Geto Fanfiction - Blog Posts

Shit hits harder than fentanyl 🙏🏻

❝ 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐎) !! ❞

❝ A LOVE TRIANGLE GONE RIGHT ?! REPORTING FROM THE SET OF THE HIT SHOW JUJUTSU KAISEN ! ❞

✧ pairing: actors!satoru gojo and suguru geto x actor!reader

✧ summary: rumors swirl about a love triangle between you and your two heart throb co-stars on the set of jujutsu kaisen. except in this case, you and your two co-stars are happily dating. but what happens when you get casted in a movie where they want you to have a PR relationship with your co-star? especially when your boyfriends find out who it is—

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut, no curses, modern au, jjk is a tv show, actor au, yes the actors and characters have the same names lol, reader is dating both of them, funny interview hijinxs, this is kind a lot of crack, jealous! gojo + geto, sukuna is here lmao, innuendos, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi-exhibitionism, face sitting (f! receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex (p in v), double penetration, creampie, multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / _3aem

✧ wc: 17,900

“Reporters say the love triangle between the actors Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto and their co-star has become even more shrouded in mystery than the show itself!” an influencer reports on your social media of gchoice that morning, nearly vibrating from assumedly her three espressos, “the stars of Jujutsu Kaisen, the fantasy horror drama series written by Gege Akutami have been embroiled in dating scandals over the last few weeks—“ your phone’s notifications cut the audio from the video for a moment until you switch it to silent, “after being spotted leaving Suguru Geto’s loft just two nights ago, she was then seen having a lunch rendezvous with Satoru Gojo—“ 

You lock your phone, rubbing your temples, as the device nearly had an aneurysm from your social media notifications — buzzing itself off your dining room table and into an early death. Your agent was going to have a field day with this, and the main event is going to be your murder. 

“What are they saying about us now?” Suguru sighs, as he emerges out of the shower in only a towel wrapped around his waist, steam rolling out of the bathroom, as you offer him a coffee, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a sip, “my agent is demanding I call him— and I’d like to know what we’ve done now before he kills me,” he says, though he continues to sip his coffee nonchalantly, unbefuddled by the thought of his death. 

“Oi oi, calm down, shouldn’t you be more upset at the reporters than me?” Satoru comes from the bedroom, “Nanamin, just take care of it. Tell them we’re just friends if they ask you — do me a favor and pay off the reporter who got a picture of us kissing—“ and you nearly snort at the thought of Nanami Kento doing any sort of favor for Satoru. 

“You let him kiss you?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips, as your cheeks burn, rolling your eyes. 

“Not so much ‘let’ as he just kissed me without a second thought,” you shake your head, drinking your coffee as Satoru continues to bicker with Nanami, “I told him I thought I saw paparazzi but—“ 

“Satoru is do first, ask questions never,” Suguru sighs, but still the smirk remains, as he leans closer to you, his large palm against the back of your chair, “you never let me kiss you in public,” 

And you’re resisting the urge to bite your lip, “You know better — look at what Satoru’s done now—“ 

“And was it worth it, Princess?” Your mind wanders to the kiss — Satoru’s hand against the nape of your neck, his lips sliding against yours, the faint taste of the strawberry cake he had for dessert lingering on his tongue and now yours, and the sticky heat that settled over your body from the too humid night air and his warmth leeching onto your skin, and the eyes watching his need for you made it all the more—

“Maybe,” you mumble, choosing to sip at your drink as Satoru cut off your conversation with his own. 

“Just deal with it, Nanami, that’s why I hired you after all, huh?” He earns a swear from Nanami for the claim that he ‘hired’ him in any way whatsoever, and then his lips curl. “No they aren’t here with me—“ the bespectacled man shouts from the other line, “eh? What do you mean I look and sound like a man who only lies?” And then he’s hanging up, running a hand through his hair, a pout on his lips, “I was supposed to wake up to the two of you, not Nanami’s tirade,” he groans, as he makes his way over to you, only to wrap his arms around you from behind. 

“Well, it is your fault, Satoru,” Suguru smirks over the rim of his cup, “someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves—“ 

“Jealous, Suguru?” he replies, as he presses a kiss to your neck, “jealous that our princess is much more affectionate with me,” 

Suguru cuts you off, “more like she babies you,” and Satoru’s face sours into a scowl, “if she had stayed at my apartment for the week, this wouldn’t have—“ 

“And then they would have seen me coming to your place, and what good would that do?” 

“Guys—“ you try to speak, but you’re cut off again. 

Suguru tilts his head with a small grin, “Are you lonely? Why don’t you find someon—“ 

“Stop, guys,” you couldn’t take this bickering this early in the morning, though you had grown used to it, “we have bigger problems to deal with than your egos,” you sigh, rising from Satoru’s grip even as he pouts, “we have to be more careful,” 

“But how? We’ve already cut down our appearances together for behind the scenes and even stopped going out for dinner or dates,” Satoru pouts, running a hand through his hair, “next thing you’ll want to break up,” 

“That’s not gonna happen,” you flick Satoru on the forehead, “but we have to do something, otherwise our agents will have us murdered,” 

“And Nanami will join them for sport,” Suguru adds, and you snort, finally finishing your drink, before he walks over to you, fingers under your chin, “so what’s your idea, sweetheart?” 

“Just take a break for a few weeks until the public finds something else to fixate on,” you sigh, “while the episodes air, all we’re going to get is more attention,” 

“We could just take a trip,” Satoru offers, “I own a private island—“ 

“Of course you do,” Suguru says, and Satoru only chuckles. 

“Being envious doesn’t become you, Suguru,” the snow haired actor clicks his tongue at him, before he’s pulling you into his arms, “we could go for a few days, get away from all the noise,” 

“It’s a good idea, but you’re forgetting one thing, Satoru,” Suguru tilts his head, “won’t they notice if we all go on vacation at the same time?” 

“Plus we have interviews to do in the coming week,” you remind Satoru, and he’s sighing, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “but maybe we can go after?” 

“Unless you get that role,” Satoru mumbles against your skin, pressing sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, “have you heard anything yet?” 

You shake your head, a sigh stuck in your throat, “It’s a long shot. This is such a big role and it’s for the lead,” and Suguru is finding his way to you, warm fingers cupping your cheek. 

“They would be lucky to have you — do you know how many people say you were their favorite character? They were ready to fight me and Satoru for you,” he adds with a chuckle, lips ghosting over the swell of your cheek, “I think they would beat us with sheer numbers,” 

“Nah, I’d win,” Satoru says, and you snort, rolling your eyes, “but he’s right princess, how crazy would they have to be not to cast you?” 

“There’s so many other talented people up for the role—“ 

“There’s always going to be someone else,” Suguru cuts you off gently, as his fingers find yours, lacing with yours so perfectly you wondered if it’s what they were made for, “but that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable or incredible,” 

“And you’re already far more talented than you give yourself credit for,” Satoru adds, “but when do you get the role, inevitably,” Suguru smirks at him, “when would shooting begin?” 

“Probably just after our press wraps for season two,” you lean into their touch, “they still haven’t casted the two leads, but apparently both are down to the final audition,” and you’re pressing nosing Satoru’s cheek, before pressing a chaste kiss to Suguru’s nose, “and that’s why we’ll have to cool it for the next few weeks, ok?” 

But you don’t — or rather they don’t. 

“Who is Satoru Gojo’s…” Satoru rips off the tape off the cardboard printout of Googled questions, “favorite actor to work with?” 

“We all know the answer to that,” Suguru replies with a sigh, his eyes sliding to you, and you roll your own. 

“Look who’s talking — these two are obsessed with each other,” and Satoru has a shit eating grin, sitting back and watching the two of you argue, “the two of you are soulmates — and I’m not talking about your characters,”

“Don’t go there,” Suguru scoffs, and you tilt your head, lips curling, as your gaze meets his. 

“Are you begging?” and you can’t help the way your tone bites back, falling far over the line of playful teasing and into blatant flirting, and you can only hope the camera plays off the dark glint in Suguru’s gaze as he smirks as teasing rather than what you know it is — lustful. 

“You’re both wrong anyway,” Satoru cuts in, “obviously my favorite actor to work with is Megumi!” 

And you and Suguru both snort, words falling from your lips in unison, “Poor Megumi,” 

“Ehhh? What do you mean by that?” And Satoru smacks you both playfully with the piece of cardboard an intern probably painfully put together before tossing it away. 

“What happened to Suguru Geto….” in Jujutsu Kaisen?” Suguru reads. 

“Dead,” you and Satoru answer in unison, and Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

“You both are a walking spoiler,” and you gape at Suguru. 

“They asked, and he’s the spoiler warning — he read ahead and told me that his character—“ and Suguru covers your mouth, looking the camera dead in the eye. 

“You’re welcome—ow!” And he pulls his hand away, “did you just bite me?” 

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Satoru says, earning a whack to the face with the cardboard printout from Suguru, “when you tried to steal her snacks—“ 

And you weren’t really helping either. 

“Do you think of yourself as a heartthrob?*” You ask Satoru, hooked up to a lie detector, the polygraph examiner studying the results closely, as Suguru didn’t bother biting back his smile. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m not—“ 

“It’s a yes or no question, Satoru,” you cut him off as he sighs dramatically, running a hand through his snowy locks. 

“Then I’ll have to say yes,” and he’s winking at the camera, and you’re snorting, looking at the lie detector reader. 

“It’s the truth,” he says simply and the examiner nods, and you scoff, as Satoru only pouts at you. 

“Have you ever,” Suguru lets a chuckle escape his lips, “look at fan accounts for yourself? I can answer this one, yes he does, I’ve watched him do it—“ 

Satoru scoffs, doubling down, “can you blame me? My fans do such wonderful edits—“ 

“And inflate your ego to a catastrophic size—“ and Satoru is reaching across the table to cover your mouth. 

“Be careful she bites,” Suguru warns, leaning back in his chair, as you grin against Satoru’s hand, and he shrugs, lips curling. 

“Don’t worry, I like it,” 

The examiner nods, “that’s the truth.” 

“We’ll start out tame,” you say, as you look at the list of thirst tweets in front of you and choosing one of the more…hinged ones, “Suguru Geto, I would let you kill me like the monkey I am, and I’d thank you for it,” and you show the tweet, “monkey emoji covering their face,” 

“That’s a tame one?” Suguru covers half his face with his hand, much like the emoji, “what the **** are the wild ones?” And you open your mouth to reply and he cuts you off, “I don’t want to know,” 

“Sweetheart, I’ll read one for you next,” and Satoru scans his list, and he clears his throat, holding out his hand to you, your name on his lips, “the only way I could die happy ever is if I suffocated when you sat on my face,” 

And heat climbs your face at his words, a single chuckle giving way to full laughter, “***, that’s a lot of pressure to put on me—“ 

“And on them,” Satoru adds, and you’re glaring at him only to dissolve into giggles, “I can't blame them. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go,” 

“It’s my turn,” Suguru scans the list and grimaces, “I don’t want to read this,” and then he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, “I’d let Satoru Gojo **** me, spit in my mouth, and make my daddy issues worse, and I’d thank him for it, respectfully,” 

And you’re doubled over in laughter by the time he gets to the end of his monotone reading, while Satoru only grins at the camera, leaning against the table, as he pulls his sunglasses on only to tilt them down his nose. 

“I’m available.” 

No, this press junket did not help at all. 

“Fuck,” you grumble, propping yourself on your elbow, your knuckles pressed to your lips, “how are we still trending? Aren't there other things to talk about?” 

“Stop checking it, it’s only making you crazy,” Suguru sighs, collapsing next to you on the couch, his hand thrown over the top of the couch, before it slips down behind you, warm palm resting on your hip, “there’s nothing you can do,” 

“My agent said she’s definitely going to get news on whether I got the part tomorrow — and tomorrow is when the last episode of the season is airing, and when—“ 

“The scene with Kenjaku at the end, I know,” Suguru presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, “think I could pull off stitches?” He drags a finger across his forehead teasingly. 

“If you’re asking for a lobotomy, I always wanted to try doing one,” Satoru walks in from the shower, hair still damp, as he squeezes on your other side, “Princess, you can be my nurse, hm?” 

“Did you already have one?” Suguru bites back, and Satoru doesn’t reply, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “she’s still worried about tomorrow,” 

“Don’t you know there’s no such thing as bad publicity?” Satoru presses a sweet kiss to your neck. 

“Not when they’re speculating if I’m dating or cheating on one or both of you,” you shake your head, “what if the director thinks I’m a liability?” 

“If the director thinks you’re a liability after seeing your work and meeting you, then he’s clearly blind,” 

You flick his sunglasses down, “can you say that four eyes?” 

“Don’t you mean six eyes?” Satoru sticks his tongue out at him, and Suguru’s fingers find yours, laced hands against your thigh, “whatever happens, happens — you know your worth,” 

“And your worth is far too high for you — only I could afford it,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you shove Satoru, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you against him, his lips grazing the soft skin behind your ear, “how much?” 

“For you? A billion dollars,” and his lips find yours in a kiss, lazy but warm, heat from his touch spreading like a flames carried by the wind. 

“That all? What a bargain,” Satoru pulls a breath away, his lips curled in a grin, only for Suguru’s fingers to cup your chin and make you turn around. 

Deep purple irises you grew lost in, his thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “and for our princess?” He hums, lips grazing yours teasingly, “a steal,” 

“Well, you both stole my heart so you might as well have the rest,” and Suguru’s lips finally find yours in a real kiss, deep and full, until your mind is filled with nothing but him — and Satoru, whose  lips ghost over your shoulder and collarbone and hands slip under your shirt, warm palms against your far too heated skin, “fuck—“ you’re sighing, melting agaisnt them, “Sugu, Toru,” you’re whining already, drawing smirks to both of their lips. 

“Let us take care of you, sweetheart,” Satoru whispers, lips finding your earlobe and sucking at the sensitive skin, and Suguru pulls away from your kiss for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

“We’ll get your mind off things, Princess,” and his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, “all night long.” 

And they do, they keep their promise — the three of you falling into bed in a jumble of limbs, and you forget until the next morning. 

And in the morning—you get the call, “okay, thank you,” you hang up, still between mussed sheets and arms wrapped around your waist, “I got it!” 

“Heh, I knew you would,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in your side, “I’m so proud of you, baby,” 

“Hm? Proud of her for what?” Suguru murmurs, half asleep, black locks strewn around his head like a halo. 

“I got the role, Sugu,” you lean down and kiss his nose, and he’s grinning wide, fingers winding into the back of your head to pull into a kiss, “you’re looking at the leading actor of a movie,” 

“You’re going to be in demand now, Princess,” Suguru says, dragging a thumb down your lips, “will you still make time for us?” 

“Of course, always — you’ll visit me on set right?”

“You sure, sweetheart? Maybe you’ll be too busy for us,” Satoru leans up and presses a kiss on your neck. 

“Maybe for you,” and he’s pouting, and you lean down to kiss his pout away, and then you get an email, “oh it’s the casting sheet for the other roles,” you scan the list, “oh,” 

“‘Oh?’” Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

“The male lead, he’s someone we know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, “and I’m already getting a headache,” 

Satoru furrows his brow, as the two of them lean over your shoulders to look — Satoru scowling and Suguru glaring at your screen, as they say his name at the same time — as if summoning him from the underworld. 

“Sukuna?” 

Ryomen Sukuna was both famous and infamous in the industry — famous for his portrayals of villains and antiheroes alike, ability to make you despise the enemy to the point of near or blatant admiration, and his skill of stepping into each role and taking it as his own. And he lives in infamy for, well, what happens between takes of the camera. 

“Look any longer and I’ll have you thrown off set, brat,” Sukuna says, without a glance at you, newspaper in hand as if he was pulled from thirty years ago, his phone seemingly laying discarded on a nearby. The P.A.s nearby cower a few feet away, trying to look preoccupied, as their terror has fully set in of this man. 

Or should you say monster?

“I see the stick up your ass makes you as pleasant as ever,” you mutter, and you don’t see that it earns you a smirk from him, his dark gaze takes over you, earning a glare from you, “now who’s staring?” 

He leans against the arm of his chair, “I was just noticing how lovely the view is without those two pests hanging on your every word,” and you’re rolling your eyes. 

“Jealous?” 

“Of your little throuple? No,” he smirks, rising from his chair, hands sliding into his pockets as he brushes by you, “because unlike those two,” he pauses, voice dropping to a whisper, “I know how to satisfy a woman on my own,” 

And you grit your teeth, holding your tongue — your relationship with Satoru and Suguru was a badly kept secret on the set or Jujutsu Kaisen, but it never was a problem — until now. 

You follow behind him, heading to the director’s trailer for your meeting before rehearsals began. 

“You want us to what?” 

“We spoke to your agents, and they agreed with us that it would be good publicity for the two of you to pretend to be a couple during the filming and leading up to production,” the director leans back in his seat, “it shouldn’t be a problem — the two of you have worked together before right?” 

You can’t hide your aghast expression in time, not before Sukuna glances at your face and sees the horror, and it puts a rare grin on his lips, “I’m in, what’s a little more acting?” 

You’re swallowing thickly, eyes flitting over Sukuna’s smug grin so fast you only hoped your gaze was sharp enough to cut,  “Can I please speak to you privately?” 

And Sukuna gets up from the edge of the table he leaned against, flashing you a wry grin, “see you out there, sweetheart,” and you wished you could rip out his heart and show him how very sweet you were — but you bite your tongue, waiting for the door to swing shut, “I—“ 

“Do you know part of the reason we choose you over the other actor vying for your role?” The director cuts you off, arms crossed over his chest, and you shut your mouth, shaking your head, “Jujutsu Kaisen has done tremendously this season — one of the most viewed shows across the world and do you know part of the reason?” and again you shake your head, “your P.R. stunts with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto,” 

You knit your brow together — not your talent, your work, or art — but your boyfriends? “Your ability to have chemistry with the both of them have enticed the public and the number of times you’ve trended alone this season—“ 

Your fingers curl into fists, “With all due respect—“ 

“If you do this, the film will be a hit — i see you two already, there’s chemistry—“ 

You scoff, “more like a fucking bomb,” you mutter, running your fingers through your hair, “bottom line, do I have a choice?” 

“You do,” he says, arms crossed, “but so do I,” fuck, you grit your teeth. 

You emerge from the office, Sukuna waiting right outside, leaning against the wall right beside the doors,  “you fucking make this difficult—“ 

“And you’ll do what, brat?” his face twists with his frown, as he leans over, lumbering over you, “what do you think you could do to me?” And he’s clicking his tongue, the condescension rolling off of it, “director told us to play nice, so be nice,” his lips curl, “but I like you mean too,” 

He stalks off and you’re scrubbing a hand down your face. You were so fucking screwed. 

“You what?” Satoru’s mouth gaped at you, twisted in pure disgust, while Suguru only stared at you, as expressionless as Satoru was expressive, “and you agreed?” 

“She didn’t have a choice, Satoru—“ 

“That’s because the bastard didn’t give her a choice,” Satoru’s face twists again, this time in anger, brow furrowed, but lips in a sharp smile, “so why don’t we not give him a choice either?” Satoru is pulling his phone out. 

“What are you doing—don’t—“ 

“One call, and I’ll have this guy firing Sukuna—“ 

“And there goes any actors or directors who will want to work for me if these guys go off, and you know they will,” you shake your head, “I’ve run this — it’s either I do the movie or I don’t,” 

Suguru frowns, hands in his pockets, “What do you want to do?” 

Your face in your hands, “I don’t want to drop the movie because of this, I can’t—“ 

“Then you do it,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, and Suguru tilts his head at him, “and after you become the biggest star out there, I’ll take care of that director and Sukuna,” 

You and Suguru both snort, “Well that was verging on heartfelt,” Suguru shakes his head, “but he’s right, you can’t let two bullies kick you off your movie, you earned this role — and when you act circles around everyone else, you’ll have carried it too,” 

You wrap your arms around both of them, “How’d I get so lucky?” You murmur, and Satoru’s nose brushes against yours before meeting your lips, while Suguru kisses wet kisses against your neck, “encouragement and threats of violence,” and Satoru only grins, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” and Suguru rolls his eyes, before his arm slips around your waist. 

“And he really means anytime, last time you talked to Toji, he pouted for two hours,” Satoru glared at Suguru, while you laughed, pulling the snowy haired actor close. 

“It’s so cute when you’re jealous, Toru,” you kiss his chin, eyes sliding to Suguru, “but you’re terrifying,” 

“What are you talking about?” And Satoru chuckles, tilting his head. 

“You mentioned me during Toji? You nearly yanked our princess away from him,” and Suguru furrows his brow, lips a thin line, “maybe we should drop by during rehearsals,” 

You scoff, “Yeah that sounds like a terrible idea,” and Suguru’s arms are wrapping around you, “Sugu—“ 

“If we can’t spend as much time together, then we better make this time count, isn’t that right, Satoru?” 

“You’re right,” and Satoru’s hands slide under your baggy t-shirt, “better use all the time we have,” and as they lead you to the bedroom, your limbs entangled, you knew you weren’t sleeping that night. 

But you didn’t know that would be the last time you’d be sleeping with them at all for the next month. 

“You have to cut down the time you spend with anyone else — especially other men,” your agent told you, “that goes for Gojo and Geto too,” 

“Why is this role controlling everything in my real life too?” you mutter under your breath, “why does it matter we won’t get caught—“ 

“Like all the other times you didn’t get caught?” and your words leave you abandoned as no articulate response comes to mind, “it’s for a couple months. You can have them visit on set, you can still see them once a month, but not every day,” 

“But why—“ 

“Once a month reduces your chance of being seen with them exponentially over the next few months. Just deal with it. After this, you won’t have to put up with bullshit,” she hangs up, as you stare at your phone screen, squeezing it at the sight of Satoru and Suguru’s good luck texts — and why did it feel like you still always would have to keep putting up with bullshit? 

“Better not fucking cry. We have to pretend to fall in love in ten minutes — I would rather not be looking at something ugly this early,” Sukuna cuts into your thoughts, hands in his pockets, as he sips his coffee. 

Exhibit A. 

“We’re not shooting for an hour,” you were on set after getting ready, waiting for the weather to clear up for the shoot, and he gives a gruff chuckle

“Not that shoot.” 

“Looks like Sukuna not only has taken over Itadori’s body, but also the heart of one of Jujutsu Kaisen’s fan favorites,” you groan, earbud slipping out for a moment, just like your life was slipping, “the actress and co-star were spotted getting cozy off set before shooting had even begun for the day,” 

Oh what the fuck. 

You toss your phone away before falling back in bed, far too empty without Satoru and Suguru, only their pillows to keep you company as you twisted in the sheets. You had passed off your social media to your agent to handle — it was bad enough when you were caught in a love triangle with Satoru and Suguru, but now Sukuna? You can only imagine what people would say about you. 

And you didn’t need to see it to do that. 

But that wasn’t important. It was your day off, you turned over in bed, burying your face against your boyfriends pillows — nothing a nap couldn’t fix. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Or maybe not. You slide from the arms of sleep reluctantly, already missing the warmth of the covers as the cold air hits your skin. You’re rubbing your eyes as you check who it is before opening it. 

“Satoru? What are you—“ and his arms are around you in a moment, your breath catching, “Toru—“ 

“You see what they’re saying online?” His gaze is stoic, lips a thin line. 

“We can’t—“ and he’s shutting the door before locking it, before he’s had you pressed against the wood, the grain dragging against your skin. 

“They said you two make the perfect couple,” he cups your chin, his breath warming your lips, “even more than me or Suguru—“ his hand slides against the swell of your hip, “a walk, a coffee? Was that all?” 

Your brow knits together “Of course, you know I would never—“ and his lips ghost over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nosing at the soft skin of your neck, “Toru—“ you bite your bottom lip. 

“I know you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I know,” he says softly, “but I have to make sure he knows that,” his teeth grazes over your soft skin, “knows that you’re mine,” and his teeth digs into your soft flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, pain melting into pleasure, as your head lolls back against the door. 

“Toru, no I have rehearsals in a week,” you whine, but that just makes him soothe the blooming love bite with his tongue, “Toru—“ 

“Do you really want me to stop now, sweetheart?” he’s pulling your mouth open with his thumb, “your face says you don’t,” and his large palm slides down your body and into your shorts, the wet squelch and the brush of his fingers through the drenched fabric, “and your pretty cunt seems to agree,” 

“Toru,” you’re biting your lip, “fuck, you’re impossible,” and his mouth travels lower, as his other hand slides up under your shirt, squeezing your chest. 

“You’re the one who slept without anything under your clothes,” he murmurs in your ear, lips sliding against your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “you’re so wet already, hear that? Did you touch yourself thinking of us? Want us to fuck you that bad after a week?” his lips ghost over your jaw. 

“Fuck, you talk so much,” you’re pouting, thighs pressing together, but he’s pushing them apart, “why are you teasing me so much?” 

And he pauses, ocean blues stormy instead of the tranquil skies you’re used to, “Sukuna touched you. He got to hold you,” he’s pouting now, “that privilege is for us, and he got to so easily,” 

“I didn’t want him to,” and he’s nuzzling your neck. 

“Let me erase his touch,” and he’s lifting you with the practiced ease he always had. 

“Where’s Suguru—“ and you yelp as he playfully tosses you on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, a grin as he watches you bounce. 

“He’ll be here later,” and he’s kissing up your body, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts to pull them down, half lidded eyes with deep lust finding yours, “for now, you’re all mine.” 

“I-I can’t,” you’re whimpering, your hands clutching at Satoru’s back, fingernails digging crescents into his perfect skin, only hoping he doesn’t have a shirtless shoot tomorrow, but you barely can register that with three of his fingers in your pussy, “Toru,” 

How many times had you orgasmed? Six or seven at least — it was nearly second nature at this point. Satoru knew what spots to touch, where to press, how to move to have you writhing underneath him in a moment. He’s knuckle deep, spreading your walls as his thumb toys with your clit, drawing another moan from your lips. Your release soaked his fingers and sheets underneath, his fingers surely wrinkled from their time spent inside your walls. 

And by his smirk against the swell of your breast, he knew it. 

“Yes you can baby, I know you have one more f’me,” and you’re already so close, but you have been — it’s been a repeated coil winding and snapping over and over, and you’re nearly to tears, back arching as he plunges his fingers somehow deeper, “know this pretty pussy too well, look at the way you’re sucking me in,” your insides flutter around his digits again, the tips dragging against your walls, “practically begging me to fuck you more, sweetheart,” 

“I’ll say,” and your eyes barely can flit up to meet Suguru’s wry smile, corners of his lips curled, “I see you’re as impatient as ever, Satoru — started without me,” and he’s tugging his shirt over his head, “but at least you’ve gotten her ready for me,” 

“Sugu—“ and Satoru adds a fourth finger, stuffed full with him, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“Don’t want you to say Suguru’s name when I’m the one pleasuring you,” Sstoru clicks his tongue, “wanna hear you moan my name, sweetheart, when I make you cum,” 

“You’ll have plenty of chances to moan my name,” you make a whining noise in the back of your throat, pleasure felt as if it had burned out your nerves, but it still was able to overload them, the throbbing in your cunt a telltale sign, “you g’nna cum, pretty? Use your words for me?” 

“G’nna cum—ngh, Toru,” you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, your walls wring his fingers as you cum, hard, your head thrown back against the pillow. And the squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. 

“Fuck, she’s so pretty everytime she falls apart for us,” Suguru groans, as Satoru leans over to kiss you, “so good for us, Princess,” you only moan in reply, lost in the pleasure that still floods your body, as Satoru pulls his fingers from you. 

And your eyes catch a glimpse of Satoru licking his fingers clean, one by one, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve ever had,” 

“Don’t hog her, Satoru,” Suguru is pulling Satoru away, settling between your thighs, “you both made such a mess,” and you gasp, as his lithe fingers brush against your still too sensitive folds, spreading them only for your juices to slip out, “I’m always stuck cleaning up, but in this case,” he drags the flat of his tongue up your needy cunt, a moan falling from your lips, as your fingers fisted in his black locks, “I don’t mind at all.” 

But that night wasn’t the end of it — no, not by far. 

It wasn’t enough for them to ravish you, now they have to show up on set — their schedules lining up just perfect to see your rehearsals (though you think their schedules had some help from using the words “contagious” and “sickly”). However the only thing they were seemingly sick with was jealousy — especially so as you sat with Sukuna, going over lines for the next scene. 

You rubbed at your neck, feeling lucky that the marks they left had faded, but they still had begged you to show up to the shoot. 

“We won’t make you uncomfortable,” Satoru pouted, nuzzling your side, as you snort. 

“Just like you said you wouldn’t leave hickies on me?” You scoff, and suguru buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses along the marks Satoru left. 

“She has a point,” Suguru murmurs, but Satoru only pouts, “but I would like to be on set so that freak doesn’t try anything,” and you run your fingers through Satoru’s snowy locks, while leaning into Suguru’s touch, “he has a reputation of making moves on all his co-stars,” 

“So? It’s not like I’ll let him,” and Satoru’s gotten you pinned to the bed, your hands trying to break free but you can’t. 

“It’s not a matter of letting him, it’s matter of him trying to do something you don’t want,” and your brows knit together, as Satoru presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“There’ll be other people—“ 

“Other people who may very well look the other way, for someone like Ryomen Sukuna,” Suguru sighs, words almost whispered against your ear,  “you know that’s how this business can be,” and it was — it could be. The Jujutsu Kaisen set was a rare exception, but this movie — the director’s words still ringing in your ears — it was different. 

“Let us just make sure you’re safe, make sure you’re okay, and then we’ll go.” 

And that’s how you ended up with their states boring into the back of your head. 

“You bringing a pair of guard dogs with you everywhere now?” Sukuna spares a glance at your boyfriends, who were relegated to stand near your trailer — Satoru stood, arms crossed over his white t-shirt, a black jacket thrown over it, his blue eyes narrowed in frustration, as if his crossed arms were the only things holding him back from throttling Sukuna. While Suguru leaned against your trailer, scrolling on his phone in his dark navy button up, stealing glances at the two of you, his eyes narrowed and lips a thin line, “don’t know if they are ready to rip you apart or me,” 

You bite your tongue, wanting to say they had already ripped you apart last night, but you only shook your head, “They insisted on coming today, I don’t know why,” 

He grunts in reply, “It’s bad timing on your end, brat,” and your eyes snap to his, and he tilts his head, leaning against his hand, “you didn’t hear? The director wants us to film our big kiss at the end of the movie,”

Your blood runs cold, “Since when?” 

“Since you were late to our morning meeting, assuredly because of those two,” he jerks his head in the direction of Satoru and Suguru, before giving them both a wide grin, “they don’t know do they?” Your silence is all the answer Sukuna needs to give a rare laugh, “oh this will be entertaining, brat, and I thought acting with you would be boring.” 

Oh, you’re fucking screwed. 

“Cut!” The director called for the billionth time, and you were about ready to wring his neck, and you were not the only one — if looks could kill, Satoru and Suguru would have had the director skewered a million times over by now. Unfortunately for them, looks did not kill, “we need more passion,” 

And you’re biting back a groan, as Sukuna smirks, leaning over to whisper, “don’t look so disappointed, I see the two idiots haven’t taught you to kiss,” 

“More like the partner I have doesn’t make kissing him appealing,” you bite back, running a hand through your hair as you spoke to the intimacy coordinator again, but your eyes keep sliding over to Satoru and Suguru, “fuck,” how were you supposed to do this with them staring you down? 

“Let’s try it again,” you both get in place for the shot, the clap of the clapperboard, as Sukuna’s fingers brushed against your cheek again. You stepped into the role, letting yourself be consumed with the passion of your character, channeling what you felt for your own loves. 

And finally your lips met his — you felt nothing, only the pressure of lips meeting one another, but you tried to show emotion, fingers clutching at his shirt in desperation, the small gasps and sighs parting your lips between kisses, and the way your hand then slid up to rest at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you, more than anything,” you murmur against his lips, nose brushing against his, “more than anyone. You can’t go. Not without me,” 

“What choice do I have?” Sukuna mutters back, his arm coiling around your waist, “it’s too dangerous for you to come along,” 

“Who said you get to make my decisions for me?” your lips curl, “and who says I can’t buy my own ticket to come with you?” And he’s shaking his head, “listen,” your fingers cup his cheek, “don’t think, just let it happen,” and you’re leaning even closer, breath warming his lips, his breath hitching. 

“Cut!” And you’re trying to pull away, but Sukuna holds you there, leaning forward, making you flinch, only to whisper in your ear. 

“Sorry, just wanted to give them more of a show,” and he lets go, lips curled in a wide grin, “looks like we have a break now, so have fun, but not too much,” he laughs, as the director beckons him over. 

You glance at Satoru and Suguru — oh fuck. 

“Sugu—uumph—“ Suguru barely let you get a step inside the trailer before he pinned you to the metal door, his hands dragged over your sides.

“Hold still, Princess, I have to overwrite every place he touched you,” his fingers trace over your cheeks, lips grazing your jaw, his thumb dragged over your lips, before catching on your tongue, “did you brush your tongue against his — run it over the seam of his lips before slipping it inside? Flick it over like you do? Did you enjoy kissing him, sweetheart?”

“Of course I didn’t—“ and Satoru’s taking the opportunity to kiss you, teeth dragging over your bottom lip. 

“Course she didn’t, but I’m sure he did,” Satoru’s fingers traced over your jaw, “enjoyed our sweets’ even sweeter lips, didn’t he?” And Satoru kisses down your jaw, while Suguru is sinking down to his knees, large palms sliding up and hiking up your dress, “should leave some marks to remind him who you belong to,” his teeth dig into the soft of your flesh. 

“Toru! No, I still have to finish the shoot — the makeup artists—“ you whine, but god, it feels so good, as his tongue flicks against his teeth marks, “fuck,” 

“Be careful, someone will hear you, Princess,” Suguru murmurs, soft kisses to your inner thighs, “hear how good you’ll feel,” his teeth sink into your thigh, nipping and sucking, “and how good we’re both making you feel,” 

“Sugu, ah, I—fuck,” and Satoru is eagerly swallowing your moans with his lips, taking the chance to slip his tongue in, while Suguru noses at the soft of your thigh. 

“She’s already dripping, how are you so pretty here, Princess?” And he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, not that you could with Satoru’s tongue down your throat, as his lips press a kiss to your messy folds, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “tastes even better,” he moans, sound reverberating against your sensitive cunt. 

“Oh that won’t do at all, we’ve barely started,” Satoru tsks all the while tugging your sleeves down to reveal your bare chest underneath the dress barely on your body at this point, crumpled fabric pushed up and down into the middle by them, “no bra, Princess? For us or for the camera?” 

“For you,” you manage between moans, Suguru’s tongue tracing teasing circles around your clit, “always for you—“ the word trails off into a moan, as Suguru meanly sucks on the sensitive nub, “ngh, fuck—“ your knees are buckling, quaking as if your bones were made of rubber, a gasp pulled from your lips, when Satoru’s lips press a teasing kiss to your already erect nipple, while he toys with the other between his forefinger and thumb, pinching and pulling. And he switches, welcoming the other with a graze of his teeth and the flick of his tongue. 

The sounds of the lewd squelch of Suguru’s mouth against your dripping cunt filled your ears, volts from his touch reaching every inch of you, “so wet f’me, pretty, you like thinking someone could hear us fucking you?” Suguru mutters, his lips pulling away for a moment, as his long fingers spread your folds for him — every inch of you exposed, “fuck, you’ve dripped all over the floor of the trailer, Princess,” 

“All that just from Suguru’s mouth?” Satoru smirks, dragging a finger down your puffy lips, while his other hand gropes at your breast, “imagine how sopping you’ll be when we fuck you,” 

And you’re whining, as Suguru teases your entrance with a finger, “You fuckers—“ you yelp as Suguru picks you up with ease and tosses you into the nearby bed — a request you had made so you could nap between scenes or during times you weren’t needed on set — not that you had gotten to use it, until now. 

Satoru’s pulling the dress up and over your head, tossing the garment away, both of their gazes dragging over your exposed skin. Satoru flips you onto your stomach, and you hear the creak of the bed behind you and you know Suguru repositioned himself between your thighs. 

“On your knees, pretty,” Suguru’s hands are lifting your legs, his fingers already teasing your sopping hole again, and he’s bracing an arm around your thighs, “such a good girl,” and his fingertips breach you only to pull away, even as your walls try to beckon him inside. 

“Fuck,” you’re groaning, needy cunt begging for release, you needed it, needed it so bad. 

“Such a filthy mouth,” Satoru clicks his tongue, as he undoes the buckle of his belt, tugging his boxers and pants down to free his weeping erection. And god, his cock is so pretty — long and pink, with beads of pearly precum dripping from the slit, lovely veins running up and down his length, “how ‘bout I put it to use sweetheart?” 

And the tip brushes against your face, smearing against your lips, before you part your lips and let his dick slap against your tongue, before letting it part your pretty lips. The tip of your tongue traces his slit, tasting his pre, as you sucked and licked along his length, until his sweet grunts slipped from his lips. And fuck, you know he would feel so good inside you, long cock reaching the places he always did and that you never could. 

But it was hard for you to stay focused when Suguru bas two thick fingers buried in your right cunt, dragging against your walls, moaning around Satoru’s length. And it feels almost too good, as if you’d melt between them, burning from their touches. And you’d still always ask for more. 

Satoru’s fingers dig into your locks, as he moans, “Fuck, s’good for me, baby,” his hips buck against your mouth, his hair sticking to his forehead, sticky with sweat, “not gonna last much longer, Suguru,” 

And Suguru pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, his face still sticky with your cum, as you whine at the absence, “she’s not either, but I think she needs something more,” and you feel his cockhead drag against your folds, and you’re whining, “not gonna put it inside baby, too much of a mess, and can’t do too much, can we?” And you feel his lips curl in a smirk, “after all, your boyfriend out there might mind,” he’s pressing your thighs together, beginning to rock forward, sending you deeper onto Satoru’s cock, making him hiss. 

“Fuck, take it, sweetheart,” his fingers tilting your head up slightly to find your eyes glazed over in pleasure, puffy lips with saliva and precum dripping from the corners, and it only makes him want to fuck your throat, “gonna go back on set like this? All messy from your ‘side pieces?’” 

“Fuck, she twitched hard when you said that,” Suguru is fucking between your thighs, his hard cock rubbing against your dripping slit again and again, delicious friction sending you closer and closer, “fuck, g’nna cum for me sweet girl?” 

And you’re moaning around Satoru, and his tip brushes against your throat with one particularly hard thrust from Suguru, and that’s it. 

Satoru’s moaning your name, unable to hold back, as he cums in your mouth, his hot load pouring down your throat, dick twitching as it continues to spurt as he rocks his hips into you. Suguru pinches and rubs your clit hard, rocking his leaking cock into you, and you cum, walls fluttering around nothing, as you soak him in your release. 

The moans of their names on your lips send Suguru tumbling over too, as he pulls back and pumps, before cumming all over your back with his thick seed. 

You’re pulling yourself off Satoru, with a wet pop, cum and spit trickling down your lips, as your tongue flicks out to clean it off. And Satoru groans, as he lays down and settles beside you, “don’t make me fuck you right here,” 

And Suguru helps you turn on your side, legs still shaking from your orgasm, as he slips up behind you, his softening cock pressed against you, pressing sweet kisses to your sweat soaked skin. 

“Think anyone heard us?” you mumble, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, and their chuckles rumble against you, making you shiver. 

Suguru answers, “No, if someone did, they would have come—“ 

There’s a harsh knock on the door, followed by the call of your name, “The director’s calling you to set,” it was your agent’s voice, “so I suggest all three of you clean up and come out.” 

Well, fuck. 

“How has shooting the film been so far?” 

“It’s been wonderful. It’s so different from filming a television series, and I’ve loved learning the nuances of film and how it’s made,” you say, sitting in the worlds most uncomfortable chair behind Sukuna, who managed to look interestedly disinterested. 

“Speaking of which, you two have worked together before, right?” 

“We have,” Sukuna replies before you have a chance to answer, “the two of us haven’t had many scenes together before, so being able to finally act together is…fate,” 

You force yourself to give a wry smile, “I forget he’s such a romantic, when he isn’t too busy calling me a brat,” the words slip out and you’re instantly regretting your words — fuck, fuck, fuck. You really just said Ryomen Sukuna called you brat — in an interview that will air on TV but also live on the internet. 

“A brat huh?” The interviewer chuckled awkwardly, “is she a bit of a diva on set?” 

“Oh and off,” Sukuna’s grin grows all the more wide, leaning against his hand and stealing a glance at you, “but I know how to tame her,” and you self consciously tug at your high neck sweater, the bites Satoru and Suguru well concealed — and you’d never have him pass it off as his own. 

Oh, you would kill him. If not for the fact that you had dug your own grave, and he only did you the favor of pushing you in and burying you. No the only funeral was your own. 

“How bad?” You ask your agent on the way home, earbuds in your ear as you sit in the back of the car, partition up as the driver makes their way to your home. 

“How bad? You mean how great! We’re getting so much traffic on that interview. People keep talking about you and Sukuna. You’re trending again,” and that was the last thing you wanted to hear and the first thing she wanted to tell you. 

Why the fuck did you want to be an actor again? 

“What are they saying about me?” 

“There’s some negative stuff about both of you, but that’s expected — mostly people surprisingly, uh, like you better with Sukuna than Gojo or Geto—“ 

“What? Why?” God, fuck the public’s want for an older man. 

“I don’t know. You guys have this chemistry in interviews. The way you guys banter it feels so personal and electric I guess?” Her voice almost makes it sounds like she agreed.

“Are you saying that or the fans?” The only thing electric about your conversation with Sukuna was the feeling of rage running through your veins faster than a million volts. 

“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s mostly fangirls of Gojo and Geto who are relieved they aren’t taken,” she adds, your silence seemingly scaring her, “you should look on the bright side, people are really excited for the movie, and after what happened in your trailer…the director’s happy too,” you see a text from Satoru and Suguru. 

The Boys 💕🤍🖤

Bangs Baby: when are you coming home? 

Six Eyed Dork: we’re already making dinner. 

And you scrub a hand down your face, never having such irritation over the prospect of dinner, “Tell that to my makeup artist,” because you know you’ll be littered with marks by the end of this. 

“We’re adding a sex scene,” and you nearly spit out your drink that morning, sitting at the round table with the director, several staff members, and an extremely unfazed Sukuna. 

“What?” you say, trying hold your tongue, that was only writhing under your hold to say something much, much worse, “that’s not anywhere in the script or the source material,” 

“It was my suggestion,” Sukuna lifts his hand casually, before pressing his hand to his chin, painted black nails gleaming in the dim light of the early morning, “the characters felt lacking,” 

Then play your role better. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead you ask, “how so?” 

And Sukuna glances at the director, who clears his throat, eyes shifting from him to you, “We thought it would be better to build more intimacy between the characters. Add a certain level of—“ 

“Raunchiness?” you scoff. 

“Tasteful raunchiness,” Sukuna corrects, doing nothing to suppress his smirk, “if you don’t want to, I’m sure we can make due with the stunt double—“ 

Fucker. He could have his pick of any movie — he was a pillar of the industry, but you had to be stuck with him. And stuck with the director following his every, irritating whim. 

You grit your teeth, “when are we shooting it?” And Sukuna grins wider, leaning back in his chair. 

“About that—“ 

“You’re going where?” You resisted the urge to rub at your temples, as you pack your things, Satoru’s pout filling the majority of the screen. 

“You heard me. We’re filming in Canada,” with a flight that left the next day, you barely had time to pack, much less talk. Fuck, you don’t have a thing for the cold, but you were told that coats and thermals would be provided — or at least they better be, “I’ll be gone for a couple weeks,” you say, wondering if the sounds of you packing would be enough to drown out or enough sweaters would somehow soften the blow. 

“Weeks?” Suguru repeats, taking the phone from Satoru, “sweetheart, you had said filming would be over soon enough — you said a month of filming in Japan—,” and you sigh, it seems like you had been doing a lot of that lately. 

The throbbing in your head only got worse — the long shoots and lack of sleep weighing on your body like iron weights around your neck, “I know, love, but the director wanted to add more scenes,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “there’s one more thing,” and Satoru is pushing into view of the camera as well, a click of Suguru’s as he shoots a glare at him, “the director decided to add…an intimate scene to the film,” 

Silence, but Suguru speaks first, “And that wasn’t in the script before?” And you shake your head. 

Satoru gives a bitter laugh, “Such bullshit. They planned it and got you to invest yourself in the movie—“ he cuts himself off, “sweetheart, I want to have a word with the director,”

“No, Toru, it won’t help,” you run your fingers through your hair, trying to keep your tone level, “it just won’t. It will just make me look like I have to rely on my boyfriends for protection,” 

“It still isn’t right, what they are doing to you is exploitative,” Suguru cuts in, “adding a sex scene last minute after you already spent weeks filming—“ 

“You don’t think I know that?” you say quietly, “what am I supposed to do? Quit? Let you guys run to the director to protect me? Great, either way, my career would be over,” the words slip out far more cutting than you want, but this has been a knife you’ve honed against stones thrown at you, and you were tired of being the one to take the blows. 

Satoru furrows his brow, “What are we supposed to do? Watch you get taken advantage of?”

“No, but don’t talk down to me like I don’t understand what’s happening,” you snap, “these weeks I’ve had to deal with fucking Sukuna and these shoots, while balancing your feelings too and I’m tired of it. I’m just done,” you shake your head, willing your voice not to break, “I’ll text you both when I board and land, ok?”

“Sweetheart—“ 

“Baby—“ 

“Bye,” and you hang up, eyes burning not just from your lack of sleep but now everything else too. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t see them. You couldn’t quit the movie. You couldn’t fix this. You couldn’t do anything — you glanced at your suitcase — except keep going. 

“You look like hell,” you don’t bother looking at Sukuna when he speaks, and out of all the seats, how did you end up next to him? Either you had the absolute worst luck in the world — or bad luck had a little help from your agents and the director. 

“You look like you’d know—been to your kingdom lately?” you’re placing your suitcase away when a flight attendant rushes over to do it for you, and you thank them, before rifling through your bag for your headphones. Noise canceling headphones that were going to be your best friend as long as you were stuck with him. 

“Why visit a kingdom when my queen is here?” Your eye twitches, and you only wish that planes worked the same as ships when it came to jurisdiction. And if so, you would have tossed him into the high seas without a second though. You could start over — no extradition on Satoru’s island. 

You glanced at your phone — no reply to your text about getting on the second flight. And they had both barely responded to your other texts about boarding and landing. Maybe it was your fault. You had blown up at them, and ignored all their calls and texts all day, until they finally stopped (even Satoru had given up sending you selfies of him crying). You switched it into airplane mode and locked it, tucking it away into your bag, before taking your seat and buckling your seatbelt. 

“Trouble in paradise?” And you scowl, pulling out your headphones, “c’mon you can tell me about your other boyfriends — I know I’m your favorite,” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You put your headphones on, your eyes growing heavy as the plane begins to prepare for take off. You choose a playlist, and start to fall asleep. The only good thing about this flight was you could finally get some sleep. 

And maybe your life wouldn’t be hell when you woke up. 

“I already got us a private jet,” Satoru walks into Suguru’s place, suitcase in hand, as he tugs his mask off, “we can be in Canada by tomorrow—we just need to pack—“ 

“What are you talking about?” Suguru looks up from his phone, “have you even thought this through, dumbass? She barely wants us coming over because of paparazzi, you think if someone sees us in Canada with her that they will write it off as a coincidence?” 

“If we’re careful, it won’t come to that,” he sets down his things, “you heard her, Suguru, she said she’s done,” 

“She’s just tired and frustrated,” Suguru sighs, tossing his phone aside, “we haven’t exactly made this any easier on her either,” 

“I know, which is why we should go make it up to her,” Satoru sighed, “I can tell by her texts that she’s upset — it’s all periods and short one word responses. Y’know that’s bad,” he’s pulling out his phone to show Suguru your texts — and Suguru ignored the several sad selfies Satoru had sent, before handing it back. 

“And we should make her more upset by doing the one thing she told us not to do?” Suguru shakes his head, “we’re better off waiting for her to calm down and come to us—“ and Satoru stares at his phone, “what is it? Did she text?” 

“No, worse,” he shows Suguru a news article — ARE THINGS HEATING UP ON AND OFF SET? SUKUNA SPOTTED WITH HIS COSTAR GETTING COZY ON PLANES AND IN THE AIRPORT.  

And below were images of you and him asleep, fingers interlaced on the plane, and a picture of him with his arm around your waist walking through the airport. 

Suguru’s eyes narrow, “Do you want risk losing her, Suguru?” And he knows it’s a bad idea, he knows it may only make things worse, but — he looks at the pictures of you and Sukuna again — losing you would be far worse. 

“When’s the flight?” 

CLICK! 

You stir at the sound, as you hear it again and again, shifting in your sleep. Fuck, what was that noise? Everything’s heavy, thoughts swimming through thick syrup as it tries to break to the surface and into consciousness. Another click makes you grasp at your headphones with one hand, the other caught on something, but you feel nothing but your neck and shirt. And finally, your eyes fly open just to find a camera lens in front of your face, and something holding your hand. 

Or rather someone. 

“What the—“ 

“Finally woke up? How was your coma?” and the photographers are shooed away, as you pull your fingers free only for him to drop your hand, wiping your hand on the seat, “I didn’t do anything but hold it,” he shrugs, “probably—“ 

You scowl, “my headphones?” He holds them up, and you gape at him, “they fell off. You’re quite the restless sleeper,” and you snatch them back. 

“They fell off or you took them off for that photo op,” you snap, glancing at him, “since when did I give my permission to be photographed while sleeping?” 

“When you decided to go into this business,” he replies drily, dry as his skin was from holding his hand, “are you that naive? Can anyone keep anything from anyone without paying them off one way or another? I’m pretty sure that’s how your little throuple does it,” 

And you couldn’t deny it — the paparazzi more than ever was a toll or a tool — a toll to pay when you wanted word to stay quiet, and a tool when you wanted things to blow up. And Satoru had been paying them off since the three of you had started this — insisting that his connection gave him discounts, but it was more likely to blow his father’s money. 

“So what was that photo op about?” The plane is slowly descending now, your ears popping, as you spare a glance outside, and he only scoffs, as if to ask if you were that stupid? 

“To announce our arrival.” 

“Why are there so many security guards and people?” you mutter, tugging at your mask, as you hurry through the airport with what felt like a military and police escort of men around you. 

“To create a scene, generate interest,” Sukuna seemed uninterested as he strolled along the airport, raising an eyebrow, “not used to this? The adoring fans,” and you spare a glance at the crowds, taking pictures more than even looking at your actual faces. 

“This is adoring?” and then the security guards begin to stumble as the crowd grows a rowdy, as people push through to get through their gates, others try to duck between the security guards to get closer. A security guard knocks against you, nearly sending you tumbling,  “what—“ 

And a wrist grabs you and pulls you hard, as the security guard tumbles to the ground, another arm around your waist. He steadies you, as you sigh, glancing to find Sukuna. 

“Be careful,” you blink — wow was he actually a nice— and then he nearly shoved you away, “don’t need you getting injured and messing up my movie,” he strides off, and you watch dumbstruck, as you watch his back recede until bodyguards check on you and urge you along. 

You can’t believe you thought even for a second that Ryomen Sukuna was nice. 

And now you had to spend the entirety of tomorrow kissing up to him — literally. 

Fucking ass. 

“You can’t seduce me into letting you go,” Sukuna smiled, one hand on your hip and the other resting against the wall, pinning you against the headboard of the bed, “just because I let you win tonight—“ 

“Then I’ve won the battle,” you reply, fingers toying with a lock of his hair, twirling it around your finger, before dragging a finger down his cheek, “it’s only a matter of time until I win the war,” 

He chuckles, hand cupping your chin, “such a brat, how did I ever fall for you?” And you only lean close, brushing your lips against his chin, delighting in the way his body shivered, “fuck—“ 

“You love it,” and he’s gotten you pinned to the bed in a moment with one hand, the other large palm sliding up your body, dragging your shirt along with it— 

“CUT!” 

You both sigh, glancing at the director as you both untangle yourselves — how many times did that make? Twelve? Fourteen? 

“I think we’ll be dead before he gets it right,” Sukuna mutters under his breath, as a P.A. brings him a towel to dab at his skin. 

“We’re calling it for the day,” the director announced, hair askew from the number of times he had pulled at it, “we’ll resume tomorrow, first thing,” there was almost an audible groan from the crew as everyone packed up for the day. 

After all that, you’re making your way to your hotel room when someone stops you, you’re trying to brush past them absentmindedly, but his voice stops you dead in your tracks. 

“Can’t run from us that easy, sweetheart,” and your head snaps up, finding Satoru in front of you, and you’re speechless, no words finding their way to your lips, before the hotel room next to yours opens up. 

“Princess, in here, before anyone sees,” and Satoru’s hand tries to find yours, but you ignore it, walking into the room, not speaking until the door clicks behind Satoru. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” and you waver when you see Satoru’s sad gaze and Suguru’s tight frown, and you sigh, evening out your tone, “sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped — what are you guys doing here? I told you it’s risky—“ 

“We didn’t want to leave things the way they were, I couldn’t. Not like that,” Satoru shakes his head, “we needed to see you, baby, I couldn’t—“ he breaks off. 

Suguru speaks in his stead, “We couldn’t fathom that was the last time we spoke,” 

Your brows knit together, “Why would you think—“ and you’re sighing, scrubbing a hand down your face as your words ring in your own ears, and you know where their minds had went — fuck, “I would never ever break up with you two,” you’re stepping forward, “you’re idiots, but you’re mine,” and their arms are slipping around you in an instant, “I just got frustrated with everything, it wasn’t just you guys — the movie, Sukuna, long shoots, lack of sleep, and not seeing you two—“ 

“We should be the ones who’re sorry,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “we made it all about us and didn’t see that you needed us,” 

“We’re never going to make that mistake again, Princess,” Suguru presses a soft kiss to your neck, and you sigh, stress melting under touch with the ease of a lit candle wick melts wax, “we’re sorry for being so selfish,” 

“Yeah, Suguru’s sorry—“ and that earns Satoru a sharp elbow from said actor, “and I’m sorry too. We didn’t mean to add more stress. You’re already dealing with so much. We should have been there for you, sweetheart,” he finds your lips in a sweet kiss that has you sighing, “we trust you — it’s just—“

“Him, I know, but I hate him,” you say, and Suguru chuckles, fingers turning your head towards him, pressing his forehead agaisnt yours, “seriously, everything we’ve done is just for the movie or for publicity,” Suguru kisses you, teeth teasingly running along his bottom lip. 

“You seemed pretty cozy with him in those pictures,” Satoru presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, and you blink. 

“What pictures?” and then it occurs to you, “on the plane? They framed those—“ and Satoru’s cutting you off with another kiss, “Toru—“ and Suguru nuzzles the nape of your neck, “Sugu—“ 

“Just let us take care of you tonight,” Suguru murmurs, lazy fingers drawing circles on your hips, “been too long since we’ve seen you, Princess,” 

In a moment they have you on your back on the bed, Satoru’s eyes gleaming with need, their hands slipping up your body, “I’m yours,” you murmur, “both of yours.” 

And that’s all they needed to hear. 

“Toru, I’m trying to make us breakfast,” you chuckle, half laughing, half exasperated, as he nearly engulfs you in a hug from behind, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 

“So? I’m not in the way,” Satoru mumbles, sighing as he kisses the skin behind your ear, “right, Suguru?” 

“You’re hindering the process, Toru,” you’re trying to flip pancakes for said boyfriend as he traces constellations of kisses against your shoulder and neck, “right Sugu?” 

“Now, now, play nice you two,” Suguru replies drily, glancing at the two of you from the couch, “can’t blame us for missing you, sweetheart,” 

“Y’know how many months I had to go without being able to cuddle you,” Satoru’s pouting against your skin now, “I have to make up for all that lost time,” 

Shooting had finally ended three months ago — after a month and half spent in Canada, you flew back to Japan. Satoru and Suguru had taken up residence in a hotel room next door (under fake names of course) for about a week before flying back because of work. Satoru had tried to convince you to let him fly back and forth, but for the sake of the environment (and your sanity), you sent them both home. 

And still, they both were acting as if you had been away for several years, not months. 

“Does it have to be now?” And Satoru nods, grinning, and you relent, “well, this is much better than having dinner with Sukuna,” 

“There’s a name we haven’t heard in a while,” Suguru raises an eyebrow, as he strolls into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. 

“Thankfully,” Satoru adds, brow wrinkled, “what does he want?” 

“Just a dinner to celebrate the end of production,” you sigh, as you step past Satoru to grab a plate for the pancakes, “the movie is going to have its premiere in a few months, so it’s also to plan ahead for that,” 

“Did they announce a date yet?” Suguru asks, leaning against the counter on the other side of you, beginning to prepare coffee. 

“Not yet, but it should be sometime this coming summer,” and you’re flipping pancake after pancake for the three of you, a stack forming, until you’re finally done. You catch the two of them shsring a look, until Satoru asks: 

“Can you get us tickets to the premiere?” 

“Of course I’m inviting the entire JJK cast,” you smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek, “why would you two be any different?”

“And what about us two?” Satoru hums, as he shuts off the stove for you, daring less than an inch away from your lips, “Do we get the VIP treatment?”

“Uh-huh,” you bite back a laugh. 

“Does the VIP package include you?” Suguru murmurs, a smirk against your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth, 

“Of course,” you murmur, as Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist, lips brushing against your pulse, “once we’re away from cameras and phones and press,” 

“All access?” Suguru murmurs, large palms slipping under your shirt, making you shiver from their cool touch, and you roll your eyes, as Satoru presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“All access.” 

“I don’t understand why we had to get ready together,” you grumble, assistants gather around you, one adjusting your gown, another fixing your makeup, and a third trying to tame your hair, “we could have just been picked up and taken to the venue together,” 

The two of you had been ushered into these adjoining hotel rooms bright and early — much too early for you to even be awake, much less have to deal with Sukuna. The only consolation was while you were getting your makeup and clothes on, you didn’t have to see him. 

“Someone might have seen us,” Sukuna replies, letting the assistant put his watch on, “or your throuple would undoubtedly get in the way,” you shoot a glare at him. 

“Can you not call us that? They have names,” and Sukuna scoffs, fingers running over his charcoal suit coat to ensure there wasn’t even a single crease, the cut of his lapels sharp as knives. 

“Like I care to remember them, brat,” and you raise an eyebrow. 

“Do you even know my name?” he bears no reaction, but the corner of his lips twitch, “you don’t even fuc—“ 

“Are we all ready?” Your agent enters the hotel room with the director, “we should start heading to the venue,” and Sukuna brushed past you, and out the door, his entourage following behind him. 

And you sighed, you were surely ready — ready to put this movie and Sukuna far behind you. 

But of course he wasn’t behind you, so much so that he was beside you. Plastered to your side for the press to eat up, his arm slithered around your waist, as you both made your way down the carpeted premiere. 

You had been to a premiere for both seasons of Jujutsu Kaisen — but never like this. The camera flashes were blinding, the sounds of the crowd deafening, and the walk down the carpet amongst all these others was disorienting. You were almost grateful for Sukuna’s gruff and short temper, he kept most interviews on the carpet from dragging too long, 

You finally make your way inside and Sukuna parts from your side a moment without a word, beckoned off by someone or another. And it feels like too much. The day, the long hours, the carpet — all of it bears down on you at once, and you feel as if someone sucked the air from your lungs, using it to fill this hall with the smallest remnants of oxygen. 

Fuck, you grasped tightly to your clutch, you were going to pass out if you didn’t go somewhere, somewhere else with less goddamn people, but where? 

And you only take a stumbling step forward, before an arm is around your waist again, and a different voice murmurs in the opposite side, “Lost without us, sweetheart?” Suguru’s voice steadies you, keeps you from slipping deeper away from them, while Satoru’s touch grounds you. 

“Let’s get her somewhere private, hm? Does that sound okay, Princess?” And you’re nodding; as the two of them discreetly usher you away, you barely can keep your eyes open, still feeling your breath lodged in your throat, choking on the very thing that was supposed to keep you alive. It doesn’t feel okay until you’re sitting on a bed, holding your head. 

You feel the bed divut in as they both sit on either side of you, and their bodies brush against yours as if to ask for permission; and you’re leaning against their touch, until they engulf you in it. 

And this was what you needed. 

You don’t think about premieres, ruining your makeup, tripping, cameras, or anything else — just both of them and you. 

“Are you okay, baby?” Suguru murmurs softly, and you’re nodding, “did you get overwhelmed?” And you nod again, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I really wish you could have come with us,” 

“I told ya we should have just taken her with us anyway,” you know Satoru’s face is scrunched up in worry, “the movie’s out anyway,” 

“Not like I didn’t agree — I just told you she would never agree,” Suguru muttered, most assuredly rolling his eyes, “plus, we said we wouldn’t do that to her again,” 

“Can you guys not talk like I’m not here?” and they instantly refocus on you, as you bury your head in the crook of Suguru’s neck, while Satoru does the same to you, pressing butterfly kisses to your skin, as Suguru carefully carded through your locks. And you just sat like that for a while, until you grew calmer by the second and finally lift your head, “sorry,”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Satoru furrowed his brow, “you didn’t drool all over Suguru’s suit did you?” and you elbow him lightly in the ribs. 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind anyway, I’m used to you drooling on me one way or another,” and now you glare at Suguru, “you’re the one apologizing for no real reason,” 

“There is a reason,” you sigh, shaking your head, “we should be out there enjoying the party, but instead, we’re—” 

“All alone, with the two most important people to us?” Satoru tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “if anything, this was exactly the VIP treatment I was looking for, just us alone, in a room together?” Satoru’s tilting your head if only to press kisses up the side of your neck, nosing your pulse. 

“He’s right, princess, we only came here for you — no one else, we’re so proud of you,” Suguru murmurs, his hand finding its way onto your thigh, “and all we want is to see you happy,” 

Happy? When had been the last time you had been happy in the last few months? It had been far too long since it had been consistent — but the two people that ran consistently through every up, far too little downs? Satoru and Suguru. It had been so hard — and now it was almost over. Only a few more interviews and public appearances, and you would be done with Sukuna.

But you didn’t want to think about Sukuna now — you wanted them. More than ever. 

Your lips find Suguru’s first, lips sliding against his — a hesitation for a millisecond, before he’s melting into it, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before you’re pulling away, soft pants filling the silence, until a warm hand is turning your head, and Satoru kisses you next, needy and persistent, as he always was, his fingers threaded in your hair, grazing against the nape of your neck. But Suguru doesn’t waste time, a hand sneaking up the silt of your dress, dragging against your pantyhose, snapping the skintight, translucent fabric against your skin. 

You part from Satoru for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his, and you see the lipstick smeared on both their lips — you can only imagine what little you have left is painting more than just your lips at this point. 

“If we don’t stop right now, don’t know if I can, baby,” Satoru murmurs, guiding your palm to his already hard erection, “it’s risky,” 

“It is, someone could catch us,” Suguru is still drawing tempting circles on your upper thigh, his nose brushes against yours as he presses his forehead against yours, “What do you want to do?” 

And you knew the right thing to do would be to fix your faces and return to the party, act as if this hadn’t happened, as the three of you suffer through an evening without each other — until you get home far too late and far too tired to fall asleep beside them. That was the right thing, the sensible thing. 

But your need for them both was hardly sensible. It wasn’t sensible when the three of you had gotten drunk multiple nights after shooting together — Satoru only drinking a shot each time at your and Suguru’s insistence to get far too plastered too quickly. It wasn’t sensible when the two asked you who the better kisser was — your character the envy of every fangirl as you got to kiss the two “strongest” sorcerers — and then when you cheekily replied you weren’t sure, they didn’t hesitate to kiss you then and there, one after another — and you realized you never wanted to stop (and the three you never did that night). It wasn’t sensible to hook up again a few nights later, heading back to Satoru’s place to hang out, only for the three of you end up in bed together yet again — a habit formed, but that you couldn’t quit. And it surely wasn’t sensible when the three of you had started to date — it was far from it, in a business like this. But you did it anyway — because it was them. 

It was always them. 

You rise to your feet, facing them a moment, before turning your back to them, looking over your shoulder at them, “Well? You’re going to have to help me get out of this dress because I’m not letting you two ruin it.” 

And they share a look, before their lips curl into grins, as they reply. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Of course, baby.” 

“Suguru no—“ and he snaps the fabric of your pantyhose against you making you whimper, “I told you not—“ 

“To ruin your dress, you said nothing about your pantyhose,” his nails digging crescents into your lovely thighs, “and you should worry more about Satoru,” 

Satoru’s lips were nearly glued to your neck, tongue dragging up the side, until he pulled away to scowl at Suguru, “Eh? Why me?”

Suguru shrugs, “who left all those marks all over her neck last time?” 

“You left marks over her thighs,”

“Jealous?” 

“No, but I think you are that everyone saw mine, but no one saw yours,” and Suguru scoffs, 

“My marks aren’t for anyone else but me,” and his fingers tear at the fabric of your pantyhose, as you whine, lips curling as your skin is freed, “and if anyone else was seeing them, well,” his thumb drags across the swell of your far too wet cunt, drawing a pretty gasp from your lips, “I’d have to punish her wouldn’t I?” He kisses the skin exposed between the patchwork tears, making you whimper, “make her cum over and over, until she begs me to stop, show everyone how I fuck her well,” 

“Not as well as I do,” Satoru replies, “isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“I’m not answering that,” you scoff — you knew nothing good came from getting between their fights, except maybe getting between their bodies. 

“Then maybe we’ll have to remind you,” Suguru’s hands drag over your legs again, tugging off the shreds of your pantyhose off, “give you our dicks over and over until you tell us which one’s better,” 

“Sounds good to me, yeah?” Satoru leans down to kiss the valley of your breasts, before his fingers follow, finding the front latch with a grin, “planned for this sweetheart? And I thought I was the one who wanted this the most,” and he undoes the clasp with practiced ease, your chest exposed to his touch, nipples pebbling under the cool air. 

“You still are,” Suguru replies, as he nips at your thigh, eyes flicking down to Satoru’s obvious erection straining against the fabric of his slacks, “ready to burst just from looking at her chest, bet you wouldn’t last a minute getting her off,” 

“Oh yeah? Then let’s see who lasts longer,” Satoru undoes and tosses his shirt with ease, his deep blue suit coat long discarded, before he pulls you up into a sitting position while he lies back, and then lifts you with ease onto the middle of his bare chest, “you in her mouth or me eating her out,” 

“Toru—“ you squealed, as you squirmed, your already embarrassingly wet panties clinging to your dripping cunt, slick against his skin, but he holds your hips steady with large hands, “I can’t — I’ll crush you—“ 

“Ride my face, baby,” Satoru smiles up at you, that same smile you could never say no to — the one that made your stomach tie itself in knots, “wanna watch you cum all over my face, wanna walk around covered with your slick m—“ 

“Fuck—“ you cover your face, cheeks burning, “stop,” 

“Already embarrassed? That’s not good, Princess,” Suguru clicks his tongue, as gentle but teasing fingers pry your hands off your face, “can’t have that, we barely started,” 

“Please, baby?” Satoru pouts, and you can’t resist — a small nod, and his thousand watt smile almost makes it worth it, “take your seat on your throne, Princess,” you snort, almost. 

You gingerly shift yourself over him, still hovering as you hesitate. You whimper as he inhaled, a shudder leaving his body, “how is it possible for you smell so fucking good?” And you hear the distinct sound of him unbuckling his belt and the zipper of his pants, and you knew he was already palming at his length. 

Yet still, insecurity creeps up your body from his gaze, as he gazes up at your messy folds “Are you sure I won’t suffocate—” and he leans up to drag his tongue up your clothed cunt, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “ngh, Toru,” his name comes out far too needy for your taste, knees already beginning to buckle, quivering when he tugs at your drenched panties to snap them against your glistening folds, “fuck—” and he’s pulling the thin fabric aside, his warm breath sending ribbons of heat up your body, nearly shuddering from anticipation alone, and it’s nothing compared to when he pulls you down to seat you fully on his face. 

“Fuck,” your body folds forward, and you barely catch yourself, as Satoru’s needy tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, “Toru, oh my god —- fuck,”

You barely register the creak of the bed, and the rustle of clothes or the click of the belt, “That’s the idea after all, princess,” Suguru knelt before you, his pretty cock aching for you and an inch in front of you — he was thicker than Satoru, lovely veins that you wanted nothing more than to trace, and pretty beads of pre-cum dripping from his slit, “are you going to be a good girl and—” he hisses when your lips part to suckle at his tip,tongue flicking over his slit, before you let his cock part your lips again. 

But Satoru wasn’t one to be ignored — his tongue circling your clit faster, as his hands rest on your ass, squeezing, before slapping his hand down against the sensitive flesh, sending you forward onto Suguru’s cock. 

Suguru grunts, fingers threading into your strands, nails digging into your scalp, “s’fucking good for me, princess. Such a good cockeater,” his fingers cup your chin, forcing your gaze higher, eyes blown out in pleasure, boobs bouncing with the way you rocked against Satoru’s face and Suguru’s shallow thrusts, the heavy weight of his dick on your tongue. 

And Suguru can’t resist — palming at your breasts because you’re so pretty when you whine, as he pinches your erect nipples before rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. You moan around Suguru’s length, your hands grasping at his hips, sloppily sucking him off, as Satoru grinds his face against your cunt. 

The wet squelch of your pussy rings in your ears, greedily lapping at your juices like a man wanting to drown, diving deeper and deeper to depths unknown. And when his thumbs reach up to part your hole further apart, you’re nearly choking on Suguru’s dick, as Satoru’s tongue slips into your entrance. 

You whine when he teasingly pulls away, pressing sweet kisses to your clit, “Gonna fuck you right, sweetheart — make sure you can’t remember anything tonight except the feel of my tongue inside you, that is, until I fuck you open,” and he’s burying you back, moaning at the feeling of your juices slipping off the side of his face, “gotta open wide for you baby — gotta swallow this whole cunt, yeah?” 

And you would have moaned if you hadn’t had your mouth full of Suguru’s dick, nearly beginning to choke on it when he began to lazily thrust into your mouth, a shiver down his spine as he looks at you drooling around his length, sloppily tracing his veins, a graze of his teeth against the sensitive skin, and a hiss parts his lips, “careful there,” and he gives a particularly hard thrust, “don’t want me to fuck this throat do you?” and your moan makes a mean smirk curl his lips, “or maybe you do,” 

Fuck, you were getting close — and so was Suguru by the way his hips began to buck into your mouth, and Satoru for that matter — the wet sounds of his fisting his cock along with the messy moans against your cunt sending more pleasure up and down your spine. And fuck, his bucking against his hand was making the bed shake — and god, you’d reach behind you and jack him off if you weren’t holding onto Suguru for dear life. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, swallow my cock, fuck, g’nna cum soon,” Suguru’s balls slap against your face as he begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, “Toru looks he’s about ready to burst too, gonna clean up our cocks before we fuck you, pretty?” 

“Fuck, she nearly clamped down on my mouth from that,” Satoru says, thoroughly muffled from your heat pressed tight to his mouth, his tongue then returning to fuck you, as you ride his face to find your release, unable to think about anything else but cumming, “cum on my face, baby,” and when Satoru sucks around your clit, a sharp palm bearing down on your ass again, you’re cumming, grinding and riding out your high on his face, as he welcomes your release with an open mouth. The wet sounds of his slurping and sucking, as your juices roll off both sides of his face and stain the mattress underneath him.

And then you’re eagerly sucking at Suguru’s cock, swallowing around him as he fucks your face, “g’nna cum, are you gonna let me cum alone — are you going to help Satoru cum too?” and he’s helping you reach back, leaning back with you so his cock never parts your pretty lips, and right as your fingers brush against Satoru’s cock, squeezing around the base, you hollow out your cheeks, letting Suguru’s tip brush your throat. 

They both groan your name as they cum, thick spurts of Suguru’s release down your throat, while Satoru cums all over his stomach and your hand. They slowly still their movements, Suguru slowly pulling his cock from your mouth, strings like a spiderweb of cum and your spit connecting your lips to his dick, and Satoru helps you off his face, eyes shut as your legs are still shaking from the way he ate you out still, as they lay you down on the bed. 

Your eyes flutter open to find Satoru licking his face clean, still glossy with your release and his spit, “Fuck, sweetheart, how do you taste so good?” he murmurs almost reverently, a grin on his lips, “I’ll have to sit on my face more often,” and you’re rolling your eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be sitting on my throne very often, you weirdo,” you chuckle softly, far too breathlessly, and you turn to Suguru to find him leaning on his elbow, gaze still dark. 

“Well, you do have two thrones after all,” Suguru leans down to find your lips in a kiss, tasting himself on your lips, a soft moan pulled from your lips, “you’ll have to use the other at one point or another,” 

“Jealous?” you echo Satoru, and Suguru has you pulled into his lap in a moment, your back pressed flush to his chest, his cock already far too hard, far too quickly, and your head falls back as he drags the tip over your still sensitive folds, “a-ah, Sugu, I—” 

“The only thing I’m jealous about is that the only thing that’s been in this pretty pussy tonight has been Satoru’s tongue,” and he’s tilting your head down, to watch your cunt rub against his length, a whine leaving your throat that you barely recognize as your own, “think we should fix that, shouldn’t we?” 

“Room for another over there?” Satoru adds, drawing closer, his length in hand, as he lazily pumps it to full mast, and you whimper at the sight of him, “our princess is so needy, she needs two of us to fill her, yeah?” 

And Suguru takes the opportunity to spread your folds with his hand, and sink his length into you, your head falling back into his shoulder, as a pornographic moans parts your lips, and Suguru is shushing you all the same, as he works himself into you inch by inch, “Don’t want anything to think we’re filming a different kind of movie in here, hm?” 

“Imagine the headlines then,” Satoru hums, as he teases your clit with his cock, “movie star found cheating on her co star — one dick just wasn’t enough — she needs two,” 

“Can they blame her?” Suguru’s finally inside you fully, his stretch far too delicious, shorting out your nerves with the pleasure — and you swear your cunt was making a mold of his cock, complete with every lovely vein, pretty curve, and each inch, “this pussy deserves the best after all,” 

“S’full,” you’re a mess, walls already fluttering around Suguru, practically begging him to begin moving, while welcoming Satoru in with folds that only craved his cock, “so big,” you whine. 

“Mmhmm, I know, baby,” Satoru’s tilting up your chin, lips curled in a grin, “Suguru’s almost too much for me — how are you going to fit me too?” and you whimper, shaking your head, “you still want me?” and you nod far too eagerly, and he chuckles, “well, you heard our princess, Suguru, mind giving me a hand?” 

And you furrow your brow, unsure, until you feel Suguru’s hands reach around to your front and spreads your pussy lips wider for Satoru, making your cunt clamp down on him, “fuck, she just got tighter,” but Satoru takes it in stride, gathering some of your juices on his fingers to further lube himself up. 

“No matter how much we fuck her like this, she’s always so tight for us,” Satoru’s pressing his tip to your spread entrance, and you whimper, “maybe tonight,” his fingers tilt your chin upwards, “we’ll finally fuck her to remember our shapes,” 

And he guides his cock into you, and Suguru braces your body against his as your back arches, as both of their lengths stretch you open — like they said, no matter how many times they did this, you never quite got used to it. 

But this pleasure? You were far too used to — they had ruined you for anyone else, because no matter what, no man could please you like either of them, much less both of them. 

“S’full, fuck, I-I can’t—” your walls are squeezing them hard, dicks rubbing together, drawing deep groans from both of them. 

“Don’t have to break our dicks off to get us to fuck you all the time, baby,” Satoru mutters, panting, as he lifts your leg, hooking one around his hip, “already gonna fuck you stupid anytime you want,” 

“Shit, I’m not gonna last that long, Satoru,” Suguru says through gritted teeth, pressing heated kisses to your neck, “gonna start moving, sweetheart,” and you’re nodding, as they both begin to fuck you in tandem. Suguru thrusted upwards steadily, forcing you to ride him, allowing his dick to sink into sweeter depths, pleasure ripping up your spine, while Satoru fucked into you at a rough pace, hands gripping your thighs as he did. Both of their movements drove the other deeper into you, reaching depths you didn’t think were possible. 

“F-fuck, Sugu, Toru,” you’re babbling, lost in the thick haze of pleasure, dripping over your skin like hot molasses, slow but burning all the same, as your walls fluttered around both of them, “s’good, I can’t—” tears burning at your eyes, as your hands brace themselves on Satoru’s shoulders. 

“That’s it, such a good girl, been thinking about you spread out on me like this since the moment I saw you,” Suguru grunts, rutting into you faster, “couldn’t wait to rip off this dress to fuck you right — didn’t think you’d let us so soon,” and you swear their cocks were kissing your cervix at this point, and surely you’d look down and see a bulge in your stomach from how deep they were. 

“Pretty girl takes us so well, no one compares to you, sweetheart,” Satoru sighs, watching the way his cock sunk into you again and again, “you’re ours, just ours,” 

“I’m close, s’close, g’nna—” pleasure built like a coil in your stomach, ready to snap, and they were only more than happy to pull you apart, as long as they were the only one to put you back together. 

And Satoru rubs at your clit, a moan on his lips, “Cum for us princess,” and you do, toes curling as you cum hard with their names on your lips, clamping down around both of their cocks. Low moans of your name leave their lips as they fuck you through your orgasm, hips stuttering when they slowed, “g’nna cum,” 

“Where—” Suguru chokes out, and you’re leaning into Suguru, while your arms wrap around Satoru’s neck, pulling him close. 

“Inside, please, give me your cum,” And they both moan, slowing until they notch themselves deep as they both cum, thick releases painting your walls, continuing to fuck their cum deeper inside, “ngh, fuck,” And Suguru finds your lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, as Satoru digs his teeth into your neck, no protest coming to your mind, only just a want for more, more, more. 

And they slow, creak of the mattress and the pants stilling into silence, as you lean back against Suguru, Satoru’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder as the three of you bask in the afterglow. 

And finally, Satoru slowly pulls himself from you, groaning as he watches the evidence of the double creampie they gave you drips from inside you, “Fuck, sweetheart, we filled you up,” 

“A shame to waste it,” Suguru murmurs, as he pulls his softening erection from inside you, “should we plug her up, make her keep our cum inside her for the rest of the night?” and you’re biting back a moan, but Satoru doesn’t miss the way your lower lips twitch. 

“Oh, she likes that,” Satoru grins, cupping your face to find your lips in a languid kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue that teases teasingly over the seam of your lips,  “or maybe we should fuck her again and give her more until it drips down her thighs all night, hm?” 

And the moment is fraught with tension, as the two of them lean in again to kiss you, before the door bursts open, making all three of you freeze. 

Fuck (and not in the good way). 

“Oi, what the fuck,” the three of you glance over, as Satoru and Suguru hurriedly covered you up with Suguru’s nearby discarded jacket, “you fucking idiots—” 

“Look who’s talking,” Satoru scoffs, “fuck off,” 

“I would say the same to you, but you already did,” Sukuna shakes his head, “all night you’ve been gone, and you can’t be bothered to keep track of the time?” and your brow knits together, “it’s nearly time for the fucking—”

“Question and answer, with the press,” the warmth of their embraces erased in a moment by the news, a bucket of ice water spilled over your head, “fuck,” you’re trying to scramble to get up, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t out there like this—” 

“No fuck you can’t,” Sukuna scoffs, and Suguru glares at him, as he helps you into your dress, while Satoru stands with his jacket as a partition.

“Stop talking if you’re not going to help,” and you’re lucky the dress doesn’t require six people to get into, and you had chosen something relatively simple, with a fucking string corset you were beginning to regret as Suguru tried to retie it as best he could, “fuck, why was this dress so easy to take off?” But he finally gets it, as you open the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“My makeup, my hair — I can fix it, but not the way it was before,” you’re covering your face, how was your career over before you barely started? “Fuck, what do I do—” 

“It’s simple,” Satoru sighs, “as much as I hate to suggest this, and I probably will go gouge my eyes out—” 

You sigh, “Toru—” 

“I have an idea,” Satoru’s eyes slide to Sukuna, disgust evident in his face, until he glances back at you, “but we’ll need his help,” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t know your name either,” Satoru’s head snaps back to Sukuna. 

“You don’t know—” 

Sukuna smirks, “What’s the plan?” 

Satoru’s expression sours, as he scratches the back of his head, “Well…” 

“You surprised me, brat,” Sukuna says, as he holds your arm, as the two of you make your way back into the ballroom, and you’re adjusting your dress, still far too self conscious — as if everyone could see what you did — even though that was the plan. 

“That I agreed to this?” you murmur. 

“No, that you bit me that hard,” he rubbed the mark you left on his neck, as your cheeks burn, “didn’t expect a tiny thing like you to be able to bite that well,” 

“Well, I had to make it look real,” you look away, but look back when you’re about to reach the doors of the ballroom, “fuck, everyone is going to look at us, aren’t they?” 

“Let them enjoy the show,” an arm slides around your waist, “you know they will.” 

~~~

It’s only been a few weeks since the film premiered, and it’s already far surpassed some of the top grossing films this year. A lot of the buzz generated from the film has been around rumors surrounding the relationship between the two lead co-stars—their tumultuous relationship seems to have come to an end—

And you tune out the video for a moment, scrolling into the comments to see what people are saying: 

sukunasthirdleg69: damn can i get on him next? 👅 

gegesnumber1hater: wonder if she got back with gojo or geto again? 🤭 I’d like to see that groupchat pop off. 

gogecutestprincess replied to gegesnumber1hater: no way she lost her chance with gojo and geto 😤 they deserve better…like each other

You chuckled, at least the news of you and Sukuna had spread as planned. You had enough of the coverage of the premiere with the zoomed in images of your clothes and the marks on both of your bodies. But finally it was done — but how long would it be until you slipped up with Satoru or Suguru and the rumors would begin again? 

“What are you thinking about so much? Aside from me,” Satoru collapses on the couch beside you, hair still damp from the shower, arm slipping around your waist, as he leans over your shoulder, “what are they saying now?” 

“Just more rumors — some are wondering if we got back together,” 

“How could they ever think we let you go?” Suguru presses a kiss to the top of your head, before sitting beside you. 

“I still hate that they think the marks I left are from Sukuna,” Satoru mumbles, as you flip through the comments, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, “how could they not realize it was my hard work that put those marks there?” 

“Because it’s so distinct,” you snort, and he’s pouting as you press a kiss to his cheek, “not everyone has your sharp eyes, Toru,” 

“And yet you saved every picture they got of her,” Suguru smirks, and Satoru glares at him, “but I did too,” 

“What are we going to do when they start talking about us again?” Satoru tilts his head at your question. 

“Let them,” Satoru leans back on the couch, fingers toying with a strand of your hair, “and if you really don’t like it, we can pay them off,” 

“And if I don’t want to pay them off?” Both of them furrow their brows, “what if I want them to know?” You add, chewing on your lip, “about us?” 

“You want to?” Suguru’s gaze softens, “but more than us, it could impact your career,” 

“It already had,” you scoff, when had it not recently? If it was going to be like this, you would at least like to be in control of the narrative, “everyone is always talking about us, well,” your lips curl into a grin, why don’t we give them something to talk about?” 

“And what would that be?” Satoru hums. 

You lock your phone screen, “When does shooting and press start for season three of jjk?” 

~~~~

A few months later….

“A successful film, several offers to be in other blockbusters, and now you’re back shooting season three of Jujutsu Kaisen,” the interviewer leans back, shaking her head, as she fans herself with her interview cards, “I think we were lucky to get an interview with you now! Although it isn’t in person this time,” 

“Well, you can’t forget your roots,” and you couldn’t — this was the first show that had requested you for an interview all those years ago when season one of Jujutsu Kaisen was airing, even if you had relegate them to a video interview, “it feels like this year has been that in many ways,” 

“Oh? How is that?” and your lips curl. 

“Last year with my first feature film and everything else, it felt like starting over — starting from scratch with something so new that I barely recognized myself at some point,” your hands clasped in your lap, “this year, after the film gained so much traction, and going back to film the show that made my career, it just feels like coming home — especially to the cast,” 

“Speaking of the cast, are you going to see more behind the scenes with Gojo and Geto?” she grins, “so many of your videos with those two went viral — are we going to see more of the three of you messing around?” 

And you can’t help the smile on your lips, “Oh definitely you will be seeing more of that,” you’re tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and the lights glint off a set of two rings on your finger, diamonds glinting as if begging for notice, and you hear a small gasp. 

“Is that—” and you freeze a moment, before your smile grows wider, and the interviewer squeals, “Are you married?” 

“Guilty,” 

The interviewer grins harder than you are — and you’re not quite sure if she’s more thrilled at the news or of getting this exclusive, “Who’s the lucky man?” 

And you open your mouth, when the camera goes out of focus for a moment, only for it to come back into focus with Satoru and Suguru leaning into the frame of the camera, their arms around your sides. And Satoru lowers his sunglasses with a smirk. 

“Who said it’s just one?” 

✧ a/n: ahh this was super fun to write just because of how much crack it was hahah, i hope you guys enjoyed <3

✧ taglist: @forest-hashira , @supilyu , @yamaguccitadashi, @kentocalls, @magicalgirlb, @ssetsuka , @isabeauwolf , @lemonintrovert01 , @astraecea-silversin , @cerene-dipity , @whorefornoodles , @hobimysolecito , @risuola , @ja-zz , @spider-fan72 , @jayathelostdragon , @therealestpussyeater , @too-much-snow , @umarureid , @rosso-seta , @maddie-jayne , @at-the-chateau , @cherrypieyourface, @sleepysaurusworld , @lucilferz , @spltbtch , @bobfloydluvsblackwomen , @johannakhalafalla , @augustwinesworld , @catsgomurp , @psychxbby, @hellkaiserinphoenix , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @cstandsforchaos , @sunamatic , @lycoris-01 , @mua-for-now , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @voids-universe , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @gorouenjoyer

love, forever?

vampire! Suguru Geto x reader x vampire! Satoru Gojo

Blurb: Vampires are just things of myth. Little do you know that your recent ex Suguru is a tortured vampire himself, who hunts and slays other vampires that seek to do evil acts on humans. You're heartbroken, still reeling from the loss of the love of your life, clueless to the fact that Suguru broke up with you in order to protect you from his own dark urges. Suguru still grieves you immensely. One night, Satoru decides to make a plan to end to Suguru's grieving-- and what better way to do that than to understand the enemy?

Tags: Morality, and selfishness vs selflessness themes. // Vampire! Suguru and Satoru, who are vampire hunters that protect humans from evil ones. // Blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. // AU characters. Satoru is clingier and more emotional than his canon self. Suguru despises the strong (vampires) for hurting the weak (humans). // New vampire lore ;). // Angst. Suguru battling his inner demons, trying to do good despite his vampire nature and urges. // Reader has multiple targets on her back (Naoya appearance!) // Both Suguru and Satoru fall for reader. // Eventual smut in later chapters. //

Chapter Warnings: College party drinking, Reader slaps Satoru, Mentions of blood and feeding, Reader falls in a ditch (LOL), Suggestiveness, MDNI

Chapter Word Count: ~4.3k (it’s worth it!)

NOTE: even if you you saw the teaser already, or any edit of the teaser, please read this chapter, as I’ve edited it a lot, and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;)

Ch. 01 | Living Haunted

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. You could see that she might be his type. Green jealousy explodes in your chest, along with a poisonous, deep sense of insecurity. The horrible feelings move through your body. Was he moving on already? Did you really mean so little to him? Would she be the one to make him stay?

You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the painful twisting motion of your heart would be soon dulled. Coca Cola, sherbet, and yakult alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes. 

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?” 

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat when you see such a beautiful stranger. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, chuckling as you braid his hair, the nonfiction book he’s been reading facedown in his lap as your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; The warmth and sturdiness of his hands against your face as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right. 

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fleeting dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace, your face buried in his sturdy chest— that feeling of being cared for— 

You missed him bad, with every fiber of your being. 

Suguru is still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and you still came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following? 

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply. 

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party. 

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming. 

“And you are?” 

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go here, don’t you know?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?” 

Satoru just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky person. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

Satoru waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?” 

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not ever met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him. 

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” he says. 

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your focus isn’t on that.

You’re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with. 

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. You’re hurt. You’re aching in confusion about what wasn’t good enough about you. You’re angry and betrayed— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear, “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat of the stuffy, overcrowded room. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking— 

And he’s gone. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle. 

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue. He’s spitting it out back into the bottle immediately. 

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of lovely bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam. 

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs. 

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, then?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru notices, but says nothing, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper. 

“And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love—d her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d have missed it.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru. 

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They do. But there’s something the myths forgot. Some sort of change is written in a vampire’s eyes. There always has been, and always will be, some sort of difference from a person’s antecedent human form, and their new, evolved one, hidden in their eyes after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy. 

That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. He woke up with them, the day after everything changed. 

Suguru’s tired reflection stares back at him, rich amethyst irises shining like glossy, sharp stars in the mirror. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness. 

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave. He grimaces at the knowing that his vampire instincts made him crave you dangerously, the one he loves, more than anything else. It was cursed, his very existence. He was turned into a walking, sentient, functioning monster. The blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly.

“So,” Satoru grunts with chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires. It’s something Suguru was grateful for, considering his job of being a vampire slayer. 

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand. 

But Satoru presses on anyway, nodding, looking bored. 

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all, on that unwelcomed, fateful night. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget— You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.” 

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. If you and I didn’t always ask for consent before feeding, I’d never have believed she would be okay with that,” Satoru’s eyes gleam playfully. Suguru doesn’t reply, and Satoru deflates. 

“You’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.” 

Ah. The truth comes out. Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes. 

“Satoru, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out. He curses silently in disgust at what he has become. 

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching. 

“Well. I need to feed again.” 

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door. Did he need the black coat? No. Not at all. Vampires don’t get cold. They’re already icy to the touch. But it helps him blend in, both with humans and the night. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot. 

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. 

He slips through the shadows. 

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you. 

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

If Satoru was being honest, this was a chance to understand the enemy. The golden goal would be to get Suguru to forget about you and move on, so his best friend could finally look and be alive again, the two of them happily slaying the vampires that hurt humans— and this was the first step in his plan. 

“Hey,” he nearly purrs, slinking around you as you take a step forward— stumbling a bit— 

Cold fingers grip you firmly, holding you upright. Satoru: 1, gravity: 0. 

“You’re fucking making me freeze even more!” You retort, snapping at him as you yank your warm arm away from his cool grasp. You were more than tipsy, but you recalled his rudeness from earlier.

He lets you go and you teeter. “Just trying to help. You sure aren’t shy, huh?” Satoru remarks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spit out, the question giving you both Deja vu.

“It means what it means,” Satoru grins. Deja-fucking-vu. You’re getting fed up now, huffing and mumbling under your alcohol-tinged breath, an insult that Satoru’s super hearing picks up on. He stifles a laugh. You keep walking. 

“Wait,” Satoru calls out. You don’t turn around or slow your snail-like pace. He strides up to you in two quick, lengthy steps. He bends, entering your vision, his teeth sharp and protruding from his close lipped smile. Were they always that long?

“I’m great at reading people. And as much as you want to deny it, your heart is beating faster around me.” He suppresses his urge to poke your ribcage, directly over the beating muscle. 

“Shut up,” you growl. 

“You could make me, you know.”

“There you go again with that cliche flirting,” you snort. 

“And here I am again, asking if you’re offering lessons. Though the better question would be if you’re even qualified to give them,” Satoru grins.

He keeps up with your sluggish pace as you try to make your way back to the dorms.

“What do you want from me? Don’t you think it’s weird to be flirting with your best friend’s ex?” 

You think this will shut him up. That, or he’ll have a lame excuse. But for the first time in this second conversation you’re having with him, his answer changes.

“If I’m being honest,” he speaks in a rich, velvety, low voice, and you almost feel entranced, your feet stopping, your gaze resting on Satoru. “I’m doing this for him. And about what I want?” 

You sway in the chilly night breeze, barely registering anything but the sound of his voice. 

“I want to know you better,” he purrs. You’re breathless as he continues, his voice like a siren in your ear, “If you were sober, would you let me bite you?”

He pulls away, and you’re back to your senses in a second. You feel like slapping him again. You almost do, but your hand misses, causing you to stumble. 

“Too slow!” He cackles as you tumble onto the ground, your dress flying up.

You look absolutely humiliated, livid, and harmless from the ground, eyes narrowed in deep hatred for this weirdo. 

“Need a hand?” Satoru smirks, his tall, silhouetted form outlined in light from the lamp behind him. 

You push off the cold cement, ignoring him, fuming silently as you continue your drunken walk to the dorms. That typical pang of hunger hits Satoru out of the blue, impelling him to leave.

“I have to go now. See you around,” Satoru says, before disappearing, the need to find a sober person he can get consent from to feed on overpowering him. 

Suddenly the night is quiet again, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. You keep walking, not realizing that there are no longer lamps to light the way until you’re surrounded by darkness. You aren’t familiar with this part of campus, squinting to see the road sign to your right. You barely make out the words ‘Under Construction’ written in bold black letters, and you shiver as the cool breeze swings through the area. A snapping twig sounds behind you and your eyes widen, fear running through your intoxicated bloodstream. 

“Hello?” You call out. You hate to admit it, but you regret letting Satoru leave. Nobody answers.

You take another step into the darkness, speeding up your pace. Another snap of a twig, and you’re breaking out into a full blown run now— blood rushes through your ears—

Something catches your foot, and you tumble forward, falling down into a ditch, knocking out.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru sighs contentedly, his eyes crossing as he swallows his last gulp of blood for the night. The woman is staring at the ceiling with a lovestruck look, the pleasure from the toxin in his fangs acting like a drug. He releases his lips from her skin, licking at the two puncture marks on her neck. 

“Fuck…” She mewls, leaning in to kiss Satoru. He lets her kiss him.

“Look at me,” Satoru commands gently, his voice taking on a different tone now— and she’s under his spell in an instant. 

“Forget this entire interaction. Forget that you ever saw me. Forget that I fed on you. Don’t question the slight tenderness in your neck tomorrow morning. Associate it with sleeping weirdly,” he murmurs, and she’s caught on his every word, nodding when he stops talking. 

“Good.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru retraces his steps, walking on the road he last saw you on. His teeth have retracted, going back to a normal length, as they always do after he’s fed. Yeah, he may be selfish, jealous, and dislike you— but he’s not a villain. It’s late, you are intoxicated, and he still wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“She’s probably fast asleep back at her dorm. I’m just wasting my time,” he grumbles in the dark. But he just has this funny feeling, like something happened, and now he’s acting like some lovesick fool that worries and checks in on their lover. 

Blood. Satoru smells it, that familiar, rich, sharp scent that sends a rush of electricity through his body. Because he just fed, his brain doesn’t light up as it usually would, and he realizes that somebody is hurt— and that somebody is probably you. 

Satoru’s legs are a blur as he races towards the source—

He stands over a dirt edge, a hole in the path made by the ongoing construction. You lay in the ditch looking like a broken doll, effectively knocked out. There’s a gash on your arm and knee. 

“Fuck,” Satoru curses, quickly climbing down to get to you. He’s by your side in a flash, checking your pulse. It’s normal. He feels the tension in his body drain. You’re probably just passed out from the combination of alcohol and falling in a ditch. Satoru rolls his eyes, huffing, “Idiot,” as he scoops you up into his arms. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

He didn’t know what to do. Leave you in the hallway of the coed dorm? Drop you off at the 24/hour care station? He figured he should do the latter, and so he went. 

He dings the bell at the front desk, shifting to readjust your relaxed body. Ten seconds go by. During that time, Satoru finds himself staring at your face, a few smears of dirt on your skin. You breathe in and out, because you have to. It’s not like him and Suguru, who breathe to fake their normalness and blend in. They have no need for oxygen. Your lips look so soft. Your chest rising and falling gently, you look totally at peace, and Satoru is mesmerized. He gets lost in the rhythm of your breaths for a moment— the steady beat of your heart bringing about a peace and longing ache in his own lifeless one. He snaps out of his daze, and rings the bell again, huffing impatiently. Another ten seconds go by, and he starts to spam the bell. 

“Where are they?” He grumbles. Satoru slips behind the desk, frowning and pissy, looking into the back room. Nobody is there. 

“Seriously?” 

He can’t just leave you here when the door is unlocked and the place is unattended. Satoru curses under his breath again, looking down at your sleeping face, your body curled against his frame in his arms. 

“Guess Suguru has to confront his demons tonight,” Satoru sighs, not realizing the weight of the statement he’s just uttered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Sweet, mouth-watering, the scent of a dream— it wafts through the hallway, into his room, and Suguru wakes up with a growling stomach. 

Human blood. One that smells absolutely ravishing. Suguru sits up, alert and awake, wondering if Satoru brought back somebody to share, somebody who wanted to be fed on and possibly fucked by the two of them. The raven-haired man stands up and tears open his door—

Satoru is hunched over a body on the couch. Suguru makes his way over, his fangs protruding, his amethyst eyes glinting with hunger—

Satoru finishes wiping the blood off your arm, the sight of the red cloth in his hand making Suguru freeze when he realizes Satoru brought back a hurt person.

“Satoru–” 

Satoru turns, standing up, and Suguru finally catches a glimpse of who is on their couch. If his heart was beating, it would have skipped a beat. 

Suguru’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape. You?

“Hey,” the snowy-haired vampire says. “Before you get pissed—!”

Suguru is crossing the living room in a flash, shoving Satoru up against the wall. Suguru’s head is ringing, swirling with hunger, anger, fear, grief, and shame. Something as seemingly small as the sight of you did that to him. 

“Did you fucking hurt her? I swear to god, if you so much as touched a hair on her head—” Suguru hisses before Satoru shoves his best friend back, scowling.

“Listen for a second! She was in a ditch when I found her, okay? By the construction site. I may not like this little pest of a weakling, but I didn’t hurt her,” Satoru retorts. Suguru backs off, clenching his fists so hard that it draws red blood of his own. His eyes burn holes into the floorboards. 

Satoru watches, a beat of silence passing before he speaks up, “Hey, Suguru. Just… just take a moment to get a hold of yourself. If you have to take a walk…”

What Satoru didn’t understand was how absolutely feral Suguru was for you, down to a chemical level. Bringing you around was enough to make Suguru’s head pound with a dizzying need to feast on you— but bringing you when you were bleeding? Suguru is feeling white hot need pulse throughout his body.

“She— she’s not supposed to be here—” Suguru manages to say, his voice strained. 

“Why–”

“She can’t be by me!” Suguru roars, looking up from the ground to meet Satoru’s shocked gaze. Suguru’s purple eyes are filled with a storm of anger and pain, and Satoru opens his mouth to apologize—

But Suguru is gone in a blink, the door to their apartment creaking as yellow light from the hallway spills in, falling on your face, painting you in a soft glow. 

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What Might've Been

Sypnosis - A mysterious girl appears at the entrance of Jujutsu Technical High School -- not speaking a lick of English and not understanding where she is. She isn't human...but that gets you wondering...what is she?

Pairing(s) - ! ALL PLATONIC ! Satoru Gojo x Reader, Suguru Geto x Reader, Shoko Ieri x Reader

Warning(s) - mature themes, canon JJK violence, gore, child death, angsty ending (I'm sorry gang)

Word Count - 10.4k

A/N - Randomly got an idea to write a fic where the Reader was a curse. I hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Darkness. 

For as long as you could remember, the only sight seen by your eyes was an overarching darkness that seemed to stretch on forever — never once giving any indication that there may be some kind of light at the end of the otherwise never ending tunnel.  

And to you, that was okay. The darkness became your friend over time, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety that could not be replicated by anything. It held your hands and guided you, watching silently as you grew and developed until a time where you could be used — until a time where you would be useful to the world of curses. 

But like many things, your darkness eventually found its end, creating an opening that allowed light to pour in and the warmth of the sun to touch your skin with gentle hands. Confused, you folded your fingers into the hand that the light offers you, and with squinted eyes you look around.  

Where am I? 

Your head turns, blinking a few times to adjust to the overwhelming light that only seems to brighten each time that your eyelids flutter open. Slowly, you turn in a circle on the heels of your feet, suddenly aware of the unfamiliar sensation that lies beneath the skin of your feet.  

You glance down, tilting your head curiously at the uneven stones beneath you. Curiously, you bend your knees, lowering your palms to the ground and laying it flat against the stone, shocked to feel heat emanating back onto the skin of your palm.  

What are you doing? 

You stand up straight, ears perked as you attempt to locate the source of the voice who had addressed you. Oddly enough, you stand completely alone in the stone pathway, surrounded only by unmoving trees and bright green grass. You open your mouth, trying to will any kind of sound to leave your parted lips, but you remain silent. 

You press your lips back together in a firm line, narrowing your eyes and once again lowering yourself to the ground, this time taking a seat in the center of the stone pathway. Above you is a maroon-colored arch, one that is hanging over a set of stairs that lead somewhere — but you’re not entirely sure just where it leads to.  

Are you comfortable? 

You nod happily, laying both of your palms against the warm stones and spreading out your fingers, feeling smaller pebbles being caught within the lines of your skin. Your eyes wander up your arm, noticing the small stitches that hold the various parts of you together. 

The scars don’t horribly disfigure you, not like the other curses that you could recall seeing in the depths of your memories. They turned out more inhuman than you, you were one of the lucky who was made to pass as human — only discoverable by eyes that shined like the prettiest aquamarine stones. You believe it was called Six Eyes. 

You lift one of your hands off of the stones, suddenly aware of just how hot it had felt against your skin. You shake your hand, forming an ‘o’ with your lips and blowing on the palm of your hand, shocked to feel an opposite sensation. It wasn’t warm, but at the same time it wasn’t completely cold. But it was cold enough to relieve the burn on your skin — and it’s then that you notice the pattern left behind by the stones.  

“C’mon Suguru, I’m sure he won’t mind if we take our time with this one.”  

You turn your head at the sound of another’s voice, tilting it curiously as you watch two figures appear at the top of the steps. Both are tall and wear the same kind of clothing, yet they also wear completely different styles. One of the figures — this one with bright white hair — wears his clothes tight, accentuating his otherwise lanky figure. The other figure — this one with longer, darker hair — wears his clothes baggy, with parachute pants that make his legs look larger than they most likely are. 

You wonder which one of them is supposedly ‘Suguru’. 

Careful now, remember the eyes. 

You nod your head, pushing yourself to your feet with the help of your hands. You lift your head to peer up the stairs, noticing how both of the figures had stopped walking and are peering at you with the same curiosity as yourself.  

“Hey! What’re you doing down there?” It’s the white-haired figure that calls out to you, his covered eyes no doubt focused on you. The dark-haired figure is silent, watching you with a wordless curiosity. Opposites. 

You part your lips to speak again, feeling an uncomfortable vibration in the base of your throat. You quickly snap your jaw shut again, rubbing your fingers against the skin of your throat and wincing — that had been oddly painful. But at the same time, it only spurred on your curiosity. Why could the two figures make sounds with their mouths and you couldn’t? 

“Hey!” the white-haired figure calls out again, this time lifting his arm and waving down at you. You mimic him, lifting your arm and waving back at him. Confused, the white-haired figure turns to the dark-haired figure at his side, nudging him before beginning to descend the steps. 

You wait patiently for both figures to approach you, but even when they do, they stand a healthy distance away from you — likely because of the discolored scars that litter your body, holding you together like a freshly stitched doll.  

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the three of you, only broken by the dark-haired figure clearing his throat and speaking to you, “What are you doing down here?” 

You try for the third time to do what the dark-haired figure is doing — making sounds with his mouth. But the moment that you try, a strangled cough falls from you instead. With both palms, you cover your mouth, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the figures exchange a look with one another.  

“What’s up with you?” the white-haired figure asks, tilting his head at you. You pout, jutting out your bottom lip and crossing your arms over your chest, disappointed that you couldn’t articulate yourself in the same way that both of the figures could.  

The dark-haired figure is more sympathetic towards you, smacking a hand into the chest of the white-haired figure and shooting him a pointed glare. He turns back to you after a moment, his eyes softening as he gestures with his head towards you.  

"You can't speak?"  

You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows to create an expression that is a mixture between frustration and sadness. The dark-haired figure nods understandingly, humming to himself. You mimic him, humming as well.  

The white-haired figure glances between you and the dark-haired figure, then letting out a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm over the shoulders of the figure standing beside him, still glaring at you through his sunglasses as if you were a roadblock to him – and in a way, you were. 

"Come on Suguru, this is pointless. Let's just--" 

"Shut up Satoru." 

Suguru. He's the one with the dark hair.  

Satoru. He's the one with the white hair.  

Opposites. 

You tilt your head curiously at them, listening as they bicker with one another. How Suguru tries to patient with both you and Satoru and how Satoru only continues to act like a spoiled child. Your eyes continue to flicker between each of the two as they speak, taking mental notes of the difference in their tones, postures, and facial expressions.  

Suguru then turns to you again, having effectively shut Satoru up. You find yourself smiling at the expression that Satoru wears; he looks more like a disappointed child now as opposed to a spoiled one. It made you wonder if he acted like that constantly, or if it was because you were around.  

"Why don't you come with us?" Suguru offers, extending his hand to you. You peer curiously at it, how his fingers lightly shake and how the lines in his palms flex as his fingers extend out to you. You glance down at your own palm, flexing your fingers before placing your palm flat on top of Suguru's. 

Rolling his eyes, Satoru turns on his heel and begins to move back up the stairs, not caring to glance over his shoulder to check that you and Suguru were following him.  

You glance at Suguru, who still holds your hand. You hum again, smiling as Suguru's eyes flicker to meet your awaiting gaze. He returns your smile, then gesturing with his head towards the top of the stairs. You nod understandingly, falling into step with Suguru and climbing the steps.  

You tilt your head back to look at the archways that line the stairs, smiling to yourself as you walk quietly beside Suguru – neither of you say anything about the fact that your fingers are still interlinked. For as foreign as it was to you, it also felt familiar. 

"Come on, you're both taking forever!" Satoru complains from further up the stairs, turning to finally glance at both you and Suguru from over his shoulder.  

You release your hold on Suguru's hand, deciding to take it two steps at a time to properly catch up with Satoru, not wanting to hear him complain any longer. You spread your arms out to balance yourself once you reach the top of the stairs, spinning on your heel and grinning widely as Suguru walks into view – immediately returning your childlike grin. 

"What do we say to Yaga?" Satoru asks as Suguru moves to stand at his side. Suguru hums, his gaze momentarily flickering to sneak a glance at you. You lift your hand to wave at him once his eyes land on you, then taking two large steps to stand directly beside Suguru.  

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," Suguru mutters, feeling his spine stiffen as you bravely fold your fingers into his own, squeezing at them and sending him another closed-eyed smile.  

< … > 

"And she was simply sitting there?" Yaga clarifies, raising an eyebrow at Suguru and Satoru – both of whom nod their heads. Satoru crosses his arms over his chest, having been mentally checked out of the conversation since first entering the office.  

"From what we both saw," Suguru says, sneaking a glance at Satoru and mentally smacking his best friend at the disinterested look on his face, "yes. She was just sitting there." 

Yaga hums in thought, folding his fingers together and resting his chin on top of his knuckles. He turns his head to the door, curious to see what would happen if he were to open it and allow you inside. But at the same time, he didn't want to risk a possible Curse or Curse User to have entry to his office, knowing that the action would carry its own unique set of consequences.  

"Is she human?" Satoru asks, breaking the otherwise tense silence in the office. Yaga's eyes flicker to the third-year, his eyes narrowing as he mulls the question over in his head. That specific thought had not crossed his mind yet – were you human? 

"Has she demonstrated anything that would indicate otherwise?" Yaga inquires. Satoru and Suguru exchange glances, thinking about your odd behavior and your inability to verbally communicate with either of them.  

"Well, she acted oddly as we spoke to her. And when she herself tried to speak back to us, it was almost like she wasn't able to," Suguru answers, recalling the way that you had opened your mouth to speak and winced at the realization that nothing would come out.  

Yaga nods thoughtfully, once again looking to the closed office door. He ponders his options, weighing them in his mind before he braces his palms against his legs, rising to his feet. He closes the distance to the door in two, long strides.  

Outside of the door, you turn your head to the sound of the office's door clicking open, revealing a man with tanned skin and buzzed dark brown hair. You tilt your head up at him, pushing yourself to your feet and hiding your hands behind your back, peering up at the man with curious eyes.  

"Hello there," Yaga says to you, trying his hardest not to sound intimidating. You blink at him, resembling a deer caught in a truck's headlights as you tilt your head to the opposite side.  

Deciding to try again, you part your lips to speak, wanting desperately to say something to the man that towers over you. But just like the previous two times, the only thing that comes from your throat is a hum – just like how Suguru had hummed at you before.  

Furrowing his eyebrows, Yaga glances down at your hands, watching as you lay your fingers against your throat, squeezing at it as if trying to force sounds out of it. He narrows his eyes at you, humming to himself before turning back to the office door. No, you weren't human. 

"Why don't you come with me?" Yaga offers, gesturing with his hand towards the office. You follow his gaze, peering inside to see both Suguru and Satoru sitting on two wooden chairs. You grin, promptly making your way inside and beelining for Suguru, lowering yourself to sit cross-legged in front of his chair. 

Yaga is only a step behind you, watching through narrowed eyes as you sit down in front of Suguru. With the way that you glance up at him, one might think that you were the third-year's obedient dog. Your eyes wait for him to notice you, lighting up the moment that his gaze meets yours – even if it's only for a fleeting moment.  

They know what you are, be very careful. 

You shake your head, ignoring the ringing in your ears and turning back to Yaga. The older man sits behind a grand oak desk, one that has papers scattered about its surface with scribbled lines drawn onto them. Suguru furrows hie eyebrows down at you, having noticed the flickering expression that had passed over your face – as if someone had blown into your ear and startled you.  

"Both of you keep an eye on her. You may tell Shoko as well, but try to keep her from the other students," Yaga instructs, receiving nods of agreement from both Satoru and Suguru. You turn your head halfway to Yaga, curious as to who this mysterious 'Shoko' was.  

Would they be another figure like Satoru? Or were they someone like Suguru? 

"We understand," Suguru says, then standing from his seat and offering his hand to you. You lay your palm against his, allowing him to lift you off of the ground with shocking strength.  

Satoru puffs out the air that he holds in his lungs, not reacting as his bangs fall back into place over his eyes, shielding his vision. You tilt your head at him, was he hiding his eyes on purpose? Or was there something else about him that you simply didn't know?  

"Come on, let's get you a uniform," Suguru says to you, smiling. You return his smile brightly, bounding after him as he makes his way to the door of the office. Satoru follows close behind, hunched over with his hands stuffed into his pockets. It was effortlessly clear that he was inconvenienced by your presence. 

You follow close behind Suguru as he leads you down a long, winding hallway. Besides the three of you, there isn't anyone else, which only piques your curiosity in who 'Shoko' was and who the 'other students' were. Deep down, you hoped that Shoko wasn't anything like Satoru – who continued to make it clear that he didn't like you one bit.  

You turn your head to sneak a glance at Satoru, taking a mental note of the way that his eyebrows pinch together and the way that a pout settles over his lips. He walks close to Suguru's side, similar to the way that you did.  

Suguru stops walking eventually, turning to peer down a small archway that leads to an outdoor area, one with the trees that matched those that you had walked past when Suguru and Satoru had led you up all of those stairs.  

"Stay here, I'll go and get Shoko," Suguru says, nodding at both you and Satoru before walking outside. You take a step after him, but Satoru is quick to stop you, his fingers closing around your wrist and tugging you back to your original position.  

"He said stay," Satoru says slowly, speaking to you as if you were a child who lacked understanding. You nod at him, pressing your lips firmly together and waiting patiently for Suguru to return.  

The dark-haired male returns a few seconds later, another figure following behind him. Their hair is short and brown, with a beauty mark just underneath their left eye. You peer curiously at them, watching as they shift the position of something in their mouth – a stick with a brown end.  

"Woah," the figure says, eyes raking up and down your figure before their eyes flicker between Suguru and Satoru, neither of which say anything in response. "Shoko, it's nice to meet you." 

You smile brightly at the figure, holding your hand out to her in the same way that Suguru had done to you so many times before. Shoko returns your smile with one of her own, soft and gentle; and her hand folds into yours, shaking it politely. 

"We've been tasked to keep an eye on her. She isn't allowed to be around any of the other students, obviously with us being the only exception," Suguru explains, stowing his hands away in his pockets, "at least, that's what Yaga told us." 

"Babysitting duty," Satoru says in a sour tone, scrunching his nose in an expression of disgust as he glances to Shoko. She reaches a hand out, swiping at the back of his head and rolling her eyes at the dramatic cry that he lets out.  

"You're such a jerk," Shoko mutters through her teeth, then turning to you, "don't mind him, yeah?" 

You flash her a closed-eye smile, nodding in agreement.  

< … > 

"Go on and try again, there's nothing wrong with trying," Suguru says with a reassuring smile, finding himself biting back a chuckle at the frustrated expression that passes over your face. You puff your cheeks out, annoyed at the fact that every time that you tried to speak...nothing happened.  

You inhale deeply, puffing your chest out and holding the air in your lungs before forcing your lips apart, trying once again to say one simple word.  

Ignoring the small burn in your throat, you screw your eyes shut. 

"Hello." 

Suguru smiles, his eyes crinkled at the corners as you open your eyes again, staring at him like a deer in headlights. "See? I told you that you could do it." 

You grin widely, springing up from your place in front of Suguru and barely containing the excitement that shoots through you. You curl your hands into gleeful fists as you continue happily dancing around, earning a proud chuckle from Suguru. 

"Hello," you repeat, shocked at the sound of your own voice. It didn't sound anything like the little whispers in your head. Those were raspy, gravelly voices that felt like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. Your voice was soft, quiet – a stark contrast. 

"Hi," Suguru returns, smiling again at you as you seat yourself back down in front of him. "Now, what's your name?" 

You purse your lips, humming in thought before bubbling, "(Y/N)!" 

Suguru nods, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle your hair. You lean into the touch, smiling brightly and repeating your name to him again.  

Your ears perk at the sound of two pairs of footsteps, turning to see Satoru and Shoko walking into the otherwise empty classroom – presumably looking for both yourself and Suguru. Satoru says nothing to either of you whereas Shoko waves politely, shooting you a kind smile.  

"Hi!" you say excitedly. The sound of your voice causes Shoko's eyes to widen, the cigarette between her lips falling to the floor in front of her. The ghost of her smile returns, spreading across her face as she kneels in front of you.  

"Well would you look at that? You found your voice," Shoko compliments, patting your head in a fashion similar to the way that Suguru had. You smile at the display of affection, leaning closer to Shoko and then glancing to Satoru, hoping for that same kind of praise.  

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly, unfolding the arms that he had previously crossed over his chest. "Good job (Y/N)." 

You smile, scrunching your nose up at him. 

< ... > 

"There you go. Now, when you go to punch someone, tuck your thumb inward," Suguru instructs, lifting his hand and folding his own thumb inward, then gesturing to you to mimic the action.  

"In," you repeat, holding up your hand and making a show of tucking your thumb inward. Suguru nods at you, then gesturing to the punching dummy that he had nicked from one of the training rooms in order to help you with your self-defense.  

It had been six months since Suguru first stumbled upon you at the stairs of Jujutsu Tech, and in those six months he still didn't have an answer to the question of who you really were or where you truly came from.  

Sure, you looked human enough – even though the stitches that littered your body could tell a completely different story depending on the author. But even with those stitches, you acted like a constantly excitable child, always wanting to be at Suguru's side and wanting to be involved in everything that he did.  

To him, it was endearing, albeit very confusing at the same time.  

You turn to the punching dummy in front of you, curling your hands into fists and making sure to tuck your thumbs inward just like you had been told. You throw a punch at the dummy, smiling as it wobbles backward before returning to its original position.  

"Good?" Your body turns to glance at Suguru, already feeling your senses tingling at the proud smile that settles itself on Suguru's lips.  

"Good job (Y/N)." 

"Yeah, you're doin' great," Shoko agrees as she walks onto the training field, smiling and returning your hug as you rush to throw your arms around her. "Yeah, yeah, I missed you too." 

"Where's 'Toru?" you inquire curiously, tilting your head as you realize Satoru's absence. Shoko glances over her shoulder, furrowing her eyebrows and letting out an exasperated sigh through her nose.  

"He was supposed to be right behind me. Guess he got sidetracked," Shoko says offhandedly, though she regrets her tone upon seeing the fall in your expression. Your shoulders slump, eyes casting themselves to the ground as you take a step back from her.  

"Does 'Toru like me?"  

Suguru and Shoko exchange knowing glances with one another. Neither of them answer you quickly, which only adds to the feeling of dejection.  

Shoko lifts her hand, resting it reassuringly on your shoulder and sending you a comforting smile. "Sure he does, he just has a weird way of showin' it." 

All you could do is nod in response. 

< … >  

"A mission?" You can't help but tilt your head at Suguru, who only nods at you as he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves. He chuckles, then turning completely to you. 

“Yeah, Yaga will sometimes send us out on missions. We go out to a given location and exorcise the curses that reside there,” Suguru explains, watching as you mull his words over in your head.  

Curses? Exorcise? 

“What’s a curse?” you ask, following Suguru as he begins to walk towards the entrance of Jujutsu Tech. He turns to glance at you over his shoulder, feeling himself smile as you spread your arms out to balance yourself, having accidentally rolled your ankle while following him.  

“A curse is—“ 

“There you are Suguru! I’m offended, you almost left without me,” Satoru says loudly from behind you, dramatically wiping away tears that definitely don’t exist.  

You turn and smile as the snowy-haired male approaches both you and Suguru, throwing his arm over Suguru’s shoulder and sparing you a half-assed glance. You smile and wave, still polite as ever.  

“Are you going too?” you turn to Satoru, “Yaga said that I can go too!” 

Satoru forces himself to smile, left eye twitching in annoyance as he turns his head to look at you. “Joy.” 

“Don’t be like that Satoru,” Suguru scolds, whacking a hand against the back of Satoru’s head. The latter lets out a yelp, cupping the back of his head and shooting Suguru a half-assed glare — one that is immediately reciprocated by the raven-haired male.  

You smile lightly at both of the boy’s antics, taking two steps to stand at Suguru’s left side, then turning your head to flash that same smile at Satoru. 

For a moment, something inside of Satoru softens. But only for a moment. 

“Ready to go?” you say to both of the third-years, smiling and folding your hands behind your back as your gaze flickers between the two.  

“Stay close, okay?” Suguru says to you, his eyes softening as his gaze falls on you. You smile, nodding your head at him.  

“Okay!” 

< … >  

So that’s what an exorcism is. 

You watch through curious eyes as Suguru holds what used to be a curse in his hands, fingers curled around the small, swirling ball. He lifts it up, eyes examining it for a moment before he notices your curious gaze.  

“That’s…what a curse is?” you say, pointing at it and scrunching your nose. Suguru nods his head, opening his mouth and promptly absorbing the curse — just as he always had done.  

Your eyes widen as you watch him consume the ball, eyebrows lifting to create a worried indent in the skin of your forehead. Your hands shoot out, taking hold of either side of his face and tilting it this way and that.  

“What did you do that for?!” you squeal, squeezing Suguru’s face and staring worriedly at him. He chuckles, unable to answer with the force at which you hold his cheeks.  

“It’s okay (Y/N),” he says, voice slightly muddled, “it’s just my technique.” 

“Technique?” you echo. 

He nods, adjusting his jaw once your hands release him. He smiles again at you, the sight slightly reassuring you.  

“Sorcerers have what are called Cursed Techniques, mine just so happens to be the absorption of curses,” Suguru explains, smacking his lips as a disgusted expression falls over his face.  

You tilt your head at him, pressing two fingers against your throat before your gaze returns to his facial expression — how his eyebrows are slightly pinched together, how his eyes water and how his jaw momentarily sets itself in place.  

“Not good?” you whisper to him, as if asking him about a secret that only he knew the answer to. Suguru’s eyes flicker to you, his gaze softening.  

“No,” he answers simply, shaking his head at you. You pout, bottom lip jutting out before you reach out and pat his shoulder — similar to the way that he would pat either your head or shoulder as a means of comfort.  

“Why do you do it then?”  

Suguru pauses, his hand coming up to cover your own. His fingers affectionately squeeze your own, lips turning upward in a smile just as soft as his actions.  

“It’s a curse (Y/N). We’re meant to exorcise them,” Suguru reiterates, smacking his lips together in an attempt to rid his tongue of the taste left behind by the consumed curse.  

You hum, glancing down at the stitches that crawl up your arms. We’re meant to do it. We’re meant to do it.  

But why are they meant to do it? 

“So…curses are bad?” you turn your head to Suguru, falling into step with him as he glances down at his phone. Satoru must have texted him regarding the curse that he was meant to exorcise. 

Suguru hums in agreement, stowing his phone away into his pocket and casting you a sideways glance. He makes a mental note of the conflicted expression on your face, eyebrows pinched together and eyes slightly narrowed.  

“Yeah, they pose as a danger to people that can’t see them. So us Jujutsu Sorcerers are sent to exorcise them,” Suguru explains, reaching behind him to fold his fingers into your own. Your lips, which usually turn upward at any given affection, remain pressed together in a thin line.  

Your eyes widen for a moment, an expression of realization flickering over your face. You stop walking beside Suguru, not reacting as his hand tugs at yours, silently telling you to continue walking.  

“…they pose as a danger to people that can’t see them.” 

Wait a minute. 

“What are you doing out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?” Suguru says gently to the little girl standing in front of him, her arms wound tightly around a small stuffed rabbit.  

She sniffles, using the hand that doesn’t hold her rabbit to wipe the stray tears that roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she sobs.  

Suguru sighs, an exasperated puff of breath through his nose as he places a hand on top of the girl’s head, rubbing her hair comfortingly.  

“It’s alright.” 

Curiously, you kneel down beside Suguru, staring at the girl with your head tilted to the side. You lift a finger, pointing at the rabbit that the girl clutches to her chest.  

“I like your toy,” you say to her with a smile, mimicking the way that Suguru had smiled at the girl in order to prove that he wasn’t there to hurt her.  

The girl only sniffles again, her gaze never once leaving Suguru. Curiously, the raven-haired male flicks his eyes to glance at you — had the girl maybe not heard you? 

“I like your rabbit,” Suguru repeats, gesturing with his head towards the toy clutched in the girl’s arms. The girl smiles gently, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she hugs her rabbit a little tighter. 

“Thanks Mister.” 

You pause, blinking. The girl continues to smile at Suguru, forgetting about any and all of the fear that she had been feeling just seconds before.  

She couldn’t see you. 

Non-sorcerers can’t see Curses. Did that mean that…? 

“Hey…(Y/N), you alright?” Suguru asks, his voice filtering its way back into your ears. You turn quickly to him, blinking away the last remnants of your trance.  

“Yeah! I’m okay!” you answer with a bubbly smile, though that thought lingers in the back of your mind — what were you? 

< … > 

“Have any of you seen (Y/N)? I wanted to practice a Reverse Curse Technique with her,” Shoko shifts her cigarette from the left side of her mouth to her right, peering curiously at Suguru and Satoru.  

Satoru shrugs, sipping at the can of cola in his hand and glancing at Suguru, who also shrugs.  

“Lovely, you’re both so useful,” Shoko rolls her eyes, turning on her heel and departing from the room. She wanders down the hall, passing by your dorm and stopping as she notices the door had been left open.  

Curiously, she peers inside, shocked to see you sitting in the center of the room. Surrounding your crossed legs are various textbooks from taken from the library, all of them open to pictures of various curses — ranging from Second-Grade to Special-Grade.  

Your eyes roam over the sketched pictures, fingers running over a particularly nasty looking Special-Grade curse that looks oddly similar to a disfigured human — a woman to be exact. You tilt your head at the image of her, her arms were stitched in a similar fashion to your own, but yet you both looked drastically different.  

“(Y/N)? What’re you doin’ in here?” Shoko smiles softly at you as she enters, knocking once to alert you to her presence. You turn quickly to her, slamming the textbook shut and looking at her as if you had been caught doing something that you weren’t meant to be doing.  

“Hi Sho’!” you say affectionately, standing from your place in the center of the room and brushing your hands down the front of your pants. She eyes you curiously, humming to herself before removing her cigarette from between her lips, puffing out one last cloud of smoke before she walks to the window of your dormitory, then disposing of her finished cigarette.  

She tilts her head, noticing your avoidance of her question, “Everything okay?” 

You nod, humming at her and folding your hands behind your back, forcing your gaze to focus on her and not wander down to the closed textbook by your foot. You swallow the growing lump in your throat, wincing as it momentarily gets stuck — hopefully Shoko wouldn’t notice.  

“Yeah! I was just reading, Sugu said it was a good way to kill time!” you answer with your usual bubbly smile, but Shoko doesn’t fail to notice how it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding something, and it wasn’t very subtle. 

“Oh cool, what’re you reading?” Shoko inquires, tilting her head and lowering herself to the floor, plucking one of the closed textbooks off of the ground and flipping through it. She makes a mental note of the way that your expression falls, like a child who had been caught doing something that they shouldn’t.  

“Reading about curses, those thingies that Suguru and ‘Toru went to exorcise,” you answer honestly, taking the textbook from her and opening to the page that you had been staring at, turning it towards her and smiling again — hoping again that she wouldn’t notice the way that you force your lips upward.  

“Oh, that’s a Special-Grade,” Shoko comments, smiling at you as you turn the textbook back around, glancing down at the sketched picture. “They’re tough ones.” 

“Stronger than Sugu and ‘Toru?” 

Shoko shakes her head, chuckling breathily, “No, not stronger than those two idiots.” 

You glance down at the picture, at the stitches on the curse’s arms and the way that its eyes crinkle in a sadistic, maniacal smile. You tilt your head — she looked a little bit like you. 

“Are curses bad?” you glance up at Shoko, who stares curiously back at you. “Are all of them bad?” 

“Well, yeah. They wanna hurt the innocent, and that’s why we exorcise them,” Shoko explains, following you to the floor as you sit down, crossing your legs. Your eyes wander back down to the sketched image, eyebrows pinching together.  

“But what if a curse doesn’t hurt people?” 

“That’s practically unheard of,” Shoko comments, turning to you, “a lot of the curses we exorcise have already hurt innocent bystanders.” 

You nod your head, though the action feels forced. You hadn’t hurt anyone…did that make you a bad curse? 

< … > 

Go away. 

Go away. 

GO THE FUCK AWAY. 

You step back from the now broken mirror, chest rising and falling in heaving breaths as you glance down at your reddened arms, nail marks dragged against your skin in angry red lines.  

Eyes that scream tales of hatred flicker up to your awaiting reflection, the broken glass giving your body a fragmented look that only adds to your disgust of the stitches that hold you together. 

You were the same as that broken mirror — fragmented and messily put back together by hands that weren’t your own.  

Your shoulders continue to rise and fall in tune with your heavy intakes of air, hands curled into white-knuckled fists with blood dripping down the crevices of your skin. You bled the same as they did, and yet you were still so drastically different. 

“Monster,” you whisper to your reflection, glancing back at it and reeling your arm back, preparing to strike at the broken mirror again. 

You are no monster. 

You pause, fist hanging limply in midair as you stare at your eyes. Something in you tells you to complete the action, but you don’t.  

“Curse.” Shakily, you lift a finger to point at the fragmented reflection that stares back at you.  

That’s better. 

You glance down at the reddened lines that now adorn your arms, nail marks left behind by angered scratching fueled by the sight of your stitches.  

You weren’t like Suguru or Satoru — they were human. 

I’m not human. 

Now show them what a true curse is. 

< … > 

"Another Special-Grade? Honestly, can they just not find qualified sorcerers to deal with these things?" Satoru complains loudly, his eyes momentarily falling shut as Shoko slips his darkened sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.  

Suguru bites back the laugh that bubbles at the back of his throat, his gaze flickering to watch the dramatics of his best friend – which has now resulted in the snowy-haired male lying flat on the floor of the gymnasium, his arms spread at his sides like a starfish.  

"Supposedly, we're the only two that are qualified enough to take on Special-Grades. You know that Satoru," Suguru reminds him, kneeling down on the floor and sitting cross-legged beside Satoru, who blows a puff of air from his parted lips and groans as his bangs fall back over his eyes.  

"Bullshit," Satoru mutters, pushing himself up onto his elbows and turning his head just enough to glance at Suguru. 

"Come on, we should leave now before Yaga gets upset." 

Satoru groans again, standing with Suguru's help and glancing at Shoko – who is currently lighting what the males believe to be her fourth cigarette of the day, though neither of them comment on it.  

"Can one of you check on (Y/N) before you go? Haven't seen her," Shoko mutters, struggling momentarily with her lighter. The moment that the end of her cigarette is lit, she takes a deep inhale, then releasing the small cloud of smoke in front of her and waving it away quickly.  

Suguru's eyebrows pinch together, "What are you talking about?" 

Shoko pauses, she hadn't told either of them about the state that she had found you in that day; surrounded by meaningless textbooks and looking at the pictures as if they had resonated with you on a spiritual level.  

"Just," Shoko pauses, already lifting her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, pinching it, "check on her, yeah?" 

Satoru opens his mouth to protest, but Suguru is quick to slap the palm of his hand against his friend's parted lips, effectively silencing him.  

"Sure thing," Suguru answers with a closed-eye smile, moving his hand from Satoru's mouth at the feeling of the center of his palm being licked.  

The walk to your dormitory from the gymnasium isn't very long, or at least, it wouldn't have been as long as it was if Satoru wasn't loudly complaining and dragging his feet. As much as Suguru wants to spin on his heel and tell Satoru to just stop, he restrains himself – focused instead on getting to you and figuring out the source of Shoko's concern.  

He rounds the corner to the student dormitories, his eyebrows pinching together as he notices your door open. Satoru pauses as well, resisting the urge that he has to throw out a sarcastic quip.  

"(Y/N)?" Suguru calls into the empty room, taking a step over the threshold and peering curiously around your dormitory's interior. The first thing that he notices is the overturned furniture, then the scattered pages of various textbooks, and lastly the broken glass that litters the floor. What the hell happened?  

"What the hell happened here?" Satoru asks, looking around and lifting his leg to be sure that he doesn't step on any broken glass. Suguru exhales shakily, already turning on his heel and leaving the room – now he understood all of Shoko's concern. 

"Come on, we're finding (Y/N)." 

< … > 

"No, wait, please!" 

You tilt your head, eyes widening momentarily as the man in front of you begins to expand, his eyes bulging from his head as blood spills from his lash line like tears. His hands lift shakily, fingers digging into his hair before his head promptly explodes.  

His body tilts backward, falling with a lifeless thud.  

See? Isn't it entertaining?  

You stare down at the headless corpse, kneeling down and poking at the blood that dribbles down the man's neck. The liquid clings to your skin, the sight bringing a disgusted curl to your lips as you quickly straighten yourself, standing.  

You turn on your heel, exiting the alleyway that you had cornered the man in, wandering down the busy street and listening to the buzz of the pedestrians that surround you. You turn your head this way and that, simply taking in the simplicity of the lives that humans lead.  

As you continue to walk down the street, you find yourself smiling at the fact that nobody pays you any mind – not that they had the ability to. You were unseen for as long as you wished to be unseen, creeping up on whoever you wished with the same stealth as a prowling cat.  

You should get that one next.  

You lift your head to look ahead, eyes landing on a young girl wandering the streets, her eyes bright and glittering as she skips along. Her arms are wound tightly around a stuffed animal, just like the other young girl that had been unable to see you on that mission with Suguru.  

A smirk curls the corner of your lips upwards, eyes crinkling at the corners as you slowly begin to stalk your way towards the young girl. She continues walking, her little pigtails swaying with each step of her feet. You reach a hand out, the tips of your fingers just barely grazing the back of her head. 

"(Y/N)." 

You pause, eyes wide as you lift your head to stare ahead. The young girl turns, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she stares right through you, her eyes focused instead on the raven-haired male that stands behind you.  

Suguru pauses, watching you with a tilt to his head that simply asks, "What are you doing?" His body language otherwise is relaxed, showing you that he was of no threat to you. He didn't want you to think that he was going to hurt you.  

You don't turn to face Suguru, instead reaching a hand out and laying your palm flat against the top of the girl's head. She gives no reaction, her eyes still focused on the male who had called her by the wrong name.  

Suguru watches through horrified eyes as the girl promptly expands, her voice catching in her throat. Her parted lips only release a high-pitched squeak before the upper half of her body explodes.  

Her blood spatters against the pavement in front of her, the lower half of her body tilting backward before it falls to the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.  

The passerby that walk down the street pause, and it only takes one person screaming to send the surrounding pedestrians into a state of unbridled panic. 

Suguru watches, his eyes wide as those around him scramble for safety, not knowing what was going on or who had been the cause of the carnage that lay in the middle of the sidewalk. His body stands as stiff as a board, eyes flickering momentarily down to the girl who lays in the sidewalk.  

“(Y/N),” he begins, taking a brave step towards you and reaching for your wrist. Your eyes flicker down to his outstretched fingers, quickly avoiding him and turning around to blankly glare at him.  

It was a look that he had never seen on your face before, hatred swirling in your eyes and a disgusted scowl curling the corner of your lip upward. You glared at him as if he were the scum of the Earth — devoid of all of the warmth that you once held for him.  

“What? Are you going to exorcise me too?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, hair falling over your shoulders as you turn completely to face him.  

Suguru furrows his eyebrows together, staring at you as if you had somehow sprouted another head. Exorcise you? How would he even be able to do that? 

He doesn’t know what you are, remind him. 

Your lips peel back in an angered growl as you turn your head to catch a glance at the young girl lying on the sidewalk. Her blood had already somewhat dried up, now caked on top of the sandy brown tiles of the pavement.  

“I did what the other curses do,” you murmur, eyes flickering down to your now bloodied hands. This very time yesterday you would have scrunched your nose in disgust and tried to scrub every last droplet of blood from your palms.  

But now? 

Now you looked down at the blood like it was your own personal golden trophy — a reminder of what you had become and the persona that you had adopted. If you were considered a curse, then you were going to show everyone a true curse…even Suguru. 

“Does that mean that now you’re going to exorcise me?”  

Suguru pauses, swallowing the growing lump in his throat and glancing at you with an expression that is an odd mixture of confusion and concern.  

“(Y/N), what are you talking about? You aren’t a curse,” Suguru says, his sentence momentarily broken by a breathy chuckle. You grit your teeth, shaking your head at him.  

He doesn’t understand…make him understand.  

“Only you, ‘Toru, and Sho’ can see me,” you point out, “nobody else can.” 

“That’s not true. Yaga and—“ his voice trails off. You nod knowingly, smirking as the realization finally dawns on the male standing in front of you.  

“And no one else,” you finish for him, taking a step towards him. Then you take another, and another, and suddenly your shoulder is brushing against his as you move to walk past him. “You don’t find that odd?” 

Suguru turns quickly, already wanting to reach out for you and knock some kind of sense into you. But you’re much swifter than he is, and you dodge the hand that reaches out for you. 

“But you aren’t like the other curses.” 

You smirk, gesturing with only your eyes down to the girl that lays dead in the middle of the sidewalk.  

“Is that not what other curses do?” you jab a thumb over your shoulder, reminding Suguru of what lies behind you. “Is that not why you exorcise them?” 

Suguru pauses, once again swallowing the lump in his throat and forcing his gaze to focus on you — trying to forget what lies just over your shoulder. He didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t accept it, but you were making it abundantly clear that you held not an ounce of remorse.  

You were a curse. And he was a Sorcerer. 

What the fuck does he do now? 

< … > 

Suguru Geto —> Satoru Gojo 

You need to get down to ******. Something’s REALLY wrong with (Y/N).  

Satoru Gojo --> Suguru Geto 

What do you mean?  

Suguru Geto --> Satoru Gojo 

Just get down here.  

Satoru Gojo --> Suguru Geto 

Alright, I'm on my way.  

"Suguru! What's going on?" Satoru waves his hand in the air as he slows to a stop at Suguru's side, peering curiously at his best friend through the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Suguru stands quickly, not bothering to answer before he's sweeping past Satoru and leading him in the direction that you had walked off in.  

Curiously, Satoru follows, falling quickly into step with Suguru as both sorcerers walk down the pedestrian-filled sidewalk. The former doesn't fail to notice the way that Suguru's eyes dart around the various shops and scan the various faces that happen to pass by. The only question that he had was; why? 

"Are you – uh – gonna tell me what's going on?" Satoru finally breaks the silence between himself and Suguru after they had been walking for a good five minutes in nothing but an awkward, tense silence.  

Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, voice heavy when he finds it, "Just...something's wrong with (Y/N)." 

"Yeah," Satoru replies with a roll of his eyes, "I gathered that much." 

"No, I mean really wrong. She isn't human Satoru," Suguru says gravely, already feeling himself shudder at the realization that you were nothing like what he had originally believed. But after you told him that nobody beside himself and the others at Jujutsu Tech could see you, everything quickly fell into place.  

"What do you mean she isn't human?" Satoru echoes, tilting his head curiously as Suguru stops at the entrance point of a darkened alleyway. Brown eyes stare quietly down the length of the alleyway, focusing on something before Suguru takes a brave step forward with Satoru following close behind.  

"I mean that she's a curse," Suguru says finally, turning his head to glance at Satoru.  

The snowy-haired male pauses, standing as still as stone at the entrance of the alleyway. His jaw is slack, but he's quick to snap it back into place. "A curse?" 

Suguru doesn't answer, not that he really needs to. But Satoru wants him to, he wants an explanation – a play-by-play of just how it came out that you weren't human. If you were really a curse, how come his Six Eyes had never told him that? What about you made them falter? 

Or maybe...maybe they hadn't faltered. Had Satoru ignored his Six Eyes when they told him that you weren't human when he first met you? 

"Let's just find her and get her back to Jujutsu High before anything happens," Suguru says as firmly as he can, though Satoru doesn't fail to notice the slight waver to his best friend's voice. He had cared about you from the moment that his eyes fell on you, tucking you underneath his wing and shielding you from the uglier parts of the Jujutsu world.  

And yet, here he was, still protecting you even when you were the one thing that he had sworn to protect other people from.  

That was the difference between Satoru and Suguru. Suguru would protect you even if you were digging a knife into his chest. He would protect you even if it meant turning the entire world against him. Satoru wouldn't. 

If he found you before Suguru, he would exorcise you on the spot – with absolutely no remorse.  

Because at the end of the day, if you were a curse, then you were no better than every other curse that he had seen. You were a danger, a hazard, a posing threat to all non-Jujutsu Sorcerers. It didn't matter what connection he had to you or what relationship he had with you; you were to be exorcised.  

"Why don't we just exorcise her?" Satoru suggests, indifference seeping into his tone. Suguru turns quickly, looking at Satoru as if he had just been stabbed.  

"Are you serious? Satoru, we can't just--" 

"She's a curse Suguru. It'll be the exact same as any other mission that we've gone on," Satoru points out, ignoring Suguru's pointed glare as the pair wanders further into the alleyway. "She can't be that strong, you've never trained her with the use of Cursed Energy." 

Suguru remains silent, looking around the nooks and crannies of the alleyway as if you would be hiding in any of them. Satoru follows closely behind, though he doesn't put as much effort into finding you.  

"Don't rope her into the same group as those other curses," Suguru says, turning and sending Satoru a warning glare, "she's nothing like them." 

From somewhere deep in the alleyway, both of the males hear a drawn out "aww".  

Suguru turns, eyes widening as he tries to locate where the sound had come from. He knew that voice, he knew that voice, of course he knew that voice.  

Satoru pauses, the arms that were once crossed over his chest unfolding as he follows Suguru's gaze, also trying to locate where the sound had come from. A whisper in his ear tells him to look upward, and so he does.  

There, sitting in the darkness, is you. Your legs dangle over the fire escape of the accompanying apartment building, arm lifting in a friendly wave as you gaze down at both Suguru and Satoru – both of whom remain silent at the sight of you.  

"Did you both come here to exorcise me?" Your voice is as sickly sweet as it always had been, though this time it's tinged with a second emotion, one that neither male is able to correctly put their finger on. Was it malice? Or was it a twisted sense of joy over being found? 

"No (Y/N). We came here to help you--" 

"No you didn't!" you're quick to cut him off, standing from your place on the fire exit and smiling widely. "I just heard you both. I may be a curse, but I'm not completely dense." 

Neither of them answer you, but you can see that they desperately want to. You wonder if they pause because they don't know what to say or if what they want to say would only fuel your already burning anger.  

"(Y/N)--" 

"How will you do it?"  

Suguru pauses, staring up at you. He swallows – he knows what you're referring to. You're wondering if he'll absorb you just like he would any other curse, or if he would exorcise you in a more traditional matter. You wonder if your off-colored blood would stain his hands and if he would stare at it the same way that you had stared at the young girl's blood on your own hands.  

Satoru looks down at his feet, ignoring the uncomfortable tingle in his bones as his nails dig into the palms of his hands. He grits his teeth, willing himself to remain silent even though he so desperately wants to bite out an angered comment to you. He wants to yell at you for deceiving him, for making him believe that you were human – that you could be trusted.  

And oddly enough, he doesn't. His urge to remain silent wins, and so stay silent is exactly what he does.  

"(Y/N), I'm not going to exorcise you," Suguru says reassuringly, trying his best to coax you down from your place above him. You tilt your head at him, eyes sparkling as you silently will him to continue. Maybe his argument would be good enough, but it would most likely be the exact opposite.  

"Yes you are," you bite back, tone bitter and dead. Suddenly you aren't as sweet as you were before, replaced instead by a persona that neither Suguru nor Satoru had seen before. Whatever curse you were, you had discovered it, and you were embracing it in a tight hug that nobody would be able to pry you from.  

That's right, remind them. 

"I'm just wondering how you're going to do it." 

Suguru shakes his head again, his voice catching in his throat. He knows that he's going to have to exorcise you, not even because of protocol but because of the safety of every non-Jujutsu Sorcerer. Though he doesn't want to believe it, anyone could see as plain as day, you were dangerous.  

You had killed a young girl without so much as a blink of your eye. Her blood on your hands meant nothing to you, you had glanced down at your stained palms with a glint of interest instead of disgust. You looked down at her body like it was nothing but a squashed ant on the ground.  

Who was to say that you wouldn't kill again with that same lack of remorse? 

"I'm not going to exorcise you," Suguru says again. You tilt your head, you know that he doesn't sound sincere, but at the same time he does. "I...can't exorcise you." 

You smile, eyes folding at the corners as smile lines indent your forehead. You stand from your place atop the fire escape, though you make no notion to make your way down to where both sorcerers stand. It's tempting, you could fight them and prove your strength; but it would most likely end with you being exorcised anyway.  

They were Special-Grade sorcerers after all, and you had no idea what grade level you fell into. All you knew was that you had the ability to make people disappear...or rather...make portions of them disappear into bloody heaps.  

"Suguru," Satoru says warningly, already readying his body for a flurry of attacks. If he had to fight you, he wouldn't hold back. To him, you were nothing but a curse, but this time, he knew your name.  

"Wait." 

Satoru pauses, watching as Suguru takes a brave step towards the fire escape, looking up its ladder to maintain eye contact with you. You peer curiously down at him, trusting him.  

His heart thuds in his ears as you slowly descend the ladder, pausing just a few steps above Suguru and glancing down your nose at him. Your hands hold the metal steps of the ladder, fingers curled tightly around the rusted metal as you remain silent, keeping Suguru's gaze.  

"You haven't answered me," you say quietly, your voice bordering on a whisper, "how are you going to exorcise me?" 

Suguru shakes his head again, blinking away the tears that cling to his waterline – a result of him keeping his eyes open for a prolonged period of time. He knows that he has to, but he doesn't want to.  

Was this the sacrifice of a Jujutsu Sorcerer? 

He's still going to exorcise you.  

You watch through widened eyes as Suguru's hand lays flat against your chest, fingers bunching up the front of your shirt and tugging you forward roughly. Before you're able to react, everything goes dark. Your vision closes it on itself, the last thing you see being Suguru's tear-filled eyes staring back at you, a desperate "I'm sorry" caught in his throat – never to be uttered.  

Satoru lifts his head at the sudden silence that falls over the alleyway, eyes widening as he notices the ball curled between Suguru's fingers. You're no longer standing on the ladder of the fire escape. 

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.  

"Suguru," Satoru begins, taking a hesitant step towards Suguru. The raven-haired male only shakes his head, glancing down at the ball in his hand before he hesitantly opens his jaw. He wonders if maybe it wouldn't taste like a wet rag, but he knows that it will. All curses do.  

< … > 

"Hey, there you are," Shoko says with a smile, shifting her cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other as she walks to Suguru's side, hoisting herself up to sit on the windowsill in front of him. He turns to her, returning her softened smile with one of his own.  

"Sorry, was I keeping you waiting?"  

Shoko shakes her head, pinching her cigarette between her fingers and blowing out a small cloud of smoke. She turns her head to glance out of the window, squinting at the sunlight that filters in through the glass panes. "No, I figured you wouldn’t be keen on hanging out with everyone just yet." 

Suguru hums, taking the cigarette that Shoko offers him, its end still burning with that orange hue that he had always found beautiful. He takes it between his lips, inhaling and ignoring the burn that the smoke in his lungs gives off.  

"Just don't shut us out for good, yeah?" Shoko glances at Suguru, eyebrows raising. He chuckles at her, smoke pouring from his parted lips as he returns the cigarette to her fingers. "She was just as important to us as she was to you." 

Suguru sighs, through his nose, turning his head to glance out of the window. On one of the branches of a nearby tree, a crow rests comfortably, its head tilted to absorb the evening sun, soaking it in. It shakes off its feathers, then turning to look through the window, eyes locking with those of Suguru's.  

He stares back at it, blinking once before he returns to reality, half-listening to the story that Shoko had been telling him.  

"Listen to me for a minute," Shoko says, reaching a hand out and comfortingly squeezing Suguru's knee. He gazes quietly at her, wondering what it is that she wanted to say. "(Y/N) meant a lot to all of us. But you did the right thing in exorcising her. Who knows what she would've done if we just let her walk around freely?" 

"Was it my fault that she turned out the way that she did?" 

Shoko shakes her head quickly, throwing her cigarette down onto the floor and turning her foot to extinguish it with her toe. Her lips turn upward in another soft smile, this one reassuring.  

"If anything, it was the textbook's fault that she turned out the way that she did," Shoko says, her voice a mixture of serious and teasing.  

She notices the way that Suguru's expression doesn't change. His eyebrows are still pinched together in a way that displays his guilt – his regret over not being able to help you. His eyes are hollow, sullen. His irises speak a thousand words even though his lips utter nothing.  

She notices the way that his hands subconsciously clench into white-knuckled fists at the mere mention of your name. He had cared so much about you, in his eyes you could do no wrong. But to then have you become what you had...she couldn't imagine the pain that Suguru felt in his chest when she whispered your name.  

"Geto," she says, smiling as his head snaps to force his gaze on her, "it was never your fault that (Y/N) became what she did." 

The hand that rests on his knee pats it once, twice, three times. Just enough to comfort Suguru enough for him to momentarily forget about the guilt he felt over absorbing you.  

"We can remember her for what she was before...everything. There's nothing wrong with that." 

Suguru nods, smiling at the memory of your warmth and joy. How pure it was, how it radiated off of you as if you were the embodiment of the sun. In his memory, you weren't a bloodthirsty curse... 

...you were always going to be (Y/N). 

Geto w an S/O that’s extremely anxious and overthinks a lot, needs lots of validation and just gets so tired from having such bad anxiety. not a “i can’t stand up for myself” anxiety but a “what if that look means he’s mad at me” anxiety. i just think he’d be so caring and patient with her, gentle n soft and puts her mind at ease with careful dominance. especially if his S/O is always taking care of him and others first.

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Warning(s) - mature themes, Geto is so sickeningly sweet it's insane

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Suguru never failed to notice the dimness of your eyes as the sun set over Jujutsu High. 

Just like the rising sun, your eyes were bright and lively in the mornings when you greeted him; lips turned upward in that smile he adored kissing and eyes crinkled with smile lines indenting the softness of your face.  

But throughout the course of the day, while exorcising curses and assisting Shoko with tending to the injured, Suguru also noticed how the light in your eyes would slowly extinguish, like a candle left out on someone's bedside table.  

It felt as if you were at everyone's beck and call.  

If Gojo needed help with an assignment, you were there. If Utahime begged you to come on a mission with her instead of Mei Mei, you were there. If Shoko needed a light and a shoulder to lean on, you were there. If Mei Mei needed help covering her bill when you found yourselves out, you were there. If Nanami needed help before a mission, you were there.  

But at the end of the day, Suguru had to ask – who was there for you? 

Who was there for you when you returned from tougher missions? Who was there for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on? Who was there for you when you needed an extra body to hold at night?  

Who was there for you in the way that you were there for others? 

Well...he was. 

"Oh, there you are angel. I was looking everywhere for you," Suguru says with a smile, arms laden with white plastic bags from the convenience store. His eyes quickly take in the sight of your face, smile fading as he notices the noticeable bags beneath your eyes and the dulled color of your irises.  

"Were you?" you mutter offhandedly, leaning against the doorframe of your dormitory and willing yourself to smile at him – though it doesn't quite reach your eyes the way that Suguru was used to.  

He nods at you, silently stepping past you as your body shifts to permit him entry into your dorm. Your eyes flicker curiously down to the bags that he holds, but you say nothing to him as he sets them down on the countertop of your dormitory's kitchenette.  

"I got you some of your favorites," he pauses to remove the snacks mentioned, shaking the bags at you and smiling, "and I picked up a movie that we could watch together." 

You press your lips together to suppress the yawn that claws at the base of your throat, wanting nothing more than to curl into your bedsheets and simply vanish. But at the same time, Suguru's voice was doing wonders to drown out the cold whispers that lingered in the back of your mind.  

You continue to keep your eyes on Suguru, watching as he removes bags of chips, candy, and soda bottles from the plastic bags, laying them out over the countertop and smiling as he points each one out to you. Sure, his voice was a muffled buzz to your ears – but it was better than listening to whispers of the worst "what if's". 

"Angel?" Suguru turns to you, eyebrows pinching together in worry at the faraway look that had glazed over your eyes. You quickly shake your head, bringing yourself back to reality with a quiet hum, paired then with a flicker of your gaze. "Are you feeling alright?" 

"Fine," you quickly reply, clearing your throat and wringing your hands out in front of you like a wet towel, "I'm fine." 

Suguru closes the small distance between the both of you, hands extending to tenderly hold the sides of your face. The pads of his thumbs smooth against the skin just underneath your eyes, gentle gaze holding your own.  

"I hope you know that I'm very proud of you," he whispers, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips against your skin, a small yet tired sigh falling from your nose. Your body melts into his own, your face squished against the palms of Suguru's hands. 

"You do so much for everyone, you must be exhausted," Suguru comments, tilting your face so that your gaze meets his own. He purses his lips, his eyes softening at the exhausted expression that had worked its way onto your face. "Come on angel, why don't we go sit down?" 

You allow Suguru to lead you towards the couch, sitting you down and holding a finger up at you. He walks quickly back to your kitchenette, gathering the snacks that he had bought into his arms and bringing them to you, allowing you to pick and choose which snacks you wanted.  

Your boyfriend takes a seat beside you on the couch, opening his arms to you and humming in content as you crawl towards him, resting your head on his chest and squeezing your arms around his midsection. His cheek leans against your hair, fingers rubbing gentle circles into the exposed skin of your sides.  

Your cheek smushes gently against his t-shirt, eyes fluttering shut as an odd feeling of relaxation finally washes over you – eliminating any and all exhaustion that had been previously shackled to your ankles. His scent had always been so comforting to you; that mixture of incense and sandalwood that was just so unapologetically him.  

Suguru hums as your arms squeeze around him, the vibration against your cheek lulling you further into a state of relaxation, one that you welcomed like a warm hug. "Better?"  

You grumble something incoherent against his shirt, squeezing at him as you feel his body begin to shift underneath your own. He smiles, craning his neck to press a chaste kiss against the top of your head, tugging you closer and threading his fingers through your hair, nails raking your scalp comfortingly. 

"I'm so grateful to have you in my life angel," Suguru whispers against your hair, the hand resting on your waist continuing to draw comforting circles into the exposed skin. His lips ghost your forehead, then pressing a gentle kiss there as you lean further into him. "I love you." 

You feel your heart warm at his declaration, squeezing your arms around him and pressing a kiss against his clothed pec. Every bit of worry, every tiny ounce of anxiety melting away with something as simple as three words. And even though you knew that tomorrow would likely be the exact same... 

...at least Suguru would be there to gently pick up the pieces.  

Just thinking about tracing Suguru's scar.

Word Count - 0.9k

A/N - I dedicate this piece to the Anon that flooded my inbox with 30+ messages telling me how it was canon that Gojo didn't have any scars.

Read the Gojo version here!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

GETO never let you see his scars after he received them — suddenly he was covering himself up with thick sweaters and baggy clothes. You noticed … you always noticed.  

But you said nothing, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to something that he was very clearly adamant on keeping hidden.  

One night, however, your curiosity got the better of you. You didn’t mean to pry as much as you did, but you desperately wanted Geto to know that you weren’t going to suddenly start looking at him differently because of some raised skin — you wanted him to be comfortable around you. 

You wanted things to be like they were before. 

He was different. You could see it as clear as day.  

His hugs didn’t last as long as they once did, instead of bear hugs that he wouldn’t pull away from unless you did first, you received a half-assed sideways squeeze.  

It felt like he didn’t want to be touching you in fear of contaminating you, like you would catch some otherworldly disease that didn’t yet have a cure. It hurt you – it stung in a way that nothing else could compare to.  

When you sat on the couch beside him, he would scoot a few inches away from you. 

When you laid down to take a nap beside him, he’d offer you only his pinky and nothing else.  

When you went to embrace him, his body would angle itself so that his shoulder rested against your chest.  

“Suguru?” you whisper to him under the cloak that night provided, turning to face him properly. He mimics you, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with the use of his elbow, palm resting against the side of his face.  

“Hmm?” he hums in response, eyes studying your expression. His face pinches in slight concern at your narrowed eyes and furrowed brows — something was very clearly upsetting you.  

“Are we okay?”  

He pauses, staring quizzically at you as if you had somehow sprouted another head. His free hand extends, finger rubbing affectionately against your cheek.  

“Course we are. Why do you ask?” he murmurs, breath catching in his throat as you push yourself to sit up. Your legs cross, one ankle over the other while you maintain eye contact with Geto.  

Your mind reminds you of what he had been doing; the behaviors that he had been displaying. What wasn’t he telling you? 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not wanting to accidentally make a big deal out of something that could otherwise be nothing. 

“What are you hiding from me?” you whisper, already feeling tears build on your waterline at Geto’s shocked (and worried) expression. He looked so conflicted, so unsure that it made your heart crack.  

And even though he wants to believe that he has no idea what you’re referencing … he does.  

He looks away from you, and even though it’s only for a moment, it only makes your heart sink deeper into your stomach. “It’s—“ 

“Please don’t sit there and tell me it’s nothing,” you practically beg, voice cracking. Geto lets out a small sigh through his nose, adjusting himself so that he sits in front of you.  

“(Y/N)—“ he begins, but the way that you shake your head at him only makes him feel guilty, “—are you sure?” 

Your silence tells him everything that he needs to know.  

Slowly, and albeit very hesitantly, Geto lifts his shirt, revealing an ‘X’ shaped scar on his chest. Your breath hitches at the sight of it, the sound making Geto flinch.  

He tosses the shirt aside with a barely audible plop, not daring to make eye contact with you in fear of what expression you wore. So instead of glancing at you, Geto forces his eyes shut.  

They shoot right back open at the feeling of your fingers lightly tracing his chest.  

Shocked, his eyes flicker up to watch you. Your eyebrows are slightly pinched together, a worried indent to your forehead as your nails slowly move over the raised skin.  

You don’t say anything to him, not that you really need to. You knew that this — this gentle touch — was what Geto needed. He didn’t need half-assed reassurances that carried no weight. 

No, what he needed to know was that you were here, right with him, at his side — you weren’t going anywhere.  

Your finger reaches the end of where his scar slightly raises his skin. You shift forward, laying your palm against the center of the ‘X’, feeling Geto’s heart thumping against your fingers.  

He says nothing. You say nothing.  

Your eyes flicker up to meet his own. He returns your softened glance.  

“You’re so handsome Sugu … you know that, right?” you whisper tenderly, finally breaking the silence. The sigh he lets out in response is shaky, tear-filled.  

Before Geto has the chance to shake his head, your lips are on his scar, the softness of you contrasting greatly with the roughness of his skin.  

You glance back up at him, letting out a shocked squeak as he tugs you into his arms. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck, arms winding around his midsection.  

His breath shudders as his nose tucks into your hair. “Thank you.” 

You smile against him, turning your head and laying a chaste kiss against the skin of his throat. Your arms momentarily tighten around him, eyes closing in content. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too angel … thank you.” 

Ooh…what about defected!Geto falling in love with a non-sorcerer? And there’s no internal conflict for him, it’s more like he saw her, and somehow everything clicked into place. The attraction is undeniable, the chemistry is palpable, and it’s like his entire world is now tilted on an axis to a new, different Sun — her.

Sypnosis - Eyes that glance at others with hatred could only gaze at you as if you had hung the moon and each individual star.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, mature themes, foul language, this is so sickly sweet I am WEAK

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

It’s not like he meant for this to happen. 

But the way that you regarded him with such a softened voice and with hands gentler than the finest silk had him wrapped around your finger — seeking more of that sweet affection that you provided to him.  

The way that your eyes shone the moment you noticed him entering a room, the way that you scooted closer to him, the way that you hung off of his every word.  

He knew that he shouldn’t care about you — you were the personification of everything that he hated. A weak non-sorcerer who could do nothing when it came to defending oneself. 

And yet here he was, wanting nothing more than to shield you and protect you from the dangers of the world.  

“There you are.” Your soft voice wraps around Geto and lightly pulls him from whatever trance he had unknowingly fallen victim to. His head turns to watch as you enter, his lips turning upward in a lovesick smile.  

“Apologies love, were you searching for me?” Geto inquires curiously, his eyes fluttering shut as your lips press sweetly against his forehead.  

“Not me, the girls were asking for you,” you respond, lowering yourself down to sit at Geto’s side, sitting in between his outstretched legs. He smiles again, hand instinctively extending to lay against your leg, his thumb rubbing back and forth affectionately against your skin. 

“Were they?” 

“They were. Mimiko says that you promised her a tea party,” you say with a teasing raise of your eyebrow, one that Geto responds to with a shake of his head — though you don’t fail to notice the smile that he tries so hard to conceal.  

Subconsciously, Geto moves himself closer to you, squeezing your leg and feeling his chest warm as you nestle into his shoulder, cheek pressing comfortably against the soft fabric of his robes.  

“Did I now?” His shoulder rumbles against your cheek, his hand moving upward from your leg to stroke gentle circles into the small of your back. You hum against him, smiling as you nuzzle impossibly further into the warmth of his embrace.  

You both sit in silence, but neither of you mind it. It allows Geto to think — reflect on everything that had led him up to the very position that he found himself in.  

Geto knew that he was a terrible person, or rather, he was a terrible person by the standards that society constantly voiced. But shockingly, even with all of that, you loved him as if it were as easy as breathing.  

You saw past what the others said about him, you didn’t just see Geto — you saw Suguru. 

“Sugu?” you whisper sweetly, tilting your head to get a better look at your husband’s face. He turns to you, humming in response with a raised eyebrow — silently telling you to continue speaking. “I love you.” 

Geto smiles, his eyes softening at you as he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. Sure, you were a non-sorcerer, you were the very thing that he wanted to protect. Never did he want to see a scratch on your body or a teardrop on your cheek. You redefined what life meant to him. 

For a flickering moment, Geto forgets all that he had done. He forgets all of his venomous words and all of the blood that once stained his hands. All of it forgotten with a simple whisper — a declaration.  

He pulls back from you just enough to lean his forehead against your own. “I love you more angel.” 

Fix You

Sypnosis - You'd only known her for a flicker of a moment, but in that moment she had become everything to you. To have her ripped away without so much as a moment to process, it was only inevitable that everything would come crumbling down.

Pairing - Suguru Geto x ! Female ! Reader

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon JJK violence, main character death (not Reader), allusions to suicide, unresolved angst, loss, guilt, slight canon divergence

Word Count - 8.2k (I am so proud of every single word)

Author's Note - This piece might have taken YEARS off of my expected lifespan, but what can I say, I live for the angst.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

“Just be safe, yeah?” you say with a smile on your face, smoothing your hands over the shoulders of Geto’s uniform. His expression mirrors your own — a soft smile curling the corners of his lips upward as he gazes at you.  

“Yeah, promise,” he responds, nodding his head at you. Your smile momentarily widens, the smile lines on your face indenting deeper. You push yourself onto tiptoe, pressing a gentle kiss against Geto’s cheek. 

The moment is then immediately soiled by a loud, fake retching sound from a certain snowy-haired male. Both you and Geto turn — the latter already biting back the sarcastic quip that rises in his throat.  

“Do I get one too?” Gojo asks, crossing his arms dramatically over his chest as he swaggers to you and Geto, craning his neck and jabbing his cheek in your direction. You giggle, removing your hands from Geto’s shoulders — which he nearly protests — and instead you lay your palms against Gojo’s cheeks.  

“Dramatic ass,” you tease, then laying a kiss against Gojo’s cheek before you shove him away. He sticks his tongue out at Geto as he stumbles, who only rolls his eyes.  

“Come on Satoru, I don’t want to be out all day,” Geto complains, glancing up at you. You smile, nose scrunching in that way that always warms Geto’s chest — he fights the urge to kiss the small wrinkle in the bridge of your nose.  

“Yeah, yeah, m’coming,” Gojo waves off Geto’s rushing, turning his head to flash you one last smile before he jogs to catch up to Geto’s side.  

“(Y/N) is gonna have a field day chewing us out,” Gojo complains, tilting his head back and letting out the dramatic sigh that he had been holding in his chest. Geto nods in agreement, turning his head just enough to cast a glance over his shoulder.  

Riko is still rambling on about all of the things that she wants to do, which mainly includes the simplistic aspects of life. She had already voiced to both Geto and Gojo that she wanted to live life normally — and she had also voiced her want to not constantly be followed by both males.  

Geto can’t help the smile that curls the corner of his lips upward, silently watching as Riko speaks in a manner similar to that of an animated character, spreading her arms wide and smiling brightly at Kuroi, who watches the young girl with softened eyes.  

“Yeah, but she’ll be more than happy to help with Riko,” Geto points out, turning his attention back to his scowling best friend. Gojo sighs, the force of his breath blowing his bangs from his eyes. “Better that she deals with Riko than us,” he adds with a wiggle of his brow, an action that pulls a breathy yet dry chuckle from Gojo’s throat.  

“True,” Gojo hums in agreement, lifting his hands to place them palm flat against the back of his neck. He turns his head, glancing at Riko for a fleeting moment before he turns back to face forward. “D’you think Riko will like (Y/N)?” 

“Who doesn’t like (Y/N)?” Geto answers quickly. His jaw snaps shut, cheeks blazing a light shade of pink as he realizes what it was that he had just said. Gojo catches him, but he bites back the sarcastic quip though he so desperately wants to dish it out. “Shut up, let’s just head back.” 

< … > 

“Y’know, I’m glad that you and Satoru are taking the vessel — sorry, Riko — on a little getaway. It’s sweet of you both,” you say with a smile, leaning back against your pillows. On the other line, Geto lets out a small chuckle, the sound bringing a bout of butterflies to your stomach — God, you were smitten with your boyfriend.  

“Not really sweet. We’re doing it because she asked for it,” Geto responds, turning his head to glance at both Riko and Gojo — both of whom were bickering for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He rolls his eyes with a grin on his face, returning his attention to his phone call with you.  

“Still, the fact that you both agreed to it is sweet enough,” you tease lovingly. Geto grins at the smile in your voice, wishing that he could see it. “Maybe I can convince Yaga to come with you three.” 

“Please,” Geto breathes, closing his eyes. He chuckles breathily after speaking, glancing once more at Riko and Gojo before he faces forward again. “I don’t know how much more of their bickering I can take.” 

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. You three get some sleep, ‘kay?” you say softly, and immediately Geto wants to protest — he doesn’t want to hang up just yet. It had been days without seeing you, the most he was able to do was video call you, but even that wasn’t the same as being with you physically.  

“Okay,” he relents, his shoulders sagging slightly. “G’night baby.” 

“Night Sugu, I love you.” 

“I love you more.” He removes the phone from his ear, pressing his thumb against the red hang-up button and turning on his heel to face both Riko and Gojo. “C’mon, (Y/N) said for us to get some rest before tomorrow.” 

Gojo snaps his jaw shut at the mention of your name, turning to face Geto and completely forgetting about Riko — who stares at the snowy-haired male with her jaw slack. But her anger over being ignored dissolves quickly into curiosity. She had heard that name several times already — (Y/N).  

“Who’s (Y/N)?” Riko inquires, tilting her head and crossing her legs on top of the blankets of the motel’s bed. She rests her hands palm flat against her legs, her gaze flickering between Geto and Gojo — both of whom exchange a glance that almost says, “We don’t want to say anything.” 

“(Y/N) is-“ 

“(Y/N) is Suguru’s girlfriend,” Gojo answers with an indifferent shrug, playing off the stern glare that Geto immediately shoots in his direction. Riko’s eyebrows raise — she certainly hadn’t expected that to be the response. She had expected “sister” or “cousin”, but certainly not “girlfriend.”  

“Girlfriend? You?” Riko points a finger at Geto’s chest, her eyes narrowing momentarily at him. In response, Geto slowly nods at her, not knowing what to make of the expression on the teenage girl’s face. “I’m shocked.” 

Gojo snickers, slapping a palm over his mouth and turning away so that Geto wouldn’t notice him laughing. Geto turns, glaring first at Gojo before his eyes snap back to Riko, who tries — and fails — to hide a smile of her own.  

“You’re both hilarious, now go to bed.” 

< … > 

Have you spoken to Yaga yet? 

Sent : 11:40 

Yeah, I just left his office. He said as long as we lay low, there isn't an issue with me joining you. 

Sent : 11:41 

I'll send you our location then. 

Sent : 11:42 

Okay babe! See you soon &lt;3 

Sent : 11:42 

Geto smiles quietly to himself, trying to hide the curl of his lips from Gojo and Riko – not that he had to try very hard. Gojo and Riko were, like usual, busy with bickering with one another over God only knows what. Kuroi, bless her soul, is trying her hardest to settle the arguing – but to no avail.  

"Hey, Satoru," Geto calls out, effectively stopping the childish arguing between Gojo and Riko. The snowy-haired male turns at the call of his name, speeding up his steps to fall into line with Geto. He furrows his eyebrows together, silently urging Geto to continue speaking. "Yaga approved the request for (Y/N) to join us. She'll meet us here in Okinawa." 

"Thank God," Gojo says, casting a sharpened glare in Riko's direction – which Riko responds to by sticking her tongue out. She crosses her arms over her chest, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little excited to meet you.  

“She’ll be here sometime in the afternoon, so you’ll have to occupy yourself until then,” Geto teases, chuckling as Gojo punches him in the shoulder. Riko watches on, feeling herself smile at the interaction — maybe being stuck with these two wasn’t as bad as she had made it out to be.  

And maybe you were even better. 

&lt; … > 

“(Y/N/N)!” Gojo calls out, his hands cupping over his mouth as he spots you in the distance. He lifts his hand in a wave once your body turns, eyes falling on him.  

You easily make your way over, beelining for both Geto and Gojo. Your arms lock around Geto first, smiling widely as his arms wrap firmly around your waist, lifting you from the ground. 

You crane your neck to look down at Geto, your hands moving to hold the sides of his face as you guide his lips to yours, kissing him sweetly and smiling against him.   

It’s the dramatic retching and spitting that makes you pull back from Geto — and of course, Gojo is doubled over pretending to vomit.  

Geto sets you down, still holding your hips as your head turns to glance at Gojo. Shaking your head, you roll your eyes, scoffing at the male’s behavior.  

You turn back to Geto, choosing to ignore Gojo’s theatrics in favor of sweetly reuniting with your boyfriend after however many days it had been since he’d first set off from Jujutsu Tech.  

“Hi,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at him as you smile. This time, Geto leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose, laughing breathily when he pulls back and catches sight of your flustered expression.  

“Hi baby,” he smiles at you, chuckling as you move to bury your face into his shoulder. His hand tangles in your hair, fingernails scraping lightly against your scalp — the action has you curling further into him like a cat. 

“Wow, so I don’t get a hello at all?” Gojo calls out dramatically, throwing his hands into the air and pouting childishly, crossing his arms over his chest.  

Your groan of protest is caught by the fabric of Geto's shirt, the rumble of your chest against his own bringing a soft smile to Geto's lips. You disconnect from Geto's arms, turning on your heel and opening your arms to Gojo – which he runs into without a single ounce of hesitation.  

"Satoru!" You can't help but bite back the laugh that bubbles up in your throat as Gojo all but tackles you to the ground, nearly knocking you off of your feet from the force at which he runs at you. You let out a hearty laugh the second that his body knocks into yours, your feet lifting from the ground as Gojo messily spins you around in a fashion similar yet not to Geto.  

"Thank God you're here!" Gojo loudly complains, his voice just as dramatic as it always had been. You smile widely, holding tightly onto Gojo's neck so that you wouldn't fall to the ground.  

"Alright Satoru, calm down," Geto says sternly, reaching a hand out and grasping his friend's shoulder. The touch prompts Gojo to set you down. You smile in thanks, nodding once to Geto before you finally notice the unfamiliar face that stares curiously at you – the Star Plasma Vessel.  

Your eyes soften as you gaze at her – she was much younger than you had expected, at least two or three years below you. Following your gaze, both Geto and Gojo step out of your way, allowing you and Riko to meet on your own terms rather than accidentally forcing you both into conversation.  

"Hi, I'm (Y/N)," you say with a kind smile, extending your hand in Riko's direction and waiting patiently for her to take it. Relaxed, the young girl smiles right back at you, folding her hand into yours and joyously shaking it.  

"Hi! I'm Riko," the girl bubbles, her smile seemingly widening as you release her hand. You have to admit, seeing her so happy, even given her situation, was heartwarming in a way that you couldn't put into words. You chuckle gently at her, then shifting your attention to the older woman that stands at Riko's side – she eyes you with a mixture of curiosity and hesitance.  

Riko follows your gaze, glancing at Kuroi and smiling as her gaze and attention returns to you. "Oh! That's Kuroi," Riko introduces the older woman, gesturing warmly to her in a way that has you assuming she may be Riko's mother or older sister – or something of the like.  

"It's nice to meet you Kuroi. I'm (Y/N)," you reintroduce yourself, extending your hand in Kuroi's direction. Her eyes flicker down to your outstretched fingers, eyeing them with a raised eyebrow. You understand her hesitation – you were nothing but a stranger to her after all.  

With a gentle nudge from Riko, Kuroi shakes your hand, offering you a shaky smile – one that you reciprocate kindly. "It's nice to meet you as well." 

The moment that Kuroi's hand leaves yours, Riko is quick to hook her arm into your own, gently tugging you in the direction of the shops that Geto and Gojo had previously promised that they could visit. You let out a small chuckle, allowing yourself to be dragged away by Riko, who immediately begins to talk your ear off about just how annoying she found Geto and Gojo. 

"Good to see that they get along nicely," Kuroi comments fondly, placing a hand palm flat against her chest as a soft smile curls her lips upward. Geto nods in agreement, watching yours and Riko's retreating figures with softened eyes. 

"Come on, you and I both know that (Y/N) is gonna make me pay for everything," Gojo complains, his voice carrying its usual dramatic whine as he drags his feet to follow you and Riko. Geto and Kuroi chuckle in response, following Gojo.  

< … >  

"You care about her," Geto says suddenly, his eyes flickering to you as you sit quietly on the beach beside him. With a grin, you curl your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself and watching as Riko and Gojo chase each other through the ocean's shallow end.  

Your eyes soften as you watch Riko kick water up at Gojo, laughing loudly as he tries to shield himself (mostly his hair) from getting wet – always the dramatic one.  

"Yeah," you whisper, turning your head and leaning your cheek against your knee, your gaze meeting Geto's. He stares back at you with warm eyes, that which crinkle at the corners as his lips tug upward. His hand extends, a finger running lovingly along your cheek. For a moment, absolutely nothing else matters – not the mission, not the Star Plasma Vessel, not anything.  

All that matters is that you're with Geto.  

You nuzzle lovingly into his affectionate touch, actively seeking more of it – which Geto is more than happy to provide. His finger is replaced by the palm of his hand, thumb swiping at the area just underneath your eyes. "It's sweet, you know." 

"Oh shush, you're going soft for her too," you bite back teasingly, smirking as Geto removes his hand from your cheek. You whine at the loss of contact, but you continue to smirk at Geto nonetheless. He rolls his eyes playfully at you, his gaze momentarily flickering to catch a glimpse of Riko and Gojo – both of whom are still chasing each other around the ocean's shoreline.  

"Not true," Geto attempts to retaliate, but the light pink hue of his cheeks immediately gives him away. You lift a finger, poking one of Geto's burning cheeks and smirking again at him.  

"Sure about that?" 

"Oh shush," Geto chuckles, placing his palm flat against your face and playfully shoving you away. Your laugh is caught by his skin, breath fanning against his palm. He smiles as he removes his hand, feeling his heart warm at the sight of the smile plastered onto your face.  

"Hey! Lovebirds!" Riko calls out, cupping her hands over her mouth and smiling as she waves at both you and Geto. You turn your head to her, laughing as she places her hands on her hips. "Are you just gonna sit there the entire time?" 

You grin at Geto, kissing his cheek fleetingly before pushing yourself to stand, closing the distance between yourself and Riko and placing your hands into her awaiting ones. She drags you gently into the water, laughing as you gasp at the cold water that licks at your ankles.  

Suddenly, a spray of cold water hits your back. With a squeal, you turn to look at the culprit, positively fuming as Gojo stands proudly behind you, knelt in the water with his hands raised in the air. You glare at him, snapping your fingers and smirking to yourself as the water surrounding Gojo raises to his height, then completely dousing him in freezing saltwater.  

Riko laughs, crossing her hands over her stomach and doubling over to follow the force of her laughter. You turn your head to smile at her, heart swelling at the sound of the young girl's laughter.  

< … >  

"What's Jujutsu Tech like?" Riko inquires curiously, falling into step with you as you walk ahead of Geto, Gojo, and Kuroi, all of whom had opted to remain a few steps behind you claiming that they were remaining on the lookout for any potential threats.  

You hum in thought, folding your hands behind your back as you allow yourself to get lost in the scenery that surrounds you – thickened trees and hanging branches providing you with shade that is a welcome contrast to the blazing sun. You smile, tilting your head just enough to glance at Riko through your peripheral.  

"Well, to us, it's like any other school. But to you, I'd assume it'll look like a castle," you respond jokingly, not failing to notice the smile that curls the corner of Riko's lips upward. She lets out a small giggle as she walks beside you, mimicking you and looking around at the trees that line the pathway to Jujutsu Tech's front entrance.  

The silence that hangs over both you and Riko is comfortable, comfortable enough that she sidesteps towards you and affectionately knocks her shoulder against your own. You smile, turning your head to look at Riko, who only returns your smile just as brightly.  

"Maybe somewhere else I could have gone to Jujutsu Tech with you," Riko mutters, her voice almost too quiet for you to hear. Her words tug at your heartstrings – in a way, you felt guilty that there was no real solution that you could offer. Her sole purpose was to serve as a vessel for Tengen, and it was your job to deliver her to Tengen so that he could continue...whatever it was that he did.  

You swallow the lump in your throat, not knowing what to say. You had honestly wished for the same thing – maybe in some other universe you and Riko would have been able to attend school together. Maybe you would have trained her to become a strong Jujutsu Sorcerer. Maybe.  

Softly, you reach out to interlock your fingers with hers, squeezing at her hand and willing yourself to smile at her. She returns it, though both of your lips are trembling with a deepened sadness. "Maybe. Don't think like that though. I'm glad we were able to spend time together in this one." 

Riko's smile trembles slightly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. You chuckle breathily, reaching out with your thumb to swipe at her lash line, catching the tears just before they're able to fall. "Yeah," she agrees quietly, nodding her head at you.  

"We're almost there," Geto calls out from behind your back, smiling softly at you as you turn to acknowledge him. You nod curtly, then returning your attention to Riko, who had squeezed your hand as you walked beneath the entrance archway.  

"You ready Riko?" 

Riko inhales deeply, feeling her worry ebb away as you squeeze at her fingers again.  

"Yeah." 

< ... >  

"You okay?" Geto's voice is almost too quiet for you to hear, but your ears perk at his whisper nonetheless. You turn your head just enough to glance at him, blinking past the tears in your eyes as you silently watch Riko bid Kuroi farewell, squeezing at her caretaker and sobbing quietly into her shoulder.  

You swallow the lump in your throat, lifting your hands and swiping your fingers against your eyes, not wanting to cry. Geto softens at your actions, letting out a small sigh through his nose – but he says nothing about your concealed tears, if anything, he understands.  

"Yeah, m'fine," you murmur in response, forcing yourself to smile as Riko turns then to you, tears rolling down her cheeks as an aftermath to saying goodbye to Kuroi. The young girl quickly closes the distance between you, wrapping her arms around you and burying her face into the crook of your neck. 

You sigh shakily, holding her tightly against you and resting your cheek against the side of her head. Her body shakes against your own, her tears staining the shoulder of your uniform – but you cannot care any less.  

"Can you walk in with me?" Riko whispers into your shoulder, keeping her voice low enough so that only you can hear what she says. You feel yourself shakily smile, your arms momentarily squeezing around her.  

"Of course," you whisper back, smiling as she disconnects herself from your arms to return your teary smile. "I'd never make you go in there alone, especially not with Suguru," you tease, both you and Riko sharing a tear-filled laugh as Geto loudly protests over your shoulder – but he smiles all the same.  

The moment is soiled then by the remembrance of what you had come down to Tengen's for. You release your hold on Riko, opting instead to gently hold her hand as Geto begins to lead the pair of you down to Tengen.  

The three of you walk in relative silence, Riko holding tightly onto your hand as she walks at your side. Every now and then, she sniffles softly – a sound that tugs at your heart the more that you listen to it. You squeeze at her hand as reassuringly as you can, offering her what you hope is a gentle smile – but even you know that the tremble in your lips is on full display.  

Geto walks a few steps ahead of you and Riko, his hands stowed away in his pockets as he listens both to your trembled breathing and to Riko's soft sniffs. He would never admit it aloud, but he too felt as if Riko had taken on a younger sister role in his life – even though she had entered his life as nothing more than a package to be delivered. And he would never admit it aloud, but he somewhat wanted Riko to refuse the assimilation.  

If not for his sake, then he hoped she would refuse for yours.  

"Well, here we are," Geto says suddenly, stopping and looking down at Tengen's barrier. You and Riko stop at his side, hands still intwined as you both peer curiously around the room. Riko lifts her free hand to her eyes, swiping away the stray tears that lingered on her cheeks before she turns to you.  

"I-I think I'm ready," she stutters out, swallowing the scared sob that claws at the base of her throat. You soften, turning momentarily to make fleeting eye contact with Geto, who only stares at both you and Riko with a softness that felt similar to that of a loving husband and older brother.  

You nod at Geto, turning to Riko and removing your hand from her own and opting instead to place your palms flat atop her shoulders. You stare at her, and she returns your gaze with a curious pinch to her eyebrows.  

"Riko, I want you to listen carefully to me. You don't have to do any of this. We could easily forget this assimilation entirely and go back to Kuroi and Satoru. Hell, I'll even take you back to Okinawa so that we could finish shopping together," you laugh through your tears, which roll freely down your cheeks. Riko stares back at you, slightly stunned.  

"All you have to do is say the word," you whisper.  

Riko swallows, feeling tears build in the backs of her eyes. Her rosy cheeks darken, her eyes crinkle, her lips tremble – she's on the verge of tears all over again.  

Her eyes fall shut, her mind mulling over your words. Did she really want this assimilation? Or was she doing it simply because that's what everyone wanted her to do? 

"I want to be with everyone longer," she pauses to hiccup, "I want to see all kinds of things and just do more!" 

You smile softly at her, removing your hands from her shoulders and holding your hand out to her – just like you had done that day you met her.  

She reaches for you, her lips turned upward in that soft smile that you had grown oh-so-fond of.  

BANG! 

Riko's body crumples to the side, falling to the floor with a dull and lifeless thud. You freeze, hand still extended, fingers twitching in waiting – still waiting for Riko's. Your eyes widen, mind unable to process anything but the incessant ringing in your ears.  

At your side, Geto stands stiff as a board, his expression almost a perfect mirror of your own. His eyes wander down to Riko's body, gaze fixating itself on the steady stream of blood that pours from the bullet wound to the side of her head. Her eyes are open in everlasting shock, one final tear rolling down her face before it grossly mixes with the blood that surrounds her.  

Your eyes shift only when you hear footsteps approaching, gaze flickering upward to watch as an unknown man strolls into the room, knocking the handle of his gun against his head. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, an amused glint to his tired eyes.  

He doesn't say anything immediately, instead waiting to close the distance between himself, you, and Geto. The arm that holds his gun lowers to his side, and in a fit of mock curiosity, he tilts his head to the side.  

"That was easier than I thought," he comments offhandedly, glancing between Riko's body and you. Your shoulders rise and fall in heaving breaths – breaths that you're unsure are heavy because of anger or sadness. You want so badly to rush the man and give him hell, but something holds you back from doing so.  

Geto reaches out instinctively, moving your body behind his own protectively as the man draws closer. You let him – the ringing in your ears is strong enough to hold all of your attention. Your eyes return to Riko, praying that maybe – just maybe – she would stir and sit up. You could take her right back to Okinawa, and everything would be right again.  

"(Y/N), get out of here," Geto says quietly, his voice nothing but a muffled buzz in your ears. You nod numbly at him, sidestepping around his body and making a break for the exit. You know that it's wrong – how blindly you listened to him and left him with someone that could potentially end his life.  

You screw your eyes shut as you sprint down the hallway, feeling tears finally sting your eyes as the realization of what had happened seeps into the cracks of your mind. You'd failed. You had failed everything. You promised her that you'd protect her, that you would take her back to Okinawa, that you would show her the world that she had been so scared to lose.  

A harsh sob rips from your chest as you skid to a stop, doubling over and placing your hands on your knees. Underneath the weight of your guilt, you crumble. Your knees strike the ground as your hands grip at your chest now, clawing at the fabric of your uniform as if it suffocates you.  

You bow your head down, gritting your teeth as your body shakes with the weight of your sobs. Your hair shades down over your face, creating a veil around it and preventing anyone from looking directly at you. Your lips part, and from the deepest depths of your throat, you scream.  

< … > 

Hey baby, Shoko was asking for you. 

Sent : 12:06 

Saw a cat outside a coffee shop today, thought maybe you'd want a picture of it. 

Sent : 15:00 

Left you some dinner outside of your door, please eat something. 

Sent : 04:17 

Movie night tonight?  

Sent : 06:15 

Pressing two fingers against the side of your phone, you silence it, then tossing the device as far away from yourself as you can. The clatter of the phone against the floor does little to stir you – the comfort of your sheets was stronger than any Cursed Energy, and you'd be damned if you were leaving it.  

How long had it been since that day anyway? 

Days? Weeks?  

Hell -- it could have been months. In truth, you didn't know. The days had started melding together a very long time ago, everything felt the same – nothing was new. Everything felt bleak, like an old movie that you had accidentally left on perpetual repeat.  

You turn over in bed, facing the wall. Your eyes feel heavy, but the moment that you close them you know exactly what it is that you'll see. You'll see whatever wisps you have left of her.  

Do you even remember what she looks like anymore? 

Your chest tightens at the realization, and instinctively your body curls inward. Your knees touch your chest as you adjust yourself into a fetal position, screwing your eyes shut and biting back the sobs as they rise in your throat.  

There wasn't a day that went by where you didn't blame yourself. You were a Sorcerer, you were quite literally trained to protect the people around you. But no, you were so focused on convincing her on a situation that she was already decided on – you failed to protect her because of your own selfishness.  

God forbid you had lifted your head, even if it was just to sneak a peek at the rest of Tengen's barrier. Would you have spotted him? Wait, of course you would've – Geto had once complimented your ability to keep your head on a constant swivel.  

You could've activated your Cursed Technique, you were always the swiftest of your classmates. You could've saved her – Riko would have been fine.  

But you didn't do any of that. Instead, you held her shoulders and tried to play mother dearest. It was your tear-filled monologue that got her killed.  

"Fuck," you mutter, the dull ache in your chest deepening as you spiral into a pit of your own regret. Your hand comes to bunch up the fabric of your shirt, clawing at it as if it were choking you. "'M sorry..." 

You can feel yourself beginning to cry, but your body is unable to produce a fresh round of tears. You whimper quietly, lips parting to release the soft sobs that you had been forcefully holding in your chest. The sheets that cover your shoulders shake in sync with you – but they continue to serve their purpose in keeping you concealed from the world. 

Across your room, you can hear your phone buzzing against the ground. Suguru. 

How long had it been since you last saw Suguru? 

It felt like you were punishing yourself, keeping yourself holed up in your room and limiting your interactions with anyone – Gojo, Geto, and Shoko felt more like figments of your imagination. They felt like strangers to you. And in a way, maybe they were.  

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your door. The ringing in your ears dies down, leaving you alone in the silence of your room – you almost wish for the ringing to come back. Any noise was better than none at all, and with the way your mind had been whispering lately, you'd rather an incessant ring.  

You turn your head halfway, yet you don't move from the familiar comfort of your bed.  

"(Y/N)? Baby, it's me." It's Geto. Fuck, it's Geto. 

You don't answer, shifting back to your original position and sighing shakily. Even though every part of you wants to open that door and promptly collapse into his arms, you force yourself to remain rooted to your place. You force your eyes shut, praying that your silence would turn him away.  

"It's been – God – I don't even know how long it's been. We're – I'm worried about you," Geto pauses, likely to swallow the growing lump in his throat, "I just want to know if you're okay." 

Your lips wobble, and for the first time in days you feel the familiar sensation of tears sliding down your cheeks. Your hands curl around your sheets, tugging them impossibly further around you.  

On the floor, your phone buzzes again. For a moment, you wonder just how many unread messages you have. How many were from Gojo? Or Geto? Or Shoko? Or maybe you were just imagining the sounds, maybe they really didn't care at all.  

"Please open the door." He sounds so desperate, so broken. The fact that it was your fault that he felt so helpless only added to your already debilitating guilt and regret. Your punishment was making everyone else suffer – you were the reason why everyone was worried. Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

And you want to. You want to stand from your bed and open the door, you want to fall into Geto's arms and sit with him in nothing but that comfortable silence that always followed you when you were with him. You craved it – or rather you craved the normalcy of it all.  

Selfishly, you don't. You close your eyes and telepathically will Geto to just leave. A little part of you hopes that he won't, but the rest of you wants him to.  

You know that he won’t leave though — knowing Geto he was definitely sitting with his back against your door, waiting patiently for you to either respond or let him in.  

A shame that you would do neither. 

Your hands curl into white-knuckled fists with the strength of your grip, keeping your eyes glued shut and praying — no — hoping that Geto would just leave you to rot.  

“Y’know, we can talk about whatever you’re thinking about.” 

You sigh shakily, opening your eyes and staring blankly at your wall. He’d never leave you to rot, even if you shoved and begged him.  

Talk? What would talking do? Would it bring back the piece of you that was ripped from your hands and shattered like nothing? 

Your body turns halfway, ears pricked and patiently waiting for Geto to continue. Shockingly, you want him to keep talking. It’s a nice distraction. 

“I don’t know what exactly you’re thinking right now, and I know that you definitely don’t want to delve into it,” Geto pauses to exhale shakily — it makes you wonder if he’s out there crying. "I want to help you, you've helped me through so many rough patches and the fact that you're not letting me help you now...it's killing me." 

Go. 

Your hands push at your sheets, the cool air from your dorm hugging at your exposed legs. Your body cracks as you stand from your bed, but you ignore the dull ache in your bones. The distance between your bed and the door once seemed like a never ending hallway, one with twists and turns that would throw you off course and make you return to the starting point.  

Oddly enough, now that distance seems much shorter.  

You walk across your room, stepping past your phone on the floor and pausing just as you reach the door. You stare silently at the wood, eyes drifting down to the doorhandle. You were so close, if you just lifted your hand- 

"I love you so much (Y/N). So please, let me help you." 

Your eyes fall shut, body curling back from the door. With invisible hands, your sheets call out to you, beckoning you sweetly to return to what was familiar – back to square one.  

You shake your head, turning on your heel and lowering yourself to the floor, your back sliding down the door until you're sitting on the floor. Your knees curl up to your chest, arms winding around them in a self-hug as you lean your head back, listening quietly to Geto's shaky breathing on the other side.  

< … > 

Bzzt. Bzzt. 

One year. 

You stare blankly down at the reminder, thumb quickly jerking to delete its existence. It had been a miracle enough that you'd made it six months – a year didn't really feel real to you. Not yet at least.  

You knew deep down that it would sink in later, when you weren't surrounded by people and when you were sitting in the twisted comfort of your own sadness. But now, you had to act like a person, not a puppet who just happened to wear human skin.  

In front of you stands Gojo, Geto, and Shoko. For the better part of an hour, Shoko had been trying to teach both boys about her Reverse Cursed Technique, wanting them to be able to heal themselves so that she wouldn't have to exert herself every time that they returned from missions.  

But just like everything else that they did together, Geto and Gojo were about as intelligent as two monkeys attempting to complete a Rubix cube. In any other circumstance, you would have laughed at them and teased them endlessly. 

Now? 

Now you stared blankly at them, eyes devoid of anything that might have rendered you human. All of those sleepless nights had finally caught up to you, claiming your body like a demon would its unfortunate host. You wanted to crack a smile, prove to them that you had healed somewhat since everything had happened – but they knew just as well as you that it would be another one of the many lies spoken by your tongue.  

"C'mon Shoko, you know we can't do this," Gojo complains loudly, his voice an incessant whine as he leans forward, glancing over the rims of his glasses to send a playful glare in Shoko's direction. She rolls her eyes at him, hands holding her hips as she waves a finger in his face.  

"Would you stop complaining?" Geto retaliates, reaching a hand over and whacking the back of the snowy-haired male's head. He yelps at the contact, both of his hands cupping the back of his head.  

"Ow! (Y/N), come and control him!" Gojo turns to you for salvation, but pauses at the expression on your face. Your lips are downturned in a half-frown, eyes staring at nothing in particular. He glances at Geto, who had also turned to look at you.  

"(Y/N)?" he calls out to you. His voice has your head shaking, bringing yourself back to reality and breaking you from whatever trance you had fallen victim to. "Everything okay love?" 

You're quick to nod, sending Geto what you think is a smile – but it resembles more of a poor attempt at a smirk. "Fine," you answer quickly. His heart sinks, he wants so desperately to take every bit of pain that you constantly shouldered, but you were so adamant on dealing with everything on your own that he had simply...stepped to the side.  

Shoko claps her hands together, effectively redirecting all attention to herself – an action that you were thankful for. It was one thing to be constantly doted on by your boyfriend, but to then drag in both of your best friends? Saying that you felt like a complete burden would be the understatement of the century.  

Gojo turns his attention back to Shoko without a second thought; he had never been good with emotions, and watching your downward spiral was something that he just...couldn't help with. He wanted to, God, of course he wanted to. But he lacked the understanding of how to do it.  

Geto is hesitant to turn around, not wanting you to think that he was turning his back on you. The last thing that he wanted was for you to suffer in silence, even though that seemed to be the one thing that you wanted. No, he loved you far too much to let you crumble to your own demons. So he gripped his sword in his hand and fought them at your side – no matter how much you kicked and screamed at him to go away. 

You sigh shakily, teeth catching your bottom lip as the reminder from your phone flickers across your memory again. One whole year.  

Even with a whole year having gone by, that regret and guilt still followed you like a stray dog. The moment that you muttered to yourself, "I'm okay," that dog would nip at you with a force that sent you crumbling to the ground.  

You look upward, blinking away the tears that burn the backs of your eyes and focusing all of your attention on the trio in front of you.  

< … > 

“What do you mean (Y/N)’s gone?” Geto asks with an incredulous raise of his eyebrows, looking at Gojo as if he had sprouted another head.  

Gojo inhales deeply, bracing his hands on his knees as a result of sprinting so wildly at Geto once he had heard news of your sudden disappearance.  

“(Y/N) left. Shoko said that she tried to get her to stay, but it was no use,” Gojo says breathlessly. Geto shakes his head, not wanting to believe anything that Gojo was saying — but the expression on his face douses Geto with the cold reality that this was really happening. You were gone. 

“Where did she go?” 

“No idea, she didn’t say a word,” Gojo answers, taking a mental note of the unbridled worry swirling in Geto’s eyes. “We’re going to look for her, right?” 

“What do you think?” Geto says in a matter-of-fact tone, already striding past Gojo. The snowy-haired male is quick to follow, falling into step with his best friend. 

The silence that hangs over the both of them is tense, neither of them wanting to say anything to the other in fear of further souring the mood.  

Geto’s teeth catch his bottom lip, digging down into the supple flesh. His mind wanders, thinking of where you could have gone and just what you could be doing. He should’ve done more to help — he should’ve been there for you just as much as you had been there for him.  

How had he let you spiral down that far? He felt like a bystander in a situation where he should have been standing right at your side, he should have been holding your hand just as tightly as you had always held his.  

“Hey, there you are,” Geto says softly, smiling so gently at you as you open your door — finally revealing yourself to him after hiding in the shadows for however long.  

You remain silent, rubbing a hand over your tear-stained cheeks. Your eyes, so dead and tired, flicker up to meet Geto’s — which soften upon studying your clear cut exhaustion.  

“Oh sweet girl,” he whispers, opening his arms to you and embracing you tightly as you step into them. Your face buries into his shoulder, absorbing the familiarity of his hug. “I’m here.” 

Your body shakes as another round of sobs wracks through your body, nails biting into Geto’s back. He ignores the stinging sensation your nails leave behind — focusing everything on making you feel comforted.  

“I’ll go look this way, you’ll be okay on your own?” Gojo confirms, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Geto.  

The dark-haired male nods, his focus solely on finding you and bringing you home. He would be damned if he would leave you alone again — you deserved to have someone to comfort you in the same way that you constantly comforted others. 

“Text if you need me ‘kay?” Gojo says, reaching out and lightly pressing his knuckles against Geto’s shoulder. The latter nods, and just like that the tuft of snowy hair disappears into the surrounding crowd.  

As Geto walks, he once again allows his mind to wander — thinking about little warning signs that he overlooked. Maybe there was something that you said or did that had a double meaning, yeah, that had to be it.  

His eyes glaze over with unshed tears as he desperately searches for you among the unfamiliar faces, all of them a blur as he tries to find you. All he wanted was to bring you home, give you the proper help that you so desperately needed.  

If he could just- 

“(Y/N)!” There. There’s that head of hair that he had once spent hours playing with. It turns upon hearing the call of his voice — it really is you. 

But at the same time…it isn’t you. The (Y/N) staring at him feels different to the (Y/N) that he asked out in the serenity of his school dorm.  

This (Y/N) is cold and dead — a walking corpse at best.  

You stare blankly at Geto for a moment, eyes silently asking him what it is that he wants from you.  

“Hey, what’s going on?” he practically begs, bravely reaching out to hold your wrist, preventing you from curling away from him.  

Your eyes momentarily flicker down to his hand, staring at the strain of his fingers before your gaze returns to his — you don’t fail to notice the tears he holds back. You felt awful that you were the reason why he was crying. 

“Nothing’s going on,” you answer indifferently. He shakes his head at you, you were lying.  

“You can’t really be saying that. You’ve been…you changed.” 

“Have you ever stopped to think about why?” you raise an eyebrow at him, voice suddenly laced with a venom that he had never heard from you before. Slowly, his grip on your wrist loosens until he doesn’t hold it anymore, eyes never once leaving yours even as you focus on other things.  

“What?” His voice is breathy, a whisper. He doesn’t understand, why were you suddenly being so brash with him? He had only been trying to help you all this time — right? 

You remain silent, not knowing how to elaborate without getting emotional all over again. You were a Sorcerer, you were meant to protect. The one person you were meant to protect was gone. And now you could barely live with the consequences.  

But Geto just thinks that you’re in mourning. No, no, it’s so much more than just simple mourning. 

“Have you ever stopped to think about why I changed?” you reiterate, tilting your head at Geto. He steps forward, keeping the distance between you both as short as he can — he can’t lose you, not again.  

 Geto mulls your question over in his head, which he then shakes in response. You let out a small sigh through your nose, already feeling that familiar mixture of regret and sadness building in your stomach.  

“Do you know what it’s like — to regret everything that you’ve ever done in your life?” you mutter, glancing up at Geto. For the first time, he notices just how dead you truly look. Those bright eyes now dull, your cheeks sunken in, your lips permanently turned downward in a frown.  

“Sorcerers are meant to protect people, right? We’re meant to step in and help the ones that can’t help themselves,” you begin, finding your footing and finally vomiting out all of the words that had been building up somewhere in your stomach.  

Geto watches silently, not knowing what to say or do. All he can do is listen.  

“What the fuck are we meant to do when we can’t save everyone? The ones who can’t protect themselves die, and what are we left to do?”  

Geto pauses, realization sinking into his bones. Riko. You blamed yourself for what happened to Riko — how the fuck had he not noticed that before? 

He had somewhat of an idea that it was Riko who had caused you to spiral downward, but he didn’t know that it was her death that had turned your entire opinion of being a Sorcerer.  

Just how much had Riko meant to you? 

“You and Satoru might be okay shouldering that guilt. But I’m just — I’m not,” you say honestly, running your hand through your hair and chuckling dryly. Geto steps forward, reaching for you.  

You step back, effectively creating a distance between the two of you. He falters, silently watching.  

“(Y/N)-“ 

“Be a Sorcerer, yeah?” you glance tearfully at him. For the first time in months, you smile, lips turning upward as you nod at him. “Be the protector that people need you to be.” 

Geto shakes his head, stepping forward again and silently begging you to come to him. 

You don’t. 

“Baby. Stop. Just-“ He pauses as he watches you, noticing your body tilting back to follow your backwards steps. 

“Be the shield that people need Suguru,” you whisper, voice barely audible over the footsteps that surround you. He shakes his head again, fingers extending to you. 

Like a wisp in the night, you vanish into the crowd. Geto’s fingers close around nothing, and his eyes desperately search for you amongst the blurred faces. 

But you’re gone, just like that. 

And he would never see you again. 

“Baby? It’s late, what are you still doing up?” Suguru asks drowsily from the doorframe that connects your bedroom to the kitchen. He lifts a hand to his eyes, flicking away the last bits of sleep that still cling desperately to his eyelashes.  

You turn to face him with a smile, patterned oven mitt covering one of your hands. In your hand is a steaming tray of cookies, snickerdoodle to be specific. “Well it was supposed to be a surprise, but I made you cookies.” 

Suguru’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion as he walks into the kitchen, glancing curiously at the tray that you lay out over the stovetop, then removing the oven mitt and opening your arms to him. He steps easily into them, wrapping his broad arms around your waist and allowing you to tuck your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.  

“What’d you make me cookies for?” he inquires curiously, tilting his head at you as you step back from his embrace, then folding your hands behind your back. Your lips curl upward in a soft smile, one that he mirrors almost immediately after seeing your own. He couldn’t help it — you always looked so soft around him.  

You bite your lip in thought for a moment, shuffling on your feet as your eyes flick to the still cooling cookies. Suguru watches you intently, still slightly confused.  

“Well…I overheard you talking with Satoru yesterday — you were complaining that the Curses you consume leave a sour taste in your mouth,” you begin, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze momentarily leaves Suguru. Your nails pick at a hangnail, but you don’t tug on it hard enough to remove it.  

“I thought that maybe making something sweet would — you know — get rid of the taste for a little bit.” 

Suguru softens, his lips turning upward in a smile as he reaches his fingers out, tilting your head so that your gaze finally meets his own. He leans down, pecking your forehead softly.  

“Thank you,” he whispers, bringing his forehead down so that it connects with your own. You smile, placing your hand against the one that he has resting on your cheek, stroking a finger over the backs of his knuckles.  

“I love you Suguru.” 

“I love you more, sweet girl.” 

You'd always loved Suguru's voice.

Even him saying something as simple as your name had your heart fluttering -- it was something that he often teased you for.

He had noticed it early on in your relationship. How every time he uttered your name you would smile and scrunch your nose adorably, a light pink blush painting your cheeks.

And every time that he noticed, he would reach his fingers out, taking your chin and tilting it upward so that your gaze would lock with his own. No words were ever exchanged in those moments, not that either of you minded.

While still staring so lovingly at one another, Suguru would slot his lips against your own, his hands moving to hold your cheeks. His thumbs softly graze your skin, lips curling into a smile against your own as you press impossibly further into him.

You'd always loved Suguru's voice.

During those troubled nights when sleep just wouldn't come easily for you, you'd find yourself sneaking into Suguru's dorm in search of comfort; he would read to you.

Sometimes it was Jane Austen, sometimes it was a cheesy romance novel, or sometimes it would be a manga that Suguru borrowed from Satoru.

To you, it didn't really matter what it was. Just hearing Suguru talk was comforting enough, how he gave emotion to the characters and made even the most boring stories sound somewhat interesting.

Laying against his chest with his fingers carding through your hair, Suguru would hold whatever book you picked out in his free hand, propped open on his fingers as he kept his voice soft. He didn't want you to be too awake after all.

And somehow, every single time without fail, you would end up asleep against his chest before he could even finish the chapter.

You'd always loved Suguru's voice.

Hearing his tone change when talking to Satoru as opposed to when he spoke to you never failed to make you laugh. How even if Suguru was scolding Satoru for being reckless on a mission, the moment he laid eyes on you, his tone shifted.

"Honestly Satoru, one of these days your recklessness is going to get you kill -- (Y/N), there you are love."

It never failed to make you smile; how he never took a harsh tone with you and spoke to you as if you were the only person in the room.

And every time, without fail, Satoru would throw his arms up and dramatically complain.

You'd always loved Suguru's voice.

Even hearing it over the phone brought butterflies to your stomach. In the mornings, Suguru had made it a habit to call you if you didn't spend the night, wanting your voice to be the first thing that he heard as opposed to Satoru's obnoxious snoring. Curse the walls for being so thin.

Every time your phone went off in the morning, you would sleepily grin to yourself, accepting Suguru's call and feeling your heart flutter at his words. "G'morning baby."

You put your phone on speaker, laying it on the pillow beside your head and allowing your eyes to flutter shut again, wishing that Suguru was lying beside you.

"Good morning."

At your words, Suguru hums, silently loving the sleepy drawl to your voice. There was no doubt in his mind that you were stifling a yawn as you spoke, just another little quirk that only made Suguru fall harder and harder for you.

You'd always loved Suguru's voice. Even when he was telling you to leave. 

“Suguru?”  

The sound of your voice makes his heart ache, his eyebrows pinching together as his spine stiffens. He didn’t have the heart to turn to face you, not wanting to see the heartbroken expression plastered onto your face. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he saw it.  

Suguru sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to face you, keeping his eyes shut. Your eyebrows pinch together as he faces you, a concerned wrinkle indenting in your forehead.  

“Suguru — I just want to know what’s going on. What happened? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you ask, mind spiraling as your vision blurs with unshed tears. All you want is to understand. All you want is to help him. 

“There’s nothing to talk about (Y/N),” Suguru answers plainly, finally opening his eyes. Immediately, he wishes that he hadn’t. Seeing you on the verge of tears, and knowing that he was the reason for it only added to the already heavy guilt weighing on his chest.  

“But there is,” you emphasize, taking a step forward and bravely wrapping your fingers around Suguru’s wrist. You tug at his sleeve lightly, forcing him to make eye contact with you — which he had been avoidant of since he turned to face you. “I’m here to help you Suguru.” 

Suguru shakes his head, removing his wrist from your grasp. Your lips part, wanting to say something more but not being able to think of the right words.  

“I don’t need help. Everything is—“ 

“I swear on everything, if you have the audacity to tell me that ‘everything is fine’, I will not hesitate to hit you,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing as you glare up at your boyfriend. He only stares blankly back at you, not daring to say a word now that he’d unintentionally angered you.  

“You can’t help me, even if you wanted to,” Suguru tells you, turning himself away from you again. Your chest tightens, tears threatening to fall from your bottom lash line as you stare at Suguru’s back. “Just go back to Jujutsu Tech.” 

“What?” 

Suguru feels his heart crack in his chest, ignoring his own tears as they begin to burn the backs of his eyes. Even at your single-worded response, he can’t find the strength to repeat himself.  

“Suguru,” you whisper, voice breaking. He screws his eyes shut, forcing himself to ignore your words. He hates himself, he hates himself for shutting you out, he hates himself for making you worry about him, he hates himself for deciding to leave you and everything that he had ever loved behind.  

“Goodbye (Y/N).” 

You shake your head, already taking a step towards him, fingers extended to grab onto him.  

But with a single sweep of the crowd that surrounds you, Suguru disappears. Your fingers shake, still hovering in the air in the hopes that you would magically grab onto him — but even you know that that won’t happen.  

You’d always loved Suguru’s voice.  Even when it wasn’t really him speaking to you. 

You can practically feel your heart in your throat at who stands in front of you. It was him — but at the same time it wasn’t.  

Everything about him was the same, down to the way that he styled his hair. His eyes were still that soft shade of brown that you adored gazing into. His lips still wear that same smile that had been flashed at you so lovingly.  

The only noticeable difference was the stitches circling his forehead. That was how you knew it wasn’t your Suguru, even though you wanted so desperately to believe otherwise. 

“(Y/N),” Satoru whispers, already reaching for you. You blink back the tears that build quickly in your eyes, feeling your breathing quicken as you stare at Suguru — if you could even use that name anymore. Satoru had only ever referred to him as ‘Geto’ following his departure from Jujutsu Tech.  

Geto only stares coldly at both you and Satoru, his eyes narrowing momentarily at you before he raises his hand. “A shame that you’re both distracted.” 

Your heart sinks. He sounds exactly the same as he did in your memory. He sounds exactly like how he did in every voicemail that you’d kept and listened to on repeat.  

Defiantly, you shake your head, ignoring the tremble in your bottom lip and forcing your hands to curl into white-knuckled fists.  

You’d never hated the sound of someone’s voice more.