Shame On Me || satoru gojo x f!reader

peonies & carnations

"Kento?"

You shakily step forward, your shoulder tilted back under Satoru's grip as he firmly holds you back.

Just as you had found some sort of peace, just as you had managed to bandage and lick your wounds, the world won't let you have peace. The honeyed gaze you'd mourned for so long stands tall at the treeline staring right back at you. His skin is covered from head to toe in scarred skin, the left half of his body now with more subtle scars from the stomach acid of the curse you'd been swallowed by almost two months ago. Most noticeably, a new marking runs along the top of his head. As though it's been sliced open and stitched back together again.

You blink, feeling as though you're seeing some sort of sick illusion designed to make you feel ill. Because you are. The rational part of you knows this isn't him, souls don't get to come back from the afterlife once Miriko has escorted them onwards.

And yet he stands here before you, his eyes devoid of their regular warmth.

It's not him. It's not Kento.

And it tears you to pieces knowing that someone took his body from you, when Miriko might even have been able to save him.

"Who are you?" You ask meekly. Satoru's grip on you doesn't waver, holding you back as you try to step forward again. You pull against him but his fingers curl into your shoulder as though he has intention to bruise.

Kento's- no- the person's gaze narrows, a sly smirk finding its way to Kento's lips in an expression that makes your skin crawl. It's so uncharacteristic for him that you physically recoil at the sight.

"I see you're keeping secrets, Gojo." Even his voice sounds wrong, the way it seems to hold syllables in a crooked manner.

That's not Kento. The phrase repeats itself in your mind at every turn, the only fact grounding you right now.

Gojo doesn't give the imposter the satisfaction of the response he wants. "What do you want, Kenjaku?"

You can't bring yourself to tear your gaze from the stolen body of your lover to look to Gojo for answers, feeling as though you'll fall apart the moment he's out of sight. As though his image, stolen or not, is the only thing capable of saving your sanity in this instant, equally the thing capable of making you fall apart at any moment.

"Isn't that an interesting plan your Vessel has some up with?" He tilts his head, a cold glimmer in his gaze. Electricity runs up your spine and you shiver.

"I thought he was dead?" Yuji whispers, staying out of earshot of Kenjaku. The name feels foreign to relate to Nanami's likeness.

"He should be," Gojo hisses, his hand hot on your shoulder. Anger radiates from him as he responds to Kenjaku. "You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before you're a hole in the ground." His voice drips with venom.

"Very well. I'm here to keep you all distracted."

A grin curls his lips, petrifying you to the spot. Anger and agony turmoil deep within you, your legs shaking.

"But it would appear my job is done," he hums in satisfaction. "Goodbye Satoru, Sukuna. y/n," his voice lowers as he utters your name, turning on his heel and waving as he parts the treeline.

"No!" Your cry pierces the sky as you dash forward. Whether it's your suffering or your anger fueling you, whether you would tear him apart or beg for him back, you don't know. One way or the other, your feet carry you to him before your mind can catch up.

Before you can reach the treeline, a pair of strong arms restrain you, pulling you back. The pads of your fingers dig into his skin as you clutch desperately against his muscles, trying with every ounce of strength to escape the arms, but they don't relent.