Maë 💋

Even if your cursed energy is hidden, Satoru is long used to following clues and finding the path one way or another. By smell, by eyes, by deduction. He’s smart, insanely smart. He’s maybe not Sherlock Holmes, nor James Moriarty, but not far from it. 

He has no time to lose, and he’ll find you, he swears on his life, he’ll find you.

The moment his hands will fall on your skin, he’ll let them sink in your flesh to grab your bones, guiding his cursed energy to your soul and curse you until you’ll forever be tied to him. Death or not. You’re his bride to the afterlife. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

10:48 AM, Gojo Satoru just found a hidden document, back in the drawers of your apartment, about a second bank account of yours. 

He gets a call from Ijichi, he doesn’t answer. No. No time for this. 

He goes to your landlord, claims to be your fiancé, asks if he can pay in advance the following month's rent. The answers he gets, that you already did the arrangement for the next eight weeks, means everything to Satoru.

You’re trying to fool him, acting like you still live there. But by doing that, it means you still haven't moved out, so you’re currently going to stay at a hotel for some time.

Knowing you, and the money you earn, you don’t have the full capacity to go to another country for months while paying rent in Tokyo.

No. It means you’re still in Japan. And judging by the time, you’re not very far from where he stands.

A dangerous smile draws on his lips, he has a hint.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

The moment you step out of the subway, you check the hour in a panicked gaze. You have another train to take, and you can’t miss it. 

Your suitcase rolls behind you, walking faster, faster. The train station is on the opposite part of the avenue. Not far, really. But why on earth are people already getting disguised and filling the street when it’s still not even noon?! Stupid Halloween!

“Excuse me, I have to pass by- excuse me, let me walk,” you croak out of your mouth in an angered and nervous voice.

You have no time to lose!

Checking the hour, again, on your watch, the minutes are dangerously ticking by. Fuck, fuck, fuck, if it continues like this, you’re not going to catch your train to go the country side in the north!

You have to push people, anxiety eating every one of your breaths. Again, again, they get annoyed, you get pushed back, you go harder, and out, you’re finally out. This time, you run at an inhuman speed, suitcase flying above the ground at each one of your steps.

You rush inside the train station, barely inhaling air, not caring that you’re causing disturbance. Here, the platform! The doors are still open! 

You dash, the beep of the closing echoes. No, no, no! 

It closes, the train leaves.

Without you.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

12:03 AM, Gojo Satoru finds a string, very thin, of your smell in an alley.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

As expected, not everything can go your way. Some steps of your plan are bound to fail. But you don’t have to see it as a total doom, the game is still on.

You could take a taxi, but it will cost you hundreds.

You find your way to the ticket office for another train. Shit, it’s at night! Great, you’re stuck in here for another, minimum, six hours, before finally leaving Tokyo.

Now you have to lay low in hope to not be found. Just in case, you enter a random shop, buy yourself a cheap outfit at the opposite of what you usually wear, and change your clothes.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

1:11 PM, Gojo Satoru finds the train line of the subway you navigated with. Now, he has to know which direction, and which stop you took.

For this, he has to think, and try to dive in your brain, your habits, what your plan is. 

To know the target, he has to become the target. 

This is his design. 

He caresses the strand of your hair.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

It’s a game of cat and mouse. You move all the time, changing directions, tactics, tricks, while he walks, runs, chases each one of your moves.

You’re dying of hunger, exhausted, having to wait for your train swallowed by fear creating a black void in your stomach. You buy, again with cash, some quick sandwich, and eat it inside the farthest part of the park of the city, hidden in between trees, hyper aware of noises and shifts in the air surrounding you while munching.

But you can’t stay here too long. You have to change your hidden spot every hour, at least. The more, the better. There are no places in here that can cover you from Gojo Satoru’s Six Eyes, the least you can do is be in a perpetual run. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

3:24 PM, Gojo Satoru steps out of the subway station. 

Oh, he’s having fun. He’s having terrible fun. It’s been a long time since the bloody taste of imminent danger made him smile. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

With nothing else to do, aside from waiting, you go to buy yourself a new phone. Some shitty one. You can’t afford for more. 

Time flies by, more and more people are getting disguised. Maybe you should buy a mask as well. Even if you know Satoru eventually would recognize you, in the impossible possibility of him finding you back before your train leaves, you know it will at least confuse him slightly to not see your familiar face in a sea of people. 

But he’s busy, so, he’ll only notice that you escaped when he’ll be back to his place at the crack of dawn. Right?

Your paranoia says otherwise. 

You leave to a costume store, checking every few dozens of minutes your watch, in hope that hours will fly even faster. There, you’ll find a mask, a piece of cloth or plastic to hide your face, and maybe, your horror as well. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

5:57 PM, Gojo Satoru roams, like a hunting dog, through the streets of the train stations district. 

He smells it, your presence.

His Six Eyes are screaming, your cursed energy, so faint, almost inexistant, floating here and there.

It’s like you’re everywhere at the same time.

Or, maybe, you’re in a constant move.

“What a smart girl,” he muses, toying with his blindfold in a lazy move. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

You keep thinking about it. Him. Walking around the train station with your disguise, passing by crowds full of Halloween celebraters. 

Is it because you’re obsessed with the idea of being followed? Getting found? Or because you’re, against your will, getting obsessed with him?

Satoru made you crave for his endangered affection, that, in a dark and secret way, you want to be found and witness the insanity of what he’ll do. The lengths he’ll go just for you and you only. 

Is it some egocentric mindset of being seen and wanted by someone so much that makes you like this? Or because it’s specifically him, Gojo Satoru, a man that created a place so big in your heart it’s hard to let go? Or, you’re just turning completely crazy. All three at the same time.

You’re having a terrible gut feeling. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

6:48 PM, Gojo Satoru is getting closer, checking the train's departure, while navigating on your stolen phone, trying to find through some way the possible tickets you could have bought, or a hint on the place you’ll stay.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

You wonder if going to the train station and waiting there is a good idea. What if Satoru came back home and is already after you? Maybe he’s waiting for you to take your train, hidden in the darkness to then pounce and dig his claws in your flesh?

Instead, you decide to stay in very busy crowds, avenues, where people are walking left and right in every direction. You check your watch.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

7:12 PM, Gojo Satoru is getting closer.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You’re sensing something terribly wrong crawling in the back of your head.

Change of plans, you need to leave the streets and go back to the train station.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

7:14 PM, Gojo Satoru smells and senses you, but he still can’t see you from the sea of masked and disguised people. You’re not getting far.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You find back the main avenue that guides you to the train station. People are getting agitated, talking about something happening in Shibuya, like a strange veil. Satoru is surely there, dealing with it.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

7:17 PM Gojo Satoru spotted you.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You feel it, a burning gaze liquidating your skull.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, plain horror sweating down and down your limbs. You can’t move, so suddenly, no, you have to, can’t stay paralyzed. Turn, turn, turn, you have to turn and make sure it’s him.

Slowly, very slowly, your eyes move, then your head.

A dot of white and blue in a forest of strangers, blindfold down, energy radiating off his pores. Satoru is here, barely a few meters away, staring at you, your soul, your sins.

You stop breathing, indescribable fear possessing every nerve of your being. You never have been so afraid in your entire life.

You’re dead, you’re seriously going to die, an alarm of pure survival instinct echoing in your head.

He recognized you even with the mask on.

Run, you need to run!

You don’t wait any more seconds, roughly pushing people away from your way, not caring one bit, because your life is at stake!

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Satoru follows, using his cursed energy to create, like Moses, a path towards you.

Fast, close, getting close.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Your mask falls down, distorted face at the view of everyone. People are surrounding you, too many civilians. He won’t use his cursed energy to catch you, be reckless. He can’t kill innocents, despite all, Gojo Satoru is a good man. That’s what you repeat to yourself.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

His phone is buzzing like crazy, getting too many calls.

Something is off, he senses it, hears it as well. A veil. He can’t ignore it. But you’re right here, barely arms length.

If he had no humanity, he wouldn’t have hesitated in killing anyone around simply to get to you. But he won’t, because despite all, Gojo Satoru is a good man.

Depends with who.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You enter the train station. He’s right behind.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

He’s getting separated by a sea of people rushing to the trains, his eyes don’t leave you for a second. He panics, for once, he does. 

“Y/n, are you seriously going to leave me?!”

“Let me go, Satoru! If you really love me, do this!”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing this!”

For a solid second, he’s thrown back years ago. Hand up, fingers in position, ready to unlash his blue and bring you in death if he can’t have you by his side anymore. Fuck everyone else. Fuck them. There is only you and him, right now.

He’s completely crazy, that’s what the two of you think at this moment, simultaneously.

Both breathing heavily, standing not so far while people cross by without a care.

His eyes are black from the void of his pupils blown wide. You’re drowning. An agonizing second passes.

The moment he’s about to unleash everything, a kid passes in front of him with his parents. 

He can’t, he can’t be like Suguru, not caring about killing kids only for his selfish desire. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. He’ll find another way. He’ll do. Like always. 

He drops his hand. You step back.

It’s not like you can go far as well, because something will eventually bring you back to him one way or another, no matter how long it will take. Something he prepared, just in case, during your stay at his house.

Let’s hope it will bloom.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Gojo Satoru receives another call while he watches you stagger away. He’s still hesitating on what to do.

The moment he answers, it’s a confirmation that he can’t continue his little chase, because something really bad is happening in Shibuya.

He leaves, with a promise of once everything will settle down after Halloween, to find you back.

The longer the wait, the greater the encounter, the greater the release…

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

8:14 PM, echoes of Civilians asking for Gojo Satoru to come are vibrating all around Shibuya.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You’re inside the train. Heart beating in your throat, staring at the flashing lights of the night.

You know the run is not at its end. The chase is just on a short break. But for how long?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

8:31 PM, Gojo Satoru enters the curtain.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

9:23 PM, Gojo Satoru has been sealed.

Without you. For, maybe, eternity. 

Satoru repeats to himself: “the longer the wait, the greater the encounter.”

That, if he ever sees you again.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

I know many of you expected to be trapped with Gojo, but no, ahah! And that is for a good reason for the reader's future. Just wait and see. Good things come to those who wait. Or, bad things…

part 9 coming soon, xoxo

You still have a spark of liberty, almost. Satoru doesn’t hide it anymore, doesn’t pretend to give you the freedom you thought you had with your missions. But he’s so busy… Halloween is approaching, his energy can’t, sadly for him, be on you every second of the day. 

You’re in a rush, planning everything discreetly. To fool him, - I mean, you try - , you stay ‘willingly’ at his place. 

Nobody finds it weird. No. Because every time you get assigned a solo mission, Satoru does it instead, yet makes it seem as if it was you that executed it. And when you get assigned a mission with another partner, if he’s free, he’ll take your partner’s place, then let you go out with him and have some “bonding time” by fighting curses together.

He even has the nerves, on the very few moments of break he has, to take you on what he calls “dates”. Satoru treats you like his girl, his woman, now. To his eyes, you’re officially not his best friend anymore. Even if you never agreed to it. 

But you act like it. And maybe you secretly, very very secretly, enjoy it. No, you can’t. That’s bad.

“My girlfriend.”

“Y/n? Oh, she’s very busy nowadays.”

“Sorry, can’t go to that mission, I’m having a date with y/n. Yes, she’s my girlfriend, I know, I know. So shocking to see Gojo Satoru dating someone. Hey, she’s very happy! I trust you, Nanami, to do it for me. Byyyyeee!” 

“Y/n is feeling tired, she’s resting at my place. Call her another day.”

“Y/n’s phone is broken. I’ll buy her another one. Eh, not like I can’t afford it. I’m Gojo Satoru!”

Whenever he’s away for hours, you rush to your own apartment and gather your things, hiding them carefully under your bed for the moment you’ll finally escape, then rush again to his place. This time, you make sure to check for any cursed tools or cameras that would betray your little game of freedom.

When Satoru comes back, you’re waiting for him, either initiating sex so he can only think of your and his pleasure in those moments - not the way you seem distressed and afraid -, either you propose to go eat something outside as a ‘date’, or to play a game, whatever’ll take Satoru’s mind out of your secret plan. 

But it feels good. Too good. 

The more you arrange your escape, the more the time you spend with an assumed infatuated Satoru makes you, against your will, want to lose yourself in his obsession. Caged in his arms. 

It’s dangerous. Poison. 

Even more when you keep facing the downhill of his mental state. 

Satoru’s getting anxious, clinginess worsening, physically not letting you go whenever you’re in his space. Not like you have a choice. You see it in his eyes, Satoru’s distress.

“What are you thinking about?” you end up asking after another heated intercourse, naked bodies draped in each other, another success of yours after escaping to your apartment earlier that afternoon. 

“Highschool,” he mutters, barely looking at you, simply at the wall, lazy hand caressing your head mindlessly.

“Suguru?”

“How everything went south,” he admits in a voice devoid of emotions.

You recall seeing dried tears, one morning. Satoru didn’t mention anything, simply went to swallow your mouth and seek your warmth, through quite intimate sex, before leaving to work and keeping you locked in his place.  

Satoru chuckles, not kind nor warm, and rubs his exhausted eyes.

“I’m seriously on my last straw, y/n. I’m thinking about killing all the higher ups and reform jujutsu society. It can’t continue like this. But with Halloween approaching, I’m too busy,” he says.

You let a few seconds sink in at this heavy reality. 

Even if you’re in a position where you despise Satoru for what he does to you, logically speaking, towards The Strongest, you feel empathy. You won’t be surprised if he really did, as it was always mentioned like this. Now, it seems real. Now, his words have a real meaning.

You swallow your saliva, shiver of terror sliding on your arms covered in love bites and rather focusing on yourself, on your situation. 

“On Halloween you’ll be busy?” you ask, in a voice supposedly calm, the opposite of eager.

His fingers dig in your hickeyed nape, bringing you closer against his ribs.

“I got ton of missions already, meetings, and will probably again have many missions. It’s always like this at Halloween, you know it. I won’t be really able to reach out. You should stay here, by the way.”

‘You should’, is actually: ‘you have to stay here’. Satoru still gives you the illusion that you have the choice when you don’t have it anymore.

But the information he gives you, with the timing, falls in your hand as a wrapped gift. Let’s hope there are no snakes lurking inside of it. 

Mindless caress on his torso, hoping to seem tender, you raise your head, look at him through your lashes. 

“I see that you’re at your last straw… hum, maybe I should give you some space for you to think and be alone with your thoughts? So you can breath and-”

“Absolutely not. If you go away, I might do reckless shit. I’ll keep you here, safe.” 

His words are final. You don’t push, no use to.

“Ok. Then, whenever you’re back from your work at Halloween, we should eat some candies and watch a scary movie. What do you think?”

No. You decided. You’ll fucking escape on the day of Halloween. There will be none of those.

But Satoru, for once, seems to truly believe your words. Heavy eyebags lightening, tired pupils brightening, genuine smile on his face. He hugs you closer, pampers kisses on your face. You almost feel bad. Almost.

“You know how to bring me energy. Tons of sugar! Such a wonderful girlfriend I have here, hmm? Ahh, what a life,” he smirks in an easy laugh.

Your smile hardly reaches your ears.

“We’ll have fun.”

Satoru lands his lips on yours, you force yourself to answer the kiss, even if in the back of your head a whisper is echoing for you to lose yourself in his touch. You don’t.

Everything goes very quickly. The end of October approaches at light speed, as well as your careful preparation. Keeping your escape as a secret from Gojo Satoru includes sacrifices and a lot of precautions as well, no matter how annoying they are.

It’s not like you actually have the possibility to completely move out, have people come get your belongings in a truck. No. Too noisy. With all the papers, your landlord... Nobody has to know where you leave and when, nor if you even leave. 

You’ll continue to pay the rent of your apartment in Tokyo, with another bank account you have, one you had to create some time ago when your incomes got raised since your rank as a jujutsu sorcerer changed. Legally, you’ll still be there. Physically, you’ll be somewhere else.

But with the visas, the passport and other documents, for now you’ll stay in Japan. You don’t have time to prepare anything else. You found a cheap hotel for the following days to finish planning everything, then choosing a place to actually live and pursue your future.

You’re, to be honest, devastated to go to this length. Having to drop your life, your job, all the people you know, simply because your so-called ‘boyfriend’ decided to turn like a psycho and destroy your freedom.

You wish you could bring back Suguru from the dead and make him shake Satoru until he snaps out of it. But it’s not like you even know where Suguru’s body lies. Satoru never told you.

So when you’re finally the morning of Halloween, you think you’re about to explode. Fear, excitement, regret, hope, a potent mix of contradictory emotions. You know it’s impossible to lie to Satoru about your feelings, he reads you like an open book. Instead, you distort the truth, lean onto it. Exactly like he did for you.

“I’m so stressed about today… You’ll have a lot of work. Don’t overdo yourself, even more if you decide to do the missions they assigned me,” you fakely confess, escaping an obnoxious sight that Satoru notices while tying his blindfold around his head.

One step, he’s at your side. He flashes you a grin.

“That’s why you look so nervous? I’ll be sure to be safe. I’m The Strongest, nothing can actually hurt me, ‘kay? So relax, sweetheart, give me a smile,” he commands while grabbing your cheeks.

You give him what he wants. You hope it’s good. Satoru, seemingly satisfied, kisses your forehead tenderly, then, a peck on your mouth.

It feels so domestic, sweet and natural. If only you weren’t held captive and under the strings of his hands.

“That’s what I like. I’ll go, see you hopefully not too late or at dawn. I love you,” he pronounces, opening the door that separates you from your freedom.

Seeing his silhouette erasing in the embrasure accelerates the beating of your heart.

Maybe it’s because you know you’ll never see him again, maybe because it’s what you truly feel about him despite all your hatred and fear, or maybe it’s a surviving instinct of emotional manipulation. You don't really know, your lips work by themselves.

“I love you,” you say back.

It’s the first time you pronounce these single three words in a romantic way.

Satoru freezes, unmoving. You wish, truly, that it’s enough to make him fully think you’re in his net, as crazy as him to love derangedly in this situation, that you finally stop fighting, trapped. 

Slowly, his head shifts behind, electric tension exploding as he’s suddenly kissing you senseless. You can’t breathe, not only because he’s swallowing every bubble of air out of your lungs, but because you, as well, have to fight against yourself to not lose every fiber of your sanity and stay forever with an unhinged Gojo.

This time, you don’t listen to what he says, empty promises, let him leave.

The moment the door closes, alone with your thoughts, you take a good five seconds before finally moving an inch. The minute you do, panicked, you don’t lose any more time and rush to gather the belongings Satoru brought in his house. Yours, necessities. But you can’t find your phone. It’s better like this. There is surely a tracker inside of it, anyway. I mean, you wouldn’t be surprised.

Everything happens in a blur, ragged breathing, eyes open wide and pupils tracking every movement, ears every sound, scared he’ll come back and reap you away.

When you step outside, careful to not let any clue where you’re going, everything around you feels suffocating and heavy. The rushed walk towards your place is quick, not wanting to take a taxi, leaving no trace. You frequently check around. 

Maybe he’s here. Maybe he’s following you. Maybe he knows since the beginning, and is awaiting the perfect moment to crash your dreams. Maybe you’ll die.

It’s hasty when you reach your apartment, grabbing your suitcase, careful to not cross paths with any neighbor. You let it seem like, with the curtains half open, that you’re still in here, and didn't leave. 

You’re shaking, trembling.

When you step outside again, you hide behind a wall where you’re sure no city cameras can record you, and change your outfit. Like this, if Satoru, you don’t know how, check the footage of the street, he’ll indeed see you walk out of the building, but will lose your trace because you’ll already be dressed as someone else the moment you step out of the alley.

You hide your cursed energy, suitcase hidden in a bean you find. It stinks, you don’t care, these are the minimal precautions you can take.

You’re back in the main street, looking like a man sorting the trash. It’s still early in the morning, they grab the dumpsters around this time of the day, so it doesn’t look suspicious.

You walk a bit, find another alley, leave the bin, take back your suitcase, arrange your clothes, hide your face, and rush to the subway. You pay the tickets with cash, going towards the train station that will take you to the grand line of the train station of Tokyo.

During the whole process you can only think about leaving, leaving, leaving, and leaving. Nothing else. The fear is eating alive any other thoughts.

It’s worse than any mission you ever had. 

You’re basically, in a way, fighting against The Strongest Sorcerer of this era. If it’s not by strength, it has to be by thorough planning and intelligence.

Sitting, finally, in the subway, you let out a breath long forgotten. It’s still not finished, but you succeeded the first step of your plan.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

“Crap! My cookies!” echoes Satoru’s voice in his office, in between the charcoal board and the window leading to the rising sun.

Yesterday, Satoru insisted on having a baking session for the soon coming Halloween, in the middle of the night, leading to preparing an unholy amount of sweet snacks. He decided to eat a part of it while working, like a treat.

Satoru forgot them in the kitchen. He can’t let them rot there, alone, away from his eager stomach. Bonus, your beautiful hands shaped them. It would be a crime to leave them be!

Hastily, Satoru teleports out of the campus, not carrying about momentary duties, then rushes to his place. There, the door gets slammed open, a bright smile of silliness on his lips.

“Y/n! Baby! I forgot the coo-”

No presence, no cursed energy, no smell. You’re not here.

“-kies… Y/n?” he asks, carefully stepping in the kitchen where lies your supposed breakfast untouched, as well as the pastries.

Dead silence.

Satoru snatches his blindfold, blood turning cold, facial expression hardening. 

In light speed, he goes through every room of his place, making sure that you’re not there, waiting for him like you did these past days, maybe asleep in a corner, or in his secret place hidden in the wardrobe.

Nothing, nada, niet. 

Some of your belongings vanished.

Satoru is not dumb. The possibility of you being kidnapped by a curse is destroyed, because why would your toothbrush be taken away? Why would your wallet disappear?

You left, fooled him, even said “I love you” and acted all sweet.

Satoru actually expected for you to fight back at some point, to try to leave, and wasn’t afraid of it, because he’ll eventually find you back very easily.

No, what makes his heart quicken in a crushing fall is the betrayal. 

You played his game too, of faking it.

And for the first time, Satoru actually believed for a short second that you were sincere this morning.

A devastating anger possesses every fiber of his being, boiling in a rage so putrid that death comes out of his pores.

Reaching for the lock of hair in his wallet, yours, Satoru’s hand filled with cursed energy almost annihilates it. He controls it at the last second, tightening his hold. Eerie eyes fall in his palm, then, steady devoted kiss on the strand while gazing at the void, an image of your silhouette.

“Let’s see how far you’ll go, y/n.”

October 31, 10 A.M, Gojo Satoru starts his track.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

any suggestions on what will happen next, now that our dear Satoru is after reader? Shibuya incident is only hours at the corner…

part 8

He takes the opportunity of your answer to slide his tongue, melts the muscle on yours. Slow, sensual, your knees falter. Thankfully, your weight is being held by the strength of his hold. 

Your eyes flutter shut. You can’t resist. Can’t run away. Good, it starts to feel too good. The kiss is intoxicating, holding captive every atom of your being. You don’t even want to part anymore. You’re doomed and signed your death giveaway the moment you sealed your lips to his.

“Let’s go back home,” he says against your mouth, fingers digging in the plumpness of your hip.

You feel it, his hardness pressing on your lower stomach. A gush of dizzy warmth spreads in between your thighs to your cheeks at the heavy realization of what is happening, and what is prone to happen.

Initially, you just wanted to give him a light and soft kiss. 

It’s going beyond what you planned. But what did you expect? You never were in control, even of your most intimate desires towards Satoru. He, always, moved the strings of your heart, captured your brain, to make you compile in his undying obsession for you. 

No time to understand what is happening, Gojo teleports you back to your apartment.The ground shifts under your feet. His hands are already busy with your clothes.

Fuck, you can’t and don’t want to stop him. So you indulge, fully stop breathing and let you drown in the ocean of his eyes. 

The moment your fingers hastily and messily try to unbutton his shirt, Satoru acts. Each time you show desire, it becomes another spark to his already unstoppable fire. 

He’s so fast, you fall. Before you can stumble backwards, your back sinks on your bed. He teleported you again. 

“I want you so much, I’m going crazy, y/n. You don’t understand how I fucking crave you,” he murmurs in your neck before laughing in an eerie way, this kind of unhinged chuckle he lets out when fighting high ranked curses. 

You’re already naked before you comprehend anything. Satoru scans you head to toe in satisfaction, pupils blown wide. A vibration of contentment rumbles in his chest. He shifts, wildly parting your thighs, settling in between them and devouring your skin.

His bites are so harsh they draw blood. But the pleasure of his boner pressing in a grind against you is enough to make you forget about the pain.

He paints your skin with his teeth, warm breath echoing against your bones. His tongue slides down, down, to your chest, latching on your nipples. Starting by now, eyes never leaving every single one of your reactions. Tracking each of your moans. Of your breaths. Of your lashes fluttering shut. 

A sneaky finger slides down, touches your sensitive spot, stealing a sigh out of your lungs, then inserts deep. Satoru smiles maniacally at the way your face distorts. He knows what he is doing, and he knows that he is doing it well. He already analyzed long ago every centimeter of your being through his Six Eyes. Finding your pleasurable spots is an easy game to him.

He doesn’t stop there. No. 

Satoru goes even more down. Before you can say something, trying to raise your torso, his mouth is already eating you out. A cry of surprise and pleasure reaps from your throat. The rapture is so intense you might lose your mind. Legs shaking, resolve shattering, dripping and staining your sheets. Your hand tangles in the snowy locks, desperately holding onto something, head snapping backwards and sweat forming under your chin.

Satoru drinks up every drop, no waste. Each one of your moans are deliciously vibrating around him. Tasting you is a dream come true, he long for desired. Satoru is losing his mind. Poor you that still doesn’t realize what mess you’re getting into. 

The wet softness of his tongue switching to the hardness of the muscle in a diabolic dance is enough to make you reach your high in a short time. 

Satoru holds you on the mattress while your thighs quiver, cry sounding like of help, until you finally slow down, catching a normal pattern of breathing. He rises from your thighs, takes off his shirt, licks his lips from the tasty savor, and tilts his head to the side in a mean and arrogant way. 

“Too easy. Already there? Come on, y/n. Try to hold it on a bit more for me. I’m clearly not done with you here. Yeah?”

“Are you making fun of me?” you manage to articulate as you stare at the lines of his torso, then back up his looming figure. Oh, you’re so out of your body, right now. Barely forming coherent thoughts. 

Each hand falls next to your head. Satoru’s smile barely reaches his ears. 

“Nah. It’s just a warning. I’m getting started.” 

It doesn’t take long before he’s heaving half naked in a grind, testing the waters, before slowly entering through your thick gummy walls. It’s invading, inebriating. 

When Satoru feels your insides for the first time, tightening and swallowing him whole, he thinks he collapsed and suddenly came back to himself. The feeling is so overwhelming, the addiction is already boiling.

You adjust yourself, a broken noise coming out of your mouth, arms wrapped and gripping around his broad shoulders. He enters more, and more, tearing until he reaches down.

You finally look into his eyes. His blue illuminates. Pupils large void of black. His infinity acts up. Buzzling, stretching up and down, vibrating just right where you want him, reverberating on your nerves. You think you lost years of life at the devastating sensation of pleasure.

“It’s us forever, now,” he affirms in a raspy moist voice against your sensitive ear.

His hips snap, once, twice, finding steady progress. Penetrating in a controlled move, embracing your cervix. 

You’re getting fucked by your best friend. But can you still call him your best friend? Oh, wait, he’s not wearing a condom. That’s bad. Pretty bad. Ah. No. You can’t think anymore. It’s too intense. 

Your nails dig meanly in his back. It hurts so good. No blinking, Satoru’s eyes don’t let go of your face, not even once. It’s almost scary how focused he is, how his Six Eyes are stabbing holes in your skull. Your brain can’t focus on the eeriness of the situation, swallowed in glee. 

The buzzing of his infinity adds to the overwhelming pleasure. Each thrust brings you closer. Sticky hips colliding, creating a white nasty mixture at the ring of his base. 

Having sex with Gojo Satoru is more intense than you could ever think. 

He cages you in his arms, you’re out of breath, only inhaling his intoxicating scent. Satoru is getting quicker, harder. Rolling his hips at the perfect angle to torment your g-spot.

The blood you pump off his shoulders is nothing compared to the bruising hold he has on you, teeth finding your neck, then your lower lip. Next, you’re scared it might be your heart.

He flips you on your stomach the moment he feels you tightening around him. Depriving you of reaching your high. You let out a whimper of resignation. 

“You’re not coming on me right now. You’ll have to wait, y/n. Think you can do that?”

You want to answer, but your voice is muffled. Suddenly, you feel something soft wrapping around your wrist. Tight. Tying your hands behind your back.

“Satoru, what is that?” you intend to ask in a weak voice, face falling on the pillow, ass up.

“My blindfold. Next time I’ll use something else,” he hums, in a slap on your left butt cheek, slams his hips right back. 

Both of his hands are brusily driving your waist, leaving a print he’ll gladly seal for eternity, until there is nothing left on your skin but the mark of him. His cursed energy envelops yours, completely losing yourself in Gojo Satoru. Echoes of covered moans in the sheets underneath you. The lewd sounds of fucking are getting louder. You’re completely at Satoru's mercy like this. Unable to move, nor think. Your arms are getting sore.

A tug on the blindfold on your wrist, Satoru makes your chest rise, then your back glued to his torso as he maintains you up. One of his biceps crosses around your throat, partly suffocating, you notice in a hazy glance the lines of his smirk. 

“Look at you being a mess,” he muses, until a laugh of pure hysteria follows each thrust. 

It echoes from left to right. 

You reach your second orgasm only when Satoru lets you, accompanying it with his own high, splashes of white sticky semen. 

You barely have a short break, Satoru telling you to drink up some water to get ready for round 2.

“Thought we would stop there? The night only started. We can have a dinner break if you want, but not now,” he muses, flipping you face to face.

Sharp grab, Satoru takes your bottle on your nightstand, gulps down a part of it. His eyes search your haggard gaze, find it, he leans down.

Lips meeting yours, tongue parting your mouth to let the water enter your throat. You swallow, his thumb wipes the drops rolling down your chin.

“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting you on his laps, smiling widely, pleased to have you like this.

His stamina is untireable. Making you go up and down his length, even when you have no more energy left. But it amuses him more than anything else, and he’ll take you in any way he can, no matter what and how.

Even when you try to push him away because it feels too much, too sensitive, Satoru grabs your arms, slams them on the bed and ties them to the frame. You take it until the waves of pleasure are unstoppable and shattering.

You don’t really remember how many rounds you had, how many breaks you needed to ease the soreness and sensitivity, to eat something, drink up. One of the things that you recall is this chanting, about belonging to Satoru for eternity while he cums inside of you. Sided by his dazzling irises hypnotizing your spirit.

You’re in another world when everything calms down, back in the morning, waking up by Satoru’s kisses on the crook of your neck, cheeks. An exchange of good mornings, trying to remember what happened, realizing that your relationship reached a no turning back signal after sleeping with your best friend.

“Tomorrow, you free?” he asks in a murmur, letting you stretch for the third time against him.

Skin to skin, fingers dancing across your right side. Goosebumps. You take a second to answer, eyes closed.

“I have an important mission in the morning, but that’s all,” you whisper back.

Satoru uses his hand to hide the blinding sun from your sensitive eyes. It makes you smile.

“How about you come to my place? You never pay me a visit,” he questions.

You chuckle.

“Maybe because you always come here? You even have my spare keys!” you raise your murmur. Satoru pouts, bringing you closer, your nose on his collarbones.

“True, but still…” he lays down his voice.

“Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers back.

“Let’s stop whispering! And, I’ll go shower,” you announces, backing away.

Satoru immediately follows in a jump, not letting you be apart for even one centimeter.

“Me too!”

Facing your body in the mirror, you notice all the hickeys, love bites marking your skin, and soft bruises on your wrists, hips. Satoru stares at it, pleased, yet doesn’t mention it, simply rolls his arm to your waist, looks at you through the reflection and kisses your shoulder possessively.

Before going to work, you have to buy a pill, just in case, to not get pregnant. You try to mention it to Satoru, to be careful. He over sweetly apologizes, covered in disgusting honey, while having eyes sharing something else about what he really thinks. 

Days pass by, where you and Satoru act like a couple without being one. Mostly, you never asked, and he didn’t bother putting a name on it either. Every night, no matter what hours you two find each other back, Satoru pounces on you in an insatiable need of making love. An unleashed beast. Even if Satoru is beyond busy during the tedious month of October, he always spares unhealthy time for you.

It grows into you, to be possessed body and soul by Gojo Satoru. You seriously enjoy it more, and more, and even more. Scary? Maybe. You’re far too lost, anyways. 

You see Satoru is at his last straw as well, mood swinging harder and terrible anger. The higher ups, the campus’ attacks, Sukuna, he’s not yet reaching his physical limit, but close to letting go of his mind.

You’re the last string of sanity he possesses, you know it, so you don’t protest at how obsessive he’s acting since the two of you had sex. You actually feel bad for him. And he’s being so sweet to you… he really changed his behavior!!! 

Again, tonight, you find yourself at Satoru’s place. Large, spacious, but devoid of anything truly personal. It’s so big, yet so empty. Each time you spend time there, you understand why he insists on coming to your place almost every day.

Satoru gave you his keys. He’ll arrive very late, like every other night. He said to do as you please. Not like he even needs to mention it, you already know he wants you to get comfortable, like this place is your own, a second home of kind. 

After eating one, two, four of his snacks, taking a shower with expensive body wash and cream, you roam around the neat corridors as well as the rooms, bored to death, waiting his return planned in two hours. 

You look at his clothes in his wardrobe. It’s infuriating how rich he is. A whole ass room dedicated to his wearings. Slide, slide, slide, looking at the shirts, pants, belts, shoes, everything so luxurious. Watches in drawers. Wow, it shines. So clean.

“What is that?” you mutter to yourself as you notice an anomaly in the wood of the second drawer to your left.

A rugosity, black, like a button underneath the lid. Your nail brushes against it, then, the tip of your finger presses. You instantly step out as a sound resonates, click.

“Wha-”

Something moves. Oops, what did you do?! 

A door to your right, behind coats, activates and opens. Cutting through the wall. You never noticed it. Mouth agape of surprise, terror and wonder, you stare at the secret place you just found at Satoru’s house. 

Since when did Satoru possess such a room? You’re not supposed to know this if he never mentioned it. It’s pitch dark, your eyes can’t see much from where you stand. The atmosphere shifts, left panicked, and deadly curious.

Satoru always went against your privacy, back in the days. He has no right to get mad if you do too… right?

Just a look, a tiny one, and then you close it back, act like nothing happened and forget about it unless he mentions it by himself. Yes, that’s all.

You don’t notice the cursed sealed paper breaking at the top of the entry the moment you step hesitantly.

The air is heavy, surrounding you in a suffocating energy. A familiar smell reaches your nostrils, but you yet can’t decipher what exactly.

Your eyes slowly get accustomed to the pitch black void, the faint light of the wardrobe illuminating a small path. You accidentally bump into a table, step back, blink. Again, again. What is that place? An office? Feels like a wooden desk under your digits. 

At the same time, you finally recognize the perfume. Familiar, so familiar. It’s… yours? Your own smell?

A breath.

After an agonizing second of letting rays adapt to the shadow, you finally see it. You see it all. Everything. 

But why don’t you get it? Can’t you get it? That you were cursed since the beginning? Satoru always said it. Love is the most twisted curse of them all. Why don’t you get it? It always has been too late.

Here, plastered on the wall, laying on the desk, the shelfs; all your belongings.

Your lip balm, your pajama shorts, a shirt, pictures of you, a pencil, candies, notes written by the delicate and rushed hand of Satoru, pieces of papers, reports you signed for missions, bills... All the things you thought you lost somewhere, or on what supposed Satoru; to the trash, getting washed… No, everything is here, locked in this insanity of four walls.

You stagger back in utter shock, barely inhaling air normally, eyes wide open.

The pictures printed on the wall are ones you took with Satoru, others you didn’t even know their existence. You, sleeping. You, eating. You, on a mission. You, talking. You, laughing. You, smiling. Some of them could be seen as candid, if the situation you find yourself in wasn’t so deranged.

You want to throw up, yet you can’t, a weird feeling you noticed creeping inside your heart these past days, blocking any step back, any body rejection. Your mind screams to run, your limbs long for staying.

“I see you found my little secret. Ah, no need to hide it anymore, I guess.”

His voice, behind you. A shiver stalks your back, frozen. You can barely move, tilting your head just enough to notice his silhouette looming at the entry of light. Here, in his hand, he’s holding something. Your lungs collapse at the realization of it being a lock of your hair. Since when? What? How?

“Gojo…” you croak out.

“Using family name, now? Oh, my sweet y/n, you’re hurting my heart… What? You’re not happy to see that you never lost all these objects? They were being guarded here. Well, I won’t say stealing, I just borrowed them. Nuance!” He has the nerves to chuckle, smirk.

After sliding the strand of hair inside his uniform pocket, he approaches and rolls his biceps around your waist. Snake-like hold. Ready to swallow you whole.

“I trusted you,” you whimper in treason, blankly staring at the disgusting truth in front of you. You can’t even smile back at the picture of yourself showing happy teeth.

“I trusted you too, but look at you, invading my privacy by entering my secret place. When the paper of cursed energy broke, I directly felt and came rushing. You fell in the trap, not my fault you didn’t notice it. See when I told you things are too dangerous for a sorcerer like you? If you can’t even pay attention to these basic tricks, how can I fully trust that you’re capable of protecting yourself? But that’s okay, I’m here, no matter how much you want to pretend to be all independent and capable on your own,” he muses against your neck, preventing you from moving as his arms tighten around your stomach.

“That’s not how things were supposed to unfold! I thought you understood it when we talked, after our fight. Why? You left me alone, you left me with my work, my mission with him, I mean coworkers, I… I, what is wrong? When?” you answer incoherently.  

“Things always were meant to end like this. Probabilities, y/n. It’s basic maths. I knew this little delusion of yours won’t last long, but didn’t expect it to be now. Ah, tragedy, tragedy,” he answers, bored, almost yawning. 

“No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes... You cursed me, y/n.”

You want to cry. But why is the feeling of not breathing so addictive? Why being captured by Satoru, here, inside his arms and stoned to place, makes your thighs rub together and your curiosity for more increase exponentially? You chase it at the back of your troubled mind.

Satoru continues, dragging you intimately, atomically closer, if that is possible.

“I am irrevocably infatuated with you, nothing can change my mind nor separate me from you. It won’t happen again. Never. I won’t allow it, get it? I’m ready to go all lengths for it, for us. I’m not the type to settle down, but you it’s different. Understand? Come on, it’s not that hard, so use your little brain here, yeah?”

The echoes of Suguru, his death, Satoru’s situation with him always comes back as a haunting ghost at the back of each one of his motives. Did it really mess him that up? Suguru’s deflecting and then having to murder him, his supposed one and only best friend? Or was Gojo Satoru always this unhinged? Devoid of social understanding? Natural empathy? Average amount of love? Was that you that cursed him? Or did he curse himself? Maybe Suguru did, maybe the world in itself. 

“I love you,” he confesses.

Satoru kisses you, you don’t answer it, but don’t find the strength to stop him either. 

You need to leave, whispers your fear. 

For real, this time. 

Gojo Satoru is a maniac, and escaping will not be an easy task. Not when he’s always one step ahead. And where can you go? Seriously?

No, this time, you won’t make the same mistake of believing his apologies, empty promises. You have to be smarter than him, even if it feels impossible, even if it’s doomed from the start. 

But why don’t you get it? Can’t you get it? It’s too late.

Unless something really bad happens to Gojo Satoru. 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Will reader be able to escape? Mistery mistery… don’t forget to interact with the fic, what you think will happen, it motivates me to write the following parts!

part 7

So bizarre.

After you told him you needed time away from him, you didn’t expect to have these many silent days go by. Satoru went on a mission abroad, came back for the sister school Goodwill Event, then the campus was attacked… no time to breath or think. Yet, you’re surprised, because Satoru didn’t overstep or reach, not even once, when normally he always finds a second of his time to spend it with you. 

He waited, even when he came back from his mission abroad, he didn’t come to see you around. You put it on the side, at the same time agreeably surprised, and coming to the conclusion that he was too busy. Yet, you felt like he was… ignoring you?

Never looked your way once. Walked past you. No talking, didn’t ask if you were alright, didn’t make sure you were safe after the attack. Nothing. Satoru respected your wish like a man of steel. 

Your (already) spiraling got worse, a deprived need of having him back next to you, realizing that his jokes, his presence, intimacy, laugh, rambling, you missed it dearly. A strong gap in your life. Hard to fill since Satoru simmered in the cracks. 

It worsens your judgments. How can you be objective when the desire of being by his side takes over all the logical thinking about his toxic behavior? 

Satoru is ignoring you, and it’s making you go crazy. 

Yet, always, at the back of your head, you feel it. Eyes. Everywhere. Not two, nor three, but six. You come to wonder, is he watching, or are you the one becoming paranoid? Are the tables being reversed?

So, when things with the tournament finally settle down, you rush to his office before he leaves for a meeting with the higher ups, slamming the door open. Breathing so loudly, you’re flustered, of need, anger against yourself, and desperation. 

Here he is, sitting against the window, looking at the sun setting. He turns his head. Doesn’t seem surprised. Like he knew that you would come now, and not any moment after. 

“Satoru, I think it’s time to talk.”

He smiles, tilts his head to the side and stands from his spot. You’re finally coming back. 

“I’m all ears. Wanna grab something to eat?” are his first words after days of silence. 

Fuck. That sentence, acting like nothing is cold, blizzard in between the two of you. You melt a little, lungs gorging of warmth while having a wave of your original back and forth. 

“Don’t go and stuff your mouth with dangos, I know you. Be serious,” you answer, a small smile on your lips, before coughing slightly and walking closer. 

‘You know him’. That affirmation is enough to add fuel to his already loudly beating heart, yet he doesn’t show anything, just enough to make you more comfortable and ease in the conversation. 

“I am serious. Ok, no dangos… Snif.”

He wipes a fake tear. You try, really hard, to not laugh. 

“Satoru,” you warn. 

“Yep,” he crosses his arms, leans against the desk in a nonchalant attitude, yet straightens his back and relaxes his smile. 

You clap your hands, organizing one last time your thoughts. Satoru’s eyes analyze every centimeter of your face, expecting any word that’ll come out of your pretty mouth. Because he knows. He does. 

“Look, I had the time to think, even with what happened at the tournament… And, if I’m being honest, I got scared. You are my best friend. I love you deeply for who you are, and I know you are very aware of that fact. The thing is, I feel like you’re kind of leaning into it? What you warn me about, argue about, actually always makes sense. It is, fondamentally, the truth, and it’s also your way, even though you can be harsh, of protecting me because you care about my safety. But…”

He stays away, doesn’t reach for you, even though it aches and burns his soul. He nods, eyes not blinking, just staring. Blankly. 

“Hmm.”

You continue:

“But, you went too far. You invaded my space. And I’m not talking physically, I mean privately. You felt more like a scolding parent rather than a friend in those moments. Like Mother Gothel and Rapunzel, if you see what I mean. You need to stop doing that, that wasn’t okay, it was toxic, really,” you end up laughing nervously at the end of your sentence. 

His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, face downing to look at you through the gape of his sunglasses. 

“Rapunzel was locked in the tower, you weren’t,” he muses. 

“Again, not physically, but mentally I was,” you retort, sighing slightly. 

Satoru slides from the desk. One step closer. 

“What if I locked you, really, to protect you? How would you react?” he asks, two steps closer. At the way your face distorts in discomfort, Satoru raises his hands up his head in innocence, pouts. “Ok, don’t look at me like that, I was joking. Alright, a bad joke. Hey, I’m still serious here. And, I apologize, I maybe went too far without realizing. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I mean, I won’t stop you from going to your missions or with other partners. You are a strong sorcerer, I’ll let you handle it, just don’t worry about it anymore, y/n.” 

His voice is calm now, soothing, a feather like tongue at the ‘don’t worry about it anymore’, and your name rolling out of his mouth like honey. 

“Wow, that was easy. I expected some fight here,” you whisper more like to yourself.

“Nope. I’m truly sorry. Again, don’t worry about it anymore,” he insists in a smile. 

You believe him. You can breathe again. Finally. 

“Good, I’m relieved. Thank you, Satoru.”. 

Satoru nods, stands before you, stiffs. His fingers twitch at his side, inspecting your body language. Once he’s sure that you seem alright, after five agonizing seconds, he completely compiles in his drowning need for you.

Satoru’s arms snatch your waist, slam you against his chest, and he hugs you atomically close. Arms sprawling around your back, biceps contracting as he tightens his hold, his face falling on top of your head, chin resting perfectly, as if this spot was made for the print of his jaw. 

Slowly, lips find the volute of your forehead, inhaling your scent, refraining himself from biting, for now. He should step back and let you breathe. He can’t. Satoru lets his mouth fall on your cheek, nose, then right there, at the corner of your lips, enough to tease, not to be too intimate, a fine line in between friendship and romantic love, sexual desire. 

You shiver head to toe. Against yourself, you missed terribly this strange closeness, blurred feelings of intimacy. You enjoyed it, but whenever it went ahead of what normal best friends should do, you started to be slightly uncomfortable and confused. Now, you realize how much it printed itself in your relationship, and created this craving of being on the receiving hand of Satoru’s affection. 

Even if it feels wrong. Even if it went too far.

The poison is far too deep now.

“Dango time?” he asks, all smiling.

“And your meeting with the higher ups?”

“Don’t care.” 

You’re back into his arms, and this time, willingly. Perfect. 

Satoru is tamed down these following days, and short weeks. 

He lets you your freedom, but, on the other side, the wall of friendship is getting blurred by the wild tension of affection. Satoru is becoming worse than clingy, completely attached to your hip like a second skin. 

You can’t help but think it’s cute. To the point of forgetting how… unsettling it seemed to be in the past. Or, maybe not. You simply ease it to your heart, because Satoru is putting in efforts since your fight, so each strange habit he has, you feel accepting about it.

You fell asleep, again, while watching a movie on Satoru’s laptop. Laying in bed, Satoru tugged you against him, insisting on cuddling and merging bodies. 

You’re so peaceful. The sound of the show, long forgotten, settled on his laps. Not even flinching, moving at a sudden scream from one of the characters. 

Now that you two are back together, Satoru remembers how maddening it felt to be apart with no contact. Only watching you from afar wasn’t enough. Stalking neither. He needed more belongings of yours to stay sane. Maybe, something closer, really personal, would do the work… Just in case you try again to run away. But why would you? You’re already trapped. 

Satoru smiles to himself, licks his lips coated in your lip balm, indulging in the thought of replacing it with your mouth. Then, steady fingers, Satoru takes one of your hair strands up your nape, hidden away. That’s right. Perfect. Your skin shivers the moment he cuts it through with cursed energy, leaves carefully your bed, and puts it in his wallet.

That’s a little luck charm. A secret one. 

He joins you back before you shift in your sleep in search of his warmth, nests you in his arms in a protective way. There, he kisses your forehead. 

That wake you up. 

“Well hello, sleeping beauty. Forgot we were watching something?”

Groggy, you open your eyes in a groan, wipe the saliva at the corner of your mouth. 

“Crap. How long was I out?”

“Barely 10 minutes.”

That’s a lie. You can’t know it, anyways. 

You settle back on his chest, too tired to think, and intend to focus back on the TV show. Minutes pass. It’s harder than expected, when a certain someone decides otherwise. 

“Satoru, I’m not made of sugar, and I mean it as your sweet tooth,” you groan while a gush of heat waves hits you as his left hand grips your waist, the right your thigh, lips latched at your neck, teeth digging in your flesh.

The laptop is long forgotten. It feels like a deja-vu. 

“So what? You know I like biting you, and I missed it so much this past week… I’m catching back the time we lost,” he answers with his usual arrogant tone, blindfold halfway off his eyes. 

You look into his blue, try to focus on the screen instead. You kind of want more, so you don’t say no, simply don’t admit it.  

“Are you a vampire?” Fingers sprawled on your leg slide, slowly, in a dance, inside your thigh. Just enough to press, but not enough to cross a line. 

You hate yourself for feeling so tempted despite the weird situation. 

“Living forever with you sounds very appealing to me, so…” Satoru smirks, tilting his head on the side.

His finger brushes against the lace of your underwear. Oh oh. 

In a last attempt to suppress the swirl in your head, and the warmth in between your legs, your palms grab his cheeks and force him to turn his attention back to the TV show. 

“But you bite me a lot, and you know that friends don’t eat each other,” you try to retort, an attempt at making him realize and speak his mind about his behavior. 

Satoru laughs. Soft, yet mocking, so mocking, because he has you in the palm of his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate one second in making you dance in the center of it. 

“You know very well that we’re more than that, y/n.”

His gaze is serious, despite the sardonic and derisive undercover. His thumb caresses the thin skin inside your thighs.

“What?” you whisper, blurting it out, trying to ignore the ache on your core. 

He kisses your cheek, as a reminder that: 

“You can play dumb all you want. I’ll indulge you.”

Satoru stares at you, coddling in your flustered state, rather than watching the screen. You often ignored it, like always, actually. Yet, hardly this time. Because you start to crave for his eyes without realizing. 

His clinginess continues on the side of, you already know, stealing. Worse, now. Satoru doesn’t hesitate anymore to take big bites as well of your food, while downplaying it as something normal, something cute, because he knows it’s working on you. You’re accepting this side of him. He takes advantage of it.

But Satoru is smart. With the fight you two had, he stays lowkey from time to time, or on purpose gets heavily flirtatious, because he acknowledges that in those moments you only think about your relationship as best friends, engrossed, rather than the eeriness or strangeness of his acts.  

“Satoru, eat your food for the millionth time.”

He pouts, licking his lips after he dug his fangs on the part of the slice of cake you ate right before.

“I do. But come on, yours is more appetizing.”

You take back the sweet, yet he grabs your hand, slides his tongue on your sugary thumb covered in icing. You stare at the rosy muscle, then back up his face in a shuttering shiver. 

“We have known each other for 2 years and a half, and with all the food you ate that was mine, I’ll need a mountain as a payback,” you groan.

Satoru smiles, relishing in the taste on his buds, before kissing the corner of your lips, eating one last bite of chocolate. 

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

“Can’t get rid of me,” he grins.

And you know it’s true. 

Actually, the stealing of objects never stopped, but now, Satoru admits some of his crimes. Not all. He’s smart about it. Strangely, it’s masked in a way that will make you believe it’s alright. What he does was, since the beginning, just a paranoia of yours and goodwill acts of his. 

“New pajamas?”

You quickly pull down the tank top you were putting on, hiding your naked chest. Satoru stares, then tears his gaze back up your flustered face. 

“Uh? Yeah. I couldn’t find my shorts. Did you take them?”

He leans against the door of your bedroom.

“Hmmm? They got dirty, so I put them in the washing machine. Don’t worry about it.” 

Your eyes open wider. That’s nice of him, you think. He’s helping you out with the cores. 

“Oh, thank you. And my lip balm?” 

Satoru approaches, the air surrounding you tightening in your throat. He leans, acting like a shade, shifts his hands on your hips and brings you closer. Chest to chest, his glossy lips shine under the ray of your lamp. By how close he gets, breath catching in your lungs, you think for a wild second that he is about to kiss you.

“On my lips,” he hums, tapping with his index the plumpness of his mouth. You stare at it, his smile stretches. “Sorry, I finished it. There was nothing left so I put it in the trash,” he adds. 

“´Kay, I still have another one left, whatever so,” you answer after a hard swallow of your saliva. 

His pout deepens, exaggerated, eyes falling on your mouth. 

“Shoot, I could have smudged my lips to yours so you’ll have some too,” he taunts. 

Imagining Satoru breaking the wall and kissing you is too much for your heart, tonight. Instead, you pinch his cheek and push him away. 

“In your dreams.”

Satoru follows you towards the bed. 

“A lot of things happen in my dreams!”

Your body collapses on the mattress. 

“Talking about dreams, time to sleep, it’s already 2 A.M! I have work to do, and you too,” you say, already busy turning off the lights. 

Satoru doesn’t need light to find his way to your heart, he is already sliding next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Yes ma’am. I’ll gladly dream of you, and sweets, and you, and daifukus, and Digimon, and you, and you, and…” he chants. 

“And shut up.” 

His chuckle resonates in your ear. You don’t need to say goodnight, naturally, without realizing, gravitating towards his chest. Shifting around, facing him, Satoru thinks he just died when he feels you cuddling him back. 

Everything goes according to how he wants it, and he plans on keeping it that way. 

You’re fast asleep. 

Satoru doesn’t dream, because he’s watching. 

He keeps his steady gaze on your face, blood circulating in your veins, fluttering lashes. With a gentle hand, he caresses your chin, like a doll ready to break, already fissured. He’s the one that created the cracks. Satoru knows you’ll end up breaking completely, it’s bound to happen, like it did in the past with Suguru. 

“Sweet dreams, y/n.”

At dawn, Satoru acts all charming, latched to your waist, not leaving it even when you brush your teeth or prepare your usual morning routine in the kitchen. Affectionate. Tender. You feel lighter. Even though you don’t find in the trash the supposed lip balm. Whatever, it must be under wasted cottons.

“I have an important mission with that 2nd grade sorcerer, I need to go. See you tonight,” you point out and wave goodbye, in the back of your mind still preparing for a retort of his, like he did many many times weeks ago. 

But no, he smiles, adjusts his blindfold after offering a wink. 

“Alright, text me if you need The Strongest and most handsome man in the world to come help you! I’ll gladly drop my paperwork for it,” he teases. 

A nudge. 

“Don’t worry, big boy, I’ll handle it myself with my teammate. And bring some take out for dinner! You pay!”

The door gets opened. 

“Hey, I always pay,” he scoffs. 

“Because you’re rich as fuck.”

He shakes his head in an amused and soft smile. 

“That’s true. My treat. See you, y/n,” he ends up replying.

Before you can disappear, he kisses the corner of your mouth. A feeling of missing builds in your stomach when you step back, almost caressing your lips in anticipation. You don’t, not before you turn your back to him so he can’t see, whispering a goodbye, but Satoru notices and stares at everything. 

You leave feeling fresh, and flustered.

He watches you leaving feeling intoxicated, and maniac. 

Satoru doesn’t interfere with your mission. He truly is respecting your freedom, he listened to you, you think.

So three days later, when you two come back from a free afternoon (being rare) the two of you shared by going to the cinema and eating fluffy pancakes, feeling more like a date — by the hand holding and cheek’s kissing — rather than a simple hangout, you come to get lost in thoughts. 

About how things are evolving, including the friendship you share with Satoru, reaching the peak of the mountain that announces the end of pure platonic love. 

About how since Suguru’s death, Satoru changed, including towards you. 

Maybe you were too harsh. He’s still mourning, and his actions reflect the pain he goes through. Even if they are not acceptable, you can understand them. Right? That’s what you convince yourself. 

Because everything is getting better now, going well, so why would it go south again? Satoru respects your wish, is acting sweet and funny despite everything. Nothing bad to declare. Right? Right. 

“Earth calling y/n, yoohoooo!”

Satoru’s hand waves in front of you, the left pressing your fingers together. You snap out of your reverie, almost bumping into someone through the busy street. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

His eyes narrow, reading through you like a book.

“´Was saying I didn’t want to go back to your place now. Let’s go to the skyline spot. Kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

He winks. You raise an eyebrow, the warmth of his hand infiltrating in your palm, your skin, your blood. 

“Eh, since when do you want to be romantic with me?”

His lips are licked by his tongue. 

“Happens, sweetheart. Or maybe you directly want to take me in your bed and do bad things to me? You should know that I like bondage, and I’m in the mood to top, tonight. Oh and-” 

“Satoru!” you cut him off, flustered by his saying. Being blatantly flirted with by Satoru is still something you have to get accustomed to. 

“Yeah yeah, if you want me to bottom, we can arrange.”

Not wanting to have other people hearing this strange conversation, you smash your hand against his lips. Satoru’s infinity is off, obviously. 

“Shut your mouth. You already sleep in my bed all the time, so stop being a pervert. And, imagining you as a bottom is very funny though…”

His teeth find the plump of your flesh, nibbling then tasting your skin in a disgusting kiss. Amused, he gazes at you as you yank your palm away. 

“Ok, you hurt my ego. Let’s just go,” he says, making you follow his steps. Faster. 

“To your supposed date?” 

“We both know that’s one,” he answers, one look behind his shoulder is enough. 

The intensity of his gaze forces you to not dare say otherwise. 

“See? You don’t say anything back. Because I’m always right,” he muses.

“Not always,” you retort in a groan.

“Always.” 

Satoru brings you to a spot, the one he comes to when everything weighs on his shoulders too heavily, needing a break, a breath, a pause.  

The moon is rising, the sun setting. The first stars blink in the horizon. Satoru keeps you glued to him, face nesting on the top of your head, one glance to the empty lock of hair he stole that you still didn’t notice, and talks. He yaps about something you don’t really pay attention to. Focused on the scenery, and most of all, your feelings. 

You raise your face, look at his mouth moving at each word escaping his throat. 

“Hmm? Whatcha looking at? How handsome am I? Maybe you’re finally falling in love with me. Yeah, understandable.”

You nudge him, resulting in his arms forcing you to turn around and standing face to face. 

“Do you happen to stop talking?” you tease. 

Satoru tilts his head, eyelids falling slowly down, blue dancing on your face. This time, he lets his mouth travel on your cheek, to the corner of your lips, then back up your ear. He smells sweet, fresh, characteristically like him. 

“No, unless you do it for me,” he whispers in the crook of your neck. 

Your heart beats in your throat, lungs inhaling his scent. Eyes locked, you decide to do something. Every fiber of your being is tingling, aching, gravitating towards him. Maybe it’s a terrible mistake, maybe you’re doing the worst thing you could ever do, but you can’t stop. 

Satoru cursed you for needing and wanting him. Maybe it’s too late for you to back away.

So, instead, you go ahead.

This time, it’s Satoru being surprised. Not expecting it. Burning of desire, intense joy, and satisfaction. 

The moment the tips of your fingers dig in his nape, scratch his undercut and tear him towards you, your mouth crashes against his. 

But you should have never kissed him first. 

Why? Now, you tied your soul to his.

After all: ‘ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one's breath.’

Satoru makes sure of it. 

There is no step back anymore. 

You’re fully falling into your demise. The future approaches with a deathly promise. 

May your soul be at peace, while he completely loses himself in your kiss.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Finally, the kiss. There is no turning back anymore. What do you think will happen next?

- Ugh, I feel like this chapter is shit. It’s a transitional one for the following part of the storyline, so not many things happened. -

Part 6

Serious voice, devoid of joking, he’s talking to you like he would do to one of his students, or a low ranked sorcerer, which you aren’t. You scoff, failing to stop your chair from falling the moment you abruptly turn around, fully facing him. His hand snaps at lightspeed, and with inhuman reflexes, refrains the chair before it bangs on the floor. 

“Excuse-me?”

“You heard me. That is a rank 1 curse, so stay at home. Nanami can handle your mission just fine,” he answers, adjusting your sit, dropping his hand on the small of your back, and beckoning you to do as he says.

You shake your head, stay on your ground and refuse his invite to sit back down. 

“Leave the man alone, and leave me alone as well. I can handle myself just fine without you, Satoru.”

You’re starting to get tired of his behavior, tired of his harsh words or strange actions. Calling him out last week about his comportment didn’t change anything. Satoru said you made him sick, then as his usual uncaring attitude, acted like everything was normal and conventional. No, he’s the one making you sick, at this point.

You love your best friend, but at what cost?

“I’m just saying the truth, y/n. If you can’t handle it, then go be reckless and get seriously injured or killed,” he hardens his tone, leaving no shred of empathy.

You feel like you’re being scolded, infantilized, to the point of wondering if he’s not right in some unexpected way.

“That mission can-”

“You’re just being stubborn because you want to prove me wrong, but you know very well that I am right. I know every fiber of your cursed energy, how you fight, your strategy, battle logic, and your limits. You can’t handle that mission, believe me. I don’t send my students to a mission I know they can’t handle,” he cuts you immediately, stepping a tad bit closer at each sentence, just enough to find no escape in between him and the back of the woody chair.

“I’m not your student,” you shake your head, conviction shattering at the end of your breath.

You do want to prove him wrong, it’s true. Is it worth your safety? Satoru, no matter how infuriating it is to admit, is painfully aware of your limits, and knows what he is doing as a sorcerer. He’s not entitled to The Strongest for nothing. 

“You’re right, you’re my best friend, and I want you alive by my side,” he responds, eyes digging into yours, not letting go away.

Seconds pass in silence, mind in a tumult. You almost forget to breathe. Then, after half a minute, you sit back down.

“Fine, I won’t go. But don’t make Nanami do it, he never asked for more work,” you mutter.

Satoru gains back his usual smiley face, joins you back face to face on the table of his office.

“See when you want to listen? Anyways, we should watch some episodes of Digimon tonight!”

The question of “is Satoru being paranoid?” creeps slowly, but surely, the following days, weeks. 

It’s an imbalance. In between wondering if Satoru’s arguments are rightfully stated, or wrong. It occurs many times where Satoru interferes with a few of your alone missions, saying that the higher ups keep giving you non accommodate ranked curses. Soothing you in, repeating that it’s too dangerous, that you should stay safe at the campus or back home. Either downplayed in a short discussion, dismissing the issue with a wave of the hand, or pointing the facts of why you shouldn’t go, in a heavier voice, dealing with you like a stubborn student of his. 

Even Yuji has more liberty than you, when he has the literal king of curses possessing him, and is supposed to act dead! 

It went from one to two missions a week being sabotaged by Satoru, to four, maybe five! 

“Where do you think you’re going?” resonates Satoru’s voice, head barely rising from his pile of paperwork.

He doesn’t need to look up from his glasses, he knows that you won’t leave. It’s a certitude. 

“I got a mission tonight. Higher ups gave it to me quite late, these fuckers,” you groan, adjusting your uniform around your throat. The collar is too tight. 

“Too dangerous,” he says, simply. 

Again. Dangerous. This word keeps repeating in a loop. Again. Again. Again. You roll your eyes, reaching for your bag negligibly thrown on a random table at the entry of the empty classroom.  

“And how do you even know that?” you ask sarcastically, already guessing his answer.

“Stay here,” he answers, stacking half of the pile on the busy side of his desk.

“Can’t,” you retort, grabbing the door, ready to slide it open. 

“Yes you will, I already handled it,” he states, finally raising his gaze.

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru did your mission before you? 

“Wait what? When?” 

“This evening, after my meeting with the old geezers,” he shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching his long legs under the desk, small in comparison to his stature. 

“Satoru, you’re not supposed to-”

“Y/n, I already told you, I know your limits, and this mission was too dangerous for you. Come on, get here, we’ll eat some takeout and play that board game I brought yesterday,” he changes subjects, waiting for you to pad back towards him.

Dangerous, dangerous, everything is dangerous. You can’t do anything about it, he already fulfilled your work for the evening. Such a kind gesture, laced in poisonous spikes. 

The sight is fulfilling. Seeing you return to his side, something he will never have the chance to experience again with Suguru, since that unfortunate night on christmas eve. But with you, it’s different. He has you. Hopefully forever. You just need to be safe, so death won’t grasp you away, sound, and content by his side. 

“Aren’t you supposed to finish your paperwork?” you ask, giving up acting annoyed. 

His smile manages to sooth you down, make you forget your irritation. That’s what you would call it yourself “something dangerous”. A dangerous tool to make you falter and forgive everything he does and says. 

“Eh? Nah, too lazy for that. I’ll finish tomorrow, promise,” he grins, opening his bag at his feet, sliding on the table the said board game. You don’t question why he carries it on him on a full working day.

“You liar, you’ll finish next week,” you retort.

“That’s a problem for the future me!” he scoffs, already scrolling on his phone to order some greasy food, another heartwarming meal shared with you. 

It got worse, one day.

Aside from the usual banter, a back and forth of annoyance where you don’t know if he’s right or wrong (added to having all your missions with a supposed teammate, replaced by him), the annoyance boils underneath all.

It’s soft, present but quieted down.

You take the decision, this Monday, to lie. Satoru, since Friday, is incredibly busy with his students, and more important matters : the annual tournament with the sister school, being hosted this year in Tokyo.

The will of taking back your own life into your hands, the feeling of having it slipped through your fingers these past few months, you take a sudden mission. Satoru doesn’t know about it, and can’t, busy beyond compare.

You text him you’re occupied dealing with paperwork, nothing much nor a big fat lie. Really, simple. 

The problem is, the fake truth you offer him is prone to be discovered too quickly.

This mission you take results in being harder than expected. A cursed user on the run, one that caused many casualties, including putting citizens in serious danger. You’re charged to capture him, bring him to the sort of jail situated underground campus. Sealed away, one where Yuji got sent back a few weeks ago. 

The fight is tedious, but you manage to succeed in your task. Yet, left injured. One broken rib, scratches, hematomas. Nothing Shoko can’t heal. The only matter is to NOT cross paths with Gojo on campus. He’s running around anyway, the chances are low.

You get received by Yaga, taking the curse user in charge towards the jail, allowing you to seek healing. Now, you have to join Shoko discreetly. 

Walking, slowly, then, suddenly, hear the echo of his loud laugh on the other side of the corridor. You know that Satoru can detect your presence in many ways: cursed energy, smell, and intuition. Your breath staggers, hiding behind a wall meters away, almost breaking another rib on the process.

As Satoru’s voice dies down and ends up disappearing, while catching back your breath, you realize what just happened. You, right now, avoided Satoru because you were scared of the consequences of going on a mission and getting injured. You even lied to him, for God’s sake! 

Best friends don’t need to do that, don’t go through this type of… whatever fear you’re experiencing. Really, the alarm in your head echoes again in a warning, bright red. 

Satoru’s paranoia is getting to a point you slowly can’t control. Yes, paranoia. Yet, being injured like this, against your will, you’re proving Satoru’s point. That pisses you off, so bad, while making you confused. Maybe he was kind of right? You don’t know anymore. 

Shoko receives you and takes care of your wounds with an expert hand. It’s efficient, slightly painful, but goes quickly. As she slides a cigarette in between her tinted lips, you realize something, backing away without realizing. 

“Don’t smoke, the scent sticks to my hair and clothes. I don’t want it to be noticeable,” you prevent. 

She raises her head from her cursed technique, before taking off the cigarette from her teeth and putting it away. 

“Got it. But why? Usually you never care,” she answers. 

“I don’t want Satoru to smell it, he’ll annoy me to death,” you explain vaguely, Shoko rolls her eyes. 

“Understandable, he can be a real pain in the ass when he wants. I mean, he’s annoying all the time.”

You nod, staying silent during the remaining seconds of the treatment. 

“Alright, all brand new. You can go,” she announces, patting your leg. 

Feeling lighter, blood whipped, injuries healed, you can breathe again. 

“Thank you, Shoko!”

She waves at you, one last glance, before you reach for the door. You can finally step outside without feeling guilty. A smile draws on your face. 

“Why are you coming out of Shoko’s office?”

Your smile drops, jumping out in surprise, facing his tall stature looming over your height. 

“Satoru? Oh fuck, you scared me!”

He leans against the wall, on the junction with the closed door. One, long, look. You know it, even through the void of his glasses. 

“I thought you were busy with paperwork?”

Satoru is watching, closely, wrongly. You feel it, so intense, burning incandescently on your skin. You swallow your saliva. Just lie through your teeth, you can do it. Yes, you can. Even though his eyes are analyzing every centimeter of your being. 

“Just wanted to see Shoko, I don’t see her often, she’s almost as busy as you. Anyways, I’ll head back home, I’m done with work! Text me if you crash at my apartment tonight,” you exclaim, not waiting for an answer and salutate him with what is supposed to be a carefree wave. 

His eyes narrow, he smirks. 

“Will do,” Satoru answers before you disappear from his sight. 

It’s late at night when everything comes crashing down. Or maybe, we can say, at an unholy hour in the morning, before the sun rises, people waking up and witnessing the terror you are forced to face.

You hear it, a phone ringing. Your phone. It forces you to open your eyes, you don’t know what time it is, the moon is still shining over the skyline of Tokyo. Satoru, a text, saying he’s coming. He’s doing as you asked, for once. You feel a small relief, eyelids squinting as you glance at the hour through the blurriness of your sleep. 4 A.M.

When you hear the door opening, you’re content that he texted you beforehand this time. At least you don’t have a semi panic attack in the middle of the night, wondering who is entering your apartment, before the logical reaction of guessing being your best friend. 

So you tear yourself from the sheets, a small and sleepy smile on your lips. Padding through the darkness of the corridor. 

“Thanks for texting,” you start to whisper, before stopping right there.

The first thing you see is red. Crimson bright glowing red tainting Satoru’s cheek, uniform, hands. A breath gets caught in your throat, before meeting the neon blue like of his eyes. Shining so brightly you might fall into a hallucination. 

“Satoru, what is that…? Who’s blood is it? Are you okay?”

Neglected hand, he wipes it from the back, while you rush towards him as your body wakes from its soreness in a flash. Instinctively, you search for a wound, even though Gojo Satoru can heal himself. 

“You think I haven’t noticed?” 

His voice: deadly cold, to the point of shivering head to toe. You manage to untie your tongue, to talk, and not in a stutter. 

“Noticed what?”

He’s in front of you now. You’re glued to the ground. Unable to move. He’s not touching you, but the weight of his gaze, it’s like hands are rolling around your throat, grabbing your ankles and sliding on your waist. 

“You lied to me, y/n. You went to that mission, got injured. I saw it all, the moment you stepped out of Shoko’s office,” he states. 

You’re fucked. You pass your hand on your face, eyebrows falling down. It’s time. 

“… Fuck. Well, alright, I lied. But don’t you think that I lied because I felt the need to do it? Because I was scared of your reaction? And how- no, wait, whatever. We’ll talk about that later. Answer my question. What is that blood, Satoru?”

Your voice goes higher. Satoru licks his lips, flips his hair out of his forehead. He’s not impressed by your little tantrum. 

“That curse user, the one you captured, the one that broke your rib, that could have killed you.” 

Your breath is lost in your lungs. 

“What? What did you just do?!”

Through his lashes, Satoru becomes Medusa. You’re not facing your best friend, you’re facing The Strongest, Gojo’s head clan. 

“I killed him, y/n.”

A blink. 

“You did what?”

Satoru sighs, as if that conversation is boring him out of his mind. 

“Hmm. You heard me well. He’s a criminal. He would have been executed by the higher ups with no trial, you know their politics, they don’t care. He caused disturbances. Hurted civilians. And most of all, hurt you. I did what was prone to happen.”

This time, you stutter. 

“What is wrong with you? You- he didn’t need to die, he needed a trial-”

“What would be so different, y/n, if during your mission you would have ended up killing him? I had, since highschool, through missions killed many curse users that were dangerous. You had to do it too. That’s part of our job. So don’t be a hypocrite simply because it feels slightly more personal. The consequences are the same, just a different way.”

Your logic says he’s awfully right, but your gut and your heart are whispering to you otherwise. 

“But it still feels wrong, that your biggest motive is because of me.”

His infinity acts up the moment he grabs your face with his bloody hands. Buzzing on your skin. The metallic scent is unbearable. 

“I’ll do a lot of things because of you, and that’s what you don’t realize. You tend to forget as well that I’m just a weapon, y/n. Killing curses and cursed users is a detail of what jujutsu society expects from me. Being The Strongest is a curse, not a blessing. I’m already dehumanized all the time, by everyone and myself. So you thinking that what I did is bad, means that you’re turning a blind eye not only on my identity, but as well as what it means being an exorcist in this jujutsu society. You kill, and if you don’t, not only you will be killed, but innocent people will lose their lives as well. You choose.” 

You step back, falling silent, searching your words, trying to organize your thoughts. Everything he says makes painfully sense, but, but there is always a but.

“I… don’t know anymore, Satoru. I know what it means to be a jujutsu sorcerer. But you make me so confused. I just, I.. these past months I feel like things are changing, you are changing, and…”

“I never changed, y/n. Through the years, I’m simply opening myself more and more to you. That’s who I really am. You’re the only close person to me, you should know it.”

It’s suffocating. His hands twitch, aching to touch you again, tie you to his skin. 

You turn halfway. 

“Go wipe that blood off your face and clothes, and please, go back to your place. I need some time alone, I’ll come to you when I’m ready to talk.”

You feel like throwing up. 

Gojo Satoru is broken and can’t be fixed. Never. 

Not even you, not even Suguru. At last, he can be tamed, but he’s not a wild animal, he’s a human being — no matter what he says — with his own free will. Aside from easing into his heart and helping him into feeling like a normal 27 years old man, it’s undeniable with sharp spikes of roses. 

“Fine, I understand,” his voice resonates like a resignation. 

This time you stop, genuinely surprised to hear Satoru actually agreeing to give you space. What is happening? Not that Satoru can’t give you space, he sometimes himself needed it through his years of friendship with you, even more after Suguru’s death, but with what happened and how things escalated these past few months, it feels like an utopia. 

A switch he suddenly makes. On and off. 

“I’ll be waiting, and even though I will be busy with the Goodwill Event and Yuji, you know I’ll make time for you whenever you want to talk again. Always,” he continues. 

And for a moment, you’re facing again the sweetness of Satoru, the one you slowly discovered under the layers of his arrogance and carefree attitude. 

“Oh and, y/n?” 

You turn around. His lips land on your forehead, one last caress on your cheekbone, leaving a string of sharp bloody red, matching his. 

“You know what I feel for you. I’ll be waiting.”

You’re left alone, swallowed by a potent mix of disconnected emotions.

But one thing is sure. George Orwell was ahead of his time: 

Gojo Satoru is watching you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Oooh things are dangerously escalating on Gojo’s unhinged part. What is he plotting? Hmm?

Part longer than the last ones! I'm already planning on how it will match the following timeline of the manga, as well as how this series will end. So excited to share more! If you have ideas of other weird habits Satoru can have, don't hesitate to share it, and I'll try to adjust it, if I can, to the storyline of this fic!

Part 5

Satoru is standing arms crossed over his chest, the intensity of his gaze seenable through the darkness of the blindfold tied around his head. In the shadow of the wall next to the training grounds, you walk back towards him, confused.

“Who?”

“That guy,” he points. 

Your face rotates before noticing the brown haired man meters away, adjusting a pile of paperwork in his bag. You were busy talking to him 30 seconds ago. You look back at your best friend, deadpan. 

“Seriously? You know him, Satoru. He’s a sorcerer that you saved last week. Back at the hospital? 2 A.M?”

He tilts his head arrogantly. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell. And you know, I save people everyday, so I can’t remember everyone. Whatever, why were you taking soooo long just to talk to him? Was he funnier than me or something?”

Is Gojo Satoru jealous? No, that doesn’t sound like him. It feels painfully different. 

“I’ll be paired up to do a mission with him tomorrow morning, we exchanged about that,” you explain.

By the way his face moves, you guess he’s looking at your colleague’s silhouette. Satoru pushes his tongue against his cheek. 

“With that guy? He’s weak as fuck. He better stops being a sorcerer if he doesn’t want to die quickly. I’ll help you with the mission instead, drop him,” he says with no shame whatsoever, forcing you to dig a frown on your face.

It’s not the first time he talks like this about someone, Ijichi the living proof of it. The alarm on your head goes silent, putting this little tantrum on the side. It’s just Satoru being his usual sharp tongue, nothing else. Rolling your eyes, you slide your hand on his shoulder.

“Cut it out, Satoru. First of all, if I was paired with him, it’s for a reason, and second of all, you’re already overloaded with missions. I won’t add more work on your shoulders,” you sigh.

The morning sun shines brighter the moment his lips stretch in that bubbly smile of his, the freezing atmosphere surrounding him evaporating in a breath. His arm wraps around your shoulder immediately, the free hand pinching your cheek laced with overwhelming affection.

“Worrying for little old me? Awww. How sweet, y/n! But I can handle myself, I’ll help you out,” he purrs.

You let out a giggle, before pushing him away, shaking your head in a no. 

“Nope, mind your business.”

The fingers around your arm contract immediately, forcing you to swing back towards him. 

“I don’t think you understand, that wasn’t a quest-”

“Y/n!” calls the voice of the sorcerer. 

A quick glance, the man is waving at you. You yank your arm away and step back, barely looking at Satoru anymore. That makes his eyes narrow.

“Sorry, I still need to deal with some paperwork with him. I’ll see you tonight!”

“What do you mean tonight?! You’ll spend the actual whole day with him when your mission is only tomorrow?”

One last look at your best friend, walking backwards to face him before rotating. He stands still, lips parted.

“Yeah, we have some paperwork to do, and he proposed to train together, as well as grabbing some food at that food truck near campus. So might as well hang out with him. Bye!”

The moment you turn your back to Satoru, his mouth seals shut, nasty feeling boiling inside of him. His ears turn cold, his cursed energy agitates, his mind blanks. 

That food truck was his. Not physically, but the idea of bringing you to it every ounce in a while to eat something warm was his thing, a routine the both of you had together and only the two of you for years now. 

With whom will he spend the day, now? Aside from work, whenever Satoru has a short break, he uses it to annoy you if you’re around, or text you, simply seeing your face and basking in your presence.

You’re taken away from him. Without you, he has nobody else. That’s a terrifying reminder of his loneliness. 

Gojo Satoru is never afraid, yet, what is brewing in his mind is close to this, a potent mix of annoyance, possessiveness, and fear. 

It seems to turn a switch. 

When you come back home later, you’re surprised to see the lights on in the living room. Kicking off your shoes nonchalantly, you waver towards the lamp, wondering if you forgot to turn it off in the morning before leaving for work.

“You’re coming back home late.”

You almost let out a scream, speeding your turn to face the silhouette of Satoru standing right behind you, close to the kitchen entry. A hand on your heart, you take a shallow breath to calm down its frenzy. You got scared for a second. You don’t mention either how he mentioned home as if he actually legally lived there too.

“Hmm? Yeah. And you’re here early. Did you eat?”

Satoru is wearing his sunglasses, he manages to ease a smile on his lips. Manages, yes. He follows you as you enter the kitchen to wash your hands.

“Not yet. How was your day?”

The question seems enthusiastic, tone high to lull you in exposing whatever happened in between you and that guy. 

“Very good! Aside from work, we had fun! I took my usual order, delicious as always. Well, he paid for me,” you explain in a small chuckle and shake your head.

Satoru’s hand invites itself on the counter right next to the sink, slowly caging you, not quite yet, but a way to show his presence looming in your back.

“Oh, he paid for you? What a gentleman,” he hums.

You take the time to dry your hands, hair on the column of your nape rising at the electric tension stagnating in the air. 

“Come on, he was being polite. Not like it was a date or something. I mean, alright he complimented me, and said we should do it again after our mission tomorrow, but that’s all,” you answer.

His second hand falling next to the sink, both arms nearing your waist. You decide to, slowly, turn. Satoru’s smile is not reaching his ears.

“Hmmm. Was he flirting with you?”

A weird chuckle bubbles in your throat, cocking an eyebrow.

“Why are you even thinking that?” 

And why would he even care?

Tap, tap, tap, his fingers drum next to you, like a clock ticking of impatience. Head tilted, eyes narrowed, blue vibrating dangerously. You barely recognize your best friend. More like, you know that face, how it appeared a few times in front of you, and each time gave you goosebumps, because in these moments you don’t feel like you’re on the receiving hand of what a close friend should experience. 

“No. I’m asking you a simple question, y/n. Answer me. Was.he.flirting.with.you?”

Eyes darting away, meeting his back.

“I-uh, I mean actually yeah, he did. Nothing harmful, though.”

His palm covers yours, the other reaches for a strand of hair up your forehead. 

“I see. Well, no wonder, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Coming from you it sounds weird,” you say.

“And why would it be? I have eyes, and aside from being your best friend, I can acknowledge that you’re hot as fuck,” he breaths out, lips parting, before letting his gaze fall on your mouth.

A gush of warmth in your stomach, hiking up your cheeks, you think you’re imagining things. The fine line of friendship and desire is getting blurred in a second, a panic of wondering what does that mean possessing each nerve of your body. 

You step on the side, he lets you escape. For now.

“Well, thank you. Hum, I’ll go shower. Eat something,” and like this you disappear, Satoru silently watching you walk away.

At night time, Satoru insists on watching some movie after the two of you ate the sweets he brought, bonding time he called. Sitting next to him, Satoru glares at the space left in between your two bodies. Arms opened, he says :

“Come here.”

Scooting closer, Satoru cradles you against his chest in a suffocating hug, letting you fall in between his thighs and encircling you by his biceps. The tip of his nose finds the hollow of your throat.

“You’re overly clingy tonight,” you murmur in a grin, trying to erase the strange atmosphere that happened earlier in the kitchen.

Through his lashes, he looks at you intensely, barely blinking, as if you would disappear from his grasp the moment darkness falls on his pupils, even for a millisecond. 

“Hmmm? And who’s to blame?”

White showing, teeth grazing your skin, not breaking eye contact. Then, a sting of flesh almost being ripped, followed by his smile.

“Ouch! Did you just bite me?” you exclaim.

“Hmm.”

“That’ll leave a mark,” you mutter as you intent to move your neck, but his lips are glued to it, soothing the pain in a gentle kiss.

Friends don’t do that. Friends don’t do that. Friends don’t do that. That sentence loops again and again as a warning in your head. 

“Oops,” he whispers.

“You’re clearly not sorry,” you retort in a nudge.

Satoru doesn’t answer, he lets his irises reflect on the glistening reddish mark staining your skin. Satisfaction, he stays contemplative and silent, which is unsettling coming from someone as talkative as Gojo Satoru. Total peacock and parrot. 

No, instead he prefers to just let the tumult of his mind go blank. Spiraling in the void of suppressed desire and feelings The Strongest isn’t supposed to express out loud, for various reasons. Unfortunate. His heart punctuates every one of his thoughts, fingers caressing your flesh, lips finding back your neck, before climbing up your jaw, reaching your ear, letting the warmth of his breath caress its shell. You think your stomach twisted in a heated contortion. 

“I want to be inside of you, and I mean in every way,” he whispers, and maybe only he heard that confession. One that nobody in their life could ever listen to, aside from you.

“What did you just say?” 

You blink, not sure of what you just heard. Satoru is exposing raw his vulnerability to you, abnormal behavior for anybody else. But you’re you, the other side of his coin. His tongue is untied, he completely lets the flow of words escape the barricade of his lips.

“It’s only with you that I feel like my true self, y/n. Not The Strongest, or Gojo’s head clan. Just me. That means a lot. I simply wish that… I could go under your skin and lock myself in there, or keep you imprisoned beside my ribs,” he affirms.

Second blink, surprised.

“Want ice cream? I’ll get us some in the freezer,” he changes subjects like nothing happened and stands up from the couch.

The night ends on that strange note.

The next day, your colleague notices the mark on your skin, like many others, to the point you, ashamed, try to hide it with makeup. But no time to bother about it, because Satoru makes sure of two things.

First, when you’re about to go to your mission, Satoru arrives like he controls everything around him, and tells your teammate that he can go back home, he’ll be the one handling the mission with you. By the intimidating aura surrounding him, it is impossible to go against his order, brown haired man leaving you alone with Satoru, resulting in getting mad at your best friend but falling on deaf ears.

Second thing, since that night, Satoru developed an obsession with marking you, leaving a string of his cursed energy on your flesh and tied to your soul in a way that only he can have the satisfaction to see. A bite, here and there, and whenever you manage to hide it with whatever makeup, cloth, accessories, he always comes back with a new one. 

And when you call him out about it, he simply plays dumb, saying he’s just showing his affection, but that doesn’t sound like a typical friendly gesture that best friends do. 

The processus of Satoru taking the place of the teammate you are supposed to have for every few missions is becoming more frequent as well. 

His excuse is downplayed at his typical answer : back in highschool, Suguru and him had an era of always doing missions together. That’s just what best friends do.

In all honesty, you realize how toxic this situation is turning. 

The excuse and projecting a past relationship on yours, going against your boundaries many different times, his mood swinging in a way that is scarier than you thought, things are seriously taking a bad turn these past few months. 

Not to add all his weird habits; staring at you, overly sharing about dark thoughts towards the higher ups and his lack of empathy as a human being in various situations, how he creeps into your life in an insane level to the point of no intimacy, and not to add the suspicion you have about the disappearance of your belongings.

So, that afternoon, at the end of a mission you again were supposed to do with another teammate, you face your best friend standing next to the obliterated curse at his feet. A splash of its blood staining a side of his snowy hair and cheek.

“Satoru, you seriously have to stop this. Let me handle my missions with my assigned partners. You’re honestly being selfish and-”

“I told you, y/n. They are weaklings that can’t handle high ranked curses like these. It’s just giving you deadweight, as well as being dangerous for you to handle. Not to add, don’t you think doing missions together is fun? I told you, it’s like when I was young with Su-”

This time, you are the one to cut him off. 

“I’m not Sururu.”

Satoru stops moving. The wind rises, blowing the loose strands of his hair. You can’t see his eyes, but you can feel the depth of his gaze. Six Eyes digging through. 

It takes many long seconds before his voice resonates.

“I know, you’ll never be, because unlike him, I’ll keep you by my side. That’s a promise.” 

His voice is not warm, not kind, not empathic, but strangely calm and cool. That’s not a promise either, that’s a threat. 

This time, you’re not laughing or indulging him when he says these kinds of things. You’re not ignoring it or putting it aside. No. For the first time, you actually say out loud what simmered underneath everything. Face distorting in a feeling you can’t even describe. Fear? Disgust? Anger? Disbelief? 

“You’re sick.”

Satoru steps closer. The tip of his fingers touch your cheek, the others discarding his blindfold to reveal the insanity in his eyes that he for long tried to keep low. 

“You made me sick.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Part 4

“I’m just saying, I feel like you tend to borrow some of my stuff and forget to give them back. That’s all! I’m not saying you’re actually stealing them or shit,” you say, in the middle of the night, as he’s sitting in your bed after coming back from God knows where. 

Satoru didn’t turn on the light earlier. No. But the city blues of Tokyo are enough to illuminate his face, as well as the dangerous glow of his irises. Slowly, he raises his hand, caresses the hair that roots behind your ear. 

“But even if I did, it’s just to keep things of you. ‘Remind myself of your presence when you’re not here with me.”

You frown, not sure to get this sudden new atmosphere floating around Satoru. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

His fingers reach the plump of your cheek. 

“A reminder, a trinket of you when I’m away on a mission, meeting, teaching, overseas. And to remember that when I’ll come back, you’ll always be here. Right?” he asks, more like doesn’t even wait for an answer. It’s eerie, how his face is smiling yet doesn’t seem like it at the same time. He chuckles slightly, looking down at your neck, collarbones, how your cursed energy is flooding through your body. “But even if you weren’t, I’ll come get ya! Ahah, you can’t run far away, anyways,” he ends his sentence by meeting your eyes, and you know he says the truth. 

Nobody can really escape Gojo Satoru. If he tracks you down, this is your end. You rarely saw it, when he was in battle. You hardly want to imagine being on the receiving end he only reserves for his enemies. 

You miss the first syllable, before managing to croak out an answer, then gaining back some confidence. 

“Why would I even run from you? That’s stupid. I’m not going to stop our friendship and leave you out of nowhere.”

Why is he acting like that scenario would ever happen? Is he projecting Suguru’s deflecting over you? You’re not him. You’re you. 

Satoru shakes his head, and, strangely, his lips kiss the slump of your forehead in a gentle touch. 

“I know you won’t,” he says sweetly, covered in honey, maybe too much. 

He repeats that sentence a second time in a whisper, but now, it feels more like a threat.  

Satoru knows you won’t leave him, because he won’t let you. Never will. His once mistake is in the past. You are the present, and his future. Gojo Satoru is not only weird, he is too intelligent, and will prevent your next moves before you can even form the thought about doing so. 

Actually, many things disappear when Satoru is around. 

Objects, food, clothes. Small, or useless, sometimes more important things. You don’t really pay attention, until you slowly recognize a pattern. 

If you remember well, the first case of this disappearance problem was a pen, really, a pen. You vaguely remember handing it to Satoru, when he needed to sign some boring paperwork, yet never returned it back. 

A dessert vanishing as well, but seriously, at first you simply blamed Satoru’s sweet tooth and selfish tendencies concerning food. Yet, he always stole — if he is actually stealing — the food you bite into, leaving the mark of your lips and teeth on the flesh of the pastry. Not the ones you left untouched. Only the marked ones. 

“Just a taste,” Satoru asks, more like demands in a tone of voice so different from his usual cockiness, that you come to wonder if he is really talking about tasting cake and not your beating heart. 

His gaze is draped on your face, more like you guess it through the darkness of his blindfold. Sitting across from you on the tiny round table of the coffee shop he brought you in — one he insisted on trying for a while now — he taps his fingers in a drum, waiting for your answer, cheek against his fist. 

“Of what? We have the same slice cake, genius,” you answer after swallowing your bite, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hmm? Just let me have a taste, yeah?” he insists, heavy on the words yet seeming weightless.

You sigh, noticing his intense facial expression, and by the way he doesn’t move, you know Satoru is staring until you’ll give in. More like, that’s why you think he is staring. Again, you can’t really know, his eyes are covered.

“If you insist, you big back,” you push the small plate containing your dessert towards him. 

Against all odds, Satoru doesn’t reach for the cake. No. His body moves suddenly towards you, in a second his tongue sticks out and his lips part just enough to swallow you whole. You think he’ll bite. Instead, he licks the cream there, at the corner of your lips. 

You blink, once, twice.  

“Uh?” 

Satoru, as if he wasn’t in public and what he just did wasn’t obscene, sits back lazily, emphasizing his humming by sliding his rose tongue on his teeth. 

“Tastier than I thought. I’m fascinated, y/n. You do know how to satisfy my sweet tooth. Tsk tsk, we’re really a match made in heaven,” he declares nonchalantly, smile stretching his mouth. 

But the way he talks about his sweet tooth reminds you more of Hannibal Lecter tendencies rather than simple food, like he’ll consume every bit of your being, from energy to soul. 

You manage to snap out of your confusion. Point at him. 

“First of all, that was just whipped cream on the corner of my mouth, and second of all, you’re so corny.” 

He scoffs, hand on his heart. 

“Ouch, you wound me!” 

You ignore him by a roll of your eyes, taking a bite of your food. By the way his blindfold falls on the line of his eyebrows, you manage to notice that he’s looking down at your mouth digging into the savory dessert. 

With precision, Satoru analyzes the way you eat it, how the cake should have been him, mouth and flesh. The moment you put it down to wipe your hands, Satoru grabs your slice, and steals a bite too, exactly where your teeth and lips found themselves a few seconds ago. 

“Hey! You already tried your chance earlier, eat your own food!”

“But yours taste better,” he answers while munching, giving it back. 

You know he’s not really talking about food, despite the joke, a slight uneasy feeling in your stomach. You don’t react to it, used, maybe not completely, but used to this type of reaction. 

Half an hour later, it’s time to leave the coffee shop. As you stand up, you turn to grab your bag and slide on your jacket. The moment you shift around, Satoru is casually standing next to you, waiting for your first move. But you still didn’t finish your slice, you have to take the last-

Wait. Wait. A glance down at the table, it’s gone. 

You were sure that there was a part of your cake that remained. No. Nothing. 

Satoru seems to notice the way your eyes look at your empty plate, but before you can form a concrete thought, pronounce your question out loud, his hand presses on the small of your back. He smiles. A small one that almost feels forced. 

“Come on, I’ll take you back home before the meeting I have with the higher ups,” he says.

Satoru is already gently guiding you towards the exit, yet his hold is firm, in a way you can’t turn back even if you tried. At his words, your mind drops the uncertainty you had about your dessert, to instead focus on what he said. 

“It’s alright, I don’t want you to be late, I can go alone,” you answer while you two step out on the busy street. 

A slide of his fingers, his palm leaves the small of your back to reach your upper body, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer. He matches your pace. 

“No, it’s getting late,” he retorts, it’s categoric, you can’t make him think otherwise. Satoru lifts his blindfold to look down at you. “And if I can lose some time before seeing their wrinkled ass, that’ll do me good with my insatiable need to obliterate their face,” he adds, eye widening at the end of his sentence, to punctuate his words. 

You snort, kind of nervously. You’re used, now, to Satoru saying these types of things since the last time he mentioned killing all the higher ups. 

“With how much you joke about ending them, I won’t be surprised if you ever do.”

His smile doesn’t reach his ears, the hold on your shoulder squeezing tighter. 

“Don’t tempt me, y/n.”

The atmosphere is cold at the end of his sentence, not finding what to answer. 

He doesn’t mention it again, changes subject and brings you home like the true gentleman he pretends he is, when he can be a bastard when he wants. You think again about the coffee shop once you’re alone. 

Then a hair clip disappears, or a pajama top left at his place, oh and, your lip balm! What a bummer, it was your favorite. 

“Satoru, did you see my chapstick?”

You look inside your bag, tap your pockets, check around, barely glancing at actually anything because of how confused you are. Satoru pops his lollipop out of his glossy lips, hand in pocket, ready to step outside your apartment to go grocery shopping with you. 

“Not this time.”

“Then where is it? In your pocket? Because you usually use it and forget to give it back to me,” you ask. 

He stands in front of you, waves with his hand. 

“Nah, nah. You just don’t pay attention, y/n. I saw you using it earlier while talking to me, so it’s somewhere in the bathroom. Must ´fell.”

“I don’t remember that.”

The blue behind his sunglasses shines slightly, before coming back to a steady dullness. He puts an exaggerated pout on his face, acting all dramatic and mocking. 

“You’re becoming old! Should I check your temperature, maybe you’re sick?”

You swat his palm off your forehead. 

“You’re so annoying,” you roll your eyes. 

“But you love me,” he sings, pressuring you to just leave the apartment. 

When you come back an hour later, you don’t find the stupid lip balm in the bathroom. Nowhere to be seen. Vanished, again. 

The most important thing that disappeared was almost a year ago, being your keys. For a whole day, panicking, then “magically” discovering it back hours later on the shelf right next to the door of the entry of your apartment. You checked many times before and it wasn’t there. How did it appear back like this? It didn’t make sense! 

Satoru arrived the next day, claiming the double of your keys. Because you are his best friend, Satoru affirms that it's normal he has access to his favorite place, in case he needs to crash by when you’re not around.

“A double of my keys? I never had one,” you articulate, weirded out, as he dangles them up your nose, standing in front of you in the darkness of your living room while the moon rises in the sky. 

“Hmm? You’re sure? I have it now.”

Satoru shrugs and slides back his — your — supposed previous keys in his pocket, before crashing on your couch like he always does every other night. 

“No, because I lost them yesterday, so I would have reached for the double if I knew.”

He tilts his head, stares right back at you, lips dropping their carefree smile. 

“But you found them back, your actual keys.”

“Yeah- I mean, how do you know?”

He actually looks at you as if you were dumb. Are you dumb? Is your reaction illogical? It makes you wonder.

“I don’t have to be a genius, you would have texted me if you didn’t find them back. And whatever, you had a double of your keys, I’m just claiming it now.” 

You let a second sink in. Did you have a double of your keys? Wait, actually the landlord talked about it, back some time ago… or maybe not? 

“If you say so… but that’s weird-”

“Hey, that’s what best friends do! I always had access to Suguru’s dorm back in highschool,” he cuts you before you can end your sentence, bringing you into his arms and pressing your cheek against his. 

The reminder of who was once his best friend, the type of intimacy he shared with him, makes you drop any fight back. 

“Oh, alright. Well, I don’t care, you always come whenever. But text me if you go to my place when I’m not here!”

Satoru is satisfied. You see it, but don’t mention it. 

“Will do.” 

Actually, not only physical objects disappear when Satoru is around. But your mind as well. 

Your memory turns fuggy. Things you believed to be true, turned the contrary. Like, you were sure that you left your hoodie on your desk last week! Apparently not, because you never found it back. And why would Satoru even take your clothing when it’s not his size? He won’t wear it, there is no reason to steal it. Satoru makes sure to make you understand “how foolish of you” to think the contrary, when he’ll have no motive whatsoever to do such a thing. 

Gojo Satoru is weird, but not for the reason people assume he is. 

The more you get to be close to him, his actual friend he never had since his teenage years, you wonder if he really is the man you once thought he was, or if that was just bound to happen one way or another.

Because Gojo Satoru is hardly seen as human, he tends to lean onto that side of the coin when it satisfies him and can bring him something in return no matter how much it hurts.

You are the thing in return.

Gojo can’t satisfy himself anymore with the sole idea of being simply your best friend. He needs more, because the more intimate you two are, the closer he has you to his heart. Allowing him to bask in feeling emotions that belong to having the privilege to identify as a human being, rather than a living creature. 

You come to wonder what will be the next step, boundary broken, in your relationship. All shit and giggles until things start to seriously go south. 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Part 3

If you have any recommendations/ideas for me to explore Gojo’s unhinged side towards reader, drop it in the comments! I want these series to have more than 4 parts, resulting in a diversity of thematics, so I’m very open about suggestions. Xoxo

Tonight, Satoru arrives late at your door. Doesn’t bother to knock, text you beforehand, he simply uses the double of the keys and enters your place heavily. His blindfold down his neck, shoes kicked, you rise from your bed to meet him in the hallway, halfway to the dream world.  

“Can’t believe they asked me to do this at 3 A.M, and then trying to display the decrease of the next generation in jujutsu society. They complain we don’t have enough sorcerers, when they don’t do anything when fifteen years old are sent to death. Can you believe it, y/n?”

He slowly turns towards you, coldness of his stare digging into your heart. A shiver runs down your spine. He’s waiting for your answer without any facial expression.

Honestly, you want to knock him off and tell him to text you beforehand instead of barging at your place in the middle of the night without even a “hello”. But with the way he’s acting right now, Satoru is in his angry-no empathy-mood. Maybe later… 

So, you sigh in a nod,  in a second he’s at your side, and you pat his back with understanding.

“It always has been like that, sadly… But your students have the chance to have you, because you’re not like them,” you answer.

A smile on his lips, Gojo lets his arms snake around your waist and brings you to his chest. Eyes half lidded, he gazes at your bed hair, down to the way you look at him.

“Hmm, and I have you.”

You snort.

“What does it have to do with anything you just said?”

His mouth stays stretched, but his eyes stop smiling. It’s a shift that is barely noticeable, almost, not to you. Up, his hand comes to your cheek, warm and invading. 

“It has to do a lot,” he whispers, before he lets silence swallow you all. You hear the tick of the clock, it’s three and a half a.m. You don’t answer, don’t know what.

Satoru stiffens his hold, his fingers slightly digging deeper in the plump of your skin, you see the pink corner of his eye. “Should I kill them all, y/n?”

This, right now, this is the type of sentence he drops like a bomb then and there, does it more often than you think, always manages to turn on an alarm in your brain that screams how much you are in a position to escape. 

A few seconds pass by, icy stare, heart in your throat. You can’t move, even if you wanted to, you can’t. Satoru has you locked in his arms in a way that is sinisterly strategic, trapped and unable to try to even shift a centimeter away. He knows it, it’s not a coincidence, it’s a reality.

Then, he suddenly releases you, steps back, and has back this goofy grin so characteristically like his. 

 “Just kidding! I’ll go shower, don’t mind me using hot water,” he announces, leaves towards your bathroom like nothing happened.

“Right,” you mutter, feeling the beating of your blood in your ears, before taking a breath and heading to the living room. You can’t sleep anymore, you’ll just watch something dumb on tv.

Satoru comes back from the shower, wearing nothing but one of your towels around his waist without a care in the world. Crosses by the living room, maybe to show off, you don’t know, goes to your bedroom, and comes back wearing the pajamas he left at your place a long time ago. 

Flipping next to you in a breath, he makes himself comfortable on the couch. 

“What are you watching?”

“Something dumb,” you answer in a shrug and a small tired laugh. 

Satoru stretches his arms on the back of the couch.

“Sign me in, I need to cool off,” he says.

“Didn’t you with the shower?”

He stares at the TV screen, unfazed.

“Nah. Not really.”

You notice it, sometimes. When he’s not wearing his blindfold, the way his eyes, a shade of blue so deep that you would drown in, dig holes in your soul. An intensity that breaks through, makes your skin crawl, goosebumps, shiver. 

“You’re staring again,” you spit as you glance at him.

Satoru is sprawling next to you, the faint glow of the movie illuminating a side of his face in the darkness of your apartment.

“Am I?” he asks in a lopsided grin. 

“Yes. Satoru, you’re supposed to look at the screen if you want to watch the movie.”

He tilts his head, puts his eyes on the screen, then back to you.

“Was totally watching the soldier jump into the sea, I got peripheral vision, y’know?”

“Whatever, snap out of it,” you murmur in a sigh.

Satoru pouts, crossing his arms over his chest dramatically. A way to make the mood funnier and less heavy.

“Can’t even admire my best friend, I see how it is!”

You would have laughed, if the pressure of his stare wasn’t so suffocating, so wrong. 

Your heart is beating wild, it takes a few minutes for you to manage to be back to enjoy the movie and be engrossed in the story. Until you feel it again, his stare. 

No smile, no facial expression, just Satoru looking at you with nothing giving away. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was secretly plotting to kill you, or something like that. 

This time, you manage to ignore it. Manage, yes. That’s just part of your routine, after all.

Time flies by, feeling the drowsiness take a toll on you, like hands grabbing you towards the void of sleep. You don't fight it, it’s too late to care, a win for your eyelids fluttering shut.

When your head tilts on the side, Satoru’s first reflex is to let his palm lay flat on it, and make you lean against his shoulder. The touch of his thumb is a lullaby, soothing you to fully let go, be limp. The faint sound of the movie, last rays of light, his caress, then darkness.

You’re finally asleep.

Satoru waited the exact second of it. With a skilful arm, he scoops you up against his chest, free hand turning off the TV, then carries you to your room. 

Gently, he rolls you on your bed, slides his bicep under your weight, and keeps you close while he lays down next to you. His pupils don’t leave you, not even for a second during the whole process, no blinking. 

Here, in the quietness of the end of the night, Gojo Satoru keeps you as close as possible. If he had the ability to open his chest and keep you locked behind his ribs, he would have done so by now. 

A brush of his fingers against your cheek, he doesn’t sleep. He won’t. He’ll naturally stay here, staring at you, until he eventually has to leave for work. 

Here, his Six Eyes are acting up. Glowing blue through black shadows, analyzing eerily every breath, heart beat, cursed energy, blood flow, hair, lash, skin of yours. It’s so fascinating, so reassuring, to have you here, real and alive, safe and sound, with him and only him. 

For now, he’ll let his thoughts shut down. The only moment he can not think, usual brain working too fast, too much, all the time. With you, it dies down. Like it did with Suguru. You’re his medicine. A cruel one. 

Because love is the most twisted curse of them all. 

And this time, he’ll gladly curse you too. 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

this will be a series of one shots were i'll explore this side of Satoru and how it affects his relationship with reader, a subsitute to what was once Suguru! xoxo

Really, nothing. You weren’t even entirely sure to go to Shoko’s birthday. A simple text of celebration sent on her special day, which she answered with a thank you. Continuing the conversation, you sent an “I hope you’re having fun, today! Are you celebrating it with friends or family?”, which she answered with an invitation. An invitation to her birthday party two weeks after. 

Something after eating with her family at a restaurant. You quite didn’t understand at first, thinking it was a familial gathering. You didn’t want to seem rude by dropping by, unannounced, in front of her relatives. So you almost declined. Almost.

“No, you don’t understand, y/n. It’s a restaurant that becomes a nightclub after eleven. My family’ll leave, and other friends will come. You can even bring some friends as well, so come, it will make me happy. ‘Kay?”

“Oh, right, sorry I didn’t get it at first. Of course I'll come! What time is it?”

Looking back, if you never cleared the misunderstanding, you wouldn’t have just missed on the party, but on meeting him as well.

The day of the party ticked by, you got dressed back at your tiny apartment in town, there with your best friend, Yuki, getting ready to leave around eleven and a half, just to arrive on time at midnight and thirty minutes. 

“You know who else is at Shoko’s birthday?” she asked while leaning towards her reflection on the mirror, applying a thick layer of gloss and arranging her blond hair.

“Not really. I mean, yes, her girlfriend. Utahime. But that’s all,” you answered after fixing your makeup, having to close your eyes and mouth to not let any particles get in your poor lungs.

“Maybe she’ll have hot friends,” she smiled. You answered by rolling your eyes, gentle elbow.

“Ahah, let’s keep dreaming.”

“And let’s hope the music is not boring as well,” Yuki ended up by a tap on your shoulder, a reminder to get going.

Taking some pictures of your outfit, a last look in the mirror, you actually felt confident, pretty, hot, even. What a bummer that nobody else could enjoy it, aside from you. 

Back in Tokyo, taking the subway wasn’t such a long ride. The pit in your stomach grew in a weird distortion, the feeling of wonder, quite intimidated to meet a whole new group of people for the first time. Holding down the bag containing her birthday gift, you took one last deep breath before heading to the door of the supposed restaurant-now-nightclub.

The music, loud. The lights, blinding. People, dancing and glued all around the place. A toxic atmosphere elevated in between the walls. A quick text to Shoko, asking where she was, you finally caught a glimpse of her next to the DJ, somewhere normally out of access from the public.

She actually made you enter it with your Yuki, and you immediately hugged her with a gentle smile, shouting a “happy birthday!” through the echoes of the music. A kiss on your cheek after handing her the gift, saying hello to your friend, her arm looped around your waist.

“Lemme show you some of my friends! They’re not all here, but you might talk to some!” she had to shout for you to hear her.

You nodded in understanding, gaze following her finger as she pointed at different heads in the crowd. Your eyes caught the faces in a blur, humming at each.

“And this group of guy, them, yes at the left, are my friends as well!” 

You had to focus for a second before landing on the supposed men, until you met a tuft of pearly white messy hair. A dizziness, then noticing the smile on his face, dimples, talking to another guy next to him, not as tall as him but as charming. The corner of your lips twitched at the vision of this man, impressed by how handsome he actually was. Since when Shoko had such a hottie in her friend group?

“That’s his name! Yeah, that’s all for now!”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking back at her. Shit, you didn’t hear the name she said.

“What?”

Because of the loud bass, impossible for her to hear your question. You didn’t bother more with it, and simply decided to start dancing with her and your best friend. One of the good things about Shoko being the DJ’s friend, is the access to a step, giving a full view of the nightclub. There, your hawk eye could easily spot anyone, while still having fun, and any stare could land on your form as well.

For the following thirty minutes, maybe an hour, you didn’t think much more of it, aside from having fun. Swaying your hips, sipping on Shoko’s drink, talking to Yuki and dancing with her whenever a song you both enjoyed started to resonate dreamily.

“Utahime bought a bottle for shots, come!”

It didn’t need to be repeated twice, you followed towards the table some steps next to your left. The moment you arrived in front of the glasses, and the small group gathered, you immediately noticed the white haired guy. Barely a glance towards him, not wanting to let your curiosity make you weird, simply waiting for your turn. Looking at what was in the bottle, the shots were served.

When raising your head, a hand in front of your face. Here, he was handing you your shot with a smile and without even needing to ask as well. The kind that could make anyone falter.

“Thank you,” you pronounced, before everyone shouted one, two, three, and gulped it down in a go.

When people went back to dancing, you grabbed Yuki’s arm.

“Wow, that friend of Shoko is, like, super hot. Did you see him?” you asked in a teasing voice, simply wanting to gossip with her.

“I know, right?” she answered in the same tone. A mutual giggle in between two girls, an acknowledgment that didn’t go further than a simple observation. 

Shoko made a sign to her lips. A cigarette, silently asking you if you wanted to join her in the smoking area. Yuki and you followed her, not without some struggle because of the sea of moving bodies surrounding every meter left and right. The moment the door closed behind the two of you, the muffled sound of the music was a blessing, aside from the heavy air filled with smoke.

“There, girls,” said her voice.

Turning around, here he was, again. Leaning against the window, hands in pocket, eyes landing on you the moment you entered. Fuck, something must have been up with your hormones, but the sex appeal emanting from this man was inhumane.

“That’s my friend, he doesn’t smoke though,” she explained.

“Hi,” you said.

At your words, he smiled brightly, in the way that illuminated everything around him. 

“Hi. I’m Satoru,” he introduced himself, followed by yours and your best friend’s.

Shoko started to exchange with Yuki, something you didn’t listen to while handing you a cigarette from her pack. Sliding the murderous item in between your lips, hands started to search for your lighter, and… shit, nowhere. Cursing internally, Shoko nor Yuki noticed your struggle. Until a lighter appeared right under your nose. 

Satoru was handing you his lighter, then thumb rolling, flame springing out and licking the tip of your cigarette. Eyes in eyes, you inhaled in a smile that he gave you back, a kind of teasing smirk that made you wonder what he was thinking about while doing this kind gesture.

“Thank you!” you ended up saying, surprised that he noticed when your own friend friends didn’t.

He’s helpful, was your thought. 

Cigarette ended, you all joined back the roaring of the party. Drawn by his magnetic appearance and charms, whenever you were dancing, your eyes couldn’t help but drop in the crowd in search of his figure. Simply to bless your eyes, because a hottie like this couldn’t get unnoticed. And all fun and games, a distraction during this birthday party.

Navigating in between different spots with your best friend, going to the bar, noticing other hot people, you and Yuki enjoyed your time through the following hours. Drinking, drinking again, every glass and shots offered and paid for by Shoko and her girlfriend. Talking with some of her friends, a guy named Nanami that clearly didn’t look his age. Others you quite didn’t catch their name, or didn’t bother remembering. 

“Who is your crush of the night?” you ended up asking in a starting slurred voice, slowly becoming tipsy. Nothing crazy, really.

“The hot guy with the buns at the bar, for starters," responded Yuki. You laughed, tapping her arm in a wave of eyebrows. 

“Hmmm, agreed. Did you see how he looked at you? Girl…”

“And you?”

“Well, him too. And Shoko’s friend, Satoru,” you managed to answer, scanning the area to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Duh, of course,” she said, like it was obvious and out of the question.

Really, simply to pass time. You knew that it was to giggle and shit, a way to distract yourself, a bonus, because no way something would happen in between you and a guy like him. Way out of your league, that’s what you said to yourself. 

Following where Shoko disappeared, you found her back in another part of the dance floor, surrounded by her group of friends. Joining in, having fun, letting the music animate your limbs. 

Traveling around, you stared at the way Satoru danced, the way his hips matched the tempo of the song, mastered in a way that left you surprised. Boy, that man had some moves in his blood. Mind wandering, you did let yourself imagine how he would dance with someone else, or with you. 

Stupid smile on your face, you didn’t really notice the way he stared at you.

Suddenly, a very much drunk girl stumbled in front of your figure.

“Hi girl!” she stammered, before getting closer in an attempt to match your moves.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, letting her dance against you. The way her eyes were dizzy showed how far gone in alcohol she was. Then, a tug on your arm. There, a bracelet you put earlier, had a strand of hair locked on the metal. Her strand of hair. Carefully, you touched the girl’s shoulder.

“Wait, sweetheart, your hair is stuck in my bracelet. Don’t move, I'll take it off!” you warned and gently started to untangle the blondish lock.

“What? My hair?” she answered before tugging her head backwards.

“Wait, you’ll hurt yourself!” you exclaimed as you struggled to keep up.

Panic rose, not knowing how to properly handle the situation with a completely drunk woman, and not wanting to yank on it hard and create a bald spot on her poor head.

“Fuck, it’s messed up-” you mutter under your breath.

“I’ll help.”

Lifting your eyes, blue starred back, before looking down at your arm. With his long fingers and in some short seconds, Satoru managed to swiftly free you from the hair grip of the woman in an amused smile.

“Here you go,” he said with a wink.

“Shit, thanks, again.”

No time to answer, the woman almost fell on him. Satoru mostly knew her, as he kept up straight on her feet, articulating words you were unable to catch through the lyrics of the song vibrating all around you. Once he made sure she was okay, he turned back and glanced at you, offering you another grin of his that seemed to know how to twist your stomach. 

Closing your eyes, continuing to let the music reverberate against your skin, guiding your moves. This moment was quite foggy, simply remembering dancing close to Satoru, yet a safe distance that allowed you two to not touch each other, but locking eyes every five seconds, smiling. 

Until, it’s not that everything came crashing down, but this time it was a lock of your hair caught in Satoru’s ring. At the sight of it, the white haired man exploded with laughter, gently taking it off.

“Oh fuck!” you said.

“Hair is going everywhere around here!” he joked, which you answered by a stupid laugh, slightly embarrassed but thankful for his gentle help. 

What happened after, a blur of moves and leaving the dance floor, surely to drink.

Finding your way, joining back Shoko, then Yuki, you explained what happened. While talking loudly enough to be heard, you couldn’t help but try to see where Satoru was in the crowd, this time. Turning your head, here, on your left he was. Face slightly more serious, searching for someone around him, surely the guy with the long onyx hair. His jacket off, tight black shirt compressing his arms. Holy shit, he didn't have just a pretty face and nice interactions, but that guy was jacked up as well!

“Girl, he seems really nice, why don’t you dance with him?!” asked Yuki, sipping on some cocktail paid for by Shoko.

Shaking your head, tearing your eyes to look back at her.

“Eh, I’m not going to ask him, what if he’s not interested? He simply was nice, nothing else,” you justified, shrugging in an attempt to seem uninterested. 

“Shoot your shot,” she answered back.

Your face distorted in discomfort. 

“Yeah, not confident enough to do that.”

“Bummer.”

“Whatever.” 

Your best friend had this look in her face that you ignored. Staying close to her, you continued to dance without another thought. Tired or bored, Yuki stayed sitting on the sofa in front of your moving body, legs parted. Next to you, Satoru and other of Shoko’s friends that you joined to dance with. Slowly, the club was getting emptier, the closing hour approaching. Time flew way too quickly.

A few words exchanged, as well as lingering stares, your mind couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be against Satoru. His toned body, his charming stance, the movement of his hips. But this man was way out of your league, and if he was interested, he would have shown it! You didn’t want to seem like a creep. During the night, some weirdos actually asked to dance with you by gluing their disgusting hands and faces to you without even hearing a yes or no. You didn’t want to seem like them with their loathsome behavior.

Facing back your best friend, Satoru talked and danced with friends two meters behind you on your right. Yuki stared at you, then at him, then back at you. Oh oh, you knew where this was coming. A drunken smile, she rose from her sit and shouted : 

“Hey, you two, dance together!”

Your heart dropped of embarrassment, not daring to look behind you to see if he heard, and immediately giving a deathly stare to your friend. Mimicking cutting her throat, you shook your head slightly.

“Shut the fuck up!” you mouthed silently, which she answered by a roll of her eyes.

Gosh, this woman was going to give you a heart attack!

Following this, around two musics passed in a weird blur.

“Hey.”

A tap on your shoulder, you faced Satoru smiling down at you.

“Wanna dance together?”

You had to let your brain assimilate what you just heard for a solid second. No, freaking, way. This man, Satoru, the one you had a crush on since the beginning of this party and out of your shot, was interested in dancing with you? What the hell was going on? 

Not wanting to make him wait, you immediately nodded, offering him a pleased stretch of your lips.

“Yeah, of course!”

“Perfect.”

His hand invited you to take it, landing your palm against his. Gently, his free hand fell on the small of your back, bringing you closer. The music followed, as well as the rocking of your body. In less than two seconds, he matched your movements, eyes on your face all the way, eagerly swallowing your laugh, teeth showing in brightness.

At first, he kept a distance, just enough to let you get comfortable. The moment he felt you loosening up, and showing no intent to back away, Satoru acted.

He glued your torso to his, letting you feel the warmth of his body. The sway of his hips met yours, slowly swinging left and right. 

You realised that every time you danced with someone, including very close friends of yours when partying together, you never had a dance that matched each other so well. Each time there was a little period of time, maybe a second or two, where your hips and your friend’s weren’t on the exact same beat, not perfectly in sync.

But now, it was. Being quite a surprise.

Lifting your head, meeting the depth of his blue, the grin, dimples. The atmosphere shifted, his moves got slower, more calculated. Legs bending just enough to meet your pelvis and blending completely with you.

The heat rose, getting bolder and followed by the own bend of your knees, reaching closer to the floor. There, a soft, barely perceptible, grinding. Fuck, the feeling slowly got addictive, something warm in between your legs.

Satoru shifted, and then made you twirl, tearing a laugh from your throat. Wanting to make him dance as well, you made him turn too, then showed him a trick you learnt back when you were younger, resulting in your dance alternating in between proximity and laughter.

Again, bringing you back against him, eyes never leaving your face and analyzing every of your expressions at each press and sway. 

The moment everything stopped was when the lights turned on, showing it was the closing hour of the club. 5:30 AM. Time to get back home.

“You dance very well, y’know?” he said, quite a surprise coming from him.

“Woah, thank you! Well, you too.”

“Ah, I have to find my friend. I don’t know where he is,” Satoru announced after stepping back enough to let you breathe, glancing around, then back at your pretty face.

“Alright, go. I need to pee,” you answered, and not even knowing why you shared this piece of information, but the alcohol in your veins said otherwise.

He smiled and left, which resulted in you joining back Shoko and Yuki to go together to the bathroom. You were immediately met by their teasing smirks, asking about whatever was all that with Satoru.

“You guys saw?”

“Yup, and I recorded,” answered your best friend.

“No way you did?! Send me!” 

The following minutes were giggles, while going the three of you to the toilets, then leaving and staying in front of the club, talking with Shoko’s friends, wondering how you will go back home. Cab? Subway? 

“Satoru just pointed at you while talking to the DJ,” whispered Yuki while showing by a raise of her chin the supposed white haired man on the opposite side of the street.

You looked discreetly, wondering what he said. Indeed here he was, but whatever was exchanged remained a secret. 

Around some minutes later, he crossed the street, exchanging a few words and jokes with Shoko, you and the other friends of hers. You made him laugh. Fuck. A pretty laugh.

One last smile, next to the black haired guy, Suguru if you remembered well, he announced they’ll leave as they were exhausted and had to work later in the day.

Eyes staring at his form disappearing in the last shades of darkness of the time, heart hammering and still stuck in that dance you shared with him.

Back on the way home, sitting in the empty subway, you stared at your phone. Your friend indeed sent you the video, and it allowed you one last time to reminisce about the sensation you felt.

Something you didn’t notice back then, but in the video you could see the way Satoru utterly stared at you while dancing. The stretch of his smile, so big, like he was having the time of his life with you. Man, he looked bewitched, to say the least. 

Since when people could stare at you like this? Was this some kind of new superpower? 

Yeah, he surely enjoyed this dance, but that guy left an impression on you that will hardly go away. 

That night, you dreamt of him. Back in your mind, wondering if you’ll ever see him again. It might. Or, maybe, whatever happened that night was meant to be a one time thing, enough to drive your brain in a loophole of the crumbs that left this night behind.

Better luck next time. 

————

What the actual hell is going on? Are you going to be killed twice? No way. You can’t be that doomed to have the world trying to make you meet your end a second time. Or maybe it’s not you, but indeed the world that is going to end. Explaining their comeback… Wait, scars Satoru wouldn’t look so happy and amused if that was the case. Nah. So, the question is : why are you finding yourself in the same situation that happened two years ago? 

Yeah. You’re going crazy. Totally. Or maybe it’s just a dream. 

“Y/n, hearth is calling you,” he snaps you out of your thoughts, your boyfriend, the real one of this current timeline. You blink, once, twice, then stare at the three of them surrounding you in the chaotic entry of your apartment. The scene is oddly familiar. 

“I think she’s still as confused as us. Maybe she’s daydreaming about having a foursome again…” adds the blindfolded Satoru, tapping his chin then giving you this stupid boyish grin that always manages to find its way to your heart. 

“Shut up, Satoru,” you snarl in an attempt to hide the sudden pool of heat that brewed in your stomach at the reminder of this eventful night. 

“Which one?” asks your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. 

“The husband one,” you sigh. 

“But we are two of us being your husband now, sweetheart,” answers scars Gojo, tilting his head and accompanying it with a charming wink. You swallow your saliva, annoyed to have to explain yourself for something as stupid as saying shut up. 

“The blindfolded one! Yeah, you, without the scars!” you point at the one in question, which ends in a mutual laugh. Indeed, two years have passed in your timeline, but in theirs as well. The blindfolded Satoru had the joy to marry you, a stark reminder of the future of your relationship with your boyfriend. 

During these short few years following what happened, you always avoided the subject, finding it embarrassing, but Satoru thought otherwise and never stopped talking about it. Even proposing the stupid idea, one year ago, to marry you as fast as possible, saying : “whatever, we’re already going to get married in the future. Why not do it now? It’ll save us time, yeah?” You obviously refused, saying that the two of you still need to fully get accustomed to each other being in a romantic and devoted relationship instead of jumping to fast conclusions. 

“So we managed to avoid getting cut like a steak, I see,” comments your boyfriend, stopping your train of thoughts and making you listen back to the conversation. Blindfolded Satoru leans against him and smiles brightly, hand on his heart. 

“Younger me, we managed to avoid a lot of things in my timeline, including my sealing and all Shibuya’s incident,” he says proudly. 

“You were supposed to be sealed?!” you exclaim in utter shock. After all, Satoru never told you the extent of what was supposed to happen in the future. You always wondered why keeping it a secret, though. 

“Yeah. A drag, really. In such a pitiful way. But, at least you’re not dead anymore, so a win is a win for my timeline,” explains scars Satoru, ending his sentence with a soft smile. Which you give him back. Because, knowing that the changes the four of you made two years ago managed to impact his own reality and modify the course of time, is a big relief. 

“So why the hell are you two— me? whatever, back here? Is y/n still in death danger? Something else?” adds your boyfriend in an irritated tone, clearly annoyed by the presence of his doppelgängers. 

“Nope, and the jujutsu society is doing fine, so I have no idea,” admits the oldest of them all. You rub your nose, confused. 

“Then it’s not one of us that deliberately made us time travel. Was it unconsciously? A curse that instead triggered it?” concludes the blindfolded one. 

“Ok, maybe to figure all this out we need again to calm down, sit down, and just… breath,” you propose as you guide them towards the living-room, already feeling your energy being drained when the day just started. 

They sit. Your boyfriend is the first one to reach for you, but the blindfolded one, apparently quicker than his younger self, brings you sitting halfway on his and scars Gojo’s lap. 

“You’ll be the one that needs breathing. We’re not holding back anymore compared to two years ago, remember?” he muses as the strong grip of his biceps around your waist keeps you tucked to his chest. Scars Satoru takes the opportunity to steal a kiss the moment you turn your head in confusion. 

“Get your hands away from her, even more with what you two did earlier” snaps your boyfriend, snatching you back to him, and this time you end up completely caged. Arms and legs rolled around your body, chin propped on your head, and deathly stare. His jealousy gets to a ridiculous level. What happened earlier, hours ago, stills plays in your minds 

“My hands are your hands,” retorts the blindfolded one. 

“We’re sharing, like we made that night. Understood?” adds scars Satoru, standing up and raising an eyebrow. 

The three of them are in a silent battle that only Gojo Satoru’s mind can understand. Some telepathic shit in between versions of himself. After some long and agonizing seconds, your boyfriend sighs and lets you go, all of them now making you sit in the middle of the couch and hogging your personal space. 

“And my say in this?!” you protest, glaring at your boyfriend, then two husbands. Two husbands, what a strange way to say now that you think about it. 

“We know you enjoy way too much the attention, baby,” chuckles the blindfolded one, nose finding its place in the crook of your neck and kissing the hickey he made seven hours ago.  

“Here we go again…” you whisper to yourself. Because yeah. Here we indeed go again. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Monday, 3 am. 

This intricate situation started hours back in the middle of the night. 

Going out, a nightclub well known by people in your neighborhood. Dancing, drinking, letting go. Including Shoko that needed much relief after a stressful week of dealing with a lot of injured sorcerers. You proposed to bring her to a girl’s night, and that’s how you're finding yourself dancing in the haven of debauchery, alcohol, sweat, body moves and music. 

Poor Satoru was devastated to not be invited to this hangout. Your boyfriend forgot that first, it’s a girl’s night, and second, he’s supposed to work on a mission until very late. It’s with puppy eyes and tons of kisses, some devoted sex in a futile attempt to keep you by his side longer than expected, that you left him to his demise. 

Your hips sway, a stupid smile on your lips at the sight of Shoko loosening up. Your skin is glistening from the humidity, the neons illuminating the pearls of sweat rolling down your neck. Losing yourself in the temptation of the song, you can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to dance with Satoru right now. To feel the stiffness of his torso against your back, his big hands on your waist, the heat of his breath on your throat and the sensitive feel of his lips on your cheeks. 

“I go smoke!” exclaims the brunette.

“It’s your tenth cigarette since we arrived!” you scream back to make yourself heard upon the loud basses. She winks at you, slides the deadly weapon in between her rouge lips and walks towards the exit. You roll your eyes, being left alone but not minding it, long used already.

The music changes, including the sulfuric atmosphere and energy surrounding you. Then, the moment you breathe out, you feel a mouth landing on your shoulder, and hands wrapping on your hips. You gasp, turning around in a move of protecting yourself from the audacity of this person to touch you like this without your consent, only to be met by blue striking blue eyes. 

Gojo. 

“Having fun without me, baby?” he taunts, lips ghosting over yours and this tempting smirk of his.

“Satoru? What are you doing here?!” you exclaim in surprise, eyes widening of wonder. 

“The question is, what are you doing here, sweetheart?” adds his voice, but from behind. 

A torso brushes yours, another arm snakes your waist, lips curl around your ear. Your face snaps up, only to meet another pair of blues. Satoru. Again. 

You think you’re high. Someone drugged your drink. You’re being completely delirious. Fuck. What the hell is going on?

“What-” 

“I think she’s having a stroke,” mocks the Satoru in front of you, pulling down halfway his blindfold. Blindfold, blindfold! Your Satoru still doesn’t have one, and the only one that has is him from the future! 

You instantly turn around to face the man you thought you’ll never see again. Satoru, your supposed to be husband, covered in scars. 

It’s them. They’re back.

“The fuck is happening,” you breath out, bumping against blindfolded Satoru that caresses your arms, slowly, softly, guiding you to sway against him. 

“Dunno, baby. We both found ourselves in an empty street, thirty minutes ago, in the dead of the night,” he answers in your ear, loud enough so you can hear despite the loud music. 

“We felt your cursed energy in here and decided to go check by ourselves what you were doing and maybe what was going on in this timeline,” adds scars Satoru, stepping once, the perfect amount to sandwich you. 

“What if people recognize you?! There are two of you!” you say in panic, attempting to push him away. Surely towards the exit. 

“Chill out, everybody in here is drunk, and with the lightning there is no way a sorcerer would physically recognize me,” retorts the one behind you, this time trailing a hot path of wet kisses on your nape. The shiver that runs down your spine is sulfurous. 

“Yeah, tuned down our cursed energy as well,” adds the other, the blue of his eyes shining under the neons. The tip of his fingers tilt your head, one inch away from his minty breath. “Since we’re here, why not have some fun before facing the reality of why we’re here and going to fish for answers? Hmm?” he finishes. 

“Dying to dance ‘bit with you, baby. What year are we?” says the blindfolded Satoru behind you, rolling his hips against your ass. Deliberate move, your blood rushes in your veins. Shit, the euphoric feeling of having the man that you love being duplicated and grinding his hips against you like this, is making you see blurry. 

“2016. But Shoko will come back-” you stammer out. 

“Don’t worry about that,” interrupts the older one. At his words, he checks for the entry of the nightclub, making sure your friend is not coming. 

He looks back at you, a knowing grin, and then the corner of his lips cut by a scar, tilts towards your mouth and kisses you suavely. You swallow a moan of surprise, both of their lower bodies slowly moving in a way that makes you accompany their sway. 

Their lips find yours, the slope of your neck, the sides of your faces. They change positions, turning you around. Their hands travel your back, stomach, thighs, waist, hips. Following the circles and twirl of your dance. Breathes mingle. Warmth falls on your heated skin. You think you’re losing your mind. Each grind, the hardness pressed from the front and behind is really, really, really consuming your thoughts.

So when the two of them notice Shoko coming back, it’s no surprise that they teleport you to the bathroom and lock the door. Lips smash against yours, and you don’t know which one is kissing you so hardly. Hands, four, adventure under your clothes, gripping moans out of your throat. Your knees weaken, and a leg slides up to press against your clothed cunt. Again, finding yourself sandwiched, you barely notice the mirror to your left showing you the oh so sinful image of what you’re doing right now. 

“Look at our lovely y/n all wrecked. You missed having the two of us, hmm?” muses what you recognize being the blindfolded Satoru. His thumb presses against your lower lip, facing you, then letting his hand trail down your chest and slowly caress the curve of your breast. Your eyes widen when they catch the golden shiny jewel on his finger. 

“The ring?” you manage to ask, while the other Satoru, who was supposed to be your husband, only husband in the future, kisses your neck. 

“Got married too. My lovely wife,” says the blindfolded one, showing the ring proudly. 

“Our lovely wife,” corrects the other. 

“Two years passed for us too,” he continues, winking, then stopping you from saying anything else by kissing you again. 

Fingers that massage your breast, slide up your top, then start to toy with your nipples. Others walk down your clothes, slip under your panties and soon reach your clit. Horribly slow circles that drag you in agony. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure, from two persons at the same time, soon starts to swallow everything else. Your moans cover your thoughts, legs barely able to hold you straight on your feet.

“Already so wet? Almost forgot how easy it is to bring you to the edge, y/n,” muses scars Satoru, showing his two digits to your face, slowly separating them to make the liquid glisten under the flickering light of the bathroom. 

“What do you mean forget? Don’t tell me that in your timeline of barely some months older than mine, you two don’t fuck anymore. Right?” says the other one in an offended voice. You attempt to participate as well in the conversation, but the way fingers slide back across your folds, insert themselves inside your cunt, curl at the right place, and a thumb presses on your clit, you simply moan out of pleasure. 

“We barely have time anymore, but you’ll soon understand why…” explains scars Satoru, followed by a tender kiss to your shoulder. 

“What?” you manage to blurt out. Are the two of you too busy with life in the future? To the point of having no sex for weeks? Maybe months?

“Shhh, just concentrate on cumming for me, sweetheart, yeah?” he coos, accelerating the pace of his hand. 

“Cumming for us,” corrects blindfold Satoru, letting his tongue caress the tip of your nipples before slightly biting down in a teasing way. 

You see stars, scars Satoru grinding his hard clothed cock against your ass, following the same rythm of his fingers that are fucking you just so goodly. The one in front of you grabs your face, melts his lips on yours, moves his mouth in the angle that you happen to love so much, and gropes your tits. When you feel your orgasm approaching, some rationality hits you back widely, and you instantly push blindfolded Satoru away, breaking the kiss.

“Shit, wait, wait, this is not fair for my Satoru, the one from this timeline,” you stumble on your words, and the one behind you slows the thrusting of his fingers, but quite doesn’t stop either. 

“Unfair? You’re right, we’re very jealous,” he says from your back. 

“How about we call him so he’ll know that we’re back? Show him what he’s missing right now and how he should come join you quickly…” proposes the one that got shoved away, flashing you this type of evil grin that means nothing good is brewing. Nothing. At the same time, scars Satoru takes off his fingers and instead you feel the hardness and warmth of his cock poking your entry, caressing it temptingly. 

“Call him? Like right now?” you stammer, because the burning need of having him inside you right now is slowly crumbling your self control. 

“Yep. Lemme take your phone for you, baby,” confirms the one in front of you, adding a wink to his sentence. His long fingers travel your body, surely on purpose, before reaching the place you hide your phone. Satoru grins, grabbing it. “Here… yep, found it,” he smiles. 

Your eyes roll back down your skull at the sloppy and sticky humping of Satoru’s cock on your folds, waiting for you to accept it inside. At the same time, the Satoru using your phone is busy finding his own contact, devilish eyes scanning the screen. 

“Sweetheart, can I?” whispers scars Satoru behind you, hips bucking against yours, desperately waiting to finally fuck your pussy. And how can you blame his eagerness when for a secret reason he hasn’t been able to have sex with you, for a few months, in his own timeline? So the moment you nod dumbly, spaced out and in desperate desire to feel him inside, he slams his tip right against your cervix. You think you’re about to faint of pleasure and surprise. His thrusts are passionate, needy, and blindfold Satoru has to maintain you against his torso for you to not fall forward. Then, his hand grabs your fucked out face, slides his thumb inside your mouth, presses on your tongue and turns your chin towards your phone. 

“Look at the camera sweetheart,” he teases, brightly. 

That’s when you see the FaceTime button he presses on, your face appearing, and waiting on the other line for your boyfriend to answer the call. 

“Ah- fuck!” you cry out, both because of pleasure, and both because of the situation you find yourself in. 

“Exactly, moan louder. Yeah, just like that,” taunts the Satoru pleasing your hole meaningfully. You gasp when your Satoru, your boyfriend, accepts the call one second later. His eyes are covered by his bandages, head under the moon, meaning he’s still outside busy with his mission. And for a second of him not looking at the camera, he’s smiling. Surely because he’s happy you’re thinking of him. 

“Y/n, my love, why are you calli-” Satoru’s voice comes to an abrupt stop when his chins dips down, showing that he just saw on his screen the sight of his girlfriend being fucked good by two versions of himself, two stupid kind of doppelgängers, ones he knows too well and wished to never see again. “What the fuck is going on?” he barks.

“Hi younger me! We’re back!” muses the blindfolded one, pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth to emphasize what he’s implying, and surely to make his younger self see red. Your lips part in an attempt to say something, but scars Satoru takes the opportunity to angle his hips right on your sweet spot and instead make you strangle out a whimper of ecstasy. 

“Kind of busy, maybe come quick,” he adds, wrapping his bicep around your neck to lock you against his torso.  

“Yeah, instead of losing your time with whatever mission you’re at… ah! It’s the one in the east of Tokyo? I remember how boriiiing it was,” continues the other, bringing up the phone to show a better view of the scene. Using his other hand as well to fondle your breast, then pressing his cheek against yours. 

“The way I’m going to obliterate you two once I arrive,” menaces your boyfriend, voice so deeply serious you know he’s not joking. Not even one second. 

“Ahah, very funny, that’s basically killing yourself,” answers the blindfolded one, now biting your cheek but you can’t even care to protest, too busy riding your pleasure and trying to not fall because of your wobbly legs. 

“Let’s see if you can arrive before our pretty y/n cums, how about that?” finishes scars Gojo.

Your Satoru doesn’t even take the time to answer, instantly hanging on the phone, and surely finishing his mission in inhuman speed, accessorily erasing of the surface of hearth any curse coming his way. 

The two other Satoru don’t lose time either and continue their torment, leading you to squeeze shut your eyes and cry out when you feel your orgasm approaching dangerously. 

“In 2016 you’re still on birth control, right?” asks scars Satoru.

“Yes she is, I remember that,” confirms the other for you, swallowing your answer by a kiss. 

“Perfect.”

At his words, his pace doubles, and you last approximately three seconds before reaching your high. At the way your walls clench painfully around Gojo’s cock, squeezing him hard, he doesn’t last long either and hot splashes of thick cum plaster your insides. His moans are lowered to your ears, while the other Satoru carefully wipes the tears of your orgasms in a triumphant grin. 

“Younger us didn’t come in time,” he whispers. 

The moment his sentence ends, and that scars Satoru slides out of your hole and zip back up his pants, your boyfriend teleports right in front of you with his fingers ready to flash purple on his two future versions of himself.

“You’re late of thirty second,” smiles blindfolded Satoru. 

“Get the fuck away from my girlfriend before I poeticly kill myself, how about that?” snarls the angered one, cursed energy flickering around his limbs. 

“She’s our wife, so-” he argues back. 

“Stop arguing,” you crack out, shaking your head and stepping one foot away from their grasp. Your Satoru immediately brings you behind him, like a shield from himself. “Can’t believe this just happened. Why the hell are you two here again?!” he continues in disbelief, looking at you, at them, back at you and then again at them. 

“No idea, but now that you’re here, shouldn’t we continue what we started?” replies the Satoru that adjusts his blindfold over his sparkling blue eyes. 

“I don’t want to share,” he barks, like a guarded dog in utter rage. You realize you practically almost never saw him like that. Last time was two years ago, back in the same situation that you’re all finding yourself in once again. 

“I forgot how fucking possessive we were,” sighs the older Satoru, bringing his mutilated hand to his face and rubbing it in annoyance. 

“Like it changed,” jokes the other, lazily leaning against the wall, arms crossed. 

“We toned it down through the years,” retorts scars Satoru. 

“Yeah, so try to do it now, younger me. Anyways, y/n, down for more?” he asks, giving you a knowing smirk. You adjust your messy clothes, point at them. 

“Down for nothing. I’m going back to Shoko. I started my night with her and I’ll end it with her. So you three will figure out how to leave and go to my apartment, making sure nobody sees you, before we cause a scene,” you exclaim. 

“Bossy, baby,” coos blindfolded Satoru. 

“Are you serious?” pouts your boyfriend, turning around to face you. Puppy eyes stare at you as he took off his bandages before coming here. But his charming looks aren’t working on you right now. 

“Dead serious. Now shoo,” you wave your hand and frown your eyebrows. 

“Let’s do as she said,” mutters the oldest. 

“Ugh, fine,” groans the middle one. 

“I’m going back to the apartment I have with her, you two can find a hotel and stay there,” huffs your boyfriend. You roll your eyes. 

“This apartment you’re talking about is technically ours too,” answers blindfolded Satoru. 

“Actually, I have an idea…” mutters scars Satoru pensively.

You don’t continue to listen to their endless bickering, that you immediately close the bathroom door behind you in a loud thud and walk your way back on the dance floor in a desperate hope to spot your friend. Ah! Here she is, upstairs, drinking at the bar.

“Where the hell have you been?” Shoko asks as she gives you a glass that she specially ordered for you. 

“Texting Satoru in the bathroom. You know how he is…” you lie. Well, technically, it’s not entirely false. She answers by an understanding chuckle. Meanwhile you groan at the lingering sticky feeling in between your legs. Maybe you should go back to the bathroom to wash up.

The following two hours, you try to forget about what happened. Soon finding out that the bathroom is indeed empty and that the three of them finally left, you attempt to focus on having a good time with Shoko until the nightclub closes its doors. But it’s hard to not let your mind wander when everything falls silent the moment you go back to her place at 5 am in hope to rest, finish the hangout, and quietly take off your makeup while she washes her face in the sink. Yeah, trying to not lose your mind at the thought of not knowing why the future versions of Satoru are back in this timeline. Or about what sinfully happened in the bathroom… Is it considering cheating when it’s technically him that you fucked? What a weird question that you can’t really answer and have no will to debate on. 

So, that’s how you find yourself 5 hours later, at 10 am, back at your apartment with three hours of sleep maximum in your blood, sitting on the couch and attempting to know what caused this second time travel.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Monday, 11 am. 

“So, from what you guys think…” you start to say, organizing your thoughts while one is playing with your hair, the other caressing your hand, and the third hugging you from behind. “Because of time traveling twice, it created a sort of tiny portal in your cursed energy that caused, by accident, the three of you to reunite again in this timeline?”

“Yeah, I noticed it after analyzing the three of us. But you, y/n, can’t see it,” comments scars Satoru, the one caressing your hand, gently touching the finger where is supposed to be your future wedding ring. 

“What triggered this travel by accident, then?” you ask. 

“This whole history of time travel was firstly triggered by me and from a strong will to save your life two years ago,” he continues, kissing the hand now. 

“And we were all in Shinjuku at the same moment,” adds your boyfriend, cradling you closer against his chest. 

“But not now. So maybe something fluctuated in my cursed energy during these past two years and caused this time travel very randomly. I think it’s the only reason. As simple and stupid as that,” he explains back, pressing your fingers. 

“Meaning we’ll get time traveled back to our timeline randomly too,” comments blindfolded Satoru, letting his hand fall from your messed up hair. 

“And that it could happen all over again, and again, without us ever knowing why and when,” sighs your boyfriend, warm breath on your neck causing you to shiver. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” affirms scars Satoru, giving them two a glance. 

“Oh fuck, that’s a living nightmare,” groans your boyfriend in agony, letting his head fall on your shoulder. 

“Well, until this issue gets fixed, we can’t do anything else but wait for your cursed energy to decide to fluctuate again and bring you all back,” you interfere. 

“Exactly,” nod all of them at the same time. 

“But I can’t keep the three of you in this apartment for an undetermined amount of time!” you protest, eyes wide open and agitating your arms to emphasize your helplessness. 

“That’s why I got an idea. There is a place we can go to,” calms you down scars Satoru.

“Is it the place I recently went to visit back in June?” questions the blindfolded, pensive. 

“Yeah, that one. And for our younger self, it’s the place situated in the north of the Gojo estate back in Kyoto,” he answers. 

“The last time I went there was when I was fourteen,” comments your boyfriend, raising back his face from the crook of your neck. 

“Yeah, but it’s the safest place to go and to stay the four of us without anyone else noticing our presence,” says scars Satoru. 

“Wait wait wait, I can’t abandon my duties like this! I have tons of responsibilities if you two didn’t forget,” suddenly protests your boyfriend, making you shake from the brutality of his body movement against your back. 

“Not my problem anymore,” grins scars Satoru, shrugging nonchalantly. Everyone turns around towards him, surprised by his words. 

“What do you mean not your problem anymore?” questions blindfolded Satoru suspiciously. 

The answer he gets is a simple smile, a wave of the hand for him to figure out later. You stand up, taking the opportunity of the agitation to leave their grasps. 

“We don’t have other possibilities if we want to stay together. So, Satoru, maybe it’s time for you to have some vacations. And for me too. I agree to go to the estate. There is no way I’m keeping you three in my apartment. Not like last time. It was chaotic,” you end up saying in a calmer voice. 

Your Satoru grabs your hands in imploration, nervous smile on his lips. 

“Y/n, my love, I can’t just quit everything like that, understand that? I still have a lot of teaching, missions, boring reports and-”

“I swear, younger us, you need this break. The me of my timeline is done being the puppet of jujutsu society. Maybe do all of us a favor and reconsider this as well,” interrupts him the oldest version of himself. 

That seems to make your boyfriend fall into deep thinking, spiraling words in his mind. 

“So, vacations?” you try a second time. Your boyfriend sighs, before giving an approbative nod.

“Vacations.”

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

Monday, 7 pm. 

A car, four persons inside, baggages, bickering, speeding up, and hours later in the evening you find yourself finally at the location. Finally. The deserted part of this estate welcomes you in a soft breeze, your eyes discovering for the first time the walls, the smell, the interior and the serenity of the atmosphere. You wonder how long it will last before chaos comes crashing down everything. 

“A bit dusty in here, but that’ll do,” comments scars Satoru, putting down your baggage on the floor like a true gentleman.

In reality, they fought about who would carry your belongings. 

“Nobody will come in here aside from us,” continues blindfolded Satoru, turning around in a grin.

They make you visit, your boyfriend having the privilege to guide you left and right, arm looped around your middle. When you walk towards the open garden, you stop dead in your tracks and point at what is facing you meters away. 

“You have a freaking private onsen in your garden?!”

“Ah, that? Yeah. Should we have sex in th-” he muses, tilting his head towards yours in his infuriating cheeky habit. You cut him by a slap on the torso. 

“Didn’t ask you to say something perverted,” you groan. 

“What younger me means, is that we’ll have fun relaxing in it after such a long day,” adds blindfolded Satoru, arm falling lazily on your free shoulders. You hum slightly, gazing at the fuming water, already drooling at the idea of stepping a foot into it. 

You continue the visit, downstairs and upstairs. Opening doors. Again. And again. A lot of options, all decorated just enough to make the guest inside feel comfortable, but not enough to make it personal. 

“There are so many rooms! Sometimes I forget how rich you are…” you mutter, almost with disdain. 

Blindfolded Satoru is the one that comes at your side, peeking his head in the opening of the door. 

“In which room you want to sleep in, baby?”

“This one,” you point at the bed that is already calling your name, waiting for you to jump in it and sleep like a log. 

“Ehhh, it’s a small bed. We won’t fit all in,” adds scars Satoru, raising an eyebrow when appearing behind you. 

“I’m sleeping alone,” you instantly correct.

As a matter of fact, or tragedy, your boyfriend arrives like a charging bull inside the room. 

“Who the hell said y/n is sleeping alone?!” he practically yells. 

“Me. We’re not going to sleep the four of us together, even if the bed is twice king sized,” you retort firmly, arms crossed over your chest. 

“But we made it work last time,” frowns scars Satoru, confused as to why the hell you’re changing your mind like this. You shake your head, already tired of having to explain yourself. 

“Yeah, one of you was sleeping on top of me, the two others sandwiching me. I kind of suffocated,” you say sarcastically. 

“Then let’s-” tries to say the blindfolded one. 

“No. I’m sleeping in my own bed. For once. So shoo and let me unpack in peace, because God knows I need that right now,” you scoff, pushing the three of them away. 

“Yeah yeah…” pouts your boyfriend. 

They all walk towards the exit, giving you pleading glances. 

“When you’re done and showered, join us in the onsen. We’ll eat dinner after that. How about that?” proposes the older one. 

You stop, think, try to know if it’s a good idea, but your exhaustion soon wins your internal argument. 

“No funny business in the onsen, alright?” you warn, eyes throwing daggers at each one of them. 

“Yes ma’am,” answers blindfolded Satoru, and the three look at each other in a knowing smirk. You gasp, agitating your arms. 

“I said no funny business!”

They simply laugh, leaving you to your doom. Fuck. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Monday, 8 pm. 

Ok, wait wait wait. It’s been two years since you started dating Satoru. Two years that you know perfectly what he looks like naked, him as well. But, three of him surrounding you, suddenly sounds way more intimidating than you anticipated. Yes, you did fuck them three, two years ago, yes you were surrounded in his Adam’s outfit, but that was in the middle of a heated session! 

Breath. Calm down. Stepping out of the shower, you ghost your toes over the wooden floor, reaching as silently as possible the room that leads outside, including the private miniature onsen. 

Scars Satoru and another one are already sitting inside the water, talking and surely gossiping about some things only Gojo Satoru can understand. But without the blindfold to decipher which one is which, you can’t recognize if it’s your Satoru or the older one next to scars Gojo. Who the fuck is that?

“Spying on my future selves? Bad y/n…” whispers a voice in your ear. A gasp later, you spin around to face Satoru, which you deduce being your boyfriend, leaning over your shoulder. Your eyes meet, he chuckles lightly, then you look down to inspect his outfit. He’s shirtless, only a tiny, scandalous, towel, tied around his waist. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” you defend yourself, hand over your heart to ease the drumming. Instead, he kisses your lips, softly, and whispers against your pouting mouth. 

“Ah, I should punish you for this,” he taunts. 

“You just want to be kinky, you know damn well I did nothing of such,” you shake your head. 

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re shy. Let’s go, I’m- uh they, ugh, we’re waiting for you,” he muses lastly before pushing you backwards until you stumble on the garden. 

Then, he scoops you up thanks to the strength of his arms and brings you inside the onsen. The moment your legs touch the ground of the puddle, blindfold Satoru snatches the towel off your body. A shiver of freezing cold hits you all at once, which results in you yelping and instantly immersing yourself in the warmth of the heated water.

“Why are you so far away from us?” asks scars Satoru, raising an eyebrow. You stare at the red lines on his muscles, before gazing back at his face and shrugging nonchalantly. 

“I don’t need to be constantly glued to you, you know?” 

“Ohhh, she’s shy,” laughs blindfolded Satoru, amused, and even taking a tone of voice that shows he’s having fun gossiping about it with his clones. 

“She is,” they answer at the same time.

Wisely, you decide to ignore them and simply close your eyes, getting as far as the small space allows you to. 

“Are you scared of something, or-” starts your boyfriend. 

“I’m warning you, no sex, I’m dead tired. Understood?” you snap when brutally opening back your eyelids, looking at them with seriousness and warning. 

“Not even if we give you head-” tries to propose the supposed blindfolded Satoru, even if he’s not wearing it right now. You sigh deeply, passing your hand over your tired face and trying your best to not stare at the droplets of water cascading down his flushed skin. 

“Three persons, I mean you, three you giving me head will suck my soul out of my body. And I still need energy to deal with you all during dinner,” you explain. 

“Ah, shoot,” he pouts. 

“Yeah, now, be quiet,” you reply, closing back your eyes. 

“Love it when she’s bossy,” says one. 

“Getting hard right now,” adds another.

“Of course we are,” finishes the third. 

“Shut the hell up!” you yell, angered. 

“Oops, she’s getting angry,” laughs, what you suppose being, blindfolded Satoru. 

Reaching your limit, fingers tightening around the edge of the onsen, you stand up and head towards the stones like stairs to get out of the water. 

“I’m leaving,” you announce. 

One foot on the grass, that six arms, six, wrap around your torso and drag you back in hell. Meaning, their bodies. Tucked like a burrito. You can’t move. 

“Nooo, ok, ok, we’re sorry!” exclaims your boyfriend. 

“You better be,” you snarl, knowing that fighting would just lead to exhaustion. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” whispers scars Satoru, pressing his lips to your cheek. 

“Deeply apologizes, baby,” adds blindfolded Satoru, thumb caressing your hip in a comforting gesture. 

“Then close your mouth,” you groan. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Tuesday, 2 pm. 

The night you spent was strangely calm. Too calm. Something was brewing. And you know that by the looks they keep sending each other, you’re soon going to have to share your bed. You managed to sleep alone, in peace, last night. Your gut is telling you it will soon be over. 

“Can’t this time travel issue get fixed now? I can’t wait for you two to go back to your own timeline,” mutters your boyfriend, eating some sweets he went to buy earlier that day. 

“You said that four times this morning,” you reply as you turn the page of the book you’re currently reading, sitting on the couch while the sun, high in the sky, is illuminating you through the large windows. 

“Then I’ll say it five times,” he answers, sitting down next to you and almost making your book slip off your fingers. You glare at him, but blindfolded Satoru, who is reading some intricate book as well on a chair two meters away, rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m pissed off too because I start to regret the possessive tendencies I had that are backfiring on me right now,” he huffs. 

“I can’t believe that you’re that jealous of yourself,” you laugh, because yes, that is the most ridiculous situation you ever saw your boyfriend in. 

“Y/n, you’re my girlfriend, why do I have to share when they have their own y/n?!” he scoffs, turning around and even grabbing your book to force you to look at him, and only him. 

“Because it’s still the same y/n! Thank god I’m not that possessive anymore…” groans Satoru, raising his blindfold in disbelief of having to explain this to himself.

Scars Satoru pops his head from the kitchen, giving you all a look. 

“Eh, if I’m being honest, it will come back widely in a few months. You’ll see,” he says in an enigmatic kind of way.

“What? Why?” you question, intrigued. That seems to pick the interest of the two other younger versions of himself. He walks back in the living room. 

“More like, protective. You’ll understand why when the time comes, sweetheart,” he winks slightly at you, then kisses the top of your head with such softness that it leaves you speechless. 

“The fuck…” one of them says.

Later in the afternoon, doing your best to pass time by participating in activities, such as baking cookies or playing games, you try as well to not turn crazy. Three Satoru are too much for your patience. You already learnt the lesson two years ago. As you sigh, drinking a glass of water after losing your breath in a verbal fight with blindfolded Satoru that took his jokes too far, you notice your boyfriend on his phone. Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, tone of voice serious. He’s surely dealing with the higher ups. So, you step towards him and tap his back. 

“Satoru, stop answering your calls, you’re on vacation!”

“Stupid higher ups that are calling me for shit. Sorry, love,” he groans before putting back the object in his pocket. You try to steal it away from him, just to make sure he’s not going to answer any more work calls, but he’s way faster than you and manages easily to dodge your attacks. 

“I’m glad I don’t have that problem anymore,” says scars Satoru, wiping his hands covered in flour. 

“Yeah, since we killed them all, lol,” adds blindfolded Satoru, licking his chocolated thumb. 

“You killed them?!” you scream. 

“What a good choice,” seems to approve your boyfriend, nodding to himself. 

“Yeah, but I’m not saying that for this. I meant in the way that I don’t have to deal with anything related to jujutsu society anymore,” corrects scars Satoru, leaning against the wall. 

“What? Why?” asks your boyfriend, confused. 

“Because I retired,” he simply announces, shrugging.

Everyone stops moving, all turning towards him. 

“We what?” chuckles nervously your Satoru, clearly in disbelief. 

“Holy shit. In some months I’ll retire? I don’t even understand how and why! I still have so many duties on my shoulder to deal with,” adds blindfolded Satoru, tilting his head to the side before shaking it, lost. 

“You’ll have more important to deal with, believe me,” answers scars Gojo. 

You all look at each other. Your mind is working at full speed, trying to figure out what he’s meaning by these enigmatic words. Is he speaking in riddles? 

“You’re scaring me right now. What kind of fucked up future will happen to me AGAIN that leads to the point of needing to retire? Even more if it’s to deal with something more important than jujutsu society?” says blindfolded Satoru, opening his arms in incredulity. 

“Nothing bad. Quite the contrary,” he answers, laughs, then looks at you intently. 

Your brain works twice his usual speed, turning its gears, dots connecting one by one. Your facial expression distorts in utter shock. 

“Oh,” you whisper. 

“I think y/n understood,” says the oldest, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

Blindfolded Satoru lets his gaze travel in between you and his scarred version of himself. Once, twice, ten times, before parting his lips.  

“Is it…?” he murmurs. 

“Yeah, because you’re a dad now,” confirms scars Satoru, the softest smile appearing and brightening the atmosphere. 

“What?!” you choke out. Not that you didn’t figure it out, but it’s still deadly surprising to have it approved. 

“Excuse me?” exclaims your boyfriend, letting the spoon he was holding fall on the floor for dramatic effect. 

“You’re excused,” he answers, before turning towards blindfolded Satoru. “You’ll soon discover that y/n is nine weeks pregnant. In my timeline she just gave birth three weeks ago,” he explains. 

“I’m going to be a mom…” you mutter, hand on your mouth and shaking in bewilderment. Everything makes sense now. Explaining all the weird statements he made since he appeared in the nightclub more than 24 hours ago. 

“And I’m going to be a dad,” stammers your boyfriend. 

Your eyes lock, the both of you look at each other as if the world revolved around you and only you. Suddenly, it ends, when blindfolded Satoru grabs you and crashes you against his chest in the most suffocating hug you could ever experience. Big hands cradling your back, nose bumping against your shoulder, and the feeling of wet and warm tears staining your shirt. 

“I think that’s the prettiest gift you could ever give me, baby. My baby is giving me a baby!” he chokes out, sniffing loudly. Not knowing how to react, you tighten your grip before trying to gently part away. 

“That’s- that’s not me… I mean yeah, but it’s not me that is pregnant! Say that to the future me,” you intend to explain yourself. Your heart is hammering, too many emotions swallowing you whole at this piece of information. Satoru wipes his tears, tip of his nose turning red and lips pouting. 

“Fuck, you’re right. But it’s still you. Oh lord, that’s way too much information for me,” he replies, taking his face in his hand before turning on his heels, coming back, and turning around again, clearly not knowing what to do with himself right now. 

“I was an emotional mess when I discovered it too,” whispers scars Satoru to your ear. 

“Shit, no, I have to keep my tears for when I’ll see her! Someone please slap me, that will stop the crying,” dramatically asks blindfolded Satoru, taking off the piece of tissue and with his hand ventilating his eyes. 

“I’ll do it,” proposes your boyfriend. 

He slaps him, hard. That managed to stop the tears. Before they start fighting each other. Yeah, the whole emotional moment went to the trash after this. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

Wednesday, 2 am. 

After hours of being surrounded by Satoru, you can finally, finally, rest and lay back down on your bed. Empty and only for you. A deep sigh escapes your lips, pulling the sheets and making yourself comfortable.

It doesn’t last long, actually. Ten minutes later and a crack on your door, before a silhouette appears and scars Satoru enters your room.

“Hi, sweetheart. Still not asleep?” he asks, approaching step by step before sitting down next to your laying form. His hand falls over your forehead, gently caressing it. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Satoru smiles, stares around at the room that seems so empty with only you in it.

“Just came to check on you,” he whispers. Seconds go by where he stares at you, before sighing and laying down next to you, arms crossed behind his head and letting his gaze travel the walls, the roof. 

“You’re getting yourself comfortable,” you comment teasingly, like a matter of fact as well. His chest rises and falls deeply, taking a big breath before turning his head towards you. The smile on his lips is small, tired. 

“Actually, I sleep very badly,” he admits. You frown. 

“Why so?”

“Because I don’t have my wife in my arms,” he replies in a dramatic sulk, which results in you rolling your eyes to the back of your skull. 

“Satoru, we said that everyone sleeps alone, so-”

He interrupts you by grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together. 

“I know. But, I started to sleep skin to skin with our baby as well. I miss it. A lot,” he reveals. 

The look in his eyes is genuine, making you swallow your saliva. Imagining Satoru as your husband, but now as a dad too, cuddling with your child to fall asleep, melts your heart. The ring on his finger caresses your palm, and you breathe out a small :

“Oh…”

“Hmm,” he hums. His eyes don’t leave you. Not even a second. Carving in his brain the curves of your face, the tenderness of the affection he’s feeling in this intimate instant. 

“How is it? I mean, how is it to be a dad right now? Parenthood… God, that sounds so weird to talk about it when in its timeline we... you know,” you mutter shyly. He takes a good five seconds to gather his thoughts, turn his tongue in his mouth, hoping to find the right way to express his feelings and articulate his answer. 

“If I’m being honest, it’s scary. I’m scared to mess up, and I retired because I didn’t want to be an absent father to our child. I wanted to give everything I could, be present, and make sure our baby never experiences the loneliness I was forced to go through.” 

The end of his sentence is vague, but not enough so you can understand the depth of it. Satoru was taken from his parents at an early age, because of having the title of the Six Eyes and Infinity holder. You bite the inside of your cheek, touch his jaw affectionately. It’s warm. You feel warm. And proud. So proud of him. Of what he’s trying and what he is doing to become the best version of himself. 

“I’m sure you’re doing amazing,” you murmur for his ears only. His eyelashes flutter, the slope of his lips touching the top of your head. 

“And the you of the future is doing amazing too. I retired because I wanted to be fully by your side as well,” he explains. Your heart is not melting anymore, it’s combusting, widely. A shattering breath escapes your mouth, and you desperately try to stay calm, because this is still not your reality. It’s for you in the future. 

“How is the baby?”

Satoru smiles brightly at this question.  

“Got my eyes, but got your skin and hair color. Very energetic too… let’s say we don’t sleep much, you and me,” he chuckles. Your lips twitch at the thought of being sleep deprived by a little monster holding your and his genes. 

“Oh god, I don’t want to imagine that…”

“Before time traveling, you fell asleep while breastfeeding. That was very funny to see,” he grins. Gently, you nudge his shoulder.

“Can’t believe you’re making fun of me through space and time,” you scoff. Satoru answers it by a laugh that ends up echoing in a silent wave, before dying in the quietness of the night. He squeezes your hand. Gets closer. 

“I’m so glad I have you by my side again, y/n. I don’t think you understand how having this second chance changed a lot in my perception of life, and our relationship as well,” he whispers in a tightened voice. Your eyes meet his again, and it’s intimidating to face this serious side of himself. Something you’re still not used to. 

“Why exactly?”

“I went through the experience of holding you dead in my arms, and then holding life itself created by the two of us. I… when I traveled back in time, that everything changed, and you were still here, alive, I think my heart just stopped beating before beating again, but differently, so much differently than it ever did. I don’t think I can really explain what I mean by that. I’m not very good with words, you know that,” he intends to explain, before biting his lower lip and cradling you against his chest in an attempt to hide the depth of his emotional storm. 

You stiffen, eyes wide open, heart hammering at the realization of what he just confessed. You take a few seconds as well before gathering your thoughts and answering. 

“I don’t really know what to say either. But, jokes aside, bickering aside, knowing that your love for me triggered two versions of yourself to time travel to save my life, is the biggest proof of love that can possibly exist. And I don’t think I’ll fully comprehend how much I mean to you, but, for sure, I’ll never doubt your feelings. And if I could do the same for you, I’ll do it.”

His mouth kisses yours. Your eyelids close, answering it before he parts and says against your lips : 

“You already did, y/n. You already did. When you died by the hands of Sukuna for the sole purpose of saving my life. I think that’s a big proof of your love.”

He’s right. But it’s a matter of the you of the future. Not the you of now. But it’s still you. 

“We’re even, then,” you lighten the mood in a more cheerful voice. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight, then? I just really need it right now,” he questions with some pleading. But you can’t seem to refuse his request, so you nod. 

“Alright.”

Satoru gets comfortable in bed, takes you back in his arms, hugs you in the kind of way that is protective but clingy too. It’s comforting. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers in your nape. You caress his arms, he tightens his grip. 

“Good night, ‘toru.”

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

Wednesday, 11 am. 

“Betrayal, betrayal!” echoes your boyfriend, refusing to let you approach him by turning on his infinity, blocking you any access or redemption. 

“Satoru, calm down, it was just one night!” you scoff, head hurting by this stupid argument about scars Satoru joining you in bed last night. He scoffs, crosses his arms over his chest. 

“So he gets to sleep with you but not me? Starting by tonight I’ll sleep again with my girlfriend, uh,” he huffs loudly, raising his head in disdain. 

“I agree with younger me. I won’t hold back too, that’s unfair,” adds blindfolded Satoru, nodding. 

Meanwhile, you look at scars Gojo for support. He’s a dad now, and should be mature enough to know how to ease this situation. Yet, nothing. He’s looking at the scene from the couch, eating some cookies with the fattest grin he has in stock. You gasp, point at him. 

“And you, stop having this triumphal smile on your face! That’s your fault-”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he shrugs nonchalantly. 

“He’s not sorry for one second. I know myself well,” comments the blindfolded one. 

“Thanks lord you do,” you snarl. 

“Tonight, I sleep back with you,” interferes your boyfriend, stepping in front of your face to block your view from the distracting dad that is enjoying way too much the chaos he caused. 

“And me,” adds the blindfolded. 

“The bed is not big enough!” you exclaim. 

“Eh, we’ll make it work. Like two years ago,” says scars Satoru.

A big, long, sigh, escapes your lips, rubbing your face in defeat. 

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter in acceptance of your doomed fate. 

“Yet you end up marrying and creating a family with me. Fuck, I still can’t believe this… a tiny y/n and Satoru..” almost cries blindfolded Satoru, arm wrapping around your shoulders and smashing his cheek against yours. Rubbing. And rubbing. Like a cat would do.

“Ok, cut it out,” you stop him. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Wednesday, 11 pm.

Limbs, including arms and legs, hands and faces, all pressed against you in what is supposed to be a comfortable cuddling session on the couch. Your head is on scars Satoru’s laps, your torso on the blindfolded one, and your legs on your boyfriend’s. They all take the opportunity to caress, massage, press kisses, everything, but watching the tv. And it’s luring you in a very sleepy state.

“I’m dead tired. At the end of the movie I go to sleep,” you mumble.

“Really? I wanted to play some games,” groans your boyfriend, hands adventuring themselves on your knees. 

“Without me, do it with the others you,” you point at the two ones busy with your shoulders and head. 

“No thank you,” he glares at them. 

The discussion ends in you rolling your eyes, focusing on the screen and the display of the movie. The characters talk before an action scene starts abruptly. Your attention is entirely directed to what is happening. Yet, a feeling, a scratch, keeps you on your toes. Eyes are looking at you. Sometimes acting like they’re focusing on the screen, but always ending up back on gazing at your face. Nose, lashes, lips, cheeks. 

“Can you stop staring at me? I feel your gaze digging holes in my skull,” you end up snapping of annoyance, and overall, flustering. 

“Can’t we admire our girlfriend?” coos your boyfriend, raising his eyebrow. 

“You mean our wife,” corrects blindfolded Satoru, playing now with your hands. The other is kneading your shoulders, forcing a gasp of relief to escape your lips. You shake your head to snap out of it. 

“We’re watching a movie, stay concentrated,” you try to sound as serious as you’re allowed to be in this intimate moment. 

“But you love the attention,” muses scars Satoru, thumb sliding over your throat. You swallow, hard. 

“I never said the contrary,” you manage to croak out after a second of being distracted. His answer is a knowing grin. Infuriating, stupid, grin. 

The peace lasts one minute. The hand that originally was on your knee, slides up, softly. A shiver runs down your spine when digits caress the inside of your thighs. A nail barely scratching the tissue of your loose shorts. Then, two fingers glide inside the pajama, just enough to brush your panties. 

“Satoru,” you breathe in a weak warning. 

“Which one?” asks the one in the middle. 

“The Satoru that is caressing my thigh, way too close to my panties,” you answer, and your boyfriend licks his lips. 

“What? You don’t want to?” he questions. 

“Watch the movie, you horny dog,” you decide to not answer yes or no, simply trying to redirect his attention on the tv. Ignoring the pool of heat and horrible ache in between your legs is harder than expected when he touches you like this. 

“How can we when you’re so soft, and sweet, and beautiful, and-” starts to protest blindfolded Satoru, palm moving over your stomach, waist, under your shirt and feeling the texture of your burning skin. 

“Makes me want to put another baby in you,” whispers scars Satoru by lowering his head towards yours. You almost jump out of surprise, meeting his dazed eyes full of desire, and gently pushing him away. 

“Woaaawwwww! I’m not even pregnant in this timeline, hold down your horses!”

“I agree with y/n. But, but…” starts your boyfriend, slipping your shorts on the side, finger hooking around the lace of your underwear. Fuck. You tighten and rub your thighs together without realizing. But he does. And he basks in the smugness of seeing you reacting like this.

“No buts,” you shake your head. 

“But, we can ease the tension in your muscles, baby,” proposes blindfolded Satoru, ending his sentence by a press of his knuckles against your shoulder, while scars Satoru digs his fingers on your scalp.

“What tension?” you try to ask through the moan of relief you just let out. And that’s stupid of you. 

“Here,” says a voice after letting his hand massage the junction of your neck and collarbone. 

“And here,” adds another, hand on your lower back now. Dangerously low. But oh, that feels so good. 

A gasp of surprise and pleasure is heard when a digit, the one of your boyfriend, goes under your panties, caresses your clit and gently parts your folds. 

“Look how stiff you’re here… you need to loosen up, yeah?” he taunts. The look in his eyes is everything but innocent. Your breath quickens. 

“An orgasm is the best idea, don’t you think so?” murmurs scars Satoru, kissing your temple. Your boyfriend takes the opportunity to insert a finger in your tight hole, a squelchy sound that seems to satisfy him. 

“I think she’s thinking the same because of how wet she is right now,” he comments smugly. “Look at that,” and he proudly shows the soaked finger. “Let me- let us take good care of you, okay? Just lay down and relax. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.” 

“You want that, sweetheart?” questions scars Satoru, just to be sure. Blindfolded Satoru wanders his hands around your chest. Tempting. Not yet touching. Only making you desire the feeling of his fingers on your breast. Shit. Be damned. 

“Yeah. But be quick, I’m tired,” you accept in a weak voice. And that’s all they need. 

“Ahah, we’ll make it work so you’ll be sleeping like a rock. Hmmm?” he says before finally freeing your boobs and taking them in hands. 

Lips capture yours, and by the feeling of a scar on the side of his mouth, you know who is kissing you. A whimper gets swallowed by his tongue when another finger hooks inside your hole and rubs your walls in an agonizing dance that instantly makes you see stars.

The movie long forgotten, your clothes disappear off your skin, and the cool air hits your wet folds when one of them parts your thighs. But it quickly gets replaced by the warmth of a breath hitting your bare cunt, and then a hot suave tongue traveling from your busy hole to your clit. Your legs shake of pleasure, already lost in another dimension because the three of them know exactly where to touch to make you crazy. 

Lapping at the dripping juice, your boyfriend wraps his arms around your waist and brings your ass up, in a way that allows him to eat you out better, and to stop you from squirming away. Meanwhile, your mouth and breast are being kissed, licked, bitten. And your boyfriend was right. All you have to do is lay down and bask in the pleasure. Nothing else. Only you. Satoru doesn’t even ask you to jerk him off or suck his tip. Simply whispering sinful things in your ear, or sweet nothings to ease your aching nerves. All their focus is in draining you out. 

Or maybe to make you want more.

Because when they edge your high, and that you finally reach it in an imploring cry, they all look at you very, very, smugly. A satisfied smirk at the sight of the eagerness in your eyes, lips parted and skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat.

“Look at her, I feel like she’s still in need for more,” coos your boyfriend, kissing gently the side of your thigh. 

“One orgasm is not enough,” says scars Satoru, making you look at him and the satisfied facial expression of his. 

“What a greedy girl…” adds blindfolded Satoru by softly biting on your nipple. 

“Want more, sweetheart?” asks the oldest, thumb caressing your lower, swollen, lip. 

“All you have to do is ask,” continues your boyfriend, straightening his back and opening wider your legs for more access. 

“You’re fucking playing with me-” you groan. 

“Fucking? We hope. Playing? It’s just called teasing,” corrects blindfolded Satoru by starting to unbunckle his jeans with an eager hand. “How about one dick for starters, yeah? And I will be the one,” he proposes before moving to the side. “You already had the privilege of eating her out. You good with that, baby?” he says as he pushes the youngest, to instead get in between your thighs and softly grind his clothed dick against your sensitive pussy.

“It’s still the same you, so whatever,” you manage to grit out. He smiles, freeing his cock, taping his tip on your folds, smearing his precum, before winking at you one last time when lifting halfway his blindfold and slowly entering your quivering hole. 

“Ahhh, already sucking me in. Fuck- so tight,” he moans, biting his lower lip and gripping your waist. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes in annoyance and instead busy himself with playing with your swollen and overstimulated clit. As well as laying his mouth on your neck to suck it and mark you as his. 

By the way the one making love to you is hitting rightly the sweet gummy spot on your walls, many, too many moans escape your mouth. Scars Satoru brushes your cheek, massaging your body and inviting you to lay more comfortably against him. Like this, he has the full view of seeing the way your pussy swallows his younger self’s dick. The lewd and squelchy sounds resonate in the living room at each sinful thrust.  

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll have another dick after this round,” he says to your ear, appreciating what he’s seeing. 

“Who said I needed two?!” you gasp before blindfolded Satoru slams his length fully back inside, choking you out, and your boyfriend accelerating his circling movement on your clit. 

“Your pussy,” he smiles. 

The following minutes are a blur. The only thing you can remember is reaching a second time your high, stimulated by inside and outside pleasure, and falling limp on the couch. Scars Satoru lifts you up, turns you around and embraces you in his arms as he pepper kisses all over your face. He holds your ass, you straddle him on your wobbly legs, and he slams you back down on his dick. The feeling of being full again makes you bite his shoulder.

“Let me prep’ her well,” he says, adding a finger to your twitching hole. Meaning that, like last time, two years ago, you’ll soon get double penetrated again. 

“Yeah, blindfolded me, get out. It’s my turn too to make y/n feel good,” says your boyfriend, readying himself behind you. The sound of a bell that falls on the floor, a cock grinding against your ass and another pair of arms wrapping around your waist. 

It takes some time before it starts. He slowly joins his dick inside, penetrating centimeter by centimeter, waiting, stopping, making sure you’re okay, brushing his mouth against your shoulders to praise you, and finally inserting his whole length. A guttural moan leaves your lips, digging your nails in scars Satoru’s back. 

“Can you handle it?” he asks, and you nod as an answer. 

“I think she’s already feeling very good,” grins blindfolded Satoru, watching the scene unfolding before his own two eyes. Poor him, wishing he could be inside again. But he’ll have to wait for that, if you’re still willing, that is. After all, they’re focusing on your pleasure tonight. Not their. 

Your ass gets slammed by your boyfriend’s balls at each thrust. Your clit, on the other hand, grazed by scars Satoru’s pelvis. They sync their movements. Thrust after thrust. Slamming all the way up, tips caressing your womb, arching your back and curling your toes at the sensation. Before going crescendo, and suddenly switching the rhythm. One fast, the other slow, torturous. Your moans are becoming ruthless, dangerously lewd. And they are being vocal about it too. Moans. Groans. Sinful sentences. Mindfucked praising. 

The one in front of you ends up kissing you senseless, discovering again, like back at the nightclub, the pleasure of having sex with you. Joining and intertwining your bodies together. 

When after minutes, or seconds, or hours, you don’t know anymore, you reach your high a third time, they already switch positions. They decide on who is the one charged to be in front, or behind. This time, it’s the blindfolded that has the pleasure of making you bounce on his cock, while scars Satoru kneels and eats you out like a damn feast. Because for him? You are one. Lapping, making out with your cunt, licking every drop of juice you produce from the intense electric pleasure you’re having by the way you’re getting fucked dumb. He’s going at it. Maybe he’s trying to compete against your boyfriend, wanting to showcase that with the years of experience ahead of him, he gives you head better than the younger version of himself. 

But even when you cum, taking a pause for you to gain back some energy. Letting your swollen, overstimulated, hole and clit to calm down. They already pounce on you once you’re back on track. 

You end up not even knowing where you start and where they end!

Let’s stay, the heated session didn’t end on the couch, but on the matrimonial bed. Big enough to manhandle you around in the way that makes you shiver of desire. Fucking you so good you’re drooling on the sheets. Crying of pleasure and screaming your heart out at each intense wave of thrill and delight you receive. 

You don’t even remember falling asleep, nor the aftercare, with a lot, lot, lot, of sweet affection. Maybe too much. But only a blurry memory of a set of limbs laid out on the sheets. Comfortable enough to let you sleep. 

Yeah, your body will die in the morning. Of ache and soreness. Poor muscles. Poor overstimulated y/n. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ   

Sunday, 6 pm. 

Your doom? Boredom. Because, yes, when you have three Satoru that are bored to death as they can’t go outside, or else it will cause a riot to see three of them in the wild, not having much to do in this house, aside from playing games, talking, reading or watching some tv… it’s not enough for their hyperactive brain! So, what better activity than a good fuck?

In the kitchen, onsen, laundry, couch, bedroom n1, n2, n5, shower, bath, everywhere! Even on the floor, or the damn table! 

Yeah, a good cure for boredom, but what is the good cure for your exhaustion? Sleeping, maybe. Aftercare too. Nonetheless, you’re still dead. Maybe more dead than by the hands of Sukuna. When will this time travel end, seriously?! Not to add the endless bickering in between them, making you want to bang your head on the wall.

“Y/n, he fucking ate my daifuku. We should ban him from the house,” complains your boyfriend as he points at blindfolded Satoru, licking his coated lips in a winning grin. 

“Oh, wow, so sad,” you mumble, flipping the page of the book you’re reading. He whines loudly.

“If it’s your daifuku then it’s mine too,” corrects the culprit from where he's sitting.

“I swear, I’ll hollow purple your ass and erase your existence from your own timeline,” he menaces back, standing abruptly from the couch. You sigh.

“Yeah? Wanna fight? It’ll be fun to be against a worthy opponent, aka myself,” he answers, standing up as well and raising his head in defiance. 

“Should we do that in the garden?”

“You’re not going to stop them, sweetheart?” asks scars Satoru, walking behind you and sliding his arms around your shoulders. You shrug.

“Nope. I’m too busy reading right now to bother with this.”

“As you wish,” he chuckles, kissing your cheek.

“Baby, can you bet on who will win?” asks blindfolded Satoru, pointing at him and his youngest version with his thumb. You barely look up from your book.

“Yourself against yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ll surely win. I’m older and technically wiser and stronger,” he answers, adjusting his blindfold after landing you a knowing wink. 

“Ok, I bet on you,” you mumble. And, that sentence, triggers your boyfriend that comes rushing at your side like a wounded puppy.

“Are you serious right now?! Betraying me like this?!”

“Ok, what if we did something else than fight?” proposes scars Gojo in a calmer tone.

“You think so highly of yourself because you’re a dad, but you’re only a few months older than me, just in case,” scoffs blindfolded Satoru, crossing his arms on his chest. 

At his words, the oldest freezes, before slowly, very slowly, turning towards him. His eyes twitch, showing he’s barely holding down his horses.

“Ah?” he says in an annoyed voice. Realizing that the situation is escalating towards a dangerous outcome, you put down your book and stand up in panic.

“Let’s do something else! We need to get out of this house! Like, anywhere else. If possible, some empty place…”

“Agreed. Can’t stand breathing the same air as… me? Whatever,” nods blindfolded Satoru.

“We can go to the-” starts to say your boyfriend.

“Sight seeing of the mountain,” they end up repeating all at once. You blink, chuckling slightly at the comic effect it caused. 

“It's always very fascinating to see the three of you talk at the same time. But maybe not now. There will be people, no?”

“That’s why we’ll go at night,” answers scars Satoru, tapping your shoulder gently.

“When it’s closed,” continues the blindfolded.

“Isn’t that illegal?” you question in a suspicious frown.

“Who cares about the law when I’m Gojo Satoru? Ahahahaha!” retorts your boyfriend proudly.

“Yikes…” you mutter.

 જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ   

Sunday, 12 pm. 

“Bitch, it’s freezing cold!” you exclaim, rubbing your arms in a shiver. After getting teleported to the base of the mountain, you all took a short cut and walked around, enough to feel some fresh air and ease the tensions. Well, fresh air, more like glacial air. Scars Satoru is the first one, the quickest actually, to lend you his jacket.

“Sweetheart, watch your words in front of the baby- oh wait… Sorry, habit,” he says, before giving you a bashful smile. Softly, your lips stretch too, and you give him a warm look.

“It’s alright,” you answer. 

Sensing the intimate moment, out of cupid jealousy, your boyfriend grabs your arm and makes you follow him closer.

“Ok, come here, you’ll see better the view,” he announces, guiding you up until you walk on green grass, next to a bench, facing the curve of the mountains ahead, and the lights of the city. The night sparkles above your head, the moon reflecting its shine on your skin. 

“Oh my, it’s beautiful,” you manage to pronounce in utter awe. The wind brushes your face, making you tighten your grip on Satoru’s jacket. It smells just like him. 

“We know,” they all answer at the same time, standing behind you. 

“How do you know this place?” you ask as you sit down on the bench.

“When I was a kid, the Gojo estate was very suffocating. I always sneaked out,” starts to say your boyfriend, following suit and sitting at your side.

“I once got lost when adventuring myself in the forest, and decided to have a better view of where I was. So I climbed up the hill,” continues the blindfolded one, being at your left now. 

“That’s how I found myself here, discovering the view. Some people were sightseeing as well, as I understood it was a touristic place,” explains scars Satoru, leaning against the bench in your back. You raise your head to look at him. He gives you a smile.

“And since then, I came back a few times at night when they closed the park. Never got arrested, thought. I’m Gojo Satoru after all,” finishes your boyfriend, arm falling around your shoulders in a proud move. You can’t help but laugh, before nudging him teasingly.

“Always ruining cute moments with your big ass ego,” you groan.

“But you love it,” he retorts, stealing a kiss.

“Questionnable,” you mumble. He rolls his eyes. After a second, you let your eyes travel the surroundings.

“It’s very calming when you’re alone in here. It gives the feeling of being above everything, anyone, including your responsibilities and duties,” ends up admitting blindfolded Satoru, taking your hand in his, sighing as he parts his legs, and admires the view more comfortably. For a short moment you assimilate this piece of information, wondering how he must have felt in those moments when he was a kid. You squeeze his fingers in silent comforting.

“This place, at night, used to be my nightly escape. A secret,” murmurs scars Satoru, toying with your hair. Again, you lift your head to stare at him.

“That you now share with me,” you comment. He grins, lands his lips on your forehead.

“How couldn’t I? You’re the love of my life,” he whispers back gently, devotion written all over his face, his deep blue eyes, the shine of his irises, pupils dilating. You give him back his smile. Something shifts, a flicker in his cursed energy.

As you're about to answer, in an insignificant blink, Satoru disappears. It’s short, really. But he’s not here anymore, empty spot now. In confusion, you turn to your left. Blindfolded Satoru disappeared as well, hand free of his grip.

“They left,” you whisper, before having your boyfriend taking you in his arms and cuddling you against his heart. He doesn’t make a snappy comment on how happy he is that his ‘clones’ finally went back to their own timelines. No. He simply kisses the top of your head, shields you from the wind, and stares at the lights of Kyoto down the mountain.

“I think it’s time that we go back too,” he whispers.

“To the estate?”

“No, back in Tokyo. Home.”

Satoru is right. The two others went back to their own timeline, their real home. You should too. You lean your face against his collarbone, he lays his head on top of yours.

“Then tomorrow we take the first train,” you agree. He nods. Silence falls for a few short minutes, before he interrupts it again. 

“Are you still sure you don’t want to marry me now? Might as well when we’re going to start a family in the future.”

You look at him, rolling your eyes, even if that comment makes you smile more than anything else.

“Satoru, we already talked about this.” 

He pouts.

“Alright, alright. I’ll wait a bit more before asking officially your hand in marriage,” he mumbles in resignation, thumb caressing absently your arm. 

“A bit more? And how long is that?” you question, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. 

“Like… in two weeks?”

“Satoru!” you scoff, eyes wide open. And he laughs loudly. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking! I’ll wait at least one more year, promise,” he affirms. A quick look on the side, and you have the confirmation he’s lying. You look at him deadpan.

“I saw you crossing your fingers behind your back,” you comment.

He shrugs, clearly not feeling sorry at all. “Oops?” Satoru kisses you before you can answer. 

But you smile. Because having the truth that your love will indeed last years ahead of you, resulting in building something as strong as a family with him, confirms that, yes, as scars Satoru said, you’re the love of his life, as much as he’s yours. And not even death can erase that simple fact. Nothing can, nothing ever will. 

——