#viviwrites

"Daddy's home!"

He had just stepped into the door before his 7 year old daughter tackled his leg, clinging tightly to him as he took off his blazer. Kento's eyes soften as his wife stood in the kitchen; humming softly and cutting up vegetables.

"I'm home," He hummed, picking up his daughter and walking into the kitchen, the aroma of your delicious food shifted through the comforts of your shared home.

"Daddy, I wanna marry someone one day!" Your daughters voice shrilled throughout the comforting silence, soft laughter breaking coming from you as you finally face your favorite duo.

"Not until I die." his voice breaks out, the joke shifting in the air as your daughter whined and pouted from his words. Your eyes soften as you admire your husband, his eyes full of love as he stares at his daughter.

You knew he loved her. Even now.

You were watching your once 7 year old daughter getting dressed for her wedding day, smoothing down her dress as your teary eyed gaze watched hers. "I miss him, he would have been proud." your daughter softly spoke, the nostalgia evident in her voice. your gaze softens once more as you remanence in the memories.

"I wish it was your father walking you down the isle, he would've cried." you chuckled at the thought, admiring your daughter once again.

You didn't regret much, but there's one thing that manifests in the back of your mind.

You should've never let him go to shibuya.

He was short, stocky, brown-haired and brown-eyed. A nerd with a love for games and the technology of the coming age. Not the kind of guy you would think to be hiding a secret, especially not from his best friend.

But-- well. Impulse was an animaxen. And while animaxen's themselves had never really been a secret, what with the oh so visible effect they had on the world and politics and wars and well-- everything. But Impulse didn't really want to be known for what bloodline he belonged to or how strong his gift was.

He wanted to be known for something wholly apart from all of that.

But when his Skizz started getting bullied for what he was?

Yeah, no. Impulse was not having that.

He stepped between the guy targeting Skizz and his buddy, letting his skin go grey and hard and heavy as he spoke up.

"I don't think you really wanna do this." Impulse leveled his stare at the bully, squaring his shoulders and setting his stance with that goat stubbornness he'd learned from his dad.

The bully, sadly, did want to do this. Thankfully there were enough people around who were willing to speak up about the fact that the broken knuckles were not Impulse's fault and simply a result of the bully trying to punch him in the gut.

In the aftermath, Skizz had to be taken to the nurse's office for his pulled feathers and the specks of blood that marred his otherwise perfect wings.

"Impulse, that was awesome!!!!" Skizz asked once they were finally free and walking through empty hall to their next class, "You have got to teach me how you took that punch so well! I wanna be able to do that-- maybe not the stone skin part, but you didn't move an inch!!!"

Impulse might not be what anyone expected of him.

Content: When a new girl shows up, what do you do? Go get your man!

TW: Implied angst, hurt/comfort, reader is a lil bit dramatic, implied FEM!READER but could be read as NB!READER, BLOOD and DEATH warning in Sukuna's, swearing

Including: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna! (In order)

A/N: SAGDSAGGSDJAGDJHSA FIRST JJK WRITE WHATTT, anyways, ASK BOX IS OPEN PULEASEEE

Masterlist requests rules about me

SATORU GOJO

“Babycakes! I don't know her, I promise!”

Your boyfriend sobbed after you as you sped down the aisles of the shops, displaying expensive clothes and expensive items which you know damn well you'd beg Satoru to buy in another day's time.

“Not now, Gojo.”

You winced as you heard another sob fall from Satoru's lips, his blue eyes all teary as he sniffled to exaggerate the blueness swelled up inside him. You knew what you were doing was silly and childish, but you couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up in your stomach as that woman disregarded your existence. She batted her eyelashes innocently at your boyfriend. Her voice was stuck in your head, her coos and soft giggles of ‘hello mister, how may I assist you today?’, the thought makes your frown twitch despite knowing her terrible attempts of seducing while working.

Never shopping here again. That thought replayed in your head within every step you took, your breath growing heavy as the pulse in your skin boiled, you’re overreacting, but can you really blame yourself? Satoru’s sobs of protests and begging fell from behind you as he wished for nothing more but a simple glance from you at this point.

“I’ll buy the whole store for you! Just say something to me! Hell, just look at me!”

Sighing, you face Satoru with a nasty side eye, glaring at him despite knowing it wasn’t his fault. The bubble of insecurity started to deteriorate as his tensed state now turned soft, his blue eyes refused to acknowledge everyone in the room, his gaze was full of  softness, a softness that was protected far away from the world of jujutsu, a softness only you got to experience every single time.

“There, happy?”

“Never been more happy, honey.”

You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, a groan coming out from you as you grabbed out for his hand. Your footsteps dragged against the floor as you strayed further to the exit, wanting to leave as soon as possible. You must admit, his groveling was amusing, but you know he’d never leave you for anyone in the world.

“I love you, or whatever.”

You then hear a squeal from behind you, muscular arms wrapping around your middle body as a pair of lips made contact with the side of your head, a soft mutter; quiet enough for you to hear was whispered.

“I love you more, from the inside and out.”

SUGURU GETO

You slam the door open, walking through it with an angry motive as you push and shove anyone in your way. That damn new assistant. With those short skirts, and seductive poses she strikes towards your boyfriend. And that? Wasn’t even the start of it, she brings him lunch instead of your usual bentos you make for him, all that time and effort wasted as you leave the discarded (and now wasted) bento box on the floor.

“Angel! Sweetie!”

You hear him. His voice. You felt irritated, angry, jealous? You couldn’t quite comprehend your emotions right now. The emotional rollercoaster came to a halt when you felt an arm around your wrist, the instant smell of Suguru filled your senses as you attempted to resist melting at the continuous but inviting feeling deep inside your chest.

“Listen to me, okay? It isn’t what it looks like. She looks like a disgusting rat compared to you.”

Suguru exclaimed with a snarl, his grip tightening around your wrist despite the small hesitance in his touch. His shoulders slowly releasing the built up tense during the whole confrontation, his eyes slowly softening as he looked for any aggression in your facial features. Behind him sat your homemade bento box, rice smushed against the hard floor, Tamagoyaki splattered in all separate directions.

“What a waste.” He muttered.

“You weren’t gonna eat it.” You spat back, voice poisonous.

“I was! I seriously do eat your bentos.” He promised, sincerity laced in his tone.

You looked skeptical, reluctantly meeting his soft gaze; staring into those irises that had you mesmerized for hours, big mistake, you note: you immediately folded. With an irritated sigh, you shifted your position straight into his arms and melted into his robes.

“How about this, I'll fire that damn assistant and we can go home, hm? Maybe cook dinner together?”

“Sure.”

And with that, you ended the day in the kitchen with the radio on. The soft aroma of sizzling food filled the kitchen as you both swayed side to side, his arms rested on your sides; and your head rested on his chest.

“I love you, Suguru.”

He paused. He smiled.

“I love you more, angel.”

KENTO NANAMI

You were at a dinner party next to your husband Kento, all sitting around a table eating dinner while discussing business and other stuff relating to the economy. Multiple of his co-workers introducing themselves and chatting along, it wasn’t until you heard that irritating and annoying voice.

“Hi! I’m Kento's work wife.. Well, it's not official but we see eachother everyday.”

Oh. Oh. This bitch pisses you off.

You softly clinked your wine glass down on the table, the silence deafening as everyone stared at the small introduction. The soft clink could be heard as someone quite literally dropped their fork on the ground, a small sniffle and an awkward cough later you finally decided to find your voice.

“That’s.. Cute”

You forced down, voice saccharine-sweet. A firm hand was placed onto your thigh, small comforting circles being traced against your soft skin as you clenched your jaw slightly. “Though, it would be a lot more fun if you joked about someone who isn’t married.”

She laughed nervously, waving her arm around while side-eyeing Kento for support. “Ahh.. it’s a joke! A nickname we use in the work industry. Haha! You know, harmless fun!” Her sentence brought out many hisses of disagreement and even more awkward coughs from your husband's co-workers, an audible ‘Oh shit.’ was whispered from one of his guests.

Eventually, Nanami spoke up, his voice low and strict. “She didn’t mean to offend, my love.” His voice was steady, though the edge of his voice made the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. He looked across at the woman across the table, his eyes glaring at her through his glasses, “But it's clear that the joke didn’t land. It's about time we move on.”. That sentence brought everyone looking down at their plates, suddenly finding the seared steak on their plates fascinating.

The woman sat stiffly, nodding robotically as she reached for her fork.

Nanami leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Jealousy is a good look on you, darling.”, the rest of the night flew by with flying colors, but the tone changed ever since that confrontation. No more flirtatious comments, no more suggestive jokes, no more ‘work wife’ talk.

At the end of the night, you’re wrapped in each other's arms, legs tangled as you both embrace in the comfort of one another's warmth. You both knew that at the end of the day: You’re his and he is yours.

CHOSO KAMO

You sat down with your boyfriend at a fast food restaurant, discussing anything that came up to mind while repeatedly changing topics. The conversation bounced from what toppings are objectively superior on a burger, to whether you’d survive a zombie apocalypse, to the weird dream you had last night that made no sense but was strangely vivid. It was comfortable and easy. You leaned in to give your boyfriend a kiss, lips just brushing his, when suddenly..

“Stacy, look! That guy over there is totally your type!”

“He’s totally my type too!”

“Oh my GOSHH he looks like such a loser, it's so cute!”

A flock of college girls huddled around your table with red faces and giggly voices, getting all close and personal in your guys personal space. Choso blinked slowly, clearly overwhelmed, lips parted as though he was still catching up to what just happened. He stayed still, too polite to push anyone away, but you could see his brows twitch with unease.

You let out a tight sigh and calmly set your drink down.

“Hi,” you said, loud enough to cut through the noise. “Yeah, he is hot. I kiss him daily. Sometimes hourly.”

A few heads snapped toward you.

“I understand he’s a walking thirst trap,” you continued, voice sweet and laced with fire, “but maybe, just maybe, you can admire from a distance without climbing into our booth like you’re about to join us for fries and foreplay.”

The girls stopped moving for two whole seconds, just staring at you before rolling their eyes at you “yeah right,” one says. Choso finally moved. Slowly, like he was shaking off a daze. His hand slid across the table and took yours, his thumb brushing your knuckles with a firm, steady stroke. He didn’t look at the girls—he didn’t need to.

“She’s right,” he said plainly, his voice low and even. “I’m not single. I’m not interested. And I’d like to get back to my food now.”

The girls collectively shuffled back like someone had hit a rewind button on a movie. A few tried to save face with nervous laughs. As the group finally dispersed, leaving behind a faint trail of perfume and secondhand embarrassment, Choso exhaled slowly. His grip on your hand stayed tight.

“...What just happened,” he muttered, as if his brain had just rebooted.

“You got mobbed by the thirst squad,” you said, reaching for your fries again. “Congratulations. You’re a campus-wide problem now.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

You never thought of yourself as the jealous type. You prided yourself on being cool, collected and unbothered. But all of that went straight out the window the moment Toji Fushiguro came into your life. There was something about him, something infuriatingly magnetic, that made your heart twist and your blood heat. But it wasn’t only you who felt that kind of magnetic pull, women from the other side of the street, workers from local cafes, women who were also married continued to stare at him with awe and a hunger that made your stomach drop every time.

You'd be walking beside him, hand laced in his, and still they'd look at him like you weren’t even there. One girl even went so far as to bump into you to get closer to him, pretending she didn’t see you, giving you a fake apology while giggling at him like she’d just unlocked a level in some dating sim.

And Toji? Of course he noticed.

He didn’t comment on it often, but you saw the twitch of his jaw, the subtle scoff under his breath. You knew he didn’t care about them. Hell, he barely gave them a glance unless it was to glare them back into place. But that didn’t stop the fire that lit in your chest every single time.

You tried to play it cool. Bit your lip. Look the other way. But it reached a breaking point when one woman, mid-30s, perfect hair, wedding ring flashing like a mockery, tried to hand Toji her number right in front of you.

Toji didn’t even blink. He looked her dead in the eye, took the paper, and without a word, crumpled it in his hand and dropped it in the nearest trash bin. Then he turned to you, wrapped a heavy arm around your waist, and said loud enough for her to hear,

“Let’s go, baby. I’ve got something better waiting for me.”

What was waiting for him? You two at home, embraced in his big beefy arms, head on his chest while he watches some random sports on the tv. Pizza boxes lay all over the coffee table as you continued to slumber comfortably in your man's arms.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

Jealousy wasn’t something you liked to admit; not to yourself, and definitely not to Megumi. He wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who gave you reasons to doubt him. He was quiet, loyal, frustratingly composed, and sometimes too emotionally distant for his own good. But he was yours, and that meant something.

So when a new student from your class saunters up to Megumi and giggles up at him, you feel something seriously shift inside your gut as you stand there motionlessly. She's pretty, too pretty, like the type of pretty that makes anyone drop to their knees to grovel over, like she was a model straight out of a magazine.

You watch her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear like it’s a well-rehearsed move, leaning in as she says something to him that you can’t quite hear. But what you can see is the way she places a hand on his forearm. Lightly. Casually. Like she has any right.

Megumi, for his part, looks… neutral. Maybe mildly annoyed. His arms stay crossed, his eyes not quite meeting hers. But he doesn’t pull away either. And that’s what gets you. Not that he’s entertaining her, exactly, but that he’s letting it happen.

The ugly, uncomfortable heat inside your chest simmers like a warning. It’s irrational. You know it. He hasn’t done anything wrong. But your jealousy has teeth, and it’s starting to bite.

You finally step forward, sliding in next to him with a casualness that feels like a performance, your hand slipping into his like it’s second nature, because it is. Megumi glances at you, his eyes softening immediately, thumb brushing your knuckles in a way that sends something warm down your spine.

“Oh,” the girl says, blinking. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

You smile politely, sharp as glass. “Yeah. For a while now.”

He flaunts you like you’re a sacred gem, like you’re a prized possession in a world full of oil and clay. This girl looks like a piece of shit stuck on the bottom of someone's shoe, he would word casually. You snort. She shrieks. She leaves. Being alone with him once more as he looks over at you casually.

He appreciates you, he cherishes you, and you know that.

YUJI ITADORI

Yuji was definitely a blind bat when it came to flirting, I mean, he was never good around girls anyways right? He was open-hearted, affectionate, and wore his emotions like a second skin. He made you feel loved in the loudest, sunniest ways, and yet... that didn’t stop the sharp sting of envy when someone else tried to bask in his light. Because Yuji was magnetic. He smiled at everyone, talked to anyone, made people feel like they mattered, and sometimes, they mistook that warmth for something more. Something they could have. Something that wasn’t already yours.

So when you see one of the third-years from another class walk right up to him during lunch smiling, giggling, flipping her hair, leaning just a little too close, you feel your stomach twist in a way that’s anything but friendly. She’s cute. That kind of effortlessly pretty, the kind you could never compete with because it wasn’t trying, it just was. You watch her press her shoulder into his as she laughs at something he says, touching the sleeve of his uniform like she’s been given permission. You can’t hear the words, but you don’t need to. The body language is loud enough.

Yuji, the sweet, oblivious Yuji, is smiling, his usual sunshine grin, like this is just another conversation. Like he doesn’t notice the way her eyes linger or how she bats her lashes like she’s trying out for a drama club role. And the worst part? He doesn’t pull away. Not that he’s flirting back, not at all. but he’s letting it happen, and that’s enough to make something ugly coil in your chest.

You don’t hesitate. You walk up to them with a calmness that feels paper-thin, your fingers sliding into his with an easy, practiced grace. He turns immediately, eyes lighting up in that way they only do when he sees you, and squeezes your hand like he forgot the rest of the world existed. The girl pauses, blinking like she’s only just realized you’re there. “Oh,” she says, her voice a little too high. “I didn’t know you two were-”

“Very together,” you reply, voice sweet but sharp.

Yuji grins at you, then glances back at her with no real interest. “She’s kinda the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says simply. The girl falters, mumbles something, and backs off like she’s been gently but thoroughly dismissed.

Later, when it’s just you and him walking home, he tugs you closer and says, “You don’t have to worry about anyone else, y’know. I only look at you.”

And fuck, you know he means it.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Sukuna didn’t care for weakness, and that’s exactly jealousy would look to him. Weak. Pathetic. But it was hard not to feel it when he was so visibly admired, even in the most twisted of ways. It wasn’t the soft, flirty kind of attention you’d expect from schoolgirls or coworkers. No. People were drawn to him like moths to a flame, hungry to get close to something ancient, powerful, terrifying. They flirted with their lives, not just their words. And still, it made your blood boil. Because Sukuna let them. Not because he wanted them, but because he didn’t care. He was bored. Indifferent. Sometimes amused. But never loyal, not in the traditional sense. He didn’t flirt, he didn't entertain, he barely acknowledged, but he didn’t stop them, either. And you hated it.

Today, it was some fool of a cursed spirit, low-grade and delusional, female in form but barely conscious in mind. She bowed herself in front of Sukuna like he was a god, because to her, he was. Her voice dripped with something too reverent to be respectful. “My lord,” she purred, crawling too close to his throne of bone and ruin. “May I offer myself to you?” Her meaning was clear, the way she bared her throat, her chest, her entire trembling form. It wasn’t just fear. It was a disgusting desire; a wish to be his concubine.

Your jaw tightened. You stood beside Sukuna, arms crossed, shadows in your gaze. You said nothing. Neither did he. He watched the spirit crawl, her face nearly pressed to the floor at his feet. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just let the silence stretch on like a blade.

Chapters: 2/28 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Ezrunil'alyth | Ezrun, The Cinder King | Lucias, Laurel Naheir Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2026, Whump, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, but not really cause that's how the demon magic works, Demons, Magic, Blood and Gore, like seriously though there's a lot of blood, Ezrun needs a hug, Dark Fantasy, Torture, Psychological Trauma, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alcohol, Drinking to Cope, Overstimulation, Wings, Hallucinations, Aftermath of Torture, Dehumanization, Medical Inaccuracies, Abandonment

Summary: Ezrunil'alyth has been known by many titles. Demon, pet, general, friend, Prince, slave, and even 'relic of a bygone era'. From the moment he was forced to retreat to the mortal world Ezrun has faced hardships that would-- and do-- horrify both demons and mortals alike.

or, a series of-- rather disjointed-- snapshots of a world I have been playing with since the new year.

As it turned out, most of the Hermits were adept in at least a little bit of sewing. They really didn't need to take the time to adapt their clothes-- Animaxens could choose to show or hide traits at will. It was actually a bit rare to see people openly flaunt their feathers and fur and horns and claws so openly.

But Skizz and Pearl and Gem almost always had their wings out on display. Impulse kept his hooves and horns unseen, but Zedaph could almost always be seen with his horns out and curled down around his ears. Or Tango, who's scales and tail and static-y fingers were open to the world.

Hence, the need for adaptive clothing.

Mostly it was just the tails or wings that needed to be accommodated, but Zedaph had a knit hat with holes for his horns that he wore during the winter.

"See? This way you stay warm, and the feathers do the work of keeping your wings warm, so you don't gotta wear anything on them!" Skizz grinned at him, proudly holding the shirt up for Grian's inspection. There was elastic sewn into the seams of the slits.

"That's-- actually really smart." Grian hummed, tugging at the shirt for a moment, "Can we do this to a couple of mine?"

Gem zipped in out of nowhere, shoving a different style of shirt completely into his hands, "This one's better! You get more maneuverability and just as much warmth!"

"But it's so hard to put on though--" Skizz protested, "With the cross-y straps and everything. Mine's better!"

hey! welcome to my jujutsu kaisen masterlist 🌟 all my fanfics in one place, whether requested or not.

WRITING MASTERLIST

SMAU MASTERLIST

Sure it made it hard to get to class sometimes, but he wasn't going to complain. Not since Cub had gone and made them all fancy.

And with them, he could still walk, after all.

At least his Cub had still wanted him. He hadn't thought his pseudo-brother would even look at him, after the accident. And it really had been an accident.

Regardless! Afterwards, Cub had said they were all each other had, and he was right. Cub was right about a lot of things, really.

Scar was glad that one of them had been right, after everything they'd been through.

And as a bonus, they'd even managed to get Jellie accepted as a service animal! She was quite the smart cat. It was what she'd been bred for-- smarts.

Well, smarts and talking. But it wasn't like she talked to anyone but him or Cub. So really it was mostly just smarts.

But Scar could mostly understand what she was saying even without the need for words. She helped make sure he didn't trip, and if he dropped anything, she'd help him carry it-- if it was small enough.

Besides, she'd been such a good cat for so long that even if she didn't help him he would still love her with all his heart.

Jellie was the best cat in the world.

She'd been the one to follow Grian up to the roof his first night spent in their room, the one to run and get Gem who woke Pearl who woke Hypno and every other hermit really, with the screams and the relief and the anger at what had almost been done to him--

Well. Scar was going to make the best of it. Like he did with Jellie. And his crutches. And his parents.

She'd been thrust into this school by some government idiots who thought they were doing her good and then she was just left to her own devises without any semblance of a mission statement or instructions or anything at all to help her figure out what she was supposed to be doing there.

And on top of that, she wasn't allowed to fight anyone.

The very thing she was born and bred and raised to do.

If False couldn't fight, then what point was there to her continued existence?

Luckily for her, there was someone at the school who was plenty willing to teach her.

Ren-the-dog, he called himself, a Wolf in the year younger but just as new as she was, one who delighted in teaching her all about how life was supposed to be.

How it would have been, had her handlers not-- done what they had with her.

Slowly, painfully, nervously, False learns how to be a person instead of just a weapon.

And if she is a little extra frightening to the bullies who call her Ren packless? Or the teachers who look unkindly on his "goofing off" in their classes? Or the parents who come to get their kids after the term is done-- or for some even each week--

False has a reputation to keep up after all.

And, the more she learns about life, the more she wants her reputation to be one of protection.