#shibuya's wide enough

[norikuna]

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PRISON REALM STAYS IN THE PRISON REALM ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ just your luck, getting sealed in the prison realm with the strongest sorcerer of this day and age. well, he's typically the strongest. unless it comes to you.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, sorta crack 😭 — use of blindfold, incorrect use of jujutsu, óral (f), pànty-fúcking, desperate and FERAL gojo, màting press, brééding, cérvix kissin' and creàmpiés lmfao, óverstim...

word count ⋆ ★ 4.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ gorgeous art by the amazing @baobei-bu 💖 highly recommend checking out their twt 🤭

"are you in the prison realm because ya' got sealed, or did you get sealed because you ended up in the prison realm?"

you grind tired molars together, willing your hands to stay put instead of wrapping around gojo satoru's wretched neck, "the fuck are you talkin' about?"

gojo just clicks his tongue lazily, sprawled out on the unsettling, clattering bones of the prison realm, "jus' musing. it's getting real existential here."

"it's been, what, two hours? and you're already losing it." you wrap your arms tightly around your knees, pulling them to your chest in some effort to combat the cool chill of this...prison. "you realise that this is literally all your fault though, right?"

gojo's eyes flutter open, sky-blue hues that glint with outrage, "what?" he's squawking, undignified, "don't start this again."

"oh, i will," you're jabbing a finger towards him, scowling, "i didn't have any beef with geto. not even after he went off the rails with all that murder shit. didn't do a damn thing to get stuck in here as well."

"oi," a shadow flickers over gojo's face, "whatever that thing is, it's not suguru. y'don't gotta' trust me on much else, but trust me on that."

eyes narrowing, you catch some truth in the sorcerer's defensive tone. whatever. not your circus, not your monkeys. you know better than to pick at gojo satoru's old wounds, "whatever, it's got his face. and you had one job last year when —"

gojo interrupts you with a faux, hacking cough that quickly melts into a groan. throwing his head back as though your tirade is a mere inconvenience, or a tiresome lecture. arms stretching upwards, long limbs unfolding as he arches his back.

phew. a sliver of pale skin peeks out from underneath the dark uniform of his jacket, smooth and taut over slabs of toned muscle, flashing just long enough to derail your thoughts.

"heh. no lookin', pretty," gojo snickers with half-lidded eyes, "what if i'm shy?"

a skull's clattering against the floor as you wrap your hands around rough bone, chucking it at gojo with all the force you can master. he's dodging it effortlessly, ugh. of course.

you don't hate gojo satoru. in fact, it would be a bold-faced lie to claim even a shred of dislike. far from it. your co-worker is...bearable in some circumstances, and it doesn't hurt that he's awfully easy on the eyes.

but nowhere in your grand master plan to bag the strongest sorcerer of the modern age did you imagine being sealed with him. there's a faint worry in the back of your head, wondering just how badly the world is falling apart outside. what, with that geto look-alike still running amok. tokyo? in flames. shibuya? well, you hope it's not rubble.

but it's hard to focus when gojo lounges in front of you, long legs stretched out and muscular thighs spread obnoxiously wide. he's absently tracing patterns on the eerie bones, "wanna' play rock-paper-scissors again?" sounding oddly chipper despite the dire fate of the world teetering on a knife's edge.

"we already did that. and you cheated."

"did not," gojo drawls, blue eyes disappearing to the back of his eyes in mock offense, "yer' just a sore loser."

a beat of silence, and then, "how about i spy?"

you raise a brow, glancing around at your five-star accomadation. the infinite expanse of dull bones and dismembered skulls, "fine. i spy with my little eye...an endless pile of bones. and an overgrown furby sitting right in front of me."

gojo whistles, low as he scrunches up his blindfold, tossing the black silk at you, "touché," head leaning back, groaning, "i'm jus' so bored."

"hah. if you were in here alone, you'd go mad," you mutter, scooching just a bit closer without thinking. this prison realm seems colder than it should be, and it's better to stay close for warmth, right? yeah. right, that's exactly what you tell yourself.

"probably. but it's not like we can crack this stupid place," gojo scowls, "trust me, spent the first hour givin' it my all. wasn't exactly expecting it either."

"yeah, i know," you sigh, avoiding the bright cerulean gaze that's currently resting on you, almost as though it's determined to take in the sight of you, "time doesn't pass in here, right? we're gonna' have to think of something."

the corner of gojo's mouth twitch, candy-pink lines curling up, "time stands still," and then, the man's giving you an odd, focused look that's almost sheepish, "besides, you're in here too, so i can't — y'know."

"you can't what?"

gojo snickers, whistling as he makes a quick, pumping motion over his abdomen, jerking his hand up and down, "you know."

you gape at the white-haired man, the sudden thump-thump of your heart rattling in your chest. it's ringing in your ears, "you're shameless," you mutter, dragging your gaze anywhere but him. the floor, the ceiling of this accursed place, anywhere but the faint amusement painting gojo's face.

"i never skip arm day."

you make a face, a faux-grimace, wondering how on earth you're attracted to this man. a charade and a pretense that you're keeping for yourself, because your neck is burning and heat creeps up your skin like a slow, curling flame. oh, you're a lost cause.

the laughter's melted from gojo's face, and the teasing spark in his eyes has given way to something suddenly more embarrassed, and flushed. expectant even, as there's a dusting of pink suddenly mottled on his cheekbones.

your gaze drops to his lap, mouth going a tad dry at the sudden, thick curve straining against his pants, "oh, y'serious. i mean, really, now? here?"

gojo scrambles backwards suddenly, folding his long legs beneath him like a panicked deer caught in the headlights, "hey. okay, wait! 'm stuck in here w'you and you're always looking so pretty and — don't make that face, hear me out." his ears are tipped with pink, just as obvious as the flush climbing up his neck, "and you're sitting so close, what am i meant to do? 'm only a simple man, sweetheart."

you swallow, as though there's a rough cotton ball caught in your throat, "this is really how you wanna' pass the time? i mean, we got eternity in here."

gojo's lips curl up again, maddening and cocky, as though he already knows the crass scenarios passing through your head, but theres a softer flash of vulnerability in his eyes. his gaze drops to your mouth, darkening with an expression that you've never seen on him before, "who's gonna know?"

your resolve snaps, and with it, all thoughts of the outside world. fuck it.

you're clambering forward, a sudden urge of want pushing you into his wide lap. not even giving him a chance to jest, and tease, or to say one more insufferable thing. your hands balance on gojo's broad shoulders for balance, pressing your mouth to his.

it's firm and certain, tasting the heat of his surprise and the faintest laugh that dies between you. you can taste something else as well, like cool and sweet mint. and blood, still hot and rearing from earlier fights.

gojo makes a muffled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a heady groan, and his hands suddenly come alive, rough palms sliding around your waist, pulling you so much closer. like he's holding a dream that might still disappear.

"heh, someone's just as needy," gojo murmurs, teeth grazing against the hot shell of your ear. the large expanse of his palm grazes at your chest, and a moan falls from your lips, arching your back into his touch, "s-shut up. i wasn't the one who h-had their legs spread, waiting for someone to climb on."

your groan leads gojo to make a sound like he's been wounded, desperate and tight against your skin. glossy mouth pressing at the curve of your throat, as fangs nip into the thin skin. leaving marks, this you know. cool hands slide under the hem of your own uniform, brushing gently over bare skin as his lips continue to chase your own.

sucking, and nipping at wherever his teeth can find, gojo's tugging at your top, pulling it off so you have little choice but to curl into him from the cold. chilled air hitting your bare skin, as he laughs, "aw, cold got to ya', eh? 's not to worry, i'll keep you nice and warm."

blue eyes that glow practically trained on the soft swell of your chest, reverent as though he had all the time in the world to take you in. which, at this point, gojo did. slicked lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cupped chest, white strands of hair falling over his face as he buries himself in, "i can take this off, right?" voice raspier, like rock against stone, in a lower register than you've ever heard it.

"wan' you too," you rock your hips sharper this time, more insistent, agains the hard bulge straining against his pants, "no-one's gonna' see, right?"

gojo's fingers deftly unclasp the hook, "hah, if they do, i'd rip their eyes out, can't have anyone else lookin' at m'girl like that," the strongest sorcerer in the world's gently peeling the fabric away. leaning in to kiss you again as though he's entirely drunk on the taste of you, and only you.

pale lips curling around your pert bud, hands softly pawing at your breasts as you gasp, and writhe, suddenly far more sensitive with each second that passes of gojo's attentive ministrations, "s-satoru, 'm feeling so —"

"so, what?" gojo grins, sucking a violet bruise right over your breasts, white lashes fluttering up to look at you, "yer' looking just as ruined as me, pretty."

"take them off," it's more of an order on your end, but gojo complies and he seems to know exactly what you want, exactly what you're talking about, as his hands dip to the waistband of your pants, long fingers pushing over your hips to centre themselves right where you're getting desperate for him.

"i've got ya', just carefully, yeah, lean back," he's flipping the two of you over, so he's leaning over you now, gently resting you on your discarded jacket, "heh, 'm just gonna' — yeah, there we go," hands pulling at your pants until he's tugged them off you, and gojo's eyes are wide at the sight of your drenched panties.

if you thought gojo satoru looked needy and whiny before, nothing prepares you for the sight of him gnawing at his glossy lower lip, eyes aglow as he seems to shudder, "wan' me to put the blindfold on ya', sweetheart? think we could have a lotta' fun like that, only if that's what y'want."

you eye the black silk that he discarded and tossed at you, not so long ago, pawing and reaching for it as gojo chuckles, "ohh, atta' girl, y'not gonna' need to do anything, but just lay back and use ya' words."

the snowy-haired man's surprisingly soft with it, pressing a tender kiss to your waiting lips, as he loops the fold over your eyes, obscuring your vision, "gojo's right here for ya', just relax."

you can hear the sharp hitch rock his breath, his hand mildly pressed onto your thighs as he gently nudges your thighs apart, and you can feel the chill of the air sting at your hot, sopping folds.

"s-so pretty," the strongest is slurring his words, "yer' practically dripping onto my hand and i've barely touched her. barely even gotten a good, fuck, a good taste."

"i know we're meant'ta be getting outta' this place," gojo murmurs, breath hot against your slicked panties, "but i really would lose my mind if i didn't get to do this first."

'this' being gojo pressing a quick kiss to the soaked fabric, and you can feel him smile against your thigh as you whine at the sensation, with each movement being so much more electric and heightened with the blindfold covering your vision.

"heyyy," gojo mutters, feeling at your thighs clench and kick, "no need to get antsy, 'm right here." tongue ghosting and teasing at your cunt again, "pretty thing, isn't she?"

rrrrrrip!

the way gojo's been pawing at you, you should have guessed that he was forgetting that the prison realm did not have an unlimited supply of undergarments, and that damp and muffled screech all but confirms it. he's torn your panties off, and you can't see where he's got them now.

but you can guess. for you can hear laboured breathing, and whiny praises falling from gojo's lips, and the sound of a buckle being undone. gojo's leaning back up to kiss you now, to nip and suckle at your lower lip while his hand tugs continuously at something. you can't see it, but you can feel the heavy, fat tip prod at your thighs. the sound of damp fabric being slapped against skin, plap over and over again.

"hahh, i don't think ya' know jus' how much i've wanted this, pretty," gojo breathes into your mouth, the other hand coming up to curl at the nape of your neck, loving even, "can ya' spread 'em a bit wider for me? that's it, just let me through."

he's now slotted between your thighs, large palms spreading you open as you can feel your panties still looped and dangling around his wrist, like the most lewd, keepsake cuff.

"satoru, wan' you to just — oh! oh, fuck!"

gojo's already dived right in, as though you were his last meal, swiping a tongue in quick stripes over your drooling cunt. starting near your glistening entrance, slowly climbing his way to the top where he presses gentle nips at your clit.

every single legible thought in your mind turns to a glorious mush, a senseless babble quickly falling from your lips as your hands shoot out, desperate for something to hold onto. finding the nape of gojo's neck, and curling your fingers into his pale hair as he licks at your soaked heat.

thick fingers are bruising at your hips, hooked and deeply pressed into your flesh, all the while gojo's practically making out with your cunt, primal and nasty. it's messy, absurdly so, and you can feel hot thwacks! of slick flying out against your thighs. you can only imagine how it's painting gojo's face, rendering him pussydrunk and so glossy and pretty.

"sweetheart, you're so sweet, ya' know that, right? so fuckin' sweet, heh, i mean, you don't even know how i've been dreaming of this, but now that you're here," gojo thumbs at your cunt, pushing slick-tacked folds apart to view his handiwork, "all spread so pretty for me, who woulda' thought?"

"m-more, please," you're practically mewling, jolting at the sensation of each sticky kiss that gojo plants on you, "more, fuck."

you can hear the crude smile in gojo's tone as he spits a thick glob onto your cunt, "what's the magic word, pretty?"

you don't even care to think, to pull a coherent sentence or plea from your mouth as he picks up the pace, "i d-don't know, satoru! but, god, fuck, fuck, please 'toru, i jus' —"

his grip on your hips tightens, "what?" a cutting, sharp sound as though he's been struck dumb, "what'd ya' just say, sweetheart?"

you don't even know how to form syllables now, such is the effect of gojo munching at your slick heat, "wanted more? huh, 'toru?" grinding your cunt against his face, rocking your hips sharply so you can feel the beakish point of his nose brush against your clit.

"toru, ya' called me," and you can hear the desperation and want painting gojo's words, drawing his voice out into a whine, "never thought hearing that from your lips would fuck w'me so much."

safe to say that gojo satoru would have a hard time letting go of you ever again. wind, hail, fire or prison realm — the strongest was going to have his way with you. his pretty girl, all spread pretty and dewy for him to feast on.

gojo's fingers are long, splitting you open as he begins to slide the digits right up into you. scissoring you open at a bullying pace, so you can only cry and squirm from where you are, "faster, f-fuck, your mouth too, 'toru!"

"whatever ya' want from me, 'm all yours to give," gojo murmurs, pressing a soft bite into the fat of your thighs, pushing his tongue into your entrance too, teasing at the outer edges of your gummy walls, "s'so tight, and 'm only using m'hands and this mouth," the tip of the muscle being sucked in by your pretty, sopping folds.

two lengthy fingers still pushing through your walls, exploring every crevice and sticky orifice that he can find, before rough pads brush past a spot that makes you scream, "oouh, m'girl's sensitive there?"

"s-satoru," you try to take in heavy swathes of air into your lungs, feeling much of the world fall away as gojo's nose grinds at your clit, each brush making you jerk your hips up and up, till you're seeing stars.

and oh, you're definitely seeing the whole damn night sky like this. you don't know what it is that he's doing, that sharp buzz faintly running in your ears, that faint crackle of energy that makes you jolt, but you can guess, "hah, 's not fair, using j-jujutsu, 'm gonna cum, m'really gonna cum!"

"now," it's a command, and you can hear it in gojo's ruined tone, that he needs to see you fall apart like this, needs to taste your release on his tongue and you writhe, as tears prick at your lashes underneath the blindfold, your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves that leave you limp and boneless.

gojo's hands are trailing up again, leaning upwards to gently pull the blindfold from your eyes, and oh, what a sight! the white-haired man looks breathless, as though the air has been stolen away from him. eyes glowing with running cursed energy, a bright light in the dark that has your thighs clenching at how feral he looks. glossy lips dripping syrup over his chin, and how utterly pleased he looks.

"thereee you are," gojo murmurs, pressing his lips hotly to your own, "can ya' taste how sweet y'are?" each sticky kiss leaving you dizzy, but not as giddy as you feel when your eyes drop lower.

your panties still wrapped around his wrist, uniform sleeve pushed up so you can see where your slick has dampened the pale dusting of hair on his arm. and there, well, eyes on the prize as they say.

he's bigger than anyone else that you've ever seen. it seems fitting that gojo satoru's cock is just as girthy, and beefy as he is. curling upwards in a thick shaft that's kissing wet smears of fluid over his jacket, staining it.

"that's not gonna' fit," the only logical thing you can say right now, eyeing the pink, swollen head of his cock and how it glows.

the sorcerer's tilting his head, "we can make it fit," hand reaching out to run gentle strokes across your knuckle, "we got allll the time in the world to make it fit, don't we? and, heh, i don't think our audience really minds, do ya'?"

you scowl at the reminder of the clattering skulls still chittering away, mindlessly thrumming in the walls of this stupid cube. but you're never one to complain when faced with a site such as this, gojo wrapping long fingers against his cock to glide the head through your syrupy folds. the wide, throbbing head snagging at the sopping walls of your entrance. all while you pull him in closer, nails already beginning to tear lightly at his back.

"kiss m-me, 'toru."

gojo looks up from where he seems mesmerised, taken by the sight of your glossy folds seem to welcome his cock's touch, "what was that, sweetheart?"

"kiss me," you gasp, feeling him press further against you, the tip running circles right over your clit, "when ya' put it in, please."

despite the fact that he was previously nose-deep in your cunt, not five minutes ago, and the fact that he's been pawing your clothes off in a cursed prison realm with no shame, now it seems like you've truly stumped the man. rendered him speechless and flushed, as he ducks his head into the crook of your neck.

"awh," gojo murmurs, "pretty girl wants me kissin' her, fuck, ya' don't know what you're asking. or how much y'ruin me," he's taking your mouth into a heart stopping kiss, searing before he breaks away to press light pecks to the corner of your mouth, "hold on, biiig stretch for m'now, but i've got ya', just — ohhh."

gojo feels his own thoughts dissipate as he's pushing into your cunt. every previous subconscious worry of what on earth he had gotten himself (and you, when that fuck-ass clone showed up on the train platform) falling away as he's left with only you. just you, and this maddening cunt that he's ready to call home. forever.

"s-s-so tight," the strongest stutters, "fuck" his hands already pulling at your thighs to spread them wider, so he can bully more hot inches in, just so he can hear the smack! of skin against skin.

you're squealing, digging sharp tips of your nails into faint lines that are definitely gonna' paint his back, "eeh, it's b-big, 'toru." it feels like he's truly split you open, and well, fuck, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't pleased at how you finally got the strongest sorcerer spitting cuntstruck praises into your mouth.

you whimper, the sound falling softly from you as he bottoms out, and chuckles, swiping a slick thumb over your chin, "see? we really did it together, heh," like he's awarding you some participation in a teamwork exercise, "i'm all up in ya' and her," he's patting at your abdomen, right where you know there's a soft divot, a bulge that curls upwards.

the thick, hot tip of his cock pressing messy kisses to your inner walls, throbbing and pulsing. each vein bulging within you, "y'gonna cum in me, right, 'toru? gonna' finish right in —"

gojo stares at you, bewildered for a split second, like you've truly shocked him. blue eyes wide and expressionless for a second, before something far more pained crosses his face, tongue poking out of red, kiss-bitten lips.

"satoru?"

the strongest sorcerer snaps, pushing himself upwards, and dragging you up along side him, rough palms coming up to tug at your thighs, your calves. pulling them over his shoulders, a reverent kiss pressed to your ankle as gojo snarls, "ya' got no idea, do ya'? talkin' out of your slutty cunt, not even knowin' what you're doin' to me? huh?

gojo's now pressing down into you, with such force that it makes your thighs ache and smart, but you can't even bring yourself to care. practically folded in half neatly in a brutal mating press as his cock rummages inside you at a snappish, crazed pace. as though he's desperate to find where he can push into you the most, to have the leaky head kiss at the entrance of your womb.

and oh, gojo's enjoying the view. thinking that he's content with being faced with the bounce, and jolt of your chest against his, the way that your lips part and flutter around each muffled whine and cry of his name. the hazy glimmer that falls over your cockdrunk expression, like he's the only one for you. his own thighs ripple and bulge with each snap, cock pulsing into the depths of your core. kissing your cervix over and over in pleasurable stings.

"sweetheart, fuck," gojo's gasping, tugging at your lips. you don't miss crystalline droplets pooling on the edges of long, white lashes. the shuddering breaths that he takes into his lungs as you've practically snatched his mind and rationality away with the tight heat of your cunt, "n-never felt like this before. ya' drivin' me mad. fuck, fuck, oh, this pussy was jus' made for me, hah."

in the dim glow of this accursed place, the sheen of his eyes seems all the more intense. storm clouds gathering and parting all at once, striking electric sparks that leave you breathless. he's moving at a pace so feral that you can feel tight, heavy balls smack against your ass. desperate to empty themselves into you, just as you had begged.

"gonna' cum, pretty," gojo whines into your panting mouth, eyes fluttering shut as a tear or two streaks away from his waterline, "jus' snatching me so fuckin' tight."

you hammer your hips up to meet his, to feel that delicious tack of his sticky groin against yours, every kiss of pre-cum glistening in your cunt, "don't miss."

"when have i ever m — ohhh, fuck. fuck, 'm -"

yeah. you don't let him finish. clenching around him tight enough just to remind him who's got who wrapped around their finger. sending gojo hurtling towards a heart shattering climax, pumping every divot of your drooling pussy with shades of white and cream. endless streams of milky, translucent seed making its home deep within you. all while you cry out, harshly digging into his back and pulling the strands of his silver-streaked undercut.

"takin' it all, 'm pumping you s'full, sweetheart," gojo whines, mewling as he slaps a hand between you two, roughly pawing at your thigh to push your leg higher up with one hand, giving him enough space to rub tight, tremouring circles over your clit. slapping and sloshing the mess around even more as your mouth falls open.

he's still shooting into you, and you don't have to look down to predict the sticky, glossy mess that must be painted over your cunt now. right where gojo's hand must be dripping in your release, making you sink your teeth into the side of his neck. stars streaking across your vision as all goes black momentarily, but he doesn't let up on your poor, throbbing clit.

"hah, 'm so full, satoru," you groan out, pressing a limp hand to the bulge right over your groin, right where gojo's eyes are trained, his cock still sputtering out the desperate release of his cum into you, and the white-haired man moans. loud, like you've truly undone him.

the overstimulated sting is giving way to another shattering, sharp climax that washes over you once more, as quickly as it came, leaving your heart thumping and your lungs weak, locking your ankles once more around gojo's neck, wresting on his shoulders.

you limply paw at his jacket, tugging at the stiff collar as gojo sighs, content like a cat that's finally been able to bask in the sun, "feelin' more alert now, huh? got any fresh ideas on how to break this thing?"

gojo gives you a lazy, droopy look. eyes half-lidded as he barks a faint, incredulous laugh, "fucked any smart thoughts right outta' me, sweetheart. besides," and now he's flipping the two of you around again, so you're perched once more in his lap.

smacking and squelching in the pooling mess of your shared release, as gojo grunts, lifting the jacket from his torso. revealing an expanse of delicious washboard abs, and mouth-watering, flushed pectorals, "i don't think we're runnin' outta' time here, may as well make the most of it."

[yessirplease69]

❝Domain Expansion: Love❞

Synopsis: You are Gojo Satoru's only weakness. When the bearer of the Six Eyes discerns that your life is in jeopardy, he will do everything to keep you safe.

෴ Genre: fiction, fanfiction, mystery, dark fantasy, short story, one shot, romance, imagine.

෴ Content: husband!gojo satoru × wife!reader, jujutsu society, sorcerer!reader, angst, fluff, sensitive content, bloodshed, suggestive (mature content), satoru gojo!yandere, satoru gojo!tsundere, this takes place shortly before the shibuya incident arc, reader has a maternal relationship with megumi, pregnancy.

෴ Word Count: 3.4K

— Oi, I ain't revised it yet, so sorry if there's any mistakes! Hope u enjoy it 🤞✨

Satoru Gojo is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in existence. However, the moment he sees you, his beautiful wife, unconscious on the battlefield with nearly incurable wounds, this man's world crumbles completely. Suddenly, all of his physical and mental energy is being drained, even his enthusiasm to exorcise curses vanishes. He is motionless in place, trembling enough with wide eyes under the black blindfold, and even though they are hidden, they scrutinize all the blood leaving different parts of your body. Minutes ago, there was a stupid and arrogant smile shaping the face of the confident man all the time as he killed horrendous creatures. A countenance of terror overtakes his face now. He feels his legs weakening, his feet seem to be too far from the ground, and he remembers that he is not manipulating the space to make it levitate. He is feeling weak for not having been able to arrive in time to protect you, this emotion has intertwined with him. Especially since Satoru Gojo never even had a weakness until you came into his life.

His heart is beating rapidly and his breath is so intense that all the curses around him are impacted by the reaction of the mighty man among them. Time frenetically ceases as the strong cursed technique is creating an invisible barrier in the air and continues to repel the malevolent creatures that persist in their futile attempt to touch the bearer of Mukagen and Rokugan, while he himself is left vulnerable like a puppy that has just lost its owner.

Didn't she use the reverse cursed technique to stay healed?

Why...

"Satoru." The presence and hesitant voice of Nanami become noticeable at a certain distance. The tie-wearing sorcerer clenches his jaw, too tense as he sees you in a deplorable state. Nanami fails to try not to show all his agony. Witnessing one of his closest friends on the brink of death equals the feeling of having his heart cut with the cursed blade he carries.

Amid the scene, Satoru is lowering the blindfold covering his eyes, the white locks of hair cascading as the black cloth falls. The fabric hangs on his neck before revealing the orbs, the bright blue darkening as a storm brews within them. A lost and distressed gaze is exposed on his face, as if you somehow took his emotions along with you.

"My wife shouldn't be on that suicide mission." The tone of voice of the Jujutsu High teacher is harsh, firm in the way he usually imposes on a very serious subject. A power which makes the walls vibrate when he is arguing with Gakuganji. He is so angry.

As he melancholically walks towards you, the semi-grade 1 curses around him are exploded in a matter of seconds. There are parts of physical structures scattered and fluids like blood painting the ground at this moment, justified by the power of his ability to manipulate space.

"I should've just isolated her from the world, maybe locked her on the 15th floor of a building and then acted as if I didn't do that." A small sad smile forms on the edge of his mouth, he is imagining how you would laugh at this idea if you were conscious now. You would probably find it absurd and put him to sleep on the couch.

Damn, he misses you and wonders why it hurts so much. His intention is to act quickly to take you to the jujutsu sorcerer doctors and stay by your side the whole time while they are taking care of you. He will not leave you for even a minute, and those are the words of Gojo Satoru against anyone. If someone dares to touch you right in front of him, he will definitely be willing to kill.

The strongest sorcerer abandons these thoughts, he does not hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest. The man notices the wounds on parts of your face, your jujutsu uniform is dirty with blood and so destroyed, revealing your naked skin. The sweet taste on his tongue is bitter now, his mind can only focus on the fact that you suffered from fighting until you could not take it anymore. You resisted too much because of your undeniable strength, and on one hand he feels so proud of it. He loves showing everyone that his wife is one of the best professional jujutsu sorcerers, strong like him. But you should not be dealing with this cruel world. You are the most precious thing to him.

Satoru could feel your energy miles away, making it easy to identify your presence. But now he's not sensing any cursed energy flowing according to your emotions. It's all so quiet and calm. The powerful energy emanation should be surrounding your body as it always has, but it's as if something inside you is blocking it right now, since he can't feel your aura. It's different. He will question Shoko about this as soon as he takes your body to her for analysis.

"Do not mention it to the students, especially Megumi." The request leaves Satoru's mouth like a command. He imagines how the teenage Fushiguro would react upon finding out your condition, as you had become a maternal figure by making sure to take care of him since he was so young. The spiky-haired student is on a mission with others, and the best choice is not to disclose the information as the bad news would have a big negative impact on the boy. Gojo knows you would want that too.

On the other side of the area, the grade 1 sorcerer nods in deep silence. Nanami feels the muscles strengthen beneath his formal clothes. He is aware of the gravity of the situation, the actions and the consequences. He is not one to conceal lies, but that will be an exception he makes.

"She's losing a lot of blood." The blond man pushes his glasses closer to his eyes with his hands as he gazes at the white-haired sorcerer. He sighs deeply, containing the desperation within him. "Take her out of here before it's too late."

"Thank you, Nanami."

And that was the last thing Satoru Gojo said before teleporting with you unconscious in his arms.

෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊

The night takes over the city, darkness has crept upon Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and 2 hours have passed since the sorcerer of the Six Eyes emerged in the place, insane, with you clinging to his chest and enraged enough as he searched for an available doctor. Gojo laid your body down onto the nearest stretcher, his hands dirty and consumed by your blood, staining the sheets red and making a mess. 2 hours ago he was screaming at anyone who crossed his path. At this moment, silence hangs in the air like a fog, it is peaceful again behind the school doors.

In one of the infirmary rooms, you are peacefully sleeping on the stretcher. Your chest rises and falls in a steady motion, your body completely healed through the spell cursed technique reversal performed by professionals. The minor wounds and even the most serious ones - like the rupture of your rib - had vanished, and your skin is renewed under the hospital gown you are now dressed in. Sitting in a chair quite close to you, the strongest sorcerer is comfortable with legs apart, assuming a relaxed posture as he rests the upper part of his body on your legs enclosed by the sheets. Satoru Gojo is resting, his eyelids is closed and his head supported by his own arms. He spent so much time watching you sleep that his eyes were influenced by exhaustion. Satoru has no idea of the time he spent caressing your face, running his fingers through your hair, and kissing your forehead several times before settling into his current position. His neck is turned towards the ceiling, his white hair falling naturally loose. There is only a black t-shirt hugging his torso as he had taken off the jacket of his jujutsu attire since your blood had stained most of his clothes. The exposed skin of his arms is almost glistening in the light of the room.

He has kept you safe all this time, only leaving you when he realized that everything was under control. The man always ensures to protect you at all costs, even though most of the time you don't need it. After inspecting the entire perimeter and realizing that you were safe at Jujutsu High, he went to finish the mission that was according to the superiors, just as it had been ordered to you. Since he completed the task of exorcising a special grade curse, his precious time now remains only for you. By the time indicated on the wall clock, Satoru wishes so much to take you home and he only thinks about holding you close until morning comes again. Nevertheless, Shoko was quite insistent when she said that you still require monitoring by a doctor, and that for now you should stay here. What did she mean by that?

This question echoes in Satoru's mind, suddenly he awakens fully and opens his eyes as quickly as if he felt some creature attacking him without warning. A movement of your legs under the sheets does not go unnoticed by him, his blue orbs almost popping out as they contemplate you lazily waking up from eternal rest. For him, it was truly eternal.

"I knew you were here." You whisper. Your voice is weak from just waking up, but a strong smile spreads across your face when your eyes slowly open and meet the white mane. You try to push yourself up out of bed using your arms, but your efforts are blocked by Satoru.

"Babyyy! Easy, easy." Your husband gestures with his hands, a gaze of relief on his face. You're really strong, huh? He is smiling like a little boy who just tasted his favorite mochi flavor, and you are certain you see stars twinkling in his eyes. "Gee, you're already eager to fly."

"Satoru, if you don't let me get out of this bed right now, I swear I don't know what I'll do."

"When in doubt, do nothing." He is clapping consistently to highlight the idea. "Settle that cute and pretty booty down right there, I've locked all the doors and you ain't leaving here. Now tell me how you're feeling, my lovely wife. That's all that matters to me."

"Argh." A small huff of air escapes your lips while you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, defeated enough. The man right next to you is playfully disapproving of your behavior. "I'm fine, 'Toru. You know that better than I do. My skin's just tingling from someone else's reverse technique." You report during the time you notice the scars that have formed on your arm after the outcome of the cursed method. A technique that you have the experience to perform on yourself. After all, you don't carry the title of special grade sorcerer for nothing.

"Nah, don't sweat it. I'm gonna take good care of you." There's an intense gaze that matches his words. The man emits a little chuckle as he realizes he managed to tease you with that.

"And where's 'Gumi?" You inquire, more to yourself than to Satoru. Your eyes are scanning the entire room in search of finding the black-haired teenage boy. You still ponder the king of curse's intentions towards Megumi, it consumes you and leaves you with a nagging feeling.

"You're more worried 'bout him than 'bout yourself, heh." The man raises his eyebrows, indignation stamped on them. A comical expression, almost too much. "You know that tough boy is independent, he's able to handle anything. Can you chill out for a minute, lady?" Satoru's smile broadens before he proceeds: "I took care of everything already, I told him to swing by here before heading to the dorm. Didn't go into the details, of course."

"He's probably gonna be surprised to find out we're here at Jujutsu High at this time of night... Guess I must have slept for a while, right?" You touch the skin of your husband as you place your hand on his face, and give a radiant smile as you realize that there is no invisible barrier holding you apart, even though he always deactivates it when he is with you. "Hey. Thank you for keeping things on the down low. And for everything you do for me."

"Awww! You're welcome, bae." Satoru copies the way you smile, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace. He puts his hand right on top of yours, the wedding rings on your fingers colliding with each other. "Ain't nobody care 'bout me like that. What did I do to not deserve it?"

"It's like I wouldn't be worried about you even if you could move mountains with just your own thoughts." You are rolling your eyes for the second time. Once you blink, he is staring at you with a stern and intimidating look.

"I'm the one here who got the most worried 'cause you got me feelin' this way. A guy like me shouldn't have these kinds of feelings." His voice is husky and his cold blue eyes unravel your soul, the temperature is freezing you. "Don't do that again, or I'll lose my mind and kill anyone around me." The way he adresses this, it is not a bluff. It seems like an objective he would fulfill, a mission that would not require anyone's authorization, not even the higher-ups of the Jujutsu society.

"Satoru..."

"You're trying to make me a widower, hah?" His voice becomes light again, genuine good humor returns. Now he has a broad smile on his face, the eyes are nearly closing due to that action. As if he hadn't announced something so violent just 10 seconds ago. "If I tally up how many folks got worried 'bout you, there won't be enough fingers on Sukuna's hand to count it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." You are making amends, and he cannot resist gazing at your lips without stealing a quick kiss. A man clingy to his wife. "I had just exorcised a special grade cursed spirit when I started feeling dizzy. My head began to spin."

Satoru reveals a pensive expression on the face, one hand resting on his chin. The most powerful sorcerer is contemplating all the possibilities to uncover the reason behind that eventuality concerning your cursed technique.

"So, I suppose that might have been the reason you didn't recover yourself at that moment, considering you experienced signs of fainting. Your brain became destabilized." He pronounces, cautiously, witnessing you confirm the information. "Were you feeling like that before you got the fight started?"

"When we split up to head towards the mission I was feeling fine." The corner of your mouth moves, you display your teeth to the man in an attempt to reassure him. Gosh, he is being so serious about that. "Maybe I used up too much of my energy, I guess I hit my limit. That's it."

"Hmm, there's something more. It's interesting and surprising how your energy flow is strongest now." The white-haired man is examining you with a curious look.

"Are you saying I'm accumulating this more than usual? Is that possible?"

"It's a fact. And I'm the one confirming it, little sweetheart." There is a smug smile playing on his lips. "But at least you're feeling better right now, yeah?"

"Hell yeah, I feel brand spanking new thanks to Shoko's skills!" You are shooting fire arrows with your eyes towards the bold man. "Can you stop staring at my tits now?"

"I'm just checking to make sure everything's really okay." He speaks with such honesty, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. Satoru cannot shake off the thought of how beautiful you look to him, a very sugary sweet and his favorite. You make him feel so mushy and nearly diabetic.

However, Gojo Satoru is a natural provocateur.

"You're getting on my nerves, 'Toru."

He opens his mouth to laugh out loud, giving you a wink. You also join in his laughter as he starts poking your body several times, this real jokerster tickling you. The antics are suddenly interrupted the moment someone knocks on the door. Shoko Ieiri appears seconds later behind it, revealing only the upper part of her body.

"Sorry to interrupt the lovebirds." She smiles faintly, continuing: "I need a quick minute to talk to Satoru." The experienced doctor has a lit cigarette between her fingers, she is pointing it in your direction. You see its tip sparkling at you. "And you, go rest. Don't even think about escaping from that stretcher until we come back."

"You heard that, huh? This time it didn't come out of my mouth." Gojo has one finger pointed at the tongue he sticks out.

You gaze at them and fold your arms, simply accepting your fate.

"Alright. Goodbye." You are turning your back on them and burrowing into the blanket. "If possible, turn off the light before you guys leave."

"Going to sleep without giving me a kiss? That's not fair." Satoru is shocked enough, a pout forming on his lips and a puppy dog look in his eyes. He truly displays his emotions, reminding you of how every night Satoru Gojo questions that same thing after going to bed with you. Every night, the same thing.

"Okay, you two. I'll wait outside." The woman manages to capture the attention of both of you before the noise of her high heels against the floor fades away.

As soon as she departs, warm lips land on the side of your neck and journey up to your mouth. You need to raise your head to reach Satoru's lips, his skin burning against yours like a flame. The instant his hand wraps around the flesh of your waist and grips it tightly, you understand that he would never let you escape his grasp, or his domain expansion. He is kissing you as if he were thirsty and you were the water fountain, this man is showing you how much he requires you in his life. Preferably alive, of course. Otherwise, he will make sure of it for you.

"Hmmm, get outta here. I promise I'll make it up to you with a full kiss later." You moan at the touch, trying not to show that you're shivering just to not further inflate his already oversized ego. As if it were possible to be any bigger than usual.

"Oh, is that so? You know I'll hold you to that, babe." He growls near your ear.

At the moment the sorcerer is leaving the room, he halts on his path and gives you a long look with his blue eyes. Inside them, Satoru harbors concern.

"What's going on?"

"I'm feeling sorry for my friend." Ieiri ignores Satoru, making one's way to her desk. Instantly, a breeze from outside the window extinguishes the cigarette ember in her hand, smoke spreading throughout the room. "She is truly doomed to sacrifice her life, including putting up with your strong-willed nature for the rest of her life."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Satoru wears a playful smile on his lips. He places his hands in his trouser pockets in a relaxed and unconcerned posture, anticipating a highly amusing joke.

"You have no idea what's happening, do you? And what's going to happen from now on." She sets aside the cigarette, burying it in the ashtray on the table. Gojo watches everything attentively before rolling his eyes, he's starting to get bored with all the fuss. "But I believe you may have already noticed that the train is off the rails."

The doctor is moving around the small armchair in the room. When Shoko sits down, she leans her back against the backrest and then crosses her legs, silently facing Satoru. The expression on the white-haired man's face is impassive. He wishes he had the ability to read minds.

"Y/N is pregnant, Satoru." The sound of Ieiri's sigh is loud. "She is carrying your child in her womb. It's extraordinary that the baby has survived."

Satoru Gojo's world crumbles once more, for the second time that day. Not only is his own world shaken, but also the entire Jujutsu society.

[sems-diarie]

tw noncon, tw misogyny. sukuna x reader x yuji. in light of this wee post.

very much the bare bones of something i wanted to bust out super quick. video takes place somewhere throughout the Shibuya incident.

mindlessly scrolling his own phone, yuji finds a video of you and him that’s he’s never seen before. probably because it’s not him in the video.

..not really, at least.

yuji is going through his camera roll out of boredom, when he stumbles across a video of he and you, but doesn’t quite recognize where it’s from. he taps it w a fat thumb n’ nearly gasps when the image of your thighs pops into the frame, crowded by his own. it plays automatically.

the sound of your voice is what sets him off. immediately, your whimpering makes yuji frown. he looks closer; he can see a set of pants, wide-legged and a deep blue. pink lashes flutter; on the outsides of your ankles, yuji spots his shoes.

that is him. and—and you. in some kind of alleyway, it seems.

he recognizes your legs, the shape, the bewitching swells of them. a small part of him burns with shame; he’s memorized every curve of you. that skirt, it barely reaches the tops of your thighs—he’s seen it on your hips a handful of times before.

that’s you. and himself.

he’s stood behind you, pressing you against some kind of wall. red dust swells past yours and his toes. the camera adjusts and suddenly, yuji is looking at his own cock. then it’s gone, sunken six inches deep beneath the small, flippant denim of your mini-skirt.

where are the two of you? what—is that him? it has to be. what is happening?

as he sinks into you, inch after fat inch, your fidgeting increases. your whines and gasps grow louder. you’re fighting him, twisting away from the thick, ruthless intrusion. your pussy drips and drips and drips—if yuji looks close enough, listens hard enough, he can hear just how eagerly you swallow him up inside of you. he can see the creamy residue your pussy gushes all over him.

but yuji, it seems, holds no patience in his heart for you. the video does not waver even once as he simply holds you harder and still, while sinking his dick to the hilt. his balls smack meanly against your wet skin.

yuji scrambles for some earbuds. his head whips around, wrist snapping about on the bed to snatch ‘em up and plug his ears with your voice. your whines grow louder, closer. he can almost wrap his fingers around your throat—can see your body beneath his hands so vividly when he listens to you like this.

and as yuji observes the video longer, another voice emerges. it sounds like his own, but nothing like it all at once.

“fuck,” the voice—his voice? no.

“yuji won’t like this one bit,” it continues.

yuji can’t help the scowl from stealing into his mouth.

“i’ve gone and taken his—,” your pussy squelches immaculately over the awful sounds of sukuna’s arrogant tone. “his favorite little slut toy.”

“he should consider himself lucky,” sukuna launches his hips against yours hard enough to draw a cry. yuji winces, despite his fingers twitching over his aching cock. “i’m breaking you in for ‘im, little angel girl.”

your skirt rocks back and forth. all of you trembles under the force of sukuna at your back. he has you trapped against a wall—bits of broken glass and debris crumble beneath feet.

“shouldn’t that fuck wit thank me, hm, you stupid, sweet girl? for stretching this little pussy good n’ raw. it’ll be so s-sensitive when he finally grows a pair.”

for the first time since the video started, you speak. and it’s raw, haphazardly thrown over your shoulder as you fight to keep your wits about you. you’re crying, voice bitten with the strength it takes to keep from sobbing into the concrete he’s trapped you against.

“no,” you cry, heave. your body tenses, your voice hits a fever pitch. and soon, the sound of wet splatters mercilessly hitting the ground fills yuji’s ears. your body winds so tight, then nearly collapses in his hands.

“this isn’t how i wanted it!” your voice squeaks in the video, “this isn’t—ohhh! yuji, m’sorry—,”

sukuna grips the supple cheeks of your ass right in the palms of yuji’s hands. and something about it sends yuji into the stratosphere. sukuna is using his hands to defile you. he used your sweet yuji’s hands to then record your torment, and save it. save it—for what? for him?

yuji, m’sorry!

quiet rage quakes beneath yuji’s shoulders.

this isn’t how i wanted it!

did you know sukuna would record you? did you know he’d want yuji to watch your pussy leak bit by bit, innocence pummeled all away by his own cock—and he hadn’t even been conscious to witness, to feel it.

twistedly enough, yuji feels something has been stolen from him.

[seeingivy]

pretty girl

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: kind of suggestive? reader is super insecure + sukuna might be ooc but ??? yk. it is what it is. come get yall juice.

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

--

when sukuna’s phone rings - for the third time, signaling that he actually has to pick up now - he definitively decides that he is going to move far, far away. maybe if he lived in shibuya, or even as far as kyoto, his stupid little brother wouldn’t call him every time he got too drunk to drive him and his idiotic friends home. 

and when sukuna walks straight into the bar - blaring music, haphazard puddles of alcohol all over the floor, and the most pungent, putrid sweat smell hanging in the air - he’s almost positive that he’s going to start looking for a new apartment tomorrow. 

it takes him approximately thirty-five seconds to find yuuji. though he supposed he should have noticed faster that the pink haired idiot standing on top of the bar, with a black sea urchin shaking at his legs was exactly what he was looking for. 

sukuna makes his way over, shoving megumi hard in the shoulder as he looks over, eyes glazed and cheeks pink. after almost seven times of doing this, sukuna knows exactly how this is going to go. that despite the tattoos, the entirely different facial structure, and physique, megumi is going to confuse sukuna for yuuji. 

“yuu’? how’d you get over there so fast?” megumi murmurs, reaching to cup the side of his face. 

right again. sukuna smacks his hand out of his peripheral as he looks up at yuuji, who hasn’t even noticed that he’s arrived yet. 

“move over.” he responds, irritated. 

the second megumi lets go, sukuna all but shuffles yuuji off of his balance, making it a point to somewhat break his fall off of the countertop. only somewhat, because naturally he wouldn’t injure his little brother. but that doesn’t mean he’s not deserving of sometime of retribution for all the times he’s had to do this.

yuuji’s groaning in his arms as he pulls him up, as he halfheartedly makes grabby hands for fushiguro who was three feet away. 

“‘gumi, cm’here.” 

“we’re leaving. you can sit next to your gumi in the car.” sukuna states sternly, curling his nose at the godawful nickname, as he drags the two of them straight out into the cold air. 

he’s all but opening the doors for the two of them, getting more irritated as the two of them excitedly look up at the sky, pointing at all the little stars together before he all but shoves them again. 

“look yuuji. it’s us.” 

“where?” 

“the two stars next to each other.” 

sukuna watches yuuji’s eyes go wide, cheeks bright pink, as he wraps his arms around megumi. and fights the urge to gag. 

it’s only then - when he’s wrestled seatbelts onto the two of them and stopped megumi from being the affectionate drunk that he is - that they make it a point to share an important piece of information. 

“kugisaki and y/n are still in there! we can’t leave.” yuuji whines, leaning his head against megumi’s as his eyes quickly start drooping, almost fluttering shut before he can ask where the two of you could possibly be. 

sukuna shuffles back through the group of bodies, this time looking for the other pair of the set. it takes more effort - because he’s sure that kugisaki is going to be sucking face with someone in the back corner and he’s going to have to put an end to it. and you. you were always particularly hard to find. 

he spots the red hair three feet away and takes a deep breath. she’s almost entirely sitting on the girls lap - green hair, shitty glasses - as he makes it a point to tap on her shoulder. naturally, she doesn’t stop and he gets more disgusted as it goes on. he never thought she’d be so…handsy. or that he’d have to see it. 

he does the next best thing. reaches to her side and tickles her, just enough to stop her and start the godawful, obscene screaming that worsens tenfold with every consecutive pint of alcohol she drinks. and of course, she’s just as predictable as the last. 

“yuuji?! where the fuck do you get off doing that?” 

he reaches for her wrist, shooting a polite smile. 

“maki. always a pleasure. kugisaki, we’re leaving.” 

“i’m not leaving.” 

maki gives him a halfhearted shrug as he all but throws her over her shoulder, tuning out the insults that are streaming out of her mouth as he all but carries her through the group of bodies. if you weren’t regulars here, sukuna was positive that he’d get arrested for that profanities coming out of her mouth - that, and the fact that it looked like he was abducting her. but no one turns a blind eye, almost irritated that she’s at it again. 

that makes two of them. 

when nobara’s tucked into the back, he makes it a point to throw a water bottle at each of them - specifically square in the face for yuuji and megumi who are cuddling in his backseat - as he glares at all of them. 

“okay, kugisaki. where’s y/n?” sukuna asks. 

she’s leaning her head back against the headrest, eyes fluttering shut, as she murmurs something unintelligible. 

“she….ugly.” kugisaki murmurs. 

“she’s ugly?” sukuna deadpans. 

well, she’s certainly not ugly. 

“ugly…bathroom.” she murmurs again, taking it as his best option. 

sukuna marches back into the bar, for the third time, and beelines straight into the bathroom in the back. and there you are, crumpled up on the floor with your knees hiked to your chest, with big tears in your eyes and two girls sitting right across from you. 

sukuna finds the sight rather…unusual. he knew that girls were quite different than guys, having heard you go on your spiels about womanhood and female friendship too damn often to know that it was a whole thing that was beyond him. but really, he finds it sincerely odd that the two girls sitting across from you are comforting you in your puddle of tears. 

it’s not that sukuna’s stereotyping. or being judgemental. or he is a little, but he doesn’t frankly care. because labels, or groups or whatever existed for a reason. people who were similar flocked to one another. it’s how people were comfortable. how they functioned. 

which is why sukuna’s unsure why these two girls - who are actually dressed up to be at the club - are sitting on the tiles with you, when you’re wearing one of those pink ribbons in your hair, that of course, matches the one on your bag. 

but granted, this is you he’s talking about. he’s spent enough time trying to figure you out, before he naturally gave up. he always found that you transcended normal groups that he assigned. 

you look up at him through your tearfilled eyes, a half smile on your face. 

“sukuna, you-you’re here.” 

sukuna ignores the fact that he’s pleased, very pleased, that you didn’t just confuse him with yuuji, as he holds his hand out to you and grabs your purse with the other one. and when you place your hand in his, you can feel the heat rushing up your body, more so when he leans down, lips few feet apart as he murmurs to you. 

“we’re leaving. now.” sukuna states, glaring at you. 

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, acutely aware of every detail on his face. that his hair is slightly messy - because he must have woken up to come get you - and that his eyes are almost tired. you fight the urge to smile...at how sweet It all is.

“okay. thanks for coming to get us.” you respond, giving him a smile. 

the two girls sprawled on the floor stand up, yanking their dresses down the slightest amounts as they flash you warm, kind-hearted smiles.

sukuna, really, truly does not understand it. at the way that you’re so open with them, despite the fact that they must be strangers. 

“you, give him hell. and you, i’m really happy for you. i’m sure your wedding will be beautiful.” you state, pointing at the two girls who had been accompanying you on the bathroom floor for the past hour. 

“and you. stop letting people call you ugly and taking it to heart. the bows are cute. your fashion is amazing. and men don’t deserve shit.” the first girl slurs.

you give her a smile, as sukuna all but tugs you out of the bathroom by the wrist, arm secured around your shoulder as he leads you through the crowd. sukuna drops his arm around you as the crowd gets thicker, hands straight on your waist as he steadies you in front of him. and when he leans down to whisper in your ear, it sends a shiver down your entire spine. 

“do i even want to ask?” he sneers. 

“it’s her bachelorette party! and that’s her best friend, though she seems kind of…off her rocker. but in a good way. power to her for being bold.” you respond. 

sukuna rolls his eyes as he pushes you out into the cold air last, reaching for the front seat door and opening it for you. except when he looks back, you’re staring up into the sky just as yuuji and megumi were, the softest of smiles on your face.

sukuna makes a mental note of the dark, black tear streaks on your cheeks and your sniflfy nose as he clears his throat to get your attention. 

“oh. sorry, i’m here. i’m here.” you respond, quickly shuffling into the car as you wipe your face. 

sukuna shuts the door behind you, pausing to look up at the sky too. and silently wonders what exactly it was that you thought when you looked up at it. 

--

sukuna makes it a point to take you out of the car last. because naturally, he’d save the easiest job for the end. by the time he had turned onto his street, you were snug asleep against the window of his car, creating a small indent into your forehead from the plastic of the door as he parked on the street. and he’d give you the few seconds of peace as he wrangles the rest of them out. 

megumi and yuuji were easy to wrangle. because if sukuna too one out, the other one would quickly follow - and mope a great deal. megumi was on the side closer to the door, meaning he had to brace himself for the confusion once again, as he shrugged him awake. 

“‘yuu. are you going to carry me to bed?” he murmurs. 

“absolutely fucking not.” sukuna responds, yanking him out as yuuji follows up the stairs. he sets the two of them on the couch, a surefire way to ensure that they don’t do something heinous to his sheets during the night - or the morning after - as he braces himself for kugisaki next. 

when he slings her arm around his shoulder, the obscenities start. 

“maybe if you had a job or something, maybe we wouldn’t bother you so much. It-” 

“i have a job, kugisaki. a job that just payed for your drinks, mind you.” 

it seems that in his rusk of getting ready, yuuji had accidentally swiped his wallet on the way out. and of course, it was his turn to pay for the drinks. 

“you need to get a hobby. have you thought of sewing?” she asks. 

“that would be useful. then i’d have hundreds of needles to stick in your eyes.” 

“when was the last time you felt the touch of a woman, sukuna?” 

“when was the last time you went on a date? are the middle school makeout sessions hitting the mark for you, kugisaki?” 

“shut the fuck up.” she sneers, reaching to smack him as he shoves her straight on to the guest bed and quickly shuts the door behind him. 

he’s satisfied when he hears no inclination of her following, which always seems to be a gamble depending on how much she’s downed that night. or how short he cut off whatever it was she was doing with maki. 

when sukuna makes it back to the car, he half debates just leaving you in there. because you look so comfortable, with his stray jacket strewn over your shoulders, and your breath that’s fogging up the glass of the mirror. but the fact that your neck is at an awkward angle and the cold air solidify his decision. 

he open the door and you halfhazardly jolt awake, blinking your eyes as sukuna comes into your line of vision. you shoot him a smile as he holds his hand out to you, locking them together as he drags you up to the apartment, straight into his bedroom. 

“can i use the bathroom?” you ask. 

“you know where it is.” he responds, noting and particularly hating the biting tone in his voice. 

“thank you!” you respond, shuffling into the room and shutting the door. 

albeit weirdly, sukuna presses his ear to the door to confirm his suspicions. and the soft clinking of bottles, of the water running on and off, tells him enough. 

that you’re doing your longwinded skin care routine in his bathroom. that you shoved all of your serums and moisturizers in your purse because you couldn’t skip out on it for even one day. 

he’d make it a point. to slam the door open and make fun of you for it. but he bites down any retort he has when he hears soft sniffling and pushes the door open for an entirely different reason. 

“what the hell is your problem?” he asks. 

“huh?” 

“you and your friends get obscenely drunk. then, you call me in the middle of the night and wake me up. and right when i’m about to go to bed, you’re crying in my bathroom. so what the hell is it? just tell me.” 

you sniffle. 

“do you really want to know?” you whisper. 

“you’re wasting more of time with your shitty attitude. i’m not going to stand here and coax it out of you, so just tell me straight up or stop crying.” 

you sigh. 

“if you put lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig.” 

sukuna wants to smack you. of course you feel the need to talk in tongues. 

“in english this time?” he asks. 

“you can try to look nice as much as you want. but even all that…makeup…fancy skincare. it can’t change the fact that i just look like this. that if you put lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig.” you state. 

“you think you’re a pig?” sukuna asks. 

you sigh. 

“maybe.” you murmur. 

sukuna tosses you the extra set of clothes he dragged out, tossing them straight at you as you send him a grateful smile. 

“thanks, sukuna.” you murmur. 

“for what?” 

he could barely even muster a response, a coherent one that you deserved, in response to what you shared with him. 

“dunno. i tell other people and they just kind of go…but you’re so pretty!! and…it falls flat. it’s nice to not be coddled. just said things as they are.” 

sukuna can feel a burning feeling in his chest that increases tenfold when you press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. and he stands there dumbfounded, watching you smile and make a move to walk away. he instinctively reaches for your bicep and pulls back, a sweet smell emanating from whatever you’ve just smeared on your face, as he looks down at your lips. 

there’s some type of glitter on them. whatever you’ve just put on makes them look bigger, fuller. he wonders if some trace of it is left on his cheek. 

“did you need something?” you ask. 

“sleep in my bed.” 

“huh?” 

“i’ll take the couch. get in the bed.” he utters. 

the following morning, sukuna wakes up to three plates of breakfast with an annoying sticky note pressed on top. 

thanks for coming to get us sukuna!!! :DD 

it’s the first time the thought crosses his mind. that his preconceived notion might be incorrect. 

that it’s not that you’re too good for him. it’s that everyone else isn’t good enough for you. 

--

the next time you see sukuna is when you’re teetering past tipsy to fully drunk in your childhood bedroom, on christmas eve. well, he’s not exactly inside the room, more knocking on the door frame.

you gesture for him to come in, setting the wine bottle down, as he takes the seat next to you. 

“where’s yuuji?” you ask.

“still at megumi’s.” 

sukuna loosens the tie around his neck and unbuttons the top three buttons of his collared shirt, as he slides closer to you. you've never been one to shy from his touch, settling into his embrace, as he racks his mind, desperately, on how to broach the topic, that’s been on his mind for weeks. 

sukuna slides his arm around your shoulder to your nightstand, to a little bundle of dried flowers. he opts to leave his hand pulled around you, as he pulls it closer to the two of your faces, resting his temple against yours.

“what’s this?” 

“it’s my corsage from prom. like sixty years ago.” 

“who did you go with?” sukuna asks. 

“no one. i never got asked. i just bought one because…you know how all the girls line up in a row and stick their hands out to show their corsage off? i didn’t want to be left out of that picture.” you state. 

“so you ordered it yourself?” 

“mhm. pink flowers, white bow. it matched my dress.” you hum. 

“always the bows huh?” 

sukuna sets the corsage down in your lap, as he leans closer into your space and digs into his pocket. you can smell his cologne, strong and musky in your space, as it mixes with your own flowery perfume and gives your head a slight rush. 

he pulls out his keys and sets them flat in the palm of your hand, as you inspect each little accessory on his ring. there’s two keys - one for his apartment and one for his house - and two keychains. one of him as a lego, which you know yuuji bought him for his birthday, and another one from alaska, that you and yuuji had bought him on your school trip in eighth grade. 

but the third is a ribbon, secured right on the ring of his keychain. you inspect it between your fingers, and he supplies the answer before you can ask. 

“you left it at my house.” he states. 

“so…so you put it on your keys?” 

“wanted to make sure it was on me. in case i saw you.” 

you make a move to pull it off the ring, but he closes his hand over yours. 

“it’s mine now.” he states. 

“then why did you show it to me?” you whispers. 

sukuna’s not sure what it is that drives him to do it, merely the fact that he has no patience and surely no self control, but he hooks his hand straight under your thigh, securing you straight on his lap. you can feel your breath hitch in your throat as he leans his forehead straight against yours, his hands on your thighs burning your skin. 

“what are you doing? yu-yuuji will eventually get here you know.” you whisper. 

“do you like him?” sukuna asks. 

“what? no-no, he’s with megumi. and he’s gay.” you whisper. 

“so why are you thinking about him when you’re here with me?” 

“i-i’m not. you just-”

sukuna swallows hard, taking a deep inhale of your smell, before he slithers one of his hands around your neck and pulls you closer. he can feel you fidget in his lap, nearly knocking over half the things behind you as you twitch in his lap and he murmurs into your skin. 

“relax.” 

you take a deep breath, grounding yourself by digging your hands into the muscle of his arms.

“okay. you-”

“the guy at the bar. what did he say to you?” he whispers. 

“which guy?” 

“when i picked you up last. when you slept in my bed.” 

you feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“nothing. he-” 

sukuna’s squeezing into the plush of your thighs, his hands firm and warm as you fight the urge to yelp. 

“tell me what he said.” 

“nothing, sukuna. i didn’t want to kiss him yet. and he leaned in. got-got offended. just said some things before he walked away.” you mumble. 

“things like?” 

“like you know. the usual stuff.” 

“that you’re ugly?” he asks. 

it's almost embarrassing, but his look is so unrelenting that you have to give in. you nod, as sukuna takes his hands off of your legs, bringing them up to cup the side of your face this time. he snakes one of his hands into your hair, yanking the bow out as he curls it in his hand. 

“do you believe him?” he asks. 

“no.” you respond. 

sukuna leans closer, his lips brushing against yours as you instinctively shut your eyes. that it burns too much to look at him. 

“are you lying to me?” 

“n-no.” you mumble back, as you try to lean in but feel sukuna pull back. 

when you open your eyes, you can’t but pout as he smiles at you, as he grins at you after pulling away. 

“don’t be a tease, sukuna.” 

he laughs into your neck, before the warmth blooms on your neck as his lips connect to your skin, as he leaves a trail of warm kisses up the side of your neck. each new spot he touches has you nearly melting in his touch, as he can feel you slouching onto him, leaning your entire body weight against his. 

he continues that way, refusing to kiss you full on the mouth, as you feel your skin bloom warmth with every new place that he touches. each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, even your eyelids that you’ve fluttered shut this entire time. some part of it is agonizing, that he continues to give but won’t receive in return. 

you take his collar into your hands, crumpling the fabric as you yank him straight and feel him smile against your lips. 

“needy?” 

“please. i want to-” 

sukuna cuts you off before you can finish your request, the first inclination of your begging snapping the very little patience he had in the first place. your lips are soft and warm against his, as you surely spread that glittery nonsense over him, over his neck as you start peppering kisses over him. from how shy and awkward he’s seen you, he swallows down the surprise at how eager you are, at the way you’re basically pawing at him through his shirt.  

except you pull back, wide eyed, when the two of you hear pounding up the step, accompanied by two voices getting louder in your ears. 

“y/n!!! y/n, y/n merry christmas!!!” yuuji bellows, as you shove sukuna onto the floor and sit upright as he pads into the room and wraps you in a hug. 

sukuna wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he stands up, giving megumi a nod, as yuuji turns to him and shakes hands. sukuna can’t help but smile at how pink your cheeks are, swollen lips and glazed eyes, as megumi and yuuji settle into both of your sides, arms wrapped around you. 

you swallow hard as you look at sukuna, wide eyed as you noticed all the lipgloss that you left over him. and pale when megumi notices the big red mark on his neck. 

“is that a rookie mark, sukuna?” 

sukuna brings his hand up to his neck, only to be met back with the glitter on his fingers as he smiles - or more appropriately, grins at you - as you feel your cheeks go pink. 

“who gave you that sukuna? your neighbor?” yuuji asks. 

you feel your eyes go wide, as sukuna pinches his eyes at yours before responding. 

“no. i haven’t talked to her in a while.” 

you tuck away the detail, making sure to ask him about it later. it’s only now that sukuna’s reputation comes to the forefront of your mind, as you realize you might have made a grave mistake by letting sukuna indulge in whatever infatuation it is he’s having with you. 

“yuuji. did you say hello to y/n’s sister?” he asks. 

“she’s back in town?” he asks, turning to you. 

“mhm. got back in today.” you murmur, as the two of them shoot you a smile and shuffle back into your room. 

sukuna lifts you up by your wrists, as he starts fixing your appearance little by little. you can feel him zipping up the back of your dress - entirely unsure when he even had the time to do that - as he snags the little bow from his pocket and smooths it back into your hair. 

“whose your neighbor?” 

“jealous, princess?” he asks. 

you turn around, poking one of your hands into the muscle of his chest. 

“sukuna. i am not going to be one of your little lack-” 

“you are not a lackey.” he whispers. 

you pout at him, entirely disbelieving, as he wraps his hands around your face, the kiss sweeter, softer than the ones the two of you had just shared on the bed. 

“you’d kill me if you did that.” you murmur. 

“you think i relish in your pain?” he asks. 

“dunno. you-” 

he leans your head up again, tucking his head into the softness of your neck as he starts peppering kisses you again. your hands are a futile attempt to stop him, as he laughs into your skin. 

“i’m here to make you feel good. i’ve been thinking about it for weeks.” 

“oh?” 

“let me. you- you’ve always been my pretty girl. and no one can make you feel good, treat you like you should, better than me.” 

you push him off again as megumi and yuuji come back, with your sister in tow, as they gesture for you to join them downstairs. and sukuna follows behind, as you fight the urge to beam, when he secures his hand into yours behind their backs.

--

next part linked here

an: do NAWT ask for a part 2 bc I will do it. my brain is steaming. I am thinking thoughts.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME (PLEASE DON'T FALL) ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | Nanami Kento x male!reader | arranged marriage, angst no comfort (serious) | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 23K | not proofread

warnings: hint/implied SH through passive means (no descriptions), loss of virginity, blowjobs, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, major character death, graphic descriptions of violence, yn's low-key going insane masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: this is going to have an open-ended ending so you can let your imaginations run wild. also, I'm sorry it took so long to publish this but I hope it satisfies you! also also - i truly apologize for how frantic the shibuya arc is as I'm an anime watcher so (T T) they'll be no continuation of this fic but there'll be a one-shot fic of nanami kento x reader having some sweet moments just for the heck of it along with a short fic of gojo and yn's wedding day...maybe.

“This is nice,” he murmurs. Uncaring of the water trickling into the shape of his leather shoes or how it makes his clothes cling onto him like a heavier second skin. It’s cooling, feeling like relief that was manifested into a palpable form. Pulsing, moving, pushing, and pulling as the shadows undulated. Sunlight dances on the ocean, piercing through the waters to reach as far down as it can.

Your arms around him make him grin. He reaches to hold you, the rarest of treasures appearing on his face as he feels your lips press onto his left cheek. 

He holds your flesh with a gentle squeeze. The weight of you on his back is like a comforting blanket draped over him; he kisses the delicate muscles and marks you have. You burrow your face into his neck, he closes his eyes and chuckles. "I'm sorry, my love."

“You’re going to make me late.”

It grins wide and proud at the sight of your disgruntled face. The cursed spirit was as ugly as a piece of dogshit on the street. Smelled like it too. It was a semi-special grade that had popped up in an abandoned hospital. It was the subject of a bountiful amount of paranormal fans, which meant a handful of people and teenagers had disappeared after entering its premises.

Ah, didn’t I go on a mission like this once? You thought to yourself.

“Or was it Utahime’s mission?” you muttered.

She — the curse — opens her split mouth to screech. Her white hair flies behind her as she furiously charges towards you. The corners of your mouth twist in disgust. What a wretched being. Her hands were bound behind her back as she was in a straight jacket. So far, her attacks had been long-distance but the ones that truly hurt were when she got close enough to sink her teeth in.

The chunk of missing flesh on your hand was proof of that. It was covered by your tie but those blackened veins were a clear sign of trouble if you didn’t exorcise her.

“Yeah, yeah. Come and get it, bitch.” Tucking in your chin while taking a quick breath as her horrendous form gets closer, you feel the familiar rush of energy flowing through you. She was running like a bat out of hell. Her chin probably would’ve been shaved off if she bent any lower — her disgusting mouth was slobbering all over as she unhinged her jaw. She lunges and you release a breath. With your outstretched hand, palm facing up, you press the sides of your pointer and middle finger together. The curse screams, her teeth now a hair away from biting the tips of your finger off.

“Divine Flame.”

The birds seem to freeze midflight and the ants appear static; even the clouds above the building had been glued in place. She sees your lips split into a grin, a puff of air that mocks hers as she struggles to breathe. The curse drags her ruby-red eyes to the spark of black that ignites on your fingertips. "Gods Blade."

A second ago, she was so close to taking your wretched hand off and leaving it a bloody stump. Her stomach wants nothing more than to savour the flesh of a sorcerer and hear him scream in agony as she triumphs in the fight. The memory of it, the bright flash of white that burned her skin off her flesh. She can still taste it in her mouth, she can feel the phantom pain of it slicing the back of her throat. Everything tasted like smoke and blood. As you kick her head, she tumbles until she is gazing up at the sky.

The sky?

What happened to the roof?

The sight of her shaking pupils made you scoff. The building was torn down. Sliced cleanly in half according to the angle of your fingers; everything your technique made contact with was bright orange, smoking, and singing. Cement crumbles into ash, and metal turns to oozing and bubbling liquid.

“Shit. I haven’t used that move in a while. I’m sorry, I’m in a rush, okay? I think I went overboard.” Thankfully, Kiyotaka had raised a veil or else you’d never hear the end of it. The building shudders with each step you take. She watches as you crouch next to her, grabbing a fistful of her white hair and bringing her eyes level with yours.

“Not that you don’t deserve it. You glutton. 14 people in three weeks? You brought this on yourself.”

Her eyes fill with tears as she feels your palm warm and warm and then it burns. Her screams were like nails on a chalkboard but you bore through it. Staring into the black flames that consume her you ponder about your agenda; those spikes of fury remind you of Megumi’s gravity-defying hair.

“You’re really shitty, you know that right?” she’s down to her bones now and it’s slowly piling up into a mountain of ash. Still, she finds it in herself to scream. “Your crappy domain was creepy. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in Japan. I’m just settling in. You were supposed to be a simple mission. Now you fucked up my hand and I’m covered in soot.”

Suguru would surely laugh at you. He often did when you were muttering to dying curses. It was a habit you formed, wanting to annoy them to the very end about your minuscule grievances. They weren’t to you but the curse spirits probably felt like tearing your head off as they died.

“(Y/N), you’re really unique, huh?” Suguru leaned against the red-bricked wall with his arms stuffed in his pockets. Shoko watched impassively by his side, holding a plastic bag filled with burn relief gel. It’s not as though your flames burn you. The heat they produce stung your skin. You suppose you’ve built endurance to it but you appreciate your friends pampering you; your clan was ruthless in fine-tuning your abilities, and there was no such thing as pain-relief creams or gels.

The (L/N) weren’t like the Major 3 of Japan. They were considered to be imitations. Mocked for their gaudy technique names and overzealous attack styles but weak bodies. In order to chase after the huge power gap, your clan brought the children to their knees. Grinding them forcefully on whetstones; until they either become sharp-edged or they break.

As the son of the head of your clan, breaking was not an option.

Luckily for them, you were blessed with a powerful curse technique. Unluckily for you, you were blessed with a powerful curse technique.

Your pout makes him smile. “Calling me unique feels like an insult, Su-Su,” you turn your attention toward the husk of a curse. He was pinned to the wall with one of Suguru’s spear-wielding curses as he was being toasted by your curse technique.

“I’m just trying to make them pass on easily.”

The curse warbles its disapproval as he shakes his head, its skin flaking and smoking. Shoko crouches beside you, unboxing the gel after you spread your fingers and exorcise it.

“I think it might’ve cursed you instead,” Satoru appears with canned drinks. He presses it tenderly to your warm cheeks as Shoko tends to your hands. “Here, you did most of the work today,” he thinks nothing of how flushed you seem and simply shrugs it off when you avert your gaze. Satoru ruffles your head, which erases the blush into nothing but annoyance,

“Man, can you believe we’ll be second-years soon? We’ll have juniors to bully,” Satoru says with too much glee. Suguru knocks the back of his knees with his own and Shoko and you barely muffle your laughter.

Kiyotaka smiles warmly as he spots you. It falls as his veil disappears to reveal the ruined building.

“Mr. Gojo…” Kiyotaka gasps with his hands curled to his chest. He must be pissed, Kiyotaka thinks as he glances your way. “Mr. Gojo!” you lift a hand to stop him from fretting over your bleeding hand, unknowingly showing him your fingertips.

“You used — “

“Principal Yaga won’t appreciate my tardiness, Kiyotaka.” The tie around your gaping wound unravels and he rushes to open the car door for you. “Ms. Ieiri will tend to me just fine, I’m not going to die. Oh, and please just call me (Y/N), Kiyotaka. Honestly, we’ve known each other for so long, I feel bad if you kept calling me using honorifics.”

How can he be married to Satoru? He thought as he nodded at your words. Half the time he’s expecting to be beaten up by Satoru, the way he speaks sometimes is as if he is deaf to how crass it is. As he rushes to get into the driver's seat, you try your best to tend to the soot and ash on your fingertips.

Kiyotaka watches you from the mirror. What worries him is the missing chunk from your left hand. The irritated edges and bulging veins weren’t easing his worries either. “Mr. Gojo,” you lift your head with a polite grin. Kiyotaka unconsciously returns it.

“Your husband left some burn relief gel at the back of the driver's seat,” he says. It leaves you stunned. He says nothing as your cool expression turns bashful. He was glad to see you find relief despite your twitching wound.

“I’ll drive you there as fast as I can, Mr — “

“Kiyotaka,” you huff.

“M-Mr — Mr. (Y/N).”

It’s strange what a familiar sight can do. Seeing the peeks of the sloped rooftops made your palms clammy. This was a form of torture and of that you are certain.

With every step taken to climb towards your destination, the wind carries forgotten voices and laughter. This school was a picture you kept in a box under your bed; meant to collect dust and only seep out through the cracks in the forms of nostalgia. Seeing it materialize the closer you get makes your throat tighten. The tree branches dance in the wind and sunlight falls into step. This would be scenic in any other circumstance.

You had no one to blame but yourself. Satoru may have pestered you to agree but he didn’t force your hand; you caved in all by yourself.

‘ Get a grip, ‘ you scolded yourself. This was doable. The anxiety that’s coursing through your veins does not compare to everything you’ve already been through. First-day jitters are all it is. Megumi will be there with his friends, Yuuji and Nobara.

Along with them, Satoru’s other students would meet you again!

They were all great kids (and an amazing panda). You’ve only ever seen them in passing, sometimes Satoru would’ve asked for you to meet him whilst his students were already there. They were a memorable bunch. Meeting with a cast-aside Ze’nin daughter had shocked you. It was no surprise she narrowed her eyes at you.

It was fair. The elitist nature of the major clans of the sorcery world was hard to escape and unlearn. Satoru could escape unscathed due to his curse techniques, spoiled by everyone and entrusted as head of the Gojo clan the second he was deemed worthy enough. But for Maki? She had to steel herself when your eyes landed on her. Especially because you were dressed in traditional attire, the silk of your clothes decorated with the sigil of your clan and Gojo's (your half-sibling had just been born, so you wore it to celebrate her first birthday).

You simply offered a downward gaze and nodded as a greeting. Flashing her a quick show of teeth that you showed to Toge and Panda as well.

“Mr (Y/N), are you okay?” Kiyotaka’s hands hover over your shoulder. You’ve half a mind to swat them away. He means well but at the moment you need someone whose heart isn’t racing louder than yours. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. You weren’t going to die, Kiyotaka just needed to get that memo.

“I’m well. Let’s just hurry before — “

“(Y/N)?” Satoru's presence causes Kiyotaka to stiffen up like a board. His footsteps approach you from behind. You prepare for the questions he's bound to ask. He doesn't say much, simply does a once-over on you, then focuses on the bloody bandages around your hand. An attempt to hide it behind you was made though he’s already reaching to pull it into the light.

“Satoru, it’s fine. Shoko can fix it up, I’m already late. Principal Yaga is going to have my head.” Satoru reluctantly lets your wrists fall. “You’ve got 25 minutes before the meeting actually starts. I built a reputation for being 7 minutes late for a reason. Why doesn’t anyone else abuse it?”

The twitch of your brow makes him grin. Satoru greets Kiyotaka with a nod and he promptly greets the couple a goodbye.

Satoru stays. It seemed as though Satoru was following along on your impromptu trip to Shoko’s.

“He’s excited to see you, even though he won’t say it,” he turns his head in your direction. “He sure is attached to you. All he ever does is be snarky to me. How come I’m getting all the teen angst?” he makes you guffaw.

“Can you blame him, Satoru?” you snort. “Megumi is pretty guarded after what his step-mom and his father did. I don’t blame you for taking on so many missions either but I did end up staying home more often compared to you. Besides, you’re love language of gift-giving looks more like buying love sometimes.” Satoru’s jaw goes slack and his brows pinch into that annoying expression.

“You’re saying I’m like a rich benefactor rather than a parent?”

“More like a gay uncle who likes giving expensive gifts,” you grunt as he tugs on the lobes of your ears. He’s not that offended by your words, it’s not as though you’re denying that he cares for Tsumiki and Megumi. Simply stating that they still hadn’t bridged the gap. Partly due to his frequent goings and partly due to Megumi’s abandonment issues.

It must sting to know your father sold you to a family who only cared about your abilities. It’s no wonder he keeps his walls high. You’re excited to see his friends climbing it, hoping his fortune is as bountiful as his name.

“Must you be so blunt, husband?” Satoru opens the door for you, eyeing the stains on your shirt. "I heard it was a semi-special grade," you shudder at the reminder, "did she cause you so much trouble? It's been a while since you've used God's Blade."

The fluorescent lights of Shoko's don't help your nerves. The theme of today seems to be revisiting memories. The chill in the building does not ease you in the slightest. It reminds you of the same eerie hallway you'd be escorted to, the sickening green-blue lines of light that light the path would make your palms clammy every time. Those five men were akin to statues as they held onto the thickly bound rope plastered with talismans.

"She couldn't talk just yet but managed to create a weak domain. I don't know why. I wasn't expecting it. It was so unsettling."

Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders, stroking your shoulder as he steers you through the hallway. He knows you don't like long hallways with cold lights. Satoru doesn't ask the why's or what's. Those rigid lunches and dinners with your father and stepmother are all he needed.

Shoko's eyebrows jump at the sight of the both of you walking in.

"Hello, lovebirds," she stands from her chair, "d'you guys need some condoms or something?" The joke earns her an unamused expression while Satoru just chuckles.

"My dearest husband was injured in battle."

Your exclamations of protest fall on deaf ears as Satoru forces you to sit at Shoko’s check-up station. She idles over, pushing Satoru away with a gloved hand. Her touches are careful and light as she takes a close look at the wound.

Then, she grasps your other hand and you can’t help the gentle smile that graces your face as she tuts at the sensitive skin. “You’re here to meet the Principal, right? This won’t take long. You owe me dinner.”

“Yes, Ms Ieiri,” you coo. It was an odd sensation, to feel your flesh regrow, veins stitching together as muscles intertwine. Meanwhile, Satoru is moving around in her office, sticking his head in cabinets and drawers while you wash your hands. Shoko does nothing to stop your meddling husband.

“Found it!” Just as you turn, Satoru’s face looms over yours. Your gasp is choked on the lollipop he puts in your mouth. Shoko’s stethoscope is looped around his neck and her spare doctor's coat makes him look absolutely ridiculous.

"A treat for being such a good boy at the doctor's office today!"

“Those might be expired, by the way,” Shoko says. “‘Toru!” he giggles unabashedly, avoiding your wrath with glee.

“Mr. Gojo is married!?”

Megumi regrets ever saying it in the first place. Nobara and Yuji are staring at him with wide eyes, practically sparkling with curiosity.

“Did you guys not see the ring on his finger?” The chair creaks as he leans back, crossing his arms as they place their elbows on his desk. “Now that you mentioned it, I have noticed it. I didn’t think he was married,” Nobara tilts her head. “I mean, I guess he is pretty good husband material,” Yuji says. “He’s strong, handsome, and he’s generous too!”

“The lip balm he wears is expensive too,” Nobara nods as she speaks. “It’s not that expensive,” Megumi mumbled though the two simply ignored him. He was on another financial level. His standard of ‘expensive’ had been skewered.

“He just doesn’t seem like he has a wife. How does she put up with his childish attitude?”

Footsteps come from the hallway. Megumi says nothing as Nobara and Yuji press their faces to the indoor windows, trying to steal glances. His heart picks up its pace as he clasps his hands together. He kept his guard up for a reason. He expects disappointment so he can never feel that fear of abandonment — a childish wish. Your trips overseas were something he didn’t think would make him fearful again, so he iced them out the best he could. But now that you were back, he felt entirely too excited.

“Shh! Itadori, shut up! Let me sit here!”

They wrestle for the chair closest to the door. The ridiculousness of it has Megumi hiding his smile behind his palm, rolling his eyes fondly. Nobara wins and Megumi buries the feeling of excitement that Yuji is sitting close.

The doors rattle open to reveal Satoru. The silence that greets him disturbs him enough to hesitate to take a step inside. Instead, he stretches his neck and lets his head jump from one student's face to the other.

“Is this some sort of ambush? Why are your faces so intense?”

“Mr Gojo!” Yuji exclaims (he doesn’t need to). Raising from his seat, Yuji plants his palms on his desk and speaks: “Is it true that you’re married and that your spouse is going to be teaching us?”

Satoru beams, one long leg crossing over the threshold. Megumi spots a flash of (H/C) coloured hair and no matter what he does he can’t stop his heart from squeezing in anticipation.

“A guy like me? Of course, I’m married!” Satoru wiggles his fingers in the air. The ring is a simple silver band with a beautiful gem held preciously by silver roots. It was personal, something that would twinkle under the light but remain bashful in any other setting; it didn’t make it any less beautiful or inexpensive.

Nobara stands next. “What is she like? How does she put up with you? Is she cool?”

Soft laughter floats inside. Megumi’s shoulders hug his neck as you walk into the room. You were dressed in a nearly identical faculty uniform to Satoru’s though there were little adjustments and accessories here and there that made it more your own.

“They’ve been your student for less than a week, and they already wonder how your spouse puts up with you, husband,” your eyes meet Megumi’s and turn warmer. Nobara and Yuji gasp, eyes going comically wide as they stare at you.

“They’re overexaggerating. I’m an amazing teacher.” Electing to ignore your pouting husband, you address the first-year students with your hands politely folded in front of you.

‘ Ah, always so proper, ‘ Satoru thinks. It’s probably where Megumi’s manners got reinforced because it sure as hell wasn’t from Satoru. You really were a marvel. How lucky would anyone be to be yours? An idea popped into his marvellous brain. Satoru suppresses his urge to rub his hands together schemingly though hopes Nanami won't mind that he meddles a bit with his mission.

“My name is Gojo (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet all of you. Mr Gojo has told me what promise all of you show.”

Yuji doesn’t pretend not to notice the way your eyes linger on him. He stiffens up, jaw locking as he feels his tongue spasm. Your eyes — the colour of it seemed to sway, like a flame dancing in the dark. It was spine-chilling.

To stand next to Gojo Satoru, to be his husband — to be his equal. Yuji imagines you must be strong. He wonders what your curse technique is. He is not the only one wondering. Deep in the recesses of his soul, four eyes split open and illuminate the darkness.

“We were thinking of taking all three of you on a field trip around Tokyo!” Satoru says with glee.

“It better not be like yesterday’s trip to Roppongi,” Nobara mutters. You glance towards Satoru, brow raised in question while he laughs innocently at Nobara’s accusing glare.

Megumi takes note of the smell of ash, and cobalt gaze immediately dropping to your folded hands and narrowing as he notices how irritated your fingertips look.

“You’ll enjoy this trip, trust me. Everyone can show off their skills to Mr Gojo, even Megumi,” Satoru said. Megumi's cheeks burned at the callout despite that, he was excited. He learned a lot in those 4-months and he has much to show you. Nobara snickers at his annoyed expression but catches Yuji’s lack of response. Satoru did as well though since there were no marks or mouths sprouting on his face he elected to wave it off as him being stunned by you.

For being a man? Surely, not. Perhaps for your handsomeness? That seems very likely.

It wasn’t as though he was sullen, just tight-lipped as he smiled and guffawed at the ongoing conversation.

“You may call me Mr (Y/N). It might be confusing for everyone if you both refer to us with our surnames." Satoru pretends not to grimace at the lame excuse. It was not for their sake. It was for yours and his. In 8 months, you would no longer bear the heavy weight of his name, placing it on a mantle of your victories and regrets.

“Gojo?” Kento’s voice causes you to jump. He felt bad for disturbing you from your reading, you looked so peaceful. It's been a while since he's found time to sit down and digest the words of a book. The mountain of unread literature in his home begs for a crumb of his attention — they remain untouched until he's sure he won't die without reading the final chapter. That would truly be a nuisance. The cafe had the smell of fresh paint quickly being overshadowed by freshly baked pastries and brewed coffee.

Kento apologizes for startling you. An apology you wave off, setting your book down after slipping the bookmark between the yellowing pages. The spine of it was cracked and the front of it slightly warped despite the plastic cover it was wrapped in. "A good read?"

“It was my mother’s favourite book,” you trace the title on the cover, sheepishly grinning. “She left some of her books in my possession after her passing. It got banged up after a mission with a curse in America, some alligator curse.” “What is it about?” His voice was so deep. Had it always been that deep? Admittedly, you’d only had the pleasure to see Kento again during Suguru’s proclamation of war. At that moment, you weren’t ogling him or relishing in the baritones of his voice. He’d grown up to be a handsome man. Those high cheekbones and strong eyes finally settled on his face. Despite the coat he wore, you could tell his body was chiseled and firm. Muscles stacked on muscles. He’d always been studios — his technique did require a more hand-to-hand approach. It didn’t surprise you. Most active sorcerers tend to train their bodies in order to survive strenuous missions.

As students, you recalled having sparred with him a few times. It didn't surprise you he became a Grade 1 sorcerer. With his flexible ability and his sharp wit, Kento was a force to be reckoned with then, you cannot imagine what he's capable of now. “It’s a bit dark,” you turned the cover to him, “it’s about a woman whose sister and old friend from school died. They were murdered. We follow her through her memories of them and her emotions. It’s quite interesting if you have the stomach for it,” he takes the book as you slip it into his hands.

Your fingers brushed and your ears warmed up.

‘ Ah, stop it. Stop it! You are (Y/N), a powerful sorcerer. Stop acting like a schoolgirl! ‘ “It was inspired by a murder in 1997.” Kento reads the synopsis on the back, his eyes drinking in every syllable. You wonder if his gaze is always so intense. Do they soften when he leans in to kiss? Thankfully, the book distracts him from your aggressive sipping of your drink. "Is the protagonist compelling?" After all, what's more horrid than a boring storyteller. Kento has consumed his fair share of bland-tasting media. It was just how life is, he supposes. Still. It didn't mean he was any less disappointed.

He flips through the first few pages. His touch was featherlight as he traced the edge of the pages. "She's angry," you reply after a moment of contemplation. "She is...unapologetically resentful, overly judgemental. But, for some reason. It's almost relieving to read," he watches you scratch the back of your neck as if admitting it out loud made you a bad person. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for it in bookstores. This looks intriguing.” Kento hands the novel back to you. You’re only a little disappointed that your fingers don’t brush again. He reaches into his coat as you put the book back in your bag. The file he pulls out makes you sober up from the butterflies in your stomach.

Right, this wasn’t a date — despite Satoru's jests — this was a mission. It must be a pretty daunting one if two Grade 1 sorcerers were needed. “Gojo — “ Your huff makes Kento pause. “Honestly, Ken, just call me (Y/N).” Your eyes widen. Stumbling over your words, you try to apologize for your bluntness, your hair practically lifting and puffing like a panicked cat. It has been so long since you’ve been classmates. A whole decade had breezed past. Calling him by an old nickname after so long was so rude!

To your surprise, Kento smiles. It’s unlike Satoru's, free and sharp, the corners curled like a sly fox as he set his sights on adventure. Kento’s smile was reliable, assuring you without words. Like a prince, though one that was gentler in his ways of living compared to the gallivanting knight that is Satoru.

“Only if I can call you, (nickname).”

Yū’s face floats to the surface. You had given Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Kento their nicknames.

Satoru, ‘Toru. Suguru, Su-Su. Shoko, Ko-Ko. Kento, Ken.

Yū, well, you had trouble giving him one considering how short his name already was. So he gave you a nickname instead. It stuck more than the others, every time you saw him he’d immediately call you that and you’d struggle to find a nickname that’d stick for him.

After his death, nobody called you that anymore.

If spirits were kept alive through memory, you’re certain Yū’s was thriving thanks to Kento. His classmate, his best friend. What an honoured spirit he must be. Kento was a quiet man, your mother often said those stoic ones were filled with such blinding love it left them tight-lipped so as to not overwhelm others. You wonder if your feelings have tainted Suguru in any way. The very thought makes your knuckles whiten. How awful. You hope he does not resent you.

You remember visiting Kento after Yū’s funeral, leaving food for him at his front door for weeks until you found out he had moved out.

That was a dark summer.

“Of course you can, Ken.” He stands as you do, falling into step next to you as you make your way towards your destination.

This was an interesting mission. It was located in an alleyway that once harboured a noodle shop. Something chased away the people. The building on the right was an abandoned temple, and the building on the left was a nightclub that was torn down after a murder happened.

An unlikely set of locations sprinkled with fear and isolation. The perfect breeding ground for curses. The mix of religious trauma and debauchery formed a mass that seemed forcefully threaded together by a thick rope in the center that looked oddly like noodles.

What peeved you about it was that it took less than two hours for Kento and you to investigate and exorcise it.

He swung his weapon in the air, the dissipating gore of the curse splattering on the walls in a spray. You’re waving away some dust and debris, coughing as you crush a minor curse’s head under your boot. This mission was dangerous, a perfect mission for a Grade 1 sorcerer.

A Grade 1 sorcerer.

It hardly required a duo.

‘ Satoru, ‘ you’re choking him in your mind. This must be his doing. He'd joke about setting you up with Kento but you thought it was that, a joke.

A heavy hand places itself on your shoulder, turning to face him you’re caught by how close your faces are. “Are you alright?” your body twists and you can't remember when he got so tall.

“I’ll be sore, but it’s nothing new.”

You were his favourite out of his upperclassmen. Kento never said that out loud, he wasn’t sure why; you weren’t the quietest or most polite. You were any other teenage boy. Except that was a lie.

(L/N) (Y/N). You were a product of your clan’s race to stand out. The destiny many searches for was laid out ahead of you the second you were conceived.

But you were kind. Not that the rest of the upperclassmen weren’t. You were different, a shining light that Kento finds himself gravitating towards like a moth to a flame. You were the night sky, twinkling and watching those around him. Kento was a mere mortal. All he could do was admire from the ground as he helplessly reached up to embrace deities.

He slides his hand down to your arm, and the reaction is immediate. Pain shoots up your arm, blood hidden by the dark uniform. Kento undoes his tie and wraps it above the bleeding cut. It’s crazy what adrenaline can do to you.

“Kento, you didn’t have to,” you wince as he tightens it. He offers no apologies though his jaw still clenches.

You were strong, your ranking was proof of that. But you were a (L/N). Kento heard of the rumours they tell about your clan's weak bodies but overeager abilities. It was a nice way to say that your clan was in over your head. As history notes, your clan was more devious than forthcoming. Hailing from ninjas or assassins or whatever it is that seemed more malicious.

“I’ll bring you to the school,” his tone was resolute. “It’s just a cut,” he frowns as he takes another look at it. It was deep, not bone-deep, but deep.

He’s terrified that there’s truth in them. The rumours. As you stand here with your heated cheeks and too-warm touch, he’s worried that your brain is overheating. Or maybe your blood is boiling and killing you. You could drop dead right in front of him right now, despite the amount of times you get up each and every time.

He’s terrified, (Y/N). He cannot lose another person he cares about. Kento absolutely refuses to do that all over again.

“Kento,” that stubborn purse of your lips never did go away. He can see the fight you have in you, that fire that fuels you.

As you smile, Yū’s face eclipses yours. For a split second. Just a second. It makes Kento loosen his grip. “I’m fine, Ken. Swear it,” he reluctantly lets you go.

“I apo — “

Your fingers thread through his. They’re intertwined and your grip is firm.

‘ I’m here, ‘ each squeeze relays, ‘ I’m safe, Kento. ‘

The coolness of your ring on his skin earns you a firm press.

He’s content watching you from afar, Kento had long decided that would be his fate. There was no honour in it. He sure as hell didn’t expect a heavenly reward for it. Perhaps he’s a fool for living the way he does. Kento knows he's lying to himself. Deep down he wants nothing more than to kiss you, hold you, make you his, and let him be yours.

But Kento’s fear of losing you outweighs his love for you. Staying by Gojo Satoru's side ensures your safety, wealth, status and prosperity.

Kento will be content with that. Tripping through these messy tangles of heartstrings would just be how his life went. Even if Gojo Satoru did not deserve you, he provided you with more.

He would come home without fail. He was the strongest.

“After we patch up, let me buy you dinner tonight, (nickname). We can catch up.” The offer brightens your expression. You’d always been so divine when you smile, (Y/N).

“(Y/N)?” Satoru always smells so sweet before bed. It’s the lotion he puts on his skin, specifically everywhere else Fushiguro Toji had stabbed him.

It was expensive and meant to heal and moisturize damaged skin. They’re barely there anymore. The only proof of that day was nothing more than stark lines, and barely blushed skin that hides beneath his bangs. It was just routine now, a habit he couldn’t break. Or perhaps, a reminder for him; to know what it felt like to bleed out, to die, to let others die. The day he ascended to the heavens and became the honoured one. The day everything shifted.

“Oi, (Y/N).” You’re burying your face into his neck and Satoru stiffens. He’s ticklish there, he’s told you that before.

“Are ya’ drunk? Did Nanami get you drunk?” His voice lifts in amusement at the end. He'd heard that Nanami was quite a heavy drinker from what Shoko had told him. He hadn’t expected you to come here after a date. He was nearly asleep when you stumbled into the bedroom. Did you forget your new address? Satoru feels your hands tighten around his waist. A blanket of sadness shrouds you.

“Oi. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. Never in a million years would you fathom hating grain or bread. It wasn't her fault for holding Kento's heart but what sort of cruel joke was this? The gods were mocking you. Satoru swallows thickly as your lips brush the junction of his shoulder and neck.

“Did Nanami do something?” His anger was immediate, you could taste it from how close you were. Had he always been so responsive to your emotions? All it took to make him lose his coolheadedness was a suspicion that someone had hurt you.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)?”

“Ken, he dropped me off here.” Your legs stumble as you sway so Satoru holds your hips. He can smell the grilled meat from your hair, the alcohol from your breath, and the antiseptic wound dressing under your clothes.

“You didn’t bring him home?” Satoru teases.

“He brought me home.” Satoru can feel your lashes tickle his neck. Your breath is fanning that barely-there-scar and it makes gooseflesh ripple across his skin. Right, in the public’s eye, this was still your home. Kento was a gentleman, of course, he’d send (Y/N) back to his husband.

“This is my home, S'Toru,” he agrees with you with a nod, “Of course, beloved. We should get you ready for bed, yeah?”

His breath gets caught in his throat as he takes you in. The moonlight makes your skin look absolutely ethereal. Those tales of forest spirits with decadent forms and whispering eyes that lure men to their deaths pale in comparison to you. The drunken flush that looks silly on others makes you look like you’re a teenager all over again. Your gaze was unfocused, jumping or lingering from one thing to the next.

But your eyes meet him and they're so dark. He’s taken aback. It happens when someone’s in a dim room like you are currently. Your pupils dilate to let more light in. Satoru knows that’s not the case. You’re 17 again and the windows to your soul betray you by letting Satoru in. It’s silly what humans do when they’re in love. How our eyes insist on seeing more of them. Take in every microscopic detail despite not having the ability to do so. Fluttering those eyelashes as if curling a coy finger.

' Come, ' your eyes are saying. ' Let me show you where I ache the most, this void in my chest. Come. Inhabit me. Bare your soul to me. '

The act of kissing is perhaps the silliest. Moulding your lips with another person, feeling them against you as your soul breathes into their body. It’s Satoru’s favourite sensation. The intimate act of it all, of breathing life into someone you love. It was almost cannibalistic in a way. As you stand in front of him, hiccuping from all the drinks you took and only being supported by his hands Satoru can’t stop the way his gaze lingers on your lips. Satoru wants to kiss his husband. He wants to feel your soul burn him from the inside and he wants you to harbour his own in yours.

“Why can’t I just sleep now?” You mumble. Satoru’s palm cools your flushed cheeks, his thumb ghosting the edge of your lips.

“You smell like grilled meat and beer,” he traces your jawline and cups the back of your head to pull you into his embrace. Too drunk to care about how fast your heart is beating, you simply let it happen. Satoru’s big hands travel down and he shushes you when you squirm.

Down to the sides of the waist, then to your hips, further down and down until he catches the back of your knees. He lifts you so you wrap your arms around him, going all but limp.

“Grilled meat and beer smell great! I’m so sleepy, please,” he chuckles as you kick your feet. “I prefer if the bedsheets smell the way they do now. Man, how much did you have to drink?”

The hiccup you make when he sets you on the counter makes him shake his head. Satoru tells you to lean back so he can undress you. It’s amusing to see the emotions on his face as he does.

The metallic scent still lingers judging from how Satoru’s nose is twitching. Suppose the new jacket you got did little to mask it. He unbuttons your undershirt and his eyes widen. At that, you turn to breathe in the mirror, entranced by the way your breath leaves traces of itself on the smooth surface.

Satoru ignores the way your chest stutters as he traces the outlines of the fucked up star-shaped scar on your chest. It was a sick imitation of your skin colour. So close to your heart, too close. Your hand rests on top of his as you trace his knuckles.

“There aren’t a lot of doctors like Shoko overseas,” Satoru slips his hand away from you. It rests on the big scar on your side now. He can feel the marred skin beginning from your back all the way to the front, like a sickle. He can imagine it, see the way a claw or a tooth had nearly split you in half if you hadn't gotten out of the way.

It must've ached. He would know. Muscles being torn apart viciously, bone thudding so harshly on the ground that sometimes he's convinced it's broken. You must've been in pain — muscles and nerves screaming at every movement despite whatever sorcery was used to heal it.

Scars are a part of the sorcerer society. It’s a rite of passage just as much as dying is. He’s not surprised you have them. He’s seen your bare torso before. When it’s an unbearable hot summer or on a beach, you’ve chosen to shed a few layers. Sometimes, you’d even sleep topless if it was too humid.

Each time, Satoru would find himself looking at your scars. Counting them, wondering where some came from and what mission caused it. Or was it an accident? A childhood scar that never went away. Was it your training?

Was it your father?

He never asked. Satoru didn’t want to say anything for fear that you’d no longer be comfortable around him. The ones he remembered, he'd let his gaze linger on but the others? No. It felt shameful to ask. So he never knew. Simply wondered.

In those four months, why had your scars increased? The severity of it looked more and more painful.

“You’re usually not so careless,” fear grips him and his expression is so morbid you laugh. Satoru finds no amusement in it and his firm gaze makes your chuckle fade away.

“Maybe my family’s curse is catching up to me.”

“That isn’t a laughing matter.” Satoru knows you’re not completely immune to the flames you cast. You’ve certainly grown a tolerance for it (and other flames), once or twice he recalls you casually patting away at the inky flames that catch on your clothes. But it’s a great technique.

Too great some would say.

Divine Flame. A technique that enabled the user to control cursed wildfires. To manipulate it to burn through nearly everything it came into contact with. A searing black that makes you sweat even from a distance. That is so bright when cast, it blinds those who dare gaze upon it.

The whispers of your clan making a deal with a cursed spirit followed you everywhere you went. People claim that your ancestors made a Binding Vow to become great sorcerers. To rival the other houses and to fill the void of power that Sukuna Ryomen left your society in after he massacred great clans.

But your ancestor got greedy and the vow was broken, which left canyons of karma engraved in the bones of their children. It was why your clan could never flourish. It was why the children die out, why the women grow barren and the men weak.

It was ridiculous but Satoru himself wonders if there’s truth in it.

Why would the Gods give you a body you couldn’t sustain? Were you truly cursed? This mighty curse technique engraved into your skeleton burns you from the inside out; is it hurting you?

If it was, Satoru would demand the Gods to come down and face him. Why should you pay for the mistakes of your ancestors?

Why would they dare take more from you?

From Satoru?

Had they not have their fill?

Just rumours, he tells himself. If they — the Gods — dared taking you from him he'd raze heaven and hell.

“...You would tell me if it was, right?”

Has Satoru’s eyes ever looked as dark as they did now? There’s a ring of blue surrounding that endless void. As he peers up at you, all you can focus on is that sliver of heaven. That cerulean that reminds you of the sky and the sea, that you swear shines in mischief or glows like a good omen.

What is this darkness you're peering into? An abyss that whispers for you;

' Come. Let me show you, come, teeter over the edge and fall with me.'

“Would you stop it, Satoru?” your hands on his cheek make his skin burn. “This so-called ' great family curse, ' could you stop it?”

“I’d do anything to protect you, beloved.” He'd make the Gods ever regret making him fall in love with you.

You grin as your thumb swipes over his cheekbones and all thoughts of killing unreachable Gods dissipate. Satoru lets you come down from the counter, ready to catch you if you fall as you attempt to take your pants off.

Satoru is squirming like a worm under the sun. He’s sat on the toilet lid, refusing to let you tend to him. “Gojo,” your sigh makes him chew on his inner cheeks. Finally, you manage to get his shirt off and without that second skin, he feels far too cold.

You’re in nothing but a towel. Your funeral garbs are being tended to by servants. They were probably steaming out the wrinkles while you attempted to wring Satoru back into shape.

“I can do it by myself.”

He hasn’t eaten. What little he does eat is barely sustaining him. Satoru could barely stand after his adrenaline wore off, you truly hope he will not be stubborn. You reach for his boxers and he exclaims, once again;

“I can do it by myself!”

The blood that rushes to his head humbles him. Satoru stands and Satoru falls. You catch him, gasping out his name as your arm wraps themselves around him.

His face is on your chest, resting on your clavicles while your chin is on his shoulder.

Look away, he wants to tell you. Look away from me.

Suguru’s love letters are still dark on his pale skin. Like flowers blooming under sunlight, they decorate him from behind his ears to the nape of his neck. Satoru can recall pushing Suguru away as he did, his skin remembering unfeeling metal but Suguru kisses him and Satoru forgets it all.

He thought Suguru could forget it too. He tries not to cry but he does anyway. Satoru sobs into your chest and a part of you feels anger. It was your mother’s funeral.

Why the fuck is he crying?

But your grief is hanging outside the bathroom, neat and crisp and proper. It will weigh like boulders when you slip it on and you’ll feel your stomach twist into knots as you hold back the urge to vomit. In this bathroom, Satoru’s guilt is his and you’ll be there to wash it away.

He hates himself for it. He hates how you rub his back and shush him, gathering him in your arms as you stand so you can brush away all these feelings.

He couldn’t imagine going to his mother's funeral.

He also couldn't imagine Suguru not being by his side but that was now reality.

Your mother was a kind woman. Not naively trusting, barely had any faith in others his mother once told him. But she was warm despite it. Cunning underneath the pleasantries she shared.

His mother enjoyed her company. He can’t recall if she ever enjoyed anyone’s company other than his father and his own.

‘ She’s a wonderful woman. Shame she’s married to such a horrible man, ‘ she once told him.

“Let me wash your hair, Gojo.” The water hides his tears but you wipe them away regardless. You offer him a smile and Gojo can feel that tree of guilt sprout.

He catches you as you trip on your discarded pants and perhaps you should feel bashful or shy as your naked body is pressed against his clothed one. But you’re too drunk and too sleepy to care.

Your face rests on his chest and his chin is over your shoulder.

“Why do you call me that?”

Satoru turns the shower on, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist as he tests the temperature.

“Beloved?” You nod against him and the hair that tickles his throat doesn’t make his insides shudder in memory of that day.

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

He pushed you into the shower and the warm water has you groaning. He’s gentle as he manoeuvres your bandaged arm up, telling you to brace it on the wall to not get it damp.

His eyes are still so dark.

“Your shirt is getting wet,” you point your finger at it. Neither of you addresses your blatant brush-off. He tells you to turn around and you do. From the corner of your eyes, you see his clothes getting tossed onto the floor and the sound of his hand's lathering soap has you fluttering your eyes closed.

He envies the careless way the water hugs you. How it slithers from your shoulders down to the curves of your legs. Rivulets of ambrosia ease your sore muscles in ways that he wished he could.

“People...people usually use baby or babe,” Satoru’s hands lather soap on your back and you lean forward to press your forehead on the wall.

“Hey,” it twists beneath your arm, brushing over your chest and tilts your head up. You can feel his chest hovering over your back and you wonder if there are raised lines where Fushiguro Toji stabbed him.

“Do you want me to call you baby or babe?”

You shrug, wanting to hang your head again but somehow keeping it exactly the way Satoru had positioned it even as his hand moves to your back again. “It’s because you’re dear to me. Calling you my dear sounds way too archaic though.” He smiles as you scoff, “As opposed to my beloved?”

You’re sobering up from the water. He can feel your muscles tensing under his touch.

“What did you call Suguru?”

You prayed that you didn’t ruin this moment. The sick curiosity of it all has rotted in you for too long. You need to know how great his love was, from his mouth alone.

If you’ve spent a decade of your life resenting yourself for being in love with a man who was never yours, you’d like to know if he was truly unreachable.

“I called him my one and only.”

He sees no point in hiding it from you. Satoru didn’t want to hurt you, he hoped if anything this would make you run into Kento’s arms. A restart, a good man who had more than enough money to make sure you wouldn't have to give up too many comforts (Satoru's money and Kento's were no laughing matter but his was as infinite as his abilities due to generational wealth). From what he gathered on Nanami, from previous partners to his parents and health, he was clean. You deserve that. His beloved, you deserve to be with a man who would never hurt you.

“Your one and only.” Your face is hidden from him. He wants nothing more than to turn you around so he can see what you’re thinking.

“But I am dear to you, Satoru?”

“You are. You’re,” he struggles to find the words. As he does, he struggles to say it.

Cutting him off, you tell him; “You are my first love, Satoru."

He inhales sharply. Crimson seeps from the gauze of your bandages. Staining the white with red. The pinpricks of pain barely register.

“Suguru was yours. I don’t hate you for it. I don’t blame you. You alone hold the sorcerer society’s expectations on your shoulders. Its happiness and misery are all on you. The strongest. I am vindictive. I am selfish.”

“Beloved, you’re not.”

You turn to face him. Here you are, standing in front of each other. Bare and vulnerable. You might as well say what you need to.

“I am, Satoru. I wanted you to hurt, I wanted you to be in pain, for 10 years all I ever wished for was for you to feel what I felt. My love for you was tainted by my own feelings by my own hate. He was your one and only. How could I hate you for that? How could I hate him for that?”

Satoru looks to the side, clenching his jaw as his hands ball up into fists. He shouldn't say anything more but there's this voice pleading for him to say it. Say that he forgives you despite the fact that you didn't need to apologize in the first place. Isn't this what couples do? They kiss and make up. After a decade of this, of wearing rings and honouring vows, you would think it was something the both of you got used to doing.

That's not what you are, in a few months, the only remains of this marriage will be harboured in memories alone. So why does this voice grip him so tightly? This hope that the both of you can actually be together...he needs to extinguish it.

“I’m glad we had each other throughout these years, I'm glad you stayed even if it was out of pity. Even if we were unhappy, even if I could not...please you. We’re friends, and I could never hate Suguru for being your great love.”

“Stop, please.” Your blood is trailing down your arm. Turning the water into a pale red as it swirls down the drain. “I married you so I could marry Suguru.” He releases a shuddering breath. Satoru’s words sobered you up like a slap to the face.

“I was 16. There were marriage proposals from everywhere, even from overseas. I didn’t want to marry them. Not because they were strangers but because my duties would pull me away from his side. But I was forced to. By higher-ups, by clan members, by my mother, the world was looking at me. You said it yourself. The misery and happiness of the world we live in depended on me. But I wanted Suguru more than anything."

He’s looking at you with tears in his eyes. It's your heart that's being shattered.

So why the fuck was he crying?

“I told him if I married you, we would divorce and you would understand the reason. Because you were our friend. Suguru said it was cruel. He knew you loved me.”

These words were like striking a match and holding it to the leaves of that beautiful willow tree you made him.

“Stop, Satoru.”

“I knew too.”

“Please, stop!”

“I — I didn’t...I would take it back if I could. But I can’t.” That voice within him withers to nothing. He pretends he doesn't feel his chest ache as he stares at your betrayal. Your arm pulses in pain but you can barely find it in you to care.

“My beloved — "

“You knew I loved you? All that time, you knew I loved you?”

Was this better? For all these years, you thought he chose you because he held some sort of fondness for you. Perhaps the comfort of familiarity wasn't too far off. But the fact that he chose you due to your proximity? The reason he was so insistent on binding your hands together in matrimony was due to distance?

In another life, Suguru is where you stand now. Except there’d be no distance. They’d be pressed together, lips locked with a passion even your flames couldn’t rival. Would you be happy in that life? Knowing that your marriage was all a facade until the honor was fulfilled and Satoru would whisk his true husband to the altar.

“You used me.” He tries to grab you but you flinch away, stumbling over your own feet as your back meets the wall.

“I’m so sorry.” "You keep saying that, Satoru!"

You needed to get away from him. There was no way this could work. Not as friends, not as husbands, not as anything more. It was foolish to think otherwise. You attempt to squeeze past him and out from the glass doors but he holds you by your shoulders.

Satoru holds you to his chest as you try to slip out of his grasp. You'd think it'd be easy since you were practically covered in soap suds. If your tears were gold, you'd be the richest man alive. He's glad you go limp, gathering you so close you can feel the raised skin of the scar he had.

Blood is seeping through the fine hairs on his arm, staining it as you hang your head in defeat. He turns you around and the foggy glass doors of the shower make your back arch.

He should stop. This absolutely won't end well. He's broken your heart, cremated it into dust. Was this his punishment from a past life? Had he scorned a lover? Was it you? Were the both of you destined to love each other this way?

Why must he love this way? You can't tell what's running through your veins right now. Adrenaline? Anger? Beer? You don't know what it is, but it makes you stay as he stares at you.

"Hate me if you need to. I can take it, (Y/N). I promise you I can."

That's the problem. You can't. The definition of hate had been skewered for you centuries ago. Maybe this is how you love Satoru; with bitter longing and resentment. They had four letters, practically indistinguishable from each other in your mind because that's what Satoru has done to you.

From the second you saw for the first time, he'd burned his very soul on your heart. Branded you like cattle with his smile, left cuts with every exhale and inhale as he laughed; this is what loving Satoru feels like.

How did Suguru manage? Was he a stronger man than you? You wish you could ask him. Would his cold corpse cushion your back with his chest, praising you for taking Satoru's sadistic love so well?

The tip of his nose brushes against your ear as he embraces you. This is what Satoru feels like slotted against you.

So many questions are running through your mind. None were answered. They kept buzzing and it's making your eyes water. The steam, the familiar scent of your favourite soap, and Satoru's fading sweetness as the lotion is washed off.

"I hate you," Satoru's breath does not hitch. He turns his head and your lips quiver as he brushes along your jaw. He can feel you trembling as his face hovers across yours. You should put distance between him. Scream and tell him to get away.

Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved by him.

Just.

Just once.

' Come. '

His eyes are still so dark.

' Inhabit me. '

So are yours.

' Let me show you. '

They flicker to your lips, pure white lashes do little to hide heaven away.

' Bare your soul to me. '

His cheek twitches when you place a hand on it. No barrier between your palm and his face. Being naked isn't the reason why you feel so exposed. It's the way he's looking at you. As if your very skin was peeled away, muscles torn apart, bones bashed to smithereens; as if he used Hallowed Purple and eviscerated you into nothing but the very essence of your soul. He drinks it in with that unlimited darkness.

' I have. Now fall with me. '

He kisses you.

It's not the other times when he tries to initiate intimacy. No. It isn't methodical, hesitant, awkward. On the other hand, it isn't passionate either. It's wet. It's pathetic. Both pairs of lips bumbling fools that try to make jagged pieces to fit. Tears sting in your eyes, and Satoru can't understand why he does this to you.

' Look at what I do to you, ' he thinks, ' all I do is hurt you. '

You gasp when his hand pulls you in closer.

Just once.

He needs to hold you like this just once.

To show you how he loves the only way he knows how — to devour you with his sin so you know how much he meant. He knows he shouldn't. This would only muddy the dark waters you tread through. But fuck it.

Fuck it.

Fuck the world. Fuck the higher-ups. Fuck the clans, fuck expectations, fuck Suguru, fuck Shoko, fuck Kento —

"Satoru," you're breathing into his mouth, lips still pushed against the other as you try to catch your breath. Praying at the altar of the body that holds your soul; Satoru is weakest before you.

His godhood is forgotten.

The strongest kneels.

The taste of him is making your head fuzzy. The pain feels insignificant and for a moment the heartbreak is forgotten.

"(Y/N)," there, where you ache for him, he's there.

His tongue feels like velvet. With one leg tossed over his shoulder, you're at his mercy. Those plush lips paint your skin, ushering your blood just under the skin's surface. The tugs on his hair make him groan as he leaves apologetic licks on your inner thighs.

"Satoru," your whisper could make a mountain bow. A brush of his teeth has you gasping. It's soon replaced with a moan as he takes your cock into his hands.

It's obscene. Sex was never meant to be anything but — however, the sight makes you feel dizzy.

This ethereal man is on his knees, cerulean eyes staring up at you as he kisses the tip of your cock. A hand squeezes the underside of the thigh on his shoulder, slithering up to your hip and reaching for your chest and neck. The whisper of his touch on your chin has you whimpering.

"Don't look away," he says, "keep your eyes on me, my beloved."

Your hands attempt to grab the purchase of the glass doors, but all you manage is a handful of steam. They cover the marks you leave as your palms press on the glass. Satoru's mouth and tongue feel like velvet — so warm and wet. When you nearly slip his nose is pressed to your pubic hair so he simply lifts your other leg. The only thing you can do is thrust into his mouth.

He strokes your hips, nails lightly scratching the surface as he encourages you to do as you please. The noises he makes go straight to your dick and you feel like you're losing your mind.

As you curl over, gripping his head, you can only see white. Satoru's throat is gulping all of your cum down, and the sensation of your cockhead being squeezed has your heels digging into his back.

Those 10 years of denying him felt ridiculous now.

There's a distinctly (Y/N)-shaped stain on the bed. There's still soap on your skin. The coldness in the air makes being wet and naked uncomfortable. But Satoru is there.

He's kissing you like he wants to eat you alive and you're weak to his whims. Your cock is in his hands, painfully hard as he strokes it and swallows every pitiful mewl you let out.

Here he is again, ruining you, branding you.

He's not entirely at fault. You let him.

It was not his fault he loved another and it was not your fault you loved him. He was a teenager, so were you. What did he know of consequences, of choice, of pain? He was 16, in love.

Were you truly vindictive? Why were you so devout in your worship?

What were you worshipping?

The tragedy of this marriage? The humour of it all is a great soap drama that the Gods peer down at to coo at.

"(Y/N)," he says your name like it was a prayer. Such reverence in his worship. His lips are trailing down to your neck and the scriptures of adoration he places on your skin make your back arch into him.

"Satoru," he answers his name with a whisper of yours. He takes a nipple in his mouth, teeth catching to feel your chest try to escape it. He doesn't let it. He tongues at the scar you have, pressing kisses there and to the scar on your side, the scar on your hip, the one on your thigh, the one near your belly button...

"(Y/N)," he'd whisper every time he does.

Satoru is in between your legs but you don't want him there. He grunts as you pull on his forearm, a breath away from showing you his dedication to you but he doesn't complain because you're kissing him.

He likes kissing you.

Satoru moves his jaw up and down, you can barely catch up but that isn't without trying. The feeling of his undercut makes your hand move to grab his hair so you can breathe. His forehead is on yours and water drips from his bangs as he pants.

That endless void; it reflects only you.

"(Y/N)".

It's your name that leaves his lips.

"(Y/N)."

He's pleading for you.

"My beloved."

You're dear to him.

Your grip loosens and he relishes the way your soul burns as it goes down his throat.

When he's inside of you, you were certain you were going to die. Life has taught you plenty of lessons and one of them was that nothing good came without a price.

His cock split you open as gently as he could make it. It was tight. You were grateful for his fingers that stretched you despite how uncomfortable it had been at first. Tears still fall as you try your best to breathe, Satoru kisses them away. He's braced on his arms with you underneath him.

It takes all his strength not to pound into you. He's barely halfway in and all he wants is to stay inside you forever. You're squeezing and he inhales sharply, a breathless chuckle escaping him.

"Easy, you're gonna cut my dick off, baby," you sniffle in response. Satoru reaches to pump your cock and shushes you as you moan out his name.

"I'm right here, beloved."

"Satoru," he meets you halfway when you lean up. His heart clenches as he tastes your tears, saying nothing as you laugh in between the lip-locking. His hips move and you clutch onto him tighter.

"Oh fuck, 'Toru." He's there. Nestled in the space he had molded inside of you. Satoru is sheathed fully. You're convinced you're about to die as your chest grows heavier. He cradles your face in his hand, wiping that steady flow of tears as he thrusts in and out. You simply let him, gasping for air and mercy as your body hangs onto him.

"(Y/N), fuck, (Y/N)," his nose curls as his lust-lidded eyes drink you in.

"'To - Toru, Satoru." He can feel your nails digging into his back. It stings but fuck does it feel good.

"More. Nuh - Need more, 'Toru. Need — "He nods. You don't have to say it. You need him.

"Me too, (Y/N). You feel s'good, s'fuckin' good."

When his hips rattle yours, it's enough to have you sobbing.

"Love you so fucking much," he says. You don't have to say it back. Because your eyes betray you. They only reflect him and you're sure this is how you die.

"Satoru."

With his name on your lips.

"Please."

Begging for his mercy.

"Satoru."

You ____ him.

The clouds are strangely dark today. Earlier this morning, the reporter had babbled on and on about the clear blue skies and bright sunny day. Weather predictions weren't an exact science, Satoru knew that, but the sky was not cheery much less sunny.

It was baleful.

The Gojo clan's grounds were meticulously opulent. Preserved history in every shimmering roof tile and old ghosts whispering tales from the creaking wooden frames. The servants are dressed to the nines as well. They lower their gaze with such grace, Satoru wonders if they're robots.

"Satoru, you've come home."

His mother does not meet him at the entrance, nor anywhere else other than her office. It's a traditional room with an open floor plan, despite her aging body she prefers sitting cross-legged as she works or writes or draws or whatever it is she likes to do.

If the sharpness of ice could be personified, it was his mother. It was spine-shivering every time someone told him that he resembled her. Her hair was colder than his own, having an almost silver tone to it compared to his lilac. Her eyes were almond-shaped with delicate double eyelids that lifted up at the end, which resembled a cunning fox. Satoru knows his nose was from hers, his chin as well although his lips were passed from his fathers instead.

"Yes, I have."

Before her, on the short-legged table (which she had commissioned from a talented craftsman), were the signed divorce papers.

It'd only been a day. There was no surprise, if anyone was going to find out it would not be the head of the (L/N) clan.

It'd be his mother.

"Was he not good to you, Satoru?" The shadows swallow his visage as a cloud covers the sun. "It was a mutual decision," he says, "we both thought it'd be best."

"Because of Itadori Yuji's death?" his brows pinched together. A sigh escapes her. "If you feel so much for children, I wonder why you never had some of your own. Men like yourself can have bloodlines now through extraordinary science." "It wasn't because of young Itadori."

"Well, it'd better have been for a good reason then. This divorce will not reflect badly on you. I know why you settled for (L/N) (Y/N) despite his clan's reputation. However cruel it was, you told me yourself you'd take responsibility. I recall you using your power as head of the clan to strong-arm the decision despite much more powerful families offering their sons for you. This ' mutual ' decision will only have a consequence on (Y/N)."

She sniffles prudently.

"I quite like him as my in-law. His late mother was an honorable lady. I do not wish for her to haunt you for hurting her son."

"I cannot keep him against his will. He wishes to be free."

She scoffs at him. He does not need to lift his eyes to know how sharp her scrutiny is. The clan may have spoiled him with care and affection, but his mother had not. A hand was never raised and she never yelled, however, she ensured that her son was able to lead studiously.

"Free? Of you?" she places her temple against the knuckles of her fist. "Do you beat him? Are your words harsh and cruel? Do you rule your house with an iron fist like his impudent father?" Satoru shakes his head, frowning at the very suggestion.

"Mother, of course, I wouldn't — "

"Do you take him despite his protests? Force him to labor heedlessly to your whims? Is there a lustier boy waiting for you in a seedy hotel?"

"Gods, no! What do you take me for!?"

Her brows cover her double eyelids as she glares at him. "Then what is it that he wishes to be free from? If you are not mistreating him, if you treat him kindly, what is the freedom he seeks?"

"My informants tell me he had signed it before you did. They tell me that he had moved to a penthouse 4 months ago, mere days after Geto Suguru's death."

The light filters through that grey cloud. It highlights the upturned tip of her nose, her pink-dusted cheeks, and her lilac eyes. She was such a refined beauty, it was no wonder her son was too. But this made her look especially cruel as she stared him down.

"I took responsibility, I told him what my initial intentions of marrying him were," he says. "You idiot," she seethed. "He was a respectable man. A good man. A strong sorcerer with a cunningness his late mother had passed down to him and you chose a dead man?"

"You humiliate him, Satoru. The poor boy will be eaten alive by the gossip. Will you take responsibility for that too?"

"How are you doing, my love?"

Megumi raises from below the covers. The distinct sound of the windows rattling open makes him rub the sleep from his. He takes a breath, then says; "I'll be training with the second-year students today with Kugisaki." He hears you exhale and he can see the gentle grin you have on your face even with your back turned to him.

“Is she going easier on you?”

“No point in training if they’re going easier on you,” he mumbles. It makes you laugh while you settle next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Fair. You still haven’t answered my question, Megumi.”

The silence drones for a minute. Despite this, you can tell what races through his mind. Memories bursting with every blink and laughter echoing in his ears. All the things he should not have to know, all those precious moments ripped away from him.

“Does it ever get easier?” His cobalt gaze is especially heavy as they dance around the room.

“Losing someone?”

You stared at the wisps of steam that escaped the spout of the kettle on the kitchenette. Losing a comrade was a rite of passage for sorcerers. Through death, through betrayal, through this or that. For you, you supposed, it was a gentle albeit tedious loss.

The morning after that night had left you nauseous. Satoru was awake just as you woke, and both of you silently, rigidly, stayed in the embrace. His toned arms wrapped around your torso, nose pressed to the top of your head whilst your lips were mere inches away from his neck. His grip tightens as you squirm but ultimately he lets you go.

You couldn't bear it. That night of bittersweetness, of passion you've been craving for, of weepy love confessions and apologies. Not anymore. So you signed the papers despite the 8 months left and sent them to him.

It's Megumi who witnessed the death — according to the reports he'd been fighting with Sukuna Ryomen all by himself. That trait you know he got from Satoru, not the cockiness, but the self-sacrificing resolve. You hate Satoru for tainting Megumi with it, even if most would call it valor.

There is no honour in a child dying.

“Yeah,” Megumi inhales through his nose. It stings. Every inhale is a reminder of Yuji’s last.

“No, it doesn’t. It stays, shrinking or stretching sometimes but it remains.” He had hoped you’d say something else. Tell him that one day he’ll forget about it all. That this sinking feeling will fade away.

But you know he wouldn’t want that. He’d want to remember. No matter how painful. To keep Yuji’s spirit alive, he’d remember.

“It’ll get easier to carry it though, that much I can promise you.” Your arm slips over his shoulders and cradles his head. He is pliant as you pull him in, closing his eyes as your lips press on his temple.

“I loved him, dad."

Megumi stares stoically, eyes rimmed with red. Those words strain to escape his chewed lips. It quivers and as much as he tries to stiffen it, a cry escapes him.

Megumi knew his time with Yuji was limited, he told himself he was content with what they had. He was a lamb sent for slaughter and the butchers were the higher-ups whose orders he fulfilled. Megumi felt like a butcher. He feels Yuuji's blood drying on his hands, he can still feel the weight of his body on his back when he carried it.

He remembers how tightly he held him when Satoru tried to pull Yuuji away from him. How unwilling he was to part with the boy who didn't deserve any of this to happen to him. Megumi starts gasping, bowing his head as he presses the heel of his hand to his teary eyes.

"Oh, Megumi." He turns into you and weeps. Body racking with sobs as you comb through his hair, curling over him as he clutches at your torso.

"I'm here, Megumi."

Tokyo is dark by the time you reach your home.

The beeping of your intercom makes you pause.

Ice-cold water travels down your spine at the overwhelming aura that comes from the front door. Although you hope for it to be Kento, or even Satoru — hell, even his mother would be great — you know who waits for you beyond that door.

To deny him what he wants will just make this more painful. What greets you as you open your door is your father’s hulking frame. Steeling your expression, you widen the door. No entourage waits in the hallway. It was just him. He always dishes out his punishments that way. He says nothing about it. Closing the door felt strangely final; the soft click and thud blanketed the penthouse in silence.

As you turn, a fist connects to your jaw. The force has your skull bouncing off the wall, crumpling to the floor.

There was a monster in your house. Trapped with you as it grabs fistfuls of your hair. It drags you to the living room, lifting and then slamming you down on the glass coffee table. The wood breaks and the glass shatters but at least it lets you go. Taking a desperate lungful of air you lift your arms to protect your head but it lifts a mighty foot placing it right on your chest.

Your ribcage screams its protests. When your hands fly out to desperately push its weight off, it merely places its knee on your chest instead. The pressure has you gasping, and blood blurs the vision in your left eye which doesn't help the disorientation. He grabs at your neck and you swear you feel your ribcage concave as you desperately try to breathe.

"You worthless child!" The beast roars. Finding a purchase of broken wood, you imbue it with cursed energy and strike it above its knee. It yells, shifting its weight enough for you to push it back and away.

Your back presses against the balcony doors and your hands tremble as you bring it to your chest and face.

The monster snarls, baring its teeth at you as it stands.

It's funny how much bigger he looks right now. It's as if you've shrunk back to being a child when you stopped being one a decade ago. It was frightening how much fear your father put in you.

When Tsumiki and Megumi first met you, you were apprehensive about adopting them. You were a teenager, barely fit to take care of yourself, much less keep two children alive. You were certain that kids were never in your cards either.

The night Tsumiki and Megumi found themselves nodding off as you were huddled up together on the couch watching some stupid TV show was when you were struck with a moment of realization.

You could never imagine laying a hand on them. The very thought made you feel sick. You wanted to protect them, cherish them, love them. Loving them felt like the most natural thing in the world.

How could your father not feel the same for you?

"I gave you everything!" He growls, veins bulging across the back of his hands.

"You breathed your first breath because of me! I gave you life!"

"Get out of my house," the words are strangled and garbled. His eyes darken as he takes steps towards you. Not like Satoru's that night. No. His eyes are dark like the walls of that hellish room. They only reflect you but not because he cares for you; because he wants to kill you.

There's a sharp whistling sound that comes from over his shoulder. The glass door behind you shatters as shards of red crystals fly towards you. His innate ability was to control broken shards of glass, changing their shapes and imbuing them with cursed energy. Blood flows from your cheek and torso. The wound from your mission with Kento spills open with fury. Cold wind rushes in as your hips bump into the railings of your balcony. He looks warbled in your vision, painted crimson.

"You're nothing without me! I made our clan rise from the ashes. I saved it from shame as I gave you that tyrant of a husband! I prevailed. I sacrificed everything for it! What do I get in return for giving you this auspicious life?"

You bring your hands up and yell as the shards intently aim for your scars, intent on ripping them open.

"Humiliation! They denied me entry to high society. Me! Denied of my destiny because of my weak-willed son!" The neighbors are rushing to their balconies and out onto the hallways. They yell if you're alright, trying to catch a peek of the scene by holding out their phones and aiming it at you. They yelp as his crystals fly into the air, clearly shocked at the unusual phenomenon.

This beast. He had 10 years to make himself worthy enough to stand between those of "high society."

Is it your fault that high society never — and would never — accept him in the first place?

He reaps what you sow. That's the kind of man he is. His pride comes before all, your mother once said to you.

She knew sacrifice. You knew sacrifice.

He knows nothing, yet he spouts his ideologies so loudly, so defiantly, it is as though it is gospel.

What a foolish man.

"Where is your respect!? Your gratitude!? I gave you life, I'll take it just as easily, boy."

He was close enough to reach out and grab you. When he did, he quickly regretted it. Fire engulfed his fist, the flame dark as ink as it roared. He yells in pain but you don't let him pull away. Instead, you bring your hands to wrap around his wrist and keep it there. His flesh smells rotten as the fire melts the skin away, charred almost. It sizzles on your skin, leaving its mark as more and more fat renders and pulsates. Bubbling like a foul soup.

Pull as he might, you keep him there, glaring with blood in your eyes.

The hand that holds his wrist lets go as he falls to his knees, summoning his weak ability again. They cut and slice furiously, emboldened by his pain, but yours was greater. With him on his knees, your hands thrust through the fire and grab his face.

It hurts. Your skin screeches in pain as the flames eat away. It feels insignificant. Before you, kneeling, was the beast that played the role of your father.

He feels as though your grip would completely crush his jaw.

The hand on yours is beginning to show bone. You feel nothing. His vomit slips down your hand, lumps of tears as well, and he looks so pathetic, so utterly inhuman. The grinding of your teeth makes your temples feel as though it's about to burst.

"Here it is! Do you feel it!? " his nerves burn to nothing, the crisping sound of his eyelashes distracting him from your voice. "I asked you a question, boy!" The flame lashes out, crawling to his elbows, and he strains out a scream.

"Here is my sacrifice!"

The fingers gripping his cheek warm and the fear in his eyes sends shivers up your spine.

There. In your eyes. That cursed candle. Its flames roar. The heat causes the windows to burst into a million pieces, sharp shards flying around. He tries to summon his ability, windows bursting as he forms a large spear. It flies to pierce through your back but your flame is too hot.

Your eyes are dark. He sees himself in them.

Had he always looked so weak?

His glass spear melts and bursts. The sound causes the building to shake and the screams that follow make your grin widen. Flecks of orange embers swirl around the both of you.

"Savour every drop of it, father."

It's always too sterile. The walls, ceilings, floors. He threatens to slip on the wooden floorboards with every step. Satoru watches the black car drive away, jaw clenched as it grows smaller and smaller into the distance.

The (L/N)'s clan manor lacked warmth. Despite the open courtyards and shoji doors, the meticulously cared for trees and shrubbery. It felt plastic. A show put on for the sake of being presentable.

The servant bows, telling him you are awake and he follows her.

The room is bright, facing the inner courtyard with a windchime swaying calmly from the threshold. You're sitting up on a futon, staring out at the small bamboo spout water feature.

Satoru can't believe his eyes. Every inch of skin below your face was covered in white bandages.

"Master (L/N), presenting Gojo Satoru."

The title brings a smile to your face.

He wasn't dead, your father, he was elsewhere. Getting his wounds treated by the best of the best but most importantly, far away from you. If Satoru thought you looked like a walking gauze, he hasn't laid eyes on your father yet. According to your stepmother, he was wrapped from head to toe, resembling a mummy from Egpyt.

It serves him right. The bastard.

You inclined your head and she bows, that same swirl pattern greets you goodbye. Master (L/N). Head of your clan. The position was temporary seeing as your father was still alive but the very title made him uneasy. Satoru settles near the wall, observing the sight before him.

The night of your 'scuffle' with your father had been the same night he fought that one-eyed curse. He had sensed a chill in his bones but with the opponent (and teaching opportunity) before him, he elected to brush it off.

"Satoru, did you see my stepmother on your way out?" He squeezes his biceps, shifting his knees as he adjusts his crossed legs. It wasn't his fault he was born with elegant legs, it felt uncomfortable to sit this way but to point his feet at you was a disrespect he wouldn't toe.

"Yeah. She seemed like she was in a rush, your brother and sisters have grown."

Of course, she would run. Make a scene of it to show her fear. To say she was displeased at the news of your fight with your father was the understatement of the century. She had wasted no time in calling for a trial, pointing a hysterical finger your way, and screaming that you did this to be called the head of the clan.

A quick mention of how your siblings lacked any resemblance to your father but an uncanny one with his trusted servant made her very tight-lipped.

"The higher-ups aren't pleased with the fiasco?" you inquire.

"What d'you think?" Satoru says dryly.

The entire population of the building had to have their phones wiped, memories too, and paid a huge sum in repairs due to your powers.

Apparently, people had thought there was a fire-breathing dragon that appeared in Tokyo.

Facing the garden, you pull the covers away. Crimson seeps through the white, like blood-tainting snow. Satoru is dressed in black pants and a white shirt, his bomber jacket was the same one you'd picked out for him some time ago.

This familiarity is not lost on him. The look in your eyes, that faraway gaze and twitching of your lips. When your mother had passed, you seemed lost but at this very moment it was as though the answer was right before you, that mishappen vision of your destiny a hair away from you.

Suguru had that same look.

"They whisper about you now," you giggle out as he takes his glasses, folding them in his lap. "They always do," he tries not to sound cocky but it's interwoven with every word.

"No. Satoru. They whisper about your curse," you wiggle your toes and stifle a grimace as the cut on your foot stings in protest. "Geto Suguru who killed his parents and (L/N) (Y/N) who nearly burned his father alive."

"They think you made us insane."

"I need reassurance." A laugh spills from your lips. He watches you curl your knees and place your elbows on them with your forehead braced on your knuckles as you give him your full attention. The sun glowed from behind you. The light does not reach your face.

"I'm not crazy, Satoru." His eyes meet yours and your smile slips away.

"I need reassurance that you won't go the same path Geto Suguru did."

"I don't resent non-sorcerers," you say curtly. "Don't play dumb." Satoru's neck is littered with traces of you. Akin to a collar. "Did the higher-ups ask you to execute me, Satoru? Do they wish to incite war on the (Y/N) clan?"

' My, you took to your role quickly, ' Satoru thinks.

"They worry that the new head of the (L/N) clan took his title with force."

"Not all of us were born with such legendary curse techniques. Is that a crime?"

Satoru's grip causes spiderwebs to appear on his glasses. "Do not be obtuse, (Y/N). You know what is implied. You've played this polite game of veiled threats and boasting for years. You know what they ask and you know what I ask."

"I don't." Shades of red bloom underneath your bandages. If Satoru concentrates enough, he could hear how the gauze seeps it and how your stitches strain as you straighten your back.

"Speak plainly."

"(Y/N)," your glare silences him.

"Speak plainly, Gojo Satoru."

Red-veined roots wrap around his throat. That precious willow tree was smoking, sparks of embers bursting from the center as it creaked and moaned. Its branches gnarled, its flowers leaving nothing but ashes.

"If the Grade 1 sorcerers weren't called to stop the fight, would you have killed him?"

The windchimes sing gently. Water gently flows from one end of the bamboo spout to the other. The birds chirp, the clouds move, and the world continues its song and dance.

Satoru's ears feel like someone has stuffed cotton in them. He makes sense of the words you speak by reading your lips, he hopes you're jesting so he looks into your eyes.

The windchimes still.

The shoji doors slide open and the same servant greets you.

"You have visitors, Master (L/N). A man named Nanami Kento and a woman named Shoko Ieiri. They've come with Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara as well."

"Please, send them in and escort Gojo Satoru to his car."

She stands, waiting for Satoru to do the same as his glasses threaten to shatter in his hand.

"Do not do this to me, my beloved."

"Have you ever loved me? Truly?"

His indignation fuels you with sick fascination. The corpse of Suguru grins, his cracked lips pressed to the junction of your neck as he praises you.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"Then give me the same grace you gave our beloved Suguru. Leave me and cast your gaze aside. If you truly love me, husband. Grant me this final wish."

He whips his head to the side, reaching forward and grabbing the back of your head. It aches. Every shredded muscle and rattled bones, bruised organs and cut skin.

But he holds you against him. His lips taint yours.

Suguru chuckles coyly.

"Please." His forehead is pressed against yours, and you can feel it, that raised scar.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, don't do this."

"Satoru," Suguru whispers it along with you. His tears almost taste sweet as they slip down his cheeks and land on your lips. That ghost, the one that drapes itself on your back with his bony ribs and dirt-covered gojogesa, his smile graces your face as Satoru's heart dies once again.

"Fuck off."

"Is it strange?" Megumi quirks a brow at you from across the table. You set down a plate of cut-up fruits, stealing an apple for yourself before you sit.

"Finding out he's alive 2 months later."

The expression on his face makes you struggle to hold in your laughter. You've never said it out loud but Megumi looked like a prickly sea urchin every time he was pissed off and now he was pricklier than ever.

"I wanted to pummel Gojo to the ground. Yuji too." He stabs into an apple and the loud, angry, chewing makes you giggle. His brows pinch as you grimace but you tell him not to worry.

The dining room is unmistakably grand. Feeling far too empty. Megumi much preferred your old penthouse. This manor was far too big, far too pretentious. Which wasn't a slight on your clan, just their tastes in design.

"Did he really never tell you?" he narrows his eyes.

"We haven't talked much," you reply. Megumi finds that hard to believe. You were both teachers at Jujutsu High, so interactions were unavoidable. Everyone has seen you and Satoru side by side, talking to each other about this or that. No matter how short or icy the interaction was...it was still something.

Formalities were still shared, and Satoru's crass behavior softened just as his voice does when he talks to you.

There must be some lingering awkwardness, Megumi is not naive to think that there wouldn't be. But, it was clear that there was still some affection Satoru held for you. It was almost jarring to see how blatantly you ignored it when once upon a time, you’d been silently blushing at his efforts. Megumi wondered if the two of you had yelled at each other again. He hoped that was not the case. Your relationship was far from perfect but...it wasn't as though Gojo did not deserve your bitterness.

"Is it because you're seeing Mr Nanami?" Sweetness slips down the fork and you hand him a tissue. “Is this like those shitty TV shows?”

The idea of this being a revenge arc against your ex-husband was humorous. Kento was far from the plotting type. He may be annoyed by Satoru but he wasn’t a man who would intertwine his hands with another for the sake of hurting someone.

“Haha,” you said dryly. “Finish up your homework, I’ll drive you back to school.”

Megumi doesn’t pout. At least he think he doesn’t.

He does.

He pouts as you walk out from the room.

Megumi continues to pout even in the car ride back to the dorms. You’re watching from the corner of your eyes, lips curled in endearment.

“Do you like Mr Nanami?” He blinks at the question, turning his head to look at you. Megumi crosses his arms, pout dissipating into a thin line.

“I don’t know him, but from what Yuji tells me, he is a very reliable man.”

“He is,” you continue to gaze out the window, ignoring the itchiness of the healing wounds. The only solace in this pain is that your father’s was greater. Still comatose, skin still peeling as the heat lingers in his bones.

Saying this out loud would make the crows that follow your every movement very rich though.

“In some ways, he reminds me of you. Both of you have a stoic expression, so mature-looking. Mr Nanamin is 27, so it suits him. But you, my beautiful son, — “

Megumi grunts as you poke his forehead.

“ — you are only 15. Stop frowning!” He yells in protest as you stretch his cheeks, frowns only deepening as he tries to escape your grasp.

Yuji waits in the hallways. Megumi and you pause in your steps and Yuji’s eyes widen as he opens his mouth.

“Mr (Y/N)!”

Mirth swims in your eyes. “Itadori, did you need something?” He scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks blush. How cute. Young love was such a sight to behold.

“Isn’t it?” Suguru sighs. “In the same halls, we used to walk through too, (Y/N).”

“No! Ah, just, I heard footsteps so I thought I could hang out with Fushiguro for a little.” You push Megumi not to subtly towards his room/Yuji.

“He’s all yours,” your cooing tints Megumi’s ears pink. He mumbles he wants to wash up first and Yuji just seems excited he didn’t turn down his offer. “Don’t stay up too late, Itadori. Classes are bright and early tomorrow,” he salutes you and the bright smile he has is so contagious you grin as well.

The eye on his cheek split open to take a glimpse.

As you turn, it slips close.

Kento waits for you at the house. He smells like petrichor and as you get closer there’s the distinctly sharp taste of lightning-struck earth. You burrow your face in the crisp white shirt he wears, and he smiles. You can tell even without looking. He always huffs in amusement before he smiles.

“Did you have a good day?” You shrug your shoulders and he slips his hands around you. Those strong arms squeeze you, molding you to his frame. “Did you?” He makes a noise, something between a hum and a grunt and you peek up at him.

Kento visited you frequently during your recovery. He sent you to school during your first days back, then he sent your favourite foods during your lunch and they turned into flowers.

His shy courting was anything but. Kento pursued you with a hunter's grace but a priest's devotion.

Could anyone blame you for accepting his attempts? He made your heart flutter, swoon and race. For the first time in your life, someone was sending you flowers in hopes of you paying attention to them. Kento fed you while you healed and the same day you find out that his eyes do soften when he kissed.

People whisper about how quickly you brought Kento home. Infidelity, they say. Hah! What a load of bullshit. A servant must’ve opened her mouth, one whose loyalties still laid with your stepmother.

How unlucky was it that her home had been burnt down the very day she was fired?

You wrote her your condolences. She begged for your forgiveness.

Kento doesn’t know this. You’re determined for it to remain that way.

“Today was nothing special. Tonight is a different story,” your brows raise at his flustered gaze. “I made reservations for us.”

There it goes again, your heart swoons. Kento tilts his head into your palm and you wonder what your life would have been like if you had noticed his gaze back then.

After that kiss, after knowing that he returned your feelings and only spoke of his interest in a baker because of your marriage, he confessed how he’d been smitten with you the longer that school year passed.

“You were training hand-to-hand with Geto,” he whispers to you, as if shy to confess this. You’re sat with the covers a mess at your legs and the food on the tray forgotten. He’s flustered? He kissed you silly mere seconds ago while you were wrapped up with bandages. The scent of healing ointments practically radiated from you. He was so put together and you’d been going through your clan's financial statements since 3 am.

Kento remembers it like it was yesterday. The way you lifted yourself up into the air, your leg was a blur as you spun. Tendrils of your hair caught the gleam of the sun and it glowed like vinyl. The ringing laughter that followed as Suguru dodged made his heart squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be working on your close combat skills, Su-Su!”

“Quit aiming for my head, (nickname)!” Suguru dashes towards you and you yelp as he catches your middle but the shock wears off. Suguru grunts when you press your palms down on his shoulders and dig your heels into the ground before kicking off, pushing Suguru down.

“Go, (nickname)!” Yū cheers beside Kento. He rolls on top of you, smiling victoriously until your legs wrap around his waist and twist.

“Oi, S’guru! I bet money on you!” Satoru waved his fist around while Shoko curled her fingers expectantly his way.

Kento can’t believe you’re real. Your smile is so wide he can see your gums, the sweat that beads down your skin makes you glimmer like a gem and despite the dirt on your skin Kento can’t fathom it to be a smudge or mistake.

Because everything about you seemed deliberately made. The blood and flesh of those before you must have loved each other so greatly to bless you with such a face. He wonders if, in the future, they’ll find traces of him in your bloodline.

Fire in the wind. Wild and free and untameable.

“You win, you win!” Suguru goes limp and you giggle. Rolling off of him, you lay down on the grass as he spreads his arms out like a starfish. You cushion your head on it and spot the bruise on his neck that peaks out from his unzipped jacket.

“Su-Su, you’re not holding back, are you?” you turn your gaze to the sky. He’d be a Special-grade sorcerer with no problem. His ability was insanely useful, and flexible - a trump deck of a technique. If he exceeded in close combat, that grade would be his with no ifs or buts.

The strongest.

Suguru blinks once, and twice, then offers a warm smile.

“Give yourself more credit, (nickname). You totally beat my ass.”

“You‘re amazing,” Kento tells you as the memory fades away. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was content with watching from the sidelines,” your finger presses to his lips and Kento’s eyes widen. It slides across his bottom lip before it travels below his jaw and ear and you’re leaning in.

“A reservation?” Your eyes twinkle. It would explain why he was dressed so nicely. It must not be the fanciest place since he wasn’t dressed in a suit and tie but the watch he wears hints at luxury nonetheless.

“Go, get ready,” he tells you in that gentle tone that makes his voice go so deep. Everything about Kento’s actions felt so intimate. You would think he’d be reserved, wanting to go slow as to be proper. In your world, death is a guillotine blade that’s dug into your neck over and over again.

Kento can be courteous but to assume he would go slow was not likely. He knows you, (Y/N). From those times in high school to the fleeting glances of you during meetings and the mission you went on; he sees you.

Perhaps it’s just the way sorcerers will always love each other.

The way Suguru loved Satoru. The way Megumi loves Yuuji. The way you loved Satoru. The way Satoru loves you.

None of you were made for casual affection. Everything and everyone that falls for wicked beings like you find themselves with deep marks embedded in their shoulders, arms, and neck; desperate hounds begging for their man to not leave them but unable to pull their teeth out.

So Kento grips you and kisses you with a heavy weight of relief and you return it.

The Gods have taken too much from you. Kento will not be one of those things they rip away from your fingers - no, not him.

“‘Atta boy,” Suguru’s decaying arms circle your waist as you walk the halls of the house. When you shed your clothes to clean yourself, Suguru sits on the edge of the bathtub. The humidity makes him look paler and his eyes more bloodshot.

“You deserve someone like him. A good man to fill that cavernous void. Kento’s always been hiding his flustered face every time you walk past him,” Suguru moves his hands around as he talks. You don’t remember him being so chatty but as of late, this apparition keeps the voices in your head quiet. He makes sure you’re not alone.

Your father must’ve knocked your head hard enough for some screws to come loose but you find it hard to care.

“Cavernous?” you mumble. Suguru pauses then leans back a bit. His hair swaying as he does so.

“Do you think it’s enough? Being loved after everything you’ve been through, is that enough for you?”

“...Was it enough for you? In your final moments, was it enough?”

What would this Suguru know about his final moments? He wasn’t real, he never had been. He’s just a manifestation of your hurt, a coping mechanism your brain conjured for some hellish reason.

“I died by Satoru’s hand and then, died in his embrace. What could be more poetic than that?”

You died in Satoru’s arms too. That night he took you as his husband. The weeping, the love confessions, the moaning. Your heart was racing in your chest as he thrust into you, his face nearly scarlet as he kissed you.

The heat that pools between your legs makes Suguru guffaw.

He dips his hand in and traces your thighs.

“Kento’s hands are rougher than ‘Toru’s. Fingers thick and finger pads sanded with hard work. Everything you taught him as his upperclassman he still uses today.”

Shuddering, you slip your knees apart. Suguru takes a hold of your cock.

“You’ve always had the best legs, ya’ know. So strong, even your punches hurt like hell."

You lean back, eyes lidded with pleasure as Suguru pumps his fist. The water spills over the side as he slips in with you, his hair acting like curtains as he peers down at you. His slanted eyes and those onyx eyes make you feel powerless against his desires.

"He'd be so sincere with you. Every thrust," a gasp makes him chuckle darkly. "Every stroke," you moan and grip the sleeves of his robe. "Every kiss," his lips trace the bridge of your nose.

"S'guru..."

"A testament to his adoration for you. He'd worship you, (nickname). But will that be enough? His skin on yours? Is his heart in your hands instead of the other way around exciting? Will that finally fill this void?"

Your spine arches and your knees bump into the edge of the bathtub. Suguru's breath feels like a hurricane as he kisses the side of your jaw, his fist damn near merciless.

"Will you accept his sacrifice, (nickname)?"

When you come, you squeeze your eyes shut. The floor is slick with water and steam makes everything fuzzier than it needs to be. As you lift your hand from beneath the water, you grimace at the sight.

How shameful.

You settle the bath by yourself, the servants didn't need to see more than they've already heard.

Kento is waiting by his car when you step out. He drinks in the sight of you, unable to stop himself from kissing you as you come close. As usual, he opens the door for you, and you stroke the cream-coloured leather seats of his Mercedes Benz.

"Ready, (Y/N)?" He reaches over to hold your hand and you bring it to your lips before he can. He can feel the softness of your lips, the slight gloss that sticks to his skin that makes his crotch tighter than his pants liked.

"Ready, Mr Nanami." Kento chuckles, squeezing your shameful hand and bringing it to his lips next.

Suguru sits in the backseat, his dark eyes keeping themselves glued on you. You see him in reflections, in puddles, in every monotone face that walks past.

As Kento settles you on his lap, his thick cock making you feel stars and heaven itself, Suguru is still watching.

"Ken, I - "

Kento sinks his teeth into your neck and you groan. His hands are big and rough, just like Suguru said they'd be. They grope and squeeze and bruise. He grabs a handful of each cheek and your thighs are thankful for it. Kento lifts you so effortlessly it makes your desire feel unquenchable.

His strength doesn't surprise you. The gym in his apartment complex was one he frequented. If he didn't want to mingle, he had a dedicated room for working out in his home. You've seen the weights he has, how interesting was it that they were the same weight as you, (Y/N).

"(Y/N), does that feel good?" You squeeze the tip of his cockhead in reply and sink down on him to cement it. His cock keeps kissing your prostate, the drag of his dick makes you want to be keen and whine.

His hair looked good when it was dishevelled, which makes his jaw sharper and his nose makes you want to grind on it. Kento shifts and moves to lay you down on his pillows. Your legs wrap around his waist and twist.

The aching muscles hiss in protest but the lust that flows through you overcomes it.

"(Y/N)..."

Kento tries to sit up but your hands on his chest keep him down.

"(Y/N)".

"Kento."

Suguru traces his jaw and it's no surprise Kento does not react. He grips at your waist, whispering your name again. You pin his arms next to his head and Kento's eyes widen.

There it is. That darkness that takes over that molten brown. It only reflects you. Suguru is peering over your shoulder, his hands circling your neck as his dark tongue licks your cheek.

"You want what I want, Ken," you murmur against his lips. "To come undone by each other's hands, to devour each other, to be one."

"Yes," he breathes out. "Then let me feel you like this," you brought his hands to your waist once again, and he planted his heels into his mattress.

"I want to see you unravel under me, Kento. I want to see you, all of you, just as you do."

He nods and you grant him a kiss, allowing your tongues to dance.

"Do you intend to keep following me forever?"

Kento's balcony is unexpectedly warm. You can smell the breakfast he's making as you nurse your cup of tea. For your throat, he tells you.

How pervertedly kind.

The crow tilts its head and you narrow your eyes at it. "They must've paid a heavy sum. Or was it my stepmother?" It flaps its wings, preening the under feathers. Lifting your hand, you press your pointer and middle finger together. It squawks, hopping as it flaps its wings again.

"I'll pay you more to leave me alone. My ex-husband has left a hefty fortune for me. If this persists, I won't hesitate to wipe the floor with you, Mei-Mei."

The crow squawks again but turns its head to leave.

A crisping feather floats gently down onto the floor of the balcony. By the time Kento walks over to place the tray of food down on the table, it turns to nothing but ash in the wind.

"You spoil me," your legs are over his lap and he brings those hands to massage them. "You spoiled me," he answers. "Just showing my appreciation."

A group of crows flies past but Kento is cutting up your food and moving to feed you. Your cheeks burn, you open your mouth and Kento's gentle grin makes your heart race.

"I don't recall him having a temper, are the rumours true?"

Mei-Mei had better things to do. Her time was worth more than stalking someone's ex-lover. However, the head of the Gojo clan was a generous man. How could she refuse?

"Do you truly make them go insane?" He can hear her smile from over the phone. "He attacked you?" Satoru rolls his ring over his knuckles and between his fingers. The classroom was empty as the students trained on the field.

"He's committed arson against a servant who was trading secrets with Lady (L/N) and now he's burned a crow into nothing but dust. He even offered to pay more than you have. What a lucky man he is to have divorced from an endless fountain of wealth."

"Yeah? Maybe you should try that instead of chasing after green."

"Careful, Gojo. I still have my pride."

He places the ring on his palm, curling his fingers over it.

"Kento and him make a handsome couple. I almost feel jealous." Satoru would be stupid to believe Mei-Mei trusted that this stalking was him feeling possessive. She wasn't an idiot. He was concerned about you. Your grandiose act of nearly burning your father alive was the talk of the town.

The evidence of it being self-defense was backed up by the cameras in your home (the ones that hadn't melted anyway).

But it was too convenient.

Satoru is a man who is filled with memories. As careless and crass as he portrays himself as, he's sentimental. He slips a hand into his pocket and your ring is accompanied by Suguru's button.

The cameras were damaged enough to make it out as if it was just saved by fate. But Satoru knows your flames better than most. It burns everything. Devours with a hunger that no beast could compete with. It's indiscriminate. Which is why your aim is immaculate.

If it hadn't melted, you wouldn't be as free as you are now. Even in your rage and fear, you were careful to ensure your longevity.

"I'm sure you do."

"The divorce barely made a dent?"

"You already know the answer to that. Make sure he doesn't suspect me, I'll pay double."

"And if he faces me?"

Satoru grits his teeth together.

"Run."

Kiyotaka waits for him at the front of the school, that usual sour-puckered face and obscene politeness manages to elicit a grin from Satoru. The drive to the house on the hill is filled with silence, which is for the best seeing as how tightly wound he was.

Kiyotaka knew divorce could put people on edge but seeing Satoru’s fists tremble on his lap, knuckles nearly turning bone white and all, terrified him.

The gates are opened after Satoru rolls down his windows. He should ask why they were here but his instincts knew better.

“I’ll be out in an hour or so. You don’t mind waiting, do ya’?”

“Of course not, Mr Gojo.”

He smiles, giving Kiyotaka a firm squeeze on his shoulder before walking inside the modern home. Its grey colours looked atrocious against the vibrant greens of nature. Ah, Satoru was glad you had better tastes compared to the rest of your family.

Your stepmother waits for him in the living room. The carpet before her is littered with toys of all sorts. The youngest of the family takes a liking to smash some toy cars together while the others were most likely tended to by their governess.

“Mr Gojo,” she stands with a certain air of grace that prickles his skin. He nods politely her way.

"Is he doing better today?" The machines that they've hooked him to made him resemble a sick science experiment. Perhaps it's poetic justice from his late wife. The curtains were drawn and the only light was dim to ensure his skin wasn't exposed to any more unnecessary heat. There were talisman papers pasted on the walls and ceilings which Satoru thinks is entirely too much.

"Have you..."

The exposed split of bandages reveals nothing more than charred flesh and peeling skin. A hint of bone and muscle too that help him speak. Satoru ignores the hazmat suits, stepping through the heavy plastic curtains. His infinity wouldn't bring any harmful germs into this room, never had so far too.

"Leave." His wife commands in that shrill voice.

The doctors and attendants bow deeply and the door closes behind her. She sits close to the wall, outside the curtain.

"Have I?" There's writing on the bandages. Sutras are written in some sort of special ink that emits curse energy.

"killed (Y/N)." He sighs, crossing his arms as he spreads his legs.

"My son-in-law — " It might be cruel to tune out the words of a man who's half-dead, but Satoru cannot believe he's spouting this again. A part of him wished you had burnt through his throat. Satoru sighs loudly, tossing his head back and scrunching his face.

"Old man, the divorce papers have been signed. I haven't been your son-in-law in a whole month."

Between this and your increasingly violent tendencies that Mei-Mei keeps reporting back, those curses spirits working together popping up, Itadori Yuji's attempted assassination (and the mysterious way he rose from the dead...) — Satoru was in no mood.

He does not agree with your decision to commit attempted murder. But make no mistake, he fully believed the bastard deserved it.

"You keep telling me to kill him. I shouldn't have to say this, but you do know in the decade Geto Suguru was gallivanting around, I did nothing because he was dear to me. (Y/N) is dear to me. I'll wait 50 fucking decades before I lay a hand on him."

"You dare curse at my lord husband?" Satoru glances at her from over his shoulder. That distorted reflection makes her look more attractive than she actually is. "Lord of what? Gauze and morphine? If we're doing a dick-measuring contest, I win. Sit down. Your voice is annoying."

She sputters, mouth opening again. So Satoru tilts his head, flexing his fingers as he clicks his tongue.

"Woman." The ' lord ' croaks out. She watches him raise a hand, shaky fingers flicking outwards and Satoru swears steam nearly shoots out from her ears. The door has a soft-close feature which makes her attempt at slamming it void but it brings a smile to Satoru's face.

"The rumours, of my clan."

Now that was far more interesting for Satoru. His silence is a prompt for the man to continue. A sharp intake of breath comes in quick twos and threes as his bandaged hands squeeze the trigger for the drip of morphine.

Then his shoulders sink into the mattress and he speaks.

"The Binding Vow we've broken. The karma we faced since then...I think, I fear, I..."

Satoru feels his ring heat up against his sternum, so he leans forward and it's cradled by the button of his shirt.

"I fear he's paid the price, wholly, his self-righteous pain...he's balanced the scales..."

"I messed up."

The chattering of the skulls at least fills silence. Satoru can see why it'll quickly become a nuisance that will make his ears shrivel in disdain but for now, he finds it better than nothing. Whatever it is underneath him pokes him and shifts against his clothes.

Slipping a digit under the rim of his blindfold, Satoru tugs on it and exhales through his nose.

"Things are not looking good."

"Yo, Satoru."

The weight of the blindfold rests over his eyelids and Satoru sinks into the mass below him.

"I'd kill him a thousand times if I could, Satoru."

' Would you really, my beloved? ' Satoru's lips twitch into a grin. No, you wouldn't. Maybe in the moment, that night fuelled by fear and anger. The morning after when your pain still pulsed under ripped-open skin; but he knew you, his beloved, his darling friend; his (Y/N). Your father was nothing but a frail man who knew nothing of what he spoke of.

You'd be safe, protected, and cared for regardless of who you lay with or whose heart you hold. Kento be damned. You were his first and his always. Suguru's corpse was a jarring sight. A painful one too. He'd bury him properly, his love for him will join him in that new grave. His love for you will haunt him for as long as you walk this earth.

He unbuttons his outerwear, tugging on the silver chain until he unclasps it. The blue gem twinkles sweetly his way and he slips it on his finger where his skin all but sighs in comfort.

"Well, there'll always be a way. I'm counting on you, everyone." "Sealed...?"

Kento moves forward and you stare at his frame as he does. Megumi's head swivels to follow him and Ino's as well, they walk in step with him but you stand there in shock.

"Move," Suguru whispers to you. The joints of his fingers dig into your back as his hair curtains your peripheral field of vision. "(Y/N). Move."

"(Y/N)?" Ino's voice causes the group to pause. Their eyes are expectant. Megumi wonders why he cannot pinpoint the flickering emotions on your face while Kento's gaze takes note of your trembling hands.

"NA-NA-MIN!"

His touch shocks cause your pupils to jitter into focus. Kento says nothing, simply squeezing your forearm as he whispers your name.

"If they sealed him, our top priority will be undoing that."

"You know this, (nickname)," Suguru bites, the click of his teeth sending shivers down your spine. "(Y/N) — " You move past Kento, curling your fingers into fists and feeling Suguru thread him through yours.

"Let's be quick about it then."

This feeling...

"It's like that day," Suguru croaks, "the day he died. Your heart is beating so fast. Do you still ____ him, (Y/N)? Do you truly?"

"Why is he off limits?" Geto does that serene smile that makes Jogo simmer in annoyance. "Jogo, you can't kill everyone you see in battle. There's some grace in keeping a certain few alive."

"Will he be used as a hostage to make Gojo Satoru fall in despair?" his words humour Geto, truly amuses him. Mahito lifts his head from the ground, leaning on the heels of his hand as he peers at the two of them.

"Man, Jogo. You really are wicked," Geto peers at the shimmering scales of the curses that lurk within the waters.

"He's not for Gojo Satoru's imprisonment."

"Don't keep us in the dark, Geto," Mahito voices out Jogo's thoughts, his mismatched eyes impatient.

"Gojo (Y/N) is for..."

You yell as the eel tightens its body around you, digging your heels into the sand as Dagon summons it to themselves. The force of it makes your back bow and no amount of strength could stop it. Dagon holds the back of your skull and you hear Megumi yell out for you.

"(Y/N)!" Kento takes several steps forward and Maki grits her teeth.

Naobito focuses his gaze on their escape, knowing that they would be able to help the poor fool if they were outside of the domain.

But then.

"That man — " Dagon pulls you to its chest and your eyes widen as Fushiguro Toji appears before you. His eyes, it must be some sort of sorcery cast, a trick, a body double. Your fear recognizes you. He shifts his gaze to meet yours and there's a smirk on his face.

"Still alive, are you, freak?" The cursed weapon in his hand rattles in the air and then straightens. He aims it right at you and you brace yourself for the pain.

Dagon blocks it at the cost of its hand.

' It's protecting me!? ' You grunt at the blood that sprays onto your face and into your mouth, coughing as Dagon tries to fight Toji.

"Hah? Did you leave your husband for this thing?" The eel that held you disappeared into nothing after the barrage of hits he had laid out. Dagon tries to grab you but you engulf your fists into flames and spin to punch its face. Dagon does not let you escape but Toji is running toward you again so you plant your heel into its head, kicking off from its chest to fall right into the waters.

Kento catches you in his arms, and the tension of the surface breaks with monstrous sea beasts that try to land a hit on Toji. With his arms occupied, he relies on you to deter them as he makes his way back to Megumi's simple domain.

Megumi —

You stare at him as he asks you if you're alright.

Megumi, you should tell him who this man was. You should —

Dagon is exorcised.

The ground beneath you disappears. It takes a second too long for you to catch your bearings. Brain rattled and breathe knocked out of you as peel yourself off the ground. Kento, Maki, Naobito —

"Megumi!?" Kento helps you up and you take a step forward to follow the sounds of destruction but the air grows thick.

Satoru was never an artist. The horrendous rendition of the curses that attacked him the same night your father had looked as though it'd been drawn by kindergartners. But it was unmistakably him.

The disaster curse. Bald and one-eyed.

His fire makes the water on your skin steam into the air. He removes Naobito, and you move to protect Maki by getting between them. Barely in time, she still crumples to the floor but she would live if taken to Shoko quick enough. His eye widens as you stand unscathed, your clothes flaking off like snow as your skin reddens and steams.

"Gojo (Y/N)."

"Divine Flame."

He lifts his hand just as you do.

"Do not let him use his curse technique, Jogo. He's not as strong as Satoru, but you'll thank me," Geto's voice coos.

"God's Bl — "

"Kuantan?" he sets down the rest of the breakfast he made. His home is as neat and crisp as he is — though there are still traces of himself. His hopes especially. The mountain of books, the pamphlets about Malaysia here and there. If you peered into his room, Kento had even laid out a few notes of plans he hoped to fulfill. It was as if he was waiting for the perfect moment, lying in wait.

"The beaches are nice. The food as well," he sits across from you and pauses as you pat the spot next to you. Endeared, Kento settles where you ask. "Perhaps after Megumi graduates to a second year," he stays silent for a moment and watches you eat.

"...Would you resent me for not marrying you until I retire?"

You pause mid-chew, blinking at him for a moment. Then you turn your gaze on the plate, eyes trailing after the dew drop of water on the lettuce.

"I won't if you do not regret marrying someone from a sorcerer clan."

He pinches the lobe of your ear gently, tracing the shell with so much fondness he chuckles as it warms under his touch. It was damn near perverted how he did it — your heart races as he turns your face his way.

"I could never regret being yours, (Y/N)."

That memory burst into flames. His house, his books, his hopes, and his dreams. Jogo stands there in the ashes and he smiles at you with those blackened teeth.

"(nickname)," Suguru whispers. Your trembling hands stiffen as he strokes the insides of your wrists, his empty gaze reflecting you as he stands in front of you. "Balance the scales."

"Gojo (Y/N)!" Jogo exclaims proudly. "Y — !"

Jogo barely had time to react to your kick. Bursting through windows and walls. He digs his fingers into the floor and just as he lifts his head he sees your shadowed face. Your pupils were nothing but a speck of (E/C) on white as smoke slithers between your lips.

"Divine Flame — "

A spear pierces through your stomach. Jogo covers his eye just in time before your blood splatters on it. Breathing through your nose, you grasp at the crimson-soaked spear, eyes widening as you take in the details of it.

"Impossible," you turn to look and it's there. Satoru had let you name it this time, among the Fredericks and other silly names he dubbed Suguru's curses as this one was the one you named.

"Togatta?" It does not give any sign of recognition but there was no mistake.

Jogo's fist makes contact with your chest and you choke, coughing up spit and blood before he lands a final blow on the back of your neck.

The puddle of blood grows next to him. Those stupid girls, demanding things of Ryomen Sukuna, threatened to fight him with no plan nor strength. Humans were really something else.

Jogo waits for Ryomen to ask and then and only then he tells him he didn't want anything but Ryomen's freedom. Sukuna's crimson eyes take interest in the cursed object Jogo has slung around his neck; a dark shard of glass that pulses a steadily beating blue within it.

"Ten fingers and what's mine?" He looked beyond pleased.

"You've outdone yourselves." Jogo gulps, unbinding the rope around his neck and using both hands to present it to Sukuna. He takes it after a particularly gentle stroke of the sharp edges, then places it in his pockets.

"Ryomen Sukuna?" Geto nods assuredly. The rolling waves melting into the sand give leeway for Jogo and Mahito to process his words. What could Ryomen Sukuna find useful in Gojo (Y/N)? He was a Grade 1 sorcerer but he was not like his husband.

"His family line, the (L/N) clan, is a disgraced one. All the men are weak, all the women dimwitted and the children cursed. Sorcerer society looks at them in disdain, calling them desperate and thieving. It was the child from the (L/N) clan that made it possible for Ryomen Sukuna to be sealed. A son with a curse technique so strong and a face so beautiful, Ryomen Sukuna took him as his property. He had forced the boy into a Binding Vow — one the boy broke to defeat Ryomen Sukuna."

"It left the clan with nothing but shame. The Gods inflict karma on generations to come even if the Vow was wicked beyond belief. Sorcerer society rejected them and curled their noses at the clan that saved them from extinction. I still remember that boy's face."

Geto chuckles, leaning back in his seat as he closes his eyes.

"Mahito, do you think a soul ever comes back in a new body?"

Reincarnation or divine coincidence.

Jogo does not ponder on the question. All he knows is that giving Sukuna an ancestor of the boy whom he favoured, whom he made into a treasured concubine, pleased him.

"This is your reward for the fingers. Come at me. If you manage to land even a single blow on me, I'll work under you all."

Megumi is still leaning against the shutter doors. The shinigami he released, it's a beast that Sukuna had never had the pleasure of seeing before he was locked away. Placing his hand over Megumi's chest, he heals the wounds to ensure Megumi is no longer on the precipice of death and darts his eyes toward the rope that sticks out from his pockets.

He slips the shard into Megumi's hand, recalling how fond you were of the boy. How perfect. This world — this era, truly was made for him. Everything would be his. Men, women, and children — all for him to devour indiscriminately.

With Uraume and (Y/N) with him, this age of haughty sorcerers with abilities he'd never seen, ah. His mouth waters from the very thought. Once he obtains Fushiguro Megumi's body. Once you submit to him. Once he kills Gojo Satoru. Once he destroys Itadori Yuji into nothing.

"Na..."

The sight before him, it made his stomach twist into knots again and again and again...

Kento sees himself in Yū's eyes, he points to Yuji and Kento can't bring himself to say anything to the boy.

"Nanamin..."

The nickname makes his heart squeeze in relief. That youth that he wants to protect, is still there in his final moments and that alone would have made Kento die without regrets — but he's lying to himself.

He made a promise to you to return to your side. You did not ask him to say "alive" because just having a body to bury is a miracle in your world. (Y/N), he saw that stubborn strife in your eyes even as you nodded.

Too little time spent with you. Those 2 months of pure love with you, it would never be enough but he cherishes them all the same. He hopes you can tolerate this pain — he never wished for you to go through this before him, (Y/N).

He should have introduced you to his family.

He should have kissed you deeply before tonight began.

He should have given you everything you deserved.

Ah, regret truly is the worst feeling in the world.

He wants to take care of you like he promised to, (Y/N).

What could he say to Yuji to make him understand what this means?

Mahito's curse energy was enveloping his soul and Kento used the bit of strength he had left to ensure Yuji would not be the one to kill his transfigured corpse. The least he could do, this cruel kindness... "I'll leave the rest to you."

"My husband."

Shoko pauses. Satoru is not looking her way, instead, staring at the ceiling with a bored expression.

"He did not greet me," she's glad that he does not see the way she clenches the box of cigarettes in her pocket. Or maybe he does because he straightens his composure and asks;

"Is he still pissed at me or is he dead?"

"....We don't know, Satoru." His nose curls in distaste. Still, he waits for her to continue.

"Nobody has seen him and there's no time nor resources to sift through the rubble of Shibuya to find him. The last person to have seen him alive was Maki, she says that he was against the onne-eyed disaster curse."

"He'd have no trouble exorcising that baldy." Satoru is being too kind, you would struggle but you'd still win. He was sure of it. Then again, your abilities were too similar — a tie maybe? You had more wit, you'd win.

Or is that denial talking?

"Nanami died by Mahito's hand," Shoko pulls the box out and tosses it aside as he takes out the final cigarette. "Does he know that?"

"Maybe he's already with Nanami."

"Shoko."

"All of you are dropping like flies around me. Was there an invite I was never given?" She doesn't cry but Satoru stands to walk towards her anyway.

"Yū, Suguru, Kento, (Y/N)," she allows him to hold her shoulder and pull her in but does not return the affection. Should she? Would this be the final memory of Gojo Satoru she had?

"He isn't dead." Satoru pulls away after a long minute. The smile on his face makes her hopes soar and Shoko doesn't understand why she can't force it down.

"I can feel it. He's still here. Don't host a funeral just yet, yeah?"

"You're way too cocky, do you know that?"

"I have every right to be."

"Mr Gojo." Satoru wonders what Yuji would say to him. He wonders where the scars come from, when his eyes had ever been so dull or hardened, he wonders if Yuji will bounce back from everything; if he'll regret being so selfless in the first place.

"Itadori," he braces his arm on his hips, and Yuji's shoulder droops.

"Mr (Y/N), Nanamin...he said he'd leave it to me. You told Ms Ieiri that you had a feeling he was alive."

"Eavesdropping, Itadori?" Yuji's laughs as Satoru slings an arm around his shoulder, attempting to escape his hand that is ruffling his hair.

"Aah, Mr Gojo, quit it!" Satoru settles with a few more chuckles so Yuji continues. "When everything settles, could you help me fulfill Nanamin's wish?"

"Yuji."

Satoru smiles brightly, squeezing Yuji close as he ruffles the back of his head.

"You leave (Y/N) to me."

"Does this form please you more?"

Your eyes can't take themselves off the sight before you. Satoru — no, his corpse. What a strange string of words.

Satoru's corpse.

It's too unreal. Those words do not belong to one another. He grasps the back of your head and forces it to face him. You can't decide what is worse; when you wake to Megumi's face twisted in a cruel expression, finding out Tsumiki was being used as a vessel, being shown Kento's death on replay through Sukuna's/Yuji's memory of the moment, or this monstrous being before you with Satoru's corpse behind you.

"My, my, my, don't tempt me," Sukuna does not let you squirm. His four hands held you firmly within his grasp as you wept.

"I truly am delighted your bloodline prevailed. The betrayal should be punished with death but, seeing you again, I'll not make the same mistake twice."

The binding vow that was made with your ancestor, one that made Sukuna keep the flame technique within his grasp and your ancestor in the other. Breaking it left your bloodline with a technique meant to be used only after mastering the innate technique — to put it simply, it was akin to making someone tame a pack of rabid wolves before they even potty-trained a puppy. It was no wonder you were all so weak.

"Keeping such a trump card of a technique hidden from me, how shrewd."

Yuji cannot believe it. Everything was moving too fast. Gojo Satoru was dead, and the era of sorcerers was coming to an end as reality settled in the bones of curses and sorcerers alike. But then, you're there.

Apparated out of thin air — no. The necklace around Sukuna's neck. You were kept there, did you spectate everything? The entire fight? Every person Sukuna had killed —

They had tried their best to look for you and you'd just been there, hidden in plain fucking sight.

Suguru is in your peripheral, you blink and you swear you feel your mind break as he loops his arms around Satoru's corpse. Another blink and Kento and Yū appear, pale and rotten and burnt and dead.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" His eyes are filled with nothing but amusement as you will yourself out of his grasp, your foot making contact with his face as you kick yourself off from it.

The rubble stings your bare feet as you dig your heels into the ground, your dark flames eating away at the sleeves of the silken garments his loyal servant, Uruame, had dressed you in. Feeling its weight disappear fuels you with more ire than you ever thought you'd ever feel.

This man, this monster, had taken everything from you. Even if it kills you, even if you end up burning the entire world into ash and cinder — nothing matters anymore.

Your mother, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi —

Heaven and Hell will rue the day they took them. The Gods have created a new monster in the form of you and Yuji shudders at the empty look in your eyes.

What had you gone through in the months you were gone? The garments you wore were that of highly respected concubines, heavy and silken and patterned.

What had Sukuna done to you? Had he taken the very essence of your soul and ripped it to pieces just like he had done with him?

Kento's words echo in his mind, and Satoru's face appears with a blink. He needed to step in and save you — from yourself and from Sukuna's grasp. His two mentors, he can't let them down, he can't. You were precious to Megumi, to Tsumiki from what Megumi had once told him. Satoru looks at you with such a warm aura, that Kento always threatens to smile when he even mentions you.

Desperation pumps through Yuji's body and he feels his nails elongate, giving it a quick glance before spotting Kashimo descending from the sky.

Sukuna's laughter booms throughout the empty planes and echoes around the destroyed buildings. The very earth shakes with each inhale.

"You truly haven't changed, my concubine! Come! Let's go insane together!"

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother and going nuts

Pairing: Geto's little sister x husband!Gojo

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Warnings: this is a emotional rollercoaster, (y/n) is a bad bitch but damn that just hurts, drama over drama, cursing over cursing, I worked so hard to get this fic out tonight so please show some love 😭not proofread yet, will do that tomorrow!

„I’ll leave now.“

You look up from your magazine, furrowing your eyebrows at your oh so precious husband.

“Weren’t you suppose to leave…Like two hours ago?”, you question innocently.

“I wasn’t done in the bathroom.”

“You’re so vain that it hurts.”

“Watch your mouth, Geto”, he warns you by your former last name.

With a swift motion he lands on top of you, large figure almost swallowing you whole while you grin at him triumphally. Were you just teasing Satoru for him to grab you by the throat ever so slightly, for him to stare at you with his dirty blue eyes?

Definitely.

“Or what, Gojo?”, you bite back, emphasizing every syllable of his last name with so much provocation that it takes all his strength to stop himself from fucking you until you can’t stand anymore.

He never imagined you to lay under him this way. You, the sister of his best friend. You, who always seemed so threatful unbothered by him. Just before Suguru decided to leave all of you behind, just before he massacred both of your parents, you decided to give him a chance. And you didn’t even change your mind when he was forced to kill your big brother.

“You want me to stay here and leave our students out there alone?”, he hushes against your lips.

Because if you would, he’d definitely stay here all night.

“You know I’m always up for you, but not tonight. They actually called me as well when you were busy doing your pretty hair in the bathroom. Something serious is going on there. I’ll join as soon as I’m ready here.”

Since your brother decided to kill everyone apart from jujutsu sorcerers, you were always keen to do the exact opposite by saving as many people as possible. As much as you love him still, as much as you do in fact somehow understand him, he went down a path you couldn’t follow. He was like your older twin. Not only by looks, but also your cursed techniques were the same, made you a powerful weapon against these fucking curses.

Well, now you’re your own weapon as it seems. Your eyes stare up at your now husband who still looks at you with the same affection in his eyes like more than 10 years ago.  

No, you aren’t alone. After all, you’ll always have Satoru by your side.

“Get your pretty ass moving then. We’ve got some work to do.”

-later in Shibuya-

You desperately try to ignore the way your guts turn, yanking down the busted streets as if you’re haunted.

He’s sealed.

Satoru Gojo, your newly husband, the one and only who stuck to you all these damn years, the love of your fucking life.

Sealed, gone in the wind, trapped in a tiny box.

But as if that wasn’t enough, rumours reached your ear. Rumours about none other than your big brother being responsible for this. Your big, dead brother.

Your feet clash against the hard ground underneath, body sprinting towards what looks like a new battlefield. Whoever this fucker is will pay for what he’s done. Not only to your husband, but to your brother as well.

And what about your students? You didn’t arrive on time, not a single update reached your ear when you entered the curtain, eyes wide open in disbelief by all the death surrounding you. If that thing hurt a single one of them, if a single jujutsu sorcerer lost their life here…

You’ll lose it completely.

The second a wave of what looks like ice begins to dart towards the recognizable outlines of people you waste no time, shooting a bunch of grade one curses their way while using one as a curtain to hold back the ice.

“(y/n)…Is…Is that you?”

Yuji. A few other students from Kyoto, Utahime, Panda, Kusakabe. They’re injured, but alive. What about the rest? Where are Mei Mei, Toge, Nanami and that old Zenin fart? You give yourself a little shake, eyes focused on your curse and the wave of ice in front of you. Now is not the right time to think about all of that. Your priority is to finally catch that fucker who uses your brother’s appearance and saving who’s here at the moment.

And the most important, get your sealed husband back.

“You have some fucking nerve, showing up and making such a mess. And now you’re even dumb enough to attack other jujutsu sorcerers. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, eyes focused in front of you. Maybe that person just looks like him, Suguru. You found peace with the fact that he’s gone a long time ago, it’s simply not possible to see his gentle eyes ever again. You accepted the fact that he won’t trade his pokemon cards with you, that the time of getting on his nerves while secretly loving him dearly is over. No one can copy him, no one can-

“You are pretty late, (y/n).”

No one can sound like him. You shake your head in utter disbelief, mind desperately trying to process the fact that this sounded exactly like Suguru Geto, that the frame behind the falling curtain of ice and purple is…

Him.

You can’t move an inch. Instead, you just stand there in silence, staring him up and down. This looks just like him, this sounds like him. Fuck, this even smells like him, radiates the same energy as him.

But no.

The way he said your name wasn’t the same. It missed the soft tone in his voice, how it always lightened up by his small smile when seeing you.

“And you’re in big trouble.”

Is it an hallucination, some type of strange technique? No, it has to be his body, it is his body. Somebody else seems to control it.

And that someone will pay for using him, for tarnishing his memory.

“Is my own little sister not able to recognize me? I guess that’s not as bad as getting betrayed by her, though.”

“Spare me with that bullshit. It seems like you really know nothing about me and my big brother. What do you want me to do, huh? Break down in tears and cry, believe that you’re actually him? I will wipe your ass from this earth without even blinking. But before that, I want my husband back”, you his through gritted teeth.

“What betrayed me, little (y/n)? How did you know it wasn’t him?”

His figure comes closer, makes you urge to touch him just once. This is still his body, a body that reminds you of all the things you’ve been through. The serious business of trading pokemon cards that you did until he left, your shared training sessions, him introducing you to Satoru, him holding you in his arms when you’ve got your first heartbreak only for him to hold you back when you tried to set that poor boy on fire. This body still holds all of those memories.

But it doesn’t hold him anymore.

Your husband lives, though. He might be sealed, but he’s still somewhere. And that fucker has him, you just know it.

You shake them off, those feelings of melancholy. Time to focus on reality. And reality is that Satoru killed your big brother a year ago, that this thing in front of you has nothing in common with him except his appearance.

“No one will ever by as charming as he was. Now, will you give me my husband back without a fight and let me kill you? I’m not in the mood for a talk with you, y’know.”

It’s impossible and you know it. There is no way in hell this thing will give up its plan and just hand Satoru over. But at least this will buy you some time.

“You should know best that you don’t stand a chance against his body, don’t you think?”

A disregarding huff escapes your lips while you straighten your shoulders and stare right into the eyes of the big brother you’ve lost a year ago. God knows you really tried to stay cool, that you were desperate to keep your composure. But the second it grins at you with his charming face, it’s over and out.

“You should know that I wasn’t only better at pokemon trading, moron.”

“Stand behind me, I’ve got this.”

“But (y/n)-“

You don’t waste another minute. With a blast of another wave of different curses, you hit him with full force. Over the last few years, you absorbed every curse you stumbled upon. Especially the night parade was the perfect opportunity for you to steal your big brother’s precious curses. And even though you swore you yourself that you’ll never lose them, that they will remain in loving memory by your side, this seems like the perfect time to release them.

For a brief moment, you feel like crying, the way it just laughs at you with his voice, wearing his yukata, even wearing his hairstyle. How did it even come so far? How did this thing end up in your big brother’s body?

He would have wanted this, right? That you destroy his body in order to stop this madness. Despite all the horrible things he’s done, Suguru would have never wanted jujutsu sorcerers to get hurt, especially not Satoru. No, he would have never allowed your husband to get sealed, he wouldn’t let anyone attack you this roughly.

Your husband…How is he doing? Is he still alive? You feel like throwing up, just the minor thought of him potentially dying in this seal…No one was ever able to get out, some of the strongest sorcerers ended up in that cube.

No.

This needs to stop.

“Get yourself together”, you hiss to yourself, shaking off your stinging thoughts immediately.

This is not the time for sadness or grief.

This is the time for pure rage.

“I will make you pay for every sin you committed with his body”, you shout towards him while attacking him from underneath.

This thing is so fucking fast, using Suguru’s powers so efficiently that you’re almost not able to follow its movements.

You clench your hands into fists, eyes narrowed while thick fury pumps through your veins. Get yourself together, this isn’t only about taking revenge.

This is about getting your husband back.

“What would he think about you, seeing you this way? I know how disappointed he was when you left him to die, leaving him for his former best friend. And I thought I am cruel”, it spits at you, shooting another wave of curses your way.

“You know absolutely nothing about him, let alone me. You’re nothing but a parasite in his body, a bug I’ll crush underneath my heel.”

You draw yourself closer, keeping him busy in hand to hand combat. You were always better than Suguru when it came to fighting without any curses around. Where the hell does he keep that damned cube?

“You and me, we’re both parasites, (y/n). But unlike you, I can still look into the mirror without being disgusted of the way I turned out.”

“That’s because you’re looking into his gorgeous face, idiot”, you bite back, landing a full-on hit against his ribcage.

“Is that Satoru Gojo’s wife?”, Noritoshi Kamo mutters in sheer disbelief, eyes not even able to follow your rapid movements.

“Yep, the one and only”, Panda confirms dryly.

“Take a few steps back. She’ll definitely freak out-“

“RUN!”, Yuji cries on top of his lungs.

Countless courses roam around you and your big brothers’ corpse, fighting each other for dear life. He can’t help but admire you, the spark that gleams in your eyes, the way you don’t even try to hold back despite the stinging fact that you’re fighting against your brothers’ body. You look so threatful that it almost takes his breath away.

If it wasn’t for the last weapon he has in store.

“You’re not giving it everything, you’re holding back!”, he screams over the deafening noise around you both, making your veins stand out even more.

You see nothing but red, nothing but the shell of the brother you used to love, nothing but a monster that trapped your husband. That thing…That fucking thing straight out of hell.

“Uzumaki.”

The word leaves your mouths at the same time. Like in trance you stand there, watch as a giant wave of condensed cursed energy builds up behind Suguru’s frame, watch as it shoots towards you like an arrow.

You aren’t a fool, fully aware of the fact that you might get killed right here on the spot. This is your only chance to win this fight, to leave your brother’s body where it belongs, to free your husband out of that things’ grasp. But…are you strong enough?

“I can’t believe you’re already stronger than me. Look at you, (y/n).”

You kneeled down in front of him, took his hand into yours gently while desperately trying to supress a sob. This was it, the time you had to say your final goodbye to your best friend.

“Well, I just stole a whole bunch of your curses at that parade. They did taste like shit though.”

His kind smile radiated through the dark alley, right through your heavy heart. This…this couldn’t be the end. You weren’t even able to spend one last evening with him, to show him the pokemon cards you stole some kid.

“I don’t want you to go”, you finally gave in.

Faster than he was able to react, you wrapped your desperate arms around him, rested your head against his bloody chest. This couldn’t be the end, Suguru couldn’t leave you like that.

“I fear I have to, (y/n). You still got Satoru-“

“Satoru is not you”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Satoru is not my big brother. Satoru will never be you.”

“I’m so proud of the person you have become, (y/n). You are far more than a normal jujutsu sorcerer, way better than all those monkeys. You are my special, my everything. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You’ll always stay (y/n) Geto to me. And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Your eyes widen. Suguru, he firmly believed in you, never even second-guessed your abilities.

“You…just beat me.”

Your heavy breath hung in the air between both of you, body collapsing onto the ground from sheer exhaustion. What did Satoru just say? What did even happen the last few seconds?

“Babe, you…You were actually able to beat me.”

You…beat none other than Satoru Gojo?

“Impossible”, you murmured to yourself, staring at your bloody hands in sheer disbelief.

“You became so damn strong. My god, I’m so proud of you, (y/n)! You just have to work your ass off even more. Come on, get up, attack me again.”

And Satoru, the love of your life, your precious husband, the strongest…You were able to beat him.

You take a deep breath in, whole body being on fire. This is your moment. And you won’t let a cheap copy of your brother defeat you like that.

Like in trance, you dash forward along with your thick cursed energy, hands stretched out for him. One last look into his chocolate brown eyes, one last glance at his usually so soft features before you hit him with your fest shoot, a toe-curling scream of agony and rage escaping your lips while slamming him into the ground. Deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Back to where he belongs: six feet under.

“Give me my husband back”, you spit at him, grabbing his throat so harshly that you can feel his windpipe struggle against your palm.

Instead of replying, he just plainly laughs at you, bloodshot eyes almost piercing through you. That’s enough.

“Is this how you let it end, Suguru? Are you really letting this moron take control over your body like that! Come on, defend yourself, give Satoru back to me!”, you cry on top of your lungs, staring into the brown orbs you used to know so well.

“Pathetic. I am the one who’s in control of this body now, stupid girl!”

“I still have the shiny flareon you gifted me when I was 6, I’m always carrying it with me. I’m still sleeping in the shirt I stole from you when you were 16. You’ve done many things wrong in your way too short life, please do this one last thing right! Please give Satoru back to me.”

Your heart almost stops when his trembling arms yanks into the air, uncontrollably roaming around his Yukata.

Until he stretches it right in front of your face. The prison realm. Your husband.

“This…this can’t be possible! I am the one who is in control over this body!”

Your body goes numb, widen eyes staring at his arm while your heart skips a beat. This is really him, your Suguru. He really is strong enough to even outstand death.

His fingertips brush over your cheek ever so gently. Fuck, you feel like breaking down and crying. This right in front of you is your big brother, the person you thought you lost a year ago, the man who slipped through your fingers when he was 16 without you even noticing. You weren’t there for him the way you should have been, weren’t able to drag him back onto your side, weren’t able to save him from his unnecessary death.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I will always love you with all my heart.”

But you know you have to go.

Now.

With one last glimpse you yank yourself into the air, hand holding onto that little cube for dear life.

Focus on the mission.

“We need to go, now”, you yell towards your students, sending a curse in the form of a dragon their way.

You straighten your shoulders, chase away the memories that threaten to destroy you completely.

“Hey hot thing, long time no see. Guess you were just as surprised as me when you saw him again, huh?”, you mutter towards the cube in your hands that has its bright blue eyes set on you.

“I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’ll get you out of there, Satoru. After all, we’re the strongest…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @tachiharazsstuff @kawaiiakamaru @lilacsinjuly @nazeeraswife @eva-616 @revrse @thel0v3hashira143 @arehzhera @circe143 @mitsuristoleme @sugaremedy @sugurulefttesticle @sweetchildcloud @invmakitoge @a-daydreamers-day @rhinara-vy

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter eight || understanding

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 8.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“I think if they keep ordering him to kill the people he cares about, he’s gonna snap.”

“Domain Expansion. Infinite Void.”

Gojo’s voice is eerily devoid of its usual nonchalance, even devoid of the warmth you’ve come to know from him. The words carry a weight familiar to any sorcerer. His grip on your shoulder tightens and although you know you’re safe from his sure-hit domain, the realization brings no comfort.

His chest is rising and falling as quickly as his heart is pounding in his chest as his warm breath fans the top of your head. His breathing grows quicker, deeper, and you feel his lips brush the top of your head, before he’s gone from your side entirely.

It all happens so fast, you don’t have time to register exactly what happens. You hear a gasp, a cry, a growl. Each one followed by the slumping sound of a body hitting the floor. With wide eyes, you turn to face the sorcerer when the sixth sound rings in the air of the still room.

Standing only a couple of feet away is Satoru, but there’s no warmth, no cunning smirk, not even a cold and calculated glare across his features. He’s panting heavily through his parted lips, blood spattered across his face. The crimson liquid drips from stained white locks, coming to land on his shoes beneath him.

Before you have a chance to take a look around at the damage, the lives fading from the room, Gojo lifts his head, an eerily unfamiliar look in those blue eyes of his. He doesn’t look like himself, wide eyes filled with a seething anger like fire raging through a forest. Like nothing can quell the flames that had ignited.

Still, he teleports to your side, wrapping an arm around you as he guides you out of the room. He makes a point of using his body to block you from the sight of the room, guiding you away from the carnage as he closes the door behind him.

Now out of the room, you turn to observe him. You aren’t sure if the move he made was the right or wrong one. You don’t have enough information to truly judge the higher-ups, although you disagreed with their methods. But still, they were people. People who sentenced you to death without ever considering giving you a chance. The moment the sentence was given, you knew your fate had been decided for you the moment you had entered the room. 

As you realize that, you know Gojo knew that too. That’s why he had insisted on remaining in the room, this was the plan he had always had in mind all along. Whether he knew he would snap or not, he always knew this would be the outcome.

Whether it was the right call or not, you weren’t sure.

You just knew that the lack of mercy he’d displayed towards them scared you.

But looking up at those crystalline blue eyes now, glinting with an anger you’d never before witnessed in him or anyone, you recognize something.

The way the pads of his fingers grip your shoulder like he was holding onto you for dear life, the way he positions his body to prevent you from seeing the carnage behind him, the way the anger behind his eyes glints with something else, something more. He’s scared, too.

“Gojo?”

Chest still heaving, his furious eyes flicker to you, but they seem to look through you, like he isn’t all there.

“Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t answer. It’s a foolish question, but it’s all you can think to say. You inhale sharply, turning to face him as you pull out of his grasp. Examining his expression, you tug your lip between your teeth.

Thoughts race through your mind as you try to think of something, anything, that might help, but you don’t know the man standing before you. Despite being at the school for several months now, he never let you get to know him. You never bothered. You were both always at odds with one another.

“Gojo, I-” you hesitate when he reaches out to grip your forearm. “They’re…” Dead. You don’t dare voice your concerns. “What if that was the wrong move, what if-”

“There was no other option,” he practically snarls, pulling you closer still to him as you flinch. His anger isn’t directed at you, rather he seems to be protecting you, even from himself.

Staring down at his hand on your arm, you realize he’s shaking. The vicious fury blazing within him is enough to strike fear into anyone who would witness him, but as he grips your arm for dear life, you know your fear pales in comparison to what he was going through.

Fiddling uncomfortably with the hem of your shirt with your spare hand, you recall the one thing Gojo had thought to do when you needed comfort and he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he’d done it because he needed it too.

Closing the small distance between you, you wrap your arms around his tall form, his pounding heart beating hard in your ear. His heart rate seems to increase for a moment as he stiffens, before slowly wrapping his arms around your core. Gradually, his breathing slows and returns to normal, his chin dropping to rest on your head.

Woodsy and sweet scents mingle with the stark smell of iron stained into his clothes as you inhale shakily. You don’t dare move, working through your own emotions as you let him do the same.

You couldn’t deny that you were scared, but as he finally pulls back and those familiar blue eyes are no longer looking through you but at you, you knew he needed someone in that moment as much as you had needed someone moments ago on death’s door.

In a strange twist of fate, it seemed you needed one another. Your fates entwined.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers breathlessly, terror ripping through the flames of anger. “It was the only option- I- I- I’ve thought of everything, I-” He heaves a breath in, running a hand through his hair and pulling at it as he leans his head back in thought. “I just-” his voice is low, a burly growl. “I can’t let them keep sentencing people to death every time they’re scared-”

Lips pressed into a thin line, you watch his frantic movements as he continues to ramble.

“-as soon as something inconveniences them-”

“Gojo.”

“-make it my problem to do their dirty work-”

“Gojo,” you try again to get his attention, uncertainly reaching up to set a hand on his arm as it falls back to his side after he flings it into the air while rambling. He doesn’t seem to notice your touch as he flails his arm in the air again.

“-I’m nothing more than a- a-”

“Satoru!” You call his name again, firmly placing your hand on his chest to get his attention. He seems shocked, blinking down at you. “It’s okay.”

He purses his lips at the sympathetic smile you offer as you realize what’s going through his head. Yuta had been right all along. He did care. He wasn’t afraid of the repercussions of his actions against the higher-ups, there was something else he was afraid of, and though you weren’t sure you believed it yourself, it was undeniable.

“We’ll figure things out, okay?” You wait for his nod before continuing. “Let’s get out of here,” you move your hand from his chest to tug on his sleeve and urge him to follow you. The walls of the narrow hallway feel as though they’re about to cave in on you and you can’t bear to stand so close to the room now barren of life.

He stays a short distance behind you, letting you lead the way down winding halls out to Ijichi, waiting outside the car. Ijichi turns to face the two of you, eyes wide as he sees the crimson stains in Gojo’s hair.

“Jujutsu Tech, please, Ijichi,” you tell him with a smile. He nods solemnly as he gets in the car.

The ride back is silent save for the sounds of the road and the consistent chirping of the summer cicadas. Your gaze remains out the window for the duration of the trip, thoughts racing through your mind.

Despite the silence, it’s strangely comfortable beside Satoru, and you realize for the first time since your first meeting, you know where you both stand with one another.

He seems to be on edge sitting beside you, leg bouncing while his hands fiddle with anything in reach in an attempt to ease his overactive thoughts.

As Ijichi pulls into the school, you slide out of the car and the silence follows you to the cabin, broken only by the excited barks of Taro at your return. He comes up to you both, body wagging from side to side with his tail at the sight of not just you, but also Gojo.

He cracks an uncertain smile at the pup before grumbling something about taking a shower and disappearing into the washroom before you have a chance to talk to him. You want to reach out and talk to him, but he’d practically bolted out of reach.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you bring your hands up to rub your face, the emotions you’d been holding back for the sake of staying strong pouring out. Making your way to the guest room, you shed yourself of the day’s clothes, throwing on an oversized T-shirt and shorts, throwing your hair up into a bun and collapsing on the bed.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at the ceiling when the washroom door across the hall clicks and Gojo exits, pulling a white T-shirt over his head. Gray sweats hang low on his lips, his toned abs visible for a brief moment as Gojo pulls the shirt on. He doesn’t seem to notice you as he rakes a hand through his snowy locks and throws on his sunglasses, looking out at the living room and kitchen.

Realizing you aren’t there, the dove-haired man swivels to face your room. Too tall to fit through the doorway, he ducks as he pokes his head into the room. His eyes bore into you from behind his glasses, a more put-together expression on his face than earlier.

“Hey, uh-”

“Thanks for not killing me,” you blurt out, accidentally interrupting him.

He chuckles dryly, shooting you a half-hearted smirk. “You didn’t think I would, did you?”

“Do you want the answer to that?”

His brow raises, though he catches the teasing lilt to your voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, slowly making his way to the edge of the bed to sit a small distance from you. The bed dips under his weight and he pushes his hand through his hair once more to keep it out of his face.

You let out a shaky laugh. “When?”

He catches your meaning and purses his lips. “When you thought I was gonna kill you,” he pauses, “and when I-” killed them. It doesn’t need to be said. He eyes your reaction, chewing on his lip. “I didn’t have a choice.”

You always have a choice, you want to insist, but you stay quiet. Of course it scares you that he was so willing to kill, but you also had him to thank for still being alive.

As if he can read your mind, he continues. “I know that’s a bullshit excuse, but someone wasn’t leaving that room and I-” he clears his throat to prevent himself from choking on his words. “I’ll be damned if it was you.”

You blink in surprise at the honest admission, whether fueled by genuine care or guilt.

“‘Sides, Miriko’d have my head if they got you.” He shoots you a lopsided smile.

“Your head would be the least of your concerns, Six Eyes,” Miriko chimes in from the back of your hand before disappearing.

Gojo huffs, entertained.

“It’s… okay.” You struggle to find words, still a bit scared at the other side of him you’d seen.

“There would never be an end,” he begins, “to the killing, if I didn’t end it myself.” You aren’t sure if he’s trying to convince him or you. “Yuta, Itadori, you…” he sighs.

“I understand,” you whisper, knowing the unsaid name of Geto hung on the tip of his tongue.

Gojo’s eyes close for a moment as he lets out a breath, relieved to find you hadn’t run off.

“What’s gonna happen now, with the higher-ups gone?” You ask quietly, looking up at his tired blue eyes.

“Dunno,” he admits. “The Shibuya incident left us pretty dry of sorcerers. The old asshole in charge of Kyoto will probably take over.”

“Is that… good?” You tilt your head.

“Not sure,” he sighs in exasperation. “Zen’in, Kamo, the old man,” he lists, “at the end of the day they’re the lesser evil, I guess.”

“Will you be in trouble?” You ask, gasping with realization. “Will they send someone after you?”

“They mighta been foolish enough to go after you, but they aren’t foolish enough to go after me.” There’s a small smirk on his lips.

“Awh, does that mean you think I’m strong?” You tease, kicking your feet playfully.

Something shines in Satoru’s eyes as he watches your movements, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at you. The moment lasts a second too long and you hum, wondering what’s going through his mind. He coughs, mumbling a ‘sorry’ before responding.

To your surprise, he responds in earnest with a chuckle. “You kidding? You’re terrifying when you wanna be.” He leans back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t see your wide-eyed shock from where he lays.

You let the moment hang, your brow knit together in thought.

“Why choose me?”

“Hm?” He props himself up on an elbow. “You or the old hags that told me to kill my students? We went over this.”

“No I know that, but-” you hesitate, the strange feeling of his lips brushing the top of your head replaying in your mind over and over. Maybe it was nothing, but the rational part of you can’t let it go. “You protected me.”

He blanches, eyes flickering to the side. “I was just doing what felt right.”

Your heart sits in the pit of your stomach, nerves chilling your spine. What felt right? That answers less questions than it poses. Your lips part, only to watch Satoru spring to his feet, practically dashing to the door.

“Lessons start back up tomorrow. We need a plan to defeat Sukuna,” he abruptly shuts the door, leaving you further confused than you were before as thoughts race through your mind.

Watching in silence as he closes your door behind him, you furrow your brow. Why did it seem as though he kept running from you?

You swallow hard, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The only question racing through your mind parts your lips as you whisper to yourself.

“What the hell?”

–

Another sleepless night, another early coffee.

Moonlight pours through the living room window, illuminating the tabletop where your phone sits. The exhaustion deep within your bones is undeniable, yet sleep doesn’t seem to come. Even sitting with legs pulled to your chest on the couch and your dog at your feet, the world feels so daunting.

The feeling of facing the world alone had returned when Nanami left, and slowly but surely you had felt as though you were getting somewhere with those emotions, but now you weren’t so sure. Gojo’s words from earlier hung in the air around you like a fly, unable to shake the feeling he meant something deeper. Not to mention the fact that Gojo, one of the most confident and cocky people you knew, had seemed to lose his edge twice now in one day, running from you.

Worse yet, was the undeniable realization that you felt no fear towards him. In spite of his actions earlier and the fact that death was something that seemed to plague and suffocate you, you felt oddly safe around him. Albeit a bit confused.

It was all too much. The questions, the uncertainty, the anxiety following the meeting with the higher-ups. It all loomed over you like a monster threatening your sanity.

Your head snaps to the stairs as Gojo makes his way down to the kitchen, his hair disheveled as though he’d spent the entire night raking his hand through it. His top half is barren, toned chest and abdomen on display and to your surprise, your eyes trail down his built figure. His usual blindfold covers his eyes and you wonder if he can see at all in the darkness, neither of you bothering to flick on a light.

Your question is answered quickly as he notices there’s coffee made and tilts his head, jumping when he notices you in the living room.

“Shit! I didn’t realize you were awake.” He holds a hand up to his chest in shock.

“Isn’t the whole deal with your Six Eyes thing that you can see everything?”

He chuckles, looping a finger under the material and pulling it down. “That’s the point of the blindfold. Can’t use all my cursed energy just lookin’ at you- around. Lookin’ around.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t hear you make coffee.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him, giggling as he wrinkles his nose at the bitter and very cold coffee he’s just sipped.

“The hell are you drinking this for?” He asks, dumping the mug and then the pot of coffee down the sink before beginning a new brew.

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” you shrug, fiddling with the mug of cold coffee in your hand.

Noticing your movements, Satoru strides over to you and pulls your mug from your hands. With a click of his tongue, he’s dumping that down the sink too.

“Hey! I was drinking that,” you complain, though he does have a point.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he scolds, smiling happily when Taro hops down from the couch with a wagging tail, demanding pets with small whines. Gojo kneels down, scratching behind his ears.

“That’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” you gape.

“What can I say? I’m charming,” the sorcerer grins, chuckling as he catches you rolling your eyes. He mumbles some happy words to Taro in a sweet voice, pleased when the pup plants himself down and waits with him as the coffee brews.

“Your charm won’t work on me,” you tease.

“No?” He smirks, and you suddenly feel fluttering in your chest. Swallowing, you watch the way his muscles clench as he pours you a mug of coffee, careful to step around Taro who follows closely behind him.

Setting his own mug on the coffee table, he leans forward to hand you another warm mug, his fingers lingering on yours and setting your skin ablaze as he pulls his hand back and plops himself down on the couch beside you with a sigh.

Composing yourself, you take a sip. “This is better,” you admit with a grateful smile.

Gojo hums, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “There’s so much going on, I-” you let out an unsteady breath at the gravity of your stress. “-I’m so tired, Satoru. When I close my eyes though, it’s just… a mess.”

He frowns, tilting his head as though he was eyeing you. “We could do something to get your mind off things,” he suggests, sipping his coffee. “We could watch a movie.”

You debate his suggestion before nodding slowly in agreement. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“There’re a bunch under the TV if you wanna take a look.”

You hop off the couch with more pep in your step than before, hoping a movie will soothe the endless stream of thoughts. Opening the cabinet, you’re surprised to find Gojo seems to have a massive movie collection ranging in genre from Romantic Comedy to Horror.

“Are you a big movie guy?” You ponder, moving your finger over the spines of a group of horror films.

“They’re fun,” he grins. You shoot him a smile, giggling to yourself as your finger slides over the spine of Digimon: The Movie.

“I didn’t take you for a Digimon guy,” you comment, the familiar case a sudden blast from the past as you remember watching it with your dad when it first came out. Sliding your finger over the case as you reminisce silently, you don’t notice Gojo opening his wallet and flicking a card at you.

Squeaking in surprise as it makes contact with you, you look down at the card that sits on the floor. It’s an old digimon card, frayed corners laminated to keep it from getting any further damaged. Picking up the card, you flip it over, eyes lighting up at the sight. In the classic art style, Metal Greymon is hunched over, mouth parted with claws facing the player.

“This was in your wallet? You’re a nerd!” You tease with a grin, giggling as Satoru shrugs. “I’d be more impressed if it was Gabumon, though. He’s the best.”

“I’m more of a Guilmon guy myself,” he says, sitting up and leaning forward, “but Gabumon’s a good choice.” His blue eyes examine the movie in your hands from where he sits across the coffee table. “You’re into Digimon?” He doesn’t attempt to mask the child-like giddiness at talking about something so simple and mundane with you.

“My dad and I used to watch it all the time. I loved that old Gamecube fighting game.”

“That’s it,” he stands up, slipping the movie case from your hands and popping the disc into the DVD player sitting below the TV. “We’re watching this.”

You hand back his card with a giggle, the both of you sitting down side by side on the couch as Taro settles at the end of the couch beside you. As the opening ads play, Gojo tilts his head at you.

“Did you play a lot of games growing up?”

“Yeah I guess so,” you shrug, “honestly I still play a fair bit.”

“No kidding?”

You nod, thinking back at the consoles sitting at your old cottage. It must look abandoned at this point, coated in a layer of dust. “Yeah I mean… I was always alone, it was nice to unwind with a game.”

“You shoulda told me, I’ve got a Switch upstairs. I could kick your ass at Mario Kart,” he teases with a grin as he points at his chest. He sets his arm down across the back of the couch, his bicep brushing your shoulder in a manner that sends heat rippling across your skin.

“I’d like to see you try,” you rebuttal playfully.

“I’m the reigning champ, Shoko and Sug-” he blanches, quickly clearing his throat and correcting himself. “Shoko and I used to play all the time.”

There’s a sad edge to his voice, and finally the time feels right to ask the question that’s sat at the tip of your tongue since Yuta brought it up. “Suguru?” You ask softly.

He stiffens, forlorn gaze trailing away from you. “Yeah,” he admits, swallowing. You allow him a moment to steady himself, gather his thoughts.

“You two were close, weren’t you?”

“Something like that,” he sighs bittersweetly. He shuffles uncomfortably, the subject still clearly sore. It’s a feeling you know all too well, one you fear not even death will do you part.

You clear your throat, pleased to have made some sort of real connection with your white-haired counterpart, but not wanting to push him. “I’m sorry, when you showed up at my gate with him, I didn’t-”

“You don’t owe me anything, y/n.”

You hesitate at the firmness in his words, surprised to hear such a tone from him. “No, I know but I was-”

“y/n,” he interrupts again, “you don’t owe me anything. Definitely not an apology.” He rolls his shoulder, his forearm brushing your neck in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You did me a huge favor.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” It’s all you can think to say.

He chuckles again. “Stop apologizing,” he insists, attempting to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

“We don’t need to do this,” you insist, shaking your head. This little game of apologies wasn’t necessary in your eyes. Although there were still clearly things left unspoken between you both, you had no doubt in your mind anymore that Satoru was on your side and you were well aware of his regrets.

“No, we do.” His sharp eyes are boring into you now and he takes a deep breath. “I was a fucking grade A asshole. I was so sure Miriko would be like Sukuna that I never gave you a chance,” he pauses, “sorry Miriko.” He bites his lip briefly before continuing. “Then these past few weeks I got to know you and I-”

You lean closer to him, listening intently.

“-I was scared of you,” he chuckles, cheeks visibly reddening. “You reminded me of Suguru. Your wit,” he glances at the Digimon movie title screen that’s been looping for a couple of minutes now, “your interests, your abilities.”

You can feel his warm breath on your cheeks as he finally faces you fully. You hadn’t realized he was so close to you until now, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end at the close proximity.

Running a hand through his long white hair, he moves strands from his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your lips part in disbelief, not only at receiving such a genuine apology, but more importantly because of the weight of the statement. The weight of the comparison to someone who meant the world to him.

“I-” you stammer, trying to make sense of his admission. “I forgive you,” you tell him, your voice small. You bite your lip, your body set alight once more as you see the way his eyes flicker to follow the movement. Did you imagine that…?

The silence following feels like a moment and an eternity all at once. Your skin blazes, while your muscles are frozen in place, unable to think as you feel the warmth of his breath repeatedly fanning your face. You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as your crimson irises take in the way his lidded eyes look at you, pupils blown.

“S-Satoru?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

He clears his throat, leaning back against the couch.

“Sorry,” his cheeks redden as he fumbles for the remote. “Gabumon is waiting for you,” he recovers quickly, his sly smirk returning as if your entire body wasn’t on fire from the interaction just seconds ago.

Blinking a few times, you sit back and try to focus on the movie, your thoughts racing. Taro’s head plops down on your lap and you busy yourself with petting his head, your mind eventually focusing when Gojo playfully nudges you at the sight of Gabumon.

No longer drowning in thoughts, your eyes begin to grow heavy and at some point, your consciousness fades.

–

The unpleasant feeling of a kink in your neck wakes you the following morning. You groan at the feeling, groggily blinking your eyes open. With your vision still blurred, a woodsy scent hits you and you wonder if you left the window open. No, even then it’s not so much a natural scent.

You attempt to roll onto your back, surprised when something pushes back against you.

“Careful, you’ll fall off.”

You freeze, bringing a hand up to wipe the remnants of sleep from your face. As your vision clears, you become very suddenly aware of how you’re sprawled over your roommate’s bare chest, your face barely an inch from his chin.

Jumping immediately to your feet and out of his grasp, you stare at him in bewilderment. His sunglasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, a calm expression staring back at you from where he lays on the couch. For a moment you think you see hurt flash in his eyes, but you’re positive you’re mistaking something else for that.

“Sorry!” You hurriedly apologize, face flushed at the idea of falling asleep on top of Satoru. You glance back at the screen quietly playing the looping menu screen of the Digimon movie, still.

“I wasn’t complaining, Pretty,” he smirks slyly. “You seemed tired.”

Your muscles seize at the sound of the pet name, your heart palpitating in your chest hard enough to make you think you were having a heart attack. A pet name from Satoru of all people. Worse yet, your stomach bubbles and flutters in ways you can’t begin to describe, because surely he wasn’t causing that feeling. Right?

You swallow hard, your nerves getting the better of you as you take a step back, nearly tripping over the coffee table.

Gojo watches with an amused smile as you stumble around, muttering the occasional ‘um’ or ‘uh’, before your words finally find you.

“I should- um- get ready for the lesson,” you blurt out, turning on your heel and bolting to the washroom, ignoring Gojo’s snickering behind you. Shutting the door as you bolt to the washroom, you heave out a quiet groan, rubbing your face in humiliation.

That was embarrassing to watch, even for me.

Don’t say another word, Miriko.

Of course your audience would decide to chime in right now. Throwing your head back against the door, you let out a prolonged sigh and race to get into the shower, praying the warm water would quell the embarrassment seeping through every crack in your composure.

As the hot water wets your skin, you let out a breath of relief as the steady stream drowns your thoughts. Thank god for that, too, because any longer with thoughts of Gojo shirtless and you might start to lose it. 

As the steam fills the air, you close your eyes, allowing the hot water to cascade over your body and ease your tensions. Your eyes flutter open, droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you let your shoulders relax and take a much-needed long shower.

Throwing the tap off after allowing yourself longer in the shower than usual to cleanse yourself of your confused and uncertain thoughts, you reach out for the towel and-

It’s not there.

You reach a bit further down the rack where your towel should be. It has to be.

It’s not there.

You panic, realizing suddenly that you had done laundry and hadn’t replaced the towel.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, weighing your options. You either had to call for Gojo, or wait until you air dried, which isn’t really an option because the air on your warmed skin is cold.

You groan loudly, raking a hand through your dripping hair.

“Satoru?” You call his name loudly, unsure if he hears you and you call out his name again.

“Need some help in there?” He asks with a suggestive tone that only furthers the blush creeping up your neck.

“Gojo, please,” you beg quietly. “Just put a towel outside the door.”

You hear an amused hum before his footsteps begin to move away from the door, returning a moment later. “Towel’s outside!” He calls before you hear his footsteps walking away.

You let out a breath of relief, poking your arm out the door to grab the towel and dry yourself off. Putting on your clothes from last night again, you hurriedly make your way back into your room, take the time to groan into a pillow, and change into a clean dress. It’s the first time you’ve worn one in a while, given that you’d struggled with your motivation for the past month. For once, you find yourself smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

Once you’ve put your hair up and done your makeup, you make your way back out to the kitchen with just enough time to make a coffee before your lesson.

“What, no cold coffee this morning?”

The abrupt intrusion of Satoru’s voice in the quiet air of the cabin causes you to jump and you send him an irritated glance as you nearly drop your mug. He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he hops down the stairs and slings an arm casually over your shoulder. The material of his blindfold blocks you from seeing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Flustered this morning, are we?”

Though you’d always known Gojo to have no concept of personal space, this was something new entirely, even for him. You swallow hard, refusing to look at him as your steady gaze remains on the slow drip of the coffee pot in front of you.

“I’m just tired,” you insist stubbornly, stepping out of his grip.

“Mhmm,” he hums in agreement, his tone betraying the fact that he doesn’t believe you. “You seemed pretty well-rested this morning.”

With his endless prodding now beginning to give you a headache, you rub your temples. “Satoru, we should focus on work,” you insist in an attempt to get him to ease off.

He chuckles, taking the hint to give you a break as he busies himself with other tasks.

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you prepare one for yourself before absent-mindedly preparing one for him as well, just the way he likes it with a bit of creamer and an absurd amount of sugar. You’re not sure when you learned his coffee order, but it feels like second nature as you pass him the mug.

He smiles gratefully, accepting the mug from your hands and taking a sip. His brow raises, eyeing you with surprise from behind black fabric at the way his coffee is made to perfection. Almost like the action of making his coffee was deeply ingrained into you, you hadn’t thought twice about the amount of sugar needed to make his coffee just to his taste. “Thanks,” he hums, leaning on the counter.

You smile up at him, taking a sip of your much more bitter coffee and letting your thoughts wander to the lesson today. The first one in a month. The thought is an uneasy one, life is considerably different since then and in many ways it feels more urgent than ever to train Yuji as quickly as possible if you were at such a great risk of being attacked again.

“Do you know who it was that attacked us?” You ask Gojo, swallowing at the horribly vivid memories resurfacing.

“Yeah,” he sighs, his shoulders hunching forward as he adjusts his grip on his mug. The pale blue button-up he wears wrinkles at his shoulders, pulling taut on his back. Your eyes trail over the muscles briefly, returning your attention to him as he continues. “I’ll worry about that, though.”

“Don’t you think it would be good for me to know?”

“Focus on Yuji’s training. I’ll handle him.” His nose scrunches as he sees the way you narrow your eyes, obviously growing frustrated with him, but still he doesn’t let up.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.” There’s a hint of irritation in your voice, mingling with hurt.

His face is fixed straight ahead, avoiding your gaze, avoiding the obvious hurt on your features. “Just let me handle this, Pretty.”

Your heart jumps into your throat at the pet name, only given away by your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. “We talked about this Satoru, please don’t be stubborn.” You manage to keep your frustration and nerves in check as your tone comes out even.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, feigning indifference to your words but you know him now. You can read him. You know he’s growing upset.

“With all due respect Gojo, you’re in no position to be keeping this information from us,” Miriko chimes in, red shining eyes apparent on the back of your hand, a forked tongue slithering out from between her pointed teeth.

“Have I been upgraded from Six Eyes?” He teases, blatantly ignoring the way irritation flashes across your face.

Miriko’s eye narrows. “Don’t test me,” she warns in a hiss.

He hums slyly in acknowledgement, not pushing his limits but visibly pleased.

“Why are you so determined to keep this from me?” You ask as he takes another sip of his coffee.

His jaw clenches and you know you’re both one step away from being at one another’s throats. As usual. “It’s not your-”

“For fuck’s sake Gojo, can you cut that out?” Your exasperation finally grows to a breaking point as you motion in the air in disbelief that yet again he was being uncooperative. As if every moment of progress you thought you were making was for naught. “You don’t get to decide what I do or don’t get to know!

His head snaps towards you, mug set down with a heavy snap on the marble counter. “I’m not-” He takes a step towards you, pausing as he watches your frustration further bloom as he growls back. “It’s not like that.” He strains to keep his voice down, running a hand through his hair before pulling his blindfold down. His blue eyes are troubled when they finally land on you.

Your lips part. “Then what is it?”

“I’m trying not to be the asshole you think I am,” he sighs, taking another step towards you. His voice loses its edge as he gives in.

Setting your coffee down, you press yourself to the counter. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “I don’t think… you’re an asshole.” You admit, shoulders dropping as the tension begins to ease now that he’s being honest with you. Red eyes meet his blue ones, his internal debate clear as day in the troubled glimmer in his eyes.

“I’m trying not to… extort you anymore. I’m trying-” he hesitates. “-I’m trying not to involve you in this world that I know you don’t want to be a part of.”

You blink once, twice, three times. It’s strange to hear such consideration from the cocky and overconfident sorcerer you’d come to know. Your lips form a circle, a silent ‘oh’.

“I don’t want-” he hesitates again, stepping forward. He’s painfully close, a realization that sends a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. “I don’t want to involve you anymore if I don’t have to, not when I…”

You tilt your head as he trails off, wondering what’s going through his mind. For someone who had been so one note when you met him, he’s one of the most complex people you’ve ever met and the one person you struggle to understand the most. You find yourself leaning forward slightly, his breath fanning your face faster as his breathing rate increases.

“Not when… I…” He trails off again, toned arms resting against the counter on either side of you as he cages you in. His eyes flicker to your lips, pupils dilating. His voice lowers, husky. “When I could treat you like this.”

Whatever internal battle was being fought in his head finds its victor as he leans in and presses his lips to yours, chaste and gentle. Your heart pounds in your chest as you freeze, tense in his arms encircling you.

When he pulls back, there’s desperation painting his features as he examines you. Shocked, you meet his wide-eyed stare pensively. Your thoughts are racing, searching for answers. He doesn’t dare move until you do.

You don’t know how to make sense of the confusion, but the butterflies in your stomach threatening to burst make more sense to you than any rational thought.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, sliding up his pecs as you lean back in. His pulse sprints in tandem with yours beneath your arm, eyes fluttering shut as your lips meet again. He moves his lips against yours fiercely, no longer gentle. He’s desperate, sliding his left hand up from the counter to your waist, his fingers clutching at your skin in a manner that you know will bruise.

His right hand encircles you, pulling you flush against his toned body as he parts by barely an inch from you, just far enough to see your flushed features, the way your chest rises and falls.

He smirks against your lips, his voice a whisper meant for your ears only like a sacred lament. “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

Your ears burn as you stare up at him through your lashes. Your body is alight with the flames of attraction, your confusion a distant thought as the haze in your mind sings only of your want. How could something like this with someone like Gojo feel so right?

“I don’t want you involved in any of this anymore. Not because I don’t trust you-” he pauses, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He hums in satisfaction as your eyes trail the action. “-but because I want to do better by you.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Satoru.” Your voice is small, but steady as you admonish him. A newfound confidence courses through your veins as you fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” he says, soft lips pressing against yours with urgency, as though he couldn’t possibly bear to be apart from you even for the length of your conversation. His muscular arms tense against your back as his grip on you tightens.

You barely pull back from him, bunching his shirt beneath your fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m a part of this now.”

“I know,” he sighs again, defeat dripping from his tone. He’s not happy, but he’s willing to respect your decision, and that’s all you can ask for. For once, he’s compromising.

Running his thumb absentmindedly over your abdomen from its place on your waist, he watches the way you chew on your bottom lip, as though either of you is waiting for the other one to make a move.

“Should we…?” You make a movement to take a step back in an attempt to head to your lesson but he shakes his head.

“Just give me one more minute of this,” he whispers, sliding his hand up your body to cup your face. He’s gentle now, as though handling porcelain, as he leans in again. His long white hair tickles your forehead and you smile into the kiss, a reaction matched eagerly by Satoru. His lips are addictive and you find yourself melting into him.

Whether it’s something you’ll learn to regret, you don’t know. This new side of Satoru is fascinating, and as your arms slide over his shoulders and your fingers slide through his undercut, soft strands of white hair tangling in your grip, you want to keep exploring it. You want to keep exploring him. Tugging on the snowy locks, a low wanton groan escapes him, igniting a fire in your lower abdomen.

It scares you. It excites you. 

He pulls back, pupils blown as he chuckles. His voice is an octave deeper than you’re used to. “If we don’t leave now, you’re not getting me out of this cabin,” he warns with a coy smirk.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you nod slowly, untangling your fingers from his hair and falling back onto the ball of your foot. His arm doesn’t leave your waist as though he can’t bear to not feel your touch as he leads the way out the door and towards the meadow tucked within the trees.

He moves his blindfold back over his eyes and slides his hand up your body as the treeline comes into view, resting it on your shoulder in a more characteristic manner.

“y/n!” Yuji calls your name excitedly at the sight of you on your own two feet with no support. You hadn’t seen him since you’d fully recovered so as he bounds over to give you a hug, you smile. 

Gojo’s hand parts from your shoulder, watching from beside you with a warm smile. Yuji bounds back over to the table, excitedly telling you about movies he’d watched with his brother, and things he’d gotten up to with the second-years in the way you would tell a parent. It’s endearing and you wear that fact like a badge of honor.

It’s apparent he misses Fushiguro, but you know if you have any chance at defeating Sukuna and saving Yuji, it’s best that they stay apart.

As you settle down at the table to begin your lesson, Gojo finds his place at your side, his knee brushing yours lightly.

Your plan for the lesson had originally been to work with Yuji to draw out Sukuna’s technique as you’d barely scratched the surface of that lesson when you’d been hospitalized, but Miriko is quick to speak up before you have the chance to begin.

“I have a proposal.” Her toothy frown sits on the back of your hand as usual, eye flickering between the three of you.

“You wanna marry me, Miriko? How cute,” Gojo teases with a grin.

“You test my patience, Six Eyes.”

“Downgraded already…” he mutters, pouting as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

You giggle, letting Miriko continue.

“Yuji, please block Sukuna out to the best of your ability,” she pauses as he nods, “I believe I may have a way to kill the King of Curses.”

All of you sit starkly straight, every ounce of attention trained on Miriko now.

“Gojo, when you used your domain with y/n and I, I was unable to move.”

“You used your domain on them?” Yuji inquires, but Miriko moves on, not willing to touch on that subject. It’s an issue for another time, and an issue she wants no part in explaining.

“I am considerably weaker now than I was when we first met. y/n transforming did a number on my technique. I believe if we are able to weaken Sukuna to the point I am at, I would be able to kill him.”

The words hang in the air like static as each of you processes what’s been said. Along with it, a new hope. A solution, maybe.

“How weak are we talkin’?” Gojo tilts his head, leaning closer to you in the process.

Miriko ponders the question for a moment. “My technique relies on souls in my domain and my river is at approximately half of its original capacity.”

“So chip him down to half? That’s do-able,” Yuji looks to Gojo for reassurance, the two nodding at one another.

“As much as I would like to agree with you both, Sukuna outclasses me. I do not believe it will be so easy.”

“I can do it,” Gojo says confidently, setting his large palm over your thigh reassuringly as you cast him a worried glance. His touch still sends electricity through you, a feeling so unfamiliar and yet comforting.

The idea of taking on Sukuna is an uptaking, and it certainly won’t be easy. You know it, Yuji knows it, and Gojo knows it, even in spite of his confidence. But it’s a sliver of hope, and you have time to prepare, to train. To flesh out a plan.

Better yet, you have someone alongside you who's not only on your side, but rooting for you. Someone who cares for you. In fact, as you glance between Miriko’s appearance on your palm, Satoru at your side and Yuji across from you, you realize you have some sort of semblance of a family.

A family you’d give your life to protect, and it warms your heart in ways you hadn’t thought possible anymore. Finally, your life feels fulfilling again and-

Gojo stands suddenly, whipping around to face the treeline on the far side of the meadow behind you.

“Satoru?” You ask quietly, unable to see what had caught his attention as you follow his gaze. You turn your attention back to the sorcerer, confusion turning to concern as his hand reaches out to grip your shoulder steadily. What really strikes fear into you is the way it feels like he’s doing so to hold you back.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You freeze, every blood cell in your body running cold as dread twists in your stomach. Satoru’s grip on your shoulder tightens further as you twist your head to get a view of the newcomer.

Your whimper could stop a force of nature with the gravity of your pain as your lips part to speak.

“Kento?”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || thank you for staying with me through all these chapters! this was such a fun chapter to write and went through many iterations but i'm pretty happy with the outcome ♡ god i love gojo

[sunfl0werlevi]

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ʚ✩ɞ ratings: sfw, angst to fluff, comfort

ʚ✩ɞ cw/tw: jjk manga chapter 221 spoilers! slight angst and depressive tones. slight sexual tones hehe.

ʚ✩ɞ wc: 10.5k

ʚ✩ɞ tags: gojo satoru x fem!reader, husband gojo and wife reader are teachers

ʚ✩ɞ an: hi! yes, this is the first time ill be sharing one of the many works i have in my drafts (that im confidently not sharing ever). idek how it got this long. gojo being unsealed triggered something in me so i hope u enjoy. ( ˘ ³˘)♥

italicized texts are past dialogues! FEEDBACKS are highly appreciated.

you stared at the golden band around your ring finger, toying it around. your bed seemed to stretch twice its size and grow colder every morning that you wake up.

every morning, you trace the outline of the dips on his side of the bed. you left it dismantled the way he did, since 19 days ago. you could still see a few strands of silver hair on his pillow glowing under the daylight.

"satoru, please."

"you know there's a lot of souvenir shops in shibuya! maybe i'll take you to some if you're a good little wifey."

"you told me we're working together on this. just let me fight alongside with you-" you pouted and so he gives you a wet smack on the cheek and booped your nose.

"babe, my honey, sweetiepie, you're on children duties!"

"no fair!"

"don't worry, ijichi will take you there. toodles!" and then he warped out.

fools. you didn't even know half of the shit that was about to set loose.

the wooden sliding door of your shared room slammed open, startling you out of your thoughts. there stood an out of breath yuuji with both his hands clinging on to either side of the door frame.

"sensei," he looked at you with determination, a sense of sparkle behind his eyes.

no. no.

you can't have this right now. not right now. you were not ready--not when what you've been preparing yourself for was the worst. but this? this wasn't in your plan.

any indication of hope from him has all been but failure. you were under the high of false hope but now...now, you don't even know how to respond with this pressing matter in front of you.

what kind of wife are you to even think that way? will he even understand if you feel this way?

but you are here now and he is here now.

his frame stood patiently behind your student, waiting for you to say anything. but only the sound of your shallow, shuddering breaths filled the room.

the pink-haired boy staggered backwards to leave, as to give room to your man.

doors were always never tall enough for satoru so he has to duck down in order to grace the room with his presence. his presence that is so invigorating, with his own hint of charisma.

and there he is. he is still so beautiful. his alabaster hair unreasonably still glimmering. your eyes were met with the color of the sky--lustrous and comforting, anticipating you.

but beneath this façade, they were chagrin and desolated, designed with heavy lids and undereye bags that loitered his skin.

the man that came to face you is not your satoru. although indulging with the fact that he looks bigger, more rugged, with his toned arms filling up the sleeves of his shirt--this satoru is only the shell of the man that you used to know.

he scratched his neck, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he gave you a small assuring grin. he opened his arms, wide and warm, welcoming you into a zone you knew all too well.

"c'mere."

though against your will, your body seemed to have a mind of its own--lunging forward to the sense of familiarity that is in front of you. amidst the unconvinced and confused face you held, your body knew how much you ached for this moment and alas your feet brought you towards him.

he gripped your waist so tightly, so much that he could break you in half like--like there were no tomorrow.

words could not even begin to detail this feeling. missing him is an understatement. no--you yearned for him--for his touch, for his smell, for his warmth. for this moment.

you sank deeper into his broad chest. the feeling and the sound of his heartbeat confirming that this is all true and not just a pigment of your imagination, or not you going insane.

he stuck his nose on top of your head, breathing in your smell. god, he could cry. he missed you so much and he was going insane because he was beginning to forget what his favorite shampoo you use smells like.

the silence was both so comforting yet so delicate. there are both no words yet too many words to tell. one pin drop could make or break the atmosphere. a paradox in the flesh. just in character for your husband.

but just in time, he spoke up, breaking the tension. you had imagined this moment, him apologizing or saying i love you, over and over. but no, he yet again breaks the record.

"thank you."

the last thing you wanted was to ever forget him. so, you listened to every voice messages, voice mails, and videos that he sent you every day like it was a routine and a lullaby before you sleep.

you would not forgive yourself if you forgot what he sounds like.

with the sound of his voice triggering the turmoil in you, your chin quivered and your throat burned in an agonizing pain. all of the weeping and mourning you've suppressed poured out onto his shirt.

he brushed your hair and cooed you into silent hushes.

"i'm sorry."

"satoru, she never cried," shoko said.

gojo sat silently on shoko's loveseat chair with both his arms resting on its armrest. he is finally relaxed which unfortunately meant that he has the time to think.

all of the guilt is finally blossoming inside of him.

for the longest time, he wished that he'd be rid of all the burdens that are pushed onto his shoulders. he wanted to run away. with you.

but he knew that his being makes everything complicated and you'd be in greater danger beside him than staying with everybody else.

so, him being in that damned box? his wish came true. was he selfish to somehow feel relieved while being isolated, knowing everything he left behind and all the chaos that ensued?

his colleague and good friend, nanami, who all but strayed away from jujutsu, was pushed towards it again by gojo. and now he's gone.

his teacher and a parent that he considered, principal yaga, lost his life fighting for everyone--especially for the children that gojo was supposed to protect.

his students--tiny but fighter nobara, with half of her head barely even of any shape and unresponsive on a pale hospital bed. yuuji who always graced a smile, now looked like he aged a dozen. and megumi--his son, who always quietly rooted and stood for everyone, lost his hope and is now a vessel to sukuna.

and you. he could not even begin to think how much of a toll it took on you.

"she kept everyone glued together, you know. when everything was falling apart after you...you were gone, she held all of their hands."

shoko blew a smoke out of her office window then tapped her cigarette onto an ashtray. "every day, she cleans nobara's body with a wet towel. when the students would come back with all unimaginable injuries, she tended to them with all of her reversal."

"satoru, i had to clinically force her, just so i could tend to her own injuries for a day. she did not want to stop working as if..."

"as if she will lose it, if she stopped," he finished the sentence, holding a firm gaze with shoko.

she and him knew what it was like to grieve for someone but still having all the responsibilities demanded at every second.

gojo, whether everybody admits or not, was their source of hope. the students gravitated towards him, and even curses do not fail to see the light that he shines--attracting them like moths to a flame.

he tended to everyone's troubles, to the bullshit of the higher-ups that even led to him killing his own bestfriend.

but you-you are the damned closest thing to him. you were his half. you are his half. and everybody knew you are a gojo too.

so they all went to you. for 19 whole days, you shared, albeit, owned his responsibilities. and you had to keep it together.

you should not fall apart. you cannot fall apart. the children relied on you for their strength and you kept them all stuck together like a little patched-up family of your own.

you became him. a true gojo. although it sounds gratifying, it was the last thing that he wanted for you to ever encounter.

he never wanted to share his pain and bare all of his weaknesses to you. but you unconditionally took them all, without any words nor complaints.

"she-she wasn't there."

"she didn't want to be disheartened and defeated if it had failed. you were gone and she is here. still here. you know where to find her, so go."

it wasn't just you. he also does not have the heart to see your face yet--he never really had a say on when he was getting released, anyway.

but he went to you.

your palms cupped his face, searching every inch of his skin like it is something foreign. his large hands held onto them, rubbing slow and soft circles on it.

"i've missed you...so much." you mumbled, risking a hiccup and another bout of tears to pour out of you. he dried your cheeks with both his thumbs.

"i know. i know, sweetheart," his voice was soft, barely a whisper, as he brought his lips towards your eyes.

he kissed your eyes tenderly, as if commanding for them to close for a minute. satoru knew how much you needed to crack--he wanted you to fall apart on him and he can pick up all of the pieces. he can make you whole again.

he can hold you together with his warm hands, thawing and melting you into a puddle of your own unresolved emotions. molding you exactly, to fit perfectly right where you belong.

right here. right next to him.

to him, you are the apple of his six eyes. the immeasurable devotion of his limitless. and the bottomless beloved of his infinity.

he could never leave you again. not like that. not ever.

he pressed his forehead against yours, his proximity tickling you with his breath and his pillowy lips brushing against yours. he rubbed his nose on yours and his eyelashes feather on your cheek.

"i love you," he rubbed his thumbs on both your cheeks while holding your gaze, accessing all of your senses with his presence.

he wants you to know, he's here.

he tentatively leans closer, only kissing you daintly. "kiss me. kiss me, satoru."

and so he planted his hand at the small of your back, leaning forward, obliging to your words. he kisses you--deeply and passionately. your mouth presses eagerly, gliding with his lips fervently without any lapses, like your life depended on it.

you put your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even more. he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

satoru is trying his best to not tear your clothes off, on behalf of his student waiting outside.

"god-" he retracted, staring at your eyes.

"i-" he kisses your neck "-missed you-" your chin "-so-" your nose "-much."

there is no reason for the both of you to be separated at all. not anymore.

and so he interlocks your pinkies together like he always did. you giggled and he grins widely.

"i'm here. i'm home."

[saerotonins]

there's something about kento's eyes when he looks at you.

it turns so soft and he looks so peaceful. comfort evident on his face whenever he sees you. even more when you smile so wide or speak to someone. even when he's not the one you're speaking to, he looks at you fondly, the yearning paints his eyes as his vision sees you, even though he is fully aware that you have been together for years and everybody can see it.

sometimes it's also paired with a sincere smile and a relieved sigh. your smile radiates so much positivity that every negativity leaves his body so he naturally rests around you, much like a cat around their owner. his shoulders visibly relaxes when you're around. and his eyes, oh his eyes were such subtle yet crucial detail proof of how much he loves you.

even when you guys fight, too. albeit rarely, your fights with him are never met with anger, instead you see gentleness with a hint of sadness, eager to talk things out with you, fix things up with you like adults do. even more rarely, when tears well up to his eyes when frustration hits him. but when you're there, the softness in his eyes is prominent and more tears flow out and paint his face, his vulnerability out in the open just for you. he's a pretty crier too, his eyes despite coated with tears, still speaks volumes on how you make him feel comfortable, and when it comes to a halt, his eyes slowly drift down to sleep, and then he snores in the place he loves the most— around your arms.

there's also something about his eyes when you directly look at him. love almost oozes out when you're there, not even words, nor kisses can describe how much love is there in his eyes. you were the one who lit up his world, his ride or die, his partner for life. when you kiss, he sometimes secretly opens his eyes to see your face, the way you moan in pleasure, respond to his tongue inside yours, makes him happier. it's like a fuel to the fire that makes him want you more, and do more to prove his love to you.

there's also something in his eyes when he fought for his students' and colleagues' lives in shibuya. his life flashes in his eyes in every swing of his blunt sword. the worry spreads across his face when he thinks about your and the others' safety amidst the chaos. there's also something else—

blood.

oh the pain seeps as the adrenaline wore out in when he woke up with his left eye battered and a part of his body burned. 

desperation.

he badly wants to come home to your arms and just take a rest— sleep, even. he is so tired of fighting but he just cannot. he had to protect his colleagues.

and then his world stops.

he looks at itadori, defeat present in his eyes, and a peaceful smile.

"you've got it from here," was the last thing he says.

regret.

oh how he regrets leaving you in a cruel world when no one else could protect you. he could've. but he thinks, at the moment, he wasn't strong enough. 

he failed to be a mentor, sorcerer, and a lover.

his eyes full of regrets, sorrow, and a silent apology for leaving you alone, but also a mixture of peace and serenity knowing that he doesn't have to fight anymore, that he finally gets to rest. 

but still, and most of all, love.

it's always present when his lens is pointed at you, even though when you're weeping at his grave, holding onto his tombstone for dear life and clutching on your chest on the other as tears drop on the concrete.

too bad you're not going to witness it anymore.

note: guys, i'm so sorry + not proofread

[bunny-jpeg]

virtual - toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader rating: 18+ summary: Toji Fushiguro had his vices. He was a man of many of them, drinking, gambling, the occasional smoke, and the womanizing. Oh, the womanizing. Toji loved his fresh meat of the week, the pretty thing with daddy issues that hung onto his strong arm. But he had another vice, the kind that was nobody’s business. tags: pwp, cam worker!reader, hair pulling, biting, dark(ish) themes, toji is your number one fan, 3.1k

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Toji Fushiguro had his vices. He was a man of many of them, drinking, gambling, the occasional smoke, and the womanizing. Oh, womanizing. Toji loved his fresh meat of the week, the pretty thing with daddy issues that hung onto his strong arm. But he had another vice, the kind that was nobody’s business.

He loved a cute cam girl on a sketchy website under the username ‘DeerlyDoe’. He had seen your face a few times, but he had always seen your body. And he liked what he saw. He loved a girl with a little meat on her bones who knew how to use those curves.

He wanted to do unsavory things to you, nothing illegal or heinous. He wanted to see what those glossed lips could do. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he did want to make you scream his name.

  “Shit,” He grunted to himself as he pleasured himself in front of his shitty computer. The internet in the hole he lived in was terrible, your perfect body was all pixels but he couldn’t deny the heat in his body from seeing you.

He relaxed in his chair and stroked his cock. he was a quiet tipper, he sent tips anonymously. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself, even though the tips were large. The excitement in your voice when you saw the number was enough for him.

Currently you are riding a dildo that you stuck to the tile floor of your kitchen. He watched your body shake with each movement. It made his cock tense in his hand, thick like a pipe and solid like a brick. He groaned through grit teeth as he continued to stroke himself.

His face felt hot and a bit of drool ran down his chin in his pursuit for pleasure. The pleasure was building up in his gut the closer he came to climax. And he could tell you were getting close as well. He began to edge himself so he could have the pleasure of finishing alongside you. There were many things he’d do in order to see it in real life. To watch your body move before his very eyes.

He heard your moans get higher and before he knew it you were finishing all over the dildo. You soaked the toy in your wetness. The sounds that followed your aching pussy around the dildo brought Toji over the edge.

He created a mess to the front of his sweatpants, but he felt relaxed. He dropped his arms over both sides of the chair and exhaled deeply. “Yeah.” He said breathlessly.

-

Toji never imagined that he’d ever meet you in real life. He knew you were located in Japan, but he ever expected to see you in Shibuya. It was late spring and the rain came down in sheets, but Toji was crawling the streets looking for a way to kill time.

At a crosswalk, he noticed someone beside him. He looked over and saw a familiar sight. Now of someone that he knew, but his little fixation on the internet. His eyes went wide at the sight of you. He was in disbelief at the sight but then he noticed that you were trying to protect yourself from the rain.

Without thinking he tilted his umbrella to cover your head. What he noticed next was how beautiful your eyes looked when you gazed up at him. He never expected to run into someone to beautiful. So how the hell did Toji end up back at your place with you digging through your belongings to find something big enough to change in. He thought it was impossible for you. You were so small, and he was so big. How was he even going to fit in anything you owned?

The DeerlyDoe was in front of him, digging through his expensive wardrobe to find something for him to wear. How endearing. He watched your ass as you were bent over. He even was a little wiggle as you dug further into the wardrobe.

He wondered how expensive your clothes were, and how much would you have lost if he tore the items off of you? The thought made him smirk but he dropped it when you turned around with a simple compression shirt and shorts in hand.

  “That's all I have, it’s from an ex-boyfriend. I’m glad I didn’t throw it out.” You giggled sheepishly.

The idea of you having a boyfriend made his chest freeze. But he composed himself with a cough and replied, “Well, I’m glad you had it. There was no need to do this much for me. Thank you.”

 “You gave up your umbrella and got all wet! How could I not repay you?”

He smiled as gently as he could, “Fair point. But I am still thankful.” He started to strip his clothes off and you observed his partially naked body.

You swallowed and felt heat rise in your cheeks. There was a strange man in your home. You tried to create a little room for him to change, but he kept getting closer. Like he enjoyed your closeness. You felt your heart stammer.

What were you thinking letting this strange man into your home? But those dark eyes and that scar. He was a bad boy, and you had your little fixation of bad boys. You swallowed once more then smiled at him. “I hope it fits.” You said, “You can take it home with you.“

He chuckled softly, ”Actually, I was wondering if I could take you home. I think you'd look good on my bed.“

The blush felt like it reached your scalp as you covered your mouth with your hands. You let out a small 'eep' noise from the embarrassment. Which only in turn made him laugh.

Once he was changed, he went over to you and took your hands away from your mouth. He looked down at you as he held your wrists probably a little tighter than for someone as delicate as you.

  “No one invites strange men into their homes unless they want their ducts clean or their pussy ate.” He grinned at you, enamored by your shyness. It was so much different than the woman in the live streams. But he still loved it.

  “Mister Fushiguro, sir.” You squeaked. He had told you his name when you walked back to your home. He held your wrists to your head to keep you steady, and he leaned in for a solid kiss. Your eyes closed and you felt the hammering in your chest.

By instinct you held onto him as you leaned up to meet his kiss more. The shirt felt familiar, but the muscles underneath did not. You gasped into the kiss as he cradled the back of your head.

When he pulled away you asked, “Is it too late to ask you to clean my ducts?” You giggled nervously.

He ran a thumb across your bottom lip to see if the lip gloss stayed on. He replied, “Interesting.“

  ”What do you mean?“ You asked curiously.

  ”Don't worry. As much as I love the clothes you've given to me. I think it's best if I take them off. How does that sound?“

You looked into those dark eyes and nodded, anything for him. You saw him smile, it almost looked terrifying, like you were the prey and he was the predator. He kissed your lips once more before he started to take off the clothes you lent him.

Your heart raced at the idea of being intimate with this man. It had been so long since you had actual sex with someone. Usually you did things alone in your tiny apartment. But here was a man, a very handsome man, taking off his clothes in front of you.

The sight of his muscles as he took off the already tight shirt made you gasp. He was perfection, he wa danger, he made your head spin. It wasn't until his hands were back on you that you realized that maybe you should get undressed as well.

You felt heat in your body as you removed your sundress and left you bare in a simple bra and underwear. Your breathing was growing rapid as the heat in the main room grew warmer. You whispered, “I'm sorry if I don't look very good.“ You crossed your arms self consciously.

He pulled your arms away from you and held both wrists in one hand. He leaned in and tucked hair behind your ear, “I don't want to hear you say that ever again. If I didn't want a taste of that pussy, then I wouldn't be here now. I want you to be a good girl for me.” His breath was hot and left tingles down your spine.

He told you to leave him in the bedroom and you did as you were told. Afterall you were a good girl.

You couldn't believe what was going on, but a curious part of you went along with it. You were used to performing in front of a camera, but to have the real thing sent excitement through you. You blushed as you opened the bedroom door and Toji pressed his front against your back.

  “You want me to touch you?” He asked seductively.

You nodded, “Please, sir.” Then moaned when he started to feel up your breasts. You held onto his strong forearms, you could barely get your hands around them. You could feel his erection against your back, which made you grow even more flustered.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You know, I watch you perform almost every night. You help me relax, I always wondered what that pussy tasted like.”

  “You mean-”

  “Yeah, DeerlyDoe. I know that your pussy can take a beating.” He smirked into your ear before he bit your neck. He played with your nipples over your bra, “I've had my fantasies about you, what I'd do to you. Do you think tonight we can try some of them out?”

  “I've never had sex a fan before.“ You admitted.

He chuckled, ”Don't worry, I'll go easy. Maybe you'll like it so much that you'll never even think about having sex with a fan again.“ His voice was hot in your ear as he continued to touch you. His grip was rough as he played with your breasts.

You took off the underwear you wore and got onto the bed. You laid out for him to see every curve of your body. You watched him lick his lips as rain battered your window. Your nipples were hard from his teasing and between your legs was slick from the arousal.

He smirked once more, ”What a sight. A proper whore, ready to accept any cock she's given.“ He watched you grow flustered once more and he approached the bed. His hard cock bobbed with every step, ”I hope you know, I like it bare. I think you can tell, no condoms fit me.“

You swallowed and nodded. You watched him get into bed and you felt his length graze your thigh as he got closer. Your body felt electric and hot. Your heart was racing. You weren't too sure how it was all going to fit inside of you, but you had to try. Your core throbbed for the feeling of it inside of you.

  ”Dirty girl.” He remarked as he kissed your neck. His teeth dug into your skin, hard enough to leave an indent. You rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. He groaned against you, you felt amazing. He could feel the sweat on his back as he pinned you down to the bed.

  “Please, sir. Fushiguro, sir.“ You whimpered like a puppy which only aroused him further. His cock moved against your thigh once more and he caught a hint of how wet you were between your legs.

He groaned, the time for foreplay was over. He kept your arms pinned above your head with one large hand and your legs tightly locked around his waist. He gazed down at you with lust marking his face. With his free hand he guided his cock into your sweet pussy. He felt the stretch of your sex and he groaned.

You on the other hand were tense and it ached. You couldn't grip onto the bed for support. Your back arched but he kept you pinned down to the bed. Your heart raced as he sank himself inside of you. It was a tad painful, but it felt so good.

  ”Good girl.“ He groaned, he could've climaxed so easily but he edged himself not to. With one hand on your hip and the other holding you down, he began to thrust his hips. His cock pushed further inside of you and you moaned so loudly. Your noises made a shiver run up his spine to ecstasy.

  ”Please, sir.”

  “I know you can take it, I've seen you take more than this.” He growled. He recalled every dildo and toy you ever used on yourself. You once told the stream you liked the pain. He watched you moaning as you gasped loudly.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the two on you fucked on the bed. The bed creaked from the movements and eventually Toji sloppily made out with you to shut you up. You felt the pleasure and the pain mix together in a way that left you speechless. You tightened your legs around the other man and tried to meet his pace.

Your heart raced and when he parted the kiss you said, “Fushiguro, ah, please.”

He smirked down at you, and your eyes gazed upon the scar on his lip. Part of you wanted to lick it, but he kept you pinned to the bed. You whimpered loudly some more and Toji let go of your hands but found his large, calloused hand in your hair. He yanked on the  strands to pull you up towards him.

He held your hair in his hand as he bit your bottom lip and kissed you. You whined into the kiss from the subtle pain across your lips. Your heart hammered in your chest as he dropped you back on the bed and leaned back a little to get a better angle of his thrusts.

You saw stars as his cock hit every sweet spot inside of you. It felt like his cock was in the back of your throat the way he was moving inside of you. The sheer size took the wind out of you with each powerful thrust. You were becoming addicted to his feelings for him. It was arousing.

 “Good girl.” He said with a low growl to his voice.

You were sweaty all over as your body moved up and down on the bed. You gasped loudly as his cock bulled your cervix, it was so different when it was a real person rather than a toy. You managed to get  a hold of the covers under you and anchored yourself as his thrusts got more aggressive.

He groaned against you as he continued to move his body. His thrusts became erratic in a pursuit for climax. You gasped, moaned and whimpered which only encouraged him. His body throbbed with a need for release. This felt like nothing he had ever felt before, and he had his fair share of pussy.

He could tell why you were so good at what you did. His breathing was rapid as he held onto your hips with both hands and pushed his cock as deep as it would go. Sweat dripped from his hair down his back muscles.

There was so much he wanted to do to you, right now was just the taster. He licked his lips with want as he watched your heavy breathing. You were a total slut, you loved anything that would stuff those holes of yours.

He wanted to bite, bruise and mark you. To make you his. He'd let you do your shows but maybe his name tattooed on your thigh would be a reminder to your viewers that you were a taken woman. The thought made his cock throb. Maybe he could convince you of that. But first he'd have to break your brain while fucking it out of your skull.

He hunched over and dug his hands into the bed under you. He growled as he felt the pleasure race through his body. This felt good, you felt good. His muscles moved with each thrust of his hips. He knew he was getting close.

As were you.

The sex was rough, extreme to an extent. But you were both lost in the vastness of pleasure that you two kept going. You reached out for him and made out with him once more. He groaned into the kiss and put one hand in your hair again.

He pulled on it and you groaned into the kiss. Your pussy clenched around him and he made a noise that came from deep inside of him. That felt good.

The best continued to creak as the two of you fucked like two horny animals. The feeling was becoming overwhelming and you knew that you were both going to orgasm soon. You pulled away from the kiss and panted wildly.  

  “You're so good.' He grumbled, “Such a good hole to fuck. I might have to keep you to myself. See what else those hips can do. I'll need a good fuck after the work I do.” He grabbed your breasts so tightly that you knew they were going to put purple bruises come morning.

You whined and arched your pain from the pain, but yet it still made you core throb for him. With another heavy thrust you came all over his cock, you coated it in your wetness. You let out a high-pitched moan that was more erotic than anything that he ever saw online.

You went laxed on the bed but still held onto the sheets as you let Toji use your body to achieve his own orgasm. The bed continued to move, with it hitting the wall. Your breathing was heavy and your mind felt hazy.

With a few more thrusts into your tight cunt. he finished inside of you. He groaned as he did so before he leaned forward once more and gave you a searing kiss. You two made out with his softening cock still inside of you as the both of you came down from your orgasms.

  “Sir.”

  “Good girl, I hope you're ready for more because I'm not done with you. Now be a good girl and get on all fours for me. I want to see what ass.” He groaned against you before he pulled you in for another searing kiss.

You knew that you'd be seeing a lot of Toji Fushiguro after this, he may have been a fan but now he's making you feel really good and not from high donations.

[luv4fushi]

hi!! just wanted to say i love your works sm <3 i was wondering if you can do more megumi smaus or drabbles they’re too cute and i love the way you write him tysm!!

sorry this took forever! delivery is here ~~~

all mine

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s not like megumi is incapable of showing emotions, it’s just that he absolutely sucks at it.

content: jealous megumi, shibuya never happened 🙏 life is good, he’s literally SO whipped for you, established relationship, fluff, aged up!megumi (17/18), word dump (not proofread)

click on my masterlist for more!

“where else did you get hurt?” megumi is sat in shoko’s office chair, rolled in from the room over.

you’re wrapped in bandages from your waist-up, a gnarly gash waiting for shoko’s healing hands. you have on a wide grin contrary to the injuries littering your body.

“nowhere else,” you say, “i promise.”

megumi frowns and gives you a slight glare. he looks you up and down—as far as you’ll let him with the blanket covering you—and sighs. “you need to be more careful.”

“i know,” you say, drawing out the syllables in hopes of calming him down. “yuji was there, though.”

his frown deepens. “it’s not like i don’t trust your strength or yuji’s… i just can’t believe you got so roughed up by a grade 2 curse.”

you roll your eyes. “i made a few mistakes. that’s my bad, dad.”

“shut up,” he mutters. he brushes his thumb against your lower lip, wiping away the crusted blood.

“i’ll be more careful next time,” you whisper, savoring the small acts of intimacy with him. you don’t get them as often as you’d want, so you want to hold onto this moment for a little while longer.

shoko is able to clean you up with her reversed curse technique. she walks into the room with several apologies leaving her lips, telling you that she’d been preoccupied with some other patients. she fixes you up quickly and offers you and megumi some privacy.

“i don’t think i need these bandages anymore.” your fingers twitch, itching to remove the cloth.

megumi immediately stands, his slender fingers coming into contact with your bare skin. you feel him freeze up next to the bed and you look up at him with questioning eyes.

“this isn’t your sweater,” he says with a scrunch of his nose. “it’s not mine, either.”

“it got cold,” you explain, “so yuji gave me his sweater. he thought i was dying so we figured i should go out warm instead of freezing my ass off.”

he taps you on the nose disapprovingly. “you’re an idiot.”

your lips purse and you swat his hand away. “i nearly died and that all you say?”

megumi ignores you, not that you notice—you’re too busy trying to strip off the bandages clinging to your rips—“yuji gave you his sweater?”

“yeah!” you nod, unaware of the rising tension in the air. “oh! i should wash it and return it.”

megumi zeros in on the clothing hugging your body. it’s a grayish pink hoodie with a fading logo on the front. it’s not part of your closet and you’d never wear something like that. something ugly lumps in his throat and he swallows it back.

“take it off.”

you look at him with wide eyes. “sorry?”

“the sweater. take it off.” he points at your chest.

your body heats up, embarrassed. “i… i’m not wearing anything underneath. my shirt was soaked with blood so i…”

megumi blinks rapidly and looks away, the redness creeping down his neck. “how could you go and get yourself so hurt like that?”

he takes a step back and gives himself enough space to slip his sweater off of his body. it’s black, like everything in his closet, and smells like the body wash he uses. he holds it out to you and you take the piece of clothing with hesitant hands.

“wear this once we take off these bandages, okay?” he says as he helps you peel them off.

once your wound is out in the open again, you realize how amazing shoko’s technique is. she’s one of the few sorcerers than can do reverse curse technique, so it’s not like you get the chance to see it every day (and you don’t get hurt badly enough to need her help). however, she isn’t able to completely heal your injury. you’re left with a scar deeply embedded into your skin.

“oh,” you breathe out when you notice the raised bump. “it’s sort of ugly.”

megumi cups your chin. he’s made himself comfortable on the edge of your hospital bed, his weight making the mattress dip slightly. he guides your face to face his own and presses a small kiss to your forehead.

“that doesn’t take anything away from you,” he mumbles shyly. “you’re still beautiful.”

“thank you,” you say, eyes dropping to your fisted hands.

“let’s get that sweater off of you, yeah?”

you laugh despite the rigidness prevalent in your bones. “what’s the big deal? it’s not that dirty.”

megumi almost scowls. “wear mine.”

“okay,” you say with a pout.

if it had been a year ago, megumi would’ve blushed profusely and turned away as you pull yuji’s hoodie over your head. now, he simply bites his tongue when you slip on his sweater with ease. megumi’s scent engulfs your the moment the soft cloth hugs your body. it’s still warm from his body heat.

“i should wash yuji’s stuff and return it later,” you mutter out loud.

“i’ll do that,” megumi interrupts, snatching the hoodie from your hands. “you’re hurt so don’t even think about getting up.”

“shoko just healed me,” you whine petulantly. “you’re being too dramatic, megumi.”

“i don’t care,” he replies with downturned lips. “i hate when you’re assigned to something without me. you always get hurt.”

you raise your brow and flick his forehead. “so do you, megumi.”

“not nearly as bad as you,” he shoots back. he gingerly pushes back your hair from your face.

“it was my fault,” you admit sorely. “yuji knows what he’s doing… i should’ve listened.”

megumi pushes your shoulder down so that you’re laying plush against the soft mattress. your head is propped up by a feathery pillow.

“he’s really cool, you know?” you continue, breaking up the silence in the room. “i think i would’ve died if it wasn’t for him. he’s a lot stronger, obviously. i thought i’d be fine going against his wishes, but i guess i overestimated myself.”

megumi’s eyes sharpen intensely. you know his anger isn’t directed at you because if it was, he’d be avoiding you (it’s a bad habit of his that you two still need to work out). you’re not quite sure what exactly he’s mad at, considering you’re not the reason why his face keeps souring.

“i would’ve kept you safe,” he mumbles out.

you giggle and take his hand into your own. “i know, baby. don’t blame him. it was me.”

“no it wasn’t.” megumi lets you play with his fingers as he speaks. “he’s basically a special grade sorcerer. you’re a grade 2 sorcerer. he should’ve taken precautions.”

“i’m fine,” you insist. “it wasn’t his fault.”

“why’re you taking his side?” megumi blurts out before he can stop himself. he shrinks into himself and pulls his hand back. “i mean—i don’t get why you’re so adamant about protecting his image. you got hurt and nearly died. i’m not doubting any of your abilities, but you know that you’ve only been here for a year.”

you swallow your words. megumi isn’t wrong—you’d been scouted not too long ago. megumi had been your main partner for a majority of your missions, which had sped up your relationship with him. everyone had been quite surprised when you two announced that you were in a relationship. your improvement had been steady, but slower than most. even now, you feel burdened when you’re compared to gojo’s other, more successful students.

“i don’t want you getting mad at your friend,” you choke out. you’ve never liked it too much when megumi scolded you, so you definitely don’t want him angry at his close friend, knowing how distant he can get when he’s mad.

he takes a deep breath and a soft smile appears on his face. “i’m not mad at anyone, stupid. i’m just… i don’t know. i don’t like you being so close to him.”

“what?” you tilt your head, thoroughly confused. “it was for a mission—”

“i know,” he says, and he sounds exasperated. you can’t help but stifle a giggle as he continues, “but you’re so… you’re so smart and beautiful and i wish i’d been there to give you my sweater instead.”

you can see the tips of his ears get pinker and pinker with each word that leave his mouth. your eyes crinkle up when you realize why he’s upset.

“it’s stupid,” he groans, throwing himself into your chest. his position is awkward, but not uncomfortable. his body weight presses you down like a blanket. “i shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially not when you’re half dead.”

you pinch him before wrapping your arms around his neck. he nuzzles into your body like you two aren’t in one of shoko’s treatment rooms.

“i’m not half dead.”

he hums dismissively and you can feel the vibrations of his voice. you take your fingers through his raven locks of hair, breathing in his familiar smell. it smells like home, even though you haven’t actually been there for a long time. megumi has abandoned his spot on the edge of the bed and is basically cuddled up with you at this point.

“i’m just,” he clicks his tongue, “just annoyed.”

“are you jealous?” you say, amused.

you feel him stiffen in your arms. “no.”

“you sure?”

“no.”

“so you’re jealous…?”

“a little.”

“yuji knows we’re together,” you attempt to explain. “so there’s no need to feel like that, megumi.”

“i know,” he says, voice muffled from his face in your neck. “but it still bothers me.”

“i’m all yours.”

“yeah…” megumi grumbles. “i’ll be the only one giving you my sweaters from now on.”

꒰ ♡︎ ꒱

“and what else did you do?” megumi has his face propped on his hands, sitting across from you in the dining hall. he’s got an enamored look on his face, his eyes softening tremendously. if anyone sees him like this, they’d make fun of him for sure.

“we went to the arcade! i was so bummed when you couldn’t come ‘cause of that stupid mission,” you exclaim, talking with your hands and making big gestures, “because you would’ve gotten me so many prizes!”

he nods, his attention fully on you. the cafeteria is empty for the most part—only a few of the first years waddling around curiously. gojo seems to favor the older students more; he doesn’t guide them as much as he had with you and the others.

it’s nearing dinner time. you’d been out and about with a few students of the graduated class all day while he’d been exorcising a nasty curse a few blocks away. he had taken care of it quickly, but felt a little intruding to invite himself on the get together so suddenly after having to cancel last minute.

“i got this!” you shove a stuffed plushie at him. it’s a black cat with a lopsided body from its poor filling. “it looks like you, doesn’t it?”

he throws you a “are you serious?” look, but allows you to have your fun anyway. “i don’t really see it.”

“yuta got it for me,” you say with an excited glint in your eyes. “he won it on his first try!”

megumi’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek. “oh?”

“he saw how much i wanted it,” you ramble on, unaware of megumi’s change in demeanor. “it was mainly ‘cause it looked like you, so he promised me he’d get me one if i bought him food.”

megumi nods, slower this time. “i see. anything else?”

“oh!” you nearly jump out of your seat. “i grabbed us matching keychains at the store i really wanted to go in. remember? the one we saw last week? you said we couldn’t go in ‘cause gojo needed us.”

he feels a pang of irritation bite his ribs. he’s been wanting to take you to that store for a while now, but his schedule isn’t the most open. he’s the closest thing gojo has to a successor of some sort, so he’s usually bombarded with missions from the higher ups.

“you get badtz maru and i get kuromi,” you say with a huge grin on your face.

megumi melts. “thank you. i love it.”

“i wish i got to meet yuta and everyone else when you all met…” you pout. “everyone is so cool… especially maki! it’s no wonder nobara adores her. yuta is so nice, too! he’s wonderful.”

“right,” megumi says, jaw clenching. “do you tend to find older boys more fun to hang out with?”

your smile drops. “what?”

“am i not fun?”

“megumi, don’t be ridiculous,” you say through bright laughter. “i would’ve hung out with you all day if you hadn’t been busy.”

“yuta is real cool, right?”

you playfully roll your eyes. “megumi! i’m serious when i say that nobody is cooler than you. i never got the chance to get close to any of the older students before they graduated so i was just really happy they invited me.”

megumi seems to be content with your statement. his shoulder relax and he regains that half-lidded expression on his face.

“did you do anything else fun?”

your face lights up with a mischievous tint. “i got a shirt that says ‘i love my boyfriend’ with your picture on it.”

megumi sighs, but his eyes are full of glee. “i need to stop being so bothered when you’re with other guys.”

“right,” you tease. “i’m yours.”

“all mine.”

a/n: this was really dialogue heavy but i think it’s still a fun read and i hope u enjoyyyyyy!!!!! i love me a jealous megumi bc he would be SO emotionally constipated abt it LOL

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 7: The Shibuya Incident

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2.5k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, eventually Character x Reader (idk who yet tho)

Masterlist | Next

[ Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe ]

" Where are you even going at this hour? "

Sukuna glances up. He'd left the door to his room open, for no particular reason. 

Meanwhile, Megumi glances at the many cursed tools he's got spread out over his desk and bed. 

" M' gonna find the little shit. "

Megumi raises an unimpressed brow. 

" You've been looking for her for a while now. It's futile. "

Sukuna had expected the reaction. Especially from Megumi. Yuuji would've asked him to join, but he wasn't putting his 5 minute younger brother in danger like that. 

" Then I suppose I'm going for an evening stroll. Does that suit your taste better? "

Megumi blinks in annoyance. This is why he didn't get along well with Sukuna. He was stubborn, much like you. Megumi sighs, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. 

" Should I wake Yuuji and Nobara to join us? "

Sukuna glances at him in question. 

" That curse beat Y/N. And she's not weak. None of us have a change of beating this spirit alone. "

Sukuna and Megumi have a similar issue. They have a sincere issue in showing vulnerable emotions. This is probably the most sentimental they'd ever get with one another, and if you were here, you would be proud of them. 

Either way, Sukuna shakes his head. 

" We've beat cursed spirits in pairs before. The two of us will do. "

- 

Megumi doubts the two of them will do.

His eyes are wide, focused on the spirit in front of them. He's not sure if they found it or if it found them. 

" Heheheh. How cute. Two little Jujutsu students. " 

The spirit is laughing, mocking them as it looks down at them from their elevated position. 

Megumi's eyes widen, noting it's cursed energy. It was heavy, powerful. Megumi doubts this is a good idea.

" We should run." 

Of course, his pleas fall on deaf ears.

Sukuna is smirking at the spirit, his eyes wide in a kind of rage that even shakes Megumi. He knows Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. Sukuna's heavenly pact made him one of the most powerful people around, even without cursed energy. With Y/N, he was unstoppable. 

" Where's the little shit?"

The curse raises a brow. ( Is it even a brow?), before catching on, its lips (are those even lips?), pulling into a grin.

" Ah, you mean that cute little girl?"

Something flashes in Sukuna's eyes. His hand reaching for his most powerful weapons. 

" What did you do to her?"

It's Megumi who asks, ready to summon Nue while Sukuna clicks the Chain of a Thousand Miles and Inverted Spear of Heaven together. 

The curse's eyes flash over the special grade cursed weapon. It knew it could exorcise it.

It knew it needed to avoid that from happening.

Nonetheless, it keeps up it's act, pretending to be as confident as before.

It crouches down, leaning its head on the palm of its hand as it looks at them.

" I sent her away. You won't be able to find her." 

Megumi's eyes narrow, before widening, realizing it's cursed technique.

" Rabbit escape!" 

As the shadows create a large amount of rabbits, Megumi grabs Sukuna by his collar  avoiding him from attacking. Sukuna is surprised. Annoyed too, but he trusts his classmate.

Soon enough, they're hidden away from it's view.

" It can teleport." 

" What?"

" It cursed technique must be some kind of teleportation. And it's range must be huge, considering we can't find Y/N anywhere. We can't exorcise it. We have to capture it." 

-

[ Canon Jujutsu Kaisen Universe ]

" So we're just meant to wait here?"

Takuma is the one asking the question you're all wondering.

Nanami nods.

" Yes. Our job is to exorcise a spirit if he misses it."

" That sounds awfully boring." 

" We could help him. It's a group of special grades right?"

You try your luck. You never know how it will end up after all. That feeling of unease still in your stumic.

Takuma grins at you.

" Ah right, you're from a completely different universe right? You don't need to worry. Our Gojo sensei is the strongest!"

He's beaming, yet you don't share the sentiment.

" That shouldn't mean that he has to carry that burden alone."

Nanami's eyes widen at your words, studying your expression. Nanami has met a lot of people. He's never heard anyone say words like those.

" Is your Gojo the strongest as well?"

You nod.

" Yes. He's quite the same. "

" Ooeh, what about me? Have we met in your universe?"

Takuma can't help himself, curious about where you're from.

" Yeah. We've done a mission together actually. " 

Takuma remains excited, asking you multiple questions about your own universe. You answer them as best as you can. After a moment, it falls silent again.

" Hey Megumi, where's Nobara and Yuuji? I thought they'd be with us."

He shakes his head at your question.

" Yuuji is on Mei's team.-"

His eyes glance towards Nanami subtly, like he wants to add something. He seems to decide against it, continuing.

" And Nobara is with Maki on team Zen'In."

You pout.

" There's a girl team and I'm not even invited?"

" Ah, don't worry Kamo! We're fun too!"

" Besides, you should be glad. They've got Zen'In's old man on the team. Do you have him in your universe?"

You nod.

" I think so. Never spoke to him though."

" You should be glad. He looks down on women. Maki hates him. I'm sure Nobara hates him too by now."

While the three of you had been conversing, Nanami checks his phone, subtly catching all of your attention.

" The transfigured humans who were waiting inside the building are now attacking non-sorcerers. Which is why we're ending standby and moving in." 

Soon enough he's stepping forward, shrugging his shoulders off. He lays his jacket over his arm neatly.

You wonder where he'll leave it.

" We may be acting against orders, but if we wait any longer,  it might be too late."

He sighs.

" This, my other concern is-"

Both Takuma and Megumi take his words right out of his mouth, while you listen patiently.

" The other-"

" The other veil that keeps sorcerers outside, correct?"

Takuma glances at Megumi in surprise, animatedly moving behind the two of them as they converse.

" Why deploy the veil now that Gojo sensei is inside?"

" Either something has happened inside, or they were waiting for this moment as part of their strategy. What I can say for certain is that they wouldn't move without a plan. Y/N and I focus on the enemies who lowered the veil. You two do your best to rescue civilians." 

All three of you nod in understanding.

And soon enough, all three of you enter the veil.

You wonder if the other teams were doing the same.

You're nervous.

You have no choice but to fight the disfigured humans now.

However, just as your team stepped a few ways in-

" Nanamin!"

Was that?-

" Nanamin, are you here?!"

That must be-

" Gojo sensei has been sealed!"

You lock gazes with Megumi, confirming your suspicious. This was, without a doubt, Itadori Yuuji.

Everyone's eyes widen.

" You three, change of plans. "

He turns around.

" We must join forces with Itadori at once. If he has indeed been sealed, it could spell the end for every human in this country."

Yuuji continues calling for Nanami like a child calling for his dad while you make your way over. 

In fact, he doesn't stop even when you're right behind him, until-

" Oi!"

Megumi has to hit him in order to get him out of his his trance.

" Ohh- Fushiguro, Y/N, Nanamin. And... who?"

Eventually, Yuuji ends up explaining what has gone down while the four of you were outside. Or rather- Mechamaru explains.

Apparently he's been carrying him around like an earpiece.

You follow his story, yet you can't help but notice the folded black and white fluff to your left. Wordlessly, you take a few steps towards the cat, and pet it.

It purrs in response. Megumi watches what you're doing, but no one comments on it.

" Geto did it?"

" The thing that's acting as Geto Suguru, to be precise. Shibuya is overrun with curses right now. It's overrun by special grades, weaker curses, and curse users who follow Geto, as well as transfigured humans and civilians. "

" Then attacking through the subway from neighboring stations does make sense. But in order to do that, we need that veil lifted."

" This is an emergency. We'll have to multitask."

You can see Nanami thinking as you get up from where you were petting the cat, which has now run off. Unbeknownst to you, he wanted to keep an eye on you. He couldn't allow you to die, sorcerer or not. This was not your universe. Who knows what would happen to your own if you were to die here. 

However, now that things have gotten more dangerous, he needs to be able to work without distracting himself. Gojo told him about your skills. You were nowhere near weak. You weren't the strongest either. Gojo also commented on Megumi's fondness of you. You'd be safe with your classmates.

" Some requests can only be submitted by a first grade sorcerer. I'll step outside and take care of those with Ijichi. In the mean time, I want you four to do something about the veil that's keeping the sorcerers out.-" 

He informs everyone, while walking past you. Finally, he turns to Takuma. He's seated on the ledge of the building, the cat you had previously been petting now curled into a rice ball next to him, enjoying his attention.

" Kusakabe and honorary first grade Zen'In should be inside the veil as well. If you meet them, please explain the situation  and request for their assistance. Though that shouting earlier might've done the job."

Takuma nods in understanding, his expression serious as he takes in every word. He must look ul to Nanami to react like that.

" And lastly, I'm leaving these three in your care."

And then Nanami is gone. He's disappeared through the door on the rooftop.

Takuma is quiet for a moment.

" Ino?" 

Yuuji checks.

" You guys! Before we start the mission, let me explain how serious the situation is. Starting with the two main issues with losing Gojo sensei. First! The fall of the Gojo clan. The Gojo clan is a one man team of himself. His whims and influences have saved many sorcerers.- Itadori, Kamo, you're one of them, correct?"

You nod.

" That's right!"

Yuuji looks silly as he confirms.

Takuma doesn't appreciate that.

" Take this seriously! All of those people are gonna find themselves in trouble, or worse, executed.-"

You swallow.

Why was the Jujutsu world so mean?

" The second issue is the collapse of the power balance. Those who have remained in the shadows because of Gojo will make their move.- If society is over disarray over the first, and the second will start a war, we will lose. That's how Nanami and I see it. And what do you think happens if we lose?"

Megumi looks nearly bored as he replies.

" At the very least, the age of humans in Japan would be over."

Takuma grins at him, tugging at his beanie/mask.

" I see you get the idea. Let's get going! By the time Nanami gets back, that veil will be destroyed!"

Takuma is visibly motivated, slapping a shoulder of each of you in encouragement as he walks past you.

" Let's save Gojo Satoru!"

-

[ Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe ]

The two of them, were, in fact, not enough.

Sukuna finds himself wishing you were here so you'd summon that pretty blade which was as light as a feather. He could swear the sword you kept with you was simply more powerful than whatever he has in his hands now.

He hisses as he lands on top of a building harshly. From the corner of his eye, he sees Megumi do the same. The spirit was much stronger than they had initially thought. However, both refuse to give up, and soon enough, they're charging against the spirit at the same time.

The plan was originally simple enough. 

Get the Chain of a Thousand Miles wrapped around it, and force it to Jujutsu Tech.

The plan was still running anything but smoothly though.

" Two against one? That's hardly fair." 

It's mocking them though, charging up a white ball and throwing it right at Megumi. Both boys' their eyes widen. It had been physical, close up combat up until now.

It's too quick, and Megumi has no time to avoid. Sukuna throws his Chain his way, and Megumi is close to grasping it- when the white ball hits him

 First, it's a regular explosion at a decent size, nothing that would permanently put Megumi on the sidelines of their battle.

Then a huge soundwave follows, sending both Megumi and Sukuna in opposite directions.

Sukuna is quick to get back on his feet. He doesn't doubt that Megumi is too, unless he had landed harshly into a building. ( In which case he'll have to suck it up and get over it- Sukuna needs him.)

The spirit raises it's brow at him.

" You've got no cursed energy."

Sukuna scoffs, grinning.

" Yet I can still beat your ass." 

The curse grins in response. It opens it's mouth to say something, but Sukuna is done with his shit. Mercilessly, he throws the Chain skillfully his way. The curse had been stupid, probably underestimating him as it had gotten closer.

Now, Sukuna tugs it closer, bringing them face to face with one another.

" Last chance before I hand you to Gojo sensei. Where. Is. Y/N?"

The curse's eyes, which were originally wide, turn into smiling crescents.

" Why don't you find out?"

It's smiling, happy.

Suddenly, a golden ring appears below him. Sukuna's brow furrows.

And then he's falling.

He makes a mistake, holding the end of the Chain in front of him. 

Giving the curse a window to escape.

Of course it does.

And then he's falling again.

Eventually, he hits his face flat to the ground.

" Fuck's sake-" 

As he gets up, he wipes a hand over his nose. It's bleeding. He scoffs in annoyance.

He looks up, studying his surroundings. 

Wait- 

Why was he in Shibuya?

Now more annoyed than before, he huffs, finally getting up and grumbling to himself in annoyance. 

He turns to leave, intending to take the bus back to Jujutsu Tech.

However, he walks straight into...something?

He furrows his brows in confusion, glancing up, he only notices how dark the sky is now.

A veil.

Why was there a veil in Shibuya?

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime

[lalunanymph]

sniffles lemme be delusional for a bit and imagine what it would be like if gojo came back home after shibuya.

gojo who faced death right in the eye and was reborn for the second time in his short life.

before everything that happened with suguru, his only wish was to go on his own path, and create his own fate. not the one his parents wanted or the higher ups envisioned for him.

he wanted a life of simplicity. domesticity. starting the day beside you in the early mornings; cooking pancakes, getting the baby dressed up and sending the other 2 kids to school.

so, when he finally opens his eyes, back in jujutsu high, gojo makes a decision. he can't imagine living if it was not with you.

gojo who teleports back to the upscale penthouse he bought just for you, fortified to protect his most priceless person from any evil in his world wanting to harm her.

gojo who stumbles pass the door, still in his sticky, soiled clothes from the battle. he sees you on the couch, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

he knows he must look like a madman to you right now; blood streaking his face, some of it still on his hands, but you had never looked this beautiful to him before.

dressed in one of his sleep shirts with your bare legs tucked under you, you slowly stand up, and gojo swears the first time you say his name, a choir of angels could've proclaimed it.

"satoru?"

he nearly collapses to the floor, but summons the last bit of strength to push himself into your arms. you catch him, not minding the blood, or the gore. all you want to do is hold him close, cradle him tight enough until the horrors disappear.

"i'm so sorry," he says into your shoulder, and for the first time, he's crying—he's allowing himself to cry. "i should've been stronger. i should've came back sooner, i—"

"you're here," you whisper, and though you do not know the extent of how terrifying it is to be a sorcerer, you can taste gojo's anxiety; his self-hatred. "you're here and that's enough."

"i couldn't save them."

"ssh."

"it's my fault."

"satoru, it's not—"

"i should've been the one who died."

"satoru." you grip his face, and he finds tears in your eyes, too. pressing your forehead to his, you take his cheeks in your hands.

for the first time, the strongest was at his weakest, and you were all too prepared to nurture his broken pieces back to fullness.

"satoru, you did your best. you did your best and that's all that matters."

he knows you don't understand his world fully, and yet, your words were exactly what he needed.

"i'm sorry, pumpkin."

"why?" your soft voice was a soothing balm for him. "why're you apologizing to me?"

"for never giving you the life we wanted."

gojo is a strong man, but he is still a man. he still had regrets, anger, sadness, despair and frustrations. just because someone was born into greatness didn't mean they were exempted from the human experience.

they were still born into this terrifying, dark yet beautiful world, after all.

you laugh, a short little miserable sound that tugged on his heartstrings. "any life with you is perfect enough, satoru."

and gojo kisses you. he kisses you until you can't breathe, until your heartbeats sync as one. he brings you back to the bedroom, and under the sacred, watchful eye of the moon, he makes love to you, wanting to feel human again; to be human again.

every touch, every caress and whisper of his name grounds him back to safety. your presence was an anchor he sorely needed.

as he makes you cum around his cock for the third time tonight, gojo presses his sweaty forehead onto yours, tasting your sweet exhale of his name.

"satoru—"

"forever," he whispers, in a strained, low tone. his cock feels too good, and his next words are positively euphoric. "forever and ever. just us, baby. wha'dya say? we'll run away from this stupid town, this stupid life. we'll raise a bunch of kiddos and you can be my wifey. wha'dya say?"

and gojo knows his life is limited; his destiny was already co-written by the cruel hands of his family's legacy. but he yearns and pines and stupidly wishes things were different. that he was anyone other than gojo satoru.

but he doesn't care about his own name, about his own existence, not when you smile and cradle his face in your hands again.

"i already said it before 'toru—any life with you is perfect enough. i'd rather have half of you than none of you."

gojo gives a strained laugh. half of him. wait till he told you the full story.

"okay," he murmurs, kissing you on the nose. "i'll give us the life we both deserve, baby. you know i will."

"i know," you hum. "you're satoru. my satoru. and i love you."

not gojo satoru. not the strongest. not the man who has the entire world on his shoulders.

just your satoru.

©️ lalunanymph.

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

SHIBUYA INCIDENT - Blurbs

This features Nanami, Kugisaki, Fushiguro, Itadori/Sukuna and Gojo

This contains: Spoilers on the Shibuya Arc, blood, death (one reader death) and cursing... please enjoy as this is my first time writing :))))

Taglist: B L A N K 🤭🤭

Nanami Kento -

You were met up with Itadori while looking for your husband, you knew the mission was dangerous and you came with Shoko. She told you strictly not to leave your post because you were safe with her. You didn't listen...at all. She looked back to talk to you about something and you were already jumping off the building, stopping yourself with the help of your cursed technique.

"Where's Kento?" Then you look where Itadori's eyes stopped, wide and in shock. Mahito's hand touched your husband's bare back when he was distracted with the other curses in front of him. "Kento...no..." His head turns toward you and his student, he's smiling softly at the both of you. "Take care of her for me... Y/n, I love y-" He gets cut off by his top-half exploding into nothing.

"No! No, no no!" You immediately rush into action with Itadori following you. Mahito goes to reach for you but you quickly activate your technique just in time to send him to the ceiling and lock him there while you look at Nanami's lower half and fallen knife. You pick up his knife and hold it close to you while you sob loudly. "I guess your husband wasn't strong enough."

Your head looks at Mahito's stupid face, smirking at your pain. With a snap of your fingers, large spikes go through Mahito's skin. The time limit on the ceiling wears off and he falls even more onto the spikes. "I couldn't hear you over your fucking whining! Itadori," He looks to you, the most worried look on his face. "Deal with this fucking curse, I'm going back to Shoko. Show him hell."

Kugisaki Nobara -

"Was that Mahito?!" She nods and grabs your hand to then pull you along. "We have to stop him now, I already wore him down." You run alongside each other, following the figure down the subway station. "You wanna get boba afterwards? If we live that is." She gives you a small smirk. "I have you with me and you have me with you, we'll be fine. So, yes, I do."

You both get to the bottom of the stairs and see Mahito running toward...Mahito?! There's two Mahitos?! Oh, and there's Yuuji. "Ready?" You look at your girlfriend with a smile. "Of course, this'll be fun." You notice that they didn't form back together, one was running towards you both and the other was going toward Yuuji. "Look out!" You hold her hand tightly as you wrap vines together into a shield.

"See we'll be fine." Two of Mahito's stitched hands break through the wall of thorns, touching Nobara and you. She covers her left eye and you can't see out of your right. "Nobara, I'm scared...I didn't want to die this soon." Yuuji stops a couple feet away from you both. She uncovers her eyes, reaching for your hands. "Someone will come. But if not, we'll still be together. Smile Y/n," Her hand cups your jaw and your hand immediately rests on top of it, tears brimming your eyes.

"You know I hate seeing you upset." A loud pop and your girlfriend's blood decorates your face and clothes. You take a couple of deep breaths and let out a loud screaming sob. "NOBARAAA!" You draw out the last letter of her name whilst screaming. Then you feel yourself go silent permanently, death felt different than you expected. You thought you were alone...

But then you realized, you were both still holding hands, even through death.

Fushiguro Megumi -

"Megumi?" As you stand near the exit of the alleyway you were in, you see get flung harshly into the wall. "Babe? Holy shit!" You look to what threw him into the wall and gasp. You see Shigemo and then the most powerful curse that most people couldn't defeat. "Mahoraga...it was his last resort." You look at your boyfriend, blood spewing from his open wounds.

"Jesus Christ Megumi. You are the most handsome idiot I've ever met!" Another person meets the ground at a harsh speed, kicking up dust and asphalt from the streets. You cover your mouth with the top of your oversized jacket and close your eyes, still holding Megumi close. When you feel the smoke clear, you open your eyes, now close to no other than Sukuna.

You grab the knife on your belt and hold Megumi even closer to your body, not letting your eyes fall off of the King of Curses. He squats down to your level, eyes still locked on yours. "You're Megumi's woman, yes? L/n Y/n." You nod, keeping the knife pointed at him. He sighs and grabs your wrist quicker than you can react. You try to pry his hand off your wrist, grunting.

"Drop the knife." His voice booms due to the close proximity. You drop it and hold him close. His hand reaches forward to Megumi and you notice all of his wounds start to go away. "That's all I wanted to do, woman. I know you'll stay put, now if you'll excuse me." He hurries away extremely quickly as you pick up your knife from beside you. You press your hand against his palm and bring it to your lips.

"Stay with me Megumi. I'm right here this time."

ITADORI YUUJI / RYOMEN SUKUNA -

You were hiding until Choso left the bathroom, you heard the fight from the distance. "Itadori..." You rush in front of him, checking his heartbeat. He's breathing but slowly...it's slowing down...his fingers are moving. "Yuuji, I'm right in front of you. I'm right here. Please open your eyes." You hear soft chattering and look in the direction quickly.

"It's just some kids..." You press your hands against the large wound, blood soaking your hands. A soft groan falls from his lips. "I know it hurts. I know, shhhhh. I'm trying to help you love." You hear a couple of steps and then a soft 'I knew it' from the doorway. "We have fingers, miss. This might help him." He already passed out and his pulse is becoming weaker. This was your last resort...

After watching Yuuji swallow two of Sukuna's fingers, flames touch the side of your face, burning your skin. You quickly put up a barrier to protect yourself, forced to watch the girls burn in the fire. "He's not going to be very happy when you wake him up." You open your phone to the camera and look at your cheek. Jogo looks at you slightly, annoyed by your conversation. "Why's that girl?"

"You hurt me. He's going to kill you because of that, Itadori and Sukuna made a deal surrounding me." Itadori gulped down the final finger Jogo had to offer. He looked nervous, probably because you said that. "Wake up Sukuna." Two sets of eyes open. "Get your hands off of me." Jogo moves away quickly and the girls are back as well. It must be one of their techniques.

Your barrier lowers and you bow your head to Sukuna. "Y/n." "Ryomen." He does the come hither motion with his fingers, you get up and stand in front of him. He turns his attention towards you, pressing his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. "I-I didn't put my barrier up in time." He sighs and heals the side of your face.

"I'll give whoever harmed my woman a chance to out themself right now." They all stayed silent. "Who did this to you?" You simply pointed at the curse and looked away, you've seen enough blood today. He cut off the two girl's heads and looked directly at Jogo. "Y/n," "Yes, Ryo?" He turns his head slightly. "Go hide again dearest." You nod and run to your hiding space.

"Now you, we're going to take this outside. I think you deserve it for putting your hands on my woman, don't you?"

GOJO SATORU -

You were the first and only person at the floor they were keeping your husband. You pull the lollipop out of your mouth and look at Geto with a smile. "He giving you a hard time? You shouldn't be that upset Geto, it's Satoru. What did you expect?" The eyes on the box widened at the sight of your presence. "Oh look at him, he's shocked that I'm here. Hi Pookie, I heard you got sealed."

You dodge all the attacks Geto's throwing at you while putting on Gojo's cool sunglasses. "Oh Toru, you don't mind if I use your sunglasses do you?" You press your hand to your ear, laughing. "I don't hear any disagreement so I guess I'm fine." You slide past Geto and sit on the ground near the box that your husband was trapped in. "Hello love. Thank you for letting me pick you up."

You place a big bubble around yourself while Geto tries to destroy it in any way possible. "Are you just going to sit there until I destroy this barrier or are you going to fight me?" You slip the lollipop back into your mouth and spin the box in your palm. "Well my job was to get my hubby this box but it didn't come with any instructions so my job is to wait until someone comes down here."

"Also, you're right, I'm not going to fight you. But they will!" Your technique caused every curse to turn against him... you were truly a funny lil' trump card.

———

Masterlist —> link

[wttcsms]

headcanons about the timeskip/pro!bllk boys’ good luck charms that are connected to you

ft. yoichi isagi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri

yoichi isagi + totoro plushie !

✧˖° during one of his breaks in between the football season, yoichi visits you at your college campus the same weekend they’re hosting a little fundraising festival!

✧˖° one of the booths featured plushies as prizes, and one in particular catches your eye: the totoro one!!! you know your boyfriend loves that movie, and he’s already won every other game in this festival. he also refuses to let you carry anything when he’s around, so his arms are just full from hauling the enormous stuffed animal he won you, gift bags full of homemade jewelry and baked goods from every stall, and his personal favorite, a strip of photos of you two taken in one of the photo booths.

✧˖° he’s telling you that he doesn’t need you to win him anything, but you’re so excited to “pay him back” for everything he’s gotten you that all he can do is smile and watch as you earnestly try to win him the prize.

✧˖° he flies back to the country where his team is playing at next, this time with a new traveling companion: totoro the plushie 🥹

✧˖° now begins a new ritual: everywhere he goes, your yoichi brings alongside his travel buddy and sends you pics of them. goofy shots of him asleep with his mouth wide open and totoro resting on his chest while he’s on a airplane or he’s holding up totoro in front of an iconic landmark wherever he is. his favorite pregame ritual now, though, is taking a picture of the plushie sitting on the bench and sending you a text that says totoro says you need to wish me luck! 😄

rin itoshi + friendship bracelet !

✧˖° rin doesn’t do too well with trusting people; he’s gotten better at it as he grew older and slowly got over what he considered to be sae’s betrayal, but there’s still a tiny part of him that tells him everyone he loves or trusts will ultimately leave him.

✧˖° the frayed friendship bracelet that he doesn’t keep on his wrist but is tucked safely in a pocket inside his gym bag proves that at least one person will stay by his side.

✧˖° you gifted him a friendship bracelet during valentine’s day when the two of you were in primary school. even when the two of you both went into high school and ultimately drifted apart, he still hung on to the bracelet, subconsciously clinging onto the hope that you would magically come back.

✧˖° the two of you reconnect during the shibuya trip, and he knows everything is going to be alright when he looks down and sees you still have the matching bracelet on your wrist.

✧˖° he doesn’t look at it before every game; just knowing that it’s secured safely in his bag is enough to calm him down.

✧˖° one time he did lose it, and he accused every single one of his teammates of stealing it and was in a god awful mood the entire game. (he bought a new gym bag and didn’t completely finish transferring over all the stuff from his old bag to the new one.)

hyoma chigiri + your hair tie !

✧˖° chigiri does not like people touching his hair without his permission. you are the only person in the world he would ever allow to get away with messing with his hair whenever you please.

✧˖° one day he’s running late for a game and realizes he forget to bring any extra elastics to tie up his hair to play.

✧˖° you show up to the stadium a little bit after he does, and one of his teammates is sprinting to you, begging you to do anything. confused and a little anxious, you follow him to the locker room, only to see a very exasperated and irritated chigiri.

✧˖° a teammate explains that he offered up a hair tie already but chigiri had claimed it was too cheap and would ruin his hair, not to mention that it would probably loosen during the game.

✧˖° you resist the urge to laugh at your boyfriend; even when begging, he’s still so picky. luckily enough for him, you keep an extra hair tie on you and after being with chigiri for so long, you’re already familiar with his brand preferences.

✧˖° chigiri refuses to play any match without this hair tie after performing a hat trick during that game. when he’s not using the hair tie during a match, you’ll see the tie on his wrist.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Yuta finding out you've got severely injured at Shibuya and freaking out

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: When the news of Shibuya begin to flood in, Yuta almost loses his mind over you. Without thinking twice he pays you, the secret love of his life, a visit.

Warnings: reader is depressed over her injury/disabilities so if that's not for you don't read it, Yuta is very confident in this one like he should, hurt/injury, comfort with my boy Yuta in the end

„Don’t tell me she was there too.”

Pictures flood Yuta’s mind uncontrollably. Your oh so gorgeous doe eyes, your breath-taking smile. You with your hair done the way you know he likes, you in that uniform that suits you so well.

You, lying on the floor covered in your own blood.

The news of what happened at Shibuya already pulled the ground underneath his feet. But given the fact that everyone was involved like Miguel said, you must have been there. They would be reckless to not rely on your powers.

You, a grade 2 sorcerer who would have become a grade 1 within the next few months. You, who promised him that you’ll stay safe.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, okay? This is a great opportunity to get a hold of your great powers, Yuta. I mean of course I’ll miss you terribly, but not enough to destroy this for you. Watch out.”

He had a bad feeling right from the start. After everything that happened just a few months ago, letting you go was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. But you were right with what you’ve said, to accompany Miguel and invest his time into training really was the wisest thing he could do back then.

Except for leaving you behind.

“You mean (y/n)? Both you and I know she definitely was.”

His heart drops in an instant, eyes widen in nothing but pure horror. Hearing that none other that Satoru Gojo got sealed, countless lives ended within only a couple of hours…

You can’t be dead, right? No, it’s simply impossible that you leave him alone like this.

“I hate the thought of dying during some pointless battle. This just doesn’t make sense to me, y’know? I’d rather die as a hero or not at all until I’m old and ugly.”

“But (y/n), you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. Many people just die on the battlefield without a special purpose.”

“I won’t, then.”

God, your wide smile back then. It really made him believe that you are the type to survive everything, that nothing and no one is able to bring you down.

But Shibuya managed to even get a hold of the strongest of them all. So what about you?

His lips begin to tremble uncontrollably, hands clenched into fists so tightly that blood begins to spill.

“Tell me she’s alright. Tell me (y/n) made it without getting hurt.”

Miguel signs, the sheer power that radiates from Yuta’s shaking figure running shivers down his spine.

“As far as I know she managed to get out…Somehow.”

That means you’re alive, right? That means you were able to escape certain death. But…

At what cost?

“How is she, then? Tell me already”, Yuta barks at the man standing in front of him.

God, he can’t lose you. Not know. Not when he wasn’t even able to admit his feelings to you, to thank you for always standing by his side, before telling you how much he adores you with all his heart.

“I don’t know! Everything is pure chaos over there”, Miguel replies dryly.

“If that’s so, I will go and pay her a visit.”

“Now? Did you forget you’re here to get trained by me? You can’t just fly over there because of a girl-“

“She is more than just a girl”, Yuta interrupts him immediately.

“And I will go and look after her myself.”

-At Jujutsu High-

Urgh, how much you hate opening your eyes since that fateful day. Yes, you are very much alive and in proud possession of all your limbs. But that’s it, basically.

“Hey, how you’re doing?”

“Better than yesterday, still not fine I guess.”

It haunts you. The pictures of Shibuya plague your mind day in day out. Closing your eyes means seeing all of their faces before they die, opening them reminds you of the fact that you survived despite losing everything else. The sight of your left eye, the ability to move your arms freely, your capability to walk a straight line. The fucking special grade curses hit you hard, burned you to the ground, sliced you open like a fish.

And now you’re laying here as one of the few people that survived Shibuya. Right next to Shoko who cares for you every free minute.

“So glad you didn’t tell me you hate your life again, pessimism doesn’t suit you at all. What would that boy say if he could hear you blow misery?”

That boy named Yuta. It seems like everyone except himself knows about the huge crush you have on him. Well, not very surprising considering the fact that you talk about him day in and out, asking whenever he’s doing fine in that foreign land before even saying hallo.

“Haven’t heard from him since that shit happened. My phone got kinda destroyed and well, most of the time I laid here passed out on the bed”, you reply briefly, staring at the ceiling with no aim.

Oh, how much you long for him, how much you miss to hear his comforting words in the middle of the night. But you know it wouldn’t be wise to tell him what happened. As far as you can tell, Yuta would take the next flight to Tokyo and stay by your side day and night. And even though that sounds more than appealing to you, you just know this isn’t what he needs. He needs to stay where he is, safe and sound while sharpening his abilities. And you aren’t on that list.

“Well, someone definitely told him.”

You squint your functioning eye, staring at the unbothered woman in front of you in confusion. What the hell is she talking about?

“Why are you saying that?”

“(y/n)!?”

Your heart stops, eyes widen. That voice. That oh so familiar voice you heard over the phone for these past months. The voice you dreamed of day and night. Can it really be…

“Yuta?” you breathe out, eye searching for his familiar figure.

Yes, is really is him, standing in the middle of the room with his familiar white uniform. He looks so…different. The dark circles under his eyes are completely gone by now, his dark blue eyes glooming in the dim light. He definitely is a few inches taller than last time, features more mature than before. And his hair…it seems like he finally began to style it a little.

Without hesitation he storms towards you, glistening orbs scanning what’s left of your crippled body.

Yuta feels like dying. You’ve been through so much; your usual bright eyes show nothing but emptiness and agony. What did they do to you? Why does it have to be you? You, the most precious human being walking on this earth. You, the girl he’s secretly in love with since that horrible fight over a year ago. He can’t stop the tears from taking his sight, hands desperately grabbing yours.

“I’m so sorry (y/n). I should have been by your side. I shouldn’t have left you here alone, I-“

“Shut up, Yuta”, you interrupt him before hearing another word.

“You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect our first meeting to be when I…look like this…”, you mumble, gaze avoiding him at any cost.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”

His heart hammers against his chest, hands on their way to gently caress your cheek when you just turn away.

“All this time I had the chance to tell you that I love you and now…Look at me. Shoko said I might be never able to see again, countless scars will be visible on my body for the rest of my life. My leg got completely destroyed, to the point where even she might not be able to fix it. I’m not the (y/n) you know anymore. I’m a shadow of myself”, you bark at him.

Fuck, don’t cry, don’t let feelings overwhelm you. After all, Nanami-san told you how well you fought.

Just before dying in front of your very own eyes.

Your hands begin to tremble uncontrollably again when pictured of all the death and misery flood your mind. Why can’t you just turn it off? Why aren’t you strong enough to outstand all of this? Desperately you hold your own head, squinting your eyes shut. Please, just let it stop. Let it all go away.

Yuta doesn’t think twice. Gently, he places his hands on top of yours while pressing your head against his chest. It’s just not fair. When he left, you wore your smile so effortlessly, your joyful personality radiating to the outside for everyone to see. But now…you look so broken it kills him from the inside.

“I love you too, (y/n). Just the way you are. No matter how injured, no matter how bad you feel. I will always see the striking (y/n) with the most breath-taking smile and the worst humour of all times in you. We’ll get through this together, okay? I won’t leave your side.”

You crumble against his chest, letting everything out your hid so well within these last couple of hours. Oh, how much you fucking missed him, how much you longed for his touch all this time. Is it really possible that he doesn’t care about your state? Could it really be that…

Yuta Okkotsu loves you the way you are?

“You don’t care about how miserable I am?”, you whimper, taking in his delicious scent that hasn’t change even after all this time.

“Not the slightest. But I will kill everyone who did this to you without blinking”, he remarks in all seriousness.

You gaze up at him. The unsure boy in him seems to be vanished in thin air, eyes filled with confidence while he balls his fists behind your head.

Yuta Okkotsu might have changed, but the tenderness he holds in his gaze when his eyes meet yours is still the same.

“I swear that nothing like this will ever happen again. I’ll stay here with your and will make sure you’re safe.”

Your glossy eyes widen, mind trying to process his words.

“But you…you weren’t even supposed to be here. You still have to train-“

“No training in the world is more important than you. I love you, (y/n). And even though I wasn’t able to admit it back then, I want to stay by your side.”

 And then is lips meet yours. Before he losing the courage to finally do what he dreamed of countless nights, to make sure you understand how much you mean to him. He will make them pay for what they did to you, he will move heaven and earth to make sure they get the punishment they deserve.

But for now, he gently strokes your hair while kissing you with all the desire he hit over the past months, will all the love he holds for you.

“I’ll be there for you, okay? And I will kill every single one of them with my own hands.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

there you have it @lees-chaotic-brain I really hope you like it <3 I know this isn't your request yet but I thought you'll enjoy some Yuta content still @belovedvamp