IDLE TRANSFIGROOVATION

WELCOME TO MY EVIL ASS BLOG OF HORROR AND DOOM!!!!!! YAY!!!!!!

I'm Groovy and this is my JJK sideblog :D

F2M, He/It, ENG/FR, Str8 but a massive yaoi/yuri fan don't come at me

I write fics! My Ao3 is SHIVERINGGROOVIES but a lot of my stuff is anon. I'll post my anon fics here sometimes... if I dare... but I don't want them attached to my account for reasons. I may or may not elaborate on those.

risky risky account i don't know anyone actually. if you know me no you don't. can't stop the cope

can you guess my favorite character. can you guess who it is. do you know who my favorite is do you know which one hey hey hey do you wanna know my favorite character

It was one of Sukuna’s great pleasures to torment Yuuji through the night. When the boy would finally have his sacred moments of silence before drifting off to sleep, the King of Curses would pay his mind a visit.

You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about it, Yuuji Itadori.

“I certainly can. You’re sick in the head.”

Sick in your head, young Yuuji. I could show you something beautiful if you stopped denying me.

“I sometimes wonder who you’re trying to get your filthy hands on: me or Fushiguro.”

Mostly that boy… But I wouldn’t mind your teacher, either. Or the loud girl with the brown hair. Ah, or­—

Yuuji growled. He opened his mouth to say something back to Sukuna, but the words fell short.

You know you don’t need to speak for me to understand you, Yuuji. Where do you think I get these ideas? I personally wouldn’t have felt anything for that Megumi on my own. He’s far from my original type. But your attractions are mine, and mine yours, now. I’m only as sick as you let me. And I know how bad you want to take him screaming. You’re quite the pervert, aren’t you?

“Sh-shut up.”

I’m not chastising you, Yuuji. I’m glad to have someone so like-minded as a vessel. I couldn’t have picked better, really. My only complaint is that you’re too damn stubborn.

One of Sukuna’s mouths manifested on the palm of Yuuji’s hands to bite him on the stomach as if to punctuate his words.

“I’d never do the things you’re talking about.”

Your body will. It’s inevitable. Just a matter of when.

“I won’t let it happen.”

Sukuna ignored him.

I missed being looked at with such fear. The first person I laid eyes on after such a slumber was your Megumi, and he gave me that look. The terror across his face was more savory than the memory of human flesh on my tongue. I want to taste fear again, and I think you’ll grow an appetite for it as well. Especially when the masses will begin to look at you, to regard you, with the fear reserved for a true monster of the times.

Yuuji’s stomach turned.

You like that, don’t you? You can’t hide from someone who lives in your head.

“You’re lying. I’m nothing like you.”

Are you entirely positive, Yuuji? No matter what I do, the blood is on your hands and under your fingernails. Oh, and in your teeth. Once I get my hands on your Megumi, you’ll be picking his muscle out from between your molars for days.

Yuuji cringed and flipped over in bed. “Stop talking.”

I don’t want to. I want you to face how much you dream about this. He’s just in the next room, probably sleeping. Aren’t you curious? To see how he looks with his guard down? How vulnerable he could be? How his chest rises and falls and how it would stutter if you squeezed that pretty throat of his? Don’t you want to?

“I don’t. Sukuna, please. I don’t want to hear any more of this.” Yuuji clenched his eyes shut.

my stupid little thoughts feel free to disregard:

I personally write Mahito as sadomasochistic. I don't think that's an uncommon headcanon for him. It's a sensation seeker and will try to wraps its curse brain around anything and everything. He wants to feel and give pain, to see how the human body reacts and how to mimic that on his own, all of that. He's strange and curious and offputting and I looooove writing characters like that.

I also write it as a film enjoyer. Its first major scene was killing people in a theatre for being too loud!!! Let him watch his movies in peace!!!

Mahito as a partner(?)

I'm gonna be so serious, I don't think he's romantic in ANY capacity. It's a manifestation of human hatred and negativity, but I suppose hate is close enough to love in a twisted little horseshoe way?

Mahito sees all opposites as two sides of the same coin without discrimination. It sees tears of happiness and terrified laughter as the same, absolute values of one another. It would be the same with a partner. His only goal is in the extremes, but he delights in fear most of all.

He's also a curious little creature. It's trying to figure out what makes people tick and break, all their little idiosyncracies and quirks so it can imitate you better. He was created in the image of the darkest parts of human psyche, after all.

Drabble:

Mahito has always been grabby. It dug its chin into your shoulder while wrapping his arms around your waist, long fingers and arms reaching back around your entire frame as he elongated his limbs. It felt like being spooned by a python, which you had to let him know.

"Those are the snakes, right? I haven't seen one in person, yet," Mahito said, giggling against the skin of your neck. "That should be our next adventure!"

"It's too late to go anywhere tonight, Mahito," you told it. You squirmed in its grasp a little.

"What a shame. Your kind has such strange boundaries on matters of when and where and why, don't you?"

You nodded. "We do. I don't, however, think it's so strange that I'm tired at this hour and would rather not go on an excursion to the woods in the dark."

Mahito harumphed and released you. You took a grateful exhale. "Oh, well. Tomorrow, then?" He asked with a thoughtful expression, rubbing his bare chin in the way actors with beards did. You needed to get him off the TV, lest that typical overaction finally crosses into annoying (uncanny had been there since forever) territory.

"Maybe, Mahito."

"You're suuuuuch a square!" Where'd he learn that one? "Oh! That's funny, I could turn you into a square, actually." It put a hand on your shoulder.

You froze for a split second. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that he shouldn't, couldn't transfigure you yet, those teases weren't any less blood-chilling.

"I won't! Don't get all stiff on me!" It laughed playfully and pinched your cheek. Its voice dropped again: "I really could, though." A beat passed with the skin of your cheek in between his forefinger and thumb. "Just kidding!"

“Fuck, Megumi,” Gojo slurred against his student’s neck, drooling on his shoulder as he was dragged up to his room. “Has anyone ever told you what a spitting image you are of your father?” 

“Just you,” Megumi gritted his teeth and gripped Gojo tighter under his arms. He was going to get him upstairs if it was the last thing he did. “Nobody else says that.”

When Toji got back to his office, he simply had to kick his feet up until the final bell. This week was going to be the most eventful one he’s had in years. He thought of how nice it would be to see that boy sweating buckets and red in the face after half an hour of suicides. Could he make him do them outside in the humidity?

Gojo was athletic, fit, but not enough to endure what Toji had in store for him. See, Gojo got by with his toned yet thin body. He was built more for martial arts and moving around on the balls of his feet than brute force and endurance. Toji was the exact opposite, and his lessons reflected that. He’d make that boy puke. 

That was a more exciting image than Toji had anticipated. He furrowed his brow. He wasn’t seriously getting hot thinking about one of his students struggling, was he? No. It was May. It was hot as hell outside and the school loved to cut corners on air conditioning. He was sweating because of how stuffy this shitty little office was.

“Yeah?” Mahito cocked his head. His free arm was used to pry one of Junpei’s legs out of its position. He toyed with the hem of his shorts between two fingers, hiking it up just enough to expose some of the upper thigh, riddled with the valleys and ridges of razor blades, an occasional scabbed-over red slice running over the landscape of his leg.

Junpei’s blood ran cold. Gratitude melted away and gave way to fear he hadn’t experienced since the first time.