… chapter w/c: 2.9k MDNI, dark themes.

Something just... snapped. The day you started to question things was the day the self-proclaimed righteousness of Jujutsu society came crashing down before you, leaving nothing but broken fragments of virtue and false piety in its wake.

This wasn’t justice—a world where the weak governed the strong. Justice wasn’t risking your life for those who couldn’t care less if you live or die. Justice wasn’t treating the symptoms of a problem without destroying the source. Non-sorcerers.

And who would’ve thought that these sentiments wouldn’t sit well with the jujutsu officials? Others had been crucified for far less, let alone open criticism of traditions upheld for millennia. Well, there was only so much a person could take. Too many lives lost, too many sleepless nights. The light was leaving your eyes, and your story began to sound eerily familiar.

There wasn't a choice, you had to flee before you were trialled for execution- a game so rigged your death was guaranteed if you lingered.

Hiding wasn’t easy, not with the eyes lurking everywhere, and definitely not when there was that blue-eyed freak with a knack for trailing after mere whispers of cursed energy as if he were a glorified bloodhound. Regardless of how resentful, how unwilling, Satoru was nothing more than a weapon for the elders, for those non-sorcerers to use and discard without a second thought.

You weren't going to be reduced to the same fate.

Something as trivial as residing in an off-campus location that you once considered an inconvenience was now your saving grace. It wasn't impassable, but it gave you enough time to gather most of your bearings. And a few clothes.

Years ago, you'd have to commit a real crime, a deplorable offense against the conventions of Jujutsu society, to be sentenced for trial. Since what happened with the last fugitive, all you had to do was breathe a word of rebellion. And god, you've been panting.

With little more than the clothes on your back, you set your escape plan into motion. 

01:22 AM.

You arrived at the motel, so incredibly sketchy, so incredibly meagre, but it was the most you'd risk to afford. The receptionist had her head wedged between crossed arms when you arrived, clearly sleeping. You gently knocked on the desk, jolting her from sleep before quickly handing the bills for compensation. She doesn't bat an eye, doesn't ask questions, just stuffs the crumpled bills into a drawer and hands you a key.

The room was noxious at worst, dismal at best; the walls were strangely bleak, holding a yellowish tinge as the wallpaper struggled not to peel. The bed was a bunch of springs and coils, just waiting for the perfect moment to lurch up and ensnare anything that dared to brush against it. Some might've called it childish, but you tossed your bag onto it first, just in case.

Something in those four walls smelled of damp, and a mere split-second glance up at the ceiling would reveal blotchy stains that had nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with the odour.

With an exasperated sigh, you pulled up your hood, tugged at the cords of the drawstrings tightly before tentatively sitting your ass on the bed, slowly but surely working your way into fully lying down. This wasn't for sleep; it was only a temporary refuge. A few more hours and you'd be on your way again.

You weren't asking for much, only a little placidity to brood in, some silence to mull over your plans come morning, but that was proving to be difficult with the cacophony of moans spilling through the other side of the paper-thin walls.

Normally, you'd grab a pillow and stuff it against your ears to muffle the racket of a couple's fornication, but you weren't about to slip beneath the bedding, not when it both looked and smelled like that. Kiss any modicum of rest goodbye, because those two are sure as hell going at it. At two-fucking-thirty in the morning. Animals. The pair of them.

Hours pass, and with eyes that are bloodshot and stormy, you finally get up.

THE TIME VESSEL ASSOCIATION. Well, at least what was left of it.

Suguru Geto. He'd defected the year before you'd enrolled in Jujutsu Tech. Everything you'd been told about the man were things that only served to vilify him, never reciprocating his perspective.

Of course, they wouldn't. Why would they? How could they dare corrupt the callow, impressionable minds of the youth with ideas that went so brazenly against their own? No, dying for those who those who create the problems is noble, the right thing to do. Who cares if the same 'callow' youth are dropping like flies once the cruel hand of fate decides they're too feeble, too powerless to stop the cursed amalgamations of human depravity?

Bullshit.

The world as you knew it had been turned on its head, everything you were taught now seeming like a warped mockery of justice. Who's to say that this Suguru guy isn't just... well, misunderstood? You’d like to think t's entirely plausible, especially since finding out about all the lies you've been fed by the very same who told you life is meant to be spent slaving after the mess non-sorcerers create.

Yes, perhaps Geto was known as the deadliest curse-user in modern history, utterly perverting the art of sorcery, but maybe he was merely a slandered genius, ostracised for his very real and very right opinions against the conventions of Jujutsu society.

You sure as fuck hoped so.

With nothing to lose, you threw caution to the wind. Any protection was good protection, especially when the promise of execution if you're found hung over you like an anvil waiting to drop. But even as you walked up the worn, stone stairs, dredges of unease began to gnaw at your insides, making your stomach do those stupid flips as if you were about to jump into shark-infested waters.

The temple was large, the steps ahead seeming endless, and you definitely weren’t expressing the etiquette required in which a place.

But who could blame you? In such a rush to pack, to flee, all you brought were your 'nobody's going to see me' clothes: a tired beyond belief zip-up and sweatpants that had clearly seen better days. At least they're clean. You thought, lips pressing into a flat line.

As you neared the top of the staircase, the breeze caught you, sending a chill down your spine. It didn't help that the place perpetually pulsed with the grating throb of cursed energy, The hundreds of curses sitting dormant in the temple being the cause.

Suguru's grand plan did truly consist of collecting curses to build an army with the intent of creating anarchy among humankind. Maybe you were just the slightest bit in over your head.

Well, it's too late to run away now; someone's already spotted you.

The woman's heeled boots click against the limestone slabs as she approaches, her pink hair billowing in the breeze. The look on her face was one that definitely didn't do wonders for your already bruised ego; it was a potent mix of skepticism and vapidity, lasting instant before her mouth contorted into a smile, one that would've passed as genuine if it wasn't for the slight flare of her nostrils as she got closer. A little too close.

"Manami Suda," she introduces herself with that same curt smile, handing out both her first and last name. Strange. just like this entire place. "And you are?" she prompts, taking a step back as if to inspect you more thoroughly. You wonder if she's heard a single thing you've said, but then she meets your gaze again. Without missing a beat, she begins her line of questioning.

"And why are you here? If I might ask." The last part was more of a courtesy, an effort driven by her attempt to uphold the friendly façade she'd adopted since your arrival.

"...I'm looking to join this, uh... this organisation? " You try, not fully knowing what the hell you're getting yourself into. And she feels it too, scenting your uncertainty as if she were a sniffer dog searching for coke.

"Well…” She pauses for a moment, her ersatz smile dropping as she really, really, scrutinises you. Hell, anyone would be suspicious if someone showed up to an establishment that demands respect in what looked like pyjamas—could you really blame her?

"I'm sure I could arrange a meeting with Master Geto..." Manami speaks slowly, looking you up and down.  So much for making you feel 'welcome'. Her gaze felt like a lead weight, like she was looking past your skin and into the soul beneath.

Her mouth snaps shut into that same saccharine smile; always stiff, never genuine.

"Would you like to come inside?" She offers, voice jarringly chirpy, gesturing almost accusingly to the large temple only a few paces away. The perpetual curl of her lips becomes more uncanny as the seconds tick by.

"Yeah-" you barely manage before she turns on her heel and strides back towards the entrance, no doubt expecting you to follow after her. Sounds great. You finish off mentally, a few treads behind her.

The air inside had a subtle stain of musk that incense often leaves behind when burned unremittingly. The place was clean and well-kept, almost clinical in a way that tried too hard to be cozy. 

"I'll only be a moment." She flashes another one of those 'reassuring' smiles. You stand awkwardly to the side, wearily eyeing the mellow decorations that adorn the walls. A minute passed, and then another. You could hear the faint sound of whispers everywhere, not just in the room Manami had disappeared into, but all around you.

You felt your initial bravado begin to wane—You aren't safe. Not until you get the chance to dig your heels into this place.

Footsteps approach, but they're not for you. A young woman walks smoothly past, as if you aren't even there. Her eyes are glued to the screen of a phone while another, swinging a doll by its ropey noose, trails behind. They're walking with purpose, faced with responsibilities that are clearly too great to even look your way.

"Nanako and Mimiko," a familiar feminine voice mutters from behind you. The rollercoaster of surprise, fear, and clarity that washes over you in about half a second makes you flinch wildly. You whip your head around to find the woman who you could only assume was Suguru's secretary by this point.

"Master Geto will see you shortly. He has some business to attend to first." Manami gives an abrupt nod, jotting something down on a clipboard you didn't even realise she had.

"Ah, okay." You nod as she begins to turn away, a tight-lipped smile twisting your features. It's slowly becoming a competition between you both: who can look more uncomfortable.

With each passing second, you realise you're truly out of your depth. Everything's so quiet here, so sterile. Something not even the detailed stone inscriptions in the pillars could distract you from.

Your usual environment, the one where Gojo pranced around students and paid property damages every other month, was a stark contrast to this place. It almost feels like you'll be made to pay penance for breathing too loudly.

Do you sit? Do you stand? Should you pray? Like clockwork, your mind is already reeling with scenarios of every worst possible outcome with the soon approaching encounter with the cult-leader, or whatever other names the others had called him.

But anxiety soon gives way to boredom as time ticks by agonisingly slow. It's taking too long to be scary.

You take a step back, leaning against the blankest portion of a wall you could find that's close enough for you to straighten up from if someone approaches. You lose yourself in thought, a once rare thing that's slowly creeping into habit. Beginning to recognise the clack of her shoes, you aren't as surprised to see Manami round the corner.

"Master Geto is ready to see you." 

That small pit in your stomach that you thought was subsiding suddenly comes back in full swing, making you momentarily forget how to walk. Had coming here been a mistake? Were you better off flying overseas? No, you can't think like that; you can't stress yourself out right before an encounter that has the power to change the entire trajectory of your li-

You catch yourself before walking face-first into the shoji doors. Turning to Suda for one final confirmation, you find her already gone. You waver ephemerally, quietly clearing your throat, before announcing your name. Either you're completely losing it under stress, or there really is a palpable shift in the atmosphere.

A beat, then two.

"Come in," The deep voice bleeds through the paper doors, the sound making you swallow a little thicker - not because it flusters you, but because of how overtly commanding it sounds. It's his domain, after all. You push the door to the side, carefully, as if you don't want to disrupt a mere speck of dust in this place, though it'd probably be a challenge to find one.

The sight that greets you is one that makes you blink quickly, as if what you're seeing isn't real.

You'd seen pictures in the past - of course you have. But lord, the cameras didn't capture half of it.

Purple eyes meet yours, a smirk that's far too predatory curling the corners of his lips. He steps closer, the sleeves of his haori riding up to reveal the veins of his forearms as he folds them over his chest. You feel a sickly flush crawl up your neck when he tilts his head slightly, and you know that he knows you've been staring. Even if the glance was... unintentional, you felt a shame comparable to a man's when caught staring at the ankles of a woman in the Victorian era.

"What grade?" He asks, gaze roving over you penetratingly, sapiently. Grade?  So he's figured out you're a sorcerer. How observant. It takes you a moment to register what he's just asked. You realise, much to your humiliating dismay, that the man before you isn't checking you out- he's merely trying to discern you.

"One- Grade one." You rush out a second too late, hoping that the internal heat you feel in your cheeks doesn't show up externally. 

"The standard." Geto's response is immediate, smile softening into something so charming it's hard to believe you're face to face with 'the deadliest curse-user'. Charisma is clearly his art, his weapon to wield against the masses. Don't fall for it, a mantra you have to keep repeating to yourself every few seconds to prevent yourself from ogling too hard.

"And you're under threat of execution, I'm guessing?" He leans forward slightly, voice easing into a saccharine purr. Even if there's a good five feet between you, the gesture makes it seem like he's sharing a secret, letting you into his world. Before you get the chance to nod, he continues, tone sharpening. "Most would start by kneeling when asking for my protection."

It feels accusatory, and maybe it was.

It tamps down the heat in your cheeks to something far colder but just as unpleasant. You kneel quickly, as if standing before a god incarnate. Your gaze locks with your thighs, with those tired sweats, and another wave of embarrassment burns hot in your gut. Fucking shit. You fist the fabric in frustration, desperately clinging to any meagre scraps of dignity you have left.

He notices. Of course he does.

"Initiation, sweetheart. Can you repeat that for me? I-niti-ation." He steps closer, the words rolling from his tongue in such an antagonising, condescending, yet sultry way. How can this man make you feel so many things at once?

You risk a glance up at him, and the subtle pull of his lips is what sets everything off within you.

"Sorry? I'm not a child." Your response comes out far too harsh for someone currently crouched by his feet. Suguru's brows shoot up before his eyes narrow, his small smile shamelessly widening at the defiance he clearly wasn't expecting.

"My, my. How brazen." He feigns genuine dismay, making no effort to hide his smile. That damn smirk. "So then, since you're a smart girl, you know it's a rite of passage." He continues, amethyst hues studying your reaction closely. He's doing it on purpose, patronising you. Is this his version of a test? Seeing how much it'll take to get a rise out of you? If he is, it's working really well. He's already interrupting the second you open your mouth to get a word in.

"See, being a sorcerer isn't enough. You have to prove your commitment, that you can carry out whatever tasks I give you." His voice lowers once more, something deceptively intimate. "And I think you know that." Suguru purrs, crouching down to meet you at eye level. His hand shoots out to cup your jaw, and he turns your head from side to side - inspecting you like cattle.

"What?" Your voice catches involuntarily from his proximity, but at least you aren't blushing this time. Well, you might if he keeps staring you down like that, like you're a bug beneath his microscope.

"All I'm asking, sweetheart," He releases your chin before standing at full height again. "Is for you to prove your loyalty."  It's cruel, the way he leaves you in a haze, too confused and aimless to find clarity. His next words do, though. They wash over you like a bucket of ice water in the thick, muggy heat of summer. There's a trace of mirth in his voice, as if he's about to tell a hilarious joke- except you're the punchline.

"Strip."

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↳ chapter one, ᯓ next chapter

Thank you for reading, more chapters coming soon if I don’t procrastinate. Please note that I often write these deep into the night, sleep deprived, so please excuse any spelling mistakes/grammatical errors.

[unhingedramblings]

jumpscare — multiple character concept

minors do not interact. adult content.

concept: sometimes dangerous things, with proper precautions, can be an exciting way to spice up your bedroom activity— until your recent experiments end with your lover acting very fucking strange. now what? is it bad that the threat of death makes it harder to stop?

character(s): satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, hisoka morrow, illumi zoldyck

content warning(s): dead dove, afab reader, fear play/gun play, violence, sexual content, swearing, degradation/praise, gagging/choking, spit, pain/discomfort

satoru gojo—

"toru," your sweet voice called. the snowy-haired loverboy had told you to sit there and look pretty while he prepared a surprise, but that was nearly ten minutes ago. just as you were about to retrieve him from whatever fruitless task he had become fixated on, satoru's footsteps lurked closer.

"close your eyes, darling." satoru demanded lovingly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ironed slacks. you obeyed, despite the confusion and anticipation. the sensation of cold metal resting against your forehead made you gasp, hairs standing on end with a shiver.

you wouldn't dare open your eyes— there was a silent and mutual undertanding that you needed to do what you were told.

"look at me," satoru replied. his voice was barely above a whisper, and yet you were almost eager to see his expression upon your compliance.

gojo flashed you a glistening smile, slowly dragging the barrel of his pistol down your temple. the coolness of the steel continued to travel, stopping just beside your lips.

"kiss it for me, pretty girl." satoru's lashes fluttered temptingly, bright sapphire gaze flooding your senses.

who were you to disappoint THE satoru gojo? not in a million years.

toji fushiguro—

you were so busy pacing rapidly that you didn't notice toji at first, which is exactly what he had hoped for.

"what might all of this be, sweetheart?" toji's low voice cooed mockingly, a malicious undertone coating his words. in most cases, men speaking to you this way would terrify you— or at least drive you away, in best cases.

toji, however? you had no clue. maybe it was the way he carried himself... or the fact that he was one of the only men to make you cum from penetration alone. either way, a mystery indeed.

so when, in your anxious and detached state, toji allowed himself into your apartment... was it silly to say that you welcomed his intrusion?

seeing you lost in thought, toji rolled his eyes with a huff. he casually pulled a handgun from his waistband, your eyes widening in fear and... something else. he gestured nonchalantly, the tip of the barrel bobbing downwards lazily.

"sit down and shut the fuck up," toji growled. he was clearly annoyed by your scatterbrained state, having other ideas in mind. "you talk too much. it would be better if you just... listened."

toji's air of confidence momentarily faltered as you dropped to your knees, his gaze following your movements like he was filing a critique.

"that's a good pet," toji praised as he gingerly placed the barrel of the gun into your open mouth, "and so well trained."

hisoka morrow—

unlike any rational human being, hisoka would introduce a deadly element into your sex life spontaneously— most likely in the middle of outrageously good oral because... how could you refuse?

hisoka had taken up occupancy between your thighs, tongue greedily lapping at your fluids like it was nectar from the fucking fountain of youth; he wanted you pliant, agreeable, and about to burst.

your fingers were laced into hisoka's hair, eyes rolled so far back that you were starting to get a migraine— and he stopped. why the fuck did he stop?

you huffed in frustration, whining softly as you groggily lifted your head to meet hisoka's gaze. golden irises flickered between your flushed face and your dripping cunt, a devious chuckle escaping his pussy-drunken grin.

"would you let me hurt you? like... really hurt you?" hisoka's tone was somehow both lighthearted and ominous— but it made you clench your walls around his steadily-beckoning fingers— and of course, he noticed.

"yes— anything, just— let me—" you paused to catch your breath, hisoka's consistent stimulation sending waves of pleasure jolting directly to your brain. it was so much harder to think about what he was implying— and he noticed that, too.

safe to say that walking was no longer an option when the morning came.

illumi zoldyck—

the frigid steel barrel scraped teasingly down your exposed back, welcoming a feeling of the slightest pressure when it stilled at the base of your head. illumi hadn't said a word in what felt like ages, studying your body like a pinned specimen.

warm fingertips fluttered at your wrists, illumi's free hand holding your hands hostage— he wanted you as still as possible, even with your tremors. his slender form circled you like he had captured a sacred prey, his only sounds being the occasional satisfied hum.

illumi locked eyes with you as he slowed, kneeling by your lap with a cruel smile. his gaze was dark and cold, devoid of human emotion. a brief giggle caught you off-guard, snapping your head up in confusion and fear.

"i want it to fill your throat," illumi declared. his tone was flat as he hooked two pale fingers onto your lower teeth. your mouth was forcibly tugged open, a gasp of surprise escaping during such an act of violation.

without warning, illumi pushed the tantalizing barrel onto your tongue. he wet it with your pooling saliva, fucking it in and out with a feverish glare. you gagged quietly, trying to maintain eye contact.

illumi abruptly pulled the gun from your throat, shoving it back in with a daring chuckle. your esophagus constricted, sloppy gushing sounds filling the space that would normally be accented by you talking back.

"aw, so quiet today!" illumi teased as his index finger brushed the bulge of the barrel in your throat, admiring his sick fantasies as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"what might be the problem? gun's got your tongue?"

for: @thotthumb

[envy-of-the-apple]

idk how to explain it buuut these two gojo fics rn satisfy such a hyperspecific trope for me and i NEED more fics with these kinda vibes *bats eyelashes and twirls hair*:

Pleaser by tacitoru

Saltburn by CreaseEvans

[kenm4vhs]

my favorite type of gojo

[pussysidon]

I love Nanami because he's definitely familiar with Japanese social customs (i.e respecting your superiors and what not) and he just chooses not to

[backstepping]

same smug brat energy

[ih8simps]

Slightly unhinged/ yandere Gojo (x reader)

“Nanami”

“No”

“Na-Na-Mi” you cooed.

“Again, no” he sighed exasperatedly.

It had been exactly 20 minutes since you began following the sorcerer from Jujutsu tech and you were already giving the senior teacher a head ache.

“Oh come on. What would be so bad about having lunch with me?” You contorted your face into the visage of a pout. Since childhood, this had been the face that broke Nanami’s resolve every time. His eyes danced across your face for a moment, and it almost seemed like he was going to crack.

“No”

“But-“

“Just listen. I can’t. I don’t want to have to argue with him again. He’s just as annoying as you are”

Your face fell. He was always the wedge between you and anything you wanted.

“He doesn’t have a say in who I get to hang out with. Nanami you used to be my-“ the onset of your tantrum was stopped by a warm hand engulfing your arm. His grip on you was sudden yet firm.

“Who doesn’t have a say?” His voice was smooth like velvet and the soft hum of his voice sent a chill down your spine.

“And Nanami was what to you, again?” The grip on your arm tightened with every syllable that fell from his lips. You couldn’t form a tangible thought in his presence. His sudden intrusion left you feeling suddenly very unsafe. When did he get here? How did you not sense his presence?

The intel you received a few days ago said that Satoru Gojo would be far from jujutsu tech. He was supposed to be so far away that he shouldn’t even be able to sense you. How was he here? Did he ever really leave? Why did the informant lie?

Hearing Nanami’s deep sigh pulled you from your thoughts.

“I’m leaving. See you around, (y/n)”. The moment he turned on his heel to leave, your heart began to sputter. Panic began to rise in your bosom. You couldn’t be left alone with Gojo, not even in public.

“Na-nanami. Wait. Please”. The slight pitch to your voice must have coaxed him. He let out another exasperated sigh. It seemed that he was thinking deeply about something. He slowly turned back around to see you pulled closely to Gojo.

“You know. It would be nice to have a meal with you both.” he made sure to loudly enunciate the last word. Both.

If anyone knew of the possessive and obsessive nature of Gojo, it was Nanami. Since childhood he had noticed the way Satoru interacted with you. His gaze was always fixed on you a little too long and his hand always found some way to keep a hold onto you. It was no secret that Gojo had been unparalleled in his all consuming obsession with you.

Nanami was there the day young Satoru Gojo proclaimed to all of the students, although there were so few, that anyone who was dumb enough to get too close to you would have to get through him first. That day was the last real day of your individual freedom.

As the strongest son born into the family, it was clear that Satoru was going to be the next head of his clan. He never truly flaunted his status or threw around his influence. The day he proclaimed you as his, he was simply voicing what he considered to be obvious.

It didn’t seem that his message had the impact he intended because 2 weeks after his announcement, he saw you gallivanting around Tokyo with a new beau. Satoru didn’t even register what the boy looked like before he ripped you away from him. He said nothing as he dragged you away from him. The iron grip he had on your arm felt like he was truly trying to crush you.

Some part of you believed that was the day Satoru truly had lost his mind when it came to you. A week after that you realized that your family had been acting strange. Your father had more meetings than ever before and your mother seemed to be lost in deep thought at all hours of the day. The unspoken issue in your home came to a fever pitch when your parents finally broke the news. The Gojo clan had requested something from your family that only they could supply.

“Satoru wants you” your mother whispered, tightly grasping your hand. “H-he has threatened taking rash action if we decline” she continued, not even allowing you a moment to question her words.

“I’ve been meeting with the clan every day and it seems that he wants nothing else. There is no way to keep you from doing this, (y/n)” your father’s voice came out low and shaky. You realized you’d never seen him look so defeated. “I offered them many things, but they cannot decline a request from the next head of the family. He’s offered not only to take care of you, but the rest of our family as well. The only thing he wants in return is you. He’s quite adamant” he mumbled shaking his head in what looked like disbelief.

Time seemed to freeze as you took in his words. You’d been practically sold off to Satoru. You knew he had a powerful position, but you didn’t know he could just get his way like this. Every part of your body shivered in anger and disgust. He was like a plague or a natural disaster. He swept through a place and destroyed everything in its path.

Life was never the same after that. All of your things were moved to the Gojo compound and you began your life as Satoru’s ‘special guest’.

11 years later and you were still under his constant watch. There were days and moments when you felt like you were truly alone but those moments were short lived. The longest you had gone without being under those all seeing eyes was three months. Those were three of the most comfortable months of your life, but today because you were summoned by the higher ups, that comfort was surely over.

“(Y/n) can’t go to any meals with you today actually” if you didn’t know him, you’d think his tone was calm but that was quite the contrary. Satoru was seething. You’d been missing from his sight for three full months. He’d want everything from you now, including an explanation.

You carefully turned your gaze to his. “But Gojo I-“

A look of pure rage swept past his opalescent eyes and you knew instantly that you’d made a mistake. You were never supposed to call him that. It took him years to break you out of that habit and in only three months you were back to square one.

“We’ll have to take a rain check” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, “we have things to discuss”.

[ddarker-dreams]

thinking about gojo turning his infinity off in the yan AU of golden girl, placing gg MC's hand over his heart, and telling her that if she 'wants to get rid of him so bad,' now's her chance ......................................

[danitheibsdiva]

Murder husbands/boyfriends satoru and suguru might be my new fav dynamic thank you very much