Naoya always admired Gojo, almost to the point of worship. He’d brag, he’d bully, and he’d walk over anyone just to get the chance to stand next to Gojo.
Satoru, disgusted with Naoya’s behavior, finally decides to give him a lesson on humility.
He ties him up, locks his cock in a chastity cage, applies estrogen cream to his nipples until they’re puffy and sensitive, dresses him in slutty lingerie, takes pictures of him in vulnerable positions, stuffs his slutty hole with vibrators until his pathetic locked cock is leaking all over, shaves him bare between his legs and tells him he doesn’t deserve to feel like a man, spanks him relentlessly, hooks him up to a fuck machine as he’s bent over and spread wide open, allows other sorcerers to pass him around like a sex doll. Whole time, Naoya is thanking Satoru for his attention like the filthy little whore he is, and begs him to keep using him. He bends over when he’s told, gets on his knees when Satoru enters the room, and swallows everything he’s given. Tongue out, eyes rolled back, back arched, cheeks spread open for whoever Gojo allows. Gojo demands a chastity check? Naoya lifts his skirt without hesitation. Gojo demands he wears a plug for the day? Naoya simply asks which one would please Gojo the most.
Satoru puts a collar on Naoya- he sports it like a trophy. It is, after all, a prize awarded for his peak performance. Who cares if he’s a cum dump that’s stuffed full every day? It just proves he was worthy enough to be chosen by the strongest. 🖤
Naoya loves men, he loves power, and he loves sucking the Strongest’s cock like a good boy.
Geto X Gojo X Reader
🔗 Inescapable Fate vs Free Will
⚖️ Control vs Vulnerability
Soulmate AU
Words - 6,100
The atmosphere in the private high-rise lounge of the Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College was thick with the scent of expensive incense and the low, buzzing hum of Satoru’s Infinity.
Suguru doesn’t look up when Satoru walks in. He already knows it’s him.
“You’re late,” Suguru says, voice even, eyes still on the city stretched out below.
Satoru scoffs, dropping onto the couch like he owns the room.
“I’m never late. Everyone else is just early.” Suguru turns slightly, just enough to glance at him.
“You kept me waiting.”
Satoru grins.
“Yeah?” he says lazily. “Did you miss me?” Suguru doesn’t smile.
But his gaze lingers.
“You’re irritating,” he replies.
“Mm,” Satoru hums, stretching his arms behind his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Silence settles, but it’s not empty. It never is with them. Suguru finally moves, crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps. He stops in front of Satoru,Too close for anyone else.
Exactly right for them. “Your control is slipping,” Suguru says quietly.
Satoru’s grin sharpens.
“Is it?”
Suguru’s eyes flick briefly toward the faint distortion in the air, the subtle warping of space where Infinity hums just a little louder than necessary. “You’re restless.”
Satoru tilts his head.
“Maybe I’m bored.” Suguru’s gaze drops to Satoru’s wrist, the ink there is dark.
Permanent.
Unmistakable.
Geto Suguru. His own wrist burns faintly in response.
Not pain.
Recognition.
“You don’t get bored,” Suguru says.
Satoru’s expression flickers, just slightly.
Enough for Suguru to notice. “Everything else does,” Satoru corrects.
Suguru reaches out.
His fingers wrap around Satoru’s wrist without hesitation.
Without permission.
He never needs it. The moment skin meets skin that same sharp, electric pulse.
Familiar.
Grounding.
Satoru exhales slowly.
“…There it is.” Suguru’s grip tightens just a fraction.
“You’re drifting again.” Satoru looks up at him through lowered lashes, something unreadable settling behind his usual arrogance.
“And you’re pulling me back?” he asks. Suguru doesn’t let go.
“Someone has to,” he says. Satoru laughs softly, but there’s no real humor in it.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “Sounds like you need me.”
Suguru finally meets his gaze fully.
Steady.
Unwavering.
“I do.” The words land heavier than anything else in the room.
Satoru stills.
Just for a second. Then his grin returns, but slower this time. Sharper.
“Good,” he says. Suguru releases his wrist and the absence lingers.
Like a missing weight. “They’ll start noticing,” Suguru says after a moment. Satoru leans forward slightly.
“Let them.”
“You’re not subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be. Youn know troubles my middle name”
A pause. Suguru studies him.
Then—
“What did you do this time?”
Satoru’s smile widens.
Too pleased. “Nothing,” he says.
Suguru raises a brow.
“…Yet.”
Suguru exhales quietly, turning away again.
“You’re going to make a mess.” Satoru stands this time.
Steps closer. “I always do.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Satoru adds. “You’ll clean it up anyway.” Suguru glances back over his shoulder.
A small, knowing smile.
“Of course I will.”
Because that’s how it works.
Not balance.
Not equality.
A closed circuit.
One pulls.
One steadies.
Satoru and Suguru were a closed circuit. They had been since the day their skin first brushed in a crowded hallway during their first year the sharp, electric sting on their wrists followed by the black ink of each other's names blooming like a brand. Gojo Satoru on Suguru’s right wrist; Geto Suguru on Satoru’s left. It was a divine decree. They were the strongest, and they belonged to each other.
Until the Tuesday that tasted like copper and betrayal.
Suguru was mid-sentence, reaching for a porcelain teapot, when a sensation like a hot needle dragged across the underside of his left wrist. He hissed, the teapot shattering against the low table.
"Suguru?" Satoru was on his feet instantly, his blindfold pushed up, his Six Eyes scanning the room for a threat that wasn't there. "What happened? An attack?"
Suguru didn't answer. He was staring at his left wrist. Directly opposite the soulmate mark he shared with Satoru, a new line of script was rising through the skin. It wasn't the clean, bold ink of Satoru’s name. This was jagged, weeping a faint, translucent gold the sign of a Second Link. A rarity. A glitch in the universe.
Your name was etching itself into his marrow.
"I didn't touch anyone," Suguru whispered, his face going ghostly pale. "Satoru, I haven't left the room in four hours. I haven't... I don't even know who this is."
The cruelty of a Second Link was the "Passive Contact." Most soulmates required a touch to activate the mark, but for someone as powerful as the Twin Stars of Jujutsu, the universe sometimes skipped the formalities. Somewhere on campus, you had walked past a door he was behind or on a mission. You had breathed the same air. And the tether had snapped shut.
Satoru leaned over, his fingers gripping Suguru’s arm with a strength that would have crushed a normal man. He stared at your name. His jaw tightened, the air in the room beginning to vibrate with the sheer pressure of his Cursed Energy.
"A third," Satoru breathed, his voice devoid of its usual playfulness. It was hollow, dark, and predatory. "Someone thinks they can wedge themselves between us, Suguru."
"I don't even remember seeing them," Suguru said, his thumb brushing over your name. As he touched it, a wave of your emotions flooded him—loneliness, a quiet hunger for coffee, the slight chill of the hallway. It was nauseatingly intimate. "But I can feel them now. They’re... soft."
The atmosphere in the High-Rise suite didn’t just change; it curdled.
Satoru had been watching the gold script etch itself into Suguru’s left wrist with a detached, clinical fascination, a predator watching a new rival enter the territory. But then, the air in the room didn't just vibrate; it shattered.
Satoru let out a strangled, jagged sound, his right hand flying to his own left wrist, clutching it so hard the skin turned deathly white.
"Satoru?" Suguru’s voice was sharp, his own pain forgotten as he reached out.
Satoru didn’t answer. He ripped his hand away, baring his skin. There, directly parallel to the heavy black ink of Geto Suguru, a new name was burning its way into his flesh. It wasn't gold. For Satoru, the "Limitless" sorcerer, the mark was a violent, electric violet. It thrummed with a frequency that bypassed his Infinity, sinking straight into his nervous system.
Your name. Identical to the one on Suguru but on his right wrist.
The silence that followed was louder than an explosion. They stood in the center of the room, two gods suddenly tethered to a ghost. The "Closed Circuit" had been breached. The perfect binary of their existence had been forced into a trinity, and the sheer need that flooded them was instantaneous and total.
"It’s the same," Satoru whispered, his voice cracking, his Six Eyes dilated until the blue was almost swallowed by black. "Suguru, it’s the same name. They’re ours."
He wasn't just talking about a soulmate. He was talking about a missing piece of a weapon. As the marks finalized, a psychic bridge snapped open. They felt your heartbeat. Something they never even knew was missing.
For Gojo and Geto, the strongest who lived in a world of their own making, the "hole" was the isolation of their own ascension. They had spent years viewing the world from a height where no one else could breathe, mistaking the cold of the summit for a natural state of being. They were two halves of a whole who believed their circle was closed, their stillness absolute.
Then, your name appeared—a third ink-stain on the skin of their wrists, a rhythmic, phantom pulse under their own.
For Gojo, it is the sudden, violent shattering of the "Infinity" he keeps between himself and the world. He has spent his life seeing everything with his Six Eyes but feeling very little. To suddenly feel a third heart beating against his own ribs, someone who isn't Geto, someone he hasn't even fully met, who he doesn’t remember is like the first time he ever felt the bite of a blade. It is a resonance that bypasses his technique entirely. He realizes that for all his godhood, he has been a ghost haunting his own life, waiting for a frequency he didn’t know he was tuned to.
For Geto, it is an even more terrifying revelation. He is a man who swallowed the rot of the world to protect it, thinking his burden was shared only by Satoru. To feel the steady, unknowing pulse of a soulmate is to realize that the room he thought was full of only duty and blood actually had a door he never tried to open. It is the "ancient desire" finally being named: the need not just to be understood by a peer, but to be anchored by a third point, turning their fragile line into a stable foundation.
They look at their wrists, then at each other, and the realization is starving: they have been the strongest duo in history, yet they were both dying of a thirst they only just recognized.
The pain wasn't a pinch. For you, it was an absolute, white-hot evisceration of your senses.
You were tucked away in the back of the library, the quietest corner of Jujutsu High, when your right wrist suddenly felt like it had been dipped in molten lead. A scream died in your throat, stifled by the sudden, overwhelming pressure of two distinct, warring energies slamming into your soul. You clutched your arm, gasping for air as the skin bubbled and wept, the ink forcing its way up from the bone.
When the smoke cleared from your vision, you stared down at your skin in pure, unadulterated horror.
Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru.
The names were etched in a shimmering, violent violet and a deep, pulsing gold. They sat side-by-side, occupying your skin with a terrifying arrogance. You weren't just a soulmate; you were a bridge. A third point in a triangle that was never meant to have one.
The Instinct to Hide was immediate.
You didn't feel chosen. You felt scared.
Everyone knew what they were. The Twin Stars. The pinnacle of the sorcery world. They were gods walking among mortals, and you? You were a Grade 4 anomaly, a "Shield" whose only talent was making yourself small and invisible. Your technique, Iron seclusion, allowed you to wrap a force field around your physical form so dense that even Cursed Energy struggled to permeate it. Coupled with your abnormal regenerative healing, you were the perfect survivor, but you were never meant to be a prize.
"No," you whispered, the word trembling in the stagnant library air. "Not them. Anyone but them."
You knew their reputations. Satoru was a void that consumed everything he touched; Suguru was a shadow that swallowed the world whole. To be tied to them wasn't a romance, it was an invitation to be erased.
The memory of your mother’s voice usually feels like a silk ribbon smooth, cooling, and easy to hold. But now, with the names Satoru and Suguru searing into your pulse, her words feel like a cruel irony, a fairy tale told to a child who was never meant to see the monster under the bed.
"A soulmate isn't just a partner, sweetheart," she had said, her fingers tracing the blank, expectant skin of your wrist while you were small. "They are the anchor to your storm. The world is loud and frightening for people like us, but when that name appears, the noise stops. It’s like finally finding the North Star after being lost at sea."
You remember the way she looked at your father a quiet, Grade 3 sorcerer with a softness that made the harshness of their profession disappear.
"It’s unconditional," she whispered, her eyes bright with a certainty you now find terrifying. "They won't just see your strength; they will cherish your shadows. They are the only ones who will truly let you thrive because they are the only ones who will truly know you. It is the greatest blessing the heavens can grant a sorcerer: to never truly be alone again."
In the suffocating silence of the library, you look at the violet and gold script. Her "North Star" was a gentle light; yours are two supernovas that threaten to incinerate everything you are. To your mother, a soulmate was a sanctuary. To you, looking at the names of the two most powerful, volatile men in existence, it feels like a sentence.
The First Pulse
Suddenly, a jolt of pure, manic need surged through your wrist. It wasn't your own. It was a projection a jagged, starving hunger that felt like a cold hand reaching through your chest.
They knew.
The psychic bridge had snapped open the moment the ink dried. They were feeling your heartbeat, your fear, the very scent of the old paper surrounding you. You could feel them, too two massive, celestial bodies suddenly pivoting in your direction, their intent so heavy it felt like the gravity in the library had doubled.
You scrambled to your feet, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. You had to go. You had to bury yourself so deep in your own technique that even the Six Eyes couldn't find the shimmer of your soul.
You wrap your fingers around your wrist, activating Iron Seclusion. The barrier snaps into place, a cold, dense weight that mimics the "stillness" you've lived in for years. You try to drown out the sudden, rhythmic double-thrum of their hearts against your own, desperate to believe that if you hide well enough, even the "blessing" of heaven won't be able to find you.
You pushed your Cursed Energy to its limit, pulling the invisible veil of your shield tight against your skin. Usually, your shield was a defensive bubble, but now you collapsed it inward, using it to mask your heat, your scent, and your energy signature. You became a black hole in the sensory world, a static-filled void.
You sprinted for the back exit, avoiding the main halls where the high-ranking students loitered. You didn't have classes with them, you were beneath their notice, a support-track student who spent her days healing minor bruises and reinforcing training barriers. You belonged in the background. You needed to stay in the background.
The library didn't just go quiet, it went dead.
For Satoru and Suguru, the sensation was like being plunged into an abyss. One second, the psychic bridge was a roaring torrent of your fear, your heat, and the frantic rhythm of your heart. It was the most intoxicating thing they had ever felt, a divine frequency that harmonized their own clashing powers.
And then, it was gone.
No heartbeat. No scent. No emotional residue. Even the violet and gold marks on their wrists, which had been glowing with a feverish light, suddenly turned a dull, matte grey. They didn't disappear, the ink was still there, but the life was gone.
"Satoru?" Suguru’s voice was a ragged whisper. He was clutching his left wrist, his breath coming in shallow, panicked hitches. "I can't... I can't feel them."
Satoru was standing in the middle of the hallway, his Six Eyes darting frantically, scanning every atom of the air.
His Infinity was flickering, reacting to the sudden, violent spike in his blood pressure. "They didn't die," he spat, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and genuine terror. "People don't just die and leave no soul residue. They vanished. They’re still here, Suguru. Somewhere in this building... but they’re gone."
In the basement levels, you were curled into a ball behind a stack of rusted training equipment, your hands clamped over your mouth.
Your ability wasn't just a shield anymore; it was a sarcophagus. You had collapsed the force field so tightly against your skin that it was effectively acting as a second dermis, a layer of "non-existence" that blocked every signal your body produced. No heat signatures for Gojo’s Six Eyes. No cursed energy leaks for Geto’s spirits to track.
But the cost was agonizing.
To keep the Shell up 24/7 meant your Cursed Energy was constantly recycling, a closed loop that left you feeling cold, lightheaded, and perpetually exhausted. Your abnormal healing was the only thing keeping your organs from failing under the pressure of the constant reinforcement.
You just had to make it to graduation.
The campus of Tokyo Jujutsu High had become a graveyard of nerves. Without the stabilizing influence of their soulmate bond, Gojo and Geto hadn't just become restless—they had become volatile.
The training grounds felt like a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding. The air was thick with Satoru’s unrefined Cursed Energy, snapping like static electricity against the stone. You pressed your back against the cold wood of the pagoda, your iron seclusion vibrating so hard it made your collarbone ache. You were a ghost, a glitch, a nothingness—but seeing them like this, seeing the "protectors" of the school unravel into something so fundamentally cruel, made the papers in your hand feel like a death warrant.
Satoru didn’t look like the untouchable god of Jujutsu High anymore. He looked like a man starving in a room full of plastic fruit. He grabbed the younger student by the collar, hoisting him up until the boy’s toes barely grazed the dirt.
"Think harder," Satoru hissed, his voice low and jagged. "The library. That Tuesday. Who ran? Who left in a hurry? I don't care if they were a Grade 1 or a window washer—who moved like they were terrified of being seen?"
"N-nobody, Gojo-senpai!" the boy stammered, tears tracking through the dust on his cheeks. "It was just the usual crowd... I didn't see anyone run. It was quiet. It was just quiet!"
Satoru’s grip tightened, his knuckles white. "Impossible. Someone walked past us. Someone took the air out of the room and then just... vanished." He dropped the boy, spinning around to face Geto, his movements twitchy and erratic. "Suguru, he’s useless. They're all useless. How can someone be so close I can feel their pulse under my skin one second, and then be absolutely invisible the next?"
Geto didn't offer a comforting word. He didn't even look at Satoru. He was staring at the palm of his left hand, tracing the grey, lifeless name of yours that sat like a scar on his wrist. The refined elegance he usually carried replaced by a cold, predatory stillness.
"Maybe they didn't run," Geto murmured, his voice sounding like a blade sliding over silk. He stepped toward the trembling student, his shadow stretching out like a many-limbed monster. "Maybe they're still here. Watching us. Hiding in plain sight while we rot."
He knelt beside the boy, his hand reaching out to brush a stray tear from the kid's face with a tenderness that was far more terrifying than Satoru’s rage. "Tell me, Kohai... have you noticed anyone lately who seems a bit too quiet? Someone who doesn't talk, doesn't eat, just... exists in the corners?"
"I... I don't know everyone's names, Geto-san," the boy whispered, trembling. "Please, I just want to go to my dorm."
Geto’s expression didn't change, but the air around him darkened. "Go then. But if you remember a face even a blur in the hallway you come to us first. Because if Satoru loses his patience before I find them... there won't be a dorm left for you to return to."
You didn't wait to see the boy scramble away. You turned and moved, a silent shadow within the shadows. Every step felt like walking through deep water; iron seclusion was draining you, pulling from your very life force to keep your presence at zero.
"They're looking for a ghost," you breathed, your lips barely moving behind the veil of your technique. You looked down at your wrist, where the names burned like brands under the heavy bandages. "They can't find what isn't there."
The encounter happens in the open air, where there is nowhere to hide and the sky feels too wide. You are crossing the training grounds, sticking to the shadows of the eaves, when the
resonance hits so hard it physically staggers you. It’s like a tether snapping taut, pulling your chest toward the center of the courtyard.
They are standing there, the "Twin Stars," looking uncharacteristically frayed. Gojo has his blindfold shoved up, his Six Eyes scanning the air with a frantic, electrified energy. Geto has his hand clamped over his right wrist, his knuckles white, his usual composure replaced by a raw, searching hunger.
You keep your head down, clutching your books to your chest, and try to scuttle past like a ghost. You wrap Iron Seclusion around yourself so tightly it feels like wearing a lead suit, desperate to dampen the "scream" of your soul.
"Hey. You."
Gojo’s voice isn't breezy this time. It’s a command. He’s in front of you in a blink, the space between you warping as he forces the world to bring you closer.
You jump, dropping a notebook. "G-Gojo-senpai! Geto-senpai! I’m so sorry, was I in the way?" You scramble to pick up your things, keeping your marked wrist pressed firmly against your stomach.
"Did you see anyone else come through here?" Geto asks, his voice tight. He’s looking right at you, but he’s looking through you, searching for a "strong" sorcerer, someone who could possibly match the violent power he feels thrumming in his own veins. "Someone... significant?"
"Significant?" You blink, widening your eyes in a mask of dull, Grade 4 confusion. "I—I didn't see anyone. Just the usual cursed spirits near the gate. Is everything okay? You both look... a bit pale."
Gojo leans down, his face inches from yours. He’s trying to read your flow of Cursed Energy, but Iron Seclusion makes you look like a flat, grey stone in a river of light. "My head is ringing," he mutters, more to Geto than to you. "The frequency is right here, Suguru. It’s deafening."
"Maybe it's the heat?" you suggest, your voice small and trembling with perfectly faked intimidation. "The sun is really bright today. I get migraines sometimes too. Should I go get Shoko-san for you?"
Geto sighs, a sound of pure frustration, and rubs his temples. To him, you are just a flickering candle, and he is looking for a second sun. "No. Just go back to class."
"Yes, senpai! Sorry to bother you!"
You bow low and practically bolt, your heart hammering a frantic SOS that you know they can feel, even if they haven't realized yet that the "insignificant" girl is the one holding the other end of the chain.
The Department Head’s office is stifling, smelling of old paper and incense, but to you, it feels like an interrogation room. You keep your right hand buried in the pocket of your blazer, your thumb obsessively rubbing the spot where Satoru and Suguru are etched into your skin.
The Department Head a gray-haired, bureaucratic sorcerer who cared more for quotas than souls—had looked at your transfer papers with a bored flick of his wrist.
"A transfer?" The official doesn't even look up from the papers. He sounds bored, which is exactly what you want. "To the Kyoto branch? "
“yes," you say, your voice a practiced, dull monotone. "My technique, Iron Seclusion... it’s not suited for the front lines. I’m just a Grade 4. I think I’d be more useful with the logistics team there."
The man sighs, finally marking a thick red line through a document. "The higher-ups don't like moving pieces mid-semester. If you want out of the active rotation, you have to fulfill the minimum requirement for the quarter. Three more missions. Complete them, and I’ll sign the papers."
A surge of pure, unadulterated relief washes over you. You almost want to thank him.
Three missions. That was it. That was the price of your life.
As you walk out into the hallway, your heart is light for the first time since the names appeared. You’ve done the math. The school is a machine of logic and hierarchy. They would never pair a Grade 4 anomaly with the Special Grade duo. It would be a waste of their time and a death sentence for yours. To the school, you are a pebble; to them, they are the mountain. There is no reason for your orbits to ever cross again.
You check your phone. The notification for your first mission has already arrived.
Location: An abandoned textile factory in the outskirts of Saitama.
Grade: 4 (Low-level fly-heads and lingering shadows).
Assigned Sorcerer: [Name].
You are alone.
A small, giddy laugh bubbles up in your chest. No Gojo. No Geto. Just you, your "useless" shield, and a few weak curses. You can do this. You’ll be invisible, just like you’ve always been. You’ll finish these three jobs, get your transfer, and disappear into a cubicle in Kyoto where the violet and gold on your wrist can stay buried under long sleeves forever.
As you walked back to your dorm to pack your tactical gear for the first solo mission, you looked at the grey, silent marks on your wrist. For the first time, they didn't look like shackles; they looked like a bad dream you were finally waking up from.
"Just three," you whispered, your thumb tracing the edge of the bandage. "They won't even notice I'm gone until the bus crosses the prefectural line."
The mission was a joke. Three minor curses, a few sweeps of your Iron Seclusion to crush them against the concrete, and you were done in thirty minutes flat. You practically floated back to the dorms. One down. Two more, and you’d be a ghost in Kyoto, safe from the two suns that threatened to burn your world down.
The "best feeling ever" was a dangerous drug. You were so buzzed on your own relief that you didn't notice the resonance in your chest smoothing out into a low, contented huma purr that wasn't yours, but theirs.
You stepped into the common room, intent on grabbing a soda and vanishing, when you saw him.
Suguru Geto was draped over a sofa, a book open in his lap, but he wasn't reading. He was people-watching, his dark eyes tracking every student that walked by with a clinical, almost desperate intensity. He looked like a man trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
You stiffened, your "Shield" snapping into place instinctively. You kept your head down, your gait deliberate and heavy, trying to look as "Grade 4" as possible. You steered a wide, awkward arc around the couch, heading for the vending machine.
Don’t look. Don’t breathe. Just stay invisible.
"You're back early."
The voice was like silk sliding over a blade. You froze, your hand halfway to the coin slot. You didn't turn around. Maybe he was talking to someone else.
"The girl with the barrier technique," Geto continued, his voice tilting upward with a hint of genuine curiosity. "I don't think I caught your name the other day."
You slowly turned, your face a mask of wide-eyed, stuttering surprise. "O-Oh! Me? I’m... nobody, really. Just finishing a low-level sweep. I didn't think a Special Grade like you would notice someone like me, Geto-senpai."
Geto closed his book, leaning forward. His right hand—the one with your name—was resting on his knee, his fingers twitching in time with your frantic pulse. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a second, the "ancient desire" flared in his eyes.
"You're very... contained," he mused, his gaze drifting to your covered wrist. "Most sorcerers leak cursed energy like a sieve. But you? You're like a vault. It’s quiet around you. Almost too quiet."
He stood up, the height difference immediately making the room feel smaller. He took a step toward you, his expression softening into something dangerously observant. "Tell me—did you feel anything strange out there? A change in rhythm? A... pulling sensation?"
You forced a self-deprecating, nervous laugh, the kind that made you look small and slightly pathetic. "Oh, Geto-senpai, I’m actually really embarrassed about it. My Iron Seclusion is... well, it’s a bit of a defect. It’s so thick it basically smothers my own senses. I couldn't feel a 'pull' if it hit me with a truck. I’m basically sensory-deprived whenever I use it."
Geto’s expression flickered—a flash of pity, perhaps, or just the disappointment of another dead end. He sighed, the tension in his shoulders dropping. "I see. A defensive trade-off. That must be frustrating."
"It’s why I’m better suited for paperwork," you chirped, bowing quickly and scurrying away before he could ask anything else. You didn't stop running until you were behind your locked dorm door, clutching your wrist as if the names might leap off your skin.
The next week was blissfully quiet. You stayed under the radar, wore oversized hoodies, and successfully avoided the 'Twin Stars' by memorizing their training schedules. You were a ghost. A phantom. You were winning.
Then, the ping of a new mission notification hit your phone.
Location: Subterranean transit tunnels, Shinjuku.
Grade: 2 (Multiple sightings of high-output territorial curses).
Assigned Sorcerers: [You] & Kento Nanami.
Your heart did a strange little flip. Nanami. He was a Grade 1, stoic, professional, and most importantly not a soulmate. He wasn't one of the 'strongest' who moved like a whirlwind; he was a man who clocked in, did his job with surgical precision, and went home.
"Two out of three," you whispered to the empty room, a giddy smile breaking across your face.
Being paired with Nanami was the ultimate safety net. He was too disciplined to care about your personal life or your 'flow' of energy. He would expect you to put up your shield, stay out of the way, and let him handle the heavy lifting. To him, you would just be a tool, a 'Shield' to protect the perimeter while he worked the (7:3) ratio.
As you packed your gear, you felt a surge of triumphant joy. You were so close to the exit. You were almost to Kyoto. You were almost free.
You didn't realize that your sudden burst of happiness sent a sharp, intoxicating thrum through the bond. Somewhere in the school, Satoru Gojo tilted his head, a blindfolded grin spreading across his face as he felt a wave of "victory" that wasn't his own.
(Let me just say this while your ability blocks most things, a soulmate's bond is strong so without meaning some strong emotions can still filter through to your partners.)
The subterranean transit tunnels were a labyrinth of damp concrete and oppressive shadows. Nanami moved with his usual mechanical efficiency, his blunt blade finding the 7:3 ratio with every strike. You stayed back, your Iron Seclusion acting as a silent, invisible perimeter that kept the smaller, crawling curses from flanking him.
But the report was wrong. This wasn't a Grade 2 nest; it was a breeding ground for a Special Grade fetus that had begun to distort the very space of the tunnels.
A massive, multi-limbed curse surged from the ceiling, its sheer weight slamming into your barrier with the force of a falling skyscraper. The impact vibrated through your bones, the pressure so intense that for one flickering, agonizing second, your concentration snapped.
Iron Seclusion dropped.
It was only for a minute—maybe even less—as you scrambled back, gasping, and forced the barrier to knit itself back together. You felt exposed, naked, like a nerve ending stripped of its skin. You quickly reinforced the shield, the dense, cold energy snapping back into place, burying your presence once more.
It’s fine, you told yourself, your heart hammering against your ribs. I was only "visible" for a second. We’re deep underground. They’re miles away at the school.
You didn't realize that to a Six Eyes user, a second of your unfiltered soul is like a flare gun going off in a pitch-black room.
Up on the surface, in the middle of a bustling Shinjuku street, Satoru stopped mid-sentence. His blindfold didn't hide the way his head snapped toward the subway entrance, his breath hitching as if he’d just been punched. The "ghost" frequency he’d been chasing had finally, violently, become a signal.
Across town, in the quiet of a temple, Suguru dropped his tea. The phantom pulse on his wrist hadn't just thrummed; it had screamed. For that one minute, the hollow space in his chest had been filled with a terrifying, beautiful warmth—and then, just as quickly, it vanished back into the "stillness."
They both moved instantly, driven by a starving instinct they still didn't understand.
Down in the tunnels, Nanami finished off the curse and adjusted his tie, his expression unreadable behind his goggles. "That was a significant lapse," he said, his voice a calm, dry reprimand. "Are you injured?"
"No," you lied, your voice trembling as you clutched your wrist. "Just... lost my footing. I'm fine, Nanami-san. Let's just finish this. Please."
The subway air was thick with the smell of blood and damp concrete as you emerged, ducking your head and letting Nanami lead the way. You kept your jacket sleeves pulled low, your fingers white-knuckled around your wrists. You felt like a radio tower that had briefly broadcasted a signal to the entire world, and now you were desperately trying to cut the power.
Across the city, in a secluded corner of the Tokyo Jujutsu High courtyard, the two strongest sorcerers met. The air around them was electrified, distorted by the sheer output of their frustration.
Satoru was pacing, his blindfold discarded, his Six Eyes glowing with a manic, crystalline light. He looked like a live wire, sparking at the slightest touch. "It was right there, Suguru. For sixty seconds, it wasn't just a hum. It was a scream. It was loud."
Geto was leaning against a stone pillar, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his knuckles bruised from where he’d punched a training dummy into splinters. He wasn't smiling. The "gentle" philosopher was gone, replaced by a man who looked starved.
"I felt it too," Geto said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "It wasn't a curse, and it wasn't a mistake. It was a soul. Our soul." He looked down at the gold-etched name on his wrist, his thumb tracing the letters with a possessive, aching intensity. "And then it just… went dark. Like someone slammed a door in our faces."
Satoru stopped pacing, turning to face his best friend. The realization hit them both at the same time, a cold, sharp clarity.
"They’re hiding," Satoru breathed, a dark, incredulous laugh bubbling in his throat. "Someone out there belongs to us—the two strongest people on the planet and their first instinct is to bury their presence so deep even I can't track it."
"They don't want to be found," Geto added, his eyes narrowing. The thought didn't just hurt; it offended him. He had spent his life protecting the weak, swallowing rot for a world that didn't love him back, and now the one person meant to be his "anchor" was treating him like a threat. "They’re using a barrier. A dense one. That flicker in the tunnels… they slipped. They lost control for a minute, and now they’ve bolted the door again."
Satoru’s grin turned into something predatory, something ancient. "Let them hide. They can't keep a seal like that up forever. Every time their heart jumps, I feel it. Every time they're scared, I know. We’re going to find our 'Shield,' Suguru. And when we do, I’m going to make sure they never feel the need to close that door again."
They stood there in the fading light, two gods who had finally found a reason to hunt. They weren't looking for a partner anymore; they were looking for a fugitive.
content tags/warnings: i’ve decided not to put any bc it would kinda ruin it i feel, read at your own risk
author’s note: a drabble. smthn cute… sorta (based on a very real dream i had. if i have to feel these things then you do too)
-———|———|————|—————|————|———|————
You remember the way the world celebrated when Gojo defeated Sukuna.
Cheers from fellow sorcerers, tears of joy from his students, and the warm embrace of sweet relief that sunk into you as you watched him stand proudly in the screen.
Gojo, the hero of today, basking in the glory of his win.
Huffing, covered in blood, dirt and sweat- smiling proudly. Right at you.
That was years ago now.
And you and the Strongest had built a wonder life together. He gave you everything you could ever want. A cozy home filled with life and everything you could ever need. A huge, sprawling back yard with an herb garden and big shady trees to picnic under in the spring. Visits to any place you could think of- sometimes the very next day.
“Don’t bother packing- we’ll go shopping for everything we need when we get there.” He’d say, pulling you close and peppering your face with kisses.
But the best gift he could have ever given you were sleeping peacefully in their bunk beds. Their matching pajamas slung messily over themselves as they toss in their sheets. Hair, white clouds of it, sprawled messily around their pillows.
You can’t help but grin with adoration while looking at them dream safe and sound, the sound of their soft snoring tugging at your heart.
You pull yourself away, trying not to trip over the brand new toy set that their father had bought on a whim earlier in the day, to join your husband.
He’s already in bed, teeth brushed, over-lights off, book in hand with only the dim light of his bedside lamp to make the room glow.
Since becoming a father, he has started taking his sleep seriously. No more all nighers. No more 3 hour a day sleeping.
“Our children deserve the best of me. Fully rested.”
“Then I’d suggest cutting out the bedtime soda.”
You chuckled, climbing in beside him.
The covers swallow you like clouds, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Despite the vast amount of space in this huge bed, you always find yourself gravitating towards him. His body heat is like a magnet that you can’t escape from. And, of course, it didn’t help that he never slept with a shirt on.
He doesn’t mind- matter of fact, he can’t wait to cuddle you to sleep.
That’s his favorite part of the routine, after all.
Book casted aside and forget about on his nightstand, he uses both arms to engulf you. His sent, fresh from a shower yet the slightest hint of his natural musk, relaxes your muscles better than a massage.
There’s no place safer than right here.
But, tonight, you’re not here for sleep. Not yet.
A firm hand pushes at this chest, guiding him on to his back. A lazy leg slings over his torso as you straddle him.
“Oh?” He peers up and you with hooded eyes, eyebrow lifting.
“You need some attention, baby?”
His voice is velvet, pulling at your core in a way only he can.
You don’t answer with words, simply flipping your hair to the side and out of the way as you lean down to kiss him.
It starts softly, something akin to innocent, even. Then you’re drifting your hands around his chest, feeling the sheer solidity of him. You can feel his heartbeat speeding up, thumping against your palms.
He deepens the kiss, growing more and more desperate for you. You rock your hips against him, teasing him just a little more before you lean back up to undress yourself.
It’s tantalizing slow. On purpose, of course. You love how his eyes rake over you, drinking the sight of your body in like it’s the first time he’s see it.
“Fuck, ______…”
You smirk at him, resuming your rutting motion. You take his lips again, this time much more needy.
It’s at this point you realize he hasn’t even touched you yet.
You chuckle.
“Being shy tonight…?” You murmur again his lips.
“Come on, Satoru, touch me.”
“…I can’t.”
The room suddenly drops in temperature. The dim light of the lamp flickers.
“What do you mean..? Don’t b-“
“I can’t, ______.”
His voice is distorted, gargled. It also holds a harshness that you weren’t used to receiving from your husband.
“O-oh… you’re not in the mood, that’s ok-“
That’s when you feel something warm and slick touches your thighs. Normally, you’d think it’s your own arousal. But this was different.. it made your stomach churn.
You sit up when you feel the same warm wet sensation on your mouth.
Then your lungs turn to cement.
Beneath you is a sight that chills you to the bone.
Your beloved husband, leaking blood from his mouth and nose. Eyes glazed over, no longer that brilliant blue.
The reason he couldn’t touch you was because he had no arms below the elbow.
You force your eyes even further down, tears of absolute horror streaming down your face, mixing with his blood.
You’re straddling your sweet, beautiful husband’s severed torso.
No legs, just sheer gore.
His blood soaks your shared bed, staining your knees. Your quivering hands are covered in the oozing liquid.
Your breathing quickens, feeling the hyperventilation begin.
“‘T-Toru….?”
The last string of your sanity snaps when Satoru’s skull cap cracks open from the top, revealing a soul-crushingly empty shell.
The sound of distant, blood-curdling screams wake you from a deep sleep. You only realize that it’s your own voice when your throat starts to throb in pain.
You’re already sobbing, shooting up from the grotesquely empty bed you lie in.
You feel something soft balled up in your fist, clutching it closely to your chest.
It’s your deceased, beloved husband’s favorite shirt.
There was no cozy cottage home, there was no sprawling backyard.
And there were no slumbering children down the hall.
It’s only you, the shirt, and Satoru’s urn on the mantle.
Synopsis: You ran away with Suguru when he defected.
A love struck teenager with bright eyes and even brighter plans. You build a perfect life with him, you deliver a daughter. A beautiful little girl that mirrors her father in so many ways.
The illusion shatters when she, that gorgeous babygirl, ends up being the one thing that Geto hates the most.
A non-sorcerer.
Pairing: Geto Suguru x fem!reader
Gojo x reader sorta kinda maybe
Content tags: Geto Suguru, geto suguru x reader, angst, ANGST, no happy endings around here partner
(Pt 1) (Pt 2)
Chapter 3 (FINAL)
Divine punishment.
————————————————————————————-
Suguru stood near the door where he had been moments earlier, black robes still dusted with faint traces of the night air. His posture was straight, composed, the familiar silhouette that had once meant safety.
Now it felt distant. Foreign.
You stood in the middle of the living room, hands loosely clasped in front of you because if you didn’t hold them together they might start shaking.
Your daughter slept down the hall. You could hear the faint creak of the bed whenever she shifted.
That sound anchored you. Kept you from collapsing entirely.
Suguru’s cursed energy hung low in the room, subdued but unmistakable. It brushed against your senses like a cold tide.
Once upon a time, it had felt like home. Now it just made your chest hurt.
He had already said his goodbyes. Or at least the version of goodbye he was capable of offering.
He had spoken with Mizuki.
Spoken with Gojo.
And now he was leaving. Again.
Except this time there was a finality to it that made your stomach twist. Quiet.
Your steps slow. And when you reached the door, you turned.
“Gojo. Shoko.”
Your voice had come out softer than you expected. They both looked up.
“Could you… give us a moment?”
Gojo had hesitated. Of course he had.
His eyes flickered toward Suguru, sharp and assessing.
Then back to you. You held his gaze. Not pleading. Just asking.
It felt wrong to him. Just a few minutes ago, he was standing at ready. Ready to lunge and intervene if Suguru did anything to hurt you or Mizuki. To him, it felt like you were asking him to turn off the safety and point the gun right at you.
After a few seconds, Gojo exhaled through his nose.
“Fine.”
Shoko didn’t say anything. She simply stood, gave your shoulder a brief squeeze as she passed, and followed Gojo out of the apartment.
The door closed behind them with a soft click. And suddenly the air in the room changed.
Suguru hadn’t moved. He still stood by the door, one hand resting lightly against the frame.
You watched him carefully. Trying to memorize him.
Because some quiet part of your mind understood this might be the last time you ever stood in the same room together.
Your throat tightened. You looked down at your hands. Then back up. Your voice was small when it finally came.
Pleading.
Fragile.
“Please, Suguru.”
The words hung in the air like something delicate suspended by a thread.
He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes stayed on you.
Waiting.
Your fingers tightened together.
“Please don’t do this.”
Suguru inhaled slowly. Your name left his lips in a quiet murmur.
“_____…”
It sounded the way it used to. Soft. Careful. And somehow that made everything worse.
You took a step closer before you realized you were moving.
Your voice trembled.
“Please just reconsider.”
Your breath hitched.
“I’m begging you.”
The word begging seemed to echo in the room. You had never begged Suguru for anything before.
Not once.
You were proud. Independent.
You had followed him out of Jujutsu High because you chose to.
But now..
Now the future of your child was hanging between you like a blade.
Suguru’s gaze dropped briefly to the floor. A small movement.
Almost imperceptible. But you saw it. You stepped closer again.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Your voice cracked slightly.
“We can figure something out.”
Suguru’s shoulders tensed faintly.
“How?”
The question came quietly. Genuine.
You opened your mouth. Closed it again.
Because the truth was you didn’t know. But that didn’t matter. There had to be something.
“She doesn’t have to be involved in anything.”
Your words tumbled over each other now.
“We’ll keep her away from the followers. Away from the missions. She can just-”
Suguru shook his head, slowly. Your chest tightened.
“We can move somewhere else,” you continued desperately.
“Just the three of us. Away from the temple. Away from everything.”
Your voice grew softer.
“We can leave this behind.”
Suguru’s eyes lifted back to yours. And the look there made your stomach drop. Because it wasn’t anger. It wasn’t cruelty.
It was certainty.
The kind that didn’t bend.
“_____,” he said gently, “You know I can’t do that.”
Your breath caught.
“Why not?”
The question broke from you before you could stop it.
“Because she isn’t a sorcerer.”
You just stared at him. Waiting for him to hear how monstrous they sounded.
But Suguru didn’t flinch.
“She’ll grow up different from everyone around her,” he continued quietly, “Eventually the followers will notice.”
Your voice rose.
“So what?”
“So they’ll see her the way they see every other non-sorcerer. And they’ll hate her. Because I taught them to hate her. She’d grow up surrounded by people who only see her as nothing but a pet, a nuisance.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“And you think I’d let that happen?”
Suguru’s gaze flickered.
“No.”
“Then why are we even having this conversation?”
Your voice trembled.
“She’s our daughter.”
The word seemed to vibrate in the space between you.
“Our.”
Suguru looked away.
For the first time since you’d started speaking, he broke eye contact.
“I know.”
Your breath shook.
“Then act like it.”
The words slipped out sharper than you intended. Suguru’s jaw tightened slightly.
The silence stretched. You took another step forward.
Now you were close enough to see the faint shadows beneath his eyes. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body through the air between you.
You peered up at him, wide eyes glassy. Face ever so slight contorted in hurt, desperation.
Your voice dropped again. Smaller now.
“Please.”
The word trembled.
“I know you still love her.”
Suguru didn’t respond.
You reached out and placed a hand on his chest, trying to anchor yourself- or him- by fidgeting with the hem of his robe.
“You carried her when she was born.”
Your throat tightened.
“You cried, Suguru.”
His breath faltered.
“You used to read her stories every night.”
Your voice softened even further.
“She still waits for you to do the funny voices.”
The memory hung between you like a fragile thread. Your eyes burned.
“She still calls out for you when she has nightmares.”
Suguru closed his eyes briefly. Just for a second.
Your voice cracked again.
“She thinks she did something wrong.”
His eyes opened immediately. Pain flashed there.
You saw it.
You stepped even closer.
Now there was barely any space between you.
“Please,” you whispered again.
“Just reconsider.”
Your hands trembled.
“I’m begging you.”
The words felt like they scraped your throat on the way out.
For a long moment, Suguru didn’t speak. His cursed energy shifted faintly.
Like something struggling beneath the surface.
You held your breath.
Hope flickered weakly in your chest.
Then Suguru exhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
“I have reconsidered.”
The hope shattered instantly.
“Over and over. This is my final decision.”
Your shoulders sagged. Hand dropped defeatedly from the cloth.
Your voice came out hoarse.
“…Suguru.”
He reached out then. His hand lifted.
For a second you thought he was going to touch your face.
Instead, his fingers gently brushed a strand of hair away from your eyes.
The gesture was so familiar it nearly broke you.
His voice was quiet.
“I love you.”
Your breath caught.
“But I won’t abandon what I believe in.”
Your stomach twisted violently.
“And our daughter?”
Your voice trembled.
“Where does she fit in that belief?”
Suguru’s hand fell slowly back to his side. Silence answered you.
Your chest collapsed inward.
The realization finally settled fully into place.
He had already chosen.
And it wasn’t you.
It wasn’t her.
Your eyes filled with tears, falling hot down your cheeks.
Your whole world had fallen to pieces right in front of you and you were powerless to stop it. No amount of piecing it back to together would make it whole again.
You just looked at him.
The man you had followed out of the only life you’d ever known.
The man you had built a family with. Trusted wholeheartedly.
The man who was about to walk away from that family without turning back.
Your voice came out hollow.
“…then I guess this is goodbye.”
Suguru didn’t respond. Because he knew it was true.
And for the first time since entering the apartment…
his cursed energy trembled.
He nodded once the just turned and walked away. His cursed energy trailed behind him like smoke.
Heavy.
Unstable.
Collapsing inward.
You stood in the doorway long after he disappeared down the street.
Your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself.
Behind you, the apartment remained quiet.
Safe.
—
The apartment was quiet in a way that felt almost unnatural.
Not the comfortable quiet of a lazy evening or the soft stillness of sleep. This quiet felt fragile. Like glass balanced on the edge of a table.
You sat on Shoko’s couch with your daughter curled against your lap. She had slipped back out of bed.
A nightmare. She cried for her father.
Mizuki had fallen asleep almost immediately after the tears stopped. It had all caught up with her at once.
Now her breathing rose and fell steadily, her small cheek pressed into the fabric of your shirt.
Your hand moved through her hair in slow, automatic strokes.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Like if you stopped, something terrible would happen.
Across the small living room, Shoko stood in the kitchenette with her back turned, quietly preparing tea.
The kettle hummed softly.
Ceramic cups clicked together.
Small, careful sounds that filled the silence without demanding attention.
Gojo stood near the window.
Tall.
Still.
The blindfold was gone. It hung loose around his neck, forgotten.
His eyes had been on you since he back walked in.
Not intrusive.
Not prying.
Just watching.
The room smelled faintly of chamomile and antiseptic.
Familiar.
Safe.
And somehow that safety made your chest hurt more.
Your fingers tightened slightly in Mizuki’s hair.
The memory came without warning.
Suguru kneeling beside Mizuki in the courtyard, letting her climb onto his shoulders.
The sound of her laughter.
The warmth of sunlight on the temple steps.
Your throat tightened. Your breathing faltered.
Don’t.
Don’t do this now.
Mizuki shifted slightly in her sleep, her small hand curling instinctively into the fabric of your shirt.
You froze.
Your hand resumed its slow movement through her hair.
Shoko set a cup of tea on the table in front of you. She didn’t say anything.
Just gave your shoulder a brief squeeze before walking back toward the kitchen.
You stared down at the steam rising from the cup.
It blurred slightly. Your vision had started to sting.
You blinked hard.
Not here. Not in front of them.
You had managed to keep it together thus far.
Through the train ride. Through the walk to Shoko’s apartment. The days spent with Gojo and Shoko lingering.
You had managed it.
You had kept breathing.
Kept thinking.
Kept functioning.
But now…
Now there was nothing left holding the walls up. Suguru had shattered any ounce of hope you had left.
The first tear slid down your cheek before you even realized it had formed.
You wiped it away quickly.
Another followed.
Then another.
Your shoulders trembled slightly.
Gojo noticed.
He moved away from the window quietly, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath his weight.
He stopped a few feet away.
Not too close.
Your head stayed bowed over Mizuki. You stared at her hair.
Your vision blurred more.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
The words came out thin.
Gojo’s brow furrowed slightly.
“For what?”
Your fingers tightened against Mizuki’s shoulder.
“For… everything.”
Your voice cracked. You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself.
“I should’ve seen it sooner.”
The words began slipping out before you could stop them.
“He was changing. I knew he was. I watched it happen.”
Your shoulders trembled harder now.
“But I stayed.”
A tear landed softly in Mizuki’s hair. You quickly wiped it away with your sleeve.
“I kept telling myself it would be okay, that he was just struggling. That one day he would… come back.” you murmured.
Your voice sounded distant. Like someone else was speaking.
“He loved her.”
Your hand tightened protectively around Mizuki’s small frame.
“He held her the moment she was born. He cried. Said she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Looked at her like he would die for her.”
The memory stabbed through your chest. Your breathing faltered again.
“How do you go from that… to this?”
Gojo didn’t answer. Because there wasn’t one.
You laughed weakly. A broken sound.
“I should’ve left when he started talking like that.”
Your shoulders shook harder.
“When he started calling them monkeys.”
The word tasted bitter in your mouth.
“But I didn’t.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper.
“I stayed because I loved him.”
Your breath shuddered.
“And now she’s the one paying for it.”
Your hand trembled against Mizuki’s back.
“She asked me on the train if she did something wrong.”
Your vision completely blurred now. Your chest tightened painfully.
“She thought it was her fault.”
The words barely made it out.
Gojo’s jaw clenched.
Your breathing started breaking apart in small, uneven gasps.
“I was so stupid,” you whispered.
Your voice cracked open.
“Satoru…”
You finally looked up at him.
Your face was wet. Your eyes raw and red. Completely broken. You can imagine how pitiful it looked.
“I was so stupid.”
The confession tore out of you like something breaking loose from deep inside your chest.
“This was all a huge mistake.”
The final words collapsed into a quiet sob. Your shoulders folded inward.
Your body shaking now despite your attempts to stay quiet for Mizuki’s sake.
The room fell still. Shoko didn’t interrupt from the kitchen.
Gojo stepped closer.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Like approaching a wounded animal.
He crouched beside the couch.
Your breathing came in small, desperate pulls. Your hands were shaking.
Gojo hesitated only a moment before reaching forward.
His hand rested lightly on the back of your head.
Warm.
Steady.
You froze for half a second.
Then something inside you finally gave way.
You leaned forward. Your forehead pressed against his chest. Your shoulders shook harder.
You tried to keep the sounds quiet so you wouldn’t wake Mizuki.
The effort only made the sobs sharper.
Gojo adjusted without a word.
His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer.
Careful.
Protective.
He tucked your head beneath his chin, one hand cradling the back of your skull while the other rested gently against your upper back, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder blade to sooth you.
The gesture was instinctive.
You clutched the front of his shirt weakly as the quiet sobbing continued. Your tears soaked into the fabric.
Gojo didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.
Didn’t try to silence you with empty reassurance.
He just held you there.
Your breathing gradually slowed, though the tremors in your shoulders lingered.
“I ruined everything,” you whispered hoarsely against his chest.
Gojo’s chin rested lightly against your hair.
“No,” he said quietly. Voice rumbling through his chest.
Your fingers tightened weakly.
“Yes.”
Your voice broke again.
“I followed him. I believed him.”
Another shaky breath.
“I helped him build that place. I helped raise the twins there. I let Mizuki grow up in that world.”
Your voice shrank to a fragile whisper.
“I brought her into it.”
Gojo’s hand slowly smoothed down the back of your hair.
Once.
Twice.
A slow, steady motion.
“You loved someone,” he said quietly.
“That’s not a crime.”
You shook your head weakly against him.
“You don’t understand.”
Your breath hitched.
“I saw it happening.”
The words came out broken.
“I saw the hatred growing and I still chose him.”
Your voice cracked again.
“And now my daughter doesn’t have a father.”
The room went silent again before you spoke again.
“I should have stopped him-“
“There was no way for you to do that. I should have stopped him.”
His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, solemn.
“This isn’t your fault, Satoru.”
There was a slight tightness before he relaxed again- as if he were waiting years to hear those exact words.
Gojo’s hand paused briefly in your hair. Then resumed the slow movement.
Your crying had softened into quiet, exhausted breaths.
Eventually you whispered again.
“I hate myself for it.”
Gojo was quiet for a long moment.
Then his voice came softly above you.
“…I don’t.”
You didn’t answer.
Your energy had drained completely. Your body sagged against him.
Across the room, Shoko watched. She didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t speak.
She just sat down nearby and watched the two of you with tired eyes.
Gojo kept one arm around your shoulders. Your head still tucked beneath his chin.
His gaze drifted briefly to Mizuki sleeping peacefully against your lap.
Then back to you.
And his hold tightened just slightly.
Like a silent promise.
-
Snow fell quietly over Shinjuku.
Not a storm. Not a blizzard. Just a slow, patient descent of white flakes drifting through neon light and broken glass.
The city was wounded. Buildings scarred.
Cursed energy still hung in the air like the aftermath of lightning.
And in the narrow alley behind a shuttered storefront, Geto lay bleeding into the snow.
His body had long since stopped responding properly to commands. The signals still fired somewhere inside his mind, but his limbs refused to listen.
Each breath scraped. Cold air burned his lungs.
His blood had already soaked through the fabric of his robes, darkening the cloth until it clung to his skin.
Strange.
He had imagined the end of the world so many times.
Cities burning. Sorcerers rising. Monkeys disappearing like mist beneath the sun.
But in every version of that future…
He had been standing.
Now he couldn’t even sit up properly.
He gazed up at the darkening sky.
Snowflakes drifted past the narrow ribbon of sky visible between buildings.
His cursed energy felt distant. Fractured. Like glass dropped on pavement.
He exhaled slowly. The breath came out uneven.
“…so this is it.”
Footsteps echoed softly at the alley entrance.
Suguru didn’t need to turn his head. He knew that presence instantly. Even now. Even with his senses dulling.
Cursed energy rolled toward him like a tidal wave pressing against the edges of the world.
Familiar.
Overwhelming.
Gojo stepped into the alley. His blindfold hung loose around his neck.
Suguru hadn’t seen his eyes in years.
Still blue.
Still brilliant.
Too bright for a place like this. For a moment neither of them spoke.
Snow gathered slowly on Suguru’s dark hair.
Gojo studied him carefully. His gaze moved over the blood, the shattered posture, the fading cursed energy.
The once-unshakable certainty.
Gone.
Gojo’s breath left his chest slowly.
“Well,” he said.
His voice was quiet. Almost conversational.
“That was dramatic.”
Suguru huffed weakly. It turned into a cough. Blood touched his lips.
“Still… insufferable.”
Gojo crouched down beside him.
The snow creaked softly beneath his weight. For a few seconds he simply looked at him. The boy he had once called his best friend.
The man who had tried to change the world. And failed.
The silence stretched.
Suguru’s eyes drifted back to the falling snow.
“…did I win?”
Gojo snorted softly.
“You’re lying in a puddle of your own blood.”
Suguru smiled faintly.
“Fair enough.”
His chest rose slowly. Then fell. Every breath felt heavier than the last.
“…I suppose the monkeys are still safe.”
Gojo’s expression hardened slightly.
“You killed a lot of people today.”
Suguru’s gaze didn’t move from the sky.
“I know.”
The admission came easily. Without guilt. Without apology. The man Suguru had become did not regret the ideology that brought him here.
But something else moved quietly through his chest.
⚠︎ (mdni) Thinking about Gojo Satoru with both hyperspermia and hyper-viscosity.
He's so embarrassed about it at first — shying away from being intimate with you due to the sheer amount of cum he produces. Not only that, it was incredibly thick, too. The way it just kept coming over and over through heavy pulses, creamy rivulets that keep oozing their way out of his cock even after he thinks his orgasm is over...
But Satoru was lucky to have a partner as understanding as you. Admittedly, you didn't quite know what to do the first time you were face to face with such a spectacle.
You were done sucking his cock, having hollowed your cheeks in just the way Satoru liked, tongue flicking out to prod at the plump veins snaking down his length. It was enough to have the man before you biting his fist, hips jerking in a poor attempt to fuck your throat.
You let him, of course — letting out a chorus of wet gags that'd make a nun blush. His dewy tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, face screwing in pleasure when you tightened around him and milked him for all he was worth.
But then his orgasm rapidly approached. Satoru could feel it with the way his balls were suddenly beginning to heave, tightening up on him after you dug your tongue into his slit. He pulled you off without warning, ignoring your whines of protest and cumming.
He didn't cum in messy ropes that sprayed out of him in a way that'd be relatively easy to clean afterwards.
No — Satoru's cum poured out of him in thick, slow moving streams that stretched and clung to each surface it could reach. When he came on your face, your lashes were coated in the potent substance. It left your lips glossy, slowly sliding down your chin and between the valley of your breasts, the sensation lasting hours after you had both cleaned up.
When you convinced him to let you swallow for the first time, Satoru warned you of the possibility of you choking. And you did — spluttering around his cock as your throat worked to accommodate the sudden feeling of being utterly stuffed full.
You gulped down the mess loudly, nails digging into your boyfriend's thighs as it dribbled out of the corner of your mouth in fat globs.
Satoru apologised profusely afterwards, but he noticed that a large part of you enjoyed it — watching as you pulled off of his length, gasping for air and fingering at the wet strings of spit and cum joining your lips to his groin.
You cleaned him up, of course, eagerly lapping up the mess until Satoru was writhing from overstimulation.
Then there was the matter of thoroughly stuffing your pussy up to the brim next. Your boyfriend had no problem getting hard again, sobbing into your mouth as he held you down in a mean mating press — balls thwacking against your ass as he pummelled his aching cock into you.
Satoru ends up cumming in bucket loads, letting out a choked groan into the warmth of your mouth as another round of goopy cum shoots out of him and into you instead.
It takes long seconds for Satoru to stop cumming inside of you, tears leaking from his eyes as he pulls out and and watches your pussy struggle to hold it all in.
Your puffy folds are glistening, your stomach was slightly bloated — and his eyes are on the way your pussy inevitably pushes out his load with a filthy squelch, legs shaky. Satoru can only moan at the sight, grimacing when his cock treacherously jerks before him.
But who better to handle his wretched orgasms if not for a very eager you?
inspired by this post by @pearlescenthoney, I love your mind ugh
your boyfriend satoru is so sensitive- you can make him cum with the slightest touch. and that boosts your ego like nothing else. plus, it keeps him on his toes- bc you can be mean.
-
the commute on the train from tokyo to kyoto wasn’t too long- a little over two hours was manageable.
gojo, the clingy man he was, insisted on you coming with him to meet with the… well you actually don’t really know. you didn’t ask. but assume it has something to do with work- i mean it usually did.
this time was a bit irritating, you won’t lie. he just had to drag you out right in the middle of the season finale of your favorite show. said it was last minute and you had to catch the next train.
thankfully this cart was basically empty, aside from a few men, about college age, in the front and an older woman in the back.
gojo was yapping about some new dessert from some ridiculous restaurant he wants to try in kyoto after the meeting. you barely register, absentmindedly drawing random shapes on his upper thigh while you zone out- thinking about what could have happened at the end of the episode you were so invested in.
in the back of your mind you barely register him shifting- no squirming- in his seat.
“uncomfortable, ‘toru?” it was an innocent question, honest. you thought maybe he was just trying to stretch his muscles, tight from the train ride.
“b..baby…” he breathes out, barely above a whisper, “you gotta stop.. stop doing that-“ his breathe hitches and at first you had no idea what he was even talking about.
then you felt it. nudging at your wrist, hard.
“ohh…” the realization hits and you can’t help but feel a little devious. your hand was farther up than you thought, tracing his upper thigh- much closer to his cock than what was usually acceptable.
“aw i’m sorry, baby. does that feel too good..?” you tilt your head at him, giving him your mock innocence.
“but.. it doesn’t look like your body wants me to stop..?” you muse, your fingers now tracing the top of his pants.
“always so sensitive, ‘toru. such a needy boy.”
a strangled whimper leaves his throat, trying to be quiet as you dip your hand into the hem of his pants. warm palm making contact with his now raging hard on. above the briefs, of course.
“throbbing for me already. i haven’t even done anything yet, sweet boy.” your whispers brush his ear as you notice his dark sunglasses slipping down his nose slightly. his breathing is getting heavy, chest heaving.
“please-“ he accompanies the pleading with a single thrust of his hips, encouraging you further.
you gasp sarcastically. “on a train, satoru? in public? my, how lewd. you’re insatiable.”
your finger nails graze graze his leaking tip, still neatly tucked away in his briefs. it earns another strangled moan from him as he tried desperately to be quiet.
“shhhhh.” you coo at him. “be a good boy and take it for me, yeah? let me play with your cock for a bit in public.”
the vein on his neck start to show from the strain. your finger tips are relentless, tickling and teasing the sensitive frenulum as he oozes precum.
“god- please- don’t stop- i-“ he babbles.
you smile at him, feeling the way the heat radiates from his dick, balls tightening already.
“hm? gonna cum like this? gonna spill your load in your underwear and walk around town like that? like the disgusting slut you are? gonna go to the meeting like that so everyone knows how weak you are for me?” you can’t help the mischievous giggle erupting from you, “big strong gojo satoru.. can’t help but cream his pants for his girlfriends hand and i haven’t even touched it directly.” you chide devilishly, leaning down to kiss his neck. “beg me. beg me to make you bust in your pants. c’mon, baby- use your words~”
“please… god please.. please m-make me cum in my pants f’you. i’ll take it s’good. walk around with cum in my pants for all for you- i’ll be so good.” he babbles, face complete flushed.
“pathetic. and so fuckin cute.”
an immediate reaction. he doubles over, biting his lip to keep from moaning as he empties his balls into his shorts. you keep teasing the tip until it stops throbbing- for good measure, of course. you pat the wet spot, making sure his briefs are nice and ruined. messy.
“s’mean to me, baby.” he pouts up at you over his glasses. you smile and lean down to give him a apologetic kiss.
Content tags: Gojo x reader, Jujutsu Kaisen x reader, jjk x reader, sfw, slow burn, no use of y/n
Author’s notes: last part!! it’s been fun 🌸
⸻
Chapter 7 (Fin.)
The Things We Bury
————————————————————————————
The infirmary had fallen silent hours ago.
Night had settled deep over Tokyo Jujutsu High, wrapping the campus in quiet rain and distant thunder.
Inside the room, the lights were dim. Machines hummed softly beside the bed.
And Gojo was still sitting in the chair beside it.
He hadn’t moved much. Long legs stretched out. Arms folded loosely across his chest.
His blindfold had been pushed up onto his forehead again, pale lashes resting low over bright blue eyes that refused to close.
Sleep wasn’t coming tonight.
Not with the image of her lying unconscious still burned behind his eyes.
He glanced toward the bed again.
______ slept quietly, face half turned toward the window. The dim light softened the exhaustion etched across her features.
Even injured. Even pale and worn down.
She still looked… gentle.
Too gentle for this world.
Gojo exhaled slowly through his nose. That was the problem. Always had been.
Back in high school, when everything was easier and crueler at the same time, she had walked through the halls like sunlight.
Kind.
Patient.
Soft-spoken.
A heart that refused to harden even while surrounded by the ugliness of the jujutsu world.
It had driven him insane. Not because it bored him. Not because it annoyed him.
Because he knew what would happen.
He had seen it before.
Sorcerers like that didn’t survive unchanged. The world chewed them up. Ground their kindness down into sharp little fragments.
Or worse…
It broke them completely.
Gojo’s jaw tightened.
He had watched it happen to too many people already.
Even Suguru, the last person he would have ever had guessed would fall down the path he did.
Once the most compassionate sorcerer Gojo had ever known.
Now the leader of a cult that murdered non-sorcerers without hesitation.
Kindness didn’t last in this profession.
It died.
Or it rotted into something darker.
So when ______ looked at him back then with those quiet, sincere feelings…
He rejected it.
Hard.
Cold.
Brushed her off like it meant nothing. Because deep down, he thought that would protect her.
If she stopped believing in things like love and gentleness early enough…
Maybe the world wouldn’t get the chance to crush it later.
Gojo ran a hand slowly through his hair.
“…yeah,” he muttered quietly, “That plan worked great.”
The girl who once smiled so easily now looked like someone who had spent years carrying grief alone.
The silence in the room shifted suddenly. A sharp inhale.
Gojo’s eyes snapped toward the bed.
______’s body had tensed.
Her breathing had become shallow.
Pain.
He stood immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
She stirred weakly. Brows pulling together as her hand clutched lightly at the blanket.
Her voice came out strained, barely a whisper.
“…hurts.”
Gojo stepped closer to the bed.
“What hurts?”
She swallowed.
“Everything.”
That made sense. Her injuries had been severe.
Even with reverse cursed technique stabilizing her, recovery wouldn’t be easy.
Her breathing hitched again.
Gojo reached for the call button beside the bed. But her hand moved first. Grabbing his wrist weakly.
“..no.”
He paused.
“Why not?”
“…don’t want anyone else here.”
Gojo looked down at her hand around his wrist.
Weak.
Barely holding on. But still asking him to stay.
For a moment he just stood there. Then slowly he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.
Carefully. So he didn’t jostle her injuries.
“You’re stubborn,” he murmured.
Her eyes cracked open slightly.
“Learned from you.”
A faint huff escaped him.
Fair.
The pain rolled through her again. Her shoulders tensing instinctively. She sucked in a strained breath.
Gojo hesitated for a second. Then his hand moved.
Slow.
Careful.
Resting lightly against the side of her head.
His fingers brushed gently through her hair.
The movement was instinctive.
Quiet.
Comforting.
And notably free of teasing.
Her breathing faltered slightly.
“…Gojo.”
“Relax.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
Her lips twitched faintly despite the pain.
The tension in her shoulders slowly eased under the slow rhythm of his hand moving through her hair.
Neither of them spoke for a while. Rain tapped against the window.
The machines continued their steady hum.
Eventually she whispered quietly.
“You’re here.”
“I never left.”
Gojo leaned back slightly against the headboard.
His gaze drifted toward the dark ceiling.
She went still.
“You mean tonight?”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“I mean ever.”
The words settled slowly in the quiet room. Her eyes searched his face.
Confusion.
Something fragile.
“You rejected me.”
“I know.”
“You made it very clear.”
“..yeah.”
“Then what do you mean you never left.”
Gojo’s expression grew thoughtful.
Like he was searching for the least terrible way to say something difficult.
Finally he exhaled slowly.
“I buried it.”
“…what.”
“The feelings.”
Her breath caught. His gaze finally dropped back to her.
Serious. Unusually unguarded.
“I buried them a long time ago.”
The room felt suddenly smaller.
Gojo gave a quiet humorless laugh.
“I thought loving someone like you would destroy you.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“You’re too kind,” he continued softly. “Too selfless. This job takes people like that and breaks them.”
His fingers continued brushing slowly through her hair.
“So I told myself the best thing I could do was keep my distance.”
“…so you rejected me.”
“Yep.”
“It hurt.”
“I know.”
“Badly.”
“It was counterintuitive. I realize that now. I was dumb back then.. what can I say?”
Silence settled again. Heavy. Honest.
Then Gojo spoke again.
Quiet.
“But the truth is…”
His eyes met hers fully.
“I think… I’ve always loved you. I just had a horrible way of showing it. But my intentions were good, I swear.”
The confession landed like a shockwave in the quiet room. Her heart stuttered painfully in her chest.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You said-”
“I said a lot of stupid things.”
Her breathing had become uneven again. Not from pain this time.
“Why tell me now?”
Gojo didn’t hesitate.
“Because tonight I thought you were going to die.”
Her chest tightened.
“And I realized something. I’d rather face the consequences of loving you…”
His thumb brushed gently across her temple.
“…than keep pretending I don’t.”
Her eyes blurred again. Tears gathered silently along her lashes.
This time she didn’t try to stop them.
Because something else had finally settled into her chest.
A quiet realization. Terrifying in its own way.
Over the years she had built walls.
Layer after layer.
Grief.
Loss.
Betrayal.
The jujutsu world had taken too much from her. So she stopped letting people in.
Stopped letting anyone get close enough to hurt her again.
But somehow…
Without realizing it…
She had let Gojo walk right through those walls.
And now he was sitting beside her bed. Holding her hand. Confessing the feelings he had hidden for years.
Her voice trembled softly.
“You’re dangerous.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow slightly.
“I get that a lot.”
“No…”
Her fingers tightened weakly around his.
“You’re dangerous to me.”
A few minutes later the infirmary door creaked open and two nurses slipped inside, summoned by the monitors that had spiked during her pain episode.
Gojo didn’t turn to greet them. He remained seated on the edge of the bed, broad shoulders blocking part of their view as he faced ______, one hand still resting loosely over hers.
Only his eyes shifted over his shoulder.
The glance he shot them was brief but heavy with authority.
“Up the check-ins by double,” he said quietly. “And keep a steady flow of morphine.”
His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of command that came with being the strongest sorcerer alive.
The nurses stiffened instantly. Neither questioned it. Both dipped their heads in quick, nervous agreement.
“Yes… of course, sir.”
Then they moved quickly to adjust the monitors, careful not to disturb the strange, silent gravity settling around the man sitting guard at her bedside.
They leave as quickly as they came.
“Aren’t you a gentleman.” She sneers playfully.
“Well, someone had to speak up for you- god knows you wouldn’t have.”
For a while neither of them spoke. The rain traced quiet rivers down the window, and the infirmary lights hummed softly above them.
Then Gojo tilted his head, studying her like he had just discovered a new side of something familiar.
“You know,” he said casually, “the funny part is… the sharp edges suit you.”
“What?”
His lips curved, not mocking this time, just honest.
“Back in high school you were all sunlight and apologies. Sweet enough to make my teeth hurt.”
His gaze flicked over her with quiet approval. “But this version of you… the one that snaps back… The one that looks at me like she might actually punch me?”
A faint spark lit behind his eyes.
“That really pulled me back in.”
She stared at him for a beat before letting out a weak, incredulous laugh that tugged painfully at her ribs.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Gojo only shrugged, entirely unapologetic. She shook her head slightly, the ghost of a smirk touching her lips.
“Well,” she muttered, voice dry despite the lingering ache in her chest, “good news for you.”
Her fingers gave his hand the faintest squeeze.
“That part of me isn’t going anywhere.”
Outside the window, the rain continued falling quietly.
And for the first time in years…
She didn’t feel like she was facing the darkness alone.
Gojo knelt at her side, leaning close, the soft glow of the room casting his features into sharp relief. His blue eyes, wide and unguarded, held a storm of emotions- regret, longing, obsession- and for once, there was no teasing, no arrogance.
“I should’ve told you,” he whispered, voice rough. “Years ago. I-” His hand shook slightly as it hovered near her cheek. “I never stopped wanting you.”
Her chest tightened violently. That single confession struck deeper than any curse could. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to hide behind the armor she’d built over the years. But her body betrayed her. She shivered despite the warmth of the room, because the truth of his words had lit something inside her that had been buried for far too long.
“You…” she began, voice trembling. “…you shouldn’t have come here.”
“I couldn’t stay away,” he breathed, voice low, desperate. “Not from you. Never again.”
Before she could reply, before her walls could raise again, he leaned forward. His lips met hers, pressing with a hunger that was desperate, raw, and unrestrained.
It was nothing like the playful, teasing touches of their past.
This was years of longing, of grief, of anger and love, all crashing into one.
Her hands shot up instinctively, gripping his shoulders, then sliding up to his neck. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.
Instead, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head, his free hand cupping her face, fingers threading through her hair, holding her as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.
More tears slipped from her eyes, but she didn’t care. She didn’t fight them. Every tight coil of pain, every lonely, harsh year she’d endured-they all poured out in that kiss.
Her body pressed closer to his, clinging to him as if he was the only anchor in a world that had nearly swallowed her whole. And something deep.. something old inside her chest relaxed.
Gojo groaned low in his throat, a sound she had never heard from him before, as if her surrender gave him a release he had denied himself for too long. His lips moved with an almost frantic need, claiming hers, demanding, searching, refusing to let a single moment slip away.
Gently, he guides her back, still holding the kiss. Pressing her back into the bed so he could hover over her.
She ignores the pain- she can only focus on him. Only him.
The man she wanted to desperately was finally within her reach.
When they finally pulled back, both gasping for breath, their foreheads rested together, hearts hammering, hands still entwined. Her eyes were wet, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. His gaze bore into hers, fierce, protective, and utterly unrelenting.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice trembling slightly. “Always have been. Always will be.”
She swallowed hard and for the first time in years, she let herself smile through the ache. “..insufferable.”
He laughed softly, almost brokenly, brushing her hair back from her face. “Yeah… but you love it.”
“I do,” she admitted, voice small but steady.
And in the quiet of the infirmary, with rain washing the world outside, and the steady hum of machines around them, they didn’t need anything else.
He spoke again, barely a whisper, breath against her lips.
“Show me that sweet girl again.”
For the first time in years, ______ let herself be seen. And Gojo, the man who had tormented, challenged, and loved her from the very start, held her as if he never planned to let go.
Content tags: Gojo x reader, Jujutsu Kaisen x reader, jik x reader, sfw, slow burn, no use of y/n, Gojo is kinda ooc but whatever, mentions of injury
~~
(Pt. 7 Fin.)
Chapter 6
Stubbornness
————————————————————————————
The first thing she noticed was the smell. Antiseptic. Clean linen. The faint sterile sting of medical supplies.
Her brow creased slightly.
That didn’t belong in the ruins of a collapsed city. Her breathing hitched.
Pain followed the realization immediately. A dull pressure across her ribs. A deeper ache in her shoulder. Her fingers twitched weakly against the blanket.
Then the memory returned.
Concrete falling.
Cursed energy detonating in the air like lightning.
The roar of a special-grade curse collapsing under her technique.
Her knees hitting the ground hard.
Then darkness.
Her eyes opened slowly. Soft light filled the room.
Ceiling tiles. Quiet machines. The faint hum of reinforced barriers.
Recognition settled.
She was in the infirmary at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Alive.
Her gaze drifted toward the window. Night had fallen outside. Rain streaked quietly across the glass.
Then she noticed the chair.
Someone was sitting beside the bed.
Tall.
Lean.
Long legs stretched forward slightly. White hair catching the dim light.
Her stomach dropped.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The words came out hoarse. But the irritation behind them was immediate.
The figure in the chair leaned forward slightly.
“Hey.”
Of course it was him.
Blindfold gone. Blue eyes bright even in the low light.
She stared at him. Disbelief slowly hardening into anger.
“What are you doing here.”
Gojo tilted his head.
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you.”
“You’re alive.”
“I was already alive.”
“Tuh. Barely.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Get out.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t even pretend to stand.
Instead he leaned back in the chair again.
“You did it again.”
His voice is calm, but it hides something sharp beneath the surface.
“Left without a word. Running from your feelings. You desperately need a therapist and your passport shredded.”
She had no response. He was right. And it pissed her off.
“Anyway, flight risk, the doctors said you’d wake up eventually.”
“And?”
“And I wanted to see if they were right.”
Her eyes narrowed, then rolled.
“Go home, Gojo.”
Her fingers tightened slightly against the blanket. The weakness in her body made the frustration worse.
“I don’t want you here.”
His gaze didn’t leave her face.
“Too bad. You’ve proven you can’t be left without a chaperone. You’d end up somewhere in Mexico once you got discharged.”
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Finally she noticed something strange. The chair he was sitting in had been pulled close to the bed.
Too close.
Like someone had been sitting there for a long time. Her eyes shifted toward the window again.
Dark.
Rain falling.
Then back to him.
“…how long.”
He blinked once.
“Since they brought you in.”
Her stomach tightened.
“That… must have been hours ago.”
“Yep.”
“You.. stayed?”
“Looks like it.”
Her brows pulled together slightly.
“Why?”
“I just told you-“
“You could have asked anyone else to babysit me. Why did you stay?”
Gojo didn’t answer immediately.
For once the cocky grin wasn’t sitting on his mouth. Instead his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest.
Quiet.
Eventually he said,
“I had to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
Her irritation flared instantly.
“You think I almost dying on a mission was stupidity?”
“I think volunteering for a suicide mission right after a fight counts.”
Her eyes flashed.
“So that’s what this is? Guilt?”
Gojo shrugged slightly.
“Maybe.”
She scoffed.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“Good. I’m not giving it out today.”
“Then leave.”
“Nuh uh.”
Her patience snapped.
“I said get out.”
Her voice rose slightly. But the movement pulled sharply at her injuries.
Pain flared across her ribs. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
Gojo noticed immediately.
“Easy.”
His hand hovered instinctively for a second. Then he pulled it back. Silence stretched between them again.
Finally she spoke.
Cold.
Sharp.
“You said everything you needed to say already.”
Gojo’s gaze lowered slightly.
“…yeah.”
“You think I’m weak.”
“I was angry.”
“So was I.”
“And you went for the jugular.”
Her eyes hardened again. Pangs of her own guilt nagging at her bones.
Elbows resting on his knees. His voice dropped.
Quiet.
“I read the rest of your mission reports.”
She froze slightly.
“…you were right.”
Her brow creased.
“What..?”
“I didn’t understand what you went through.”
The admission felt strange coming from him.
Heavy.
Unusual.
Gojo ran a hand through his hair slowly.
“You weren’t weak.”
Her throat tightened slightly.
“Gojo-“
“You were surviving.”
“Stop.”
“And you kept surviving when everyone around you didn’t.”
Her breathing grew uneven. The words were pressing against something fragile in her chest.
“Gojo-”
“I’m sorry.”
The room went completely silent.
Because Gojo almost never said that.
Not seriously. Not like this.
Her mind stalled for a second.
“…what.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
The words were quieter now. More certain.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Her chest tightened sharply. A strange pressure building behind her ribs.
Confusion.
Anger.
Something else.
“That doesn’t fix anything.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the point.”
Gojo looked up again. His eyes were steady.
Honest in a way she had never seen before.
“The point is I was wrong.”
The air in the room felt too thin. Her vision blurred slightly. Heat gathered behind her eyes.
No.
Absolutely not.
She had just stopped crying. She refused to start again. Her hand lifted weakly to her face.
Wiping at the moisture forming at the corner of her eye.
“Damn it…”
Her voice cracked.
Embarrassingly.
Gojo noticed.
Of course he did. But for once he didn’t tease her. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t make a joke.
He just watched quietly as another tear slid down her cheek.
Her breathing shook.
Frustration mixing with something deeper.
“Why are you doing this..?”
His answer came immediately.
“Because I hurt you.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“…yeah.”
A pause.
“That’s kind of the problem.”
Another tear slipped free. She wiped it away angrily.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Mhm.”
“You ruin everything.”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“That’s debatable.”
Her chest tightened again. Because despite everything…
The familiar rhythm of their argument felt strangely grounding.
Familiar.
Comfortable.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“…I shouldn’t have said… what I said either.”
Gojo blinked.
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the rain streaking the window.
Her throat tightened.
“Throwing it in your face like that.”
The name hung unspoken between them.
But they both knew she meant Geto.
“That was…low of me.”
Silence lingered.
Then she forced the words out.
“…I’m sorry.”
Gojo didn’t respond right away. For once he looked genuinely caught off guard. Finally he leaned back in the chair slowly.
Studying her.
“…well,” he muttered quietly.
“This is weird.”
Despite herself, a shaky breath escaped her. Her voice dropped again.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Gojo crossed his arms lightly. His gaze softened.
“Too late.”
Silence returned to the infirmary. Rain tapping softly against the window. Machines humming quietly beside the bed.
And for the first time in years…
Neither of them had the energy left to keep fighting. But something fragile had shifted in the space between them.
Not healed.
Not even close.
But cracked open just enough for the truth to slip through. Because somewhere deep down…
Both of them knew the same thing now.
The sweetness she had buried wasn’t completely gone. And the man who had once rejected it…
Was starting to realize he had never really stopped wanting it.
Synopsis: She takes on a mission that she shouldn’t have.
Pairings: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
Content tags: Gojo x reader, Jujutsu Kaisen x reader, jik x reader, sfw, slow burn, no use of y/n, trauma, angst, mutual pining, mentions of injury
~
(Pt 6)
Chapter 5
Headstrong
————————————————————————————
The morning felt wrong.
Gojo noticed it the moment he stepped onto the campus of Tokyo Jujutsu High. It was subtle. A shift in the atmosphere, like the quiet before lightning.
Students moved through the courtyard in small groups. Teachers crossed between buildings. Everything looked normal.
But something in the rhythm felt… off.
Gojo pushed the sensation aside. He had slept badly. The argument from the night before kept replaying in fragments.
Gojo rubbed the back of his neck as he walked.
That one had been bad, even by his standards. He had intended to provoke her. Push her buttons.
Push. Pull. Bite back.
But something about the way she walked away…
It hadn’t felt like the usual sparring. It had felt final. He reached the administrative building.
He shoved the thought away.
She’d cool off. They always cooled off.
Except they had never fought like that before.
Gojo pushed open the door.
Inside, a pair of assistant supervisors looked up immediately. One of them straightened.
“Oh. Gojo-san.”
“Morning.” His usual upbeat, harmonious tone. He walked toward the counter lazily. Hands in his pockets.
“Where’s ______?”
The assistants exchanged a quick glance. Gojo noticed instantly. His posture shifted.
“What?”
The older supervisor cleared his throat.
“She… accepted an assignment early this morning.”
Gojo blinked once.
“…what?”
“A containment mission.”
His stomach dropped slightly.
“Where.”
The supervisor hesitated. Then slid a file across the desk. Gojo opened it. His eyes moved quickly across the page.
Then stopped. Then read it again.
“…you’re kidding.”
The room was silent. Because the location printed at the top wasn’t a normal mission.
It was a disaster zone.
A cursed outbreak large enough to destabilize an entire region. Multiple high-grade entities.
The type of mission normally assigned to entire teams. Not one person. Except for himself, of course.
Gojo looked up slowly.
“You approved this?”
The supervisor shifted uncomfortably.
“She volunteered.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“We… assumed she was capable.”
Gojo laughed once. But the sound was hollow.
“Yeah.”
His fingers tightened slightly on the file.
“She is.”
The problem wasn’t capability. The problem was timing.
His mind replayed the argument again. Her face when he said those words.
You were just too weak.
A cold thought crept into his chest.
“…when did she leave?”
“Two hours ago.”
Gojo stared at the file.
Two hours. That meant she was already gone. Already heading toward something catastrophic.
His jaw tightened.
“…idiot.”
The word came out quietly. But it wasn’t clear whether he meant her.
Or himself.
-
The day dragged. Gojo tried to distract himself.
Training students.
Reviewing reports.
Pretending everything was normal. But the unease didn’t leave.
It lingered under his skin. A constant, irritating pressure. By evening he gave up pretending.
He returned to the administrative office. The same assistant supervisor was there.
Gojo leaned on the counter.
“Any updates?”
The man hesitated. That hesitation was enough.
Gojo’s voice dropped.
“What happened.”
The supervisor swallowed.
“There was contact with multiple high-grade curses shortly after arrival.”
“And?”
“She eliminated most of them.”
Gojo exhaled slowly. Of course she did. But the supervisor kept talking.
“…however, a special-grade entity appeared.”
Gojo’s fingers tightened against the counter.
“And?”
“There was significant structural collapse during the confrontation.”
“And?” He was growing impatient.
The supervisor’s voice lowered.
“She’s been critically injured.”
For a moment…
Gojo didn’t react.
The words hovered in the air like something unreal. Then his cursed energy spiked.
Violently.
The room trembled. Papers fluttered off nearby desks. The supervisor flinched.
“Gojo-”
“Where.”
The word came out dangerously quiet.
“Coordinates are in the report.”
Gojo snatched the file. His eyes scanned the location once. Then he turned toward the door.
“Wait,” the supervisor said quickly. “Recovery teams are already-”
But Gojo was gone.
-
Night swallowed the sky as Gojo stood alone on the edge of a ruined city block.
Concrete dust drifted through the air. Buildings had partially collapsed. The ground was cracked from cursed energy impacts. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance. Emergency barriers had already been set up.
Sorcerers moved through the debris carefully.
Searching.
Recovering survivors.
Gojo landed silently among them. Every head turned. Even the experienced sorcerers felt it immediately, the pressure rolling off him.
One of them approached cautiously.
“Gojo-”
“Where is she.”
The man gestured toward the center of the destruction.
“They pulled her from the debris about fifteen minutes ago.”
Gojo moved before the sentence finished. His steps slowed only when he saw the stretcher. Her clothes her torn. Blood darkened the fabric near her shoulder.
Her face was void of her usual color. Too pale, too stiff. Her chest rose slowly beneath the blanket. But the rhythm looked wrong.
Gojo stopped beside the stretcher.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t joke.
Didn’t say anything clever.
He just stared.
A medic glanced up nervously.
“We stabilized the bleeding, but her cursed energy reserves are almost completely drained.”
Gojo’s voice came out low.
“Details.”
“Special-grade manifestation. It caught her in a collapse while she was exorcising it.”
His gaze moved across her injuries.
The bruising.
The cuts.
The unnatural stillness of someone who had pushed their body far beyond its limits.
Another thought crept into his mind.
Slow.
Unavoidable.
She volunteered for this. Right after their fight. Right after he told her she was weak.
His hand lifted slightly. Then hesitated above her arm. He wasn’t sure why. He had seen injured sorcerers before.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Death was normal in their world. But something about seeing her like this…
Still.
Silent.
It felt wrong. Very wrong.
Finally his fingers brushed her wrist lightly. Her skin was cold. A medic spoke again.
“We’re transporting her to the medical facility.”
Gojo nodded once.
But his mind wasn’t in the conversation anymore. Because something inside his chest had finally snapped. A slow realization settling deep in his ribs.
He had wanted to provoke her.
Push her.
Challenge her.
But he hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected her to run straight into something suicidal.
And now..
Now she was lying on a stretcher because of it. The thought sat heavy in his stomach.
Gojo exhaled slowly.
“…damn it.”
The words were barely audible. But they carried more weight than any joke he had made in the past five years.
Because this time the strongest sorcerer alive had finally realized something terrifying.
He might actually care what happened to her.
And if she died after the things he said to her…
That was a consequence even Gojo Satoru wasn’t sure he could laugh off.
it's been a year since your ex left the jujutsu society behind to stand beside his new lover, sukuna. together the strongest sorcerers wreck havoc, leaving you desperately trying to fill gojo satoru's shoes as the second best. until a mission goes south and you're suddenly on your knees before a king, with satoru eager to show you just how much he misses you. . . and what you're missing out on.
⌗ wc : 8.8k
ᝰ.☆ cws : canon divergent :: trueform!sukuna :: defected!satoru :: sukugo x reader :: blood :: reader gets hurt :: slight angst :: so much yearning :: humiliation :: power imbalance :: jealousy :: manhandling :: dirty talk :: praise :: slight degradation :: body worship :: f. oral :: orgasm denial :: fingering :: m. oral :: deep-throating :: hair pulling :: choking :: kuna tummy mouth oral :: tongue-fucking :: overstim :: size difference :: penetrative sex :: rough sex :: belly bulge :: creampie :: riding :: sukuna fucks you both :: switch!toru :: kuna & reader competing lol
ᝰ.☆ sweetheart : and thus kinktober comes to a close <3
In order for there to be good, there must be evil. And when there's evil, good will rise up against it. No matter the circumstance. No matter the loss. No matter the cost. Good will always find a way.
But what happened when evil looked like his eyes?
The same murky maroon that stole your blue?
You've stared evil in the face since the day you opened your eyes. Cursed spirits reeked with humanity's most sinister sins and darkest desires. As a sorcerer, you took up the duty to stand face-to-face with some of the greatest evils known to the world.
But his eyes.
His eyes.
Hell reigned supreme. Echoed with the screams of the damned and the promises for desolation. The truest testament to twisted, vile evil.
Yet still. Still. The one who was once called the greatest good, the Honoured One— The Strongest.
Chose. Him.
The shrine's air permeated with miasma. Pungent, fragrant, like a poisonous perfume that flared your nostrils. Your lungs withered and curled around your heart. A feeble attempt to save you from the wicked fate you twisted in.
Those glaring, amused eyes loomed over you. Dilated with several ideas on how to break his 'new toy', you're sure.
Knees dug into wooden floors, dark by nature or perhaps the blood of the jujutsu world stained in the timber. Chains locked around your wrists, but they were a feather compared to the weight of the burden you struggled on your shoulders every day.
The New Strongest.
The title was a bitter fruit on your tongue.
It wasn't earned. It was shirked. Dropped onto your head like a crown of thorns, so that you bled for this shattering world the way he had. Balancing the earth on your shoulders was already a difficult feat— but with the added destruction that swept across every direction? With the crumbling bearings of a once imperfect world now turning to dust under the thumbs of the one who swore to protect it and the one who changed his mind?
You weren't a saviour. You were a doomed martyr.
"So, this is the supposed strongest?"
The damned, the cursed, the fallen— Ryomen Sukuna spoke above you, but you barely flinched. Even as a claw crooked beneath your chin with threats bladed in its sharpness.
You only sneered. As if even on your knees, you were above him. With your technique latched away and your strength a drop in the ocean that was his might.
"The Strongest parades around with you."
It didn't escape you how Sukuna's brow twitched. Not that you cared. If his talons tore through your throat or ripped out your heart, he'd frankly be doing you a favour.
"Where is he?"
You didn't care about that either, you affirmed to yourself. But the catacomb in your heart strummed a different tune. A cacophony of concern. Was Satoru's manic smile on the battlefield only for show? In the confines of this malevolent shrine, was he in fact a prisoner?
"So you really did have a surprise for me."
Seemed not.
The voice calling behind you sounded more like a curse than even a smidge of familiar. It chilled the air and frosted your heart. Haunting, and frustratingly hearty.
You told yourself not to look. You did. But you still caught the flutter of white in your peripheral and your gaze followed with irritable curiosity.
A pale haori hung around from his shoulders. Audacity pressed into every creaseless sway. Hands tucked into the long sleeves as his arms folded. His blindfold nowhere to be seen. He'd traded black and blues for whites and— were those red studs on his ears?
Gojo Satoru. The Honoured One. The Strongest—
Traitor.
Stood at the foot of the hall with his head held high in all his malicious charm and cruel confidence. And the worst thing about it all?
He never looked more at peace.
Your jaw ticked and your gaze fell to the ground with your drooping head. He didn't deserve your stare, even if it was a daggered glare. You'd only be reminded of how he twisted one into your back.
His footsteps synced with your pounding heart. His scent wrapped around you. It was still the same— but now mixed with his. Your eye twitched.
"Sweet girl, you're as beautiful as the day I left you."
And twitched again.
Beautiful wasn't how you'd describe yourself on the day that the sky went red. You were broken. He stomped your fragments under his boot and cared not for how he shattered you into the ground. Soul and heart alike.
You swallowed venom and forced your stare to the floor. He didn't deserve that either. Nor your hate. He deserved nothing from you.
But for some twisted reason, he thought otherwise. Satoru bent over and crooked his head towards you. An almost mocking attempt to look at your face.
You denied him. Snapping your head away to focus on the far end of this cursed hall. To the shoji that taunted you. To the throne that tortured you.
Anywhere but him.
He clicked his tongue and stood straight again. Good. Maybe your silence was all the blade you needed when your hands were bound. Let your stubbornness make him bleed the same way your heart did.
Your lungs blazed.
The chains clanked and your spine curved. The air knocked from your chest which burned with your eyes as a weight clamped tight around your throat.
You were hurled back into that sickening white. A bicep viced around your throat as your head bumped into a strong shoulder. Your gasps surged with curses as you instinctively jerked and squirmed.
"You—!"
Satoru only chuckled. A husked sound in your ear roaring with blood.
"Oh come on baby."
His drawl made you sick.
"Didn't you miss me?"
Amidst the storm of your rage, you caught wind of Sukuna's displeased stare. As if his glare itself could tear into your chest and dice up your heart. A twisted satisfaction coiled in your gut.
Still, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Despite fury festering in your mind and your soul screaming to wretch your hands from the chains and dig your thumbs into Satoru's eyes— you knew.
Knew deep down in that same, soft strum of your heart, that you'd always have a place in his. Even when he acted like this.
Your teeth tore into his arm and you stiffened at the fact that you could. So you were right. He didn't have infinity on.
Did he ever have it on anymore? You wondered.
He didn't yelp. Didn't jerk away. Even as you dug marks into his flesh. You half-expected the bastard to moan, but to your surprise, he frowned. Deeply.
Snagging his arm back, Satoru observed the pink crescents you left behind before he took a step back and dropped you. He circled around you and beelined for Sukuna.
"This isn't the welcome I was expecting, y'know." Was that disappointment?
Your jaw clenched. He had the audacity to pout? As if he had any right to your sentiment?
But it was when he stood at Sukuna's side and a hulking arm reflexively wrapped around him that your teeth ground and wished they had his blood under them.
Hate? You hated many things. Hated the sickening sweetness of the mochi he used to shove into your mouth. Hated that stupid grin of his whenever he'd ask you to show-off a new dress he got you. Hated how his touch still haunted you in the dead of night when you'd awake in your empty bed clinging to the pillow that used to be his.
Now, with a new arm around him. With his head on another shoulder. With his comfort in another's damned, blood-sullen hands. . .
You don't think you've ever hated something more.
No, loathed.
A laugh crept up your throat. Sharp and splintering your tongue that dripped with venom, eager to stain these floors darker. "What? Were you expecting me to welcome you with open arms after you betrayed me?"
He didn't flinch at your spat, but Sukuna narrowed his brows.
"I didn't betray you." Satoru said. Too easily for your poor heart.
"I betrayed the world that hurt us."
"But it was still our world."
Your words cut with finality and bled with anguish. A shrilled whisper in the thickness of miasma.
He faltered. A crease in his brows and a sag in his shoulders. His glare reignited him.
"And it didn't appreciate me."
Fire surged up your spine in blisters and burst into your head. Your fingers twitched and palms cramped under the chains. Venom didn't just drip from your tongue— it whipped.
"So what?"
The chains wretched as your knees lurched up with your body. Weighed, but light against your heavy heart and effort to keep it from shattering all over again. Pupils shrunk. Lips curled. Your voice tore in a ragged scoff.
"You just decided to turn your back on it and frolic along to this bastard!?" Your head lurched to Sukuna. To the damned man who took it all away from you.
"You don't get the easy way out just because the world broke you. Or did you forget our promise?"
His eyes told you that they'd forgotten how they drowned in tears. How his hands clung around your shoulders. The first time that the sky went red— no, voided black. That fateful day that you were both left in the dust.
That day his hands held yours. The day his lips sealed the vow.
We'll never forget each other, won't we? We won't abandon one another.
Not like him.
"Or do you just wanna hurt someone the same way Suguru hurt you?"
Lightning struck.
Down your arm. Torn through your veins. The blood roaring in your ears spilled from a gash sliced down your flesh.
You clambered to hold the wound as your knees struck the ground. A voice shook the shrine and stung your new wound.
"You will not speak to him like that. Do you understand me?"
The ground trembled as Sukuna marched forward. Eyes gaped and pupils thin as a snarl ripped from the depths of his throat. Only then did you realise that it was his technique that was responsible for your injury.
"Sukuna— don't."
And just like that. The storm stilled.
A second patter came, quicker, calmer. You looked up through blurry vision just in time to see Satoru's hand brace on Sukuna's shoulder. The monster quelled. Your heart roared.
You couldn't manage to rip away from him as he crouched in front of you. His cold hand pressed to your wound and you hissed a curse. Hoping it could stab him with even a fraction of the intensity of which you shattered.
He applied pressure to the wound and braced you onto his body. Despite yourself, you dared to look up. Into those deep blues that were once yours.
Conflict swam within them.
You hated him.
Silence weighed heavier than miasma in the air. Your body shook against his, and he held you. Just like he always did.
You hated him.
"You don't have to forgive her," he spoke slowly, curling his head to glance over his shoulder at Sukuna.
You fucking. Hated him.
"But I won't let you hurt her."
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ
The burn in your arm subsided, but not in your soul.
Relief washed over your flesh that slowly mended itself as an azure glow circled it. A pale hand hovered, while another cradled your elbow. The thumb on your joint stroking idly did little to to ease your nerves, as you're sure he intended.
Reverse cursed energy. You remembered how Shoko went on about its flow while Suguru and Satoru scratched their heads. Your heart smiled at the thought— you missed her. Missed Suguru.
Satoru. . .
Seems he understood it now. Specifically how to distribute it to others. A difficult feat that very few could muster, even with his title as the 'The Strongest' slapped behind his name.
Now? He healed you with ease. Not a pinch in his brows nor strain in his fingers. Like some twisted enlightenment.
You lowered your gaze back to the deep maroon sheets. Your stomach twisted. Was everything in this damned compound some fucking shade of red? Its tyrant really wanted to make sure everything from the flooring, to the sheets to even his lover's lobes were marked, huh?
Whatever. Infuriatingly soft silk sheets were better than an icy dungeon floor. Even if the frost crept up your neck instead— Satoru's constant glances weren't subtle. Though you're not sure if he was even trying to make them so.
You refused to meet his eyes, looking anywhere but at those blues that ached something deep within you. Consequently, that meant that every inch of the large, warm chamber mocked you. No matter where you fixated.
The bed was huge. Probably for two. Considering neither Sukuna nor Satoru were necessarily small. The bed itself was tucked in the corner of the room with a circular opening. It rested on a teak platform and extended into an overhang. Something grand that you'd expect from ancient wedding night— which only left you more bitter.
There was a small table with a teapot and a plate of mochi. Five to be exact, with one half-eaten. Probably courtesy of Satoru. Their sweetness stained your tongue sour.
The closet in the corner was left open. Rows of neat robes and the finest of fabrics peeked out. Fit for a King. And his beloved consort.
Royalty. Satoru was treated like royalty. And this damned room was a testament to their. . . no. You still hadn't gotten over that four letter word. Let alone accepted the fact that he said it to someone else.
To a curse, no less.
"This isn't how I wanted our reunion to be."
At last he piped up. How you wished he didn't.
You looked up and saw that his eyes remained focused on your arm. Was there enough strength in it yet to smack him yet? You wondered.
You'd settle for your sharp tongue. "Again, what did you expect? A hug? A kiss? Forgive me for being pissed over how much happier you look here."
Those beautiful blues finally meet you from beneath white lashes. An ache rooted in your chest. When last had he looked at you like that? You hated him for depriving you of it. Hated yourself for missing it.
"I am happier here."
But hated him even more for that.
"I'm treated better. I can finally live."
His touch swept away from your skin, and like a drunken sailor chasing the roaring waves, you almost reach out for him. Almost.
You chose to drown.
In him. In the memories of him. In that sacred time when he was yours. With that big, stupid grin and eager fingers pushing sweet treats to your lips.
All you tasted now was the deep, bitter reality that those memories were just that— memories. Moments lost in time. With one frozen within them and the other far moved on.
You withdrew your arm and observed your bruised wrists as you shifted your legs over the bed's edge. The chains were no more, but you still felt a weight. On your hands that could do nothing, in your stomach that twisted nausea, and in your heart that still beat for him.
You could use your technique and get the hell out of here. With his infinity off? You could probably get pretty far if you made a break for the window.
But this room and its evidence would always hold your mind captive in the sick fact that it was theirs.
"Your infinity isn't on."
"I don't need it anymore."
"I could hurt you, right now."
Your hand flexed and you fixed your gaze on the floor. To the details in the hardwood. Anything but at that piercing stare through your temples. Never a threat, but always a promise. Even a broken one.
The bed sunk beside you as Satoru repositioned himself. His presence crept ice up your spine and warmed your chest all the same.
You hated it. You loved it.
"But you won't." He said.
You scoffed, but smiled. Rolling your shoulders back to stare at the mochi across the room hatefully. Did he remember how he always nagged you to make those? Or did their sweetness bring a new name to his mind?
"Yeah. Because unfortunately, I still love you."
You swore your hearts froze together with your words, then synced with a languished beat.
"So yeah." Your smile wasn't bitter, nor sour. It ached. With the phantom of his sweet kiss. "It fucking hurts that you don't feel the same anymore."
The bed creaked as Satoru's spine shot straight. You caught the gape of his eyes and his fingers curling on his knees.
"Of course I still love you."
"You're a liar."
You wished it would soothe the wounds. His balmed words only stung.
Chills pressed into your chin as his fingers grasped. He tilted your head to him. Not allowing your gaze to run from him any longer. He dragged you closer until his scent wrapped around you. Comforted you. Reminded you.
His eyes begged you. The whisper on his tongue pleaded.
"I do."
It was instinctual to stare at his lips when he was this close. For but a fleeting, yearning moment.
You locked stares again. Yours begged back.
"Prove it."
He did. Softly, tenderly, a secret of his lips on yours. Stars burst in that delicate way that they always did when his mouth found yours. When the kiss that felt so unfamiliar, still carried the taste of the past and all its honey.
You wished to simmer in the moment. To unravel into his gentleness that you craved since the first and last day he left bruises on you. That fateful day. When the sky went red.
But that red ran hot. Sizzled into a sharp scarlet searing through your veins. So when you kissed him back— it's not soft, or tender, and it sure as hell isn't gentle.
Furious, frustrated and fervent. You soured the honey into poison and tore your fingers through his white hair. Yanking him in, reminding him— declaring. That he was still yours.
He moaned at the fruition.
Oh, you'd give him enlightenment.
It was tongue and teeth and a treacherous mix of thorns as you pushed forward. He caught your hips. He always did. Pulled you into his lap like old times and matched your roughness.
Until your lips bruised. Until his were bitten. At last he parted in threads of hot saliva, snapping like your sanity. His eyes were hazed as they awed up at you.
"I missed you." He rasped.
"I don't believe you." You ragged.
But still, your trembling hands brushed his hair back and cupped his face. Your thumbs re-familiarised his cheekbones.
His chest stuttered. You're sure his heart did too. He trailed his eyes over you, then stared up through his lashes with a whisper so forbidden. So yours.
"Then let my tongue prove it."
And then his lips were on you again. Your neck. Mouthed down to your shoulder, over your shirt. You swore that you felt them twitch as they brushed the fabric. Littered over your breasts with an incoherent murmur.
But if you remembered Satoru well enough— he was probably complaining. Cursing out the offensive material.
His nails were far more eager. Nipping on your shirt's hem and peeling it back over your breasts. He groaned at your bra choice. Maybe it really was fate that brought you here. Why else would you be in his old favourite?
Cold lips worshipped atop your breasts, sending sparks down your spine as he pulled one of your tits out and flicked his tongue on your pert nipple.
You shuddered. Grappling for some kind of shame or reason to not fuck your ex on his new lover's bed— while said ex had toppled over the jujutsu world and was now the force of evil you swore against.
Evil or not, damn, you missed that filthy tongue.
Hands shot to his shoulders. A protest crept up your throat as you looked down at his fluttering lashes and smooching lips. "Toru—"
The bed bounced and you yelped as your back hit it fully. He tipped you over and dragged your legs out with large hands locked on your hips. Good luck getting him to stop now. His tongue already drooled with greed as it swiped down your tummy.
Kisses felt like a dance of fire and ice. Embedded into your skin and pulling memories into moans as his blunt nails dragged on your pants and exposed your centre. You're not sure if you're more embarrassed that you didn't stop him— or that you already formed a damp spot.
Habitually, he pressed a kiss to your panties. The only shame you mustered was how naturally you twitched for him.
All ifs, and buts melted into a pool of heat as he drew your panties down next and groaned so deep that it rumbled your core.
"Fuck, hey there sweetheart." He drawled with eyes fixed onto your pussy. His thumb stroked over your folds to punctuate his greeting. Your face flushed as he smooched your clit in a wet, missed me?
His lips trailed down your slit. Dragging your bubbling wetness and pouring moans from your trembled lips. Your spine lifted. Memories be damned. Who needed them when he was back where he belonged? Between your legs.
"Missed you sooo much baby," he rumbled into your slit with pinched brows as he mouthed all hot and bothered along it. You always were his favourite sweet treat.
But oh, he couldn't leave any part of you lonely for long. Not again. His thumb swiped up and rubbed on your clit, prompting a trickles out of your throbbing cunt. You sucked a shaky breath.
He parted to watch the leak, pupils blown wide as he slowed his stroke. "Yeah I know, I know." He cooed, still talking to your cunt.
Shivers rushed up your spine as his tongue flushed to the bottom of your slit and pressed flat as he dragged it up. Slow, and greedy and oh so filthy. You finally whined for him and buried your fingers into his hair.
"Satoru. . . hngh."
His name tasted good on your lips. It's where it belonged. Always.
The sentiment seemed to spur him on as his palms splayed over your thighs to spread you out and snatch you deeper. Shoved into his heated kisses, dirty sucks and lewd licks. He groaned and spat. He always was a messy eater. Always too distracted by your pussy to remember his decency as he feasted on you as if he'd been starving these last two years.
You want to look down. To see him devouring your pussy— but his tongue cut you off. Plunged into your gummy walls as his face flushed forward. His nose nudged your clit and stars burst before your eyes.
"Mhhm— fuck toru. Jus' like that— ah." Your fingers curled on his scalp and leveraged his head so that you could grind your hips into his face. Slopping him up and drawing out his moans as he clung onto your thighs like they were his last shred of sanity.
His tongue pistoned. Stained in your taste and rapidly fucking into you as his lewd, wet noises vibrated through you. Stroking on the heat in your tummy and coiling the knot tighter.
You arched. Whined. "Ohgod— mngh, gonna cum."
How you missed saying that. Missed the sparks dancing over your spine and coursing through your pussy. Missed his glutinous tongue.
"Gonna cum, toru, pleasepleaseplease."
He withdrew and replaced his tongue with his fingers quicker than you could complain. They slipped in with a tempered squelch and curled into that spot he still remembered. Massaging and fucking and tenderising as his lips locked around your clit.
"Yeah baby. Tha's it. C'mon. Show me how much y'missed toru's tongue." He slurred, suckling on the throbbing nub as he plunged his fingers hastily.
His glossy eyes fluttered up to yours. All drunk and hazed. Pleading. How could you ever deny him?
Your muscles locked up. Voice singing a name you swore off years ago. Fingers holding his hair for dear life as you humped into his face with stuttered whines. He took you higher— and higher— and. . .
It snapped into nothingness.
Both of your whines mixed. Loud and pitched as a clawed hand yanked Satoru back by the hair. Snatching him from your grasp once again with webs of saliva and slick strung to your cunt.
You registered the demon that took him from you in the first place and in the haze of your need, you whimpered. As if for some bizarre reason, you could appease him.
"Oh shut up." Sukuna snarled and muffled it into Satoru's lips, who whined and pressed back instinctively.
You blinked back blurs to behold their tongues tangling. Your gut twisted at how eagerly Satoru limped into him, like some lovesick fucking doll.
A frown fixed to your lips as your elbows dug into the bed to push you up. At last they parted. Finally. Those few seconds permanently scarred your soul.
But it blistered into that same, fiery burst as Sukuna cut his glare over. Your eyes sharpened to clash. He sneered.
"What? You think you deserve this?"
"You sound jealous."
"Don't forget that's my bed you're slobbering all over."
Instinctively, your legs jerked together and you straightened your spine like a cobra ready to spit venom in his eyes. He looked all the more willing to gulp it down and claw it around your throat instead.
Satoru interrupted the thundering clouds with a lightning swat! onto Sukuna's chest, who turned to meet his frown.
No words exchanged, but their stares locked. Not a blink. Not a bat. Green nestled in your gut. Were they communicating with their eyes alone?
A loud sigh sagged from Sukuna together with his shoulders. He blinked first and looked away. Triumph shone from Satoru's stupid grin.
Only to shout a complaint as a clawed hand yanked him to the edge of the bed, shoving his pants down in the process, while another nabbed your hair and jerked you to the floor so you joined the protests.
Smack! Your knees clambered as you were positioned between Satoru's.
"You deserve to be worshipped. Not the other way around."
Sukuna leered, not even looking in your direction. As if taking his eyes off of his lover for one second would melt him— or maybe sparing you a glance would turn him to stone.
He steered your head to Satoru's dick, who tensed and waved his hand frantically. "Hey hey hey that's not nece— mn."
Of course your lips naturally wrapped around his pretty tip. Why wouldn't they? It was reflex. Even with the bastard locking you in place.
Your eyes fluttered up to Satoru. Memorising his twitching brows and quivered lips as you languidly sucked down. He rarely let you do this back then. You often had to fight him just to get a lick.
Your reminiscing morphed into splutters as your head was suddenly shoved. Inches plunged into your throat and Satoru strangled with you.
"What're you waiting for?" Sukuna glowered. "I said worship him."
Your throat constricted as you choked around his twitching dick. A thick vein throbbed heavily on the back of your tongue. You vibrated it with whimpers as you tried to catch your breath through your nostrils.
Satoru on the other hand, looked as if he couldn't even breathe. His face burning and hands scrambling as he shot out to grip Sukuna's wrist. His fingers trembled with his voice.
"Go— mn, easy on her."
"She can take it. Or has she only ever taken pleasure from you?"
Who the fuck did this guy think he was?
He strutted into Satoru's life and twisted his morals two years ago— two years. Two. You'd familiarised Satoru's body with your hands long before Sukuna was even reincarnated. Yet somehow he thought he owned every right to it?
Spite sizzled in your gut. It mixed with the jealousy to concoct a flaring urge to prove yourself. To Sukuna?
No, to hell with him.
To Satoru. To remind him why you were his first.
Nimble fingers curled around his base. You thumb spontaneously stroking on a vein while you hollowed your cheeks. Sucking down at the pressure you knew damn well sent his eyes rolling. His stuttered hip bucks were your reward.
"Damn— baby."
Sukuna's hand spurred with competition. Dragging and shoving your head so you maintained a mouthful of cock. Not that you needed it. Despite the weight you bobbed in haste, impatient to take him down your throat and make him lose his mind. For you.
Spit splattered and his precum smeared your tongue. Fuck. You missed the taste. Missed every hefty throb and the way his tip twitched as it glided on the roof of your mouth.
But what you missed the most? The sight of him. His noises. How his head fell back to expose his stuttering throat. How his brows creased at centre and his lips parted to the ceiling. How pretty and pathetic his deep voice pitching sounded as he helplessly humped.
"Fuck baby, yeah, just like that."
He was beautiful.
"See? That's how you pleasure him."
And he was a bitch.
Your glossy eyes swept a glare to Sukuna, who retorted with a fierce tug of your hair. Shoving you deeper. Deeper. Until Satoru's hot tip smooched the back of your throat and you spluttered drool.
A second of reprieve. Your spite rekindled. Constricting your throat, you squeezed on his balls and forced your head to move more ferociously that Sukuna's hand. Utterly crumbling Satoru who clambered for your shoulder and threw his spine in an arch.
"Shit, f-fuck, ohgod— oh fuck, baby, baby please, please please hngh." His slurring babbles struck pride in your core. You rewarded him with vibrating hums.
But of course, the King of Curses— or rather, King of Covet— had to splinter your confidence.
"Did you ever get him like this? Ever made him feel this good?" He bent over to loom in your ear.
You glared. Gurgled. But your gut twisted.
No. You didn't.
Satoru never concerned you with his pleasure.
"When he cums in your mouth," you could hear the bastard's sharp grin, "Know that he's cumming for me."
Your eyes gaped. That fucker—
Unfortunately, you had no more time for spite. Spurts surged the back of your throat while Sukuna shoved you down. So that your nose brushed Satoru's pelvis and his dick spasmed in your throat. Rope after rope of hot cum streamed into your chokes and struggled gulps.
He came with a cry. A pitiful whine that blended Sukuna's name and yours— but all you heard was the former's. God, how you wished your stare really could turn him to stone.
"Swallow everything."
You hated him.
"Don't waste a drop of my lover's cum."
You hated him.
Drool mixed with thick, hot cum as you gulped down whatever you possibly could. Eyes rolled back and lips strained as you committed your mind to imagining just the two of you. No curses. no kings.
Just you and him. Just you finally making him feel good.
Burning lungs washed with relief, but the same couldn't be said for your throbbing heart, as you're jerked away from his sopping dick. Still hard and twitching. You fight a smile— yeah, that's your Satoru.
Instead, a frown tugged with a calloused thumb swiping over your lip. Sukuna's stare smouldered with audacity as he dragged his tongue over your leftovers. "Sweet as ever, my love."
Your jaw ticked. Despite its ache you're already charging several insults— but you only managed a yelp as Satoru's large hands stole your hips and toppled you over shaky thighs. Kisses smoked out your fire as they smothered all over your face.
"Mm, my baby, my sweet girl. Always doing so good."
Satoru's praises were a balm your heart. You fluttered and limped into his touch. His arms secured on you. A cold, comforting palm flat on your spine. His chin crooked on your shoulder to stare back at Sukuna.
"C'mon, let's show her what she's missin' out on." You heard his pout and bit on your smile. "I want my two favourite people to get along."
You crooked your head and observed their eye fucking— ahem, contact, again. You were really beginning to add onto that list of things you hate. Number one? Whatever secret language in the form of stares they had going on.
Sukuna huffed and the bed creaked beneath his weight. You're sure he tried to appear regal but he practically flopped into the sheets and jostled with his robes' belt. Pulling it back to reveal the wide maw on his abdomen that mimicked his frown.
You almost laughed. Almost. It caught as Satoru hoisted you closer to the other. Now there were three frowns.
"What're you doing?"
"Come onnnn, I want you two to bond."
You rolled your eyes as his pouting lips mouthed on your neck. Yes, your blood still ran green and spite continued its fester in your gut but perhaps. . . You could do it for him.
Deep down, some innate, irritating smidge within you still wanted to please him.
"Fine." You huffed and bit your inner cheek as Sukuna locked stares. "Let's see what you see in him so bad."
Satoru's grin sliced through the tension in the air. Who could ever say no to that? With excitement warming his hands, he steered you into a straddle over Sukun's stomach. Massaging your thighs with assuring thumbs.
"Well," he crooned on your ear and laved it with a kiss. "He's reaalll good with his mouth."
Your eyes began to roll.
Just because the fucker had multiple mouths doesn't mean—
Then, they rolled back.
Hot, wet, the massive tongue dragged a sopping lick over your spasming cunt. Filthy and thick. You swallowed a whine, but not your shudder.
You ignored Sukuna's smug smirk and clawed your hands to Satoru's wrists as his hands guided your hips into a sensual roll. Synching you with that swirling tongue already feasting below. You pulsed into its heat and squirmed as pleasure sparked your spine.
"Mngh, oh."
"Theeree we go. Feels good, doesn't it sweet girl?"
Satoru's drawl dripped into your ear like the saliva oozing on your slit. You chewed your lip and shot Sukuna a side eye, who had reverted back to a blank stare. As if pleasuring you was a fucking chore.
Still, for some frustrating reason, your pussy pulsed.
You mustered a huff and humped your hips. Dragging on his mouth fully as if trying to suffocate him. It backfired, of course. You were left twitching and whining— but still mustered a glare.
A pitiful, trembling one. But a glare no less.
"I'll never enjoy a curse."
A pause.
Then a keen.
The mouth started ferally sucking down on your cunt. Creating a suction on both your slit and clit that sent your eyes back.
Simultaneously, Satoru's hands guided you into a faster grind. Smearing your wetness all over Sukuna's tanned skin and spilling you desperate whimpers.
"Yeah, but you're about to cum for one, aren't you?"
Sukuna gruffed. A low grunt that rumbled into your heat-surging core. You stammered in your bucks as two massive, hot hands clawed up and cupped your breasts. Squeezing their jiggles until you flicked your head back from the dual stimulation.
"Y-You— shut u— ah!"
His tongue cut your complaints short again. This time shoved into your slit and wriggling until he found exactly which darling, devastating spot to curl into. Prodding and licking and grinning into it as you spasmed with a sob.
Helpless. You were helpless. White clouding your vision. Sweat prickling your forehead. You squirmed and ground down into his merciless maw as it made of show of messing up your poor pussy.
Seemed Satoru wanted in on the fun. He mouthed on your shoulder and slithered a hand between your wobbling thighs. Stroking your throbbing clit until it shot spasms through through clenching body.
"F-Fuck, fuck I ca— I can't," you croaked.
"Course you can. Cum for a curse." Sukuna crooned.
And fuck. Suddenly you hated yourself more than both of them combined. Your squelching walls clenched on the relentless, thrusting tongue and your head tossed back. Your orgasm rearing into an intense wave of ruin and ragged bliss as you finally— finally came.
Splattering all over a tongue at last. Perhaps not Satoru's— but you didn't care. Not as your vision blurred and you pitifully rocked into the pleasure bursts.
Tears trickled down your face as cum leaked from your throbbing, gooey centre. Your sniffled sob smothered into kisses as you were drawn back into those cold, comforting arms.
"Sssh. Did so good. You did so so good baby." Satoru cooed, hands laving affection all over your heated skin.
He held you as he always did. How your heart yearned for him to all of those lonely nights. Your mind wrecked with heat fractured into reality of how much you missed him.
Your body melted into his. Muscles finally easing into the assurance and promise of his hold. Once broken or not. His hands smoothed over your thighs, squeezed on your waist and cupped your breasts in a tender massage.
Your eyes fluttered. Heart slowed.
"Isn't she sweet?"
Satoru murmured, probably to the huffing Sukuna. You didn't need to see his eye roll to feel it,
"Guess so."
"Mhhm?"
Or Satoru's grin in the air.
You refocused purely to see the look on Sukuna's face. But to your surprise no deadpan awaited. Only a deep, dark desire brooding in his maroon stare.
"Wanna see how she could ever satisfy you."
He drawled. His mockery tethered something else at the end. Could that be mildness? You'd only ever considered him malicious, but his dilated pupils showed otherwise. You followed his trailing gaze down your curves to Satoru's worshipping hands.
And somehow? His stare mimicked those hands.
Satoru paused on your shoulder. Then nodded, his white strands tickling your jaw as he encased you within his caressing chills. Engulfed in his larger body.
Kisses curved up your neck, carrying whispering praises that soaked into your veins and ran your blood hot. Hot like a familiar prodding slotted between your thighs.
Your breath hitched. His thinned.
"Remember this, sweetheart?"
He chuckled when your hips rolled into his dick, like it was their god-given purpose. Your body always danced to his rhythm. Even when he'd long soured the melody.
His tip circled your drooling slit, dragging your slick all over. And for a moment, a devastating moment— you almost stopped him. Almost chickened out and went back to biting his hand.
But then your body caved.
Muscles eased, cunt clenching, crying, as he easily pressed in. Kissing your gummy walls in an overdue welcome home and pushing into you inch by agonising inch.
Your bodies synched a shudder. Satoru's head limped into your shoulder blades, fervently whispering your name like it would save him from your squeezing, suffocatingly sweet pussy.
"Fuck," he clung to your waist. "So she did miss me."
You fluttered around his base. Messing up his balls and clenching around his cervix-kissing tip as he stretched you open. Memories in every vein pulse and inch throb. Reminding. Reclaiming.
He faltered with his breath. Dug his teeth on your shoulder. Stabilised. Then finally mustered a filthy grind deep within your warmth. Sending you scrambling.
"Toru— ah." A hand fell to his wrist while the other shot into his hair. He mewled and forced himself to focus on his languid pumps as he searched for a rhythm.
"God," you heaved. "It's soo— so. . ."
"So what? So big? Awww, you can take it can't you?"
He crooned, a sharp grin smooching your ear while a large, guiding hand dropped to yours. Soon you were palming over the swollen bulge he left at the base of your tummy. Fingers locked with yours as he applied a sickeningly pleasurable pressure that spun your head with heat.
Your already slutty moan surged into a pitched whine as his pumps sped into timed thrusts. Once. Twice. Thrice. Grind— repeat.
Stars burst in your vision. Head tipping back. You missed Sukuna's awed expression. Escaped the rustle of robes. The wet, tempered slaps and sloshes served as the perfect distraction.
Despite your limp form, your hips still tried. Pitifully, struggling, but an attempt nevertheless. They humped back into Satoru's thrusts. Whose grin turned evil as he snatched your waist and shmacked! up into your cervix. Bucking, grinding into the tight ring of muscle until it spasmed with your sobbing cunt.
"Yeah that's it baby. That's it. Fuck me back." He grunted through his shallow rocks.
Well on his course of cruelty and feral care, a hand slithered down. His thumb slotted between your folds and fondled your clit into a twitching mess. Spurring on your need so that you mindlessly rocked into him. Creaking the bed in your search for more. In your surge of greed.
Your cunt squeezed with your throat.
His other hand shot up. Clamped on your neck and choking out the prettiest of noises. Both from your mouth and squelching pussy as his hips rushed ruthlessly. Fucking up in a blur of ragged roughness that threw your spine into an arch and spluttered your drool.
"Hngh! Fuck toru— toru there, right there."
"Thought I forgot how you liked it, pretty?" He laughed on your lobe. Grunted and twisted you to face him. "How you like getting fucked hard? Getting your pretty pussy roughed-up?"
Knuckles trapped your clit and pinched. You keened. Losing all muscle movement and limping into your old position as his pretty little doll. Stretched out and spilling all over his cock that rammed persistently. Like he could fuck out every ounce of grief and loathing thought from your pretty little head.
He sure as hell might've. In your glazed eyes and messy mind there was only one thing— him. Him. Pounding into you again and again and ringing the repeat through your blistering mind— Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.
He joined your whines. Face falling into your shoulder as you tugged on his hair and held onto his hand for dear life. Completely losing yourselves to the reality that you were being watched by Sukuna's reverent stare. Utterly missing the way he stroked his bulge and shuddered with every mixture of moans.
Satoru slurred and you swore tears dripped onto your shoulder.
"Fuck, I love you so much."
"I love you."
You smushed your sob into his mouth as you jerked him in by the hair. Lips slamming, hands clambering as his thrusts turned sloppy, feral, and your body melted into putty.
The spasms came hot. Terrible and tender. Cum splashing your thighs while his thick seed frothed you full. Shattering you both into a puddle of wanton splutters and reckless abandon.
Your mouths twisted into a mess of tongue and teeth. A wrest of hate and love. Old and rekindled. Your quiet cries induced his tears. Satoru clambered onto you. As if letting go for even a second would be a greater sin than the first time.
When he finally parted, the saliva strung. Tears merged and your lips quivered. But he brushed them away— whispering a gentle apology you're not even sure voiced.
Your heart ached. Healed. And he cradled you close. So devastatingly close until you simmered into the fragile reality that you were finally, finally in one another's arms again.
The dust settled when Satoru pressed a kiss to your temple, tracing it down and chuckling into your cheek. Only then did you remember you had an audience.
Four beady eyes and— were you seeing wrong or were those two bulges?
"Enjoyed the show?" Satoru mused. Sukuna huffed again. You wondered if that's the only way he knew how to communicate. He looked away as Satoru slowly slipped out.
His hands cupped your hips and massaged on your aches, then guided you over before you could blink. "You know. . . she could be good for you too."
"Satoru—"
"Toru—"
Words die on your tongues. Sukuna and you merged in a moan. His deeper, yours pitched, as Satoru dragged your soaking cunt over the— yes, two bulges.
A new set of hands joined your thighs. Dwarfing Satoru's as they squeezed on your plush and firmed you down. To your surprise, you squirmed. Not away, but onto him. Another shared moan.
Murky maroons locked with yours. All spite and jealousy between the both of you faded into a thick, sultry heat. For a moment you blinked, hesitated, until he broke stare and looked back to Satoru.
"Only if I can have you too."
"Ooo, greedy."
Satoru snickered but crawled closer. All you remembered was the contrast of their touch. Icy fire and hot frost seeping into your spasming nerves. Blurs of stripped robes and stinging stretches.
One moment you were staring down Sukuna's double dicks and thinking poor Satoru— the next, you were stuffed full of one of them. With 'poor Satoru' squirming behind you and whining with you as he struggled around the second dick.
How the hell does he take this thing?
You're huffing. Gasping. Your cunt could barely handle Satoru— and if he was big? Sukuna was fucking monstrous. Snug in every nook and cranny, pressed into every nerve and thrumming so many veins into your gummy wetness that you felt like you'd lost your damn mind.
Forget poor Satoru. Poor you and your pussy that clenched for dear life as you gulped down air like you were searching for a miracle.
You whined, then whimpered. Satoru's hands slipped around you with the aim to ease. Rubbing circles on your clit and squeezing your tit.
"Ssshh baby," as if he was doing any better. "It's okay. 's okay. Know he's so. . . fuckin' big," he croaked and limped his head onto your back. You both crumbled as Sukuna rolled his hips in a hefty grind.
You felt him so deep in cunt, in your stomach, everywhere.
Hot hands replaced the cold palm on your breast. Sukuna's upper arms reached to cup your tits and squeezed them into his finger gaps while the lower set circled Satoru's hips. Guiding you both into his slow, sinister rhythm.
You caught his grin and hated how your tummy fluttered at it. "Does she even know how to ride?" He taunted, eyeing your struggling pussy that spluttered and soaked his thighs.
Fucker. Just when you're getting used to him.
With a scoff and surged spite, your hands shot to his wrists and dug your nails into his markings. He grunted. Grinned wider. As you glared and leveraged your hips into a bounce. Clumsy one second, then cruel the next.
"This— hah— good 'nough for you?" It was your turn to grin as he groaned.
His hips bucked up hard. Frantically chasing your confidence with curses and moans spilling from his damned lips. Consequently, this meant Satoru was hurled into the rhythm too. Yelps and whines shattered through him as he clambered on your waist and collapsed onto your back.
His hips meshed into your ass as he desperately attempted to grind down and steady himself. "Wait, wait waaitt— 'm still getting used to it, fuck!"
Your eyes glinted with Sukuna's at the splutters. Your gazes met amidst the heated pleasure and wet shmacks! of skin.
"Pathetic, isn't he?" Sukuna crooned.
You crumbled, but cooed. "But so pretty."
Fingers delved back into Satoru's hair and tugged him in. His chin knocked onto your shoulder and whines spilled as his nails dug.
"When I— hah— said I wanted you to get along I didn't mean bully me."
His retribution came in a clit pinch. You jerked and spluttered with him as the last threads of Sukuna's patience tore. Hips smacking up wildly so that he fucked you both onto pulsing, messy cocks. Eager to send your eyes rolling back as he spurred from the suffocating tightness.
A cacophony of moans, whines and cries brimmed the chamber. A slutty staccato as you both crumbled into the streams of blazing bliss. Collapsed into one another and clinging. Satoru squeezed your waist. You clung to his hair. Pulling him into drooling kisses as your minds puddled into the mess soaking Sukuna through.
"Fuck," Satoru rasped, his cock humping on your ass as a result of the relentless slams. "Gonna— cum, 'm gonna cum again. Please."
"Already? Slut."
Sukuna's sneer paired with his hand dropping from Satoru's hip to his pulsing dick. Smacking it onto your jiggling ass before pumping it into a twitching, spasming mess.
Poor Satoru. He gasped for dear life. Hands shaking on your thighs as he returned the favour to you. Dropping to your clit and rubbing in-time with Sukuna's jerking palm.
Your keens merged in a pathetic plea.
"Torruuu, not— n-not fair, I can't." Your croaks matched your stuttered bounces. Slick and drool webbing all over. Mixing with sweat and smearing over your skins. The relentless hump on your cervix sent your teary eyes rolling back— and you're certain Satoru's mimicking. If those slutty, sloppy moans were anything to go off of.
Still, he managed to laugh in your ear. Breathless. Delirious. "No way in. . . fuck. Hell am I cummin' before you."
Oh you tried to hold on. Tried to cling to whatever bits of your sanity remained. But your vision had went white. Your tummy twisted and your mind reeled as pleasure battered through your squeezing pussy. Sick, sweet, saving pleasure that spilled your spit and sticky cum.
Your orgasm tore through you in a squelching squirt. A muck of brokenly bucking hips and croaking cries. Dizzy. You were dizzy. Hazed, hot and heavy-limbed as the soaking slaps reached a piercing ring through the room. Followed by Sukuna's haughty laughter.
"Yeah, slut up my cock. Said you wouldn't enjoy a curse huh? Now you're cumming on his cock."
"Sh-Shuutt uppp."
You sobbed. And in a last effort of pride collapsed into the King of Curses. Consuming him for a change. With your mouths clashing, teeth clattering and tongues clambering. You swore that he rumbled a moan into your wet lips.
A pitched whine ripped through the air.
Seemed that's all Satoru needed to burst all over your ass. Torrid and trembling as he bucked a few more times for pathetic measure— before he too collapsed.
You whimpers vibrated into each other. Synching and sobbing as Sukuna's dicks abruptly rammed up. Once. Twice. Then twitched and spilled into you both with frothing, bubbling cum. Fuck. It burned so beautifully.
Pants heaved through the air thick with sweat and sex. The musk of cum and mixing perfumes wrapped around the three of you like a blanket. Sukuna's four sets split between the two of you. The first pair hooked on your shoulders while the second cradled Satoru.
The heat faded into a tender, trembled whisper. A stained memory in the confines of this room. Slicked into the bed and smeared into your hearts.
Silence.
"I want a kiss tooo. . . "
Smiles.
Satoru's complaints pressed kisses into your shoulders. Only then did you realise how your lips hadn't quite left Sukuna's lips. You parted. Shared his blinks. Then turned to smooch the pouting Satoru.
He hummed his happiness. Parting only to get Sukuna in on the action as they shared a kiss over your shoulder.
For the first time this entire accursed night, you didn't see green.
Satoru returned to snuggling on your shoulder blades and released a heavy sigh. His weight melted into your back. Another beat of silence.
"Does this mean you'll stay forever?"
His voice was impossibly small. Frighteningly soft. Strumming an aching chord in your soul that whispered, pleaded with you to be selfish. To be happy.
Just this once.
You shifted your stare and noticed Sukuna's looking up at you. No glares nor scowls. But and uncharacteristic patience and— terrifying gentleness. In that devastating moment it clicked for you.
You and Sukuna weren't so different after all.
All you wanted was the best for Satoru.
In the ease of silence, you contemplated. Then chose. Softening a smile as your head rested on a warm shoulder. Those arms and hands that knew only bloodshed held you both in a beautiful surrender. Squeezing.
Synopsis: In which reader gets hit with an attack from a curse born from human perversion.
The attack ups her libido to inhuman levels until she satisfies herself with the first person she encounters after.
And it had to be Gojo.
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
Content tags/warning: softdom!gojo, sub!reader, pure smut, very little plot, reader is a sorcerer, dubcon (reader isn’t necessarily in her right mind), aphrodisiac use, breeding, PETNAMES (if that icks you out.. maybe skip this one lol) gojo is a tease, unprotected sex (wrap it up), filthy mouths, dumbification, heat- adjacent symptoms, pet names, don’t worry the strongest can handle this
Authors notes: filthy lil drabble lol. not proofread bc im a whore. ps. i haven’t written smut in a long time so im a little rusty. this is more of a warm up for other works coming soon
MINORS DO NOT CONTINUE
————————————————————————————
It was just a grade 2. Nothing she couldn’t handle.
She accepted the mission without even thinking, not even bothering to read the mission file.
All she needed to know was the coordinates.
Big mistake.
Truthfully, it was easy to exorcise. It hardly had any physical attacks at all.
It threw a single attack- a wall of cursed energy. She dodged it without care.
At least she thought she did.
She countered with a single attack of her own- and the job was done.
She wiped her hands, proud of a job well done. She took out her phones to notify the higher ups of a successful mission.
Then a familiar cursed signature warps in behind her- she doesn’t bother to turn right away, already fully aware of who it was.
It’s hard not to recognize Limitless.
“Yes, sir. It’s been neutralized. No remaining curses left in the area. Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Click.
She puts her hand on her hip, admiring her work.
“That was quick.”
“Duh. It was well below my grade. Not even sure why they decided to send me here in the first place- one of the students probably could have handled it fine.”
“I’m not so sure.”
She glances over her shoulder nonchalantly, intending to ask him what he meant by that.
Thump.
The world blurs for a second. Heat pools to her core immediately as she laid eyes on him.
Suddenly, she’s a stuttering mess. Nonchalant attitude fading away. Cursed enough flaring, hot. face flushed. eyes focusing and unfocusing. Heart beat pounding in her ears, against her ribs… down her thighs.
What is this..?!
She looks around, thoroughly confused. Yes, everyone knew Gojo Satoru was unfairly hot. But you had worked with him hundreds of times before- hell, you two graduated together.
Sure, she had some less-than-professional thoughts about him before but like… who hasn’t?!
He’s Gojo Satoru.
But it was never like this.
This caused an ache she couldn’t relieve. This caused her muscles to tighten to just below the point of cramps. This caused waves of heat coursing through her veins, down to her very soul, disrupting the usually calm flow of her cursed energy.
She looks down and is mortified by the sight of her nipples hardening and poking through her shirt. On full display. She throws an arm over them.
“_____… everything okay..?”
His voice was like a siren to her- she found herself holding back on lunging at him right there in the alley.
“I-I..”
She takes a short breath, trying desperately to compose herself.
“I’m just tired, I think, I’m just.. hnngh-“ The stuttering mess is interrupted by a whine she had no idea she was holding back. She’s mortified at the sound.
His head tilts to the side, obviously using his Six Eyes to analyze her behavior.
Embarrassment strikes her.
“I h-have to go!” With that she stumbles, albeit quickly, away from him. Knees betray her, cursed energy surging as if in protest of leaving his presence.
Just let him help you.
Just let him have you.
You always wanted it anyways.
Go back to him.
She finds her way back to her home, slamming the door behind her.
Her body is feverish. She wonders is cold shower would hel-
Don’t think about anything else.
Go back to him.
Go back to him.
Go back-
A sound strikes her ears- a light knock at her door that was louder to her than it should have been. Her senses are on fire.
She didn’t even realize she had been hunched over, until she stands-
-And a gush runs down her thighs.
“_____, I know you’re in there. Let me in, okay?”
Him.
No fucking way.
Open the door.
Absolutely not.
Let him in.
Like hell that’s happening.
You need him.
Tears of pure frustration gather in her eyes. His voice, uncharacteristically gentle, calls out again.
“It’s okay, _____. It’s fine. But you need to let me in.”
Like reacting to a beckoning, her hand wraps around the doorknob and pulls it open- revealing the last man in the world she wanted here. No, that’s not true.
She did want him here, desperately.
That was the real problem.
“You.. should leave… Gojo.”
She croaks out. He simply nudges the door open further and steps in, close enough that his scent fills her nose.
A gasp. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“It’s not going to go away.”
She stares at his feet, not able to bring herself to look directly at him.
“What are you..”
“I can see everything, remember?”
Beside his foot a black cloth falls to the floor. His blindfold.
No. No no no.
He’s analyzing her.
“I suspected it from the beginning, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”
Her breathing picks up.
This is so humiliating.
“______,.. you’ve gotta let me help you, okay?”
His hand grazes her shoulder and it feels like pure heat. She flinches from the contact.
She shakes her head, hair covering her face. She hopes it’ll conceal that last bit of dignity she has.
He shouldn’t have to do this.
It’s not his responsibility.
She can take care of it.
She’ll push through.
The curse will weaken and break eventually. With enough willpower, she won’t have to involve him.
“You don’t understand. This thing will eat you alive, _____. It’s chipping away at your cursed energy- you’ll lose your mind if you try to wait this out.”
The tears fall. She feels so guilty.
But she needs him so intensely. Ravenously.
“Please… don’t look at me.”
She despises the way her voice sounds. Small. Trembling.
His hand rests on her head, stroking her hair in the most tantalizing way. Another wave of heat hits her.
“It’s okay, _____.”
Jesus. Has his voice always been this deep.. this sultry? There’s no way.
A small wave of panic hits. She swats his hand away, retreating backwards until she trips on herself.
Even then, she scoots and crawls away. How pathetic she must look.
“_______.” He calls.
“______, stop.”
She freezes. It was a command.
His foot steps approach, then he’s kneeling in front of her.
“Look at me.” His tone is far too serious.
Slowly, she obeys.
He sees her face full on for the first time since this started.
Face wet with tears and sweat. Baby hairs clinging to the beads of moisture at her hairline.
Face contorted in what looks like pain… or maybe frustration. Lip twitching. Face flushed.
“Damn. It got you good, huh?”
He lets out a huff, something akin to amusement, as he gently grabs her chin and turns her head slightly from side to side, inspecting her thoroughly without his blindfold.
She still can’t bring herself to look in his eyes.
She feels like he’d see right into her soul if she did. And… she possibly wouldn’t be able to hold herself back anymore if she made eye contact.
“It hurts…” She whines, not bothering to check her tone anymore. This whole thing has thoroughly exhausted her.
“I know, baby.” His thumb grazes her bottom lip.
“Toru’s gonna make it go away, okay?”
He leans in, face just inches away.
“I’m gonna make you feel better. But you gotta trust me, okay..?”
Reluctantly, she nods. He chuckles.
“Use your words, sweetness. Gotta hear you say it for me.”
“P..please make it go away, ‘Toru.”
“You got it, princess.”
—-
Foreplay felt like pure torture.
Every touch felt like lightning, felt like he was teasing her.
She was bare, laid out before him like a meal begging to be devoured.
“Please.. c-can’t wait anymore, Satoru…” She sobs , reaching out for him in the most deliciously needy way.
He had already stripped himself of his top, allowing her to rake her fingers down her chest and torso as she pleased.
Her hands slide down to the buckle of his belt, tugging pathetically at it.
“Off.”
Tug.
“Please.”
He lets out an amused huff through his nose.
“So fuckin’ cute.”
He obliged, not making her do the tantalizing work while she barely made any fine motor function.
The belt falls to the floor with a cling.
He reaches for his zipper next, pulling down quickly so that the sound cuts through the air- then his undoes the button.
It’s all far too slow for her- it felt like everything was moving in half speed.
“Need you.”
She bucks her hips at him, rubbing her aching core shamelessly against his lower abdomen. She doesn’t even care that it left a glistening wet spot.
“I know, baby. Be patient for me, yeah? I promise it’ll be worth it.”
He captures her lips in a much needed kiss, pinning her hips down and grinding against her heat. His pants had slid down with gravity, only leaving the thin fabric of his briefs between them.
The only thing in the way of their bodies connecting in the way she so desperately needed was cloth. She had half a mind to tear the damn things off.
Her mind goes hazy again with another grind of his hips.
He’s already fully erected.
Fuck. He’s huge.
The heat of it resting against her own.
Another grind. It grazes her clit.
Her back arches off the bed before she had time to even process. A moan erupts from her.
“Oh… my gooooood.” Her hands grip his hips, trying to deepen the movement and gain more tension.
“Uh uh, princess. Hands up. Let me take care of you.”
“Then take care of me already.” She half-sobs-half-scolds. But still, she obeys, putting her hands above her head and allowing one of his hands to pin them both down.
“Not yet.” His lips find her jaw, then her neck, trailing down to her tits.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” He experimentally flicks his tongue over a pebbled nipple, “Need to savor you.”
He latches, winning a groan from her.
He’d already marked her neck and chest with bites and hickies.
All of it was simply too much for her already frying brain.
But that’s exactly what he wants.
He wants to scramble her brain until all she can think about is him, her need for him. He wants her stupid, begging for just a little more.
He wants to leave his mark physically and mentally.
He wants to embed himself into the deepest parts of her mind just like she had been in his for all these years.
Tears start flowing again as she sobs in utter frustration. Her skin was on fire, every part of her demanding to feel him.
“Hurts, ‘Toru~” She tries to rut her hips again but one of his hands still has a grip.
A lewd pop comes from the disconnect of his lips from her now swollen nipple.
“Aw, pretty girl. It aches, doesn’t it?”
She nods her head frantically, trying to gain even a smidge of sympathy.
“Being mean, Toru…” She whines.
“Poor thing~”
“Please touch me there.”
“Here?” The hand on her hip slides up to her neglected tit, voice too innocent while he feigns ignorance. She shakes her head.
“Here?” The same hand reaches around and kneels the flesh of her ass. His smirk has no softness to it- he knows exactly what he’s doing.
She shakes her head again, this time letting out another sob.
“Ohhh… You must mean… right-“
His fingers have zero difficulty, finding the clit immediately, gazing against it in light, tormenting little shapes.
“-here.”
It wins another slutty moan.
His fingers dip down to gather the slick gathered at her entrance. He hisses under his breath.
“S‘fuckin wet. This all really from that curse, baby? Tell the truth.”
She shakes her head.
“S’all you, Toru~~ All for you.”
A low growl escapes him and for the first time, it looks like he’s loosing control. Eyes deepened into a dark blue that was a stark contrast to the usual sky blue.
Like the ocean in a storm.
“Gonna fuck you so good. So good. Gonna be such a dumb lil slut. Need to be filled up with your Toru, huh?”
Finally, rids himself of the briefs.
Her mouth waters instantly at the sight.
He’s glorious.
Thick. Veins lining every inch. He’s throbbing, precum already beading at the angry red tip.
It thuds against her lower belly. It’s fucking heavy. And hot.
“O-oh fuck, baby, please- can’t wait any more- need you to fill me up, baby. it hurts, ‘Toru, please make it stop-“ She rambles and begs him, any and all dignity is dead and buried. She needs the relief that only he can grant her and she needs it now- lest she burst into flames, it felt like.
His head drops down to her chest at the sweet sounds, letting them go straight to his cock.
He doesn’t bother with fingers, knowing full well she was ready for him.
Her legs widen even further, subconsciously inviting him into her most intimate area
He pumps himself a couple times then he taps the tip against her clit.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then she feels it. The round head of him poking at her squelching entrance.
“Yer all mine.”
He dives in, hissing at the tightness of her fluttering walls.
She lets out sound that she didn’t even know she could make. Something between a moan, a sob and a scream.
He tries- he really does- to take it slow. But gentleness is simply not in the cards today.
“All mine.”
Her fingers twitch, still bound by one of his hands above her head.
“Wanna touch you.” She mumbles dumbly.
He obliges, allowing her hands to run through his hair and down the ridge of his back.
He begins to move when her cunt twitches around him.
The heat is almost overwhelming, sucking him in perfectly.
“Fuckin’ perfect. Knew you were made for me.” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.
“Perfect lil whore.”
“Such a greedy pussy. Listen to her,” The lewd sounds coming from where they’re both connected is almost enough to push her over the edge.
“She’s fuckin’ cryin’ f’me.”
The head of his cock curls delectably against the sensitive spongy spot inside her. The coil starts to wind up in her belly.
“So full, Toru~ S-so deep..”
Her legs clamped around him, pulling him even closer.
He lets out a series of grunts and growls her ear, like he’s claiming a prize he’s been waiting for.
She rambles incoherently, something about how much she’s loved his cock, how good it felt, how much she wanted him to fuck her forever.
Each little sound drove him closer and closer to insanity. Her
The juices ruin the sheet of her bed, flowing down the curve of her ass.
His pace becomes absolutely brutal, kissing her cervix with every thrust.
“F-fuck, I’m gonna-“
“Inside, Satoru. Wanna feel it. Fill me up. Pussy’s all yours. All yours.”
They both let out a final animalistic sound before they reach the high together. He fucks her right through it, forcing the streams of him cum deeper and deeper, wanting it to serve as a claim.
It’s immediate relief for her. Her fever breaks, her eyes are able to focus again.
She feels the curse break away from her soul and dissipate into the atmosphere.
They lie there, breathing hard. Muscles trembling. His cock stays buried in her, not wanting anything’s to come out.
She doesn’t even try to gain back her self respect.
“K..kiss..”
She mumbles, gently lifting his head from the crook of her neck. Her eyes, glassy and round, gaze up at him- high still lingering.
Content tags: Gojo x reader, Jujutsu Kaisen x reader, jjk x reader, sfw, slow burn, no use of y/n, Gojo is kinda ooc but whatever, readers got some issues, reader has a hard time processing trauma, reader hardened by sorcerer life, trauma, angst, mutual pining, gojo and reader being bad at feelings
(Pt 5)
Chapter 4
Crossfire
————————————————————————————
Night had settled thick and heavy over Tokyo Jujutsu High.
The training grounds were empty. Wind dragged softly through the trees, carrying the faint metallic scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen.
______ stood in the center of the field. Still.
Across from her, Gojo rolled his shoulders slowly. He had already removed the blindfold.
The pale glow of the Six Eyes shimmered faintly in the darkness. His gaze studied her. Too carefully.
She noticed.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like a problem to solve.”
His mouth curved.
“You are a problem.”
“Then solve it somewhere else.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like looking at you.”
She exhaled sharply, annoyed.
“Tired of this game, Gojo.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“What game?”
“The one where you pretend you suddenly care.”
His grin softened, but didn’t disappear.
“What if I do?”
“You don’t.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Silence drifted across the field. The wind picked up. Gojo studied her posture. The tension in her shoulders. The quiet exhaustion hiding behind the sharpness of her voice.
Then he said the one thing he had been thinking all week.
“You shouldn’t have gone on half those missions.”
The reaction was immediate. Her eyes hardened.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You think you understand how assignments work overseas?”
“I understand strategy.”
She scoffed.
“You weren’t there, you wouldn’t get it.”
“Exactly my point.”
The words slipped out before he could soften them.
“You were too emotionally invested to be operating out there.”
The air went still. For a moment she didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.
Then she asked quietly:
“What did you say?”
Gojo knew immediately. Too far.
But he didn’t step back. He always did have a problem with boundaries.
“You heard me.”
Her cursed energy shifted. Sharp. Cold.
“You think I was weak.”
“I think you let emotions dictate your decisions.”
“You read a file.”
“I read five years of disaster reports.”
“Words on paper. Don’t stand there and try to act like you know what I went through.”
“You got people killed.”
A gasp under her breath. The words landed like a gunshot. Silence exploded across the training ground. Her face went completely still.
Something in her eyes cracked open.
“You don’t get to say that.”
Gojo crossed his arms.
“Why not?”
“Because. you. weren’t. there.”
Her voice rose slightly. For the first time since their reunion.
“You think you’re the only one who knows how to make hard choices?”
“I know how to separate feelings from strategy.”
“Oh really?” A scoff slips through her lips.
“Yes.”
She laughed. And the sound was sharp enough to slice skin.
“That’s so, so funny.”
“Why?”
“Because the last time you got emotionally involved with someone-”
She stopped. Just for a second. A hesitation. A flicker of restraint. Then she said it anyway.
“-you let Suguru walk away.”
The world went quiet.
The wind stopped. The trees stilled. Even the air felt heavy. Gojo didn’t move. But something in his gaze changed instantly.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Very few people were bold enough to utter that name around Gojo.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her smile sharpened.
“Oh, I don’t?”
“No.”
“You lost your best friend.”
The words came out soft. Almost thoughtful.
“And then couldn’t stop him from forming his murderous little cult because you cared so much. And now you’re lecturing me about emotional discipline?”
Gojo’s cursed energy flickered. Violently.
“You should stop.”
“Why?”
Her voice cut like glass.
“Hit a nerve? You’re a hypocrite.”
He took a step forward, small but enough to be intimidating.
“Enough.”
“You wanted to play a game, so let’s play. You think I’m weak because I cared about civilians. About children.”
Another step, this time from her. Her eyes locked onto his. Ruthless.
“You’re just angry that someone you loved so much chose something else over you. He left you when you thought you were un-leavable. And that’s why you’re projecting this shit on to me, isn’t it? Because you see yourself in my dead partners? Or.. maybe you see Suguru in me.”
She pauses, letting the tension build in the air.
“Either way, your abandonment issues are not my problem, Gojo.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Because she had crossed the line.
But it all added up too perfectly. He got abandoned. Twice. And, deep down, she thinks he’s partially taking out his anger towards Suguru on her- because she’s here now. He isn’t.
Maybe… if Suguru were the one to have come back, Gojo would be taking out his anger towards you on him, too.
Gojo’s smile disappeared completely. When he spoke again his voice was very quiet.
“That’s the route you wanna take?”
Her chin lifted slightly, encouraging him to let it out.
“Go ahead.”
So he did.
“You know why you shouldn’t have been on those missions?”
She waited. Unflinching.
“You get attached. Your emotions always win. You need a babysitter on the field. It’s pathetic.”
Her breathing stopped. Just for a second. Gojo saw it. But he kept going Because the anger in his chest had finally ignited.
“Matsuba Ichigo died because you couldn’t let a civilian die for the greater good.”
“She was p-“
“Pregnant. Yeah, I know. My point exactly.”
He continued, waving her off.
“Shimada Hiroko died because you risked the entire mission to save a few kids. You consistently put your teammates in danger. You know what that means?”
She didn’t answer. His voice dropped lower.
“It means all that sweetness you clung to back then didn’t save anyone. And you’re a terrible partner, even worse sorcerer.”
The final blow landed without hesitation.
“You weren’t too kind.”
A beat of silence.
“You were just too weak. You should have never been a sorcerer. You’re nothing but a liability to everyone around you.”
Something shattered. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a small crack in the quiet. Her cursed energy flickered violently for a split second.
Then vanished.
Completely.
Gojo stood frozen. The adrenaline drained from his chest almost instantly. Because now that the anger had burned away…
He heard what he had said. He ran a hand through his hair.
“You think I didn’t know that already..?” Her voice came out broken, strained. “Why do you think I stopped accepting new partners? Why do you think I’ve only gone on solo missions for the last year? I know I’m not strong enough-“
She paused, looked at him as if there so much more to say. Then she shook her head and turned away, starting toward the exit.
“______.”
She didn’t stop.
“Wait.”
“Don’t.” Her voice was more pitiful than she would have liked.
He stepped forward anyway.
“Listen.”
She spun around. And the look in her eyes made his stomach drop. Because they weren’t angry.
They were empty.
“You win, Gojo. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“That’s not-”
“You got your reaction.”
Her smile was thin. Hollow.
“Congratulations. Now leave me alone.”
Then she turned again. And this time she didn’t stop walking. The training field swallowed her footsteps, leaving Gojo alone in the dark.
Wind rustled through the trees again. The rain finally started falling.
Gojo stood there for a long time. Hands in his pockets. Head tilted toward the empty gate she had disappeared through.
Then he muttered quietly to himself:
“…damn.”
-
She didn’t realize how fast she was walking until she reached the edge of the forest path.
Gravel crunched sharply beneath her boots.
Too loud.
Too fast.
The training grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High faded behind her, swallowed by trees and darkness.
Wind pushed through the branches above. Rain started falling harder. Cold drops striking the back of her neck. She kept walking. Her breathing was steady.
Deliberate.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Control it.
Control it.
Control-
Her chest tightened suddenly. Sharp. Unexpected.
She stopped.
The path blurred slightly. For a second she didn’t understand why. Then something hot slid down her cheek.
She froze.
Another drop followed.
Then another.
Her hand lifted slowly to her face.
Wet.
Warm.
She stared at the moisture on her fingers like it belonged to someone else.
“…what?”
The word barely escaped her throat. Her heart began pounding harder. Her breathing lost its rhythm.
No.
No, no, no.
She wiped her cheek quickly. Then again.
But the tears kept coming, relentlessly.
Her vision blurred completely. She stumbled forward another few steps before stopping beside a tree. Her hand slammed against the rough bark. Her shoulders trembled once.
A strangled sound slipped out of her throat before she could stop it.
“…damn it.”
The words broke. Her head bowed. Hair falling forward to hide her face. Rain soaked through the strands instantly. But the tears didn’t stop.
And that scared her more than anything. Because she hadn’t cried in years.
Years.
The last time had been somewhere in the ruins of a temple in Turkey. Blood everywhere. Three teammates dead.
A curse screaming as she tore it apart with her bare hands.
Even then she hadn’t cried like this. Back then the grief had been dull.
Heavy.
Manageable.
But this…
This was sharp. Burning.
Her chest tightened again. Gojo’s voice echoed in her mind.
You weren’t too kind.
Her fingers curled into fists.
You were just too weak.
Something twisted violently inside her ribs. Her breath hitched. Another tear slipped down her face.
“Shut up,” she whispered hoarsely.
But the memory wouldn’t stop.
Five years ago.
A training hall. A tall boy with white hair laughing as he tapped her forehead.
You’re too sweet.
Her jaw clenched.
That girl felt like a stranger now. Soft hands. Gentle smiles. Worried eyes.
She had buried that person long ago, piece by piece.
After Russia.
After Brazil.
After the massacre in Istanbul.
Each loss had carved something away. Until the sweetness was gone. Until she became sharp enough to survive.
And for years…
No one had managed to reach past that armor.
No one.
Until tonight.
Another tear slid down her cheek. Her breathing shook harder now.
“…damn you.”
The words were meant for him.
For Gojo Satoru.
The only person in years who had managed to dig his hands straight into the wound she kept buried. Not with cursed energy. Not with violence.
Just words.
The realization made something cold settle in her stomach.
Dangerous.
She pressed her forehead against the tree. Eyes squeezed shut. Rain soaked through her clothes. But the cold didn’t reach her. Her mind was replaying the moment again.
And again.
And again.
The quiet cruelty in his voice. The cruelty in her own. The certainty.
You weren’t strong enough to save them.
You weren’t strong enough to stop him.
Her stomach twisted violently. She knew she should have brought that up. But, yet again, her emotions had gotten the best of her. Her fingers dug into the bark. Knuckles white.
Her voice cracked again. Another tear slid down her face. She wiped it away furiously. Anger began creeping into the hollow space inside her chest.
Hot.
Defensive.
Good. Anger was easier. Safer.
Pain meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness got people killed.
She had learned that lesson well.
Her breathing slowly steadied. The trembling in her shoulders faded.
The tears slowed. Then stopped.
Minutes passed beneath the tree. The rain continued falling steadily through the dark forest.
Finally she straightened. Her eyes still burned slightly. But the armor had returned, layer by layer.
Emotion locked away again. Carefully sealed.
She exhaled slowly.
“Stupid.”
The word was directed at herself this time. Letting him get under her skin like that. Letting him see even a fraction of the damage beneath the surface.
Unacceptable.
Her hand slid down from the tree trunk.
Steady now.
Controlled.
But one thought lingered quietly in the back of her mind. A realization that settled like ice.
Gojo was dangerous.
Not because he was the strongest. Not because his cursed energy could level cities.
No.
He was dangerous because he knew her. Because he had known the version of her that existed before everything broke. And that meant he could still see the cracks.
Still reach inside the armor. Still pull something soft out of the ruins.
Her jaw tightened slightly. That could not happen again.
Ever.
She turned back toward the dorm buildings. Walking slower now, more controlled.
By the time the lights of Tokyo Jujutsu High appeared through the trees…
Her face was completely calm again. No trace of tears. No trace of weakness.
Only the cold composure she had spent five years perfecting. But far behind her, deep in the forest path…
Rain continued falling onto the ground where she had stood.
Washing away the evidence of the first tears she had shed in years.
-
Meanwhile, across campus, Gojo was just beginning to realize something terrible.
Because the silence she left behind didn’t feel like victory. It felt like he had just shattered something fragile.
Something he hadn’t even known he wanted to protect.
