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simplygojo · 2 months ago

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The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 7

Authors Note: GUYS my laptop crashed last night I am SO SORRY! But now its out and ready for y'all to read it...this chapter is lowkey like a filler episode but it was necessaryyy! Also y'all are so funny messaging me after I posted that this chapter would be up in 2hrs and then I was MIA, LMAO! Anyways, I LOVE Y'ALL <3 lemme know how you like it :)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: mention of d*eath, nightmares, pain, protective satoru

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Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @simplyyyuji; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; if you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know by leaving a comment :)

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat. “For the safety of all sorcerers, y/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

A silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. Yaga’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. Utahime’s face was pale, her jaw set in anger and disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re going to kill her for something she hasn’t done? Based on hearsay from a cursed spirit? This isn’t justice—this is murder!”

Gakuganji’s gaze didn’t waver, and his words didn’t hesitate. “This is protection.”

Yaga’s voice was a low growl. “This is cowardice.”

Utahime stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she turned to Gakuganji, eyes blazing. “Do you really think Gojo is going to stand by and let this happen? You’re sentencing her to death, and you know damn well he won’t allow it.”

Naobito’s smirk widened. “Let him try. No one is above the rules. Not even him.”

Yaga stepped forward again, fists trembling with barely contained rage. “This isn’t over. There’s still time to change your minds.”

But Gakuganji remained unmoved. “The decision is final. The execution will proceed as ordered.”

Yaga’s shoulders sagged, a mixture of anger and helplessness washing over him. Utahime stood frozen, eyes filled with disbelief, before she turned and stormed out of the room, unable to bear it any longer.

As the doors slammed behind her, the weight of their decision settled over the room like a shroud. Yaga stayed behind for a moment, his eyes burning into Gakuganji’s, before he finally turned on his heel and left.

The clock was ticking. And now, the countdown to your execution had begun.

—

Gojo was walking down the hall, on his way to meet with the second-year students for training. He was flipping through something on his phone when Utahime turned the corner in a hurry, her face twisted with anger and urgency.

"Satoru!" she shouted, her voice sharp and breathless. "We need to talk. Now."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "Utahime, is there a spider in your equipment locker?" He teased her, not yet understanding the severity of the situation.

Her glare could cut through steel, but there was no time for banter. "They’ve ordered y/n's execution."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His smile faltered, slipping away completely as her speech sank in. His heart did a sharp, painful pang in his chest, the kind he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Execution.

For a split second, he said nothing, and Utahime watched his playful facade crumble as the realization settled in. His eyes widened with fear as his emotions bubbled up inside him.

“They—what?” His voice was dangerously low now, barely concealing the anger simmering beneath. His fingers curled tightly into fists, drawing blood which dripped onto the wooden floor. “Who?”

"Gakuganji. The higher-ups. The clan leaders. They’ve decided she’s too much of a threat, and they have sentenced her to death—by the end of the week," Utahime replied, her tone desperate but harsh. "I came to tell you as soon as they decided. We have to do something, she doesn’t deserve to die…"

Gojo’s mind raced, but the burning anger inside him was sharper than anything else. "Of course, they did," he muttered, and forced a bitter laugh. "They really think they can get away with this again, don’t they?"

Utahime watched him closely, worry flickering in her eyes. "You can’t just charge in there, Gojo. You need to be smart about this."

Utahime’s words still rang in his ears—execution—but all he could see was red.

He had faced cursed spirits, fought beings that would bring terror to most, but the idea that they thought they could kill you? That they believed they could take you from him—from this world, was nothing short of absurd.

His mind was made up. He wouldn’t waste time marching down corridors—with the clap of his hands, space bent around him.

The familiar sensation of teleportation washed over him, and in a blink, the meeting room came into sharp focus.

—

The room was exactly as Utahime had left it earlier—Gakuganji, Naobito, and the other higher-ups still seated, discussing plans that would never come to actuality.

They barely had a moment to react before Gojo materialized before them, his presence sucking the air out of the room.

The tension was immediate.

All eyes snapped to him, the weight of his overwhelming power pressing down on every corner of the room. Gakuganji, seated at the head of the table, locked eyes with Gojo, his face hardening.

"Gojo," Gakuganji began, but Gojo cut him off.

"You made a decision without consulting me. You actually think you can kill her?" Gojo’s voice was ice, sharp and dangerous. His sunglasses were now his hand, and his anger-filled eyes scanned the room.

Naobito shifted in his seat, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "You’re too late. The decision is final. Even you—"

"Shut up, idiot." Gojo snapped, his voice a razor's edge. His gaze was cold and unyielding. "You think this is about rules? You think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you people are all cowards, I’m not worried about dealing with you."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, like the calm before a storm. The pressure of Gojo’s Infinity (which he was amplifying on purpose) began to fill the space, growing heavier, suffocating, pushing down on the higher-ups until they could barely breathe.

Gakuganji, for all his pride and authority, felt it too—a bone-deep fear creeping up his spine.

"I’m not asking you to reconsider," Gojo continued, his tone terrifyingly calm. "I’m telling you. This execution order? It’s not happening. If you try to go through with it, I’ll personally make sure that none of you live through that day."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Naobito, usually one to revel in conflict, remained quiet, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of his chair.

Gakuganji’s voice, however, remained steady, though there was a hint of something less certain beneath the surface.

"Gojo, you’re walking a dangerous line. You may be powerful, but even you can’t defy the entire jujutsu world! The consequences—"

"Consequences?" Gojo let out a bitter laugh. "You really don’t get it, do you?”

His words lingered, thick with intent, and the threat was real. Everyone in the room knew it.

Gakuganji, Naobito, all the higher-ups—they may have held their positions for years, but no one, not even them, was foolish enough to believe they could challenge Gojo and come out alive.

For a moment, Gakuganji held his ground, his gaze locked with Gojo’s.

But Gojo didn’t flinch. His cursed energy was a crackling storm, barely contained, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. One wrong word, one defiant move, and he would obliterate them all without hesitation.

"You may be strong, Gojo," Gakuganji finally said, his voice low and measured, "but strength alone doesn’t make you invincible. Y/n is dangerous. If her power continues to grow unchecked—"

"Her power isn’t the problem here," Gojo interrupted again, stepping forward. The very air seemed to ripple around him, warping with the sheer force of his presence.

"You’re just scared of what you don’t understand. But killing her won’t solve anything. You did the same thing with Okkotsu and Itadori. How has that been working out for you, hmm?"

Naobito scoffed, but even he didn’t meet Gojo’s gaze.

"And what would you do, then? Let her walk free while her cursed energy spirals out of control? What happens when she becomes a threat to all of us? We don’t even know what she is—A special-grade curse addressed her directly, that will not go unnoticed!"

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

"I’ll deal with her. Not you. Not any of you cowards. Me." His voice dropped, lower and more menacing than before.

The room grew even quieter, the weight of Gojo’s declaration pressing down on the higher-ups like a physical force.

"And if you do not cancel, or at least defer her execution?" Gojo continued, his smile returning, but this time it was pure danger, laced with the promise of violence. "I’m siding with y/l/n."

He turned and began walking slowly towards the door. Before leaving, he paused, casting one last look over his shoulder, his voice dripping with promise.

"Consider this your only warning. Try to execute her, and there won’t be a Jujutsu world left to follow your orders."

And with that, he left the room.

—

Gojo stalked down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps drowned out by the whirlpool of thoughts crashing in his mind.

The faint light from the overhead lamps reflected off the polished wood floors, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls, but Gojo was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the world around him. It was rare for him to be in this state—this quiet, this uncertain.

For someone as powerful as him, doubt wasn’t something he entertained often. But now, that doubt gnawed at him, an insidious presence that had wormed its way into his mind.

Execution. By the end of the week.

The words rattled around in his skull like a curse of their own, echoing with a cold finality he couldn’t shake.

No matter how many times he tried to reason his way out of it, the same truth remained: they had sentenced her to death.

You.

He let out a sharp breath, his chest tightening painfully as his mind spiralled.

Gojo was many things—arrogant, cocky, reckless—but he was not naive. He knew exactly how the higher-ups operated. He had dealt with their politics, their cowardice, their obsession with control for years—he dealt with Itadori’s execution sentence and Okkotsu’s…But this? This was different.

His usual air of ease and invincibility felt strained, replaced by a heaviness he wasn’t used to carrying. The decision of the higher-ups was gnawing at him, and for the first time in years, he felt... uncertain.

As he rounded the corner, lost in thought, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Satoru?"

The soft sound of his name pulled him from his thoughts, and his heart skipped a beat as his worried eyes met yours.

The way you said ‘Satoru’ just now, gentle and familiar, struck something deep inside him. When his eyes met yours his heart fluttered again—-there you stood, your eyes bright, practically sparkling in the dimly lit hallway.

He felt a pang in his chest that caught him off guard like a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until now. But your gaze—those sparkling eyes—seemed to hold the light, a warmth he hadn’t truly appreciated before.

‘When did I start noticing such small things about her?’ He thought to himself.

The smile he plastered on was instinctual, a façade to hide the turmoil inside. "Hey," he greeted, his voice lighter than how he felt. "What brings you here? Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?"

But you weren’t fooled, not even for a second. Your eyes narrowed, observing him with that sharp intuition you always possessed, though a soft, breathy laugh escaped your lips. "Hey…is everything okay? You looked like a dear in headlights for a second there."

Your words pierced through the casual wall he had built up, and he felt exposed under your gaze.

You could read him too well. It didn’t help that this was the first time you’d crossed paths since that moment on the bench, heightening the already charged tension between you.

He tried to brush it off, letting out a short laugh. "Wrong? Nah, everything’s fine. I’m just, you know, dealing with the usual—saving the world, being ridiculously good-looking, that sort of thing."

Another breathy laugh left your mouth. Your eyes softened as your gaze met his again, your presence grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. "Are you sure? Please don’t lie to me—there is already so much going on…"

For a moment, Gojo stood there, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat.

His instinct was to shield you from the truth, to protect you from the weight of what was looming ahead. But looking into your eyes, he couldn’t lie to you—not about this.

His smile faded, and for the first time, you saw the worry etched in his expression.

"The higher-ups," he started, his voice quieter now, "they’ve made a decision. One that... involves you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but the concern on your face grew. "What do you mean? What decision?"

Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"They’ve ordered your execution," he said, the words heavy on his tongue. "By the end of the week."

The hallway seemed to grow colder as the gravity of his words sank in. Your eyes widened, the colour draining from your face as you felt your stomach drop.

"Execution? But... why? I haven’t done anything—"

"I know." Gojo’s voice was firm, his gaze locking with yours again.

"This isn’t about what you’ve done. They’re scared of what you might do, what your power could become. It’s all paranoia and fear—they do this a lot—and they’re using it as an excuse to get rid of you before they even understand."

You took a shaky breath, and your hands trembled slightly. "And—um—you’re telling me this because...?"

"Because I won’t let it happen," he said, stepping closer, his voice growing sharper with intensity.

"They think they can decide people’s fates like this—this is the third time they've tried to dictate when someone’s life ends, and I’m done with it. I’ll protect you—those cowards can’t beat me."

For a moment, you just stared at him, your emotions swirling beneath the surface—fear, confusion, but also trust.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I believe you."

Gojo felt that pang again, a deeper one now, knowing what he had to do to keep you safe. The stakes were higher than ever, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how this would end. But as long as you were involved, he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t let you face this alone.

And he wouldn’t let them take your youth away.

—

The night was still, but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. You sat at the edge of your bed, the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting pale shadows on the walls. Every thought seemed to tighten the knot in your chest.

‘How could I stop this?’ You thought, with your execution day looming over you like a dark cloud, suffocating every plan you tried to form. Running wasn’t an option… was it?

You clenched your fists, your knuckles white. Each idea seemed to spiral into a dead end, no matter how much you turned it over.

Could you appeal to the higher-ups? Or should you run before the inevitable happened? Each option left you trapped—an inescapable fate drawing closer as your chest began to tighter with each failed idea.

Finally, exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids, pulling you into sleep. But sleep wasn’t an escape—The nightmare returned.

This time, it was different—darker, more vivid.

You were back in the forest, the same one from that night. The air was thick, suffocating, pressing down on your skin like a weight.

Soon enough you felt the pain creeping in slowly, building in the pit of your stomach until it felt like fire burning through your esophagus. You stumbled forward, struggling to breathe as the searing heat spread through your limbs. But then… you saw him.

The figure from the dream wasn’t a blur anymore. His face was clear.

He wore a long, dark robe, his black hair tied back loosely. His appearance was calm, almost serene, but there was something sinister in the way he carried himself.

His robes shifted slightly in the wind, the wide sleeves brushing against his side. A slow, sickening smile spread across his lips, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the pounding in your head, the pain radiating through your body. It felt like your bones were cracking under the weight of his presence.

The agony became unbearable, and you screamed—high and desperate.

Your eyes flew open, and you shot upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat.

The scream had escaped your throat, ragged and raw. Your body was trembling uncontrollably, the phantom pain still lingering in your spine as if his cursed energy had left its mark.

Before you could steady your breath, there was a knock at the door, sharp and urgent.

“Y/n—are you alright?”

Gojo’s voice, usually playful, was unmistakably laced with concern. The sound cut through the haze of terror clinging to you.

You sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding in your ears, your mind still caught between the nightmare and reality. The pain, although fading, still clung to your nerves. You heard the knock again—firmer this time.

"Hello there? Y/n? I'm coming in."

"Uh—No! I'm okay!" You stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and Gojo stepped into the dimly lit room, his figure casting a long shadow on the floor.

His usual air of confidence followed him in, but there was something different this time. His bright blue eyes, often filled with mischief and amusement, now gleamed with concern as he took in your state—sitting on the bed, drenched in cold sweat, body trembling from the remnants of the nightmare.

“Satoru! I could have been naked!” You shouted at him.

“I couldn’t be so lucky,” he joked, but his tone quickly changed,

“You just screamed bloody murder, I doubt you’re okay, and with this whole execution thing, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said softly. Without waiting for permission, he closed the door behind him and walked over to your side, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I… I had one of those nightmares again. That's all,” you whispered, your gaze shifting down to your trembling hands. It felt ridiculous to admit, but the dream had shaken you to your core, and no amount of forced composure could hide that. That pain…

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. He crouched down beside the bed, bringing his face level with yours. His presence, as overwhelming as it always was, somehow brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the lingering haze of fear.

"You’re still shaking," he noted quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What was it about? The same thing as before?"

You hesitated. How could you explain? You didn’t want to admit the truth—the figure, the pain, the overwhelming sense of dread that had seeped into every part of you.

You didn't want to sound weak or paranoid, especially not in front of Gojo. But then again, this was Gojo—he had a way of seeing through you no matter how much you tried to hide.

“It was… him. The same man from the forest,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I could see him. It was clearer, and the pain—God, it felt real.”

Gojo’s expression shifted slightly, something hardening behind his eyes, though his voice remained gentle. “What did he look like?”

You swallowed, the memory flashing vividly in your mind. “He was wearing a dark robe, his black hair was tied back. His eyes—they were so cold, almost… empty. He looked at me like I didn’t matter, like I was nothing.”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Gojo remained silent. He stood up slowly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as though he was trying to make sense of what you had just said.

The moonlight caught his profile, casting his expression in shadow, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

His silence unnerved you. You weren’t used to Gojo being anything but playful and brimming with confidence. This quiet, almost contemplative version of him sent your mind spiralling further into doubt.

“Gojo?” you ventured softly, your voice fragile in the stillness.

His eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating, as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and serious. “This man—he’s not just in your nightmares, is he?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t wanted to admit it—not to yourself, not to anyone. But Gojo’s words peeled back the thin layer of denial you’d been hiding behind.

“He… he feels real,” you whispered, the confession trembling on your lips. “Every time I dream about him—-the forest, it doesn’t feel like just a bad dream.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. "And the pain?"

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “It feels like it's happening all over again, like he’s reaching into me, twisting something inside. I don’t know how to explain it… but it’s more than just a dream.”

Gojo took a slow, deliberate breath, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his proximity grounding you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, deep in thought.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, unsure if you even wanted to ask the question. “Do you think it’s a curse? That he left something behind?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering over his temple as if trying to dispel a headache. “It’s possible,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “If he’s who I think he is, then this isn’t just a nightmare. It’s a memory.”

Your breath hitched. “A memory? You think this is real? The the man—and this pain?”

Gojo finally looked at you, his expression hard, more serious than you had ever seen him. “Y/n. If he marked you in that forest, then this pain, these dreams—they’re not coincidences. He’s using them to get inside your head—-causing you to relive memories.”

The thought made your blood run cold. "But why?"

Gojo straightened up, his eyes flickering with something dangerous, something protective. “I don’t know yet. But don’t worry, nothing will happen to you any time soon.”

His words should’ve brought you some comfort, but the weight of it all pressed down harder. “What if this is beyond even you?”

Gojo’s expression softened, but there was a steely resolve in his voice as he replied, “Y/n, I know it feels overwhelming. But remember, I’m the strongest.” He leaned closer, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “No one can touch you while I’m around. Trust me.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the conviction in his tone wrapping around you like a shield.

But—no matter what he said, you couldn’t shake away the overwhelming emotions you felt rising in you. Nothing you did could stop the hot tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You looked from your lap up to his icy blue eyes, your own filled with the tears threatening to fall.

“Satoru…I’m so scared.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper in fear of it breaking as tears began to roll down your flushed cheeks.

For all his bravado and playful banter, seeing you in distress ignited a protective fire in his chest.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern. He leaned closer, taking in the way your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the quiver in your lips that spoke volumes.

In that instant, he was reminded of humanity—of how fragile life could be—how easily joy could be overshadowed by fear. It was a feeling he often masked with laughter and teasing, but now, facing you, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern.

“Hey, hey,” he said, brushing a thumb gently beneath your eye, catching a stray tear.

“It’s okay to be scared, but you have nothing to worry about with me around…”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at his reassurance and your skin burning under his touch.

His closeness was intoxicating, each heartbeat echoing in your ears as you focused on the way his gaze held yours, a mixture of intensity and something deeper.

Gojo's thumb lingered a moment longer, the connection between you crackling with unspoken words. There was a tension that thickened the air, a magnetic pull urging you closer despite the chaos swirling around. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the familiar scent that grounded you yet made your pulse race.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, almost husky tone that made your breath hitch. “No one is going to touch you. Not now, not ever.”

The way he leaned in just a fraction more, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin, made your heart pound louder.

“I don’t want to die.” You confessed, your voice shaking, and more tears fell from your eyes. The admission hung in the air, raw and exposed, filling the space between you.

His gaze intensified, and for a moment, you could see the concern etching deeper lines on his face.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone fierce yet tender. “Not on my watch.”

Gojo’s smirk returned, hinting at his playful teasing, but beneath that was an intensity that promised more. He was strong, powerful, and yet here you were, baring your fears to him, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet safe.

You wanted to pull back, regain control, but the moment was intoxicating—everything around you fading away, leaving only the depths of his blue eyes and the promise of something more.

He leaned back, a cocky grin returning to his face. “Besides, did I mention I’m the strongest?”

Your heart fluttered at his confidence. “Yeah, I how could I forget.” You said, letting out a small laugh.

“Good! Now, wipe those tears away!” he said with a playful look plastered on his face.

“I’m going to be up for the next while, so if you need someone to sleep wiitthh you, just yell for me.” He said before walking out of your room with a small wave.

As the door clicked shut behind Gojo, a mix of warmth and anxiety settled in your chest. You hugged your knees, feeling the weight of your fears creep back in, but his words echoed in your mind—’Trust me.’

Clinging to the flicker of hope he had ignited, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you weren’t alone in this fight.

With that thought, you closed your eyes, letting the promise of his protection guide you into a restless sleep.

—

The next morning dawned heavy with an unspoken tension. You walked beside Gojo as you made your way to the rendezvous point—an abandoned shopping mall on the outskirts of the city.

The rising sun cast long shadows across the crumbling structure, its shattered windows reflecting fragments of light onto the cracked pavement.

The once-bustling space now stood eerily silent, a shell of its former life. Broken glass crunched beneath your feet, and the distant groan of metal filled the heavy air. But it wasn’t the mall's haunting emptiness that had your nerves on edge.

It was the conversation ahead.

Gojo’s usual carefree attitude seemed slightly subdued as you both walked in silence. The steady rhythm of his steps beside you was the only thing grounding you in the moment.

You could feel his presence like a buffer against the dread curling in your stomach, that unspoken tension between you two hovering just beneath the surface.

It was a quiet intimacy that neither of you acknowledged, but it was there—palpable, real.

Without a word, Gojo’s hand brushed lightly against your back as if offering reassurance—an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

His touch lingered, warm and solid, sending a wave of comfort and something else—something deeper—through you. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he.

His fingers grazed your spine, then slipped lower to rest against the small of your back, his hand staying there, the weight of it subtle yet unmistakable.

The gesture was almost protective as if reminding you that he was there, and no matter what happened, you weren’t alone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears.

As you continued walking, Gojo slowed down beside you, his hand sliding from your back to rest lightly at your waist. The contact was brief but intentional, his fingers curling just enough to hold you close. You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

Gojo had lifted his blindfold without a word, the black fabric slipping up to reveal his piercing blue eyes, startling against the morning light. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away.

His expression, usually so teasing and carefree, had softened, and in the intensity of his eyes, there was something deeper—something unspoken that made your pulse quicken.

Neither of you said a word. There was no need to.

He gave a soft, almost wistful smile before letting the blindfold slip back into place, the casual mask he always wore settling back over him like a second skin.

His hand lingered at your waist for another fleeting second before he finally moved it away.

The moment passed, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you reached the central atrium, you spotted the others—Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, joined by Maki, Panda, and Inumaki.

Their expressions were somber, eyes scanning the area as if expecting trouble. They had sensed something was wrong when Gojo called for a private meeting at such an unusual location.

Yuji raised a hand in greeting, his usually carefree smile missing. "Hey, y/n. What’s this about, Gojo-sensei? You’ve got us all gathered like we’re about to face a special-grade curse or something."

Nobara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as they flitted between you and Gojo. "Yeah, spill it already. This place gives me the creeps."

Maki remained silent but alert, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Panda and Inumaki exchanged glances, their postures tense as if bracing for bad news.

Gojo stepped forward from your side, his tone deceptively light despite the gravity of the situation.

"I won’t sugarcoat it. This isn’t a mission. It’s about her." His gaze flickered briefly back to you before scanning the group. "The higher-ups have ordered her execution."

The words hung in the air like a curse, and you felt the weight of the moment press down on you as all eyes turned your way.

Yuji’s eyes widened in shock. "Execution? What for?"

Nobara’s voice was sharp with outrage. "What the hell? Are you serious?"

Maki’s eyes narrowed as she pieced it together. "This is about that cursed energy inside her, isn’t it?"

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. "I…I think so. I can feel it in me—it's like a separate entity that I can’t fully control." Your voice wavered slightly as you met their stares.

Panda’s calm voice cut through the rising tension. "So, what’s the plan? There’s no way we’re letting them go through with this."

Gojo smirked, though the usual playfulness didn’t reach his eyes.

"That’s where you all come in. We need to figure out how to get the higher-ups off her back. Either convince them she’s not a threat, or we buy enough time to find another solution."

Nobara clenched her fists, fire in her eyes. "Screw convincing them. Let’s just storm the place and tell them where they can shove their execution order."

Maki snorted and rolled her eyes. "That’ll go over well, Kugisaki."

Before anyone else could respond, a sudden, oppressive wave of cursed energy washed over the mall, freezing the air.

The sheer force of it made your breath hitch, an ominous pressure settling over your chest like a vice. Even Gojo tensed, the usual carefree ease in his posture evaporating as he lifted his head, sensing the disturbance.

Megumi stepped forward, his demon dogs stirring, responding to the dark energy. "That’s not normal. Its presence is overwhelming."

Yuji’s reaction, however, was the most telling. His face had gone pale, and his fists clenched at his sides as he whispered, "It’s him…"

You barely heard the words, but the look on Yuji’s face—the fear in his eyes—told you everything you needed to know.

Nobara reached for her hammer, her grip tight. “Who the hell is it, Yuji?”

Yuji’s voice shook as he spoke, his eyes locked on the darkened hallway ahead. "Patchface. He’s here."

The cursed energy surrounding you wasn’t just powerful. It was dark, malicious, and suffocating. The air felt thick with malevolence, pressing against your chest as if daring you to move.

Suddenly, your vision swam, and the world seemed to warp for a second. You blinked, your heart racing, and then—you saw him.

That grotesque figure, pale and scarred, with that same patch of disfigured flesh sewn over his face like a grotesque mask. He stepped from the shadows, his smile sickly and twisted, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

“Ahhhhh, perfect, perfect, just perfect!” The patchface curse’s voice was sickeningly joyful, his tone unnervingly light, like a child about to unwrap a gift.

��I get to fight my natural enemy, Yuji Itadori, the famous Satoru Gojo…” He paused, his eyes darting to you, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“And you… the new experiment…I don’t think I can touch your soul…but oh god, I wonder how your soul feels, y/n y/l/n,” he purred, his voice dripping with twisted curiosity. “Oh, this will be so fun!”

His grin widened, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of something darker, something far more dangerous than his playful demeanour.

His gaze flitted between the group, but it kept landing back on you.

“Let’s see how well you break.”

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lostinforestbound · 8 months ago

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hi there! domestic rolan anon again, but this time i'm gonna name myself LMAO i read a few things about tieflings purring and i was wondering if i could request rolan who purrs for tav/reader when they have special, private moments together? once again, if you don't like the request, you can skip it!!

- 💛

Hello again Domestic Rolan anon! (Or maybe yellow heart anon??) I will never skip over Tieflings purring, it's too cute to pass up!

Rolan and Purring

Rolan finds purring absolutely embarrassing. It's one part of Tiefling biology that he hates.

Not only is his particular purr pretty loud, purring is extremely vulnerable for him, so it takes him a long time to even feel comfortable enough to do it around his partner.

The only time he ever purred for someone is for Cal and/or Lia when they needed comfort; even then, they were a lot younger, so he hasn't done that in years.

What he won't ever tell anyone is that he purrs by himself as a form of self-soothing.

When you finally settle down with him and he's very secure in your relationship (which could take a long time), he doesn't even realize he started purring in your private moments.

When you first point it out, he immediately stops and is pretty embarrassed about it. Face fully flushed and everything! It's adorable.

When asked, he begrudgingly explains that yes, some Tieflings can purr, but don't expect him to do it all the time!

Fully relaxed in your shared bed while cuddling with you, he'll quietly purr up a storm, hoping for more of your touch. Sometimes he'll purr when you're kissing, pulling you closer to him.

Other times is simple tasks that's generally loving; brushing his hair, massaging his shoulders, hugging him close and tight, and even tender neck kisses on his adam's apple gets him to purr at least lightly.

Or imagine a date night, splitting a bottle of Arabellan Dry and you take one of his hands in yours. Not only can you hear a quiet purr, but the tip of his tail is flicking happily as he laces his fingers through yours.

Writing Blurb

After a very long day, you and Rolan decide that the best way to spend the evening is to relax. You both were originally planning for a night out in the lower city, but watching each others tired looks, you decided that it was better to stay in for the night. Maybe to split a whole bottle of Arabellan Dry while you two were at it.

Getting into nightwear, the both of you share some dinner and wine, complaining about the day. How many idiots must pass through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries ranting about a spell failure before they realize that it was their own fault? They're the ones who couldn't get through the simple verbal component. You have to remind him that not everyone is as talented at magic as he is, but they shouldn't haven been yelling at Lia either way (she was working behind the counter for the day).

Now, the two of you lay together in bed, and you gently massage his back as you speak. "Maybe we should've let Lia just attack the guy."

"I do not want blood on my floors!" He exasperates, head comfortably settled on your chest. "It would be terrible for business, the Sundries isn't the Blushing Mermaid."

You laugh, fingers trailing to the back of his neck to press against his nape. "Well, it would at least make the day more interesting."

He grumbles incoherently but says nothing else about it.

Your fingers eventually trail to the back of his head, threading them into his hair. When he relaxes even more to the touch, you decide to scratch and massage his scalp. It's always a favorite of his.

What you didn't expect is for him to start purring.

It's not loud, but you can certainly feel it through your chest as his eyes flutter closed, tail winding around your ankle loosely. You knew that a tiefling's tail can act similar to a cat, but purring? That's new and adorable.

Running your fingers through his hair, you gently untangle any knots that found their way into the strands. You don't say a word, wanting to enjoy this quiet moment with the stressed wizard.

It's hard to get him to relax at all through the day, so this is a small victory you will savor.

As he dozes off, you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping for a calm night and wishing for him to have a calmer day tomorrow.

#rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #forest-writes #holy rolan empire #rolan x reader

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shewhowas39 · 2 months ago

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september fic recs!

i know i am later than usual on my monthly fic recs. a lot has been going on irl, but i have been reading where i can, and i certainly have some fics to recommend to you all!

so let's get started.

of street names and subway wall prophecies by @dalgursbate i'm *obsessed* with this fic. it's Shadowheart x Astarion set in NYC in the early 2000s, with a heavy dose of Buffy the Vampire Slayer lore mixed with Forgotten Realms lore. it sounds wild, i know, but guys, hear me out, this is one fo the BEST fics i've read in a long time. it's sexy, funny, angsty - and the way the two very different universes are woven together is really cool and fun. READ THIS.

Shadowheart Begins by @eldritchelfwriter sticking with the Shadowheart theme for a moment, i gotta recommend this one that i've been reading. Shadowheart x female storm sorcerer Tav! it follows the story of the game and gives a really close insight into Shadowheart's character and motivations. plus a sweet love story. i love my goth princess.

Lockpicking by @fangswbenefits now, on to Astarion x Reader smut! this is a simple but oh so effective little oneshot involving you, Astarion, and some lockpicks. it's a fast read that made me blush. highly recommend.

What Am I Supposed to Do (But Sink My Teeth Into You)? by @khywren khywren continues to be one of my absolute favorite Astarion smut authors. all of their fics are sexy af, but they also all have such a level of sweetness and emotion that get me in the feels. this one involves their OC, Ysera, who accidentally casts an aphrodesiac spell on ehrself int he middle of battle. so a bit of sex pollen mixed in there, too! and, somehow, still touching! i love it.

Dangerous by @naevethewizard this little 2 chapter fic is just a delight. Astarion x f!durge, and one of the most funt akes i've read on a durge in a while. a durge who has no idea sex can actually be a pleasurable thing. Naeve's personality is so funa nd astarions' reactiosn to her here are perfect. i'm excited for when i fainlly have time to read the long fic it's attached to!

***

and that's it for the month! happy reading!

#fic recs #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #shadowheart fanfic

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arcanarix · 2 months ago

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Come What May (Suguru Geto/F! Non Sorcerer Reader)

AO3

Word Count: 6.7K

CW // cunnilingus, penis in vagina sex, geto being a pining mess, mc being oblivious

Dark, sinister storm clouds rolled over the sky; the distant sound of thunder rattling your bones as you approached Star Religious Group’s temple. Its reign as high and mighty as the local legend foretold.

For the past few months, you encountered a strange phenomenon. Millions of eyes staring at you wherever you went. Invisible hands roaming all over your body. Moments where you couldn’t breathe—almost like you didn’t know how to anymore.

A local suggested a visit at this temple. Suguru Geto, the organization’s leader, successfully exorcised clients in the past. Many considered his gift to be one from God.

Somehow, you weren’t so sure. It seemed more like a curse to see things others couldn’t. A curse to carry a burden like that alone. To see demons. To see the worst in humanity…

You exhaled slowly. This could either be the smartest or stupidest decision ever. That would only be determined when you met the man in question.

You decided to take a leap of faith, entering the exorcism room when someone allowed you inside. You waited, bouncing your leg as the anticipation began to kill you inside a little bit.

Finally, Geto entered the room, slipping past you as if you didn’t even exist in the same area as him, stepping onto the raised platform before taking a seat.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Guess all of those rumors were true: he was the handsome devil. With a charming smile and long, luscious locks of thick black hair cascading down his back. And so tall. You noticed some areas of his hair had been braided, likely by his adopted twins you heard rumors about from locals as well. He clearly took pride in his appearance, using it to gain more followers to his absurd cause.

With a face card like that? You couldn’t blame the guy.

A part of yourself imagined nasty scenarios already.

“So what brings you here today?” That charming smile of his, while inviting at first, began to feel more strained and plastic under your gaze. You ignored the uncertainty pricking at your insides like pins and needles. “Haunted, are we?”

“Y-yes,” you began, twiddling your fingers in a vain attempt to soothe your nerves. “I haven’t been able to shake it off. Whatever it is—!”

He raised a hand, signaling you to silence your babbling. You obeyed, a bead of sweat dripping down your brow, no questions asked. He studied you, his smile melding into a frown.

“Try not to move,” he instructed in a bored tone as his hand struck out.

Within milliseconds, the weight on your shoulders lifted, and you gawked at him. He looked like he grasped something in his hand.

“Wow,” you breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

The sky split with a deadening crack, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

He chuckled as you jumped in your spot.

“Feel free to stay until the storm goes away,” he stated, “The temple is off the clock now.”

You quirked an eyebrow. From what you’ve heard, he rarely allowed clients to overstay their welcome. Once his business with you was done, he didn’t have much need for your presence. Yet he allowed you to remain.

“Thank you,” you replied, allowing yourself to get comfortable on that pile of red cushions. Your hands took note of how smooth and soft the fabric was.

“Ah, forgive my lack of manners. I didn’t get your name.”

You peered at him with curious eyes.

You told him.

“A pleasure,” he responded, his eyes prying open and revealing stunning pools of violet, gazing upon you like he was king, and you were a mere peasant. But something else flickered in his stunning gaze—intrigue. Why, pray tell? You hadn’t the slightest idea until he went on: “Those were some powerful spirits attached to you. I’m surprised you survived as long as you did with those aforementioned symptoms.”

Eh? But you didn’t mention anything to him. Not a single word of your symptoms.

How would he know? (Then again, he likely saw this millions of times before. It might not be so shocking of a revelation.)

Not soon into the proper introduction, a lady with bouncy pink wavy hair interrupted you, entering the room and alerting Geto of a matter of, to him, minimal importance. He excused himself for a few moments, brushing past you with an unreadable expression on his face.

With your own curiosity getting the best of you, you zeroed in on as much on the matter as you could.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you could make out a bit of the hushed conversation between the secretary and Geto. His voice had an edge to it as he spoke, like a blade, muttering some monologue to her about how he’d been exorcising “monkeys” for the entire day but this particular one—of course he meant you—decided to stay behind until the storm outside died down. Surprise etched across the secretary’s face from his sudden hospitality, but Geto dismissed her, and slid the door shut behind him before turning his attention back on you.

That look in his eyes came back. Not of disdain necessarily, but of curiosity. Like he sensed something unique about you and wished to covet it for himself.

Should you whack the wasp’s nest?

You cleared your throat, twisting around as he returned to his raised platform to settle back down.

“What inspired you to do what you do?” you inquired. You bit your lip as he only stared at you, perhaps annoyed.

“It’s a natural talent of mine, to purify that which is impure,” came his simple answer. “If you are referring to my otherworldly beliefs, that is a matter personal to me, and nothing someone like you could understand.”

“That’s a bold claim,” you quipped, offended. “But you do have a point, I guess. Not everyone is so open to such…ideals.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, only hummed in contempt.

“Of course I have a point,” he replied, “There is always a purpose in everything I ever do, say, or think. Other humans…such monkeys, they’re just running a circus out there.”

Well, you thought. Not like he’s wrong about that.

You shared some of his disdain for society (definitely not for the same reasons). Part of why you moved far away from home and came to Japan. You hoped to leave it behind, and maybe lead a more fulfilling role. You didn’t have much to go on other than pure ambition. You wanted to channel it somewhere.

And somehow, something compelled you to explore your potential in this realm. Something bigger than yourself.

Suguru Geto didn’t seem to mind the temporary babysitting of some ‘lowly monkey’. Was he lonely? Got fed up with his mindless legion of followers? Perhaps he missed challenging conversations? Or if not challenging, at least engaging ones?

Perhaps he just needed a friend. Though you doubted he’d see you as anything other than a speck of dirt.

You ended the silence that fell around you both for a minute too long. Never mind the storm brewing outside.

Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

CRACK!

“You seem to hold quite a bit of contempt for humanity,” you observed, tilting your head while locking your eyes with his steely violet gaze, assessing him. Reading him with an open mind, and like an open scroll, and not at all fazed by him equating humanity to monkeys, which given the theories of evolution, you couldn’t even call his belief entirely false. “I can’t say I blame you. Humanity has been responsible for all of society’s shortcomings.”

Geto raised an eyebrow at that statement, as he hummed in amusement. Your lips pursed. Perhaps he believed you, like him, became disillusioned to society.

“Do you now?” he sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you dare to insinuate that we share the same belief? That humanity cannot be saved?”

And better eradicated? Wiped out? Not necessarily, you mused to yourself, but dared not utter those musings out loud. You didn’t want to risk death.

Yet here you still were… whacking the wasp’s nest for the sheer fun of it. Because you wanted to see how far this could go.

Because you desired a bit of brain stimulation.

Because maybe you sought some kind of companionship, too—in whatever form that may come. You were lonely too. That was part of why you came here.

A fresh, new start. A fulfilling purpose. Something to keep you on your toes. A reason to keep going.

“On some levels,” you conceded, remaining seated on those plush red cushions while picking at the dirt between your nails. Suguru Geto—the notorious leader of the Star Religious Cult—whose reputation preceded him. You showed indifference, which got under his skin. Maybe because you wanted to see what he would do in a position where someone beneath him further enabled his cause, but not in the way his mouth-breather followers had.

Your gaze never left his, cold, scrutinizing. “Perhaps your grand scheme could use some refinement, though. I’ve heard much of what you preach. Through your sermons. Through the locals here. The mass extinction of humanity is ultimately futile.”

“Then what do you propose?” he countered, irritation laden in his tone. You were impressed he didn’t slaughter you on the spot for questioning his grand scheme; instead, he seemed fascinated, intrigued—a little spark in those stunning pools of amethyst.

“Rather than extinction,” you began, shifting in your seat. “Which will ultimately fail due to the population of weak humans to the strong, by the way. Revolution. That is more effective. Advocate to cleanse the filth in a way where the chosen ones you claim to wish to protect can co-exist with their lesser human counterparts. After all, who is to say you even need to acknowledge them?”

His expression didn’t budge, driven by a hunger to dissect your thoughts further.

You humored him. He humored you, after all.

Why not even the playing field?

“Is it really so simple?” he scoffed at the absurdity of your suggestion. “How do you propose we do that?”

Now you were getting somewhere! All you had to do was lay a few more of your cards on the table.

But not so soon!

A smirk played at your lips. “Are you suggesting a partnership, Geto? My…suggestions don’t come for free.”

Geto rose from his spot on the raised platform. He stepped down, approaching you in a few long strides. He gazed down at you, still not with the same contempt which he possessed for the rest of humanity, but with fascination.

Every nerve in your body sparked to life, pulsing with anticipation and the heady rush from it all. Challenging a powerful, ‘magical’ being? You might have had a death wish.

No, you definitely had a death wish.

You just didn’t find yourself minding that about yourself anymore.

“What do you want?”

“Some cash is nice, since I’ll need a stream of income, but not just that,” you replied, tone wavering. “Make me strong. Make me your partner. And in return, I guarantee your success in making the world the way you want, Geto.”

Silence hung over the two of you once more. He tilted his head, resting it against his long, slender fingers, his lips pressed into a thin line. Was he genuinely considering a new recruit to his cause? Did he sense something in you that you didn’t even see?

After what felt like a lifetime, he finalized the deal.

“Suguru,” he corrected quickly. “Partner.”

Your smirk widened, impressed with his willingness to cooperate and to humor you; your eyes twinkling, and he matched yours.

Ah. He played right into your grimy, scheming hands, just as you hoped. It spared you on the spot slaughter. Or maybe you fell face first into his trap, caught by the leg, and now you would pay the price for trusting his word so openly.

Aw, what the hell? You needed a little spice in your life, and you held little regard for your past way of life some time ago. Maybe you wanted to seek salvation. Maybe you just wanted to live a little—see if you could breathe some life into your dying heart.

Suguru Geto hired you as a strategist in his family—a decision which drew contempt from everyone in this temple. Unsurprising, given Geto’s infamous reputation and the nature of his ambitions. But the disapproval didn’t faze or deter you. You saw the opportunity for what it was: lucrative, and with handsome payment. For as long as the arrangement was mutually beneficial, you had no issue working alongside the notorious leader of the Star Religious Group.

Though others bristled at your presence, Geto seemed unbothered. He remained immeasurably close at your side, neither ahead of you nor trailing behind. Always there, like a damn leech. You ignored the glares or whispers which followed the two of you, because frankly, you didn’t care.

At first, you chalked it up to formality or perhaps an attempt to display some kind of begrudging respect toward you. But that conclusion didn’t sit quite right in your gut. You knew his kind—his worldviews didn’t leave room for genuine equality, especially between someone like him, and someone like you. You doubted he would ever truly view someone like you as an equal.

Yet none of his actions got past you. Always watching, always waiting. It wasn’t always obvious of course, and anyone else might have missed it, but you definitely noticed. His gaze lingered on you, often longer than it did on others. He didn’t seem as appalled by touching you like he did his other followers who were human. He observed your every move, fascinated by how you remained untouched by the animosity aimed at you. Not only did your indifference intrigue him, but it was also likely the cold calculation behind your eyes, how you seemed to operate purely on logic and reason—a trait he found lacking in other humans. Which, truthfully, he wasn’t wrong. You, too, found most people infuriatingly devoid of reason.

Whatever. You had better things to do than to ponder on something like what else Suguru Geto could possibly want from you. You focused on the task at hand, and you weren’t about to allow idle conjecture to distract you from it. If he threw challenges your way, you would strategize your way through them alongside him.

Yet, you still caught moments where his lingering stares felt like they had no place. You couldn’t pinpoint why and dismissed it as nothing more than curiosity.

He saw value in your insights; that was all it was. Nothing more, nothing less.

During your one-on-one meetings, Geto gave you a high-level overview of his world—the world of jujutsu, cursed spirits and how they came into existence. From negative human emotions. If you had to be honest with yourself, it all sounded like total bullshit. Well, until Geto handed you a tool imbued with cursed energy for you to see spirits yourself. The moment you wore those glasses, the sight of those spirits roaming around him left you speechless. He casually explained his cursed technique to you; he had the ability to manipulate the spirits he exorcised to his advantage.

It took about a month or so into your new way of life before he began to drop a few more bombs about himself and his past. To your surprise, you felt indifferent toward the countless unforgivable crimes he’d committed for his cause. In a strange way, you even found his devotion… admirable.

Most people were afraid of going after what they wanted. You weren’t one of them. Perhaps that was why he found comfort in your presence.

More months passed. You learned more about jujutsu sorcery and curses—and more about Geto. Often, against your will, but he seemed oddly open with you. You didn’t care one way or another. As long as he found use in your insights and your ‘refreshingly’ open mind, you would remain.

Over time, you found yourself becoming more loyal to him.

He definitely seemed pleased by the development.

During one of your debriefs, Geto shifted from his usual ramblings to engage you in a philosophical debate. You humored him, of course. You weren’t in a position to dismiss the chance to learn more about his grand plan. He spoke of creating more conflict between sorcerers and non-sorcerers, of going directly to the source of the problem.

“Humanity as a collective is perplexing,” Geto began, meeting your eyes. “Humans try so hard to be as boring as everyone else yet also condemn those who want to remain the same. They also punish those who succeed and crush those who dare to be different, who dare to challenge society. Whether they show a speck of talent or something extraordinary like us sorcerers…well, like me, not you. Humans would rather cram everyone and everything into that same miserable, broken little box. Why do you believe this is the case?”

You nodded, sharing his disdain. Even if to him, in spite of your intellect, you were just another one of those monkeys.

“It’s simple yet complex. Humans cling to what’s familiar. Whatever threatens that familiarity becomes a target.”

What was that old concept? The Uncanny Valley—where people got creeped out by something that appeared human, but somehow wasn’t. In a way, Geto definitely embodied this concept—human by birth, perhaps, but gifted with abilities far beyond the average mind’s comprehension.

However, you weren’t an average human mind, either. He had come to accept someone on his level—your non-sorcerer status aside.

“Exactly,” he replied in a whisper, as a lazy smirk graced his features. “So why bother playing their little game? Utterly asinine, is it not? We sorcerers in jujutsu society were sworn to protect humanity, yet they show no gratitude for the blood, sweat, and tears we shed, or the lives we lost. In fact, often, we were shunned for it. Ostracized. My twin girls were about to be killed for actions they were not responsible for simply because they possessed a gift, not a curse. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

“It’s completely understandable you feel that way,” you replied, keeping an even tone. Had you been in a similar position, you would probably arrive to the same conclusions Geto had—should you blame the man? Honestly, you still found him admirable in spite of the havoc he wreaked upon both jujutsu society and humanity. “However, your methods in changing the status quo are obviously questionable. Ultimately fruitless. But the longer I’m with you, the more I wonder if you are aware of this.”

“I am,” he answered without skipping a beat. You quirked an eyebrow at that; you didn’t miss how much more open he became with you, and this was one of those moments where that became more apparent. Not only in how he engaged with you in these discussions, but with how much touchier he became around you. You weren’t sure if you could call it endearing given the kind of person he was, but it was close enough. “Let me let you in on a little secret.”

He leaned in, so close that your breaths mingled. You held your breath.

“I never intended on this plan to succeed.”

Huh? That came out of left field. Your pulse accelerated, struggling to steady your gaze with his, unwilling to let him see the ripple of shock his confession rushed through you.

You averted your eyes, hand over your racing heart.

“So you know you’re going to accomplish nothing.”

So then why hire you in the first place?

“Indeed,” he responded, pulling back, his intense violet gaze never leaving yours. Not only did you find Geto a bit insane, you also found him fascinating. He drew you in like a moth to a flame. “The Night Parade of 100 Demons is merely my stage exit.”

“So,” you cleared your throat, prepared to face certain death at your next line. You were surprised you lasted as long as you had here. “All of this time, all of these acts of extremism were a cry for help?”

Geto’s chuckle came soft, almost…sullen. The vibrant purple in his eyes dulled.

“You could put it in that way,” he sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair. “But no. I don’t wish to be saved. Not in the way you think.”

For the moment, you saw past his sharp words—the exhaustion, soullessness evident in his eyes, the flicker of something buried deep inside of him. Years of torment and confusion simmering just beneath the surface. You hadn’t realized how vulnerable he allowed himself to be around you.

He didn’t see you as a threat, after all, did he?

“I see.” Something about this tugged at your heartstrings in a way you didn’t fully fathom, but…your fascination for Geto seemed to have evolved into something beyond it. You became loyal to him over the course of your ‘partnership.’ He showed you sides to him he never showed even to his most devout followers or to his ‘family.’ Not even his twin girls, who you met on several occasions.

Your face went bleak. Had he been searching for a way out of here all of this time—out with a bang, perhaps? Much like you have if you couldn’t find a real purpose to your life anymore? Had that been…all along, had that been why he went to such extremes? Did he want to see reform? Much of his past had been slowly revealed to you these past few months working under his organization as his strategist.

“Something troubling you, my dear?” His question snagged you back to reality, and when you met his eyes, shining with concern, your heart fluttered. His hand brushed against your cheek, warm, sizzling. Your eyes widened as you pulled back. The action caught you off-guard. Even the term of endearment. But to top it all off, it was the look in his eyes that knocked your soul out of your body.

Unshielded, raw.

You’d never seen him like this before. Or maybe you had and blocked it from memory, deeming it as nothing more than curiosity, intrigue.

This relationship was professional. Nothing more, nothing less.

“You’re conflicted,” you realized, voice hoarse, a lump forming in your throat. “Aren’t you?”

The silence that followed your question was deafening. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Geto hummed in response, his gaze softening as he twirled a strand of his hair around his finger. You stiffened at his touch, but didn’t pull away this time.

The bags under his eyes peeked through. His lips curled into that trademark dangerous smile of his. By now you would have thought you had been desensitized to his dramatic antics, but this proved otherwise.

“Perhaps,” he mused, his voice a lower octave, “not all of you monkeys are ignorant fools.”

You blinked, not in surprise by the insult—he openly called humans that countless times before—but by the warmth in his words. Your gaze flitted to the long, slender finger of his twirling your hair, tugging gently as if testing the waters.

You hadn’t even noticed how close he had gotten.

“Suguru?” you inquired, your voice softer than intended, eyes half-lidded as you fixated on the way his fingers fiddled with your hair. His touch gentle, light, delicate.

“Yes, my dear?” he purred, voice like velvet—smooth, dangerous.

That term of endearment again, laden with something heavier.

That finger traced a slow path down your arm, grazing your skin, making you tingle. His hand shifted when he reached your elbow, fingers wrapped around it with a gentleness that bordered on tenderness. Your heart skipped a beat; your mind grappled with trying to understand this sudden shift.

This felt too intimate in business between colleagues, if you dared to even call yourself that.

The softness in his touch was undeniable.

Lonely. He was lonely. The word slipped into your thoughts. You wondered if this was all it was about. Loneliness. Isolation. An emptiness he refused to admit to, seeking solace in someone who was—and this was mere conjecture on your part—much like his unrealized self.

“Is this appropriate?” you questioned, your voice a little strained.

The corner of his mouth curled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer. So close that his minty breath ghosted over your lips, warm and dangerously inviting.

“Do you wish for it to be?” he countered, his voice barely above a whisper—an invitation if anything else. His thumb began to draw slow, idle patterns on your arm.

You swallowed on a thick wad of nothing. A loaded question, indeed.

But did you actually want this? You hadn’t considered the possibility before.

“Do I have a say on the matter, sir?”

His expression darkened, eyes narrowing into slits as he tightened his grip on your arm.

“Suguru,” he corrected you. He never did want you to call him anything else.

Now you have found out why. Now you have found out why he let you in so easily. It had been right in front of you all along. You just elected to ignore the signs in favor of a decent living.

“Suguru,” you affirmed, his name sounding more intimate for some reason. You continued to ignore his still thumb tracing idle patterns on your arm. “Do I?”

His violet eyes bore into yours, observing, assessing, waiting, like always. His lips hovered dangerously close to yours, almost brushing against each other, a fleeting kiss. More of one if you dared to close the distance.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered with a non-committal hum. His hand moved from your elbow to your wrist, gripping tight. “But do you know what you want?”

Your breath hitched.

His grip tightened on your wrist, pulling you closer to his orbit. It wasn’t just about what you had to say. It was about control too. His control.

You could push him away, reassert your own agency, reminding him that what you had was nothing more than a professional relationship.

But then his free hand cupped your face, his touch gentle, tender, making you hesitate.

“Suguru…” you breathed, his name feeling more intimate on your lips than before. The distance between you closed even further, and you found yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull.

“Tell me what you want, my dear.”

That wasn’t fair! That absolutely wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t. It didn’t stop the tidal wave of emotions washing over you. The walls you worked so hard to build around your heart and mind began to tumble down.

You should know better.

“I—!” The words caught in your throat as you caught the weight of his gaze. Before you could properly answer, the final sliver of distance between you closed as Geto leaned further in.

His lips met yours in a frantic rhythm. Desperate, yet measured—a push and pull of fervor and restraint. His tongue slid past your parted lips, coaxing a soft sigh from deep within your throat. You allowed yourself to melt into the moment, not caring to resist the magnetic pull between you.

The transition from the temple’s meeting room to his bedroom went by in a blur. You weren’t sure how or when you’d been led here, but the warmth of his arms around your waist kept you grounded in the present. His room at the temple’s top floor seemed worlds away, that faint scent of sandalwood and smoke lingering in the air. You allowed yourself to indulge in this. You never allowed yourself such luxuries before, believing you to be above them, but truthfully, they weren’t. You desired connection just as much as anyone else—you just threw yourself into work to ignore the fact that you did.

Was that yet another reason he found comfort in you?

Soon, you found yourself lying on his bed, the cool silk sheets beneath you a start contrast to the heat building up in your core. He trailed open-mouth kisses down your jawline and along the curve of your neck. Each kiss awakened something in you—eliciting a sharp breath out of your lips as his teeth grazed your skin.

Your lips met his again, slower this time, more languid as his hands freely explored your body. The pads of his fingers traced the outline of your hips, feathery light and teasing, before they settled at the waistband of your skirt. He tugged it down in a smooth motion, the fabric sliding easily down your legs.

His calloused hands felt rough yet reverent against your bare skin. They rested on your thighs, spreading them apart with effortless authority. Your breath hitched, the anticipation coiling tightly in your body. You squeezed your eyes shut as his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

His lips followed the same path as his hands, brushing feathery light kisses up your thighs—closer and closer. Another breathy gasp escaped you when his teeth caught the delicate fabric of your panties, ripping it through the middle.

“Suguru!” you shrieked, your voice breaking, more from shock. Instinctively your hands flew to your mouth, muffling the embarrassed cry as heat rushed to your cheeks.

He glanced up at you with a smirk, dark violet eyes gleaming with amusement.

“What is it?” he purred, feigning ignorance but he knew exactly the effect that had on you, as his tongue licked a line between your slick folds.

Another broken whimper escaped your throat, the sensation so intense it had you squirming beneath him. Your hips instinctively shifting closer to his face, chasing the friction. Every inch of your body awakened—hyper-aware of each flick of his tongue, each graze of his teeth or lips.

“Mean,” you chided between gasping breaths, but it was all you could muster.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through your core.

“I haven’t been close to mean yet, my dear.”

Without another warning, his tongue returned to lapping at your folds, twirling around your little nub full of nerves. Every flick and swirl against your swollen nub made you keen. You gripped the sheets tighter, knuckles whitening as you arched into him, back bowing. It was unbearable. Now you were completely at his mercy—helpless yet utterly complacent.

Instinctively, your hips pressed against him, chasing after that friction you craved; every nerve ending singing like a choir with need. You lost yourself in him, in the moment, chasing your release until finally, you found it. The crescendo hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of your body as your orgasm washed over you. You were left trembling and panting, catching your breath as you came down from the high.

“You look beautiful when you let go,” Suguru murmured, his voice reverent, as he lifted his head to watch you.

Something caught in your throat at that statement. He said it like it was the truth. Could you allow yourself to believe it? Could you believe anything he ever said, when you never knew what his motives were even now? Months working for him? A part of you to believe it, craved the affirmation, yet those shadows of doubt lingered. Could someone like you let yourself fall for his sweet nothings? You weren’t immune to the lies people told in moments like this, when you desired intimacy and connectedness as much as anyone else.

Fulfilling intimacy.

The sound of him rummaging around ripped you out of your thoughts, yanking you back to the present. His words were no longer tender, but matter-of-fact, as if what came next was inevitable.

“However,” he began, his voice a little more stern now. “you need a bit more preparation before you could take my size.”

Your mouth dried at the prospect. He said it so casually.

“S-Suguru?” your voice quivered, barely a whisper.

More fumbling, the distinct sound of him searching through the drawer beside the bed. Your heart pounded erratically. Then he pulled out the bottle of lube, setting it aside for a moment.

Ah. Proper lubricant. How considerate.

“Before that,” he went on, his voice a low purr, as if reading your thoughts. “How about one more before the main event?”

You barely had the time to process his words before his tongue was on you again, finding your clit. The tip of it circled around, teasing, making you gasp sharply as your hips bucked into his tongue involuntarily. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his mouth, seeking that release once more.

“That’s it,” Suguru whispered between flicks of his tongue. “Get your release.”

And you did, your body trembling as another orgasm washed over your body. Everything almost too much to bear as your walls clenched around nothing, aching for more. You were panting now, legs quivering, but he was far from finished wth you.

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he squirted a liberal amount of lube onto his hand, the lewd squelching of its slick overwhelming you. His hands moved with purpose, massaging the cool liquid into your already sensitive cunt. The tip of his finger teased your entrance, allowing it to catch inside for a moment before retreating.

“Don’t be mean,” you pouted.

“I’ve been nothing of the sort,” he teased bac, his tone smug as he inserted a lubed finger into you. More lewd squelching making you flush. “Far from it.”

He moved inside you, at first slow, delicate, stretching you in the best ways possible with just that single digit. Another finger soon joined the first, the stretch almost too much, with that satisfying burn, but not quite. He was careful, gentle, but there was a hunger in his eyes. His pace gradually increased overtime, his fingers working to coax yet another orgasm from you for the sake of it.

The sensation was both too much and not enough. The heat pooling in your legs, your body responding to his every moment as though you were made for him. Before you knew it, you were coming again, your body trembling quietly as you cried out.

Suguru reluctantly withdrew his fingers, as if savoring the way your body clenched around them one last time. He wiped his hand on the sheets before standing, reaching for his belt and in one motion, disrobed.

When he revealed himself to you, your eyes widened and you gulped. He truly hadn’t exaggerated.

His cock stood erect, thick and heavy. Beads of pre already leaked out of his tip. Your breath hitched in your throat. He prepared you for this, made sure you were stretched and ready to take him, and yet, the prospect of it still made your gut twist.

“Is that thing going to fit?” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could catch them, your voice wavering. Suguru’s response was a deep, rich laugh that seemed to echo through the room, full of amusement.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured you, his tone teasing. As if to prove his point, he dipped the tip of his cock between your slick folds, rubbing it lightly against your entrance. The contact elicited a breathy whine from your lips that you couldn’t hold back.

“You aren’t going to wrap it?” you inquired, the incredulity in your tone impossible to miss. Despite the heat pooling in your lower abdomen, a surprising sliver of logic remained, true to your nature.

“Like a present?” Suguru chuckled again with a quirked eyebrow, shaking his head. “Do you know the pleasant thing about utilizing cursed energy?”

He clearly enjoyed your confusion. His eyes twinkled with mischief, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Not necessarily,” you admitted, “I’m no sorcerer. Even the basics are lost on me.”

He hummed in thought, his hand gliding over your thigh, fingers grazing over your skin, making it impossible to focus on anything else but the heat pooling between your legs.

“Let’s just say there are certain…perks to it.”

Huh? Perks? Did he mean…preventing pregnancy? Even with unprotected sex? At this point, you were willing to believe just about anything if it meant trusting him. And naively, a part of you did. You became fully lost in him.

Still, Suguru must have sensed your doubts. With a sigh that bordered on indulgent, he reached into the side drawer again and pulled out a condom.

“But if it’ll give you some peace of mind,” he went on with a smile as he tore the package open with his teeth and began to slide the condom onto his impressive length. “Then I will.”

He cared about making sure you felt safe…as long as it heighted the pleasure.

Once he wrapped himself, he guided the tip of his cock to your entrance. Your breath hitched again. He pushed himself in, and you gasped, your hands clutching the sheets tighter. Hist hick cock stretching you overwhelmed you—making your head spin.

“Relax,” he murmured. He inched more of his size into, inch by inch a gradual stretch that rubbed your walls in a delicious way. The friction of it unbearable. His dark eyes drank in every gasp and moan that slipped from your lips as he filled you up.

Soon, he was buried completely inside of you, his body flush against yours. His fullness inside of you was a sweet ache. He stilled for a moment, allowing you time to adjust, his hand trailing up your body until his fingers found the crook of your neck, brushing against your pulse point.

Pressing a soft kiss to your neck, he whispered, “You feel amazing.”

He moved. Slow at first, deliberate. He wanted you to feel every inch as he pulled out almost entirely only to piston himself back inside. He set a steady rhythm, the intensity of it gradual. Each thrust of his became deeper, purposeful, rubbing against your walls just right.

He groaned, whispering an endless slew of sweet nothings. Each word punctuated by the deep, rolling thrust of his hips. He angled himself a bit; the shift of his position just right.

The heat began to build inside of you again, coiling tight in your core, threatening to snap at any given moment. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, knocking his nose between your breasts as you lost yourself in him, all of him. Inside of you, around you, filling you completely.

“Suguru…” His name fell from your lips in a broken moan, and that sent him over a dangerous edge. He thrust into you harder, sharper, deeper, his rhythm in perfect sync with your needs. Both of you were close, teetering on the edge together.

Finally, it crashed over the two of you.

Your orgasm washed over you, body trembling violently as you clenched around him. He followed close behind you, his thrusts growing erratic as he plunged himself inside you one last time, groaning your name as he found his own release.

For a moment, neither of you spoke nor moved. Both of you still breathing hard, still tangled in each other. The heady scent of sweat and sex filled the room. Slowly, Suguru pulled out with a satisfied sigh, his body still tented over yours as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I told you you’d be fine” he murmured, tip of his finger brushing along your cheek.

As the heat and passion of the moment faded, Suguru shifted to lay next to you and pulled you into a warm embrace.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. For a few more moments, neither of you said anything. The usual dullness in his eyes from exhaustion became a softer expression.

Here, he could just be Suguru Geto. Not a sorcerer, not a criminal. Just Suguru Geto.

A tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur.

You nodded, your own lips curving up in response.

“More than okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

With a hum, Suguru snuggled you closer and pressed kisses into the nape of your neck.

For now, the raging world outside could wait, just for a bit longer. You allowed yourself to embrace the silence, your breaths and heartbeats syncing together, closing your eyes and drifting to blissful sleep.

#suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #erixtales

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damn-stark · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 22 What never was

Chapter 22 of Sugar

A/N- Jealous Choso?

Warning- Swearing, angst, FLUFF, mentions of death, spoilers, violence, SLOW BURN, Naoya, heavy pining, long chapter

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Chapters 140-144 of the Manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Who was that guy with the buns? Is that the guy you keep talking to Tsukumo about?”

Why is Miguel trying to gossip to you like you’re best friends trying to catch up after weeks of being apart? Like if there isn’t an obvious thick tension trapped between you.

Then again it is one-sided considering he and Larue think they did right by hiding Noritoshi Kamo’s existence. They think having the entire family betray you is a problem you can all sweep under the rug. But it isn’t.

“What do you want Miguel?” You break the lighthearted atmosphere he tries to build once you’re away from the tunnel. “And don’t be a smart ass, you know what I’m referring to. So what do you want with me?”

“Larue says you’re screening his calls and leaving his messages on read,” Miguel gets straight to the point.

“I have every reason to,” you mumble coldly. “The only reason I’m talking to you is because you’re involved in this plan.”

Miguel’s eyes bore into you but you don’t bother to look in his general direction.

“Nanako and Mimiko’s—”

“Don’t bring them into this,” you cut him off sharply. “Don’t talk about my daughters to excuse you’re lying and betrayal.”

“We’re family,” he argues and those simple words are like being slapped in the face.

“Yes!” You exclaim. “We were and you all still chose to lie to me!” You stop walking in the middle of the street and turn to face him with your gaze narrowed to a piercing glare. “You kept the existence of Noritoshi a secret for months because of what?” You spat and throw your hands in the air. “You didn't want to cause me more grief?!”

“Because we were looking out for you,” he argues calmly because that’s the legitimate truth for him and Larue. “Because too much happened after Geto’s death. It was the right thing to keep you from spiraling.”

You feign a laugh and shake your head in disbelief. “The right thing?” You repeat quietly. “Everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing for me,” you cry out louder and stare into his eyes with angry tears in your eyes.

You didn’t want to look like you wanted to cry, but your face was already twisted into a scowl, you couldn’t show how fast the blood was pumping in your veins, so this is the only other way you express how frustrated you are.

“My parents, my brother, you and Larue. And you never truly take me into account. The person you’re trying to help,” you continue and step closer to him to make yourself clear. “You were supposed to tell me! If not right away then when the twins got involved. We’re family.”

“And you were supposed to cremate Geto’s body,” he counters right back with just as much fire that makes you gasp and step back in disbelief.

“That’s what we're supposed to do,” Miguel supports his argument. “It’s what he would've done for you. That was your responsibility.”

You continue to watch him with disbelief, but this time you feel your heartbreak at the sound of his cruel words. You want to answer with a cold shoulder and storm off without saying a word, but how dare he bring up Suguru in this argument that was initially about their inability to tell you about the ancient sorcerer in Suguru’s body?

“I knew him for 12 years,” you manage to argue against him even if it drains so much strength to do it. “And I loved him for 11 of those years. He meant so much to me, he was the father of my girls and my greatest friend, I couldn’t even go home that day, so you don’t get to throw that at my face. It was your responsibility to tell me though, but you didn’t, you lied for months.”

Miguel parts his lips but he’s at a loss for words, which is an odd thing coming from him because he always has something to say.

It’s not until a few minutes pass that he breaks the deafening silence that had casted over you. “It’s not going to change anything. What happened, happened, we can’t take it back even if we wanted to.”

You nod and whisper shakily. “I know and I don’t care. You lied, now all these problems exist.”

You didn’t want to be mad about that, you weren’t, but you’ve had time to think, you thought especially hard after Yuki shared this plan with you, and no matter how much you want to go around it, you can’t escape the fact that everything could’ve been different if they simply told you from the beginning. Now your brother is gone, Nanami is dead along with the twins, and the sorcerer society as you know it is in shambles.

“So what?” Miguel retorts. “We’re going to stop being a family because of it?”

You shake your head without thinking because you know this answer. “No. Larue, and you, even Manami and Toshihisa will always be family,” you say from the bottom of your heart. “I will never tell Satori otherwise either. I just can’t look at either one of you and move on just like that. I can’t pretend that I’m not mad because I am. It meant something to me. I am sorry I couldn't do my part…perhaps it’s all my fault, but don’t expect me to forgive you right now. Don’t ask me to. Please.”

You wipe off the stray tears that managed to break out and drop all the anger from your face to show your sincerity and your love for him and the family you share.

“I love every single one of you. You can tell Larue that. You can come visit Satori, just give me some time.”

Miguel scoffs and doesn’t hold back. “And you can forgive Satoru Gojo for killing Geto just like that?”

You freeze as if you were splashed with ice-cold water. You knew the answer to this question, you’ve discussed it with Choso recently, yet hearing Miguel say those words completely spins you out of the axis you stood so proud on. It leaves you speechless even if you already had known your answer. Yet after a few minutes, all you can do is turn away and bring up your excuse to leave. “Okkotsu should have already driven Itadori away, I’m going to check on them.”

Before you can make it far Miguel yells out, “don’t kill the boy. He’s one of the good ones!”

Why does everyone think you’re going to kill Yuta Okkotsu? Why don’t they believe you’re okay relishing in your hate?

Most importantly, why did Miguel's bold remark make you doubt yourself? You’ve always known that Satoru leaving you behind and betraying you 11 years ago hurt more than him killing Suguru, so why are you picking on it now?

Has that blame always been inside you? Like a wound just bandaged over to be pushed aside. Or has Miguel picked at the scab?

No, it can’t be that way. You know your feelings, you don’t blame Satoru for the way things ended. It had to be done…he had to take Suguru away from you…

No! You can’t think that way now! No.

Just breathe. Breathe, and focus on the matters at hand; Itadori and Choso.

Yes, just focus on them and getting this plan to move forward.

Deep breath and shake it off.

Neverthefuckingless, once you return to the entrance of the tunnel, you come across an unexpected problem fighting Choso. Fucking Naoya Zen’in!

What a damn headache! This is not what you needed!

But you’ll handle it even though by the looks of all the blood on the ground, and the blood-shaped wings behind Choso as he faces Naoya, it seems he’s pretty much handled Naoya. Which isn’t surprising. Naoya is strong but not stronger than Choso.

Still, you’ll cut in for the fun of it.

“As I live and breathe. Well if isn't you,” your voice travels throughout the tunnel, making both men look away from each other to find you at the end of the tunnel. “Naoya Zen’in,” you reveal to Choso.

Said man’s shoulders untense and his hardened face falls to a cocky look. “Well, well aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” Naoya greets you with a smug smirk as if it isn’t obvious that Choso has cornered.

“I am,” you quip. “Are you playing nice with my friend, Naoya?”

“Oh, this nobody is your friend,” he points his thumb at Choso, and your gaze flickers on a quick glare before you hide it and use charm against Naoya, considering he thinks you’re secretly infatuated with him.

“Choso is my friend.”

Naoya scoffs in disgust and looks back at Choso so you quickly pull his attention back to you. “How long has it been?” You muster a feigned sweet smile.

“Too long,” he retorts and tilts his head. “And you look like you haven’t aged. It’s a defining quality.”

You keep your smile attached even if inside you’re revolting.

“Hm, thank you,” you know how to play along with him to make him think he has the upper hand. It’s easy to gain the upper hand with men as egotistical as him.

“Now,” you continue in a sweet voice. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here, Naoya? You’re far from home.”

Naoya shrugs. “Business.”

You playfully narrow your eyes and reach in your pocket to pull the Worm out. “Oh? Let me guess, are you here after Yuji Itadori?” You ask as you drape the Worm around your shoulders, letting him see that you’re preparing for a fight if need be.

“No. Why? Should I be scared of you?”

You feign a laugh. “Would you?”

Naoya flashes you a flirty smirk. “Never.”

You tug wider on that smile and notice Choso’s discontent with the way this conversation is developing as you slowly begin to strut toward him and Naoya.

“I’m here on family business and personal agenda,” Naoya shares, completely underestimating you. “Why are you with scum, y/n?”

You try hard not to drop your smile or clench your fists even if his comments about your company are really bothering you.

“Is it because of your dead husband?” He dares to say, causing you to fail in your attempts to keep on a smile. “You must be lonely and in need to be reminded what it feels like to be a woman.”

“Tsk,” Choso remarks in annoyance and steps forward to retaliate in your defense, which is sweet, but you can’t jump Naoya just yet, so you quickly snap your gaze to Choso and shoot him a warning looking so he can stay where he is.

Luckily, he understands you and just burns holes through Naoya’s head.

“We could finally commit to what our family wanted us to do,” Naoya blabbers on, making you gag internally.

“Oh, but there’s my daughter now,” you bring up to hopefully make him shut up.

Yet you expected too much because keeps on talking. “A daughter? Well, that can be taken care of.”

And what does he mean by that?

“She’s no use really, she’s a girl. I’ll give you boys,” he says bluntly, making Choso fists his hands even harder, and for your patience to come to an end.

Naoya crossed a line talking about Satori like that, so when you walk past him and Choso you turn on your heels and grin at him while you walk back to be across from Choso.

“Naoya I owe you my sympathy, I heard your father died,” you feign sympathy as you change the subject. “Tough. But that does mean I also owe you a congratulations, you’re clan leader now—wait,” you come to a halt and begin to tug on a genuine smirk. “Never mind, you were replaced by a 16-year-old boy who didn’t even grow up at your family house.” You chuckle, and his once cocky smirk falls to a scowl. “How pathetic.”

“You know,” he scoffs. “You really haven’t lost that sharp tongue have you, bitch? How about I take care of that for you?”

“Watch your mouth,” Choso snarls.

You lift a hand and assure Choso. “It’s okay, Choso, a real man doesn't fear strong women.”

Naoya scoffs. “I'm not scared of you,” he spats and watches you come to a stop.

“It’s okay,” you speak in a smooth and silky voice. “I can tuck you in after I'm done, I bet you’ll like that.” You giggle, and Naoya clenches his fist and breaks into a menacing stride towards you.

You don’t move though, you pass Choso a quick determined look that means it's okay to act now. And he mirrors it right away to tell you he understands.

So when Naoya is a few steps closer you drift your gaze back to him and ball your hand to a fist to raise it in front of you to show off the fire licking your veins and flesh.

“This is why Geto died,” he remarks. “And why your parents beat you 11 years ago. You don’t know how to behave like a real woman.”

You drop your arm and the smugness you held on your face to pretend to be wounded by his words. Which in turn makes him falter and slow down, but begin to grow smug.

When he gets close enough you slide your eyes up and speak in a fake quivering voice. “Thank you.”

You begin to smirk maliciously and Naoya’s eyebrows twitch in confusion. He parts his lips to probe, but before he can poison this tunnel with more of his whiny voice, you spring your arm up and swing the back of your hand across his face with enough strength that sends him flying back towards Choso.

“So annoying,” you groan as if you were held to secrecy.

And just before Naoya can crash into Choso, or he can find his balance, Choso claps his hands together and shoots piercing blood.

Naoya tries to dodge, but the blood-made arrow is faster and it scrapes his side, making him stumble. Before he can counter, you fist your hand once again, but this time you snap your arm down to slam your fist through the ground, causing cracks to grow from the spot you hit and rapidly spread toward Naoya looking almost like vines.

Once they reach him the cracks then surround him and the ground begins to rumble. Choso steps back, and Naoya snaps his head back at you, but in that moment water begins to shoot out through the cracks before it explodes out and sends Naoya up to hit the cement ceiling.

Before he can react and run forward, Choso and you act; he runs forward and jumps up, making you give him a boost by manipulating the air. Once he’s under Naoya, Choso reaches over and slaps his big hand around Naoya’s throat to slam him to the ground when gravity pulls them down.

However, Naoya isn’t put out. Even if was just rammed with multiple attacks he throws Choso a harsh swing. But Choso averts it and steps back, causing Naoya to get on his knees and push himself back to his feet with his fists clenched ready to fight.

Thus you gather the water you used to attack him and have it shaped into a giant orb behind you.

“If you’re really so tough, Gojo, then actually fight me and don’t cower!”

All right you’ll bite.

“Fine,” you give in and drop the water.

At the sound of the water splashing on the ground, Choso looks back at you in confusion, while you answer Naoya by striding over with your fists clenched.

Before you can get close enough to him though, he lunges over and swings his fist. You manage to quickly swerve and instead counter by manipulating the water and having it fly over to give him an uppercut.

Naoya quickly recovers and groans at you before swinging his leg, making you smug as you gracefully swing your fist to shoot a blast of wind right on his torso.

“Fight me,” he grimaces.

What does he think you’re doing?

Just for that you drag your foot back and summon air to surround your foot before you swing your leg and kick Naoya in the throat with the gust of air, managing to knock all the air out of his lungs and throw him several feet across the tunnel.

All without letting him land a punch. But that’s also because Choso already weakened him.

“Stop playing around!” He yells at you. “Stop using your tricks.”

You slowly turn to face him and see him slowly pushing himself to his feet. You don’t proceed to say anything, you simply smirk at him and then throw your fist out and hastily shoot Fire-Snake out from your fist to ram it into him.

When Naoya falls back to the ground, the fire snake slithers around him to capture his body in place, making the part of clothes it’s touching to begin burning away and peppering Naoya’s flesh with burning kisses that make him squirm and groan and make your smirk deepen.

Alas, before it can deal any great damage to the outside of Naoya’s body, the fire snake opens its fire-made jaw and sinks its teeth into his neck to spread its furious venom through his icy veins before it turns to ash.

“You might want to get healed,” you advise Naoya as you slowly stride towards him. “Once bitten by fire-snake the fire travels through your veins and hits your core to begin burning away all your cursed energy.”

You fall beside Choso, and rest your hands on your hips to look down at Naoya with a shit-eating smirk.

“How dare you—”

“I'm not done yet,” you cut him off. “And since you’re human too it begins to slowly boil your blood.” You laugh and tilt your head to add one more thing. “Oh, and that’s not even counting the poison from Choso’s blood, so you better find someone fast.”

“You little whore,” he grimaces.

“I told you to watch your mouth,” Choso snaps back in a low threatening voice that makes goosebumps grow on your arms and causes your heart to swoon. Him kicking Naoya’s jaw and stepping on his hand doesn’t help whatsoever, it only works to excite you and steal your breath away.

“Sorry,” Choso adds to Naoya, making you blink in confusion—“But you didn’t love your brothers,” he continues. “And I can’t understand that.”

This is probably about something they talked about before you got here. Which! You wish you could’ve been here before to fight Naoya from the beginning. He was already like, half beaten by the time you got here!

He would’ve been more of a pain in the ass, but it would’ve been fun fighting longer with Choso against Naoya.

Regardless though, suddenly, in the silence of the tunnel, the hairs on the back of your neck rise as a menacing presence approaches Choso and you. One far more intimidating than Satoru’s, one that you quickly identify to be Yuta Okkotsu.

He’s finally done with the plan, but you can’t drop the act yet. You can’t tell Choso a thing even if he puts his arm out to shield you from the presence, clueless to the fact that Okkotsu is working with you. You have to look just as shocked as him so as to not give your plan away to Naoya who is still conscious.

“Choso,” you try to assure him that everything will all be okay regardless of the overwhelming presence that’s fallen over you, and regardless of what he’s about to see.

Albeit Choso doesn’t focus on you, he looks back, and when you follow his line of gaze Okkotsu is already over you with an unconscious Itadori.

“What—“ Choso gasps, but, he doesn’t finish what he’s going to say because with one swing Okkotsu knocks him out, making you quickly catch him in your arms before he can hit the floor.

It’s not the way you would’ve wanted it to play out, but Choso would’ve freaked out seeing Okkotsu dragging his unconscious brother, so to avoid any unnecessary fights perhaps it is better to knock Choso unconscious too. When he wakes up you’ll tell him what’s going on if Itadori hasn’t woken up by then.

“Looks like you’re hurt Naoya,” Okkotsu interjects as he walks past you.

You peer back after you throw Choso over your shoulder and pull your phone out to capture a picture of Naoya as he writhes in pain.

And to your surprise, he actually manages to see you and hisses as he reaches over, but he’s too weak by all the poisons so he looks more like a trembling kitten swinging its paw.

“I’ll send this to your brothers and say the beauty of the Gojo clan took down the great Naoya,” you tease and snicker.

And since he can’t answer, you shoot him a wink and walk off without waiting for Okkotsu, to avoid an awkward walk side by side.

“Shall I heal you?” Okkotsu’s offer travels down. “My reverse cursed technique can heal people. In return please inform your superiors of Itadori’s death.”

You bet Shoko that Itadori’s “death” will only be believable for about three weeks, she says shorter than that. With everything Noritoshi has planned though maybe even sooner than either of you predict.

With Okkotsu here, the higher-ups will probably leave Itadori alone though. Hopefully.

——

*LATER*

It hasn’t been long since you left the tunnel, but it feels eternal considering it’s just Okkotsu and you waiting for Itadori and Choso to wake up.

“Oh,” Okkotsu startles you. “I forgot to mention Fushiguro should be here soon,” he lets you know.

Now it feels even more awkward than when you were silent! You could choose not to answer, but the atmosphere is already tense, and that would just worsen the situation, so to avoid any more strain you give him a small acknowledgment.

“Okay.”

You don’t even look over at him though, you slide your eyes to unconscious Choso right by your feet, and continue trying to avoid giving Okkotsu too much thought because once you start you spiral and grow angry. So to avoid any problems or more tension, you just focus on Choso and hope he somehow hears your desperate plea and wakes up to keep you company while Itadori is still passed out.

Albeit he does look very calm this way too. You’ve never seen him sleep, every time he watches a movie with you when neither of you can sleep, he always stays up for the entire movie, you’re the culprit who passes out sometimes. So seeing his pale face be basked by the campfire you turned on, and his delicate features resting ever so calmly you can’t help but feel kind of captivated and tempted; you want to trace the black mark over his nose with your finger with the softest touch.

Is it creepy to think about?

Yes, plus you really need to stop thinking about him in any kind of romantic way. You already agreed that nothing shall be touched about your feelings for him, and his for you. You’ll just have to suffer and stay friends.

So you look away and instead, just go on your phone and mindlessly scroll through your social media.

A few minutes then pass and from the corner of your eyes, you see Choso suddenly rise as if he was part of the undead.

“Yuji,” he quickly calls out with panic.

You put your phone away and get off the piece of rubble you were sitting on to reach him. “Choso,” you call out so he can drift his attention over to you, but his eyes fall on Itadori still passed out, and then quickly find Okkotsu, letting you see the gears in his mind churning to think the worst.

“Yuji,” he exclaims with a mix of anger and fear.

“Choso!” You exclaim and lunge forward to grab his arm and pull him back to the ground as he is getting up to attack Okkotsu. “Choso! Choso, calm down It’s okay.”

His eyes just briefly look at you, but they quickly return to his brother's body on the ground stained with blood. “How do you want me to calm down when—”

“Choso!” You cut him off and throw your hands on his jaw to try and distract him. “Choso look at me. Look at me.”

Choso’s eyes slowly drift over and you gently tighten your hold on his jaw.

“He’s okay,” you assure him and hold his gaze with a soft look that makes him blink repeatedly and leave his lips parted instead of continuing to argue, almost as if he was captivated in the moment—“He’s alive and Okkotsu is on his side,” you assure him.

Choso’s pants slowly calm down to soft breathing and his furrowed eyebrows ease as his face relaxes.

“Feel it,” you tell him and slide one hand off his jaw to press your palm over his heart. “You’d feel it if he was dead. He’s okay. Feel it.”

Choso continues to hold your gaze as if he were finding his confirmation for Itadori’s status in your eyes.

��He’s okay,” you tell him one more time before you pull your hands away and slowly sit back in your previous spot.

Choso snaps his head back to his brother and pushes himself up.

“It was a plan,” you finally let him know. “Okkotsu needed to kill him so the other high-ups could believe it and leave him alone for a while, there was no other way. I am sorry I couldn’t tell you, I was ordered not to. I’m sorry.”

Choso swallows thickly and watches Itadori for a moment, assuring himself that his brother is breathing.

“His wounds are healed,” Okkotsu cuts in to try and ease Choso’s concern. “I made sure of it. Sorry for hitting you too by the way.”

Choso’s head snaps up to drop his eyes on Okkotsu and stare into him for a tense second before he offers him a stiff nod and walks back to sit next to you on the piece of rubble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him again so he can hear it.

Choso looks at you and doesn’t look upset, he looks as usual, nonchalant. “It was your mission?” He asks.

You sigh and nod. “Yeah. I wanted to tell you, but I was ordered to keep it a secret. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it was your job,” he assures you, making your lips pull to a sweet and grateful smile. “Was that Zen’in guy a part of it too?”

You snort and shake your head. “No, he was a surprise. I didn’t expect to see him here, but it worked out you got to see how he is.”

Choso scoffs in amusement.

“That’s the guy you went, “tsk,” too, when I told you what my life would be like if I married him. You see now why I would’ve ended my life?” You tease him lightheartedly as you lean close to him even if he was already so close to you. “Unless you wanted me to be a miserable wife,” you exaggerate. “Which would hurt because I thought we were friends.”

Choso rolls his eyes and a small amused smile crawls on his face. “He’s…an annoying asshole.”

You snort. “You said it.”

“Still I don't know why you let him talk to you the way he did, and why you didn’t let me put him in his place. He had no right saying those things to you, y/n.” Choso speaks almost in a scolding voice that you can’t tell if it’s because he was getting you in trouble, or getting mad all over again over the situation.

Either way, he catches you off guard and you can’t stop your face from burning up, or from displaying your utter disbelief.

“I,” you stammer and clear your throat. “I'm used to it,” you say and hide your smile by looking down. “People, men mostly talk to me like that from time to time. The best way to deal with it is by not dealing with it, or by, you know, being snarky and showing off how much stronger you are than them.”

“Well, either way,” Choso mutters. “It wasn’t right. It isn’t right.”

You acknowledge him with a soft hum before you lift your head and lock eyes since he’s already looking at you. “You stood up for me though,” you tell him sweetly. “So thank you. I appreciate it. It was sweet.”

Choso’s chest rises and his eyes soften. “Of course,” he mumbles as his chest falls.

You share a soft smile and fight the urge to look at his lips as desire slowly develops in the pit of your stomach.

Yet no matter how hard you fight, he’s too eye-catching, and his close proximity is too inviting; you make the mistake of glancing at his thin and pink lips, and part your own, causing his chest to rise again.

However, you win your battle at the last second and turn away to face the fire.

“I did get a photo of him,” you say to distract you and him from what you almost did. “I’ll laugh at it with Satoru when he’s out.” You tug on a feigned smile.

Choso hums, and you hum back playfully but don’t look over at him, instead you keep yourself busy and reach in one of your pockets to pull out the glass swan figurine and fiddle with it.

Truth is you didn’t know if you were going back to the apartment after this particular mission, so all you brought with you is the swan figurine since you don’t trust someone not to leave it behind when you ask someone to pick up your belongings.

“So much for our meatballs,” you comment and once again reach in your pocket, but pull out a small bag of chips this time. “Shrimp chip?” You offer him as you push the bag towards him.

Choso reaches over and takes a single chip from the bag.

“Don't worry I found it in an abandoned store on our way here,” you share so he doesn’t think you took it out of the Worm's mouth. People tend to think that you keep snacks inside of it, which is ridiculous.

“It’s no soba,” he says before he takes a bite, making you look over at him and laugh softly.

“No.” You shake your head. “But right now,” you sigh dramatically. “It’s as good as we got.”

You turn to face him and reach over to touch his wrist and bring something up. “After this whole ordeal is done we have to go get some delicious ramen, it's the best there is. I mean It’s made by non-sorcerers, but the lady is nice and the greatest cook. I would marry the ramen if I could, that’s how good it is.”

Choso swallows his chip and quieres with a tiny amused half smile. “Marry food?”

You nod eagerly. “Yeah! It’s delicious!”

“Well,” Choso says softly. “I’ll take your word for it, but if it isn’t good you’re the one stuck with it.”

You chuckle, making his smile spread wider.

“Happily,” you assure him and sit back, catching in that moment Itadori opens his eyes.“See,” you point out and look to Choso. “He’s okay.”

Choso’s eyes look past you to watch his little brother sit up in confusion at his change of surroundings.

“Hm?” Itadori probes quietly the moment he finds his attacker sitting nearby. “I’m…W—”

“What a relief,” Okkotsu laughs nervously and only confuses the poor boy even more—“I think it was around September, Gojo came to see me. He asked me to watch over you so I had to put this act on.”

“Act?” Itadori presses.

You shift your feet forward to prop your elbow on your leg and rest your chin on your hand. “You really think my brother would leave you by yourself without backup?” You cut in, making Itadori slowly look back at Choso and you. “I can’t say he knew he’d be gone, but Satoru is smart even if he might not look it.”

Itadori’s eyes narrow on you. “I thought you were backup?” He asks.

You share a dry laugh. “I was help, but not back up,” you tell him the truth. “At least not the kind he needed, considering I too have a death sentence on my head. That’s why Okkotsu is here.” You feign a smile.

“Instead of allowing a different executioner or having all information about you being hidden I decided this workaround was best,” Okkotsu adds to the conversation so Itadori could further understand. “But they aren’t dumb, so in order to get Jujutsu headquarters to approve me as executioner I entered a binding vow to kill you. So I killed you. Sorry about that.”

Choso leans close to you. “I don’t understand,” he whispers.

You lean over to him and whisper back. “Just listen, he'll explain.”

Choso stays close to you and listens to Okkotsu carefully as if he didn't see his own brother alive.

“Then why am I still alive,” Itadori asks what Choso was questioning too.

“Because of reverse cursed technique,” Okkotsu shares. “At the same time, your heart stopped, I instantaneously healed you with reverse cursed technique. I thought it might work based on what I’ve heard about you.”

“Can you do that? You use RCT too.” Choso asks you as he keeps watching Itadori and Okkotsu talk as if Okkotsu is going to just attack his brother.

“No,” you sigh in disappointment. “I wish. Only a few can. The boy is one of them and my friend Shoko can too. It’s very impressive.”

“You mentioned,” he says.

You shift around and face him with a smirk. “Which reminds me, we’re going to be leaving our hideout now, so we’ll see more people and you won’t have to be stuck with me anymore.”

“I don’t mind,” he quickly rebuttals, making your breath falter and your eyes widen slightly—”Besides,” he adds. “I don't think other people will be as kind as you are to me. I still am a curse.”

“Half,” you correct him. “I see human. So half. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I’m sure people should be more focused on other things instead of your appearance. If they are bothered then they got a problem or…you know,” you purposely leave hanging and wiggle your eyebrows even if your insides are slowly twisting at your own joke.

“I don’t,” he mutters, making you laugh softly.

“They like what they're looking at,” you clarify, making him blink in surprise and drop his head to scoff.

“There’s plenty of pretty women,” you continue and avert your gaze to fiddle with the swan in your hand.

Choso slowly drags his eyes up and watches you wiping the pad of your thumb over the glass. “I don’t need pretty women looking at me,” he mumbles, causing you to scoff breathlessly and lift your gaze to pass him a quizzical look.

“No?” You ask slowly. “You’re living now, it's normal.”

Choso's brown eyes lift off the swan and find your fire-kissed eyes shine even brighter. “Well,” he mumbles almost timidly but doesn’t finish because you cut in.

“As your friend I encourage it,” you try to comfort his worry. “It’s nice. Being loved by someone is a gift, like, you’re seeing radiant colors, the sun rising beyond the horizon, and the stars painting the dark sky for the first time. And loving someone is,” you sigh and smile. “It’s like breathing. You can’t live without it, it’s such a sweet relief…so I encourage it,” you laugh nervously.

“You might even find your own swan,” you mention and show him the swan he gave you.

Nevertheless, that makes him confused.

You smile at the swan. “Swans find one partner in their lifetime,” you share softly. “They fly around from pond to pond, lake to lake, and find one swan out of every place they visit and can visit and mate for life.” You peek over at him but quickly look away. “That’s what I mean,” you finish explaining.

Choso swallows thickly and shifts his feet, making the little pebbles scrape against the ground. And you now feel…stupid for saying all that, so you keep your eyes averted, and thank the fact that he can’t hear how fast your heart is beginning to race.

“Well,” Choso breaks his silence. “I didn't mean…you,” he says, making you snap your eyes over to him to watch him with hope you shouldn't have risen in the first place.

Yet the moment your softened red-orange eyes find Choso’s gaze every word he had just struggled to come up with, ‘poof’, vanishes and he’s just left with lips parted.

You keep looking into his eyes as you wait for what he’s going to say, but he can’t say a thing because the sound of Itadori muttering someone’s name steals your attention.

“Fushiguro.”

Out of the shadows comes Megumi Fushiguro, just like Okkotsu mentioned earlier. He looks just as broody as usual.

“Who’s that?” Choso asks you.

“Itadori’s friend and classmate,” you remind him. “Megumi Fushiguro. Urchin head,” you smile at your own joke.

“What’re you doing?” Fushiguro asks Itadori. “Let’s head back to Jujutsu High. The barrier around the school is loosening. As long as no one directly sees your face, it should be no problem for you to go back,” he assures Itadori. “We’ll rejoin the older students—”

“Stop,” Itadori cuts emotionally. “Don’t act like everything is normal. Don’t act like nothing happened! I killed people!” He cries out full of anger. “Because of me, lots of people died!”

“Yuji,” Choso tries to intervene, but you grab his wrist to stop him and let his friend handle it because no matter how close all three of you got during your time in hiding, he needs to hear from and talk to people he trusts more. You know you’d want that.

“It’s our fault,” Fushiguro argues. “Don’t be selfish and give up all alone. We aren’t heroes fighting for justice, we’re Jujutsu Sorcerers.”

Hmm…he kind of sounds like Suguru when he was in high school…

“No one can ever truly judge us so we must continually prove the worth of our existence,” Fushiguro continues to explain as Itadori gets on his feet. “And we don’t have the luxury of thinking about ourselves. We’ve just got to save people. I believe that was the original principle behind your actions. So start by saving me Itadori.”

You smile in admiration at his words and see Itadori’s eyes widen in reaction to what he hears too.

Hopefully, now he understands what you couldn't make him understand. He’s been beating himself up for too long because of it.

“Noritoshi Kamo has made plans for those involved with Jujutsu to face off in a Culling Game,” Fushiguro continues to share, making Choso’s hand fists out of annoyance over the simple mention of his father's antics.

“And Tsumiki is ensnared in that. So I’m begging you, Itadori. I need your strength.”

You look at Itadori as if this is some soap opera to you, and watch him as he looks at his friend with disbelief.

“Okkotsu,” Itadori mutters with his eyes on Fushiguro for a few seconds longer. “Sukuna is plotting something involving Fushiguro. He probably took over my body in Shibuya because I ate ten fingers all at once. I have ingested 15 fingers so. Even if I ate all remaining 5 in one go, I doubt he’d be able to take control, but,” he says coldly and looks at Okkotsu with a determined glare. “If I ever switch with Sukuna again, don't hesitate to kill me. I think you could do that.”

Okkotsu nods and assures Itadori. “Understood I’ll do what I can.”

You look at Choso and see him look concerned over what Itadori just ordered someone to do with what seems to be so much ease. But there’s nothing you can say to comfort him if you have no solution for that yourself. So you let it be.

“Fushiguro,” Itadori drifts his attention back to his friend. “What should I do?”

“First,” Fushiguro responds and lifts a finger. “We’ll go back to Jujutsu High and contact Master Tengen. We need to find out how to remove the seal on the prison realm. Also,” he lifts a second finger. “What are Noritoshi Kamo’s concrete objectives and future moves. The culling game is Jujutsu terrisom like never before. To fix this mess, we need to find the answers to these questions and I think only Master Tengen knows.”

“Maybe Tsukumo knows,” Itadori suggests.

You lean forward and cut in to answer. “This was her idea. We’re meeting up with her next, she’s hiding at the school.”

Itadori looks over at you and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Hiding?”

“She’s avoiding the higher-ups, she tends to do that,” you let him know.

“Hm.”

“The problem is Master Tengen’s concealing barrier, over 1,000 doors are continually shuffling,” Okkotsu interjects to add the major concern. “But only one leads to the tomb of the star corridor where master Tengen resides.”

“And we can’t contact Master Tengen if we don’t pick the right one?” Itadori asks, causing you to nod and hum.

“Mh-hmm, but—”

“Sorry Fushiguro, I have to ask.” Itadori cuts you off which if he just wanted answers from him he should’ve said.

“What happened to Kugisaki?” His sudden change in tone and questions surprise you and now you feel bad. Especially when all he gets is silence from Fushiguro.

“Oh…” Itadori whispers shakily as you see him fist his hand tightly. “I get it. I get it!!” He exclaims and drops his head as he handles his emotions.

“About that barrier,” Choso breaks his silence and catches Fushiguro by surprise, while you smile softly. “There may be a way past it.”

“Oh,” Okkotsu says softly. “You were listening?”

“What do you mean, Choso?” Itadori chimes in.

Choso gets up and steps forward. “Y/N once went in last year to steal the Death Painting Wombs,” he points back at you. “We can do the same.”

You nod and slap your thighs before you get up. “More or less of the same thing,” you add. “But yes we can go in. Choso and I planned it already. All we need is to meet up with Yuki and we can go. But first…”

Dinner!

After you pick up some fast food then you finally head to the school and Yuki. Which, since she is holed up she’s easy to find.

“Honey I’m home!” You announce happily and run past the students walking down the stairs to arrive in the hidden room.

“About time,” Yuki greets back with a small smile.

You offer her a small smile and don’t say a word to Maki Zen’in, you look at her and see the burn marks, but that’s all you do because Satoru told you that she and her classmates don’t like you after last year's events. Which is understandable. Plus you’re also kind of scared of Maki Zen’in. If she turns out anything like her relative she’ll be a terrifying person.

“I’ve brought you your dinner,” you let Yuki know and show off the bag before you run over and wrap an arm around her as a form of a quick greeting. When she takes the bag with her food you then jump over the couch and sit by her. “It’s a bit cold now, sorry it’s a long ways here.”

“It’s fine,” she assures you. “I don’t mind it cold actually.”

You glance at Maki talking to Okkotsu and whisper. “We brought her some too, it’s in the bag, give it to her.”

Yuki looks back at you. “Why don’t you?” She retorts.

You shoot her a pointed look and scoff. “Yeah right. She’s scary, you do it. Besides,” you yawn and lift your legs to rest them on Yuki’s lap as you sit back. “I brought it here.”

“Like if that has anything to do with anything,” she quips and peers back at Maki and Okkotsu.

“Is it okay for you to move around?” You catch Okkotsu ask.

“Yeah no problem,” Maki assures him nonchalantly.

“Here Maki,” Yuki says and hands Maki the food you had brought her before she interjects on the matter they were just speaking of. “It can’t be helped with burn scars. Even reverse cursed technique leaves a mark. I’d expect nothing less from someone physically gifted through heavenly restriction. It was her inborn physical toughness, not curse tolerance, that saved her life. It’s bad about the business with the head of the family.”

You scoff in amusement at that last bit.

“Well,” Maki says. “I wasn’t going for it. Megumi,” she changes the subject and looks over at Fushiguro. “What about Master Tengen’s barrier?”

“About that,” he mutters.

Alas, he doesn’t get to finish because Choso then steps forward and pats his shoulder to cut in. “I’ll explain.”

Since you already listened to his plan, and you went over it with him not so long ago you close your eyes to try and get a quick power nap, maybe?

“Between the doors and the tomb lies the cursed warehouse where Jujutsu High stores cursed tools and objects,” you hear his explanation in the background. “It holds the remains of my younger brothers Noranso, Sho-oso, Tanso, Sanso, Kotsuso, and Shoso. Even if they are remains, with the six together, a side effect of my cursed technique should provide some guidance.”

“Good!” Yuki exclaims and then moments after that you feel an elbow hit the side of your boob.

“Ow,” you whine and open your eyes, catching Yuki getting up as she takes a bite of her food—“you just hit my boob,” you snap.

“You were asleep.”

You pout in annoyance. “I didn’t even get to,” you grumble and lazily push yourself off the couch.

“That’s fine but,” Maki adds to the previous topic. “Who’s this guy?”

You glance over at Choso and before you can properly introduce him, Itadori responds, making you look over at him with curiosity.

“For now, think of him as my big brother,” he shares, making you smile proudly for Choso.

And when you look at him again you see him look completely baffled before he throws his head up and exclaims out of excitement. “Yuji!!!”

This is the first time you’ve heard him yell like that, he’s usually so soft-spoken, both because he's reserved and nonchalant. So hearing him shout with so much emotion actually makes you happy and even prouder that it was Itadori who got that out of Choso.

“See,” you tell him right away as you meet halfway to follow the others out of the hideout. “What did I tell you? He just needed time.”

Choso's lips pull to a wobbly smile and you can’t help but smile wider and with more admiration.

“You were right,” he says in a happy quivering voice.

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and give him a friendly partial hug. “I’m happy for you,” you let him know, making him look over at you with his eyes glossy and his smile unbreakable.

“Thank you, y/n,” he says in a soft voice.

You respond with a grin and steal a glance at his lips, which he answers by looking at your own lips.

But, neither of you do a thing about it, you pull your arm off his shoulders and look away, catching Yuki watching you.

Thus to get away from your temptation you skip over and catch up to Yuki as you walk out the door and step outside.

“Now that everything is tense here will you be staying longer?” You ask her since she still likes to bounce from place to place.

“Hm, no,” she answers without thinking about it. “I’ll take a vacation after this.”

You scoff.

“Why don’t you and your girl come with me?” She nudges your arm. “You deserve it.”

You draw out a deep breath. “I don’t think I can,” you break it to her right away. “So much to do here. I mean, I would like to take a vacation, but I don’t think I can anytime soon.”

“You have a mountain of people who can take care of your community while you’re gone, I mean Larue still lives there,” she brings up.

You avert your gaze and mumble, “yeah I know, but I need to take care of stuff here. It’s not…it was easier when Suguru was with me.”

“Oh.” Yuki proceeds to go quiet for a moment before she comes up with a way around your predicament. “Well, we don’t have to just leave. We can plan it.”

You hum and look over at her. As she feels your stare she looks at you and stares into your eyes before she quips. “Your eyes still creep me out. They’re like little torches.”

You laugh and smirk as something pops into your mind. “You know who likes my eyes?” You ask playfully.

Yuki's eyebrows furrow and she presses. “Who?”

You grin. “My sexy pirate husband.” You snicker.

Yuki rolls her eyes and groans.

“Wait who?” Itadori asks from the front of the damn group.

“Don’t—”

“Will Turner,” you share happily even if he was eavesdropping.

“Who?”

You happily pull your phone out and quickly find a photo of the man you’re talking about in your gallery. “Him, a character from a pirate movie,” you show off proudly. “Sexy pirate husband!”

Choso had walked to Itadori’s side amidst your conversation with Yuki and slowly looks over his shoulder to see who it is you’re speaking about.

“Isn’t he dreamy?” You coo and lean your head against your phone.

“Tsk.” Someone lets out with clear annoyance, but you don’t see who.

“He’s a fictional character,” Yuki likes to point out.

“So? He’s still hot.” You snap and keep admiring the picture. “Especially in that one scene where he grazes his lips over his lover's leg.” You giggle. “I never wanted to be someone so bad until the day I saw that scene. I combusted that day.”

“You need to obsess over a real man,” she teases.

“Like Legolas,” you add quickly and snap your fingers.

“Fictional elf,” she remarks.

“You sound like Suguru,” you mutter and put your phone away. “It’s okay, I've got plenty of love to go around.” You touch your chest and she rolls her eyes, making you snicker and see in that moment Maki Zen’in looking back at you. Not Yuki, you.

Since it is quite a long walk towards Tengen, there’s a lot of time, and she keeps glancing back at you as if looking for something in you. And you have an idea of what it is.

“If you’re looking for an apology,” you cut in bluntly. “You won’t get one.”

Maki looks back again and keeps her eye on you.

“You wouldn't get one even if you had died. I did what I thought was right that day.”

“You almost killed us, was that right?” She argues, and you chuckle.

“If we wanted you dead,” you mention with a smirk. “We would’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you before you lifted your weapon that day. But you’re here. You all are.”

Maki doesn’t counter with anything anymore, there was just no reasoning that would change your mind and nothing to throw at you that would affect you in any way she wanted, so she leaves it be and you continue.

“I’ll tell you this. To all you kids…” you pause and let out a deep breath, and all the kids you’re referring to look back at you one way or another.

“Don’t feel sorry or drown in guilt,” you continue with confidence so they believe what you’re saying. “Because there will come a time in your sorcerer career in which you will face a difficult situation. It’s a part of being a sorcerer. If you go on to think about it you will destroy yourself, so the best thing to do is let it go and live your life.”

Suguru faced a difficult situation and he drowned in the aftermath. He was never the same after that. You’ve faced difficult situations and you chose to get better because of it. That’s what you want for them as students, so you hope they listen, and you hope Itadori especially takes that advice.

“We’re here,” Yuki announces. “Just past those doors will be the main doors that lead to the barrier.”

You look around and it’s quiet, so you point it out. “Hey, there’s no guards.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Yuki says as she walks ahead when Fushiguro opens the doors. “Besides the last time you came here, you came to steal.”

True.

“Meh,” you let out and walk in after her.

Once everyone is inside, Choso opens the door and right away you’re bombarded by a thousand doors and memories.

The last time you were here you burnt all the doors down except for one, this time there’s no such disaster, Choso follows his brotherly instincts and leads everyone to red double doors at the top row of doors.

Perhaps if you had him last year you could have come and left before Satoru found you, maybe you could have found Suguru and saved him that day…

“Without a doubt, my brothers sleep beyond those doors,” Choso shares as he gently touches the door. “Let’s open them.”

You stay where you are and watch Choso and Itadori pull open the doors and welcome a dark eerie sight you recognize, meaning you’re on top of the dead forest.

“Let’s go,” Yuki urges the group and walks to the doors. “Deep in, there’s an elevator to the tomb.”

She jumps down first and Choso and Itadori follow. You let Okkotsu and Maki follow behind them before you land in the eerie dead forest.

“It’s even more eerie than I remember,” you murmur with distaste and break into a quick pace to catch up to Yuki as she leads the group forward now, past the warehouse, the place where Choso’s brothers are being kept, but can’t get into just yet.

They’re all just past his grasp, all he’s wanted in this world, but he has to leave them behind for now to help Itadori. Which shouldn’t take so long, but you can imagine his impatience and frustration by being so close, but not being able to reach them. It’s also why you can’t help but admire him though, he’s willing to walk away without them and wait longer for the little brother he just met.

Yet where there’s admiration you also mostly feel bad for him when you look back and see him with his hand pressed against that metal door, and a look of longing on his pale face.

You can relate to that longing, you've missed your brother too. He’s trapped now too waiting to be let out. You’d tell Choso that, comfort him over the fact that he’ll get them out soon enough because this is something you’ve talked with him about, but as you keep peering back you see that Itadori is with him, so you let them have this moment and continue at Yuki’s side. Pius you shouldn’t say a thing, he’ll just give you his rare and charming smiles, and your heart will swoon and sigh, while your mind clears and thinks about nothing else but him and how much you like to see him smile. And you can’t be swooning over him, you’ve told yourself that already.

However, when you’re on that elevator ride down, you end up beside him and you can’t help yourself. Besides it’d be rude not to, right?

“There’s only one way out,” you whisper so your conversation is not the center of attention in the silence. “You’ll take them with you on your way out.”

Choso sighs deeply and nods. “Yes, I know.”

You look over at him and he looks at you.

“You did what you promised,” he whispers with his eyes softening. “Thank you.”

Why can’t he just stay nonchalant? Why does he have to look at you in such a gentle way?

“In the end, I didn’t do a thing, you did, so don’t thank me,” you argue since it’s true.

“You still came,” he rebuttals.

“Well—”

“I thought you said to listen when someone is giving you gratitude,” he argues, making you grow flustered and grin at the floor over the fact that he’s using your own lesson back at you.

“Take it,” he insists.

You let out a deep breath and then look up at him with a softer smile. “You welcome Choso.” You give in.

Choso holds your gaze and hums.

The elevator doors proceed to open and you force yourself to quickly look away before your desire burns hotter and you’re tempted to close the gap and feel the warmth of his lips on yours. Nonetheless, when you step out behind the others, you wish you could be enveloped in that sweet moment again because now you see blood stained on the ground and their faces become clearer than the sky.

You didn’t know them long whatsoever, but the deaths of Kurio and Amanai still had an impact. Amanai’s death is why you hate non-sorcerers the way you do now.

“Blood stains?” Itadori is the only one that probes. “What happened here?”

You fall behind this time and stare at the large blood stain that they couldn’t remove, a bad memory of a sad day.

“It was 11 years ago,” you mutter and continue to lag behind.

“Y/N,” Choso calls out when he sees you fall behind.

You hesitate before you look over at him and break away to fall beside him and continue to follow the group.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You meet his worried gaze and assure him with a gentle nod.

“Now that I think about it,” Yuki adds thoughtfully. “That’s when everything began to get distorted.”

You enter the tunnels that lead to the last barrier and approach the spot where Amanai died.

“All right, everyone the main shine is through here,” Yuki shares as she approaches the end of the tunnel.

Nevertheless, when you all walk out instead of seeing the row of buildings and the spot where Amanai died, you actually walk into a purely white room with nothing but what seems to be an endless room.

“Uh, this not the way to the shrine,” you point out.

“Damnit,” Yuki hisses.

“There’s nothing here,” Itadori points out the obvious, and Fushiguro follows to add a comment.

“This is the main shrine?”

Then again you never seeked the main shrine so what if this is it?

“No,” Yuki clarifies. “It’s rejecting us. Tengen doesn’t interfere with this world, but I thought contact was possible now that Six Eyes are sealed. I was too optimistic.” She mumbles.

You groan. “Well Tengen probably has the answer on how to get Satoru out,” you spat in frustration. “We have to keep trying.”

Yuki peers at you over her shoulder with a glare directed at the being not welcoming you in. “There’s probably archives with answers on the Prison Realm in your family home.”

You scoff. “My family home?” You remark as if it’s a joke.

Yuki nods. “The big families keep secrets no one else does, our answers will be there.”

You step towards her and argue “Yuki without Satoru gone I am not welcome home. I'm disowned in the eyes of my parents and the rest of my family.”

“I know,” she rebuttals. “But I am sure they’ll let us in when you tell them what you’re after.”

You part your lips to argue, but she’s right, so you just huff and already begin to dread what you have to do.

“Let’s head back then,” Okkotsu interjects. “We can break apart, some of us can get answers on how to get Gojo out, while some others go and help Tsumiki, she doesn’t have time.”

You groan and ball your hands into fists as you grow nervous about going home. You’re not even out of this space and you’re already starting to feel nauseous.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice booms out, causing your shoulders to jump, and your hand to fly over to grab Choso’s arm as if it were instinct.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” they add behind you, so you look back and see a tall…creature with a weirdly shaped head and four eyes.

“Child of Zen’in, Child of Gojo…”

Tsk.

“…Michizane’s descendent, Death Painting Womb, and Sukuna’s vessel.”

Tengen?

A/N- Just make out already!

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest

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