#simplygojo

The low rumble of engines filled the air as you stepped into the garage, the familiar scents of motor oil and gasoline swirling around you. Your heartbeat quickened the moment you caught sight of him—Toji Fushiguro. 

He was bent over the hood of his car, focused on something behind the propped-up hood.

The muscles in his broad back flexed as he worked, his white tank top clinging to his sweat-slicked skin. His strong arms glistened with a light sheen of sweat, smudged with streaks of oil that only added to the raw masculinity he exuded. 

A dark smear ran along his sharp jawline, the grease contrasting with his striking, rugged features. The late afternoon sun filters through the wide windows of Toji’s garage, casting long shadows across the floor as you lean against the doorframe, watching him work. 

His muscles flexed as he tightened a bolt with practiced ease. His black hair falls into his eyes, and he grunts, annoyed, pushing it back with his forearm before continuing.

You can’t help but smile at the sight. Toji, focused and in his element, and it was really turning you on…

The way he concentrated on the task at hand, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted as he grunted with effort, was enough to send heat coursing through you. Each twist of the wrench, every subtle shift of his frame, seemed to radiate raw masculinity, igniting a spark of desire deep within you.

Your pulse quickened, and you felt a warmth pooling in your core, drawn in by the mix of confidence and sheer masculinity he exuded.

Toji, sensing your gaze, glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You gonna stand there all day or actually say something?” His voice is teasing, rough around the edges, but there’s that familiar smirk tugging at his lips, the one that makes your heart skip a beat.

You push off the doorframe and walk over, hands in your pockets, pretending to study the car (like you gave a damn) as if you understand half of what he’s doing. 

“Just admiring the view,” you reply with a grin, leaning against the workbench. “You sure know how to make fixing a car look… good.”

Toji snorts, wiping the grease from his hands onto a rag before tossing it aside. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. Not many people get a free show.”

You roll your eyes at his usual bravado but can’t deny that there’s something captivating about him. He straightens up, towering over you with that smug grin still firmly in place. “What, you just came here to stare?”

You shrug, deciding to play along. “Maybe. Can’t blame me, right? You’re good at what you do.”

His smirk widens, and he steps closer, towering over you now. There’s an intensity in his gaze, but it’s softened by the playful glint in his eyes. “You saying I should charge for it?”

You laugh, lightly shoving him. “Please, you’d drive everyone away with that attitude.”

He chuckles, leaning back against the car, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Probably. But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right.”

You look up at him, biting back a smile. “Guess I’m the lucky one, huh?”

Toji’s eyes narrow playfully, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Damn right.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the garage filling the space once again. 

After a moment, you speak again, your voice softer. “Need any help?”

Toji glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You offering?”

You shrug, moving closer to inspect the tools scattered on the workbench. “Maybe. I’m not exactly a mechanic, but I can hold a wrench.”

He snorts, amused, and hands you a tool.

“Don’t hurt yourself. That’s my job.”

You take it, rolling your eyes at his comment. But as you stand next to him, following his instructions and working together on the car, there’s a quiet contentment in the air. 

You grip the wrench, watching Toji’s hands as he guides yours to the right bolt. His touch is firm, steady, sparking a heat between your thighs. His body is so close to yours that you felt the warmth radiating off him. 

You try to focus on the task at hand, but with Toji standing over you, the subtle scent of engine oil mixed with his cologne makes your heart race, and it's hard to concentrate.

"Like this?" You ask, adjusting the wrench in your hand, trying to distract yourself from your dirty thoughts.

Toji’s lips twitch into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Tighten it, don’t baby it, baby." 

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. You give the wrench another turn, putting more effort into it this time.

"There. Happy?" You ask, looking up at him.

Toji’s gaze flickers down to meet yours, and for a moment, the air between you seems to thicken. 

His eyes darken, a hint of something playful yet dangerous lurking in them.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans in even closer, so close you can feel the brush of his arm against yours.

"Not bad," he murmurs, his voice low. His big arms reached over you and tightened the bolt even more, just showing off his strength. "Maybe you’re not as useless around here as I thought."

You narrow your eyes at him, though there’s no real annoyance in your expression. "Oh, please. I’m the best help you’ve ever had."

Toji’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Big words for someone who didn’t even know where the wrench was five minutes ago."

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, he reaches past you to grab another tool, his arm brushing against your side. 

He doesn’t move away, staying so close that your shoulders are practically touching. It’s deliberate—you can tell by the smug look on his face.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down. Instead, you let your own smile grow, deciding to meet his teasing head-on.

"Maybe I don’t know cars, but I know you like showing off. How long did it take you to fix that last engine again? Two hours?"

Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your banter. "Two hours, and it was perfect. Don’t forget that part."

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. "Perfect, huh? Or just barely passable?"

He narrows his eyes at you, though there’s a playful edge in his gaze.

"Careful. You’re gonna talk yourself out of a favour if you keep that up."

"Oh? What favour?" you ask, leaning against the car now, your arms crossed, fully enjoying the back-and-forth.

Toji leans down, bringing his face closer to yours, his grin shifting into something more dangerous, more tempting. "The one where I let you stick around here. Don’t think I’ll keep you around for free."

Your breath hitches slightly, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you match his energy, pushing back without missing a beat.

"Oh, so you’re saying I have to work to earn my keep? What’s the price, then? More wrench-holding?"

He chuckles again, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through the air between you. 

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing fades into something heavier, something that lingers in the charged space between your bodies. 

He’s close enough now that you can see the flecks of green in his eyes, close enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off him.

"Nah," Toji says, his voice dropping an octave, turning more serious but still holding that playful tone.

"I’ve got enough wrenches. I’m thinkin’ of something a little more… personal."

You can feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t look away. "Oh? Like what?"

He leans in, just barely brushing his lips against your ear.

"Guess you’ll just have to stick around to find out."

For a second, the world seems to slow down, your senses overwhelmed by the proximity of him, the way his voice sends shivers down your spine. 

But before you can say anything, Toji pulls back, the smirk returning to his face as he casually grabs another tool and turns back to the car, as if nothing just happened.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Toji always knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to get under your skin in a way that leaves you wanting more.

“Tease,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head with a smile.

Toji glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“I’m not teasing this time, I’m just busy. Like I said, stick around...”

His voice was low, almost serious, but that playful gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. 

He gives you a wink, and something about the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

You open your mouth to reply, but words seem to get stuck in your throat. The way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only thing in the room worth paying attention to—makes your pulse quicken. 

The air between you feels heavy, charged with an energy you can’t quite name.

Toji watches your reaction closely, his grin fading into something softer, more intense. He drops the tool he was holding onto the workbench and turns fully toward you, wiping his hands on the rag before tossing it aside.

“You really think I’m just messin’ with you?”

Your breath catches as he steps closer, closing the already small distance between you. His presence is overwhelming—tall, broad, and carrying that rough, irresistible confidence he always seems to have. 

But this time, there’s something else in the way he looks at you, something different. His teasing smirk is gone, replaced by a look that makes your heart race.

“Toji…” you start, but you’re not even sure what you want to say.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face up so that you’re forced to meet his eyes. The touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender.

“I’m serious,” he says quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you look at me, the way you linger around here like you’re waitin’ for something to happen.”

Your cheeks burn at his words, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anticipation.

Maybe both.

But before you can respond, Toji’s hand slips from your chin, moving to rest against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“I’ve been holding back,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, like he’s been keeping this confession locked away for too long.

The dark, dangerous edge in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. His grip on you tightens slightly, a subtle indication of just how much control he’s been forcing himself to maintain.

You’re painfully aware of how close he is now—his broad frame nearly eclipsing yours, his body radiating a heat that makes it harder to breathe. The faint scents of oil and metal lingers in the air, mixing with something distinctly him. It’s intoxicating.

“M’didn’t wanna push too far, but... maybe I’ve been waitin' for you to give me the green light.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in velvet. It’s like a line drawn in the sand, daring you to cross it.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Every inch of you is hyper-aware of Toji—the way his hand lingers on your neck, the way his gaze seems to devour you. You want this. God, you want this.

“What if I gave you that green light right now?” The words leave your lips before you can fully process them, but there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing.

For a fleeting moment, Toji’s pupils dilate, his eyes narrowing with something primal, something dangerous. The smirk that spreads across his face is no longer playful—it’s predatory.

“Then I wouldn’t waste any more time.”

Before you can draw another breath, his mouth crashes down on yours, and it’s like a dam breaking—everything he’s been holding back unleashed in one searing, possessive kiss.

His hands move from your throat to your waist, pulling you against him so fiercely that your feet nearly leave the ground.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he kisses you. His lips are demanding, rough, as if he’s staking a claim.

You can feel the pent-up tension in every movement—the way his teeth graze your lower lip, the way his hands grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold.

Your hands move instinctively to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, pulling him even closer.

You match his intensity, giving in to the heat that’s been simmering between you both for far too long. Every brush of his lips, every press of his body against yours ignites a fire low in your belly, making you ache for more.

Toji pulls back for just a moment, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours as he catches his breath. His eyes, hooded and dark, search yours as if looking for any trace of hesitation. But there is none.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” His voice is low, rumbling with barely restrained need.

Your answer comes not in words but in the way you tug him back to you, pressing your lips to his once more, harder this time, as if you’re trying to tell him with your body what your words can’t quite express.

Toji groans softly, the sound vibrating against your mouth as his hands begin to explore, sliding under the hem of your shirt.

His touch is scorching, sending jolts of electricity through your skin. 

There’s an urgency now, a desperation in the way his hands roam your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. 

Your back hits the cold metal of his car behind you, the chill momentarily cutting through the heat between you, but it only seems to heighten the tension. 

Toji’s hands are firm on your waist, holding you in place against the cool surface, his body pressed against yours in a way that has your pulse racing.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes smouldering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. The darkness in his gaze has only grown deeper, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, husky, full of raw need.

“I’ve been patient,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your jeans. “But you don’t want me to hold back anymore, do you?”

The way he says it, the low growl in his voice, sends a wave of heat straight to your throbbing pussy. 

You can only manage a small shake of your head, your throat too tight to form any words.

His lips twist into a smirk, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he steps back just enough to grab you by the waist and hoist you effortlessly onto the hood of the car behind you. 

He quickly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them off your legs, letting his hands roam your skin.

The cold metal beneath you contrasts sharply with the warmth of his body as he steps between your legs, spreading them open with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’ve been teasing me, y’know that?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as his hands trace the outline of your hips, fingers brushing the edge of your panties.

“You comin’ in here wearing these tight jeans, given’ me those looks.”

Before you can respond, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and, with one sharp tug, the fabric tears apart in his hands. 

The sound of it—quick and final—echoes in the small garage, and the cool air hits your skin, making you gasp.

Toji’s eyes darken as he looks down at you, his gaze hungry and unrestrained. He licks his lips, the smirk from earlier gone, replaced with something far more serious.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, rough fingers brushing the sensitive skin as he leans down, bringing his face closer to your dripping cunt. His breath ghosts over your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Such a pretty sight.”

He pauses for a second, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your center, teasing, but not yet giving you the touch you desperately need. You squeeze your eyes shut, your head falling back with pleasure.  

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lets his thumb slide over your slick folds, testing your reaction, watching the way your body responds under his touch. The anticipation, the raw hunger in his gaze, it’s all too much, and you let out a desperate moan. 

Your breath hitches as Toji's thumb slides teasingly through your folds, his touch both rough and deliberate.

You try to bite back the groan threatening to escape your lips, but the way his eyes flicker up to meet yours tells you he notices everything.

“Don’t hold back now,” he rasps, his voice gravelly, sending shivers down your spine.

“I wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

Before you can react, he dips his head between your thighs, and the warmth of his breath against your sensitive skin makes your body tremble. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you in place, as his tongue traces a slow, agonizing path over your slick heat.

Your gasp echoes through the garage, head falling back against the hood of his car as pleasure surges through you. 

You feel Toji’s lips curl into a smirk against you, clearly enjoying the way your body reacts to his touch. 

He doesn’t hold back—his tongue flicks, swirls, and sucks, each movement precise and calculated, as though he’s savouring every moment of this.

“Fuck, Toji—” you gasp, your hands instinctively flying to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as the heat builds inside you.

Toji growls in response, the vibrations of his voice against your pussy sending waves of pleasure through you, making your thighs shake. 

He dives in deeper, his mouth working relentlessly, tasting every inch of you, each flick of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The sensation is overwhelming—his lips, his tongue, the way his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open for him, like you’re his to devour. 

It’s too much and not enough all at once. Every brush of his mouth over your clit sends electricity shooting through your body, and leaves you whining for more.

Your hips buck instinctively, seeking more, needing more of the pleasure he’s giving you.

Toji chuckles, dark and amused, his voice muffled as he continues to work you with his mouth. “So needy,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet against your heated skin. “I like that.”

It’s like he knows exactly how to unravel you, like he’s been waiting for this moment, studying you, learning your body, just so he could do this—just so he could make you fall apart beneath him.

“Toji—m' gonna cum,” you choke out, your voice barely a whisper, but he knows what you need. 

He speeds up, his mouth and fingers working in tandem, the relentless pace driving you higher and higher, until the world falls away and all that’s left is him, his touch, and the pleasure that crashes over you in waves.

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping around his head as your body shakes with the intensity of it. 

But Toji doesn't let up, continuing to lap at you, drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling from the aftershocks.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening as he looks up at you with a satisfied grin, eyes dark with lust. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, standing back up, towering over you once again.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he rasps, his voice a low growl that sends another wave of heat through your body.

Before you can catch your breath, his large hand slides behind your neck, gripping it firmly, but not harshly. 

He lifts you from your position on the car, pulling you up until you’re sitting in front of him, your legs dangling off the edge of the hood. His hand lingers at your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse, feeling the rapid beat of your heart.

Your body is still humming with the afterglow of your orgasm, but when you glance down and see Toji’s other hand move to the waistband of his pants, your breath hitches again. 

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuttons them slowly, deliberately, the tension between you thickening once more.

Toji's eyes gleamed with that dark hunger as his grip on your neck tightened just a fraction, enough to remind you who was in control. His free hand moved to the back of your thigh, pulling you forward on the car until you could feel the heat of him between your legs.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice low and rough as his hand caressed the curve of your hip, dragging you closer to him.

“So pretty, all spread out for me.”

Your breath caught as you felt the tip of him brush against your entrance, your entire body already aching for him, needing more. You leaned into his grip on your neck, your pulse racing beneath his fingers as you whispered,

“Please, Toji…”

He chuckled darkly at the desperation in your voice, his grin widening as he pressed himself just a little harder against you, teasing you.

“Please what, baby? You gotta use your words.”

You squirmed under his grip, your body screaming for more contact, for him to stop teasing.

“God Toji—I want y’to fuck me,” you said in frustration, your voice barely audible as your body begged for him.

“Good girl.” His voice was a low, approving growl as he finally lined himself up with you, his voice sent another wave of heat to your aching pussy. Without another word, he pulled you forward, thrusting into you in one swift motion.

The sudden stretch had you gasping, eyes wide as your walls adjusted to his size, the feeling of him filling you completely was overwhelming.

Toji groaned, his grip on your neck tightening as he stilled inside you, savouring the feeling for just a moment. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on yours as each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you clung to him, every nerve in your body on fire. Toji’s lips curled into a smug grin at the way you responded to him, the way your body seemed to melt under his touch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in closer while maintaining his rough pace. His grip on your neck shifted to pull your head back slightly. 

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you moaned, your voice trembling as he began to pick up the pace, the force of his thrusts making the car creak beneath you. 

Every movement pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you all over again as Toji took you apart piece by piece.

Toji’s pace became relentless, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, and your body was a live wire, every nerve tingling under his touch. The pressure inside you built impossibly fast, the pleasure coiling tight in your core, threatening to snap.

“Toji—" you whimpered, barely able to form words as he drove into you, your body quivering beneath him. 

Hot tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation you felt—never ever had anyone fucked you like this.

He groaned at the sound of your voice, his lips brushing against your ear.

"That’s it, pretty girl. Cum f’me," he rasped, his hand tightening around your neck just enough to send a thrill through you.

The roughness of his voice, the commanding way he held you—it pushed you over the edge. 

Your body tensed, the world spinning as your orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you gasping, your walls clenching tightly around him as wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cried out his name followed by a pornographic moan, legs trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rode the intensity of it, your whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook you. 

Toji’s hand slipped from your neck, sliding down to your waist as he kept moving, working you through the aftershocks as your body convulsed beneath him.

“There you go,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction, his hips slowing as he watched the way you writhed under him, completely lost in the ecstasy he’d given you.

Panting and spent, your body collapsed back against the car, your chest heaving as the last waves of your orgasm rolled through you.

Toji’s eyes gleamed with pride as he pulled out, his hands still possessively resting on your hips.

"You look so damn pretty when you cum," he murmured, leaning down to press a rough kiss against your lips, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all.

You were utterly spent, trembling in the aftermath, but as Toji’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, you knew...

He wasn’t done with you yet.

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat. “For the safety of all sorcerers, y/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

A silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. Yaga’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. Utahime’s face was pale, her jaw set in anger and disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re going to kill her for something she hasn’t done? Based on hearsay from a cursed spirit? This isn’t justice—this is murder!”

Gakuganji’s gaze didn’t waver, and his words didn’t hesitate. “This is protection.”

Yaga’s voice was a low growl. “This is cowardice.”

Utahime stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she turned to Gakuganji, eyes blazing. “Do you really think Gojo is going to stand by and let this happen? You’re sentencing her to death, and you know damn well he won’t allow it.”

Naobito’s smirk widened. “Let him try. No one is above the rules. Not even him.”

Yaga stepped forward again, fists trembling with barely contained rage. “This isn’t over. There’s still time to change your minds.”

But Gakuganji remained unmoved. “The decision is final. The execution will proceed as ordered.”

Yaga’s shoulders sagged, a mixture of anger and helplessness washing over him. Utahime stood frozen, eyes filled with disbelief, before she turned and stormed out of the room, unable to bear it any longer.

As the doors slammed behind her, the weight of their decision settled over the room like a shroud. Yaga stayed behind for a moment, his eyes burning into Gakuganji’s, before he finally turned on his heel and left.

The clock was ticking. And now, the countdown to your execution had begun.

—

Gojo was walking down the hall, on his way to meet with the second-year students for training. He was flipping through something on his phone when Utahime turned the corner in a hurry, her face twisted with anger and urgency.

"Satoru!" she shouted, her voice sharp and breathless. "We need to talk. Now."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "Utahime, is there a spider in your equipment locker?" He teased her, not yet understanding the severity of the situation.

Her glare could cut through steel, but there was no time for banter. "They’ve ordered y/n's execution."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His smile faltered, slipping away completely as her speech sank in. His heart did a sharp, painful pang in his chest, the kind he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Execution. 

For a split second, he said nothing, and Utahime watched his playful facade crumble as the realization settled in. His eyes widened with fear as his emotions bubbled up inside him.

“They—what?” His voice was dangerously low now, barely concealing the anger simmering beneath. His fingers curled tightly into fists, drawing blood which dripped onto the wooden floor. “Who?”

"Gakuganji. The higher-ups. The clan leaders. They’ve decided she’s too much of a threat, and they have sentenced her to death—by the end of the week," Utahime replied, her tone desperate but harsh. "I came to tell you as soon as they decided. We have to do something, she doesn’t deserve to die…"

Gojo’s mind raced, but the burning anger inside him was sharper than anything else. "Of course, they did," he muttered, and forced a bitter laugh. "They really think they can get away with this again, don’t they?"

Utahime watched him closely, worry flickering in her eyes. "You can’t just charge in there, Gojo. You need to be smart about this."

Utahime’s words still rang in his ears—execution—but all he could see was red.

He had faced cursed spirits, fought beings that would bring terror to most, but the idea that they thought they could kill you? That they believed they could take you from him—from this world, was nothing short of absurd.

His mind was made up. He wouldn’t waste time marching down corridors—with the clap of his hands, space bent around him. 

The familiar sensation of teleportation washed over him, and in a blink, the meeting room came into sharp focus. 

—

The room was exactly as Utahime had left it earlier—Gakuganji, Naobito, and the other higher-ups still seated, discussing plans that would never come to actuality. 

They barely had a moment to react before Gojo materialized before them, his presence sucking the air out of the room.

The tension was immediate. 

All eyes snapped to him, the weight of his overwhelming power pressing down on every corner of the room. Gakuganji, seated at the head of the table, locked eyes with Gojo, his face hardening.

"Gojo," Gakuganji began, but Gojo cut him off.

"You made a decision without consulting me. You actually think you can kill her?" Gojo’s voice was ice, sharp and dangerous. His sunglasses were now his hand, and his anger-filled eyes scanned the room.

Naobito shifted in his seat, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "You’re too late. The decision is final. Even you—"

"Shut up, idiot." Gojo snapped, his voice a razor's edge. His gaze was cold and unyielding. "You think this is about rules? You think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you people are all cowards, I’m not worried about dealing with you."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, like the calm before a storm. The pressure of Gojo’s Infinity (which he was amplifying on purpose) began to fill the space, growing heavier, suffocating, pushing down on the higher-ups until they could barely breathe.

Gakuganji, for all his pride and authority, felt it too—a bone-deep fear creeping up his spine.

"I’m not asking you to reconsider," Gojo continued, his tone terrifyingly calm. "I’m telling you. This execution order? It’s not happening. If you try to go through with it, I’ll personally make sure that none of you live through that day."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Naobito, usually one to revel in conflict, remained quiet, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of his chair.

Gakuganji’s voice, however, remained steady, though there was a hint of something less certain beneath the surface.

"Gojo, you’re walking a dangerous line. You may be powerful, but even you can’t defy the entire jujutsu world! The consequences—"

"Consequences?" Gojo let out a bitter laugh. "You really don’t get it, do you?” 

His words lingered, thick with intent, and the threat was real. Everyone in the room knew it. 

Gakuganji, Naobito, all the higher-ups—they may have held their positions for years, but no one, not even them, was foolish enough to believe they could challenge Gojo and come out alive.

For a moment, Gakuganji held his ground, his gaze locked with Gojo’s. 

But Gojo didn’t flinch. His cursed energy was a crackling storm, barely contained, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. One wrong word, one defiant move, and he would obliterate them all without hesitation.

"You may be strong, Gojo," Gakuganji finally said, his voice low and measured, "but strength alone doesn’t make you invincible. Y/n is dangerous. If her power continues to grow unchecked—"

"Her power isn’t the problem here," Gojo interrupted again, stepping forward. The very air seemed to ripple around him, warping with the sheer force of his presence.

"You’re just scared of what you don’t understand. But killing her won’t solve anything. You did the same thing with Okkotsu and Itadori. How has that been working out for you, hmm?"

Naobito scoffed, but even he didn’t meet Gojo’s gaze.

"And what would you do, then? Let her walk free while her cursed energy spirals out of control? What happens when she becomes a threat to all of us? We don’t even know what she is—A special-grade curse addressed her directly, that will not go unnoticed!"

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

"I’ll deal with her. Not you. Not any of you cowards. Me." His voice dropped, lower and more menacing than before.

The room grew even quieter, the weight of Gojo’s declaration pressing down on the higher-ups like a physical force.

"And if you do not cancel, or at least defer her execution?" Gojo continued, his smile returning, but this time it was pure danger, laced with the promise of violence. "I’m siding with y/l/n."

He turned and began walking slowly towards the door. Before leaving, he paused, casting one last look over his shoulder, his voice dripping with promise.

"Consider this your only warning. Try to execute her, and there won’t be a Jujutsu world left to follow your orders."

And with that, he left the room.

—

Gojo stalked down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps drowned out by the whirlpool of thoughts crashing in his mind. 

The faint light from the overhead lamps reflected off the polished wood floors, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls, but Gojo was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the world around him. It was rare for him to be in this state—this quiet, this uncertain. 

For someone as powerful as him, doubt wasn’t something he entertained often. But now, that doubt gnawed at him, an insidious presence that had wormed its way into his mind.

Execution. By the end of the week.

The words rattled around in his skull like a curse of their own, echoing with a cold finality he couldn’t shake.

No matter how many times he tried to reason his way out of it, the same truth remained: they had sentenced her to death.

You.

He let out a sharp breath, his chest tightening painfully as his mind spiralled. 

Gojo was many things—arrogant, cocky, reckless—but he was not naive. He knew exactly how the higher-ups operated. He had dealt with their politics, their cowardice, their obsession with control for years—he dealt with Itadori’s execution sentence and Okkotsu’s…But this? This was different.

His usual air of ease and invincibility felt strained, replaced by a heaviness he wasn’t used to carrying. The decision of the higher-ups was gnawing at him, and for the first time in years, he felt... uncertain.

As he rounded the corner, lost in thought, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Satoru?"

The soft sound of his name pulled him from his thoughts, and his heart skipped a beat as his worried eyes met yours. 

The way you said ‘Satoru’ just now, gentle and familiar, struck something deep inside him. When his eyes met yours his heart fluttered again—-there you stood, your eyes bright, practically sparkling in the dimly lit hallway.

He felt a pang in his chest that caught him off guard like a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until now. But your gaze—those sparkling eyes—seemed to hold the light, a warmth he hadn’t truly appreciated before. 

‘When did I start noticing such small things about her?’ He thought to himself.

The smile he plastered on was instinctual, a façade to hide the turmoil inside. "Hey," he greeted, his voice lighter than how he felt. "What brings you here? Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?"

But you weren’t fooled, not even for a second. Your eyes narrowed, observing him with that sharp intuition you always possessed, though a soft, breathy laugh escaped your lips. "Hey…is everything okay? You looked like a dear in headlights for a second there."

Your words pierced through the casual wall he had built up, and he felt exposed under your gaze.

You could read him too well. It didn’t help that this was the first time you’d crossed paths since that moment on the bench, heightening the already charged tension between you.

He tried to brush it off, letting out a short laugh. "Wrong? Nah, everything’s fine. I’m just, you know, dealing with the usual—saving the world, being ridiculously good-looking, that sort of thing."

Another breathy laugh left your mouth. Your eyes softened as your gaze met his again, your presence grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. "Are you sure? Please don’t lie to me—there is already so much going on…"

For a moment, Gojo stood there, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat.

His instinct was to shield you from the truth, to protect you from the weight of what was looming ahead. But looking into your eyes, he couldn’t lie to you—not about this. 

His smile faded, and for the first time, you saw the worry etched in his expression.

"The higher-ups," he started, his voice quieter now, "they’ve made a decision. One that... involves you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but the concern on your face grew. "What do you mean? What decision?"

Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"They’ve ordered your execution," he said, the words heavy on his tongue. "By the end of the week."

The hallway seemed to grow colder as the gravity of his words sank in. Your eyes widened, the colour draining from your face as you felt your stomach drop. 

"Execution? But... why? I haven’t done anything—"

"I know." Gojo’s voice was firm, his gaze locking with yours again.

"This isn’t about what you’ve done. They’re scared of what you might do, what your power could become. It’s all paranoia and fear—they do this a lot—and they’re using it as an excuse to get rid of you before they even understand."

You took a shaky breath, and your hands trembled slightly. "And—um—you’re telling me this because...?"

"Because I won’t let it happen," he said, stepping closer, his voice growing sharper with intensity.

"They think they can decide people’s fates like this—this is the third time they've tried to dictate when someone’s life ends, and I’m done with it. I’ll protect you—those cowards can’t beat me."

For a moment, you just stared at him, your emotions swirling beneath the surface—fear, confusion, but also trust. 

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I believe you."

Gojo felt that pang again, a deeper one now, knowing what he had to do to keep you safe. The stakes were higher than ever, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how this would end. But as long as you were involved, he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t let you face this alone.

And he wouldn’t let them take your youth away.

—

The night was still, but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. You sat at the edge of your bed, the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting pale shadows on the walls. Every thought seemed to tighten the knot in your chest. 

‘How could I stop this?’ You thought, with your execution day looming over you like a dark cloud, suffocating every plan you tried to form. Running wasn’t an option… was it? 

You clenched your fists, your knuckles white. Each idea seemed to spiral into a dead end, no matter how much you turned it over. 

Could you appeal to the higher-ups? Or should you run before the inevitable happened? Each option left you trapped—an inescapable fate drawing closer as your chest began to tighter with each failed idea.

Finally, exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids, pulling you into sleep. But sleep wasn’t an escape—The nightmare returned.

This time, it was different—darker, more vivid. 

You were back in the forest, the same one from that night. The air was thick, suffocating, pressing down on your skin like a weight.

Soon enough you felt the pain creeping in slowly, building in the pit of your stomach until it felt like fire burning through your esophagus. You stumbled forward, struggling to breathe as the searing heat spread through your limbs. But then… you saw him.

The figure from the dream wasn’t a blur anymore. His face was clear.

He wore a long, dark robe, his black hair tied back loosely. His appearance was calm, almost serene, but there was something sinister in the way he carried himself.

His robes shifted slightly in the wind, the wide sleeves brushing against his side. A slow, sickening smile spread across his lips, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the pounding in your head, the pain radiating through your body. It felt like your bones were cracking under the weight of his presence.

The agony became unbearable, and you screamed—high and desperate.

Your eyes flew open, and you shot upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat.

The scream had escaped your throat, ragged and raw. Your body was trembling uncontrollably, the phantom pain still lingering in your spine as if his cursed energy had left its mark.

Before you could steady your breath, there was a knock at the door, sharp and urgent.

“Y/n—are you alright?”

Gojo’s voice, usually playful, was unmistakably laced with concern. The sound cut through the haze of terror clinging to you.

You sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding in your ears, your mind still caught between the nightmare and reality. The pain, although fading, still clung to your nerves. You heard the knock again—firmer this time.

"Hello there? Y/n? I'm coming in."

"Uh—No! I'm okay!" You stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and Gojo stepped into the dimly lit room, his figure casting a long shadow on the floor.

His usual air of confidence followed him in, but there was something different this time. His bright blue eyes, often filled with mischief and amusement, now gleamed with concern as he took in your state—sitting on the bed, drenched in cold sweat, body trembling from the remnants of the nightmare.

“Satoru! I could have been naked!” You shouted at him.

“I couldn’t be so lucky,” he joked, but his tone quickly changed,

“You just screamed bloody murder, I doubt you’re okay, and with this whole execution thing, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said softly. Without waiting for permission, he closed the door behind him and walked over to your side, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I… I had one of those nightmares again. That's all,” you whispered, your gaze shifting down to your trembling hands. It felt ridiculous to admit, but the dream had shaken you to your core, and no amount of forced composure could hide that. That pain…

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. He crouched down beside the bed, bringing his face level with yours. His presence, as overwhelming as it always was, somehow brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the lingering haze of fear.

"You’re still shaking," he noted quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What was it about? The same thing as before?"

You hesitated. How could you explain? You didn’t want to admit the truth—the figure, the pain, the overwhelming sense of dread that had seeped into every part of you.

You didn't want to sound weak or paranoid, especially not in front of Gojo. But then again, this was Gojo—he had a way of seeing through you no matter how much you tried to hide.

“It was… him. The same man from the forest,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I could see him. It was clearer, and the pain—God, it felt real.”

Gojo’s expression shifted slightly, something hardening behind his eyes, though his voice remained gentle. “What did he look like?”

You swallowed, the memory flashing vividly in your mind. “He was wearing a dark robe, his black hair was tied back. His eyes—they were so cold, almost… empty. He looked at me like I didn’t matter, like I was nothing.”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Gojo remained silent. He stood up slowly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as though he was trying to make sense of what you had just said.

The moonlight caught his profile, casting his expression in shadow, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

His silence unnerved you. You weren’t used to Gojo being anything but playful and brimming with confidence. This quiet, almost contemplative version of him sent your mind spiralling further into doubt.

“Gojo?” you ventured softly, your voice fragile in the stillness.

His eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating, as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and serious. “This man—he’s not just in your nightmares, is he?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t wanted to admit it—not to yourself, not to anyone. But Gojo’s words peeled back the thin layer of denial you’d been hiding behind.

“He… he feels real,” you whispered, the confession trembling on your lips. “Every time I dream about him—-the forest, it doesn’t feel like just a bad dream.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. "And the pain?"

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “It feels like it's happening all over again, like he’s reaching into me, twisting something inside. I don’t know how to explain it… but it’s more than just a dream.”

Gojo took a slow, deliberate breath, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his proximity grounding you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, deep in thought.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, unsure if you even wanted to ask the question. “Do you think it’s a curse? That he left something behind?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering over his temple as if trying to dispel a headache. “It’s possible,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “If he’s who I think he is, then this isn’t just a nightmare. It’s a memory.”

Your breath hitched. “A memory? You think this is real? The the man—and this pain?”

Gojo finally looked at you, his expression hard, more serious than you had ever seen him. “Y/n. If he marked you in that forest, then this pain, these dreams—they’re not coincidences. He’s using them to get inside your head—-causing you to relive memories.”

The thought made your blood run cold. "But why?"

Gojo straightened up, his eyes flickering with something dangerous, something protective. “I don’t know yet. But don’t worry, nothing will happen to you any time soon.”

His words should’ve brought you some comfort, but the weight of it all pressed down harder. “What if this is beyond even you?”

Gojo’s expression softened, but there was a steely resolve in his voice as he replied, “Y/n, I know it feels overwhelming. But remember, I’m the strongest.” He leaned closer, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “No one can touch you while I’m around. Trust me.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the conviction in his tone wrapping around you like a shield. 

But—no matter what he said, you couldn’t shake away the overwhelming emotions you felt rising in you. Nothing you did could stop the hot tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

You looked from your lap up to his icy blue eyes, your own filled with the tears threatening to fall. 

“Satoru…I’m so scared.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper in fear of it breaking as tears began to roll down your flushed cheeks. 

For all his bravado and playful banter, seeing you in distress ignited a protective fire in his chest.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern. He leaned closer, taking in the way your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the quiver in your lips that spoke volumes. 

In that instant, he was reminded of humanity—of how fragile life could be—how easily joy could be overshadowed by fear. It was a feeling he often masked with laughter and teasing, but now, facing you, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern.

“Hey, hey,” he said, brushing a thumb gently beneath your eye, catching a stray tear.

“It’s okay to be scared, but you have nothing to worry about with me around…”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at his reassurance and your skin burning under his touch.

His closeness was intoxicating, each heartbeat echoing in your ears as you focused on the way his gaze held yours, a mixture of intensity and something deeper.

Gojo's thumb lingered a moment longer, the connection between you crackling with unspoken words. There was a tension that thickened the air, a magnetic pull urging you closer despite the chaos swirling around. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the familiar scent that grounded you yet made your pulse race.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, almost husky tone that made your breath hitch. “No one is going to touch you. Not now, not ever.”

The way he leaned in just a fraction more, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin, made your heart pound louder.

“I don’t want to die.” You confessed, your voice shaking, and more tears fell from your eyes. The admission hung in the air, raw and exposed, filling the space between you.

His gaze intensified, and for a moment, you could see the concern etching deeper lines on his face.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone fierce yet tender. “Not on my watch.”

Gojo’s smirk returned, hinting at his playful teasing, but beneath that was an intensity that promised more. He was strong, powerful, and yet here you were, baring your fears to him, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet safe. 

You wanted to pull back, regain control, but the moment was intoxicating—everything around you fading away, leaving only the depths of his blue eyes and the promise of something more.

He leaned back, a cocky grin returning to his face. “Besides, did I mention I’m the strongest?”

Your heart fluttered at his confidence. “Yeah, I how could I forget.” You said, letting out a small laugh.

“Good! Now, wipe those tears away!” he said with a playful look plastered on his face.

“I’m going to be up for the next while, so if you need someone to sleep wiitthh you, just yell for me.” He said before walking out of your room with a small wave. 

As the door clicked shut behind Gojo, a mix of warmth and anxiety settled in your chest. You hugged your knees, feeling the weight of your fears creep back in, but his words echoed in your mind—’Trust me.’ 

Clinging to the flicker of hope he had ignited, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you weren’t alone in this fight.

With that thought, you closed your eyes, letting the promise of his protection guide you into a restless sleep.

—

The next morning dawned heavy with an unspoken tension. You walked beside Gojo as you made your way to the rendezvous point—an abandoned shopping mall on the outskirts of the city.

The rising sun cast long shadows across the crumbling structure, its shattered windows reflecting fragments of light onto the cracked pavement.

The once-bustling space now stood eerily silent, a shell of its former life. Broken glass crunched beneath your feet, and the distant groan of metal filled the heavy air. But it wasn’t the mall's haunting emptiness that had your nerves on edge.

It was the conversation ahead.

Gojo’s usual carefree attitude seemed slightly subdued as you both walked in silence. The steady rhythm of his steps beside you was the only thing grounding you in the moment.

You could feel his presence like a buffer against the dread curling in your stomach, that unspoken tension between you two hovering just beneath the surface.

It was a quiet intimacy that neither of you acknowledged, but it was there—palpable, real.

Without a word, Gojo’s hand brushed lightly against your back as if offering reassurance—an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

His touch lingered, warm and solid, sending a wave of comfort and something else—something deeper—through you. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he.

His fingers grazed your spine, then slipped lower to rest against the small of your back, his hand staying there, the weight of it subtle yet unmistakable.

The gesture was almost protective as if reminding you that he was there, and no matter what happened, you weren’t alone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears.

As you continued walking, Gojo slowed down beside you, his hand sliding from your back to rest lightly at your waist. The contact was brief but intentional, his fingers curling just enough to hold you close. You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

Gojo had lifted his blindfold without a word, the black fabric slipping up to reveal his piercing blue eyes, startling against the morning light. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. 

His expression, usually so teasing and carefree, had softened, and in the intensity of his eyes, there was something deeper—something unspoken that made your pulse quicken.

Neither of you said a word. There was no need to.

He gave a soft, almost wistful smile before letting the blindfold slip back into place, the casual mask he always wore settling back over him like a second skin.

His hand lingered at your waist for another fleeting second before he finally moved it away.

The moment passed, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you reached the central atrium, you spotted the others—Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, joined by Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. 

Their expressions were somber, eyes scanning the area as if expecting trouble. They had sensed something was wrong when Gojo called for a private meeting at such an unusual location.

Yuji raised a hand in greeting, his usually carefree smile missing. "Hey, y/n. What’s this about, Gojo-sensei? You’ve got us all gathered like we’re about to face a special-grade curse or something."

Nobara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as they flitted between you and Gojo. "Yeah, spill it already. This place gives me the creeps."

Maki remained silent but alert, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Panda and Inumaki exchanged glances, their postures tense as if bracing for bad news.

Gojo stepped forward from your side, his tone deceptively light despite the gravity of the situation.

"I won’t sugarcoat it. This isn’t a mission. It’s about her." His gaze flickered briefly back to you before scanning the group. "The higher-ups have ordered her execution."

The words hung in the air like a curse, and you felt the weight of the moment press down on you as all eyes turned your way.

Yuji’s eyes widened in shock. "Execution? What for?"

Nobara’s voice was sharp with outrage. "What the hell? Are you serious?"

Maki’s eyes narrowed as she pieced it together. "This is about that cursed energy inside her, isn’t it?"

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. "I…I think so. I can feel it in me—it's like a separate entity that I can’t fully control." Your voice wavered slightly as you met their stares.

Panda’s calm voice cut through the rising tension. "So, what’s the plan? There’s no way we’re letting them go through with this."

Gojo smirked, though the usual playfulness didn’t reach his eyes.

"That’s where you all come in. We need to figure out how to get the higher-ups off her back. Either convince them she’s not a threat, or we buy enough time to find another solution."

Nobara clenched her fists, fire in her eyes. "Screw convincing them. Let’s just storm the place and tell them where they can shove their execution order."

Maki snorted and rolled her eyes. "That’ll go over well, Kugisaki."

Before anyone else could respond, a sudden, oppressive wave of cursed energy washed over the mall, freezing the air. 

The sheer force of it made your breath hitch, an ominous pressure settling over your chest like a vice. Even Gojo tensed, the usual carefree ease in his posture evaporating as he lifted his head, sensing the disturbance.

Megumi stepped forward, his demon dogs stirring, responding to the dark energy. "That’s not normal. Its presence is overwhelming."

Yuji’s reaction, however, was the most telling. His face had gone pale, and his fists clenched at his sides as he whispered, "It’s him…"

You barely heard the words, but the look on Yuji’s face—the fear in his eyes—told you everything you needed to know.

Nobara reached for her hammer, her grip tight. “Who the hell is it, Yuji?”

Yuji’s voice shook as he spoke, his eyes locked on the darkened hallway ahead. "Patchface. He’s here."

The cursed energy surrounding you wasn’t just powerful. It was dark, malicious, and suffocating. The air felt thick with malevolence, pressing against your chest as if daring you to move. 

Suddenly, your vision swam, and the world seemed to warp for a second. You blinked, your heart racing, and then—you saw him.

That grotesque figure, pale and scarred, with that same patch of disfigured flesh sewn over his face like a grotesque mask. He stepped from the shadows, his smile sickly and twisted, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

“Ahhhhh, perfect, perfect, just perfect!” The patchface curse’s voice was sickeningly joyful, his tone unnervingly light, like a child about to unwrap a gift. 

“I get to fight my natural enemy, Yuji Itadori, the famous Satoru Gojo…” He paused, his eyes darting to you, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“And you… the new experiment…I don’t think I can touch your soul…but oh god, I wonder how your soul feels, y/n y/l/n,” he purred, his voice dripping with twisted curiosity. “Oh, this will be so fun!”

His grin widened, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of something darker, something far more dangerous than his playful demeanour.

His gaze flitted between the group, but it kept landing back on you.

“Let’s see how well you break.”

The golden light of the late afternoon sun had long since surrendered to the deepening twilight, and the harsh, artificial glow of the desk lamp now lighted your room. Your desk was a chaotic battlefield of papers, textbooks, and highlighters, all surrounding your overheating laptop in the centre.

Every surface was cluttered—each corner of the room seemed to reflect the mounting pressure you felt. The soft hum of the old pot lights above you constantly reminded you of the hours you had spent, and the hours yet to come.

The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness as you pored over your notes, trying to grasp every detail and nuance needed for your important job interview. Your eyes were gritty from staring at the screen, and your mind was clouded with anxiety.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but the weight of the impending deadline felt almost unbearable.

This job was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you did not intend on screwing that up. You had been preparing for about a week, but with less than 24 hours until the interview, you felt as if nothing you did was enough.

The door to your study room creaked open, and your lovely boyfriend, Suguu Geto, stepped inside. A visible concern accompanied his usually effortless charm as he observed the disarray of your office. He moved quietly, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you. The sight of you hunched over your desk, surrounded by the chaos of your preparations, tugged at his heartstrings.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, his voice a gentle balm against the relentless noise of your stress. His tone was soothing, almost musical, meant to cut through the fog of your anxiety. “How’s it going?”

You glanced up briefly, your eyes tired and red-rimmed. “It’s going alright,” you murmured, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “Just a bit more to do before the interview.”

Geto shook his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. He placed a wooden tray on the edge of your desk, positioning it delicately beside your chaos.

You hadn't even noticed him holding the tray as he walked in. It was a thoughtful assortment of comfort foods: freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with their edges perfectly golden, carefully cut slices of fruit, and a neatly wrapped sandwich. The sight of it was like a warm hug for your weary soul.

“Take a break,” Geto said, his voice carrying a tender authority. “You’ll need more than just caffeine to get through this—eat something y/n.” He said, moving to stand behind you, placing his large hands gently on your shoulders after running his fingers through your hair. You reached for a cookie, the rich, sweet aroma providing a momentary escape from the relentless pressure.

The gooey chocolate and soft dough offered a fleeting but much-needed distraction as you bit into it. You closed your eyes for a moment, savouring the taste and the comfort that came with it. “Mmmmm…This is delicious, Suguru.” You said as he leaned down, placing a loving kiss on the top of your head. You smiled softly and tilted your head back to look up at his pretty face.

“I will eat, I promise, you’re so sweet for this…but I can’t take a break right now, baby. I’m sorry.”

Geto watched you with a soft smile, his heart swelling with affection. He saw the tension in your shoulders, the furrow in your brow, and the way you continually rubbed your tired eyes. He knew that a simple snack was only the beginning of what you needed. “Do you need me to help with anything?” He asked, but he knew the answer you were about to say. “Sorry, but now, I just need to keep preparing.” He nodded and planted another kiss on your temple before leaving you to continue your interview prep.

—

The hours passed slowly, the light from the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. You continued working, your focus wavering as fatigue began to take its toll.

As if on cue, Suguru entered the room, carrying a soft blanket and a hairbrush, but you did not notice him as your face was buried in your computer screen.

He draped the blanket over your shoulders, its softness immediately providing a sense of comfort as you turned your head quickly to meet his gentle gaze. As he tucked it around you, he noticed the tension in your posture. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch both soothing and affectionate. “Mmm…thank you, baby.” You cooed, letting your body relax under the warmth.

“You should take a break,” he suggested again, his voice soft yet firm. “You’ve been at this for hours. I hate to see you so stressed.”

You shook your head, “I can’t stop now,” you protested weakly, your voice a mix of determination and exhaustion. “There’s still so much to do, and I don’t wnat to waste tim-.”

“Nonsense,” Geto countered before you could finish your thought with a playful firmness. “You need to take care of yourself too. I’m here to help.”

With that, he pulled up a chair behind you and began to work on your hair. His fingers were skilled and gentle, moving with practiced ease as he untangled the knots with his hairbrush and began braiding your hair. The rhythmic motion of his hands was both calming and intimate, each touch designed to ease away the stress that had accumulated from your long hours of work.

As he worked, you could feel the tension in your head and shoulders slowly melting away. The sensation of his familiar touch, combined with the warmth of the blanket was a welcome relief.

Your thoughts began to drift and your eyelids fluttered shut, momentarily distracted from the relentless pressure of your preparations. The soft, rhythmic motion of his hands was like a lullaby, drawing you away from the stress and into a state of calm.

Suguru’s was focused on making sure you felt cared for. He knew that even the smallest gestures could make a big difference in how you felt. His thoughts were filled with a mixture of concern and affection as he continued to braid your hair, each movement designed to bring you comfort.

Suguru’s attention to your needs was instinctive. He knew that even the smallest gestures—a touch, a word—could make a big difference.

His love was quiet, expressed not in grand gestures but in these moments of care, where he sought to lighten your load without taking anything away from your independence.

After finishing the braid, he leaned forward, his warm breath brushing your skin as he kissed the crown of your head softly, lingering just a moment too long.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his lips grazing your temple before planting another tender kiss on your cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words, gentle and sincere, filled the room like a warm, protective aura. You smiled despite the exhaustion weighing down on your body.

A part of you wanted to surrender to his care completely, to let him whisk you away from the burden of responsibility. But that determined part of you—the one that had carried you this far, wouldn’t let you rest just yet.

You turned in your chair to face him, giving him a tired but appreciative smile. “You’re too good to me,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his face. “But I can’t rest, Suguru. Not yet.”

He chuckled softly, the low sound reverberating through his chest as he held your gaze. His dark eyes were filled with warmth, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you.

“I think you deserve a break,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips this time. His kiss was slow, delicate—enough to tempt you into abiding, but not enough to fully pull you away from your tasks.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you seemed to disappear.

“Stay here,” you whispered, though a teasing smile played on your lips. “But… let me finish. Just a little longer?”

Geto sighed theatrically, though the fondness in his gaze never wavered. “You are impossibly stubborn, you know that?”

You chuckled, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “I know. But that’s why you love me.”

He smirked, leaning in for one more kiss, this one a little firmer, a little more insistent. It was a kiss that promised more, but also one that said, I’ll wait.

“You’re right,” he murmured against your lips. “That’s exactly why.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Geto reluctantly pulled away, though not without one last, lingering look that left your heart fluttering. He straightened up, his hands trailing down your arms as he rose to his feet.

“I’ll be in the other room,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with the unspoken promise that he’d return if you needed him.

You nodded, biting back another smile as you turned back to your work.

The desk lamp cast its warm glow over the papers once more, but this time, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter—knowing Suguru was there, just a room away, gave you the strength to push through.

You sighed contentedly, feeling the remnants of his tender living care wrapped around you like the blanket he had so thoughtfully draped over your shoulders. Suguru’s love was quiet, persistent, and steady. And in this moment, even in the midst of your stress, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have him.

—

The hours dragged on as the hum of your laptop filled the quiet room. Despite Suguru’s care and the warmth of the blanket over your shoulders, you continued to push through. The stress of preparing for the interview was like a weight on your chest, driving you to review every last detail of your presentation.

Fatigue gnawed at your senses, but you stubbornly ignored it.

Your fingers moved slowly over the keyboard, eyes struggling to focus on the words that had long since blurred. You barely noticed the dim light of your screen, and the quiet of the house settled into a calming lull.

Suguru, ever mindful, peeked into your office from time to time. He could see the way your head drooped closer to the screen, the way your back slumped in the chair, the exhaustion etched in your every movement.

After what felt like an eternity, Suguru decided enough was enough. He reappeared at the doorway of your office, a glass of water in hand.

As he approached, he saw your body had finally succumbed to the exhaustion you had been fighting. Your head was resting on your folded arms atop the desk, the faint glow of the laptop barely illuminating your peaceful face.

The screen had dimmed automatically, its light reflecting softly off your skin, casting long shadows across the room.

Suguru’s steps softened as he entered the room, not wanting to disturb you. He set the glass of water down quietly beside the untouched cup of tea he had brought earlier and knelt beside you, taking in the sight of your sleeping form.

The tension that had lined your features throughout the day had finally faded, leaving you with an expression of serenity. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

His gaze lingered, his heart swelling with warmth and affection.

You had worked yourself to the point of exhaustion, and as much as he admired your dedication, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for letting you get this far without insisting on rest.

He knew how much this interview meant to you, but he also knew that you needed sleep just as much.

Suguru rose to his feet, stepping behind your chair as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n,” he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath. There was no response. You were too far gone in sleep to even stir. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Stubborn as always."

Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, careful not to wake you as he lifted your limp form from the chair. Your head lolled softly against his chest as he cradled you in his strong arms, the weight of your body nothing compared to the warmth in his heart. The blanket that had once been draped over your shoulders fell away—forgotten as Suguru began to carry you out of the office.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the dim light of the moon filtering through the windows. The soft sound of his footsteps was the only noise in the stillness of the house. He glanced down at you as he walked, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept soundly against him.

As he reached the bedroom, Suguru nudged the door open with his foot and crossed the room to the bed. He laid you down gently, his movements careful and precise, not wanting to disturb your sleep. Once you were settled, he pulled the covers up to your chin, tucking you in with the same tenderness he had shown all evening.

For a long moment, he stood beside the bed, just watching you sleep. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you, safe and sound under his watch. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Suguru straightened up, brushing a hand through his long hair before glancing back at you one last time, soaking in your effortless beauty.

The familiar scent of antiseptic filled your nose as you slowly blinked your eyes open. The soft whirring and sporadic beeping of machines and the gentle hum of the infirmary's lights gradually came into focus. It took a moment for you to remember where you were—Jujutsu High, the infirmary. You tried to sit up, but a deep ache in your muscles pulled you back down, reminding you of the battle just days before.

You had been unconscious for just over a day, but the soreness that clung to your body was a fading echo of what it had been. Shoko had healed most of your injuries, and while your body still felt heavy, you were no longer in a significant amount of pain.

A subtle shifting caught your attention, and you turned your head to see Gojo sitting at your bedside.

His long legs were stretched out lazily in front of him, his chair tipped back on two legs in that effortlessly casual way only he could pull off. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed you stirring.

He wore an off-white button-up shirt, simple and unassuming, and somehow looked better on him than it had any right to. The way it fit him—just snug enough at the shoulders, but loose enough to give him that carefree look to match his attitude.

And then there are those sunglasses, the ones that should be ridiculous indoors, yet on him, they work—like a signature mark of his unbothered confidence. Even with half of his face hidden behind those tinted lenses, you can still see his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted, his voice smooth and teasing, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses. "I was starting to think you'd be out for another day. But I guess you're a bit too stubborn for that, huh?"

You managed a weak laugh, the dryness in your throat making it raspy. Gojo tilted his head—as though studying your face.

"You know," he began, his grin widening, "even unconscious, you’re still causing me all kinds of trouble. What am I going to do with you?"

His teasing tone, paired with the playful glint in his eyes, pulled another laugh from you, this one a bit stronger, though your body still felt heavy. Gojo straightened, his chair landing back on all four legs with a soft thud, before he placed a familiar white pastry box on your lap.

"I brought you a cookie," he said, and as your eyes focused, you recognized the familiar logo from the last pastry box he had got you about a week ago.

“Hmmm, am I having deja vu?” You said teasingly, although your voice was weak.

Propping yourself up with a few pillows, you opened the box to reveal the single chocolate chip cookie—just like the one he'd given you before. "Thought you might want something sweet when you woke up."

His expression softened as he studied your face, his bright blue eyes watching you carefully.

You didn’t even try to stifle the grin that slowly crept onto your face. “You know, you’ve never even asked me if I like sweets.” You teased, a warm feeling growing in your chest.

Gojo rolled his eyes, “These sweets are too good not to like, y/n.” He argued in response, to which you gave him a stern look, and he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you like sweets?” He said reluctantly, and you smiled wider in response to his obvious annoyance.

“Yes, I do…they’re my favourite.” You said, picking up the cookie and taking a bite. “This is too good not to like…wow.” You said, covering your mouth, as it was still full with cookie.

Gojo laughed, “I am always right.” There was something different about the way he looked at you now—something gentler than before, more concerned.

You decided to finally ask the burning question, “Gojo, what… happened?”

His expression shifted, the playful mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the worry underneath. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tosseled white hair as he sighed.

"You don't remember?" His tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You and the students were fighting that special-grade curse, remember? You… well, things got a little out of hand.”

The memories started trickling back, one by one. The battlefield, the pressure of cursed energy crushing you from every side. You remembered fighting off duplicates of the curse—one after another—until something snapped. A rush of power unlike anything you'd ever felt before surged through you, dark and overwhelming. The blue energy you had trained so hard to control had been replaced by something else, something foreign and dark.

“Oh, yeah I remember now…Sorry, I’m a little dazed,” you whispered, the weight of the realization hitting you like a truck. “How were there that many special-grade curses there? I thought you said the mission was just one special grade?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you closely. The playful mask he usually wore was still there, but his eyes, ever sharp and knowing, held a depth that unsettled you. “That’s the thing,” he replied, his voice softer now. “It wasn’t just one special-grade curse, it was multiple—each one a fragment of something larger. They were working in sync.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You could recall the feeling of being surrounded, the sheer number of cursed spirits far more than you had anticipated. It was no wonder you’d been overwhelmed. “Shoko said she found something strange when she was healing you.”

You frowned, shifting slightly in the bed. “Strange? Like what?”

He hesitated for a moment, his typical lighthearted attitude shifting to a more earnest demeanour. “There’s another cursed energy inside you. Different from the normal cursed energy you’ve been using.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, and you felt your heart start to race.

Another cursed energy? How was that possible? You looked at Gojo, searching for answers, but his expression gave little away. "What does that mean for me?" You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Gojo leaned back again, his eyes narrowing in thought. “We don’t know yet. That’s why Shoko's keeping an eye on you, and I…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on you before looking up at the ceiling. “I’m going to be here every step of the way, whether you like it or not."

Before you could respond, the infirmary door slid open, and Shoko entered with her usual calm, unbothered air. She glanced between you and Gojo before speaking.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said with a small smile. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep through the whole week.”

You managed a faint grin as she approached your bed. Shoko pulled out her clipboard, her eyes scanning the notes she had taken while healing you. After a moment, she looked up and met your gaze, her expression turning serious.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice low. “When I was healing you, I noticed something unusual. Your cursed energy… it wasn’t just the blue-hued energy you usually produce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Gojo had mentioned this already, but hearing it from Shoko felt different. More real.

“There’s another source of cursed energy inside you,” Shoko continued, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know how or why, and I can’t see anything on the tests I’ve done, but it’s there, and it’s separate from your own cursed energy. It’s… dark.”

You stared at her, stunned. Another source of power? But how? Why now?

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest.

Shoko shook her head, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure. And we don’t know how it got there, but its foreign. We’ll have to run some more tests to figure it out. But for now, you need to be careful. That power—whatever it is—could be dangerous if you don’t learn to control it.”

Gojo gave you a reassuring smile, though there was something sharp behind his usual cocky expression. “Don’t worry Shoko. You’ll figure it out. Plus, y/n has me as her teacher, after all. You know better than anything that I am the strongest.”

His words should have comforted you, or at least made you laugh—but the uncertainty gnawed at the back of your mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

—

You stayed in the infirmary for a few more days while Shoko ran some tests. It was all routine at first, just performing tests on your cursed energy levels, helping you heal some of those stubborn wounds with her reverse cursed technique.

As the days passed and you grew more comfortable around Shoko, your conversations took on a lighter tone. You had expected her to be more distant, but she had a subtle, dry sense of humor that made you laugh, even in your exhausted state.

On the second evening, as Shoko finished up another round of tests, she pulled a chair up beside your bed, setting her clipboard down. “You’re healing well,” she said, her usual neutral tone softened. “We’ll have you out of here soon, hopefully.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Shoko. It’s been kind of nice getting to know you more.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m not that interesting.”

You chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that. You’ve got to have some stories, being friends with Gojo and all.”

Shoko leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Oh, Gojo? Yeah, there are plenty of stories, most of which are probably better off unsaid.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Come on, I’m stuck in bed here! Give me something. How was he back then?”

She sighed in mock reluctance before a small smile spread across her face. “Alright, alright. There was one time… Well, this was back when Gojo and—” Shoko hesitated for a second, her expression darkening slightly, but she quickly recovered. “—when Gojo and his best friend were still students here. His name was Geto Suguru.”

“Geto?” you repeated, unfamiliar with the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

Shoko’s eyes softened a little, and for a moment, there was a quiet sadness in them. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Suguru was… He and Gojo were like brothers. They used to be inseparable.”

You blinked, surprised. It was hard to imagine Gojo having a best friend—someone close enough to understand him on that level. “What happened to him?”

Shoko looked down for a moment, her voice becoming more sombre. “It’s… complicated. Let’s just say he took a different path. It’s not something Gojo talks about much, but they were close. Closer than anyone would think.”

There was a brief silence between the two of you, the weight of her words sinking in. You could feel the layers of history, the unspoken grief in Shoko’s tone, and it made you wonder just how much Gojo had buried beneath that playful exterior.

Shoko cleared her throat, shaking off the mood. “But, anyway. Gojo’s always been the same—cocky, infuriatingly powerful, and completely insufferable when he’s right. There was this one time he convinced Suguru and me to sneak into the teachers’ lounge at night because he wanted to prank Yaga. Nearly got us all expelled.”

You laughed softly, trying to picture a younger Gojo pulling off one of his infamous schemes. “I’m guessing it didn’t go as planned?”

“Not at all. Yaga caught us halfway through. Gojo had rigged this ridiculous trap to dump confetti on him when he opened the door, but instead, it went off on us. We were covered in glitter for days.” Shoko shook her head with an amused smile. “Suguru was so mad. I thought he was going to kill Gojo right then and there.”

You laughed at the image, imagining a flustered Gojo trying to explain himself with confetti raining down around him. It was hard to reconcile the carefree man you knew now with the version of him Shoko described—someone who had once had a deep bond with someone else, someone who had experienced loss.

“Do you think he misses him?” You asked quietly, the question escaping before you could stop yourself.

Shoko looked at you for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I think he does, in his own way. Gojo doesn’t like to talk about the things that hurt him. He hides behind that grin of his, but… yeah. I think he does.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for the man who had become such an enigmatic figure in your life. Maybe there was more to him than just the confident, teasing exterior. Maybe, beneath it all, Gojo carried his own burdens, just like the rest of them.

Shoko stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright, that’s enough reminiscing for now. You rest up, and if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll tell you more embarrassing Gojo stories tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said with a grin, feeling a bit lighter despite the heaviness of the conversation.

As Shoko left the room, you couldn’t help but think about the person Gojo used to be, and how much of that was still hidden beneath the surface.

—

Once you had recovered fully, you found yourself training harder than ever before, trying to tap into this newfound source of energy. Gojo, ever the confident mentor, pushed you to your limits, testing how far you could go before the black energy resurfaced.

At first, it was difficult—frustrating, even. The black energy was slippery, elusive, always just out of reach until it wasn’t. But with each passing day, you felt it more clearly, a flicker of something cold and sharp beneath your usual warmth of cursed energy.

Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara were a constant source of support for you, and they really didn’t need to be—but they wanted to help. Whether it was their own curiosity or the friendship you had developed over the past month, they stuck around.

Training with them made the days more bearable, and their playful banter helped ease the tension that weighed on your shoulders.

One afternoon, you found yourself sparring with Yuji while Nobara and Megumi sat on the sidelines, doing some homework for another class they had. Yuji, ever the ball of energy, was throwing everything he had into the match, but even he couldn’t help but crack jokes between strikes.

“C’mon, y/n, is that all you got?” he teased, dodging one of your kicks with ease.

You grinned despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Just wait. I’m holding back so I don’t embarrass you.”

“Like that’s possible, you were just unconscious for a day, y/n. Don’t get cocky!” Nobara sarcastically scoffed from the sidelines, earning a chuckle from Megumi, who was trying to hide his amusement.

The laughter and camaraderie between the four of you made the discovery of this dark energy less daunting, and the uncertainty less frightening. You felt supported—more than ever before. But even with all the training, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

‘How did I get here?’ You thought while grabbing some water during a short training break. It’s not like you could answer that question; you still have next to no memories of your life before this—before discovering jujutsu sorcery.

You had no clue what you were doing here, but you knew you had very little choice in being here, it was all you knew now. You just had to do your best.

The black energy inside you was growing stronger, more insistent. But you wanted answers now, living in a constant state of unknown was becoming unbearable.

—

In the days following, you recalled scenes from the battle with the special grade curses. One of the curse's words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Each time you tried to push it away, the memory clawed its way back, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

As you sat alone in your room, your hands idly tracing the bandages still wrapped around your torso, the curse’s voice echoed: "Do you feel it…It's almost time for you."

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came with those words. What had it meant? Why had it focused on you, singling you out with such terrifying precision?

Before being found by Gojo, I had never been around curses…right?

—

Later that evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, bathing the school grounds in an orange glow, you crossed paths with Gojo again. His usual carefree grin was firmly in place, but by now, you knew better—that smile often masked something deeper.

He stood leaning against one of the chainlink fences just outside the outdoor training grounds; his blindfold was nowhere to be seen and was replaced by a pair of dark grey rectangle-shaped shades.

It was after teaching hours, so Gojo wore his casual clothes: just an oversized black long-sleeved shirt—though it seems he had cut the neckline, as it exposed more of his collarbone than a normal shirt would, paired with some grey sweatpants.

For whatever reason, whether it be your newfound appreciation for life after nearly dying, you got a warm feeling in your chest (and between your legs) when you saw him. ‘Does he always look this good?’ You thought to yourself as you waltzed up to him, interrupting his concentration on whatever video he was watching on his phone.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice softer than usual. The fading light caught in his messy white hair, making it shimmer, and he turned his head towards you with a raised brow, his curiosity piqued.

“Hey there, walking all by yourself?” He teased, provoking you to roll your eyes with an amused smile. “Thought it was a better idea than walking with you.” You said, biting back at his quip. He let out a laugh and slid his phone into the pocket of his sweats.

“You think you’re funny now? Good lordd…What’s on your mind, y/n?” He asked, sensing the weight of your thoughts.

Despite your humorous banter, his expression shifted—he could tell you were troubled.

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the right words. “Well, I’ve been thinking…that one curse during the battle… it said something. You were there. It talked about it being ‘almost time for me.’” Your eyes searched his, which were barely covered by those sunglasses, needing to know if he had any answers. “What do you think that meant?”

For a moment, his smile faltered. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. He took a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted, his tone more serious than usual. “Curses don’t talk just to talk, especially not special grades. I hate to say it, but they’re smart—they know things.” His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, his concern noticeable.

The cryptic warning from the curse still hung heavy in the air, and despite Gojo’s presence, the unease gnawed at you—it had been gnawing at you since you regained consciousness. You wanted to lean into Gojo’s usual lightheartedness, let it wash away the fear creeping up on you, but tonight, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm brewing inside.

“Why me?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. “Why was it focused on me?” Despite your attempts to stifle your fear, you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking when you spoke.

His grin faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he sat down on a nearby bench. He leaned back slightly, hands still in his pockets, the playful mask he usually wore slipping just enough for you to see the worry beneath it. “Y/n,” he said softly, motioning for you to take a seat beside him, and you followed his motion.

“Curses sense things in people, sometimes for a reason, sometimes because they catch on to something we don’t even realize. But this… was definitely not random.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So what do you think it meant then…when it said it’s ‘almost time for me’?”

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, and his blue eyes, usually so carefree, held something deeper now as they looked into yours—an intensity that made your breath hitch. He leaned back on the bench, tilting his head toward the darkening sky, as if searching the sky for the right thing to say.

The orange glow of the setting sun illuminated the chiselled features of his face, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts, ‘God, he looks good.’ It was that moment, waiting for Gojo’s reply, when you realized how close the two of you really were, your legs practically touching as you sat beside each other.

“I wish I knew,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual, almost…gentle. "But what I do know is that curses don't just say things for no reason. Especially not special grades like that. Something’s up."

You sat down beside him, feeling the space between you shrink, though neither of you touched. The warmth from his body seemed to seep into the small gap, but there was an undercurrent of tension, something unspoken yet real in the air between you. His presence was normally a comfort, but tonight, it felt different. Almost charged.

He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours again—but this time his gaze was steady, unwavering. “Whatever it saw in you,” he continued, his tone low and serious, “you really don’t need to worry about it—you shouldn’t worry about it at least.”

Your pulse quickened at the way he said it, so casual yet laced with empathy and care. But you were unsatisfied with his answer.

Did he actually just say that to me after I almost died?

“You’re really telling me not to worry!?” You said, feeling the emotions in you start to bubble up within you. “Not to worry? Really Satoru?! I have next to no memories of my life, I suddenly woke up in a forest, surrounded by creepy-ass-curses, and nowww you jujutsu-people want me to fight them!” Your voice raised subconsciously as your emotions continued to rise up in you.

“Not to mention I almost died last week, and while I was in the middle of ‘almost-dying,’ a special grade curse practically threatened me—me personally! And you are sitting here telling me not to fucking worry?!” By then end of this you were practically out of breathfrom the volume of your voice.

“And you know what-” Before you could continue, you were cut off. “I don’t like it when you say it like that.” He said barely above a whisper, his voice sounding almost…sad? You could feel his eyes wandered between yours, searching and darting back and forth. “What the hell are you talking about?” You snapped, still frustrated and heated from your rant.

“My name,” he said softly, his eyes not shifting from yous. “I don’t like it when you said my name in such an angry voice.” Immediately, your frustration was gone, and your expression resembled that of a dear in headlights.

“Satoru?” You said, your head tilting to the side a bit, reflecting the confusion you felt.

“Yes, when you’ve said it before, you said it so nicely, so softly, it sounded so good hearing my name come from you.”

His words hung in the air between you, soft yet cutting, and your heart stuttered at the unexpected vulnerability in them.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, his confession leaving you at a loss for words. It was a side of Gojo you had never seen—one that wasn't hidden behind his usual cocky smirk or casual confidence.

The air around you seemed to shift, thickening with a tension you couldn't quite place. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as the weight of his gaze held yours, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to find something in you that you weren’t even sure you could give.

“I…” You faltered, your earlier anger dissipating into confusion, but something else lingered beneath the surface—something deeper. Your pulse quickened again, not from frustration but from the strange sensation creeping up your spine.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he hadn’t moved closer, the space between you felt significantly smaller. “I get it, y/n. I know all of this is… a lot for you, for anyone.” He said quietly, practically mumbling. “I know things are uncertain and terrifying, but you’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through the storm of thoughts in your head, leaving you feeling exposed—raw.

You wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold on to that frustration because it was easier than the vulnerability you felt creeping in.

But with the way he was looking at you now—steady, unwavering, almost tender—you felt something inside you waver. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t break the eye contact the two of you held; it was like some external force was interfereing.

Gojo’s expression shifted, the usual teasing smile nowhere in sight. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently resting just above your knee. His touch was warm, grounding, and that warm tingly feeling began to creep back in.

“I’m telling you not to worry because, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly, and the blatant seriousness in his voice sent a shiver through you.

There was something unstated in the way he said it, something more than just a promise of protection. It was intimate, a layer of meaning underneath his words that you weren’t sure you were ready to acknowledge.

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you realized how close he was now, his hand still resting gently on your thigh, his eyes locked on yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn’t just comforting—it was something else entirely. Something that made your pulse race for a reason.

“Satoru…” you whispered, his name falling from your lips—softly this time, as it did naturally.

His expression stayed mostly unchanged, but you could’ve sworn his eyes widened, just a fraction, in response.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and palpable. You could feel it—the unspoken pull—the way your heart ached.

The way his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to your eyes, made a heat begin to pool between your legs.

The air around you was charged, and your mind drifted to how easy it would be to just close that distance, to let whatever this was finally spill over and consume you.

Gojo’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your lower thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. His voice was low, almost a whisper when he spoke again, and oh boy you were not prepared for what words left his lips next. “Say my name like that again,” he murmured, “Please, y/n.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing that mattered was the space between you and him, and the feeling that, if you took just one step closer, everything would change.

"Satoru, I…" Your voice was breathless, almost as if saying his name had taken something from you, pulling you closer to a line neither of you dared to cross.

But just when it felt like you were teetering on that line, your nerves took over. “Thanks for your help,” you blurted, your legs shifting away form him, breaking the contact between his hand and your skin. The moment, electric and intimate, cooled almost instantly.

Gojo blinked a few times, his hand falling to his side, the intensity of the moment fading as you harshly forced the distance back between you. “I’ll try not to worry, like you said…” You continued awkwardly.

He exhaled softly, and that smartass smile returned to his pretty face once again. "Right… You never have to worry when you’re around me. I’m the best the jujutsu world has to offer." He teased, his voice returning to its usual casualness.

You stood up, looking down at him as you stood in front if him. “Well, I’m gonna get going, Shoko says I should still be resting when I can.” You said, gesturing to the directions of the dorms, and Gojo just nodded in response, leaning back against the bench again, his arms spread over the length of it, his eyes looking up at you—and you were standing so pretty in front of him.

“Goodnight, Satoru.” You said with knowing smile, your gaze lingering for a bit too long befor eturning around and walking back towards the school.

—

The room was thick with tension as the leaders of Jujutsu society sat around the large oak table, their expressions grim. The clan leaders, flanked by stern-faced assistants, wore the air of authority and tradition, while Principal Gakuganji sat at the head, his face as cold and unyielding as ever. The atmosphere was stifling, the weight of the conversation about to unfold already heavy in the air.

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed, his face betraying his frustration. Utahime sat beside him, her brow furrowed, glancing between the higher-ups with a mixture of disbelief and quiet anger.

"Principal Gakuganji," the leader of the Kamo clan spoke first, his voice even and measured. "It has come to our attention that there are certain… disturbing developments regarding y/n y/l/n."

The leader of the Zen’in clan, Naobito, gave a snort, his arms resting lazily across his chest. “Disturbing is an understatement.”

Gakuganji leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Explain."

The Kamo clan leader continued, casting a disapproving glance toward Yaga and Utahime. "It appears that a certain conversation between two first-year students at the Tokyo school—Itadori and Kugisaki—was overheard. They were discussing a special-grade curse y/n encountered during a recent mission." He paused, letting the implication settle before continuing. "The curse in question reportedly said something about it being 'almost time' for her."

Naobito’s eyes gleamed with a predatory smirk. “A fucking ticking time bomb. That’s what she is.”

Utahime tensed beside Yaga, fists clenching under the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but Yaga beat her to it. "This is ridiculous," Yaga snapped, his voice firm but controlled. "You're basing this entire accusation on what? Something a curse said during battle? That's not enough to—"

"It’s more than enough," Naobito interrupted, his voice sharp, dismissive. “Special grade curses don’t make empty threats. They know what they’re sensing. If a curse says something is 'almost time' for her, that means she’s a threat.”

“She’s already unleashed an unknown cursed energy,” the Kamo clan leader added. "A power even Gojo Satoru hasn’t been able to fully identify or control. Not that he is even trying. That in itself is dangerous enough. She’s unpredictable. Unstable."

Gakuganji’s fingers stilled, his gaze shifting toward Yaga. “And from what we’ve seen… she could be harboring a greater threat. We cannot allow an unknown force like this to develop under our noses. We must act before it becomes too late.”

“Act?” Utahime’s voice rose, incredulous. “You’re going to condemn her for something she hasn’t even done yet? For something none of you fully understand? This is insane!”

Gakuganji’s steely gaze flickered toward Utahime, his expression unreadable. "This is not a decision taken lightly. We understand the complexity of the situation. But the safety of the Jujutsu world cannot be compromised by unknowns."

“She’s an unknown that Gojo Satoru himself is monitoring!” Yaga countered, his voice rising. “Do you really think he would put the entire school at risk for someone he didn’t trust? He’s been training her personally.”

Naobito’s lip curled in a sneer. “And yet, even Gojo can’t seem to keep her under control. And he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about the threat either, that jack-ass…”

The third clan leader finally spoke up. His tone was measured, but there was no mistaking the finality in his words. “She is too much of a risk. An unknown factor in an already unstable world. We cannot afford to wait and see what this cursed energy inside her might become.”

Yaga took a step forward, hands slamming down on the table. "You're talking about a student! A human being! Not some weapon you can discard when it suits you."

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat.

The words echoed in your head as you crumpled the note in your fist, tossing it aside.

You knew Toji Fushiguro was a problem. A criminal. A danger to everyone, including you. He was the kind of man you were supposed to run far, far away from. But every time you closed your eyes, it wasn’t fear you felt when you remembered him—it was heat. He had a hold on you—you’d never met someone so…different.

Even though your mind knew the truth, which was that he was an ass, your body remembered something else. 

Damn that selective memory, you thought. 

You sighed, trying to shake the thought, but you couldn’t escape it. You could only ever remember the way he felt inside you. The way he gripped your body so rough.

—

‘I can't remember to forget you…’

The first time Toji touched you, it wasn’t gentle. There was nothing soft or tender about him. He’d cornered you in an alleyway, his towering figure looming over you like a predator with prey. His smirk was sharp, full of arrogance and danger, like he knew exactly how easy it would be to have you. 

And in that moment—you hated how much you wanted him.

You could still feel the way his fingers had curled around your wrist, pulling you close with a rough tug, his body heat scorching against yours. His breath had been hot on your neck as he leaned in, that deep, gravelly voice of his laced with something sinful.

"You're shaking, y/n," he’d whispered, but the way his lips ghosted over the pulse point on your neck made it clear he knew it wasn’t fear. "Can't decide if you wanna run or stay."

You had wanted to run, but your body betrayed you, legs rooted to the ground as he pressed closer. The way his hands slid down your body was possessive as if he had already claimed you in his mind long before you could resist.

‘I can't remember to forget you…’

—

You groaned, tossing the covers off as you sat up, trying to shake the memory from your head. But it was no use. The way your skin burned just thinking about him only brought more moments rushing back, one after another, each one more intoxicating than the last.

His voice and touch were branded into your skin, impossible to forget. And even if you could, did you want to?

Toji was always rough, always urgent. His hands were large and calloused, dragging over your skin with a hunger that felt primal.

Every time you were with him, it was a fight—against him, against yourself. And every time, you lost.

You could still hear the low grunt he’d made that night, the way his mouth crashed against yours, all teeth and tongue like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His grip was tight, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pushed you back against the nearest wall. You remembered how he had pinned you there, his weight pressing into you, his lips travelling down your neck, biting and sucking until your legs gave out.

You shook the thoughts away and went to the bathroom to wash up. You splashed the cold water on your face, reaching lazily for your toothbrush and toothpaste.

As you brushed your teeth, you couldn’t help but watch your own reflection in the mirror. The bruises left by his lips still lingered on your neck, trailing down to your collarbone.

And your mind could not help but wander to that night, only a few days ago…

—

‘I can't remember to forget you…’

That night, the rain had been pouring outside, drumming loudly against the windows of your dimly lit apartment.

Toji hadn’t knocked when he arrived hadn’t bothered with pleasantries or words of warning. He had barged in like he owned the place, the weight of his presence commanding attention.

You remembered the way he’d closed the door behind him, his eyes locking on yours, dark and unreadable. There was something animalistic about him, something primal in the way he prowled toward you, like a predator cornering its prey.

His large hands were rough as they gripped your arms, pulling you close as he towered over you. There was no softness in his touch—only pure, raw need.

"Why do you always look like you're waiting for me to take you apart...hmm?" He had whispered, his voice a low growl against your ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

It wasn’t a kiss meant to be sweet—it was possessive, consuming, like he was trying to devour every part of you.

His fingers curled into your hair, tugging hard as his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"You want this, don’t you?" he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with arrogance and lust.

Your body betrayed you. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to regain some semblance of control, but your legs felt weak beneath you, your hands instinctively reaching for him. The heat between your bodies was electric, sparking with every touch, every desperate kiss.

You could only moan in response, your body too lost in the sensation to form words.

The way his hands held you in place, the way his mouth moved over your skin, made it impossible to think of anything else but him—of how he made you feel, how he always knew exactly how to push you to the edge, only to pull you back with a sharp, knowing grin.

And as you gasped his name, as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, you knew this was a moment you’d never be able to forget.

‘I can't remember to forget you…’

—

The memory lingered like a shadow, its intensity just as raw as the night it happened. Toji wasn’t a man who made you feel safe—he made you feel alive, in the most dangerous, reckless way possible.

No matter how much you tried to push the thoughts away, your body remembered. It always remembered.

You ran a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face as you stood up from the bed, legs feeling heavy. 

The morning air was cool against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to douse the flames licking at your insides. You wandered toward the kitchen, hoping coffee would wake you up and make you forget about him, even for just a little while.

“I really need to practice the art of self-control,” you muttered to yourself as you opened a window to let some fresh air into your apartment. 

But you knew the truth: no matter how many times you tried to remind yourself that Toji was bad for you and that you should forget him, you knew you never would.

He was a permanent scar on your skin, a reminder of every time you gave in to temptation. The kind of man you knew was dangerous, but that danger had been exactly what drew you in.

You sighed, standing in the middle of your apartment, hands on your hips, eyes scanning the mess.

The dishes were piled in the sink, laundry strewn across the couch, and empty coffee cups cluttering the table. You hadn’t realized how much of a mess things had gotten.

Maybe that’s what happens when you let your mind get consumed by someone like Toji.

"Focus, y/n," you muttered to yourself, pushing the sleeves of your oversized shirt up your arms, determined to keep your thoughts from wandering.

You started with the dishes, running hot water and letting the steam rise, hoping it would help clear your head. The repetitive motion of scrubbing the plates, rinsing them off, and stacking them on the drying rack was calming, and mindless. You could almost let yourself relax.

Moving to the living room, you started gathering the clothes scattered across the couch, tossing them into a basket with more force than necessary.

The silence in the apartment felt too heavy, too full of the memories you were trying to escape.

You could almost hear his voice again, low and teasing.

"Miss me already?"

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as you shoved another shirt into the basket. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted him, how badly you wanted him to bend you over like he did.

But it was there, undeniable, no matter how much you tried to fill your day with mundane tasks.

You turned to the coffee table, stacking the empty cups and sweeping crumbs into your hand. Your movements were stiff, hurried, as if moving faster would help clear your head. It didn’t.

As you wiped the table, you caught sight of something half-hidden underneath a book—a crumpled piece of paper. You hesitated before pulling it out, smoothing it flat.

"Forget about him." Another goddamn post-it note. 

The words from the note you’d written stared back at you, mocking. It was so simple in theory, but your body wouldn’t let you forget.

Every time you tried to push him out of your mind, he slipped right back in—like a shadow, always lurking just out of sight, waiting for you to let your guard down.

—

Later, as you sat on your couch, tea in hand, your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced at the screen and your heart sank when you saw the name.

Toji.

You stared at it for a long moment, fingers hovering over the screen as you debated answering.

You shouldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. But your body reacted before your mind could catch up, thumb swiping across the screen to answer the call.

"Miss me, y/n?" His voice was a low purr, sending shivers down your spine.

You swallowed hard, heart racing as your mind screamed at you to hang up, to put the phone down and block his number for good. But all you could think about was the feel of his hands on your skin and the way he stretched you out just right. 

"I…"

You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Toji laughed softly on the other end, and you could almost see the smug smirk on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"I’ll be over in 20 minutes, just collecting a bounty near your area." He said, voice thick with promise. "Don’t you try to forget about me. I want you ready when I arrive. "

The line went dead, and you stared at the phone in your hand, pulse quickening.

You knew what you should do—lock the door, turn off the lights, pretend you weren’t home.

But the memory of him was too strong, the pull too irresistible.

As you set the phone down and stood, a familiar heat began to pool between your legs. God, just the thought of him made you squirm. 

You’d try to forget later. For now, you knew exactly where the night was heading.

‘Oh here we go…’ you thought to yourself, crossing your legs in an attempt to quell the arousal you already felt. 

—

Your hand lingered on the phone, still warm from the call, as Toji’s words echoed in your head. “Don’t try to forget me.” It wasn’t just a statement—it was a command, one that you were powerless to disobey. 

You swallowed hard, glancing around your apartment.

The air felt heavy with anticipation, the minutes ticking by too slowly as you waited for him to arrive.

Part of you considered fighting it, locking the door, ignoring the inevitable. But it was pointless. Every time he appeared, you crumbled. 

Every time you swore it was the last, you ended up right back in his arms, a willing prisoner to your own desires.

The knock at the door came quicker than you’d expected, your heart skipping a beat as you turned toward the sound. The moment you heard his voice on the phone, you should have known better than to think you could resist. 

You crossed the room slowly, feeling the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you.

Before you could reach the door, it opened, his tall figure waltzing into the room with no care in the world. "Didn’t expect me to wait, did you?" Toji’s voice was low, rough as his eyes scanned your body.

Toji leaned against the wall, that familiar cocky grin playing on his lips. His dark eyes locked onto yours, taking in the way you stood there, staring at him like you’d been caught in a trap.

And maybe you had.

"Told you I’d be here soon," he said, taking a step forward without waiting for an invitation, his broad frame filling the space as he slowly closed the space between you.

You should have stopped him—should have said something, anything, to slow him down—but the aching between your thighs grew unbearable, your body betraying your mind. 

His presence was overwhelming, intoxicating, and the tension between you two snapped the second his hand gripped your waist, pulling you close.

His fingers dug into your hips, his body pressing against yours with a possessive force that made your pulse race.

You tilted your head back, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment before his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was hard, demanding, full of the raw need that neither of you could deny. 

He didn’t wait for permission—he never did.

His hands moved over your body, sliding under your shirt, his rough palms grazing your bare skin as his fingers found your sensitive nipples and have them a hard pinch.

You gasped against his mouth in response, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he pressed you back against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat flooding your body. 

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a line of fire in their wake, his teeth grazing your skin where you were already marked, with enough pressure to make you moan.

"Sounds like someone missed me, hmm?" He purred against your throat, his voice thick with amusement, though he already knew the answer.

The way his hands roamed over your body, pulling at your clothes, left you too breathless to form words.

His touch was rough, unrelenting, and exactly what you had been craving.

Toji’s hands made quick work of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside before his mouth found your beautiful tits, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin.

You let out a loud whimper, your fingers pulling at his hair as you arched against him, desperate for more.

"What happened to wanting to forget me?" He rasped, his voice dark and low as his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you off the ground with ease. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your back pressed hard against the wall as he held you in place, with one hand around the front of your neck, his mouth colliding with yours, and his tongue entering your mouth with a hungry force.

Your pussy was practically throbbing at this point, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you pulled him closer, your body burning with need. 

The truth was, you didn’t want to forget. Not right now.

"That’s what I thought," he muttered against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he carried you to the couch, not even bothering to close the blinds to your large window [the neighbours def saw y'all fuckin] before practically ripping off your pants, his mouth never leaving yours.

The world outside ceased to exist the moment Toji pushed you down onto the couch, his body hovering over yours like a storm about to break. He was all you could see, all you could feel.

His touch was rough, his kisses demanding, and the way his hands moved over you left no room for doubt. 

He was in control—just like always—and you were more than willing to let him take what he wanted.

As soon as your skin came in contact with the cool leather couch, you felt the lace of your panties snap as his two fingers tore them from your body. 

And there you were: Toji hadn’t been at your apartment for 5 minutes yet, and there you were—completely naked, just squirming under his rough touch. 

He leaned down, hovering two fingers over your soaked pussy as his thumb circled your clit, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

But you couldn’t. You didn’t even try.

Instead, you let your body speak for you, arching against him, your hands gripping his back as he moved over you, every touch sending another wave of heat crashing through you.

“God—You’re just fukcin' desperate for me.” He said darkly, his unlit gaze piercing your wide eyes before forcefully shoving his three of his calloused fingers into you, thrusting in and out of you roughly. 

His name left your lips in a desperate moan, your body responding to his in ways you couldn’t control.

And with that, he claimed you, every movement, every rough kiss, and every growl reminding you why you could never truly forget him.

Before you could respond, he lifted you up from the couch, removing his fingers and gripping your hips with an unrelenting force as he pushed you forward, bending you over the back of the couch. The fabric dug into your stomach, grounding you in the moment as heat flooded your body.

He gave your ass a rough slap, one that caused a loud cry to escape from your lips.

“You think you even could forget me, forget this?” He taunted, his one hand still dripping with your juices, caressing your ass. 

With his other hand, he swiftly undid his own pants, pulling them down just enough so he could fuck you. His long cock, dripping with precum, was positioned at your entrance, almost teasing you as you squirmed under him. 

"I don't think so," he rasped, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he leaned over you, moving your hair to one side of your face so he would still have a view of it. 

He entered you slowly, making sure to feel every inch of your warmth consume his hardened cock. You let out a pornographic moan, fingers gripping the edge of the couch as you felt him stretch you in every direction, his hands pulling your hips back as he pushed his into yours. 

Once he put his entire shaft in you, he groaned loudly before quickening the pace, the couch moving along with you.

His touch was rough, his fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks—a reminder that he owned this moment, and he owned you.

His rapid pace was causing you to see stars as he fucked you into oblivion. He leaned forward again, this time only briefly, to grab a handful of your hair to tilt your head back so he could see your rosy face.

“You look so good when you’re getting fucked by me.” He bragged as if complimenting himself, too. 

Your only response was a loud moan as his hands travelled down to your clit, massaging it with dominance.

The couch shifted under your weight, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, closing the distance between you both. The moment felt thick with tension, electric in its intensity. 

Toji’s grip on your hair tightened, and his pace was dominating, his voice low and dark as he whispered, "You won't forget this."

And you knew he was right–Toji Fushiguro was a mistake you had no issues with repeating. 

You knew better—You knew you should’ve learned to forget him. 

But these days, you just couldn't remember to forget him.

The past two weeks brought about a change in you. Since the day your cursed techniques had emerged in full, something had shifted—not just in your power but in your confidence.

You’d been training harder, pushing your limits as often as you could, determined to master the new abilities that had manifested. 

Gojo had taken you and the first years on several missions—low-level cursed spirits that provided practice but nothing particularly challenging. Still, you could feel it in the air, the sense that something bigger was coming.

One evening, after a quiet day around the school, you found yourself in the common room, staring out the window as raindrops ran down the glass. The patter of rain was calming, yet your mind was restless. 

Your limbs ached from the long days of training, but it wasn’t the physical strain that bothered you.

It was the nightmares—relentless, vivid, and painful—that plagued you every night. You hadn't spoken about them yet, unsure if they even meant anything, but they were getting harder to shake off.

The door slid open, and you glanced up to see Gojo sauntering into the room. His white hair was slightly tousled, and as always, his signature rounded sunglasses did a poor job of hiding his striking eyes, but his grin was unmistakable.

“Hey,” he drawled, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “You look like you’ve seen better days.”

You let out a soft chuckle, though your smile barely hid the exhaustion. “Thanks, I really needed that boost to my self-esteem.”

Gojo smirked, taking a seat beside you on the small couch, tilting his head with that annoyingly charming confidence.

“You know, I’ve noticed you’ve been skipping out on sleep lately. Must be tough, trying to keep up with me and all.”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. “How could you possibly know that?”

His grin widened, eyes glinting mischievously behind his sunglasses. “I’ve got great eyes, remember?” He said, shooting you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Right.”  You realized he was referring to his Six Eyes technique. 

So does he just know everything? You thought. 

Gojo clasped his hands together and stretched them out in front of him. “So, what’s up?” He asked, looking over at you. “What’s keeping you up at night.”

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you tried to figure out how to bring it up. 

“What? Are you dreaming of me, y/n?!” He said, dramatically clutching at his heart, a sly grin plastered on his face. 

You punched his arm, “Shut up, you wish.” You teased with a smile on your face. 

“There is something I’ve been meaning to bring up to you though…” The words felt heavy on your tongue, but there was no point in hiding it anymore. “I’ve been having these weird nightmares,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “Every night, for the past week.”

Gojo didn’t interrupt, his head tilting slightly, in an almost cat like manner, as if urging you to continue.

“They’re always the same. Just…pain. Searing, unbearable pain, so real that it sticks with me even after I wake up.” You paused, rubbing your temples.

“But there’s nothing else. No images, no memories—well, there are, but as I wake up, they all fade away, and it’s just the pain. It feels like—like it’s not just a normal dream.”

For a long moment, Gojo said nothing, his playful demeanour fading into something more serious. His face softened, and his eyes looked deep in thought as he stared in front of him. After a moment, he sat up slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he processed your words.

“Nightmares, huh?” he said, his voice lower now. “Didn’t think you were the type to lose sleep over those.”

You sighed as you began fiddling with your necklace. “It’s not about losing sleep. It’s…they feel too real, Gojo. Like they’re more than just dreams. I don’t know if it’s connected to my cursed energy or something else—I’m still new here—but I know that it’s getting worse. I wake up every night with this... lingering feeling, like something’s waiting on the other side that I can’t reach.”

Gojo leaned back against the couch, his head tilted up as if considering something deeply. “Sounds like your body’s trying to tell you something. You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard lately—maybe too hard.” His voice dropped slightly as if to drive the point home.

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he held up a hand. “But, if it’s not that,” He continued, “it could be your cursed energy evolving. Sometimes, when your energy changes, the body reacts in weird ways. Nightmares could be one of them.”

You shook your head, frowning. “But why pain? Why something so... specific?”

Gojo shrugged, but his tone was thoughtful. “Your cursed energy is different. It’s still evolving, and it might be trying to tell you something you don’t fully understand yet. Or...”

He paused, the playfulness slipping back into his voice as he gave you a knowing smirk. “Maybe you’re just being dramatic.” 

You shot him a sharp glare. “Hey! What the hell!? You know I am not being dramatic!” You shouted at him accusingly. 

Gojo let out a loud laugh in response, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with a smug grin. “Relax, relax, I’m just messing with you.” His voice was teasing, but there was an underlying softness in his gaze, which did not budge from yours, that made you pause.

You huffed, crossing your arms in front of you, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, that’s what everyone loves about me,” Gojo replied smoothly, stretching his arms above his head before letting them fall back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. 

"But seriously, you’ve gotta ease up a little. If you want, we can see if Shoko can monitor your dream or something to find out some answers."

You raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him. “Shoko? You think she can help with this?”

Gojo shrugged, leaning back on the couch as if the suggestion was no big deal.

“She’s smarter than she lets on. If anyone can figure out what’s going on with your cursed energy, it’s her. Plus,” he added with a smirk, “she’s got that whole ‘doctor’ thing going for her. You know, credentials and all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his casual tone. “You make it sound like you’re just recommending a spa day or something.”

“Well, to be fair,” Gojo said, grinning wider, “a spa day wouldn’t hurt either. You’re wound up tighter than a cursed spirit. A little relaxation could do wonders.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to feel more personal. “You’re not a machine, y/n. It’s okay to take a breath.”

He had a point, though you hated to admit it. The nightmares, the intense training, pushing yourself so hard day after day—it was starting to weigh on you—And you were not some expert sorcerer. But stopping felt like giving in, like letting the fear of the unknown win.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted reluctantly. 

Gojo gave you a triumphant grin, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m always right, you should know that by now.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge. “Oh, you’re thanking me now? Careful, y/n… You keep this up, and I might start expecting more gratitude.” He stood up, but his eyes never left yours.

You shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

Gojo leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping into a lower, teasing tone. “Oh, I do. And trust me, I’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.” His gaze lingered on you for just a beat too long, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, heat rising to your cheeks despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Oh God—Shut the hell up,” you muttered, trying to ignore the way his words had affected you.

Gojo laughed, straightening up as he made his way toward the door, giving you a playful salute. “Catch you later, y/n! Sweet dreams.”

You groaned, his laughter echoing down the hall. Even after he was gone, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your pulse still racing from his remark. 

With Gojo, every conversation felt like a tightrope walk between playful teasing and full-blown flirting—and that unpredictability made everything between you that much more entertaining. 

—

The following evening, after a particularly gruelling training session, you found yourself lounging in the common area with Maki, Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi. The air was light, filled with the sound of Nobara’s laughter as she playfully taunted Yuji for losing yet another sparring match earlier that day.

“You’ve gotta stop holding back, Yuji,” Nobara teased, nudging him in the ribs. “You’re making me look bad.”

Yuji pouted dramatically. “I’m not holding back! You just fight dirty.”

Maki snorted. “She’s right though, you know. You’re still telegraphing your punches like a rookie.”

“Hey! I’m getting better!” Yuji protested, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.

“You’re getting something,” Megumi chimed in dryly from his seat, not bothering to look up from the book he was pretending to read. “Not sure if it’s ‘better’ though.”

You grinned at the banter, feeling a warmth in your chest as you watched the exchange. It was nice, these moments of camaraderie. 

You had no memories of your life before waking up in that forest. You didn’t know whether you had friends or a family somewhere, so it felt nice knowing that, despite that, you were surrounded by people. 

Even though there was constant danger surrounding your life as a sorcerer, there was comfort in knowing you had people who had your back. People who you could laugh with, spar with, and, when the time came, fight alongside.

Maki leaned back in her seat, glancing over at you with an amused smirk. “You’ve been quiet, y/n. Something on your mind?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but there was a heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about some stuff.”

Nobara leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand as she eyed you. “Like what? Spill it, y/n.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should say it. But these were your friends—if anyone would understand, it was them. You took a deep breath. “Apparently, the higher-ups are suspicious of me.”

The room went quiet for a moment, the atmosphere shifting. Yuji, who had been lounging on the couch with his head tilted back, sat up straighter. “Suspicious of you? Why?”

You gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I don’t know. Maybe because of the whole... cursed energy—found with no memories in a forest—thing. It’s different from what they’ve seen before. I guess they don’t trust it.”

Yuji frowned, his brow furrowing. “That’s messed up. They tried to kill me last year, too. If Gojo-sensei wasn’t around, they probably would’ve executed me by now.”

“Wait, what?” you blurted, eyes widening in disbelief. “They tried to kill you? Are they trying to kill me?”

He nodded, a humourous smile on his face. “Yeah, when they found out I had Sukuna inside me. They don’t exactly give you the benefit of the doubt when they’re scared of what you can do.”

Maki crossed her arms, her expression hardened. “The higher-ups are always looking for reasons to control or eliminate anything they don’t understand. But they probably aren’t going to go that far with you—you aren’t cursed. You’re just different. They’re cowards, hiding behind their rules.”

Nobara scoffed. “Seriously. They’re a bunch of old geezers who think they can decide who lives and who dies.”

Megumi, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally spoke up. “They’ll leave you alone as long as Gojo-sensei has your back. He’s the only reason they don’t go after Yuji anymore.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at Megumi’s words. It was comforting to know that Gojo was protecting you, but it also felt like a heavy weight to carry.

“I guess... but what if they find a reason to come after me anyway? What if Gojo can’t protect me forever?”

Yuji leaned forward, giving you a reassuring grin. “If that happens, we’ve got your back. You’re one of us now, y/n. The higher-ups can suck it.”

Maki smirked. “Yeah, and I’d love to see them try. They wouldn’t know what hit them.”

Nobara gave you a firm nod. “Exactly. We’re a team, y/n. They’ll have to get through all of us before they even think about touching you.”

Your heart swelled at their words, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

Despite the uncertainty, despite the danger that came with being a sorcerer, there was a deep sense of comfort in knowing that you weren’t alone in this. You had friends who would stand by you, no matter what.

“Thanks, guys,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It means a lot.”

Yuji grinned, the mood in the room lifting again. “Hey, don’t mention it. We’ve gotta stick together, right?”

Maki nudged you with her elbow. “Besides, you’re not going anywhere. If the higher-ups have a problem, we’ll deal with it when the time comes. You really need to try and relax, y/n.”

Megumi’s gaze softened, and he gave you a brief nod of agreement. “Exactly. You’ve earned your place here, y/n. Don’t let them make you feel otherwise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling a warmth spread through you. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Maybe, with friends like these, you could face whatever came next—together.

—

The next day, Gojo gathered you, Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji together in a classroom. “We’ve got a special grade curse,” Gojo announced, his tone unusually serious as he addressed the group. “Abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town. Reports of multiple cursed spirits, and they’re getting stronger by the day.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the mention of a special grade curse. The last few missions had been easy in comparison, but this? This was going to be a real test of everything you’d learned so far.

—

The abandoned hospital loomed before you, its decaying walls and shattered windows casting eerie shadows in the dying light. Vines had overtaken much of the exterior, twisting through broken glass and crumbling stone, giving the building the appearance of something that nature itself was trying to reclaim.

"Classic horror setting," Yuji muttered as you all stood in front of the hospital. "Why is it always places like this?"

"Spirits like places where humans suffered," Megumi said quietly, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter. "Hospitals, prisons, battlefields—they’re drawn to them."

"Stay alert," Gojo said, his tone more serious now as he led the way deeper into the building. "Special grade curses are unpredictable. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet."

You could feel the tension rising in the group. 

“Anyways, good luck, students! Don’t die!” Gojo shouted in an animated sing-song voice, giving one final wave as the veil lowered between you.

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Well isn’t that encouraging. What a weirdo.” 

As you entered the hospital, the air immediately grew colder, and the stench of mould and decay hit you like a wall. 

You felt your insides stir—this place was so spooky—they were reacting to the oppressive atmosphere that pressed down on your chest.

It was hard to tell what was more unsettling—the building’s slow disintegration or the cursed energy that seemed to pulse within its walls barely contained.

As you moved through the hospital's dark, twisting hallways, your mind was racing. The last few missions had been tough on you, but you had proven yourself over and over again. You were ready for this—right?

Even though you had faced some curses before, there was always an element of unpredictability, especially with a special grade. They didn’t play by the same rules as lower-level spirits, and you had only been a sorcerer for a total of a few weeks.

But you knew you had no choice but to come along with everyone on the missions.

Gojo had said that he needed to keep you busy and away from the school grounds where Principal Gakuganji of the Kyoto School and other suspicious higher-ups had access to you. 

So you just agreed, you didn’t want to do any more tests, you knew you were telling the truth. 

As the group approached the hospital's central operating room, where the cursed energy seemed to be strongest, the floor beneath you suddenly shook. 

A deep, guttural sound echoed through the walls like the building itself was alive and groaning in pain.

"Here we go," Yuji muttered, cracking his knuckles, his fists igniting with the usual blue hue.

The door to an operating room burst open, and a wave of cursed energy hit you like a physical force, forcing you all to slide back. 

Inside the room, a grotesque figure hovered in the air, its body a twisted mass of blackened flesh and pulsating veins. Its face—or what was left of it—was a gaping maw of jagged teeth, and its limbs dangled unnaturally as though they had been broken and twisted in every direction.

"That’s a special grade, alright," Nobara said through gritted teeth, her hands already wrapped around her hammer and nails.

The cursed spirit let out an ear-piercing screech, and the room itself seemed to warp and distort under the pressure of its cursed energy. You covered both of your ears at the piercing noise. 

Shadows twisted and stretched along the walls, making it difficult to tell where the real threat was coming from.

"Formation B!" Megumi called out, taking the lead as the team snapped into action.

You moved to the side, focusing your energy into your palms, ready for action. Gojo had warned you about overextending, but now was not the time to hold back. As the others engaged the cursed spirit, you felt your energy pulsing within you, stronger than ever before.

The battle was intense. Yuji charged in with his usual reckless enthusiasm, landing powerful blows on the curse, while Megumi summoned his shikigami to distract and confuse the creature.

Nobara, always precise, launched her nails with deadly accuracy, each one imbued with her cursed energy.

But despite their combined efforts, the curse wasn’t going down easily. Its grotesque form seemed to regenerate almost instantly after each attack, its twisted limbs snapping back into place as it shrieked and lashed out with dark tendrils of cursed energy.

Suddenly, you noticed more curses charging down the narrow hallway—no—not more curses, duplicates of the special grade? 

“Uh, guys, we have a few more problems coming this way!” You shouted, sending a beam of cursed energy at one of the creatures.

Their grotesque forms slithered out from the shadows, their eyes glowing with a sickly light as they attacked with reckless abandon. 

The cursed energy in the air was heavy—borderline oppressive, and as the battle wore on, you realized with a sinking feeling that you were being overwhelmed.

Gojo, for the first time, wasn’t watching over you.

As you fought, your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. The cursed spirits were relentless, their attacks growing more vicious by the second, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself separated from the group, struggling to hold your own.

And then you felt it—a foreign cursed energy, dark and unfamiliar, taking hold of you. 

It surged through your body like wildfire, the feeling of it coursing through you—it was strong. Without thinking, you raised your hand, mimicking the shape of a gun with your fingers, aiming toward the cursed spirit in front of you. 

A blast of black-coloured cursed energy surged from your fingertips, its force unlike anything you'd ever experienced. 

The energy was different from your usual vibrant blue—it was pitch black, rippling through the air with an ominous weight. 

There was a heaviness to it, darker, more sinister, but at the same time... strangely familiar. It moved through you like a shadow, one you hadn't realized was lurking within.

The cursed spirit in front of you didn't stand a chance against the sudden surge. The black energy ripped through its grotesque form, sending it flying backward, crashing through walls like they were paper. 

The ground beneath you trembled as the creature's screech echoed in the air, growing distant as it was hurled away, disappearing into the rubble.

You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly, the world tilting slightly from the exertion. 

Before you could even see if the special-grade curse had been exorcised, a new threat emerged—swift, a lower-level curse appearing out of nowhere, claws sinking into your abdomen.

The impact was immediate, brutal, knocking the wind out of you. You doubled over, your mouth filling with the bitter taste of blood as it poured out uncontrollably.

You barely had time to process the pain before the curse hit you again—this time, its hand wrapped around your head, slamming your skull into the cold, unforgiving concrete tiles beneath you. 

The ground splintered on impact, the sharp sting reverberating through your entire body. Stars danced in your vision, your mind struggling to focus, to hold onto any semblance of control.

Panic clawed at you as your heart hammered in your chest. The dark energy you’d released moments ago had drained you, leaving your body weak, vulnerable.

You could feel it—the slow creep of defeat as the curse pressed its advantage, its grotesque laughter filling the air, a mocking sound that only fueled your fear.

Your body trembled as you tried to raise your hands, summoning the familiar blue shield of your cursed technique. 

The shimmering barrier flickered to life just in time, forming a protective dome around you.

The curse snarled in frustration, raining down blow after blow, but your shield held—for now. Each hit reverberated through your bones, the blue light shuddering with each impact.

But the cracks were already forming. You felt them—spiderweb fractures spreading across the surface of the shield, each hit making it weaker, thinner. 

You clenched your fists, pushing every ounce of energy you had left into maintaining it, but that dark energy had drained you. The curse was too fast, too relentless.

A crack split through the shield, a web of blue light that shimmered before faltering, and your heart raced as you realized the inevitable.

You were going to die.

​​The cursed spirit’s claws were mere inches from your face when the blue light of your shield finally gave out. Your last line of defence crumbled like shattered glass, leaving you exposed, and the curse roared, lunging for the kill.

For a heartbeat, everything froze. Then, out of nowhere, you felt a familiar presence surge forward. 

Gojo. 

His cursed energy slammed into the battlefield. The air around you shifted, becoming dense, almost suffocating.

The cursed spirits recoiled instantly, their monstrous forms trembling as if they could sense the inevitable destruction headed their way.

Gojo appeared in front of you in a blur of motion, levitating just above the ground, standing tall between you and the four special-grade curses, his back to you as if daring them to try anything.

His aura crackled like electricity in the air, the sheer force of it pressing down on everything around him. You’d felt his power before, but never like this—never so raw, so lethal.

The cursed spirit that had nearly killed you snarled, preparing for another attack, but Gojo didn’t flinch. He raised a single hand, fingers splayed casually, but his tone was ice-cold.

"Stay back."

One of the special grades, a grotesque mass of limbs and dark energy, didn’t heed the warning. It charged forward, screeching, its enormous claws slicing through the air, aiming directly for Gojo’s head. But before it could get close, Gojo moved.

It was so fast you barely saw it—just a blur of white and blue as Gojo flicked his wrist.

A ripple of cursed energy erupted from him, invisible but devastating. The curse was obliterated on contact, torn apart mid-air with such force that the shockwave blasted debris in every direction.

The ground itself cracked beneath the sheer impact of Gojo's technique.

The other three special grades barreled around the corner, coming from where you had been separated from the group, likely sensing the death of their comrade.

Their twisted forms shrank back for a moment, cautious, as Gojo turned his head slightly to glance at them. His grin was there, but it was chilling—predatory, and his eyes were sharp.

"Next." He said coldly. 

Another one of the special grade duplicates, a hulking beast with jagged scales and red eyes, let out a bone-shaking roar and lunged at Gojo.

This one was smarter, possibly the main body, using its enormous bulk to tear through the ground and debris, sending it flying toward Gojo. But it didn’t matter.

Gojo barely blinked as he raised his other hand. His cursed energy flared, but this time, it was different—stronger. T

here was a low hum in the air, the kind that made your skin crawl. With a flick of his fingers, the air in front of him seemed to ripple, and in an instant, the curse was halted mid-charge.

It stopped as if hitting an invisible barrier, limbs flailing, confusion flashing in its eyes.

This must be Gojo’s infinity. 

Then, Gojo clenched his fist, and the curse was crushed—its body caving inwards under the pressure of his cursed energy.

It let out a final screech before it was flattened into the earth, nothing but dust and blood splattered on the ground where it once stood.

The third curse, a lanky figure with long, twisted arms, hissed, its grotesque eyes flicking between you and Gojo as if weighing its chances. Without warning, it shifted its target—to you.

In a blur of motion, the curse moved faster than you could track. One second it was by Gojo, and the next, it was in front of you, its arm outstretched, claws aiming directly for your throat.

You didn’t have time to react. You could barely breathe, the pain from your earlier injuries making every movement agonizing. Blood dripped from your wounds, pooling beneath you as you struggled to stay conscious. 

Your vision blurred, and the only sound you could make was a weak gasp as the curse closed in.

But it never reached you.

Gojo’s energy flared again, a wave of blue light cutting through the air like a blade. The curse froze mid-strike, its arm mere inches from your neck.

Then, with a sudden explosion of power, it was ripped apart, and shredded into pieces by Gojo’s cursed technique. The pieces fell to the ground with a sickening thud, leaving you gasping for air.

“I’d really advise you to stay away from my students,” his voice lower, more dangerous than you’d ever heard it. “I can be quite protective over them.”

There was only one curse left now, and it was by far the most powerful. 

The final special grade stood at the far end of the battlefield, its monstrous form pulsing with energy. It was larger than the others, its body covered in thick, armoured plates that gleamed in the dim light. Its eyes, burning with malice, locked onto Gojo—and then onto you.

The curse bared its fangs, a guttural laugh vibrating through its chest. “You,” it hissed, its voice dripping with malice, “Don’t you feel it?” 

The curse taunted, eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “It’s almost time for you!” It yelled with a wicked snarl, its voice rising to a fever pitch.

Gojo didn’t react at first; his body was still, and his gaze was fixed on the curse. But you could feel it—the rage building beneath the surface, bubbling up in waves.

"Where did you and your ugly little friends come from?" He asked the curse, ignoring its previous statement, slowly walking towards it.

“When I lowered the veil, there was only one of you. No way I missed these other guys.” 

The curse snarled in response, but before it could move, Gojo was already in front of it.

“If you don’t answer my question—I’ll kill you.” He said coldly.

The curse spoke in response but ignored the question Gojo had asked it. “Dirty human.” It managed to get out.

Gojo’s hand shot forward, palm outstretched, and his cursed energy exploded.

The impact was instantaneous. The curse was blasted backwards, crashing through walls, buildings, anything in its path. But Gojo didn’t stop there.

With a burst of speed, he was on the curse again, kicking it with such force that the ground cracked beneath their feet. The curse let out a deafening roar, but Gojo’s expression remained unchanged—cold, furious.

His cursed energy wrapped around the curse, constricting it like a vice, squeezing until the armour plates cracked and shattered under the pressure.

“You think I’d let you live after that?” Gojo’s voice was calm, almost too calm. “You were going to kill them. You were going to kill my students. That’s pretty rude, you know.”

The curse screeched, but Gojo tightened his grip, his cursed energy surging. The ground beneath them split apart, deep fissures forming in the earth as Gojo’s power reached its peak. His eyes, glowing with that terrifying blue light, locked onto the curse one final time.

“You made the wrong choice.”

With a final, devastating blow, Gojo obliterated the curse. The explosion of energy sent shockwaves across the battlefield, levelling everything in its path. When the dust settled, there was nothing left of the curse but ash and rubble.

Gojo stood there, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched at his sides, blood smeared across his face. His cursed energy lingered in the air, buzzing with intensity. Slowly, he returned back to you.

You were slumped against a pile of debris, barely conscious. Blood coated your skin, pouring out of your mouth and wounds, your breathing shallow and ragged. 

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The pain was overwhelming, and darkness threatened to pull you under.

His cursed energy still crackled in the air, fierce and oppressive, like a storm that had yet to pass. But that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was you.

His heart hammered in his chest as his eyes locked onto your broken form.

Your body was covered in blood, your skin pale, your breathing shallow and labored. He could see the faint rise and fall of your chest, but the sight only made his stomach twist. He was there in an instant, dropping to his knees beside you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it was enough to catch his attention. 

He flinched slightly at the sound of his name from your lips—so familiar, yet, in this moment, it felt like it held a weight that was too much for him to carry.

His breath hitched, and for a second, his mask of invincibility cracked.

He was no longer Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the untouchable protector. He was just Satoru, the man who nearly lost something far more precious to him than a battle.

The word echoed in his head, not from his lips, but from your past whisper when you'd said his name before, breaking the invisible wall between you two. Now, as he knelt before you, it felt different—more raw, more real.

His hands hovered above your wounds, trembling, unsure whether to touch you, heal you, or just... hold you.

The usual cocky smirk that adorned his face was long gone, replaced by an expression of sheer panic, something so uncharacteristic of him that even he struggled to recognize it.

“You almost died,” he muttered, voice low and thick with emotion. His eyes, for once, weren’t hidden behind his glasses or his blindfold. His gaze wasn’t calculating or aloof. It was vulnerable, filled with something he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge until now. 

You could barely register the words through the haze of pain. Everything was blurring, the edges of your vision fading in and out. Your body was so weak, every breath you took was a battle. 

Yet, even through the fog of agony, you could feel him—his presence, his cursed energy, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin. The gentle tremor in his touch told you what his words couldn’t.

“Save your strength. We’re getting out of here. I’ll take care of everything.”

But there was no more strength left in you. Your vision darkened further, and your body slumped into his touch. You were fading, and Gojo knew it. 

His emotions roared in his chest, battling against the calm control he was supposed to maintain. He couldn’t lose you, not like this.

“Damn it,” he hissed, his voice trembling with an edge of desperation. 

He whipped his phone out of his pocket quickly and held it up to his ear with his shoulder, his thumb gently brushing over your wrist to reassure himself that your pulse was still there. 

“Damn it, y/n...Shoko! I am coming back to the school now, y/n is in critical condition—please be ready.” He hung up the phone with urgency.

The faintest rise and fall of your chest reassured him you were still with him, barely hanging on. But that was enough for now.

The last thing you saw before unconsciousness took you was his face, inches from yours, those baby-blue eyes soft yet filled with an intensity that sent a warmth flooding through your cold body.

Gojo heard footsteps running down the hall. 

The first to arrive was Yuji, his eyes wide with worry as he took in the scene. "Gojo-sensei!" he called out, his voice shaky as he stumbled over the rubble toward you both.

Nobara and Megumi were right behind him, their faces pale, their exhaustion evident, but the sight of you drained the colour from their faces even more.

Yuji’s gaze landed on your bloodied, battered form, and his heart sank. “Y/n…” he whispered, his voice full of disbelief. He rushed forward but hesitated, unsure if he should get closer. “Is she…?”

“She’s alive,” Gojo muttered, his voice low and tight as he attempted to keep up his lighthearted attitude, “What kind of teacher would I be otherwise.” He let out a soft chuckle, “But she’s hurt—badly.”

Megumi’s eyes darted between Gojo and you, his normally stoic expression faltering.

He had seen you fight, and all three of them felt you unleash that dark black-hued cursed energy, but seeing you like this—so fragile, so broken—it was something none of them had been prepared for. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rough.

Gojo shifted slightly, his grip on you tightening as he stared down at your unconscious form, the tension radiating from him palpable. "Something was off," he finally said, his voice laced with frustration and suspicion.

The students exchanged confused glances. Yuji frowned, stepping forward. "What do you mean?"

Gojo sighed, his usual playful demeanour nowhere to be found as he continued, "When I lowered the veil, there were no signs of these other cursed spirits. Not even a trace of their energy. I was monitoring everything, and they didn’t exist... until they did."

Nobara’s brow furrowed, the gravity of the situation settling in. "So, what? They just appeared out of nowhere?"

"Exactly." Gojo’s voice was sharp, filled with a rare intensity that made the air feel heavier.

His usually carefree posture was replaced with something far more serious, more protective. "Curses that strong don’t just pop up. Someone—or something—wanted us caught off guard. Those curses weren’t supposed to be there, especially not after I lifted the veil."

Megumi’s eyes darkened with realization. "A setup."

Gojo nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the surrounding area once more. "That’s what it looks like. Whoever orchestrated this knew we’d be here. And it seems they wanted y/n—" he glanced down at you, his expression softening just slightly, "—and the rest of you vulnerable. If I hadn’t come back when I did…"

Yuji’s fists clenched, anger simmering beneath his usually easygoing expression. "But why now? And why would they target y/n like that?"

Gojo didn’t answer immediately, his gaze still fixed on you. His jaw tensed as if holding back something deeper. "I don’t know yet," he finally said, his voice low. "But this wasn’t just a random attack. Someone’s playing a dangerous game."

Nobara, ever the blunt one, crossed her arms, frustration clear in her tone. "Whoever they are, they’re going to pay for this."

Gojo’s lips twitched, a shadow of his usual smirk returning, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Oh, they will," he murmured, voice dark with a rare, controlled anger. "But for now, we need to get y/n back to Shoko. She’s lost too much blood, and this cursed energy…"

His voice trailed off, and for a moment, none of the students spoke. The atmosphere was thick with unease, the weight of what had just transpired sinking in. Whatever this was, it was far from over.

"Let’s move," Gojo finally said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He stood, lifting your body with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the sheer power he had unleashed only moments ago. 

As the others gathered around, a collective sense of resolve washed over them.

They might not know who or what had orchestrated the attack, but one thing was certain: they would fight back.

The forest was silent, except for the crackle of cursed energy and dark magic swirling in the air. The moon was full, casting a silver hue over the earth beneath it, setting the tone for that crisp Halloween night.

Gojo stood casually at the edge of the clearing, his white hair tousled by the breeze, a smirk curling on his lips as he eyed you. Power pulsed between you, thick and intoxicating—but the heat in his gaze had nothing to do with the battle.

The two of you had fought before, and it was always a draw.

You enjoyed causing trouble for the jujutsu sorcerers; you liked watching them struggle to keep up. But Satoru Gojo was a different story.

Gojo had been sent on a solo mission to hunt down a powerful witch—you.

Your tight black dress clung tightly to your body, though it was now ripped in a few places due to the battle between you, exposing just the right amount of skin to the cool autumn air. You lifted your wand to point toward the white-haired man, throwing your pointed black hat to the side.

“They really sent me for you? I almost feel bad,” Gojo taunted, voice low, playful. His eyes, impossibly blue, gleamed with something far more dangerous than any amount of cursed energy—desire.

You squared your shoulders, the wand in your hand crackling with magic. “Don’t get cocky, Satoru. You’ll regret it.”

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, eyed you with his signature smirk, but you could see the calculating glint behind those cocky blue eyes. “I knew you were strong,” he drawled, casually adjusting his blindfold, “but I didn’t think you’d give me this much trouble.”

Magic exploded from your wand, ripping through the air with a loud bang. But Gojo dodged with infuriating ease, his Infinity shimmering in the air as he closed the distance between you in a blur of speed.

With a wave of his hand, a barrier of pure cursed energy shot toward you. You barely managed to deflect it, the force of the impact sending you skidding back, your boots digging into the earth.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

You barely had time to react before he appeared behind you, his hand raised to deliver a blow. But you were ready. With a flick of your wand, you summoned a shield of dark energy, the force of his attack clashing against it in a violent burst of light and shadow.

Gojo let out a low whistle as he jumped back, his grin widening. “Not bad, witch. But let’s see how you handle this.”

He moved faster than you could track, his Infinity shimmering around him as he launched a series of cursed techniques in your direction.

You dodged with precision, your own magic swirling in the air as you countered with a blast of raw energy.

The ground trembled beneath your feet, trees splintering around you as your powers collided. You finally had an opening; you readied your aim to finally bring this battle to an end, but he vanished before your eyes.

“Too slow,” he murmured, appearing behind you, his breath hot against your ear. “But god you’re pretty, I’ll give you that.”

Before you could retaliate, his one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other held both your wrists tight above your head.

The fight was still fresh, but your pulse quickened for an entirely different reason now.

You could feel every inch of him pressed against you—the firm muscles of his chest, the heat radiating off him, the unmistakable bulge growing hard against your lower back.

“Gojo—” you breathed, your wand dropping from your hand as his grip on your wrists tightened.

“Getting distracted?” he teased, his voice a smooth, teasing purr. His hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your hips. “God, you look even better up close.”

“Let’s call this a draw,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I think I found something a little more interesting to play with, hmm, pretty witch..”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the nearest tree. His mouth was on your neck now, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

God, you wanted him—bad—and the worst part was that he knew it, he knew it because this is what happened…every. fucking. time.

You gasped loudly, struggling to keep control, but the way his fingers skimmed over your waist, under the hem of your soiled dress, was driving you insane.

You felt a wet heat build between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together—a weak attempt to suppress the inevitable.

His mouth claimed yours in a hungry kiss, all starvation and dominance. His tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, while his hand roamed freely over your body, grabbing your tits roughly.

You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him intoxicating, head spinning as he pressed you harder against the rough bark of the tree, it piercing the exposed skin on your back.

“Satoru—” you gasped when he pulled away, his lips trailing down your throat, over your collarbone.

“Say it again,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging them down in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him. “Say my name.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding you already wet for him. You did as he asked, “Fuck, Satoru.” You moaned in reaction to his teasing touch on your pulsing cunt.

He chuckled, low and dark, fingers teasing over your clit, circling the sensitive nub with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Already soaked?” he taunted, voice thick with arrogance. “And here I thought you wanted to fight.”

You whimpered as his fingers worked you with precision, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure racing through your gummy walls. Your knees buckled, but Gojo’s body pinned you firmly to the tree, his breath hot against your neck as he continued his torturous rhythm.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, head falling back against the tree as he works you over with skilled precision, each thrust of his fingers drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, pretty witch," he coos, his lips ghosting over your skin. "I want to hear you beg for me."

You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but it’s a losing battle.

The pressure builds and builds, and when his thumb grazes your clit while his two long fingers continue to pulse in and out of you, you can’t stop the broken–put pornographic—moan that escapes your lips.

"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers quickening their pace, fucking you with a practiced, almost lazy confidence.

“You’re so good,” you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin. “Now let’s see just how well you can take me.”

In one smooth motion, Gojo brought you away from the tree that had previously acted as your fucking-post, and turned you so your back was to him, and his large bulge was pressed up against your ass.

He reached one of his hands to roughly cup your tit, twirling your hardened nipple between his fingertips. His other hand left your dripping cunt, and he brought it up to your mouth, holding out his fingers for you.

“I want you to have a taste before I get to. I bet it's so sweet.” He growled, his voice laced with desire, his eyes watching your sweet lips, as you took his long fingers in, sucking them dry for him.

Once you finished sucking the life out of his fingers, he let out a satisfied sigh before roughly sticking them back into your warmth, moving them around, feeling every inch of your insides.

You let out a loud whimper as he did so, feeling his cock jump against your ass in response to your seductive noise.

He removed his fingers once again and inserted them into his own mouth, You were left panting—no—gasping for air as he enjoyed your sweet nectar.

“God…I was right, baby you’re sweet like candy.” He said in a low whisper before undoing his pants with one smooth hand motion, freeing his hard cock.

You barely had time to process it before he lifted your dress up over your hips, exposing your ass to the crips air.

He pressed the thick head against your entrance, teasingly slow, the heat of him making you dizzy.

“Beg for it,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction quite yet, so you bit your tongue. But he sensed your hesitation and reached his hand up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m not even close to being finished with you.” He placed a sloppy kiss right under your ear as he tilted your head back. “Now beg for it.”

His demanding voice sent you well over the edge, your body trembling with need. “Please, Satoru! I need you now. P-Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. With a low groan, he thrust into you, stretching you wide as he buried his thick mass deep into you.

The sensation was overwhelming—he was so big, filling you completely, the stretch almost too much, but the pleasure hit just as hard.

Your screams could probably be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes were wet with tears from the sheer pleasure of his dominating rhythm, and your mouth wouldn’t stop letting the world know his name.

“Fuuuck,” Gojo groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly slowed his rhythm savouring the way your walls clenched around him. “So fucking tight.” He moaned as he pushed himself further into you than either of you knew was possible.

“Satoru—oh god—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision go white.

Your nails dug into his lower arms as he picked up the pace again, each thrust harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet of the forest.

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, each movement bringing you closer to the edge, as he held your back up against his chest so he could watch how your tits bounced as he fucked you.

He smirked against your neck, one hand sliding down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. “That’s it, pretty witch. Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed instantly, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as your orgasm hit.

And then you’re falling—tumbling over the edge as pleasure crashes through you in waves, your body shaking as he coaxes every last ounce of pleasure from you.

You yell out his name, a trail of moans follow closely behind as your walls clench around his long cock, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Gojo groaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. With a few more rough thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling hot and thick as he came with a low growl.

For a moment, the forest was silent again, the only sound your ragged breathing as Gojo slumped against you, still buried deep inside.

He pressed a soft, almost tender kiss to your temple, his usual cocky grin returning.

“Don’t you just hate when a battle ends in a draw..” He teased, his fingers wiping away some of your orgasm-caused tears with a smug look on his face.

“You’re fun,” he whispered, pulling out slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thighs. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

You couldn’t speak, but you readjusted your dress and picked up your wand from the muddy forest floor, still reeling from the intensity of what just happened.

But as he pulled away, adjusting his clothes with a satisfied smirk, you knew one thing for sure—this wouldn’t be the last time Gojo Satoru got the best of you.