#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

 “i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #❛ 五条悟 ❜ #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #⭑ : js ‘toru gave me js george vibes #i love gojo too much pls sedate me <3

[chuuyrr]

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[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ [𝟬𝟰:𝟮𝟴 𝗔.𝗠.] : satoru gojo x fem! reader

˖ ִֶָ𐀔 contents: fluff, fluff, fluff! established relationship. second person pov. js 'toru being soft, i'm so normal abt him i swear >.<

a deep-set frown tugs at the corners of satoru's lips when he wakes up to find you missing from your spot next to him. traces of moonlight stream in through the blinds, highlighting the outline of your crumpled silhouette on the cold sheets.

waking up alone has become too often an occurrence for his liking. his brows furrow as his fingers ghost over the imprint on the pillow where you should be — beside him — feeling a pang of something akin to loneliness in his chest.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. attempting to wake himself up a bit more. with a groan, he gets out of bed. the room seems colder somehow without you by his side. the cool wood floors grate against his bare feet as he pads down the hallway.

all the lights are turned off, except the ones in the kitchen. he finds you on your tiptoes, wobbling against the counter as you reach for your favourite mug. he's careful not to frighten you as his bare chest presses against your back and he reaches from behind to grab it.

he places it on the counter, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. "morning," he mumbles into your skin, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

"morning 'toru" you smiled, carding your fingers through the ivory strands tickling your chin. "what are you doing up?"

"i could ask you the same thing" satoru replied, punctuating his sentence by pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck.

"i figured i'd make myself some coffee since i couldn't go back to sleep" you shifted around in his embrace so he could see your face better.

"is something wrong sweets?" he asks, cupping your cheeks in his hands. concern shone in his eyes, bright enough to rival the stars themselves.

"no" you shook your head, savouring the feeling of satoru’s thumb stroking circles into your cheekbones "'m just not tired"

"i'll stay up with you then" satoru hummed thoughtfully

"you shouldn't" you frowned, brushing his hair out of his infinitely blue eyes. his pupils are glazed with sleep, yet still held such tenderness and warmth "you'll be too tired for your meeting"

"'m not going for it anyways, i'd rather keep you company" he wants nothing more than to pull you into a kiss, but that could wait until you'd made your coffee. he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp.

you sigh — a quiet exhale flowing from your parted lips as you went to pour your coffee. satoru follows your movements with his gaze. the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you stirred almond milk and cubes of sugar into the steaming mug.

"want some?" you asked, you cupped your coffee in your hands. the warmth seeped through your fingers. "or i could make you some hot chocolate"

his infinitely blue eyes drank you in as you sipped on your coffe. in spite of your messy hair and the dark circles beneath your lashes, he found himself lost in the pure essence of your beauty. tired eyes transfixed by his shirt slipping off your shoulder and the sleeves hanging loosely on your elbows. he loved looking at you. it was without a doubt his favourite thing in the world.

"'toru?" the sweet sound of your voice eased him out of his trance. he shook his head as he moved to lean next to you. your brows are slightly furrowed and he places a kiss between them. a futile attempt to smooth the scrunched skin.

"'s nothing" he says, voice a mere whisper over the sound of the wall clock ticking and the crickets chirping outside. the lingering silence isn't uncomfortable, not when it's filled with you.

the way you tilt your head to look at him as he presses a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. satoru thinks he could stay like this forever. he's close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your body.

satoru wondered if you knew how much of a goner he was, if you realised how much you truly meant to him. you sipped on your coffee, oblivious to the way he watched every little movement you made. you were everything. his everything.

he'd never sleep again if it meant having your fingers carding through his hair. he'd never sleep again if it meant his hands could linger over your warm skin, imbued with the scent of coffee and your perfume, for eternity. he'd never sleep again if it meant having you with him.

"'m just in love with you" he admits, whispering the words as if they would break the earth's atmosphere. you smile, and it's brighter than any star satoru has ever gazed upon. he gently takes your mug from your grasp so he can wrap both arms around you without your coffee getting in the way.

"i know" you say softly, "i'm kinda in love with you too…"

"really?" he raises an eyebrow, grinning. satoru's gaze drops to your lips and his heart flutters in a way that's become familiar to him— and only him —after years of knowing and loving you.

"yes really" you stood on the utmost tips of your toes and leaned forward to press your lips to his. slow, gentle. it tastes exactly how he imagined it would— like sugary coffee and wisps of heaven; like home

it felt as if only the two of you were awake in the vast expanse of the universe. moonlight kissed the perfect canvas of your skin as your fingers trailed over the strong curves of his bare forearms.

the taste of coffee lingers on his lips as you pull away. satoru thinks that nothing compares to you. no one could hold a candle — no one could burn as bright.

he didn't know what his life would've been if he hadn't met you. you were his world, his soul. he wouldn't give you up for anything. not even his own freedom, because he knew without a shadow of doubt that you were it. he was never truly free until he met you

he knew he should drag you back to the comfort of your bed, to indulge in the luxury of holding you in his arms and lulling you back to sleep before the sun rises. but he selfishly wished to bask in your presence for a little while longer. to stay like this for eternity because he never knew when he'd lose the privilege of being with you.

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#ִֶָ 𓂃˖ mimi writes?! #⋆ 𝓳.jk ﹕ #𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗔𝗠𝗕𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: you can’t shake the mixed feelings you have about satoru, but first impressions don't always reveal what a person is like

contents: crack? sashisu! dynamic. profanities. teen! gojo being cocky (what else is new?) second & third person pov

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

your first day at jujutsu tech was anything but insipid. the sun was at its peak, golden rays reflecting off the gray asphalt and dousing the foothills of mount mushiro in pure light. the wind subtly tousled your hair and the crimson torii gate cast shadows on your face.

summer, was indubitably your favourite season. it came with fun. smiles. laughter. adventure. meeting new people. and most importantly freedom.

the days got longer, school got shorter and you were typically free to do whatever you pleased. however, that wasn’t the case this year. the taiyo clan leaders had forced you to accept the offer to attend tokyo jujutsu high and you stood impatiently beside masamichi yaga —your new teacher — while you waited for your classmates in the courtyard

"sorry about this" he says sheepishly, running an exasperated hand over his face "i told them to be here as early as possible, but i can barely keep them in check”

“what are they like?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over your pleated skirt, “do you have a photograph”

“i do oddly enough, shoko’s into photography so she takes these polaroids of everything and everyone” he sifts around in his pockets until his fingers graze the crumpled picture. "these are your classmates — suguru geto, satoru gojo, and shoko ieiri”

your eyes skimmed over the three first years, the first boy had deep violet eyes and long black hair scraped into a bun. he rested his chin in the divot of his palms, his ear smushed against his lithe fingers. his black pearl earrings reflected the fluorescent lights. "suguru" the name checked out. he did look like he was famous

the second boy "satoru" was his polar opposite with fluffy white hair that defied all forms of gravity. he was slumped against the wooden table, blacked out sunglasses propped against his nose.his bright blue eyes peered curiously over the lenses. they were almost startling, something about their intensity felt like he could see everything, everywhere all at once

the girl "shoko", balanced them out with her brown chin length hair and the mole underneath her right eye. an ivory unlit cigarette was nestled between her plush pink

“they seem… nice”

“shoko’s the nicest of the three, she’s a sweetheart so you’ll get along just fine” he muses, “suguru is usually a gentleman compared to satoru. satoru’s too full of himself and he’s a terrible influence, please try to keep on the straight and narrow”

“i will” you said, shifting from one foot to another. you were very nervous about meeting your classmates— especially the esteemed strongest whose birth alone shifted the balance of the jujutsu world. it almost seemed unreal that he went to the same school as you

hell, this whole thing seemed unreal. tokyo jujutsu high was bigger than you’d imagined. it was surrounded by the forests and was spread vastly over the mountain. there was no way you’d learn your way around.

you could see a figure approaching you from the distance. you figured it was ieiri, although her photograph didn’t do her enough justice. shoko was even more beautiful in person, her dark brown hair grazed her shoulders and curled around her ears. her eyes radiated sunlight, the colour of honeyed caramel and she smelled like jasmine and sandalwood. she waved at you, and you smiled in response.

“finally” he sighed, “ieiri what time do you call this? and where are those knuckleheads?”

"sorry i'm late sensei!" she says, bowing slightly, "i couldn't drag satoru and suguru out of bed, they stayed up late playing video games again"

"i'll have to confiscate the wii" yaga sighed, shaking his head before glancing at his watch. he seemed to visibly turn pale as he registered the time, "shoko could you take (y/n) on a tour of the campus?"

"aren't you supposed to be be the one doing that?” she asks, thumbing at the cigarette slotted between her lips, “not that i mind, i just hope you’re not slacking off again”

"kids these days," he mutters under his breath "i would be the one giving you a tour, but i need to head to kyoto for a meeting”

“if you say so” shoko hums, she squeezes your forearm gently before looping her arm through yours, “c’mon (y/n), you’re much better off with me anyways”

“funny” yaga deadpans, “i’m off now, try and introduce (y/n) to the others” with a final glance at his watch, he hastily makes his way down the foothills and out of sight

“i’m so glad we finally have another girl” shoko says, eyes twinkling, “you’re from the taiyo clan right?“

“yeahh i’m from the taiyo clan” you nodded. the two of you walked over the cobbled floors in sync until shoko came to a stop in front of one of the huge buildings

“can i take a photo for my album” she asks, plush pink lips moving around the cigarette slotted between them, “the uniform looks so good on you”

despite being reluctant to come here, you were glad the uniforms were customisable and yaga had perfected your requested alterations.

your asymmetrical navy blue jacket had the sailor suit style and a silky white bow hanging slightly above your chest . your jacket was tucked into a black skirt that hung above your knees, and you wore black knee-high socks and loafers.

“you can” you grinned, without wasting a mere second she angled her camera and attempted to capture your beauty to memory.

“i wish those idiots came with me, it would’ve been so cool to get one of all of us” she pouts, “you’ll meet them later, whenever they crawl out of their rooms”

she trudged nimbly up the cobbled stairs with splatters of fuzzy moss and into the traditionally built building you stood before.

“these are the classrooms” she gestures to the vast corridor lined with wooden sliding doors. some of them are pristine while the others have cracks lining the chipped wood

“there’s so many” you gawk, “y’know i thought jujutsu tech was really small, yaga said there were barely any students”

“it is really small” she laughs, “there are two second years and three first years, four now that you’re here. jujutsu sorcerers are rare so class sizes are really small. we only use two of the classrooms”

she slid the door to her left open, the classroom was filled with wooden desks and had a blackboard behind the podium you assumed was the teaching area

the windows were open and gusts of airy summer breeze wafted through the panes. you trailed in after her and noticed that most of the desks were upturned except three in the front row

“this is our classroom” shoko said, trailing her fingers over the desk in the middle. it had scribbled kanji and cartoony digimon sketches on it. “we come here for homeroom and regular classes”

“like math and science?” you asked, raising a brow. yaga hadn’t mentioned anything about formal education when he’d picked you up from the station that morning

“we do english too” she sighs, “it’s honestly such a pain. anyways, the school has training grounds, courtyards, dormitories, common rooms and a bunch of other stuff, what do you wanna see first?”

“the dorms” you hummed, tucking your hands into your skirt pockets, “they’re probably the closest to us”

essentially, you were right. the dorms were less than a minute away from the classroom block. the hallway was wide and had less doors than the classroom’s corridor. the wood looked freshly polished and cardboard signs hung on the sliding doors.

“so these are the dorms” shoko said, “they can be reorganized and decorated as you see fit. like the classrooms, there are many empty rooms”

you can hear the faint sound of heavy metal music and the sound of videogames seeping underneath the doors on your right

“the second years are further down the hallway” shoko says, “satoru and suguru are on the right and this is my room,”

she creaks the door open and you see a flash of pinky and earthy tones. it looks nice, although it’s rather messy. there are piles of clothes beside the window and old soda cans littered on her dresser

“i’m not really the neatest person ever” she giggles sheepishly, before sliding her door shut, “this room is yours, yaga put us next to each-other”

your hand rests on the doorknob, just as you’re about to slide it open you hear footsteps coming towards you.

your eyes fall on a girl with long blackish-purple hair in a traditional miko outfit. she seems mildly irritated and a girl with long blue-grey hair scraped into a ponytail trailed languidly behind her.

“shokoooo” utahime squeals, bounding joyfully towards her favourite first year. her long blackish-purple curls hang loosely in ringlets down her back and her brown eyes sparkled “have you seen that nuisance gojo?”

“no he's not out of his room yet” shoko said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “what has he done now?”

“what hasn’t he done” utahime muttered under her breath, “‘m gonna fucking kill him this time i swear”

“that so?” mei-mei chuckles, “quit swearing in-front of the new first year utahime-san”

“is this the new first year?” utahime asks, snapping out of her angry daze and finally her brown eyes flicker over to you, “sorry about that, that imbecile brings out the worst in me”

“(y/n) this is utahime and this is mei-mei” shoko says, pointing at them respectively, “they’re the second years”

“nice to meet you taiyo” mei-mei hummed, her red painted lips stretched into a lazy smile as she held out her freshly manicured hand. you took it tentatively. “do you mind if we join your tour ieiri?”

“i don’t mind but you should really ask (y/n)” she shrugs

mei-mei shoots you an expectant look, you reciprocate with a nod, “i don’t mind, the more the merrier”

“yes!” mei-mei grins, “i love giving tours, let’s go to the common room and get something to eat”

“can you make us pancakes utahime-san” shoko pleads, batting her eyelashes and clasping her hands together, “or french toast”

“i will, as long as that moron doesn’t get to have any” utahime says, cracking her knuckles, “when i get wind of him i’ll-”

“so the school mainly fronts as a buddhist temple, which is why it has the traditional architectural style and several statues of deities, shrines, and torii gates around campus” mei-mei explained, interrupting utahime who looked very bristled

the quirk in her eyebrow faded into nothing but pure bliss as shoko looped her arm through hers. the pair trailed slowly behind you as mei-mei transversed down the hallway and up the stairs

the rest of the morning is a slow sugary blur. utahime makes her famous pancakes and mei-mei happily explained jujutsu regulations to you while shoko showed you her photo album.

( it was a quarter full, with pictures of suguru and satoru goofing off or utahime and satoru in the midst of some altercation with a few rare photos of yaga sleeping)

“normies can’t see us because we’re hidden by a protective barrier held by tengen-sama, he lives under the school in the tombs of the star.” mei-mei says, after taking a bite of syrupy pancakes, “that’s pretty much everything you need to know”

“thank you for the pancakes utahime-san” you said between bites of fluffy goodness, “and thank you so much for the tour”

“don’t mention it” utahime grins, “consider this your official welcome to jujutsu tech”

the saccharine serenity shatters as satoru — and suguru — make their way into the kitchen. the blue eyed boy is still in his pyjamas while suguru’s dressed in what seems to be his uniform

“yooo” satoru yawns, “ouu hime you made pancakes? don’t mind if i do”

you peered at him curiously. was this the satoru gojo? the esteemed strongest whose birth alone shifted the balance of the jujutsu world? he seemed like an ordinary teenager. gangly legs, pale veiny hands, white unkempt hair, and blue eyes hidden behind weird sunglasses.

he didn’t look like much, childishly swiping a piece of pancake off utahime’s stack and quickly stuffing the sweet batter into his mouth

“you have some nerve-” she grumbled, throwing her fork at him. it bounces off some sort of invisible wall and falls beside his feet, “be more polite to your elders”

“is this the newbie?" satoru asks waving her off, you notice him take off his round sunglasses and his infinitely blue eyes are fixed on you

“i’m pretty sure she has a name” suguru says, nudging him with his elbow, trying and failing to salvage what was left of a good first impression.

“the rookie from the taiyo clan?” he asks, raising a perfectly arched brow “is this the girl yaga was talking about”

he was trying to make headway of your face, to see what you looked like. he was unsuccessful, your eyes were trained on your pancakes and the syrup pooling on the blue ceramic plate

“it’s (y/n)” shoko sighs, “and you were supposed to meet her earlier but you two refused to get out of bed”

“sorry about that (y/n)” geto offers, his apology seemed genuine and heartfelt, “we were up pretty late last night, otherwise we would’ve been there”

you finally looked up from your plate and shook your head before flashing suguru a heart-stopping smile, “you’re all good don’t worry”

for the first time in all fifteen and a half years of his life, satoru seemed to be at a loss for words. he knew he should probably apologise and try to make you view him in a better light. but he couldn’t find the words.

not that it mattered now. you shot him an icy glare as you stalked past him and dropped your plate in the sink. he feels shivers run down his spine.

"i want to show you the morgue and the cursed warehouse!" mei-mei says, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “we can pick out a tool for you”

satoru’s cerulean eyes snapped to yours, he saw a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place passing through them. it didn’t look positive. he sensed aversion, dislike, maybe even hatred?

"see you in a bit" you wave to your upperclassman, and shoko and suguru as mei-mei led you out of the common room. the friendly gesture doesn't extend to satoru. he blinks. once. twice. and then he finally snaps out of it

"she's beautiful holy shit" he whispers incredulously, shaking suguru by his shoulders. then his infinitely blue eyes are fixed on shoko "i would've gotten up if you told me that"

suguru shrugged him off, “you’ve ruined any chances you had of getting with her, i told you you needed to stop being so rude”

“i can fix this surely” he sounds panicked, “do i go after them? or should i wait until she’s alone-”

"what an imbecile" utahime bursts out laughing , slamming her fist down on the table as she shakes with laughter, “can you believe him?”

“you’re too full of yourself” shoko says, shaking her head, “rookie? newbie? that’s really bad even for you i’m sure she hates you now”

“can you blame her?” utahime quips, “it’s only natural to hate gojo” she pushed her chair back and smoothed a hand over her neatly pressed clothes, intending to start on the dishes.

“hate is a strong word” suguru pipes up, pulling out a seat, “they just got off on the wrong foot, classic satoru”

“not you too suguru” he whines, pooling into a puddle of despair and anguish on the tiled floor

“so dramatic” suguru mutters, scooping an untouched pancake off shoko’s plate. they exchanged glances as they watched satoru have an existential crisis beside the counter. summer was going to be interesting

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #❛ 五条悟 ❜ #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo series #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗦𝗡’𝗧 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗘𝗧 : satoru gojo x reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: a canon-compliant collection of fics & drabbles about your life with the honoured one throughout the past and present

everything can be read as a standalone, but i recommend reading in chronological order! wc: 20.7k & counting

key index : ♡ = personal faves | ★ = extras | ༄ = side stories

ᯓ★ 2005 — 2009

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ FIRST YEAR.

ambivalence. first impressions don't always reveal what a person is truly like

….

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ SECOND YEAR.

blueberry soju. tba!!

….

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ THIRD YEAR.

….

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ FOURTH YEAR.

….

eternal sunshine.

ᯓ★ 2010 — 2017

new romantics. mornings with satoru, megumi & tsumiki are slow and sweet, like the early days of summer

….

ᯓ★ 2018 — present

♡ liebstraume. yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei when he hides out at your home.

….

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #❛ 五条悟 ❜ #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo angst #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo series

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗜𝗧 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦, 𝗜𝗧 𝗣𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦 : gojo x reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: satoru shows up to your apartment , drunk and drenched from the rain after the shinjuku incident ( dec 24 2017 )

contents: angst, fluff, fix it fic for the shinjuku incident. nudity kinda. he calls reader ‘baby’ , writing for gojo feels like writing a love letter (this was supposed to be a drabble i hate him)

it’s raining. constant precipitation trails down your windows, the sickly scent of petrichor slithers through curtains , and your ex boyfriend is standing outside your door. illuminated by the moonlight glinting off the railings and casting shadows on your front door. ( on christmas eve nonetheless)

for a minute you do nothing but observe him. his once bright blue eyes reduced to a dull dark blue that rivals the insipidity of polluted oceans. his hair dishevelled, the thick band of his blindfold strung within the messy strands, and his bottom lip trembling as he barely managed to stand

“what are you doing here?” it comes out bristly shades colder than intended. you feel a prickly sense of regret as you watch hurt flash through his eyes.

it however, was a valid question. he didn’t get to show up to your house after two weeks of radio silence. two weeks, of sleeping alone in your bed. fourteen days of instinctively making two cups of coffee, only for one to go cold and untouched. three hundred and sixty hours of wondering aimlessly if he would come back this time.

and now he was here. covered in rain and full of soju, and sorrow. you know something’s happened. you know he needs you to put the pieces back together.

“gojo” you prompt, arms folded across your chest. he looks at you. he really looks at you. and you feel the hurt and anger — the grudge, you were so adamant about holding — ebbing away into nothing

he’s drenched —and drunk. and vulnerable — rain drops cling to his hair, his clothes. you frown. something was wrong. the rain shouldn’t be able to reach him, not when he had infinity.

( unbeknownst to you , he let the rain wash away his sins, he let the precipitation drown him mercilessly to wash away the blood on his hands )

his heart aches in his chest. the words weigh heavy on his tongue — he came to you because he didn’t know where else to go, he came to you because he needs you

it’s his curse. his utter codependency and reliance on you (and your love). it’s a pain, being the strongest yet being absolutely weak for you.

“i missed you” is all he says. and you’re taken aback by how unabashedly raw he sounds. his voice is shaky, drenched with tremors that could break the ritcher’s scale.

you contemplate turning him away. for leaving you, and having the nerve to darken your doorstep. but you don’t have a mean bone in your body. you can’t leave him like this. drunk, alone. there’s no telling what he’d do. so you swallowed your bitter feelings and invited him in.

“do you want to come inside?” it’s a rhetorical question, you both know the answer is yes. satoru nods. he makes to step over the welcome mat, tripping over his feet in the process and staggering towards you.

you reach out instinctively before he tumbles headfirst through the doorway— it’s quick. too quick for him to register, the arm supporting him, your palm pressed gently to his bicep.

“such a klutz” you murmur, but you don’t let go of his arm. instead you lead him carefully through the doorway. into your apartment (into your heart again)

it’s the same as it always is. the way it always has been. the carpet is still fluffy and neatly hoovered. the polaroids of both of you still hang by the tv. your cat still slinks past him, hisses of disapproval directed towards him— he’d always hated that cat — it’s as if he never left.

you make your way to the living room — with satoru in tow, ankles bumping against the coffee table as you set him down on the couch. he slumps against the crotchet knit pillows. he’s feverish and barely conscious , but he’s home.

you’re so, so close, that he’s engulfed in your scent —warm vanilla tinged with hues of petrichor — your touch, that he’s craved for nights on end, your warmth, everything. it’s overwhelming

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his brain can bear to think about. with the alcohol coursing through his veins, and the painfully vivid images of his best friend, of blood — on his hands flashing through his mind. all he wants is to be consumed wholly by you

“i’m going to get you some water” you say, “don’t fall asleep on me yet, you’re too intoxicated”

“‘m not drunk” he’s lying through his teeth. a feeble attempt to keep you within his reach. ‘don’t leave me’ he wants to say. he can’t be alone with his thoughts. not now. not ever

“you couldn’t even walk in a straight line” you mutter, “god knows how you got here safely in the first place”

“i warped here” he slurs, and he has the nerve to sound proud of himself. he has the nerve to be pleased with the fondness flickering in your eyes before you mask it with frustration

“typical” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose exasperatedly, “just stay here, i need to get you sobered up”

he doesn’t argue with you, rather, he lets you trail to the kitchen and return with a misty glass of cold water. you don’t have to, and he doesn’t deserve it — but you hold the glass to his slightly parted lips and tilt it backwards.

you don’t have to, and he doesn’t deserve it but you’re gentle. so, so gentle as if he’s fragile, made from brittle panes of glass. you treat him as if he’s merely human,

“thank you” he says, and the words hold more meaning than the universe itself. his eyes have a little more light, but they don’t hold a candle to the bright blue they once were

you set the empty glass down on the coffee table, a ring of condensation forming on the sheer wood. you’d typically never put glass down without a coaster, but satoru had that effect on you. he’d make you forget about mundane things like keeping your coffee table pristine, all you could think about was him

“you should’ve gone to shoko’s” you sighed, “or nanami’s”

“didn’t want to” he shrugs, “they’re not you”

“that’s exactly my point gojo” you exhaled. you knew he wouldn’t see reason. you knew it was pointless to remind him that he’d been the one to end things, that you were no longer his. “you’re getting water all over my couch”

“our couch” he says. and it’s true, in retrospect. you’d bought it together. you’d done so much together

it’s silent. save for the wall clock ticking and sound of your cat clawing at her catpost. it’s silent save for satoru’s shallow breathing and the ubiquitous thumping of your hearts.

satoru aches for you to hold him, for you to act as if he’d never left. he wished he hadn’t now, watching you sit as far as possible away from him on the couch. watching your hands clench into fists in your lap.

“what’s wrong?” you asked finally. he can’t tell you. yet he knows that his heart will stop beating, and he’ll cease to exist if he doesn’t.

“a lot” it’s vague, but it’s something. it’s typically all or nothing with him, he just needs time. that’s all he wants. he hasn’t even processed what he’s done yet

his hand inches closer to yours. he’s begging silently. to feel you again, and he knows he’s asking for too much.

“i’m running you a bath” you said, and it hurts to reject him. it physically hurts to recoil and edge away from the couch. “then you’re going tell me what happened”

“okay” he nods. satoru hates being told what to do, but not when it’s you dictating. he would do anything for you. so he trailed after you.

he clumsily stumbled through the hallways he knew like the back of his hand, blindly following you as if you were the only thing that could make him move forward.

your shared bathroom was empty without his stuff cluttering up the sink. without his towel hung up beside yours. without his toothbrush mingling with yours on the counter. without his three-in-one soap sitting beside your vast collection in the bathtub. without him.

silence hung between you. the water trickling into the tub became the only background noise. he leaned weakly against the sink, watching you lean over the tub, hands experimentally treading water

“i’m still mad at you” you said, your back was turned to him but he knew you were. you had every right to be. “so mad”

“i know baby, ‘m sorry” you didn’t need to look at him for sincerity, he did sound sorry. “i really am, i was gonna get you flowers, but-”

“i don’t want flowers, i want you to be honest with me”

you dipped your fingers into the water to make sure it wasn't too hot. you still remembered how picky he was about things like this. he liked his water warm enough to sting, but not enough to burn. he liked a lot of things that way

“get in” you said, stepping away from the the tub and wiping your damp fingers down on your joggers. you avert your gaze as satoru shrugs off his clothes. your eyes flicker over the cracks in the walls as he sheds the layers of pain that anchored him to the ground

“no need to look away” he murmured “‘s nothing you haven’t seen before” that much was true. you’d seen satoru at his absolute worst (when he was weak on nights like this), you’d seen him at his best (when he was “the strongest”)

“you’re unbelievable” you spluttered. you felt heat rise to your cheeks. it was suddenly too humid in your shared bathroom. the tiled walls felt like they were closing in and satoru was too close to you.

you didn’t even realise you were backing towards the door, slowly drifting impossibly further away from him, until you felt him reach desperately for you.

“don’t go, please” it’s hard to stay mad at him. you can’t. not when you can feel his hand trembling on your wrist. not when his voice cracks and fades into nothing. not when he needs you

you didn’t grace him with a response, instead you slumped weakly against the door and watched him slip into the steaming tub. you don't mention the fact he's using your things, lathering your precious soap onto his tainted skin.

he scrubs roughly until his skin is pink and his fingers are pruney. he scrubs until he can no longer feel the throbbing pain in his chest.

"want me to wash your hair for you?" you asked after he finished washing himself. he nodded, he just wanted you to touch him. he needed you to touch him. even if it was just this — even it it was only this.

you sat on the edge of the bathtub tentatively then you poured the shampoo gently into his hair and began to move your fingers softly through his snowy curls, trying your best not to hurt him. his hair was surprisingly knot-free for once. he shivers slightly as your fingers smooth over his undercut.

he lets your fingers comb through his hair until it’s a bright white again and no longer carries hints of petrichor and alcohol

"don't fall asleep" you murmured, as you noticed his ivory lashes fluttering against his rosy cheeks. he shot you a half hearted smile. you washed the soap suds out of his hair — carefully, to ensure you didn’t get soap into his beautiful eyes

satoru felt wholly at peace. your hand ghosted tenderly across his face as you wiped at the suds that lingered on his cheeks. it felt good to be this close to you. to be completely exposed for your eyes only.

“i love you” he murmurs sleepily. he presses a nervous kiss to your wrist and he’s surprised to find that you don’t flinch away

he’s not surprised that you don’t say it back. asking you to love him — when he’s such a wreck, when all he seems to do is cause you pain — is nothing but mere entitlement.

he doesn’t deserve it. he knows he doesn’t. yet he craves your love the way the moon craves the sun. the way the plants crave water. he craves your love because it’s the only thing that will keep him going. so he whispers the words like a mantra

his lips tremble against your skin as he presses soft kisses and i love yous to the bone on your wrist.

“coffee or tea?” is all you say in response. but you don’t pull away. he doesn’t need his six eyes to tell him that your resolve is weakening.

“coffee” he says. you wordlessly hand him a towel. it’s yours. fluffy and probably fresh out the laundry basket. it smells soft and nostalgic. your fingers brush against his briefly. it’s still there — the spark that dances on your fingertips, the spark that brings him back to life

“you left some clothes in the closet” you sigh, “get dressed and come to the kitchen. i would make you something to eat, but i haven’t gone grocery shopping yet”

“d’you have any sweets?” he has the audacity to ask. it’s worth seeing a smile tug at the corner of your lips as you stand in the doorway.

“you and your sweet tooth” you muttered, but you shook your head fondly, “i’ll see if i can find anything”

when satoru trudges into the kitchen, his hair is still damp, droplets trickle down his neck and a towel is draped around his shoulders. he finds you perched on a stool by the kitchen island sipping languidly on what he assumes to be hot chocolate

the counter is empty, save for the bowl of ceramic fruits you kept as a centrepiece and his mug of coffee —black with infinite granules of sickly sweet sugar— just the way he likes it. it’s hot, wisps of smoke blow onto his face but it’s perfect.

“‘toru ” you said, all traces of bitterness erased from your voice, “what are you really doing here?”

his throat is dry. so dry. and the words weigh heavy on his tongue. but he has to tell you. he owes you that much at least.

“i killed someone” he says. the lack of emotion in his voice doesn’t phase you. it’s the tears brimming in his eyes that have you worried.

“who did you kill?” you ask. whoever it was, you could take it. you would shoulder the world of pain that weighed him down. you would stop him from drowning in his emotions. you have to. after all, he is your fatal flaw, your achilles heel — your everything

“suguru” it physically hurts to hear his breath hitch and his voice catch over the three syllables. it hurts to watch the tears fall from his dull blue eyes. it hurts to watch his fingers tremble around his coffee. it hurts to watch him break

sitting beside you, satoru isn’t the strongest jujutsu sorcerer ; he isn’t the honoured one — he’s weak. he’s broken. he clenches the bruised pieces of his heart in his palms. a cardiac puzzle for you to put together. but you don’t know where to start.

there are too many pieces. too many words swarming in your head. too many tears falling from his cerulean eyes. too many days apart. it’s complicated — this soulful relationship you have with him, it’s hot and cold usually but it’s blazing now.

“toru” you don’t know what else to say. there aren’t enough words to wrap around him. not enough words to soothe him. you couldn’t tell him that everything was going to be okay. you couldn’t lie to him. so you said the only thing you knew he wanted to hear, “i love you”

“i’m a murderer” he says, he thinks it’s true. you can’t possibly love him. you shouldn’t. he’s not a good person. he doesn’t deserve it. “you shouldn’t have let me in”

“but i did” your hands inch towards his, to no avail

it's subtle but you feel it, pressing softly against you — his cursed energy protecting his entire being. an invisible wall between you. a gap that you can't close. infinity

"you're using infinity" you point out. the words feel foreign on your tongue. infinity wasn't supposed to exist when it came to you. it hurts to see him avoid your gaze. it hurts to see him recoil. you're both hurting now. and it's the last thing he wants, “you don’t have to, it’s just me”

“sorry” he exhales, you feel the wall between you crumble. it comes crashing down like the vast ocean waves on sturdy sea rocks.

“don’t be” your fingers graze his softly and you loop your pinkie with his. it's small. underwhelming. you're giving him an out in case it's too much. in case he can't take this, but he doesn't move. “we don’t have to talk about it, we can just go to sleep and pretend it didn’t happen”

“i’m sick of pretending” he mutters. his eyes are glued to the marbled countertop. they ghost over the swirls until he feels dizzy. “it’s my fault, if i had been strong enough back then-”

“you didn’t fail him, you didn’t fail anyone” you squeeze his hand gently, grounding him. “it’s never been your fault, haibara wasn’t your fault and suguru wasn’t your fault either, blame the higher ups for being incompetent”

“i was incompetent too” he reminds you. he’s clinging to the past and he’s haunted by its ghosts.

“you were also a child” you said, “we were kids ‘toru, and as much as we want to, we can’t change the past”

“the future doesn’t look any brighter” he laughs, it’s cold and bitter. devoid of any positive emotions, and for a split second you think he might be spiralling down the path suguru took all those years ago.

satoru dreamt of a perfect world where jujutsu sorcerers protect the weak like they were destined to. it’s all he’d ever talked about. it looks like his dreams had been crushed into dust and scattered across the ground for the wind to carry away

“the future isn’t always bright, but it’s ours” you mumble softly. “if you need someone to talk to i’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens”

and that’s all satoru needs to hear right now. a reminder of why things turn out the way they do. a reminder that you’ll always find your way back to each other.

even when the future looks dark and gloomy you’d always belong together. like two peas in a pod, like two starcrossed lovers, after all — tragedy is what binds you together

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#ִֶָ 𓂃˖ mimi writes?! #⋆ 𝓳.jk ﹕ #𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗦 : various

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: being a jujutsu sorcerer has its ups and downs. the missions are traumatizing , and undeserved physical + mental scars are earned. time might heal, but your gentle fingers and soft kisses heal faster! wc: 3.1k

contents: fluff, reverse comfort. established relationships, canon adjacent! (slight spoiler for maki if you haven’t read the manga)

⭑ 𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗝𝗜 𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜 : “a symbol of how far he’s come”

yuuji itadori is no stranger to suffering and hardship. he’d like to say they carved him into who he is today. but he knows, deep down that they’ve worn him down into a shell of who he used to be. the carefree boy you’d fallen in love with

he’s changed so much after joining jujutsu high. both physically and mentally. and it wasn’t just because he had the king of curses living rent-free in his body. he’d just…changed. yuuji wasn’t sure it was for the better.

he wasn’t the most attractive boy on the planet. he thought he was rather plain looking. sure, he was tall and fit and he had nice curly hair. but that was it. he didn’t have gojo-sensei’s enchanting blue eyes or megumi’s pretty face. he’d never really cared much about his appearance. but now it was all he could think of. the foreign feeling of self consciousness coursed through his veins as if it belonged there

the two of you were watching howl’s moving castle, curled up on the worn sofa in the common room. he wasn’t particularly paying attention the blue light cast by the screen, or the faint buzzing drifting from its speakers. he couldn’t focus on animated pixels when his head was such a mess. the only thing grounding him, was the warmth seeping from your intertwined fingers

he tentatively reaches for his face with his free hand, fingers ghosting over the rough lines that thrive as a harsh reminder of the shibuya incident. he traces over the bumpy etches as if they would disappear in his wake.

“stop touching them” your voice slips through his thoughts effortlessly. his fingers hover over the jagged scar that runs between his shifty eyes before drifting to his messy salmon pink hair. they tangle within the curled strands, itching to trace the ridges that paint the canvas of his face

“i can’t help it” his brows are furrowed now, warm brown irises clouded with emotions he can’t quite grasp himself, “they feel so weird”

“you’re just not used to them yet” you say softly, giving his hand a slight squeeze. yuuji is eternally grateful for you. for your unconditional love. for the way you hold him together. he squeezes back gently

“‘m not sure i’ll ever be used to them” he sighs, he huffs, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. the scar tissue twitches with the subtle movements. “they look stupid”

“yuuji” a frown ghosts over your lips, “your scars are anything but stupid”

his scars. why do they have to be his scars. he didn’t ask for them. he didn’t ask for any of this. he feels angry at himself, for impulsively swallowing that bitter, pruny finger. you squeeze his hand again, and his gaze softens. he feels the flames of frustration die down into embers and fade into nothing.

“for what it’s worth” you say, the pads of your fingers tracing the jagged scar across his nose, “i think you look beautiful ” you press your lips against the divot in his porcelain skin, kissing the scar nestled between his eyes. you litter his face with trails of heartfelt kisses until you reach where it ends at his forehead.

yuuji’s cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink. you’d kissed his scars almost religiously since the shibuya incident. he’s shuddered initially, writhing under your lips. bruised fists clenched tightly in his palms, but now he relished the tenderness in which you kissed him. as if he was made of the most fragile glass. as if you knew he’d break if you weren’t slow and patient with him

“really?” his voice shakes as his the syllables spill from his lips. his voice is raw, so tranquil you almost strain to hear him

“really” you affirm, cupping his face in the palms of your hand. your fingers brush against the precipice of his undercut, rubbing soothing patterns on his warm skin “your scars are pretty, they suit you y’know? almost as if they’re a symbol of how far you’ve come”

yuuji knew he was in love with you. his mind was full of you, and only you. you were the first thing to cross his mind when the sun rose from its slumber, and the last thing to cross his mind when the moon surmounted the cloudy skies. he just hadn’t realized it was possible to fall even harder and further in love with someone your already heart solely belonged to

“i love you so much” he whispers, soft lips pressing against the side of your hand. his eyes don’t leave yours, not for a second. because if there was anything yuuji itadori knew, he didn’t have enough time. his eyes captured every inch of you, as if this was the last time they would see you in all your glory.

“i love you too” you say, without missing a beat. you press your lips tenderly against his. his soft lips immediately latched onto yours in a desperate plea. a plea for you not to ever forget him. a plea for you to stay by his side.

yuuji could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

you feel a pair of lips push against your fingers, struggling to break free from the confines of your palms. you pull away from yuuji’s freshly kissed lips breathlessly, eyes widening as the infamous king of curses’ pearly lips and ivory teeth pop out on yuuji’s cheek.

“get a room” he sneers, dark plum coloured tongue poking out between his lips. yuuji groans as he swats the side of his face. leave it to sukuna to ruin a beautiful moment

⭑ 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗜 𝗭𝗘𝗡𝗜’𝗡 : “her scars make her beautiful”

“hey (y/n) do you have any concealer in my shade” maki asked, leaning against your doorframe. you get to see her burns and scars in all their glory for the first time since the shibuya incident.

your girlfriend became a shell of herself. maki trailed around silently, not even snapping when you messed with her things. not even so much as complaining when toge ate her sweet. the amber-eyed girl was hiding from the entire world, including you. you’d barely seen her outside her room. and when you did she had a face full of makeup, and shattered dreams

beneath the emptiness, maki looks practically the same to you. sure, her green hair no longer sported its signature ponytail and curled short around her ears now. sure, her porcelain skin was decorated by dark patches, but she was still just as beautiful as ever.

“quit staring” she mutters, squirming under your gaze. you sat cross-legged on the edge of your bed, the faint murmuring from the show you were watching faded into background noise, “do you have any or not?”

“you don’t need it” you said firmly, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as she grumbled about you being a pain in the ass, “you look so beautiful like this maki”

“get your eyes checked” she scoffed, making her way to your dressing table. she sifted through the drawers, finding little trinkets and keepsakes from your dates, but no concealer. not even a drop. her amber eyes scanned every inch of your dresser. you didn’t budge, knowing she wouldn’t find anything. you’d hidden all your makeup (and hers) beneath your bed

“my eyes are perfectly fine my love” you hum, slipping off your bed and padding towards her. you drape your arms around her waist and make eye contact with her in the mirror, “look”

you point at her reflection in your gossamer-thin mirror, she raises a brow. she was looking. all she saw were her scars. a harsh reminder of jogo’s flames and the hardships she’d faced as a sorcerer

“what?” she sounds slightly irritated, but she doesn’t shrug you off. rather, she does the opposite. leaning into you as if she’d crumble without your support.

“you seriously can’t see how beautiful you are like this?” the genuine confusion blooming on your features made her heart melt. you looked at her like she was handcrafted by the gods. you looked at her like she was the most beautiful person on the planet

“nope” she shrugs, popping the p. her hands are still on the search for concealer to cover her scars. you take them in yours and pull her away from your dressing table, forcing her to face you.

“maybe you need to get your eyes checked” you said, you smoothed your thumb over her knuckles, pulling her hand towards your lips and pressing a kiss against them

maki watches you curiously. she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss this. she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss being showered in your love and adoration. she allows your hand trail up to her arms, slipping over countless burn marks and faded scratches. they’ve healed nicely, a mesmerising shade of turkish rose.

“they don’t hurt” she says, though her arms tremble beneath your fingers. your fingertips ghost over the burn marks on her arms. so many, all so beautiful. you pressed your lips gently to her skin, hearing her inhale sharply

“what the hell are you doing?” maki splutters, her brows are furrowed but you don’t miss the pink tinge dusting her cheeks. you press chaste kisses to every crevice of her skin, fingers rubbing tenderly against the soft skin on her arms

“i’m kissing your scars” you say, as if it’s the most sensible and obvious thing in the world.

“well stop doing that” she sounds frustrated, irritated, annoyed. but her eyes betray her. they’re soft and sparkling. the light seeping through your curtains casting slight shadows on her amber irises

“i don’t think i will” you grin, you press your lips to her neck. the burns there seem to be the most sensitive. your lips ghost over them and she shivers slightly. maki feels her resolve melting into a puddle of nothing. she feels love seeping through the scars she was so sure she hated

“idiot” maki says fondly, her hands cup your face and she can’t fight the infectious smile tugging at her the corners of her lips. you kissed her cheek, not minding the rough patch bruising your bottom lip. you’d do anything to make her feel good.

maki was everything to you. you needed her the way you needed air. “your idiot, that loves you endlessly”

you press your lips against hers. slow, and gentle. the pads of your fingers brush against the scars on her cheeks and you could feel maki melting into you. she kissed you back fervently, hands finding the small of your back and tangling in your hair.

when she pulls away, she feels butterflies swarm in the pits of her stomach, she feels giddy and lighter than she has in days. “i love you” it’s quiet, nearly whispered, but it holds so much intensity

“i love you too beautiful” you smile, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. you look at her, really look at her and she feels like she’s floating. “my beautiful girlfriend”

maki thinks you’re right. she is beautiful in her own way. but you make her feel like the most beautiful girl on the planet. the way you love her rivals the solar system’s devotion to the sun. you practically worshipped her from head to toe. on her good days, on her bad days. you loved her unconditionally, scars and all. maybe she didn’t need concealer.

⭑ 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 : “there’s more of him to love”

“hey” you said softly as you heard satoru’s approaching footsteps, “you’re up early” you were lathering your face in a clay face mask, leaning against your bathroom sink. you looked so peaceful, with the rays of the morning sun seeping through your window and casting your face in a warm glow

“mhm” satoru hums, “couldn’t really sleep without you” it’s been like this for a week now. ever since the toji incident. the blue-eyed boy refused to sleep alone, opting to spend the nights curled up in the confines of your embrace.it didn’t matter that it was against the rules, it was the only thing that kept the nightmares at bay

“oh satoru…” you cooed, drying your hands and walking towards where he stood in your doorframe. you drink him in with your (e/c) eyes.the lingering residues of sleep cloying his face. his signature cookie monster pyjama bottoms, the scars that adorned his toned skin.

you gently cupped his face with your palms, leaning forward to kiss him.

his hair was messy, although not in an untamed way, your fingers found refuge in the soft strands of his hair. satoru felt himself melting into you as he breathed in the rosy scent of your clay mask and the taste of mint on your tongue.

your nose brushed against his as you pulled away, your hands resting on either side of his face as you looked at him in adoration. swatches of your face mask cling to his skin.

“might as well use some” you giggled, smoothing a thumb over the pink patch on the tip of his nose. a small smile crept onto his lips

“might as well” satoru’s surprised to find himself complying. he lets you lead him to the sink and carefully dab the clay mask onto his smooth skin. he finds himself leaning into your touch as you did so. your lips met again for a quick but lingering kiss

“you’re so pretty ‘toru” you commented, after a few minutes of admiring his features. and you really did think he was pretty. the scars that covered the canvas of his skin didn’t change anything. there was simply more of him to love

“am i really?” his eyes dart past your figure and his cerulean eyes linger on his scars. the dewy mirror in your bathroom distorting his reflection slightly.

he liked his hair that fell in ivory waves around his face. he liked the way it framed his pale, flawless skin. he liked the soft curve of his nose that curled into a perfect cupid’s bow. he liked his smile. he liked his curly, long eyelashes and perfectly arched brows. he liked his bright blue eyes that sparkled when he laughed. he liked the fact that they could see anything and everything.

he’d once thought he was near perfect. that wasn’t the case anymore. the scars that riddled his skin were evidence enough of his imperfections.

he hated the ugly, uneven marks on his torso. he hated how they ran consistently from his v-line to the tip of his chin. he hated how dark they were in contrast to his pale skin. his fingers ghosted over the raised skin, experimental, unsure.

they didn’t hurt as much anymore. but they were there, a harsh reminder of what it felt like to be cut open, of what it felt like to lose. of what it felt like to be weak.

“is the sky blue?” you asked rhetorically, gently making him face you, “and don’t tell me it’s sometimes grey or orange”

“but it is” he splutters, “and i’m pretty sure i can name a lot more colours than that”

“okay, it’s not like it matters anyway” you shrug. your hands fall from his face, and you rinse the pink clay off your fingers. “you’re still the prettiest person i know”

“okay” he says, a tight lipped smile stretching across his lips as he picks up his toothbrush. he feels self conscious as you watch him brush his teeth. eyes lingering on the raised skin on his body. he wishes he’d opted to sleep fully clothed. he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable, so scared now.

he’s scared you no longer think he’s pretty, that you’re just uttering the words to make him feel better about himself. your eyes trail over the peak of the longest scar. the one he hates the most. he can’t read the look in your eyes. and that scares him

“i mean it” you said softly, taking his hand in yours. he shrinks as your fingers opt to land on the slightly raised skin running from his neck to his chest. you’re silently asking for permission to touch them, and he wants to refuse. but he can’t find it in himself, he doesn’t have the strength to say no to you. not when you were his only weakness

“can i?” you ask, you’re giving him an out, in case it’s too much for him. in case it’ll break him. he nods slowly, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. he clenches his jaw, tense, unsure, but he guides your hand towards the scar regardless

he shivers when your fingers make contact with his skin. they ghost over the entire length of it.

“they’re so ugly” he says quietly, below his breath. you disagree fervently. he recoils when you place a feather light kiss to the jagged scar. he watches as you continue to kiss up his chest. you press heartfelt kisses to his collarbone, to his jaw, then his cheeks and finally placing one on his lips.

“i don’t think any part of you could possibly be ugly” you look up at him, taking in the misty look in his eyes, the faint blush dusting his cheeks and the rosy pink splotches of your clay mask staining his skin, “you’re perfect”

“‘m not, they ruin everything” he frowns, and you wish you could take all his pain for yourself. he looks broken, fragile, and you hate it. your heart broke seeing him like this. you held his face tenderly between your hands once more

“that isn’t true” you insist, “you don’t like them, and i get that ‘toru. but they’re a part of you now. and i promise you that i love every single part of you. i always will. i’ll still love you tomorrow, i’ll still love you in a year, i’ll still love you when you’re old and wrinkly with dentures from eating too many sweets”

“i love you” he whispers, pressing the softest of kisses against your lips, “so much” there’s a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability etched in the kiss. his fingers trace patterns on the small of your back, sending warmth throughout your entire body.he loves you, god does he love you so much, it begins to chip away at the hatred he has towards his scars

“i know” you murmur against his lips, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. “i love you too”

the two of you stay like that in silence, wrapped up in each other’s arms and satoru knows he’ll be okay. he’d heard somewhere that time heals all wounds, but he was sure your love, your sweet words and your kisses healed faster

© Y2KUROMI '24 please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#⋆ 𝓳.jk ﹕ #ִֶָ 𓂃˖ mimi writes?! #𓂃˖ letters from: yuuji #𓂃˖ letters from: maki #𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji x you #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori fluff #maki zenin #maki x reader #maki zenin x reader #maki zenin x you #jjk maki #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗜𝗦 : satoru gojo x reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: you have no choice but to believe he'll always come back to you. after all, home is where the heart is

contents:JJK SPOILERS CH236! angst, fluff kinda comfort. profanities. second & third person pov.character death. ( i despise you gege you ruined christmas eve ) wc: 1.8k

satoru gojo was an enigma. you knew that from the moment you met him. on first glance, there was nothing ordinary about him. his vivid blue eyes could simply not go unnoticed.

his smile, and that irritating laugh he shared too often were your kryptonite. you despised how soft you felt in response to his smile. his name alone could inspire the most extraordinary of emotions.

you had fallen hard for him. you'd fallen so irreversibly hard for him that you couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at him when he called you out of the blue.

being with gojo meant expecting the unexpected. being with gojo meant believing he would come back after disappearing for days, weeks and occasionally months on end, without offering so much as an explanation

the call came whilst you were nose deep in christmas preparations. the kitchen in your shared home smelled of sugar, cinnamon and cloves.

the rest of the house had already been decorated for the holidays. there was tinsel everywhere. reds, whites and greens were splashed all over the place and christmas was only a few hours away

“you’re getting ready for santa?” satoru asks, upon hearing the whirring of the teal kitchenaid mixer he bought you for your birthday. “what about me?”

“you are santa silly” you laugh, switching off the mixer to hear your fiance’s voice clearer

“that i am” he smiled, flicking at the drops of blood adorning his lips with his tongue, “what are you cooking up tonight? ‘m starving”

“i thought we were going out for dinner..” you murmur, confusion evident in your words, “did you forget again ‘toru?”

“no baby. ‘course not” he says, pausing momentarily to wipe off the excess blood, “just something came up at work. i'll make it up to you”

“well the cookies should be done in a bit” you said, and he could hear you smiling. “extra chocolate , just the way you like it”

“mmm” he hummed, blood ringing in his ears, “can’t wait to try them”

“when are you coming home?”

your question is met with silence on the other end of the phone, and satoru has to admit he can tell by the lack of noise on your part that you've grown concerned.

the last thing he wants right now is for you to cry because of him. so he lies to you. it's all he could do. he couldn't tell you that he, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, was reduced to a bleeding mess at the hands of sukuna. the notion shouldn't even be plausible

yet here he was, leaving his allies to do all the work, while he choked back heart wrenching sobs. he should try to stop the bleeding. try to stay conscious but there was too much. too much blood

“toru” you breathed, sounding completely broken. your voice was barely a whisper, but it was all he could focus on, blurring out the massacre taking place behind him. “what’s happening?”

he couldn’t tell you. his throat felt dry and hollow. his hand twitched in pain as he reached towards his bleeding abdomen. fingers sticky with dark blood

he didn't know. everything had been fine a while ago. it almost seemed like he would win. but satoru gojo was faced with a fatal curse. he could never win.

“nothing too serious my love” he fibbed, the lie dripping off his tongue like honey.

“bullshit” you frowned, “i can hear you wheezing gojo. don’t lie to me”

"you’ve always been too smart for your own good" he laughs, the motion rendering him breathless.

he hears your breath hitch and he can feel his heart shattering. he really shouldn’t have called you. he just wanted to hear your voice one last time

“switch to video” you ordered, after a painstaking moment of silence, before adding softly, “i want to see you��

“you really don’t” he says teasingly, trying his absolute hardest to make light of the situation, “i’m really roughed up right now, ‘m scared you won’t think i’m pretty anymore”

“satoru” you said through gritted teeth

“‘m half the man i used to be” he jokes weakly. satoru was a stubborn bastard, yes. but he also cared more about you than anything else. and he knew seeing him like this would scar you for life.

“stop stalling” you pleaded, "we've talked about this"

"don't wanna do this to you" he slurs, squeezing his beautiful blue eyes shut

“i’ll hang up i swear” you say, and he knows you mean it. the thought of no longer hearing your sweet voice hurts more than his pending death

“please don’t” he said, “don’t wanna be alone right now”

you can feel the vulnerability he carries reverberating in his voice. you can hear him panicking.

loneliness is something satoru gojo had grown to despise. but it clung to him endlessly. it came with the weight of the jujutsu world hanging on him — the first sorcerer in four hundred years to have the six eyes and limitless .

he could be touched only when he wished to be. choosing to keep others safe from the burden he had to carry at an unfairly young age simply because he inherited these abilities.

it was painstakingly hard for him to connect with people after losing geto, a void was left in his absence. a void he didn’t bother to fill until you came along

he tended to hide his true desires and feelings behind his cheerful and charismatic personality, but that didn’t work with you. you saw right through him

“okay” you nodded, blinking back the tears that prickled your eyelids, “how bad is it?”

“really fucking bad” he says weakly, “can’t hold out much longer”

if you could you would hug him, or do anything to make him feel better. but you couldn't. he was alone. you wished you could see his face, you wanted to kill him for doing this to you. for leaving you when he promised to stay by your side forever

“you're not going to die on me" you said as firmly as you could manage, “you can’t”

"promise me, you’ll be alright " he said, trying not to grimace as the effort he put into speaking left him weaker than before, "i want you to move on, just because my life ends doesn't mean yours has to”

"don’t say shit like that" you said, fresh tears brimming in your eyes. he was glad he’d decided to stick to audio call. seeing you cry would surely finish him off

“promise me" he pleaded, he could feel his body suddenly growing colder, his bottom lip quivered furiously

"i promise" those words were heavy on your tongue. believing you could move on from satoru was quite literally stupid, you didn't want anyone but him, you didn't need anything, need anyone, as long as you had him with you.

“it really s-sucks that ‘m gonna — s-shit — die alone” he says, his bloody lips trembling “i love you so much (y/n)"

no. no. no. you couldn’t allow this to happen

“keep your eyes open for me toru please" you said frantically, but you knew you were losing him. you were still crying, even though your eyes felt sore and dried out.

“say it back” he whimpered, “need to hear you say it”

"i love you too toru” tears stream down your face, stinging your cheeks as your heart shatters into a million pieces

“i know” he says, smiling to himself despite the pain. it was everywhere all at once. he didn't have the strength to fight it anymore, allowing the cold feeling to wrap itself around him, completely burying him.

“toru?” you whisper timidly. you’re met with numbing silence. stillness, tranquility. you wanted to lash out, you wanted to make everyone hurt the way you were hurting.

you felt unabashedly raw, like a vital part of your body had been ripped away. and then you realised it was something that belonged wholly to him. your heart. he owned your heart, he always would.

you couldn’t stop the loud, unfiltered sobs that fled from the confines of your chest. you wanted to scream until you could taste blood. you were shaking now. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t-

“(y/n)!!” you felt arms around you shocking you back to reality. your eyes shot open, locking with gojo’s ethereal blue pupils. concern evident in his face as he tenderly wiped your tears away

you looked around the dimly lit room, turning your head frantically, (e/c) eyes grief stricken and wide with fear “

"it's okay baby, i'm here" satoru said softly, slipping your fingers through his. you grabbed onto him as if he was a lifeline, squeezing his fingers so hard you were sure no blood was rushing to them.

“you’re alive” you said slowly, struggling to see through your tears, you needed some form of confirmation, anything, to let you know that you just had a bad dream, a silly nightmare that wouldn't come to fruition

“‘course i’m alive” he laughs "it was just a dream baby"" he placed kisses on the smooth canvas of your visage, not caring that your face was tear stained

“he killed you.” you sobbed, “and you called me-”

“who?” he interrupts, feigning offence at the mere prospect of someone beating him, the gojo satoru, the undeniable strongest

“sukuna” you murmur, “he looked like megumi for some reason but it was him”

“sukuna?” he frowns, “as if! sounds like a really silly dream my love. but you can talk about it when you're ready"

in the solace of his arms, you quietly tried to regain your sanity, tried to put yourself back together. he whispered sweet nothings to you,gently threading his fingers through your hair. patting your head affectionately—his love language— for once you didn't want him to stop, that small movement helped you clear your head.

you felt so weak, so vulnerable, so exposed. you knew that loving someone, loving gojo, would make you feel things you’d never felt before. you’d never been so scared, never been so happy, never felt so complete all at once

“was it that bad?” gojo asked, his curiosity getting the best of him, “you’ve never been this shaken up before”

“it was really fucking bad” you say, almost laughing because you sounded just like him

he was frowning at how absurd the sound of him dying was. he traced a finger over your hips, ghosting shapes on your warm skin. a cirlce, a triangle, a heart. "i love you y’know. i’m not dying any time soon”

you wanted to believe him so bad, you wanted to be certain. but you were holding on to the fear that your dream would one day become reality “promise me?”

he stuck out his pinkie childishly, looping it with yours. “i pinkie promise”

a small smile makes its way across your face. gojo never broke his promises. they were golden, the surest thing in the universe

“do you think you’d ever lose to sukuna?” you ask, after a sweet moment of silence. you peer at your other half with curious eyes and your heart flutters at the cocky grin on his face

“nah, i’d win”

© Y2KUROMI '23 . please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

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