#i cannot stop them this little man is slowly turning into Nobara

[dearestcher]

What i slowly realize is that your writing and ocs is inevitably going to be affected by brainrots and "things you find cool af"

Like ffxiv elemental theory affecting my worldbuilding to make it so that every biome holds a certain elemental aspect that creatures, fauna and flora are eventually affected by in an evolutionary standpoint?? Pshhh, thats. Thats so fine. Thats so good.

Ori games?? Nibel shaping my every waking thought and eventually becoming my baseline mind for every natural concept thought to make plants and crystals shiny and whimsically glowy af??? Llllove that absolutely llove that.

My Jujutsu kaisen appreciation slowly twisting itself into the fuckin Hex Maniac Pancham i made for a Mystery dungeon "tabletop" roleplay???? What the fuck. Leave my boi alone.

[roscgcld]

GOJO SATORU || how annoying

request: What if Gojo twin went with geto and wants to help him achieve his dream since she didn’t want to let him go, and she feels bad that she couldn’t do anything to change his mind.

But if that was the case Gojo just got betrayed by his Best Friend and his own Twin sister almost makes me sad to request this but I’d really want to see Angst between them.

note: this one was a pain to write because i hate angst - like i literally avoid heartbreak stories like the plague because my little heart cannot take it. so this was a little bit out of my comfort zone, and had me pouting cause this is like, the worse case scenario for me lol. but i hope you enjoy!

pronouns: she/her

note: spoilers for volume 0, so read at your own risk!

gojotwins!au masterlist

“Gojo-sensei, who’s this?”

The white-haired shaman looked up from his phone where he was lounging on his chair since he was currently having a free hour in his schedule. Today he is around to teach his group of first years, and after a few hours of class, they have an hour break in between their lesson. Because of this, the first years had decided to chill in Gojo’s office with their teacher.

Gojo’s eyes, hidden behind his simple blacked-out sunglasses, glances over at his student who was holding up a framed picture on his desk. He had only 2 framed pictures - a picture of him and his classmates in their first year, and the other was a picture that he sometimes wondered why he still kept framed in his office.

It was a picture of him and his twin sister, Gojo Y/N. In that picture, they were standing in front of a cherry blossom tree that is on the grounds of the Gojo Clan home. The pictures were one of the last few pictures they took together, and you couldn’t tell that the day after that picture was taken, the smiling girl in the picture would have disappeared. Going into hiding with the man that she loved. “Oh....that.”

Yuji paused when he saw how his sensei’s mood dropped ever so slightly, causing both him and Nobara to share a look before they glanced over at Megumi. The same boy was staring at the picture with a faraway look on his face as well as if all the memories he had of the woman in the picture flashed before his eyes.

“...You should throw that out.” Megumi managed out after a few moments of silence, glancing over at Gojo who had his eyes trailing on the picture. Yuji had placed it down after a few seconds of awkward silence, yet Gojo’s eyes didn’t move away from the smiling faces reflecting back in the picture frame. “I know..”

Yuji, feeling bad that he clearly brought up a bad memory, was about to apologise when Gojo sighs and sat up from his reclined seat. “I can’t live my life avoiding the topic forever.” Gojo sighs as he runs a hand through his fluffy white hair, taking a deep breath before he faces Yuji once more. “The girl in the picture is my twin sister, Y/N. She and I were born with the Six Eyes, and had gone to school together.”

“You have a sister?!” Nobara and Yuji ask in usion, shocked that they had one, never seen this person before. And two had never even heard about this woman - someone who is probably as strong as their sensei. Why had no one mentioned her to them before? “Why didn’t you tell us?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi stepped in to answer when it looked like Gojo is struggling to answer the question. Which that in itself is shocking to the other two in the room. “Y/N-san is...well...she had become a Curse User.”

Whilst Yuji gasped at how she had essentially turned her back on the college, Nobara had caught onto the past tensed that Megumi had used to describe the woman. “What do you mean had?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi actually hesitates before he glances over at Gojo, who had kept silent through the entire exchange. “Is she...did something happen?”

Another moment of silence passed the room before Gojo looked up from the floor; his elbows resting on his knees after he had planted his feet on the ground. “Last year...around December...a huge attack was plotted on the college,” Gojo explained simply as he looks up at the two quiet students that stood before him, hanging onto his every word. “She had not attacked the college...but she was one of the organisers. So by law, if I didn’t do something, the higher-ups would have sent someone to deal with her.”

Immediately both Yuji and Nobara’s eyes widen in shock at what Gojo was insinuating behind his simple words, both of them glancing at each other with wide eyes. Now they knew they had hit a nerve. Yet Gojo seemed like he was going to continue to tell them everything right now since the bandage on the wound had already been ripped open - might as well deal with this all at once.

“I mean - it was better than way. She knew it too.” Gojo said with a sigh as he leans back into his recliner seat, giving his silent student a forced smile; one so fake that it even had Megumi cringing a little. Gojo was once more lost in his thoughts, mind wandering back to the day that he had done the unthinkable. He knew that sometimes being a sorcerer means that you had to make some sacrifices, but for once he wasn’t sure if he was so willing to believe in that saying.

Gojo walked up the flight of steps leading up to the shabby apartment room, following the Curse Energy residue that was left along the hallway, immediately recognising it. It was as if she chose not to even hide where she was; leaving invisible evidence all over the place as they stopped in front of the door where the Curse Energy was the strongest.

Quietly he turns the knob, not even shocked to find it unlocked as he pushed it opened quietly; looking up with a soft smile. “Pardon the intrusion.” He mumbles softly as he looks over at the woman who sat by the window. Her hair blowing softly along with the breeze as she turned her tired eyes over to her; her bright blue eyes glowing in the dark as she stared back at the white bandages that hid his. 

“You make it sound like I didn’t know you were going to come.” 

There was no bitterness in her tone - only sheer tiredness and the same warmth that she exudes every moment of the day. The same warmth that had Gojo’s heart clenching as he closed the door behind him slowly, making his way deeper into the apartment. “I thought the Gojo in you would have sneered at the sheer at the size of this place.”

His comment had the woman laughing softly, looking down at the mug of steaming tea clasped in her hands. The mood was lifted for a few fleeting moments, and Gojo just wants to pretend that everything was alright once more. That the both of them were just hiding it out in a room for a few days whilst they hunted down a Curse User. Like how things used to be. “How...how have you been?”

“...good,” Gojo mumbles as he walks towards his twin sister, the same one who had one day just upped and gone; disappeared with Geto with no more but a letter for her twin to wake up to. The letter was just a rambly letter of how sorry she was that she had to leave, that she chose to end things the way she is doing right now. But she knew that her choosing Geto over the life she has now is a death sentence, but she didn’t want to let go. 

‘When you finally find someone to live for, that makes you feel like you were floating with the clouds about - will you let them go for something as meaningless as status in a world we didn’t even choose to be born in?’

At first, neither of the Gojos spoke, just soaking in the comfort and familiarity that the both of them so sorely miss. In more normal times when they are younger, they will always do this - sitting in silence and just basking in it. Curse Energies just mingling with each other, not needing words as they just sat in the cramp apartment.

But this time it was different.

“Did they send you?” Y/N asks as she looks over at her brother, Gojo blinking when he heard her words and looked away from his clasped hands; his grip tightening when he realised just how relaxed and at peace she was. This was one of the most lovable yet infuriating part of his twin - no matter the situation she is faced with, she always faces it head-on with the most relaxed looks on her face - accepting whatever fate that awaits her on the other side. She doesn’t see the need to fear something as minuscule as death - something that everyone must face once their time comes. 

It was such an infuriating trait of hers that Gojo both loves and hates. “No...I chose to come myself. I don’t trust any of their goons to do it properly.” Gojo admitted in a tight voice, feeling his will waver when he heard the soft laugh that Y/N lets out - a laugh that he had missed hearing for the last few years now. “You never change, huh ‘Toru?”

Gojo just gave her an actual look of annoyance, the same look he’d always give her whenever he realises that she was going to start to lecture him about something he has no interest in. His look had Y/N letting out a soft laugh as she shakes her head in amusement, taking another sip from the teacup that was in her hands. “How annoying.”

Gojo continues to stare at his clasped hands before he sighs softly, his shoulders slumping a little as reality slowly started to box in around him. “I hate that you just accept that this is your reality,” Gojo mumbles softly, not even trying to hide the shakiness in his voice as he tries his hardest to blink past the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “You can’t just...accept something as serious as this so simply...”

Soft footsteps came from where Y/N was seated before a pair of warm hands rested on his cheeks, fingers gently brushing along the moisture that had collected at the bottom of the bandages. Wordlessly Y/N started to undo the bandages that covered his eyes; Gojo not moving to stop her from doing so. Soon the bandages fell in his lap, both of them staring at each other properly.

A warm smile was resting on Y/N’s face, a smile that irked Gojo even more as he viciously wiped at the corners of his eyes. “You are so annoying, you know that?” Gojo grumbles childishly, his arms reaching to wrap around his sister; burying his face into her shirt to hide the tears that seemed never-ending. “A-Always leaving me behind like this..”

Soft fingers carded through his white hair, the woman before him not making further comments as he continues to cry silently into her shirt. “I’m sorry, ‘Toru..” She had whispered out quietly, her voice sounding just as tired and sad as he does as she held him closer. 

Gojo hates this - not only had he just lost his best friend, but he is also going to lose his sister as well. Even when they are apart, knowing deep down that she was at least alive and safe with Geto still brought a sense of peace for him. Even if they couldn't be together, it was just knowing that the other was safe that allowed him to sleep at night.

But now he was the one that is expected to take her life away? He can’t help but hate just how cruel the jujutsu world is that it forces people like Geto and his sister to feel like they had to do the unthinkable in order to feel like they were living life the way they think is right for them. 

He hates it all with a burning passion. 

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[lovenona]

it’s here, it’s wild, and it’s fun – welcome to “what happened after the art show” featuring everyone’s favorite menace art student ryomen sukuna (previous installment here and full universe here) 

(note that this does contain some references to explicit content – it will be clearly marked within the text) 

now that i've captured your attention: there are a myriad of ways this could go, really. let’s start with the basics. 

first things first: while the thought of scratching up geto’s stupid little car sounds awfully appealing to you, and while you simply wanted to accept the offer for the sake of sukuna’s unusually kind gesture, you also know that you don’t want some serious claims filed against you. geto’s a prick, as you’ve learned, and it’s best to keep things civil. 

so you politely tell sukuna as much, and while he might tease you for being a coward, you know there’s no real malice behind that impenetrable voice of his. 

but the night is not over! sukuna will take you to his car, then. it’s vintage and black and a little beat up and there’s miscellaneous art supplies and tattoo reference books strewn across the backseat, but it smells so distinctly like sukuna that it feels strangely like home. he controls the music, of course, blaring indie and punk with his windows cracked so every stoplight can hear. (he has a preference for wolf alice. he thinks the lead singer is hot.) and even better, he’s got a smirk, a real one, as he drapes one hand across the steering wheel and the other on the glove box between you. 

(you think you’d like his hand to reach further. but you’re still technically in recovery mode, so of course you won’t say it, not yet.) 

your earlier sadness melts away with every minute you spend in sukuna’s car. he’ll take you for a drive without needing to ask. he can read the vibe – it’s you. you don’t want to go home, you don’t want to go out, you don’t want to be anywhere; so he’ll keep you in that liminal space, driving in circles and turning down strange roads whenever and wherever he feels like it. he’ll pass familiar buildings on campus to make a silly little quip, drive past the grocery store to watch students filter through with their reusable grocery bags, drive past the parks that loom in the dusk shadows. you don’t need to talk, and neither does he. it’s quiet, strangely, but a silence so comfortable you hardly notice it. 

and, frankly, the most realistic ending to this night would be that sukuna drops you off at your apartment complex and lets you go home for the night with a final joke. but, of course, i know that’s not why any of us are here. 

so, of course, let’s go to sukuna’s place, instead. it’s an expected gesture, almost, and you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when you see the familiar building come into view. you’ve been to his apartment a few times now, and it’s a place you’re beginning to learn like the back of your hand. 

at this point, your night could go one of two ways. you may now choose your own adventure: safe and fun or sex and spice? 

safe and fun: (mentions of alcohol) 

you’re stumbling through the door with sukuna, arguing with him as you always do, only to find yuuji and his crew in the living room playing god-knows-what on the xbox. they’ll wave you in with a casual vigor, their loud and raucous behavior making sense once you see the array of empty white claws on the table. (many of them are mango. it’s yuuji’s favorite flavor.) 

“you’re back early,” yuuji tells sukuna with a loopy grin, a grin that suggests something unspeakable as he wiggles his eyebrows. he looks at you with that dopey little smile and you roll your eyes. 

“the art show sucked,” sukuna responds, scrunching his nose and heading to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. “you fuckers still drink that shit?” 

sukuna, you know, hates white claw. he’ll only drink hard alcohol, mixed drinks, things that make him feel like a man. you’ve seen it firsthand countless times by now. 

“you’re fourteen minutes older than me,” yuuji whines. “don’t act so high and mighty, old man.”

so sukuna will make himself a drink – a real drink, he clarifies – and offer you a glass almost instinctively. your fingers brush his as he hands you the glass. something electric runs across the surface of your skin, rustles your bones. you make eye contact, and it’s a thousand lifetimes unsaid between you. 

(you wonder if you like him. you don’t know.) 

so the night passes: you watch yuuji and his friends try and struggle to complete the missions in their silly little game as sukuna sits next to you, flexing his biceps as if he knows you’re watching from the corner of your eyes. megumi yells at yuuji who yells at nobara, and while they offer to let you play, you simply cannot break the connection between them. you like the way yuuji laughs and the way nobara smiles and the way their presence is like a soothing balm, cool and collected. 

it’s strange and comforting all at the same time, this newfound ease you feel as you settle back into the couch, your drink sweet on your lips. 

the night is a warm lilt; the silly party plays their games, you watch, sukuna acts indifferent to the spectacle and threatens to return to his room at any moment. you know, though, that he’s enjoying himself, even if only because of his posture and the smirk ghosting his lips. it’s wonderful and mundane and in this moment of pure domesticity, you can allow yourself to forget the night’s events entirely. 

you hardly remember silly geto now, you do. you know you’ll be angry as all hell when you see him in class but for now, here, it’s okay. 

and when you fall asleep, slowly, suddenly, someone – you think sukuna, but he insists he didn’t – tucks you beneath a layer of warm blankets. it’s a warm night, a comforting night, one that feels like a kiss to the forehead. you need it. 

(you think sukuna really does kiss your forehead, too, but you don’t know. when you wake on the couch the next morning, you wonder whether it could have all been a dream.)

sex and spice: contains nsfw, slight dubcon (both characters are tipsy but very much consenting and happy with their situation), oral (f! receiving), sukuna being a tease 

oh, but the second option. you’ll stumble through the door in this life to find that yuuji’s not home – the apartment is dark and quiet and full of a tension you cannot name. you’ll become hyper aware of your actions, suddenly, shyly, taking note of the exact way you take off your coat and shoes and leave them in the doorway. sukuna feels incredibly present and you don’t know why. you’ve been alone with him before, but perhaps it’s different when you’re alone like this. when it’s his home, his couch, and not a classroom. it’s different, now, when the chances of being seen by strangers have decreased significantly. 

you’ll warm up slightly, though, when sukuna offers you a drink in that teasing voice he always uses when he wants to fluster you. he’ll fix the drinks with a bartender’s ease and sit down on the couch, throwing an arm back, letting his bicep tattoos flex in the golden glow of the living room. 

it’s so quiet, and you’re trying your best, really, but you don’t know what to say. you’ll put the television on and sukuna will find something you both know you  won’t watch but lets you ease the strain. you’ll make fun of it, he’ll make fun of it, and you’ll slide back like molasses into the lazy semblance of friendship you’ve cultivated together. 

and it’ll be easier to feel normal, too, once you’ve had a drink or two – your tongue loosens up, and you find yourself able to say things to sukuna that you’ve never said before. you find yourself forgetting that you’re alone with sukuna in his house, and that you are suddenly and absolutely nervous in a way you have never been before. 

“so tell me,” he’ll ask, turning to you on the couch, brave and arrogant with a dark and stormy in his system. “how was it?”

you pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. “how was what?” you’ll purse your lips together and suppress the butterflies in your chest. you wonder just how long you have thought sukuna to be attractive. 

he’ll shake his head. “fucking geto, you idiot.” plastered across his face is the smirk you’d know with your eyes closed. he leans in, slightly, not enough to terrify you but enough to leave you struggling to form a complete sentence as your brain shuts down. 

but you’ve had something to drink, too, and while in daylight you would have ignored his question entirely, brushing him off as a perv and a jokester, you can’t help but think there’s something different in the aura of the room tonight. you can’t help but be honest. 

“it was fine, i guess,” you tell him. you shrug your shoulders and look back towards the television. you pretend you care about what you see. 

he smells like something smoky and earthy today. “fine?” 

you try to make a joke, but your head is spinning from his undivided attention. you do not know what you are anymore. “are you always this interested in my sex life?”

sukuna, surprisingly, grins with genuine amusement. “no, but geto gives off the vibe of a limp dick film boy, and i wanted to know if it’s true.” 

“limp dick film boy,” you repeat, and a hearty laugh escapes your bubbling chest. you feel your inhibitions melt away, and your secrets fly out of you, the horrifying experience of the art show fading behind you. you’ll deal with geto in class, you think vaguely. at least he never said your name. 

you sigh, forgetting him like a bad pun. “i mean, i guess it was fine. i don’t know.” 

“you don’t know.” you can’t tell if he’s being condescending or if he’s genuinely concerned for the state of your pitiful sex life. “did he at least give good head if he made a fucking sculpture about it?”

“what?” your heart stops, your face is hot, your brain on fire. it’s not that he’s crossed a line, you think, but that that question opens something deep and unspeakable and strange. “no?” you don’t know why you answer, but something within you tells you that you must. something tells you that the world is shifting, and you must follow.

“he didn’t?” you feel the couch shift as sukuna shifts closer. “what kind of fucker doesn’t? it’s common courtesy, you know.” 

“he didn’t want to,” you respond, but you don’t know what you’re defending.

“and if i do?” 

you freeze. one of sukuna’s hands traces your shoulder like butterfly wings. it must be the rum talking, you think, because there’s no way sukuna would want you. it wouldn’t make sense, certainly, you rationalize. he must be out of his mind, this must be a joke –

“you still there?” a finger taps your forehead. 

“yeah,” you respond, returning to yourself. you curse your flailing heartbeat. you turn to look at sukuna, so close to you, and you’re met with the terrifying depth of his dark gaze. you have never seen this gaze, this look that places you at the center of the universe. your breath nearly catches in your throat. 

sukuna leans in. so do you, instinctively. you disregard geto and the sculpture and everything that came before. this, you think. this is what it should have been like. you’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time he kissed you months ago. you’re overcome with sensations you cannot name, an ache that builds and spreads through your belly. perhaps you’ll regret it tomorrow. but now, here, you want it more than anything. 

“you don’t have to,” sukuna says. his breath is hot on your cheeks. 

“i want to,” you say, and it’s a kiss for the ages. 

so he’ll push you backwards to lie on the couch, and his shirt will be off and disregarded before you can think about it. you’ll trace the tattoos on his broad chest, lines and patterns you’ve never seen until now that you will never be able to forget. you’ll memorize the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, the smooth metal of his tongue piercing sending shivers down your spine. it’s messy and crude and everything you would expected it to be – neither one of you is willing to give in to the other. neither wants to admit this is anything more than a challenge. 

(you’re in heaven, though. geto who?) 

and fuck, god, the look he gives you as he asks if he can take your pants off now: you’d paint it, frame it, place it in every art museum in the world if you could. it’s the second time you’ve taken your clothes off for someone in your life and while it’s strange and weird and sukuna, it feels right at the same time. he bites your neck when you left your hips to slide the clothes off you body and you feel dizzy with hunger. 

sukuna loves to tease. he’ll make his way down your body slowly, tantalizingly, sly, and you swear you’ll lose your mind if he waits any longer. and when he looks back up to meet your eyes, with that lustful, dangerous, blown-out gaze, you know you’re fucked. you know you’re fucked when you realize it’s ryomen sukuna hanging out between your parted thighs, asking for consent before he places a soft kiss to your clit. 

and you know, you know bitterly, that this would have been the most mind-blowing sex of your life had the key not turned in the lock because yuuji decided to come home early. 

so you scramble to get your shit together, angry and disappointed. and even though you’ve regained your clothes and your dignity before yuuji can even remove his shoes and make his mindless way to the living room, you cannot quell the fire that grows within you. you cannot stop the hunger that has already begun. and sukuna knows it, too, because his eyes have not lost the look of a predator looking for prey. 

(and, you notice, because his dick is still hard.) 

he looks at you, and you look at him. he leans in, grins, whispers, “my room?”