#that one where he said if gojo hadn’t of been a sorcerer he would have been a sugarbaby

[cckaisen]

i have some thoughts when it comes to satoru x older woman!reader . this is one of them . feast ur eyes !!!! suggestive . satoru is 20 years old in this , reader is whatever age u like but 10+ years older probs .

Satoru remembers that moment clearly. Tangibly. A reflection in a mirror, a photograph, a still-frame from his favorite movie. Warm amber light and cedar wood. Resins and shadows, black velvet spread out and rubbed the wrong way, red lace and dark wine, blood and desire thrumming hot under the skin and the promise of teeth in the dark.

See? It’s as real to him as life. He can see it. Think it. Feel it. 

But he can not breathe life back into it. 

And yet, he can still see you there. That face. That beautiful, open face. The flaring of your nostrils as they fill with air. The liberated sprawl of hair across the pillow, the curl of your fingers into the plush surface. The undulating curves of your body. He yearns to rove his fingers along each one, repeatedly, until he can remember the shape of you without effort. Without having to reach back into his memory. The darkest corners of his mind. 

Gojo hardly recalls his own position. He supposes his head must’ve been resting on his palm, since there’s vague remnants of pins and needles in said delicate recollection. He remembers not caring; or noticing, perhaps. 

Eyes of otherworldly blue drink you in. Your rest-riddled form, so true, so uncontrived. His to see, to hold, to keep. 

Rich, supple skin, beautifully bared, gilt-bitten. Your legs are one of his favorite parts of you, layered like cake, another one of his favorite things. He wants to sink his teeth into them, in the most humane, domestic way possible. To savor you; he’s sure taste will satiate him even in his next life. And the next. And the next. Selfishly. But he can be that here. Here, he can be anything at all. 

Anything, or nothing. Both. Neither.

Like a virgin, his lungs turn to jelly when he lowers his gaze to your breasts. The soft swell of them, nipples rounded, the eternal sensation of them suckled into his mouth temporarily stilting his train of thought. Satoru scruples, the inner corners of his brows twitching. 

His mouth waters, prompting him to swallow, as if somehow in your unconscious state you might notice and send him one of those simpering smirks where he might question if you can read his mind. 

Call it perverse, but Satoru lets his gaze linger there some more—perhaps in pure spite of your reaction should you be awake—before returning to the rest of you. 

Even in his petulance, Gojo cannot find one thing, one flaw in what he sees. It gnaws at him. He wrestles with the thought of waking you up to go again, as if the answer could be carved inside, as if he can somehow dissect his decrepit obsession, the golden idle that has taken over his every waking moment. 

Ah, who the fuck is he kidding?

You begin to stir. Gojo stumbles into a claggy-tongued state, his gaze unreadable. 

As if anticipating his presence from the bottom of the bed, you blink out the sleep from your eyes and speak huskily, “I thought you said you set an alarm?”

“Nah, I lied,” Satoru shrugs, smiling boyishly as you meet his gaze. The dust of pink along his cheeks isn’t lost on you. 

“I have a class to teach,” you remind him, adjusting onto your back. 

Satoru quietly appreciates the new view, laying his head on folded arms. “So? Cancel.”

“I should hope that’s the ex-student half of your brain talking and not the teacher-in-training side, Gojo-sensei,” you suspect, those older-wiser instincts kicking up internally. 

“Gojo-sensei, huh?” Gojo grins and drops his head to the side, “Write that one down.”

“In your dreams, kid,” you snort, throwing the blanket over his face and shooing out of bed. Gojo casts a pout under the blanket that you can’t see, yet it somehow doesn’t go detected. 

“Satoru,” you say in warning. 

The man groans excessively, petulance flaring up like the spitting of oil in a pan as he pushes himself off the bed, a familiar white shock of hair appearing in your peripheral. 

At this new turning point in his life, he’s finding it hard to adjust. This role of teacher feels like a part in a play. He’s not nurturing, and he really couldn’t care much for rules, nevermind the ones he would now have to enforce. 

Which was why he’s more than glad to have you. 

Without warning, Satoru lugs himself around your shoulders like a pet monkey. 

You hum, content, pulling off a loose tie from the mirror post, and throw it over his bite-littered neck. 

Satoru glouts at the mirror. 

“See?” you smile in tasteful jest, “Responsibility becomes you, Satoru.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

“Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom—glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[satorusugurugurl]

Can you please make something like y/n losing her virginity to Gojo and when she wakes up she misunderstood that Gojo just wanted to have one night stand and as he never make contact with any of his one night stand, so y/n left writing some notes for him. But Gojo genuinely loved her and then he searched for her finding y/n passed out somewhere or finding her getting attacked by some cursed spirit.

🥹🥹

First Time

Summary: You lose your virginity to you friend and co-worker, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age; Gojo Satoru

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!R

Word Count: 5,848 (oops!)

Warning: loss of virginity, mentions of drinking, fingering, jerking off, oral sex, smut, fights, assault, choking (not the fun kind)

A/N: Well this, this was a lot of fun! 😂💚 I got super into it Nonnie!! Thank you! Enjoy!!

“No, absolutely not. That is a terrible idea.” your best friend and colleague looked you in the eyes, not once breaking contact.

“What do you mean it’s a bad idea? Do you think he has something?”

“Do you honestly think I would know if that man had any sexually transmitted diseases?”

“Well, you’re saying it’s a bad idea. So I was just curious as to why you think that is.”

Nanami let out an aggravated sigh, “I don't think I know it’s a bad idea. I went to high school with the man, for God's sake. He is a serial cherry popper.” your best friend took a sip of his beer, aching his head as he did.

“So he has some experience in doing so.”

You ran your finger over the rim of your margarita glass. You were ignoring the cold, judging eyes of your best friend. Nanami knew you had a crush on Gojo for the last few years. The two of you were constantly flirting with each other, and just recently, he had gotten a little more touchy-feely with you, rubbing your shoulders and brushing his hand against yours. He went as far as to kiss your cheek. Nanami knew what he was playing at. The blue-eyed menace was buttering you up; he saw you as his next target.

“It doesn’t matter if he has experience. If you’re looking for anyone with experience, you could always come to me,” he whispered. Thank God that you were a little too out of it to notice what he said. He was trying to make a point; you both were nothing more than friends. The point he was trying to make, though, was that if you were that desperate to lose your virginity, you could always rely on him. “Gojo is notorious for having one-night stands. He’ll get what he wants and be gone the next day.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” Frustration began to rise in your chest. “ or is that just part of the rumor train?”

Nanami wasn’t sure how to answer that. He hadn’t personally met any of Gojo’s past relationships. He did know that several women had claimed he had popped their cherries and left the next day. So, of course, he was nervous for you. Nanami could see the glittering glaze in your eyes whenever you looked at Gojo. You were so into him it was almost painful.

“Rumor train,” Nanami confessed, looking away and“Then it’s settled!” despite your best friend's warnings, you got up and headed straight to the bar where the Gojo Satoru stood.“Hey Gojo.”

Your colleague and massive crush turned to look down at you. His hair was a fluffy mess, his dark sunglasses shielded, his beautiful eyes from you., and he had a smile on his face that could give anyone cavities. You both had been flirting with each other nonstop for the last three months. You have been waiting to see if he would be the one to ask you to go home with him, but you were tired of waiting.

“Hey, sweetheart~ having fun?” He took a sip of his soda.

“I'd be having a lot more fun if you took me back to my place.”

Satoru choked, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he coughed into his fist. Regardless of his initial reaction, you could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted as bad as you. The constant flirting, lingering eye contact, and subtle touches had brought you both here. Were you, for the first time in your life, inviting a man to come back to your apartment to have sex?

Losing your virginity didn’t have to be special. You were fine as long as it was with somebody who knew what they were doing. From how Satoru acted, there was no doubt in your mind that he knew how to please a woman. It was your virginity, and you chose to give it to Gojo Satoru.

“Seriously? Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my entire life. So what do you say? Wanna come to my place?”

There had been no questions asked. Satoru grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar and back to your apartment. That’s how you found yourself being slammed against the elevator door, Satoru’s mouth eagerly moving against yours in a fiery kiss. His hands reached up, massaging your breasts, causing mewls pleasure to leave your mouth.

“Fuuuck, oh fuck.” Satoru growled, his lips pressed against yours eagerly in between each word. “You have the most perfect tits.” His tongue gently flicked over your bottom lip, and the second you opened it for him, his tongue was in your mouth, gently moving against yours.

The raw carnal need behind his caresses of your skin and the way his lips moved against yours had you dizzy. Never once in your life had you ever felt so desired. Satoru wanted, but no, it was more like he needed you. Knowing that had your panties soaking wet.

“Oh fuck, Toru.” As Satoru’s fingers slid under your shirt, trailing over your heated skin, you arched your back off the cold middle of the elevator. “T-Toru~”

“Fuck you’re so goddamn hot.” Lips latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “You taste like a fucking gourmet meal~, and that's just your skin.” he took your earlobe between his teeth, nipping on it. “Can't wait to taste that cunt. I bet she's already wet~.”

His long fingers slid under your bra, brushing over your hardened nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds. “I-I’m so wet, so fucking wet.” Satoru hummed in your ear, and one of his sinfully skilled hands trailed down, slipping into your pants. “Holy shit!” you cried out as his long fingers gently rubbed over your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck, you weren't kidding.” His fingers rub and tease your sensitive clit. “You’re soaked.” soaked was an understatement. Fisting his jacket, you bury your head in his shoulder as he trails his fingers lower, teasing your tight virgin entrance through your panties.

“F-Fuck, oh fuck.” Satoru pulls back, glancing down at you as the elevator reaches your floor.

“Your pussy is throbbing.”

“I need you, Satoru. Need you so bad it hurts.”

His soft pink lips find yours again in a searing kiss as he pulls his hand out of your pants. “Then take me home so I can take care of you.” Not needing to be told twice, you grab his wrist, dragging him to your apartment.

The second you're inside, Satoru kicks the door shut with his foot, hands locking it before they grab you. He is slamming you back into the wall of your entryway. His fingers make quick work of your shirt, unbuttoning it, tossing it to the side, his lips never once leaving yours, leaving you a breathless mess. He pulls back, giving you a chance to gulp down ark, as he pulls his shirt off, allowing you to run your hands down his toned abs.

“Bedroom?” he asks, lips attacking your neck as he lofts you off the ground.

Your legs wrap around him as he starts blindly moving forward. “First door on the left,” Satoru growls against your skin, turning right. “T-Toru, that's the bathroom, left!” The extremely sexy man grunts in response, making a swift left, nearly sending you tumbling over.

“Sor-” kiss, “sorry, I just can't wait to get inside of you.” The man you’ve had the biggest crush on for years tosses you onto your bed. Satoru doesn't even give you a chance to react; his hands unbutton your pants, yanking them down. “Fuck you smell so fucking good.”

He’s trailing kisses up your inner thighs, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. Skin that had never been touched by another person other than yourself. The sensation of his fingers, his lips, his teeth on you doing things you had only dreamed of him doing. It had you breathless.

“Satoru.” The man between your legs let out a hungry groan.

“I love hearing you say my name like that. Say it fucking more; I want to hear you scream my name.” his fingers hook under your underwear, yanking them to the side., allowing his tongue full access to your dripping cunt. “Say my fucking name.”

His warm tongue is on you before you can even process what he’s saying. His tongue laps at your entrance before slowly sliding up and down your lips, teasing your clit but not touching it yet. Being eaten out for the first time is like seeing God. Satoru is so skilled with his mouth that it has you digging your heels into the bed, toes curling, and your eyes rolling back.

Satoru hums against you, eyes brows furrowing as he seals his mouth around your dripping sex, sucking on it, teasing it with his tongue. His eyebrows knit in concentration, his eyes never once leaving your face. He is entranced with you and with your reactions. Satoru wants to make you cum; the man is determined to do so.

You didn’t stand a chance against him or his skilled tongue. The second he started flicking your clit with the tip, you lost all control. Reality seemed like it shattered into one million pieces as Satoru drove over the edge of your first orgasm with someone other than yourself. You buck up against his face, your head thrashes against your pillows, and you cum harder than you have in your entire life.

“Mmmphm, fuck.” Satoru growls from between your legs. “That’s it, baby, give it to me, give it all to me.” His tongue continues to lick and lap at your folds, making sure to leave not an inch of your unexplored with his mouth.

“T-Toru, oh fuck.” He had left you a pile of useless limbs. “N-Need you, want you inside of me.” you sit up, hands reaching for his pants, undoing the button. He sucks in a breath as your hand gently rubs over his hard, throbbing cock. “S-So thick, and it-it’s hard.”

“Yeah?” The smugness in his voice has you pressing your thighs together. “Wanna touch it~?”

Giving him a nod, you pull back, allowing him to lie down against the headboard. His breathtaking eyes never leave you, following your hand that slips under his boxers and pulls them down. His cock sprung up, bouncing as it stood straight in the air. The tip was a throbbing dark rosey color, the tip dribbling out pre-cum as it twitched in the cool air of your apartment. His hair is trimmed short, a happy trail leading from the v-line down to the base of his cock.

It draws you in like a siren calling sailors to the sea; you’re drawn to his cock. Your fingers try to wrap around it, but you can’t; he’s too thick. Satoru moans out in pleasure, feeling your warm, soft hand wrap around him. It’s so velvety and warm that your curiosity gets the better of you, urging you to stroke him up and down. You give in to the desire, jerking him off slowly.

“Fuuck, ooh fuck.” Satoru calls from above you, his thighs twitching, body shaking as you continue your movements. “Fuck sweetheart, feels so fuckin’ good.”

“I-I don't know what to do.” At the sound of your confession, Satoru chuckles.

“Want me to help you?” He watched as you bit down on your lip with a soft little ‘mhmm.’ “Alright, just follow my hand.” he wraps his larger, rougher hand around yours. “Here we go.”

Satoru drags his hand up and down his shaft, Allowing more pre-cum to dribble out of the tip, coating his shaft in the slick, sticky substance as makeshift lube. You know you should be paying attention to how his hand is moving. That way, you would know how he liked to be touched. But you can’t help but look at his face. His pale ivory skin is flushed, his lips are slightly parted as he whines, and his eyes are narrowed, focusing on your hand that is jerking him off with his.

Eroticism is not the way you would describe this; this was pure filthy porn for you. His face, the way he took his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it, would forever be in your spank bank memory—his ab’s clenched and moved, and time with his deep raspy groans of pleasure. Satoru was losing himself in the pleasure of just your hand. You couldn’t wait to see the expression he made when he was inside of you.

“Sweetheart, fuck.” He groans, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. “Fuuuck, your hand is so soft. If you keep it up, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

Hearing him say that, knowing that you could make the Gojo Satoru cum, you jerked your hand as fast as you fucking could. You swatted his hand away, taking complete control. Satoru threw his head back with a roar as you licked your bottom lip, focusing all your attention on how you were moving your wrist. Up and down, twisting and pulling it as he had shown you. Your free hand reaches down and his heavy balls, massaging him gently, urging him to spill his seed all over your hands.

His cock throbbed twice in your hand, and you thought for just a moment that he was about to cum for you. But before he could, his free hand swooped down and squeezed himself at the base of his cock, preventing himself from cumming all over your hand like you had wanted. His chest was heaving, and the flush on his face had spread the base of his neck down to his pectoral muscles.

Satoru swallows hard, wincing as you run your index finger over his slit, spreading the precum over his throbbing tip. “Why did you stop? Weren't you about to cum?” Strong hands grab your upper arms, flipping you so you’re the one underneath him.

“I was, but I would much rather cum inside of you.” those filthy words have your cunt drooling, your slick dripping down to the bed underneath you. “Is that okay~?”

“Yes, god, yes, please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

“Oh, you beg so nicely; how could I deny your request like that?” He slots his body between your thighs, and he rubs the head of his cock up and down your lips, smearing his pre-come over your clit. “Want me to grab a condom? I have one in my wallet.”

“No, I have an IUD.”

“Such a dirty, needy girl.” He presses the tip against your tight entrance. “You sure about this?”

He knew you were a virgin; you had mentioned it to him in passing in between your flirting the last few months. For him to take the time to ask you if you were okay with this made your heart sing. Nanami was wrong about him. Gojo wasn’t just going to up and leave; he genuinely seemed to care about you and what you wanted.

He was the perfect man to lose your virginity to.

“I'm positive.”

Hearing your consent, Satoru sighed in relief. “Awesome, just let me know if you need to stop.”

His cock gently pushes into you. You awaited the dreaded sharp, stinging pain you have been told about your entire life. But the pain never came. It was just a sensation of being full and some slight pressure. The unfamiliar sensation had you gripping Satoru’s biceps, digging your nails into his delicate ivory skin as you tried to adjust to the new feeling.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yeah, I just needed a second. It’s just a weird sensation.”

Satoru gently peppers kisses over your neck before meeting your lips once again. “Relax, I got you; I got you, baby.” Everything Satoru was doing for you had your muscles less tense as he pushed further inside of you. “You're taking me so well, such a good girl.”

“Satoruu~” your hands finally managed to leave his arms before wrapping around his neck, pulling him tighter against you.

“That's it, you’re gonna be good for me, right? Gonna let me bottom out inside that sweet tight cunt?”

You didn't even need to give him permission; his hips meet yours as he’s balls deep inside of you. You are breathing heavily against each other’s mouths. Your soft whimpering mixes in with his deep guttural groans.

“Tight, you're so tight, almost had me blowing my load like I was the virgin.” he pressed his mouth against yours and gave a soft, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?”

You nod, a wanton moan leaving your mouth as he begins grinding his hips into you and not entirely pulling out to thrust back in. But the simple grinding of his cock inside of your pussy, hitting your g-spot, made you squirm underneath him. Satoru repeats the grinding for a few minutes before his lips leave yours.

“I'm gonna start moving, okay?” Your little moans and nods were the only signs Gojo needed to see and hear to know he was ready to move. His poor little sweetheart hadn’t even been fucked thoroughly yet, and she already couldn’t find her voice. “Hey, if you need me to stop, just let me know.”

His hips move, gently pulling back before snapping forward, burying himself deep into your tight heat. He groans breathlessly, eyes shut tight as your walls clamp down on him. “Oooh fuuuck, fuck, you're so tight, so tight, baby.” he pulls out again, leaving you gasping before he immerses himself back into your cunt. “Fuck you feel that~ feel my cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy? Does that feel good for you, baby? Huh?” Satoru growls as he sets a gentle pace, gently fucking you into the bed.

“S-So good T-Toru, haaa haaah fuck you're twitching.” At the sound of your voice, Satoru’s cock twitched again, this time even harder, making you shudder at the knowledge you were making him feel this good.

“Of course, I’m twitching; you're so fucking wet and warm; it honestly feels like my dick is melting inside. So yeah, fuck, fuck,” his pace speeds up, “my dick is twitching inside of you because you feel so fucking good.”

Having sex felt so good! Having sex with Satoru, well damn, it was like heaven on earth. Well, you didn’t have anyone else to compare it to, but you knew that your first time was monumentally better than anyone else. He was so gentle, kind, and patient with you. You couldn’t think of anybody else that would be that sweet. God, he made you feel so good.

Your back arched off the mattress as you dug your nails into his back, climbing up his muscles with your nails. The pain dialed him up, pushing him to fuck you faster and deeper while trying to be as gentle as he could, knowing the fact that you were a virgin. He could only maintain his composure for so long thought.

“F-Fuck, ooooh fuck, fuck.” His cock is dragging against the spots deep inside of you that felt like pure pleasure every time he brushed against them. With each touch of those sweet spots, your wall hugged his cock, letting him know you were closer to your orgasm as much as he was. “Yeah, you like that baby? Like it when I fuck you like this? I popped your cherry, and now I’m fucking you into the mattress.” You’re so loud that your moans reverberate off the walls. “Yeah, you love it. You love my cock inside that pussy.”

“Y-Yeah! I love it!” A coil deep in your abdomen begins tightening and tightening. “I-I’m gonna cum!” eyes locking on with Satoru’s “Oh fuck, fuck I’m close, Toru!”

“Cum for me, milk my cock, sweetheart~ that's it~ that's a good girl~ yeah~” his thrust no longer has any rhythm; all that’s going on in his head is making you cum and filling you up.

Your orgasm hits you hard in the gut like a punch to the stomach. It’s not painful in the slightest. It is a pure, unfiltered pleasure. The kind pleasure that has you seeing white spots. You scream into the void as you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and the bed. The image of you cumming so hard sends Satoru tumbling over the edge right after you. He curses and grits his teeth before he latches his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin, leaving marks for only him to see.

You’re a shaking, sweat-soaked mess by the time Satoru pulls off of you, falling onto his side next to you. His lips gently press against your cheek before finding your lips. They move against yours in a symphony of pleasure and pure bliss. Satoru spoons you, his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you flush against his naked form.

“You did so good.” His voice is so soft, lulling you to sleep. “Such a good girl~ thank you for letting me be your first.”

You hum, happily turning to kiss him on the lips before resting your head against your pillow. Slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his body against yours. “Thank you for making my first time so special.” His fingers gently graze over your skin as he breathes heavily against the nape of your neck.

“Mhmm, you're welcome. Get some rest, okay?”

You don’t even answer because you’re already sleeping. You dream the most peaceful, beautiful dreams. Ones where you, Satoru, have sex, go out on dates and enjoy each other’s company. God, you couldn’t wait to see you the next day took you. What did the future have in store for the two of you? More happy-go-lucky memories like this? If you could live through days like this, you would be the happiest woman in the entire world.

Dopamine and serotonin spread through your veins throughout the night while you sleep and find you in the early morning sunlight. You’re under the crisp, cool sheets that cradle your body. It’s when you move to turn to look at Satoru that you realize just how sore your body is. You hurt in places that you didn’t know were even possible to hurt.

All you needed was a nice hot shower with your extremely hot partner, and you should be all set to go. Rolling onto your side to look at him, your smile fades. Satoru isn't there.

You reach for the side of the bed he had fallen asleep in, trying to see if his lingering warmth was there. Hoping that if it did, maybe he was in the bathroom or the kitchen making you breakfast in the movies. But the crisp sheets under your hands are cold. He must have left hours ago.

Sitting up in bed, you reach for your cell phone on the nightstand next to you. Unlocking it, you search for a message Satoru may have sent you about why he would leave after such a perfect night. There is no message. No missed calls, no text messages. Nothing. He had slept with you, taking your virginity, and he left you with nothing.

Everything from the night before was perfect. You both had a great time, so why would he get up and leave without telling you? Even if he went to get breakfast for the two of you, he could have at least texted you to let you know that. Even when you pulled yourself out of bed with wobbly legs, you discovered he wasn’t even in your living room, let alone your apartment.

The truth hit you like a wrecking ball. Nanami had been right. He warned you. Your best friend warned you that Gojo was a serial cherry popper. You didn’t listen to him. You thought you knew him better, but the months of flirting back and forth, the late-night conversations on the phone, and the missions meant more than just one nightstand.

The hopes of there being any connection between the two of you left your apartment just like he did. You would never not listen to Nanami again; he was always looking out for you. Since you hadn't heeded his warning, you had to suffer with the heartache you had brought upon yourself. That Sunday, you cried yourself back to sleep curled into a ball and mourned your stupidity and the loss of a relationship that never even existed

The next day, you texted Yaga, letting him know you wouldn’t be coming to work for the next couple of days. You needed time to think about what you needed to do next. Gojo was your colleague and a man with whom you were forced to go on missions and teach the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. Being around him would be challenging. If things had played out differently, and he didn’t just up and leave you alone in the apartment, maybe you wouldn’t have to be weighing your options.

The way you looked at it, you had two different choices. You could completely ignore Gojo when you return to work—keeping things strictly professional between you. Or you could ask to be transferred to Kyoto, where you would never have to see his face again.

You return to work on Wednesday, and the second you step through the school gates, Gojo stands there waiting for you. His hair was fluffed up as his blindfold was pulled over his eyes, but you could tell his gaze was locked on you.

“Hey, we need to talk.” He tried speaking to you, but you ignored him. “Sweetheart, please just listen to me.”

“I have work to do, excuse me.”

The entire day, Gojo kept bugging you and begging for you to stop to listen to what he had to say. Whatever excuses he had come up with, he could shove them up his ass. He had left you without any explanation at all. So he didn’t deserve your time of day.

You finally found some peace when he was forced to teach the first years for his class. As he left, he pleaded for you to set some time aside so that you could talk things out later. There was no way in hell you were going to sit there and listen to whatever bullshit excuse he came up with. You couldn’t, not when you had been told what kind of person he was, and against your better judgment, you went through with sleeping with him.

Before you could find yourself in another stupor, the door to your classroom opened, and Yaga stepped inside. The higher-ups had requested your assistance with a curse downtown. Specifically, they asked for both you and Gojo to assist. He was preoccupied with his students, so you decided this was easy to handle.

Instead of waiting to talk to him personally about taking on this mission on your own, you did exactly what he had done to you days prior: left without saying a word. You grabbed your shit and walked out the door; being courteous enough, you left a note behind on your desk. It also colorfully told him you had nothing to say about sleeping together.

Your words described how you thought he was different, how you had assumed there was more than just a one-night stand between you, but he had other ideas. At the end of your note, you wished him a long and happy life; there was nothing more to say after that. Writing that note allowed you to get all of your frustration, everything, off your chest without actually saying it to his face.

With the note behind you, you had one of the assistant supervisors drive you to the location of an abandoned building. Luckily, with the curse inside, you didn't have to lower a veil. This was, hopefully, going to be a simple in-and-out mission. At Least, you thought it would be.

Stepping inside the building, you automatically sensed the presence of the curse. One that was a grade four curse, making it super easy to take out. You honestly did it in record-breaking time, but it wasn’t the curse you had to worry about.

The curse user watching you the entire time you fought against his little monster charged you the instant his curse spirit dissipated. He pinned you to the ground, his hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing down on it. You choked, kicking your feet underneath him; your talisman paper was just out of reach; your fingers grazed over it, but you couldn’t grasp it. The man above you looked at you with dark black eyes, determined to kill you.

“I worked so hard to train that curse!” the man shouted as you gurgled on your saliva. “Then you come in here and just destroy it?! How are you any better than they are?!”

Your nails dug into the flesh of his hands, yanking and pulling at his fingers, trying to free yourself as your shoes slid against the dirty floor. Black spots began to appear in your vision; you were so close to passing out. Maybe you should have waited for Satoru. He may have been an asshole but at least he would’ve had your back.

“You sorcerers all deserve to die!”

Help me.

“Die and rot in hell when you belong!”

Please, someone, anyone!

“You deser—”

A flash of red floods the room as the man is sent flying through a wall, well, several walls, finally freeing you from his grip. You curl in on yourself, coughing and gulping down air. You don’t even have a chance to fully recover before you’re scooped up into arms, arms that had held you several nights before. Gojo says nothing as he carries you out of the room you had almost lost your life in.

Silence remains thick until he takes you outside and sits you on the concrete stairs leading to the alleyway. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” The urge to run away is as strong as your need to take deep breaths. There was no point in running now, especially after Gojo had saved your life.

He returned several minutes later, waving at the assistant supervisor's black car. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he watches the car turn the corner before he turns in your direction. His blindfold is still entirely on hiding his eyes from you. But just like this morning, you can feel his gaze locked solely on you.

“We got ten minutes before the cops show up.” You give him a thumbs up, winning a frustrated sigh back. “I got your note.”

“Good.” Your voice cracks as you try to clear your throat.

“No, it’s not good.” He snaps, stomping towards you, crouching down in front of you. “You honestly think I didn’t feel anything that night? That was just a one-night stand?”

“You left!” You cough roughly. “You left without a word, Gojo! What else am I supposed to think? To me, you leaving without a word is pretty plain and clear.”

A large hand cups your face, holding it gently. “Yaga called me in for an emergency. I was needed at the Kyoto school that morning.” You blinked back tears. “And I was going to call you, but I left my phone at the bar because I was so excited to be with you finally.” His head dropped forward with a heavy sigh. “But the more that I think about it, the more that’s like a shitty excuse. I should’ve woken you up before I left, but you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to. I should’ve known and done better. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“Yeah, you should have asshole,” you sigh, “ at least you have another cherry under your belt.”

“I don’t just want you to be another girl in the notch of my belt!” His hand tightens around your face. “ I know I fucked up. I didn’t get to truly talk to you and tell you how I feel about you.” Your eyes met his. “This isn’t an ideal situation either, having just saved your life, and I almost killed that man.” He yanks his blindfold down, revealing his blue eyes to you. Eyes that are solely focused on you. “This is a terrible time to tell you that I love you; I love you so damn much.”

For the second time today, you find it hard to breathe. Your eyes widen in shock as Satoru stares at you, waiting for you to respond to his confession. If he had told you this several days ago before he had left without a word, you would’ve been over the moon. Now, you weren’t sure how to react. Part of you was still happy that he felt that way, but he left without a word; he should have handled things differently. That was in the past, though there was no point in crying over something that had already happened.

Deep inside your heart, you knew how you felt regardless of what had happened days before.

“I love you too, you idiot.” The white-haired man before you perks up, grinning wide. “But I’m still pissed off. You owe me big time for leaving me after popping my cherry dick.”

“Baby, I’ll do anything you ask, anything.” His hands are gripping yours, planting kisses against the back of them.

“I want you to take me on a date. A real date with food and dessert.”

He smiled softly, his dimple visible as he planted another kiss on your hand. “Dinner and dessert, I can handle that.” He helps you stand, ushering you forward, his hand in yours. “I could sweeten the deal. Maybe I could make you cum on my tongue all night? You don’t even have to worry about me. Just let me worship you if you want.” While his offer is tempting, you lean against him.

“Honestly, I’d rather go on a date and have mind-blowing sex like the other night, just without you leaving me.”

“I can do that too.”

Satoru is true to his word; he takes you to the nicest restaurant he knows. Buys you a bottle of champagne, orders a five-course meal, and every dessert on the menu. After your wonderful first date, he takes you back to his apartment and makes sweet love to you all night. He had you arching, gasping, and clawing at his back for the second time in your life.

The following day, you wake up finding him missing again. The bedroom door opens before you can grab your phone to see where he is. Satoru comes in with a massive tray of food. Mixed berries, coffee, pancakes, and eggs and bacon. He sits on the bed beside you, setting the tray between you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He offers you a steaming cup of coffee that you gladly take,

“I slept great.” You lean over kissing his lips softly.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[delulustateofmind]

The Assistant Program

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Manipulation, Dub Con, Getting frisky (they're fucking) in the backseat of a car...Pet name: Puppy, pup. Mean sugu. Cum play? (Very brief). overstimulation.

Yan!Geto x Assistant!Reader

WC: 4k

a/n: Ahhhh, geto is rotting my brain again. There's something about him NOT being allowed to defect that has me frothing. I wrote a blurb earlier about this but was never actually able to get the idea into words until recently.

What if Geto Suguru hadn't crossed the line that night? If he hadn’t succumbed to the darkness, yet still nursed a quiet, simmering disdain for nonsorcerers—a festering grudge that earned him more than a few wary glances from the higher-ups.

Their answer to his "problem"? The Assistant Program.

It was Gojo who delivered the news, all lazy smiles and half-hearted reassurances as he clapped Suguru on the shoulder. “Think of it as a little help for that summer fatigue you’ve been dragging around,” he quipped, though Suguru caught the faint edge of caution in his friend’s gaze.

Suguru only smiled in response, his usual gentle expression betraying none of the irritation boiling beneath the surface. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes, glinted with something unreadable as he watched Gojo walk away.

And then, there was you.

A grade four sorcerer. Not someone who belonged in his orbit, freshly graduated like him with an incredibly low grade. A novice in comparison to his strength—a mere puppy forced to share missions, long car rides, and quiet evenings with him.

You were annoyingly bright, a contrast to the brooding aura he so often carried. Your cheerful demeanor and the way you fidgeted nervously around him should have grated on his nerves. At first, it did. Suguru wasn’t sure whether to laugh at your naivety or sneer at your eagerness to please.

How could you grin at him so freely, as if the thought of erasing all nonsorcerers didn’t run through his mind like a broken record?

But as time went on, he began to notice the little things. The way your gaze lingered on him, captivated by the dark cascade of his hair that framed his sharp features. The way you’d steal glances at the broad span of his shoulders, the way his uniform hugged his tall, lean, but muscular frame.

He didn’t miss how your voice softened whenever you said his name, how you leaned closer without even realizing it when he spoke. It wasn’t long before irritation twisted into something far more dangerous.

You weren’t just a puppy anymore. You were his puppy

Suguru made it a game—seeing how far he could push you, how much he could demand, and how readily you would obey. His long, calloused fingers would tug lightly at your sleeve when he called you into his apartment late at night, his dark eyes narrowing with faux vulnerability as he claimed he was having “certain thoughts.”

Bleary-eyed, still fumbling to tie your coat, you’d show up on his doorstep, tail wagging in that metaphorical way that made his chest tighten. “Is everything okay, Sugu?” you’d ask, concern dripping from your voice, as though you weren’t the one being dragged into his games.

He’d usher you in with that same gentle smile, his long hair slipping over his shoulders as he draped an arm around yours. “I just needed some company,” he’d murmur, leading you to the couch, where he’d pull you into his lap with ease that left you breathless.

At first, it was innocent—or so you told yourself. He’d hold you close, his broad chest warm against your back, his deep voice wrapping around you like a lullaby as he claimed he needed comfort. But as the nights wore on, the boundaries blurred.

This time, his lips pressed against your neck, his large hands firm on your waist as he whispered, “Aren’t you supposed to service my every need, little puppy?”

You stiffened, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, but the solid muscle beneath your touch only reminded you how much stronger he was. “Suguru, this… this isn’t part of the contract.”

His soft chuckle was like velvet, wrapping around you and pulling you under. “Contracts are flexible,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was light at first—a fleeting touch that left your breath hitching. But then his tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, coaxing you to part them. You hesitated, and he didn’t wait, slipping inside and deepening the kiss. The sensation was overwhelming, his movements deliberate and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

Your mind grew hazy, a mix of exhaustion and the intoxicating warmth of him seeping into your senses. His fingers slid up to cradle the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he feared you’d pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips lingered just above yours, his warm breath fanning your flushed skin. “Good puppy,” he murmured, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes as satisfaction curled his lips into a faint smirk.

You didn’t leave his lap for the rest of the night. Every time you shifted, his hands tightened on your waist, keeping you firmly nestled against him. He pressed kisses to your lips, slow and deliberate, each one leaving your mind hazier, your resistance dissolving like sugar in water.

By the time you finally stumbled home, your head spun, replaying the events of the night like a broken record. Something felt… wrong.

But Suguru didn’t seem to think so.

The next day, he acted like everything was perfectly normal, lounging in the corner of the room during a briefing, his gaze tracking your every movement. When you finally mustered the courage to approach him, he greeted you with a sly smile, as if he had been waiting.

“About last night,” you started, voice trembling slightly.

“What about it?” he interrupted smoothly, tilting his head with feigned curiosity. “We’re together now. Isn’t that obvious?”

Your breath hitched. “Together? That wasn’t—”

“Stop overthinking it,” he said, his tone soft but firm, like he was addressing a child. He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face with a gentleness that made your stomach twist. “You’ve been there for me all this time. It’s natural for us to take the next step.”

You blinked at him, trying to process his words. “But I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?” he asked, his voice dropping just slightly. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something colder. “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny me now after everything I’ve done for you. After everything we've done for each other. ”

The words hit like a slap, his tone dripping with quiet reproach. He let the silence hang heavy between you before sighing, the sound laced with disappointment.

“I see,” he said finally, leaning back with a detached expression. “I must have misread things. I thought you cared about me. But if this is how you really feel, then…” He trailed off, letting the weight of his unfinished sentence fill the air.

Your heart clenched. The idea of Suguru pulling away felt unbearable, like a void threatening to swallow you whole. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “No, it’s not like that!”

His lips curved into a smile, slow and calculated. “Good,” he said, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. “I knew my puppy wouldn’t disappoint me.”

From that moment on, he took control of your life in ways so subtle you barely noticed at first. A comment here, a suggestion there—little nudges that steered you further into his orbit.

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” he’d say with a faint frown, slipping your phone from your hands. “Let me take care of things for you.” And just like that, he’d rearrange your schedule, leaving you dependent on him for even the smallest tasks.

When you hesitated to stay late after missions, he’d fix you with a soft look that somehow made your chest ache. “You wouldn’t leave me all alone, would you? After everything we’ve been through? What if I end up doing something...?”

That final phrase was the words that always left you at his beck and call. You didn't want him to be executed, he was a good man after all.

Every move he made was calculated, each word a thread tightening the web he had spun around you. And the worst part? No matter how much you tried to resist, you always found yourself falling back into his arms, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “Good puppy.”

Sometimes, after swallowing a particularly vile curse, Suguru’s mood was dark and volatile. It clung to him like a shadow, his sharp edges cutting deeper into those unfortunate enough to cross his path. But tonight, his frustration found its focus on you.

You barely had time to settle into the backseat when his hands pulled you onto his lap, his grip firm, almost bruising. His lips found yours immediately, kissing you with a frantic desperation that left you breathless.

“Disgusting,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. The faint bitterness of his words contrasted with the soft graze of his lips, warm and plush, leaving a shiver in their wake. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You don’t have to taste it—any of it.”

Your hands instinctively pressed against his chest, trying to steady yourself. Beneath your trembling palms, his body was firm, his broad, muscular build radiating a comforting heat despite the tension that simmered just beneath the surface. But his grip tightened, his long fingers digging into your waist like a warning.

“Shh,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soothing as his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting, devouring, claiming. His dark eyes, framed by long, silky strands of black hair that cascaded over his shoulders, bore into yours with an intensity that left you breathless. His hand, large and calloused yet gentle, trailed up to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, leaving no room for protest.

“You understand, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and coaxing, vibrating against your lips as his breath fanned over your flushed skin. His thumb brushed lightly along your cheek, the roughness of his touch sending goosebumps down your spine.

“I need this, puppy,” he continued, his words curling around your resolve like a leash. “I need you to take it away—the taste, the filth. Make me forget.”

His words carried a vulnerability that twisted something deep inside you, sending a shivers down your body. Part of you knew you should push back, should reclaim some semblance of control, but the way his hands moved—slow, deliberate, his strong fingers tugging at the edges of your sorcerer uniform—left you pliant under his touch.

“Suguru, we shouldn’t…” you whispered weakly, your voice faltering as his lips brushed along the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath leaving your skin tingling. The way he nipped at the soft skin.

“You’re such a good puppy,” he murmured, his voice softening into something almost tender as his hands roamed lower, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his. The faint scent of his cologne—earthy and subtly sweet—lingered in the air, intoxicating you further. “Always trying so hard to please me.”

Your breath hitched as his tongue slid against yours, his kisses growing slower, deeper, impossibly intoxicating. The silky strands of his long hair tickled your cheek as he leaned closer, each movement deliberate and all-encompassing.

The tension in your body ebbed away, replaced by a warmth that seeped into your very core. You stopped resisting, your hands no longer pushing him away but clutching at his broad shoulders instead, your fingers tangling briefly in the smooth fabric of his shirt.

“There we go,” he murmured against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s it. Good puppy. Let me take care of you.”

The praise sent a dizzying rush through you, leaving you feeling weightless and tethered all at once. The way his lips trailed along your jawline, the way his hands held you firmly yet with a gentleness that belied his strength—it left you unable to think of anything else.

By the time your uniform slipped from your shoulders, pooling in soft folds around your waist, you were pliant in his arms, melting into him like he had always wanted. His long, dark hair brushed against your skin as he leaned forward, his lips trailing along your collarbone with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

“See? Isn’t this better?” he whispered, his voice a dark lullaby as his lips pressed against a sweet spot on your neck, before sucking a mark. “This is where you belong. With me.”

And though a flicker of doubt lingered in the farthest corner of your mind, it was drowned out by the warmth of his touch, his kiss, and the way his deep voice curled around your name, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

Because, deep down, you wanted to please him.

And Suguru knew it.

He knew it in the way your body yielded to him, how your soft whimpers filled the air as he slowly eased you onto his cock, every inch stretching you to fit him perfectly. It was as if he was made for you, stuffing you full, hitting that sweet spot with practiced ease as he would gently roll his hips upwards. His large hands guided your hips with steady precision, his strong build towering over you, making you feel so small yet so protected in his hold.

“So cute,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress as he drank in every gasp and tremble, his dark eyes tracing the way your body moved with him. “You’re perfect, puppy. My perfect little thing.”

His long fingers tightened their grip on your waist as your breath hitched at his praise, the words wrapping around your mind like a leash, pulling you deeper into his control. Bringing a hand over to smack the fat of your ass just to hear that sweet whimper. His lips found your neck again, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin, each touch leaving you trembling with a need you didn’t know you had.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice laced with a sweetness that only made the possessive edge beneath it more apparent. “Just like that. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

Your hips moved instinctively, rolling against his in a rhythm that he controlled with the firm grip of his large hands on your waist. His fingers, calloused yet careful, dug into your skin, grounding you against the steady friction that sent jolts of heat through your body. The low, satisfied hums rumbling from his broad chest mingled with your soft moans, which he eagerly muffled with his lips.

“You’re mine,” Suguru murmured, his voice dropping into something darker, more vulnerable. His dark eyes, half-lidded beneath long, inky lashes, bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart twist. His smooth, dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to his temples as he leaned closer, brushing stray strands from your cheek with an almost gentle reverence. “Do you understand that? You belong to me.”

The way he said it made your heart stutter, a flicker of something raw and uncertain threading through his tone. It was fleeting, quickly replaced by the intoxicating confidence that had always defined him, but it was there—a crack in the armor he never let anyone see.

“And if you ever leave me…” His lips, warm and impossibly soft, brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and dripping with quiet menace. “I’ll find you. No matter where you go, no matter who you run to, I’ll bring you back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

His hips rolled against yours, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate thrust that left you gasping. His broad shoulders shifted beneath your trembling hands, his muscles taut as though holding back the full force of his need. “But you wouldn’t leave me, would you, puppy?” he asked, his tone softening, almost tender, as his lips found yours again. His dark eyes searched your face, his long hair framing his sharp jawline as though daring you to deny him. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

You shook your head, your thoughts too scattered to form words. His kisses deepened, his tongue sweeping over yours as he swallowed every moan, every gasp, while his hips began to move with increasing fervor.

“Good,” he whispered, his lips curling into a wicked smile against your skin. His teeth grazed your collarbone briefly before returning to your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses that left you trembling. “Because I’d ruin anyone who tried to take you from me.”

The promise in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care—not when his hands held you so tightly, his firm grip anchoring you as though you might slip away. Not when his voice dripped with honeyed praise, rich and deep like a melody meant only for you. Not when the way he moved against you left your mind spinning with nothing but him. Not when you were this close.

He kissed away every gasp, every whimper, his words sinking into you like a mantra you couldn’t escape. “And I’m yours. Always.” Those words came out with a whole list of rambles, as his pace quickened. The angle of his hips driving into you with full force and practiced care.

His hands never faltered, guiding your hips with deliberate care at first, his strong fingers curling around your waist as though he could mold you to him completely. He let you set the rhythm briefly, watching through half-lidded eyes as your movements made you shiver and sigh in his arms. But when your legs trembled with exhaustion, when your pace faltered, he took control entirely.

“Just trust me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his grip tightened, pulling you flush against his broad chest. The heat radiating from him seeped into your skin, leaving you breathless as his voice dipped lower. “Be a good puppy and let me take care of you.”

And you did. You melted against him, your cheek pressing into the firm warmth of his shoulder as his hands moved your hips for you, his pace quickening until you were left clinging to him helplessly. The shift in control left you hazy, your thoughts scattering as his low hums rumbled through your body like a steady heartbeat.

“Look at you,” Suguru cooed softly, his voice dripping with praise as his hips snapped upward to meet yours. His dark lashes fluttered briefly, framing the heated look in his eyes as his lips brushed over your temple. “So perfect, so obedient… You’re such a good puppy for me, trusting me like this.”

You felt yourself unraveling under him, the steady rhythm of his movements and the way his hands held you firmly, securely, driving you closer to the edge. His lips ghosted over your neck, pressing soft kisses that left your skin tingling, his whispers weaving through your mind like a spell. You weren't sure who was the addicted one anymore at this rate, he was just so intoxicating. You didn't even care what you were agreeing to by being his.

“You’re fucking mine,” he repeated, his voice trembling with something raw, almost desperate. His dark eyes, half-lidded and glinting with intensity, burned into yours as his hips rolled faster, his breathing growing heavier with each movement. “No one else can have you. No one else can make you feel like this. Say it, puppy. Say you’re mine.”

The plea in his voice, the sheer force of his presence, left no room for hesitation. His long, dark hair clung to his damp temples, strands brushing against your flushed cheeks as you gasped, “I’m yours,” your voice trembling, your words barely more than a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone thick with satisfaction, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as his strong hands tightened their grip on your hips. His pace quickened, each thrust more deliberate, more insistent, as though he were imprinting himself into every part of you.

Your body tensed, trembling in his hold as heat overwhelmed you, his relentless movements pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out softly, clinging to his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his taut muscles as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

Suguru groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he buried himself deeper, his release following yours in a shuddering rush. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you against him as though afraid you might slip away, his strength grounding you even as your limbs went limp in his arms.

His head dropped to your shoulder, his long lashes brushing against your skin as his breaths came in heavy, uneven pants. The heat of him radiated against you, his broad chest rising and falling as he clung to you, his fingers now stroking your back in slow, almost reverent movements.

He pressed a final kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if sealing a vow. “You’ll always be mine,” he whispered, his voice low, possessive, and tinged with a vulnerability that cracked through his usual confidence. For a fleeting moment, it was as though he feared the very idea of losing you.

And as you lay against him, too worn to think, too lost in the haze of his touch to resist, you felt the weight of his words settle over you like a chain you couldn’t break—and, in some part of you, didn’t want to.

It wasn’t like Suguru was a bad partner by any means. In fact, he was perfect. Almost too perfect.

He was like a man pulled straight out of a drama, always knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to make you melt under his touch. He made you feel good, even if the acts he coaxed you into were sometimes a little embarrassing, leaving you flushed and breathless in his arms.

“Good pup,” he’d murmur with a satisfied smirk as he filled you to the brim over and over, the praises rolling off his tongue like honey. He had a way of making you crave his approval, of making you feel special—his and his alone.

And after he consumed another curse, when the bitterness lingered in his mouth, he’d find you, need you. He’d kiss you deeply, claiming your taste as his salvation, before trailing his lips down your body, leaving you trembling beneath him.

When he reached the place where he craved you most, his tongue would glide between your thighs, his movements deliberate, calculated. His firm hands gripped your hips with a strength that kept you from squirming too much, though the way you trembled beneath him only fueled his need to have his tongue buried inside you. Suguru reveled in the way you gasped and moaned, your body arching into him, surrendering to his touch. He’d drink your juices as if they were the key to getting that awful taste out of his mouth, his tongue teasing and coaxing until you fell apart, only for him to push you further, again and again.

He especially savored the moments when you gushed on his tongue, your legs quivering, your hands clutching at his hair or the sheets. He’d slow down just to torment you, letting his tongue flick against your sensitive clit in slow, lazy kitten licks, watching as your body writhed, overwhelmed by the overstimulation. Tears would pool in your eyes, your vision blurry as you looked down at him, and Suguru would grin, knowing he had reduced you to this state.

But his favorite indulgence came after, when he pushed himself back inside you, filling you completely once more. When he was spent, he’d make sure nothing went to waste. Suguru would lean down, his tongue slipping between your folds to lap up the white sticky mess he left behind. The act was as much for him as it was for you, his gaze locking onto yours as he gathered the mixture of your arousal and his release. Then, with calculated slowness, he’d spit the warm substance onto your tongue, his voice a low growl as he commanded, “Swallow it, pup. Every drop.”

But Suguru wasn’t always this intense, this insatiable. He had a sweet side, one that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

He’d hold your hand as you walked together, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt almost innocent. At night, he’d pull you into his chest, his arms a protective cage as his breaths evened out, soft and peaceful. His presence was comforting, grounding, even if you sometimes caught a glimpse of something darker lurking beneath.

Your parents adored him.

The first time they met Suguru, he was the picture of charm—polite, attentive, and disarmingly sweet. He brought your mother flowers, complimented her cooking with such genuine enthusiasm that she beamed for the rest of the night. He helped your father carry groceries without being asked, engaging him in an easy conversation that left your dad chuckling over some shared joke.

“He’s wonderful,” your mother whispered to you that evening, practically glowing. “The kind of man every parent dreams their child will marry.”

And for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe it.

After all, Suguru was wonderful. He made you feel seen, wanted, cherished. He kissed away your doubts, held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But beneath his sweetness, there was something possessive, something all-consuming that clung to you like a shadow.

You tried not to think about it too much—the way his smile tightened when someone got too close to you, the way his hand on your waist sometimes felt like a claim. Because when he held you at night, his voice soft and full of love as he murmured how much you meant to him, it was easy to forget the weight of the chains you wore

[strawberrystepmom]

cw: overt infidelity (gojo is married to someone that is not reader), abusive relationship, physical abuse though it is not described in a graphic way. gojo x sorcerer/teacher f!reader. | word count: 3k, reading time: approx. 12 min.

As time passes, it becomes harder for you to remember the little reasons why you dumped Satoru five years ago. Distance may make your memories hazy but you’re certain that they were small, pitiful excuses you used to hide the truth from even yourself. 

You loved him as deeply as you’ve ever loved anyone but you weren’t ready for the responsibility of doing so. 

A man of his stature is only as strong as what he comes home to and you knew you’d fail him - you were emotional, unstable at the time, hard to get along with. The two of you had been through traumatic events one after the other and it left you feeling unmoored and unable to love the way you knew even then he needed to be.

You’ve never felt the need to begrudge him for moving on. It seemed only natural that he’d carry on with his life and you’d carry on with yours, slowly handing him boxes of his things from your place over months before one day you had nothing left to give and it was over. He was nothing but a blip on your radar and an indentation in your mattress that you’d eventually get rid of too.

The next day you learned about his new girlfriend, now wife. It hurt to hear about it in passing but you understood that your role as the heartbreaker left you with little entitlement to know what happened in his life and you also didn’t think anything of the lack of invitation to his wedding when it happened. Despite this, you pressed an envelope heavy with cash in his hands the following Monday at school and felt absolved of any further responsibility toward the man despite your lingering feelings.

For years, you assumed that the two of you would continue to move in divergent lines toward different lives and for a while it was true. You were able to work professionally and peacefully alongside him, unwilling to give up your beloved career as a teacher and sorcerer to save yourself from a bit of heartache. 

You saw him and his wife from time to time, the woman at his side never becoming particularly warm despite your genuine attempts to be friendly. A smile in her direction would be met with a smirk and then a frown, a smug reminder that she is the cat who got the cream rather than a woman in love with the man at her side. At some point a decision was made to be cordial enough to never raise questions but distant enough you rarely had to be around her.

Things seemed fine until the night your phone lit up and buzzed on your nightstand, clock ticking well past two in the morning. Squinting, you picked up the phone and scowled at the contact picture of a younger, far more audacious version of the man on the other end of the phone. 

“Satoru?”

Your dazed voice through the speaker was a revelation and the world rolled off his shoulders in an instant. Pacing in front of the convenience store across from your home, he watched your front door carefully with one of his hands stuffed in his pocket.

“Hi, it’s me. I know this is weird but I was in the neighborhood and wanted t-”

His voice sounded frenzied in a way you hadn’t heard in years, your anxiety spiking with each word. Something is wrong, why else would he have called you this time of night? 

“Slow down, I can hardly understand you.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping forward with the weight of it.

“Can I just come in? I’ll explain everything.”

Against your better judgment, you said yes and for months he has been coming to your door at the same time several nights a week. The first time he was kicked out for coming home later than his wife expected, his excuse of a mission more than she was willing to buy despite verifiable evidence that is exactly where he was. The second time, they argued on a date and she threw a drink on him in view of their friends unprompted, his bare chest exposed while sitting in your kitchen waiting for his shirt tumbling in the dryer. The third time, she hurled a shoe at him immediately upon entering the door for reasons he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

Now, the twentieth time, you wonder why he’s bothered to remain married to this woman at all. 

Tonight his long body rests on your couch, socked feet dangling off of the end. You kneel on the ground beside him, petting rain wet strands off of his forehead while resting your chin on his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

His eyes are closed tightly, the cerulean hidden from your view because he knows you’d be able to read him like a book otherwise, as you always have been. A shared glance between the two of you used to be a means of silent communication and ever since he rekindled this friendship, he worries it’s back to old times in that sense. He cannot connect with her the way that he does you, the same effortlessness never appearing in the way he assumed it magically would, even after three years of marriage.

“She hit me.”

You gasp, head popping up an instant and hair flying behind you. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to picture your face nor does he have to open them and use his Six Eyes to know that you are seething. Blood is rushing into your cheeks and your hands shake where they gingerly brush his hair away. 

“What do you mean?” Scoffing, you press your shaky fingers against his cheeks. “How?”

He laughs and in an instant, you feel terrible for questioning what has happened to him. You know this relationship is and always has been difficult, the grittiest of the details dropped off at your door so he can return home to her with an apology before the sun rises, but you never assumed she would go this far to prove her point or get her way.

“Satoru,” you start and he stops you, shaking his head and finally opening his eyes. They’re as dazzling as they are every time you are given the privilege of looking into them but he can’t chase the sadness buried in them away. He reaches for where your hand rests on his face and pulls it away, kissing your knuckles the way that he used to years ago when he still believed you’d be his forever.

“It’s fine. I was late again.”

A humorless chuckle leaves you and you rise from your kneeling position to stand with your hand on your hip, letting him keep his grip on the other one in some poor attempt to comfort him. You don’t even have confirmation that you bring him comfort, an assumption because he keeps showing up and nothing more, but you hope that’s the case. It’s sick and wrong but you can’t stop yourself from loving this man as much as you did years ago, marriage aside. You vowed to let him move on but you never vowed to stop caring. 

“She doesn’t get to hit you because a mission ran late, you know that, right?”

He shrugs. 

“I guess.”

His willingness to roll over and take it is what frustrates you the most, finally pulling your hand from his grip so you can fold your arms over your chest and pace the floor in front of him. You stop in your tracks and look down at him, eyes welling with tears. The emotion of the past several months, these illicit meetings where the two of you do nothing but talk and hold each other, hits you like a brick looking down at the dazzling man in front of you crumpled into a heap on your couch.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he soothes despite his own hurt and you find it frustrating that he’s so quick to jump to comforting you just like old times. You wave him off and continue to pace, chewing on your thumb nail while thinking of the best way to handle this. He sits up with a sigh and reaches out for you, one arm wrapping around your hip and the other guiding you into his lap. 

This isn’t the first time the two of you have crossed this line so you settle in, resting against the broad expanse of his chest and looking up at him from below. Your hands once again find their home on his face, cupping his cheeks, and you sniff. 

“I’m going to hit her back,” you warn and he laughs, his hand traveling up your arm and fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I am. Harder than I’ve ever hit anyone.”

The thing about love, Satoru has discovered, is that it’s a flame that only survives as long as you’re fanning it. Some people fan their flame with gentleness and patience, sweet touches and reassurances, lazy mornings and happy memories. Others fan theirs with anger and passion, frustrated groans and distrust, venomous words and poisoned glances.

Unfortunately, he learned this after he got married and has spent every night wishing he were resting in the familiar cradle of your old mattress rather than the cold bed he tied himself to for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t want you to do that.” 

He presses his lips against your forehead and you lean into it. What’s another physical boundary broken given how far the two of you have let this thing go. He is weaker now than he ever has been, strength zapped thanks to the battles he has to fight between the walls of his own home, and yours has become his paradise as it was not so long ago. His lips press a trail from your temple to your cheek and you sigh, wishing you felt more conflicted or at least guilty about it.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, you feel it against your face rather than see it with your eyes.  

“When’s the last time you felt loved?”

The question hangs between the two of you painfully, your stomach turning at your own carelessness. He is married to a woman you’ve met, you’ve looked her in her eyes and smiled in her face, yet all you can see when you think about her is a person who has deeply hurt someone you love. Your someone. The someone you selflessly gave up to allow her the chance to meet him, a decision you’ve regretted often.

You can’t change your past but maybe you can convince him that he deserves a better future.

“Last night when I was here.”

You start to laugh but stop yourself looking at the softness in his face. This is surrender, something you’ve never asked him to give to you in all the years you’ve known each other, and he’s rewarding you by handing it over freely and of his own accord. 

“I mean that. I can’t remember the last time I was happy before the night I called you.”

Bottom lip quivering, you look away from him. You don’t want to show him the emotion on your face, keeping your cards close to your chest after all these years, but he lifts his hand to your face and tips it in his direction anyway. He scans your features and looks for any hint of regret. 

He doesn’t find it and continues to speak his mind, unafraid of consequences for the first time in years.

“I love you.”

Your quivering lip turns into full blown waterworks looking at him, tears carving a path down your face and dripping onto your chest. He loves you and hasn’t stopped since the last time he told you, the night you let him go. His lips go back to work on your face, kissing over each tear that falls before it can drip off of your chin and onto your shirt.

“It’s horrible but every time I look at her all I can think of is how she means nothing to me and how little she is compared to you.” He mutters with his lips still pressed to your cheek. You aren’t actively crying any longer, cheeks warm beneath his lips, but he knows you’re on the edge judging by your breathing. “I’m a terrible husband.”

Shaking your head, you shift your face enough so that you can look into his eyes.

“You are not, babe.” The old nickname slips before you can stop it and he smirks, the twinkle you didn’t see in his eyes earlier returning now that his old flame is no longer a single light in the darkness but a full blown forest fire razing his life. “She has never given you the chance to be your best.”

He wishes he disagreed despite how he’s convinced himself over the years he deserves what has been happening to him. The screaming, the arguments and accusations, the instability, it’s all because of his own ability to be good to his wife. To give her what she wants, which truthfully, he has no idea what she wants besides a subservient punching bag.

“You would have given me that chance, wouldn’t you?”

The question makes you sigh and you close the gap between your face, pressing your lips to his to break yet another physical boundary. He’s starved for the contact, quickly enveloping your lips with his own and groaning. He’s too greedy to tell you to stop, arm wrapped around your waist holding you tightly and his disappointment is evident when you place your hand on his chest and stop him. 

“In some terrible way, I think I already am.”

It’s true and both of you would be liars if you argued it. You may not be sleeping together, not yet, but he comes to you for the things he should be getting from his wife. Compassion, patience, confidence boosts, the things he can’t recall receiving from her once yet he finds bountifully within the four walls of your home.

“What should I do?” He finally asks, grip strong around your waist. You let your head loll against his shoulder, catching your breath and trying to think of the most reasonable way to handle this.

Selfishly, you want to tell him to run. To file papers tomorrow and move in with you here despite how everyone would gawk and talk, the way your colleagues would speculate and gossip. You’re certain she already has an inkling he’s here every night, the steely look she leveled your direction a few weeks ago across the room at a small dinner gathering for the sorcerers making you head out of the event in near record time. He ended up at your house that same night, head in his hands wondering what he possibly could have done to make her angry.

Choosing your words carefully seems like the less reckless option so you do.

“What do you want to do?”

Despite your very intentional word choice, you hope his answer will be the one you’re looking for and that he will ask you for help. Being his safe haven is a job you’ve always taken seriously and now more than ever you know he needs it.

“I don’t know. I think I need some time to decide.”

It’s disappointing that he hasn’t made his mind up yet but you understand. It’s never easy to walk away from something you promised your lifelong effort toward, not unlike this life of sorcery the two of you share, so you simply keep your head against his chest and wait for him to keep speaking rather than breaking the silence yourself.

“If I decide to leave, I won’t tell her about any of this.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Satoru. I made this decision too and she has a right to know unless you plan on never speaking to me again after.”

He laughs, genuinely. You can’t remember the last time you heard his cackle like this and you smile. He kisses you again.

“No. If I leave this is where I want to be.”

You don’t speak it, but the if makes you wonder how serious he is about the whole thing. It doesn’t matter though, you suppose, the hour ticking far past 3 am and stretching into 4 when you let him kiss you again. And again. And this time with tongue, with hands, with frenzy and need. The sun is about to rise by the time he stops, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling once again, and he digs his phone out of his pocket with a groan.

Looking at the missed call notifications, all from his wife, he rolls his eyes and swipes to dismiss them. You feel smug, not unlike her every time she has spotted you from across the room, but you remind yourself to be better than this woman who has shoved Satoru back into your arms.

“I have some shit I have to take care of but I’ll text you later, okay?”

You nod, sliding off of his lap and watching him stand up to adjust his clothing. His shirt is wrinkled and he hasn’t slept but he looks no different than he did upon his arrival, no trace of what transpired here tonight left behind on him.

“Okay.” 

You finally respond and he kneels in front of where you sit, holding your hands. It isn’t hard for him to catch on that you are apprehensive, uncertain about where you truly stand in all of this, so he does his best to reassure you.

“This is where I want to be.”

As he stands again, but not before pressing a pair of kisses to your forehead and the tip of your nose, all you can do is assume that he means it. 

He’s never lied to you before, why would he start now?

[jujutsukgojo]

Smelly

Alpha! Satoru gojo x Beta! reader Summary:

"He doesn’t know why he chose you. You're a beta and he’s an alpha. He's been told several times that he’s supposed to be with an omega. Yet here you are, totally having him wrapped around your finger and you don't even know it. He's supposed to be the strongest sorcerer, not some love-sick, insecure alpha trying to woo someone that isn’t designed for him."

Gojo's a newly presented alpha and is trying to court you but stinks.

tw: insecurity and fluff, a/b/o, omegaverse

The second you open the door, you feel a sharp pain in your head. Your friends, Satoru and Suguru, sit together minding their own. To the naked eye, they seem fine. However, you can feel the tension and are bothered by the overwhelming smell. You look around for a certain brunette missing from the mix. It isn’t odd for Shoko to be late to class anyway, so you don’t ask where she is.  

You go to your seat and they mumble a hello. Suguru barely looks your way while Satoru focuses on you. Or at least that is what it looks like. You can't really tell because of those insanely dark glasses.

 Geto and Gojo have always been close. Best of friends, brothers, and rivals. Peas in a pod that argue constantly and are a pain to deal with due to their clownery. Suguru’s self-righteousness and Satoru’s, well, Satoru being himself, are enough to deal with daily.  

 However, the tension between them right now will have you running to the hills if they start fighting (again). The average Tuesday but on a different and more dangerous and intense level.  

 Since you are a beta, you got what the deal was the second you came in. The two clowns are presenting their secondary genders. It is a form of puberty. It makes sense as to why Geto and Gojo have this friction. If their newfound scents are any indicator, they’re alphas getting ready to officially present.  

Even before, everyone guessed what they were, but it hadn’t fully shown itself until now. If they were to open their mouths, no doubt there would be new canines pushing through. But you know that one false move and it is an all-out brawl. 

  Alphas tend to do that when this happens. Because of how aggressive they can get, it is encouraged for alphas to stay home during this time.  

It kind of reminds you of when you get your period and become a nightmare. Hell, you even bit Suguru once. In your defense, he reached for your food so in the eyes of God you are innocent.  

Despite the fires of hell coming out of you and the bite marks they all have on them, they are still nice and understanding. Every month they give you what you want and accommodate to you.  

So, it’s only fair to be the same way with them. Help the two dumbasses get through this as much as you can.  

But oh my God, the smell.   

“You guys stink.” Before, everyone’s scent was toned down and had a newborn baby quality to it. And now? That's gone and it's on full throttle until they’re done. After this, it won’t be so bad.  

The two dumbasses look at you with bugged out eyes and open mouths. Both of their expressions are fit for a comic book or anime or something.  

“What?!” They say in unison, with a white cast over their face and their hairs raised. 

--------------------------

Later that day, everyone had to go to their rooms. It was awful. They hit their peak at the same time and it resulted in Incident Number 348. 

After class, all they had to do is run some laps. Thing One and Thing Two had calmed down and were acting a little normal about that time much to everyone's delight. Until you laughed at something Suguru said, and Satoru started growling again. All the while you were sitting on the bleachers eating crackers due to nausea from the headaches their scents give you, watching everything go down.  

  Unfortunately, being the only beta in the class means you had to go over there and calm them down with your calming scent. You walked up to them hesitantly, knowing good and damn well if you are caught in the fray, you may not make it.   

Releasing your scent as much as you could, they slowly started to relax. They took deep breaths and their growls turned lower, quieter. Finally, you smacked them on the back of their heads. It wasn’t necessary, but you felt it was. Suguru snarled at you. Out of instinct, you moved your hand away quickly. Satoru jumped on his best friend again. 

 The school and probably all of Tokyo suffered from it. Lights were going crazy, the ground rumbled, trees moved from their rightful place in the ground, and the air somehow felt expanded around you. You can’t explain it, honestly. It felt as if nothing could touch you. Yet, at the same time, it was suffocating. 

After it took several more betas to calm the two down and plushies from Yaga to punch them in the face, Yaga had given up and forced everyone to their rooms. 

Now everyone has to eat separately until their presentations ease up.  

You lay on your bed eating your crackers until your name is called. Suddenly, you hear huffing outside your door. The smell is so damn strong. You get up and slowly go to the door to peek underneath it. All you see are large bare feet walking back and forth. Getting a closer look, there are painted toes. The only person who wears that colored nail polish is Satoru. He looks awful in it. He has more of a cool tone! Neon yellow isn’t really his color. He didn’t care and said that he looked good in everything. When you were painting them, you tried to tell him he looks like a sunny side up egg, but all he said was ‘yummy’ and asked you to please eat him.

You nearly killed him when he wiggled his toes in your face.  

 “What’s he doing? How did he get out?” You whisper. The smell is getting stronger as he goes against your door, rubbing himself on it.  

The headache is back with a vengeance and it’s making you nauseous and dizzy. That’s the drawback with these headaches lately. They make you so damn dizzy and sick.  

 You eat the last cracker. Groaning as you lay on the floor, you say, “Crud, I'm out of crackers.”  

He stops walking and faces the door. You poke his toe with your finger. He jumps from shock, which in turn makes you smile. Finally, he leaves. Your phone begins to ring and shows Yaga’s name. In a gruff voice, he lets you know that it’s time for dinner.  

Apparently, betas and the unpresented eat together. Honestly, that’s okay with you. Anything to get away from the overwhelming scents.  

Entering the room, you see only five students. Three being your upperclassman and two being your juniors. You grab your lunch and head to the table where Yu and Kento sit. The two usually hang together. Like Satoru and Suguru, they’re rarely a part.  

  “Why do you smell like that?” Yu asks. He shoves a big chunk of food in his mouth. He chews noisily and it for some reason sounds happy? 

“Explain.” 

He gets closer. “I don’t know? It’s hurting my head though.” He says with his mouth full. You forgot that he told you that he’s a beta.  

Kento scolds him for his chewing and tells him to have manners. Kento is a stiff emo-looking kid. One day he’ll look back at his hair and fashion choices and grimace. You hope that you both live that long to see it. 

You pat Yu’s back and apologize for his discomfort that seems to be waning. Kento chews his sandwich and listens to you as you explain how you might’ve ended up smelling like this. Yu agrees that it must be it. The cool like fragrance can only belong to one person. And that fucker rubbed himself all over your door.  

 Nanami, who still has a year to present, sighs. Before you can ask what he means by it, the bell rings. 

-------------------------------------

 Now a few days later, the class is somewhat back to normal. You enter the classroom, on your desk are several of your favorite boxes of crackers stacked up on top of each other with a bottle of water next to them. 

You ask Shoko, who still reeks but to a lesser degree, who the culprit is. She shrugs and bites her pencil. A habit she has had since you met her years ago. Thankfully, she’s back to her old self again. Stinky, but her old, sarcastic, self.  

You scrunch your nose.  “Ew.” She glares and throws her wet pencil at you. Ignoring her, you walk towards your desk.  

The closer you get, the stronger it is. They’re minty and woody, it is thick practically dripping off it like honey. The fragrance is familiar and comforting. A scent that you favor more than anyone else’s. Years you have known it and become welcomely accustomed to it.  

It is bold, unique, and normally so smooth. All so distinctively Satoru, who rubbed himself all over your door, crackers, seat, and water bottle. Despite your admiration, it is hard to take in since this whole thing started.  

“Ugh.” 

You only see a flash of white from the corner of your eye. Turning around to see it, it disappears. Shoko sighs at you and tells you to pack the crackers. Since then, Satoru has been acting even more strangely than his usual self, and that’s saying something. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Everyone stares at you with a deadpan face and a smack to their foreheads. 

---------------------

Satoru makes another joke in class causing Shoko to groan. He doesn’t care about her reaction. He knows Suguru will laugh, but will you? Ever since he met you, he held a torch for you. Now that he’s a presented alpha, he is sure he can prove himself to you despite what traditionalists say. All he has to do is impress you enough to look his way! Not to look at him as a friend, but as a lover. Someone who can protect and comfort you. Someone who can make you laugh and have fun! That he can be generous and can provide, so you don’t have to worry. That's why he left the crackers and the water for you. To show you that he’s capable.

 His chest flutters when he hears your laugh. It's cute when you snort and how you get embarrassed about it. He loves your genuine smile; he’d know it anywhere. He adjusts in his seat to face you more and gets ready to tell another joke when Yaga intervenes. “Gojo, enough.” 

Damn it Yaga. 

  Suguru pokes his leg and smirks. If anyone knows how he feels, it’s his best friend. Satoru’s never been exactly subtle about his feelings towards you. Not when he likes to rub his cheek against yours to familiarize himself and ultimately, mark what’s his. 

  He doesn’t know why he chose you. You're a beta and he’s an alpha. He's been told several times that he’s supposed to be with an omega. Yet here you are, totally having him wrapped around your finger and you don't even know it. He's supposed to be the strongest sorcerer, not some love-sick, insecure alpha trying to woo someone that isn’t designed for him.  

Hell, he might never have the time for you. The two of you may die. 

The thought hurts him immensely. He can’t imagine not being with you. Growing old with you, having a few babies maybe, teaching the next generation as he hopes to. Seeing you frown whenever he gets into trouble and encourages others to do it, either of you coming home to each other knowing you’d be okay. To make love and for you to know that he can be generous and passionate. He’d make sure you never got tired of feeling him.  

Hell, he is Satoru Gojo. Wielder of Limitless and Six Eyes, the first in hundreds of years. The strongest sorcerer alive. A man who has defied fate and made his own. If anyone can accomplish the impossible, it’s him. Satoru Gojo will have time for you. He'll have that dream of his and make you the happiest person alive.  

All he has to do is show you that.  

After class, comes training. This is his moment to show you just how strong he is. He has sparred with you before, with you always landing on your ass and him making the comment about how he’d kiss it to make it better. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without Suguru and Shoko in the back groaning. You always laugh when he says it. You laugh whenever he has tried to flirt with you.  

  He was not joking.  

This time, he went against Suguru. Even though he knows he is the strongest, Suguru is still a challenge. Suguru’s unwavering determination makes him strong. Satoru watches you from the corner of his eye. He sees you take on Shoko with a smirk. Shoko is not the best fighter. She's fierce and useful, but you are more experienced and have finesse.  

   You kick at her and she gets caught in it. If there is anything a beta can do, it’s kick the hell out of somebody. Not even he would want to get caught in that.  

He swells with pride. Not that his friend got hit or anything. It is because of you. Now all he has to do is show you how strong he is and not just because he says so.  

  Suguru notices his distraction and follows where he is looking. Satoru does not like that look on his best friend’s face. That is when Suguru calls out your name. You send Shoko down, winning the fight. “Yeah?” 

  Suguru comes up with the bright idea of teasing. All it takes is one wink your way and the newly presented alphas are at each other’s throats. Shoko stands up with the help of your hand and just sighs.  

 Satoru is furious. He knows Suguru is just messing with him. He knows that Suguru doesn’t feel about you the way he does. If anything, Suguru thinks of you as a sister. How many times did he protect you or pay for your things, ending it with a pat on your head. Or a gentle scolding that a big brother would give to his precious sister. It drove you up a wall when Suguru did that. It always bothered you how he felt the urge to do those things, to baby you.  

  So, he doesn’t know why he’s letting his best friend get to him.  

After the fight, Satoru stands tall. It was decided by Yaga that he had won. Satoru turns to see you but you are gone along with Shoko. Damn.  

Suguru snorts at Satoru’s expression and swipes his long legs from under him.  

------------------------

Satoru isn’t done yet. An alpha’s gotta prove himself, alright? He tried to show you he can provide and that he’s strong enough to protect you. And anyone who passes your door knows that Satoru claimed that spot. You haven't noticed his attempts yet. Emphasis on yet. 

 He has a couple more tricks. What if he told Shoko to encourage you to go out with them? Maybe you just have to see more clearly, you’d understand that you’re his.   

He runs to Shoko to tell her what her job is. Is that a little demanding? Yes, usually it is if it were a different situation. This is his life we’re talking about. This is about you! 

You, who hangs the stars at night; the one who shines brighter than any sun and is more enchanting than all of the moons. The little dances you do whenever you taste anything good is more graceful than the sway of falling leaves in autumn. When you stretch out your arm for everyone to see your thumbs up to let people know, him know you’re okay is better than the earth sprouting out a new tree to show that there is hope for all.

He doesn’t care about that because you are okay.  

He’s positive that the reason God had to rest was because he used his energy creating you. The Big Guy was tired from creating such a masterpiece. 

Shoko looks at him bewildered as he says all of this out loud. When he’s finished pleading his case as to why she should go up to you and ask if you want to hang out, she smacks her head against the table. 

“Is it too hard to just tell her? What’s the harm in that?” 

Satoru gasps at Shoko’s suggestion. “She’ll know then! I don’t want to tell her, dummy!” Shoko throws up her hands. “Doesn’t anyone wonder about my problems?” 

“Oh my God, Shoko! Right now we’re talking about me!” He whines.  

Before she chews him out, she sees him look out the window. Peeking, she sees you on the grass, enjoying the sun. The look in Satoru’s eyes is something she will never see in any painting. If only you turned around and looked up at the window and saw him. Surely, there wouldn’t be any need for all of this.  

She hopes one day she will have that look and he better help her too.  

“When the time comes, you better have my back too.”  

“Huh?” He didn’t even notice that he was staring at you in awe. She smiles and agrees with his plan before he can continue his worship. He pets her head and says, “Whatever.” 

Shoko smacks him away from her and tells him to get ready for his date.  

---------------------

How she managed to get you to agree, he doesn’t know. What he does notice is that you’re swaying too much for his liking and resting your head on random stands like the rail on the stairs. Satoru, not just as your future baby-daddy slash husband, but your friend. 

 Unfortunately, Suguru shares that same concern about your wellbeing. And Satoru does not like that at all.  

  “Something’s wrong, you think?” His friend asks. Again, Satoru knows that his best friend the Man Bun feels nothing for you. He can’t help but feel a little bothered by it though. He's freshly presented and is out of the worst part, the rut, but the hormones are still a little high.  

  He’ll repent for it later.  

“Hm, yeah. Of course, I'd know.” He snaps.  

“Satoru, are you okay?” Satoru whips his head around to see his friend. “Yeah, just stop ruining my shot.” He harshly whispers. 

Suguru looks at him confused. Innocently, he asks, “Does she know that?” 

Satoru growls and feels fire burn in his chest. He does not like that at all. Satoru knows he’s being stupid, but he can’t help it right now. He hears you moan (and not in the way that he wants to hear you make one day) and abandons his friend. 

  Once he leaves to attend you, he barely hears Suguru’s ‘what’d I do?’. Satoru can’t focus on him right now, though.  

 “Here, lean on me.” You loop your arm through his. Satoru is screaming on the inside. You smell so good, oh my God.  

Like something fresh and lilies. He can’t place it but it’s so calming and beautiful. Not at all like an omega’s dessert table scent. Don't get him wrong, he loves sweets. But you? There’s just something about how you smell that makes him want to press his face on you, like one of those laundry detergent commercials that sniff clean clothes.  

   You'd smack the shit out of him though.  

Play it cool, play it cool.   

“You okay?”  

“Yeah, I'm good.” He knows better though. You’re not looking at him and are rubbing your stomach. “Ha, I think I'm hungry.”  

  The burger joint is set up like an American fifty's burger joint. Red, black, and white, places themselves all over the room. White and black tiles, red booths and tables, an old jukebox, a counter that has probably been there for years, and pink dressed waitresses that have roller-skates that they probably hate. 

   A lady sits them down at a table. Satoru practically pushes Shoko out of the way so he can sit in front of you. 

Unfortunately for Satoru, he has always had a short attention span. He is supposed to pay attention to you, and only you. Suguru and Shoko were just for decoration and to make it all easy for the two of you.  

  What sucks is that he totally forgotten that it is easy to fall into conversation with his best friend. Stupid Suguru.  

Because he’s happy, his natural scent is being pushed out. It's a natural occurrence. And with him just recently presenting, his scent is probably taking up the whole place, along with Suguru’s who is responding just as much when the food arrives.  

The food arrives and is placed in the middle. He knows that you like fries and he puts his on your plate. You like to steal his anyway, but this will surely prove that he is generous and kind.  

Satoru’s eyes flick over to you for a second.  

Your elbow is on the table and hand is on your forehead. There is a frown on your pretty face and you’re completely ignoring him. Satoru’s pride is hurt a little. Shit, he didn’t mean to ignore you! He just forgot! Surely you remember that he’s got the attention span of a three-year-old, right? 

  He sucks in his lips and hopes you at least eat his fries. At least his effort won’t go to waste completely. The table quiets down and eats. They wait for you to take a bite of the fries, of Satoru’s fries. He's embarrassed that they are all witnessing his courting and possible rejection, though he is happy that they’re rooting for him.  

  You take a bite of his fries and smile.  

Yes, yes, yes!   

Satoru’s smile doesn’t leave his face.  

That is all you eat. The rest of the meal goes on rowdy as always and Satoru once again forgot about you. You barely talked and when you did it was slow and you did have a small smile on your face.  

  Now it is time to pay. Satoru sports a smug smirk. Now is the time to show you that he is kind, generous, and a provider. He whips out his card to the lady. Satoru doesn’t see you sway back and forth and have your hand over your mouth and eyes.  

  He isn’t hearing Shoko’s concerned whispers of your name. 

As the card goes through, he pushes his scent out again. Satoru looks back just in time to see you book it out of the diner shriveling your nose. He thinks back to when he was happy before and you had that same facial expression. The disgusted face of smelling his scent. The only difference is, is that you didn’t cover your eyes and run before.  

-----------------------

Satoru paces in his room. He still has a chance before you absolutely reject him. For the first time, he begins to feel insecure. He can't believe he didn't notice it before. His advances to you are going ignored because of his smell. 

He couldn’t prove to you that he could protect you or that he's strong since you left, you wrinkled your cute nose at the crackers, and the cause of that was how he smelled. You laughed at his jokes in class. That is one of his scores, but you were two seats away from him though. 

 A scent from an alpha is a big deal! And...you don’t like his. An alpha’s scent tells a lot about them. Not liking his is a huge blow to his very being.  

An idea pops in his head. He could practically see the light from the light bulb. It is a bit unconventional method and is insulting, but it is also his last hope. He's done everything an alpha’s supposed to do. Show his strength for you to know he can protect you, be funny and smart (he got all of Yaga’s questions right), be generous, kind, and provide. This is the only thing left.  

  “I’ll just change it!” It hurts his feelings by doing this, but you are worth it.  

-

Two days later, he walks next to you wearing a patch on his shoulders, close to his scent gland. If he were to put it directly on it, it would be too obvious.  

Unfortunately, he can’t tell if the patch is fully working. Satoru can tell that there is a slight difference, though. He hopes it is just toning it down rather than changing it. 

Satoru watches the birds as they fly by outside of the window. He sees one in particular he thinks you’d like and goes to tell you about it in time to see you trip on air.  

Satoru grabs on to the Spirit of the Lord to not laugh. He catches you by your arm. “Oopsie daisy!”  

You give him a smile. His heart is soaring right now. Satoru has shown you that he can protect you.  

“Thank you, Satoru.” You temporarily lean your head onto his shoulder.  

Satoru internally screeches. He’s liking this a lot.   

Today, you decided to walk with him. Him. Alone! The two of you, walking together, alone! He couldn’t believe his luck when he was waiting at your door, and you willingly went with him when he asked you. 

He's got a pep in his step now. 

You hum a little. Humming is something you’d do at the most random times, he noticed. He never complains though. It's sweet and gentle, like a secret between you and him. Taking a deep breath, he notices you slowing down. Immediately he stops when you do, not willing to leave you behind. Coming close to him, much to his delight, you sniff him. Involuntarily, he leans in.  

“Why do you smell like that?” Your nose twitches.  

His eyes bug out behind his glasses and his heart and mouth drop. He swears his glasses crack.  

Satoru failed again. Instantly, a distressed scent radiates off him. The scent patches aren’t working against it since it’s so strong. You look at him shocked. Ashamed, he leaves quickly with his head down. He's so embarrassed. Nothing he did has worked. Trying to change his scent is such a big deal too and it didn’t even work. 

“Wait, Satoru!”  You call out. He doesn’t turn around to see you try to chase after him.  

___________________________________

You tell Shoko what happened. She slams her head down repeatedly. “Hey! Stop that!” You place your hand on the table to block her from injury.  

“Y/n, for the love of God, Satoru is trying to court you, you idiot!” 

“What?” 

She explains that all of the things are what an alpha does. Shows that they can provide, that they are talented, smart, strong. All the things that a partner could want. She tells you to imagine those birds on Animal Planet that try to woo someone. And because of your reaction to his smell before, he even changed that for you.  

  You feel so guilty. Honestly, you had no idea.  

Now thinking about it, he has always been like that. Satoru always pays special attention to you. Satoru is just so special as a person that it is impossible that he could take a shine to anyone. Especially someone as lowly as you. 

“He’s just...he’s Satoru and I'm just me.” Everyone thinks so.  

“And you’re pretty cool. Dumb, but cool. Like, seriously stupid.” She sighs tiredly. “Now go get him. No one wants to deal with a sulking Satoru.” 

 You thank Shoko and squeeze her hand. Without saying another word, you take off out the door. Yaga calls your name but you don’t care.  

In your room, you see the fluffy throw blanket on your bed. Remembering the etiquette of alphas and omegas, you scent it to the best of your ability.  

  Knocking on his door, you wait anxiously. It wasn’t your intention to hurt him. An alpha’s instincts are foreign to you. Betas don’t really do what they do. It isn’t necessary. If he gave you flowers, chocolate, or even a teddy bear, it would have been easier to understand.  

Or just plain saying something.  

You are always soft towards Satoru. He would be playful and always be beside you, you give him sweets when his mother tries to cut him off of them. One time you shared your lunch and a little dessert with him when he was hungry. And now he expects to share every time. Whenever you bring it to school, he pops up out of nowhere. And you look forward to that. 

 He’s just... out of your league. What could he want with you? He's so beautiful, smart, funny even if people don't think so. He's talented and caring. 

Are you attracted to him? Definitely so and always have been. But never did you think he would return the feelings. Looking back, you should have known. You were so focused on your insecurity that you didn't realize that he didn't care about all of that. 

  “Satoru? Please open up.” The distress smell is so strong. Instinctually, you release a calming scent, hoping that it would take the edge off at least a little.  

You crack open the door.  

In his room he lays in his den. His very large bed with a dark blue canopy that encloses him. There are shelves in his room with various items on them, most of them being Digimon items and some nick knacks he collected. There are some pictures and even memorabilia of his classmates. You notice some of you even. A picture he must have taken of you outside without your knowledge. You barely remember that day, honestly. Let alone him taking a picture of you. 

  He had claimed the entire room. The bed is a secret place for him though.  

  After you walk in, you close the door. “Satoru, can we talk?” 

He says nothing. His face is red and he wraps himself with his arms. Walking up to his bed, you know better than to enter it without his permission. Instead, you toss him the blanket so you can remain at a safe distance. “I’m sorry, Satoru. Can I explain?” 

He looks at it and takes it. “Alright.” 

“Okay. As a beta, my nose is more sensitive than yours. When you guys were presenting, it was hard on me. You don’t smell at all when it’s normal. The only reason why I reacted is because it was so strong. Other than that, I like your scent. Today, I noticed that you covered it and I just wondered why it was like that. That's all, I promise. ” 

“Lie.” He turns away from you, still gripping your blanket. “I promise, Satoru. That is the only reason. I like your normal smell, I swear. Don’t cover it anymore, okay?” He doesn't look at you. You're afraid this is it. Even if you missed your shot with him, the biggest fear is that he is gone from your life. 

You aren't giving up. “And I'm not rejecting you either! I just didn’t understand what was going on. You can even ask Shoko!” 

 You approach him slowly. He side eyes you. “Forgive me I'm just stupid.” He ignores you still. Humming, you look around and say, “You have a very nice den, Satoru. It’s comfy, I like it.” It is obviously a ploy to ease into his good graces. 

Observing your surroundings, you didn’t see the smug smirk on his face. He rearranged it this morning. He's proud of his work now.  

  “Thank you.” Is all he says. You bravely walk a few steps more. He eyes you the entire time. 

“Are we okay?” Suddenly, he yanks on your wrist and drags you into his tiny den. He places you to the side and faces you. The pillows are soft and warm like him. You have to admit, this is the softest thing ever.  

 He tucks you in with your own blanket, making you two very close. “You are kinda stupid.” 

 His breath hits your face and his eyes look so deeply into yours. The blue eyes glow in the dark. They’re intimidating to some but to you, they’re not. Years ago, when you discovered that the famous Six Eyes actually glow in the dark, you couldn’t help but laugh.  

“Yeah. I need all sorts of protection from you,” You giggle. After a few moments, you ask him, “What does this mean, Satoru?”  

Giving a tiny smile, he shrugs. “Whatever you want. I know what I want, but I'm waiting for you to answer.”  

  “People are going to talk. It'll be hard too. Are we ready?” He gets even closer, forehead on forehead. “I am. C'mon! I’m the strongest after all.” 

You roll your eyes and smile. “Alright then. As long as you know your ruts wil-” 

“I know all of this. And I truly don’t care.” He kisses your head. You can’t help but feel warm. “We’re young.” You say. 

“I’ll wait for you.” 

“The future will be rough.” 

“Isn’t it always? Nothing is ever guaranteed to be smooth, shiny, and soft, other than my hair, my little library book. So, don’t worry.” 

“What the fuck? Your hair? Library book?” 

“One, because my hair is smooth-feel it, please, oh my God-and yes! You're bookmarked, get it?” 

“I hate you-oh it is!” You run your fingers through his white hair. His hair is thick and feels like he gets treatments or something. You massage his head and watch as he closes his eyes. Gently, his scent covers you like a light blanket as he purrs in contentment. It's lighter than it once was and no longer giving you any headaches. 

His arms are wrapped around you in a tight embrace. His cold ass feet rub against you making you chuckle. “Fucking icicles.” 

“They like-like you though.” He playfully nibbles on you. You squirm around trying to get away from his cold clown feet as he ‘nom nom’s as he bites. 

“With that ugly ass nail polish.” You aren’t wrong. 

“Get out.” Satoru pushes you out of the bed.  

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 5

Prostate Massage | Blindfold | Cages

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Reader

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

He’s missing again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, good things come to those who wait.

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

The worst part is, you’re right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something weird twists in his guts.

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

Love is the most twisted curse of them all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isolation. It’s getting to him. Definitely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually… that was probably his way out.

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

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

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

It’s not long before he snaps at you.

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

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

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

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

You look at him, something strange in your eye.

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

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

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

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

And just like that, he’s back. And –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unless… you want to come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter six || grief

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 || 6.2k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Grief is a cruel emotion. It wraps its clawed hands around your throat and drags you down until you can no longer catch your breath. It threatens to drown you in its grasp, leaving nothing behind but the bubbling feeling of what once was. Like an anchor, it holds you below the surface until there’s nothing left but a shell of your former self.

Gojo knows the feeling well, although he’s gotten better at hiding it over the years. He didn’t have a choice. After all, he’s the strongest.

He tilts his head to the bedside table, flipping his phone screen towards him to check the time. Three in the morning. He lets a breath out through his nose, staring at the ceiling. His stomach churns as he lays there, a grimace plastered to his face.

He can’t help but find the whole situation he’d found himself in ironic. Despite your inherent kindness towards others, he had pushed you away. He had pried away any ounce of respect you may have had for him because of his misconception of Miriko, and when he had been wrong he hesitated. Satoru Gojo hesitated.

Although the thought clung to him like a hangnail, it wasn’t what kept him awake at night. What kept him awake was the haunting sound of your sobs. The reminder of the domino effect his poor judgment had caused.

It all could have been prevented, had he treated you like the rest of the faculty. He could have treated your first meeting as a lapse in judgment on his behalf and moved on. He could have been civil. He could have accepted your original denial to help him train Yuji.

Would that have changed anything though, really? You were too kind to have denied Gojo your help in training Yuji, he was sure of it. You would have said yes had he begged. At the end of the day, you were always meant to be here. Here in the cabin, in this moment, choking on your agony.

It didn’t stop the fact that Gojo blamed himself. You likely did too.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he flips onto his side. Eventually, things would get easier. He kept reminding himself of this fact. That no one was there when he lost…

Suddenly jumping to his feet, he grabs his glasses from the bedside table and slides them over his iridescent irises, throwing on a loose white T-shirt and gray sweats and bounding down the stairs to the kitchen. He steels himself in his resolve, swallowing his guilt. Maybe no one was there when he needed someone, but that was no reason for him to let you drown alone.

More importantly, it occurred to him for the first time since you’d agreed to stay in his cabin almost two full days ago that you hadn’t eaten anything. Shoko would not be happy to know that Gojo hadn’t been doing his job keeping an eye out for you.

Your sobs subsided as he moved through the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinets. He was assuming you held them in at his expense, not wanting him to hear your moment of weakness, but he didn’t blame you. Were he in your position, he would have done the same.

His hand pauses over the carton of eggs as a stray thought wanders through his mind. 

“It’s lonely,” he recalls your words to Yuji, “being at the top with no one able to touch you.”

He lets out a long sigh through his nose. It pained him to say it, but you were right. He knew you meant it in a different sense than how it felt for him, that you truly had been lonely for a long time, but it didn’t change the way your words struck him. Gojo was surrounded by people in a way you never had been, but that didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, he too pushed everyone away, even if they failed to see it.

He had a job to do, a part to play. It was a trait of his that Yuji had picked up and he hated it, but he also saw the way that you were attempting to coach those thoughts out of him and he admired it.

Standing with his hand over the eggs for so long, the fridge beeps as a warning to close the door. Bringing him back to the present, he pulls out a pan and cracks a couple of eggs straight into the pan before seasoning them.

He doesn’t bother worrying about whether or not you’ll hear him, he knows you’re awake. He’s not sure you’ve managed to sleep at all. Your sobs were near constant and although he had hoped that maybe by the time the second day came around things would subside, they hadn’t yet. Gojo’s own sleep schedule was a nightmare as well, unable to find rest between keeping up his appearances with the students, missions, and trying to sleep through his guilt. He had hoped to catch up on sleep when you woke up, but that didn’t seem to be the case either.

He stares at the pan, so deep in thought and more exhausted than he realizes, that he doesn’t realize it’s burnt. Only a little bit though. It’s fine. Gojo’s not a chef.

He pulls a plate from a cupboard and throws the omelet on it. It looks a bit sad sitting alone on the plate, but he figures it’ll have to do.

With the plate in one hand, he knocks on your door with the other. Taro’s barks startle him and he whips around to where the dog had been roused from his sleep. Before Taro has time to growl at Gojo, he’s quickly distracted by the realization that Gojo is trying to get your attention.

He waits a moment, praying you’ll open the locked door, but when you don’t he tries again.

Silence.

Third time’s the charm.

Taro whines when you still don’t respond.

“C’mon, y/n. It’s important.”

It takes a moment, but he hears you shuffle around, followed by the scuffling of your unsteady steps.

When you open the door, he forces his reassuring smirk. Taro bursts past Gojo straight to you, sitting at your side comfortingly as though sensing your mental state.

He swallows at the glum sight of your sunken eyes, one leg shaking despite leaning against the doorway. Your skin is gaunt and shoulders slumped. It takes everything in him to remind himself to play his role in this matter. Right now, he was nothing more than a doctor. That was what you needed, right?

“Omelet?”

Your eyes dart to the plate in his hands, raising a brow. “You said it was important.”

Sensing that his smirk wasn’t an aid in your well-being, he decides to drop the act. “Eating is important.”

“I’m not hungry, Gojo.”

“I put my heart and soul into this omelet.”

You eye the plate again, your crimson eyes taking in the admittedly sad looking plate with a single omelet in the middle.

“Did you put anything in it?”

He frowns, eyes flitting between the eggs and you. “Seasoning.”

“So you made eggs,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Eggs, omelets, it’s all the same.” God, why were you so difficult with him all the time?

Sighing, you slowly straighten, leaning your shoulder against the door as you accept his offering. He grins eagerly as you try the eggs. The way you furrow your brow after taking a bite doesn’t instill confidence in his abilities. You flip the omelet to the other side, holding the plate out to him.

“They’re burnt.”

“They’re crispy,” he insists without missing a beat.

Had he blinked, Gojo swears he would have missed it, but a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

It’s a start.

“Can I come in?” He asks hopefully, examining your suspicious expression. When you let up and shuffle aside, he passes through the threshold of the door and waits as you balance yourself against the walls to make your way to the bed on wobbly feet.

When you finally take a seat and mindlessly pick at the eggs he made, he sits at the end of the bed. It creaks under his weight as he settles in the tense silence that hangs between you both.

It’s funny, the way he seemed to lose his words suddenly. After all, there was no right answer to the question of what to say to you. At the end of the day, it wouldn’t change how you felt or what happened. Regardless, he didn’t like the idea of leaving you to drown alone just as he had so many years ago.

“Still sore?”

You shoot him a look and he winces. He had just watched you shuffle along the wall to make your way to sit on the bed, he supposed it was a stupid question.

“Is, um,” he clears his throat, “the bed comfy?”

You pause your movements, chewing on your lip for a moment. “It’s fine,” you say with a humorless chuckle at his attempt at conversation. “Cat got your tongue, Gojo?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Yeah, a cat named Guilt. “Sorry, I-” his blue eyes flicker around the room in search of a reasonable answer but it never comes to him. The moonlight flooding in through the open window shines in the crimson eyes that stare back at him, clearly awaiting an explanation. “Look, I’m trying y/n.” It’s all he can think to say.

Your shoulders relax, if only a bit, and to his surprise your hardened expression softens. You let out a long breath and nod. “Thanks, Gojo.”

Slightly taken aback by your more relaxed figure, the white-haired man reclines on his palms as he relaxes in your presence, offering a sympathetic smile. “Have you slept at all?”

“... No.”

The smile falters. “And this is the only food you’ve had.”

You nod, training your attention on Taro to avoid the air of discomfort between the pair of you. Taro eagerly awaits the moment your attention slips so that he can eat the meal that was growing colder by the second.

“Would you at least sit at the table and try some food if I make some tomorrow morning?” It’s a rhetorical question and you both know it, Gojo isn’t about to stand aside and watch as you fade away wallowing in your grief.

“Sure,” you sigh, a glint in your eyes as you snidely add, “try not to burn it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo snorts, rolling his eyes. You managed to eat about half of the omelet before sliding the plate over to your dog, but at least you’d eaten something. If Gojo had to take care of you himself, then he would.

He takes the plate from you, heading to your door.

“Gojo?” He turns his head to face you before leaving the door. “Thank you.”

He smiles. Not his signature smirk or grin, but a genuine smile, before closing the door behind him.

–

Getting to the table had been a colossal effort. With your chin leaning on the ball of your palm, your tired irises follow Gojo’s movements as he moves ingredients around in the kitchen. Maybe eggs weren’t his forte, but his pancakes were turning out fluffy, albeit very sweet and sugary.

The white fabric of the T-shirt he wore is pulled taut as he reaches up to a shelf to grab a plate. He grunts when he sets it down, adjusting his blindfold over his eyes before returning to cooking. It’s strangely domestic in a way you had never thought of Gojo before.

Pouring a couple more small pancakes into a pan, he sets a small stack in front of you.

“S’alright if you can’t eat it all.” He turns back to continue cooking for himself. Pouring some syrup over the stack, you thank him and take a bite.

“This is actually pretty good,” you comment.

“You say that like you expected me to be a bad chef.”

“I’ve only ever seen you eat sweets and your eggs were burnt.”

“You never came out for lunch with me,” he shoots back in defense of his sugary tendencies.

“You were kind of a dick,” you tell him bluntly.

Before he can retort, there’s a knock at the door. With an exaggerated huff, he turns to the door, ducking through the entrance as he peeks through it and grins at the sight of Megumi. The young boy grunts and slaps Gojo’s hand away as he ruffles his hair.

“D’you still need me to walk the dog?” Megumi asks, eyes flickering to meet yours. You conjure up the best reassuring smile you can manage and nod to him.

“Thanks, Megs,” Gojo grins, ruffling his hair again. Megumi shoots daggers at Gojo for ruffling his hair again before he takes off into the training field with your excited pup in tow.

You knew Gojo cared about his students a great deal, but even so it caught you off-guard just how much he acted like a proud parent to Megumi, puffing his chest out as he turns back to you from the door. Gojo takes note of the way your head is tilted, lost in thought.

“I’ve been taking care of him since he was six,” Gojo explains, smiling over his shoulder.

You blink in surprise, straightening in your seat at the thought of Gojo taking care of a child. He couldn’t be much older than you, which had to mean he was young when he took in Megumi. Thinking of Gojo as a father was an equally strange thought to the domestic setting you’d found yourself in with him once again. 

When the look of shock didn’t leave your face, Gojo chuckles to himself as he sits down at the table across from you, setting a plate with a much larger stack of syrup-drowned pancakes in front of him.

“Him and his sister had nowhere to go and he’s a talented kid,” he explains fondly. His smile grows as he cuts his pancakes, dimples notably showing at the corners of his lips. Every moment this morning, it felt like you were seeing him in a strange new light.

“Didn’t take you for a dad,” you mumble through a mouthful of pancakes. “You’re pretty good with kids though.”

“Compliments? This early in the morning?”

“Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?” You grumble, leaning on your fist.

His silence says no, but his shit-eating grin says absolutely. Still, he recognizes you aren’t genuinely annoyed with him. If anything, this was the most friendly the two of you had ever been. You could only wonder what switch flipped in him that he decided to be more friendly with you but you don’t have the energy to think too hard about it.

“How’re you feeling?” His tone takes on a more serious timbre as he gets up to set his already finished plate in the sink, running a hand through his hair as he leans on the counter with crossed arms.

“A bit better,” you admit, rolling your shoulders. “I hate the disconnect with Miriko though,” you confide, stabbing a small portion of pancake for the dozenth time. “It’s weird, it’s like this strange feeling that I’m forgetting something in the back of my head.”

Gojo hums in understanding, “Has your connection with her gotten stronger in the past couple of days?”

“A bit last night,” you nod. The only difference between last night and the previous was food, so you had to imagine that was an important factor in her energy recovery. “It’s quiet, though.”

Your words hang in the air as Gojo takes them in, his chest rising as he takes in a breath.

“Lonely?” Although the intonation of his tone implies a question, it isn’t one. He knows the answer.

“It is,” your voice is barely a whisper, meek. You’re not sure why you find yourself divulging information to Gojo of all people, but who else was left? You couldn’t drive yourself crazy in the silence that your own mind had become. It was strange, the way your own brain wouldn’t shut up, and yet you craved the familiar presence of the curse that had caused this whole situation in the first place. Of course, you couldn’t blame her. She was the only reason you were alive to this day.

Then again…

You turn your attention to Gojo, examining the strangely casual outfit he was wearing before trying to make sense of his expression. His lips are pursed, as though he’s waiting for you to continue.

If you couldn’t blame Miriko, could you really blame Gojo? Would you have ended up here with or without him?

You press your lips into a tight line, turning your attention back to your plate.

No, you decide. You wouldn’t be in this position if not for him.

But then again, you never would have met Nanami. Even with the loss hanging heavy over your head, you wouldn’t trade your relationship with him for the world. You wouldn’t trade the feeling of being loved.

You stab the pancake harder than intended as you juggle your thoughts, causing you both to jump and pulling you out of your trance.

Gojo clears his throat. “I’ll um, give you some space,” he tells you and hurries off to the washroom to shower.

A shower sounds nice. Maybe that would help clear your thoughts.

–

Dull lights flicker above you, illuminating your figure. You lean over the washroom sink, sighing at your reflection. The woman staring back at you barely feels like someone you recognize. No wonder Gojo had forced you to eat. Even you were able to admit that you looked like a damn wreck.

Pale skin matches your equally dreary and tired expression, not to mention the dull ache in your limbs forcing you to lean on surfaces for support. Lifting a hand, you run it through your wet hair, wringing out what water you’re able to before letting it fall over your shoulders. If it dripped down your shirt, so be it.

Holding yourself up on the door frame, you pick your phone up for the first time since you’d woken up. Of course, you’d always kept your distance from others so you weren’t expecting any messages, but to your surprise your dad had texted his worries. Sliding your phone to unlock it, you read through a flurry of worried texts, followed by one that surprises you.

12:32 PM | Dad: Your friend answered the phone and told me what happened. Love you. Text me when you wake up.

You open your mouth to ask Gojo about the text, but the words die on your tongue as you look up at him.

Gojo is sitting at the table with his legs up on the chair opposite him. He’s wearing a black compression shirt, the outline of his pecs visible beneath the thin fabric. A pair of loose white pants adorns his lower half, tied at his hips. You can’t see his eyes from beneath the thick fabric of his blindfold.

He tilts his head curiously as you freeze with parted lips and wide eyes, trained on the mug in his hands that made your blood run cold. It’s nondescript, he likely picked it up when he’d gone to gather things from your cabin without thinking twice about it, but the sight has a familiar tightness clenching in your chest.

“Where did you get that?” Your voice is eerily devoid of emotion.

Sensing he did something wrong, Gojo sits up, holding the mug up to look at it. “Dunno, I brought it over from your cabin.”

“It’s not yours,” you tense at the sight, spitting the words through your gritted teeth. Images of Kento using the mug each morning flash through your mind, the sound of his gruff morning voice stirring panic in your chest as you act without thinking.

“It’s just a mu-”

“It’s not!” Your voice is loud enough to shock the both of you. You’re gripping the wall hard enough that your knuckles run white. He takes the hint, setting the mug down as realizes what has you so upset, hands up in the air to depict his innocence.

“y/n, it’s not a big deal, ple-” Gojo tries to mediate the situation, knowing you aren’t in a good enough headspace to cooperate, but it does him no favors as he sees the tears beginning to well in your eyes. He panics as hot tears trail down your cheeks and he does the only thing he can think to help.

With only a couple of wide strides, he closes the distance between you and envelops his arms around you. You tense at the contact, unmoving, making him wonder if he’s made a mistake. You swallow hard, not wanting to give in as if you were admitting defeat, but you would be a fool not to accept what you had needed so badly. Even if it was from the person you wanted to blame.

So you give in, wrapping your arms around his torso and struggling not to shake from the tears that were staining his white shirt. Toned arms tighten around your core as you accept his embrace and he stands unmoving as you let the sound of his steady beating heart soothe you.

Even if it was only for a moment, as you feel the weight of anxiety lift from your chest, it feels like you can finally breathe again. It was a solace you hadn’t expected to find in Satoru Gojo, but even if only for a moment, the feeling of breaking through the surface of the sea of emotions swirling around you is a relief.

You don’t dare move as Gojo’s chin rests atop your head, his thumb rubbing small circles against your ribs as he mindlessly offers you comfort. His warm breath fans across your shoulders, the rhythm of his breathing offering a distraction from the panic that had settled in at the sight of someone else in the place that Kento should have been.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly push off of Gojo, who keeps one hand under your forearm to keep you steady. He continues to rub circles into the skin of your arm with his thumb, his expression serious as he lets you get your bearings.

“I- I’m sorry,” you squeak, barely able to get the words out at all as you bring a hand up to wipe your tears. “I don’t know- I- I-”

“It’s fine, y/n,” he assures you, a small smile revealing the hint of the dimples on either of his cheeks. “It happens. You’re going through a lot.”

Your head hangs in shame at how you lashed out at him, your eyes resting on the floor.

When you mutter another apology, Gojo lets out a breathy laugh, clearly not sure what to do with a small crying girl in his home who wasn’t exactly fond of him. Gripping your forearm reassuringly, he slowly begins to move to the table, sitting you down in the chair he was using and letting you take the mug as he sits beside you.

Your eyes train on the familiar light blue speckled mug with brown undertones. It hadn’t been purchased for him, it wasn’t a gift. It shouldn’t hold any meaning, really. But it was the only one Kento had seemed to use, causing something to snap in you at the sight of Gojo using it.

You can’t bring yourself to hold it, your eyes trained on the familiar shape that was held with a warm smile most mornings.

“Did he ever tell you we went to school together?”

You wipe another tear, nodding as you watch Gojo take his blindfold off. Uncovered, his cerulean eyes seem to hold an entire other world within them.

“You wouldn’t have believed what he was like.”

“What do you mean?” You ask curiously, leaning forward as Gojo reminisces.

“He was a year behind me, Shoko, and-” he stammers over his words, recovering before you have a chance to think twice about it. “He was just as reserved back then as he was when you met.”

“Even as a teen?”

“Especially as a teen. So straight and to the point,” he grins, shaking his head. “The other first-year was good for him, I think the two of them brought out the best in each other.”

“I never heard him mention anyone else in his year.”

“And his hair, did he ever show you?” Catching your curious look, he stands and bounds up the stairs, choosing to ignore your statement. From the bedroom loft you hear his voice. “Would you believe me if I told you he wasn’t my biggest fan?”

“He has good taste,” you mutter somewhat jokingly.

“I heard that,” Gojo teases as he bounds back down the stairs with a single photo in hand and his sunglasses now hanging from his shirt. “Check it out, this is from his birthday.”

Standing in the center of the photo is a very young Nanami sporting long blonde hair and an unimpressed expression. A party hat is strapped to his head and he’s standing as stiff as a board. The photo is blurry, clearly taken from a flip phone several years ago.

A bittersweet smile spreads across your lips at the sight.

“His hair…” You mumble in disbelief, a choked laugh escaping your lips as a tear slips down your cheek. You slowly reach out and take the photo from Gojo, thumbing over the photo as though you’ll feel anything more than glossy paper. You don’t, of course, but the sight brings a comfort you haven’t felt in a while.

“Told ya, it was a sight,” Gojo chuckles. He watches the way you hold the photo, like it’s precious, a grimace pulling at his lips. He replaces it with a smile. “You can keep it.”

“Hm?”

“The photo, you can keep it.”

“Oh, I- Are you sure?” You ask, examining the blue eyes that could pierce right through you. He nods. “Thank you, Gojo.”

Silence falls over the cabin as you observe him. He leans back, his arms crossed behind his head with a small smile as he leans his head back. His chest rises and falls slowly, muscles flexed as the material of his shirt bunches at his biceps.

You can’t help but wonder what changed. Was he only being kind while you grieved, would the switch flip in a month when you had recovered? Your eyes fall to the photo at your fingertips.

You’d once aired your grievances to Kento about the strange way Gojo reacted to you and he’d mentioned having a hunch about what his issue with you was, the discussion now clear in your mind.

“You think he’s doing it on purpose?”

Nanami nods. “Yes. Gojo is annoying, but he’s smarter and more emotionally intelligent than he comes across.” He pauses with a reminiscent laugh. “Sometimes, anyway.”

“Why would he purposely be an asshole?”

Kento shifts to prop himself up on his elbow, moving his pillow beside you. Your eyes flicker to the flexed bicep and he smirks. “I have a hunch…” he hums, his mahogany eye trailing down to your fingers as he threads his own through yours. “That he’s worried you’ll turn on him.”

“Oh,” you blink, eyes widening. Your grip on Nanami’s hand tightens. “Can you ask him about it?”

His lips press into a thin line. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t admit anything.”

“Right…”

With that thought resurfaced, you could only hope to bring it up sooner rather than later. The opportunity didn’t come until a couple of days later. You were regaining your vigor and had even managed to reconnect with Miriko, whose strength was growing steadily.

Of course, that didn’t make the turmoil of emotions any easier and you would be lying if you said being alone at night with your thoughts was something you enjoyed, but at least a semblance of normalcy was returning to your life.

Even so, admitting that Gojo’s presence had been a strange comfort pained you.

Gojo had also proven to be a half-decent chef, but more to your surprise he seemed to be attempting to take care of you. He also didn’t dare leave you alone. He had needed to step out for a mission and had left Yuji to keep an eye on you, whose eyes had brimmed with grateful tears that you were okay, something that warmed your heart and sent you into a flurry of sobs.

Megumi continued to drop by every day to walk Taro, each interaction between him and Gojo continuing to baffle you as you realized just how much he did see the students as his own children.

In particular, you began to notice more and more the way Gojo acted like a proud parent towards Megumi. It was oddly heartwarming, when you realized the few things that decorated the rather barren cabin Gojo stayed in were things that seemed to be made for Gojo by Megumi when he was quite a bit younger.

A couple of the magnets on the fridge held up drawings or cards that you’d never bothered to look at but it became clear they were school projects and notes, as well as a couple of small gifts sitting on the kitchen windowsill. A pipe cleaner flower from Megumi’s little sister and a pipe cleaner dog from the young boy, both horribly sun faded but full of love.

It grew harder every day to hold any amount of hate for him.

Five days after waking up again, Shoko dropped by to check in on you and run some tests before getting you up and walking again, doing some basic rehab. Miriko had insisted she would be able to heal you but Gojo was adamant on having you recover as soon as possible.

Closing the door behind Shoko, he turns to where you’re sitting on the couch in the living room, your crimson gaze following his movements. He sighs, stepping over the back of the couch and sliding down onto the couch beside you, legs spread in typical man fashion.

You raise an eyebrow at him as his knee brushes yours, but Gojo just smirks, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. He had very little regard for personal space.

“How’re ya feeling?”

“It’s nice to walk again,” you tell him, dodging the question as you lean back into the couch.

“Ya look like a penguin,” he snickers, throwing his head back.

“You’re such a pain,” you groan, knocking your knee back against his teasingly.

The warm afternoon sun threads through the blinds at the end of the couch, illuminating Gojo’s cheek with its gentle rays. His white lashes seem to sparkle from where they’re barely visible over his sunglasses, fluttering every so often as he blinks.

“Gojo?”

He hums, giving his head a shake to keep his bangs out of his vision.

“Why do you want me to recover quickly?”

“Cause I care?” He says as though it’s obvious.

“Yeah right,” you sneer. “Really, why?”

“Okay first of all, ouch,” he puts a hand over his heart in feign offense. A smile pulls at the corner of your lips. Slowly but surely, he was earning your trust. Believing he cared in the friendly way he seemed to imply could still be seen as a stretch, but you decide to leave it be. “Second of all,” he frowns now, “the higher ups aren’t happy.”

“Okay…” you urge him to continue, pulling your legs up onto the couch as you face him.

“They want you dead.”

Your face falls at the admission, the muscles in your jaw clenching as a familiar thought runs through your head. You wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for Gojo in the first place.

“Why not just kill me, then?” Your words are ice on Gojo’s skin, as though any ounce of trust he’d earned is gone in an instant. The tension in the air grows steadily the longer he doesn’t answer, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

“What kind of a question is that supposed to be?”

“You never liked me to begin with, so why-”

“For fuck’s sake y/n, what are you on about with that?” He pulls his shades off as he asks the question in exasperation, waving a hand in the air.

“What am I-? You- You know the answer to that question!” You retort in disbelief.

His jaw hangs open as his head falls back against the couch. “Fuck, I-” He closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose. “You are so fucking difficult, you know that?” He grumbles.

You stand up abruptly in disbelief. “I’m sorry, do I need to remind you of the shit you pulled to get me here? About how my last three weeks have been?”

“y/n I know you’re upset but that’s not fair.”

“Not fair? Not fair?” Heat gathers at your cheeks as tears threaten to spill. And god damn it, it only makes you more angry that you can’t stop yourself from crying in an argument. “You want to talk about not fair?”

The silence that hangs between you both as you pause could be cut with a knife. It hangs heavy in the air as you both know what’s coming. Gojo presses his lips into a thin line, standing as he prepares himself for the onslaught of what’s to come.

“Kento is dead. I destroyed the entire schoolyard, I can barely walk, I need help just to take care of my own dog and-” you pause, trying to regain your composure before tears can spill down your cheeks. “-and now I can’t hide anymore. I don’t get to have a normal life, because of you.”

“C’mon, that’s not fair.”

His repetition only makes you angrier and you take a wobbly step away from him, wanting out of his sight. For all the kind things he did for you, each one seemed to be constantly outweighed by the reminders of the situation you’d been thrown into. All from one unfortunate meeting two years ago.

“I’m fucking trying, y/n!” He raises his voice, taking a step forward to tower over you. His chest is rising and falling fast, blue irises darting across your face as he takes in the change in your expression. Your brow furrows, lips parting as he airs his grievances. “I made a mistake, okay?” His resolve wavers as the volume he’s speaking at returns to normal.

You don’t dare utter a word, out of fear he might not continue.

“I know I can’t make it up to you. That’s fine. But it’s not fair to blame me for Nanami’s-” he doesn’t finish the sentence when you can’t meet his gaze. “That loss hurt us all.”

With the sun nearly set, there’s very little light left illuminating the two of you. The sounds of the summer cicadas in the distance seem to disrupt the tense air in the cabin, a welcome distraction from the pain settling into your chest once more.

Taking a deep breath, you swallow the lump in your throat. “Can I have some space?”

You see the subtle way his shoulders slump. It’s not a response, but he knows as well as you do that his answer wouldn’t have mattered either way as you turn and shuffle into the guest room. Taro follows behind you, able to sense that you’re upset. You’re thankful for his endless support, no matter whether you were in the right or not.

No matter how much you wanted to feel you were right, it wasn’t easy when Gojo had a point. You’d been so caught up in your own emotions you hadn’t stopped to think of the way the loss had affected Yuji, Megumi, Shoko… or Gojo. You knew him and Nanami weren’t close, but you’d never considered what kind of relationship they did have.

Settling down onto your bed, you pick up the photo sitting on your desk. Nanami in a party hat. Your bittersweet smile returns at the sight and you sigh, long and forlorn.

You couldn’t keep blaming Gojo. You hated to admit it, but he was right. It wasn’t fair. Regardless of the fact that a portion of the situation was his fault, you’d fought about that enough times to last a lifetime. It wasn’t worth the energy anymore.

Miriko?

Yes?

Would it be so wrong to forgive him?

It takes her a moment to respond.

It is not my place to make that decision.

Shuffling on the bed to lay flat on your back, you stare at the wooden ceiling, turmoil threatening to bubble over in your chest as you wipe the tears that finally fall.

He was trying, you owed it to him to try as well.

But fuck were things ever more difficult now that you were alone, without your boyfriend to go home to.

For the fifth night in a row since you’d woken up, Gojo feels the familiar knife of guilt twist in his gut as he hears your quiet weeping. Unrest is quickly becoming his closest friend.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || he's trying 🥹 writing domestic gojo is so fun, hope you all enjoyed! 💖

btw this is the nanami photo ehehe

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2 - A Message

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! So we come to the world of the living where reader is grieving Nanami's death. Reader-centric chapter, but Nanami is brought up heavily. Originally made with my OC, to read that version, check out my AO3 account, but it's in Y/n format here.

Banner by the lovely @actuallysaiyan

Search/follow along using #secondchancesorcerer

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

There’s an incessant knocking at the door and it takes all of your energy to not scream at whoever it is to go away. You felt like someone had hit you with a sledgehammer, your sleep disturbed and restless. Why was everyone so determined to give you company when all you wanted to do was be left alone?

No one understood the hollow feeling in your chest, how you woke up every night screaming, remembering Mahito’s disgusting grin of triumph as he had murdered Nanami in cold blood. How you had begged Nanami to let you take him out of Shibuya station along with Maki, the burns on his body looking so raw and painful. He had fixed you with the same look he would give you when you were hesitating to take a shot at him during hand-to-hand combat training sessions. That stern expression of disapproval, despite his own pain and exhaustion.

“Take Maki-san and leave. I’ll be fine Y/n-san. I can’t leave. Not yet.” And you had been helpless to argue against him. You never could. There was a hypnotic quality to the way Nanami instructed you, said with a finality that you could never disobey. The man had a death wish, you knew that, and you had foolishly believed securing him with a protective charm would drive away the shadow of demise that seemed to hover over him all the time. You should have knocked him unconscious and dragged his ass out with Maki. Shoko was on site. She could have healed him, and he would be here, grieving their other losses instead of…

Your heart constricted painfully, remembering how you had held onto Yuji as hard as you could, your ears bleeding from his hysterical screaming as he swore his revenge on Mahito. Nanami’s loss hung heavily in the air. Although most of the Jujutsu community was more invested in Gojo being sealed, it was Nanami’s death that affected you the most. Nanami your mentor, your dour, unwilling mission partner, your whole heart…now gone. Like he had never existed, no trace of him left. 

“Y/n-san?” The knocking continues and with a snarl, you roll off the bed, your hair a dreadful mess, not caring that you’re still in pajamas, and yank open the door, only to see Ino and Yuji standing there, Yuji carrying a takeout container. Your ire washes away only to be replaced by a dull ache as you see them. “Oh. it’s you two.” You slink back to the bed and disappear under the covers.

“We haven’t seen you for two days now Y/n-san.” Ino shuts the door as Yuji sets the takeout container on the table. “You can’t just lock yourself away. We’re a team. Team Nanami, remember?” Ino gives you a wan smile which you don’t have the energy to return. Yuji settles down on a chair and says nothing.

Your heart aches for the boy, so young, a teenager, looking so weary and serious, shouldering the weight of a much older man. “I haven’t been in a mood to see anyone. Everything that happened at Shibuya…I can’t.”

Your voice trembles, threatening to spill out all the unspent grief you’re carrying. You hadn't explicitly told anyone about your feelings for Nanami, believing it was pointless. You were his apprentice after all, a title almost similar to being his student, and it was a boundary you hadn’t been willing to cross. Nanami had helped craft your abilities after all, abilities you had been terrified of using, abilities that had plagued your entire life, that you wished you hadn’t been born with; until he had shown you how to use them for a higher purpose. 

It was an astonishing experience, developing a cursed technique, needing much hands-on instruction. Literally. Nanami would constantly adjust your hands, your stance, and your combat positions, tutting at you impatiently. You had felt like you were in a ballet academy under the care of a rigorous instructor, the type that would raise their student’s arms and chin and adjust their posture using the end of a cane.

He had started you off the same way that Gojo had done for Yuji, by channeling cursed energy into one of Principal Yaga’s creepy cursed dolls. The doll had given you a black eye that day, but you secretly blamed Nanami for that; you had been watching movies as instructed, the doll in your lap when he had come down to check on you. His deep gravelly voice cutting through the room unexpectedly had caused you to yelp, grip loosening on the doll, which had wasted no time in delivering a blow to your eye. 

It was humiliating, feeling like you had failed him on this simple task but he made you nervous. He always gave off an aura of needing perfection and his short, clipped way of giving instruction made you feel inadequate. Everything had been a blur of confusion as you leaned against the sofa, covering your eye and moaning in pain, hearing rapid shuffling footsteps, before Nanami had caught hold of the doll and shoved it into a containment box.

“Let me see.” With your good eye, you saw him leaning over you to check your face. You knew you were blushing but hoped it came off as embarrassment for being punched by the doll rather than the fact that your mentor - your unbelievably attractive mentor- was peering into your face at such close proximity. 

You had slowly removed your hand, the area around the eye swollen and tender. Nanami’s expression was strange, almost like he was trying not to laugh as he delicately laid his fingers at the edges of the starting bruise. “I did warn you not to lose concentration,” he said in an even tone, although it betrayed a wisp of amusement. “Go see Ieiri-San. I’m afraid you’ll be sporting a bruise for a while, but her reverse curse technique will take away the pain so at least you won’t feel it.” 

Your good eye had glared at him reproachfully. “I was doing fine until you startled me. I didn’t even hear you come in. We should put a bell around your neck.”

You thought you saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, almost like he was biting back the urge to smile. “Are you under the impression that curses wear bells around their necks, Y/n-San? Because if this is all it takes to startle you…you wouldn’t last a minute on a solo mission.”

His words had brought you back to the reality of the situation, the fuzzy feeling of being near him vanishing in an instant. Always teaching survival tactics, always telling you to run, always putting himself in the line of fire. It had driven you insane, how little self-preservation he had for himself. 

“Isn’t there anything that you would like to live for?” You had asked him one morning as you ate breakfast together before catching the train home, having finished a mission the previous night. He fixed you with a scrutinizing stare, whiskey-colored eyes narrowing as though puzzled by your question. 

“Like what?”

His response left you stumped. Did the man have no aspirations, no dreams, or wishes he wanted to be fulfilled? 

“Like what?” You had parroted back to him, an incredulous look on your face. “There are so many wonderful things about life! Don’t you have a survival bucket list?”

His lip was definitely curling now. Nanami never smiled completely, but the corners of his eyes would crinkle when something amused him, and you could see the lines deepening as he regarded your question, but his tone felt like an adult indulging a child. It was maddeningly patronizing, considering he was just three years older than you, yet he assumed himself to be too mature and aged for such whimsical questions. 

“A survival bucket list?” he practically scoffed. 

“Yes,” you said trying not to lose your patience with him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, a list of things you’d like to do if you ever had the time.”

“Do you have one?”

“Of course I have one! Most of us have one! Something to keep us going when all we see is death and destruction on a daily basis.”

The thought seemed to intrigue him but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being snubbed. Which was why you were taken aback when he asked, “What’s on your survival bucket list?”

“Oh ah…” you tried to gather your thoughts as you spoke, not expecting that he would ask you. “Take a tour of Europe. Go on an African safari. Take scuba diving lessons. Try different pastries and sweets from all over the world.” You lists some of your top activities, then frown as Nanami in a rare moment, flashes you a grin, his teeth showing for a brief second before his face returns to its usual stoic state. 

“What?” You had asked almost impatiently. “Is my bucket list funny in some way?”

The blond man shakes his head no before speaking. “It’s not funny at all Y/n-san. I think it’s nice that you have these personal goals.” He says calmly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt you had never heard before. 

Your irritation died down when you realized he hadn’t answered you yet. “Do you have one or not?” 

He looked thoughtfully at you before replying. “I used to. But it’s not as great as wanting to learn how to scuba dive or trying all the sweets in the world.” His tone changed into something wistful and nostalgic and it played with your heartstrings as you waited for him to continue. “My survival bucket list, if I can call it that, has only one goal. And that is to live long enough to retire.”

Your breath had caught and you waited for him to say more, hoping he wouldn’t shut off. Nanami rarely ever spoke more than what was necessary, but you longed to see more of this side of him, the parts of him that had nothing to do with sorcery. 

“Retirement isn’t something a lot of sorcerers get to experience. Most of them die young, and the ones that do survive have so many disabilities that doing anything later in life becomes impossible. If life is favorable to me, and I have all my limbs and mental health by that age, I would love to retire and spend the rest of my days in peace.”

“What does peace look like to you?” you had asked him in a hushed voice, feeling ecstatic about finding out these little details about him. 

“A beach, in a country with a low cost of living. Perhaps I’ll live right on the sand, a book in hand, and just take in all the sunshine.” His eyes had taken on a faraway quality, the whiskey color becoming more honeyed, little flecks of gold visible in his irises as though whatever he was thinking of had lit a candle inside him, illuminating his whole being. You could only stare, unable to comprehend how beautiful, how vulnerably human, he looked in that fleeting moment before it vanished behind an impenetrable curtain of indifference. “But that future is a very slim possibility. I don’t like building castles of air.”

The warmth that had settled in your chest dissipated, and you were left with the man you had grown used to; contained, jaded, pessimistic. 

“But what if it does happen?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. 

He let out a sound that could have been interpreted as a disbelieving chuckle. “Then I’d better think about using something more solid than air to build my castle.”

“Y/n-san?”

You’re jolted back to reality as Yuji hands you a tissue. You hadn’t even been aware that you were crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry guys.” You dabbed at the tears. “Got lost in thought.”

“We all miss him, Y/n-san,” Yuji says comfortingly, but his voice trembles. “He was more than a teacher to all of us.” 

“And we’re still a team despite him being gone,” Ino says assertively and presses the takeout container into your hands. “Eat. You need to.”

You open it to reveal a breakfast sandwich, and although you don’t have much of an appetite, the thoughtfulness of the boys is so sweet that you don’t feel like setting it aside for later. Taking a bite, you try to distract yourself from your own feelings.

“So they weren’t able to recover Gojo from the prison realm?” you ask, trying to get off the topic of their deceased mentor. 

Ino shakes his head no, and you are relieved to see that most of his wounds from his fight with Ogami have healed, almost imperceptible to the eyes of a non-sorcerer, although there was a scar running down the left side of his face now.

“They’re doing a recovery throughout Shibuya station, but it’s mostly to pull items belonging to the people who died. You know, to return to their families.” Ino sighs and rests against the wall of your room. “They haven’t found Nanami-san’s blade yet.”

This bit of information is unexpected, and you look at him, then at Yuji who is also listening intently. 

“I mean…it probably got lost underneath all the rubble, right? It’ll turn up eventually.” You swallow, hoping the weapon wasn’t lost to the destruction of Shibuya Station. 

“I hope so. I’d imagine Nanami-san would want me to have it.” Ino sits down on the edge of your bed. Yuji however, gives him a look of disapproval. 

“Why do you get Nanamin’s weapon? I was his student too.”

“Yeah, but I trained under him the longest. By that right, it should come to me.”

“What if he has family? Wouldn’t it go them?” Yuji countered, trying to think of a reasonable argument for why Ino couldn’t simply lay claim to the blade.

“He didn’t have any family,” you say quietly, not really invested in the conversation. Ino and Yuji continued to debate, their conversation becoming indistinct buzzing to you as you finished your sandwich. 

“He was your teacher too Y/n-san,” Ino interjects suddenly, with a touch of surprise. “Why aren’t you more interested in who his blade goes to?”

“Because I knew how much he hated using it.”

Your words carry an intensity that makes them both quiet down instantly. As powerful and wonderful as his blade was, you knew your mentor’s distaste for using it. To him, it was a means to an end, no different than using a rifle or an axe. He used it for the sake of exorcising curses, but the blade itself carried no personal meaning to him. 

“Nanamin hated his blade?” Yuji asks in a small voice. The disappointment in his eyes had you quickly backpedaling.

“Not the blade itself. I think more so, what it represented for him. A life as a sorcerer. Of facing death every day, knowing this was his duty and he couldn’t escape it.”

Silence follows your words and you wish you hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t meant to put a damper on the boys’ spirits but you couldn't keep quiet either. They were young, in awe of their late teacher who must’ve seemed like a much older man, dispensing wisdom. But knowing how small your age gap was, and how much he hated this line of work, you found yourself compelled to make sure they knew what you knew; that Nanami Kento was a hard-working man, but he never found any joy in using his now legendary weapon at all. 

And unknown to them, you had already scavenged Shibuya Station after the emergency evacuation orders were put through. You hadn’t expected to find much, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, had found his tie, the obnoxiously yellow, polka-dotted tie, peeking through the broken cement and glass, stained with blood. His blood. 

You had yanked it out quickly and stuffed it into your pocket, a little secret you had been carrying around the last few days. It now lay under your pillow; you worried people would judge you for keeping it, for not washing it but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. At night, you’d run the tie through your fingers, feeling the material slip smoothly through, the faint scent of his cologne still on it. You knew you would never be able to wash it until the last vestiges of that scent faded away. It was the only thing that brought you comfort, that and remembering the day you found out the history of the odd color and print of the tie.

The 4 four of you had been out at the amusement park, Ino and Yuji energetically running around from one ride to the next while you and Nanami had waited in line to grab food for everyone. As you sat waiting for the boys to come back, you had gathered courage and asked him a question that had been in the back of your mind since you became his apprentice.

“Nanami-san?”

“Hmm?” He had turned his focus towards you and you hoped he wouldn’t see the rising color in your cheeks. 

“Why do you wear that tie? It just doesn’t match the rest of your outfit.” You held you breath hoping the question wasn’t too personal. But the tie somehow paradoxically brought his outfit together and also threw it out of style. 

His expression had changed almost imperceptibly. If you hadn’t spent as much time as you did with him, you might not have noticed it. He rested his elbows on the picnic table, as though conflicted to admit what was going through his mind. Then with a sigh, he said, “It’s to remember an old friend.”

“An old friend?”

“A late friend, to be precise.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. A late friend? He had lost someone close to him? 

“It’s a funny story.” Nanami paused as though considering if he should tell you more, then continued. “My favorite show growing up as a child was The Flintstones.” 

You stared at him, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you which you suppressed immediately. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that.”

“Well, it was.” Nanami’s lips had twitched. “And my friend knew this. As a joke, he got me a tie that matched Fred Flintstone’s outfit.” Another pause, another sigh, as though the next part was difficult for him to say. “I never wore it until after his death. Now I always do, in remembrance.”

“I’m so sorry,” you had said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad memory for you.”

Nanami shook his head and looked away towards the Ferris wheel, where the boys had disappeared off to. “It was a while ago. I try not to dwell on it for too long.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you’d murmured. His face had softened as he looked at you, the rest of the world blurring from your vision until all that remained in focus was him, the sharp eyes, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, and the chiseled jawline. Barely 30, yet looking like even a few years of sleep wouldn’t wash away the exhaustion that emanated from his bones. 

“Even if Nanami-san disliked his weapon, it’s still useful to have.” Ino and Yuji were back to debating about the blade. 

You were about to reiterate that you wouldn’t fight them over the blade when suddenly a pale sea foam green light began to glow from underneath your pillow. Both the boys stop bickering, awestruck at the sight. With a trembling hand, you move the pillow, revealing the tie, and making Ino and Yuji draw closer in curiosity. The polka dots on the blood-stained tie were glowing, emanating a warm aura accompanied by a curious scent of lingering coffee.

“What…” You watch with fascination, then look up at Yuji and Ino, who are watching the scene unfold, wide-eyed and filled with wonderment.

“Is that Nanamin’s tie?” Yuji gets closer to the bed, unable to take his eyes away.

“Yeah…I’ve been holding onto it.”

“Is it cursed? Did Nanami-san leave some residual cursed energy when he…?” Ino eyes the tie warily but also speaks in a hushed tone of disbelief. 

You shake your head, the aura not feeling sinister to you. Rather, it felt familiar, like you had experienced it before, in those brief moments when Nanami’s eyes would crinkle from amusement…

You gasp and scramble off the bed as the dots begin to lift off the tie, a vignette of sea foam green surrounding each one. They float ethereally in the air, then, one by one start floating out of your room. 

“Wait!” Not caring that you’re in pajamas or that you’d been in bed for nearly two days, you chase after the dots, bolting out of the room barefoot, Ino and Yuji hot on your heels. People stared at you as you ran. You knew the group must look quite eccentric, the two boys fully clothed and decent looking, while you looked ratty and deranged, hair flying everywhere as you tracked the dots barefoot, not wanting to lose sight of them. 

Finally, the dots make their way into the large courtyard where Nanami would brief you about upcoming missions. They slow down and the trio halts, panting and out of breath. The light surrounding the polka dots brightens before they start arranging themselves into a fixed pattern, you, Ino, and Yuji watching perplexedly.

“Fred Flintstone”

“What?” Yuji looks bewildered. “Who’s that?”

“Isn’t that a cartoon character?” Ino asks, his generation just shy of the classic cartoons millennials had grown up on. 

You cover your mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions. “The Flintstones…”

Could it be? Was he…? You let out a strangled laugh of disbelief but yet, what else could it be?

“It’s Nanami-san!” you whisper, and as you do, the energy signature from the polka dots seems to envelop you, and you feel every small little detail you have ever memorized about him; the little marks that formed on the bridge of his nose when he took his glasses off after a mission, how he enjoyed a fresh pot of coffee in the morning, that little sigh of satisfaction he’d make after completing his daily crossword puzzle. 

Yuji and Ino look at you incredulously, but you have never been more sure of anything in your life. You look at them in the face, tears in your eyes, not from grief, but at how achingly comforting it was to be bathed in the glow of those polka dots. 

“Nanami-san is alive!” 

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[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴊɪɴɢʟᴇ ʙᴇʟʟꜱ

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MDNI/18+ only. oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal fingering, edging (fem receiving), dirty talk, vaginal sex, rough sex, orgasm delay/denial, light bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, creampie

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6051

𓆩♡𓆪 ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Jingle all the way.

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴀ/ɴ: i wrote this two years ago around christmas time and have revised it like twice, so it's only fair i share this one here first given how it's still in season

𓆩♡𓆪 twitter - ao3

In retrospect, you hadn’t thought you would gander the attention you had gotten from him. At least, not so soon.

(But it wasn't like you didn't always have his attention anyway.)

Nanami Kento was an exceedingly busy man, and returning to his job as a Jujutsu Sorcerer was almost just as busy as his time spent as a salaryman; albeit he did admit to you that perhaps it was less stressful, but he still had his headaches whenever Gojo Satoru decided to pester him with annoying antics to tell him about an investigation rather than just telling him straight up (he had been subjected to more than enough crude drawings of the male and female reproductive anatomy to speak for that accusation). And because of that, it was increasingly hard for you and him to ever spend time together since he always seemed to work well into overtime no matter how times he grouched about how much he hated it.

Dates were often hard to come by with him, but alas, it was like they said it being a ‘Christmas Miracle’ whenever a seemingly extremely happy and yearned for event happened in the month of December that Kento found some time off for the holidays even if it wasn’t necessarily celebrated as much. Because of that, you were able to enjoy more time with him and take time decorating for the corresponding holiday later in the month as well as plan a nice dinner night with him since you two really hadn’t sat down and enjoyed each other’s company like that in a long while.

You two also hadn’t had sex in a while. And perhaps that was why when Kento had asked you if you were going out to buy stockings to hang above the fireplace, you bought another more suggestive type of stockings as well.

Maybe it was the pent-up sexual frustration from that feeling of not touching each other like that in so long that got him so riled up, but fuck, from the way he eyed you as you stepped out in it for what was supposed to be a somewhat formal dinner between you two in your shared apartment…

You patted yourself on the back for buying the number because as much as you liked it, so did he.

Dinner with Kento at a restaurant or not was always a gracious occasion, he was composed and polite in matters of enjoying a fine cuisine with you and treasured that time he got with you. You liked the domesticity of it as you two chatted over glasses of burgundy wine, watching the glinting of your silverware in the light as you bit into your meal, and overall, just enjoyed his presence because it was hard to come by to get him like that.

You often told him you preferred his cooking over going out to eat, knowing from experience that he personally made the food just right whenever you were eating it. He had been taking his time in baking as well, the cake of your favorite flavor with strawberries on top he had made sitting on the counter in your kitchen for the romantic occasion something you had been looking forward to trying as well when you told him you were ready for dessert.

Honestly you had meant the cake as a dessert, but Kento was dead set on indulging himself in another type of dessert beforehand. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where and when he finally snapped, you knew he was already teetering on a fine line to keep a strong hold onto his will whenever you first walked out in the little Christmas Elf ensemble.

The outfit itself was probably enough to nearly make him combust; the Christmas green, velvet, negligee combined with a jagged, jingle-bell trim that barely covered your ass and the plunging neckline that had your breasts pushed up and ready to pop out of the top of it had his dark eyes homing in on the parts of your flesh exposed. Your hat was something you hadn’t thought to really keep on since it was already in the floor next to dinner table, but you were beginning to think that perhaps his favorite part of the outfit was the thigh-high stockings lining up your legs and your red thong that matched the color of his tie for the night.

(Of course, he had matching ties for the holidays, it was just so him.)

The stocking themselves were green and white-striped topped off with their own little jingle-bell positioned neatly into the middle of your thighs, that which with every moment you made, they jingled. You had noticed his eyes mainly gravitate down towards there, mouth thinning and a vein throbbing in his temple with each step you made in them walking towards him in those damn fuzzy little kitten heels he had bought you that one time. Kento wasn’t so discreet in pulling his collar away from his neck and tugging at his tie as you both sat down to eat in an action of frustration and probable horniness, and he wasn’t so discreet with the rough tone his voice held every time he tried to engage in any conversation with you.

You knew that you would get fucked after dinner anyway considering the dilated, alluring gaze he was throwing at you from underneath his eyelashes that you normally got whenever he was in the mood, but you being you wanted to indulge in your own fun to see how far you could push him.

After all, it had been so long since you two touched each other so intimately.

Like you had been thinking beforehand, you weren’t too sure where and when Kento decided to say fuck it and bend you over the table, but you had some possible guesses. Perhaps when you licked a slow stripe on your fork with a sighing moan talking about how good it tasted. Or maybe when you purposefully kept pushing your arms together to let your tits strain against the bra that your nipples were about to spill out of for his view, talking about how tight the outfit was. Though if you really had to pick one of the guesses, it was when both of you had finished the actual dinner and then you sighed about how you wanted to be stuffed full right as you ate that dessert.

That really was the last thing you had really said to each other, the only thing coming out his mouth after had been a curse and some concealed grunts while you on the other hand were alternating with filthy praises and moans mixed with whines while Kento had his own dessert.

At that moment in time, you were bent over the dining table, hands clutching onto the tablecloth in tight fists and your chest squished into the hard surface with one leg Kento had hoisted up onto the table in a harsh grip on your thigh. Your other leg was balancing up on your tiptoes while your lover had fallen onto his knees after all but tearing your thong off and throwing it onto the table just above your head and used his other hand to spread the ass cheek of your leg that wasn’t on the table to bury his face nose-deep into your pussy.

You had already been getting wet with your own teasing, but Kento’s tongue was fast to let you start nearly dripping onto the floor and the tablecloth while delivering slow, fat licks with the base of his tongue up the entirety of your wet folds. His fingers dug into your ass of what he could with a squeeze, his hot breath and grunts vibrating through the opening of your cunt whenever you wiggled from a particular stimulated swipe of his tongue and moaned into the tablecloth.

Trying to sit up on your elbows to look back at him he was quick to force you back down with a hand placed onto your lower back, a slap to your ass afterwards for trying to move your pussy away for his ‘meal’. You whined and scratched at tablecloth that was nearly falling off the dinner table in a fashion Kento would’ve normally sighed at and pinched the bridge of his nose for, wriggling your hips harder against his nose for him to stop with the torturous licking and to just really devour your cunt like a man starved.

“Kento, please, go faster,” you huffed against the cloth, cheeks as hot as the temperature of the room. The fireplace in the living room had been lit to help set the romantic mood and to help fight the cold weather freezing the windows, and above the fireplace was the two cute stockings you had bought for the both of you. You watched the fire flicker in a drunk-like state, almost reminiscent of the hot sensation behind your naval growing every time your lover let the tip of his tongue jab at your clit. Everything was so hot, and you felt so warm.

Kento delivered another smack to your ass cheek, no doubt the skin beginning to redden from the repeated hits he had been giving you since he bent you over the damn table and started eating your pussy like it was his last meal. You moaned again as the sting morphed and grew alongside of your heightened pleasure, but you knew the slap was his own way of saying he wanted to hear something better than that.

You arched your back to deliberately rock your hips back into his face, his tongue sliding faster up your slit as he turned to slurping and sucking around the area with a groan from your eagerness, “Just… I wanna feel it, I wanna cum on your tongue and your face, please.”

That rewarded you a louder groan that vibrated your pussy again, his hand on your thigh holding you up moving to grasp your hip as the other grabbed the thigh of your leg desperately trying to remain on the ground to spread it wider for his liking. Once you were situated like he wanted, he changed his course of action: that hand holding your thigh disappeared to let two fingers begin a slow, rotating rub onto your clit, and his face delved deeper into your cunt with the tip of his tongue wiggling around until he had your lips spread open far enough to push the organ inside of you some. All the while the hand on your hip coasted you back and forth, encouraging you to rock back and grind against his face as he continued eating you out.

Your reaction was instantaneous; a keening, louder moan past through your lips as your eyes slightly rolled whenever his tongue made quick work to map out the inside of your dripping cunt. You eagerly followed his instruction of rolling your hips every time he swiped up the inside of you, coating your insides with his own saliva and at the same time greedily letting your fluids soak up into his taste buds.

God, Kento was one of the best pussy eaters you had ever had the pleasure coming of across, and it really doubled down onto that fact since he always wanted to indulge in it every time you two had sex.

“God, Kento, your mouth…” you broke off into whimper whenever he picked up the speed of rubbing your clit, switching from the circles to a steady back and forth, pressing down every time he repeated the process. You pressed your forehead into the table below you, almost wanting to just shred the white cloth from how fucking good it felt each time you rolled back onto his tongue and whenever he curled the tip of his tongue to lick up a side of you while pressing harder onto your clit, and ohfuckinghell –

Kento groaned again and his fingers flexed harder on your hip whenever you started to clench and unclench around his slick, hot tongue, his lips pressing over the lower parts of your pussy in a kiss to lap up any escaping fluids that his tongue wasn’t able to catch. The appendage felt insane, and you didn’t know how he managed to do it, but every time you two got to fucking he made it better each time around.

“S-Shit, just like that, please. Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered again as you dug your face harder into the tablecloth to fight back a horribly loud, pornographic moan. He answered back by smacking off your cunt and sliding his tongue out of you to give you another slow, almost lazy lick on the outer parts of you, deliberately teasing at your clit in a quick jab before he was diving back in with a hot exhale to put his tongue back in your warm pussy.

You bit into the cloth at that, eyes shutting in a squeeze as the coil behind lathering up in your lower abdomen pushed harder against you. Your brain had blocked out everything that wasn’t him, just giving all focus of letting your hips swing back and forth from his face and letting your cunt constrict and press around his tongue to get a feel of the greedy organ swirling around inside of you to feel every curl and swipe it made against your insides. Your back arched further inwards and your toes curled as well; the all-telling sign you were so fucking close to cumming.

God, you wanted it so bad.

The leg on the ground started to shake as Kento picked up his darts and jabs against your soft cunt and his fingers started move more rapidly on your clit. You were getting desperate then after that, his tongue-fucking making you rock back eagerly like you were fucking back on his dick those so many times he had you face down into your mattress. His fingers digging into your hip only added to the intensity behind abdomen and growing in your pussy that was rapidly approaching each time he groaned sending a vibration up all the towards your clit and cervix alike, your pleas getting jumbled together in praises and just broken whines of his name.

“Please, fuck –” you squealed when he hummed and pinched your clit – “Kento, it feels so good, I’m gonna cum, keep going…” your back arched hard whenever he slapped your ass again, nails really starting to rip into the tablecloth when his tongue slithered up out of you and he decided to let the slick organ join the movement on your clit.

However when he closed his lips around your swollen clit and sucked, you jerked hard with your cunt beginning to spasm as you were on the cusp of finally cumming all over his fucking face and he just needed to keep sucking and groaning while he did it as you continued to fuck back into his face and you were so close, just right there, right there, right there, fuck –

When the all-telling loud whine of his name finally left your lips that he fucking knew meant you were about to cum, he abruptly backed off of you, taking his tongue, his mouth and his fingers altogether and leaving you edged up and your cunt leaking from all the fluids of his saliva and yours combined. A groan left you and you banged your forehead onto the table whenever you felt his presence leave your entire body for a few moments, leaving your pussy gaping open and your hips still desperately rocking for any type of friction to let you cum.

He was in that mood.

Well… it was too be expected when you had really set him over the edge that time.

“Kento –” you started off, but quickly his name trailed off into a squeal whenever he gripped both your hips and flipped you back over upwards to face him, letting you get the full, hazy sight of him already jerking his tie out of its knot rather aggressively and throwing it onto the table next to you. He didn’t waste any time after doing that, the clanking of his belt coming undone as he only undid his pants far enough to pull his hard cock out and let it sit snugly on your clit as he slowly began to rock onto it.

Your toes curled again as he pulled you down lower onto the table, hooking your legs over his hips as you watched his flushed face follow the movements of his dick rubbing up on your clit until you started squirming and bucking up towards him in a wordless beg to just fuck you. Your orgasm was well gone by then, the throbbing of your clit and his grinding slowly picking it back up until he decided he had enough of your little wriggling around and just wanted to be inside of you once and for all.

Kento surprisingly didn’t take it slow then, his cockhead lining up with your opening for a few seconds until he was pushing his hips forward into one good thrust and bottoming out inside of you. You always gasped every time he got inside of you, the girth of him enough to knock the breath out of you and make you grip onto his forearms. He did the same too, a long shuddering exhale leaving his glistening lips covered in your fluids as his hands moved to grip onto the tablecloth beside of your head and he started to shallowly thrust into you.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” he grunted out, sounding just as out of breathe as you felt, “You’re always so wet, so easy for me to just slip in… It’s been so long, I almost want to just take this slow and savor every way you moan and the way you feel right now gripping me,” his hips started to move faster, your body beginning bounce each time he slid out far enough and pushed back in.

His talking and voice alone had you clenching around him, ready to just fucking gush on his cock if he so much as asked. However, your interest was piqued by his explanation of ‘almost wanting to go slow’, eagerly looking up at him through your lidded eyes with your sighing lips as your hands left his arms to tug at the buttons of his shirt.

Once you got his shirt done and the view of his muscled body in sight, he spoke again with a rougher, sharp edge in his tone, “You remember what you said earlier?”

“Mmm." He was picking up his pace, the bells on your negligee and your stockings beginning to jingle each time your body slid up and back down on the dinner table, “What’d I say?” you breathily asked, hands hungrily running down the planes of his sculpted abdomen.

“You said you wanted to be ‘stuffed full’ of the dessert I made,” he groaned out whenever you pinched a nipple, one of his hands curling long fingers around your wrists as the other made way for his tie next you. He made quick work wrapping the fabric of it around your wrists, not tight enough to cut your circulation off, but tight enough to keep your hands secured, and topped it off with its own little bow as he pushed your tied-up hands in-between your cleavage.

Almost like you were his present.

“Behave,” he warned when you snickered, and afterwards letting his fingers tugging the straps of your negligee down onto your upper arms before returning his hands to fist at the tablecloth next to your ribs. “As I was saying, you said you wanted to be stuffed full,” his hips were picking speed up again, the sound of your clothing jingling louder and the cold steel of his belt clanking and pressing against your skin adding to the noise in the room. “Tell me, did you mean you wanted to be stuffed full of my cock or stuffed full of my cum?”

The words sent a frenzy into your brain that shot down your spine and tingled into your clit, your thighs squeezing around his hips in tune to how your pussy squeezed over his dick each time it rolled back inside of you. Your fingers curled and your joints popped as you craved to grab onto something, pants slipping out of your mouth as you tried to answer him, “I – mmm, I want, fuck –”

A slap landed onto the side of your thigh, “Tell me… I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

God, every time he talked to you like that your pussy was already drenching and ready to just beg him for whatever. The words alone had you moaning again as you heard the table below you two start to creak and the wine glasses beginning to shake in tune with his thrusting. Your head rolled back as you shut your eyes, the building pressure in your abdomen already weighing you back down as the babbling was already falling off your lips for affirmation to get him to actually finally fuck you.

“Both! Please just fuck me until I’m full of cum. IwantitsobadpleaseKentoplease!”

You got what you wanted at least.

At first, he groaned at your whines with his fingers ripping the tablecloth at how you sounded, your moans for him the sweetest and the most tempting sounds in the world to him as they sent chills through his body just from how he and he alone was blessed to hear them. After that, he very nearly lethargically pulled his cock out until his swollen and reddened cockhead skimmed your folds in a kiss, and then it was whole other side of him you were so goddamn happy to see when he snapped back into your cunt and set himself off with a devastating pace.

Your back instantly arched once you were thrown into the haven of ecstasy that was him ferociously fucking you, a choked out moan from his tenaciousness as your body really began to bounce and slide onto the dinner table.

Fuck, you loved pushing his buttons.

The table then was really creaking, the glasses above you two tipping back and forth with each jab of his cock he sent pressed into the deepest part of your pussy and the wine bottle almost rolling off into the floor if his fast reflexes hadn’t caught it and placed it into the chair behind him. The other noises you were able to hear were your own moans and pants all jumbled sorts of his name, and his own grunting and groaning low in his chest combined with the obscene sound of your pussy getting smacked into every time he pulled out far enough and dove back in with hard snaps.

But there was another noise that you would’ve laughed at if you weren’t currently getting the shit fucked out of you by your lover, who had not once felt the touch of your pussy in what seemed to be months.

The little bells on your stockings and at the bottom of your negligee that had been pushed up past your hips were tinkling so loud and so in a tune, it nearly sounded like it was being played by an orchestra entirely made up of sleigh bells. You had half a mind to think it nearly could be paired with the knocking of the table to add in the effect of hooves signaling the sign of reindeer arriving, but you were so caught up with focusing on how fucking good Kento felt you only thought about it for brief moments.

His cock deep diving into your cunt was gut-curling and left you gasping out each time he found home inside of you so bad that it started to line up with how your words came out of you. You were mesmerized by his face as always; red and his forehead sweaty enough to let tendrils of his blonde locks curl onto the surface of while his dark brows were scrunched into a furrow and at times, he bit his lip to keep himself from moaning louder than you. At other times you knew he liked to watch your face; his brown eyes heavily dilated and boring into your own to watch every expression you made to commit it to his memory, however then…

His eyes were acutely focused on watching his cock leave you as your cunt twitched and gaped open awaiting his return, and watching it so easily enter you again and how your pussy would stretch to accommodate his size and it was a perfect fit –

Kento’s nostrils flared as another harsh exhale left him, his strokes picking up a fraction letting you know that he was getting close rather quickly. You couldn’t blame him, it had been so long and you were ready to cum all over him as well.

Your back knocking into the table had your tits bouncing out of your built-in bra, the gasping sounds of your words bringing his eyes back to your own as you spoke with each harsh thrust, “You haven’t – been – like this – in a while – God – last time – you were like – this – it was the – first – time I let you – cum inside of me – oh fuck.”

Kento eyes narrowed into your own before they briefly dropped to watch your breasts bounce with each thrust, your hardened nipples catching his attention as he reached up and tweaked one. You squealed and wiggled your hips, but he didn’t let up as he leant down closer and the upwards angle of his cock inside of you had your eyes crossing while his mouth found your ear. His gravelly voice sent a new wave shivers down your spine, “Need I remind you that you begged for it? You whined and cried about how much you wanted me to finally ‘fuck you’ and let you feel me cum in you. How shameful you are begging to be filled like that, but I can’t say I’m surprised since you beg me for it every time.”

At the angle he was at practically lying on top of you it allowed you to scratch at his chest, another round of fiery words coming out in response to his hypocriticalness that he was the one telling you that he’d cum inside of you so much that it was incredible you hadn’t gotten pregnant, “You love it – you love – fucking me full – don’t you? You love – the idea of me – being at risk – and you do it – mmm – every single time.”

That got you a hoarse groan, Kento leaning back far away from you with a grunt and aggressively tearing off his blazer to throw into the floor where you little hat laid as well. Something about his eyes changed, his shoulders hunching forward as his hands slid down past your hips and over your thighs until he was twirling three fingers around the top of your stockings. His strokes had stopped and you had a moment of clarity not having the breath fucked out of you until he started back up again. Though that time –

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Kento had taken upon himself to use the leverage he had on your stockings to pull your body to fuck into him. The pace wasn’t as fast and desperate beforehand, but it was deep and with the hard meaning behind it thick with ferocity of what he wanted to do to you.

But really it was what you both wanted.

“Ohhhholyshit, fuck I’m gonna cum,” you wailed out throwing your head back again with a gaping mouth, legs tightening of what they could as they began to shake around his hips. There had been few times you genuinely felt like Kento was guts-deep into you, aside from always being balls deep in your pussy, and that moment as you bounced and nearly hiccupped with every tug at your thighs to let your sopping insides completely engulf his cock, you truly felt like he was in your stomach. Your cunt then was pulsing, clenching and unclenching as best as it could to all but engrave each vein and groove on his cock to the walls of you, the new pace and angle crossing and rolling your eyes back as you started to slip back down into your orgasm once more.

However, he wasn’t about to let you off for your little backtalk.

“Don’t be so coy, you like it as much as I do whenever you feel me cum inside of you,” his hold tightened as you heard parts of your stockings rip from his behavior and he began to slowly fuck back into you, meeting you thrust for thrust, “You – want – to tell me – what it is? What is it you want done to you so badly?”

Your head rolled, your pussy growing wetter and impossibly tighter at each word he groaned at you. The coil behind your naval was too hard to ignore, your mind desperately clawing to reach for it, to finally feel that sweet sense of relief, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to have it unless you told him what you wanted. He knew you were about cum, he could feel it with each stroke that you constricted around and each pant that grew louder and louder when you bucked your hips up to meet him.

You indulged him. “I want you to cum inside of me –”

Your stockings ripped more, a bell on one flying off to jingle as it rolled onto the floor. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

Everything was hot; him, his cock, you. “Fuck, just… stuff me full of your cum like I said wanted you to!”

“Tempting,” he grunted out and you watched him flick the one little bell on your stocking still, the others still jingling as the table slid in tune with his pulling, “but you can do better than that.”

You were getting frustrated; you had been denied cumming once, and with the throbbing of your clit and the ‘itch you couldn’t scratch’ feeling, you were very nearly ready to fuck into him and cum before you told him anything. However, it was the pulsing of his hot cock inside of you with each dive back into you and the edge his octave took when he spoke to you that stopped from doing so; he was close. He was close and wanted to hear what you were going to say to let himself get off and you knew he knew that him alone cumming was enough make you cum too. The feeling of his warm cum spurting out along your walls and keeping it inside of you feeling so good it made you insatiable, and you wanted so much more.

Kento’s tip was brushing against that one sensitive spot again, the area not unknown to him since he loved to fuck up into you there to have you crying and babbling for him. Your eyes rolled back a fraction and your toes curled while your nerves lit up as you grew so fucking close, the muscles in your body tensing and the awareness in your brain turning foggy while the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold and you started squeezing desperately around him. With his heavy breaths and harsh groans, you knew was getting at his limit; he was getting closer.

But you wanted it, you wanted it so damn bad that you regained a bit of clarity for a brief moment to really push at his resolve. You blinked and rolled your eyes back to him, finding his own dark eyes already watching you, then narrowing inwards as you let a lewd grin light up your face.

“It’s called breeding.”

His grip tightened.

“You have a breeding kink.”

His pace quickened; harder and faster, and you locked your ankles at his back.

“I want you to breed me, Kento.”

His nostrils flared and a hissing exhale left him, hands slamming down onto the table in favor of just fucking hard into you instead.

“C’mon, breed me.”

A long, winding groan left him as his fingers found your clit again with a deliberate rub, the rest of your plea coming off in a high-pitched whine as you starting cumming the moment you said it.

“Fuck a baby into me, Kento!”

You got the satisfaction for a brief second to watch his eyes roll back at the last words before your head lulled back from the harsh release of your orgasm. You shut your eyes as your vision had busted into shades of all colors and strong release of endorphins flooded both sides of your brain, your hips sporadically trying to grind and buck to keep up with his still thrusting body as he fucked you through and you tried to ride through it. It was useless though, the lock you had around his back breaking with your shaking legs and your trembling cunt squeezing around him to desperately keep him inside of you. Your chest heaved with the harsh breaths as you began to jerk and try to find your way back to lucidity, but you weren’t so lucky whenever you moaned aloud again when you felt him cum.

His last thrust was a harsh jab he combined with a thigh-clenching groan that slid the table and you up inches before you sighed longingly as you felt the familiar warmth of his cum spurting out inside of you. You got your wish of getting stuffed full as well, his cum almost seemingly never-ending as each sudden stab of his hips in you had another stream of it filling up your pussy. The new heat in you had you sighing once more in contentment as you felt it slowly slide down through you and pass into your womb, not doubt him fulfilling that possible useless wish of wanting him to fuck a baby into you. Kento’s thrusts finally came to still as he sat inside of you to keep any of his cum from leaking out your still convulsing cunt, only leaving you as both of your breaths finally settled into a steadier rate.

You could feel it slowly begin to slide out of your gaping hole after he carefully pulled out, almost literally feeling your body deflate and trying to push itself back into place as his cock left you in the process. But ever the man not to want to make a ‘mess’, Kento brushed the tip of himself alongside your folds to catch the cum that oozed out of you. You whimpered and gasped whenever you felt him push what had escaped you back into your sensitive pussy, a slow roll of his hips fucking his cum back into you to make sure it stayed there.

“I’m only keeping my word,” he huffed out, keeping himself busy for the moment with slow, mouthwatering rocks of his own sensitive body part to make sure you were stuffed full of his cum like you and he both wanted.

It was only a few moments of that before he stopped his rocking and he was freeing your hands of the bondage he placed on you, lifting your wrists to deliver two kisses to them until you lazily slid an arm around his neck and locked your ankles around his back again keep him snugly inside of you and to pull him on top of you again for a slow kiss.

It was a lot more sensual and chaste compared to your previous activities, all sighs and mingling breath tasting of sweet wine before you broke off and kissed at his cheek, “Thanks for the dessert.”

Kento snorted at your choice of words, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face into your shoulder, “…We made a mess.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And I have to buy a new tablecloth.”

“And new stockings, you ripped both of them.”

“I’ll buy you the same pair –”

His hand slid down to flick at the one bell still attached to you and you giggled at his corniness whenever he whispered his next words into your ear.

"– because I like the way they jingled when I fucked you.”

[levi-4uckerman]

╰┈➤ satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow

╰┈➤ the one where ur son asks a big question...

Words: 5.3k TWs:: mention of character death, toddler being a toddler, alcohol mentions, reader using her psychic powerz ;3 story timeline here, if ur interested :)

┈➤ next chapper !!!

╰┈➤ previous chapter here ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

✎ reminder that reader has been given the default name 'shiori myoji'!. you have a clairvoyance technique and a two-year old gojo >;3 enjoy!!

Tokyo, Japan- 2014.

You lingered at the edge of the ceremony, half-hidden beneath the steady drumming of rain against your umbrella. At first, you’d been against the idea. A gathering… for Suguru? After all he’d done, the tarnish he’d placed on Tokyo Jujutsu High’s name? But you saw the look on Satoru’s face, the closure he needed. He needed to remember the person that he lost, so that… maybe he could actually grieve Suguru’s death, as the rest of you had years ago. Years before he’d even died.

He stood at the center of the crowd, his tall stature and white hair making him stick out from the rest. You should have left after your first exchange with him, acknowledged him and offered condolences, then be on your way. But now you were here, staring at the small patch of skin where his hand brushed yours, the touch too lingering to be accidental. You looked up at him, and he spoke first. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, his tone missing the playfulness you'd come to expect from Satoru Gojo. 

You flinched, startled, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, and yet somehow… he could still feel your gaze. “I wasn’t–,”

“Yes, you were,” his lips twisted into a bitter smile as he tilted his head toward the sky, allowing the rain to slip down his face in tear-like streaks. “You’re trying to figure something out.”

You braced an excuse, taking in a sharp breath–

“Don’t lie,” he clicked his tongue. His voice was quiet beneath the rain, but razor sharp. He turned to you and the weight of his stare made you take a step back. Even with glasses on, even with the rain between you, it was like he was staring through you– into your soul. He craned his head closer to you, the corners of his pink lips turning upward. “This place is depressing. You wanna leave?” 

“...and then Suguru practically threw himself between you and that cursed spirit. Do you know that you would have died if he hadn’t?” You said, admonishing him with a shake of your head as you sipped on your tea. Satoru sat across from you with an amused grin, nursing some kind of half-coffee/half-ice cream beverage topped with ungodly amounts of whipped cream. “Do you even remember how close you were to getting us all killed?” 

Satoru leaned back in his seat, his grin widening. “Chill out, I knew Suguru had my back. You worry too much.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the sorcerer across from you. “I worried because you were stealing from it,” you shot back, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Did you really think it was a good idea to take a cursed item from a spirit mid-fight just to prove a point?” 

He shrugged, obviously unfazed. “It wasn’t just any cursed item. It was a miniature Inugami statue– super rare, extremely cursed, and probably worth a fortune.”

“All for you to use as a paperweight, Satoru? You weren’t going to sell it,” you scoffed. “Admit it was just for bragging rights, and I’ll let it go.” 

“I totally would, if that were the case,” he insisted. “I’ll have you know, it was actually for research.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Suguru was practically pulling his hair out, and I had to activate my technique just to get us out of there alive. Which, by the way, Yaga told us not to do.”

“That’s teamwork for you,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides, you saved us, didn’t you? We lived to tell the tale!” 

You shook your head once more, setting your cup down. Recalling the mission, your irritation started to soften. It had been one of the first missions you’d been sent on with Satoru, and you remembered the raw panic of seeing him in action– reckless and brilliant as any star in the sky –always charging headfirst into danger. You hadn’t known how to handle him back then, usually clinging to Suguru to remain grounded. 

You still didn’t really know. 

“Speaaaakingg of your technique,” he sung, his voice shifting into something more focused, interested. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table between you. “You’ve never actually explained it to me.” 

You blinked, startled by his sudden closeness. “Huh?”

“Your technique,” he said, watching you intently. “You’ve been dodging all of my questions about it since high school– I’ve seen it in action like a million times now, but you’ve never told me how it works. And don’t pretend you don’t remember– I’ve been asking for years!” 

You hesitated, his gaze pinning you in place. He wasn’t teasing anymore, and the shift in his demeanor was starting to make you squirm. “I just… didn’t think it was important,” you said finally, quieter now. 

“Not important,” he repeated incredulously. “Shi-chan, you predicted every move that cursed spirit made before it even made them. You’ve utilized your technique to the extent of a first-grade sorcerer– sponsored in part by yours truly, by the way,” he beamed at you, a quick wink following suit. 

“It’s boring, okay?” You spit out defensively, gripping your tea a little tighter. “Messy. Unreliable. It’s… not as useful as you think.” 

“Shiori,” he said softly, abandoning his earlier playfulness. You froze at the uncharacteristic weight in his voice. You looked up into an open, serious expression, like he was trying to draw something out of you. You felt like… an equal. “Tell me.” 

You exhaled slowly and downed the rest of your drink. “It’s… threads,” you began, the words tasting unfamiliar on your tongue. You’ve never tried to explain this before. “Imagine you’ve stepped onto a spider web, right in the middle… staring out into thousands of possible pathways, connected by everything– choices, actions, outcomes. They aren’t all clear. If I focus, I can follow them. Sometimes, the outcomes come to me before anything else– like all of the choices have been made, all of the steps have been taken, and now all we can do is… embrace what comes next. Prepare for it.” 

He didn’t say anything at first, and you worried you hadn’t explained it well enough. The intensity of his gaze made you feel like you’d just stripped yourself bare in front of him. “You see the threads of fate,” he said after a few quiet beats.

You swallowed hard. “I guess. It’s not perfect. It’s overwhelming, usually. I can’t always control the visions that come to me, and sometimes… there’s nothing I can do about them.” 

“And you live with that?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Seeing all of it… every day?” 

“It’s not that different from you, I suppose,” you sighed, meeting his gaze despite the unease twisting in your gut. “You see cursed energy down to an atomic level, right? The flow of it, the flaws in it. You can’t turn it off. You live with it, too.” 

For a long moment, Satoru didn’t say anything. He stared at you, his eyes brighter than you remember them being, with a clarity that was nearly overwhelming. You were worried that he was going to laugh for implying that your techniques could even be compared, but… he didn’t. Instead, his lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “So, that’s why you always look at me like that.” 

You blinked. Huh? “Like what?” 

“Like you knew something that even I didn’t,” he said. “Like you saw something that I couldn’t.” 

Your breath caught, his words settling deep in your chest. You weren’t prepared for them. For years, you’d thought of him as the untouchable one– the person that no one could truly understand. But now, as he stared at you– almost fondly, it felt like… he was saying the same about you. 

“We’re the same,” he continued, his voice a bit softer now. Almost hesitant. “You and me. We see too much. Control too little. And it’s…,” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours. “It’s lonely, isn’t it?” 

You didn’t answer. You felt a blush creeping across your cheeks, and the noise of the cafe faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat and the weight of his gaze between you. You didn’t know what to say, but at that moment, it felt like he’d already said enough for both of you. 

Somewhere out west, 2018...

The smell of coffee lingered in your memory, rich and warm, as though you could still taste it. You remembered the way the cafe lights cast a faint golden glow on Satoru’s white hair, the way he’d leaned across the table with that uncharacteristically serious expression. 

“We see too much. Control too little. And it’s… it’s lonely, isn’t it?” 

You exhaled sharply, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the morning. Natural light fled in through the windows, and you reacquainted yourself with your surroundings. You were dreaming of him again. The memory faded, replaced by the creak of wood and the soft sound of Haruto’s laughter filtering in through the cabin’s thin walls. 

The storm had passed. You could feel the silence it left behind– a fragile, weighty calm pressing down on the trees, the roof, and the snow piled high outside. Your routine waited for you, with very little space to allot for memories of Haruto’s father. 

You rolled out of bed, tugging on a thick robe before padding into the main room. Haruto’s laughter grew louder as you neared the entryway, bright and unrestrained. The kind of pure, innocent joy that made your heart swell and ache all at once. 

“Aya,” you called, your voice carrying over the sound of your son’s delighted squeals. “You didn’t have to start without me.”

Aya stood near the front door, she turned toward you with a wry smile. Her shadow manipulation technique was at work, sending dark tendrils of energy rippling across the snow-covered ground. They were pushing and pulling, heaving snow from your doorstep out into the surrounding forest. Aya’s hands moved fluidly, almost like a conductor guiding an orchestra as shadows stretched beneath her feet.

“Good morning to you, too,” She said, raising an eyebrow. Her tone was teasing but warm. “Someone was eager to get started.”

Your gaze fell to precious Haruto, who stood bundled in his little puffy winter coat, stomping his boots gleefully as the snow shifted in heaps under Aya’s command. “Make a wolf!” He cried, his voice high-pitched with excitement. “Make a wolf again!”

Aya chuckled, and with a flick of her wrist, the shadows twisted and curled, forming a sleek, wolf-like figure that bounded through the snow. Haruto squealed with delight, clapping his mittened hands as the shadow wolf ran a wide circle around him before dissolving back into the earth.

“You’re spoiling him,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile.

Haruto ran toward you, his cheeks pink from the cold and his blue eyes sparkling with joy. “Mama, did you see? Aya made a wolf!”

“I saw,” you said, crouching down to straighten his hat. “Did you say thank you?”

“Thank you, Aya!” Haruto shouted, spinning back toward her before tugging on your hand. “Mama, I wanna play in the snow!”

“After breakfast,” You said firmly, standing and brushing the snow off his coat. “And we’re not going anywhere until Aya finishes clearing the door.”

“Almost done,” Aya said, her voice light as the shadows moved in one final sweep, gathering the last of the snow into a neat pile several feet from the cabin. 

“It’s late. Do you still plan on opening the shop today?” you asked, pouring a cup of coffee. It had never been your drink of choice before moving to the States, but it had grown on you tremendously when Haruto entered toddlerhood. Some days, it felt like the only thing keeping you on your feet.

“Of course!” Aya tsked, as if the answer was obvious. “You’ve got appointments to keep, Madam Myoji.” Her chuckle was warm but laced with dry humor. “And don’t pretend otherwise.”

You nodded at her insistence, never one to take a break. Aya had slipped into this life with you so seamlessly that you sometimes forgot how strange it must have been for her—a former Zenin, once heir to a prominent jujutsu clan, now living in a sleepy American mountain town where her shadows swept driveways instead of fighting curses.

“This is my life now, huh?” you muttered, sipping your coffee. “Selling my technique for spare change. Reading fortunes for a living…” You rolled your eyes.

Haruto giggled from the porch, his mittened hands clapping as a few of Aya’s lingering shadows swirled into shapes—first a bird, then a bear, then a giant, wiggling snake. “Aya, make a dragon!” he shouted, bouncing on his toes.

“A dragon?” Aya exaggerated a gasp and arched her eyebrow at you. “This boy’s got high standards. You sure he’s not a Gojo?”

You groaned, setting your coffee cup down on the counter behind you. “Don’t start, Aya.”

She laughed softly, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes as she approached Haruto, her hands moving in fluid motions as the shadows shifted and expanded, taking on the elegant form of a serpent-like dragon. Haruto squealed with delight, stomping his boots as the dragon coiled and twisted in the snow.

“I spoil you, little one,” Aya said, her voice warm as the dragon dissolved into misty shadows. “But don’t get used to it. I’ve got a shop to run.”

“And we’ve got a living to make,” you muttered, leaning against the doorframe. The words were practical, a reminder to yourself as much as to anyone else. “Haruto, come inside. You can play in the snow after I’ve seen you eat.”

“But the dragon!” Haruto whined, dragging his feet as he shuffled toward you, his cheeks flushed and his nose red from the cold.

“Dragons will still be there after breakfast,” you said, tugging off his hat as he stepped inside. You crouched to unbutton his coat, brushing the snow from his sleeves. “You’re going to turn into a snowman if you stay out any longer.”

An hour and two Haruto tantrums later, you and Aya stepped into her seamstress shop, snow crunching under your boots. Haruto trailed behind you, bundled up like a marshmallow, dragging Snowy across the floor. You flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN with a practiced motion, sighing softly.

The familiar warmth of the shop wrapped around you, the lingering scent of fabric, thread, and lavender from one of Aya’s enchanted sachets. Her strange Zenin shadow magic kept the shop pristine despite the storms that often battered the mountain town. While the rest of the village dug out from under snow drifts, her storefront always remained untouched—an unspoken oddity that no one questioned. 

Clients would show up today, no matter the weather. You knew they would. When the forest loomed as dark and enigmatic as it did here, people sought answers wherever they could find them.

Aya pulled her gloves off with a practiced motion, her shadows flicking the shop's wood stove to life as she said, “Warm up and keep that little one busy while I set up for the day.”

“Good luck,” you muttered, pulling Haruto’s coat off as he squirmed. His attention was already fixed on the bolt of fabric sitting on Aya’s worktable, his small fingers twitching as though itching to touch it. Aya caught him with a pointed look.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and Haruto immediately darted to the corner where his box of toys waited, forgetting about it quickly— as toddlers do.

Shaking your head, you walked past the racks of handmade garments and stepped through the beaded curtain into your private workspace. The faint clatter of beads behind you felt like crossing into another world, and the cool calm of the room washed over you. A soundproof veil rippled faintly overhead, separating this space from the bustling shop floor.

Myoji Metaphysical.

Your real job. The one that kept your technique sharp while providing enough income to raise a toddler. A balancing act, though you couldn’t help but feel the edges fraying every now and then.

The room was simple—candles lined the shelves, the scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. A small, sturdy table sat in the center, surrounded by two chairs. You lit the candles with a quick flick of a match, dimmed the lights, and exhaled deeply. The room always had a stillness to it, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.

This was how you lived now. Clients came in, you held their hands, maybe drew a few cards, and guided them through the tangled web of fate that stretched before them. You weren’t lying to anyone—your technique worked. Their paths revealed themselves clearly enough when you focused. You could see which thread was strongest, which outcomes loomed closest. Many of the townspeople were so pleased with your readings that they came back, regularly booking appointments for ‘advising’. 

The shop’s structure kept you nearly invisible. All income filtered discreetly under Aya’s business, unlisted, untraceable. A ghost in the system. Just the way you wanted it. 

The faint chime of the front door’s bell echoed through the curtain. Your first client of the day. You sat down at the table, hands moving with muscle memory as you shuffled your cards. The scent of sandalwood mingled with the first faint tendrils of tension that always came with meeting someone else’s threads of fate. 

Aya’s voice carried softly from the main shop. “Special event? Straight down that hall and to the left, dear.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself, and then exhaled. This was your life, and the day was just beginning.

The beaded curtain swayed, and a nervous energy swept into the room. You looked up from your cards to see a woman hesitating in the doorway, her hands clutching the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her scarf and coat were dusted with snow, her face red from the cold, but her wide eyes were what caught your attention: she was frightened.

“Come in,” you said gently, gesturing toward the chair across from you. “It’s warm here. Take a seat.”

She thanked you politely and shuffled forward, her boots scuffing the floor as she sat down. She didn’t let go of her bag, clutching it to her chest as though it might shield her from whatever it was that she feared. You waited, letting her adjust. 

She cleared her throat and spoke quietly. “It’s about my husband,” she said, her voice shaky but determined. “I… I don’t think he’s cheating, but something’s wrong. He’s been sneaking out at night.”

Your expression stayed neutral, though your interest piqued. “What makes you say that?”

“He doesn’t know I’ve noticed,” she continued, glancing at the candles flickering on the shelves. “He waits until he thinks I’m asleep, then he slips out the back door. And he always takes the lantern with him, the one he uses when he’s going into the woods.”

Your fingers paused mid-shuffle. “The woods?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “He won’t tell me where he’s going or why. But he comes back hours later smelling like smoke and… something else. Something I can’t place. And his hands…” She swallowed hard, her voice lowering. “They’re always filthy, like he’s been digging in the dirt.”

Her words lingered in the air, and you felt your own pulse quicken as you stared at her, calculating. The woods were no place for anyone to wander alone, especially at night. The town’s collective silence on what truly lingered in the forest spoke louder than any words could. Whatever superstitions the townsfolk clung to, you knew the truth: cursed energy lingered in those woods, and where there was energy, there was danger.

“And you think he might be…” You trailed off, giving her space to fill in the blank.

She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper when she spoke again. “I think he might be… dabbling in something. Something occult. He’s always been stubborn, and he doesn’t talk about what he does out there. But I’ve heard stories about those woods. I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep breath, setting your cards aside. “All right. Let’s take a look.”

She blinked at you, her hands trembling slightly as you extended your own. “Place your hands in mine,” you said, your voice steady despite the tension coiling in your chest. “Let’s see if we can’t get to the bottom of this.” 

She obeyed, her fingers cold as they pressed against yours. You closed your eyes, reaching out with your technique. The threads began to unwind before you, tangling and twisting like a web of possibilities stretching into the unknown. You followed them, searching for clarity, and—

There it was. A figure in the woods, lantern in hand, crouched over something. You saw the faint glow of fire, the smell of smoke thick in the air. He was hunched over a makeshift still, the clink of glass jars faint but unmistakable. Moonshine. He wasn’t calling spirits from the forest—he was brewing something potent and illegal, alone in the dark to avoid prying eyes.

You exhaled sharply, relief flooding your chest as you pulled back from the threads. The woman’s wide-eyed gaze met yours, searching for answers.

“He’s not dabbling in anything occult,” you said carefully, watching her shoulders sag with visible relief. “But he has been sneaking out. He’s… working on something.”

“Working on what?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

You chuckled, unable to help yourself, then gave her the truth. “A still. I believe he’s brewing moonshine in the woods.”

Her face froze, her expression caught between shock and disbelief. “Moonshine?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, folding your hands in your lap. “He’s taking the lantern because he needs the firelight. That’s where the smoke and the dirt are coming from.”

The tension in her face melted into something almost comical, and she let out a shaky laugh. “You mean to tell me he’s been sneaking out to make bootleg liquor?”

“Looks like it,” you said, unable to keep a small smile from creeping onto your face. “If it’s any comfort, he’s not summoning spirits or doing anything dangerous. Not occult spirits, anyway.”

She buried her face in her hands, letting out another laugh—this one tinged with exasperation. “That man is going to give me a heart attack,” she muttered. “I thought he was dragging some eldritch horror into our lives, and it’s just booze. God, I’m going to kill him.”

You chuckled softly, standing as she gathered her bag and made her way to the beaded curtain. “Tell him to be careful,” you said lightly. “Those woods… they’re not safe at night. Perhaps he can… relocate his business elsewhere?”

She barked a laugh, shaking her head as she slipped back into the main shop. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. “For the peace of mind, at least.”

The beads clattered softly in her wake, and you sat back down, exhaling deeply. Relief lingered in your chest, though a faint unease tugged at the edges of your thoughts. They have no idea what’s out there. 

Aya’s voice filtered through the curtain, teasing and warm. “She looked happier leaving than when she came in. That’s always a good sign.”

“Let’s hope it lasts,” you murmured, already reaching for your cards again.

The day is slammed full of mundane readings, your head aching just a little by the time you finished up with your last client. After seeing the young man through the front door, you smiled politely through the glass before flipping the OPEN sign back to CLOSED. You breathed a small sigh of relief, letting your shoulders drop with the exhale. 

You were grateful to be loading Haruto into his car seat that evening, starting the short drive up the mountain to your home. Dinner was a simple chicken soup, which everyone thankfully enjoyed, and it felt as if the day had flown by when you were finishing up the last of the dishes, staring out into the snow-covered forest beyond your kitchen window. Aya’s voice carried over from Haruto’s bedroom; she was trying to get him to wind down for bed.

“I wan’ a story!” You heard him protest, stifling a chuckle at his persistence. He’d do anything to stay awake a little longer, even when he’s swaying on his feet. 

“Which would you like me to read tonight, little one?” Aya’s warm voice carried over to you. 

You finished putting away leftovers and tidying the kitchen quickly, stepping into Haruto’s room just as Aya finished the book she’d pulled from the shelf. He was already tucked into bed, Snowy the Rabbit hugged tightly to his chest as he listened intently. You lingered in the doorway, unable to help the smile taking over your lips at the warmth in Aya’s voice. 

“...And the little prince slept soundly,” She read, her tone soft and soothing, “knowing that his mama and papa would always be right outside, fighting off all of the monsters.” 

Haruto clapped his hands excitedly, his laughter bright and bubbly in the cozy room. “Monsters!” he giggled, mimicking the word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He babbled on about how he’d fight monsters, too, waving Snowy around in his fist like a sword. Eventually, he settled down and his gaze turned thoughtful. 

He looked up at Aya with wide, curious eyes, and you felt a tugging in your chest. Your skin erupted in gooseflesh, and a chill overcame you. My technique. 

“Aya,” your son said, his innocent curiosity making your heart ache. “Do I have a papa?” 

The room stilled. Aya froze, her fingers lingering over the cover of the storybook still sitting in her lap. Slowly, she looked to you in the doorway, straightened as if bracing for impact.

When she finally spoke, her words were measured. Careful. “That’s a big question, Haruto,” she said gently, her voice steady. “I think your mama can answer it better than I can.” 

He was looking at you now, blue eyes sparkling like stars as he waited for your answer. You pushed off the doorframe and approached his bed with your heart thundering in your chest. You knelt beside him, hands trembling as you smoothed a lock of his white hair. 

“Honey,” you started, trying to choose your words carefully. “You do have a papa. But… he’s not here right now. Mommy hasn’t seen him in quite a long time.” 

“Where is he?” He pressed, tilting his head.

You forced a small smile to your lips despite the lump in your throat. “He’s… somewhere very far away, doing something very important. But you don’t have to worry about that, sweet boy. I’m here, and I will always take care of you.” 

Haruto seemed to consider this for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. He looked back at you suddenly, as if he just had a realization. His expression was earnest and concerned as he exclaimed, “But mama! Who’s gonna help you fight all the monsters?” 

The question hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Even Aya inhaled sharply behind you, her usually neutral expression momentarily shaken. You stared at your son, his innocent concern, unable to speak as his words echoed in your mind. 

“I don’t need anyone else, Haruto,” you nearly whispered, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You cupped his cheek in your hand. “As long as I have you, I’ll be just fine.” 

A soft lie wrapped in love.

As stubborn as his father, your son pouted at your carefully crafted response. He furrowed his little brows and inhaled as if he were going to argue. Your heart squeezed in your chest, bracing for whatever unfiltered truth that might tumble from his lips next. 

Haruto puffed out his tiny chest and sat up in bed. “Don’t worry, mama!” He declared, his voice full of confidence. “I’ll help you fight ‘em!” 

The fierceness in his tone startled you, his resemblance to Satoru so shocking in that moment that you might have started crying if it weren’t for the soft laughter bubbling up from your throat. The sound cracked through the weight of the moment, warming the room like the glow of a candle.

“You will, huh?” You murmured, brushing a hand through his snowy white tresses. “My brave little warrior.”

“Yeah!” He nodded enthusiastically, blue eyes sparkling with familiar determination.

Your throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from fear or guilt– it was from the sheer, overwhelming love you felt for this tiny boy– the most precious of all of your secrets. He had no idea how much you wished you could keep him safe from all of life’s monsters, real or imagined.

“That’s a big job, little one,” Aya spoke now, closing the story book with a snap. “You’d better rest up if you’re gonna keep up with mama.” 

And finally, he smiled, nodding at the sentiment. He settled back in bed, his eyelids starting to drop as he nestled into his quilt and clutched Snowy close. 

When you stepped out of the room for the night, the weight of the moment finally settled over you, suffocating. Inescapable. You closed the door softly behind you, careful not to disturb Haruto as the ache in your chest intensified. 

The tears that clouded your eyes were hot and stinging, and you blinked them away furiously– trying desperately to keep them at bay. You didn’t cry over Satoru often– not anymore. You’d trained yourself to push those feelings away, ignore them, bury them deep into the recesses of your heart where they couldn’t touch you anymore. 

But tonight, the walls you’d built around them were crumbling. 

“I hope I can be all that he needs,” you whispered, voice trembling. You clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape. “I… I want to be.”

Your knees nearly buckled, and you leaned against the wall. Your hand pressed tightly against your lips as the tears spilled over. Aya’s soft steps stopped beside you, and though she didn’t speak, you felt her steadying hand on your shoulder. 

“You are,” she said, firm but gentle in your ear. “Even when you don’t believe it.”

You shook your head, the words doing little to soothe the guilt gnawing at your insides. “He deserves so much more,” you managed to say between shaky breaths. “More than I can–,” 

“He has you, Shiori,” Aya said, her voice carrying a necessary edge to get you to listen. “That is enough.” 

“I… I knew he would ask eventually,” you said with a shake of your head. “But… So soon? He’s so little.” 

“Little and smart. He’s curious, Shi-chan. Questions like that are only going to come up more as he gets older.” She said evenly. 

“How will I know how to answer them?” You whispered, eyes falling on the cracked door to his bedroom. 

Aya sighed, her fingers brushing over your arm. “You don’t have to have the perfect response right now,” she said. “But you should prepare some of them. He’s a sharp little one.” 

Her words were blunt, but practical. She bore no judgment in her tone, only acknowledgment of the difficult path you’d chosen. You closed your eyes and pressed your back against the wall, letting out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“I respect your decisions,” she continued after a moment, watching you carefully from where she stood next to Haruto’s doorframe. “You’re protecting him the way you know best. However, your little boy is going to need you to be honest with him someday.” 

You nodded shakily, refusing to acknowledge the scalding tears returning to your waterline. “I know.” 

As Aya’s footsteps faded down the hall, you lingered in the quiet she left behind. Your gaze fixed on the door that separated you from your son’s tiny world. “Someday,” you murmured to yourself, clutching the fragile hope that the truth, when it came to light, would be enough.

...

This is Chapter 2 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hello! Remember that fic about Nanami and Gojo with a s/o who got disowned?

Could I request a sequel to that where Nanami/Gojo and s/o are out doing something (i.e. grocery shopping or whatever) and s/o's dad tries to beg (lit: demand and coerce) them to come back home by using their mother (who s/o is still close to and keeping contact with)?

part i

Nanami Kento

It had been several months since the incident involving [Y/N]’s banishment and, for all things considered, things had worked out pretty well.

Though exiled from her family, she had not lost her rank as a Special Grade. In many ways, they were a lot like Nanami now. Taking the missions that they wanted. Existing on their own just outside their world. And maintaining a life on their own.

Yuji was doing well too. It seemed the boy who everyone thought was more trouble than he was worth was balancing the scales quickly with how fast he was learning and becoming an asset. Despite Nanami’s harsh comments when they first met, which he now regrets. They were said out of frustration and defense of [Y/N]’s situation. One he blamed Yuji for, but now realized was misguided. The only one to blame was her father. A fact he intended to tell the man once he stopped talking.

“You need to come home.” He told [Y/N] after cornering them on the street outside a coffee shop. “Your mother needs you.”

“What’s wrong with mom?” [Y/N] asked. Curious, but concerned, for her other parent. A good heart to the end.

“That is irrelevant. She needs you. And as a good daughter, you will return home.”

“So, you wish for [Y/N] to return, not out of regret for your decisions, but because you need a maid for your wife.” Nanami butted in. Earning a glare from the clan head. “You have more than enough resources to hire anyone to assist with your wife, if she needs it.” He is not convinced that she does. Just another ploy to keep [Y/N] at bay. “You don’t need [Y/N].”

“It is the duty of children to care for their parents!”

“And it is the duty of parents to protect their children.”

The men glare at each other furiously. Which was possibly the worst time for Yuji to come out of the coffee shop. “Sorry that took so long. The line for the toilet was crazy.” As usual, he walked right into it. Realizing too late that he had made a mistake. “What’s….going on?”

“That’s him. Isn’t it.” Her father accused. It wasn’t a question. Everyone knew who Yuji was at this point. “You’re the boy that ruined my daughter’s life!”

Yuji looked hurt and confused, but [Y/N] stepped in front of him quickly. “Don’t say that to him!”

“This is all your fault!” Her father shouted again. “If you had just taken your execution like a man, then my daughter would be home with her family. Instead, she defies the council and is banished all for someone like you!”

“Wh…I didn’t…I…-“Yuji didn’t banish me father. You did!” [Y/N] snapped. Nanami hadn’t seen her this mad in a long time. Much less against her family. “Yuji is a kind, honest, genuine boy. A boy. And you all just expect him to be at the end of a very short life, just because it’s convenient for you. Well, he won’t be convenient for you, father. Nor will I. Just…go home.”

Her ferocity waned for a moment near the end, but [Y/N] stood her ground. Her father seemed to want to say something but closed his mouth quickly under Nanami’s stare. Daring him to speak.

The man sucked on his teeth, then went to an idling car and was driven away. “Was all that true?” Nanami & [Y/N] turned to Yuji. Who, despite his height, looked incredibly small. “Were you really kicked out of your family because of me?”

[Y/N] looked hurt for a moment, but then smiled and wrapped her arms around Yuji. “No. My family has its own problems. Same as any. It’s just….a little more complicated with sorcerer families.” They assure Yuji that it wasn’t his fault and they continue their day together.

Nanami wasn’t sure what he should do. If he should do something. He was proud of [Y/N] though for standing their ground. Perhaps he would tell them that later. Perhaps not.

Gojo Satoru

“Good thing leeks were on sale. It was a nice opportunity to stock up.”

“I hate leeks.” Gojo grumbled.

“You hate any vegetable.” [Y/N] quipped back. To which he couldn’t really argue. “You need to eat more of them though. Living with you these past few months, I realized your diet is terrible. All sugar and instant coffee. How your body hasn’t just given up on you is a wonder to me.”

“Eh~ but you’ll never give up on me, will you [Y/N].” He teased. Waging his eyebrows behind his glasses before he leaned in to give them a kiss.

“[Y/N].” The couple stopped being cute when they heard her name. Both surprised to find her father there.

“Otōsan?” [Y/N] said in a hushed tone as she pulled away from Gojo. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home.” He said it like a child who had been out to play for too long. Not a grown woman who had been banished from her family and position by his own hand. “The car is waiting.”

“So [Y/N] is just supposed to jump when you say how high?” Gojo cut in with a mocking sneer. “I’m not hearing an apology in there. Maybe my ears are clogged.”

“Apology? I have no apology to offer.” Gojo flicked his imaginary ear wax at the other man after ‘cleaning his ears’. “If anything, it is you who should apologize. It was your doing that brought disgrace to our family.”

“Oh yeah?” Gojo drawled. “And how did I do that?”

“By leading her down this ridiculous path to question the council!” The older man snapped. “They made their decision, and we must obey. That is the law. That is her place!”

“My place is wherever I choose.” [Y/N] cut in to her father’s ranting. “I chose to stand up to the council because their decision was wrong. Gojo didn’t make me. And now I’m choosing to stay with him because it’s what I want to do.” Gojo never felt so proud. “I don’t have to or want to follow your path anymore, father. You banishing me was the greatest thing you could do for me. Our time apart has perhaps let you realize your mistake, but I’ve only realized its blessing. Now, go home.”

The man looked ready to burst, but did not seem to have it in him to argue further. He instead turned tail and went to the car to be driven home. “I have never been more attracted to you in my life.”

[Y/N] scoffed at Gojo’s comment. Finding it funny, but still clearly hurt she had to turn her family away. “Thanks. You still have to eat the leeks tonight.”

“Oh darn…” Gojo pouted, but still wrapped his arm around [Y/N] as they head back home.

He supposed as long as [Y/N] was there to make them, then he guessed leeks weren’t that bad.

[dinneronvenus]

Doesn’t Matter Now

⭑ Gojo x fem reader

⭑ inspired by the song “doesn’t matter now” by flyingfish (listen to that while you read for max effect)

⭑ tags: ANGST ON 100, description of a jujutsu technique that forfeits the sorcerer’s life, death, a funeral, a hopeless and depressed Gojo goes to a medium, hinted reincarnation

⭑ synopsis: Gojo already lost his only true friend, so he never thought losing a woman could hurt him so badly

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Gojo. You didn’t even know.” Utahime spoke softly, her own pain wanting to break through in her voice. “Nobody did.”

Gojo remained silent, eyes glazed over, a cocktail of negative emotions mixing in his mind. He couldn’t even look at Utahime, whose outfit would remind him of you. They stood in the ruins of the shrine your family had built and ran for generations. It had come under attack by many cursed spirits and you had fulfilled your duty to protect the people who lived and worked there, as well as its secrets. With everyone else safe, it would be rebuilt and restored to its original glory, something that should have been a silver lining.

“It is not uncommon for a high priestess to give her life for her people.” Utahime said, voice breaking at the end. This brought Gojo even less comfort.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I hadn’t heard her say those exact words to me before?!” He snapped, still not able to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. It was Utahime’s turn to stay silent.

In the middle of the leveled temple, there was the evidence of your bravery. A set of heavy stone doors bearing an ancient inscription, left open by whatever you had summoned to walk through them, loomed over the two sorcerers. Gojo already knew they’d be used as a gate to honor your memory and remember your sacrifice. His eyes begged to see any scrap of you in the rubble. Maybe this was just a trick, and you were hiding behind one of the doors.

“What could her technique have been to have killed her in the process?” He whispered to the open air, not thinking anyone could’ve heard him.

“Gehenna Gate, it is a technique with the highest of costs,” A raspy voice broke the unbearable quiet. It was your mother, who despite everything, managed to keep a small smile on her face for your surviving friends. “I am sorry she never told you that properly. She wanted to protect you, in her own way.” Her hand came down on Gojo’s shoulder and the kindness in her touch almost burned him alive.

“I didn’t… I wish she…” Gojo stuttered out, hot tears stinging his eyes. Your mother pulled him into a hug, shushing him like a child.

Five days later, your funeral was to be held at your family cemetery in the mountains overlooking the temple. Gojo had no idea how he would survive that. He spent the time until your funeral looking for someone who could communicate with the dead. Thanks to his power and connections, he found one the night before and prepared himself to have one last conversation with you.

“Welcome, sir. I assume you’re here to see Mistress Takemi?” The young man spoke just loud enough to be heard over the jingle of the bell from the door shutting behind him.

“Yeah, and she knows already so I’m just gonna head back there,” Gojo sauntered through the foyer and down the hall to the back room where a woman in black and purple robes standing over a large glass table was waiting on him.

“Welcome Satoru,” she spoke cheerfully with a deep voice that echoed her years of life.

“Don’t call me that. Can we get started?” The overly familiar attitude irked him. The woman cleared her throat and dropped her cheerful act.

“I suppose we can get right to it then.”

The woman had a technique that essentially made her into a human ouija board. Her hands rested on the glass table and it began to glow a soft greenish-blue. Gojo could see the dark circles and puffiness of his eyes in the reflection, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for being this unable to accept that you were gone.

“Satoru?” His name again, but this time he could hear your voice mixing with Takemi’s voice. He said your name in disbelief, tears of joy in his eyes.

“Yes, yes! It’s me, I wa—”

“You can’t do this, Satoru. It’s against the laws.”

“Please, don’t tell me that right now. You hid so much from me, please just let me ask you one thing.”

Silence. Fearing he’d miss his chance, he went ahead with his question.

“Did you ever really love me?” The depth of sadness and desperation in his voice was unbearable to you, even in your disembodied state. “Why couldn’t you have told me? I could’ve helped you, I would’ve done anything to have saved you.”

“In the mountains where they’ll bury me, follow a trail that begins with pink and white flowers. You’ll find everything you want to know at the end. Goodbye, Satoru.”

“No, no, no,” He wiped the tears from his face and gripped both of Takemi’s shoulders, shouting. “Please come back! I can’t do this again!”

Regaining full control of herself, Takemi pushed Gojo off her and had him escorted out of her shop. The whole world was one hideous shade of grey. He walked for a while with no destination in mind but the grave. He wanted to go find that trail right now but he didn’t have anything else left in him. He wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. Returning home, he set his alarm and went to bed with your instructions in mind.

Utahime and Gojo walked with each other up the mountain to the funeral site. Utahime thought it was odd but refreshing to see him dressed in more traditional clothing. Just one more thing that only you could get him to do.

Everyone took their places, and your father stepped up to the podium. “We are gathered here to send our beloved high priestess to her place of final rest with her ancestors…”

Once the funeral was complete, no one but Gojo, Utahime and your mother lingered too long.

“I’m sorry again for your loss, ma’am.” Utahime said, bowing deeply. Your mother gave her another one of those wise, otherworldly smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve really lost her.” She said before taking a last look around the cemetery and turning to leave. “Why don’t we give him some space?” She motioned to Gojo and Utahime followed her.

Now alone with your memory and your ghost, Gojo began to look for this trail you had mentioned. It took him a while to find it but when he did, his path to the end was quick. It led to a small clearing where the grass was lush, and he was consumed by the smell of many different kinds of flowers and plants. The sight of the small garden was as beautiful as you were to him.

Looking around for anything that could be the answer you spoke of, he saw a faint bit of energy coming from inside a tree. When he got close to the tree, he found it had a hollow spot in it where you’d left a diary. He fished it out and walked to a shaded place in the clearing to begin reading it. Every page was an entry about the two of you together. All of your private feelings from when he was just a crush, and once you had gotten closer, you even glued in pictures you’d taken together.

Gojo couldn’t control his tears or hide his sobs. His body shook against the tree as he held the diary close to his chest. He calmed down enough to continue reading it, with the last entry being dated a week ago.

She knew she was going to die… He thought. You had written about the rise of cursed spirits in the area of increasing numbers and strength and how you felt like it was time for you to fulfill your duty to your people. More than that though, you wrote about how you wished you could have told Gojo. How you wanted to stay with him forever, how he was the only thing you’d ever loved as much as you loved the Gods, and how because of that you wanted to make sure he was safe and didn’t have to fight for once.

It was all too much, Gojo swore he would drown in his own tears right there. The wind picked up and blew the diary’s pages, landing on entry from before you two had met.

6.25 — Training Notes: after a long session of training and studying my technique’s history in my family. I have learned of a way I might be able to circumvent its cost. If I summon a deity of destruction that has the ability to reincarnate, then I will reincarnate too! One of my ancestors did that long ago, although it took 59 days for them to come back.

Gojo couldn’t believe what he was reading. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves furiously and scrambled to his feet. He stored your diary in an inner pocket of his kimono and made his way down the mountains to the temple ruins.

He inspected the gate and found exactly what he needed to be able to accept the loss of the only woman he’s ever loved. Utahime was strolling the grounds when she noticed him in the air, getting a close look at the doors.

“Gojo, what do you think you’re doing? Get down here!” Utahime found his behavior so disgraceful. He chuckled on his way back to earth.

“I was just checking on something. Had to be sure that I wasn’t seeing things.”

His eyes were red and puffy, but his annoyingly cheerful attitude was starting to return. Utahime couldn’t tell if she was relieved or annoyed.

“Checking on what?”

“Eh,” Gojo put a hand over the diary in his pocket.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 6)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 (Not Required) Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

Having lunch with Satoru Gojo...

Word Count: 1.6k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, Nanami's a bit rude, Gojo...

A/n: I hope I didn't fail Gojo's dialogue too bad, this volume has a bit more plot in it than usual. I'll keep it light next one.

Nanami, your perfect husband, never ceased to surprise you. You couldn’t imagine that a man like him, so perfect and loving, could not have friends. There was Ijichi, a former coworker that he checked in with on occasion, and Ieiri, another coworker that he insisted on be your doctor, but in general he was never one to stay out late to drink with his friends after work, or watch a sports game like other married men his age. He always reasoned, that there was no one he would rather spend time with than you, which was true of course. But still, it didn’t make sense. 

Now a salaryman, a senior manager at an investment company, you had met him when he was a Jujutsu Sorcerer, though he didn’t stay that way for long. Once the two of you started courting, he quickly decided to go back to his former position, something he was already considering before meeting you. For the longest time, you hadn’t met anyone from his past, though he never shied away from telling you anything you asked about.

Now what you didn’t know, was that there were other reasons for his reclusiveness. A great scar on his heart, you could say. Something that could never be healed, for it was formed by a monster.

That monster, was none other than Satoru Gojo, Nanami’s former upperclassman and fellow Jujutsu sorcerer. 

The sheer amount of pain inflicted upon Nanami every time he had to go within a kilometer radius of that man was something most people couldn’t imagine, who was so incredibly annoying that his own brain cells suffered substantially at the sound of his voice. The living being that just might have been his main reason for leaving Jujutsu High way back then. 

And that was the man you two were set to have lunch with, that afternoon. You hadn’t seen him since your wedding, where he was sitting in the front row, making sure to give Nanami a pat on the back before saying “I do.” He was happy to introduce himself, of course curious about the new Mrs. Nanami who had been kept far, far away from him, but the way Nanami was, he quickly hurried the bother away and swept you off your feet as soon as he could to enjoy the rest of the night. 

Your husband, Nanami, tried his hardest to be respectful to just about everyone, preferring to get work done and pay attention to more important things than those who bothered him. However when it came to Gojo, only the bitter honesty remained. He had no problem insulting that pest that called himself “the strongest”, which sadly he couldn’t deny. This was true when you tried to bring him up, asking about the man at the wedding while writing thank you notes to the guests. 

“Don’t mind him,” he said sternly, trying to avoid the topic - as the great perk of getting out of the Jujutsu world might just have been being done with Satoru Gojo, after all. A lifetime long break from that man. “In fact, I don’t think he even needs a card,” He smiled, holding up the envelope, about to rip it into shreds. 

“Of course he does, he gave us such a nice gift,” you muttered, snatching the envelope  back from his hands. That was about as far as you got when trying to bring him up. Nanami would always tell you everything you wanted to know, about his work and past life, and the same was true with Gojo. But something about the way that he scowled just at the thought of him had you wishing you hadn’t mentioned it at all. 

You were running around at home waiting for Nanami to get back, as per usual, though this time your struggle was quickly sweeping and vacuuming up a dropped glass. Reaching into the high cabinets in the kitchen, your apron had gotten snagged on a handle as you stepped down from the stepping stool. If only it had been a small spill, but the large glass jar flew out of your hands as you tried to not fall yourself, and landed, smashing into a million pieces directly in the middle of the kitchen floor. Glass pieces tucked into every nook and cranny of the kitchen and surrounding rooms. Then you heard the phone ring. Rushing to grab it, the unknown number didn’t phase you. Nanami’s work often sent calls to the home phone, after all. 

“Hello? This is the Nanami residence,” you spoke, holding the phone to your ear. “Good, I got the right number,” the voice sighed. “This is Satoru Gojo, Nanami’s coworker?” The voice who you now knew as Gojo waited for your reply. “Ah Mr. Gojo…” you took a few breaths, “Kento isn’t here right now, but he’ll be back in a few minutes.” “Oh he isn’t? That’s great… I mean fine, that’s fine. I don’t need him here.” Gojo let out a few laughs under his breath. “Actually, I was wondering if you two would like to meet up for lunch tomorrow. Theres this great new restaurant that opened up, and I haven’t seen either of you in a while. How does that sound?” He asked. “I’ll have to ask Nanami, though I doubt he’d be busy. I’m sure he would enjoy seeing you…” You let out a few giggles yourself, thinking about your stoic husband. Of course you didn’t want to upset him, but maybe he would enjoy meeting up with a coworker - and of course, you were awfully curious. 

“If you two have any conflicts, just let me know. I’ll make us a reservation anyways.” Gojo leafed through the menu, the sound audible through the phone. “Oh and they have mochi, that’ll be great,” he laughed, “It was good to talk to you, Y/n, I’ll see you later.” “Goodbye, Mr. Gojo,” you responded back, and the call was ended. 

In perfect timing, of course, the moment you got back to work, bending down to sweep up the glass mess on the floor, your husband walked up the front steps. You ran over to greet him, fixing your hair and removing your apron. “Welcome home darling,” you smiled as he opened the door. You took his briefcase and set it to the side of the door for him. “I… I broke some glass in the kitchen, I’ll go clean it up in a minute,” you started, as he looked you in the eyes. “And…” he stared, curious as to what you were so nervous about. “I received a phone call, from a coworker of yours, or should I say former coworker?” part of you wanted to change the subject. “I see… and does this coworker have a name?” he asked, taking a seat on the couch. 

“Mr. Gojo gave a call, actually.” Nanami’s hands clenched, the veins showing down from his knuckles. “He invited us to lunch tomorrow, isn’t that nice?” 

And that is how you ended up in the car, with a very bothered husband on a nice Saturday afternoon. The restaurant was in a nice quiet part of the city, just a few miles away. Threading your fingers together as you sat in the passengers seat, the annoyance was clear on Nanami’s face. “I’m sorry, Kento, but he already made the reservation… I would feel bad to cancel,” he let out a small grunt, gripping the steering wheel. “I’m not mad at you, Y/n, it’s that stupid-” he moved his hand to hold onto yours as he breathed. “Please don’t take anything he says seriously, my love,” you smiled, glad to know he wasn’t mad at you, his humor still coming through. 

After checking in with the waiter, the two of you were led to an outdoor table. “I’m surprised you didn’t show up in a t-shirt,” the two of you sat down as Nanami glared at the man before him. “Of course not, I am meeting with my favorite couple, you know.” Gojo sneered back. “I don’t see why you always ignore me nowadays, Nanami, are we not friends?” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Y/n, look at the menu, it has some great sandwich options,” Nanami pointed to the paper in front of him, as Gojo whined, being ignored. 

“To be honest I’ve moved on from all of that,” the food was getting served as Nanami and Gojo continued their conversation. “That kind of work isn’t for everyone,” Nanami explained, eying the ham and cheese sandwich before him. “And Y/n, is he treating you well?” Gojo asked, giving a look to Nanami. “Yes, of course, he’s wonderful,” you responded shyly, the question catching you off guard. “I don’t know how you got that number anyway, but I know Y/n was quite interested in meeting you,” he smirked at you, his nerves having calmed down quite a bit. “Has he met your expectations?” you thought about it for a moment. “Yes, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. By the way, thank you so much for the gift Mr. Gojo,” he smiled back at you. “That toaster is top of the line, it’s got a ton of extra settings so you can use it on more than sliced bread,” you laughed, taking a sip of water from your glass. 

“Anyways, I hope we can do this again, hmm?” Gojo asked, having paid the bill. Nanami looked at you, rolling his eyes. “If we must, then sure,” he responded, grabbing your hand to walk out of the building. “By the way, how is it that my upperclassman is so far behind? I’d think you’d at least have some prospects…” Nanami pretended to ponder, watching Gojo’s face turn into a frown. Thus concluded your first real meeting with one of Nanami’s friends, an interesting experience forever ingrained into your mind.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Precious Little Bunny

Satoru gojo x reader

The first time I saw him, I knew my life would never be the same.

It was just an ordinary day at Jujutsu High, or at least as ordinary as a day could be in a place where curses lurked around every corner and sorcerers trained to battle the darkness. I was new to the school, fresh out of my last mission and still getting used to the idea of being around other sorcerers. My curse, though mostly harmless, had always been something of an embarrassment. It wasn't something that helped me in battle, didn't grant me any special power or insight. All it did was this: whenever I got happy or excited, a pair of fluffy bunny ears and a cotton tail appeared on my body, impossible to hide.

I’d learned to keep my emotions in check, to stay calm, even when I felt anything but. After all, the last thing I wanted was to be known as the girl with the ridiculous bunny ears. And for the most part, I had succeeded—until that day.

I was walking down the hallway, trying to find my classroom, when I felt it. A presence. A powerful one. I turned the corner, and there he was—Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the one everyone talked about in hushed whispers, like he was more myth than man.

But he was no myth. He was standing right there, casually leaning against the wall, his snowy white hair perfectly tousled, and his signature blindfold concealing those mysterious eyes. He was tall, confident, and had an aura that practically crackled with power. My heart skipped a beat, and I could feel the warmth spreading through my chest, the unmistakable signs of a crush blooming far too quickly.

And then it happened.

I felt a familiar tingling at the top of my head and at the base of my spine. No, no, not now, not in front of him! I tried to force it down, but it was too late. My bunny ears popped out, soft and twitching with my nervousness, and I just knew the tail had followed suit.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I tried to turn away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But of course, he had.

“Oh?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity that made my stomach do flips. “What do we have here?”

I froze, every muscle tensing as I turned back to face him. He had pushed up his blindfold just enough to reveal one eye—a brilliant shade of blue that seemed to pierce right through me. A slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“A bunny? How cute.”

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Instead, I stammered out some incoherent excuse, trying to cover my ears with my hands, but they were too big and fluffy to hide. Gojo took a step closer, and I felt my heart race, the tingling sensation only growing stronger.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head as if he was examining a curious new object.

“I-I’m Y/N,” I managed to get out, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and playful, “you’re the most adorable thing I’ve seen all day. Do those ears appear whenever you’re around someone you like?”

I stared at him, my eyes wide. How did he know? Was it that obvious?

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. “You can’t hide it from me, little bunny. You like me, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I felt trapped under his gaze, and not in a bad way. It was like he could see right through me, right into the parts of me I tried so hard to keep hidden.

And then, just when I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassed, he reached out and gently tapped one of my ears. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and he laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh that made my heart skip another beat.

“Relax,” he said, his tone suddenly softer, almost tender. “I think it’s cute. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”

I stared up at him, completely at a loss for words. No one had ever reacted like this before. Usually, people found my curse weird or awkward, but Gojo… he seemed to like it. He seemed to like me.

“From now on,” he said, leaning in just a little closer, “I think I’ll call you my precious little bunny.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the ears twitch again, giving away just how flustered I was. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. There was something about the way he said it, with a warmth that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let my guard down a little. To let myself feel.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice a low murmur meant only for me. “I’ll keep your secret safe. But you might want to be careful around me—I tend to have that effect on people.”

With that, he gave me a wink and started to walk away, leaving me standing there, ears still twitching, tail still fluffy, and my heart thudding in my chest like a drum.

From that day on, every time I saw Gojo, the ears and tail would make their inevitable appearance. And every time, he’d smile, sometimes ruffling my hair, sometimes flicking one of the ears just to see me jump. But there was always that warmth in his gaze, that teasing affection that made my heart flutter despite my best efforts to stay calm.

I was his precious little bunny, and despite my initial embarrassment, I found that I didn’t mind it one bit.

[papayatori]

Fall away (p7)

Inumaki Toge x fem!reader

He’s so pretty HELP

My second mission had finally come. Gojo had sent Maki, myself and Inumaki all together this time. I was concerned about what might happen since Gojo didn’t really fill us in on anything, though, Toge’s reassuring grip on my hand and Maki’s unwavering smirk kept my cool for me. I smiled a little, letting myself relax in the back of Ijichi’s car.

“Not too much farther, now. He called to us from the front.

I gazed out of the window, dreamily smiling at the beauty of Japan outside of the city. It truly was something to gawk at.

“Tuna.” I heard from beside me. Toge was gazing with me, at least I thought he was,

Toge’s eyes were set on you, how you looked when your eyes sparkled with excitement. He could tell you hadn’t gotten out since your last mission other than a few times, he wanted to give you that kind of excitement himself if he could possibly.

I looked up at him, blushing at his soft gaze. His violet eyes were shining, and though his collar covered his face, I could tell he was smiling at me.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop, Ijichi signaling to us that we had arrived.

“We suspect there are several semi-first grade spirits living here in these abandoned apartments. They’ve been evacuated for good measure of our precautions, though we aren’t sure what really lies within these walls.” He stated clearly. He pushed up his glasses slightly before continuing, “be careful, I’ll be here if you need.” He gave us a small look of confidence. It wasn’t everyday that Ijichi took a liking to a group of sorcerers, and I was rather proud of it,

Maki, staff in hand, pointed towards the buildings, there were three of them in the complex.

“I suppose we’ll each tackle one, we have ways to contact one another if need be.” She looked at me as if she knew something that I didn’t, I shrugged it off before I could relish on it.

Inumaki squeezed my hand one more time before dropping it and looking at me with a serious expression on his face. His violet eyes were full of something I couldn’t name, his brows knit perfectly to frame them.

“Salmon.” He stated plainly before we all took our leave to our respected buildings,

_

_

_ ••Maki••

_

My footsteps echoed as I stalked through the empty hallways. The wallpaper was peeling from the thin, plaster walls that separated the rather large building on the inside. It felt almost like a maze. I couldn’t sense anything due to my own lack of cursed energy, but something definitely felt off about the place.

I opened one of the doors, revealing a small living space that was hardly suitable enough for the homeless. It smelled of mildew and mold, in fact it shown plainly on the peeling walls of the small room. A mattress lay in the floor, tucked away in the far corner. There wasn’t even a window.

It sort of felt like a prison to me, if not worse than one. I had seen cells more suitable than this. Who would subject themselves to something like this?

I stood in the center, allowing myself to feel whatever weird sensation had risen into my bones, seeped through my skin. I heard faint water dripping from somewhere, could that be where the mold had come from?

“I didn’t realize Gojo was sending us off to be house maids.” I said to myself.

I found myself following the noise, finding a smaller room that I had mistaken for a closet upon entry, it seemed to be a bathroom.

The faucet wasn’t completely shut off I had realized, it didn’t take a curse user to find a faulty nozzle. I chuckled to myself before opening the faucet more.

_

_

_ ••inumaki••

_

I watched her walk away without a second thought. She was confident, evident in succeeding. Her hips swayed gently, enough to show the confidence with each step she took, and I was utterly mesmerized. Though, I was equally terrified.

Something didn’t feel right about this place, and I wasn’t sure we would make it out unscathed as she had last time. Cursed energy radiated around us predominately, and I was aware that neither of my partners could sense it. Y/n wasn’t really sure how to harness her abilities yet, and I knew Maki had no cursed energy to speak of for herself. I wasn’t exactly sure why Gojo had sent the three of us together, sure y/n was my girlfriend, but I didn’t exactly see how our abilities matched up at all; besides, did Gojo even know anything about y/n and I?

I scoffed listening to my thoughts, I needed to shut them out before it interfered with the mission; but I couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not she was safe. I scolded myself mentally for falling so hard for her, in my line of work there was nothing that could keep her safe but herself should the situation arise, and I had known that from the beginning.

A small drip pulled me from my thoughts. I halted my steps, finding myself in a room that I assumed to be one of the apartments. It was small, weary, and falling to pieces. I glared at the sound, attempting to find the source if it. I opened the small door I had been eyeing across the room revealing a small bathroom with a sink on the wall. The place was old, and smelled like utter shit. Though, it was a bathroom.

I turned the faucet to the sink, thinking it might stop the insufferable noise of the dripping. Had we been sent on a plumbers job? Gojo couldn’t be serious.

Immediately, I felt a surge of cursed energy from within the walls, within the entirety of the room itself. I unzipped my collar, readying for whatever was coming for me. I felt my skin crawl from sheer power.

_

_

_ ••y/n••

_

My thoughts wandered as I entered the building. I felt immensely insecure about how well trained I was to be on a mission like this, even if it was my second time. I knew Gojo was prone to being reckless and stupid at times, and given the strange aura I had been feeling since setting foot on the grounds, I was certain this was one of those occasions.

My ears twitched, hearing faint dripping water from inside one of the rooms. I hurriedly threw open in of the doors, doing my best to remain calm and steady. My life very well could depend on my mentality today. I opened my mind, trying to force my way into the head of whatever cursed spirits lurked sighing the place. I was met with nothing but faint voices. That was something, at least.

They continued to mumble, two voices I could make out roughly. No, there were only two voices speaking in my head. I felt my senses heighten, my adrenaline pour through my viens.

Drip

Drip

Drip

I opened the small door on the far side of the room, revealing the source of the noise I had been searching. My mind had calmed, as had the incessant mumbling in the back of it. I closed the faucet, hoping to ease the ache of my head.

Cursed energy poured through the faucet as the dripping continued and grew louder. I jiggled the faucet once more, I was sure it had been cut this time. More energy could be felt from within the walls, the pipes, the intricate system of plumbing within the crumbling and cracked walls of the apartment building. I scoffed, trying to keep myself at bay. I could feel the hunger for blood rise within me, another voice this time taking over my own thoughts.

Kill, kill the cursed spirits who are trapped within their birthplace. End their suffering.

My skin was cold, crawling with sweat and grime, even that wasn’t my own. I opened my mind once more, reaching for whatever thing was living within the walls of this place.

I heard those two faint voices once again, I felt adrenaline, eagerness, fear. Why was I feeling these things?

My mind flicked back into Inumaki’s bedroom, the night where I had learned I could speak with him without actually speaking, with my mind.

I was confused, unsure if why I was recalling such an insignificant piece of my history-

“…we have ways to contact each other if need be.”

Drip

I reached out with my everything, feeling everything the other two inside of my mind were feeling. I felt a pain in my left shoulder, a harsh one as I was shoved to the ground. I looked up in shock, but nothing was there.

One of the consciousnesses had cried in pain, I heard it clearly, and it was Maki.

I stood up quickly, reaching out once again.

“Are you hurt, Maki?” I mumbled to myself. I felt a small shock within me before a small feeling of reassurance.

“So, you’ve figured it out, eh?” I heard Maki whisper. I could hear her smirk.

“Answer the question.”

“I’m fine, nothing I havent dealt with before. Though keep an eye out, this one is tough.”

As if on cue, I felt another sharp pain, but this time I looked up to see a watery cursed spirit.

He was translucent, I could see its organs, its heart beating wildly as it glared at me with a dark smile. Its beady eyes seemingly narrowing at my presence. It groaned before launching at me once more.

I dodged with ease, feeling my muscles pump with adrenaline again, except this time, it was my own.

I felt a tug in the back of my mind. I knew it must have been one of the other two. I could feel Toge’s presence wrapping itself around my thoughts, I knew he was looking out for me even from far away. I smiled, dodging another blow that could have been fatal.

I ran down the hall, hoping the spirit would follow me outside. I needed a little room to work with if I wanted to fight it, these cramped apartments were doing my skills no justice. My throat burned as I continued running, feeling another tug on the invisible line of my consciousness.

“Don’t die on me, Toge.” I mumbled to myself, earning a sharper tug this time.

“I guess I don’t have a choice now, do I?” I heard from somewhere in my mind. I smiled. It was odd to hear Toge say anything that wasn’t a rice ball ingredient or a command, though I couldn’t deny the rush of butterflies I felt just listening to his voice. I prayed no one felt that from whatever mental communication we had going on.

I looked back at the spirit, hearing that insufferable dripping and sloshing from its watery husk. I had never seen one like it before, regardless of how little experience I had had in battle. I wondered if it would surrender itself to me, too.

The mumbled thoughts continued to run ramped as I stood in the hallway, unable to find my way out of this crumbling shack. Defeated, I readied myself for battle.

In the middle of the hallway, I could feel the spirits will for me to die, its teeth gleaming as if bloodthirsty and hungry. It hadn’t spoken to me, which was a good sign, but I also hadn’t spoken to it, either.

I heaved a breath, taking in all of my focus and collecting every last drop of energy I could, unsheathing the sword Maki had lended me. I took my stance, waiting for it to strike me first.

Drip

Drip

Drip

I slashed, hard. Cutting off the wriggling, watery arm of the cursed spirit. Though, it did no good. Its watery and bendable figure simply morphed it back into existence, though, I did notice its figure had become smaller, no longer towering over me.

“Gotcha.” I mumbled with a smirk.

I felt power pour through my veins, blood the only thing on my mind. I was confident, I had found a weakness and knew I’d win this one rather easily.

Drip

Drip

Drip

I focused my energy in the sword, gradually as I had been taught. I smirked again, slashing at the beast once more. It winced, and I felt it within my soul, its crying pains and death threats that would never come to life as it desperately tried to make them. It threw a punch, one I dodged with ease, reaching out to grab its morphing arm as I did so.

I let out a gasp. It hurt to touch the damned thing. Not only that, but my grip faltered, and my hand went straight through. I heard mock laughter in the back of my mind.

I felt a tug inside of me again, a painful cough belted out of me without me even being aware. I knew immediately what was happening.

“Toge!?” I yelled, breathless and in pain. Had something happened to him?

“I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry so much.” I say a low chuckle in my mind. At least he was finding this amusing.

I glanced around me, more of these creatures had appeared. I counted three in total, the other two were much larger than the former, as it was still pretty damaged. They hissed at me, spitting liquid from their own bodies as protection.

I remembered something that Maki had told me, the weaker a spirit was, the more it would group together. I figured it was likely they weren’t as strong as Ijichi had said, but I wasn’t confident enough to get cocky.

I slashed again, not wanting to touch the things. I remembered the burning sensation in my hand as I tried to grab it moments before, wincing just thinking about it. I felt another sharp pain in my gut, I figured this was another hit to one of my partners.

I didn’t have time to check on them this time, ramming my sword into the smaller of the beast. It dissipated, slowly becoming liquid in the floor.

“One down.” I breathed out heavily.

I coughed violently, feeling the pain in my abdomen. I prayed Toge was alright, slashing my way into the other monsters before me. I was slowly being backed into a wall, and I didn’t like it.

For the first time, I felt pretty helpless. I was doing decent at defending, but my attacks were only slowing them down a little. They had soaked up the liquid from the deceased beast, claiming it as their own and growing into a larger size, rendering my cuts and slashes useless. I cursed to myself.

“They’re able to morph together.” I heard Maki say down the line, she sounded tired, hurt. I grumbled a little, already figuring that out for myself.

I felt a sting in my arm, but nothing had touched me. I grumbled again, I suppose one of them had been touched.

“Careful, you two.” I growled, slashing again and doing my best to remain calm and composed. The smirk had been easily wiped from my face just as quickly as I had retained it.

I reached inside of me, deep within, pulling of my cursed energy and willing it into my sword, slashing violently and slowly knocking down the form of the two in front of me. It was useless, how little it was doing. I let out a mangled groan, biting my lip to keep from wincing as the liquid sprayed onto my legs. It stung harshly, but I couldn’t let it bother me now.

I felt my back press against the wall behind me, I had been cornered with nowhere to go. The two were smiling, laughing at me, reaching out to grab me. They wanted my death more than I wanted to live.

My sword was knocked from my grasp, thrown to the side with a distant thud. I was rendered defenseless. I wanted to cry, but I held my ground.

I felt a flutter in my stomach, not one of pleasure but one of nausea. I felt like I was going to throw up, had I ever been this nervous?

And then it hit me.

“I can use the cursed spirit I secured with Megumi!” I said allowed, feeling a glimmer of hope rise from within me, following that, I also felt vomit growing in my throat. I let out a gag, stifling a sob.

The other two felt the nausea, earning a violent cough from Toge and a curse from Maki. I couldn’t help but smile.

“It seems I’ve been surrounded.” I said cooly with a smirk, throwing my hands up in defeat. The two spirits laughed again, taking their win for granted. I smiled heinously. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

I called upon the cursed spirit from the school, unleashing it upon them with a fiery smirk. I laughed, watching it tear into the two. I quickly grabbed my sword, stabbing into the back of the closest spirit.

“Never count a victory before the battle is won.” I mumbled to myself, wincing as the hot liquid gushed from the spirits’ corpse. I smiled through the pain, and deadly and gruesome smile.

I watched as my cursed spirit ascended upon the watery one, tearing it to droplets. It cried out, angry and in pain. I laughed viciously.

I felt a strong stab to my left arm, erupting in a fit of coughs. My brain shut down, this one was vital.

“Toge, talk to me.” I said, waiting for an answer. I got nothing in response. “Toge!” I yelled, terrified.

I called back my spirit, sprinting down the stairs to make my way to the apartment building Toge was in. I felt more pain in my throat, in my arms, in my heart. Panic had started to set in.

“Maki, are you alright?” I yelled, finding the exit quit easily now. The cool breeze settled onto my skin as I ran to Toge’s assigned position.

“‘M fine!” She said, a smirk evident on her face. She was in the heat of battle, I refused to break her concentration again.

With that clear, my only concern was Toge. I sprinted through the hallways, feeling the lingering cursed energy grow stronger as I ascended up the stairs, eyes scanning everything helplessly.

My eyes widened as I saw my blonde headed boy on the ground, blood spewing from his lips. He had used himself too viciously. I cursed as I ran to him.

I was attacked from out of nowhere, wincing in the pain. I called upon my cursed spirit once again, allowing for it to feast on this one. This one was much larger than the three I had taken, and it was evidently more powerful, too. I could feel its pain through my skin.

“Toge, talk to me.” I said calmly, though my heart was palpitating. I felt like I was going into shock.

Do my relief, his eyes fluttered open, half lidded. I cursed again, wrapping my arms around him quickly before eyeing him for any vital wounds.

I ripped a part of my uniform, wrapping the spot on his arm that had been wounded. His eyes widened a little bit as he saw one cursed spirit attacking another, seemingly confused and tilting his head a little, as if demanding for an explanation. I shook my head, silently telling him that now wasn’t the time for explanations.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath. The wound was hot, he had been burnt by the spirit. His blood soaked through the fabric too quickly for my liking.

“Are you alright?” I heard his voice speak in my head. I scoffed loudly, a small, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips.

“I’m fine Toge, but it’s evident that you absolutely are not.” I scolded him, always thinking of others over himself. I was upset he hadn’t called for help, but I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my chest that he was still only worried about my well being.

His eyes started to close, I felt the pain coursing through his body in my own. I winced, shaking his body gently.

“Stay with me, baby. Please.” I begged. I hated seeing him like this, my anger taking action.

My cursed spirit had easily finished off the one that had attacked Toge. Honestly, it was for the better, as I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from the bloodthirsty monster that welled within my skin. It had nearly killed Toge, and everything in me screamed to torture the damned thing, to give it the slow, burning and painful death it deserved laying a finger on him, and I’d be damned if it ever tried to again.

My thoughts halted abruptly as I felt his pale hand reach for my own. It squeezed weakly, gently.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” I heard him say weakly, I had to resist the urge to cough as he did so. I was struggling to keep my composure.

“I’m coming that way, can he walk?” I heard Maki say to me, out of breath. I felt a pain in my shoulder that I had felt earlier.

“Can you stand, baby?” I asked in a soft tone. I had to bite back my anger just to manage it. He nodded, slowly standing as I called back my cursed spirit for the second time.

“We’re on our way out, Maki.” I said to her, Toge stumbling over his weakness. He was heavier than he looked, his lean figure hiding his muscles well. I winced, my arm burning from my own injuries. I struggled to keep him walking; but slowly, we descended down the staircase and into the open air outside.

My arm burned the entire way out, the cool air not helping in the slightest. I heard Toge heaving from beside me, hurting just to walk.

“I’m sorry, Toge. I should’ve gotten to you sooner.” I choked, guilty that I hadn’t. He shook his head once, wincing afterwards. His wound had grown a little, like it was spreading through his veins. I looked down at my own wound, which seemed to be doing the same thing.

“You did everything you could, y/n.” I heard him say in my mind once more. I shook my head, fighting back more anger that was rising within the seconds.

“Save your words, Toge. You’re injured pretty bad.” He didn’t respond, accepting my statement.

I saw Maki standing with Ijichi and someone else that I hadn’t seen before, he was tending to her injuries.

She saw us, releasing a breath she had seemingly been holding. She pointed to us.

“I’m more worried about him than I am my own health right now.” She said as the man next to her followed the direction of her finger. His eyes widened as he ran over to help me with Toge.

“I didn’t think any of you would get roughed up this badly.” I heard Ijichi mumble in the cool tone of his. I shook my head, not believing it either.

“I underestimated the damned thing.” I said, quietly. Ijichi hummed in response.

_

_

_

_

The dorms were quiet that night. I had spent most of it in the infirmary with Toge and Shoko. I was angry, ashamed, and it was eating me alive.

My own wound had been wrapped while Toge was chugging bottles of cough syrup. It was a sight I could get used to, as his shirt had been discarded to help get to the wound that had spread onto his upper chest. My gaze lingered for a little longer than I would have liked it to.

Maki had long been attended to, not being hurt too badly, just a slight cut to the shoulder. Apparently her cursed spirit was like ours too, except it had been armed.

I was a little disappointed that I hadn’t gotten a hold of that spirit, mostly because it was rather powerful and could be used in battle strategically as I had used my only one to my aid.

Toge and I were in his room again, both of us quiet and not feeling the need to speak too much. We had showered, though I didn’t like the sight of the faucet or the water dripping from it. I shook from the memory.

I looked up at him as I exited his bathroom, one that I had become rather used to using as of recent weeks. He didn’t seem to mind, either by the looks of things. He was sitting on his bed, staring off into nothing.

“I guess I know why it always takes a while after a mission to regroup after today.” I said quietly, pulling him from his thoughts. He smiled up at me.

“Salmon.” He responded, the itch in his throat evident as he coughed. I sat next to him, rubbing his bare back gently.

“I’m just grateful you’re okay.” I whispered, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I thought I was going to lose you.” I felt a small, hot tear roll from my eye, I cursed myself for allowing it to. I heard him chuckle, wiping my tear away with the pad of his thumb. His fingers were hot to the touch, full of life, and reminding me he was still very much alive.

Suddenly I remembered his cold had clutched mine early as he slumped to the floor. A shiver went down my spine.

“I’d do everything in my power to stay alive if it means I get to have you by my side.” I heard his voice whispering in my head. A small blush crept onto my face at the sudden sound of his voice. His violet eyes searched mine for something, anything.

“I’ll be damned if anything ever touches you again.” I whispered, baring my teeth slightly in remembrance of the cursed spirit that had wounded him so badly. I felt his arm snake around my waist, pulling me down next to him in his sheets. I instinctively cuddled into his bare chest, feeling his warmth, feeling his muscles, feeling his body alive.

“And that is the very reason that I love you.”

I was shocked to say the least, my eyes growing in size from the moment I heard those words.

“T-Toge?” I stumbled as I tried to find my words. His fingers tracing my back as he planted a kiss to my forehead.

“I said I love you, y/n. I can’t promise I’d die for you, but I can promise that I’ll live for you as long as fate allows me to.”

I felt warmth in my chest as he confirmed what I thought he had said. It spread throughout my body as I snuggled into his warmth, wrapping myself up in it as our legs tangled together, like missing pieces to a puzzle.

“I love you too, Toge.” I smiled before smacking his chest playfully. “…but don’t you dare think about scaring me like that ever again. I have no idea what I’d do if I lost you, and I almost lost myself because of it.” I immediately felt a strong pain in my body upon hitting him, wincing.

“Sorry, I forget you’re still injured.” I said, seeing the pain evident in his face. He laughed through it, sending the pain packing its bags to be replaced by the fuzzy feeling I had felt moments before. I felt his chest tingle as he laughed. It was heartwarming.

My eyes fluttered, feeling heavy from exhaustion as I closed them for a quick moment. My head found comfort in his chest as his arms wrapped themselves tighter around me.

“I’ll never do it again, for as long as I live, my love.”

He had said this aloud, coughing a little afterwards. Though, sleep had already taken me, and I didn’t feel the kiss he planted on my forehead, or the soft ‘I love you.’ that he mumbled afterwards.

I hope you all enjoy this one, it’s my favorite so far 😌 also I’m tired it’s 3am help

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