Jjk Posting - Blog Posts

Shibuya fashion week. Also holy shittt this took forever to finish but I’m really happy with the result. I’m sorry I couldn’t draw all the cast because this already cut my lifespan to half. you can also download the pdf version on my kofi page here. It’s free you can use it as references or whatever but please don’t repost, redistribute, or resell it or i will 🔫🔫🔫

hope you enjoyyy!!

Not me randomly getting the idea in the middle of Zoom class to draw a one page comic about that plot bunny that I had for months and then proceeding to ignore the rest of my classes in order to draw it. Anyway here it is:

Basically the idea was that Yuji was trapped in a living nightmare, by some curse that helped out Geto and Mahito. And this is him failing to save his friends(nightmare) from Mahito and Geto. This is him snapping and letting all the intrusive, repulsive, horrible, morbid thoughts (and you know Sukuna the bastard is always sending them to him, so Yuji has A LOT of torture/death methods stored away in his mind) out into reality. And well Sukuna the bored bastard that he is watching all this play out, even egging Yuji on, while knowing full well that they are in a nightmare.

The "I'll show you why I'm Sukuna's vessel" line I got from not knowing what the fuck are the qualifications for someone to become his vessel.

Like is the cursed energy that needs to match?

But like Itadori doesn't have cursed energy at the start.

Is it that Yuji's body is a lot stronger and only he can handle Sukuna without instantly dying?

Maybe, but then what the fuck is Sukunas obsession with Megumi.

Is it the mind, like you need to be mentally strong so Sukuna can chill in your head without you becoming a vegetable or something?

Is also one of the possible criteria.

Or maybe it's something about the soul's shape, like Sukuna might've looked like Yuji when he was human?(And since the body forms around the soul and all that)

Also a possibility.

All of the above?

I don't fucking know so I decided to run with all of them. That's why he is so intimidating when he finally snaps, he is basically mimicking Sukuna and SUCCEEDING! He had Sukuna in his head for (i think) 4 months whispering the most painful, deranged, unhinged, psychotic ways he will torture Yuji and his friends (he had nothing better to do and was bored), while sending him images of said torture and death. (Yeah Yuji is STRESSED, like my boy got a death sentence hanging over his head, a lot of people that want him dead and a lot of trauma that he unlocked when he became a sorcerer, I'm just waiting for him to have a breakdown in cannon, btw I am not even finished with season one of jjk and already the fandom and the hot unhinged character trapped me, I don't think I have much hope for escaping it)

Anyway, welcome to my mind's current fixation.

Satoru has never gotten into your bed gently; has never sunk into the mattress without a bounce, without jostling the plush surface with an audible oof and pulling you from the depths of sleep. Never. Not once.

And tonight is no different.

It’s an impossible task for him, it seems. Like trying to breathe underwater or pick something to watch on TV. And the worst part of it all is that you know he’s doing it on purpose. No matter how hard you may try to will yourself to sleep through it or how much you may complain when he finally settles beside you, the man is unrelenting. A pain in the ass, even at one in the morning. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

“Satoru,” you warn, though it’s not as threatening as you hope it would be. You blink over at him with heavy lids, tone dripping with exhaustion. “Must you do that every time you get into bed late?”

He has the audacity to think about it. “Mm, well I suppose I don’t have to,” he coos, voice low like he’s trying to lull you back to sleep. “But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t wake up my little sweetheart to give them a goodnight kiss when I got home?”

“A better one?”

Your eyes slip closed as if shutting them will make him disappear (or shut up). It doesn’t. Instead, it only serves to spur the sorcerer on. Now, Satoru crowds your space, wrapping you into a tight bundle and pulling you so close your nose squishes against his cheek.

He’s entirely scandalized by your rebuttal, gasping in your ear as if you’ve just told him the most offensive insult imaginable. “I can’t believe you’d say that about your dashing boyfriend.” As if to prove his point, Satoru pulls you away only to drag you back in to plant multiple exaggerated pecks against your cheek, a sappy muah sound accompanying each one.

They leave wet lip prints in their wake that you’re too tired to rub away. Eyes still closed, you furrow your brows, accepting your fate as you cuddle into the curve of his throat – right beneath his chin.

“My dashing boyfriend who can’t do anything quietly to save his life.”

“Hey,” he whines into your hair. “I can be quiet!”

“Oh yeah? Then let’s play the quiet game.”

You can feel him hum somewhere deep in his chest as he thinks it over. “What do I get if I win?”

Your limbs feel heavy as you rest your arm across his stomach, curling your hand around the hem of his shirt. You can only muster enough energy to mumble, “Winner gets breakfast in bed tomorrow.”

“Ooo, okay,” Satoru presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Be prepared to make me a huge stack of pancakes tomorrow, baby.”

“Mhm, fine. 

“With extra chocolate chips.”

“’kay.”

“And,” A hand ruffles your hair. “A lil extra love, maybe?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Without opening your eyes, you can tell there’s a retort brewing in Satoru’s, and you stop it before it has the chance to fill the air. “Quiet game starts now.”

The room immediately falls into silence, only broken by the soft sound of your combined breathing. Satoru’s warmth and the steady movement of his chest as he breathes — up, down, up, down — bring you right back to sleep’s door, as if Satoru hadn’t woken you up at all. Maybe the quiet game had been the answer this whole time. You kick yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

You nuzzle closer, nose brushing against his collar bone as you feel yourself drift off, but right before you completely fall into the clutches of exhaustion, you hear a tiny voice mumble, “Love you.”

It’s punctuated with another kiss to the crown of your head and a warm palm gliding up and down your back, and you can only bring yourself to tighten your hold on his shirt before you fall asleep.

The next morning, you awake to an empty bed and the sweet smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

a gojo wedding would either be the biggest event ever or you’ll get married in secret and wait for the others to figure it out

(Okay... I have many, many, many thoughts about a huge, over the top wedding with Satoru but it’ll take another ask to unpack because I’ve got my own analysis as to why he’d do that even though he knows he doesn’t have to, but thinks he should anyway—IN SHORT: yes, extravagant wedding can totally be a thing with him, but some element of intimacy is retained, likely in the form of your guest list. It could be a destination wedding, with a 10-course dress rehearsal dinner on a yacht, private helicopter rides, and enough flowers to fill a small island, but there’ll be, at most, fifteen people involved, and we can talk about it later BECAUSE FOR ONCE I have thoughts about existing in the jjk verse LMFAO)

Now, secrecy seems the most plausible for a canonverse au. There’s precisely four people who know you and Satoru are married: Nanami, because he served as your witness, best man, and maid of honor all in one; Shoko, because Satoru asked her if she thought you’d even say yes (she told him he was crazy, and that you’d be crazier to say yes; when she finds out to two are wed, she offers you a celebratory cigarette and a warning that obstetrics was one of the curricula she’d grazed past when cheating); Megumi, who was angry when he found out because he found out after the fact and his pre-teen heart was a little hurt that his new guardians wouldn’t include him in such a thing—though he never voices any of this out loud (he is happy, when his emotions settle down, happiness is what he feels; he hopes that, hopefully under different circumstances, he too, can have that); and, Yuuta, who Satoru entrusts this information to after finding out about his situation with Rika, in an attempt to gain his trust and following to Jujutsu High.  

It’s easy to hide because nobody expects it—a fact that serves as a safety blanket, but, truthfully, makes Satoru a little sad. He knows he doesn’t deserve to feel that kind of remorse; nobody should expect him to be married, to find someone to want to be with him—and he’s built a façade and a career with the intention of swaying suspicion—but there’s a part of him that wishes that people saw him as someone that somebody would want. Not for his strength or power or position or influence; just, to have.

So, it’s nice, when occasionally Nanami comes over for dinner; when Shoko lures you into sharing one of her cigarettes and Satoru scolds you both; when Megumi will ask for you, will call you when he needs you; when Yuuta asks to meet you, because he wants to understand the love you two have for each other. It’s nice, and Satoru is reminded that he is not singularly alone in this world, that there is you, and your friends, and a small community of people who would not be in complete disbelief to remember that he is human, after all.

“Gojo.”

You peer at him out of the corner of your eye, watching the tip of his finger creep closer and closer to the plush apple of your cheek.

“Gojo.”

The lilt in his voice is childish, teasing; the smirk on his lips rising when he promises, “I’m not touching you!”

“Satoru, I can feel it.” 

There’s a bite to the way you finally say his first name that drags the corner of his mouth further up. It stokes the fire burning between his ribs, the very flames that spur him to poke and prob and tease and annoy — all for the sake of your attention. All Gojo wants, all he’s ever wanted, is to have your eyes on him, to have your full, undivided attention; and with the way you huff, your arms crossing over your chest, he knows it’s well within his reach.

His head tilts to one side like a curious puppy, brows furrowing in feigned innocence. His finger doesn’t move. “Feel what?”

Infinity, you think bitterly. The weight of his power presses against your skin with the surging energy that two identical poles of a magnet have when they repel one another – doomed to never meet no matter how hard you push. And with the distance his finger stays from your face, Gojo’s Infinity almost tickles.

Gojo’s finger inches closer and the pulse of it, the sight of it in your periphery, has you seeing red. Your eyes shoot to meet his as you fully turn to face him, brows furrowed. Seething, you tell him, “You know what.”

There you are.

He knows, deep down, that it’s childish to go to such lengths for a glimpse at your eyes or the soft curves of your lips, but he can’t help it. Gojo’s at his weakest around you, after all. “I don’t think I do, angel.” He leans in, finger still hovering oh so close to your face. “Care to clue me in?”

Your eyes roll, but you make no move to look away. “You’re insufferable.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You sigh, long and heavy, as you allow your eyes to slip closed, and Gojo can tell you’re trying not to pinch the bridge of your nose, a cute little habit you only seem to indulge in when he’s around. He smirks and tilts his head to peer at you over his sunglasses. The tone in his voice is goading. “Well, go on.”

“You- you-” You flounder, mind rendered a blank slate as frustration floods your senses. Air escapes your nose, an exhale laced with incredulity, as a smile crosses your lips in a blink before it’s gone. You hide your face behind a warm palm. “You-”

“Mhm.” Gojo leans closer, sunglasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose. He drinks you in, eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips and back again. “What? C’mon, cat got your tongue, angel?”

“Your Infinity, Gojo. I can feel it,” you tell him, the words finally ripped from your throat by the gentle, but teasing coo of his voice. “It tickles.”

“Aww, that’s what all this fuss was about? You should’ve just said so.”

And as if a switch has been flipped, Infinity is gone and suddenly Gojo’s finger is surging forward to tap the tip of your nose. It’s a brief flash, a tiny bump of skin against skin before his hand retreats again, returning to its place by the sorcerer’s side as if it had never moved at all. Gojo smiles at you then, all pearly whites and unrestrained pride. The cat that got the cream. 

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed, ya know that?”