We

by Tawus

Summary:

You’re classmates with the most self-satisfied duo that has ever graced the jujutsu world — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. If it were up to you, you would spend all four of your years at Jujutsu Tech without ever having to come into their self-satisfied orbit. But as we all know, life works differently. Which was why, one day you were forced to join an exorcism mission led by the duo. Your first ever field mission. And it would be the one to bind you to them forever.

Notes:

Happy Birthday to my dearest Butterbaby_Flapjack! Welcome to a Sato-Sugu-Reader 14.7k-word goodness that was made upon her wish. Both fluff and smut are in abundance — though, never forget what Tawus’s signature style entails ;)

Your eyes shut comfortably, your foot tapping softly against the linoleum floor of the empty classroom, your temple propped on your knuckles, the corners of your lips in a slight curve. All of these pointed to it being a particularly good morning for you. And why wouldn’t it be? There was the rhythmic music pleasantly massaging your brain through your earphones. There was the morning breeze, which was neither too cold nor too warm, wafting in from the open windows and blowing over your bare thighs beneath your skirt. Oh and there was also the highlight of the morning: the most obnoxious duo of second-year sorcerers was apparently on yet another mission and hence would not be coming to class. The corners of your lips curved higher at the latter. It’s the little things in life, you know?

Why weren’t you out on a mission as well? Well, because you didn’t want to be. Though, that’s not strictly accurate, is it? It was true: you didn’t want to go out on any missions, as most of them were more than a little dangerous, as their outcomes included losing one’s mind due to the horrific curses witnessed, becoming forever disabled by losing limbs, or quite simply losing one’s very life. How did you know? Because you have already been on a handful of missions under the lucky protection of your upperclassmen and teachers, and if it weren’t for their protection, you would have been met with in any of those unfortunate outcomes. Maybe more than one.

But at the end of the day, it wasn’t for you to decide to be or not to be on a mission. You weren’t Hamlet. Principal Yaga was more Hamlet than you. If he said you had to be on a mission, you were. Though, once again luckily, your cursed technique wasn’t offensive in nature – it was defensive. And so the students – the obnoxious students – whose techniques were offensive and capable of attacking usually got sent on field missions. Examples of such obnoxious students were not hard to find: your classmates – Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru qualified.

It sufficed to say that the ‘G’ in both of their family names stood for ‘Gaudy’ and the ‘S’ in both their first names stood for ‘Smirking Self-Satisfied Show-Off’. They were very good at what they did – you wouldn’t deny them the credit they were due. But they also knew how good they were and made use of any chance to show that off. By the way, they also knew how stupidly attractive they were, which added a ton to their obnoxiousness, in your opinion. But that aspect of them didn’t deserve a single grain of thought from you.

Thus, speaking of their strength only, Geto usually lapped up all of the dangerous missions, whereas Gojo pretended to be inconvenienced by them, though at the end of the day, he was often the one to show off the most with the unnecessarily flashy fruits of his battles. More than once you received an unsolicited selfie from him and there were always these two common elements in all his photos: one was Gojo’s cocky face with his cocky tongue out and his cocky fingers in a cocky peace sign, and two was the constant pile of beaten up curses and/or human bodies behind him. Blergh.

Geto, although didn’t send you stupid selfies of his victories, still made sure to use his curse manipulation technique to the maximum by unleashing stronger curses where weaker ones could have more than sufficed, in your opinion. And whereas Gojo’s cocky smile, although annoyingly persistent, was still sometimes replaced by his childish pouts and bratty scowls – the cocky smile on Geto’s face was permanently plastered, thus making it permanently annoying.

You could never truly get along with them. Never truly saw eye to eye. And maybe that was why you preferred to sit a few desks behind where the duo usually sat at the front of the classroom – close enough to be classmates, fair distance to be (sort of) friends, but definitely too far to be buddies. That space, the length of a few desks, was explained by one fundamental difference between you and them. Your priority was self-preservation. Theirs – glory.

And that’s why, if their cocky faces weren’t planning on showing up to class on this fine morning, you had absolutely no reason to complain. To be absolutely certain they weren’t coming, though, you would need to check the time. The class should be starting soon.

With music still playing in your ears, you opened your eyes to find the permanently plastered smile of Geto Suguru smiling at you from a seat on the desk just in front of yours. Your pleasantly indulgent expression now completely vanished, you were staring at him wide-eyed due to your surprise. How long has he been sitting there, staring at you?

Wait. If the black-haired menace was here, then…

A pair of hands slapped down on the sides of your neck, startling you, and shortly your earphones got ripped out of your ears, rudely plunging you back into the reality of the classroom.

“Always listening to music with the most blissed out face,” the one called Gojo Satoru cooed at you as he moved into your view, your earphones dangling from his long fingers.

“Give them back,” you threw him a dirty look and tried to reach for them, but it was a fruitless attempt, since his freaky height easily put them out of your reach, even though you had shot up to your feet.

“I’ll give them if you make that cute face for me again,” the chest of his black uniform broadened as he outstretched his already long arm with your earphones.

“Fine. Keep them!” you muttered and sat back down. “What are you two doing here anyway? Aren’t you on that oh-so-important mission you were talking about?”

The two menaces exchanged a look that you had no chance of deciphering, before looking back at you. And that would have been (kind of) fine, if only they didn’t continue looking at you with those annoying smiles for an unnecessarily long minute.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your eyes jumped back and forth between Geto’s slim black slits to Gojo’s round black glasses, finding answer in neither.

It was Geto who spoke first, while his best friend – the Self-Satisfied Smirking Show-Off #2 – seemed perfectly content continuing to stare you down with no explanation whatsoever, regardless of how uncomfortable that made you.

“Well, in truth, we made a bet,” the curse-manipulator’s silky voice offered.

“And what does that have to do with me?” you shot back, clearly failing to see the connection.

“It has everything to do with you,” the wielder of the Six Eyes and the Infinity spoke in his velvety voice, twirling your earphones on his index finger and ignoring your glare at his carelessness with your property.

“The bet is: who does (y/n) like more? Me? Or Satoru? Be honest. There’s 5000 yen on the line,” Geto picked up the explanation from where it left off and handed it to you smoothly.

You gawked at the smiling, angled face of the brunet, noting which part of his hair he decided to pull out his signature stray strand from today. You then dutifully gawked at the toothy grin of the tall, standing albino, also inadvertently noting the exact parts of his forehead on which his wild, snowy hair rested on today. Neither of them gave an inch, their faces like those of two clowns who forced you into a Mexican standoff.

Was this a joke? You sighed. Of course it was. You had almost forgotten the one other thing they loved besides their own precious selves and showing off – cracking dumb jokes at other people’s expense.

The audacity of these two making you the subject of their latest joke – an idea most likely spearheaded by the white-haired clown... But it was okay, you were used to it.

You smirked just as cockily as them, if not more, and leaned back in your seat.

“Well, in that case, you both lost. Because I hate you both. Equally,” you extended your hand forward between the two males and opened your palm. “Pay up!”

Gojo tried to slap your open palm, and knowing how hard he slaps it – with the clear intention to hurt it – you instantly retracted it, while Geto folded his arms on the back of his chair and placed his perfectly sharp jawline on his hands.

“Come on, (y/n). You should be warmer to us,” he smiled, radiance personified. “You never know, maybe one day we’ll need to watch your back on a mission. Or you – ours.”

You scoffed. “I’d rather die than go on any missions with you two. You two go crazy! You’d accidentally kill me!”

You then shot a look directly at the precious heir of the Gojo clan before adding, “Or not accidentally…”

The precious heir of the Gojo clan mock-pouted at your jab. “Well, if you don’t want to watch my back on a mission, then you can watch it now,” he tossed your earphones on your desk and turned around, hands in the pockets of his pants, shoulders proud, and butt – yes, very much jutted out.

But you weren’t there to see it because as soon as he turned around – so did you, and you kept your face peeled to the opposite direction from him, your middle finger in the air.

For somebody who claimed to not be their buddy, you sure knew their antics well…

“Principal Yaga wants to see you after class, by the way,” Geto informed you softly and stood up to walk to his seat at the front of the classroom.

“Why?” you asked, now turning back to him.

“You’re probably getting expelled, that’s why,” Gojo was halfway turned to you in his seat at the front of the classroom, the glint of his black glasses just as mocking as his shit-eating grin.

“Oi Six Eyes, over here!” you called out and lifted your middle finger higher in the air so he wouldn’t miss it this time.

His melodic laughter rang all through the room as he faced away from you.

 

After the class ended, you were walking the length of the corridor towards Principal Yaga’s office. It wasn’t as much a corridor as it was a cloister with ancient intricate designs carved onto the surrounding wood. The fresh breeze of countryside Tokyo was freely eddying through the cloister and through your hair. It would’ve been mostly an ordinary walk through the school grounds if not for the fact that a pair of wolves – one with black fur, one with white – were prowling behind you.

“Why are you two following me?” your irritated voice bounced off of the wood and landed in the wolves’ ears.

“You think we’re following you?” the mocking melodic voice belonging to none other than the arrogance put on this unfortunate Earth by the Gojo clan – called out from behind you. Thankfully, the silky voice belonging to the master curse-manipulator walking next to him was tactfully quiet.

“Then why are you still walking behind me?” your annoyed words oozed out and spilled on the floor beneath your feet for your prowlers to step on next.

“To enjoy the view,” the same mocking melodic voice answered again and suddenly your pleated mini skirt felt shorter than it really was.

Could the Six Eyes see the beet-red colour that painted your face? You hoped not. Well, in any case, you weren’t about to get outflustered by a Six-Eyed douchebag.

“Then enjoy it thoroughly, Gojo-san! Because this will be the first and last time you ever get this view,” you called out, voice laced in defiant play, as you lifted the back of your skirt, giving both Geto and Gojo an ample view of your plush butt cheeks in nothing but your underwear, which absolutely failed to cover you without the help of your skirt.

One of the footsteps that had been following you halted completely, while the other continued walking. And you could guess which one of the two prowlers got knocked off his high horse. Yes, it was a Victory with a capital V.

The black-haired sorcerer chuckled at his friend who had stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor as soon as you flashed your butt and was standing frozen as a statue since. “Let’s go, Satoru.”

You straightened up your skirt with a triumphant grin and swerved into the corridor to your right, heading directly towards Principal Yaga’s door. You knocked on it and entered spryly. Hearing the two menaces approaching close behind, you quickly shut the door in their faces. Though, not entirely successfully, because someone jammed their arm in before you could shut it completely, and with strength that you had no way of paralleling, they pried it open. You checked who it was and it was the smile of Geto that entered behind you. Right after him, Gojo was pushing the door open even wider, as if he needed extra space for his ego that was entering with him.

“It’s my meeting, you know,” you grumbled at the two.

“We were called in too,” Geto explained calmly and civilly, while the egomaniac next to him stuck his tongue out to you. And no, not in a cute way. In, like, a bratty, demonic, “Get fucked” way.

What!? Was he eight??

Principal Yaga cleared his throat and all three of you turned your attention where it belonged – some more lazily than others.

“(y/n), this is for you,” Principal Yaga said and extended a manila folder for you to take.

You wiped your suddenly sweaty palms on your skirt and stepped forward, taking the folder.

“What is this?” you asked, though you could already guess.

“You’ve been assigned a mission,” he confirmed what you had been dreading.

You opened the folder in order to read the details of the mission, but your mind was already swimming from stress, and so nothing written in the mission brief was comprehensible to you anymore.

“A mission? A field mission?” you double-checked.

“Yes,” the older man confirmed.

You could feel the presence of your two classmates standing silently behind you, Geto behind your left shoulder, Gojo – behind your right.

“But I’m not a combat sorcerer. And I’ve never done solo missions,” you pointed out.

Surely there had to be some mistake!

“You won’t be going alone. You’ll be accompanying Gojo and Geto,” Yaga clarified and at this point you could’ve sworn a lightning struck over the clear and cloudless sky of Tokyo.

You slowly twisted your neck to the back and found the white-haired giraffe sorcerer grinning directly at you, a quirk of his eyebrows saying “I told ya”. While the black-haired best friend of the giraffe sorcerer was looking to the side instead, although smiling softly too.

They fucking knew! That was what their little game was about!

You were puce with anger but turned back to the director, resolving to deal with the traitorous duo later.

“Can’t you send Shoko or Utahime instead? They have more experience than me…” you asked the director.

“No. It’s your skillset that’s required. There will be a lot of civilians,” Yaga was firm.

Your skillset? Really? Yes, you had a certain cursed technique that stood out from most. But its uniqueness didn’t change the fact that it was still a defensive tool. It wasn’t meant for fighting curses or curse users! You were useless on any battlefield! You were hardly capable of protecting yourself, let alone of protecting other people! You weren’t a hero. You didn’t get invigorated at the thought of shielding some civilians. You derived no pleasure from glory of having done so.

It was ironic really: the person best suited for saving large numbers of people was the one who least wanted to do it…

“Principal Yaga, my skillset is…I…it’s…” your shoulders slumped and you almost curled into a ball right where you stood.

You wanted to tell him that your cursed technique was experimental, that it still wasn’t developed enough to save others. And even if it was, you still didn’t feel confident in it – or even in yourself, for that matter! How many people have you saved so far? How many lives have you changed? How many curses have you exorcised? The answer was: not enough to warrant giving you such a big responsibility.

But you couldn’t get yourself to say it. Not in front of the two prodigies that were standing in the room with you, who already attained extreme heights in their sorcerer development, and whose looming presence seemed to have stepped even closer to you just so they could hear your pitiful confession and then mock you for it later (as you believed they would). But it seems you didn’t know your classmates (friends?) very well, because they were observing you, yes, but not with any intention to mock you.

In fact, you didn’t know that behind you, Geto had actually opened his mouth to say something to Principal Yaga, but that Gojo put up his index finger and stopped his best friend from interfering – while he himself watched you intently with a subtle smile on his glossy lips.

You see, Gojo Satoru always had a knack for identifying stars capable of supernova – capable of the future. And he was always on the lookout for such stars.

A silent, uninterrupted minute passed and your shoulders finally unravelled, allowing for you to stand up a bit straighter.

You looked in Principal Yaga’s face, your resolve shaky but irrefutably there.

“I’ll do it.”

Upon your proclamation, the two prodigies exchanged looks, and the subtle smile that had been on the lips of one of them now stretched into a satisfied grin.

 

At quarter of an hour following your visit to Principal Yaga’s office, you were crouched down by one of the vending machines in the open space on the ground floor of the school, the pleats of your skirt wide open, while your anxious hand raked through your hair.

“I can see your panties,” a pair of spider legs crossed in front of you towards the display of snacks and drinks in the vending machine.

“Shut up, Gojo,” you groaned, eyes rolling in your eye sockets, and pushed yourself up in time with Geto passing by you as well with a small smile just for you.

The two males pretended to be considering the myriad of drink options behind the glass, though the way they obliquely observed your ghostlike silhouette standing by the vending machines told a different tale. You were only a trace of the resolve-imbued girl they had just seen at the director’s office. It was clear that the weight of your mission was now actualising and pressing you down.

“Did the news of the mission get you down, flasher?” the white-haired male was the first to ask.

You ignored his new nickname for you. You’d flash your underwear a million times if only it would get you out of the responsibility that was just flung atop your shoulders by Principal Yaga. Should you maybe…?

Uh. No. That wouldn’t do shit, except maybe officiate your nickname throughout the entire school, instead of being exclusive for the Six-Eyed menace’s use.

“I read the brief,” eyes cast down, you spoke to the ground, the spilled chalice of your confidence in plain view. “It’s a job for jujutsu sorcerers. For strong ones… You two are jujutsu sorcerers!”

Geto moved closer to the vending machine and the pads of his long fingers languidly pressed several buttons on the keypad, as he said, “So are you.”

“I’m not! I don’t fight,” you contradicted, shoulders slumped.

“You’re wearing the jujutsu sorcerer uniform,” Geto countered as the machine buzzed with the effort of dropping down the drinks that were just paid for.

You looked down at your dark navy jacket and skirt, with the single golden spiral button on your waist.

“So what? A uniform alone doesn’t make me a jujutsu sorcerer,” you grumbled, your tone positively defeatist. Perhaps even annoyingly so. Whatever, you didn’t care.

“Then take it off,” this time it was Gojo who spoke and you looked up at his towering height above you and at the smirk of a challenge on his lips.

Usually you would’ve mustered a snarky response custom-made for his insufferable ass, but right now all you could do was glare, though your heart was hardly in it.

Suddenly a can of soda got flung over Gojo’s tall shoulder and it collided with his Infinity. He smiled at you as he took his hand out of his pocket and the canned drink that was being held up in the air by his constant technique – landed directly in his palm. Meanwhile, Geto came up to you holding two cans, opened one of them and offered it to you.

“What Satoru is trying to say is that Yaga wouldn’t assign you a mission if he didn’t feel confident in your skills,” the brunet assured you and the weight on your shoulders seemed to have lightened just a bit, allowing for you to take a sip of your drink and actually taste it.

That is until a certain white-haired jerk decided to open his mouth again.

“Was I really trying to say that?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked, lips kissing the rim of his soda can.

You would’ve flung your open soda can at him if only you didn’t know with 1000% certainty that he would block it with his Infinity. God knows how many people have tried in the past and God knows how many of those attempts were justified. (All of them).

Geto sighed with a handsome smirk unique to him and closed his eyes, “You’re not usually this mean to your teammates, Satoru. Do you maybe like her?”

The giraffe with black shades choked on his drink and sputtered some of it back into his can. He then licked his lips and cocked his head to one side, a canine grin materialised on his face. “Suguru, you don’t have Infinity to shield you from things being maliciously thrown at you, do you…?”

The brunet with his long hair in a graceful bun continued to smile comfortably, unfazed by the threat. “No. Though, I have curses that can disintegrate the malicious things in one’s hand before they’re even thrown. Along with one’s hand.”

You giggled and almost choked on your own drink before an actual full-on chuckle escaped you, making both males look at you. When they did, you quickly neutralised your expression and pretended to be enthralled by the text covering your can in tiny font as if it was the most magnetic thing you’ve ever seen.

“Heh,” Gojo shook his head, his unruly white hair undulating over his eyes, and passed by you to head back into the building.

Geto proceeded to do the same in the languid tempo of his, after leaving you with one last word of encouragement, “Don’t worry. You’re at the exact level you need to be right now.”

You got left standing by the vending machines on your own as you gazed at the retreating backs of the two team members whom you had to accompany on a field mission in a few days.

The duo of Gojo and Geto. The most arrogant boys you’ve ever met. And the most talented.

In truth, the matter that had you crouching out here on your own earlier and raking through your hair – wasn’t contained just to you not knowing if you could save the people you were expected to save. It was also about not knowing if you could measure up to those two. If you had what it takes to be a partner to those two.

 

On the day of the mission at the exact time agreed with your teammates – which was about thirty minutes before the start time of the mission, you were in an elevator descending down to what seemed like the very core of the Earth. Your wrung your fingers in nervousness but found it only contributing to it, so you willed your hands to stay put by your sides.

Since you didn’t see Gojo and Geto on your way here, they were probably already at the meeting spot. They had instructed you to meet them by the storage downstairs where Jujutsu Tech kept various cursed tools.

When the doors of the elevator opened, you stepped out onto the soft but dry dirt of the mammoth space under the school that was the domain of Master Tengen. Although you had been here several times with your teachers, you still hadn’t learned to still your awe at this miniature world that existed belowground. The trees protruding from the ground here and there looked lush and verdant all year long. You wondered if Master Tengen did this to give this space a semblance of normalcy, of humanity. You looked all around you, eyes consuming every minute detail, as your feet carried you towards the location of the storage.

Even before you approached it, you saw that its security shutters were drawn all the way up, leaving the entrance wide open. You entered the dimly lit interior of the storage and found your preoccupied team members inside.

Gojo was standing with his back to you, the blade of a long cursed sword casually resting on his broad shoulder as he held it in his hand like it was a toy, whereas Geto was crouching down and busy rummaging through a mess of various equipment, clearly looking for something. At the sound of you coming in, both males turned to you.

“Skinny jeans replaced the skirt, huh?” the albino with the sword noted. “Not in the mood for flashing today? A shame, because I was.”

“Then go on, flash!” you threw him a dagger of a look as you came up to stand next to him.

“Good choice,” the brunet approved your outfit too, but with a far more appropriate choice of words, as he returned to his task of scouring through cursed items.

“What are you looking for? Isn’t it displayed somewhere on the wall?” you stepped towards him and looked around at the walls lined with murderous weapons imbued with cursed energy.

“No. This tool hasn’t been used in a while, so it won’t be displayed,” Geto answered calmly, his hands still busy at work.

Behind you, Gojo tossed the sword he was playing with in the air where it got hung by its hilt back on its designated place on the wall.

You wanted to ask them what necessitated the use of a cursed tool on this mission, but decided against opening your mouth. These two were, after all, pros. They knew things you didn’t. They’ve done thing you haven’t. They’ve fought battles you never have. Your experiences were worlds apart – and they definitely had more of it than you. So you didn’t want to showcase your inadequacy any more than was already obvious.

“Ya scared?” a smirking voice asked from behind you.

When you turned around, sure enough, Gojo was standing over you like a tower. A smug, know-it-all, smirking tower.

“No,” you shot him defiance with your eyes.

He chuckled softly and the melody of it resonated all through the cramped space. He then leaned down so that he would be eye level with you and so that you could see a fraction of the spectacular blues that were behind his glasses.

“Your hands are shaking,” he pronounced with a pointed smile.

You pushed your hands into your jacket pockets almost too quickly, sputtering in the process a vehement, “They must be shaking from anger at the fact that you can’t learn to mind your business!”

Geto’s smooth voice defended you, “Don’t tease her. It’s her first unsupervised mission, after all.”

Your white-haired tormentor’s eyes slowly slithered to his friend behind you and then back at you, his smile not subsiding one bit in the process. He then reached his hands towards you and before you could inch back, he gently took hold of your wrists and guided your hands out of your pockets to hold them in his own.

“Let them shake,” he said, the blues piercing you, injecting you with something. “I can take her anger. And her fear.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, not quite sure what you could respond to that. Up until now, he had never been anything but snarky and arrogant with you, so what’s with this thoughtful, almost intimate, tone all of a sudden…?

Oooohh, you got it. It was yet another round of a game à la Gojo.

The “master” of the game, observing the change in you and presciently knowing that you would hit him with yet another one of your bratty retorts, clicked his tongue and lifted your arms up and over your head. You looked up questioningly and saw that Geto was actually putting a vest on you. You let him thread your arms through the armholes and then you turned to face the brunet, Gojo and his smugness now left behind.

Without darkness there’s no light. With Geto Suguru and his sinfully black hair, light was irrelevant. The blacks of his eyes cradled you as night would cradle the moon. His long, nimble fingers took their time securing the large vest on you and pulling its belts snugly over your minimal frame. The moon probably didn’t blush when the night was gearing her up for battle. Alas, you weren’t the moon.

“What’s this for?” you asked, your voice soft. With Geto you somehow felt safe and didn’t feel the need to be on your guard as much.

“To protect you in case we fail to,” he answered – always straightforward, always appreciated in his straightforwardness.

When his fingers finished their work of gearing you up, you saw him open his palm and direct it towards your chest, holding it a centimetre from it.

“I’m imbuing it with my cursed energy. The vest will retain it and shield you with it,” he explained as you watched his thin yet shapely lips move with each of his words.

“But I have my own cursed energy too…” you said. It was true: you had cursed energy. It wasn’t a lot, but it was there.

“Mine will supplement yours,” he smiled and his eyes closed into attractive new moons.

You would be a liar if you said you didn’t feel it. Feel Suguru’s cursed energy flowing into you from his palm and enveloping you, attaching itself to you, almost caressing you – warm, fluid, with a touch of darkness that was ineluctable due to the nature of his cursed technique. And you could feel something else too – the warmth not only of his cursed energy but of his physical body, his palm, his eyes. He stood too close. Infinitely closer than to be classmates. Too close to be friends. Closer even than buddies.

Suddenly you could feel another current of cursed energy flowing into you but this one from behind. It was being directed to the centre of your back. This one evoked different sensations: cooler, sharper, perennial, no darkness in it but pure white light, but it was terrifying in its own right due to its lack of limit, its lack of restraint, and its selfishness in wrapping all over you. This coolness, this sharpness were all the more amplified by the tall body of warmth you felt behind you. He was standing too close as well. Way too close. So close that you could’ve sworn you felt his warmth more from certain zones than others.

The owner of the tall body of warmth behind you leaned down and settled his chin on your shoulder. “Can you feel it?” he asked.

You inhaled a bit too audibly than you would’ve liked, your eyes suddenly panicked. “F-feel what?”

He shifted on your shoulder to look at your no doubt tomato-red face, “My cursed energy. What else?”

You closed your eyes, a caustic smirk coming to your aid to conceal your fluster. “Not really. It must not be very strong…”

He removed his chin from your shoulder and said, “Sure it isn’t.”

And as soon as he said that he zapped you with a particularly sharp torrent of his cursed energy that you yelped and got pushed into Geto.

“Gojo…” with your hands on Geto’s chest, words of the vilest nature began bubbling in your mouth like lava that was about to erupt. But the lava got immediately cooled and extinguished when you felt Geto’s warm hand on your cheek, guiding your face to look at him. There you were met with the night, the dark matter that spread to all corners of the universe, two black holes that sucked you in with a promise of eternal, atomised bliss – his eyes.

“You won’t have to fight, (y/n). I promise. We’ll take care of everything. We’ll take care of you.”

His words balmy, reassuring, thick – dripped on you like warm honey. His hand that had been hovering over your chest now fully connected with it and you were sure he could feel your heartbeat drumming against his palm.

“Done,” he smiled and you sensed his cursed energy output stop.

“We’re doing this or what?” Gojo’s bored voice shook you out of whatever indefinable state you were just in.

You straightened up, fully disengaging from the longhaired enigma and faced both of them.

“Where are your vests?” you asked, looking at how they were still wearing their usual Jujutsu Tech uniforms.

“We don’t need them,” Gojo rejoined somewhat dismissively, looking at his watch.

Right. Of course, they didn’t. That was a stupid question.

“We still have a couple of minutes before go time. I’m gonna warp us there so let’s get ready,” he said.

You all exited the storage. The two of them drew the shutters down, locked it and then came to stand with you, flanking you on either side.

You balled your hands into fists, closing your eyes and willing yourself to be firm. You were about to go on your first unsupervised field mission. Your first time holding the lives of people in your hands. Your first time getting a taste of what it means to be a jujutsu sorcerer.

But were you one?

Your eyes snapped open and your breathing hitched. Wait. Were you a sorcerer? Were you cut out for this task? What if you fail? What if some people die? What if your team members get hurt? What if you get hurt? What if…

Gojo slung his arm around your shoulders and pulled you flush against his side.

“Relax. Everything will be fine. I’ll watch your back,” at the last of his words his hand that was around your shoulder trailed down your back and almost cupped your butt if you hadn’t elbowed him in the ribs, the attack only serving to amuse him.

“He’s right. Everything will be fine,” Geto’s voice wrapped in calm confidence echoed his best friend. “You couldn’t have asked for better teammates.”

You looked at both of them and found them smiling. It was a smile that only had the right to be worn after countless victories, numerous successes and innumerable lives saved. It was a smile not directed at you or anyone else, but only at their own talent, vigour, determination and excellence.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, borrowing from their poise.

After all, they were the strongest.

 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Dr–

Most people think that blood drips down the same way water does when you’ve wetted your hands under the sink. That is because most people don’t realise just how sticky blood is. It may drip at first if there is a lot of it, but very quickly blood will dry and stick to your skin. Unlike water, blood contains glucose – a form of sugar – which it is meant to carry all through the body to supply it with energy.

Hence, the blood that already dried all over your arms was sticking to them as if it was your second skin, instead of dripping down. Your ragged brain was desperate to focus your unsteady gaze on the minute ridges of your skin that got highlighted by the blood coating it, as if your skin was nothing but brushstrokes across a red canvas. Your brain did this to distract you from what was beneath your hands – strewn all over the floor underneath your feet and all around you. You hiccoughed in your dazed state and this made it feel like your brain jiggled in your skull, therefore nullifying its efforts of keeping your gaze peeled to your bloodied hands. Suddenly shattered bones, gobbets of torn flesh, ripped eyeballs, rent jaws, chewed intestines, sundered torsos, wrung necks, bestrewn internal organs, and dollops of unidentifiable mush of human remains came into focus. They were under your feet. They were sticking to your skin. They were clinging to your pants. They were all around you.

They... They… They... They... They…

You couldn’t say it.

Say it!  

The people… The people you…

You couldn’t.

Go ahead, say it!

The people that… You… You…

Say it now!

The people you couldn’t save! They were all the people you couldn’t save! All the lives that were entrusted to you! Every single one of those lives was strewn about on this ground in one piece or several.

Atta girl.

You failed! You failed the mission! You let them all down! You couldn’t keep anybody safe. Every single man, woman and child that were alive before you came – were no more. They were meat. Pieces of meat. Pieces of meat shredded because you failed to do what you were supposed to.

“(y/n)!”

The curse murdered them.

Is that what you will tell yourself at night?

The curse murdered them.

Is that what you will tell their loved ones?

The curse murdered them…because you couldn’t keep them safe.

Bingo.

“(y/n)!”

A dull voice rapped against your consciousness, calling you. Why was it so dull? Why couldn’t their voice get through? And then you heard it – you heard what the voice couldn’t get through: the sound of your own breathing. Was it breathing? Or wheezing? Or screaming? Or crying? Or whimpering? Or hyperventilating? Or was it breathing after all?

Try imagining all of the above together and then you will hear the sound of your own breathing at that moment.

“(y/n)! Look at me!”

The same voice commanded. Your unsteady eyes floated over all the meat on the floor and up towards a thick upright line in the distance. A thick upright line that had a white top.

“Sato..ru…”

Your lips must’ve mumbled that.

Your eyes focused further and the upright line gradually morphed into Satoru. His posture was alarmed, rigid, shocked, shaken. His hands were halfway raised in front of him. He must’ve been using them a moment ago. Where were his glasses? Blood. He was covered in it too. Was he hurt?

Wait. Where was the other upright line? Suguru?

Your eyes slid to the right side all across the picture of massacre until they found him. His long hair no longer in a bun, draping over his face like a curtain, the sleeve of his uniform torn and bleeding. He was breathing hard too, just as shaken as his best friend. You realised his dark eyes were on you. Or were they on your hands?

You looked down at your hands again when you heard rustling and both males approached you. You think it was Geto who put his arm around you, while Gojo stood with his back to you and wordlessly warped all three of you out of there.

Gojo’s back that was turned to you, Geto’s face concealed by his hair draping over it, the dismembered heads and ripped mouths of people on the ground were all asking you the same question: How could you have failed everybody?

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Principal Yaga’s sonorous voice walked the room in solemnity. “Don’t blame yourselves. There were big factors nobody foresaw. It was way out of your league. Students had no place on such a mission.”

You knew that maybe you should’ve lifted your eyes and met Yaga’s gaze to thank him for his reassurance but your head felt too heavy, your neck felt too heavy, your eyes felt too heavy, the weight of your failure felt too heavy. So your lifeless eyes remained glued to the floor in front of you, your lips too heavy to speak a single word.

You wondered how your teammates were faring. Gojo and Geto. They were standing on either side of you. You wondered what expressions they wore. Have they had this happen before? Were they coping fine?

If you had lifted your gaze maybe you would’ve seen. But you didn’t. When Principal Yaga stopped talking, you excused yourself and trudged out of the room.

 

The answer was that Gojo and Geto had a lot happen on their previous missions, but nothing quite of this magnitude. And no, they weren’t coping fine. They weren’t themselves for weeks! In their minds equally floated the grizzly images of what they saw with you that night. On their hands was also the blood of the people they couldn’t save. On their names was also the stain of failure they could never wash off. They were scarred too. Undoubtedly. Inerasably. But when you get scarred once, the scars that follow become a little easier to bear. You already expect the pain, you tasted its intensity before, you already knew the face of your own self-loathing.

So little by little, day after day, week after week, the two sorcerers seemingly recovered, and inch-by-inch their backs learned to stand tall again.

But not yours. Yours still slumped with the weight of what happened. You still weren’t you. Day after day, week after week, they found you staring into empty space, your eyes emptier than the day before, your soul visibly pruning away. They forgot what a smile looked like on your lips. They couldn’t remember the sound of your voice from when you used to grumble at them your sarcastic admonishments. There wasn’t even a smell of your former spunk. You were mute. Unresponsive. Indifferent. Vacant.

You never spoke of the incident ever since the meeting at Principal Yaga’s office. And even then you had hardly uttered a word. You never discussed it with Gojo or Geto, even though they’ve been through it with you. You never approached them about it. And you never used them as a shoulder to cry on.

And it’s not like they didn’t try. Once after classes, Geto persuaded Gojo to approach you and talk to you, even though you didn’t look like you wanted to talk to anyone. It’s a mystery why Gojo needed to be persuaded to do so. It was also a mystery why he stood a few steps back from Geto who was now addressing you. And it was an even bigger mystery how his eyes behind his glasses were very pointedly fixed on you, even if he himself had no plans of talking to you…

“…We’re jujutsu sorcerers, (y/n). Things like that happen–” Geto was saying to you, but you cut him off.

“You are jujutsu sorcerers. I’m not,” you said emotionlessly, matter-of-factly, as if it was the only phrase you had on your memory, and like a broken record, it was the only one you could play.

When you walked away, taking with you your monotone voice, Gojo ambled towards where his best friend stood.

“You’re talking to a shell, Suguru.”

Geto, who had been watching your form retreat through the corridor, felt a twinge of irritation that was roused by the apparent indifference in his best friend’s voice.

“Well, we need to pull her out of that shell then,” he said, his flinty eyes now on the black lenses of Gojo’s glasses.

Gojo held his gaze for several long, unyielding moments until he sighed and ran his hand through his unruly white hair with the words, “We will.”

 

Following the aforementioned encounter with Geto, you stopped attending classes altogether, which you knew didn’t make a difference to anybody at the school, since you were already nothing more than a ghost floating in and out of classes anyway. There was no space anymore in your mind for studies, for jujutsu, for people, or for yourself. During your every waking moment you thought of the bodies – the pieces of the bodies – splattered all over the ground. In your sleeping moments you saw the bodies – saw them in all their vivid, gory detail.

Why didn’t you die along with them? Even though you were so weak? Because of the vest. Your own cursed energy amounted to naught when you were faced with that curse, but it was Gojo’s and Geto’s cursed energy that kept your body intact, kept it from rupturing like others’ did.

You were alive. Thanks to them. But what good was you being alive?

As you lay in bed with these thoughts for several hours on end, with your mind fraying, you failed to notice how day turned to night. How daylight retreated to give way to darkness. Your hollow eyes that were fixed on the wall saw nothing but your own guilt, your own tragedy, your own failure. And that was perhaps why you didn’t hear the sound of the door opening and closing. Neither did you hear the sounds of muted footsteps walking through your floor, nor the rustling of the sheets as your duvet got raised from both your back and your front, and two bodies joined you in bed.

You only noticed that something was different when your faint vision of the wall got obstructed by a silhouette relentlessly black. The silhouette’s hands slid over your cheeks, cradling your face, and the silhouette spoke in a voice close to a whisper, “(y/n), it’s time to wake up.”

Following these words, a pair of soft lips touched your forehead and you inhaled a scent so familiar, so grounded, so reassuring. The lips separated from your forehead briefly only to lay another kiss to the side of the same spot, while the fingers cradling your cheeks were softly stroking your temples and cheekbones. Behind you another hand began tracing from your shoulder down your arm and a nose nuzzled into your hair and blew warm breaths against your sensitive scalp. The lips on your forehead continued kissing your face – from your forehead to your brows, from your brows to your temples, from your temples to your eyes, from your eyes to your nose – as if saying with each kiss: “You deserve to be kissed. You deserve kindness. You deserve love.”

The hand that had been gliding down your arm moved to your ribs and drew soft circles on the dip of your waist, fingers occasionally curling and holding onto you as if you belonged to them. The nose that was nuzzled into your hair now slid towards your ear and you felt the ends of shorter tresses touching your temple when another pair of lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, “Wake up.”

Your addled brain was still slow to respond but your body could no longer deny the warmth of the bodies attached to you from both sides. It couldn’t deny how they moved against you, how close they were, and how they inched ever closer as if trying to meld all three of you together. Your body couldn’t deny the hand that was caressing your side through your clothes almost innocently, if not for their possessive undertones. Neither could your body deny the soft lips that were peppering every inch of your face with the gentlest and most tender kisses.

Your mouth parted to let you breathe easier when those lips kissed a corner of yours. When they moved to kiss the opposite corner, you angled your face and kissed those lips back. The fog of depression in your eyes was dispersing and getting replaced by another fog: that of lust. But this fog wasn’t as heavy, or as oppressive, or as suffocating. This one let you breathe – even if it meant you were only capable of breathing in the scent of the lover before you.

So you prayed that those lips wouldn’t recoil from your kiss. That they would continue letting you kiss them. That they would not be disgusted by the guilt and self-loathing they could no doubt taste on your lips.

To your rapture, they didn’t recoil. Oh no, they didn’t just not recoil – they actually kissed your lips the moment they moved! They kissed you with so much feeling, as if kissing you was always their fate. The wetness of those lips was a salve. The smoothness of them was comforting. And the way they moved with yours in perfect synergy felt like salvation itself. There were no more bodies. No more blood. No more claws of your guilt strangling you. From this mouth – you could finally breathe.

When you separated to take a new, deep breath – the kind you haven’t taken in many weeks – those lips pecked yours one more time before speaking.

“Welcome back.”

Having been pulled out from the bottom of the ocean for a gulp of air, you finally recognised the silky smooth voice.

“Suguru,” you whispered and you felt him smile against your lips before capturing them again in a deeper, more open-mouthed kiss.

You drank from him and he from you, his loose long tresses weaving between your faces like black snakes. But you couldn’t forget about who else was in here with you. You think he would let you? No, of course not. Because the hand that was on your waist was progressively tightening its hold the longer you kissed Suguru, and it still wasn’t the only thing drawing your attention to your back.

You could feel them. A pair of eyes like blue flames watching you. Satoru was watching you kiss Suguru. And considering the unique nature of his eyes, you knew he could see everything – the way you blew air into Suguru’s mouth every time you vocally sighed, the way your cheeks burned bright red with every lick of his tongue, the way your eyelashes fluttered and your eyes rolled back in pleasure, the way a drop of saliva was trickling down from your joined mouths, and the way your own tongue collided and coiled with Suguru’s in an attempt to keep up. You felt Satoru’s large hand find yours under the bed covers and his fingers threaded with yours. You gladly obliged, clasping his hand as your lips moved symbiotically with Suguru’s.

But the symbiosis wasn’t to last long, because Satoru was already tugging you backwards by your hand. You reluctantly separated from Suguru, your mouth panting and slick with your mixed saliva, and slowly turned to the albino.

When you did, you realised that you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for his burning blues eyeing you so pointedly, so intensely, so greedily. His hand unclasped from yours to cradle against your burning cheek as he inched his face closer. At this motion, a momentary panic froze you. Could you even kiss Satoru?

Kissing Suguru somehow felt so natural, fluid, preordained. It was like the two of you were of the same mould – but he was of a darker, more magnetic, more multifaceted mould than yours could ever be. But Satoru was something different entirely. It seemed like he was made of some extraterrestrial material never before detected on Earth. And he seemed even more foreign to you, since you two did nothing but clash and bicker every second you spent in each other’s company.

What would it feel like to kiss him? Would you combust? Would you get electrocuted by his cursed energy? Would he impale you with his eyes? You didn’t have time to ponder on any of those possibilities, because his lips were already on yours, already greedily opening them up to slide his tongue into your mouth, no doubt tasting Suguru in you as well.

You got your answer: kissing Satoru was mind-numbing and otherworldly. You didn’t combust, but it sure felt like you were about to. You realised everything about him was limitless, including the way he kissed, the way he consumed. His selfishness bled through to his way of kissing as well. His lips were hungry, demanding, invasive, as they dictated the fluidity of your joined movements. His tongue was long and sought to claim anything and everything that could be claimed in your mouth. The way his hands moved over your stomach and the centre of your chest were just a degree shy of possessive – it felt like if his restraint had unravelled by just one more knot, he’d be kneading your breasts in his large hand right then and there.

When he finally let you separate from him, all three of you were breathing audibly – you and Satoru from your kissing, and Suguru from watching you two kiss. Lying in the middle of the bed, you looked at both of them in the aqueous moonlight, as they propped themselves on their elbows.

Your classmates. Your teammates. Your partners. And your only witnesses to what happened that night. You realised you never even apologised to them, since the first people whom you let down that night were these two.

The traces of your depression fog threatened to return to your eyes, as you spoke your overdue apology.

“Suguru. Satoru. I’m so sorr–” you began but it was Suguru’s finger on your lips that hushed you.

That is until his lips ghosted over yours, replacing his finger, “Don’t think about that right now. Do whatever it takes to not think about that.”

He kissed you again as if to enunciate his point, tongue not quite invading but licking at your lightly trembling lips all the same.

“You deserve to be forgiven,” he whispered so quietly but loud enough for you to hear and for fat tears to start welling in your eyes.

You felt gratitude. You were grateful because he didn’t say that nothing happened that night. He also didn’t say that whatever happened wasn’t your fault. He didn’t say that it wasn’t your responsibility. He said you deserve to be forgiven. He was granting you the responsibility for those lives. He was granting you your guilt. He was granting you the right to mourn for those people. And he was telling you that you can be forgiven by them.

A knot backed itself to your throat and you were crumbling with tears that were about to spill out, but Satoru would have none of that. He grabbed you by your wrist and yanked you to sit up with him, crashing his lips on yours again, swallowing your yelp.

Enough of you crying. Enough of you being depressed. He didn’t want to see any more of it.

You barely managed to break away from Satoru’s mouth, only long enough to ask him, “Don’t you hate me?”

“No,” he answered, nibbling on your upper and then lower lip. “I never hated you.”

“But after…”

But after that mission – you must hate me!

Satoru didn’t need to hear you say it to know what you meant. He cut you off, “Not even then. You can’t make me hate you.”

You felt a tug on your pyjama top from behind and you turned around to find Suguru lying on his side, his knuckles propped against his cheekbone. He was smiling the smile of a beautiful serpent, his eyes half-lidded, eyeing you exactly like a beautiful serpent would.

“Use us,” he said.

You looked at him questioningly but didn’t see his expression change whatsoever. You then turned to look at Satoru in the hopes that he would offer an explanation for his best friend’s words, but he too had cocked his head a bit to the side and was smiling at you.

Somebody clearly needed to spell it out for you. I guess it would have to be the ever-helpful Suguru again…

“(y/n)–” he began but Satoru interrupted him.

“I’ll explain,” he said, and Suguru gestured for him to go ahead.

Satoru then took your face in his large hands, making you look directly in those magnetic blues of his.

He uttered the next words deeply and profoundly, so they would sink right into your very soul and your very core: “Fuck it out. Fuck to your heart’s content. Fuck until it stops hurting. Fuck until you stop seeing those corpses. Fuck until you pass out from pleasure. And use us! We’re here for you. Anything you want.”

You stared at him in shock, eyes as wide as saucers. What does he mean, “fuck it out”? Was this yet another joke? But no, the intensity with which his eyes burned into you said otherwise.

“Satoru, we don’t even…we’ve never done this before. We’re not even that close yet,” you countered, hesitation evident in your tone.

“Bullshit. We’re past all that. We’ve been past it the night we faced death together,” he ruthlessly trampled your meek arguments.

You blinked. Was he serious? No, were they serious?

You turned your head, Satoru’s hands still on your cheeks, and looked at Suguru who was still smiling comfortably, silently confirming what his best friend just said. Though, naturally, if he was the one to say it, he would’ve employed a different choice of words. But the pith was the same.

You turned back to Satoru and saw a ghost of a smile grace his beautiful lips too.

You cast down your eyes, “I…I don’t even know what I want…”

You got their point. And to be fair, you weren’t that awfully surprised by their unusual proposition, because you already suspected that these extraordinarily talented prodigies did things differently. You suspected that they had their own methods of dealing with their own gigantic stress. So, in essence, you anticipated that they would think outside the box. But what could you ask of them? Sex was the last thing on your mind ever since that mission. You had forgotten what your sexuality even felt like to you.

Amid your ruminations, you felt Satoru’s lips at your ear, “I’ll show you what you want.”

Without caring for your answer, he laid you back down on the bed. And from the way Suguru moved to accommodate you and the way his lips stretched higher, you surmised that he already knew what Satoru had in mind – even if you didn’t. When you lay back down, Suguru was already waiting for you there, his lips at your temple, his long hair tickling your ear.

Satoru reached for the waistband of your shorts and slid them off of you together with your knickers, tossing them to the floor like that was where they belonged. You gasped, completely not ready for such a sudden progression, but Suguru was already there to soothe you, to help you stay calm.

“Shh, trust him.”

He then looked at Satoru who was positioning your knees on either side of him and positioning himself in between your legs. They exchanged a brief eye contact before Suguru turned back to you.

“He’s been wanting to do that for a long time,” he said, his eyes morphing back to attractive half-moons on the account of his evident amusement.

“Do what?” you asked and looked down at Satoru’s white mop of hair between your thighs, and his middle finger that was in the air – directed at Suguru’s statement.

A long tongue licked a wet stripe from the end of your slit up to your clit. You inhaled sharply and your head dug into the pillow as your back arched.

“That,” Suguru said, answering your question.

Having regained some of your sanity, you looked down again.

“Satoru?” you asked, your voice meeker than you expected, perhaps from the shock of the euphoric sensation he just caused you.

Instead of answering you, he simply raised his beautiful glowing eyes and locked them in an eye contact with you. But did that distract his tongue? Absolutely fucking not. It lapped a stripe from your now quivering hole up to your clit, and with his eyes on yours, Satoru began sucking and lapping at your clit, more than once swirling the tip of his tongue around it.

Needless to say, you could no longer hold your head up to maintain eye contact with him, so you fell back, your eyes rolling back, sighs so deep and so earthy – breaking out from your lips. Oh god, what was he doing? How was he doing it so well?

At this point, you had semblance of consciousness and rational thought enough only to drag one of your hands from the mattress over to your mouth to try and stifle your moans that were rapidly escalating. But this endeavour didn’t go as planned because Suguru caught your wrist and pinned it next to your head.

“This doesn’t make sense if you hold back in any respect, sweetheart. Be a good girl and moan like he wants you to.”

Your unfocused eyes flittered from the beguiling blacks of Suguru’s to the burning blues of Satoru’s between your legs. As if to support his best friend’s point, Satoru was now introducing his fingers into your folds – parting them and entering, two at a time. His fingers knew exactly what to do. Satoru knew female anatomy well. Perhaps male too. But to be fair, it was quite easy when you had the Six Eyes.

Coupled with the warm, wet and utterly expert onslaught of his tongue on your clit, his fingers curled inside you at just the right angle and stroked the exact spot he knew would have you crying out like he wanted you to. And boy, did you cry out! You cried out so loud that it elicited a soft chuckle from Suguru next to you, followed by a kiss to your temple.

“So you like his fingers, huh? Satoru, show her one more time what they can do,” he said, eyes still on you, drinking in your every contorted expression.

Satoru who usually didn’t like being told what to do still obliged because fuck, he really wanted to hear you again! And so his fingers did their magic again, and you plunged the crown of your head into your pillow, your eyes snapping open at the ceiling, laboured moans spilling from your mouth like music.

Satoru liked games, sure, and he would’ve liked to play with you some more – especially when your body was so easy to manipulate. But right now he had no way of stopping himself from lapping fervently at you and finger-fucking you at the same time – not when you were gushing on him like that, not when you made his mouth all slick with your juices, not when your walls were gripping and clenching on him, not when your pussy was quivering and greedily eating up whatever he had to offer it. And definitely not when you were writhing like that from his tongue and his fingers, your cute pyjama top being nothing before the abilities of his eyes to see you, all of you – the way he wanted, the way he craved, the way he needed.

He now in earnest made out with your clit, kissing it, lapping at it, tonguing it, swirling it, sucking it – while he added a third finger and with them massaged your inner sponge of nerves. The otherwise silent room filled with the music of your desperate, urgent moans, and the slick sound of Satoru eating you out and his fingers fucking you faster and faster.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Suguru, the serpent, was speaking in your ear, amplifying everything you were experiencing tenfold. “You’re close to cumming all over Satoru’s mouth, aren’t you? Look at me.”

At the sound of his authoritative tone, you turned to him, the corners of your eyes glistening with tears. He smiled at you, admiring the handiwork of his best friend.

“Now you will have to hold it until I tell you to release. I want to see every little expression you make as you try to hold out from spilling all over his face.”

The filthiness of his words only served to ignite and speed up your rapidly building release. And since the cunnilingus demon between your legs had no plans of letting up his onslaught on your pussy, it climbed and climbed. God, you were about to let go!

“Don’t,” Suguru ordered and you kept your eyes locked with his, trying to find some distraction, some purchase in those tar blacks. “Not yet. Good girl, keep holding. Keep holding.”

It was impossible. It was impossible! Your eyes still locked with Suguru’s, you screamed out Satoru’s name. It was a cry for him to slow down, to let up, to give you some reprieve. But he didn’t. Why would he? It’s Satoru we’re talking about, after all. So he only grinned against your clit while his fingers kept massaging exactly where they needed, before his mouth was attached to you again like a tentacle.

“Now,” Suguru finally verbalised his permission, and with the next flick of Satoru’s tongue, you dug your nails into Suguru’s arm and came violently, with a cry echoing through the whole room, if not through the entire corridor outside your door. Satoru continued pumping into you as your orgasm rippled through you in consecutive waves. When you were done, you slumped back into the bed, your eyes glassy, your heartbeat like a gong against your ears.

Having confirmed that you had indeed come as much as you were capable of, Satoru extracted his fingers and climbed over you to kiss you on the lips, while he extended his hand to Suguru as an offer to taste you. How could Suguru refuse? He smiled and licked Satoru’s fingers clean, humming in approval. But you weren’t privy to all that, because you were far too intoxicated with Satoru’s tongue transferring your cum to yours, as the skin around your own mouth wetted with your extant juices that were smeared all over his mouth and chin.

His fingers now licked clean, Satoru brought his hand back to your face. Separating from your lips, he opened his eyes and had you look at him too, searching your eyes, diving into them, dissecting them, leaving no stone of your soul unturned. You smiled and wiped your hand across his mouth to remove the last of your fluids, but he didn’t seem to care if they were there or not.

“You wanna continue?” he asked. Though in this case one could argue that he masked his demand as an offer.

But you didn’t disappoint him.

“Yes,” you nodded at him, and then looked at Suguru with his glorious black hair spilling on your bed sheets and told him “Yes” as well.

As soon as you did, Satoru got off of you and pulled your top up and over your head, discarding it on the floor as well. Then the two males pulled their own shirts off as well, followed by removing their sweatpants and boxer briefs. You would have, without a doubt, ogled their magnifying, toned physiques as well as their proudly long and thick cocks that materialised before you, if only Satoru hadn’t manhandle you into laying on top of him on the bed, your chest on his chest, your butt wide open and facing Suguru who was behind you.

In truth, that was exactly where Suguru wanted to be, because now his hand was snaking into your hair from behind and he was pressing your face into Satoru’s, who recaptured your lips while Suguru was admiring the mess of your pussy that Satoru left behind. It was way too slick. Gushing way too much. Expanding and contracting with the need to be filled. And he didn’t fail to note how with each plunge of his best friend’s tongue in your mouth, your pussy clenched more, squeezing out your previous orgasm.

With Satoru owning every inch of your mouth with his tongue and owning every inch of your ass with his long, groping fingers, you were completely drowning in a frenzy of sensations. So what you didn’t expect was Suguru’s fingers entering your hole from behind and languidly fucking in and out of you, while his other hand massaged your scalp and forced you to be kissed deeper and deeper by the white-haired demon beneath you.

Your mouth shot open with a moan against Satoru’s mouth, when he hit you with his next question, “Who do you want first?”

God, what a question! What a question to be asking when the glorious longhaired male behind you was squelching his fingers in and out of your pussy at an increasing speed. What a question to be asking when the tantalising white-haired male’s rigid cock was bobbing up and down between your bodies, his shaft hitting your stomach with every bob.

“Hmm?” Satoru’s lips were against your ear, threatening to turn into his teeth against your ear if you didn’t give him an answer soon.

“Both,” you breathed out.

At this point, both males froze. Did they hear you right? Your first time being with them and you wanted to take them both?

Satoru murmured his question into your ear, no less a serpent than his black-haired friend, “Are you sure, baby? What if we hurt you?”

He was right. It would hurt. Especially since you got the chance to see just how big they both were. Taking any one of them would stretch you to the fullest of your anatomy. Taking two of them together would stretch you beyond the limits of your anatomy. It would hurt like hell.

But there was something else that hurt worse than hell.

As they say, fight fire with fire.

Without verbalising your thoughts, you simply inched back and fixed your eyes on Satoru. From them he understood, though Suguru had known it already: nothing could hurt you more than that night. If anything, you wanted something to hurt you more than that night did.

Satoru, ascertaining visually that his guess was correct – which it was – sighed deeply before his lips gradually stretched into a grin. Now with your ear shell in his teeth, he promised, “I’ll hurt you more.”

You pushed yourself off of Satoru’s chest with a smile, sitting up and giving him the most delicious view of your chest, when Suguru’s hands enveloped you from behind and you turned your head to the side, silently asking him to kiss you. Your lips joined, his tongue already sliding in, his long hair draping over your shoulder, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your breasts and pinching your puckered nipples – while Satoru was aligning the head of his cock with your sopping entrance. Once aligned, his hands on your hips guided you down on him and your eyes snapped open in the middle of making out with Suguru. But he, knowing full well what you were going through, recaptured your lips and kept you occupied with his skilled tongue, while Satoru continued to impale you on his unusually long cock. The uneven ridges of your inner walls slowly, very slowly adjusted to Satoru, whilst Suguru swallowed your whimpers of pain, the same way he swallowed curses.

Underneath you, Satoru’s own breathing was turning labourious from the feeling of your pussy encasing him, sucking him in, clenching around him, and pulsing against him. Oh, how badly he wanted to start ramming into you! But not yet. You first had to adjust. And then, Suguru had to join in as well.

Suguru finished kissing you when he deemed that your whimpers of pain have subsided. His eyes established that inexplicable connection with yours as you found yourself once again drowning in his dark lakes.

“Are you sure?” he asked you now, even though his best friend had already confirmed with you that you were. Suguru needed to hear you say it to him as well.

“Please, Suguru,” you pleaded.

And that was all you needed to say. He kissed your temple and released you for Satoru to catch and keep.

With you and Satoru already connected, his cock already plunged deep into you, your pussy was now being offered up to Suguru. Satoru grabbed both of your ass cheeks and spread you wide open for him, while he instructed you to keep your eyes on him. When you did, Satoru was smiling at you with warmth you rarely saw in him. It was a little hard at first to understand what this warmth meant. Though, it didn’t take you too long to get it.

This warmth was solidarity. And ‘solidarity’ is an odd word for this setting, but it really was solidarity. Solidarity with your pain. Solidarity with your yearning to extinguish that pain. And solidarity with your desperation to extinguish it.

Having recognised it for what it was, you smiled at Satoru too, and at the same time extended your hand behind you, your fingers open, your palm inviting. Suguru saw your invitation and threaded his fingers with yours, and you two clasped your hands tightly – holding hands as he began sliding himself into you, pushing Satoru’s cock into your walls.

At this point all three of you were bearing intense sensations – you getting stretched by two thick cocks at once, and Satoru and Suguru experiencing each other inside your hot, vibrating walls. When Suguru was in halfway, it felt like he could go no further. Your panicked eyes locked with Satoru’s again, your hand still gripping Suguru’s. At this moment you felt Suguru’s hand begin stroking your back and soothing you the way only he could.

“You can take him, baby,” underneath you Satoru assured you as well.

“I can take him,” you confirmed.

Because anything was better than that pain – the pain from which you were trying to escape. And accommodating Suguru’s delicious length inside you was precisely the kind of pain you needed.

“Please, Suguru. Keep going,” you pleaded.

And your plea was answered when Suguru continued pushing in, moaning in a divine voice that you’ve never heard from him before, while Satoru hit the back of his head into the pillow, his eyes shut tight, his lips parted.

When the sensitive tips of their cocks connected inside you, you were panting against Satoru, while he barely managed to compose himself and glance at Suguru behind you. Realising that his best friend was in no better shape than himself – since Suguru currently had the back of his hand pressed against his mouth, his eyes clenched – Satoru felt a ghost of a smirk grace his lips.

“Baby?” he checked in with you.

You refocused your eyes on his and nodded, which he accepted as your signal to start moving. With his rigid cock pressed up against your walls, he started to retract his length from you whilst feeling his sensitive tip brush against your entire anatomy as well as the shaft of his best friend’s cock. When the latter moaned on top of you again, you can rest assured that that was quite an ego-stroke for Satoru.

But Suguru was hardly ever outdone – not by anyone, including his self-assured best friend – so as soon as Satoru was ready to thrust back in, Suguru was pulling back and not letting up the rhythm set by the white-haired male. And so the rhythm commenced with you being sandwiched between the two egomaniacs and desperately needing attention, since you were currently being split apart by two of the best cocks out there. You looked at Satoru, your tongue lolling in your mouth, tears prickling your eyes, in search of that attention from him, but before he could give it to you, you felt yourself being pulled up by Suguru’s strong arms and pressed against his immaculate torso.

“How does it feel to have two cocks inside you? Fucking you at the same time? Did you always want this? Did you fantasise about this before? I bet you have. I did too,” his filthy words poured in your ear in the most saccharine voice only Suguru could muster and you could literally feel your walls expand with each of his words, allowing you to accommodate them both better by supplying them with more of your slick.

The sounds of two members fucking in and out of you at growing speed, and with perfect precision and rhythm at that, made the most ungodliest sounds – though your moans were a close second.

Whilst holding you up and whispering profanities in your ear, Suguru’s eyes slithered to Satoru beneath you both. When he saw how his best friend’s glowing blue orbs were intensely focused on one single spot, he knew exactly what was going through his mind. Satoru was looking at your pussy swallowing his and Suguru’s cocks, coating them in your fluids, and also the way his cock kept sliding along his best friend’s shaft and vice versa. With the Six Eyes uncovered like this, he was seeing every single perverse detail of this act better than anyone else ever could. And fuck, he had yet to see something as hot as that beautiful scene of your pussy getting destroyed by them. With each thrust, his breathing was picking up and he was getting visibly riled up. His eyes glided up your body over your stomach, over your breasts, over your neck and then fixed on the fucked-out you and the smiling and whispering Suguru.

Suddenly Satoru reached his long arm forward, and with a death grip, grabbed your wrist and yanked you down in one forceful motion. It not only made you fall back down on his chest, but took down unsuspecting Suguru as well, as both of you tumbled down on top of Satoru. Suguru recovered fairly quickly in comparison to you and didn’t let up the rhythm. But you had no such chance to recover, because as soon as you fell down, Satoru’s hungry lips and tongue were on yours again – pushing, twisting, lapping, reaching, sucking, along with a few other tricks only his long tongue knew. But instead of snaking his fingers into your hair as he was ravaging your mouth, he instead snaked them into Suguru’s hair above you and pulled at his roots tightly, keeping him there. Suguru was at first a little surprised, but then smiled. He got it. He was feeling the same.

Suguru also understood by the urgency evident in Satoru’s newfound brutal rhythm that he was close. In which case, Suguru would guide you to your release as well.

With Satoru’s tongue deep in your throat, claiming, invading, subjugating, and both of their cocks doing the same to your pussy, you were a whimpering, moaning mess in Satoru’s arms. That is until you felt Suguru’s nimble fingers snake in between your body and Satoru’s to start rubbing your clit with great precision. When he did that, you began crying in earnest.

You had never imagined being filled like this. You knew they tore you, even if it was to the extent that would heal. You knew you’d be pissing blood afterwards. But none of it mattered, because from now on, you never wanted to be filled any other way than like this by them. Building pleasure was ever present, with each cock relentlessly brushing against your inner spot and slamming into your cervix. More than anything, it was addicting.

Satoru was greedily swallowing and drinking in your cries and incoherent moans, and when you had no choice but to decouple your lips from his to breathe, he went instead for your neck – kissing, biting, sucking, lapping.

“Come on, baby. Cream around both our cocks. Do it, and we’ll both pump you full of our seed,” he promised.

But his filthy words barely registered because your brain was already obsessed with the rapidly building pressure in your core. You heard Suguru’s moans turned ragged above you as well, and you turned your head as much as it was possible in this position, and were met with the pair of his beautiful bitumen blacks on you. He pressed his head to yours and your head pressed to Satoru’s – and like this you felt the blessing to release and so did they. They both thrust into you one last time and spurted ropes of their hot cum into your deepest spot – both vocal, both uninhibited, both feral.

With your nails digging into Satoru’s chest, your eyes boring into Suguru’s, you also unravelled the way you never have before. You let go of your body completely, relinquishing every single restraint, as it convulsed with your orgasm, and nothing but their names erupted from your mouth as if those were the only two words you knew.

But relinquishing control comes with a price. And so, when your mind was finally free of your oppressive lust-filled hold on it, it became sinister. The bloodied, torn bodies were there again before your eyes – as vivid as they had been that night. And since your emotions had been set loose as well, your intense pleasure destabilising them completely – a heart-wrenching scream tore from you and pierced the hearts of both your lovers.

Suguru was taken aback and confused by this sudden outburst that carried with it nothing but pain, but Satoru wasn’t. He knew immediately. And herein lay another mystery. But we don’t have time to unpack it, because he immediately took hold of your face and pushed all three of you to sit up – you in his lap, Suguru on his knees behind you, both their lengths still buried in you.

“(y/n), look at me,” Satoru commanded and forced you to focus your tear-ridden eyes on his crystal blues.

When you did as you were told, the grizzly images of the dead bodies dispersed and there were only Satoru’s captivating blues. Your breathing stilled to a strangled silence as you stared at him for a long minute, before erupting in a fit of broken crying.

“I’ll never be free! I’ll never be free of those images! I’ll never be free of those lives! I’ll never be free of this guilt! It’s hopeless!” words wrapped in visceral emotion were spilling from you along with your tears.

Both males pulled out of you, dragging with them sloshes of their cum mixed with yours. One of Satoru’s hands settled on the back of your head, and this time, he let you cry your heart out into his neck. The brunet behind you stared at you in some type of wide-eyed paralysis, the meaning of which was hard to decipher at this time. Once you’ve expelled a portion of the demons tearing through your chest into Satoru’s neck through your violent crying, he gently pulled you back so you’d look in his eyes again.

The Satoru you saw at this moment wasn’t the goofy, sarcastic, selfish Satoru you were used to seeing before. You realised this was Gojo Satoru – the head of the formidable Gojo clan and a jujutsu sorcerer who wielded and owned his unimaginable power and even more unimaginable responsibility. The words he spoke to you next were like a sermon – every word got imprinted in your mind.

“Listen to me carefully. The future isn’t built by people with clean hands. The future built by clean hands is an illusion. But you can create something real with these hands,” he brought your hands to his lips and kissed them, “…with this mind,” he kissed your forehead, “…and with these lips,” he placed a chaste kiss to your lips that felt more like a blessing.

He then continued, “And you don’t have to do it alone. You’re capable of supernova. We’ll draw it out of you.”

You were captivated – both by his words and his aura. You realised that this was the magic of Gojo Satoru. You realised that, besides his unrepeated cursed techniques and physical prowess, he also wielded the power to breathe life into dead souls. At this moment, you decided you could follow him to the edge of the Earth. You realised that your salvation lay in his hands, in his words, in him. He was your freedom from those deaths. He had the answer.

You touched your forehead to his and stayed like that, eyes closed. Feeling revived. Absolved. Forgiven. New tears began dripping down your cheeks, but these were of gratitude only.

Yes, Gojo Satoru had the ability to breathe life into dead souls. But apparently not all of them. Because unknown to either you or him, there was another dead soul in the room now.

Geto Suguru, who heretofore had been observing your breakdown in an unexplained paralysis of his own, now tipped his body forward and lay his forehead on the back of your neck. At this moment, his eyes were wide and in those black abysses reflected something alien. Something his friends had not seen in them before. A premonition of cataclysmic things to come? Perhaps.

One thing was certain: your heart-twisting scream, followed by your puncturing cries and piercing words tore open a door Suguru hadn’t realised was inside him, unleashing what he had unknowingly suppressed and forcibly stuffed behind that door.

Put simply: you and him were human. Humans were capable of breaking.

Not everybody was Gojo Satoru. Not everybody was an anomaly capable of transcending human limits, physical and emotional…

 

Later in the night, all three of you were standing under the running shower of your en suite bathroom – you in the middle of the two males. You were still mute, eyes cast down, as you soaped yourself up in silence. You thought about what this night meant from now on. What your physical union meant from now on. Whether it was even okay. Lucidity often comes to us after the fact.

But deep down you knew that true lucidity was not contained in these thoughts and doubts that began sprouting in your mind. True lucidity was already spelled out to you by Satoru earlier: “We’re past all that. We’ve been past it the night we faced death together.”

Thus, your physical union was simply the sealing of your spiritual union.

The two males were silently washing their hair, water cascading down their perfect bodies, when they heard you speak.

“Who’s the flasher now?”

The two of them did a double take and then looked at each other. Did you just make a joke…?

When they looked at you and your still cast down eyes, they were able to detect the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

You really were back.

Not a second later, Satoru wrapped his arms around you and hauled you into his body, laughing himself and hearing Suguru laugh as well.

“It’s still you, flasher!” he exclaimed.

“Suguru, help!” you shouted from your entrapment in Satoru’s arms, your own voice already filled with laughter, and reached your hands for the handsome brunet with his long hair slick and damp on his skin.

“Ah, should I?” he cocked his head to the side as if thinking it over, but his coy smile told a different tale.

“He won’t,” confirmed Satoru as he playfully bit into your ear, making you squirm and elbow him exactly the way you used to.

 

Following your shower, you all put on your comfortable clothes and settled into your bed together. You in the middle, lying down on your side, with Satoru behind you and Suguru in front. You nuzzled your face into Suguru’s warm neck, while Satoru nuzzled his into your silky hair. They both brought their bodies snug against yours to fuse, breathe and fall asleep with you as one organism. Three parts of one whole.

With their arms wrapped tightly around you as well as each other, you understood that your stabilities, your salvations, were in each other’s hands. You understood that you had to rely on each other if you wanted to get through this arduous journey that was the fate of a jujutsu sorcerer.

Because we are jujutsu sorcerers.

Notes:

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