#platonic geto x you

[gardentool]

Y/N: Your eyes are red. Have you been smoking?

Geto [imitating Y/N]: Have you been smoking?

Geto: No, bitch. I’ve been crying.

Y/N: …

Y/N: Oh.

[wisecura]

Pretty

Suguru x fem-reader p.2

summary: You're Gojo's cute little sister.

AN:*ahem ahem* sis con *ahem ahem* (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

Warning: yandere behaviors oncoming please read at your own risk. Minors DNI this ain’t for ya

My little Sugu-princess

Being the little sister of The Satoru Gojo and a member of the prestigious Gojo clan was one thing.

Life in one of the great clans wasn’t as easy as it seemed. The expectations were towering, endless, and often suffocating. You weren’t necessarily weak—far from it—though you certainly didn’t measure up to your older brother.

Suffice it to say, you faced a significant amount of criticism from the elders and your family. It didn’t help that you and Satoru were so close in age—only two years apart—or that you bore such a striking resemblance to him, with your stark white hair and vivid blue eyes.

No—the family’s disappointment in the skill gap between you and your brother was painfully obvious, and they made no effort to hide it.

Their disapproval only made it easier for them to try and treat you as though you were lesser.

Keyword: tried.

Having ‘Toru as your big brother, however, was an entirely different experience.

From the moment his mother introduced you to him—the tiny, white-haired, blue-eyed baby swaddled in her arms—he was captivated. Utterly fascinated by the idea of being a big brother, even if he had no clue what that actually meant.

As the two of you grew older, it all clicked into place.

Satoru couldn’t get enough of you. His cute little sister, his perfect look alike. He never hesitated to shower you with attention, and he made no effort to hide his blatant favoritism.

Where others saw weakness or disappointment, Satoru saw someone precious. Someone who was his, and his alone.

You were largely harassed by your family and the clan members, though you couldn’t quite pinpoint when it all began. What you did know was that it was constant, relentless. You’d never forget the way the maids would shoot you nasty glares before scuttling off, or the way you were often harshly scolded for being “too loud” when wandering through the clan house.

And then there was your mother, whose gaze had once been so warm and soft, now replaced by cold indifference.

It was a loneliness you felt more deeply than you cared to admit.

Satoru, of course, picked up on the way you had started retreating into yourself. And he couldn’t stand it.

He began sticking to you like a second shadow, refusing to leave your side for long. Whether it was spending more time with you or dragging you along on one of his whims, he made it his mission to ensure you were never alone.

When that wasn’t enough, he didn’t hesitate to make his point with the elders, the family, or anyone else who dared to mistreat you. If protective was the word people used to describe him, it was an understatement.

But could you blame him?

How could he sit back and stay silent while his adorable little sister was harassed by a bunch of bitter old geezers—or worse, by the maids who should’ve known their place? Satoru wasn’t one to let things slide, not when it came to you.

And he was always there for you.

Always on your side, always finding a way to lessen that crushing loneliness. It was hard to feel bitter about your situation when you had him—your constant, your protector, your big brother who refused to let the world break you.

And deep down, you couldn’t say you didn’t know why they treated you the way they did. You were weaker than Satoru, much weaker. And to the clan, that would have been bad enough. But you had committed another, even graver sin in their eyes.

You had been born the wrong sex.

No—you didn’t come close to meeting their lofty standards—not by a long shot. And Satoru clung to you throughout your childhood, shielding you from most of the harsh words and even harsher punishments they hurled your way.

But as he grew older, Satoru began to understand his position more clearly—the privileges and power that came with being the sole heir of the Gojo clan. The strongest sorcerer in the world, blessed with both the Limitless Cursed Technique and the fabled Six Eyes.

And he was fed up.

That was how he found himself face-to-face with the current head of the clan, confronting the source of your undeserved bad reputation.

“Your responsibility? Ha! Don’t make me laugh,” Satoru sneered, his voice thick with venom. “You’ve done nothing but treat her like garbage since she was four. A bunch of hypocrites, every last one of you.”

The Clan Head’s brow furrowed, his attempt at authority wavering under the weight of Satoru’s words.

“Satoru, you’re being unreasonable. She needs to know her place in the clan—”

“Unreasonable?”

Resentment flared in his striking blue eyes, the intensity of his stare enough to freeze the room. His cursed energy seeped from every pore, enveloping the space in an oppressive, suffocating weight. The silence was deafening.

Satoru didn’t care. He wanted the old man to fear him. No, more than that—he needed him to feel the full brunt of his hatred, the loathing that burned in every fiber of his being.

“Me? Unreasonable?” His voice dropped, cold and cutting. He stepped forward, each word sharp as a blade. “Let me make this crystal clear: From now on, my sister will be under my care. None of you will approach her, scold her, teach her—anything.”

His gaze locked onto the Clan Head, sharp and unrelenting. Despite his youth, Satoru carried an authority that left no room for argument. The unspoken threat in his eyes was impossible to miss.

I’m stronger than you, old man.

The Clan Head faltered, the weight of Satoru’s presence pressing down on him. He opened his mouth as if to argue but stopped, his resolve crumbling under the oppressive force radiating from the boy before him.

And with that, the argument ended.

The decision was made: your care was officially placed in Satoru’s hands.

From that moment on, Satoru refused to let anyone exert authority over you. Not the elders, not the maids, not even your own mother dared to interfere. His word became law where you were concerned, and he enforced it with unwavering resolve.

But while his victory granted you the protection you so desperately needed, it came with a price. No one in the clan was willing to challenge Satoru’s authority, and as a result, they chose to ignore you entirely.

For years, Satoru was your guard dog, your protector, your one and only ally. He was always there—shielding you from the harshness of the clan and the indifference of the world. But soon enough, the day came when he had to leave for school.

And soon enough, he wouldn’t be there for you.

Not in the way you needed him.

For the first time, you’d have to face the world without him by your side.

The thought haunted Satoru. Desperation to ensure your happiness and safety gnawed at him, even at the expense of his own reputation. His behavior became increasingly erratic—snapping at anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way and clinging to you like a stubborn child who refused to let go.

No matter how protective or affectionate he was, the growing anxiety inside him never faded. If anything, his fear of leaving you only made him more attached. He hovered constantly, watching over you with the intensity of someone who knew he was running out of time.

In quieter moments, he even entertained the idea of taking you with him. What if I just brought her along? It wasn’t impossible, was it?

But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the answer.

“Toru,” you called, your voice playful and lilting, “are you excited to be going to school soon?”

Without waiting for an answer, you leapt onto his back, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck with a cheeky grin. Satoru stumbled slightly but quickly recovered, his instincts sharp even with his Infinity kept off—a deliberate choice he made around you. He knew how much you loved ambushing him with your “surprise attacks,” and he’d never deny you that joy.

You had always been with him, and he had always been with you. The thought of being apart for the first time was unsettling, almost unthinkable—for both of you.

Satoru’s playful demeanor masked the worry simmering just beneath the surface. He knew how much his absence could affect you.

Loneliness was his greatest fear for you, knowing how deeply you relied on him for comfort and connection. But even more than that, the idea of the clan taking advantage of his absence made his blood boil.

He would never forgive himself if they hurt you while he was gone.

He chuckled softly at your antics, adjusting you on his back as he strolled through the garden. Your feet swung back and forth lazily, brushing against his sides, but he didn’t mind. He’d been on his way to yet another pointless training session, but with his departure looming, spending time with you felt far more important.

Satoru ignored your question, choosing not to answer. He knew that whatever he said might dampen your excitement or make you sad, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Instead, he let the silence settle between you, though it weighed heavily on his mind.

This might be the last time he’d hear your cheerful voice calling out to him until summer break. The thought lingered, bittersweet, as he carried you a little further, savoring the moment for as long as he could.

Finally, he spoke, breaking the tension with a forced cheerfulness. “We’ve got to do something fun before I leave!” His voice wavered slightly, softening as the emotion he’d been holding back began to seep through. “I’m gonna miss you so much, imouto.”

You tightened your arms around him, burying your face into his shoulder. Neither of you spoke for a moment, letting the weight of his words linger.

Then, the day finally came.

Satoru was leaving for high school. The idea of staying in the dorms, away from the suffocating halls of the clan house, sounded like pure heaven. Freedom, independence, a chance to live on his own terms—it was everything he’d dreamed of.

But leaving you behind? That was an entirely different kind of pain.

He hated the thought of you being alone in that cold, unfeeling house. He’d already made up his mind, though. When the time came for you to join him in high school, he would find a place for the two of you. Somewhere far away from the clan house. Maybe a little apartment near the beach, within train distance of the school. A place where you could finally breathe, free from the expectations and judgment of the clan.

Two years.

He could wait two years.

You missed Toru like crazy after he left. The future summers never seemed to come fast enough, and when they finally did, they never lasted long enough.

His absence left a void in the clan house, one that was difficult to ignore. Yet, in a strange way, it worked in your favor. With Satoru gone, no one paid you any attention. The sharp criticisms, the constant scoldings, and the disapproving glares—all of it stopped. You were left alone, ignored.

And while the loneliness stung, you didn’t mind the peace.

In that newfound quiet, you turned your focus inward. Day after day, you practiced your cursed technique, working tirelessly to ensure you wouldn’t be an embarrassment when it was finally your turn to join him. Your older brother was so strong, so effortlessly cool—everything you aspired to be. You wanted to make him proud, to prove that you were worthy of standing next to him.

When summer finally arrived and Satoru came home, you couldn’t help but notice the change in him. He seemed lighter, freer. Being away from the stifling walls of the clan house had done wonders for him, and his happiness was undeniable.

It made you happy to see him like that. But in some small, selfish way, it also made you sad.

He had found a kind of peace you still couldn’t grasp, and though you were thrilled to have him back, it reminded you of just how far away that freedom felt for you.

Eager to show him how much you’d grown, you demonstrated the progress you’d made in your cursed technique. His reaction didn’t disappoint, showering you with endless praise.

“You’re amazing, imouto! You’ve come so far!” Satoru beamed with pride, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Moments like these reminded you why you worked so hard. No matter how much time passed, no matter how far apart you were, your big brother’s approval was worth everything.

Later that evening, as the two of you lounged in the garden, Satoru told you stories about his time at school. He told you all about the friends he’d made, particularly someone named Suguru Geto.

The way he talked about Suguru—with a fondness you rarely heard from him—sparked a tiny flicker of jealousy in you, though you’d never admit it out loud.

At the time, you didn’t think much about what he said, but it intrigued you all the same. Satoru had never spoken so warmly about anyone other than you.

It made you eager to start high school yourself. To make your own friends, form your own memories. You had spent so much of your life confined to the Gojo estate, rarely allowed out of the manor, let alone given the chance to interact with others.

Most of that isolation, though unintentional, had been orchestrated by Satoru himself. He’d always insisted it was too dangerous for you to roam the streets the way he did. “It’s different for me,” he’d say confidently, brushing off your protests. “But you? I can’t risk it, imouto.”

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder. What would it be like to step into the world? To meet people your age? What kind of friendships could you form?

Would you even know how to talk to someone your age?

The few people you had interacted with so far were either indifferent to you or outright hostile. The thought of venturing into something new—meeting new people, creating your own memories—was both thrilling and...terrifying.

Despite your curiosity, one thing remained certain: no one could ever be better than your big brother.

You’d told him that countless times, a truth you held onto tightly. And every time you said it, it only served to inflate his already massive ego. Not that you noticed—or cared. To you, it wasn’t flattery; it was just the simple truth.

Satoru truly was the best big brother. No one else could compare.

And just like that, two years flew by. Before you knew it, you were finally enrolled at Jujutsu Tech, stepping outside the high fences of the estate for the first time in what felt like forever.

To say you were ecstatic would be a gross understatement.

This time, you weren’t staying behind—you were leaving with him. You’d finally get to see the campus he’d told you so much about, the place that had seemed like a distant dream during those long, lonely years.

It felt almost surreal how easily it had all come together. Automatic enrollment, all thanks to being Satoru Gojo’s little sister. His recommendation alone carried immeasurable weight, and his unparalleled influence in the jujutsu world sealed the deal without question.

The ride to the school felt like an eternity, your excitement bubbling over as the car rolled to a stop in front of the campus gates. Stepping out, you found yourself momentarily awestruck by the sight before you.

A heavily wooded temple stood at the heart of the campus, surrounded by lush gardens that seemed to stretch endlessly. The serene beauty of the place was breathtaking, far beyond anything your brother’s words had prepared you for. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant hum of cicadas, and the faint scent of earth and greenery created an atmosphere so calm, so peaceful, that it felt like a world away from the stifling halls of the Gojo estate.

Satoru nudged you forward, his excited chatter flying over your head as you took in the sights. He led the way toward the dorms, and though the two of you would be in different classes, the thought of being here—together—was enough to keep your spirits high.

At least now, you weren’t stuck in that damn house.

Settling into the dorms was surprisingly easy. The room you were assigned was slightly smaller than the one you’d had back home, but it was cozy and comfortable. Most of your belongings had been delivered ahead of time, neatly arranged and waiting for you.

What struck you as strange, though, was the emptiness. The hallways were eerily quiet, and you couldn’t spot another girl in sight. It made the space feel… unsettling.

“Not many students enroll,” Satoru had mentioned, brushing off your concerns like it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t—to him. But you couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.

This was your first real step into the outside world, and though you had Satoru by your side, the unfamiliarity of it all was both thrilling and unnerving.

Meeting your new classmates was… interesting. There were two other first-years joining you, both boys. Still no girls? You tried not to let it bother you, but it felt a little strange.

They seemed nice enough, but you couldn’t ignore the way they looked at you when you first met—as if you were some rare specimen to be observed. Not surprising, given that Satoru had no doubt made a name for himself on campus.

Kai, the taller of the two, was the first to speak. He circled you with a casual, almost lazy air, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You a Gojo?” he asked, his tone light but curious. “Yeah, you definitely fit the look.”

You instinctively took a small step back, unsure how to respond. The question seemed so obvious it made you want to roll your eyes and say duh. Was it the hair? The eyes? Those features practically screamed Gojo, so what was the point of the interrogation?

Kazuo, the shorter of the two, spoke next. “What’s your cursed technique like?” he asked, his wide eyes filled with excitement. Cute, you thought absently. Though, definitely not cuter than your big brother.

Despite your lack of social experience, the conversation began to flow more easily than you expected. Kai and Kazuo seemed easygoing, and before long, you found yourself relaxing around them. It felt like the beginning of a solid friendship, and you felt genuinely excited to start classes.

And then you ran into Satoru.

“Toru!” you called out, your face lighting up as you spotted his tall, lanky form in the courtyard. His back was to you, and he seemed deep in conversation with a small group of students. Smirking to yourself, you prepared another one of your “surprise attacks.”

With a playful leap, you pounced on him, causing him to stumble forward slightly before easily catching his balance. Spinning around, he grinned widely, his excitement obvious as he set you down.

“Well, look who it is!” he said, ruffling your hair with a playful grin. He seemed just as thrilled to see you, though it didn’t take long before he quickly pulled you over to his friends.

Turning back to the group, his tone brimmed with pride. “Guys, this is my little sister!” he announced, gently nudging you forward to stand in front of the two upperclassmen with him.

The girl stepped forward first, her warm caramel-colored hair matching the kindness in her eyes. She introduced herself, and you recognized her name immediately—she was the healer your brother had mentioned. She was even prettier than you’d imagined, exuding a calm, friendly energy.

The boy, on the other hand, was an entirely different presence. He stood nearly as tall as your brother, but where Satoru radiated lighthearted energy, this boy was all sharp edges and quiet intensity. His black hair was tied back in a neat bun, and his dark purple eyes seemed to pierce straight through you, observing your every move.

You knew who he was instantly.

Satoru had spent hours talking about him, and now, face-to-face, you understood why.

Suguru Geto.

And, honestly? You could immediately see why your brother admired him so much.

He was pretty damn handsome.

He was everything your brother wasn’t—where Satoru was soft, Suguru was hard. Where Satoru was bright, Suguru was dark.

And did you mention he was incredibly handsome.

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you froze. His steady, piercing gaze seemed to root you in place, leaving you completely flustered.

“Hey! Hellooo?” Satoru’s voice snapped you out of your daze. Your face flushed hot as you realized you’d been staring.

“Aww, Suguru!” Satoru cooed, his voice dripping with exaggerated delight. “Looks like my lil’ sister’s got a crushy-wushy on you!”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your cheeks and squished them together, leaving you flustered and fuming.

“Shut up, Toru!” you yelled, your voice muffled and your face burning as you swatted at him, trying to pry yourself free.

Your attempts to smack him only made him laugh harder. He threw up his Infinity, keeping you at arm’s length as he continued his merciless teasing. “Aw, look how cute you are! Blushing so much! Suguru, isn’t she adorable?”

You shouted in protest, smacking at the invisible barrier, completely oblivious to the reactions of the two upperclassmen.

Suguru watched you with quiet amusement, his gaze softening just slightly, while the girl giggled under her breath. You hadn’t noticed their stares, too busy plotting ways to throttle your brother once he lowered his Infinity.

Suguru couldn’t peel his eyes away from you.

When Satoru had mentioned his little sister, he’d described a small child—someone he imagined tagging along like a baby duckling. What he hadn’t expected was… you.

Your white hair was styled in a neat half-up, half-down look, accentuating blue eyes that rivaled even your brother’s show stopping gaze. And your features? Sharp yet delicate, striking enough to put a model to shame.

Of course, you were a Gojo. It only made sense.

Still, Suguru found himself taken aback. If he had to describe you, you were like a lovelier, softer version of Satoru. The thought amused him briefly. If only Satoru wasn’t so obnoxiously irritating.

He caught himself silently hoping you didn’t share your brother’s personality.

What exactly had he expected when Satoru said his “baby sister” would be joining them this year? Certainly not someone who could knock the air out of a room just by walking into it.

Satoru’s relentless teasing snapped Suguru out of his thoughts.

“Satoru, enough teasing. You’re going to make her cry,” Suguru quipped, his tone carrying a playful edge as he poked at his best friend’s side.

“‘M not gonna cry!” you screeched, voice cracking slightly as you flushed a deep crimson. Your cheeks and ears were burning, and Suguru could tell you were teetering on the edge of tears—whether from embarrassment or frustration, he wasn’t sure.

The automatic thought that popped into his mind caught him off guard. Pretty.

He cleared his throat, brushing the thought aside, though his lips twitched upward at your flustered expression.

Satoru barked out a laugh, and Suguru couldn’t help but join him, their laughter ringing out as you continued to swat futilely at your brother’s Infinity.

p.2

come home

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

[mistyeyedforest]

Perfect family of too many as you saw it.

There was the over bearing fathers, Geto and Gojo. They were fine at first, respecting your personal boundaries when you demanded it but they got antsy at not being able to touch bade with their newly “adopted” child. Often forced out the room by prying hands or a curse that always looked cotton candy sweet.

Then there was the brothers, overprotective, but sweet. Yuji and Megumi. They were somewhat of an escape from the fathers but still crazy. Often sitting in your personal space but never speaking, aside from Yuji who spoke his vocal cords to tearing.

The other two that remained were the sisters. They were, fine. Mimiko and Nanako, often wanting to braid your hair or just sit with you. Kind of hard to push them away when they threaten to tell Geto of your bad behavior and unfairness even if they had braided a knot into your hair.

It was a perfect family.

Perfect to their terms.

They only saw through rose stained glass, never transparent.

Escape was impossible when everyone in the family was impossibly strong, Yuji’s harboring a curse that often took control and stared over your sleeping form at night.

Though one night you awoke, looking at your make believe brothers tattooed face.

“Do you want a way out?” Sukuna rasped.

[stsgooo]

Love, Hate, Love.

✩࿐ summary: shoko reminisces.

warning(s): death, description of gore, angst, hurt no comfort, depression, bit of a character study(?), sad yuri. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): ieiri shoko/fem!gojo!reader.

a/n: this is kinda messy, but i love shoko and wanted to write something for her so :3 excuse anything that just

SHOKO STARED DOWN AT THE BODY OF ITADORI YUJI AND SHE FELT AN ARRAY OF EMOTIONS.

Disdain. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. Exhaustion. Slight, slight sadness. Emptiness.

She didn’t know Itadori Yuji well. She had only met him for a few minutes when he was passed out and thrown onto one of the many medical bay beds by Gojo. Had patched up the rather small cuts and bruises, listened as the tall teacher described the King of Curses. Then sent him on his way.

Shoko hadn’t seen Itadori again until he was a corpse on her table.

It wasn’t that Shoko was sadden by this strange boy’s loss. Not entirely. She had no attachments or thoughts on the boy. Even when he had gotten everyone talking.

No, it was more about what Itadori Yuji represented in that moment.

Death was a common thing to happen within their world. Every day it was something new. Whether it be non-sorcerer, sorcerer, or a random animal, there was death to be following. Random at most, but there were few instances where it was intentional. Where the grapevine of gossip lead to something catastrophic. That it lead to the death of a young sorcerer with great potential.

Itadori hadn’t been the first to die. And he certainly wasn’t the last.

No. No, Shoko could recall her first vividly.

First, it had been Yomada Han in their first year. A third year that had been the last of his class. He’d run into a trouble, died messily. It’d been the first time she dissected a body. The first time she threw up over it too. It’d been the first time she had a cigarette too.

He’d been sent off to slaughter because of his hand in some clan mess. They thought it was justification enough for his murder death.

Dissecting and seeing death got a little easier from then. Shoko didn’t throw up anymore. She didn’t get angry or question why someone was on her slab. It was just what happened. She came to accept it.

The second had been… well, Gojo Y/N.

Shoko was still unclear on what exactly happened that day. She can just recall the dread and sickness that flushed over her when she saw her sprawled out on the cot. The way Gojo’s voice shook and pleaded with her— desperately trying to appease to Shoko’s good side as if she hadn’t wanted to save her. As if that’s the only thing Shoko wanted to do.

She’d seen a lot by then. Geto’s chest wide open, the insides of various students and curses, bloody limbs. But she had never seen something quite like that.

It was so surreal to have been speaking to someone a day before, smiling and laughing, sharing touches and secrets. Then have half of their brains scattered on your table the next.

Still and silent. The entire time she had been still and silent.

It was all so sickening.

Shoko hadn’t even been able to take a step towards her before she was throwing up the food she’d consumed in the last 24 hours. Tears flushing down her cheeks and bile rising in her throat. Brains trailed into the room and blood dripped from the end of the table onto the ground like a leaky faucet.

She was sick. She was sick. Shoko couldn’t stop being sick.

Then, she hadn’t been sure what to do as the white haired boy pleaded and cried. As his twin remained limp in his hold. Shoko had just watched with trembling lips, shaking hands pressed against her mouth.

She was dead before she was even found.

Shoko had concluded such during the autopsy. As she pushed tears away behind her protective goggles, cutting into her… her….(what? Her friend? Her friend.) As she cut into her friend’s bones and body. Gojo Y/N had been dead the moment the curse made contact and dealt the blow. The moment her skull cracked open and her brain turned to mush, she was gone.

At least, that’s what she reassured Gojo and Geto (and herself) with.

"They said it was a Grade Two," Gojo had said in a whisper, slumped in his seat, eyes uncharacteristically vacant as he stared at the ground. A hollowness that embraced them all was evident and clear. "They sent her with Nanami and Haibara because it was a Grade Two. So why are they both dead? Why is my sister dead? Why was it a fucking Local Deity? It was a Special Grade!"

Gojo had broken down then. A mess of rage full tears as he uttered on about how it was a mistake. One that costed his other half, since birth, to die. It was surreal to see the Strongest reduced to this. A bumbling mess. While he tried to piece together the puzzle of death. As he questioned the justification behind his sister’s death.

Shoko had wished she was afforded the same.

"Satoru," Geto had whispered, oddly blank and hollow himself. As he always had been back then. For a year he’d been a husk of who he once was. Body always tense, always frail and alert. Tired and withering. "You know how she is… was. She would’ve tried saving Haibara no matter the grade."

Haibara had been the third.

He held out longer than her. Given that she’d jumped in front of the curse to save him. Still, he’d been split in half. Nanami only retrieving his upper half with a pale face and hollow eyes. Still, he died.

What was the point of her dying if the one she saved died too?

Shoko wasn’t sure

And neither was Gojo.

"Yeah, and now there two dead sorcerers!" Gojo had shot from his chair. Fast enough that it bounced off the wall and made a horrible sound throughout the empty hallway. Shoko could recall the way she flinched back the moment she felt Gojo's technique fire up. A barrier between him and the people he cared about. An unrelenting and unchecked power that kept his rage contained. "W-Who even cares about Haibara—?"

"Satoru." Geto's tone had darkened considerably. His face shadowed under the flickering fluorescent lights. Any other time Shoko would've ran away. She would've made some comment about them being annoying trash, then stalk off with her in her shadow.

Not now. Not ever again.

Gojo's face crumbled, he grew desperate at Geto's call, "I... Why does it have to be her?" His eyes split to Shoko, narrowed and angry. "I thought you could do something."

Shoko, taken aback, had tensed. "Half of her brain—"

"You love her, right?" Gojo had continued, ruthlessly, "Right?"

A nod.

"Then you should've saved her!"

"Satoru!" Geto's hand wrapped around Gojo's arm, pulling him away. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm wrong?"

"Yes!"

"What the fuck do you know, Suguru?"

"What do I know? I know that you're..."

Their voices had faded away as Shoko stared endlessly at Gojo's previous spot. A well of tears collecting in her eyes as her hands buried deep within her pockets, clenched and shaking. Her technique was great, it was amazing. She'd done a lot even before she was 18.

So why couldn't she save her?

It stuck around with her for a long time. Well after Gojo had stomped off with tears flowing down his face. Well after Geto had conjured up the last bits of his fake kindness and apologized, tried to comfort Shoko. Well after she was alone in her dorm, holding onto the pieces of her that were suddenly all Shoko had left.

Death was sudden. It was the last curtain call. In their line of work, there was usually no time for goodbyes or last words. Much like this situation. It was inevitable and everyone would meet their making sooner or later— it was only a matter of when. It was better to accept you wouldn't get nice little bows in at the end of your life instead of constantly thinking about it.

Still, Shoko had wondered if there was a possibility she could've saved her. Wondered what she would've said in her last moments if she had the chance to say goodbye.

It was a bad downward spiral to commit herself to. Especially when she was alone in the dark, laying in her bed, staring endlessly at the ceiling above.

It was flat-out dangerous to wonder when she was wrist deep in her chest cavity.

Shoko was best for it. Allegedly. She was the best bet to tell them all exactly what happened to her technique and body as she died.

Originally, Shoko had been tempted to just write that Gojo Y/N lost her brain. What else was there to report? What else could her family possibly want to know?

But then bitter curiosity got the best of her. She needed to know everything. She didn't even care about what the Gojo's wanted to know. Shoko herself had to know if her soul— if the technique just... vanished.

She wasn't really sure what she expected when she stood over her in the morgue. How she would possibly cut her open and scoop out her organs as if she hadn't been speaking to her two days ago. Had been engaged in conversations. Blushing when their hands brushed against one another. As if she hadn't—

"Shoko, what do you want while we're gone?" She had stopped by before they were to be sent off, lightly sprinkled white H/C hair. Expression light, but serious, as it usually was. "Treats, shirt, another body for you to pick around in? Ew, by the way."

Usually, a girl wouldn't think anything of it. But Shoko, elbow deep within a curse, blushed like she was an elementary girl. "Sorry"

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smile small yet tender, "So? What does sweet, sweet Shoko-chan want as a souvenir?"

Shoko always had a hard time believing Y/N was a Gojo. Especially the same product line of Gojo Satoru, who was just... the opposite of her. This girl was intelligent and kind, beautiful and timid. Self-aware, selfless, and She wasn't anything like the boy she shared the womb with, or birthday, or name. A twin. Same blood, same name, everything them. But so distinctly different.

"I'm not really interested in anything." Shoko had replied with a tilt of her lips and a shrug of her shoulders, pulling away from the curse corpse to face her fully.

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "Really? You're not interested in a single thing?"

"Not really," She walked closer, "What did the others get?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not entirely sure—"

"Gojo-senpai!" Haibara had barreled around the corner, loud and grinning, his hair flopping as he bounced around. "Geto-senpai would like something sweet for himself and your brother!"

She had released a bitter sound, fond and amused, but bitter all the same, "Of course he'd be thinking about Satoru." She turned back to Shoko with a small tilt of her lips. "You sure you don't want anything, Shoko?"

Shoko wondered if things would be different if she said anything else than what she had. If she asked for some ridiculous sweet or a stupid shirt, would things have ended differently? If she kept her around for a little longer, would someone realize the misclassification of the curse? Could Shoko have done something?

Who knows. All she said was, "Just come back. That's enough for me."

Her face had scrunched up, a light laugh leaving her as she turned, waving a hand, "Just for you, Shoko! See you around."

It wasn't anything special. Her goodbye had been a teasing promise. A nonchalant wave. Nothing special. Another day. It wasn't anything special.

So why did it have to be the last?

The autopsy ended abruptly. As Shoko held onto a trash bin, sobbing and throwing up the little food she had in the past two days, Yaga put it in the hands of someone much older. Much more detatched.

Gojo Y/N had died almost instantly. Before she could even activate her technique.

That sparked up a chatter at her funeral.

If the affair wasn't sickening and horribly in the first place, the conversation that took place most certainly was.

The people that attended outside of Shoko and Geto where just some old clan members either from the "Big Three" or some lowly ones. They all kind of just loitered around as they ate food and conversated. Nothing exciting, nothing entirely too telling of their grief either.

She couldn't ever recall Gojo or Y/N talking much about the other clans. If only to drag them through the mud, express their great distaste, or general displeasure. Shoko just knew that an occasion like this, filled with old people and terribly traditional things, was something that the girl nor her brother wanted. She knew that they all like the Gojo's about as much as the Gojo's liked them. Which was not very much.

It was only as Shoko was using the bathroom that she overheard what they truly thought.

"I heard that she didn't even have the time to activate her technique before it killed her."

"It's not like her technique would've done much against a Special Grade anyway. The Six Eyes got all the potential. If anything, that boy that got killed alongside her had more skill."

"I thought she had some type of power?"

"That's just a lie the family put out to calm their egos. They gave birth to the Six Eyes while giving birth to a useless girl right after."

"Poor thing."

"I wouldn't worry. The girl was a bit airheaded, she probably didn't even know she was boring."

It took everything in Shoko not to snap. To not ruin their gossip with her petulant cries of anger. It was just wrong. What they thought of her. There's never been something so wrong.

Y/n was different and amazing, magnificent and interesting. She was strong in ways that Gojo wasn't. She could hold her own. She was intelligent on things outside of jujutsu just as much as she was in things regarding jujutsu. Shoko wasn't sure where they got their information but it was wrong. It'd always been wrong.

Seven days later, Geto killed an entire village.

Thought about her and Haibara the whole time. The mountain of bodies that came with being a sorcerer. Killed 112 people just because he was angry and sad. At least, that's what Geto had said to her.

Shoko wished she could've destroy a whole village in her grief.

Those are all the things Shoko thought as she slips on her gloves, glancing back at where Gojo and Ijichi were standing in the corner.

"Hey, you guys, I'm gonna get started," Shoko says flatly, with her usual detachment. It'd been years since she felt uncomfortable or disgusted with this job. Just a normal routine now. "You gonna just sit there and watch?"

She snaps her glove into place at the same time Ijichi's face visibly pales and his jaw drops, Gojo's own face screwing up into something akin to shock. She was about to ask what was wrong, but—

"Whoa! Full frontal!"

Shoko whirls around to look at Itadori Yuji who looks, shockingly, fine.

Well, Shoko's never had someone come back to life in her morgue before. (No matter how much she's begged.)

She tugs down her mask, staring at the boy with disappointment, "Well, this is too bad."

Itadori blinks, a faint blush on his cheeks, "Um... who are you?"

"Yuji!" Gojo stands, a beaming grin on his lips as he walks forward, hand extended. "Welcome back!"

The teen lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hand against his teacher's for a loud slap that almost makes Shoko wince.

"I'm back!" Itadori cheers, smiling back.

"You sure are!" Gojo then tucks his hands into his jacket, turning around to face Shoko and Ijichi. "Hey, can I speak to you outside for a minute? Ijichi, get Yuji something to change into."

"O-Of course, Gojo-san!"

Shoko doesn't even dignify Gojo a response, lazily making her way out of the room with bored eyes. There went an afternoon of digging through Sukuna's vessel's organs and finding out what made him so different from the others. What allowed him to inhabit the King of Curses while so many others had died trying. It would make for perfect research. Fun and interesting.

But the kid just had to wake up. From death.

(She tired to ignore how many times she'd imagined her waking up on her table too.)

"Ugh, now I have to go back and change the report." Shoko utters bitterly once the two adults are outside.

"No, leave it as is." Shoko snaps her eyes to Gojo, who keeps his carefree smile on his face. "Before he's targeted again, I'd like to at least give Yuji some basic training. Please leave him listed as deceased in the report."

Shoko frowns, tucking her hands into her pockets, "Then Yuji will have to go into hiding for good."

"Nah, I'll have him ready in time for the Goodwill Event."

The Goodwill Event. Now, that was something she wasn't entirely concerned with. Something she didn't think Gojo was either.

"Why?" Shoko utters.

"Easy. I refuse to keep that kid from losing the best years of his life. Not just him, but everyone."

The way he says it is tender and true. Said with his heart and his soul. Despite how childish Gojo has always been, he's been terribly aware of when kids should be kids. Something he'd been keenly aware of when he was a kid himself.

Gojo suddenly tilts his head, smile distant and incredibly sad, "Not to mention... he kind of reminds me of Y/N, y'know?"

Shoko's steps falter. They've never really engaged in a conversation about her before. Never really a chance or reason to. Shoko figured they always had their own thoughts and opinions about what happened. Their own grief pushed down to be ignored. Never addressed.

But he—

"Bit of an airhead, but he means well. Smart when it calls for it. Wants to do the right thing no matter if it's his life on the line." Gojo stops a few feet ahead of Shoko, back stiff and, unfortunately, unreadable to her. "I wonder what she'd think of all this."

Shoko draws in a breath, inching closer to lean on the railing overlooking the courtyard. "She'd be disgusted to learn you're a teacher."

"Disgusted?" Gojo repeats with a pout. Shoko just knows that his eyes are narrowed behind his blindfold. "And she wouldn't judge you for cheating your way through med school?"

"She would, but I wouldn't care." Shoko rolls her eyes.

Gojo presses his lips together, leaning on the railing next to her, "I don't think I would either... as long as she was here."

Shoko tenses and her eyes grow distant as she watches leaves twirl and fall in the distance. Her ears begin to ring and she thinks, for one single moment, that Gojo is right. If she just had her right next to her. Breathing, talking— living. Then Shoko might be one of the happiest people alive. She wouldn't care about any of this. She wouldn't worry about anyone leaving or dying. She would just—

What was the point of think about something not possible?

11 years. They needed to let go already.

"I'll make sure Itadori is, in all the official ways, dead." Shoko pushes away from the railing and begins to make her way back to her office (ignoring the soft snort Gojo gave). "Make sure he doesn't die again before you can train him."

"I'll do my absolute best."

11 years. What's a few more minutes with her memory.

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

something's made your eyes go cold (6)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader but mostly TEEN!geto x FEM!reader (platonic) - soulmate AU

TW⚠️: geto suguru defects soooo be warned, reader is not a sorcerer, geto is beyond mean, angst/hurt, gojo does not show up at the end, friends to enemies, mentions of sex, and loss of virginity off screen (from gojoxreader)

a/n: special chapter for my fav criminal💜 this is not proofread!!!!!

something's gone terribly wrong

Geto Suguru appreciated Satoru's soulmate, besides him, his best friend would have another constant in his life. Someone else who would care for him unconditionally, and just like Suguru vowed to protect Satoru - he vowed to protect her. He was strong after all, and the strong must protect the weak.

When Satoru wasn't there, it was Suguru who would keep her safe from curses; curses that reared their ugly heads when Satoru wasn't around. They were far more daring when she was alone, even if Suguru was with her. He was nowhere near as fearsome as his best friend, but he handled the curses just fine without him.

Let the curses underestimate him, it made them easier to deal with, easier to keep her safe from harm.

If Gojo Satoru was on a mission and Suguru was still in the city, then he would routinely check up on her - Satoru couldn't warp at long distances yet, so if anything happened to her, he would not make it in time, so Suguru took it upon himself to be her protector. She needed it and Satoru needed her, and Suguru cared for them both deeply.

Sept. 19, 2006

' ' it's getting dark and it's all so quiet ' '

A curse tried to latch itself onto her when Satoru was cities away on mission, Suguru exorcised it expertly, with her back turned to him without even realizing she was ever in danger.

A soft smile graced his lips, "Everything alright?"

She jumped at his gentle voice, not realizing he was behind her, "Ah, Geto," she returned his gentle smile, "I didn't see you there. I'm alright, you?"

"I'm doing fine," Suguru looked up at the cloudy sky, "Come on, it looks like it's gonna rain. I'll walk you home."

The walk was full of light and awkward chit chat, despite Suguru's best efforts to be friendly. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, they had only met a couple of times; he supposed it would take time for her to warm up to him, at least she wasn't given him the cold shoulder like had been to Satoru. Suguru never put in a good word in for his best friend, he had said awful things about her - Satoru deserved her silent treatment.

Suguru wasn't too worried about it though. They were soulmates and while he didn't understand it, he had always admired it. He was even proud of Satoru for discarding his old and stupid opinions of her and actually putting in work to try and win her over.

"Thank you, Geto," She awkwardly waved goodbye to him when they arrived outside her family's bakery.

Suguru only smiled, "No problem."

He turned to leave and scrunched his nose up the gray sky. He was going to get caught in the rain for sure.

Oh well, "See ya."

Suguru's phone buzzed in his pockets:

Gojo.S: thank you :)

The shops bell chimed, and then, chimes again, and she yelled for him.

Suguru tilted his towards her, half-shocked, she had never called out to him before, but there she was with her hands outstretched towards him - a clear plastic umbrella and a styrofoam to go box.

Suguru gingerly took them from her hands, "Thank you."

Her cheeks were slightly pink when their hands brushed, "It's the least I could do. Thank you again for walking me home."

With that, he left with the protection of the umbrella from the rain and hot pastry warming up his hand.

His phone buzzed again:

Gojo.S: no way, she likes you more than me, right???

Gojo.S: I'll fight you >:( don't think that I won't

Suguru chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Geto.S: guess that means she has better taste than I thought

A flurry of rushed texts blew up his phone - worth it.

Nov. 28, 2006

' ' i thought i had you figured out ' '

A text had woken him up in the morning. Suguru was expecting it to be Satoru, sending him photos of his lastest mission away from Tokyo, but no, it was ______.

____._: sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but do you know what sweets are satoru's favorites and his favorite flavored cake???

____._: he never says he just eats anything sweet

That certainly sounded like Satoru.

Suguru yawned as he typed out:

Geto.S: He's a glutton

Geto.S: I'm sure anything will be fine but he does prefer kikufuku as for the cake - angel cake seems to be the best option

He rubbed his eyes and slid his phone closed, he needed to change into his uniform - wait... no, he needed to shower first.

His phone buzzed in his night stand. He gave it a quick look over, before he ridded himself of his clothes and hopped in the shower:

____._: thank you!!!! I owe you big time :D

____._: you like soba right?? My treat!

Suguru was glad, she felt like she could rely on him. He wanted to be relied on, if she relied on him, the easier it was to keep her safe from anything that tried to grab her in the darkness.

There had been too many close calls and it all reminded him of - No, she was not Riko. Suguru would not make the same mistakes.

When he got out of the shower and changed, he texted her back.

Geto.S: We can go shopping together

Geto.S: Are you free at 4:15?

Thirty minutes later she texted back:

____._: yep, where do you wanna meet?

Geto.S: I'll meet you at your school

Geto.S: We'll leave from there

____._: See you then :D

Suguru was right on time waiting outside of her school gates. He kept his eyes trained on curses energy residuals, and the curse dwelling on at the school - none of them were powerful, none of them posed a real threat to anyone.

Good, he could rest easy for now.

A bag slung around her shoulder, she enthusiastically waved at him as she ran up to him with a bright smile quirking her lips up, "Geto!"

Suguru's smile was as it always was soft, but this time he wasn't tip-toeing around her, afraid he would scare her away.

They were friends.

Of course, he kept things from her like the curses that tried to hurt her, but so did Satoru, but he supposed, Satoru didn't need to - nothing dared to touch her while he was around her. She couldn't even see them, so Suguru didn't feel the need to worry her about it, especially when he would protect her from it. She was already worried about Satoru as it was, no point in adding something else on to the list.

She chewed on her lip, "His mission isn't too dangerous is it?"

Suguru placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "No, he will be back in two days tops."

Still, she closed her eyes to check on him. He didn't blame her if he had felt Satoru die, he would check on him all the time.

She quickly blushed in embarrassment when she realized Suguru was watching, "I'm not a stalker -"

Suguru laughed.

Her cheeks burned into darker and brighter shade of red, "Don't laugh at me! I'm just -"

"Worried?" He chuckled out, "Come on, worry wart. If I remember correctly you owe me a soba."

Today, a curse user tried to sneak up behind her. To take her or kill her, Suguru didn't know. Not that it mattered, he pummeled him into a bloody pulp and called a window to take him back to jujutsu tech where he would wait trial by the higher ups.

Execution, no doubt. Suguru didn't care that's what the curse user gets for trying to pick on the weak, and on his best friend's soulmate no less. If anything, Suguru considered him lucky - it would've gone worse for him if Satoru had been the one to catch him. Forget about being beatened to a bloody pulp, imagine getting erased with a shot of hollow purple? Very lucky.

"Geto," she called out to him as she showed him a shirt, "what about this one?"

Suguru pocketed his bruised knuckles, "Yeah, he'll like that one."

She cheerfully skipped to the cash register and waited for the man to ring her up.

Suguru's eyes narrowed at the man, he seemed normal, but something was bothering him. Suguru was behind her in a few quick steps, his face seemingly expressionless when he took the bag from the clerks hand, before she could even raise her hand to grab it for herself.

The clerk waved them off as both teenagers said thank you, but Suguru lagged slightly behind her with his hand on the small of her back, keeping his senses trained on the clerk until they were at a safe distance, but then he saw a woman standing ominously a little ways away from them. A glance behind him and he saw the store clerk - shit. This was fine, nothing he couldn't handle, but his friend would no longer be blissfully ignorant about the dangers that were lurking around her.

"Yo!"

Suguru's shoulders visibly relaxed. The grip on her waist loosened as he waved at Gojo Satoru. The girl's smile widened into something more joyful as she wrapped her arms around Satoru's torso, pulling him into a warm hug.

Satoru rested his head on top of hers as he always did now and only kept one arm around her, but still hugged her close to his chest.

"You're back early," Suguru raised his fist and Satoru fist bumped him in greeting.

Satoru grinned, "It was easy peasy."

She peered her head up from his chest with the warmest smile, "So you're not hurt?"

"Nah," Satoru placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "nothing can touch me."

But Suguru was the flicker in his best friend's eyes, not much concern for himself, but for her, and Suguru knew why Satoru had come back early and why he had no doubt finished his mission as quickly as possible; Satoru had seen the store clerk for what he truly was through her eyes.

Suguru remembered the time, he had asked Satoru, if closing his eyes would leave him vulnerable. Satoru had smirked and smugly said:

"Nope, my six eyes work just fine. It just takes a little more focus."

Satoru's smugness was all Suguru needed to know that it took no effort at all to do what he does when he looks through her eyes, especially when he does it constantly.

Suguru casted his gaze back in front of him, the woman was gone and he could no longer sense the store clerk.

Of course, they were gone. One thing was fighting Geto Suguru, it was another fighting Gojo Satoru.

She tip-toed and kissed Satoru's cheek.

Suguru smirked, "I thought you two weren't dating?"

She turned pink, "We're not."

"Yet," Satoru added with a smug smile.

After they dropped her off home and Satoru begrudgingly let her go, (Suguru didn't know why he was pouting so much seeing as he was most likely going to see her tonight) Satoru pout widened into a grin.

"I have a plan."

Suguru let out a hearty laugh when he explained what his plan was - Operation: Love Quest.

Oh, he couldn't wait to tell Shoko.

Feb. 12, 2007

' ' i have known it all this time ' '

Valentine's Day was approaching and Suguru was now a victim of Satoru's incessant shopping sprees. Nothing was too much for his soulmate, he needed to get her everything.

Flowers (she liked pink peonies the most, Suguru learned recently), chocolates, sweets, dresses, jewelry, more sweets, and god knew what else.

"You've gotten her enough," Suguru yawned sleepily, "don't you think?"

Satoru was looking at a simple princess cut diamond ring, scratching his head.

Suguru playfully shoved him, "And it's a little too soon for an engagement ring."

Satoru tilted his head toward him with a frown and was slightly offended, "I would never get her a 0.10 carat diamond for an engagement ring," he grumbled, "It's far too small."

Suguru leaned against the glass counter, "I get this is your Valentine's with her, but you're over doing it just get her something you know she'll like."

"What type of girl doesn't like diamonds?"

"The type that'll feel bad when you get her a mountain of presents, when she only got you like three." Suguru said, "Not everyone has generational wealth to sustain them."

Satoru's pointed look softened as he smiled widely, "She got me three?"

Shit, Suguru wasn't supposed to tell him, "Yes, and I'm not telling you more."

"That must mean she really likes me, huh," Satoru's eyes glittered brighter than any precious stone in the store, "as the best boyfriend ever I have to at least get her twice as that."

"You already have." Suguru sighed, "Triple, I'd say."

Satoru ignored him, "Yo, sir! Sir! Sir!" He tapped the glass annoyingly, "That one!"

The jeweler smiled, "What size?"

"Shit, I don't know her ring size."

Satoru turned Suguru and before he could say anything, Suguru had slid his phone open and called her.

She answered at the second ring, "What's up?"

"You free right now?"

"Yeah."

Satoru started whispering, "Don't tell her to meet you here."

Suguru pushed his face away from his and gave her a meeting time.

The jeweler gave him a ring size measurer and with that Suguru left to meet her.

When she wasn't looking he would look at her fingers and take out the measure trying to gauge which size it was after careful deliberation, be concluded a size 5.

After an hour or so, she had to leave - something about an essay and homework she had to work on before Valentine's Day.

Suguru sent one of his curses with her to make sure she got home safe.

Satoru berated him when he got back, "What size?"

"Five," Suguru handed the measure back to the jeweler.

"That one," Satoru grinned out and then dragged Suguru to another shop.

It was going to be a long day of shopping again.

Apr. 4, 2007

' ' oh, holding my breath ' '

Shoko had stolen ______ for the day, claiming she needed a break from Satoru.

"You're beyond clingy," Shoko said, "Don't want her breaking up with you because you never gave her space right?"

Satoru's eyes widened, "Did she tell you that?"

Shoko being Shoko, said, "Maybe."

So there Satoru was fighting the urge to call or text his soulmate.

"Shoko was lying, right?" He asked Suguru, "Ain't no way, she wants to break up with me, right?"

Suguru drank his hot tea, "I'm sure she was just joking."

Or maybe she wasn't, but Suguru didn't want to tell Satoru what ______ had told him in private.

It wasn't that she didn't like him anymore, it was the incessant thoughts in her mind. Thoughts she couldn't push away any longer and as much as she cared for Satoru, he would never understand. Suguru would do though, he always understood.

She had been nervous at first, texting him to meet with him privately at a cafe without Satoru knowing, he was out on a mission anyway, he was focusing his six eyes on finding the curse, instead of closing his eyes to see where she was, but in the end, she faced up, after Suguru coaxed it out of her with soft smiles and a promise not to laugh.

"You have to promise again, not to laugh," She said.

He wanted to laugh now, but he knew she would shut down if he did, "I promised already."

"Again."

"Alright," pressed his lips together to keep himself from chuckling, "I promise, will you tell me now?"

She wondered a lot about how she should phrase it. Worthy? Good enough? Holding him back? Which word encapsulated what she felt when she saw a curse through Satoru's eyes, but could never see them on her own.

Worthless was the word she was looking for, she realized that a few weeks ago.

She bit the inside of her cheek, Suguru would for sure tell Satoru, if she started the conversation like this, so instead, she said, "It's not a problem, is it that I'm not a sorcerer," she played with the straw in her drink, "or that I can't see curses - I mean -"

Suguru stopped her before she could get in any farther, "Satoru was an idiot when he said that." Suguru smiled in the way that made everyone feel accepted, "He never meant any of that."

Yes, he did. At the time they both knew that he did, but she didn't say anything.

"Things are different now," Suguru scooted his chair closer to hers, "Satoru cares about you a lot, I know he does." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and rubbed soothing circles on her, "He'd throttle even me if it meant to keep you safe."

And Suguru was proud of him. His best friend was finally turning into the person he knew he could become - he was still annoying and arrogant, but he was no longer cruel and dismissive of others.

She let out a laugh, "I don't think he would go that far."

"I do," Suguru said firmly. "A lot of people can't see curses or jujutsu, it's not something to be ashamed of and Satoru has enough cursed energy and strength for the both of you."

She shook her head, "And when he's not here?" She looked at Suguru, "What then? I'm not stupid, you know, I may not be able to see curses, but I know whenever Satoru shows up randomly or when you show up to walk me all the way home - It's for a reason." She crossed her arms, "Shoko does it too, but she has a better poker face."

Suguru should've known that she knew. It had been months, it would've been odd if she hadn't noticed their overprotectiveness from even Shoko.

"You're our friend, ______," Suguru said, "we just want to make sure you're safe."

"I know. It's just -" She let out a long breath.

"Frustrating?"

She nodded, and then a bashful look, "Promise, you won't tell Satoru?"

Suguru smiled again, "I promise, but I do think you should talk about it with him." He drank some of his tea, "I'm sure he'll listen if it's coming from you."

But until then, Suguru was there to listen. Sometimes all someone needed was a friend.

Satoru's voice brought him back to the present, "She hasn't said anything to you right?"

Suguru rolled his eyes at him, "She's not going to break up with you."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Satoru," Suguru warned, "she's probably just stressed. Exams are coming up, aren't they?"

Satoru nodded, "Yeah..." He pulled out his phone from pocket and flipped it open as a smile graced his lips, "I'll help her study after she's done hanging out with that traitor that should relieve some of her stress."

Suguru doubted that would help since exams weren't what was plaguing her mind, but other more complicated things. If it got too far, he would tell Satoru. He might get punched in the face or a reversal Red shot at him, but it would be for the best.

Jul. 24, 2007

' ' something keeps me holding on to nothing ' '

Satoru had punched him in the face when Suguru told him. All this time Suguru knew why she was acting weird, he had known for months and he hadn't told him. It would've been different if she had told Shoko and Shoko didn't tell him, but Suguru? Suguru who was always supposed to have his back - it was betrayal.

Satoru put up two fingers and almost chanted: Curse Technique Reversal: Red, but stopped himself.

"Is she still talking to you about it?" He gritted out.

"No," Suguru rubbed his swollen cheek, "she wanted to tell you herself, but I think she's scared to bring it up."

Scared? Why would she be scared of bringing something like this up to Satoru? He was her boyfriend, her soulmate - she shouldn't have, had to feel scared to tell him anything. He would have listened, he promised to himself that night when he was all bloody that he would.

"I promised I wouldn't say anything," Suguru said, "but you two do need to talk about it."

Satoru ran his hand through his soft white hair and closed his eyes. He frowned when he saw her writing an essay down on a piece of paper - she was home.

Suguru spoke up again, "Do you want to hit me again?"

Satoru sighed and opened his eyes to look at his best friend, "No," he fixed his glasses, "just don't keep something that important from me again."

Satoru warped away, no doubt to talk to his soulmate. Suguru only hoped he had told him in time, before more damage could be done for his friends.

It was night when Yaga had knocked on Suguru's door.

"Where's Satoru?" Yaga gruffed out, "He hasn't been here all day."

Suguru always covered for him and he wasn't going to stop now, "He went for some sweets, you know how he gets."

Yaga shook his head, not believing a word that came out of Suguru's mouth, but he left anyway.

Suguru looked at his phone and thought about calling Satoru, but shook his head. He probably wasn't coming back til later, so Suguru fell asleep instead.

He woke up at noon with a grinning Satoru at the foot of his bed instead.

Suguru blinked as he assessed him, at least he didn't look heartbroken, instead overjoyed and a little smug. Satoru's snowy white hair was a mess as if someone had raked their hands through it roughly, his glasses were askew, and his lips were swollen and smudged with pink lip gloss smearing across cheek to his neck as his neck had deep red and purple marks that shaped into a heart, and his clothes looked a mess.

Suguru chuckled, "I take it things went well?"

"She said she loves me," Satoru squeaked out in glee.

Suguru pulled his long black hair back, "And?"

Satoru's grin had softened, yet it stayed plastered on his face, "I said I love her too."

Suguru pointed at hickeys that shaped into a heart, "That's all?"

"We had sex," then, Satoru playfully shook his head and sang lowly, "No, we made love."

Suguru almost vomited at that, "Go take a shower lover boy."

Satoru walked backwards as he skipped happily into his dorm room and yelled, "I am a lover boy!"

Sept. 2007

' ' come on, don't leave me like this ' '

She had just finished mopping the bakery's floor when Suguru came in, his long hair was down with only a small bun tying some of the more unruly parts of his hair.

She waved at him, "What's up, Geto?"

His smile wavered when he saw her like this was the first time he had seen her.

"Is something wrong, Geto?"

"Yes actually," Suguru frowned, "I want to talk to you."

She dropped the mop in the bucket and wiped her hands on her apron, "What is it? What happened?"

Maybe, she should text Satoru - No, he was there for her a couple of months ago, she should be here for him now.

"I think you were right before," Suguru pocketed his hands, "about it being a problem - you not being a sorcerer."

"What are you saying?"

Suguru ignored her, "I think you weren't saying the right words before," his eyes told and black, "instead of a problem, I think you meant a pest, a worthless one."

Her eyes widened, "Geto -"

Suguru's eyes hardened into a glare, "Don't interrupt me," he paused for a second like he was about to add something else, but stopped himself, before continuing, "all this time you were worrying that you were holding Satoru back, you were right."

Tears welled in her eyes, "I told you all of that in confidence." She flinched back when Suguru took a step toward her, "You're my friend."

"I was never really your friend," Suguru spat out, "I realized that I only ever really tolerated you for Satoru."

"Stop," she whispered putting her hands up as if she could stop his words from reaching her, "just stop it. Satoru and I talked about this already - he loves me."

She blinked her tears away. If this is how Suguru truly felt, then he wasn't allowed to see her vulnerable, only Satoru and people she trusted were allowed to.

Suguru stalked up to her, until she was backed up against a wall. She quickly flinched to the side when Suguru's hand shot up to the empty space behind her and for a second, she heard something squirming and writhing in his hand.

Suguru gave her one last cold look before purple blood splattered on the walls, "This is the last time I save you, ______."

' ' i can't turn back now, i'm haunted ' '

Gojo: You really hurt her feelings and she's been crying non-stop -

Geto: Womp-Womp

Gojo: Did you just FUCKING say womp-womp?!

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing @wbad-world @ancientimes @whippedbyikemen @sammyiguess (can't find you sorry) @pumpkindudeishere @witchofthecoffee @arminswifee (another one that cannot be tagged sorry) @weebotaku21 (another one I do not understand why) @nevermoresworld @jjk97091 (cannot tag you sorry) @toshirolovebot @marblesphere @sabo-has-my-heart @laurenzitaa

[cinniipuppiii]

Texts as Suguru Geto's Bestie

Includes: Geto and GN!Reader

[therealagustd]

Suguru fluff for the soul (and because we all miss him)(ft. Satoru):

You wore his clothes

Suguru is the type to see you wearing his clothes, then smile and say, "It suits you." Maybe you were cold, and it was close by, so he'd leave an extra hoodie or jacket around after that.

Just in case.

And if Satoru saw, he'd be dramatic as hell about it and put his own jacket over you and say, "There, now you're properly dressed." and Suguru would be like, "It's not a competition, Satoru" and Gojo would be like, "It's always a competition, Suguru".

He caught you dancing

Suguru's the type to cross his arms, smile, and lean against the doorway. If you noticed him, he'd laugh and go, "Do continue, I believe you were just getting to the best part?". If you asked him not to tell anyone? "...I dunno, Satoru might need to see this..."

Festival prize winning

Suguru would see Satoru trying to win you a prize, being his dramatic self and telling Suguru to sit this one out because he's already the best and "not to embarrass himself" (Gojo messes up the first few times.)

Meanwhile, Suguru easily finished the festival game in a swift move, and he just hands you the gift with a smile and says, "No theatrics, just results. Enjoy."

Amusement park bumper cars

(Okay, this one's kinda self indulgent. Have you ever been to an amusement park, but you hate or can't handle the big, dramatic rides? Same.)

You're in a bumper car, Suguru's in one, and so is Satoru. And here comes Satoru, trying to smash his car into Suguru's, yelling about "This is for all the times you rolled your eyes at me!" or something similar. And during the whole speil, Suguru's effortlessly making sure you don't get bumped and you eventually team up against Satoru and chase him in the bumper cars until he's screaming about betrayal.

Claw machines

Alright, Geto's on the move. You've failed at least 10 times with this thing, and it's not even a payout one!

But before he can, Gojo swoops in and takes over, boasting about how he's the best at these.

And in his rich boy energy, he's trying over and over, promising you that stuffed creature inside.

"Alright, this is how a pro does it. I've got the precision, the timing and... oh come on! This is clearly rigged."

And because Gojo is Gojo, he spends way too much money on the machine until he wins you a prize and is all smug and says, "All in a day's work - I'll accept my repayment in the form of snacks."

Meanwhile, Geto calmly walks to the machine and wins a prize in the first try.

Trying to fight back a laugh at Satoru's expression, he hands you the prize and goes, "It's about angles and patience. That's all."

Gojo's telling him that he had just gotten beginner's luck.

You keep both prizes on your bed.

Painting together

You agreed on a painting session. You and Geto were supposed to be doing it together, but of course Gojo had to come and crash the party.

So now Satoru's boasting about his painting (a self portrait), and how he made a masterpiece.

And you check on Suguru, and he's painted the most beautifully detailed purple flower, and he smiles at you before gently tapping your nose with the handle end of the brush so you'd snap out of it and go back to painting.

And you do.

He's glancing over at you and your painting, happy that you're by his side.

[nyctoaerah]

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 & 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

“𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Where suguru geto founds himself deeply enamored with satoru's non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession. ╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Confusing Bullshit, Foul Language, Manipulation, Gojo Tolerating Murder, Gojo being a siscon. ╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Non-sorcerer! Reader ╰┈➤𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 & 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

•───癖好───•

SATORU GLANCED AT HIS wristwatch, feeling a surge of annoyance coursing through him as he realized that [Name] had yet to emerge. A solid half-hour had elapsed, and yet there was no sign of her.

'Where the hell is that girl?'

The facade of a smile that he had worn and the insincere greetings he had offered to unfamiliar faces had drained him. He then decided to just go in [Name]'s room, ignoring the people who tried to strike a conversation with him and ignoring his family's scoldings.

As he ventured towards the area where her room resides in, a deep sigh escaped Satoru's lips. Unlike the neighboring rooms, which were conveniently located, her dwelling offered seclusion and distance from others.

As he neared the hallway that led to her quarters, a subtle scent of blood infiltrated his nostrils, causing his brows to furrow instinctively. Perhaps she was experiencing her menstrual cycle?? and maybe she neglected to clean up?? but this particular aroma was distinct from the smell of the metallic and coppery tinge associated with menstrual blood though.

(Don't ask him why he knows how period blood smells)

Though, why,? why did he detect the unmistakable scent of blood in this vicinity? With a sense of trepidation, Satoru moved closer to her door, and the repugnant odor grew exponentially more potent.

"[Name]?" he called out, hearing some faint sound of hitting something.

"The main event's gonna start in an hour, hurry up f'me, 'kay? I'm tired of meetin' and greetin' those shitty people" satoru said bluntly and loudly but he didn't receive any response.

His brows slightly furrowed.

"[Name]?" he called out again.

But like before, she didn't respond. This wasn't like [Name] and satoru was getting worried.

Forgoing the traditional courtesy of knocking, he forcefully swung open the door, and his blue eyes widened at the horrifying sight that awaited him; blood splatters adorned the walls and coated the floor.

What. The. Fuck. ​​​​​

Satoru was flabbergasted.

[Name]'s dress were messy, her hair was dishevelled and she was covered in blood from head to toe as she relentlessly punched the lifeless body in front of her. The intense force of her blows had caused her knuckles to appear disfigured, as if the skin had melted away. The Phalangeal bones were now exposed, glistening with a mixture of her own blood and that of her father's. (Though, satoru still doesn't know who the corpse was)

Drops of sweat mingled with the crimson liquid as they trickled down her trembling figure. Satoru, observing the scene, was shocked by the sight of his sister wearing such a deranged expression, consumed by an overwhelming wave of fury.

"[Name].." he whispered.

This individual before Satoru did not resemble his younger sister in any way. Instead, this woman appeared to be completely deranged. However, there was no denying the fact that she was indeed his little sister. She had clearly reached her breaking point. Satoru was not accustomed to this behavior. She was always calm. So laid back and rarely gives a fuck... but now... She looked to be in rage.

Finally, satoru snapped out of his dumbfounded state.

"[Name], stop it, brother's here now, no need to be violent,"

Satoru quickly rushed towards her, immediately pulling her by the waist, and away from the lifeless body of their father.

"Calm down, [Name], your satoru is here..." he breathed out as he tightened his grip on her and buried his head on her shoulders.

However, [Name] struggled fiercely in his grip, kicking and thrashing about in a wild manner, [Name] doesn't even care that she was hurting satoru and was dedicated in solely destroying that abomination of a father.

"Let me go. I'll kill him. I swear, I'll kill him!!" She clenched her jaw.

Ah, so the corpse was a man then. Satoru noted, trying to keep calm. He can hear that her words were filled with such madness that it was as if she had completely lost her sanity.

"Fuck off, Gojo Satoru. You know nothing. I'm gonna fucking kill him." [Name] stated coldly and satoru winced when she called him by her full name.

"Look, [Name], he's already dead, so stop fucking around and calm the fuck down." satoru retorted.

"Fuck off, Satoru. Let me go. I am going to murder him."

She continued to flail around pathetically, and unfortunately for satoru, limitless isn't working because he was Technically holding her, thus, meaning that she could punch him.

"That hurts."

he said as he had endured a painful punch to his jaw. In that moment, he could even see the movement of her bones within her hand, for her flesh on her hands had almost melted away from her relentless punching of the corpse.

"Calm the fuck down-" Satoru tried to say but [Name] elbowed him in the gut, making him grunt.

"Damn it, Snap out of it, lady!" Satoru finally snapped, hugging [Name] more tightly and forcibly pulling her away from inflicting further harm upon the lifeless body.

"Shut the fuck up [Name], stop moving!"

The corpse lay before them, drenched in blood, its face barely recognizable, with only raw flesh remaining in place of skin.

"Who the hell even is that?" he grumbled, trying to regain his composure.

"I'll kill him, I'll kill him..." she repeated persistently, her eyes now welled up with tears as they streamed down her face. Satoru buried his face into the nape of her neck, even though it had many blood but he attempted to console her.

"He's already dead, calm down," Satoru reassured her, not giving any importance to the deceased person. [Name] stiffened and satoru continued.

"He's dead already girl, look." he urged her to look at the corpse.

"Dead as hell, look at him sis, disfigured and everythin', and you're the one who did it,"

By the way satoru was speaking, it was obvious that he was somewhat amazed that his sister had managed to take someone's life.

"See? He's not moving at all, you already killed him, pretty girl." satoru said and he couldn't help but acknowledge that her methods may have been excessively brutal. Nonetheless, it was clear that the person had done something to provoke her reaction, as [Name] wouldn't have snapped without any reason. She was always calm, patient and laid back after all and she was mostly apathetic. But... Something probably caused her to snap.

This was precisely why Satoru intervened-to prevent her from descending into madness. He doesn't care that [Name] killed a person. If she was on the right state right now then he wouldn't have interfered and let him murder the shit out of that man. But no, she was on a delusional state. And was obviously relying on instincts right now.

"See, beautiful?" Satoru gently coaxed and [Name] nodded.

"You should calm down"

"He is already dead, he is dead, you know, dead like the protagonist of your favorite book..." he repeated gently, observing how she gradually ceased her violent struggles within his grip.

Even though her punch had caused him pain, he knew that her current state of mind was not in the right place. She was likely still trapped within her delusional state.

"He's dead now," Satoru reiterated once again, taking a moment to wipe away her tears and some of the blood staining her face. "So calm down f'me, 'kay?" he murmurs.

"Take a deep breath, [Name]," Satoru said, placing a hand on her blood-smudged cheek and tenderly stroking it, not caring that his hand was getting smeared with blood.

"That's it... sweetie... breathe," he requested softly, noticing that she was slowly starting to calm down.

"Inhale and exhale..."

Satoru's gaze shifted towards [Name], noticing a gradual reduction in her distress. "mmm, yeah, just like that. Breathe, imouto..."

In an attempt to establish a closer connection, he gently tilted her head, bringing their faces level with one another.

"You've been through some things ain't you?"

As he observed her tear-stained face, he couldn't help but notice the blood that had splattered across her body, some of which had also tainted his formal suit.

"Yes..." she replied, panting heavily.

[Name], seeking solace, enveloped Satoru in an embrace, burying her head in the safety of his chest, her breath gradually returning to a more steady rhythm.

"Been through a lot of bullshit."

Her hand involuntarily twitched, a consequence of the excruciating pain caused by the melted skin on her knuckles.

'All because you are late.' She added mentally as her jaw locked.

Trying to make sense of the distressing scene, Satoru's eyes gravitated towards the disfigured and unrecognizable remains of their father, which lay discarded in a corner of [Name]'s room. The overpowering stench of blood permeated the air, rendering it nearly impossible to ignore and evoking feelings of repulsion.

"What happened, darlin'?" he questioned.

[Name] scoffed dismissively as she started recounting her traumatic experience to Satoru. Her words flowed out without any hint of emotion, as if she was reciting a script.

"I killed him," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice devoid of any remorse.

"I gouged his eyes out, stabbed him in the eye with a hairpin, and Attacked him with a chair and my fists." [Name]'s eyes lacked any spark, resembling the lifeless gaze of a doll.

"Brutal," he murmurs, feeling proud of [Name] for being able to do such things without even having a cursed energy.

"It started when i was preparing for the party," she added

"Then Otou-sama entered my room," she muttered

Satoru's eye twitched as his expression turned into a mix of confusion and anger. He whispered in disbelief, questioning,

"That's the geezer?" He gazed at the lifeless body and then at [Name].

"He touched me, Satoru." she mumbled, her once vibrant [E/c] eyes now clouded with desolation. Satoru felt a chill run down his spine as his ocean blue eyes widened and a visible vein appeared on his forehead. Attempting to comprehend the gravity of the situation, his face darkened, and an icy aura enveloped the room. A pulsating vein throbbed on Satoru's neck as he tightened his hold on his sister.

"He touched you..." satoru repeated.

[Name] nodded.

"He tried to rape me, Satoru," she confessed, raising her head slightly to meet his gaze, which remained silent and motionless. Satoru's immobility was hauntingly unsettling given the circumstances. He was scarily stagnant.

"He said that it was my fault, and that i was begging for it and i was showing myself off like some whore," she shared, her gaze now averted.

"Surely, it is only natural for me to defend myself, right? right? right, Satoru?" [Name] pleaded, her eyes silently begging for understanding and validation. Sighing softly, Satoru gently removed [Name]'s hand from his body, grasping it delicately in his own.

"Yes...he deserved it," Satoru murmured softly, not daring to break eye contact with her.

"Look at what happened to your beautiful hands, they are now scarred...you should have allowed me to take care of it," he expressed, a subtle sense of pride concealed beneath his words. He embraced [Name]'s act of parricide, seeing it as a testament to her strength and ability to protect herself. However, his worry for her well-being persisted.

As Satoru surveyed the sight of exposed bones and blood on [Name]'s fingers, he repeated his conviction.

"He deserved it," he reinforced,

"He deserved it." Repeating this assertion, Satoru cupped [Name]'s face tenderly, emphasizing that the deceased had deliberately presented himself as an object of scorn and derision.

"He showed himself off to you like he was some training dummy, ready to be pummeled," he said.

"And obviously, you couldn't resist it. What on earth was he even wearing?" he inquired, a slight laughter escaping his lips.

"Either way,"

"He was definitely asking for it."

Caressing his sister's face gently, satoru let out a small sigh as he looked at [Name]. Blood stains were present on his fingers, and his clothing absorbed the liquid that had come into contact with him when he was hugging his sister. The fabric greedily absorbed the blood, resembling a parched leech desperately craving sustenance and drawing it in.

"Let's clean up this mess before anyone lays their pesky eyes on it, yeah?" stated Satoru, his face twisted in a mixture of revulsion and disdain as he glanced at the lifeless body. This repugnant individual and pathetic excuse of a father harbored the audacity to covet his own daughter, thus deserving the fate that befell him. Satoru's seething anger extended to their abusive father, whom he yearned to subject to torturous punishment for his heinous actions.

"Let's keep this a secret, i'm proud of you, [Name]."

[Name] remained silent for a moment, agreeing with a nod that they should clean up the mess. However, [Name] looked at Satoru with a puzzled expression, her face devoid of any emotion.

"You don't care at all"

[Name] blurted out randomly, causing Satoru to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "What?"

"You don't care at all."

[Name] bit her lip.

"No, i do care for you." Satoru asserted, his warm breath caressing her cheek, causing a shiver to run down her spine as he leaned close to her, making her flinch visibly.

"Like, a lot." He added, pretending to not notice her discomfort and she shook her head, dissatisfied with his interpretation as she pulled back a little and tried to put distance between them. She didn't meant it that way, she meant that he does not care that she had killed their own father.

"That's not what I meant,"

She had not expected such a reaction from Satoru, nor did she anticipate him taking pride in her actions of killing someone, especially their own father. [Name] was aware of Satoru's disdain towards their family, but his nonchalant attitude towards murder unsettled her for inexplicable reasons. It made him appear... Insane.

Certainly, without fail, Satoru would constantly affirm his willingness to obliterate their entire clan solely for her sake. However, [Name] always viewed this declaration as mere jest, which allowed her to engage in conversations about murder with him in a carefree manner, even exchanging playful remarks... But from how satoru was acting right now, it seems like he's serious about it.... And all those death threat was probably serious too. He's the strongest, and he can wipe their entire clan out, and he probably will too.

"You've misunderstood my words..." she mumbled, [E/c] eyes narrowing slightly.

"Then," Satoru began.

"Why?"

"You don't understand..." [Name] conveyed again, her tone carrying a hint of severity, while her gaze grew sharper, indicating her mounting worry. In return, Satoru mirrored her expression of confusion, unable to grasp the full significance of the current circumstance.

"I killed Otou-sama." [Name] said, her fingers covered in a deep shade of red liquid. As she tried to contain her emotions, her quivering hand formed a firm grip, resulting in her nails penetrating the already swollen skin of her palm. This infliction left behind visible evidence of the immense torment and anguish she was enduring.

"And you don't even seem to care," she continued, her voice filled with a hint of disbelief. Satoru responded with an exaggerated gesture of rolling his eyes, expressing his indifference as he placed a hand on his hip sassily. With a grave demeanor, he confidently declared,

"He absolutely deserved it, i mean, he tried to take advantage of you." Satoru's ocean blue eyes narrowed and grew more concentrated, while his jaw clenched with a hint of restraint.

"Don't you try and make an excuse for what he has done, i know how your mind works girl. Don't be guilty." Satoru stated seriously.

[Name] was filled with confusion.

"Me? Guilty?"

She expressed disbelief by shaking her head, strongly denying any sense of guilt.

"No i do not feel guilty," she uttered softly.

"Not even a little bit."

[Name] confidently affirmed. Though, At first, she had anticipated a tumultuous emotional reaction, expecting to break down after committing the act of killing her father. However, to her surprise, she found herself maintaining a calm and emotionless state-she doesn't care and felt nothing about it. There was a profound emptiness within her, completely void of any feelings of regret, satisfaction, or any other emotion for that matter. She felt as though she were an empty cocoon, hollow and without any substance.

Satoru let out a sigh of frustration, his breath escaping in a visible cloud of discontent. He extended his hand, pointing it towards the motionless body as he summoned some sort of bluish flame that swiftly engulfed the ugly coprse.

Observing this gruesome spectacle, [Name] winced and her face contorted in sheer disgust, her eyebrows knitting together in an expression of repulsion. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight as the flames relentlessly consumed the corpse, revealing the grotesque bones beneath the blistering and melting skin. The process felt unbearably long, although in reality, it only took a mere 12 seconds for the lifeless remains to turn into ashes.

Standing upright, Satoru began unbuttoning his suit, peeling it off his body and tossing it into the fire nonchalantly, leaving him in only a tank top that pretty much looked tight because it's showing off his biceps, chest and abs, though, it was obvious that his actions were driven by the presence of bloodstains in his suit.

However, before he could proceed to unbuckle his belt, [Name] impeded his progress, her intervention leaving her visibly bewildered.

"What on earth are you doing?" [Name] inquired, her voice laced with bewilderment and a touch of disbelief, However, a notable sense of fear was evident in her voice as she visibly recoiled upon witnessing his actions. A lump promptly developed in her throat, causing her to gulp heavily, while her fingers instinctively curled against her palms once again.

"Don't you fucking dare... what the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in a tense and trembling voice, her eyes widening with a palpable feeling of apprehension.

Satoru rolled his eyes, his hands still resting on his belt, as he casually replied, not noticing the fear in her voice and her tense body language

"Obviously, I'm burning the clothes. And you should consider taking off your dress too, so we can get rid of the blood and avoid any potential trouble.

[Name] was taken aback by Satoru's words, causing her [E/c] eyes to widen with a mixture of fear and anger-all the calmness and emptiness in her slowly leaving her.

This response mirrored the way she felt when her father attempted to sexually assault her, evoking deep-seated memories of that traumatic event. The proposition of removing her dress was met with an immediate refusal. No fucking way would she take it off.

Despite recognizing the importance of destroying her clothes to erase any evidence of her father's murder and enhance her chances of evading detection, she found herself unable to comply.

What if satoru tries to assault her too? What if satoru-, no... Satoru would never.

She reminded herself.

Raising an eyebrow, Satoru's unwavering stare remained locked on [Name].

"Why aren't you taking it off?" he asked nonchalantly, his tone betraying the intensity of his gaze.

"You nervous or something?"

" I've seen you naked countless times, and we've even showered together like 20 times, what's there to be embarrassed about?"

Embarrassment washed over [Name] like a sudden wave, instantly coloring her cheeks in a vibrant shade of crimson and a sweat trickled down her forehead, mingling with the blood as her blood ran cold at his words.

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration, and cracking slightly with undeniable fear. "This is different! We were just kids back then!" she said, her jaw set tight and her brows drawing together. Satoru continued to observe her, feeling confused.

"So? Does that change anything?" he asked dumbly, his voice dripping with nonchalance, seemingly unfazed by the idea of undressing in front of his sister. ,

"Yes, it does!" she stated assertively, her voice carrying an undeniable conviction-She doesn't want to see him like that, she wouldn't have mind it if the incident with that pig didn't happen, but no, it happened. And [Name] doesn't want to do anything with men for now.

Although she is unsure of the reason behind it, there is a nagging feeling inside her that suggests Satoru might try to take advantage of her just like her father did. And she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Because...

Satoru is the strongest.

However, she strongly believes that Satoru would never harm her in any way and that he would always be there to shield her from any harm. Nevertheless, her perspective shifted after the incident involving her father, causing her to no longer perceive Satoru's actions as purely platonic and sibling affection. His affectionate words of calling her pretty, hugging her, didn't made her feel comfort like it usually does... now... it sent shivers down her spine and evoke a repulsive sensation on her skin.

•───癖好───•

Suguru tapped on his cheek while gazing out the window, with a pencil in his hand. The darkness of night enveloped the surroundings, amplifying the sense of tranquility in the air.

As it was summer break, Suguru found himself with a surplus of free time and a lack of activities to engage in.

Directing his attention downwards, Suguru observed the soft glow of the light in his lamp illuminating the paper on which he was engrossed in writing a poem. It was a mere preliminary sketch, as he planned to embellish it further with the finesse of calligraphy and a fountain pen.

Succumbing to boredom, Suguru allowed his mind to wander and began to doodle on the upper portion of the paper. Upon completing the impromptu artwork, he tilted his head in introspection, realizing that the features he had unintentionally drawn bore a striking resemblance to someone he had encountered in the past.

A sense of curiosity washed over Suguru as he feverishly attempted to recall the identity of this mysterious figure. In a sudden moment of clarity, it dawned upon him-the idiosyncratic girl. Deep in contemplation, he pondered how she must be faring at present, and he hoped that she was doing well, after all, she's pretty nice, and he respected nice people!

Another thing, is that Suguru had refrained from seeking confirmation from Satoru if she really was his sister or cousin. After all, satoru surely wouldn't hide it from him if he had siblings, would he?

Reflecting upon his interactions with the idiosyncratic girl, Suguru fondly remembered the sweets she had gifted him. These treats had a distinct flavor, not overly saccharine like typical candies. Although he harbored no disdain for sugary confections, Suguru simply preferred a more mild sweetness. Comparatively, the taste of curses, the malicious forces he encountered in his line of work, resembled nothing short of a repulsive rag used to clean up vomit.

Another thing, is that suguru kept the bloodstained handkerchied with him.

Despite having the option to clean or discard the bloodstained handkerchief he used to wipe the blood from her lips, he inexplicably chose to hold onto it.

"I wonder how Gojo-san is doing..."

Suguru softly murmured to himself, questioning the well-being of [Name] while he resumed his drawing. He then skillfully added intricate details to the drawing-from the curve of her neck, the smoothness of her eyelids, and even the subtle nuances in her eyes and her eyelashes.

A soft hum of satisfaction escaped his lips as he finally finished the drawing. It was a detailed drawing of that idiosyncratic girl he was intrigued about; Gojo [Name].

Suguru then rose from his chair, letting out a sleepy yawn. And instead of crumpling the paper and tossing it into the trashcan as he normally would, Suguru's actions took an unexpected turn. He retrieved a pin and carefully affixed the drawing of [Name] to his pinboard, the very place where he stored his daily schedules, important activities, and cherished memories-like the photograph of him and Satoru.

•───癖好───•

ATTEMPTING TO MASK HER uneasiness, [Name] made an effort to try to look calm, she mustered up a smile upon meeting the guests, yet she was combating an overwhelming nauseous sensation. Evidently, it appeared that these particular individuals were oblivious to the notion of maintaining proper boundaries when it comes to personal space. The Gojo clan's non-sorcerer member was constantly subjected to unwanted attention, as the guests repeatedly touched her as if they haven't seen a non-sorcerer their whole life. However, satoru being the very normal and protective (overbearing) brother he was, shooed them away.

They were currently positioned in the heart of the party where a wide array of delicious food was laid out. The atmosphere hummed with conversations among the crowd, some of whom attempted to approach them, only to be dismissed by Satoru once again. Immersed in vibrant and loud music and surrounded by culinary delights from both Western, Eastern cuisines and many more.

Though, It was evident that the appearance of a non-sorcerer among the esteemed Gojo clan astonished each guest, yet they hesitated to voice their thoughts, presumably out of fear because the holder of the six eyes and limitless is there.

[Name] felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort due to the constant and unwelcome physical contact she was subjected to. She yearned for nothing more than to free herself from this distressing situation. Her hurried application of makeup was apparent as her eyeliner had smudged slightly, and due to lack of time, she hadn't been able to add glitter to her eyeshadow.

Additionally, her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, lacking any semblance of styling and appearing untidy. For her outfit, she had chosen a plain white corset embellished with intricate designs, which she had coordinated with a blazer and a white skirt.

To conceal the melted skin on her knuckles, she had slipped on a pair of gloves, ensuring her injured hands remained discreet. Luckily, Satoru managed to tend to all of her wounds fastly and got rid of all the evidence of the murder.

As a result, [Name] finds herself somewhat relieved, as the possibility of being apprehended diminishes. bandages were wrapped around her hands prior to wearing the gentle, protective gloves, providing an additional safeguard against infection for the wounds.

Though, despite [Name]'s efforts, doubt lingered in her mind, questioning if her overall appearance was truly presentable. To make matters worse, the memory of her recent act of killing her own father haunted her. It had taken place mere moments ago, leaving a disturbingly vivid imprint in her mind.

And to make matters worse, Satoru has his hand positioned his hand on her waist, his digits caressing her skin, leading to an unpleasant sensation that sent a chilling shiver down her spine.

In an attempt to regain her composure, she swallowed hard, suppressing the growing lump in her throat, all the while feeling tiny droplets of sweat forming on her forehead.

Satoru noticed her obvious unease and he leaned closer, his voice now a hushed murmur against [Name]'s ear.

"[Name],"

The sound of her own name escaping his lips sent anotuer chilling sensation down her spine, causing her body to instinctively react with a surge of tension. Every muscle in her body involuntarily tightened and she could feel her heart beating so fast.

"You okay?" he inquired, his breath gently caressing her delicate complexion, resulting in a slight flinch. Feeling a surge of discomfort, [Name] winced as she found herself engulfed by a wave of emotions due to Satoru's close presence.

"I'm fine... Just feeling anxious," she managed to say. Although she indeed felt anxious about the possibility of embarrassing herself, her greatest fear revolved around Satoru's excessively affectionate conduct. Previously, his touch had provided her solace and comfort, but presently, it evoked a profound discomfort in her.

"Don't be anxious," Satoru's gentle murmur resonated in the air, prompting a slight drooping of her shoulders and a puzzled knitting of her brows.

"I'm here and I'll protect you..." he assured her.

"I suppose that you're right..." she acknowledged.

"I shouldn't.." she added. Overwhelmed with thoughts and concerns, she realized that there was no need for excessive worry.

"You're here with me and you'll protect me, yeah?" she repeated satoru's previous words while satoru nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah!"

Satoru plucked a piece of mochi, and popped it on his mouth, relishing its delectable taste and swallowed. He then took another one and extended it towards [Name] with a grin, encouraging her to try it. "Y'should try this pretty girl, it's tasty"

[Name]'s eyes went downwards towards satoru's hand on her waist again before she responded with a strained smile and agreed, "Okay... I'll give it a taste." However, just as she reached for the mochi, Satoru impulsively took a bite out of it, before taking another bite. "Just makin' sure that it isn't poisoned"

He delighted in the taste once again, finally gulping down the entire mochi. [Name] gawked, feeling a sense of offense at his actions.

"Satoru!" she whined, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation.

"Safe. 'ts not poisoned." Satoru acknowledged with approval, before grabbing another mochi and delicately placing it in the corner of [Name]'s mouth.

"Open up," Satoru urged gently,

"let me take care of ya." He flashed her a charming smile, though , for some reasons, it creeped her out. [Name] shot him a piercing glare, fully aware that Satoru was obsessed on the idea of being the one to look after her. The situation felt unsettling, evoking a sense of creepiness that she couldn't quite shake off.

[Name] pried apart her lips, allowing Satoru to place the delectable mochi within her mouth. Almost instantaneously, she began to masticate on the soft rice cake, savoring its texture and flavor, before swallowing it down her throat.

"Good girl." Satoru said as if [Name] is a child.

[Name] chose to ignore that and her [E/c] eyes then veered downwards, tracing the path of his hands, which remained securely positioned on her waist.

"Satoru... i think that you should-" She started expressing her unease, on the verge of proposing that Satoru release his grip on her, but just as she was about to complete her statement, an individual abruptly intervened, silencing her mid-sentence.

"[NAME]-CHAN!! MY LITTLE STARLING POOKIE DOOKIE WOOKIE BEAR!!!" an excited voice from a woman exclaimed with great enthusiasm, a woman that is tall, probably around 6'2 (187 cm) was beaming at [Name]. She had long white hair that is let loose and it goes down her waist. Her eyes were dark, just like two pools of ink, a contrast to her complexion that is quite pale.

Her attire consisted of a sleeveless cropped top in a black shade, accentuated by a belly chain and the exposed skin she has revealed some battle scars and some tattoos. Completing her ensemble, she wore a pair of black colored ripped jeans, perfectly cinched with a stylish belt. The heeled combat boots she had on added a touch of edginess to her overall appearance. (Yes, all black and gothic) Notably, she had a belt adorned with additional straps that secured a katana. And compare to all the other guests who is dressed formally, this woman was dressed as if she had just emerged from a war.

And this very familiar woman seemed to annoy satoru.

"Taiyohime."

Satoru exclaimed, hostility evident in his voice as his previous mood immediately changing and his eye twitched when [Name] was unexpectedly seized by her forearm and fot dragged away from him. [Name] emitted a surprised yelp, taken aback as she suddenly found herself embraced in a comforting, affectionate hug, with her face inadvertently nestled within Taiyohime's boobs.

"T-taiyohime-nee?" [Name] exhaled, attempting to distance herself from Taiyohime's ample bosom. Gazing upwards towards Taiyohime, she found solace in her gentle caress, a stark contrast to the discomfort she experienced whenever being touched by Satoru (at the moment) or by anyone else.

"The one and only!" Taiyohime exclaimed joyfully upon hearing [Name] mention her name. she hugged [Name] even tighter, causing [Name] to wince slightly due to the force while satoru glared at them.

Ignoring satoru's disapproving look, Taiyohime beamed and asked,

"Mmmh...Missed y'so much..! [Name]-chan!" With an exaggerated and dramatic sniff, Taiyohime pressed her face against [Name]'s cheeks, her grip around [Name] tightening all the while.

Satoru's expression shifted towards annoyance as he directed a glare at the two women, questioning Taiyohime's sudden presence.

"Why are you here...?"

However, Taiyohime paid no attention to Satoru's irritation and instead kept her entire focus solely on [Name].

"Did you miss me? [Name]-chan?"

"Yeah. I missed you... It's been years."

[Name] responded with a smile, In that moment, all the previous uneasiness vanished from [Name]'s mind as they focused solely on her cherished reunion with Taiyohime.

"Aww!!! I missed you too!"

With delight painted across her face, Taiyohime reveled in [Name]'s affectionate embrace, using the opportunity to taunt satoru with a smug gaze. She winked at satoru, her grin filled with mockery towards satoru, as if saying; 'Your sister is mine now.'

A wave of irritation washed over Satoru as his eye twitched with annoyance, resulting in a scowl forming on his countenance as he stared at taiyohime angrily.

"You are so cute, [Name]!"

Taiyohime's voice was filled with girlish excitement as she couldn't contain her admiration for [Name], Her words were accompanied by her hands squeezing [Name]'s cheek. [Name], feeling a slight discomfort, let out a small whine.

"Taiyohime-nee, don't do that."

Taiyohime shrugged but released her grip on [Name]'s cheeks.

"Sorry, starling, I just can't help it! You are just so cute..."

"unlike some certain individuals here..." Taiyohime's eyes narrowed with a tinge of disdain as she shifted her gaze in Satoru's direction, subtly directing her dissatisfaction towards him.

"I'm flattered then." [Name] stated with a smile, not noticing taiyohime's glare on satoru.

"You're implying something, aren't you?"

Satoru's annoyance was clearly evident as he tilted his head and cracked his knuckles in a gesture that exuded frustration.

The atmosphere grew tense, causing [Name] to feel a sense of unease.

With a hint of amusement in her voice, Taiyohime replied to Satoru's questioning.

"Am i?" She laughed.

"But maybe yes... But still, I'm disappointed that you think i was insinuating something."

Taiyohime shook her head.

"I expected better,"

Taiyohime pulled [Name] closer to her, resting her head on top of [Name]'s and gently stroking [Name]'s [H/c] hair with her fingers, she placed her other hand on [Name]'s waist, causing their bodies to be pressed against each other in a embrace. Taiyohime couldn't help but direct a smug smirk in Satoru's direction and It was clear that Taiyohime was trying to get under Satoru's skin.

"Release her." Satoru demanded coldly and Taiyohime shook her head.

"Nah uh," Taiyohime retorted back, black colored eyes narrowing in annoyance and [Name] could feel the atmosphere getting cold.

"Calm down satoru-" [Name] tried to say but she was cut off when satoru forcefully pulled her away from taiyohime.

"Satoru!" [Name] let out a small gasp. "That's rude!" [Name] scolded, feeling taiyohime's glare in their direction.

"No, she had her filthy hands all over you," Satoru exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation.

"Seriously, You need to stop acting so childish, you're not a little kid anymore," [Name] finally snapped at Satoru and she yanked herself out of his grip, catching him off guard. The words stung Satoru's heart, but he quickly justified [Name]'s behavior by reminding himself of the recent trauma and fear she had experienced.

Yes, that's right. [Name] wasn't in the right mind, after all, she would never disobey him or replace him with someone else. Satoru told himself mentally.

Feeling frustrated, Satoru let out an irritated sigh and crossed his arms, shooting a glare at Taiyohime. He couldn't help but wonder if she had said something to provoke [Name]'s outburst. Determined to protect his sister's 'innocence' and Satoru made a mental note to keep Taiyohime at a distance.

"Hmph. so you haven't changed at all then." Taiyohime grumbled, her frustration evident as she crossed her arms.

"And so have you." Satoru retorted.

"But as the saying goes, once a brat always remains a brat," Taiyohime remarked, her glare directed at Satoru. The disapproval in her eyes made [Name] frown in disagreement.

"Taiyohime-nee, don't be mean. Satoru is not a brat," [Name] defended him, her voice filled with sincerity. (Even though satoru is obviously a brat)

Taiyohime expressed her dissatisfaction with [Name]'s disagreement regarding Satoru not being a brat. In her eyes, Satoru's bratty nature is well-known and acknowledged by everyone. Even at school, some students, like Utahime, hold negative feelings towards Satoru.

Satoru, feeling triumphant, responded with a condescending and mocking smirk towards Taiyohime.

"You spoil him far too much, starling" Taiyohime exclaimed with a hint of exasperation, rolling her eyes in the process.

"Look at what he has become due to all of your excessive spoiling-a spoiled and petty brat." Taiyohime huffed as she grabbed [Name]'s wrist, trying to pull the latter towards her, but satoru immediately grabbed [Name]'s other hand, preventing the woman from getting what she wanted.

"Wow, coming from the embodiment of pettiness, that's quite a statement." Satoru retorted, his grip on [Name] tightening. However, taiyohime refused to yield and continued to tug [Name] back whenever Satoru attempted to pull her away. The situation escalated to the point where it resembled a competitive game of tug-of-war, with [Name] being the unfortunate rope caught in the middle.

Many onlookers at the party couldn't help but stare, feeling a mixture of confusion and discomfort witnessing one adult and one 17 yearsold teenager that both stands in six feet engage in such childlike behavior over [Name].

The two of them were arguing and [Name] was trying to stop them but they just ignored her to the point that [Name] decided to give up in trying to convince them that fighting is futile.

"-Go and fuck yourself with your brother!"

Satoru hissed.

"No fuckin' way. Since you're a boy, why don't you do your little shitty playdates with caelum instead?" Taiyohime remarked amidst the ongoing argument and struggle over [Name]. Overwhelmed and consumed by the constant pulling, [Name] started to feel nauseous and her body grew sore, as if she were a mere ragdoll being tossed around.

"Excuse me-" Satoru began to speak, only to be interrupted by taiyohime who dismissively retorted, "You are not excused."

Satoru's patience grew thin as he retorted,

"You have your own sibling! Stop trying to steal what's mine!" In a fit of frustration, he tugged forcefully on [Name], inadvertently pulling both taiyohime and [Name] closer towards him. Taiyohime gasped and retaliated by glaring at Satoru and pulling [Name] towards her own direction

"You don't deserve her!"

"I swear, if you don't release [Name] this instant, I'll super glue your eyelids together!" Satoru exclaimed, ignoring the curious and weirded out gaze of the spectators.

"Shut up! My tsuka is bigger than your dick!"

•───癖好───•

Satoru felt perspiration forming on his forehead as he gently patted [Name]'s back, witnessing with concern as [Name] uncontrollably expelled the contents of her stomach onto the ground.

Regrettably, due to the vigorous tugging exerted by Satoru and Taiyohime, [Name] experienced a profound feeling of nausea that ultimately led to this unpleasant occurrence. Fortunately, [Name] displayed presence of mind and quickly rushed outside the premises just in time to release the contents of their stomach. Satoru gently patted her back while Taiyohime hurriedly went to fetch a glass of water for her.

"Sorry..." Satoru expressed remorse as [Name] coughed and clutched her chest, feeling the burning sensation of stomach acid mixed with vomit in her throat. The intense discomfort extended to her chest and lungs, causing her to wheeze for air.

"It's all that filthy toe nail eater's fault!" Satoru exclaimed in frustration, using a tissue to wipe away the remnants of vomit from [Name]'s lips.

"Don't say that, nii-chan," [Name] replied softly, her voice hoarse from the continuous bouts of vomiting.

"Taiyohime-nee is kind and beautiful," [Name] defended, shaking her head.

"Don't you dare defend that misshapen creature, girl." Satoru retorted, his bratty behavior irking [Name] further. While Taiyohime is a brat too, Satoru's brattiness was on a whole different level, so in short, Satoru is a high-key brat.

"Besides, why are you even having connection with taiyohime huh? She's our cousin and you are supposed to hate our whole family except for me."

"You are supposed to hate taiyohime." Satoru staged, emphasizing his point as his light blue eyes darkening and he looked frightening, sending a shiver down [Name]'s spine.

"Taiyohime-nee is different from them. I don't hate her."

Her response seemed to trigger satoru.

"No, no. Taiyohime is just like those bird-brained people."

"You only need your brother, girl. You don't need that deformed goblin." Satoru declared.

"You only need your nii-chan, you don't need others, just me, myself and i." Satoru emphasized, tilting [Name]'s chin upwards to meet his gaze.

"You understand that I'm the only one you truly need, don't you?" Satoru inquired, but before [Name] could respond, Taiyohime intervened, yelling at Satoru.

"Hey! You butterfaced jerk! You're freaking her out! Get those grubby hands of yours away from her!" Taiyohime snarled, striding quickly towards them with two glasses of water in her hands. Satoru released [Name]'s chin and glared at Taiyohime, indicating that another argument was about to unfold.

"This is all your fault," Satoru gritted through his teeth as he observed Taiyohime handing a glass of water to [Name].

"Stop picking fights nii-chan, and Taiyohime-nee, please just ignore him," [Name] muttered, not wanting to deal with the both of them, and took a sip of her water.

"No, this is your fault. You should have let me have her, even just for today," Taiyohime grumbled, disregarding [Name]'s plea.

"No way, she's mine." Satoru asserted, his possessiveness irritating Taiyohime, leading her to attempt splashing water on Satoru using the remaining glass. However, limitless prevented him from getting wet, causing the water to spill onto the floor instead.

"Bastard." he muttered.

"Asshole." Taiyohime huffed.

"Enough already, both of you." [Name] exclaimed in frustration, glancing at the empty glass in Taiyohime's hand as she let out a loud harrumph. Satoru responded by rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defiantly.

"You both are all grown up now, so start acting like it." [Name] sighed heavily.

"Satoru, stop instigating fights with Taiyohime. And Taiyohime, quit intentionally trying to provoke Satoru."

[Name] admonished them both.

Satoru grumbled dismissively, muttering, "Whatever," while Taiyohime let out another huff and averted her gaze.

"Seriously, you two need to work on your anger management." [Name] stated firmly, her voice tinged with concern. Taiyohime responded by rolling her eyes, clearly uninterested, while Satoru chose to ignore [Name]'s advice.

"Allowing anger to control you won't lead to anything positive, and it's not fair to constantly direct your frustrations towards each other, Anger is detrimental for both mental and physical well-being as it not only results in negative effects on our appearance, such as wrinkles, but it can also drive individuals to commit violent acts, including murder. " [Name] continued, delving into a more philosophical and scientific perspective.

Taiyohime seemed to be touched at [Name]'s speech while Satoru was irritated by the sudden shift in topic. And before [Name] could continue her monologue, satoru interjected with a sarcastic remark.

"Shut up Socrates," Satoru retorted, earning a sharp glare from [Name].

"Fucking hell,"

[Name] showed signs of frustration as she slouched her shoulders and let out a tired sigh. She placed her hand on her forehead, still feeling the burning sensation in her throat.

"You are annoying, onii-chan. you know that?" [Name] expressed her annoyance towards Satoru. Satoru simply shrugged.

"You love me." he stated confidently. [Name] nodded in agreement, but couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and she mentally scolded herself for such thoughts.

Taiyohime's reaction was one of strong disgust as she gazed upon the sight, prompting her to express her disgust with the word "Ew."

"I feel bad for you, starling. Imagine loving a dude that looks like a naked Mole-Rat."

Satoru swiftly reacted to Taiyohime's remark without any hesitation, expressing his annoyance through his tone of voice.

"Nobody cares about your opinion elephant seal."

As [Name] observed this interaction, her eyebrows furrowed in disapproval towards Satoru and Taiyohime's insult towards each other.

"Taiyohime. Satoru." She scolded. However, they paid no attention to her disapproving gaze and carried on with their petty and useless argument.

"-You're not even supposed to be here!"

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a slightly petulant expression on his face, Satoru attempted to shoo Taiyohime away. As [Name] processed this situation, a hint of surprise crossed her face, indicated by the raised eyebrow. It became apparent to [Name] that Taiyohime's presence was not expected or intended to be in this setting.

"Yeah... Taiyohime-nee... Aren't you supposed to be in Canada during the summer break?" [Name] asked curiously. Taiyohime nonchalantly shrugged in response. "I heard it was related to you, [Name]-Chan, so I decided to come here," she stated.

"What do you mean, me?" [Name] inquired, tilting her head in confusion. Both her and Satoru had puzzled looks on their faces, while Taiyohime seemed dumbfounded by their reaction.

"Why do you two look so bewildered?" Taiyohime asked, feeling a bit unnerved. "And Satoru, you look ugly," she added spitefully, causing Satoru's expression to contort in annoyance.

"This is so weird," Taiyohime muttered.

"Aren't you even aware of the agreement between the Gojo clan and that other clan? I don't really know the name of that clan, nor do I care, but seriously, are you two completely oblivious of the arrangement?" Taiyohime questioned both of them.

"They would have informed me if there was any arrangement or whatever," Satoru confidently stated, while [Name] blinked in confusion. "What arrangement?" she asked, hoping for some clarification.

"Uhh" taiyohime averted her gaze away, not knowing how to explain.

"An arranged marriage."

•───癖好───•

-The Gojo Clan will be a weird 'family' in here

-Taiyohime is [Name] and Satoru's older cousin.

-More conflict to come

-The main reason why Taiyohime hates Satoru is because Satoru is rich

-The main reason why Satoru hates Taiyohime is because taiyohime stole his perfume and replaced it with toilet water

-Taiyohime is a girl's girl

-Taiyohime and Satoru is banned from seeing each other when they were kids because the two of them would always fight

-Taiyohime is the one who taught [Name] how to fight and the weak points of a person.

-Taiyohime knows about satoru's sister complex

-[Name] is starting to doubt satoru's intentions and now can see how weird he acts around her.

-Everything about the satoru being a creep thingy is only on [Name]'s point of view.

-They ended up burning their clothes anyways.

-[Name] is starting to develop trust issues.

-Suguru has a poem dedicated for [Name] and it's titled as "Gōjasuna on'nanoko."

-Suguru keeps a satoru plushie with him.

-Satoru was insinuating something to [Name] after he helped her clean up.

-[Name] may have been, or may not have been controlled by something.

-Satoru smelled suguru's scent on [Name] in the past but didn't said anything about it.

-[Name] doesn't feel guilty.

-Suguru kept the candy wrappers with him.

I drew taiyohime and this is how she looks like🙃🙃

[vampycrispy]

The Dream Love - part 1

Mafia Gojo x y/n

Will contain mature theme such a yandere, Mafia, stalking, manipulation, 18+ etc so minor stay away~

Hello! I know its late but here is the first chapter of the Mafia Gojo x reader I hope you like it!! I'm still new to this tumbler stuff soo T_T.

Oh if you have any requests you can make it I guess for now I will do for JJK x reader. (As I'm keeping up with the updates too heeh) I will be taking up the requests till I go back to my writing a real original new story.

Please click on the masterlist for the request I will be taking for now

Masterlist

More than 2k words not edited...

I wish you were real, Not just a dream, or just the character of the books~ but today I saw you darling. You were real not just a dream but in my reality. I will never let you go... NEVER... even if it cost me to lose everything...

“DON'T FORGET TO DO YOUR HOMEWORK AND SLEEP EARLY” the cheerful voice yelled grabbing the attention of the others in the middle of the street. Making you and Nobara groan in response to how loud the boy could be as if he is always high on some sugar rush.

“I will don't you worry,” you said giving the pair a small wave with a smile on your face while walking backwards. Almost bumping into a 

“Yuji!! Let's go” you chuckle in response watching how Nobara just dragged Yuji away who was still waving at you.

Watching the pair walking away as the smile fades away from your face. Putting your headphone over your head in a low volume with no music on. The long walk was no trouble at night as it was a busy city of Tokyo always surrounded by people here and there.

“Well, I should just take some groceries as he will be coming back home tonight.” mumbling to your self moving your head along with the tune of the music. 

Entering the grocery store pick up the small basket as you walk through the aisle without looking left or right. Just walking ahead with the blank look over your face now stopping in front of the cat food. 

Putting 6 to 7 cans of food in the basket along with a little feather toy, with a smile on your face. About the little new baby back at home making you just run now as fast as you could. Now taking a turn while looking down at your phone changing the music almost bumping into a tall figure. 

“Sorry,” you said in a small voice without looking up just to walk past the figure. Making the tall person turn around and stare at you while his hands are placed over the trolley filled with all kinds of sweets. 

Watching the girl walking away humming in a soft tune of the music being played.  

“Now I also need food for me and my dear brother. Hope he won't be angry about it” 

Non-other the Ramen

“Well here you are buddy” you mumble under your breath not noticing a haired male wearing a black shade of glasses. Stood right opposite her aisle with his hands folded over his chest. 

“Now looking at it makes me want to eat Zuba soba noodles” mumbling under your breath filling the basket with 4 cups of noodles. 

Looking from the corner of your eyes a tall man wearing black glasses staring down at the shelf in front of him. Knowing the fact what really is beside this ramen. 

Closing your eyes for a few seconds as if you are trying your best to remember the words 

Ramen at home? 

Want to come and eat ramen? 

Oh, want to see my butterfly was just boom but-it was more like

“Want to come over and have ramen?” a blurred face flashes right in front of your vision making you snap open your eyes with a small gasp. 

“Huh” your eyes go wide in response. It seems as if you have heard a voice right next to your ear through your headphones being in low volume. 

Tuning your head around just to find no one around you, just to find yourself alone. Not even the white-haired guy who stood not too far away from you.

“I need to stop snapping out from reality” mumbling under your breath rolling your eyes in response while walking towards the egg counter.

While on the other hand, the tall white-haired guy kneeled down on the floor hiding over the opposite shelf. While covering his mouth with his gloves hand with a slight smile on his face. 

“I guess she wants to~ why not tonight my darling~” the white-haired male mumbles under his breath. 

In the same aisle, the little boy looks down at the white-haired male with a weird expression on his face. Only made the boy to tear up running towards his mother while crying. 

“MOMMM!! That guy is scaring me!!” the little boy cried making the worried expression of his mother change into a furious one. 

“Who can scare my little boy let me have a word with him! For scaring my boy where is the manager-” 

“Oh I guess it was me miss” the voice said right behind the mother. She could feel a sudden wave of shivers passes the moment she turns around a small gasp escaped from her lips. 

“What do you want to talk about miss?” the deep blue eyes staring down at her. Shadow form over half of his face. As if this guy just popped out of some thriller movie and is on a killing spree. 

The woman just shakes her head no with tears forming in her eyes the next thing she did. Just to pick up her child and ran away as fast as she could out of the supermarket. Leaving her cart behind. 

“Hey Gojo, you seem to have a knack for scaring people! Maybe you should consider auditioning for a horror movie instead of lurking in the supermarket. Just make sure to hide your ugly face next time!” 

“Go and fuck yourself Fushiguro” Gojo walks away carrying the basket full of condoms with the extra large and thin with different kinds of flavours. 

“Didn't know you were a sex freak?” 

“Going to be only for my dreamgirl” 

“That dream girl of yours dosent exits you know its just a dream-” 

“I just saw her” 

“Are you now dreaming with your open eyes?” 

“I’m just wide awake now” 

‘Ah, I just feel so hungry…. I hope your brother has already cooked something tomorrow I don't want to eat Ramen…’ 

Now walking towards the counter with a blank look on your face, as the supermarket seems to be more empty. Well, it was never crowded but at the same time not this open. 

The same tall guy with white hair who now stood in front of you ready to scan his item or more like items. The same being ramen of the same flavour you took and the whole degree of pack of condoms? 

‘Well someone is going to do phew-phew being warped up for hours and days’ you chuckle at your thoughts now filled with not-so-good ones. The erotic stories-

You just sign in response now removing your headphones paying in the counter. Thanking the guy who just seems unbothered rolling his eyes.

"Well lets go~ home cant wait to meet the little one my baby~" you said in a small baby voice to yourself ignoring the weird look you are receiving by the passing by.

Still unknown about the fact a pair of blue eyes staring at you with the love-sick eyes. While the other black haired male just pretending to puke.

'Finally I'm home'

You thought reaching the front of your house, you unlocked the door just to freeze as you got a text from your brother.

Hey, can you call me when you get home? I need to talk to you about something.’

Signing in response by pressing your lips in a thin line as you close the door behind you locking it.

‘I’m already reached home bro give me a few seconds I will call after getting fresh up and feeding the little one.’

You texted back just to hear a soft meow feeling something brushing against your leg.

Meow~ purring at the end only made your heart to melt.

"Kitty, kitty," you said, smiling as you picked it up in your arms.

“Ah I have to name this little one but have to wait till he comes back” you smile 

"Are you hungry? Because Mommy is!"

Just to hear another meow as if the kitten is making you squeak and aww looking down at the little kitten. 

Meooow~

"Awww he's so cute!" you exclaimed in a baby voice as your eyes were gleaming with happiness. 

"Momma is going to give you a big kiss!"  you picked up the kitten in your arms gently kissing him over his forehead. 

You felt the kitten purr and wiggle its tail in delight. It was finally, being back at home and petting it, feeding it and babying it.

It has been four weeks since your elder brother brought this little kitten home fully wet and sick. It was a shade of gray, but you later just learned it's a little white fluffy white kitten… Still hissing it crawls out ready to attack the stranger. But later it just warms up to you both slowly. 

Walking towards the kitchen, placing the kitten in the living room. Grabbing a can of cat food from the pantry and opened it, pouring the food into a bowl. Placing the bowl down in front of the kitten and watched as it began to eat.

"Such a cute little fur ball you are, aren't you?" you pout staring down at the kitten. Who was just well busy eating...

Now grabbing the ramen for yourself while putting the kettle to boil the water. Not really in the mode of cooking more like it's your brother who is the lead person cooks. Rather than boiling water or making coffee for yourself. 

You  Are  BANNED  From the kitchen  Escape from boiling water and milk

'What am I a kid to have milk?'

Well, the rules are already stickered in the freezer for your short-term memory brain cells. Always ready to forget the thing-

“Wait brother said to call him I totally forgot about it” now walking towards your phone upon the dinner table. 

Just to see multiple texts and missed calls from your brother itself who has always been the patient one. The phone was on silent as you were in the library with your friends for the upcoming test. 

“What?” a confused expression falls over your face staring at your phone and scrolling up.

y/n get out of the house now and take that little fur ball go to Mahito's house now Y/n did you leave?  Y/n? Answer my phone  Where are you?  Are you out of the house?  Call me now! It's really important I can't talk over in text  Why aren't you answering my phone? I have called Mahito he will be there in 10 minutes just share him and your location  Y/n?

Going through the text only made you worried about what really your brother wants you to get out of the house. Shaking your head you dial his number hearing it ring hearing the blow of the whistle the sign the water has been boiled. 

More like a note written in the freezer with an emoji making you sign in response. The fact your brother really thinks you are stupid and forgets every-

“Oh Damn the water!!!” 

Well looks like the brother is always right~

Poring the boiling water inside the ramen cup as you cover it up with the lead. Still calling your brother which soon goes into the voice call. Signing in response you call your brother three to four times just to get the same response

“Now he is the one not receiving my calls so annoying” you sign. But all of a sudden uneasy feeling inside your chest. Calling him just directed to the voice note after rings rolling your eyes in response. 

Right then just to hear a meow once again the little kitten brushing against your feet. As if it has sensed your discomfort making you look down at it. 

“Right so annoying, but you aren't little one” with a pout over your lips picking up the kitten and placing it on the table. Who just stares at you with its doe eyes wide open and fully black. 

Bringing your cup noodle to the table as you sat on the chair. Right before you could call your brother back just to receive a call from Mahito. 

Remembering the fact your brother said he will be calling you. Mahito is one of the annoying friends of your brother. Who always teases you and hits the back of your head again and again telling you stupid. 

RINGGG~

Right before you could receive the call just to hear your doorbell ringing. Making a confused expression falls over your face. 

“Why is he even calling when he is already at the door?” rolling your eyes in response just to hang up the call while walking towards the door. The little kitten followed right behind me opening the door. 

“Why did you even call when you-.” You stop freezing on the spot as your phone begins to ring again. A confused expression falls over your face seeing a tall figure with white hair wearing a black shade of sunglasses at nighttime. 

“Yes?” 

You know the fact your brother had warned you not to open the door without looking at the peephole. But as stupid you will be the first one to die in a horror movie when you open the door. 

“I’m your brother's friend Darling~ I’m here to take you to him” A sudden wave of shiver passes through you. Just hearing his voice sounds familiar yet strange at the same time. 

“I’m sorry, but I can't” Your phone starts to ring again the smile on the face of the guy fade away. 

“Won't you listen to your brother Geto? I’m his school friend Gojo, Gojo Satoru” the guy said making me freeze how did he know your brother's real name? 

One of the rules stuck in the freezer is to run away get from the person who refers to his real name. Rather than the people he has introduced you to.

to be continue...

You can also support me or make a request in by Buy Me A Coffee

[blueberri-chee]

Is this the end?

A/n: just a little thing if satoru was my brother.... oh i would kill for him to be my lil bro.. fun times bullying him.

Warnings- spoilers SPOILERS spoilers SPOILERS

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

I watched Satoru fight with Sukuna/Megumi and I remember the conversation I had with Megumi one day while I was training him.. He had asked me how it felt to be the elder sister of the strongest sorcerer… it was nerve wracking to say nonetheless. I had chuckled and simply shook my head saying, “he was a pain in the ass.” To which Megumi cracked a smile. Quite the reaction coming from him. I smiled as he said, “I agree.” But there was so much more to that.. Satoru is a man with tremendous potential and power which also brought tremendous sadness and grief… he lost his best friend not once but twice… he saw his co-workers die.. His students perished to the curses. He has to fight the boy he raised because he was possessed by the king of curses… Satoru had gone through a lot and I saw him go through it and I couldn't do anything about it… Now that I watch them fight I can't help but feel that I've failed to protect my brother… The one for whom I gave my whole life away… I spent hours in the god forsaken training room of the Gojo estate so that I could protect him from everything but I failed. I failed so miserably and I can't even do anything as I watch them helplessly. Kento had asked me one day, “Why don't you trust him, then? You've worked your whole life to raise him, right? To make him a good person who'd know right from wrong..... I think it's fine to trust him a little more. You can't protect him forever, can you?” 

I sighed and looked at him with what I could only describe as heaviness in my heart, “that is the thing... I was the first person to hold him after he was born... he was a big baby with bright bright blue eyes. and I was like I’m going to protect him forever... I was holding the baby who was going to be the strongest sorcerer of this era... I was holding the baby because of whom the balance of the universe was altered and curses stronger than what you can even imagine were born to match his strength and I had taken upon the responsibility to protect him.. Forever” 

I looked at him and he had this weird look in his eyes. Like I had said something so heart touching and idiotic at the same time. “I see.” he said after a long pause, "Then..." He hesitated, but he wanted to ask me this. "Why are you so scared?" He said gently. "I thought that you had made him strong enough so he wouldn't need protection anymore." He added. I knew what he meant.. I had heard it enough times from Suguru and I gave Kento the same reply I used to give Suguru, “"I did make him strong but I can't help it. Actually.. He made himself strong. I was just there for him. The enemies he is up against. They are strong… He might be the strongest but for me he is just my little brother… I might hate his guts but still.. It is just. I can't help but worry about him..." 

Satoru was all I have left of the family and I raised him myself like he was my own son.. Now watching him fight the boy he had raised, hurt me more than anything. I wanted to protect him from experiencing such pain but here I am witnessing it.. 

I truly failed but there is no point crying over spilt blood so I pray to all the gods above that Satoru wins without harming megumi… which is impossible. If Kento would have heard me mumbling these prayers he would have called me a fool and would have told me to trust Satoru.. But he is not here to tell me that so I continue to pray. I want Satoru to win.. I wanted him to win so badly but I had this intuition. A very bad intuition which is never wrong. I looked at Yuuji who was standing beside me and then at my brother and his student? His enemy? His son? I don’t know…. But I know that this isn’t going to end well. I clasp my hands together as I rest my chin on it. 

He uses purple hollow.. I hold my breath as I wait for the bright light and the debris to settle down. 

……..

Did he just win?

…….

Did Gojo Satoru just defeat the king of curses? 

…….

Is it too early to cheer for his victory? 

……

Is….. it?

…..

….

…

..

.

Maybe it is…. Maybe my intuition was right… maybe….just maybe….. Am I wrong for the first time in my whole life?

….

…

..

I was right. I clench my fist as I watch him.. Falling… My chest feels heavy as I watch the strongest fall. The strongest.. Who was Yuuji's teacher. Shoko’s best friend. My brother… I fall on my knees as everything happens in slow motion… this is bad. This wasn’t supposed to happen…. He will rise… The strongest can’t give up so easily. Gojo Satoru never loses. 

Gojo Satoru won’t lose.

[chuuyrr]

Request Idea for Scarlet Witch reader! If your interested that is :3

So, idk if your have seen the JJK 0 movie but there is a scene at the end where Gojo confronts Getou and says something and I was wondering if we could get that with Scarlet reader and her partner? Except maybe Gojo and the others witness her say something to him but dont know what she says 👀 it could be a love confession or you could leave it blank with right before Scarlet witch reader finishes him, he gives her a smile?

Maybe even have Scarlet reader walk past Gojo and the others looking almost dead(?) Like her eyes are glazed, blood on her face, head down, ect? Idk how else to describe it 😭 but I have so many ideas and this is just one iv been thinking of 🧍‍♀️

scarlet witch! fushiguro! reader confronts ex-partner similarly to adoptive dad! gojo with geto

jujutsu kaisen x reader

masterlist of the series | first part

╰➤ CW(s): spoilers for jujutsu kaisen 0, major references to multiverse of madness, and scarlet witch in general, angst

╰➤ PAIRING(s): platonic! jujutsu kaisen x teen! reader

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which you, the adoptive child of gojo satoru, the scarlet witch, and the half-younger sibling of fushiguro megumi, repeats his history of having to lose the one who became everything he never wanted to lose.

╰➤ SONG SUGGESTION(s): my tears ricochet and enchanted by taylor swift

there you stood among the debris and broken foundations of buildings and trees left over from the earlier collisions of chaos magic, and cursed energy, gravity in particular.

gojo satoru and the other jujutsu sorcerers who were battered and bruised from earlier's fight watched as you planted your feet on the ground while in mid-air, a small yet gentle turbulent red psionics flowing outwards as you did.

you hung your head low, allowing your [color] locks of hair to fall and cover your face as you walked towards him, whose body had been gravely injured by your final chaos magic attack on him earlier. your steps were heavy and slow as you clutched your bleeding and bruised arm, which was exposed due to tatters on your customized scarlet jujutsu tech uniform.

you were too exhausted to heal yourself with your own abilities. nonetheless, you continued on because you needed to get to him no matter what. even if it broke your heart to see your ex-partner—your partner in such a terrible state as he leaned weakly against a rubble. his black hair was no longer tied in a half-up, half-do; a horrible bleeding dash had been inflicted on him, ripping up his clothes.

as blood dripped down the side of shinya's face, he lifted it and turned to face you, his gray eyes fixed on yours as you stood and loomed over him, where he noticed your expression. it was no surprise that you hung your head low. tears were glistening in your [color] eyes, and that hurt shinya a lot.

shinya wasn't heartless even if he had declared you and the rest of your jujutsu sorcerers family his enemies. he simply buried the feeling away because he had already made his decision. he despised seeing you cry even back then.

"[nickname]," shinya spoke up, his lips curving into a broken smile, "what'cha tearing up for?"

you found yourself clenching your fists, trembling fists to be precise. your knees gradually buckled to the floor, unconcerned that the rough ground would graze and scratch them. shinya furrowed his brows as he slowly extended his hand towards yours, which were flat on your thighs, and that's when he felt your tears fall on the back of his hand.

"you did it, didn't you? you saved the jujutsu sorcerers you considered family from me, the villain, [name]," shinya chuckled softly, shaking his head, "of course you would. you're the scarlet witch. as much as i hate to fucking admit it, you're stronger than me."

"we were supposed to be the strongest together, shin.." you muttered as you clenched your fists even tighter. you were choking on your words, but you held it together and lifted your head to finally face him, locking gazes with his gray eyes—the same ones you loved so much when the two of you first met each other.

but you couldn't find it in yourself right now to adore them. not with shinya's current condition, not when he was dying, and absolutely not when he was staring at you with those eyes.

"go on, [nickname], curse me all you want. it all my fault after all, pretty," shinya intertwined his bloodied and bruised hand in yours.

"how the fuck am i supposed to curse my one and only partner?" your words weren't as venomous as they should have been. in fact, your tone was sullen rather than angry.

shinya's brows drew together, almost sympathetically, but he lets you continue speaking as you shake your head and take a sharp breath of air, "i can't curse you, shinya."

"why?" shinya asked unintelligibly, puzzled and surprised by your choice of words.

shinya's hands were getting colder, and you could feel it as they rose and cupped your warm cheeks. the wind picks up, emphasizing the coldness of his body, and it's only then that you realize your cheeks are wet from tears streaming down your face. your eyes glow a faint red color as they reflect the burning sunset in the background.

"because i love you, hatsuki shinya, and i always have, even back when you left and chose this path. you're my partner—my everything, and it fucking hurts so much," you said with shinya's thumb brushing away your tears.

"damn it, [nickname], curse me a little, will you?" shinya's voice strained as his lips trembled, "stop blaming yourself."

you shook your head, closing your eyes as you held one of his hands, making it cup your face, "i can't."

when the curse-user suddenly wrapped his arms around you, gojo and the jujutsu sorcerers tensed. however, gojo stopped them with a raised hand, realizing that shinya was simply hugging you, before your older brother megumi, maki, nobara, and yuuji could run towards to attack with the intention to protect you from him.

your body ran warm in his embrace, which was becoming colder by the second, and that's when he pressed your body closer to his.

"maybe if i could have been your eyes and seen the world like you did, breathed everything you breathed and felt everything you felt, then maybe.. just maybe, [name].. i could have loved you the way i have always wanted to.."

you buried your face into the crook of his neck, unconcerned about his blood staining your face and everything, or that you were clinging to him so tightly at this point.

"you won't die, shinya," your hushed words rolled off your tongue like a plea.

"not even you can make that promise, [name]," shinya shook his head, rubbing your back to comfort you.

shinya's nose bleeds red, and the next thing you know, he's coughing blood, prompting him to pull your body away from his. your eyes widened as you stared at your palms. your magic hit him too hard earlier and nearly made him decay. shinya was right about your strength. your partner was well aware of how powerful you exactly were.

"do what you have to do," shinya straightened his back, attempting to sit upright, but struggled to do so, "finish what you started."

"shinya.." you spoke up to protest.

"no, [name], i can't stay. not after what I've done to you and everyone, and i want this more than ever," shinya said firmly.

with that, shinya's face crinkled into a smile, a genuine smile, "to have my partner do this."

you nodded your head. it was a difficult pill to swallow, but you had to accept it as it was. no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you loved shinya as much as he loved you, this was inevitable. he was doomed to die, and you had no choice but to live. shinya has already chosen the path of darkness, while you have chosen the path of light.

to simply put it, you and shinya were destined to meet but not to be with each other, and it was the curse of the strongest ones.

with a heavy heart, you gently twisted your dominant hand, allowing red psionics to seep from your fingertips. it was a little faint due to your exhaustion and wounds, but it should suffice. you'll make it work. for shinya.

"you know, the sunset reminds me so much of you," shinya's eyes were now half-lidded and drooping from exhaustion.

"and just like the sunset, i'll see you again. maybe not in this life, or in the afterlife, but perhaps in another life or universe, and i'm confident that i will love every version of you, over and over, fushiguro [name], because i love you in every universe," shinya said, his voice barely audible, but you heard it nonetheless.

as shinya smiled at you and spoke such words, you mouthed them back, and before the jujutsu sorcerers knew it, you maneuvered your hand and the other, using your red psionics once more to end the curse user.

you wanted to close your eyes, not wanting to see what will become of shinya, but you read his thoughts loud and clear, and he called out to you, telling you not to take your gaze away from him.

"you could never hurt me," said shinya through his thoughts to comfort you even in his final moments, "i just feel you, [nickname]."

you wanted to fight back against his words, but you did what he wanted. you stood there watching and letting your chaos magic struck him. you wanted to scream and cry your soul out. you wanted him to stop staring at you with those eyes and that goddamned smile.

life flashed before shinya's eyes like a movie, and you saw everything as you subconsciously read his thoughts, from him first meeting you to the two of you fighting like a damned old married couple, to you and shinya accomplishing missions together as special grade sorcerers, to you and him coming home together after a long day, all the way to him staring at the sunset wishing it was you instead.

as your chaos magic accelerated the aging of his body to the point where there was no trace of him left, but only a hair tie—the hair tie he stole from you and had been using since he lost his. you picked it up from the ground and held onto it tightly, remembering him doing so.

was it really a curse of the strongest ones? was it fate for the scarlet witch to lose the people she cares about? it could be either, but as you turn your heel and walk away, you can't help but think about your adoptive father's words;

you straightened your back, took a deep breath, slipped the hair tie on your wrist, just below your black wristers, and raised your gaze to the horizon. hatsuki shinya was finally at rest and most likely reunited with his father-figure, mahiru, in the afterlife, but a part of you had died along with him.

shinya was more than just your partner or someone who made you feel less lonely; he was your other half, your soulmate. he was everything, and you loved him with your whole heart and soul.

love is the most twisted curse of them all.

it had to be that. you were certain of it.

"[name]-chan," yuuji attempted to speak to you as he walked up to meet you mid-way, but you remained silent and continued walking.

"[name]," megumi pried this time, attempting to converse with his half-brother, but you, like towards yuuji, ignored him.

"gojo-sensei, [name]-chan..." nobara frowned as she approached your adoptive dad in concern.

"let her be, kugisaki," gojo response was quiet and sullen as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

gojo bit the inside of his cheek as he and everyone else noticed the look in your eyes. it was completely empty, a void of nothingness. they were even puffy red from your tears earlier. you couldn't even describe how you felt, other than grieving and feeling; it just hurt so much. white noise was even filling your ears.

you walked past everyone, your head low as you wiped the blood—shinya's blood to be exact—that had stained your face, the very burden on your shoulders.

gojo satoru knew exactly how you felt—the unexplainable pain and grief—and he couldn't help but sympathize with you as he stared down at your figure, which was getting smaller and smaller as you walked further past them. tour uncle suguru geto was once a hatsuki shinya in gojo's life.

although he and the others didn't hear what you two said, gojo knows it was similar to the last time he spoke to his own partner.

and because gojo knows how it feels to have loved and lost, he feels guilty that his daughter, his most beloved child, is going through the same hell he did. it was a scene gojo was all too familiar with, especially with the bitter ending wherein love truly is the most twisted curse of them all.

[ author's notes ! ngl, i lowkey hate the ending i wrote because some tears are in my eyes yk LMAO and the fact that i had just a heartwrenching skk ao3 fic does not help at all, but i did enjoy writing this—somewhat—because it felt right to have reader's partner end up the same way as geto because this is reader taking after gojo satoru, but also because i got to reference mcu! wanda maximoff's grief too, which i hope i was able to encapture in this writing, so thank you for requesting this foxy. hoped you like it ! ]

[ p.s. ! the song suggestions are highly recommended btw—i was listening to them while i was writing this. it makes the angst hit harder and more differently. 10/10 experience 😌🤝]

[saetoru]

me vs the overwhelming urge to turn this geto x reader fic into a satosugu x reader fic instead

[matumogs]

Lol love this ! 😂

The JJK Characters and How They Would Wake You Up

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

Itadori Yuji:

He really didn’t want to. He’d rather have you sleep but he was told to wake you up for training.

He pokes your cheek while whisper yelling your name

“yyy/nnnnn *poke poke* ….. wake uupppp! We gotta train….*poke poke poke*”

But once you wake up he’s super loud and excited

“Yay! You woke up! Okay come on, let’s go! Oh wait, get changed first. Want me to wait for you or just meet you there?…. I’ll wait outside your door!😊☀️”

Megumi Fushiguro:

Knocks on your door and waits to see if that’ll wake you up. When he doesn’t he walks in and just calls out your name while scratching the back of his head in annoyance.

“Y/N. Wake up. You’re going to be late.”

You continue sleeping so he kicks your bed frame. “Y/N! Wake up.” He says more sternly.

Nobara Kugisaki:

Like Gumi, she knocks on your door while calling out your name. When you don’t answer she walks in and pats your shoulder while trying to convince you get up. When that doesn’t work she’s loud af

She’ll go get some pans and bang them, she’ll play a song you hate loudly on her phone next to your ear, or she’ll start singing loudly. She might even jump on your bed.

As much as you hate it, you still manage to laugh at how goofy she’s being.

Toge Inumaki:

Inumaki is canonly a troll. He’s gonna wake you up in a silly way that just so barely annoys you

Pokes you as well but all over your body, especially if your ticklish.

“Tuna mayooooo” *pokes your sides*

Even once you’re awake he’ll still poke at you while holding back his laugh

Maki Zenin:

Very much like Gumi, she acts annoyed and is loud. She knocks on your door calling out your name. You don’t answer so she swings the door open aggressively.

“How are they still alseep??” She asks herself. She was being loud. You’re such a heavy sleeper.

She’ll kick the bed frame with her heel “oooooiii, Y/N. Wake up.”

If you grumble and hide under the covers she’ll rip them off lmao

Panda:

Pokes at you as well while calling out your name.

“Yyyyy/nnnnnn it’s time to wake uuppp!”

Tries to convince you with breakfast. If you still don’t wake up he’ll just pick you up and walk out your room.

Yuta Okkotsu:

SUPER FUCKING SWEET!!!

He’s so gentle and refuses to raise his voice that he ends up taking forever to wake you up lmao

Pats your shoulder or gently shakes you. Probably pokes your cheeks too

“Y/N. Rise and shine. Time to wake up~”

Rika will try to convince Yuta to just shake you awake but he’ll tell her no and continue trying to gently wake you up 😭💗

Gojo Satoru:

Dramatic af

He walks into your room without even knocking and already singing loudly

“Yyyy/nnnnn! Time to arrriiisssee!! Open your eeeyyyeeessss! Let’s eat some bacon and eeeggggsss!!! It’ll strengthen your….. LLLEEEEGGGGSSSS!!!! ……. *y/n still asleep* Y/N WAKE UP!”

He’ll poke at you and tickle you like Toge while laughing the entire time

Nanami Kento:

Pretty bland lmao

He knocks on your door and when you don’t answer he peeks in to see you still asleep.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and calls out your name. “Y/N. It’s time to wake up.”

Continues to shake your shoulder until you wake up.

He’ll probably get slightly annoyed though if you’re getting close to being late. He’s a punctual man, he doesn’t like tardiness

I can also kind of see him just staring you when you continue to sleep through his failed attempts and trying to figure out how to wake you then plays the most OBNOXIOUS alarm sound he can find super loud in your ear.

“Wake up. You’re going to be late.”

Geto Suguru:

Peeks in and just calls out your name.

“Y/N. Wake up. Wakey wakey~”

Still not budging? Rip off your covers and open the blinds to burn your eyes from the sun. Clap his hands super loud.

“Good, you’re awake. Come on, let’s go. Got stuff to do.”

Mahito:

Dumps a bucket of ice cold water on you while cackling

Sukuna Ryoumen:

Probably slaps you hard across the face and calls you a fool. I can also see him just straight up scratching you.

But if Yuji kept him from hurting you, he’d just groan and clap extremely loud to scare you awake and call you a brat. Then slump you over his shoulder

“Get moving, brat. We got shit to do.”

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,” 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness. 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks. 

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there. 

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall. 

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large. 

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture. 

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt. 

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out. 

You got a B. 

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88. 

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds. 

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare. 

Academia was truly hell. 

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,” 

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly. 

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—” 

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?” 

“I am, I wanted to—” 

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—” 

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?” 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze,  “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,” 

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—” 

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,” 

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.” 

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease. 

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist. 

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin. 

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?). 

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do. 

“See you soon.” 

Oh, he would. 

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours. 

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to. 

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it. 

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?” 

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal. 

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside. 

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—” 

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,” 

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,” 

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—” 

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,” 

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle. 

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall. 

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,” 

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips. 

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,” 

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,” 

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“You learn fast.” 

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism. 

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again. 

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it. 

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top. 

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck— 

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good. 

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought. 

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss— 

And you clearly needed sleep. 

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it). 

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’” 

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action. 

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you. 

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you. 

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—” 

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?” 

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch. 

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—” 

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?” 

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck. 

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—” 

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,” 

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.” 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm. 

What the fuck was that? 

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up. 

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working. 

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you— 

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you? 

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade. 

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory— 

And then you heard him say your name— 

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?” 

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together. 

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him. 

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall. 

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream. 

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—” 

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today —  and a deep royal purple one no less,  “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here. 

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head. 

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,” 

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,” 

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together. 

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment. 

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,” 

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom. 

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves— 

What the fuck were you doing? 

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor. 

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—). 

You needed to stop doing that. 

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right? 

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment. 

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he. 

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back— 

But why did his smile look so strained? 

There must be something wrong with him. 

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you. 

Why had he stopped you? 

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands. 

But this, this felt different. 

You were different. 

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism. 

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile. 

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm  — but not the  one he was looking for. 

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you— 

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?” 

And it was you. 

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?” 

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,” 

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease,  “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?” 

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

 “I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,” 

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?” 

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?” 

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,” 

“No, but—” 

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it. 

And he didn’t want to pull away. 

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—” 

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?” 

“But—” 

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,” 

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire. 

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?” 

And there’s only one answer — you. 

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours— 

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together. 

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager? 

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you. 

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM. 

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you. 

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him. 

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind. 

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better. 

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.  

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face. 

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you. 

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,” 

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip. 

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard. 

Fuck. 

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his  chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office. 

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms. 

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped. 

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings. 

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to? 

It was that time again. 

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart. 

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board —  his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name. 

God. Fuck.  

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes. 

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.  

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear? 

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?” 

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“ 

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,” 

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips. 

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—” 

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,” 

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up. 

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture. 

Double fuck. 

Why was this so difficult? 

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore. 

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting. 

But you didn’t know how to go in. 

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him. 

Or wouldn’t. 

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it. 

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?” 

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?” 

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?” 

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?” 

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword. 

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there. 

“But?” You wait for it. 

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,” 

You pause a moment, “Really?” 

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,” 

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his? 

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,” 

Your breath catches, “Really?” 

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,” 

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take. 

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,” 

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises. 

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—” 

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,” 

He stares, “What do you—” 

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,” 

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?” 

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,” 

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,” 

“I would say it depends,” 

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?” 

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—” 

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,” 

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips. 

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more. 

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?” 

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again. 

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.” 

~~~~ 

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore. 

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks? 

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations. 

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head. 

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you. 

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.” 

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples. 

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave. 

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with. 

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all? 

Oh, great, you were becoming existential. 

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best. 

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike. 

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile. 

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn. 

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?” 

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?” 

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’” 

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,” 

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,” 

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?” 

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page: 

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this. 

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction. 

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?” 

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,” 

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin. 

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow. 

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,” 

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,” 

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again. 

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,” 

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly. 

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,” 

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,” 

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?” 

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?” 

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—” 

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested — 

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in. 

Fuck, indeed. 

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

I love your soulmate AU~ 🥰😍 It's so cute and it heals my heart.

I hope you don't mind me popping into your ask box to spew a random thought. 😅

In one of your previous installments, I remember you mentioning you might write the KFC breakup... (genuinely intrigued if you would end up writing it or if you'd rather maintain a happy AU... i'm here for the ride either way 🤩).

But the KFC breakup situation had me wondering...

How would Suguru view Satoru's soulmate after that? Would she be just another monkey in his eyes? Because at that point in canon, he set his mind on eradicating all non-sorcerers and he killed his own parents because of his new principles. Would he make exceptions for Satoru's soulmate knowing how much she means to Satoru? Or would he just not care?

I find it very intriguing...

First of all I am so glad you are enjoying this series 🥰 As for your question I think Geto would still see her as a 'monkey'. She might be Gojo's soulmate, but at the end of the day, she is still a non-sorcerer who can only see curses through Gojo's eyes. Now, do I think he'd go out of his way to hurt her or kill her? No, and if she was in danger and he was in the vicinity he would not rush to her rescue, unless the curse was powerful to keep. Still, Geto would not be excorcising/consuming the curse to save her, it would for the power of the curse.

Geto would go as far to say to Gojo that she is a liability to him. What happens when Gojo is not there to keep her safe from a curse? Eventually, the jujutsu/curse world will know who she is and what she means to him. It's only a matter of time before curses or curse users start gunning for her - Gojo can't be with her all the time. Geto would go from "the universe trusts you keep her safe" to "the universe placed a burden on you - she is a weakness"

Geto would also use her insecurities against her if he talks to her before ghosting everyone. Not being a sorcerer does plague her mind, especially when her thoughts go back to the time Gojo died. Forget about Gojo not being able to protect her - she can't protect herself or him at all. So no, she would not be an exception for Geto, more like a nuisance that he thinks Gojo should get rid of.

[damn-stark]

New summary that fits better now!!! Whoop, whoop!!

Sugar

Geto Suguru x Gojo!fem-reader & Choso x Gojo!fem-reader

Summary- Love is a fickle thing isn’t it? Life isn’t so sweet. People are meant to love, lose, and love again; sorcerers like you more than most. You endure pains that non-sorcerers will never experience a speck of in their lifetimes. So much is expected of you not only because you’re a Gojo; a sorcerer from one of the prestigious sorcerer families, but because you were lucky or unlucky to be born special grade as well. All your life you were taught to be one way and follow a path, but remember that pain you get to experience in order to protect the lives of non-sorcerers? Well, that pain gets to you and deviates you down a dark path with Suguru Geto, a man you love, hope, and the one who stays. Yet that path is dark and twisty, full of surprises that bring life, and loss most of all. When will enough be enough, and will you be able to find that light in a lifetime of darkness you so crave? Will you change your ways after years of defection and thinking you’re right? Do you believe in second chances after what you’ve done?

Moodboard, fighting outfits concepts

Suguru geto x y/n Gojo moodboard

Chapter 1 Angelfish

Chapter 2 Just a girl

Chapter 3 The first one

Chapter 4 Live for the hope of it all

Chapter 5 Appeasing

Season 2 (Hidden inventory arc)

Chapter 6 Where you are

Chapter 7 The Ballad of Jujutsu sorcerer

Chapter 8 The world’s a little blurry

Chapter 9 Hearing damage

Chapter 10 I’ll know, I’ll know

Jjk 0 Movie

Chapter 11 It almost worked

Chapter 12 Fallen Angel

Chapter 13 It’s over isn’t it?

Chapter 14 Lost in the darkness

Season 2 (Shibuya Arc)

Chapter 15 The start of something new

Chapter 16 The last supper

Chapter 17 Kill of the night

Chapter 18 Happy birthday, by the way

Chapter 19 I’m sorry for your loss

Side stories

Wedding bells (takes place in between chapter 10) takes place in 2008 & 2009

Colors of the wind (takes place in between chapter 10) takes place in 2012

The soul (takes place in ch.17)

Satori info page