#he didn’t expect Geto’s defection

[sapphic-bats]

“Gojo fumbled.”

NO!!! GETO FUMBLED!! THEY ARE BOTH MY SWEET PRINCESSES BUT GETO WAS THE ONE WHO FUMBLED THE BAG!!!!! GOJO DID NOTHING WRONG BRUH.

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: geto suguru – long fics

But dang, i didnt realise we were all so thirsty for geto the brainrot is so real

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☆ as we walk by cerialilith [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 29/? chapters] [singledad!geto] [slow burn] [eventual smut!] [nocurses!AU] #sweet, softest sugu

He only loves two things in life: the scent of coffee and his daughter. But perhaps he can make a few adjustments.

— In which the single mother across the hall manages to catch Geto’s eye without him realizing it.

☆Temptations by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 5/6 chapters] [ smut!] [nocurses!AU] #sugu treats you RIGHT #pep MELTED Suguru Geto is a playboy. A man who's had more lovers than he can even count. You've never been in a relationship, not even experiencing a real kiss when you first meet Suguru. But the two of you fall for each other, and you know that he's the one you want to experience all your firsts with.

☆ Breathe Me In by lovelied [AO3] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [smut!] #pep love this characterization of Suguru Desperate for distraction, a troubled Suguru Geto began inviting you over each night. It began as a casual arrangement, but over time, you found yourself yearning for him in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

☆The good morrow by @temozarela [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing? ◦ 2/? Collection of fics] [smut!] #pep’s comfort fic

You narrowed your eyebrows as you felt your body being jolted, large hands gripping your face, and then your shoulders. Groaning softly, you turned in your sleep, trying to make sense of the voice fading in and out of your brain. It didn’t sound like it was from your dream… It was hushed… low… soft…

It sounded like your name.

aka.

geto finds you after his defection to say goodbye

☆ Mascara by softsellars [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 5/7 chapters] [smut!] [tw!cheating] [nocurses!AU] [artist!suguru] #complex reader, patient sugu

You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself.

For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although you’re pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her.

It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger.

And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.

***Porn with a little plot

☆ Whisper of the Petals by @nanamis-baker [tumblr!] [status: on going ◦ 2/? chapters] [slow burn] [College!AU] #SO SO SWEET #sugu with dumb feelings

A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology... but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together. ☆ AFFECTION'S EDGE by @rush-the-stars [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed ◦ 3/3 chapters] [omega!verse] #THE INTENSITY?!

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

*** Suguru tries to tame you.

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bonus!

☆ Musubi by Penrose_Quinn [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 2/? chapters] #LOVE THE CHEMISTRY

Then there was a quiet shrewdness in the way he carried himself. You would call it cocky, but this one proved to be more poised and collected on how things would unfold for him. Framed with the anchor of his composure, legs stretched out in front of him but not overly laid-back, and his mind – whatever unfathomable brilliance that dwelt underneath – was unperturbed, self-assured. You wouldn’t claim to have known him entirely though like this, Suguru looked more like himself. “But you won’t disappear,” he concluded. “Not yet anyway.” You gave in to a hum. “You’re really making it tempting for me to leave you hanging on nothing.” Suguru listened, waiting. His pursuit was a game of patience and you chased after the gamble.

Or: the string of each encounter was an entanglement to what brought you closer to him, twisted in each other’s darkness, torn and tied back together throughout the years.

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 5

Prostate Massage | Blindfold | Cages

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Reader

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere/controlling behavior, drugging, captivity, panic attack

He’s missing again.

This is more surprising than one might think – Gojo, for all his whimsical tendencies, doesn’t typically slack on exorcizing curses.

It’s why they think he’s just going off the grid for a bit to take care of some other business – goodness knows he drags in enough sorcerer children to the school.

But it’s been a while, and no one’s heard from him.

If he had meant to defect, he would surely have done it when Suguru Geto was still alive. So this must be another fit of arrogance, running off and doing whatever he pleased. It was annoying, but who could stop him? He was, after all, the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Certainly, no one was expecting to find Satoru Gojo in a cage inside your basement.

You’re not a sorcerer, after all. No one Satoru knew or had ever known would even know your name, much less where you live and that Satoru was with you.

You don’t even bother visiting him for the first few days. There’d be no point. He’d try to convince you this was a bad idea (it probably was) and to let him go (you absolutely could not, not under any circumstances). He probably wouldn’t lie – you never thought him to be the type, even if his life were truly on the line – but nothing he said would be of any use to you.

He’d already said enough when under the influence of those helpful substances you slipped him. You’d gone through a few before you found one that made him pliable enough to repeat the words you needed.

A binding vow. One that would keep him here, and keep him tame, for as long as you wanted.

Oh, you’re sure he was terribly confused for those first few days. Wondering what kind of curse or curse technique had him trapped in there. Poor baby was probably bored to death, too, if anything you knew about him was correct.

But it would take a while to get to him, to get him to the place he needed to be. And you had all the time you needed.

After all, good things come to those who wait.

You open the door, a thrill in your heart at the thought of just how excited Satoru Gojo is going to be to see you.

The worst part is, you’re right.

Satoru’s been stuck in here for three days now. He is, frankly, bored. Worse than bored. He’s sort of going insane.

It’s not like he needs to use the restroom, or even eat. Sorcerers – anyone who could use reverse curse technique, really – had ways to suspend bodily functions and stuff like that, for use on long missions, in extreme environments, or domains with weird effects.

So, no. He’s not hungry, or thirsty, he doesn’t need to use the restroom. That’ll catch up with him eventually, of course, but it’s not a problem right now.

The problem right now is that someone was powerful enough to trap him in here, had some weird power that stopped him from escaping, but they just. Left him.

All. Alone. In the dark. Even with the six eyes, it was dark in here. He can tell where the door is, but the light level is far beneath what a normal human could see. There’s almost no sound. No cursed energy at all. Nothing interesting in the room to stare at, nothing moving.

It was a weird, surreal sort of experience, for about ten minutes. Hard to tell even how much time was passing. Just the sound of his breath and the thoughts knocking around in his head. He didn’t get time like this often, didn’t just sit down and think. It cleared his head in a strange way – no more migraines, no more constant analyses from his six eyes, no more reverse curse technique constantly healing his brain.

Like taking off a weight he hadn’t noticed was there to begin with. He felt lighter, so many physical demands suddenly lifted from his body. A breath of fresh air.

Fresh air got old pretty fast, when most of his thoughts kept coalescing on Why can’t I use my curse technique and What the hell is going on? At first, there was even fear, too – he wasn’t totally crazy – but after that?

This is just boring. He’s never been so bored in his entire life. His brain feels like it’s rattling in his skull, waiting to drop out the next time he tilts his head. Satoru is about ready to start banging it against the bars just to have something to listen to.

So when you open the door, light suddenly flooding in from a crack (it’s bright enough to make him wince, with his eyes), Satoru Gojo is entirely focused on you, in an instant. Taking in every single detail about your body, your voice, your cursed energy and cadence.

It’s amazing, how much you can learn when you pay attention.

He learns that you’re not a sorcerer. That he’s not kept here by any curse technique or tool – rather, it’s by a binding vow. One that only you can release. You’d drugged him through his infinity using a knockout gas and gotten his half-conscious self to repeat specific words to make the vow.

He learns you think you’re doing this to help him, save him.

“I just don’t think you’re that strong. I mean, it was easy enough for me to get you like this, right? And I’m not a sorcerer at all.”

His eyes are fixed on you like shattered sapphires. You’re insane – you must be – but it isn’t every day some insane person manages to get one over on him.

Maybe the reason you were able to get this far with him was because you were so crazy.

“For your whole life, you’ve had to be strong.” Your eyes soften; he can discern your features on a microscopic level, the tiny flecks of warmth and concern, “But you aren’t. And you don’t have to try anymore. I’ll protect you.”

Something weird twists in his guts.

There’s lots of kinds of crazy in Jujutsu sorcerer. He’s no stranger to it. But this kind of crazy? He’s never seen it before.

Love is the most twisted curse of them all.

And that is what you tell him, that you love him. You continue by telling him all sorts of funny things – that you’re taking care of him now, getting him back on track, this is for his own good, yada yada.

It’s definitely crazy person speak, but it’s new and refreshing that it’s directed towards him. And maybe because it’s so novel and fun, he goes ahead and sits back and enjoys it.

Like, he tries to tell you he’s important. People to protect, students to teach, all that stuff. You just dismiss him, tell him he’s weak, tell him he doesn’t know what’s best for him. He wasn’t meant for sorcery – his life will be better, now.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, he realizes with a belated horror, that this is what he sounds like to other people.)

 It’s funny, though, it is. He laughs at you (you smile, though, because you’re delusional like that, even if you can tell he’s mocking you), at the thought that he could be meant for anything but sorcery.

And hey, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. Anywhere he can be. He’ll give it a try.

Although it’s not so much a try as endure the very carefully calculated daily plans you lay out for him. You’ve got a lot of free time – probably some work-from-home position – and a lot of money, too.

(Great taste in body wash also. Amber and honeysuckle or something. He’ll have to remember it when he gets out of here.)

The room he’s in is special in that it’s painted a gentle off-white color, and sparsely decorated. His little cage is large enough to fit him just sitting down, tall as he is, and it’s large enough for a cot in the corner. It’s kind of cozy, he’ll admit, in a camping kind of way.

When you send him to bed – yes, like an actual child – he finds out the cot is a lot softer than he’d expected, some kind of memory foam he’s never tried. The sheets are extra cooling, the pillow feels like a dream, the room is pitch black and chilly. It only takes him a few minutes of moody contemplation to start drifting off after he lays down.

Sleep training, you’d called it. Satoru’s pretty sure he’d be offended if he actually knew what it was.

“You have your healing powers, sure,” (when he’d interrupted you to tell you it was reverse curse technique you’d paused and waited out his explanation like a champ), “But there’s no substitute for a good eight hours of sleep, Satoru.”

Your voice is stern and laden with something he can’t quite get, but it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll be out soon.

It’s interesting, lying down inside the cage. This room is so small. It’s all fitted just for him, perfectly sized to leave neither empty space nor squeeze him too tight. His world is reduced to this cage and the things you choose to put in it.

He’s quick to complain about the boredom, but you don’t mind his whining. You actually hook up several game consoles to a small TV set carefully placed at head height for him, sitting up, with controllers you hand him through the bars.

“I’ll have to limit your screen time – it’s not good for your eyes. It’s probably even worse for the six eyes. So I’ve got a collection of books here, and an e-reader, so you can get anything you want. Oh! I’ve also brought some puzzles.”

Yaaawwwn. You don’t even flinch at his exaggerated expression of boredom, promising instead to find more complex puzzles online to entertain him. Rubik’s cubes, jigsaws – these things bored him. He put everything together right away.

You find a puzzle made in braille, one that has to be put together by touch. Brain teasers that required out-of-the-box thinking… you’d even brought him a jigsaw puzzle with a mixed up image printed on it, one that couldn’t be put together by the visuals at all. He had to hand it to you, that was neat.

There’s almost an amusement in watching how diligent you are about finding things to entertain him with. The video games, the books, the puzzles, some TV, too. He’s half worried that you stole his collection of movies, but it turns out you just have some streaming services. It’s fun enough to kill time. Human Earthworm 4 really was garbage.

You laugh when he tells you so. Your defense of the dumb movie is that it was half-parody (you are correct), and he tells you with a sniff that you have no taste, and you laugh, and his stomach feels funny.

Clearly the isolation is getting to him, if you feel like decent company.

He takes meals with you, too, and you’re particular about them. No more mochi for breakfast and dinner, no more coffee at all actually – “It’ll interfere with your rest,” – instead, you make him eat ‘real food’.

Complete, home-cooked, admittedly delicious meals. They’re all way more palatable than most things he eats, all foods he likes, he ends up liking… at first he didn’t want to try, but you’d dangled so many sweet looking deserts over his head – specially made mochi, fresh souffles and macarons, carefully crafted crystal candies.

Ugh, you know way too much about him. And you look so pleased with yourself, too. He wonders if you make them yourself – so he asks, and watches your face blush lightly, watches you smile, eyes softening as you look at him in that way he doesn’t get.

Isolation. It’s getting to him. Definitely.

“And of course, I’ll be here to allow you socialization time. We could play games together, or if you want, we could read the same books? Or just talk, if you like. I’m not letting you out, but I’d be happy to hear about your life from before, your likes and dislikes. You can make requests, too!”

Normally he’d be all like “No way, creepy kidnapper,” seriously. But to be honest, he’s kind of looking forward to a chance to pick your brain.

You seem all too happy to oblige. Delighted that he’s taking an interest in you, which is kinda cute and pathetic, since it’s totally not what’s happening. He just wants to know how the hell you got to be so fucking weird.

“I think love makes us all a little crazy, don’t you? As for why I love you, Satoru… well. I couldn’t pick only one reason. Suffice to say, I’m really happy to be talking to you now. It probably sounds weird to you, but being around you just these past few days has been awesome for me. Being around you just brings me so much joy. I want to make it good for you, too!”

Yeah, to be honest, it’s really weird how accommodating you are. You let him out for bathroom breaks at regular intervals – he’s still not sure why you put him in the cage at all –

“Oh, the cage? That’s for your benefit, not mine. Obviously this room is locked. But I think you… it’s difficult to explain. But your awareness of the space around you is warped somehow. I constantly see you nap in awkward places, sit or lean in positions that would stress your body out, zone out from your surroundings. I think it’s important to reset your senses.”

It’s creepy at this point. Or it would be, if it hadn’t blown wayyy past that part.

He likes that you don’t press him much. You just confess your love and go on about your day. No expectations, no freak outs. You’re crazy but you’re obviously not so crazy you think he loves you back. You just think you’re trying to do the right thing by him, which is like, really sweet, in a super weird and demented way.

Satoru had already decided that he doesn’t want to go after you once he gets out of here. You’re not malevolent, even if some distant part of his mind knows that people are dying while he’s chilling out in here.

No, you’re just lonely, and you’ve somehow attached yourself to him with this completely delusional idea that you understand him on a deeper level, and you wanted to protect him. Wasn’t that sweet? The cutest thing?

He can’t really bring himself to be mad at you. Not when you’re probably the only person on earth who’s ever thought this about him, who tried to do something about it. And it’s a damn good try, he’ll give you that.

The cage really isn’t that small. It’s comfortable in here, actually, it’s nice. It’s simple and easy in a way that would be boring if you didn’t give him company, entertainment, meals. The bed is so easy to fall asleep in, he has more energy waking up, he’s happier,

He gets where you’re coming from. You’re still totally insane, of course, but he sees the idea behind it. It’s not the space that he’s in. It’s what’s happening in that space.

It’s his time. And you seem to have so many ways to occupy it.

He starts thinking about you more and more. It gets weirder. He runs into you fresh out of the shower, no clothes on, watches the blush on your face and feels himself –

No. No, no no. It’s not a big deal. It’s whatever. He knew you were crushing on him. You’d made absolutely no secret of your feelings, and he knows the attraction is there, he can tell.

So maybe he sneaks in a hand job or two during these lonely nights. Purely for fun. It’s your fault for not stimulating him enough!

Are you watching on camera? That’s what all the stalkers do. You’re totally a stalker, you know way too much about him. You have all his skincare, shampoo, and conditioner in the bathroom.

You’re totally watching him. He licks his lips while he jerks himself. If he listens hard enough he can hear your breath in the other room.

(Turns out you’re all the way down the hall, but he’s got the six eyes, not the six ears.)

He could put on a show for you, even. His dick gets harder at the thought. He wonders if you’ve thought about this. If you watch him in the cage touching himself. If you want to be in here with him. In the room, or in the cage.

Would you want to touch? The thought absolutely tickles him, has him twitching in his hands, licking his lips. Would you want him so badly? You’re so dedicated, so diligent about his welfare. He could just imagine your pretty lips opening right up, how hot and wet your mouth would be, how those eyes of yours would look at him, always so full of care and affection.

Your hair looks soft, silky even – what would it feel like in his hands? Are you so crazy for him you’d let him fuck your face, or would you guide him through it, like you guide him through everything?

A pulse, another pulse, throbbing in his fist. Your hands would be smaller, softer. What would they feel like on his bare skin? He’s gotten more skin-to-skin contact these paste few weeks than the past ten years. What would you feel like on him? How would you touch him, where?

How would you look at him? He thinks of your face – of your eyes when you smile at him – he feels a squeeze –

When he cums, he does it with an exaggerated moan, head tilted back, lips wide and open. Spurting all over his hand as he makes a little blissful sigh.

He looks up, where he imagines a camera might be, eyes half-lidded. Smirk fighting to tear his lips as he closes them around his fingers, licking them clean.

Maybe you weren’t watching, but that doesn’t stop him. Not from giving you looks the next day.

There’s something in his chest. Wobbling around. Something knocked loose. He finds himself waiting for you to visit, impatient between meals. Demanding. You give, and give of course, but you never give any indication that you’ve seen what he did.

Actually… that was probably his way out.

He tries to proposition you, of course. Lays it on thick. But you hesitate to accept. You blush, and he thinks cute, he thinks he’s got you, but you act like you’re too good for him or something, like you’re not sure if you really want to be with him.

Like you’re too good to be seduced by him? When you fucking kidnapped him in the first place? You don’t want to come in here in the cage you put him in?

It makes him acidic. The rattling in his chest feels like the rattling in his head, only, his tolerance has gotten so much lower.

It’s not long before he snaps at you.

“What?” He says cruelly, words escaping him without his will, “You didn’t think I liked you or anything, did you?”

There’s something mean in his voice, something awful that curdles in his chest. He brandishes it like a sword. Swinging at you, carving sorrow over your features.

“You fucking kidnapped me.” The words come as a surprise even to him, but it was true, wasn’t it? “I’m not here willingly. You’re keeping me here against me will, you’re not helping me. Did you think I’d forget?”

(He can’t even convince himself of that lie. He knows he’d forgotten.)

You look at him, something strange in your eye.

“…If you want to leave, then leave.” You say, and he feels it, like the click of a lock, the crunch of a shackle. How the Binding Vow unwinds in an instant. “I’m not going to drag you back. It’s pointless to keep you here if you hate it so much.”

He tells himself he darted straight out. He didn’t hesitate for a single moment.

But he can’t tell himself that he didn’t look back. That would be too blatant a lie.

He tries not to think about the look on your face, empty and indifferent. He tries not to think about how it felt like a knife to his chest.

And just like that, he’s back. And –

“Gojo? About time you showed up. There’s several special grades waiting for you to exorcise. Where the hell were you? Okkotsu has barely been able to help out your other students.”

His students. His precious students, the ones who needed him, the ones he was preparing to take over the Jujutsu world –

God, the world is so big, isn’t it? It feels so vast and massive now, like he’s suddenly stepped into the shadow of a terrible monolith, blocking out the sun. It doesn’t feel like the first daylight he’s seen in weeks. This light is blinding, like a shadow convalesced.

“Gojo, do you hear me? I’m sending Ichiji over with the car.”

And there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, dragging him down in a way he normally doesn’t feel. This isn’t something that bothers him. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

He likes fighting. He likes sorcery, and he’s good at it. Exorcizing curses, beating curse-users to shit. It’s fun. He’s so strong that it’s not a risk anymore, just something to do with his overpowered abilities, and that’s cool. He’s not afraid, not in any universe.

So why does the voice asking him when he’s going to go kill these curses fill him with a sudden, inexplicable nausea?

Why does the thought of having to do this again, all over again, always on repeat, have the pit of his stomach burning? Like there’s a pressure on his shoulders that he knows he can’t relieve.

Satoru knows he has to do this. He’s the only one who can. Other sorcerers are weak – many of them would die. For some of these special grades, it’s him or nothing, with the lives of regular civilians on the line.

Each thought sends his stomach churning. He has to. He has to. He has to do it he has to go he has to he can’t avoid it. Today and tomorrow and the next day, too, over and over and over again.

The sky – it’s so big. So massively big, so wide and yawning, he feels like he’s falling into it. His head is pounding, information flooding back through his senses. One special grade, two, three or four – he has to teleport to them, exorcise them. He has to teach his students. He has to report to the elders. He has to – he has to – there’s so much, so much to do –

The six eyes are screaming at him, the sky is screaming, light burning into his retinas it’s too bright. Too fucking bright out here.

His legs carry him to a nearby wall. He’s leaning against it, now, breaths coming heavy and labored.

And then, it comes. He’d only been half expecting it – part of him still probably thought he was invincible, untouchable.

And he’s right. Nothing is touching him. It just feels like his skin is crawling for no reason. Pins and needles, electric adrenaline racing through every last nerve fiber in his body.

He’s simultaneously too strong and feverishly weak, collapsing against the wall. Gravity feels like it’s pulling harder, off balance, only it shouldn’t be. He should be fine, he should be able to move his limbs however he wants, they shouldn’t feel gangly and overresponsive and desperately twitchy.

His heart shouldn’t be trying to beat itself out of his chest. His lungs shouldn’t feel like they’re on fire. He shouldn’t have alarm bells going off his head, his limbs burning hot with too much energy and not enough.

Between ragged breaths he catches a faint, familiar scent, warm like sunlight –

“Satoru?”

It’s – it’s – it’s you, you’re back, and something awful in his chest jumps with irrational delight, a weight shifting on his shoulders, almost lifted. He tries to control his racing pulse, stammer through your name –

A mind, indifferent gaze meets his eyes. It freezes him in place. All his anxiety swinging on a precipice.

“Is something wrong?” A voice that betrays no emotion, no affection, no hidden longing. No I missed you, or I’m happy to see you, or I hope you weren’t lonely while I was gone.

He’s going insane, he must be going insane, but with all the adrenaline shooting through him, limbs trembling, he’s barely able to keep himself upright against the wall.

“Don’t – don’t you – ” Insane, insane, he knows he’s delirious while he’s saying this, why is he saying it, but his body is acting on his behalf, mind paralyzed with fright, “Don’t you want me?”

How could he sound so – needy? So forlorn? You’d fucking kidnapped him, he should be afraid, he should be angry, if anything.

(Maybe that was his fault from the beginning. He’d never really been quick to anger. Never been one to fear others, either. Deep down, the only thing that had ever hurt him was being left behind.)

Even the six eyes cannot discern your tone, “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried to make things work with you. You didn’t want it.”

He didn’t, of course he didn’t, you were keeping him fucking captive. He knows this, the information is there in his mind, but his body won’t stop shaking. The sky is too big, the street is too broad, too many bodies, too much cursed energy, every object in every direction overwhelming his senses.

It feels like a migraine. It feels like his legs are about to give out under him, no solid earth to be found. Too big it’s too big he wants to go –

“Unless… you want to come back?”

Satoru knows he doesn’t. He knows the answer is no. He knows that you fucked him up, that this is a consequence of your captivity directly, that he should be able to overcome this if he just bears with it –

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried.

“Please,” His voice says without his permission, “I want…” To go home. Take me back. Don’t leave me.

Relief floods the entirety of his quaking form as soon as you smile.

“Of course, Satoru,” Your eyes soften, and against all rationality, he feels like he’s made the right choice, “Take my hand. Let’s go home.”

He’s messed up, this is messed up. He’s better than this! He isn’t stupid, he knows what you’re doing! He has the six eyes, for fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world!

You’re not strong, Satoru. You only think you are, and I understand why. The whole world has been telling you this forever. But you aren’t, and that’s okay. I’ll protect you.

He doesn’t have to be the strongest sorcerer. Not if he doesn’t want to. He can go back where it’s dark and comfortable and warm, and he can be Satoru Gojo, your cherished pet.

He looks at you, six eyes blinding him, headache burning though his skull. He thinks of how close and soft and safe that place was. How you stayed with him for hours and hours on end. He never had to be alone.

Nothing has ever felt as right as your hand clasped with his own.

[temozarela]

-> miss you already

GETO X READER MDNI, smut, slow burn, fluff, angst, soft geto, comfort, mutual pining

geto finds you after his defection to say goodbye

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

inspiration (@ayyy-pee)

part 2

ao3 version

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The beginnings of dusk settled over the mountains, soft lavender clouds blushing as the amber sun settled behind them. You were settled at your desk, pen loose in your grip as you stared out of your window. The breeze was cool on your cheeks and you knew that it was probably time to pull the windows closed since the remnants of Summer were scarce, only obvious through the very last of the green leaves, of which were tinged red at the very tips. You could see the main courtyard of Jujutsu Tech from your room, meaning that you often knew who was present and where they were. Previously that day, you had watched Geto leave at 7am, then Nanami at 2pm, and Shoko and Gojo- presumably to the bar- at 5pm. You didn’t get offended about the lack of invite, after all, you often said no these days. Since Geto didn’t choose to go out much, you often chose to stay back with him instead. It was nicer than the sweaty noisiness of the bar Shoko liked. It was her special discovery in second year- a bar that didn’t ask for ID. The others quickly adopted it too, and despite them now being of age, they never grew out of it. You guessed they were emotionally attached to it now, despite the poor quality of the drinks. Geto and you often read together on those quieter nights, or you watched shitty horror movies. You had a tendency to be shyer around bigger groups, so being able to have time alone with Geto was nice, and you felt a lot closer to him because of it. You weren’t an idiot though, you knew he got a lot of female attention. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get glared at when you went out together, and there were occasions where girls had come up to you for permission to ask him out. Truthfully, these girls were often stunning, and part of you even resented Geto for being the one who got their attention, especially since he always politely apologised with a bow- or on his lazier days, he gave them Gojo’s number instead. What a waste.

You had been expecting Geto back at 4pm, but you hadn’t seen him come back yet. In an act of desperate boredom, you’d even checked his room, the training areas, the vending machines, and even the classrooms. Nope. No Geto in sight. It was a shame that he wasn’t there for a ‘just us two’ evening, but that concern was long gone by 6pm. Where was he? You had tried texting and calling him. No response. You had even texted Gojo about whether he’d contacted them.

Nah but u sure he isn’t stuck in the toilet or smth? xoxo

And Shoko.

nope.

not since tues soz

So there you were, sat at your desk, anxiously watching the school entrance. For a second, you had wondered about reporting him missing, however you shook it off. What could the police do that a special grade sorcerer couldn’t?

By the time it was dark, your back ached and you hadn’t made any progress on your homework for at least 3 hours. 9pm. Something was definitely wrong. You tried not to fret, you had noticed how tired he’d been lately- maybe he had chosen to stay in the city for a while to get his mind off things. You groaned, burying your head in your arms. You really missed him, and the worst part was that you were the only one.

See, Shoko and Gojo had the mindset of ‘if it was something he couldn’t handle, it’d be all over the news’, and you were more sensitive than them- you knew that- but it hadn’t stopped you from turning the news on anyway, letting it drone on in the background. Just in case. However, after a while, the hours of constant murmuring about war, murders, a girl being kidnapped, and heavy rain forecast for the next few days wasn’t doing much for your emotional state, so now you finally reached for the remote, turning it off, and by consequence, plunging yourself into deafening silence.

It was late and you were still in your uniform, you noted. You were tired too.

With a hefty sigh, you collapsed onto your bed, staring at your ceiling. The wind whispered, lowly outside, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You idly chided yourself for forgetting to close the window, but you couldn’t find the energy to do anything about it.

Finally, after a few deep breaths, you found solace in sleep.

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You narrowed your eyebrows as you felt your body being jolted, large hands gripping your face, and then your shoulders. Groaning softly, you turned in your sleep, trying to make sense of the voice fading in and out of your brain. It didn’t sound like it was from your dream… It was hushed… low… soft…

It sounded like your name.

Cold hands touched your face again, turning your head. In response, your eyelashes fluttered open. You were surprised, in your groggy state, that you couldn’t see your room. Was something blocking your view? Then, regretfully, you noted that your uniform was sticking to your skin, and that you never did change.

Also, it was freezing.

“Hey.”

You jumped.

“What the fuck.” You croaked, squinting upwards. “Geto?”

“Yeah-”

“Finally.”

“Look-”

“You fucking stink.”

“Ok, just-”

“No seriously, it’s rancid. Hang on, let me get the light…” You mumbled, blinking sleepily.

“Wait, first I should tell you-” Your numb fingers found the light switch, and you flicked it on.

“Ok, ok,” You paused, eyes widening as his figure was illuminated, and suddenly you were very awake. “What the fuck.”

Geto was dripping with blood. His face, his shirt, his trousers- drenched. You studied his face, head cocked. He thinned his lips, looking… mildly unimpressed.

“As I was trying to say,” He started, “I’m leaving.”

“You… just got here.” You muttered, squinting at him.

“No, I-” Geto sighed, running his dirtied fingers through his loose hair, “I’m leaving Jujutsu Tech.”

“Why?”

“I want to create a world of only Jujutsu sorcerers.” He swallowed, hands clenched by his sides. You stilled, mind buzzing.

“How…” You rubbed your temples, looking around, “How… did you get in here?”

Geto stared at you, dubiously. “That’s what you want to ask?”

You nodded. “I have other questions too, but I lock my door at night and now I have safety concerns.”

“Your window was open.”

“Oh yeah.” You mumbled, running a hand over your face. “Fuck.”

“I’m tired of the higher-ups avoiding the root of the problem, so I’m leaving.” Geto continued, carefully.

“Oh.” You said, struggling to find words. “Right now?”

Geto looked at you strangely, then nodded.

“Do the others know?”

Geto shook his head.

You stared at him for a second, eyebrows furrowed, a pensive frown fixed on your face.

“Holy shit!” You sat up, eyes wide with realisation. “Whose blood is that?” You raised your voice, gesturing at his shirt. You were so used to seeing gore as a sorcerer, it hadn’t even occurred to you that the blood on his clothes was anything strange at all.

“Don’t be so loud.” Geto hissed, “It’s just from some non-sorcerers.”

With a raise of your eyebrows, you scrutinised him, “Just some non-sorcerers’?” You scoffed. “Just? How many?”

He swallowed, “112.”

You blinked at him.

“Just… 112… innocent people?” You replied, slowly.

Geto breathed, deeply, “I had to.”

“What would’ve happened if you didn’t?” Your voice climbed as you gestured frantically.

“I wouldn’t have solidified my resolve.” Geto’s shoulders tensed.

You almost wanted to laugh.

“It’s always you and your fucking resolve, isn’t it?” You muttered, dryly. Geto watched you, uncomfortably, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides. A heavy silence hung in the air like a toppled vase, microseconds away from shattering on the floor.

You sighed heavily, crossing your legs, “So… what now?”

“Come with me.”

“Excuse me?”

Geto crouched to your level, hands reaching for yours, “I don’t care if you hate what I do, just come with me.”

You froze, fingers twitching between his clammy hands.

“You’ll have a home, an allowance, I’ll try to give you the best life possible. I don’t want to leave you here to work 50 hours a week and then to die at 26.”

He had a point.

It was a good offer.

Your eyes darted between Geto’s dark ones. “Why me? Shouldn’t you take Gojo?”

“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” Geto squeezed your hands tightly. “Satoru enjoys it- fighting with the higher ups and spending his free time exorcising curses. It’s who he is. It’s not who you are, though.”

“It’s not.” You agreed, softly.

Geto moved to perch on your bed, but you swatted his shoulder, silently gesturing at his bloody clothing. He nodded, an amused glint in his eyes, as he moved to politely kneel on the floor. You climbed out of your bed to sit next to him, shivering slightly at the iciness of the wooden floorboards. Stretching your legs in front of you, you slowly exhaled.

At least he was safe, right?

To be honest, you still didn’t really know what to think of it. It’s not something you had even thought to prepare yourself for. You’d miss him if he left, you knew that. He knew that you didn’t enjoy being a sorcerer, and you were a little pissed that he had used it against you, but he wasn’t wrong. Being a curse user with him didn’t sound half bad, either. It wasn’t an easy decision to make though and he had to understand that.

“We need to get you out of those clothes.” You murmured.

Geto looked at you, “Do you even have anything I can change into?”

You shook your head, “I can stop by your room, I’ll get a bath running.”

“We can’t.” He replied, “I don’t want to be seen.”

“It’s 2am, Geto.” You said shortly after sparing a glance at your clock, “We’ll be fine.”

Geto looked hesitant as you stood up, offering him a hand.

The walk to the bathroom was silent as you snuck past the dorms. Gojo and Shoko were long asleep, so being caught wasn’t too much of a concern. After retrieving a few bits from Geto’s room, you crept into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. The tiles were cold under your bare feet, but you paid it no mind as you turned the bath tap on, waiting for the water to run hot. Behind you, Geto changed out of his ruined uniform, and you willed yourself not to look. Silence settled over the two of you again, but you knew this time it was because you were deep in thought. Once the tub was full, you turned the tap off, stepping back to allow Geto to climb in. He thanked you softly before stepping in, but your eyes were fixed on the floor as your cheeks heated. When you looked up again, you saw that he was mostly submerged by the water, the ends of his inky hair soaked and curling as it floated in the crystalline water. He watched you expectantly, his gaze sweet and warm, like honey, as you rolled your sleeves up.

Carefully, you poured some of the water over his hair using a cup. You then reached for the shampoo. After pouring a dollop onto your palms, you massaged it onto his scalp. He leaned back, sighing softly as you washed his hair, fingernails gently scratching his skull.

“Where are you going next?” You started, continuing to wash his hair.

Geto hummed pensively, “Who knows… Where do you want to go?”

Your hands froze in place. “I never said I’d go.”

“Right,” Geto said, “but you will, won’t you?”

“No.” You replied, defensively.

“No?” He sounded amused.

“Nope.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll go abroad…”

You swallowed, “How far?”

“Maybe somewhere pretty like Croatia.”

“…That’s far.”

“It is.” Geto agreed.

“Can I convince you to stay?”

“Nope.”

“Ok.” You frowned, resuming the movement of your fingers in his hair. After a moment you stopped again, “What if I promised to join you later?”

Geto sat up.

“I have too many loose ends,” You added, “I don’t want to regret this.”

“How long?”

You exhaled, slowly, “Maybe a year or two?”

Geto looked at you over his shoulder, his stare dark, “That’s long.”

“Well,” Meeting his gaze, you raised an eyebrow, “I hope you’re willing to wait for me, then.”

“I am.” His response was quick, maybe even too quick as it took you off guard.

“Ok.” You nodded slowly, “That works.”

The rest of the bath was quiet, the two of you in contemplating the decisions being made. Only the lulling waves of the water, lapping against the white porcelain tub, alongside both of your soft breaths filled the otherwise silent room. Geto’s hair was silky as you ran your fingers through it. In the light of the bathroom, you noticed how the finer strands looked more chocolate than black, notes of hazel glittering amongst the glistening, dark locks. You squeezed the excess water out of his hair, then dried your hands on your trousers. Afterwards, you moved to stand in front of the bath so that you could see his face. He looked elegant. It seemed that he had either lost, or chosen not to wear his gauges as his gaping earlobes hung, empty. You realised then that you had never seen him without them before. It was different. Previously, you had brushed his hair away from his face, allowing you to see him without obstruction, and you thanked yourself for it now. His face was chiselled, everything about him seeming so sharp from his cheekbones, to his jawline. There seemed to be more colour behind his tanned skin, at least more than there used to be. The purple blotching under his brooding eyes was still there from months of exhaustion, but his facial expressions no longer held that lingering fatigue anymore. He looked healthier, happier even, than he had for a while. Geto’s thin eyebrows were raised as he stared at you, no doubt because you were staring at him. You couldn’t help it though, the way droplets tumbled down his broad shoulders was hypnotising and you almost wanted to condemn the water for concealing the rest of his body under a thick layer of bubbles.

“Are you done?” Geto drawled, sounding equal parts charmed and bored.

You cocked your head, furrowing your eyebrows, “No, not quite.” You muttered, absentmindedly.

He really was beautiful.

In that moment you understood every girl who had given you death glares for standing with him, and every girl who had boldly asked for his number. God knows, you’d be too scared to. You pitied that they were never able to see him like this. Every girl deserved this at least once, you thought, it was definitely more therapeutic than anything a psychiatrist could offer you.

Lethargically, you stretched your arms above your head, yawning. “Ok, yeah I’m done.”

For a second, it seemed that Geto was trying to glare at you, but starting with the slight twitch of his mouth, he broke into soft, flustered laughter.

“Fuck,” He ran a hand over his face. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

Suddenly unsure of how to respond, you looked at him, wide-eyed, your cheeks burning.

Geto smiled at you affectionately, “Just pass me my towel, please.”

You nodded, reaching for the white, fluffy towel you had left out for him. When Geto made a move to get out, you covered your eyes.

“I was meaning to ask,” His voice sounded somewhere behind you, “how come you’re still wearing your uniform?”

Oh yeah.

“I didn’t exactly intend to fall asleep like this, you know.” Your hand moved from your face to pull at the creased fabric, self-consciously. “I was kinda distracted yesterday.”

“Oh?” The rustling of Geto’s clothing paused. “How come?”

You scoffed, “Because you went missing? I had the news on and everything.”

“You did?” He cooed, teasingly, pulling a shirt over his head, judging from what you could hear.

“…Yes.” You scowled.

The way he said your name after that was far softer than you had ever heard it before. It made you feel warm in every nook and cranny of your body, like fire spreading from your cheeks, and flickering inwards to consume your beating heart. When you felt his hand land on your shoulder, you tensed, chewing on the inside of your cheek with anticipation.

“I’m sorry.” He said, voice low and smooth.

You turned to see him changed into a white t-shirt and grey joggers. “Really?”

Geto nodded, “I didn’t realise that you’d worry.”

“Of course I would.” You looked up at him, carefully studying his face.

“I know it’s selfish but… I’m glad you did.”

His confession made you smile warmly.

“Stay the night.” It wasn’t a question, you knew that he wouldn’t be able to find a hotel room at this time.

Geto shook his head, “You know I can’t, my room is directly next to Satoru’s. It’s too risky.”

You rolled your eyes, fondly, “Stay in mine, then. Shoko won’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

“This is non-negotiable, by the way.” You added.

His mouth closed.

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By the time Geto had tucked himself into your bed, you had changed into pyjamas. It was cute seeing him snuggled next to your plushies, it just seemed so… right. You climbed in next to him, unable to close the gap between you, despite yourself. Admittedly, you had been expecting some kind of argument over who would take the bed and who would offer to sleep on the floor but end up taking the bed anyway, but much to your relief, Geto seemed too exhausted to care. You weren’t going to complain. For a while, you just watched each other, wordlessly, eyes half-lidded.

“Will you be gone when I wake up?”

You knew the answer, but you asked anyway.

Geto shifted under the covers, brushing his hand against yours. “Probably.”

“Shame.”

He watched you for a moment, moving his hand to cup your cheek. Like many times that night, you met his gentle gaze, leaning into his touch, gingerly.

“A year is a long time.” Geto murmured.

You agreed.

“It’s a long time to wait to do something I’ve been wanting to do for months.”

Fuck anything you had said before about being tired, you were wide awake.

“Excuse me?”

Geto smiled at you, lopsidedly, “Sorry if I read you wrong but… I like you. I really do.”

“And…” You swallowed.

“I want to say goodbye to you… properly.”

Fuck.

“I’d like that, Geto.” You whispered.

Before you knew it, he was on top of you, muscular thighs hugging your hips. You sat up, hands reaching to pull him down by his collar. When your lips crashed into his, you felt euphoric. As his warm lips moved against yours, your hands moved to his hips, slipping under his t-shirt to trace the ridges of his abs. You felt his muscles tense as you touched them, paired with a low ‘fuck’, whispered into your mouth. When Geto leaned back to peel his shirt off, you instantly missed his body, but the sight of his torso in full was… jaw-dropping. Without doubt, you knew that he was the kind of man that the Ancient Greeks erected temples for. Everything about him was beautiful, from the dusky areola which orbited his nipples, to the trail of hair below his navel. You swallowed, running your hands up his torso. In response, Geto leaned down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Next to go was your shirt, which ended up on your floor next to his. Geto’s hands were quick to cup your breasts, fingers brushing the sensitive nubs as he gently squeezed them. You whimpered, softly, looking up at his focused face.

“Please…” You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him. He swore under his breath before pushing you down so you were horizontal. In an act of fleeting tenderness, he brushed your hair from your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, before attacking your neck with bites and kisses. You gasped as his hands roamed downwards, grazing over your stomach before his fingers strayed under your waistband. He paused his work on your neck to look up at you, silently checking on you with a sweet smile. You nodded, slipping one of your hands into his damp hair as you guided his head back to your neck. Without hesitation, he started pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, no doubt leaving a myriad of marks. When his hand breached your pyjama bottoms, cupping your cunt with excruciating affection, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

“How- do you- want- me?” He asked you between kisses, nose buried in the crook of your neck.

You swore, hips uselessly pushing against his touch, “I’m really not picky.” You rushed, becoming more and more desperate for his touch.

Geto snorted, pressing a gentle kiss against the column of your throat, “That’s not very helpful, sweetheart.”

“Just- touch me!” You whined, impatiently, your grip on his hair tightening. As you tugged, Geto made a low noise at the back of his throat.

“Whore.” You laughed breathlessly as he playfully bit down on your neck, his fingers finally slipping between your folds.

Geto smirked into your neck and you could feel it. “I wouldn’t be getting so cocky, if I were you.” He warned, circling your clit with his fingertip.

“Do your worst.” You grinned, pulling his face back to yours to make out with him again. When you pulled his hair again, he moaned against your lips oh-so prettily, fuelling the burning lust inside of you. You were hyper-aware of every graze of his skin against you, somehow his fingers against you felt 10 times better than you own and it made you insatiable. You could feel the coil in your lower stomach begin to snap as Geto’s tongue fucked your mouth, shamelessly moaning against your tongue. You were so close, soso close…

Geto pulled away, watching you with a grin. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek, apologetically, “I’m impatient, and I really fucking need you right now.”

Despite your initial frustration, his words set your heart alite as you whined. He grunted as he lifted his hips, enabling you to kick your pyjama bottoms off, hastily. When you spread your legs for him, he sat back, using his middle and index finger to spread your dripping folds.

“Fuck.” He breathed, pressing his thumb against your entrance, “You’re soaked.”

Your hips involuntarily jutted into his touch, desperately searching for more.

“Geto, please.” You begged, hands clenching your sheets. His eyes flickered up to yours, his gaze dark.

“Suguru.” He muttered, starting to palm himself through his joggers, “Please. Call me Suguru.”

In the moonlight, the outline of his cock looked more impressive than any Renaissance painting you’d ever seen. You needed him so badly it hurt.

“Fuck, Suguru…” You pressed your thighs together, needily, as you watched him pull his joggers down, his cock hard and heavy, springing to stand against his lower stomach.

He was big.

No fuck that, he was massive.

You knew you had never even tried anything that big in your life, but maybe it was the way his precum dribbled down his thick shaft, you didn’t feel nervous at all.

Geto leaned in to kiss you softly, uttering gentle praise as he pressed his leaking tip to your entrance. Your fingers found purchase around his neck, fingernails digging in at the ache of the intrusion.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Geto groaned against your lips, “Fuck, you feel so good, so fucking wet for me…”

Once he was halfway in, he slowed to kiss your cheek. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Impatiently, you rocked your hips against him, making him slide in further. You moaned, gasping at the feeling of being so full.

Geto wasn’t faring so well either, letting low whines slip as he inched in a little more until his hips were flush with yours.

His eyes met yours desperately, “You ok?” He swallowed, watching you carefully as you adjusted.

“Mhm.” You uttered, weakly, “You can move.”

Geto nodded, cheeks flushed, as he experimentally fucked into you, the steady slapping of your skin speeding up as you begged him for more. With a groan, he buried his head in your neck, releasing soft pants and grunts against your bruised skin. You cried out, nails raking down his back as his pace bordered on lethal as he pounded into you, forcing your body up and down your bed.

“Mhmm, ‘Sugu!” You whined, arching your back as he pressed inside of you. Geto nipped your neck, hands securing your hips as he changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you drool.

“Right there- right there- please-“

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he abused your cunt, the wetness soaking the insides of your thighs and no doubt Geto’s crotch as well.

“Right there?” He teased, but his voice was husky and it was clear he was approaching his peak from the way he grunted after. One of his hands moved from its position on your hips, instead pressing down on your lower stomach. You wailed, thrashing against him as the burning pressure in your lower stomach climbed. You were so close.

“Fuck, please- Suguru I need you-” You were cut off by Geto’s lips as his hand moved to where you needed it the most, his fingers rubbing your sensitive clit. His pace sped up as he chased his own orgasm, the heat of your core irresistible to him.

“Fuck.” Geto groaned, “Can I?”

Your thighs tightened around his waist against your will. “Fuck no.” You hissed between kisses.

“Shit.”

It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, and you knew sure as hell that he didn’t either. You couldn’t risk it though.

With a final pinch of your swollen clit, you came, legs shaking and fingers tugging at his hair as you cried out. Geto wasn’t far behind, swearing as he pulled out despite your legs trapping him in.

With a few final tugs of his length, he came on your stomach, panting as he watched his spend dripped down your thighs.

“Fuck.”

“…Yeah…”

You closed your eyes, basking in the sleepiness of the aftermath. Somewhere next to you, Geto moved, leaning over you before you felt soft fabric on your lower stomach, cleaning up his mess on your body and your own mess between your thighs.

“Thanks.” You muttered, sleepily.

When Geto finally lay down next to you, he pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead tenderly.

“I’ll see you again one day.” He whispered against your skin.

“You will.” You murmured, ignoring the lump in your throat, “One day.”

Geto released a content hum which vibrated in his chest and throat.

“I miss you already.”

[lxmelle]

Geto Complex / Suguru Complex

Reposting from my Twt 😅 I need to stop blabbing in different places.

Out of the numerous things Gojo could have developed a complex about (like almost dying, feeling alienated/sheltered, etc.), it was that he “couldn’t stop” Geto from defecting.

This is interesting. He did not blame Geto or anyone / anything else. We know he was a “resigned person” who could accept things rationally / objectively, but Geto’s defection really hit him harder than anything ever did in his entire life.

While he could accept his departure & even the necessity of his death, Gojo carried this relationship in the pocket of his heart like the one & only treasured photograph within a precious locket. Geto’s pain was his own. He guarded it very, very well. In fact I’d even call him a bit of a guard dog where he just didn’t let anyone into that space. At all.

This is also why I respect him as a teacher. Some lines you just don’t cross professionally. His students were his students. The relationship chart thankfully depicts that too. It doesn’t cheapen the quality of their student-mentor relationship: it strengthens it. Gojo would never lay his hands on the youth that he was determined to protect, after all.

He took onboard a lot from Geto. These boundaries and respect were birthed from the things he experienced with Geto. But! Some things were just natural to Gojo.

As much as he said he hated righteousness and the expectations that came along with the burden of “the strong” - Gojo actually practice it. From a young age, going on missions and doing what was loosely expected of him, within the parameters of the jujutsu tradition. He just… didn’t imbue it with too much emotion - because, again, Geto was the subjective (compassionate and emotional / philosophical) type and Gojo was the objective (rational and pragmatic / straightforward) type.

It seems aligned with his character shown in HI where Gojo took on the “blame” when things went wrong too, shielding Geto when he apologised & made plans to proceed with their mission (this is how they balanced each other out when their relationship was healthy) - staying focused and generally being reliable, dependable, and offering an aura of security to Geto.

The subtle undercurrent that likely facilitated the Geto complex was that, young Gojo had this attitude where he also readily accepted that “things are just mine if I want”. He was powerful. Never experienced insecurity or poverty. He was a genius. He never had close relationships, so he never knew loss. He never particularly wanted anything and people came and went easily. Nobody really mattered.

But nobody could hold a candle to Geto Suguru. Gojo didn’t realise that there were some things that he needed to look after.

So with this attitude he didn’t imagine he needed to treasure Geto after enlightening, so I think he realised that too late. He didn’t realise he was thinking arrogantly. He just had no idea he took anything for granted. He was born to just be strong. Everyone treated him that way.

Except: Geto Suguru.

That’s why he had a Geto complex... he blamed himself (like always) but it was a painful lesson he experienced for the first time -

To want something he cannot have.

To want to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.

To want to be with someone who didn’t want him to come along.

To love someone who did not want to be loved.

To learn something only for it to be too late.

To be strong, yet, not strong enough.

So what else could Gojo Satoru do with his love, but to love and respect Geto from afar, living in a way that would make Geto proud…

Isn’t that profound?

To let someone change you so much because that is all that is left of them- so he treasured him like that...

And perhaps, also important, is that Gojo recognised that what he had received (and was receiving even when being left behind) was love.

So, really… the pure love between them was also undeniably shared.

If Gojo had a Geto complex, I’m certain Geto had a Gojo complex of some kind where he never forgave himself, wore the kesa with his best friend’s name on it & brainwashed himself with “love to the strong” & “weak & foolish deserve to be punished by death” (these were the wall scrolls in jjk 0).

[lookatthoseuselessgays]

A semi coherent rant abt Gojo’s outfits

You know how adult gojo, doesn’t wear casual things much? Like he’s always wearing the button down and slacks or the uniform? The time we’ve seen him in casual wear was when he was training with Megumi in that one scene, he’s still wearing jeans tho

that’s it. Even when Yuuji was living in his basement, we never see him out of the uniform. I know that I might be pushing it but it really seems intentional, we see him in his uniform for damn near all of his screen time pre-ch. 221, and my question was, Why?

My first though maybe it’s just him being dramatic, until I watched HI where he’s dressed casual all the time, he didn’t care then, when his ego was just as inflated as it is now!

so then I thought, huh, maybe I need to touch grass, (I do) but I chose not to, then it hit me. What happened between the uncaring outfits he’d put together pre-KFC breakup and his constantly put together self post-KFC breakup. He became alone (I’m sorry Shoko, you are a godsend and deserve better than this useless homosexual) and the saying became “I am the strongest,” not “we are the strongest.”

He needed to distance himself from people to complete all of the missions, to put a physical reminder in place that he is the strongest and that “when you die, you’ll be alone” yes that was a reminder to Megumi, but he has probably told himself this same thing over and over to himself after Geto defected.

clothes are a symbol of power and have been for the good part of all human civilization, now is no different. The fact he wears his uniform all the time is kind-of like a dog wearing a collar with the name and number of its owner on it. It’s dehumanizing. When he’s in formal wear, he looks like he’s part of high society, because he is. He wants to look above people, so he doesn’t get attached like he did with Geto.

does he regret the time he spent with Geto? Hell no! Does he feel guilt about all the innocent lives taken by Geto? Yes. Does he still love Geto as much as he loved him pre-HI? Hell yes, he just misses Geto to now.

in HI Gojo wears casual things all the time, the trunks in Okinawa and the white tee and sweats he definitely stole from Geto.

His uniform also matches with Geto, the difference is, he matches it with someone he believes to be his equal, his “one and only.” No he didn’t choose to wear the uniform itself, but he did choose to make him and Geto match. The fact both of them wear the uniforms shows the are both on the higher up’s leashes, something that Geto breaks away from by wearing the garb he does after he defects, while Gojo stays firmly planted because of the scene where Geto tells him not to kill the star religious group, he stays like a loyal dog, as Geto told him to do. He becomes the dog sitting by the fence, his leash still there but not tied, unmoving because he was told to stay. He does not run, he does not fight, he follows all the higher up’s orders, except the one to kill Geto. What shows that is in his uniform as an adult, he keeps the jacket the same from his youth, the one acknowledgement of the fact his collar says Geto’s name, not the higher up’s.

another thing abt the fact he almost is never casual post kfc is that he only wears casual clothing in front of Megumi, who is essentially his child. Not even in front of Yuji when he had the boy living in his house. Probably a sign of some trust issues that he has, or the fact he feels he needs to be detached from people, because he’s the strongest.

thank you for coming to my rant, please add things or correct me if I got something wrong! I love over analyzing the costuming choices in things I like, so expect that with the flow of utterly useless homosexuals 🤗

[haikyuuhoo]

if you could change anything, please just stay the same (because i love everything about you)

pairing: gojo x reader (but their relationship isn't the focus of this at all, just a very small part of the foundation)

wc: 876

a/n: meant to take place immediately after the end of jjk 0. sorry for the sads, but i thrive in angst. also sorry for the fact that this is very rushed and probably not great lol i just wanted to write something and this is what happened.

listen

The wind whips around you as you step out onto the roof, and you have to fight to keep your balance as you walk toward the figure standing on the ledge.

He’s got his hands in his pockets, facing out over the rest of Jujutsu High’s campus and staring silently at the rubble that the day’s incidents have caused.

“Do you think it could have been different?” Satoru asks when you approach.

You’re surprised he heard your footsteps over the sound of the wind, but then you remember that it’s probably not that, that he probably sensed your presence—or whatever it is those eyes of his allow him to do.

“What do you mean?” You know he’s asking about today, about the fight and the wreckage and the casualties, but you’re not quite sure which part he’s asking about specifically. “I’m sure lots of things could have gone differently, but we didn’t know exactly what they were planning. We prepared well, I think, but—”

“Do you think Geto could have stayed?”

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting that question, and expecting even less that he would be asking about something that happened ten years ago. You stare at him, weighing your response before you finally speak. “You know he couldn’t have. You let him live, but he would have been killed if he stayed here.”

Satoru hesitates, his body unwavering despite the fact that the toes of his shoes are hanging over the ledge and the wind is picking up. Part of you worries he wouldn’t even try to stop himself if he fell.

His voice is incredibly soft when he speaks next, but you still hear it.

“Do you think, if I weren’t me, he would still be here?”

You physically recoil at the question, and you immediately want to say no, to shout it over the wind, but your throat is closing up and you can’t even attempt to speak before he continues.

“We were the strongest. And then I… I pushed him away, didn’t I? I was so focused on perfecting my technique and becoming the best that I didn’t even realize that we turned into me. And I didn’t even notice what was happening to him, how… not okay he was.” He swallows hard, and you imagine he’s squeezing his eyes shut tight behind his bandages in that way he does when he’s frustrated. “I was so selfish.”

Satoru turns to face you, and you nearly reach out to pull him away from the ledge. You know the fall wouldn’t kill him—not even close—but it still makes your stomach lurch with unease. “If I was literally anybody else, he would still be here. He would still be alive. I wouldn’t have had to—” His whole body shakes with the breath he sucks in. “Do you have any idea how often I wish I wasn’t like this?”

This time you can’t help yourself, you reach out and tug him toward you, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as if he'll fall away if you let him go. And he lets you, drops his infinity so you can touch him—so he can touch you—and Satoru nearly crumples in on himself, clinging to you as he begins to cry. “I’m trying so fucking hard—”

“I know,” you whisper. You’ve never seen him like this. It was bad when Riko died and worse when Geto defected, but Gojo Satoru has never seemed so small before, has never needed someone to hold him together.

Because he’s the strongest, after all.

He doesn’t need anyone.

Right?

“If I could go back, I would change so much. I would change me if I could, I swear. I don’t deserve to be here any more than him just because I was born with these stupid fucking techniques.”

“Don’t say that,” you say quietly, because you know if you speak more than a whisper he’ll hear that you’ve started crying too. “You’re so good, Satoru. You care so much about these kids and you never stopped caring about Geto. If you weren’t you—”

“If I weren’t me, everything would be better.”

You feel your heart shatter in your chest.

Because you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s not true.

But you stay quiet, the statement hanging in the air, just letting him hold you because you know that’s what he needs right now.

“If I could change anything—”

“Don’t change a thing,” you say firmly. You feel a sob wrack through him, and you bury your face against his shoulder. “Don’t change. We need you.”

I love you.

You know this will pass. That tomorrow will come and you’ll all rebuild, forever altered, but you’ll slowly get better. That he’ll go back to being Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and the typical annoying goofball that you fell in love with.

But for now, you’re content to let him need you, to let him hold you tightly and be vulnerable in a way he so rarely ever allows himself to be, to help him carry some of the weight of the world that was placed on his shoulders the day he was born.

reblogs & comments always appreciated <3

[ghost-buddies]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. in commemoration of jjk ending: what would've happened if suguru never defected, and... Shoko did? [pt 1 of 'gone like a wisp of smoke']

ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴɢʀᴇᴅɪᴇɴᴛꜱ. lowkey au :: angst :: hurt :: self indulgent :: sfw :: cursing :: multiple parts :: highkey really bad so m sorry

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Gojo Satoru :: Ieiri Shoko :: Geto Suguru :: Iori Utahime :: Mei Mei :: Masamichi Yaga :: a whole lot of other characters that my 3am brain can't comprehend

ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. I love shoko and she's being slept on fr </3 this is really self-indulgent and i really dont expect this to go anywhere... enjoy. ANOTHER NOTE. if youre reading this ur a real one, but the next installment is gonna be more abount the 2006/star plasma thing. i havent seen anything on her perspective.

ᴡᴄ. 1.8k (oof)

Ieiri Shoko is a living ghost. Not quite human anymore: just an asset for the Jujutsu world, and a slave to the people that take her for granted, right?

No, Ieiri Shoko is not a ghost. She is a useful tool that will kill herself with cigarettes and sadness, because most of all she cannot feel anymore and simply does as she is bidden.

For all the moping that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru do about ‘being the strongest’ and ‘no one quite like us,’ there is no one quite like Shoko; and so she suffers in silence as the world keeps moving.

2006 is the year that everything seems to turn for the worse. But of course Shoko doesn’t know that; she’s barely seventeen, after all, and her biggest worries are keeping her smoking secret(-ish) from Yaga, stopping Gojo and Geto from starting a full-on battle because someone ate the last limited-edition Kit-Kat (Shoko did), and healing them when missions go south. So when the three of them are sent to the gym after Gojo forgets to put a veil where Mei Mei and Utahime did their mission, she doesn’t expect anything to happen.

If anything, she expects Mei Mei to blow a vessel because Utahime’s ‘crush’ on Shoko is getting ‘too obvious.’ Mei’s undying bets about relationships seem to never end, and in order to stop them, Shoko fears that the only way out is to pay the white haired menace.

But that doesn’t matter. Satoru and Suguru seem to be getting ready for another argument, and it’s a perfect moment to have the two boys get their emotions out of the way. Shoko leaves for a smoke break.

Apparently, they’re being sent by Tengen (why he would choose her two insufferable classmates out of anyone, Shoko will never know) to escort the Star Plasma Vessel to assimilate with him.

Satoru makes sure to send her lots of photos of the fight, and Shoko fights a smile as the sees them.

She doesn’t feel too sad that she wasn’t invited to partake in the mission, but Yaga wants to talk to her anyways about it.

“Shoko!” he says, catching up to her as she’s walking back to the dorms from the infirmary. “I just wanted to apologize.”

She looks at him, confused, and so Yaga continues:

“I didn’t invite you to the Star Plasma vessel mission. Tengen just requested the two of them.”

Shoko laughs, a bright little thing that Yaga seems to like since he offers her a small smile. “Oh, sensei, don’t even think about it. I would’ve been dead weight. I’m not worried about them.”

(She should’ve been.)

Time seems to move too fast when they come back to Jujutsu Tech.

--

It’s 2006 – right after the Star Plasma vessel died – and even though the death is still a shock to Gojo and Geto, they’ve bonded over their loss and become stronger from it.

(The one time Shoko thought she might serve as more than a tool to heal, she’s been left in the dust.)

It’s the end of August when Shoko finds Suguru alone. She’s puffing a new cigarette, and he waves to her.

“Oi, Sho. I haven’t seen you in a while, what’s up?”

“Same old, same old. How… how are you? After the vess- After Amanai?”

“It’s tough, but that’s expected of the job. I have Gojo to look after me.” He takes a cigarette from her, making heart eyes at the mention of Satoru.

Shoko internally blazes. She was there every night, when Suguru felt the pangs of guilt, when Satoru felt inadequate for the title of ‘the strongest.’ She was there for them, the both of them, so how dare he say he has Gojo?

“You also have me, dumbass,” she deadpans.

Suguru doesn’t seem to respond to that, because he laughs a little bit and Shoko’s felt no stronger urge than now to slap some sense into him. “You look tired, Sho. Have you been getting rest?”

She ignores him back. “Geto, I have a question for you.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Do you… do you ever get tired of doing sorcery?” Do you get tired of being used? “You’re forced to risk your life every day to save the people that cause your suffering.”

Suguru thinks for a moment. He’s always been the thoughtful one. “What brought this on? But I guess not. Sure, it gets exhausting, but it’s rewarding knowing that you’re helping innocent lives.”

“Well,” Shoko deadpans, “surely you get annoyed that you need to eat curses and feel like throwing up almost every night.”

He laughs again. Shoko leaves.

--

When Shoko sees Gojo, she’s not doing well. She’s lost weight, and her once-shining eyes are surrounded with puffy purple. She doesn’t sleep very much anymore, using her reversed cursed technique to sustain herself. Satoru’s landed himself in the infirmary, and Shoko almost feels like laughing when she realizes it’s been months since she last saw the white-haired man.

She decides to cut around his shirt to get closer to his broken rib: it’s fractured and bound to hurt like hell, and she doesn’t want to heal through the fabric and waste precious energy.

Instead of using scissors, she chooses a scalpel. At first, she’s scared of the tiny, wicked blade, but her hands are always steady, and soon enough, she was using it every chance she got. She still has it today: a glinting, thin silver blade that she had personalized – there’s diamond edging along each of the assortment of blades, which she uses on a rotation. It exuded her RCT, and sliced skin (and fabric) easily and reliably.

Satoru’s been scraped badly after a mission, and even though he has Six-Eyes and probably knows Shoko’s unwell, doesn’t seem to comment on it. Shoko heals his broken rib and the scratches on his knuckles and moves to leave him when he grasps her wrist. She stills.

“Sho? I’ve been thinking. We should go out for yakisoba sometime soon.”

“I… can’t.”

“Heh? You’ve never said no to an outing!!”

“It’s been months since you’ve even thought of inviting me to you and Geto’s shenanigans.”

She turns to face him, and he seems to register her state. He softens, only marginally. “You look like shit, Shoko. Let us take you out. We’ll protect you from perverts on the train, and you’ll keep me and Suguru from killing each other. It’ll be like old times.”

Shoko doesn’t smile. “I wish I had the free time. There’s more work for me here in the infirmary.”

“Shoko…” Satoru pouts. “I don’t want to exclude you, or anything like that—”

Shoko tamps down her frustration. She smooths a mask of indifference over her face. Bastard, she thinks. You already have. She looks at his shining eyes.

“It should be a date for the two of you. I’d hate to impede.”

She wriggles her wrist from his grip and leaves.

--

The one thing that perhaps Shoko appreciates about school is that even though her talents lie solely in healing, Masamichi Yaga is not stupid and teaches her how to fight.

She’s a Grade One sorceress, after all. And she did accompany Geto and Gojo on missions early on – it’s a shame her technique is as prized as it is because she could be quite formidable.

So when Shoko reveals that giving energy and healing others using RCT isn’t her only talent, it’s not met with the kind of ‘wow, you’re not actually a one-trick pony!’ response, and more of a ‘well, good to know’ half-assed reply.

Late 2005 and early 2006 were the last times she went on missions.

It was a rainy night, and Shoko, Geto, and Gojo hopped onto a train from Shibuya. It was an easy Grade Two curse and a couple of Grade Threes, and they had no trouble taking care of them.

Unfortunately, Shoko was cold and tired of hearing Satoru yapping, so they quickly boarded the train.

It was of course their luck that it was cramped, and they all had to stand up.

“Why the long face, Ieiri?” Satoru probed. “No way those curses wiped you out. All you did was punch them and swing around banging your stethoscope into their brains.”

Suguru punched his arm. “Yeah, just like how all you did was run around in circles after one of the Grade Threes tried eating your finger—”

“It was a rat! You know how I hate those! Thank goodness for Shoko taking care of that thing—”

Shoko groaned when Satoru blocked Suguru’s next attack with a blow to his shin. They started to attract odd glances, but thankfully Shoko didn’t have to deal with troublesome girls gawking at the two imbeciles next to her because the train was filled with…

Just her luck. Old, pervy men.

They shamelessly gawked at her (she’s a teenager. She’s growing, she shouldn’t be surprised they’d stare), and of course Satoru and Suguru noticed immediately because they formed a meat shield around her.

Satoru snapped at an old man who was taking photos of her: “Oi, what’re you looking at?”  while Suguru tag-teamed with him, snatching the phone from the geezer and quickly deleting the photos he’d taken.

Shoko smiled inwardly. They stopped fighting, to protect her.

One by one, Gojo and Geto intimidated any and all creeps trying to perv on her. Once the train car finally fell silent, they were fighting again as if nothing had happened. Thankfully, they kept up the meat shield.

Shoko had to stop them from having a full-on battle to the death (what Satoru jokingly calls the ‘Battle of the Balls’) before they arrived back at Jujutsu Tech.

Shoko secretly hid the tiny Grade Three curse – the rat that attempted to eat Gojo’s finger – and cupped it in her hands.

Thank God for those creepy men, and them distracting Gojo and Geto from the cursed energy swelling around the tiny thing, Shoko thought. I want to experiment with you, little guy.

If Shoko can output RCT, surely she can take it away… right?

They arrived back at school, right as she finished the thought, and they bid each other goodnight. Shoko made a quick beeline for her room, all while blaming it on ‘the two of you punks taking up all my energy,’ which wasn’t quite a lie. They know she’s thankful for the two of them taking care of her.

In the silence of her room, Shoko marveled as she forced the rat close to death, and then brought it back to life.

She withered an arm and then regenerated it.

 She wrinkled its eyes and let it see again.

 Ieiri Shoko found her full potential that night.

© property of @ghost-buddies. do not repost, translate or edit.

[solaarbeeam]

the strongest - g. satoru

CW :: angst, mentions of death and sashisu tragedy, and geto’s defection

a/n :: not a gojo girlie, but I decided to write this to try my hand at angst.. and here we are.

When Gojo Satoru had enrolled in Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, he had expected to have people groveling at his feet, to praise and worship the ground he walked on, simply because he was the strongest. That’s how it’s always been.

At least, until you, a black-haired delinquent, and an auburn haired snarky healer bursted into his life.

It was once, when Yaga-sensei had asked him and Suguru to come outside for a sparring match. Him versus Suguru, the true strongest. With you and Shoko on the sidelines, you for combat experience, and Shoko as the only proficient RCT-user in the last 400 years.

Suguru brought out a curse. Infinity dropped without his permission. Shoko administered her healing technique immediately. You laughed at him, though in a lighthearted way and not a condescending way.

Infinity dropped for you. Infinity dropped for Shoko too. This was when he knew, he found his forever people. His forever home.

The only Six Eyes user in 400 years. A Curse Manipulator, making the strongest. The only proficient RCT-user in the last 400 years. Last but most definitely not least, you. The user of a technique that’s powerful on its own but works so well once with a group of sorcerers.

And then he came to love you.

He loves the three of you, you, Suguru, and Shoko that is, but he loves you differently. He loves Suguru in a best friend way, all harsh words with softer meanings behind them. He loves Shoko in a best girl way, sharing sweets and stealing sunglasses and rough yet gentle hands healing over his wounds.

The way he loves you, is all hushed words and touches that affect his soul so much he feels like it’s going to overflow one day. His eyes flicker and blink adoringly when he looks at you, and that’s how he should’ve known how this story ends.

In their second year of high school, everything went to shit. He should’ve known. The people he loves are and will always be ripped away from him.

The higher ups have began physically separating Shoko from the four of you. She tries her best to stay with you guys, but the higher ups have gotten to threatening her.

Satoru didn’t like that. He scheduled a meeting with the higher ups. They didn’t call Shoko, a 15 year old girl who has seen too much, to long nights in the morgue again.

One night, when they went out to a festival for Suguru’s birthday, a day late he might add because you had a mission out of town, you finally kissed him for the first time. He held on to you so tight you felt as if he was cradling your soul in his pale hands. Shoko and Suguru, had said, and he quotes, “It’s about damn time.”

Then, after a few rare peaceful months, everything went to shit. Why? Because he, Gojo Satoru, can never be happy. All his loved ones have to be taken away from him.

He’s the strongest. But without the people he loves, the people he cherishes, what is he, truly?

A kid. A kid raised to believe he was a god. All until he realized he was a mortal all too late.

The Star Plasma Vessel Mission. He and Suguru had begged to take you and Shoko along, and so, the four of you went.

He wished that mission never happened.

Amanai Riko died at the age of 14, never able to truly live because of the fucked up system that runs Jujutsu Society. Satoru had finally learned RCT, but he had took brain damage and Suguru was on the verge of death.

You took on Fushiguro Toji and the last of the curses that had swarmed the four of you. It was a bloodbath. Satoru never gave enough props to Shoko. RCT is hard. They’re lucky to have her.

Suguru leaves, just like how all his loved ones are going to do, willingly or forcibly.

He’s ordered to kill him. He does. He comes back and cries ugly tears into you and Shoko until he physically can’t anymore.

His words ring in his head like a bell.

“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”

He never answered.

He found his comfort in you, because you were the only steadfast thing in his life. He loved you with everything he had, and he had a lot. He made sure to hang on to Shoko too.

He becomes a teacher. He gains students, including Toni’s little terror, Megumi. The kids love you.

It’s the happiest he’s been in a while.

Until Kenjaku comes. His eyes tell him it’s Getou Suguru. His soul knows otherwise.

Shibuya happens. Every sorcerer is dispatched, including Shoko, who’s not combat oriented, gets dispatched.

Shoko and you both meet him on the biggest battlefield. Shoko, like the stubborn person she is, insists on healing him. Satoru will never admit it, but she’s always been better at RCT than he has.

Then there’s you, the love of his life, the one person who’s been a constant in his life, who tosses off your jacket and runs into battle. His soul cries out for you, but it’s impossible for him to say it out loud when he has to focus on the fight.

Shoko falls first, and it hurts more than it was to make sure he didn’t get hit. As she takes her last breath, she hugs him one last time, and Gojo Satoru hugs back Ieiri Shoko’s lifeless body.

Then, he looks at you, who fought to the very end, knees to the ground and head to the sky. He scrambles to you, holding you in his arms as the calm before the storm erupts once more.

“Y/N…?”

“Yes, ‘Toru…?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“I wanted to, and I always will.” You cough up blood mid-sentence, and Satoru knows you’re a goner.

“I love you, Gojo Satoru.”

He loves you so much, so so so much, but it wasn’t enough to make you stay. It wasn’t enough to make Suguru or Shoko stay.

He is Gojo Satoru. He is the Strongest.

He was a kid raised to believe he was a God. He fell off his pedestal.

He is the Strongest.

But without you, or his precious people, what is he really?

© solaarbeeam 2024. do not copy or repost anywhere.

[enterpris]

Caught in Orbit, Chapter 3

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: Cursed energy has many expressions- inherited techniques, reversals and maximums. 

Occasionally, cursed energy of a sorcerer will react with another sorcerer’s cursed energy, or perhaps their soul. In these cases, a bond is formed that can tie families together, increase power, or spark love.

When your soulmate is discovered, you have to decide what the bond will mean

Warnings: Gojo POV, reference to fighting, soulmate au

Length: 2.8k Chapters: 1 2

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

Thoughts whiz in his mind as he back-tracks up the stairs and across the campus. 

He’d expected to drop by, pick up some more bandages (the students this year were strong, but kind of clumsy), and then hang out with Shoko till she inevitably told him she had actual work to do. He certainly hadn’t expected to walk into a blood-soaked scene and find out he had a soul mate, one that was delirious with pain and high off Reversed Curse Technique, no less. 

Quite the revelation for a casual afternoon. 

You're not someone Gojo knows well. Certainly not well enough to count you as a soul mate, at least, regardless of the shape of the cursed energy on your shoulder. 

He reviews the couple times he had interacted with you- probably only enough to count on one hand, since your time in high school hadn’t overlapped. Maybe you had graduated before he became a teacher, but after he finished school, he wasn’t quite sure. The couple years after Geto’s defection blended into each other, heavy with a thousand emotions and questions. 

But you're not one of the teachers, so you've got to be a career sorcerer. 

There’s not a lot of overlap between the professional sorcerers and the school, their different goals make them separate entities that just share the same space. He didn’t really have much to do with the career sorcerers unless one of them is needed to recommend a student for promotion, and even then, it’s not generally a friendly affair. There aren’t many sorcerers worth their salt, at least the kind that he wants to provide a model for his students. You hadn’t been a contender in that respect. 

Frankly, the few times he had interacted with you, he hadn’t seen anything special. Enough cursed energy and strength to have a job and make it out alive, but he couldn’t remember your technique off the top of his head. Perhaps he should have taken the time to check that before bolting out of the medical area. 

He wracks his mind as he heads up the stairs to his office space to think of anything specific about you, anything at all that had stuck out. Had the two of you ever even had a conversation one on one? He can’t remember for certain.  

As he nears his office space he huffs with amusement- it’s not easy to catch him off guard like this. 

There had been no mistaking it though, even through the dried blood and healing wound. The curl of cursed energy on your bare shoulder was a match for the one on his own. Gojo could recognize the individual spark of your cursed energy intertwined with the mark on your shoulder, and as he settles into a plush chair, it settles in. The mark that’s branded on his own body has a match, and he knows without a shadow of doubt now who he’s bonded to. 

For another sorcerer, a soul mark might come with a lot of expectations, hopes, or romantic notions, but Gojo isn’t a fool. He doesn’t have any delusions of romance just because there’s a mark on his body, and hopefully, you don’t either. Knowing your identity won’t change anything in the end, and it isn’t worth it to pretend so. 

It is unfortunate that he found out like this, though. No doubt you were embarrassed he had seen the mark. If you could even remember his entrance. Blood loss can do a number on people, and he’s heard being healed by another sorcerer isn’t particularly pleasant. But some people got so worked up about the marks, it was kind of funny. His own clan would probably have a conniption if they knew about his own mark.  

Growing up there had been hopes of course, that the first six eyes and limitless user in hundreds of years should be blessed enough to have a soul mark of his own. To lead the clan into a new age of power and favor. But as he grew up and became a little more headstrong, the murmurs had stopped. Who knows what you even know about the marks as someone outside the largest clans. 

Once you’re conscious and aware of what’s happened, it’s possible you might try to talk to him or Shoko about it. And that is not something he's particularly interested in- no thank you. It could complicate things rather spectacularly. 

No one is aware of his own mark, no one has seen him stripped bare or exposed, he's been pretty careful to ensure that, but it wouldn’t be ideal for you to push this. Gojo has plans for the future, and right now none of them include cursed energy induced romance.

But the bond between cursed energies in different bodies is complex, and who knows if you would be able to realize the actual connection between you. He takes off the blindfold and focuses his attention outside the building. The distinct shape of the mark, intertwined with your cursed energy, as clear as day, tucked in the medical area. The blindfold can’t keep everything out, and now that he knows your mark is there, it’ll be unavoidable going forward. 

He runs his hand through the fresh-shaved hair at the back of his neck. He’ll probably have to deal with this, one way or another. The question is whether to keep his distance or to see what he can find out about you. It probably wouldn’t hurt getting to know you a bit better, to ensure you don’t find out about his own mark and prevent any accidental meetings, but that would require a significant amount of effort. 

Ah, well. You’re under Shoko's purview for now, and he’s got bigger things to worry about- and a day of lessons to plan and execute. He looks at the pile of cases and documents towering on his desk. Having a soulmate will have to be put on the backburner for a little while. 

It will certainly make things interesting. 

~*~

Your mission was a success, thank God. You'd located the curse in one of the small sports buildings near the tennis courts and exorcized it quickly before returning the girl to her anxious parents. All told, it probably took less than 30 minutes. 

While significantly less emotionally draining than retrieval missions, rescues always came with the excruciating process of explanation. It was easy enough to wave away parents’ fears with the return of their precious daughter, but after initial relief always came questions that are difficult to answer. It's obvious at a glance that you're not a part of the National Police Agency, and it's difficult to know what the victim will recall. The brain is powerful, and those who can't see cursed spirits fill in the blanks in their own way. You've found it's best to leave as soon as possible, making yourself and the encounter a nightmare that will blur away, given time. 

After returning to campus, mission completed, Ijitchi had promised you the following day off call. After two back to back assignments, you’ll need the down time to refocus and recharge your technique, you’re tired to the bone right now. 

Returning to your room and napping for the rest of the afternoon is extremely inviting, but there's an itching in the back of your mind that you can't quite slip. Instead of returning to your private space, you find yourself in the communal living area for professional sorcerers. 

Your thoughts return to your assignment the day before and all of the aftermath. Belatedly, you realize that you hadn’t really even debriefed with the director about the false info you had going in. He hadn’t seemed surprised when you pushed back on the accuracy of the rescue mission though. It’s more than strange that they’d request your presence so urgently, only to send you on another assignment. 

But more than your work schedule, you’re fixated on the mark. 

It’s been years since the mark was so heavy on your mind, you haven’t thought about it this much since you realized you had the damn thing. 

When you’d finally recognized what it was, you spent weeks doing cursory research in the library and archive searching for answers. A few furtive questions to other sorcerers got you more laughs and raised eyebrows than answers, but surely, you'd thought, there has to be something documented in the one of the two largest hubs for Jujutsu sorcerers. 

Late nights searching hadn’t turned up even a mention of the soul marks, and it soon felt silly to continue looking for anything. Work took up more and more of your attention, and any curiosity about the mark faded into the background.

Since it was on your back, most times it was easy enough to forget about. The couple times you’d tried dating were mostly limited to non-sorcerers, who wouldn’t be able to see the mark. But one or two dates always seemed to fizzle out, never resulting in much. Who knows if it was your soul bond or lack of chemistry that ended things. In all likelihood, you’d probably never meet whoever you were bonded to. The group of sorcerers in Japan is a limited pool, but there are Jujutsu Sorcerers everywhere on Earth. 

Anyway, it hasn’t made much change in your life since you first noticed it, and sorcerers die young and often. It’s just as likely that your match has already perished. 

You can’t quite convince yourself that’s the case though, so you sigh and head toward the archives again. 

The archives of Tokyo Jujutsu High are cramped, dusty, and dim. Like many of the underground rooms closer to the barrier, it doesn't see much use or upkeep from the general sorcerer population. Some of the ancient papers are yellowed and crumbling around the edges, you move them as delicately as possible when sorting through the disorganized stacks.

When you’d first come searching years ago, you had been thorough and optimistic, methodically sorting through each box before moving onto the next. It’s hard to recall what exactly you’ve looked through already, or if the files and boxes have been rearranged since then. It looks as disorganized as you remember, so you choose a stack of files and start skimming. 

Through the rest of the week, the mark stays fixed in the back of your mind. While running errands and grocery shopping, before you fall asleep at night, you can't help but wonder. 

Day after day, whenever you can find time, it's driven you back into the depths of the archive to search for answers, that traitorous curiosity within you hoping that this time will be fruitful. Out of caution, or perhaps embarrassment, you sneak down to continue rifling through the piles of records. Even as an adult you’d heard jokes about soul marks, but any hard evidence is as elusive as being fully rested. 

As you descend the stairwell again, there's a voice in the back of your head that feels silly for even trying. 

Your eyes strain as you make out the Kanji and kana. Some of the language is archaic, dating back over a century. Unfortunately, most of the records kept here seem to be related to student affairs. The last stack you picked up had detailed the team and individual events for the last 30 years of goodwill events. Other boxes are labeled with Grades and mission files from years past, time-worn pages peeking over the tops of the files. 

There doesn’t seem to be information on anything particularly useful where anyone can access it. 

You sigh and stretch your back. Hunching over the stacks along with missions and chores has left the muscles sore and fatigued. 

When you finally leave the archive, you're left dusty and irritable. The time you’ve spent secreting yourself away in the depths of the campus would've been better spent with a warm shower and a nap, you're in need of both now. You head back to the upper levels of the grounds, hoping your leftover nasu dengaku is still where you left it in the fridge. 

The communal dining area is mostly empty, there's a couple of career sorcerers eating and talking quietly in the corner. They don't look up as you head back into the kitchenette.

Thankfully, your leftovers are still safe in the fridge, so you set to work heating up your meal. After grabbing some fresh rice from the communal cooker, you return to the dining area and choose a table by yourself. The campus has never been a bustling hub, but lately it’s felt more and more empty. Or maybe you’ve been neglecting your few friends by spending all your free time with only documents for company.

Instead of continuing that morose line of thinking, you shift your attention to your phone and scroll while you eat your meal. The eggplant is soft and smokey, and melts in your mouth with the warm and fluffy rice, exactly what you’ve needed after a long day. 

Your eyes flick up casually when someone enters the space, and then you look again to make certain of what you're seeing. 

He's never taken a meal at the same time you have for as long as you can remember, but now Gojo is sitting at one of the tables across the room, unpacking a bag of takeout. 

You keep up the pretense of scrolling on your phone, but you can't help but be aware of him. The other couple sorcerers have now left, leaving only you two in the wide space, and he seems perfectly at home while setting up and eating. Gojo doesn’t even seem to be aware of you as he dives into his meal. The rest of your meal is uneventful though, he enjoys his spread of curry and pickled vegetables by himself and you finish your leftovers. 

The rest of the week follows just as quietly- you’re working nearly every day, once you’re sent on two smaller missions in a single day. None of the assignments are particularly taxing, but it’s getting harder to keep meals prepped and your space clean. Between fatigue and the lack of results, visiting the archive falls lower on your list of things to do.

Today, your apartment has become overrun by mess. There are empty water bottles littered on the desk and small table the school provided you with. A few shirts you'd tried on but never worn have piled up on the tatami mats too, and you hadn’t bothered to fold up your futon this morning. You sigh and gather up the bottles. Maybe it’s time to finally rent an apartment off the campus- the rent here is so cheap it’s been hard to consider in the past, but being so close to your work is becoming suffocating. 

At least if you got your own place, the director team would have to give you a bit of notice before missions, time to get from your apartment to the campus, and it wouldn’t feel like you’re on call 24/7. 

Spending time away from the base or in the common areas would do you some good. The managerial staff do a good job of keeping the kitchen stocked and amenities available for the working sorcerers, but they never bring in your favorite sandwiches from the convenience store. Maybe a quick trip out would be a good distraction.

The aisles are always tidy and organized, and it’s comforting to listen to the conversations of other patrons- the daily concerns of what to eat for dinner, when children’s events are, or what to do on the upcoming weekend soothe you. These people will never have to worry about hearing a snippet of a mission gone wrong or whispers of another fallen comrade. 

Escape from work can only last for so long, though. As you ride back through the city, your mind has already returned to the rest of your week, a never ending list of chores and preparations to survive when you're slammed. 

Luckily there's no one else in the common kitchen, so you put your groceries away quickly. The windows let in the golden afternoon sun. You can’t help but sigh. Now that the shopping is done and everything is in order, you’ve got to prepare for your next assignment, make sure that you don’t get caught unaware again.

Every time you think about the fight at the bank, your stomach still drops. If the projectile had hit the front of your body or you’d been a bit slower, you’d be dead. You’ve been spending too much energy and bandwidth on looking into the mark, and it’s time that you refocus and pour your time into something worthwhile. You’ll be sent out to do more work soon.

Tag list: @h0neysiba

[violetsaffron5]

In Another Life (4)

Chapter 3 • series masterlist • chapter 5

4 | Commitment Issues

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader and Geto x f!Reader

An argument with Satoru leads you to the front steps of a place you swore you'd never return

Words: 4.3k

cw: angst, arguing, canon typical violence, descriptions of panic attack/anxiety

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

It’s quiet on the way back to your shared apartment.

You’ve been wondering if Satoru saw what you did, though it’s fairly obvious he saw something, he hasn’t expressly said it.

After returning to the venue to mingle with your guests, Satoru kept his hand tight on your waist the rest of the night preventing you from leaving his side again.

He’s quiet, which is incredibly unlike himself. Happy or frustrated, it’s never mattered to him, he’s always had something to say about everything.

Which is just another reason to believe he witnessed your infidelity.

The walk and elevator ride from the basement garage to your penthouse is equally, eerily quiet until Satoru unlocks the door, motioning for you to enter, and closes it behind him.

“I thought you were done seeing him behind my back,” Satoru states as the door clicks closed.

The look you give him is a mix of shock and confusion, because you know you had never told a soul about seeing Suguru shortly after he defected. Your stomach curls in on itself with the look of disgust Satoru is staring at you with, icy blue eyes with a fire burning behind them.

It’s not a look you’ve ever been on the receiving end of. Despite his power and abilities, it’s easy to see why with one glace from Satoru, his enemies go running. It’s truly frightening, having his anger directed towards you.

“You know, I was really hoping you were going to come clean to me, going to see Suguru a few weeks ago,” Your eyes widen at his announcement because the only person who could have possibly said something to Satoru is fucking Ijichi, “Instead, I catch you fucking him at our engagement party.”

Somehow, the tension in the air has gotten even thicker. It’s hard to breathe, let alone think. There’s not much to say, other than the truth, even though hurts, “I just needed to see him again. Just to be sure about all of this, about us,” your voice is weak, shaky, “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

 Satoru lets out an unamused laugh mixed with a scoff, “We’ve been together for years, and you’re still not sure?”

“I-I don’t know…” It’s barely a whisper as you run your hands through your hair and tug lightly at the roots in frustration, “it’s just- it’s complicated, okay?”

The feelings you’ve been harboring are complex and trying to sort them out on your own hasn’t been easy. You’ve been telling yourself you’re fine, you don’t need Suguru as long as you have Satoru. That you’re one-hundred percent totally happy with the man who’s standing in front of you.

But that’s clearly not the case when you used a note as an excuse to see him one last time before you married his best friend. Feelings that, with just a few words hastily scribbled onto a piece of paper, sent you running back to Suguru.

“Three years.” Satoru states harshly, “And clearly I’m the only one committed to this relationship since you’re off whoring yourself out to your ex!”

Your heart cracks at his comment, tears welling in the corner of your eyes, “Can we please just talk about this calmly and not say things we don’t mean.”

“You cheated on me at our engagement party, and you expect me to be calm?”

“Satoru, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say or do to make this better, I just… please. I want to work this out.”

His face is void of all emotion when you take a few hesitant steps toward him. His cursed energy prickles your skin when you reach your hand out to grab his, if you can touch him, hold him, maybe that will make things better.

Except you’re unable to, his infinity is up, protecting him and not letting you past it.

You open and close your mouth several times, trying to find the right words. Trying to tell Satoru this was a mistake, that you want to be with him and how sorry you are for the pain you’ve caused, but nothing comes out.

Instead, the tears that have been welling in the corner of your eyes finally break free, streaming down your face. You want to talk this over until everything is better until things were the way they always have been between you, but you know, all you can do is give it time and hope he doesn’t hate you for your mistakes.

“Three years,” Satoru states again, voice clipped but no longer raised, “That’s how much time I’ve wasted with you. Three years, and I’m still the only one committed to this relationship.”

Your brows are pinched as you scoff at his audacity, “How can you think I’m not committed?”

“You fucked another man at our engagement party! That’s pretty clear if you fucking ask me.”

Before you’re able to reply, Satoru is gone in the blink of an eye, warping out of the apartment to wherever he decided to go, likely the school, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Too many of them.

Running your hands over your face, you wipe away the tears streaming down your face and sniffle a few times before sulking off to your bathroom to get ready for bed, waning to just sleep the pain away.

Everyone always says you’ll feel better after sleeping, that things will be brighter in the morning. You’re not convinced that’s going to be the case this time.

In the bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror for several minutes, the bright lights from the vanity shining into your sad, puffy eyes.

You don’t look like a cheater, but you don’t look like yourself either.

Your cheeks are flushed, skin splotchy from crying; eyes half-lidded in despair. You look as miserable as you feel.

There’s a heavy pain sitting deep within your chest, so heavy it feels like your body could crumple to the floor at any moment, and you’d be okay with it.

And you couldn’t blame Satoru if he wanted to curse you either.

He didn’t deserve what you did to him, he didn’t deserve what you’re putting him through or to be treated this way.

For as many excuses as you would like to make about why you cheated, the fact of the matter is you’ve never been able to control yourself around him. As soon as he touches you, it’s over, melting into him like it’s where you’ve always belonged.

The definition of high school sweethearts through and through, until he defected and left you.

Satoru was there to pick up the pieces, to mend you and put you back together, and you were there for him too. Two shattered hearts were brought together by shared pain and anguish.

You’re not sure when it happened- when your admiration turned into fondness; the feelings having snuck up on you.

The guilt, the first time you kissed, the first time he held you in his arms in a way that was more than platonic. It was an adjustment for both of you.

But Satoru has never understood you the way Suguru did. Never quite got your jokes the same way Suguru would. Never thought your achievements were near as impressive as Suguru did.

Still, you looked past it. Maybe your love for Satoru was a replacement for Suguru, projecting onto him but you were never going to be as happy.

And that’s never been fair to Satoru.

What you did was absolutely not fair to him either.

Satoru’s been gone for almost two weeks and you’ve yet to hear from him or even see him. You’ve gone into the school a few times, trying to bring yourself to work but each time you spotted Satoru’s students, and he wasn’t in tow, your heart would sink over and over again.

So instead, you’ve opted to take personal leave and lay in bed, day in and day out. Curled into a ball until you fall asleep, waking up to a wet pillow case realizing tears slipped out during your dreams.

You’ve tried calling him a few times, but each time you’re met with his voicemail box immediately. It makes your chest hurt like your heart is going to rip out of your chest and shatter into a million pieces right on the floor.

This letter has messed with your head more than you initially thought it would. Made you seek out your ex, reopen old wounds and cheat on the man who’d done nothing but love you in the worst time of your life.

There’s been a thought scratching at the back of your mind about your life, and who you love.

How you love Satoru and right or wrong, how you still hold a love for Suguru as well.

Staring at your ceiling, eyes glazed over as you look at the swirling patterns above you know you need to do something. Nothing is going to get solved this way, if you just keep laying in bed.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe the tears from your face. A decision needs to be made.

If you don’t make one, you’ll continue to hurt not only yourself but those you love as well.

And you don’t want to be in the same position twenty years from now trying to send yourself a letter in the past, wondering if you had made the right decision.

You’re standing in front of the same grandiose temple you found yourself in front of a few weeks ago. Thinking, once you had left last time, you’d never make your way back here again.

This time, you’re more nervous than before. Certainly less confident in the status of your current relationship, with twisted and confused feelings regarding the two men who have been incredibly important during different stages of your life.

The double doors creak as you enter the temple, and once again the same busty woman comes out of nowhere, glaring at you as her heels click on the marble with haste. You briefly wonder if she does anything aside from spying on you and patrolling the entrance.

She raises an eyebrow at your attire before rolling her eyes, stopping a few feet in front of you.

Today, you opted to wear your uniform, hoping it would help provide some comfort in coming back to see Suguru. Hoping it will act as a guiding light in this unknown time.

“Geto said you’d be coming.”

You’re scratching your eyebrow, giving a nervous chuckle that even after all this time apart, he knows you well enough to know you’d come searching for him again.

Rather than pushing past her this time, you let her lead you down the halls of the temple until she knocks on one of the doors.

You can hear Suguru give a mumbled “come in” before she opens the door, entering before you.

The room is empty, aside from Suguru, with traditional art on the wall and again, candles lit in various portions of the room. He’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room with a bookshelf next to him and a small table in front. Suguru’s reading a book when he looks up, greeting you with his signature, calming smile.

“You can go, Manami,” He states without looking in her direction, to her dismay, you’re sure.

Suguru is in similar attire as you saw him last time; a gold-colored Kaseya over black Yukata robes with white socks on his feet.

Manami pauses for a moment, looking between the two of you before turning her nose up, walking out of the room, and closing the door behind her.

You’re sure she’s probably going to listen in on your conversation from the other side, you’d certainly be tempted to.

“To be honest,” Suguru states, standing from his chair and putting his book away on the bookshelf next to him, “I thought you’d be coming to see me sooner than this.”

“Maybe you don’t remember me as well as you think you do.”

He smirks, “Maybe you’ve picked up a thing or two from Satoru. How is he, by the way?”

“Fine.” You’re trying to answer as nonchalantly as possible, though you’re not sure how well you succeeded based on the knowing smile he gives you, “I’m not here to talk about him.”

“Oh! What are you here to discuss then?”

His voice is amused as he sits back in his chair, leaning on the table in front of him with his palm resting on his chin, waiting for you to continue.

“I just-” You take a deep breath in before clicking your tongue, “I need to see what you do. I need to understand, so I can let you go.”

He chuckles at your vibrato, looking you over carefully, “Very well. If that’s what you think you need, who am I to stop you?” He sighs before standing, placing his book back on the shelf, “I was getting ready to head to a mission myself. You can come along.”

Suguru glides across the room, placing one hand on your waist to hold you close, the other on your chin, forcing you to look up at his Cheshire grin and sharp canines, “You’re gonna need to change. Showing up in your uniform would be very bad for both of us.”

You swallow thickly, nodding your head and giving him an unsure smile, “I didn’t bring anything else to wear.”

“That’s not going to be a problem.”

Suguru calls Manami back in the room and asks her to pick out an outfit for you. She nods and says she’ll find something quickly, huffing when she turns around, catching your eye.

While waiting for Manami to return, take the time to look around the room you’re in, looking over the books and trying to see if you’re able to figure out which one Suguru was likely reading. He watches, quiet, letting you look through any drawers and papers you find - it’s pretty sparse, nothing of any real interest.

It doesn’t take Manami long to come back, a bag in hand opting to hand it to Suguru, rather than you before leaving once again.

Suguru leads you down the hall to another room, a basic bedroom with a large bed in the center, a couch and tv off to one corner, and a small walk-in closet with a bathroom attached. He directs you towards the restroom to change while he goes into the closet.

With Suguru’s seemingly everyday attire being traditional robes, you had anticipated something similar, not the sleek little black dress you pull out of the bag that pinches at your waist perfectly.

As uppity and annoying as Manami may seem, she sure does know how to pick out an outfit, with cute heels to match.

When you emerge from the bathroom you find Suguru standing in front of a full-length mirror with the fabric of a tie loose around his neck as he finishes buttoning up his dress shirt.

He smiles at you from the mirror, eyes trailing up and down the length of your body before stepping away to greet you.

You stiffen slightly when he puts his arm around your waist before relaxing into his touch more than you mean to, “You look beautiful.”

Suguru gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, watching the way your cheeks heat at his compliment.

He looks delicious with his ebony hair falling past his shoulders, a white button-up shirt, and black slacks - similar to what he wore when he showed up at your engagement party. You look away, clearing your throat because you shouldn’t be having these thoughts about him, not at a time like this, not ever.

You shouldn’t have let this go as far as it did either. But the only thing you can try to do is move forward. Make a decision and move on with your life either way.

Suguru takes you to a small cocktail lounge, to your surprise. To be honest, you were expecting more of a dingy warehouse or disgusting basement where he handles his so-called business, not some place so out in the open.

The space is beautiful with dim lighting and the quiet murmurs of patrons already sitting with friends, family, and lovers engrossed in conversation. 

He hasn’t moved his hand from your waist from the moment he placed it there, thumb rubbing small circles on your hip as he keeps you close to him, murmuring in your ear, “Can’t have you wandering off. Who knows who might recognize you.”

“I-Who would recognize me here?”

You’ve certainly never been to this lounge. You didn’t even know it existed until now, but quickly realize there are a few people who glance in your direction as Suguru walks you to the bar, ordering your favorite drink. Some of them seem to be glaring at you or looking at you with disdain, you just look back at them with furrowed brows before turning your attention to Suguru.

It’s easier to make small talk with him as you wait for your drink than think about the implications of coming out in the open with Suguru. If someone who does know you sees you here with him, the higher-ups would instantly brand you as a traitor, and you’re not so sure if Satoru would bother coming to your aid right now.

Satoru has a lot of enemies, you know they’re out there, but you don’t know who they are. Not like he does. And just because you don’t know anyone in this room, it doesn’t mean they don’t know you.

The thought makes your stomach twist as the bartender hands you your drink. You watched him make it the entire time, more nervous than ever that something unwarranted may find its way into the glass.

Not that you really think Suguru would let that happen.

Suguru takes you to a booth, near the back of the lounge. You watch as the patrons in the bar laugh, chit-chat, and smile with the others they came with. There aren’t as many people here as you would expect on a weekend. The bar isn’t filled and most of the tables are empty, with seemingly only one person on staff.

“Don’t be nervous,” Suguru says, grabbing your hand as you lay your glass back on the table.

You look at him with furrowed brows as he plays with the tips of your fingers. It takes you a moment to realize your hand is shaking and goosebumps have prickled themselves all over your skin.

“I just- it feels weird. Being out in public with you. This isn’t what I expected.” You whisper, watching the way his large hand glides over your fingers and up your arm before wrapping it around your shoulder.

“I know.” He places a gentle kiss on your temple and a soft smile graces your lips before a pudgy, sweaty man in a suit takes a seat across from you and Suguru. The suit is at least two sizes too small based on the button in the center of his belly threatening to burst.

The man fumbles around his chest pocket before pulling out a handkerchief, dabbing it on his forehead.

“You’re late,” Suguru states simply, glaring at the man with sharp eyes as you watch him take a seat with a disgruntled look.

“This wasn’t exactly the easiest shit-hole to find,” he spits pulling a cigar out of a tiny case, lighting it, and puffing on it several times, “couldn’t have picked a place with a little more class?”

Suguru chuckles, “Oh, you don’t like it? I thought a cozier environment would suit us better. Or did you want to go to a club so all the patrons could hear about our plans?”

The man blows the smoke from his cigar towards Suguru in annoyance causing you to crinkle your nose and wave your hand in front of your face as you cough slightly. Suguru pulls you in closer to him, the scent of his cologne helping ease the irritation from the smoke.

“I didn’t want to meet in public at all, Geto.”

Suguru hums, “Let's head out back then. The smoke is bothersome anyway.”

Internally you’re talking Suguru so you can be far away from this sleazy man blowing smoke in your face, but you also recognize that Suguru likely has ulterior motives, which makes your stomach churn again.

Suguru takes you by the hand, and your heart flutters as he hooks your arm into his, leading you out the back door to the alleyway of the bar.

This is more of the aesthetic you were expecting. Dark, dingy, and dirty, small cramped space as Suguru says, “You haven’t paid in some time.”

“I don’t trust you,” the man replies, continuing to puff on his cigar, “none of the changes you’ve promised have happened yet.”

“Change in the Jujutus World takes time,” Your ears perk at his comment. You know he has flawed ideals but the fact that he’s still been working towards this insane goal right under everyone’s noses is incredibly unsettling, “Can’t rush perfection, after all.”

“Well, it needs to be rushed. I’ve spent a lot of money on you and your little following.”

You’re nervous, sick to your stomach from their conversation, upset with yourself that you’re here. A willing participant because you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Suguru alone, to let your past lie in the past.

Squeezing your eyes closed and taking a deep breath, you try to settle your nerves and remind yourself that you asked for this. Because you just needed to see how he is, how he’s changed, for better or worse. You just need to know.

Because if you know, if you see him in action and hear his plans you’ll be able to let him go.

You have to, right? He’s a criminal, considered the worst curse user. It’s only logical.

“Were you able to find the sorcerer I requested? The one with the black rope?” Suguru asks calmly.

The twisted feeling in your stomach is getting worse as you look around, listening to their conversation. It’s oddly quiet. No hustle and bustle from the road down the ally, no sound other than the two men talking.

The area surrounding you is tinged and distorted as well. You were so consumed with following Suguru and what his plan was that you didn’t even realize a veil was put up around the bar.

“I did. Somewhere in Africa, maybe Kenya, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll only work for the right price and under the right conditions.”

“That really shouldn’t be a problem,” Suguru smirks, “Don’t worry about paying, you’re no longer of use to me.”

You’re not sure when he got it ready but Suguru now holds a small black sphere, grinning as he releases a giant centipede from the confines of the orb. It slithers across the floor, charging towards the man who screams as he backs away, trying to run out of the ally to the sidewalk.

You know he won’t make it. Even if he manages to get away from this curse somehow, Suguru would find him, no matter what.

Suguru came here tonight prepared to kill the man, whether he gave the information Suguru was looking for or not. It didn’t really matter to him and the realization brings an acidic burn to the base of your throat.

The curse easily catches up to him, coiling its body around the man, squeezing tight.

The muffled screams of the man can be heard as you look away, tears streaming down your cheeks, breath hitching with each crunch of bone as it strangles him. The sound of bones breaking and popping isn’t uncommon in your line of work, but it’s incredibly horrifying when it’s a seemingly innocent man.

It takes everything in you not to scream and run away yourself. Or try to fight Suguru, though you know there’d be no chance of winning.

You’re jittery and anxious and it feels like your world is about to collapse in on itself because now you’ve seen Suguru in action - now you know what he’s fully capable of.

Of course, you knew. You had been told repeatedly of the crimes he committed but part of you still needed to see it in order to believe it.

And what frightens you the most isn’t that he just committed this heinous crime in front of you without a second thought.

It’s that you’re still not afraid of him. That you can’t bring yourself to run, to call Satoru and tell him where you are, what you’ve witnessed, and beg for forgiveness for your part in this.

Your eyes are squeezed closed, fists closed in tight little balls when you feel gentle fingers below your chin turn your head.

Opening your eyes, Suguru stands with gentle eyes and a kind smile and you wonder how he can be so calm about all of this.

You’re supposed to protect those who can’t protect themselves, but you didn’t even try to stop him. You just looked away.

Tears are streaming down your face in quick succession, you’re panicking, hyperventilating, and unable to catch your breath, “y-you just k-killed him. For no reason!”

“He played his part. I didn’t need him anymore.”

“Who was he?”

Suguru eyes you for a moment, clenching his jaw, “Someone who won’t be missed. A weakling, a monkey who had resources and money. Told him if he helped, we’d make a place for him in the new world.”

“So you just killed him?”

“Yes.”

You shake your head, at a loss for words. Even if you knew what you wanted to say, you’re not sure anything would come out. You want to scream and cry and run away but at the same time, you also don’t want to leave.

“You’ve seen enough,” Suguru wipes away a few tears with his thumb. Your eyes are red and puffy and you sniffle several times, “It’s time we get you back home.”

@s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui @saiewithakatana @yihona-san06 @shartnart1 @lilith412426 @ambersea7 @ikilledsparky2 @creolequeen11210 @ichigojamjam @simpfully-heartbroken @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @shan-nein @witchbybirth @myabae @lilacsinjuly @mshope16

[thisisthee-n-d]

Grief Chapter 1 - Shoko

AO3 Link Part 1 of the Iris Series, a fix-it series where Suguru still defects, but reconsiders his options after Gojo shows up on his doorstep one day. Summary: Getou Suguru left Jujutsu Society. His departure did not cut cleanly…Rather it left jagged tears that ached and tore with every reminder, with every ghost of memory that clung to edges of their lives. A snapshot into Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru as they cope after Suguru defects. Chapter Summary: Shoko watches Gojo return from Shinjuku and reflects.

Satoru’s grief was a quiet affair…much to Shoko’s surprise. 

He was always so boisterous, so energetic, so…annoying, that she expected him to go off the rails entirely when Geto’s (because that’s who he was now, not Suguru; probably never Suguru again for all she cared) actions came to light. She expected to see a story on the news about some massive explosion or something equally dramatic, but nothing. Instead, Satoru came home, silently, almost slinking through campus like an abused dog. Only reason she even noticed his return was because she’d been perched on a windowsill facing the school entrance, a lit cigarette pinched between her lips. 

He walked up the stairs without any of his usual flair, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders were hunched forward, his head tilted down towards the walkway. The wind tousled strands of his stark white hair, the usual messy locks tugged up into actual spikes, likely evidence of fingers raking through the disorganized mop. She shifted on the window, the wood creaking beneath her weight, but he didn’t even look up. He knew she was there. He had to know. But he didn’t bother to lift his head even in greeting. Her lips tightened around her cigarette, smoke curling up from its tip. 

This felt wrong, so unbearably wrong. Unease burned like acid at her stomach, stung with each breath of smoke-infused air. Sighing, she leaned back, her head thudding against the edge of the window. But what could she do anyway? This was Satoru’s problem to work through. He’d figure it out. He was strong enough. He was the strongest for a reason.

She paused, her brows drawing together. 

He was the strongest…?

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Satoru was still just a man. A man with emotions just like anybody else. 

The cigarette burned down to nothing as she sat there, staring, her hand lifting to pluck the remnants from her lips and drop it onto the ground below with a disappointed sigh. Her eyes slipped closed, mouth tasting of ash. The doors to the school creaked open and closed, the sound echoing loud in the silence that had blanketed over everything. It was as if the world had gone on pause…so as to not burden one who had lost so much. 

Her eyes drifted open, the sky a bright blue overhead without even a single cloud to blemish its perfection. Grief, huh? Yea, she supposed that was a good description for this thick feeling clinging to each of her thoughts. Loss was loss…no matter if said person was living or not. Releasing a slow breath, she sat up, hair spilling down from where it’d been tucked behind her ear. The room beside hers was silent. 

“This sucks,” she muttered, reaching up to rub at her aching eyes with nicotine-stained fingers. 

Well…she supposed she’d just have to look out for him now. Someone had to, now that she was the only one left who could. 

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding just behind tense lips. Anger burned deep in her chest despite the calm façade she preferred to show to the world, an anger that burned for herself, for Satoru, for the gaping hole left behind by Geto’s departure. For Geto refusing to talk to her about anything that had any meaning whatsoever. For Satoru leaving them both in the dust as he coped from a failure and a loss in the only way he knew how. 

For this world for setting so much weight on the back of mere teenagers. 

So yea, she was angry. So incredibly angry. But what could she even do with that anger? She was a healer, not a fighter. Geto was gone and she was furious with him, but she had to keep pushing on regardless. Cuz the world kept moving, the sun kept shining, the birds kept singing their soft melodies on the wind. She swung her legs back inside the room, shoulders slumping over briefly. Her hands gripped the edge of the windowsill, the wood groaning beneath her fingers. 

Behind her, a courtyard sprawled out, empty and alone. A corner of it was flecked with ash and cigarette remains, despite their attempts to hide the evidence of their shared habit. She could still hear laughter ringing in her ears as they milled about, smoke thick in the air and stories swelling with each breath. That smile…so bright and happy. He hadn’t looked like that when she saw him in Shinjuku, with his cheeks hollow and his smile wan. 

He hadn’t looked like that in a while if she was being honest with herself. 

She’d tried to help. God knows she tried. But he refused her any time she offered, their smoke breaks fading into silence and haze. 

Eventually, he’d stopped coming altogether. 

Huffing, she stood, fishing around in her pockets for her lighter, the lighter Geto had given her, and slammed it down onto her counter. The plastic creaked and shattered, the fluid leaking out onto the marble surface. 

It gleamed red in the sunset.

“That fucking asshole…making us clean up his mess like he has nothing to do with all this…When I get my hands on him one day…he’s going to regret all this…”

She stepped away from the counter, the lighter fluid dripping from her fingers like blood from an open wound. But she paid it no mind. Sure that’d been her only lighter, but oh well. 

She’d have to go out and buy a new one at some point…so why not make that time now? 

[ao3feed-nanago]

delayed gratification; delayed pain.

by cadejos He just wanted to be home now. He hated these after-work gatherings, and hated that there was a social expectation set upon him to have them, even if he liked to drink. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until a nudge from Takahashi startled him from his hardly-conscious trance. He blinked at his coworker, who waved at the waitress, who bowed apologetically and hastily explained that someone had offered to pay for his tab. *** Or, Gojo and Geto reach out to Nanami a few years after he retires from sorcery and decides to work as a salaryman. They have no ulterior expectations other than checking up on him, or so they claim. Words: 11507, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento, Getou Suguru/Nanami Kento, Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Star Plasma Vessel | Hidden Inventory Arc (Jujutsu Kaisen), Nanami Kento-centric, Getou Suguru Lives, Getou Suguru Does Not Leave Jujutsu Tech, Getou Suguru Does Not Defect From Jujutsu Society, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Past Haibara Yu/Nanami Kento, Salaryman Nanami Kento, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M, Established Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, but not really focused on - Freeform, geto and gojo integrate nanami into their weird little thing because they can, Soft Nanami Kento, Bottom Nanami Kento, Top Getou Suguru, Elevator Nonsense, Gojo Satoru is a Menace, Nanami Kento Needs a Hug, Top Gojo Satoru, Spitroasting, Sloppy Seconds, Needy Gojo Satoru via https://ift.tt/gK1O0Sv

[skelemen]

ruined strawberries

I had an incident with some strawberries yesterday, so I wrote this in order to channel the emotions and stop being so upset about it. I originally posted this on AO3, and you can find it here. 

Relationship: Geto Suguru/Gojo Satoru Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Ieiri Shoko, Nanami Kento mention, Yaga Masamichi mention, Geto’s parents mention, Itadori mention, Megumi mention, Nobara mention Tags: Angst and Feels, Gojo Satoru-centric, Light fluff that gets ruined by the angst or by Satoru not understanding other people, Students Satoru and Suguru, Canon Compliant, Geto still defects, Both of them repress their feelings, Ends on a happy-ish note, Not Beta Read

Summary: The summer after his first year at Jujutsu High, Satoru realized that he missed the strawberries back home with the Gojo Clan.

The summer after his second year, Satoru ruined the candied strawberries that Suguru made.

The summer after his third year, Satoru stops eating strawberries for a while.

The summer after his first year at Jujutsu High, Satoru realized that he missed the strawberries back home with the Gojo Clan. There was always a bowl of them lying around for him to grab from whenever he wanted, fingers sticky with the juices that covered him whenever he got away with eating a handful before a servant could clean him up. It was worth the scolding he would always receive.

The heir of the Gojo Clan should always look presentable!

He didn’t care much for what other people said to him. One day he would make all the rules because he was the strongest sorcerer to exist, and he would eat as many strawberries as he wanted.

Then Satoru left the empty Gojo Clan to attend Jujutsu High, and he forgot about the strawberries altogether. It was as if they didn’t exist since he never saw them around campus. Ieiri hated sweet things, and Geto never bought nice things for himself like expensive fruit. The three of them barely survived their first year because none of them knew how to actually cook. Ieiri tried and nearly burnt down their dorms, promptly banned by Yaga from ever cooking again. Satoru didn’t even know where to start because the Gojo Clan servants always cooked for him and his family. And Suguru was their last hope, who slowly improved over time due to necessity.

He didn’t return back to the clan after his first year as expected of him, not caring to be stuck in that stifling estate for weeks until he could return to the dorms. Yaga gave him permission to stay, shocked by Satoru even requesting such a thing. Satoru didn’t care though and rushed back to the dorms in an incredible mood, and he found Suguru standing over the stove preparing dinner for the three first years.

“Suguru!” Satoru called out as soon as he saw him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and jostling the shorter teen. A hand placed firmly over his face pushed him away from Suguru and held him that distance away despite Satoru trying to get closer.

“Stop being annoying just because you’re in a good mood,” Suguru grumbled, stirring the pot in front of him with his other hand. The smell wafting out of it had Satoru practically drooling, wanting to eat as soon as possible. “What’s up?”

Satoru relented from trying to hang off of Suguru and instead hopped on the countertop despite the other teen’s protests. Suguru could only choose one: either Satoru hung off him or Satoru sat on the counter. Suguru knew this as well, so he himself relented and waited to listen.

“Yaga says I don’t have to go home over the summer, which means I can hang out with you the whole time!” He said, kicking his feet back and forth with his restlessness. “I’ve already started making plans for us.”

“Please don’t,” Suguru sighed under his breath.

He stared at Suguru over the rim of his sunglasses, even adding a pout to the mix. The pout only increased whenever Suguru refused to look at him. Satoru knew he didn’t really mean it, especially not after all the hard work he did to thaw out the ice king that was Geto Suguru. Slowly, he reached out a hand to try and poke the other teen in the cheek, but Suguru smacked his hand with the wooden spoon he was using before there was any contact.

“Admit it,” Satoru said, licking the sauce off his hand and hopping off the counter. “You’re going to have the best summer of your life.”

Despite the sauce being extremely delicious, it left Satoru craving something sweet to balance out his taste buds. So he moved over to the fridge to find something to snack on while he waited for dinner to be finished.

“Get out of there, you’re going to ruin your appetite,” Suguru scolded. “I’m not cooking all of this to enjoy by myself.”

“But I’m hungry Suguru,” he moaned dramatically, draping himself along the edge of the fridge door. “I need something sweet.”

“No, you do not. Close the fridge before you waste all the cold air.”

Once again he pouted at Suguru, which went ignored, but he complied and closed the fridge door. As soon as it closed though, he yanked it open again with enough force to make the items in the door rattle around. He ignored Suguru’s protests to lean into the fridge and grab something from the very back, tucked behind everything else as if it were supposed to be hidden.

He pulled the container out with both hands and held it over his head like a trophy he won, his good day only getting better. Because held above his head was a box of beautiful, bright red strawberries.

“Look!” Satoru cried out, holding them toward Suguru to see. “There’s strawberries! Oh, I’m going to eat so many of these.”

Before Suguru could say anything, Satoru moved away from the kitchen and to the dining room table to open up the container, unaware of the way Suguru chased after him and abandoned the food on the stove.

“Oh, I used to eat these all the time back home and-” He said while pulling out a chair to sit down.

“Yeah, I know.” Then the strawberries were snatched from in front of him in the blink of an eye, and Satoru continued to blink up at Suguru in confusion until he explained, “You can’t eat these.”

“Why not?” Satoru asked, letting his chin drop into the palm of his hand in disappointment.

Suguru huffed out a breath, looking away a few times before finally saying, “Because they were expensive, and I bought them as a surprise for you because you mentioned it a few months ago.”

“Mentioned what?” He was even more confused by Suguru’s explanation, especially when the other teen’s ears started to turn a shade of red that matched the strawberries in his hands.

“Four months ago when we went on that mission with Ieiri, you mentioned how strawberries were your favorite part about summers,” Suguru mumbled, fingers tightening on the container he was holding. “So I was going to make you candied strawberries to take home with you. Forget it, it’s stupid and you aren’t going home anyway.”

Suguru dropped the strawberries back onto the table carelessly enough that the container fell onto its side and spilled out. One of the strawberries almost fell off the table, but Satoru shot out a hand to catch it before it could. He looked up with confusion, eyes following Suguru over the rim of his sunglasses while the other teen went back to cooking.

“If you say so,” Satoru replied enthusiastically, unaware that Suguru didn’t truly think it was stupid. Unaware that Suguru had wanted it to be a surprise. Unaware that it was important to Suguru to give the candied strawberries to him.

He ate more than half of the strawberries in the container before he realized it, and his fingers were left sticky afterward. Suguru was hunched over the stove still whenever he put the strawberries away, fingers leaving a trail of sticky sugar everywhere he touched. Satoru didn’t notice the look on Suguru’s face whenever he left with a request to be called back for dinner, promising he would still eat whatever Suguru cooked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The summer after his second year, Satoru didn’t request to stay on campus for the break because Suguru went back home – so Satoru went with him. It took a lot of pestering to convince Suguru to let him tag along, and at first he thought that Suguru would never agree. Eventually, he did, explaining that it was his parents that required the convincing and not him.

Satoru didn’t know what to expect Suguru’s childhood home to look like, but it wasn’t the small apartment packed into a multi-story building of other people’s apartments. His parents were kind enough, bowing to him repeatedly as if he was the one who held the most respect instead of them. Satoru wondered what all Suguru told his parents, but he never found out. They only stayed for a week before Suguru couldn’t take anymore and said they were going back to campus.

On one of the days there, Satoru perched on the edge of Suguru’s bed with his chin resting on his knees. He watched as Suguru leaned against the wall next to his open bedroom window, smoking a cigarette but not wanting his parents to see. Whenever Satoru questioned why they wouldn't smell it anyway, Suguru shrugged half-heartedly.

“You woke up early this morning,” Satoru mused quietly, picking at a loose thread on his pants.

“I went to get groceries for the house,” Suguru replied, letting out a harsh sigh afterward. “Mom didn’t have enough money.”

“What?” Satoru asked, looking up at Suguru fully. His white eyebrows furrowed together, and he didn’t know if it were the sun finally shining on Suguru’s face or his six eyes finally letting him see past the cursed energy, but he swore there were dark circles under the other teen’s eyes. “If your family needs money, I-”

Suguru threw the still lit cigarette out the window and cut him off by saying, “You’re not giving them any money. Don’t worry about it.”

Then he grabbed Satoru’s wrist and pulled until the lanky teen was standing, then he continued to pull until they were standing in the tiny kitchen of Suguru’s house. Satoru was still surprised that this counted as a kitchen, thinking over how it had to be smaller than his closet at the Gojo Clan estate.

Halfway in the fridge, Suguru moved things around that Satoru couldn’t see. It took long enough that he began to rock back and forth on his feet and look around the rest of the place. Suguru’s parents weren’t anywhere to be seen, so Satoru could only assume that they were at work or out running errands.

“Here,” Suguru finally said, pulling a tray of something out and setting it on the counter. “I had to hide them in case you got nosy whenever you woke up.” Satoru made an offended noise, but he still laughed anyway. Suguru knew him too well.

The other teen moved out of the way to reveal a few skewers sitting on the tray, candied strawberries shining under the kitchen light. Satoru’s mouth started to drool immediately at the sight of them, and he reached out a hand to grab one. It was promptly swatted away by Suguru, who tsked at him in disappointment.

“You haven’t had breakfast or lunch yet. Candied strawberries are not going to be the first thing you eat.”

Satoru pouted, as expected, but Suguru simply moved about the kitchen in the process of making them a simple lunch. He suggested instant ramen so that he could get to the candied strawberries faster, but Suguru complained about wanting an actual meal. And he left the strawberries out on the counter to tempt him.

He had an idea of how to get the treats faster, which initiated him doing his best to annoy Suguru. They both laughed at his antics, and Suguru would push him away every now and then whenever Satoru spent too much time in his personal space.

“Satoru, please. I’m going to burn this,” Suguru said while laughing, doing nothing to truly discourage Satoru from continuing. When he pushed Satoru away this time, he exerted a little bit too much force, causing Satoru to trip over his foot and stumble backward to catch himself. However, the object he attempted to catch himself on was not sturdy at all. In fact, it lifted up in the air and sent something flying at the same time that Satoru landed on his ass with his head hitting the edge of the fridge.

“Owww! Suguru, why are you so-?”

His words cut off whenever he looked up from rubbing at his head and noticed the look on Suguru’s face. Satoru followed his line of vision and found the source of the distress.

The things that had gone flying through the air were the candied strawberries that Suguru spent all morning making while Satoru slept comfortably in his bed. He didn’t even know how long it took the other teen, but it clearly must have taken a lot of work if he was going to cry over it.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Satoru apologized, already on his hands and knees trying to pick up the treats. He noticed that there were some small pieces of crumbs or dirt or dust or– He honestly wasn’t sure what it was, but he began to blow on the strawberries to try and clean them off. “I can clean them, don’t-”

“Satoru, it’s okay. Just throw them out. We’ll pick some up later,” Suguru replied, voice almost echoing with how hollow it sounded to Satoru. He turned back to the food he was cooking for the two of them without another word, and Satoru was pretty sure his best friend’s eyes were shining more than usual.

It couldn’t have been because he was going to cry, could it?

They never picked up more candied strawberries before they returned to campus, but Satoru couldn’t find it in him to bring it up since it was his fault for ruining it in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The summer after his third year, Satoru was too busy to go back home now that he had started to fully step into the power granted by his Limitless and Six Eyes. Over the past year, he didn’t notice the distance that grew between him and Suguru until it was too late – until he was standing in the middle of the street watching Suguru walk away while he debated whether or not to kill his one and only best friend.

He was alone again before he even realized it. He would rather be alone in the comfort of his own dorm rather than back at the Gojo Clan estate having servants bothering him endlessly. Instead, he just had Shoko to bother him.

“Where have you been?” She asked, sitting at the dining room table and smoking a cigarette. He’s always hated the smell of them indoors, but she stopped listening to his complaints whenever he started spending more time on missions than on the campus. In reality, he hated that she had been the one to make Suguru start smoking. It meant they smoked the same brand.

“Where do you think? On a mission,” Satoru replied, slumping down into a chair across from her. “Yaga still refuses to let Nanami go out on his own.”

“How’d that go?”

Satoru only shrugged in response, putting his feet up on the table and leaning back in his chair. She knew the answer anyway – it always went his way. He stared up at the ceiling through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, trying to ignore the flares of cursed energy that he could see for miles whenever he looked anywhere else. His Six Eyes caught the blame for all of his recent headaches and exhaustion. It had to be because the technique was getting stronger and not for any other reason such as being depressed over Suguru defecting.

“Well, I got you something to help cheer you up,” Shoko told him, leaning forward to put her cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. She stood up and stretched her arms out with a soft groan, and she probably sat there waiting on him for a few hours. “Enjoy your gift, it was expensive. It’s in the fridge, but I have to get going. The bed in my apartment is calling my name.” As she put her shoes back on, she continued, “You should hurry up and get your own place. Stop freeloading just because Yaga feels bad for you.”

She left before he could stop her, and Satoru sighed in the knowledge that he would be stuck in the empty dorm for the rest of the summer until he got his own place. He didn’t see the point when the majority of his time was spent on missions, handling everything that was too difficult for others all on his own.

It was mainly his decision to do so, needing something to keep his mind busy that didn’t involve going back to the Gojo Clan estate. He was begged to return and take care of things, and he could only get away with avoiding it for so long. That meant he would continue to do so until he had no other choice.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone about his third year. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about how he was the strongest sorcerer now. They wouldn’t understand anyway. To everyone else, he was always the strongest and there was never anyone that could compare. To Satoru, there had been someone.

With another sigh he got up from his seat at the table, cursing himself for letting his mind drift to his best friend anyway. Satoru moved to the fridge, bending down now that he had grown a bit taller. When he saw what was sitting on the top shelf, he froze instantly. Because in front of him was a basket of strawberries, really nice strawberries at that. It was a kind of quality that the Gojo Clan would have purchased.

He closed the fridge door anyway. He needed to find himself an apartment to rent while he was still in town and not on a mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satoru forgot about the strawberries in the dorm fridge, and Shoko never asked about them again. Both of them had moved out and into their own places, so the only person to find them would have been whoever cleaned out the dorm.

Years later, Satoru buys himself candied strawberries from a street vendor, humming to himself with a smile on his face. He can hear the new first years arguing somewhere nearby, and he motions to the vendor that he wants to purchase another three skewers.

Holding two skewers in each hand, Satoru hurries back to the first years and yells out, “Oh, first years! I have a treat for youuuu.”

Megumi, Itadori, and Nobara turn to look at him, all wearing various expressions at the news. Itadori quickly rushes over to him, giving him a ferocious hug to thank him for the snack, making Satoru laugh. He quickly hands out the skewers to his students, thoughts not straying to the lost strawberries in the past for the first time in years.

[lxmelle]

On the 1 year anniversary of chapter 236 dropping...

I wish I had some worthy-of-posting artwork to share (I don’t - they’re crap). My post 236 fics are still in the revision stage.

I’m unprepared.

But I’ll post something I may or may not have inserted and buried in one of my ramblings:

Geto was moved to tears to hear that Gojo felt that way about him in 236 ✈️ tells me that he likely never received pure acceptance / love before up until that point.

In fact, not many of us have IRL. You’d know if you experienced it for yourself. It is rare. It would move you to the core.

Like Gojo, his “family” didn’t know the full, authentic version of him. Gojo had a hidden side to him too. They both masked their true feelings. This was the burden of the strong... nobody could relate and they got used to it.

They had a side to them that only the other knew. So only with the other’s acceptance could they feel satisfied as their whole selves.

For Gojo, it is the unwavering pure love from Geto, summed up with: as long as you’re satisfied, I’m glad. (You’re important & I accept you).

For Geto: if you were there (You’re important & I accept you).

It is Unconditional. Complete. Whole. Absolute Pure Love, regardless of what & how they lived their lives.

Feeling it at the end would move a person to tears if they lived never expecting it like Geto did (he thought they fought).

A person would remember it forevermore / be changed by it if it they never expected to receive it like Gojo did in his youth (青春). Someone loved him more than what he could do for them. It wasn’t enough to be strong to keep Geto from defecting. He couldn’t stop him. Like the setting of the sun... as the light novel phrased it. Geto values him as a person and Gojo responded to that love. Honouring it.

Love. Was a curse. Because it was painful. But it was meaningful. Love had meaning. Purpose. Beyond oneself. It would survive in fragments long after a person has died.

And:

What a gift to receive the person you’ve longed for the most at the end of your journey. Salvation. Thank you Gege.

For Gojo, thinking he would die alone... to be greeted with the person he wanted to save the most & shaped his worldview. The person he spent his life thinking he’d been left behind by because of an oversight in his youth.

And for Geto who lived a life tolerating his CT, loving others but being blind to love directed at him, to hear someone as objective as Gojo treasuring him... seeing him. For who he was.

They saw each other for who they were.

What a rarity...

Their ❤️ was sublime.

I’m in awe of it. Truly.

Thank you for reading.

[goldenjuniper]

oh man oh man .

i think that gojo didn’t really realize (or even see the need to discern) what his feelings for geto were, but he fully believed that the two of them were always going to be together, that the two of them were a constant. that’s why he has the umbrella: he has full confidence in the fact that geto is going to be waiting for him, going to be there for him when he arrives no matter how long he takes to get there.

you could also tie in geto’s impatience to his mentality post-star plasma vessel incident: gojo has his cursed techniques (his umbrella) to fall back on, so he’s practically invincible; he isn’t operating on the same timetable as everyone else and he expects it to be the same for geto, cause they’re the strongest. but geto doesn’t have an umbrella. he doesn’t have that same certainty; he’s almost died before, and he’s already lost his best friend once.

the rain could symbolize their chance at realizing a romantic relationship together, but it could also just be a measure of the time they had left before either one of them was lost. in this scenario, by the time the rain cleared, geto had already defected in hopes to stop that from happening.

truly awful stuff. i hate gege akutami.

the op of jjk season 2 is rife with symbolism. there's one particular motif, however, that foreshadows the trajectory (and tragedy) of gojo and geto's love story.

almost immediately, we see geto running through the rain. the stylistic choice to portray him holding his bag over his head is deliberate, because it emphasizes what he conspicuously doesn’t have but so clearly needs: an umbrella.

gojo, on the other hand, is not operating with the same sense of urgency, seen through him taking his time looking at a cat. gojo has what geto needs, but he's not rushing. their behaviour is incongruous; geto is hurrying to get out of the rain, and gojo remains still, because he’s absolutely not hurrying at all.

the sense of urgency is compounding, seen through geto bouncing his leg. he’s waiting impatiently in the rain, and he's not using his bag to cover up his head anymore. geto knows gojo is coming; that's why he's impatient— because he's waiting for someone who has what he needs that hasn’t shown up yet.

geto needs him, yet gojo doesn’t pick up the pace. this is despite the fact that he needs to because it’s raining and geto doesn’t have an umbrella. we, as the audience, feel geto's impatience and we're urging gojo on, yet he still doesn't go any faster.

sharing an umbrella is an established trope in japan. it’s widely recognized and practiced enough to have its own designated terminology.

gojo is bringing an umbrella for them to share. that's why it’s repeatedly reinforced to the audience that geto doesn't have one. that’s also why the shots cut between them; it highlights what gojo has that geto doesn’t, and in doing so, ties the narrative together through the umbrella.

by the time gojo finally shows up, the sun has come out. gojo lowers the umbrella and smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. contrarily, geto almost seems resigned, like he’s accepted the fact that gojo took too long. they can’t share the umbrella anymore because they missed their chance to use it.

we can see that geto is saying something to gojo when he finally shows up with the umbrella. you know what i would bet actual money it probably was?

“you’re late, satoru.”