hawkdaddy1111 - Tumblr blog

hawkdaddy1111 · 7 months ago

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I read this on ao3 so I came all the way to Tumblr to reblog this master piece yall if you don't read this you're missing out big time

Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.

Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)

genre: heavy angst with happy ending

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(

a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3

“Get out.”

The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air.

“Well, hello to you too.”

He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”

“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.”

He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”

You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring.

“Satoru, please say something.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound.

But not tonight.

So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit.

“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you.

But not tonight.

When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-

The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago.

He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over.

And yet, you just looked too beautiful.

You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again.

The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills.

You slept alone that night.

You remember when you first met Megumi.

“Who the hell are you?”

You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?”

You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.

Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.

You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided.

He was just a boy.

Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl.

There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him.

Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior.

Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself.

You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.

You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru.

He was just a boy.

Fire never harmed you; it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough?

But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you.

You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance.

You were always there, smiling, ushering him along.

You can do it. I believe in you.

You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile.

He knows you did the best you could with what you had.

He was just a boy.

Your boy.

He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed.

He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.

When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.

“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you.

You knew he was right.

You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe.

However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission.

You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room.

You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again?

After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.

“Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head.

“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.”

You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe.

Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside.

“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”

You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”

“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled.

You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”

“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue. This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?”

“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”

You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it.

You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”

You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it.

You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t.

Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.

Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned.

You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now. It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first.

That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.

However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior.

“Huh?”

“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated.

You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”

“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”

“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”

“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”

“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground.

He was upset.

“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”

For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart.

“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”

He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.”

He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”

“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful.

“About that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”

“But that’s not–”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”

He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.

“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”

The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man.

Urg. Stop getting emotional.

However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so.

“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time.

He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”

“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”

Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.”

“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”

You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train.

You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.

You’re not my mom.

It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe.

Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs.

You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.

But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.

He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.

I hope you have a good day today :)

It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that.

You’re starting to worry.

He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission.

But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?

Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?

Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?

Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online.

You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress.

You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”

He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?”

“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.”

He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…”

Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?”

He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”

“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy? “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”

He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding.

“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”

“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”

Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”

“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”

Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”

The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”

“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final.

There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.

You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.

After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.

When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.

The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.

Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?

Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?

Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?

You weren't sure, but you had to try something.

You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.

You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling.

He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one.

You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you.

You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine.

And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours.

You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to.

You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw.

You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart.

He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him.

So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach.

And now that you think about it…

When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?

Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–

After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?

He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you.

You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up.

Nothing. Just nothing.

Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission?

“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back.

Only to be met with more disappointment.

Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up.

You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t.

Satoru…

He’s typing faster now. What?

You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately.

I’m fine. Just busy.

Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?

Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up.

You know I don't sleep well without you.

He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight?

You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home.

Only he could fracture you so completely.

During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.

You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobara she had nothing else better to do.

“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”

Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Me too,” Nobara voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”

You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”

“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”

Nobara nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobara says, curious eyes scanning you.

“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”

Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone.

Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering.

Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four.

Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.

You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own.

But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars.

You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobara–

Right in time before the building collapsed.

The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.

You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.

You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces.

Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.

However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you.

Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.

You let yourself down. You let them down.

You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed.

“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"

Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room.

“I’m alright. Are you guys?"

“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”

“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”

Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long?

You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt?

You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.

“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”

“Y–yeah!” Nobara sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”

The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips.

Everything would be okay.

Everything was, in fact, not okay.

The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right.

You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction.

When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.

But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.

“Satoru–”

“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk.

You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me.

It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another.

Not from him.

“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”

“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”

“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.

You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”

“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves.

“I made sure that–”

“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”

Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”

“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all.

“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.”

What?

“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”

“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”

No.

No, no, no, no.

You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better.

Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you.

You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”

Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”

Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.

“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”

He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.

Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.

He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.

“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."

It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action.

When did things go so wrong?

Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?

Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.

You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”

“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing. You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”

“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.”

Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done.

Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes.

The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home.

Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you.

You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands.

He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty.

“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”

Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room.

There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.

You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them.

“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...”

Fuck. How much did they hear?

You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”

Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.

You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin.

“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”

“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.”

“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobara awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet.

“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!”

You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut.

You just needed to get out of there.

After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.

I guess old habits die hard.

Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you.

All good! I’ve been busy running errands.

Nobara text you sometime after.

Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!

You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.

But guys suck :(

Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons!

You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message.

You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you.

Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?

Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report.

A building collapsed on you.

You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?

That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown.

That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”

“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”

She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”

“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.”

“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”

“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”

“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup.

“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.”

You smile a bit sardonically. If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see. Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.

“Is that why you texted me?”

She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.”

“Like what?”

“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”

“I think I’m gonna quit.”

“…what?”

“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”

“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.”

“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”

“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”

“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”

“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant. He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”

“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”

A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt.

“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”

You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better.

Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought.

Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer.

Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it.

Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!”

Back to normal? Just like that?

You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment.

“I’m not home, right now.”

“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado.

“Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.

Honestly, he’s just making your head spin.

“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”

There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again.

But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence.

“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours?

Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much.

Honestly?

You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable.

So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.”

“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”

You hated this. You fucking hated this.

Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you.

But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void.

Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through.

“Sensei? What’s going on?”

“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“

“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place.

“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.”

“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.”

“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobara would kill me if I did.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”

He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”

You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.”

“… and you’re sure alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”

You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”

You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”

“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”

When you hang up, you feel a bit better.

The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind. You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.

You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did.

Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more.

However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt.

A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school.

You were definitely getting fired after this.

You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough.

You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand.

“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”

“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!”

The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it.

Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical.

You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it.

Of course, your bad luck persists.

Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable.

Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac.

You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area.

“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.

Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere.

You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances.

The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.

Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power.

The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin.

It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.

Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.

The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.

The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life.

The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.

You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that.

"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment.

There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too.

Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat.

“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy.

But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk.

Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”

"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate.

He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”

In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.

The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.

The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission.

The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed.

Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.

It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.

Then, there was nothing.

The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself.

You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard.

You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”

“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps.

“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."

You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you.

“Oh. Hi ‘hime.”

She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right.

“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.”

“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”

They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right.

“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”

You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”

“About an hour ago now.”

“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”

“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.”

You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground.

It was lights out.

It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see.

But then came the first sound.

You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another.

Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else.

Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you.

Oddly, you were cold.

You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.

Mom, please don’t go.

The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you.

Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours.

Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy.

Then, your eyes fluttered open.

You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose.

You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.

The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes.

“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes.

You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.”

“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again.

Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking.

However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.”

You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him.

When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing.

You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobara. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train.

He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there. We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you.

You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”

“Pushing four days now.”

The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek.

He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again. “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobara went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”

You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”

You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself.

You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”

“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”

He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents.

He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move.

You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”

He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”

“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand.

“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."

You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.

You were afraid you would sob if you did.

Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back.

You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing. He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.

Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?” He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running?

It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery.

You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”

“But–”

“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.

He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving. He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs.

Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again.

He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”

“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly.

You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled?

He still wanted you?

You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.

Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it.

I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay. You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.

His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”

Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time.

“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly.

Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly.

Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth.

“I–I don’t understand.”

“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy.

His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver.

“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?”

You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid.

Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”

He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home.

You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him.

“How did you find me?”

He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”

You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”

“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”

He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly.

For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”

“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”

“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more. “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you.

He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?”

He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away.

Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.

You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with.

“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable. “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”

“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”

“...Then what am I?”

“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.

You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.

You were hurt, but you still wanted him.

You still loved him.

His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until–

He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch. Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley.

“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”

You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”

“I would for. Only for you, of course.”

You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now.

“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”

You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”

“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!” He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.

Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands.

Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”

You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”

“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”

You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.

You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.

“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.” His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.

“You want me to stay?”

He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”

“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.”

“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”

“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”

You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.”

“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”

A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”

“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”

“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”

He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.

“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.

He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”

“Nooo. Stay here.”

“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”

“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.

He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla.

He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar.

“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”

You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.

Wherever you go, that’s where I follow.

a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.

anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p

#jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #fanfic #satoru gojo x reader #angst

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hawkdaddy1111 · 10 months ago

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“You never reply to messages” I am just one person okay I am understaffed

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

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FLOWERS FROZEN IN TIME

Gojo x reader Hanahaki disease Part 2

Summary: The consequences of a heartbreak could cost you your life. (Hanahaki disease small fic)

A/N: Trying to finish this before uni starts

Tags: Graphic description, Injury, blood, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST - Part 1 - Part 3 (coming soon)

“You’re here too?”

Your voice cut through the stillness of the cursed site as you glanced over at Nanami, who was standing just a few feet away from Ijichi. His presence was unexpected, given that this mission was supposed to be your solo gig. No one had mentioned backup.

You were hoping that you’d get this mission over with as soon as you enter the site, but seeing the not so usual face of a friend would do you some good.

But this was still weird, Yaga never mentioned Nanami being part of this.

Nanami turned his head at the sound of your voice, his expression calm as always, but with the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. He nodded slightly, "I am. Thought you’d have been informed about it." He paused, then added with sincerity, "Glad to see you here, though."

You blinked, "Oh, yeah, sorry. That came off a bit rude, didn’t it?" You laughed lightly and stepped closer, patting his back in a casual greeting. "I’m glad to see you too, you know? It’s been a while."

Nanami offered a small, approving nod, his lips barely moving. "Certainly."

You tilted your head toward the black-haired man standing awkwardly nearby. "Ijichi? How’ve you been? Everything alright?"

He straightened his posture and gave a nervous chuckle. "A-ah, nothing new, really… Haha." Moments later, he moved forward to work on the veil.

As you and Nanami stood by, waiting for Ijichi to complete the preparations, you glanced up at the sky with a depleted sight— a staggered one at that, it was a shame that you weren’t even able to breath in the fresh air casually. "You know," you began, eyes still scanning the horizon for anything unusual, "we should all catch up sometime. It’s been forever since we had a proper talk outside of work…" You gave a pointed look at Nanami.

You’d like to create some memories, after all.

He considered it for a moment before replying, "I’m not opposed. There’s a bar not far from here. About a few minutes down the road."

“Typical words for the heavy drinker, huh?”

“Got a better idea?” You could make out the faintest smile from the corner of his lips.

"You’re all set." Ijichi’s voice broke through your conversation as he stepped back.

"Good to go?" You flexed your shoulders, stretching as the man beside you hummed, “Let’s get started.”

“Stay safe, you guys!” Ijichi called out from behind, his voice filled with a mix of concern and his usual nervousness. His words were faint, muffled by the veil, as the two of you disappeared into the heart of the cursed site.

The atmosphere inside felt heavier immediately, as if the air itself had become denser.

As you walked deeper into the problem school, the old building creaked and the energy settling on it showed oppressive signs of the existence of a curse, but what really weighed on you was Nanami’s presence with you.

So you started, breaking the quiet with a casual tone that didn't quite match the setting, “Why do you think they sent you with me?”

Nanami walked beside you as his gaze fixed straight ahead. The man was infuriatingly calm. His silence stretched a beat longer than you’d like, so you stopped abruptly, forcing him to halt as well, “So?”

In all fairness, this mission was yours. It wasn’t that you minded Nanami’s presence—if anything, his reliability was a comfort. But missions assigned to a single sorcerer shouldn’t suddenly be turned into a two-person gig without reason. This wasn’t some sort of awkward blind date.

"I wasn’t sure at first," he said finally, his deep voice steady, but something in his tone made you narrow your eyes. His sharp eyes scanned you from head to toe as if trying to assess something. It wasn’t the look of concern that unnerved you— it was the quiet intensity behind it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, meeting his gaze with a raised brow. "You weren’t… sure of what?"

He sighed softly, then proceeded to call your name with concern, lacing each letter, “You don’t look well, at all. Have you visited Shoko?”

And there it was— the question you'd been dreading. Not this again.

"Where is this coming from?" you asked, your voice tinged with frustration as you gestured vaguely to yourself. "I’m standing, aren’t I? I’m good."

Nanami's unwavering gaze never left you, and the weight of his scrutiny made your skin prickle. He wasn’t buying it. And that bothered you more than you wanted to admit. You have been trying to act as if nothing was wrong, fake it till you make it, right?

But the more people brought up your wellbeing, the more you couldn’t just ignore it.

You had lost count of how many times your sink had been stained with the deep crimson of your own blood this week.

Or the bloody flowers thrown in your trashcan.

It was almost poetic, in a twisted, tragic sort of way. Like something out of a romance novel where the protagonist meets a bitter end. But this wasn’t a novel. And the flowers, no matter how beautiful, didn’t feel like love. They felt like death.

After a long pause, he finally spoke firmly, "I would have believed you if you weren’t getting defensive."

You exhaled sharply, the tension in your shoulders rising. "I’m not being defensive. I just..." You trailed off, running a hand through your hair as you turned away from him, eyes focusing on the dilapidated walls of the school. "I’m fine, Nanami. Really. I’m just... frustrated. Everyone keeps asking the same thing, over and over."

"You know," he said quietly, "people keep asking because they care."

Your gaze softened at that.

Should you just tell him…?

He was Nanami after all, he's not one to judge.

You stole a glance at Nanami, your chest tightening as you toyed with the potential outcomes in your mind.

You tried to tell yourself the tension in your throat was from the sharp burn in your nose and the prickling sensation of unshed tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

But the moment you felt a rough cough rip from your chest, and then another, followed by another, your body betrayed you.

Something was wrong.

Your throat constricted painfully, as if it were being physically sealed shut. Panic fluttered at the edge of your senses, growing with every gasping breath you struggled to take. There was something inside you, something moving, forcing its way up your throat— its presence was suffocating and unnatural. Each cough was violent, your body spasming uncontrollably as the thing clawed its way toward your mouth.

Nanami was at your side in an instant, his usual calm demeanor cracking as he reached for you, his voice cutting through the haze of your struggle. You could hear him saying something, but the words were a garbled mess, distorted by the overwhelming pressure in your chest. You turned toward him, desperation clear in your eyes, but before you could even think to respond—

Something slammed into you.

Hard.

Your body flew backward with a force so violent it knocked the air from your lungs. Your back collided with the cracked concrete wall of the building. A pained gasp tore from your lips, but it was cut short as the coughing fits subsided—replaced by a new sensation. Blood. You could feel it spilling from your mouth, warm and metallic, dripping from the corner of your lips and staining your chin.

Dazed, you blinked, your vision blurring at the edges. Through half-lidded eyes, you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

What?

Nanami wasn’t the one who had sent you flying. He wouldn’t. But then— what had just hit you?

Through the fog of pain and disorientation, you spotted movement from the corner of your eye. A shadow. The curse. It was in front of you, far closer than you had anticipated, its grotesque form towering above you. And it was looking directly at you.

You could see the glint of its thousands of jagged teeth as its mouth stretched open. The air around you felt colder, heavier.

But that didn’t make sense.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The curse you were sent to exorcize wasn’t a direct threat to humans— it wasn’t even supposed to target them. And yet, here it was, edging closer, its eyes locked onto you as if you were nothing more than a meal.

As if you were a curse.

You desperately tried to piece together the answer as the curse's mouth stretched wider, saliva dripping from its fangs. But with each passing second, your body felt weaker, the energy draining from you as blood continued to slip from your lips. You tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. The pain in your chest intensified, as though something was tearing you apart from the inside out.

This was it. You were sure of it— you were going to die here.

The grim thought settled in your mind as your vision darkened. Your eyelids grew unbearably heavy, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep them open.

A violent cough tore through your chest again, weaker this time, but just as agonizing. Blood pooled in your mouth coating your tongue. You couldn’t swallow it down, couldn’t spit it out.

All you could think of is how bad everything hurt, your head throbbed, your chest felt like it was expanding and not because of your breathing and your back felt suspiciously cold.

You’d never felt so small, so utterly powerless. So dangerously close to the edge. All the while, Nanami’s strained voice cut through the chaos. You couldn’t make out the words, but you knew he was still fighting. Still trying.

What a sight you must’ve been. Stripped of all dignity, laid bare in the grip of death itself.

You were sure you looked like a ghost, a shell of yourself, your skin pale and slick with sweat. It wasn’t just that you were dying—it was how you were dying.

And the worst part?

Nanami was here to witness it.

You found yourself wishing for the curse to finish you off, to devour you whole, to swallow you into the void where no one else could see you in this wretched state. Where Nanami couldn't take your body back to the school, somewhere where he wouldn't be able to see you.

God, especially not him.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #Gojo x oc #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader fluff #saturo gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #Jjk #jjk fluff #Jjk gojo #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

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FLOWERS FROZEN IN TIME

Gojo x reader Hanahaki disease Part 1

Summary: The consequences of a heartbreak could cost you your life. (Hanahaki disease small fic)

A/N: Finally writing this trope!

Tags: Graphic description, Injury, blood, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/comfort

Word count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST - Part 2

Can one ever imagine the feeling of branches growing within a body?

Branches that slowly break into your trachea, poking and blocking your airways, feeding itself from your utter discomfort, and eventually casting you away from your own body.

As though you were nothing but soil to be used up and discarded.

Where flowers bloom in the darkness of your chest, petals unfurling in places meant for breath and blood. They grow lush and vibrant, fueled by the oxygen you exhale, yet robbing you of the same breath you so desperately need to survive.

Can one imagine just how unfair that is?

When your right to breathe is simply taken away, not by some external force, but because your heart, in its foolishness, chose to chase after the one person who could live without casting a second look towards you. The one person who, in your wildest dreams, might care, but in reality, moves through life with the weight of the world on their shoulders, leaving you unnoticed in their shadow.

So you'd cough and cough, trying to let the air you deserve in, but all that comes out are those accursed petals— so delicate, so beautiful, yet drenched in blood and despair.

Feeling the tingly sensation at the back of your throat all the way to your chest, bloody petals coming out of your lips, ragged breaths and drowning in your own sorrow.

How can a love so pure turn into a deadly curse?

Just how painful that is?

Just how absolutely deranged does one have to be to get cursed by their own self?

That would be the question that's echoing within your mind.

One that you could not find an answer to as you felt the heaviness of your breath and the flowers tearing you apart from the inside out.

And one that was a direct response to the heartbreak that has lasted for a century.

How do you reconcile with the fact that you did this to yourself?

He was part of you, and he was willing to take away the part he had owned.

And despite the pain, despite the choking petals, despite everything— you still love him. And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

Maybe what's cruel is your heart.

You don’t know how much time you have left. Days? Hours? But as you feel the flowers growing stronger, you cling to the hope that, somehow, he’ll see.

That he’ll notice before it’s too late.

That in the end, the love that’s killing you will be the love that saves you.

Even if that hope is as futile as your next breath.

At the sound of your name, your head snapped up, heart pounding in your chest as you looked at Principal Yaga. His eyes were narrowed, concern etched into the lines of his face, and it took a moment for your mind to catch up to the fact that he’d been speaking to you.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“We were discussing the matters of your upcoming mission and you just…” he trailed off, watching you carefully.

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your mind, “Um yeah, right… sorry,” You murmured, forcing a small, strained smile.

“Seems like alot is in your mind, are you sure you can take this mission?”

You immediately waved him off and straightened up, “No no absolutely, it's my duty after all. Please, go on with the intel.”

Yaga studied you for a moment longer, and you held your breath, praying he wouldn’t push further. Finally, he nodded, though you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. “...As I was saying, after thorough examinations and reports, we concluded that this curse targets other curses. It shouldn’t be a hassle to exorcise it.”

“Why would we exorcise a curse that actually helps us?” You asked.

Yaga tilted his head as he considered your question. “It’s not as helpful as it sounds. It may feed off the cursed energy of other curses… as a way to fuel its own. But keep in mind that its cursed technique is to attract curses and eat them. That alone is dangerous for any human around.”

“Right…” you echoed, your voice distant as you reached up to rub your chest.

“Here’s the report written in case you’d like to refresh your mind,” Yaga said, sliding a folder across the table towards you. You reached out to take it, but your hand trembled slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw his eyes flicker with concern again. You quickly tighten your grip, pulling the folder closer to hide your unease.

“Good luck,” Yaga added, his tone pointed. You nodded once more, clutching the folder to your chest as you stood.

God, you were acting so suspicious.

Just as you closed the door behind you–

“Oooh? A mission?”

Today was really not your day.

You sighed, glancing at the white haired sorcerer who grinned at you stupidly.

“Yeah.” Your voice was neutral despite the code blue going off within you.

“Let me see.” Gojo’s presence was suddenly too close, his tall frame leaning in over your shoulder as he reached for the folder.

“Hello? Personal space?” you grimaced, twisting your body to shield the folder from his grasp. But he wasn’t having it.

He reached out again only to get his hand slapped.

“Ahhh, come on, don’t be like that,” he coaxed, a grin in his voice as he continued to push closer, “Let me see, let me see—”

You knew it was useless trying to stop him. Gojo was nothing if not persistent. With a resigned sigh, you loosened your grip just slightly, allowing him to slip the folder from your hands.

“There we go,” he said with a satisfied hum, flipping open the folder with one hand while the other stayed draped over your shoulder, keeping you anchored in place.

As he skimmed through the contents, you tried to focus on anything else— the ticking of a nearby clock, the faint murmur of voices from down the hall—

“Piece of cake, though you sure you can handle it?”

“I don't appreciate your blatant belittling of my abilities.”

“Oh yeah? Cause you're so big and scary, might as well just scare the curse off.”

“At least I don't need a blindfold to be intimidating.”

“Ouch.”

“I'll be on my way.” Perhaps you said that in order for him to take the hint and walk away, but just as you started walking forward, he fell into step beside you wordlessly.

Despite not being able to see his eyes, you could almost feel them on you.

Hell, you could feel them decoding each and every part of you, it's like his eyes were some kind of X ray that'll reveal anything in a matter of a glance.

All thought the silence between the two of you wasn't awkward, what was insufferable is that he made you all the way aware of what you're really feeling within.

When you reached your office, you hoped he would finally leave you in peace. But instead of stopping, he followed you right to the door. You tried to ignore him as you fumbled with your keys, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

You searched for your key.

Shaky breath.

Where's the damn key?

Nevermind, found it.

Blue eyes.

It fell.

Eyes blurred.

“You know I can feel you staring,” you said, turning to face him. There was no shame in his expression, no hint of embarrassment at being caught. Instead, he looked conflicted, as if he was wrestling with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“It’s just that…” Gojo paused, his head tilting slightly, eyebrows furrowed. Almost as if he were trying to catch a glimpse of something even with his blindfold.

You raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. But instead of speaking, he reached out slowly, his hand hovering just above your chest. You felt a flicker of panic, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips brushed against the fabric of your shirt.

Hand on your chest.

And you froze.

Your breath stilled, your body rigid under his touch.

The weight of his hand felt overwhelming, pressing directly against the flowers that had begun to take root deep inside you. The very petals stirred, and you could just feel their unforgiving edges.

And the amount of self restraint you're enduring for you to not cough could earn you a medal.

Gojo’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. His free hand moved toward his blindfold. But before he could pull it down, you instinctively grabbed his wrist, your grip tight and almost desperate.

“What are you doing?”

He paused, his hand still hovering near his blindfold. As if he finally realized how off he was acting, slowly, he let his hand drop.

“A-ha hehe ,” Gojo chuckled softly, though the sound was more hollow than his usual laughter. “...thought I saw something.”

“Well, you're imagining things…” you muttered, turning away from him quickly, your fingers fumbling with the key as you tried to unlock the door. “If you could excuse me—”

He called your name, softly, the sound of it halting your movements. It was rare for him to use that tone, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze even though you couldn’t see his eyes.

Your heart sank as you realized how poorly you’d chosen your words earlier. Both of you knew that Gojo’s Six Eyes were anything but faulty. They were perfect, inescapable, always seeing more than anyone else could. If he thought he saw something, he probably did. And there was no way you could bluff your way out of that.

“But if I'm not… you'd tell me, right?”

You hesitated, the key slipping in your grasp as you turned to fully face him.

“You're okay, right?”

he pressed, taking a small step closer.

“Satoru,” you began, his name catching in your throat. the weight of his words mixing with the discomfort in your chest. His expression softened at the sole mention of his name, “I’m okay, just… tired, that's all. It's nothing new.”

No words were exchanged, just the loud silence of him observing your appearance in case something was out of the ordinary.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation and concern. “If you say so,” he murmured, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

His fingers lingered a bit longer than usual, quite literally not wanting to let go.

“Don’t get soft on me, will ya?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you muttered as he laughed, pushing his hand away as you finally turned the key and opened the door. You shot him a sidelong glance.

“See ya soon?”

“Later.”

You stepped inside your office, closing the door with a soft click behind you, the barrier suddenly feeling both too thin and too thick.

You stared at the door, your hand still resting on the handle. You could still feel the lingering presence of his cursed energy, a faint but potent signature that hovered just on the other side of the door.

And you could still feel his cursed energy right between the door you had between the two of you.

So you waited and held your breath.

Seconds ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity.

And soon, you heard the faint sound of his footsteps receding down the hallway, the pressure of his cursed energy began to fade and your hands started to shake as you started loosing your composure.

And that’s when it hit you. The moment his presence was gone, the dam inside you broke. You doubled over, clutching your chest as the first violent cough ripped through you, your whole body convulsing with the force of it. Cough after cough, a cycle that never seemed to end.

Your eyes welled up, tears spilling over as you gasped for breath. The flowers inside your chest seemed to expand, their roots digging deeper, choking off your airways.

Your hands shook violently as you gripped the edge of your desk, trying to steady yourself, but the room spun around you, the edges blurring as your vision darkened. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the floor.

For a moment, you just lay there, curled up on the cold floor, your body wracked with coughing fits, your lungs burning as you fought to pull in even the smallest breath. You could hear a whistle whenever you breathed, you could feel the pain of it all.

You were exhausted .

God.

Were you just imagining it but did the pain almost disappear as he touched your chest?

Just how much longer can you endure this?

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

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TO BE CONDEMNED BY ONESELF

Gojo x Reader

Summary: Blinded by guilt and needing someone's eyes to look forward.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Fluff and angst, Guilt, Everyone needs a hug, Suicidal thoughts/attempt, self deprication

A/N: The ending is kinda rushed, This has been on my drafts for the LONGEST time, I basically have two one shots in which I trauma dump whenever I feel like I need it, and I was able to finish one of them just now! :) the other one is still in the works and will be finished when I feel quite suicidal LMAO

Word: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

“I’ve always looked up to those who use reverse cursed technique on others,” Gojo said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence with an uncharacteristically earnest tone.

You paused mid-chip and looked at him with surprise that soon morphed into pure sarcasm. “Woah… the great Gojo Satoru looks up to someone, that’s unheard of.”

“Hey…” He pouted, setting down the cup with a mock frown all the while talking with his mouth full. “I’m serious.”

“So what? Is this your way of telling me that I’ve earned your respect? Goodness, I’m flattered—” You put on an exaggeratedly haughty expression.

“Ah Ah Ah— Lemme finish, will ya?” He cut you off, his smirk returning as he leaned back against the back of his seat.

You leisurely sipped on your soda, taking your precious time before glancing at him once more. “Alright, I’m all ears,”

Gojo reached for a chip, holding it up as if it were a priceless artifact. “It’s already considered something grand by achieving this kind of cursed energy mastery in order to heal yourself. Let alone using it on others. It’s admirable, really.”

You narrowed your eyes, processing his words. Then you studied his face, the bluest of blues looking right back at you, obviously enjoying your skepticism, yet…

You never really seem to figure him out.

“Huh… I guess, isn't that common sense— why are you telling me this?”

“Hmmmmm, I just felt like it!” Gojo replied, tossing the chip into his mouth with a casual shrug.

Average Gojo response— you shook your head.

“Unlocked your psychic abilities? Did your third eye tell you to bestow upon me such words of wisdom?”

“My sixth one did,” Gojo shot back with a mischievous grin, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

You glared, “Okay, fuck off,”

“Hehehe…” Gojo chuckled, reaching for the cup of noodles again and handing it to you. “Never let our job change ya! A breath of fresh air.”

“No, 'cause at this point, you’re speaking as if you’re having visions about me.”

Was that what this idiot tried to accomplish? On some psychic-therapist type of shit?

In front of a convenient store of all places?

You had been aimlessly wandering the streets of Tokyo for hours, ever since you stormed out of the morgue. The city was usually so vibrant and full of life, but now, everything just seemed so muted and distant. You could only blame it on the state of your mind, which felt tainted, dark and murky– the seens and dones you had endured continuously weighted on your steps as you trudged forward.

The rain drenched you to the bone. You simply hoped that it's cold, persistent touch might wash away your troubles, but the droplets that streaked down your face did little to cleanse the turmoil within.

A couple of pedestrians hurried past, their umbrellas barely shielding them from the deluge. Your eyes followed them with a detached curiosity, wondering how they could move so purposefully when you just felt so lost –

Perhaps, at this point, all you could do is hope for you to experience the life of a normal person before your undeniable death.

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets, the chill seeping through your skin and into your bones as you moved forward.

Eventually, you found yourself standing on a bridge overlooking the river. The water below churned restlessly, mirroring the chaos in your mind. Leaning over the railing, you watched the raindrops ripple the surface, each one causing a momentary disturbance before being swallowed by the flow.

The weight on your shoulders would double each time you thought over the actions of these past few weeks, even months; you've seen too much yet you had done nothing.

How many lives have you saved? This question would intrusively repeat itself to you.

Just how many times have you made yourself useful?

Your grip on the railing tightened.

Admirable, my ass.

You doubt Gojo really saw the amount of lives you have failed, the amount of courageous sorcerers whose eyes dulled right before you.

You had done nothing ; you didn't save the lives that trusted your skills. The ones that clung to you with tears in their eyes, crying for their moms during their last moments while all you did was lie through your teeth—saying that it was all going to be okay.

You wouldn't be surprised if they all haunted you. All the brave souls that you had failed to save.

You failed.

You'd think that the years of seeing death in other people would possibly desensitize you, but it did nothing but take a piece off you.

Your sins were crawling up your back, and all you could do was feel the numbness of your skin against the cold weather. Talk about wasted potential. You weren't fit to be a sorcerer.

Hell, you'd prefer a 9 to 5 over this.

Maybe even…

You paused, looking over the railing once again.

It all became so quiet. Maybe the city had quieted down, or maybe it was your mind that was too loud.

You were only planning on breathing in some fresh air, that's it.

You gulped, practically tasting the thought haunting you.

Why did it seem like it was inviting you with open arms? When even your own self is rejecting you?

Do you believe in reincarnation? Maybe with one swift death, you'd be in the body of a normal person in your next life. Hopefully, you'll be able to choose who you want to be.

Maybe it's a place where curses don't exist.

Maybe you'd go out in your teenage years, enjoy the laughter, and experience some silly first heartbreak.

Maybe you'd go to university, cherish your alone time, then proceed to meet people who would get you out of your shell.

Maybe you'd later on prefer a quiet life, a cottage house in the countryside with pets and probably the love of your life.

Maybe, if you could just end it now, you'd finally wash away your sins with the cold water of the river, sending your soul where you truly wanted to be and sparing it from this hell cycle of guilt.

Perhaps, this job did end up changing you. You had never looked at death with heart eyes until now.

You trembled, unable to distinguish if the droplets of water on your face were your tears or the rain.

The cold metal of the railing pressed against your palms as you leaned forward, peering into the depths. The rain continued to fall, each drop merging with the river. You imagined what it might feel like to let go, to become one with the water, to drift away from all the pain and guilt that haunted you.

It was as if it's calling you, maybe this is where you're destined to be?

It was terrifying… yet so oddly comforting.

As you put your foot on a step.

“Yo.”

This unmistakable voice– of course, you recognized it instantly.

You turned to see your old friend standing a few feet away, his white hair illuminated by the soft glow of nearby streetlights, his infinity blocking the rain from soaking him. His jaw was tense and his blindfold was off, revealing eyes that bore into yours with raw intensity, so intense that you found yourself unable to look away.

Your heart fluttered, but for the wrong reasons.

His eyes then moved to the foot you had placed on the step, causing you to immediately retract it to where it once was.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your thoughts hung heavy in the air, mingling with the persistent patter of raindrops around you.

Finally, Gojo broke the silence with a strange, maybe even fake, lopsided grin, his usual self cutting through the tension. "Planning a midnight swim, are we? Not the best weather for it, if ya ask me.”

“Having you as an audience isn't the best idea either.” He chuckled at your response, your eyes were bloodshot, hands still gripping onto the railing as your form remained tense.

You can only imagine what you looked like to him right now.

Weak.

He was the last person you'd let him see this side of you.

“I was going to let you be… but then I remembered you aren't the best swimmer,” Gojo quipped back, his grin widening despite the gravity of the situation.

“What are you, my lifeguard now?” you shot back, your voice tinged with bitterness.

He remained quiet, observing you intently while his smile never dropped once.

You felt uneasy.

“I might as well be if you’re planning on doing what I think you're doing,” Gojo replied, his tone gentling slightly as he gauged your reaction.

You looked at the ground, head down– almost ashamed of yourself.

“Come on, let's go home.” He called out your name, you felt sick, why was he here? Right when you made your decision.

Is he some sort of spirit guide or something?

“You go home, I don't have time for you,” you muttered, your voice laced with frustration and pain.

“Yeah? And what are ya doing right now?” Gojo's voice cut through the rain-soaked air, persistent and unwavering.

You hesitated, “Admiring...”

“Admiring death?”

“Shut up.”

“What do you expect me to do here? Hold your hand while you prepare yourself to jump to your death? Want me to give you a pat on the back for that extra push?”

You retorted, “I expect you to turn a blind eye.”

“Like some kind of shitty last will?” His smile is starting to fall.

“Shut up!”

He stepped closer, his movements cautious yet purposeful, only to halt abruptly as he noticed you ascending the step. Your back was pressed against the railing, a stark silhouette against the rain-soaked backdrop.

His gut tightened, almost as if his heart fell to his stomach.

A feeling he rarely ever feels.

He knew he could save you, once swift wrap and it would be all done. But there was still a very meek emotion in him, one reminding him that he wasn't able to save everyone he loved once.

For a tense moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes remained on you, begging you to look at him. The patter of raindrops mingled with the heavy silence, punctuated only by the faint city sounds in the distance.

“I'm… exhausted,” you finally whispered, your voice strained with emotion.

His usual confidence momentarily faltered as he absorbed your words. Just as he took a step closer, you said, “Stay where you are.”

He felt so helpless when he wasn't.

He whispers your name, “You're not thinking straight…”

“No…”

“Please? Get down.”

“Look! You think I want to die? I want to live. But whatever I'm doing right now is not living!” Your back pressed further against the railing, your words tinged with desperation. “I don't want my hands to be stained with the blood of the people I couldn't save. I can't bear to live with that guilt anymore.”

Your chin trembled.

“God… I wasn't cut out for this…” you continued, your voice trembling. “I really wasnt… I-I want a normal life, I want to worry about what I should eat for lunch. I want to have friends, I want to love .” Your gaze met Gojo's, pleading for understanding, “Aren't we humans too? Isn't this of our nature? To yearn and to love? To live ?”

His speechlessness was uncharacteristic, yet, his silence said plenty.

“But you know we can't… we can't afford to be humans in this line of work, I don't want that. And I've seen too much to just resign.”

A cold yet simple truth.

“So let me be… and don't you dare take this away from me. I'm scared and exhausted, and I most definitely need some peace in my life.” Gojo moved forward, “I said stop. Please.”

There.

Suddenly he was in front of you, his infinity turning off to welcome the rain and you in. His arms enveloped you, pulling you into a warm embrace. His scent, a mix of rain and something uniquely his own.

“Let me–” You tried to push him away, your hands weakly pressing against his chest, but his grip was stubborn, unyielding.

His arms tightened around you. “Satoru– P-please let me go–”

You pounded against his chest, frustration and sorrow spilling out with each hit. “Why won't you let me go? You of all people should not be interfering!”

He absorbed each blow, his arms never loosening. Tears mingled with the rain, streaming down your face. “You don’t understand,” you choked out between sobs

“I've failed so many…”

Finally, your fists stilled, hands resting on the railings behind you as your body collapsed into his embrace. Your body shook with sobs, and he held you closer, wordlessly. You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his shirt soaking up your tears. The rain continued upon the two of you as his hand gently cradled the back of your head, fingers weaving through your damp hair.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“We might not have chosen this path,” he began quietly, his voice a soothing murmur against your ear, “but we choose how to walk it. If you no longer want to be a sorcerer, go on. If you want to feel human, you're allowed to. But if you want to throw your life away, you'd have to go through me.”

His words were firm yet gentle, a lifeline thrown into the depths of your despair. He wasn't demanding, just offering a choice, a way forward. There was still an inkling to his tone in which could be known as pleading.

“If you're unsure of how to be human again,” Gojo continued, his voice rumbling from within his chest, sincerity lacing it, “then I'll try being one with you. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from one another.”

The world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you standing together in the rain. The city sounds, the persistent patter of raindrops, all became a distant hum.

“But please… don't ever think of doing what you were going to do today. I'm not sure how I could handle it.” His embrace tightened around you, the desperation in his voice clear. “Please…”

He was begging for your own life.

His hand slid to yours, gently trying to retract them from the railing. You felt the warmth of his touch, the silent plea for you to choose life, to choose a future that wasn't so clouded with guilt and despair.

You were motionless.

Head empty, heart heavy.

Man .

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you retracted your hands, placing them against his chest experimentally.

Without another word, you wrapped your arms around his form, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline. His arms engulfed you in a hug, offering warmth and care. The rain continued to fall, but in his embrace, you found a fragile sense of hope, perhaps, something better?

Maybe you weren't as alone as you thought.

“Alrightie?” You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze directly. Raindrops glistened on your cheeks, mirroring the uncertain emotions swirling within you.

That's a side of him you had never seen before,

You nodded.

“Oof! Never scare me like that, sweetheart! I almost pissed myself.” he said, trying to lighten the mood with his characteristic humor, though his eyes still held a lingering worry.

“Sweetheart?” you echoed, your hand coming to your eyes to brush the tears away, only for his thumbs to gently do it for you.

You stiffened.

“I figured you could use a little endearment right now,” he brushed off your tears, looking at you softly. He said softly, his thumbs brushing away your tears with a tenderness that caught you off guard. You froze, staring back at him bewildered only to be taken off guard when he pinched both of your cheeks.

“Went from shit stain to sweetheart, that's actually insane.” You cracked a smile, letting a small laugh at his actions.

“Yeah yeah, let's get you home. You'll definitely catch a nasty cold, that's for sure,” he replied, his tone a mix of concern and relief. “Wanna pass by the convenient store right by the corner?”

“You're paying though… I didn't bring my wallet.” you let him pull you off the railing.

“Figured by the way you tried to kill yourself.”

“I'm literally going to jump off right now-”

“No no! We're going right now! Haha! Come here.” he interrupted, grabbing your hand and pulling you gently but firmly in the direction of the store.

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

Text

THE LAST REMINDER OF HIS YOUTH

Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo Satoru can't imagine a life where he looses both of his bestfriends at once.

Tags: Blood, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Injury.

Word count: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

Sorcerers laid scattered on the floor, wielding life threatening injuries as Shoko moved tirelessly among each and every single one of them to heal the impossible. Needless to say, she looked like she needed to smoke 2 cigarettes at a time.

Overall, no matter how badly the gash on your side ached and gushed blood, you couldn't bring yourself to show up in front of your best friend like this – knowing how it'll only add more to her never ending plate, especially when you looked like you woke up from the dead and walked all the way there.

You cast one final glance towards her, silently wishing her luck, before limping your way over to Ijichi.

He knew better not to ask with the empty look dulling your eyes.

With that, you found yourself walking through the dorm's hall with jittery legs. Your steps lacked a consistent pace as you frequently stopped to grasp onto a wall, trying to regulate your frantic gasps of air.

Your head felt increasingly light, not entirely surprising given how thoroughly drenched your shirt and skirt had become from your own blood. If anything, you were pretty sure that some drops of the vivid crimson had fallen onto the wooden floor, you still hoped for the ever loving universe that no one would find you like this – it was a high possibility, judging from the wrecked buildings, you knew that a supposed fight had happened here.

You knew that they were both here.

At least, on your way, you only felt one prominent energy along with one that was very familiar yet so suspiciously faint.

You could pretty much guess what had happened, but you pushed that thought to the very back of your head.

After all, Geto showing up after years of no contact and announcing a war wasn't near anything you had expected.

Loosing him for a second time wasn't making your state any better.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Not only physically, but mentally as well. The relentless pain and constant brushes with death had left you utterly exhausted.

This whole career has desensitized you from the very subject of death.

You paused, suddenly very aware of your breathing, and the action of it becoming more challenging. What if you died here? It's not like your wounds were that bad. You'll stand up all peachy the very next day just to get your ass handed over to you by some curse.

You can't imagine yourself dying.

Can you?

Your knees buckled and your hand desperately sought support from the nearby wall. you felt the world around you swirl and slip away from your grasp before a pair of hands immediately shook you back to your own consciousness.

Your half lidded eyes struggled to look up at the figure supporting you, his eyes were exposed without his usual white bandages while his expression showed something like… concern, even panic.

Yet, all you could discern is how blue his eyes were.

Were they always this blue?

“ Fuck ,” He took a sharp inhale, taking in your expression as he slowly started to loose his composure– hell, he already lost it the moment he saw the trails of blood and the presence of your cursed energy, “Stay with me a bit, yeah?”

You were exhausted.

Your attempt at nodding was thwarted by another blur in your vision, but Gojo's firm shake brought you back. “No no no, none of that, please? You'll be okay, Sweetheart. just hold onto me.”

His reassurances seemed directed more at calming his own unease than solely comforting you.

His hand placed on his waist and in an instant, the familiar halls morphed into the quiet confines of a bathroom. With a gentle touch, he urged you to settle on the toilet seat, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible before moving hurriedly towards a nearby cabinet.

You barely watched as Gojo's hands deftly navigated the contents of a medkit, pulling out sterile bandages, antiseptic wipes, and other essentials.

He then back to you in a matter of seconds and sitting on the cold tiles to take a closer look at the damage.

He would have asked about Shoko’s whereabouts but knowing you, he had an inkling on exactly why you weren't being treated by her right now.

“I'm going to need to remove your top, is that okay?” His voice was so small, betraying his usual uplifted demeanor. You barely had the energy to muster a nod, so a faint noise of acknowledgment was just enough for him to take it as a confirmation.

His hands were shaky as he slid your top off, feeling his very blood rush through his veins at the reveal of more bruises underneath.

He was scared , and you could feel it no matter how out of it you were.

“You’ll be okay.” He repeated.

He carefully cleaned the wounds with antiseptic wipes, his movements precise and deliberate whilst the scent of disinfectant lingered in the air.

You winced at the touch of the cotton pad on your injury, he soothingly patted your thigh and muttered softly, “I know I know… I'm sorry, it'll be quick.”

It was just the two of you, the chilly air enveloped you stubbornly and your body was cold, too cold that it did nothing to appease his fright. He sought to alleviate the cold by draping a towel over your shoulders before going back to treating you.

Only when he secured the bandage around your most severe injury did Gojo finally allow himself to exhale. His eyes lingered on where your wound had been before letting his head fall against your knees – his warm skin against your hauntingly cold one, and the stark white strands of his hair cascaded onto your thighs.

No words were exchanged; it was just the two of you, synchronized in the shared rhythm of breaths. Your efforts to maintain consciousness manifested in the subtle mimicry of his breaths.

You wouldn't be able to forgive yourself if you had left him at this moment.

You'll always have each other’s backs.

Slowly, your hand extended to his hair, gently brushing through the strands in a soothing rhythm. Aside from the numbness slowly creeping up your body, You could still feel the softness of his strands through the tips of your fingers. Brushing them off and finally settling your palm on his undercut.

“Sorry…” All you could murmur was an apology.

“Don't be… I'm just glad you’re safe.” His voice was strained, as his head remained motionless.

“No.. I'm sorry.” he froze, It was only then when he realized the real implication of the words.

He remained silent.

And he knew he didn't have to say anything more to you.

A tightening sensation gripped your throat, and your chin quivered when you felt wet drops fall onto your knees. Gojo's arms wrapped around your calves, their embrace tightening as his shoulders shook uncontrollably.

Losing his best friend was a blow to the guts, but almost losing the both of you in one go would forever haunt him.

At this moment, It was just… memories of his youth flashing at the back of his mind, months before his defect, months before the mission that led to this outcome, where life was a breath of fresh air.

Where everything was okay.

At least, being beside you briefly brought him back to the season of endless blues.

And he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he lost one lasting reminder of his youth.

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

Text

400 YEARS TO YOU

Gojo x OC fic

Fanfic MASTERLIST - PREVIOUS CHAPTER - NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER 3: The supposed foil.

Summary: Where one's crime is survival.

Word count: 1.7k

Tick.

Tock.

Hoshi sat in the room, her expression blank, but tension radiated from every inch of her body. Her eyes were wide, her posture unnervingly rigid, and even the simple act of blinking seemed calculated.

One… blink.

Tick.

Tock.

“Ma'am… we're trying to help.”

The voice of the police officer broke through her trance, pulling her attention sharply to the man sitting across from her. Another police officer leaned on his colleague's chair while his other hand rested on his hip.

What in the world is happening to her right now?

Two… blink.

After Hoshi asked for help from two people she had stumbled upon, she was ushered into something that defied all reason. The… thing… moved, carrying her along at speeds that no horse could ever achieve. It was large, metallic, and it looked like it could carry more than 2 people. So she'd tell herself that this was a mere invention that she wasn't able to notice due to her years of isolation.

But God, there's just no way things would develop this quickly. If anything, any explanation she'd try to offer to what she's experiencing would just look like an excuse for her to not lose her shit.

The strangers had brought her to a place teeming with more people—people who looked, spoke, and acted in ways that were utterly foreign to her. Their clothing was strange, their hairstyles even stranger. Men no longer wore the traditional chonmage; instead, they had cropped their hair short, while the women’s hairstyles ranged from practical to outlandish. Furthermore, there were no sights of the traditional attires they had to wear either.

Everything just seemed so… forward looking.

Her hands shook beneath the table.

Could it be that Masayoshi lied about the development of the world she missed…?

No, no, he wouldn’t. Doubt that binding vow he was so adamant on unleashing would let him lie through his teeth.

“All we need is a yes or no, do you recall anything? Got any family?”

Three… blink.

She couldn't focus.

Not entirely, her entire focus is being placed on the act of trying not to have a melt down.

The officer let out a frustrated sigh at her silence, exchanging a glance with his colleague. The second cop, less patient, leaned forward while his voice took on a sterner edge. “Listen, we can’t let you go when you look… this unstable. We need to see your identification card.”

A what?

Tick.

Tock.

Her emotions might just overflow if she keeps on hearing terms she's not familiar with.

“I… you know what?” The second officer turned to his colleague, his voice tinged with resignation.

“We’ll give her some time to think. Come on.” He patted the other officer on the back before leading the way out. “We’ll come back in a bit.”

And just like that, she was alone.

Four… blink.

Alone in the room, the walls seemed to close in around her, the silence pressing in on her from all sides. Of all the emotions that could rise to the surface, loneliness was the one she despised the most.

Something was terribly wrong—she could feel it in her bones, see it in the way the world around her seemed to have shifted, twisted into something unrecognizable. It was as if she had crossed into another realm, one where her sister was no longer within reach, where nothing was as it should be.

Oh how hard she's trying to remember if she hit her head somewhere for it to possibly fabricate a hallucination this fucked up–

No , her sister will be fine. She's pretty sure that the stupid noble wouldn't be a deadbeat hanging around Tsuki like an empty shell. Not with his kind of strength. But will they be okay a little longer? no no no! she can’t just sit around and do nothing! She’ll make sure to move her ass and find a clue to what is actually happening rather than listening to the orders of some little fuckers that call themselves the police.

It’s not over yet, Hoshi!

She stood up from her seat, looking for anything that could potentially help her out. The first idea that popped up in her head was blowing up the walls- but that would be too troublesome… and dangerous, given that there’s a lot of civilians around.

Tick.

There has to be something.

Tock.

Surely.

Hoshi’s gaze swept across the room, her eyes darting from the dusty drawers to the peeling wallpaper on the walls.

Anything?

Tick.

Her attention shifted to the desk directly in front of her.

Tock .

She paused.

If she found a clue, she had hoped it would ignite a spark of hope, she thought she'd crack the code and find her way into her sister's arms. But what she didn't expect was that the clue would further send her into a never ending spiral of confusion.

29 may 2018, crossed on a paper. a calendar.

Numbers which she couldn't even comprehend. It looked like a date, but not the regular lunar solar formulation she knew of. Today would be the 11th month, 14th day of Kan'ei 17… was it?

Her shoulders slumped.

That's when she realized that the further she seeked the truth the more it seemed to elude her grasp. It taunted her with its absence. Her eyes fixed to the ground beneath her, perhaps dissociation would help her escape this predicament? Would ignoring it make it hurt less?

The door suddenly swung open, her eyes snapping toward the source of the noise. Instead of the familiarity she sought, two men entered. One was short with black hair and glasses, his posture was hunched and he looked almost shy. The other was taller with blonde hair and an unreadable expression; One other thing she noticed was their cursed energy.

The officer who had been questioning her earlier stepped aside, gesturing toward Hoshi. “This is the woman the couple brought in. She hasn't said a word ever since she came in.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that she could still hear clearly. “To be honest, she seems as clueless as we are.”

The blonde man’s eyes narrowed as he studied her intently. “Is she mute?” He asked, though his gaze was not on her face but on the very essence of her being—her cursed energy.

She needed to leave.

The officer continued, “No, sir. The couple mentioned she was distraught at first, shaking and stumbling over her words.”

The blonde man’s gaze remained fixed on her, his expression sharpening as he processed the officer’s report. “We’ll take her,” he declared,

Her eyes widened.

“I… Wait what–” The officer began to protest, but before he could say more, the black-haired man produced a card from his coat. He flashed it with a decisive gesture that immediately stilled the officer’s protests.

“...Yes, sir,” He muttered, his demeanor shifting from defiant to submissive in an instant.

“I am unfamiliar with these individuals.” She finally spoke, all eyes were now on her. “Therefore, I am to not move elsewhere without a proper explanation.”

The blonde man’s expression remained cold and impassive. “I'm afraid it doesn't matter if you know us or not.”

“I'm afraid I am no mere pawn to be relocated at the whim of unknown men .” The last word was emphasized, distrust lacing every letter of it.

the shorter man took a more shy and polite attempt in persuading her, “Ma'am, w-we're acting under authority that transcends local jurisdiction, I‐”

Seriously, when was it ever good news that one were to follow two strange men - sorcerers no less - to an undefined location? Given her current predicament, and her long history with sorcerers, she had every right to remain cautious. So she allowed herself the luxury of feeling frustrated, especially when her freedom was taken from her over and over again.

“Whom do you represent? The Shogun? Don't make me laugh. I am to stay here for the sole purpose of assistance, your involvement in this matter makes no sense–”

That said, she wouldn't mind using her cursed technique against these two. Not to say that they were easy work, but they were certainly no match to the Gojo she encountered.

“So what transpired in Aokigahara makes no sense?” The blonde cut her off.

Oh.

She fell silent.

Her cursed energy had spilled across the entire forest, unleashed when she accidentally smudged the circle drawn on the ground that kept it contained. If anyone were to investigate the area, they would discover a literal hole in the fabric of reality itself.

Quite literally.

So, that's it. They caught her, there's no coming back. Not every sorcerer is like the six eyes, and even if she wasn't aware of her father's sin, then perhaps, this was all warranted. Perhaps, once again, she underestimated sorcerers. It hasn’t even been more than 7 hours and they were already on her tail. She fucked up. She’ll definitely be executed by dawn as the last remnant of the Ronin clan, the sinful lineage that defied the wills of the heavens and the laws of the universe, but as long as she kept her silence about her beloved sister, she was willing to accept that fate.

She simply fucked up.

She gulped, defeated, as she slowly sat back on the seat behind her.

After years and years of escaping the destiny her father had chosen for her, and years spent under the care of a kind mentor who introduced her to the subtleties of life, Hoshi had nearly convinced herself that as long as she and her sister remained hidden, no one would come for their heads. Yet, in the end, she finally crossed paths with her doom.

This whole day was surreal in many ways. There were moments when she almost believed she was invincible, that death would only come with white hair and wrinkled skin. In fact, she couldn’t even imagine herself dying at such a young age. The topic of death was as strange as this day could get.

Hoshi did a lot of almost believing in this little life she was offered.

So, with that, she shut down her emotions as they transported her to an unknown destination. She turned off her senses, if only for a little while.

Not a word was spoken, only wary glances cast her way, as though she were the villain in this tale. If her offense was merely surviving, then so be it— she would own it.

What a cruel, cruel world. She was once convincing her sister to not surrender and now she hoped she had someone to tell her the same.

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

Text

400 YEARS TO YOU

Gojo x OC fic

Fanfic MASTERLIST - PREVIOUS CHAPTER - NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER 2: The birthday of a sinner.

Summary: A gift for the daughters of the sinner.

Word count: 2.7k

“Are you heading out?” Hoshi turned at the sound of her sister’s voice, pausing her preparations to cast a glance over her shoulder.

She can already move around the house, the noble's assistance has already helped her plenty. Perhaps, recovery will be on her way soon?

Hoshi resumed putting on her sandals, the soft shuffle against the tatami mat punctuating the silence. “One must adhere to tradition, even now,” she replied with a slight nod.

Tsuki observed her sister’s movements, the rhythmic rustle of fabric breaking the stillness. “It is rather unusual to permit my younger sister to go out alone for a ritual at such an hour. Are you certain you will be safe?”

A heaviness settled in Hoshi's chest, and she felt an unsettling prickle along her spine as Tsuki's concerns hung in the air. "I have taken precautions. I requested someone to keep watch while I am away."

The Gojo heir, Masayoshi, had assisted them countless times since they made their binding vow. Food was no longer a concern, her sister had begun her treatment under the care of a generously paid physician, and after years of relentless struggle, life finally seemed to be taking a turn for the better.

Her sister’s concerns were valid; after all, life had never been particularly kind to them.

Tsuki’s voice carried a pleading tone. “It is your birthday, after all. We might forgo the ritual and enjoy each other’s company instead.”

Hoshi remained motionless.

“Hoshi,” Her sister's voice softened, Hoshi began adjusting the sash of her kimono. “I care deeply for you, and it pains me to let you go alone into the night… now I understand your dedication but–”

Her words were caught off by her own cough, she let it out into the sleeve of her yukata.

“Rituals are most effective under the full moon, whether for reasons of discretion or energy.”

Tsuki sighed, her gaze showing resignation. “It is unfortunate that I am unwell. I would have accompanied you otherwise.”

Hoshi moved closer, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Do focus on your recovery. I have prepared miso soup for you. You must drink it while it's warm… it will aid in alleviating your illness.”

Tsuki observed her for a while, not knowing how to handle this situation or how to persuade her sister. Eventually, she let out a faint, hollow chuckle, her own way of giving up, “...It seems you are issuing an order to your elder sister.”

“It is for your own good, Tsuki.” The younger siblings smiled, patting her sister's shoulder.

“Just… ensure you remain safe in my absence, will you?” Tsuki’s brow remained furrowed.

“Tsuki, I give you my word, I shall be fine,” Hoshi grinned and pointed at herself pridefully, “My technique is not suited for the faint of heart, after all!”

The sick one hesitated, before eventually nodding in resignation.

She watched as her younger sister walked out of the door, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. Quickly, she followed her out, her eyes never leaving her sister's retreating figure.

Hoshi hesitated, sensing the weight of eyes on her. She glanced back one last time, her gaze meeting Tsuki's.

Hazel eyes to dark brown ones

Then, She straightened her posture, feet together, and lowered her gaze to the floor. Deliberately bowing before her, out of pure respect and gratitude. Her sister's eyes widened at the gesture.

Hoshi wasn't one to be this formal.

Tsuki called out, “Do not be late!”

“Stop worrying, you faint-hearted fool!” Hoshi’s playful retort echoed back.

Tsuki shook her head with a resigned sigh, muttering to herself, “This woman…”

She stood there, watching the one person she had grown with join the noble that has been helping the both of them, her heart heavy with dread. Yet, she deliberately ignored the nagging twists and turns her gut had been enduring throughout the entirety of the day.

Oh, how she despised the way this moment felt so much like a farewell.

The Gojo looked at Tsuki who was still observing the both of them before letting his gaze settle on Hoshi who just approached him, “Your sister seemed quite against you going out.”

Hoshi responded in an instant. “She has always been that way,” she said, her eyes cast towards the forest with a touch of sorrow. She added softly, “...I do not fault her for it.”

Masayoshi hummed, his gaze lingering on Hoshi as if expecting more. As anticipated, she continued, “I shall entrust her care to you. Should anything occur to her—”

“I would be as good as dead. There is no need to reiterate it each time you depart.” He cut her off, waving her off with a faint smirk touching his lips.

“I am being very serious.”

“ Very well, Lady Hoshi,” She fixed him with a glare. “What? Aren't you a noble at birth?”

“The concept of aristocracy is flawed.”

“Are you saying this due to the loss of your title?”

“Interpret it as you will; I am indifferent to the conclusions you may reach.”

“Wonderful, However, before you go...” He continued, lowering his voice, “I trust you are well aware of my Six Eyes..”

“A blind man knows of them.”

“...That's besides the point.”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. The confident man who was in front of her. Now seemed unsure, his eyes shifted from one corner to another before looking at her sincerely.

They shimmered, as he whispered the next few words.

“...be careful out there, and I truly mean it.”

Hoshi's eyebrows twitched, eyes slightly wide while absorbing in his words.

The noble turned to the super blue moon, its silvery glow casting a serene light across the dark expanse of the sky.

“It would be a shame for you to not return unscathed after such a beautiful night.”

Her attention followed his gaze to the moon.

The moon seemed to welcome her, appeasing her anxiety.

So beautiful.

Yet so unsettling.

“And, by the way, happy birthday.”

Happy birthday.

Should the daughter of a sinner expect a birthday gift on her birthday? Would it be a bad or a good one? Perhaps stay within the warmth of her home, enjoy the celebration of birth and life on such a beautiful day. As one, described.

Do bad things happen on beautiful days?

Hoshi, on the fine cold evening of her birthday, and just minutes before her existence was torn asunder, she wondered what she'd be doing if she adhered to her peers' warnings and concerns.

A faint ray of cursed energy flickered amidst the towering ancient trees, every branch and leaf seemed to weave mosaics, concealing the vast stretch of the night sky and where only a solitary glimmer of the blue moon managed to pierce through the darkness, the one that had stared right back at her hours ago.

The one that had lied to her.

The dense branches overhead only further rustled as her hands shook. The jewel in her necklace glowed and vibrated , eyes wide with panic, and a desperate struggle evident in every frantic movement as she tried to grapple her way back into control.

Goosebumps erupted across her skin while adrenaline surged through her veins like wildfire. She could see from the corner of her eyes that reality itself had begun distorting, but no–

Nothing like this was supposed to happen in a ritual, right ?

A ritual is upheld once a month, an ancient tradition of her banished clan that had been passed down generation after generation; its sole purpose was to channel her ancestors' negative emotion, and promptly convert it into cursed energy.

The energy of the moon, where one might consider it a superstitious though, actually helped her channel the energies better but–

It had never gotten out of control, ever .

She was supposed to be on her way back now, enjoying a warm cup of green tea, maybe conversing with that stupid noble.

“No, no no no n–” Hoshi muttered under her breath, overtaken by panic.

Then she felt it, a crack.

Almost like a rift in her reality.

And in an instant…

It felt as thought the entire ground had swallowed her whole, her footing vanishing as she plummeted into a void of everything —

Engulfed in a vortex of swirling colors and temporal energy. Her once-familiar surroundings went from distorted to nothing as her whole entire body stretched, ripped from the fabric of her own time.

Just… ensure you remain safe in my absence, will you?

God .

...be careful out there, and I truly mean it.

Bending to the will of the rift as it beckoned her forward, time seemed to lose all meaning as she traversed the temporal abyss, her senses assaulted by sights and sounds from eras long past and ages yet to come.

…you're joking, right?

She couldn't even breathe —

You said you won't be–

She could hear everything.

She was so overwhelmed by things that were yet to happen, that had died long in the past and that never happened – that she couldn't even breathe.

Breathe, Hoshi, breathe.

Don't you have a home to go to?

BREATHE .

She might just die at this point. She could feel everything, she could see anything from all times, yet she could do nothing, then–

Poof!

As Hoshi's body collided with the soft grass,her form was being cradled by the same grass that not only moments before had been cracked open.

Slowly, she blinked open her eyes, the world coming into focus once more.

She quickly sat up, and then promptly realizing that she needs to breathe

Hoshi wheezed, each breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to regain her composure. Her hands pressed into the cool, damp grass.

The texture grounding her as she bent over, her body curled inward in an attempt to ease her need for air.

Eventually, she collapsed to the ground, her breathing slowly going back to normal while her eyes remained slightly opened, yet not focusing on anything.

She could smell the greenery of the forest, hear the chirps of birds and the flow of water from a distant river; so peaceful yet…

How is it morning already…?

It was as if nothing had changed, yet everything was different.

With a tentative wiggle of her fingers, she tried to ground away the numbness of her body as she felt oddly sore.

She felt so unbelievably drained.

And she's in for the lecture of her life.

That was easily one of the most traumatic experiences of her life, and there's no way she could put into words what she has just experienced.

She let out a curse under her breath, lazily sitting up and inadvertently smudging the ritual’s circle she had previously drawn.

Crack.

Her eyes widened in realization, the color draining from her face as her mistake finally sunk in.

With a sudden surge of panic, she scrambled to her feet, stopping to grab her bag, the silk of her kimono hindering her movements while she fought to flee.

As she stumbled away, she left behind the chaos she had unwittingly unleashed— the once-contained cursed energy now swirling and deforming the environment around her.

Scratch the lecture of her life, she's definitely getting skinned alive.

Things just seemed to get worse the more she thought about it.

She ran through the dense foliage, her breaths coming in jagged gasps.

The exit loomed tantalizingly in the distance.

What?

Her steps faltered as she reached the threshold of the exit.

What in the world?

She was pretty sure she went through the path she had used multiple times.

Her eyes darted nervously around her surroundings, only catching glimpses of strange structures.

Unfamiliar sights.

Her senses on high alert yet only fixated on the things she doesn't recognize– promptly bumping into someone, “Oh God! I'm sorry!”

The woman muttered the apology, her words barely registering in Hoshi's ear.

… and bizarre people?

Her hazel eyes were drawn to the intricate details of the woman's attire, her hair and the bag she held onto; it was nothing like anything she had seen before.

“ Ryo !” She wordlessly watched the woman turn around and yell for a name.

Her mind went blank.

She even forgot to warn the woman about the forest she brutally fucked up.

By any means, Hoshi is not judgmental.

But what the fuck was she wearing?

Were societal norms just a myth?

…She paused, registering what had previously happened.

And her heart sank.

Next thing she did was kick off her zoris, her worn sandals slipping from her feet as she scrambled forward.

Was this an exit she wasn't familiar with?

Has she gone mad?

She can't, not now.

She stumbled forward, The concrete beneath her felt rough and cold, nothing like the soft earth of the forest she had just left. The transition was jarring, almost painful, as if the ground itself rejected her presence.

Hoshi’s breath came in short, gasps almost panicky as her wide eyes darted around, searching for any sign of life, anything that could offer her answers. Her pulse thundered in her ears, each beat a reminder of how far she was from anything she knew.

She knew she wasn't supposed to fully interact with someone but this was beyond anything she could just solve. Then, through the haze of her fear, she spotted them—two silhouettes. Her heart leapt, a flicker of hope igniting within her. Maybe they could help. Maybe they could tell her where she was, how she had gotten here, and most importantly, how to return. Without thinking, she moved towards them, her pace quickening into a frantic run.

“Hey! E-excuse me—” Her voice trembled, the words spilling out in a desperate rush.

The two people turned to face her, their expressions initially confused, then wary as they took in the sight of the disheveled woman running towards them.

Hoshi’s hands were shaking with fear and adrenaline, mindlessly reaching out for the woman's shoulders. Her grip was tight, as if it could tether her to reality.

“What–”

“I-I apologize for the interruption b-but I beg you where–”

Before she could finish, the man accompanying the woman reacted swiftly. His face contorted with protective anger as he reached out, yanking her away from the woman by the collar of her kimono. “Get off of my wife!”

Hoshi’s hands trembled even more violently now, her heart might just stop from how fast it was beating. And she could barely form words .

She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone; she just needed to know—where was she? How did this happen? Her voice broke as she yelled her next words.

“Could you please tell me where I am ?”

The woman seemed to see the genuine fear in Hoshi’s eyes, she placed a calming hand on her husband’s arm. “Honey… stop. I think she needs help,” she said gently.

The man hesitated, his grip on Hoshi’s collar loosening. Slowly, he released her, though his posture remained tense, ready to intervene if necessary.

“You’re in a parking lot, dear,” the woman explained, her tone gentle and soothing. “This is Aokigahara, Tokyo. Do you need help? Are you lost?”

“...a parking lot?” She tilted her head.

She knew she was in Aokigahara forest, but she couldn't help but feel lost at the term the woman used.

Hell, everything she's seeing right now made her feel lost in every possible way.

The woman exchanged a concerned look with her husband, before she held onto Hoshi's hands and asked, “...do you not remember how you got here?”

God , she knows this place, but everything just seems different . Was what she wanted to say, but she had an inkling that her answer would make the situation worse. So she simply nodded.

"It's okay. Follow us, we'll get you somewhere safe.”

The woman squeezed her hands, she turned to her husband and asked, “Do you know any police station nearby?”

“...you sure you wanna get her in the car–”

”what did I ask again?”

“...there should be one around here.”

Police Station…? Car..?

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

Text

400 YEARS TO YOU

Gojo x OC fic

Fanfic MASTERLIST - PROLOGUE - NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER 1: The Noble and the stray.

Summary: Even a noble can't resist the charms of a stray cat.

Word count: 2k

The brim of her kasa hat casted a deep shadow over her face, concealing her features as she kept her head low. Her steps were almost silent as she moved through the dimly lit corridors of the noble's estate. Her eyes never missed one single blind spot, flicking from side to side before making her next step.

The estate was vast, and she was here for one reason only: to get food for her sister.

Hoshi pressed herself against the cool stone walls, her breathing shallow as she paused to listen. The distant murmur of servants echoed faintly through the corridors, but no one seemed to be near.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she crept forward, her soft-soled sandals barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor.

Her breath caught in her throat. She held it tight, as if that would make her invisible. Eyes wide, she followed every movement. The servant glided past, tray of tea balanced with effortless grace. Not a glance. Not a sound. Just the soft clink of porcelain, echoing in the silence. And then, they were gone. Go. Hoshi exhaled softly, relief flooding her as she moved on, her heart racing. The door to the storage room beckoned, slightly ajar, waiting for her.

She could see the sacks of rice and barrels of dried fish inside, and god was she already excited to bring some to Tsuki.

She reached the door and pushed it open just enough to slip inside, the room was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. The brunette moved quickly, grabbing a small sack of rice and a few dried fish. She held the sack on her left hand while putting the fish into the pouch at her waist, all the while listening intently for any sounds outside the room.

She could feel a subtle warmth spreading in her chest, a gentle swell of happiness bubbling up from within. The thought of the meals she could prepare for her sister filled her mind—rice balls with dried fish, perhaps a warm miso soup if she could find the ingredients. The vision of her sister's face lighting up at the sight of a proper meal brought a faint, tender smile to her lips, and—

Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard the door creak shut behind her.

Fuck .

Every single muscle within her body tensed.

Frozen.

She tried to control her breathing, fighting the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Her mind raced as she reluctantly turned to face the source of the noise.

This sole action confirmed her worst fears.

Standing in front of the door was a man, slightly older than her, with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce right through her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

She stumbled back.

This was no ordinary man.

This wasn't a servant.

Her eyes scanned his attire from head to toe, confirming one single thing.

Her eyes quickly scanned his attire, noting the finely woven silk robes, the intricate patterns embroidered with gold thread, and the way he carried himself.

This man was a noble.

But what truly set him apart was the potent cursed energy that radiated from him, thick and suffocating like a heavy fog.

Fuck.

Just her luck, in what world would a noble enter the storage room.

The man was blocking her only exit, and she knew that if she tried to run, he would catch her before she could reach the door. And the same exact outcome would be the case if she didn't move.

So she did what was logical, reaching for the long wooden staff attached to her back.

The man resorted to a chuckle, a low, mocking sound that sent a chill down her spine. “You’re going to fight me?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement. “In my own estate?”

Hoshi’s grip tightened on the staff, her knuckles turning white. She didn’t respond, but her stance shifted slightly.

The man watched her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, as if he were observing a curious animal rather than a threat. “Very well,” he said, his voice smooth and almost playful. “I’ll entertain you.”

With that, he moved, and Hoshi barely had time to react. He was fast—

She swung her staff in a wide arc, aiming for his midsection, only for him to dodge it like it was child play.

Before she could recover, he was on her again, his hand flicking out in a quick motion– Hoshi barely managed to block the strike with her staff, but the force of the impact sent a jolt of pain up her left arm.

And it was almost impossible to dodge this.

She'd turn to him and he'd already be behind her.

Hell, she didn't even know where most of his attacks were coming from.

This guy was like a God.

Her attacks were met with casual deflections, her strength sapped by the sheer futility of it all.

It's like she couldn't touch him.

With one swift motion, he disarmed her, sending the staff clattering to the floor and before she could react, He slammed her against the shelves attached to the wall, the impact so forceful that the wooden structure splintered and collapsed under the pressure.

The sound of breaking wood and her pained whine echoed through the room, mingling with the dull thud of Hoshi's body hitting the floor.

She gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she tried to pull air into her lungs. The sharp, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she felt a warm trickle run down the side of her face.

After all, martial art was never her forte, her true strength lies in the use of her cursed energy.

The noble observed her with a mixture of curiosity and contempt, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her weakened state. He leaned in slightly, “I’m quite curious,” he said.

“Why not use your cursed technique?”

Hoshi’s eyes widened in shock, her heart skipping a beat. She remained silent, she kept her expression as neutral as possible.

He hummed.

“I should get this over with.”

Lifting his hand, about to unleash his curses technique.

No, not yet.

The words tumbled out of her mouth with her forehead placed on the floor, elbows and arms placed in front of her body.

“I only need food, nothing else. I shall get out of your hair in a second, and ensure you never catch sight of me again. I shall disappear off the face of this land if you could just… find it within yourself and excuse me as I take this sack of rice and your dried fishes.”

The man paused, his hand hovering in the air as he regarded her. He didn’t lower his hand, but the dark energy swirling around it seemed to lose some of its intensity.

“You're desperate.”

“Terribly, sir.”

Hoshi replied, as she bowed, she was keenly aware of the blood dripping down her face and the pain throbbing in her head.

She could feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing her as a whole.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a soft sigh and dropped his hand, the cursed energy dissipating into the air.

Hoshi released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“I could give you the food you need,” the noble said, his voice calm and measured. “But in exchange, I ask for information concerning your cursed technique.”

Her mind went blank for a second, sitting up to meet his gaze and with one single look; she concluded the state of things.

Binding vow.

“A fair exchange, wouldn't you agree?”

Not entirely.

“Food will not suffice,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. “You give us protection as well, and I shall give you the intel you need.”

“Us?”

Her response was a silent, steady gaze that didn’t waver.

“You are becoming rather bold, but I see no reason to refuse. Protection, then, must be part of our agreement.” He paused, then nodded. “I accept your terms.”

He watched her in disbelief as she ate, his mind struggling to process the scene before him.

No shot that he actually stumbled upon the very last heir of the Ronin clan.

Two at that.

Not only that, the very reason as to why he entered that storage room was because of her cursed energy. It sparkled and shined. It fell over his estate like a cloak. And it was like nothing he had seen before.

Her slender fingers grabbed at pieces of dried fish and rice balls, stuffing them into her mouth with such haste that she barely had time to chew before reaching for more. Her cheeks bulged as she crammed another morsel between her lips, chewing just enough to swallow, only to repeat the process again and again.

She was grateful with each bite, she's eating as if she had been starved for days.

He cleared his throat and she froze mid-bite, her mouth still full.

She slowly forced herself to swallow, the food going down her throat with a careful gulp

“How could one manage to survive after all this time?” He asked.

She slowly put down her chopsticks, looking down at her hands and absorbing his question.

Hoshi’s eyes narrowed slightly. She wasn’t about to give away more than she had to. “Our agreement entailed information about my cursed technique only .”

She heard him chuckle, looking at her curiously, “Not easy to unravel, are you? It seems one cannot expect a stray cat to be all that trusting.”

Her gaze hardened on him.

“Permit me to propose another arrangement,” he proposed, his tone light, “I shall enlighten you on the recent developments within the jujutsu world since your... misfortune, and in return, you must provide the information I seek.”

Her eyebrows twitched slightly in surprise. “You’re quite keen on binding vows…” she said, her voice trailing off as she considered his offer.

“Your clan seemed to be quite fond of those.”

She tilted her head, confusion clouding her features as she tried to parse the meaning behind his words.

Hoshi looked down at the remnants of her meal, her thoughts swirling.

She could use his help in certain matters, given that he seemed almost idle in his life, tossing around binding vows as if they were mere formalities.

“I have one additional request.”

“I am listening.”

“My sister,” Hoshi continued, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “She must be cared for. I require that she receives both protection and the necessary medical attention.”

Might as well go all the way.

He chose his poison.

He allowed her words to settle in the room, his expression unreadable as he mulled over her request before he stated the following, obvious fact, “Aren't you greedy.”

“I must be.” Her response was instant.

Her hand gripped onto the edges of the table, anticipating his response, imagining all the ways he could perhaps reject her offer.

This was a gold mine she had stumbled upon, it's not everyday that she'd find a noble this…

“Your request is endearing. You care deeply for your sister, do you not?"

A surge of relief washed over Hoshi, though she maintained a composed exterior.

“Eat first,” he instructed, his voice taking on a softer edge, “and then we will proceed with our discussion.”

Hoshi nodded, reaching for her chopsticks, but something held her back. She glanced up at the noble, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

Can't blame a girl for being curious.

After all, curiosity might just kill the stray cat.

“And who might you be?”

For the first time, the noble seemed to genuinely smile at the question. There was a glint in his eyes, a flicker of amusement as the corners of his lips curled upwards.

Oh, he was proud.

“Who could it be other than the heir of the Gojo Clan?”

And he had every reason to be.

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2 notes · View notes

hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

Text

400 YEARS TO YOU

Gojo x OC fic

Fanfic MASTERLIST - NEXT CHAPTER

PROLOGUE: Sister to sister.

Tags: Angst and fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Rewrote this! Reminder, let's talk! I'm Hoshi and I'm a lazy piece of shit who randomly has a surge of pure motivation and creativity where I plan a whole aah plot knowing damn well It'll join the abandoned draft within the next 2 days.

This was originally going to be a manhwa (with its own characters and some plot changes ofc), but then my art blocks last a century, I have the attention span of a gold fish and I'm scared of committement, so I was like lemme just experiment with a fanfic first-

Alsooo this is a slow burn:)

So a fair warning for my fellow readers, if I randomly disappear, you know what happened, it's either uni getting hectic or just me fighting my inner demons.

Last warning, english is not my first language, so don't hesitate with any constructive criticism as I am currently trying to improve!! Enjoy loves<333

Steam coming out of the pot.

Raindrops tapped against the gable roof.

The wind howled silently.

And her heart sought to do the same.

As she grieved for a sister still clinging to life.

Hoshi had been staring at the pot of okayu simmering for what seemed like hours, her tired gaze fixed on the boiling broth as the comforting aroma filled the small kitchen. The only sources of light were the dim lantern right next to her and the flickering flames beneath the pot.

Her mind seemed to be swirling just like the porridge in front of her, an empty gaze filled with the swirling of the broth as if it were hypnotizing her.

The white rice for the okayu had been a rare find, scavenged from their dwindling supplies. She knew there wouldn't be much left for her to eat, but her sister's well-being was the priority.

God, was she tired. Her feet ached and heart heavy with concern, being this stressed at such a young age can surely be detrimental, can’t it?

Eventually, she ladled the porridge into a wooden bowl, watching as the steam rose in delicate spirals. She wrapped the bowl in a cloth to keep it warm and made her way to the small room where her sister rested. The floorboards creaked softly under her feet, the only sound in the otherwise silent house and the rain coming in contact with the roof above them.

Pushing aside the old, worn shoji screen, Hoshi entered the room. Her sister on a thin futon, her face pale and serene, framed by the dark tangle of her hair. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life.

The heaviness of her heart amplified.

She moved forward, even fearfully, just to kneel right next to her sleeping body. As she placed the bowl gently on the floor, she slowly reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her sister's forehead.

A bittersweet smile formed on Hoshi's lips, finding comfort in the way her sister breathed in and out. Perhaps, finding comfort in the way that one can rest without dying.

Her sister hasn't been able to sleep due to her sickness after all.

She leaned back, her hand retracting from her sister's face as she sighed.

The porridge would have to wait as she was in deep sleep like this. Listening to her sister's breathing while deliberately ignoring the rumbling of her own stomach.

Hoshi looked away, then looked again at Tsuki. Perhaps, she could…?

She sighed, pulling away the covers and gently nuzzling in right beside her sister. She wrapped her arms around Tsuki's waist, resting her head on the hard pillow next to her sister's, all she could feel was a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

After all, she was the only family she had left.

Just as she started to close her eyes, she felt a hand starting to pat her head slowly. She opened her eyes slightly, surprised to see her sister's gentle yet tired smile above her.

“You’ve done so much for me, Hoshi,” Tsuki whispered, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. “Rest now. It’s okay.”

She could feel a lump starting to form in her throat, immediately nuzzling back into her sister as she blinked back her stubborn tears.

“I'm sorry I woke you up… I just want you to get better..”

“I shall, so long as you remain by my side.”

Just as she felt a flicker of hope, her sister's cough—a harsh, grating sound— that shattered the moment of peace. Hoshi immediately sat up and helped her sister to do so as well, placing a steady hand on her back.

Patting her back slowly, Tsuki regarded her sister who held an empty gaze, the effort of coughing leaving her more exhausted.

“Are you alright?” Hoshi asked, her voice tinged with worry

Tsuki nodded weakly. “I'm… alright.”

They both stayed silent for a moment, the only sounds the rain outside and the soft, labored breaths of Tsuki.

The walls of this room have seen them in all stages, when they had first ran away, when their worries and fears had slowly morphed from getting caught by the jujutsu society to being caught still awake by their late mentor.

Times where they'd be laughing and fighting their way through life that led them to think that maybe after everything that had happened… they're just two siblings that don't enjoy going out too much, surely not because death lies just in front of the doors of their estate.

And all thought the blood of sorcery flowed through them, they're just humans, their lives don't matter and they're certainly not invulnerable to death.

They aren't unique.

Hoshi had watched her sister grow into a powerful woman and is currently watching her hourglass run out as her illness slowly takes chunks out of her.

It's not inevitable.

But it might as well be if they're unable to seek a doctor when they have been on the run throughout their whole entire lives.

“Look at the state of me, Am I not supposed to be the one taking care of my little sister?” Tsuki broke the silence, her voice trying to lighten up the mood but Hoshi was almost sure that she could hear some self depreciation in it– mocking herself.

She put a hand on her shoulder, slightly shaking it, “We are family. Taking care of you is not a burden… it is simply what family does.”

Her sister remained silent.

“We will make it past this,” Hoshi said, the words leaving her mouth before she could fully think them through. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince— her sister, or herself.

Tsuki turned her gaze away, staring at the rain-slicked window, her expression distant. “Isn’t this what we used to say before Akira-sensei passed away?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper

Hoshi's shoulders slumped.

How could she reply to that? How could she offer hope when her sister seemed so resigned to her fate?

The younger sister's gaze drifted to the hands of the girl in front of her, noticing how they trembled despite her best efforts to conceal it.

She carefully unwrapped the cloth from the meal she had prepared, holding it in one hand while gripping a spoon in the other.

Hoshi scooped up a small portion of the warm porridge and brought it to her sister’s lips. “Eat,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the morning breeze, “Allow me to care for you, as you have always cared for me. It is the least I can do.”

Tsuki hesitated for a moment, her pride struggling against the need for comfort. But as her gaze met her sister's, she slowly parted her lips and allowed Hoshi to feed her.

“We may have been unfortunate in this life,” Hoshi began, her voice gaining strength as she spoke, “cursed by our own blood. But that does not grant us the luxury of surrender, does it? After all that you have endured, all that you have done to survive…”

Tsuki’s gaze wavered, her grip on the blanket tightening.

“Tsuki…” Hoshi’s voice trembled slightly, but she pushed forward, her determination unwavering. “Do not tell me that you are prepared to relinquish everything after all the struggles you’ve faced just to stay alive. Years upon years of moving from one place to another, years of our mentor’s protection—surely you would not cast all that aside? You are strong. Do not underestimate the trials you have overcome. I cannot stand by and watch you wither in your own sorrow.”

“I…”

Hoshi reached out, her hand trembling as she gently cupped her sister’s face, her thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped from Tsuki’s eye.

“What I’m saying may not appease whatever is brewing within you,” Her voice was barely above a whisper now, laden with all the love and fear she had been holding back. “But let it serve as a reminder that you are not alone. I have always been here for you, and I shall remain by your side, come what may.”

Tsuki’s nod was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there — a flicker of agreement, and a tiny spark of hope that Hoshi immediately chose to cling onto.

Hoshi adored her sister.

She couldn't fathom a world where they weren't side by side.

But in a world where the Heavens seemed hellbent on tearing them apart.

And if this cursed prophecy were to ever take place.

She would scorch the earth itself and follow her sister’s path, no matter where it led.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x oc #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader fluff #saturo gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst

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hawkdaddy1111 · 11 months ago

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400 YEARS TO YOU

Gojo x OC fic MASTERLIST

Where the daughter of the sinner and the monster of humanity transcend the boundaries of times.

Summary: Oops, a sorcerer from the edo period accidentally travels to the modern world! How could this have happened?

TAGS: SLOOOOOOW BURN, Heavy angst (I'm not joking about the angst you guys), Soft Gojo Satoru, fluff and angst and smut, Explicit sexual content, Hurt/comfort, eventual romance, eventual smut, Hurt Gojo Satoru, he's a lil shit, Oc is a jujutsu sorcerer from the edo period, Canon typical violence, They're both bad with feelings on this, Domestic fluff, Major character death.

A/N: If you'd like to read this on ao3 or wattpad then be my guest love

Ao3 - Wattpad

*ೃ ↷ ˊ- Prologue; Sister to sister.

*ೃ ↷ ˊ- Chapter 1; The noble and the stray.

*ೃ ↷ ˊ- Chapter 2; The birthday of a sinner.

*ೃ ↷ ˊ- Chapter 3; The supposed foil.

Chapter 4 coming soon...

MAIN MASTERLIST.

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hawkdaddy1111 · 1 year ago

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from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

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hawkdaddy1111 · 1 year ago

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gojo writing megumi a letter and all it says is "oh yeah your dad's dead. i killed him. sowwyyy~" is the cutest most on-brand thing ever

SOWWY!

#i cried actually #not even joking #love this man LMFAOOOO #satoru gojo #jjk 268 #jjk leaks

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hawkdaddy1111 · 1 year ago

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You're insane for this, so insane and I love it

Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too.

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room.

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this.

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle.

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already.

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked.

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them.

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious.

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

A weighty beat passes. One. Two.

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this?

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What?

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face.

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity.

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better.

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word.

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually.

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth.

“Out.”

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now.

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?”

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him.

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw.

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar.

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal.

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away.

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan.

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his.

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this.

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth.

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended.

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast.

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers.

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants.

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth.

And Gojo keeps going.

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily.

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good.

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?”

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs.

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit.

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous.

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together.

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute.

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone.

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife.

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch.

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly.

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance.

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you.

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there.

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least.

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.”

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.��

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear.

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side.

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?”

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him.

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find-

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted.

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles.

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are.

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices.

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper.

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you.

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes.

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his.

“Clean that room up.”

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie.

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader

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hawkdaddy1111 · 1 year ago

Text

Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room.

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle.

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already.

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked.

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them.

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious.

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

A weighty beat passes. One. Two.

He wins.

What?

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity.

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word.

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

“Out.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now.

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?”

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him.

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal.

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away.

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended.

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants.

And Gojo keeps going.

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good.

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?”

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit.

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous.

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone.

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife.

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch.

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly.

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you.

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there.

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least.

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”