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osunism · 2 months ago

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Crystalline

Eyes meet, you know where this goes Her keys in, they take off their clothes They're soaking, caught in a dream Her skin shines, like crystalline —The Midnight, "Crystalline"

🪧 Summary: On the night Yuji Itadori consumes Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru finds a familiar face at the epicenter of a shocking discovery. Takes place three months after If. 🔞 Rating: Explicit ⚠️ Be Advised: Explicit sexual situations, recreational drug use, descriptions of violence, blood mention. ❤️‍🔥 Pairing: Satoru x Sundari [🧿👹]

🔏 This is a commissioned fic by the lovely @septembersums. With her permission, I finally get to post this fic so folks can understand how Satoru and his goddess met. September was kind enough to see my vision and bring it to life in her gorgeous writing style as part of my growing Parallax 'verse. She's an absolute joy to work with and talk to and I highly recommend commissioning a fic writer to bring your vision to life! September's AO3 <- Support her work too!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Fic Masterlist 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 HCs & Meta ⛩️

Satoru is getting bored.

As much as he loves shopping, and he does love shopping, even Satoru has a limit when it comes to how long he can wander between food stalls browsing the options. Although boredom might not be the best word for it. Restlessness, maybe.

He’s been idling away the hours while he waits for Megumi to call with news that he’s secured another of Sukuna’s fingers. It’s a difficult job for a first year, considering how cursed spirits tend to flock to the cursed fingers, but Satoru is fairly confident Megumi can handle it.

If not, Satoru will just teleport there as soon as he senses danger. Simple, easy. In theory, it shouldn’t go wrong. That idea does little to quieten down the sense of unease settling into Satoru. There’s something in the air tonight, something that tastes like intuition, something that feels off.

Satoru attempts to shake the unnatural anxiety by purchasing some more kikufuku. Sweets usually help when he gets a bad feeling like this, which is a decidedly rare occurrence. Even with his impulsive spending, the feeling persists, and it gets stronger. He considers teleporting himself straight to Sendai to see what’s causing it but ultimately decides against it. He’ll know if something happens.

A shiver runs down his spine while he’s standing in front of a food truck that sells crepes, and he knows that his intuition was right. In an instant, he’s standing at the peak of a skyscraper, looking over the city. The wind whips at his loose-fitting clothes and his hair, as he pulls his blindfold down to get a good look at the situation at hand.

What he sees makes no sense whatsoever. It raises the fine hair at the back of his neck, makes the skin of his arms prickle with goosebumps.

Gaze cast towards Sendai, he sees something there— a ripple of cursed energy that looks like Sukuna, but much smaller and less destructive than one would expect of a freshly incarnated Sukuna. It’s a threat, whatever it is, and there’s no question about that, but it’s nothing compared to the other surge of cursed energy in the distance.

Sendai is a blip on his radar in comparison to the potential nuclear explosion of cursed energy he sees building in Tokyo.

A massive, ever-swelling fog of cursed energy covers an entire block, settling over the street like a storm cloud. The longer he looks at it, the bigger it grows.

It makes little sense, considering that he knows something significant just happened to one of the cursed fingers in Sendai, but it looks like Sukuna himself just appeared in Tokyo. A fully formed Sukuna with all of his power, decidedly unlike the tiny hints of it he catches when he’s near the fingers.

This is the real fucking thing— full-fledged, entirely unregulated, a ticking time bomb of a person who will detonate and kill hundreds of people if they aren’t contained and controlled quickly.

“How the fuck is Sukuna in two places at once?” Satoru hisses to himself. Not even Satoru could manage something like that.

Two threats, two people that he needs to keep away from the higher-ups and whoever else might be looking for an incarnated Sukuna. One, however, is a much bigger problem than the other.

A hypnotic bassline thrums in Sundari's ears, a familiar feeling that she normally loves. Right now, though, it’s too much. Something within her is changing, shifting, pulsating— growing. It feels like she’ll be torn apart by the surge of strength within herself, as she stumbles away from the dancefloor filled with gyrating bodies and into the bathroom.

Her breaths are labored, pulse racing, as she nearly doubles over against the wall. She’s drunk, sure, and she’s taken a few party drugs just to keep the night going, but she doesn’t feel right. Something’s fucking wrong, but she doesn’t feel bad. No, she feels good. She feels strong, a lot more so than usual.

The bathroom is empty right now, which is a shocker at a rave like this, but she’s thankful for it. Nobody needs to see her like this— panting, as the power within her claws and grips at her insides. It just grows, and grows, and grows. With a rough rasp, she stumbles over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror.

It might be the drugs talking, but something about her face doesn’t look right. She blinks a few times at the shifting, moving image reflected back at her.

The scars underneath her eyes aren’t scars anymore. They’re eyeballs. Four of them. She squints at herself, leaning closer to get a better look.

She should not have four fucking eyes right now.

Sundari has tried a lot of shit, but nothing that’s ever warped her perception like this. The extra eyes blink in tandem with her own, and she can somehow see through them. It’s disorienting, the shift in perspective, but her vision is only getting better as she acclimates to it.

“The fuck?” She mumbles, gripping onto the sink for balance.

The porcelain shatters under her grip, and water floods into the bathroom. She’s always been strong— a good fighter, a damn good fighter. She even makes money off of it on the side, but she shouldn’t be that strong. She needs to get the hell out of here before she breaks something else, or worse. She can’t imagine what would happen if she bumped into someone right now with her newfound superhuman strength.

She leaves the bathroom in a rush, stumbling at first as she ascends the dark stairwell that leads out of the underground rave and back into the streets of Tokyo. With every step, she miraculously seems to be sobering up. The metal door leading outside warps when she shoves it open. Fuck.

The cool night air feels better than it did inside. She inhales deeply, sighing audibly as she leans against the brick wall behind her.

“Huh. You’re not Sukuna,” a familiar voice drawls from her left.

She whips her head around to see who’s talking to her when she’s having the worst trip of her life, only to see a face she knows all too well. The wickedly pretty boy she hunted in the club a few months ago, not someone she expected to see tonight. He’s leaning against the wall next to her with his arms crossed, eyeing her warily.

“Nah— Sundari, but I thought you knew that,” she snaps back, a little annoyed to see him again right now of all times. “What are you doing here?”

“I do know that, but I didn’t expect to see you here either,” he argues, arms still crossed. “I should’ve known those seals on your back were for something big, but I didn’t think it was this big. Sukuna’s daughter, huh?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” She asks, temper flaring.

Maybe it’s the newfound strength she’s gaining, but this cryptic, confusing conversation is wearing on at her nerves. Something fucking big is happening to her— the last thing she needs right now is a weird conversation with a guy she fucked a few months ago.

“Come with me to my place, and I’ll explain it all,” he offers casually. “It’s a lot safer there than it is here for you. Lots of people are going to want to get their hands on you with all the power you’re gaining right now, and I promise you— I’m the one you want to end up with.”

“You don’t know anything about me. Why would I go anywhere with you?” She snaps, pushing off of the wall with a little too much strength behind it.

The brick crumbles, leaving a sizable crater.

Satoru looks between the crater and her eyes, as if that proves his point.

“You really want to deal with this without any information about what’s happening? What happens when you shove past a stranger on the street and break half of their bones? Or use your technique by accident and kill off a whole city block?”

She hisses out a couple curses, weighing her options. Her decision is only really made when a fractal of a memory slams into her subconscious, and she relives it like a dream she’s forgotten.

The Godslayer, they called her. A monstrosity falling apart underneath her four hands, as she rips it to shreds. Worship, and her mother’s avoidance.

“Fuck,” she hisses. What the fuck was that?

As far as options go, it’s looking slim right now. She could either trust this guy, or she could do exactly what he said when this keeps happening, and she can’t control her own strength. She doesn’t want to hurt people— not innocent people— not if she can help it.

“What’s it gonna be, Sundari?” He pressures her.

“Fine, fuck, let’s go,” she says.

He reaches out a hand to her, and she takes it begrudgingly.

Missing pieces of Sundari’s life start to come together within the next few days. Satoru explains some things to her, like Sukuna, and how she must be his daughter or something similar to have inherited this power from him. Nadja always kept her father a secret from her, a piece of the past that she never wanted to unearth.

The memories come back in waves, usually when she sleeps. Little bits and pieces that don’t make sense when separated but start to form a clearer picture when she puts them together. She’s a lot older than she thought she was, given that she was worshiped at some point a very, very long time ago. For a number of years that she can’t begin to quantify, Sundari’s power has been sealed away, locked inside of her and restricted, as she’d lived her life like a normal person.

Satoru explains that Sukuna was recently incarnated somewhere else, and the seal was broken, which explains why she was suddenly able to break sinks, walls, and doors with her bare hands. The four eyes are hard to get used to, but at least the extra arms haven’t shown up yet.

Now, she’s here in Satoru’s house, being fiercely guarded day and night like some sort of prisoner. Apparently, she’s in grave danger right now, as if shit wasn’t weird enough without that added layer of stress. Satoru’s the strongest sorcerer, which he told her very arrogantly, and his entire job is killing curses like her father, and possibly like her.

It’s been tense. Sundari isn’t naive enough to think that she’s entirely safe with Satoru, seeing as he wants to kill her dad because he’s too powerful. Where does that leave Sundari at the end of this? She hates being guarded and coddled like a child, like she’s something that needs to be contained and controlled, rather than a person.

She’s fucking stressed, and she can’t sleep without these dreams of her long-forgotten past haunting her. She doesn’t necessarily blame Satoru for needing to kill Sukuna— he’s chaos incarnate, he’ll kill thousands of people if he isn’t stopped.

Somewhere deep inside of herself, Sundari is afraid. She’s afraid that Sukuna’s innate violence is lurking beneath her skin, waiting to come out when she doesn’t expect it. Afraid that if she’s left to her own devices, if she gets angry or upset, she’ll become like him. Her memories and Satoru’s stories do enough to remind her of what her father has done, of what she’s capable of if she doesn’t control herself.

But she can control herself. She’s not a loose cannon waiting to be muzzled. Satoru might not see it yet, but she can.

She doesn’t dare mention her feelings to Satoru. Not yet at least. He’s been nice to her while she’s staying here, he didn’t even make a fuss about it when she accidentally broke a door of its hinges trying to open it, but how much can she trust him? Not enough to reveal her deepest, darkest fears, that’s for fucking sure.

It takes Sundari a week to gain full control of her own strength. Like an astronaut that’s just come back from Mars, it takes her a while to settle into herself and feel comfortable with her own body’s limitations again. She knows not to push too hard on doors or rip the handles off of the sink.

Muscle memory from the distant past is kicking in to help her contain her technique. At first, her cursed energy was a serious problem that was only contained by the seals Satoru has around his house. Now, she’s maintaining it herself so well that even Satoru was shocked to see it.

The issue now is the weird tension between the two of them. Satoru’s helpful, but she can see the hunger in his eyes when he takes off the blindfold. She feels it within herself, too, now that she can focus on it without worrying so much about her own strength. Something unfinished and unspoken, leftover from the last time they were together. It was a good night, he was a good fuck, and that was supposed to be the end of it.

Now, they’re living together, and despite the domesticity of that, she still can’t trust him. So, like any reasonable person, she comes up with an idea of how their get over the uncanny tension, or at least make it bearable.

“Do you have any weed around here?” She asks, as they’re sitting on the couch together, silently watching some movie she’s not paying attention to.

Satoru turns his head slowly to look at her, intrigue written on his features. God, he’s pretty. A little too fucking pretty— it makes sense that he’s as powerful as her, given that he looks like that.

“I could get some,” he answers nonchalantly.

Sundari smiles, and maybe they’ll work out their differences after all. Even now, she struggles to be wary of him, he’s so smooth with his words. He matches her wit with ease and returns it just the same. They’re too similar— a little arrogant, both of them, but she doesn’t see it as a bad thing. She sees it as a challenge.

Satoru does come back with some weed a few minutes later, and she struggles to watch him roll a joint— he’s good at everything, apparently, but not that.

“God, you’re bad at that. Let me do it,” she says, frowning as she takes the half-rolled, uneven thing out of his hands.

“I was getting there,” he pouts, rolling his eyes.

“You really weren’t,” she teases, which draws a smirk out of him. He likes it when she talks back, she’s realized.

Satoru watches with a catlike grin, as she fixes it for him. Her eyes lock with his as she runs her tongue over the smooth paper, before flattening it down to make a perfectly cylindrical joint. His eyes flicker between her lips and her own when she presses it between her lips and leans toward him, waiting for a light.

He lights it, and she feels a thousand times better as soon as she inhales. Something to calm the nerves a little bit, it helps a lot, and he has money and connections enough to get some good shit.

Maybe it’s a little too good, actually. They’re both on the moon talking about nothing, passing it between each other and laughing at each other’s jokes. He’s funny, she thinks, as she’s looking at him. The nerve of him to be hot and funny. He’s trying to explain his technique to her, but she’s lost before he gets half of it out.

“Bet I could take you,” she says, relaxing with her head in her palm, as she sits a little closer to him than she realizes.

“In a fight?” He asks, teasing and a little flirtatious.

She grins. “Yeah, in a fight.”

“Bet you couldn’t,” he argues.

She’s not one to lose fights, and she tells him about it. The Yakuza pays her good money to fight in underground rings, and they wouldn’t hedge their bets on her if she lost. Satoru counters it by telling her that he’s never lost a fight— maybe for a second or two, but he always comes out on top.

“Really? Last time I saw you, you didn’t end up on top at all,” she teases him, remembering the way she made him beg to fuck her.

“That was an ambush,” he says. “You just caught me off guard. Won’t happen again, trust me.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that, Satoru. I’m disappointed you didn’t actually knock my IUD loose if you’re that strong.”

“We can always try again.”

Satoru is a fucking flirt, a huge one, and she’s starting to like it. Maybe it’s a little Stockholm Syndrome, because they’ve been living together for weeks now, but she’s starting to actually like him. Before, they could’ve fucked again and went their separate ways, and that would be all there is to it.

But now…

Now, she doesn’t know. It’s just so easy to fall into a routine with him, to forget the situation and enjoy hanging out with him, despite the looming threat that he might try to kill her someday if she ever loses control.

There’s chemistry between the two of them, chemistry that’s growing and changing with every day that they spend together. She’s never been one to fall in love or get attached for long, always too ready to move onto the next thing to get caught up in feelings.

But all of these little moments between them during their time together are adding up, piling on top of each other, until whatever it is between them feels like more. His hand on the small of her back when he passes by her, a gentle touch here and there when she starts to spiral, even a hug one time.

He says “Morning, beautiful” when she’s just rolled out of bed, curls sticking up in every direction and a sour look on her face. Always with a sarcastic drawl and a shit-eating grin on his face.

She usually just rolls her eyes about it, but maybe she likes it a little. And he’s funny— the fucking nerve of him to look like that and be funny. She’s never met a man that can make her laugh like he does.

The way he looks at her now— it’s more than fleeting affection. His gaze is lovestruck. She never thought the icy blue color of his eyes could look so warm. She misses him when he’s gone, and he always gives her the biggest grin when he comes back. Mutual attraction has blossomed and thickened. It’s been weeks of this now, and they’re unlikely friends.

They give each other shit when neither of them can seem to say something nice, but when she looks at him, her insides feel tight, like she can’t breathe. She can tell he feels it, too, by the way that he always wants to be close to her. He’ll make any excuse to sit next to her, to put his arm around the back of the couch when they’re smoking together, which has become a little bit of a ritual now. It makes it easier to forget their circumstances and just talk, which they somehow end up doing for hours.

He always says how much he likes her curls, how much he likes the look on her face when she gets a wicked idea, her smart mouth and her attitude. He likes the way she dances, likes the way her body moves when she’s drunk, and the music is loud.

She sees the way he looks at her, sees the way he takes care of her when she’s struggling with the memories that won’t leave her alone. They’re coming back thicker now, heavier than they were before. She feels haunted by it all, haunted by the life that she’s lived in complete ignorance to what she really is.

More than anything, she’s haunted by her father. Sukuna, the worst human-turned-curse that has ever existed, at least in Japan. Why did her mother fall for him? For a fucking monster? And where does that leave Sundari?

She knows herself; she knows that she can be destructive, she can be cruel. There’s an ache inside of her that longs for violence, an itch that she used to scratch with cage-fights and beating the living fuck out of men who abused sex workers, in her past life. She knows now that even if her causes were righteous and good, she enjoyed it.

The blood, the violence, the chance to unleash the demon within herself that she knows is there. It’s just beneath her skin.

In a moment of self-collapse, she tells Satoru the truth.

“I never wanted to be his daughter,” she says, curled in on herself in her vulnerability, knees pressed to her chest. “I do my fucking best to not be destructive like he is, but everyone— your higher-ups, whoever the fuck else, they’ll only ever see me for these.”

She gestures to the thick bands of black ink around her wrists.

“I’ll never be free from people who want to control me for it. I can’t even fucking hide them like he can,” she mutters, frustrated and angry. “And even if I like you, I can’t stay here forever, so what do we do when this is over?”

“You could work with me,” Satoru offers quietly from where he sits beside her.

He doesn’t invade her space; he knows that she wouldn’t want him to right now. Instead, he sits with her, and he listens. Patiently, quietly— he doesn’t talk over her, he doesn’t give her solutions unless she asks for them. He’s kind to her, gentle with her when he can tell that she needs it.

She has no fucking clue what to do with that.

“And everyone we work with will only ever see me as a monster,�� she answers, shaking her head.

“Maybe, but you don’t have to prove them right,” he says. “You’re nothing like him, Sundari. I’ve talked to him, I’ve seen him. You’re less destructive than you think you are, and you make an effort to be good, to do the right thing. That’s what matters, that’s what makes the two of you so different. He wants violence, you want to control yourself and do the right thing.”

“Does it matter? Will anyone other than you ever believe me?”

She looks at the tattoos and despises them, wishes she could scrub them from her skin. This isn’t what she’s ever wanted to be. It wasn’t ever her choice, but the world will treat her like it was.

“They will if you prove them wrong,” he says.

A moment of silence lapses between the two of them, as they sit together in the living room, quiet and ruminating. Sundari’s frustration feels like fire in her veins. Even now, she’s struggling to contain everything within her. Her body isn’t big enough to fit all of this power inside it without an outlet.

“What if we tested it out?” She asks, looking up at him, an idea on the tip of her tongue. “Just a little fight between the two of us— let me see if I can control it without breaking everything and losing control.”

Satoru’s lips curve up into a hint of a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.”

She realizes that she’s falling for him in that moment, that all of this forced cohabitation has become something more to her, something that tastes like love on her tongue, even when she can’t bring herself to say it.

Instead, she says, “Okay. Just don’t cry about it too much when I win.”

“Ha, I could say the same to you,” he answers, and she knows his words taste like love, too.

It’s a friendly fight, Satoru reminds himself, as Sundari lunges for him again. She’s fast— faster than he imagined she would be, and she’s good. Resilient, too. She doesn’t wear down easily— her cursed energy is still thrumming through the air after half an hour of hand-to-hand combat.

Her fighting style is unique, foreign to Satoru. She wasn’t trained in Japan, that much is clear, based on the way that she moves. The hand signs that she uses when she activates her technique against his are ones he’s never seen before.

It wears him down to keep up with her unfamiliar movements. If he were anyone else, he’d have lost this fight half an hour ago due to the way she continues to periodically drain his cursed energy.

But Satoru isn’t just anybody. His reserves are infinite, and he can tell that she’s realizing that, based on the scowl she’s sporting.

“C’mon, Sundari— stop holding back,” he taunts her, after barely dodging one of her well-timed punches. She’s strong.

And she looks fucking good with a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, whipping around to dodge when he teleports behind her and aims a blow to the middle of her back. She almost blocks it, but he’s quicker than even her eyes can track. It lands, a punch straight to the chest, which sends her flying backwards into a tree.

That should be the end of it, he thinks, when she gets back up with a wild, feral smile on her face. A little bit of blood trickles down from her lip, and for some god-forsaken reason, his pants feel a little tighter. She lunges for him again, and again. It’s a miss, but she manages to put him on the defensive again. He lifts up into the air to avoid a kick, and she drags him back down, which he counters with an elbow.

“Stop fucking running if you think I’m holding back,” she taunts him in turn, before he sends her flying off out of view for a split second.

He thinks that surely another hit like that will make her surrender. God, they’ve been at it all morning. His pulse is racing— he’s never fought anyone as strong as she is. It’s a fucking rush. The blood in his body doesn’t know if it should focus on his brain or his dick. Sundari fights like a warrior, like a goddess.

She emerges from the tree line with two extra arms extending from her shoulder blades. She rolls them out, unphased at the changes to her body. There’s an extra mouth on her exposed stomach with sharp teeth, grinning at him with the same expression as the one on her face.

His blood is definitely headed to his dick. That is a goddess. A vengeful, wild goddess. Her curls have come undone, fanning out around her beautifully, while she practically glows with cursed energy. Satoru has wanted her for weeks now, he’s wanted her since he first saw her again, but right now? Satoru needs her.

He needs to see his goddess sprawled out beneath him, hot and sweaty and snapping at him with her sharp teeth, crying out for more as he fucks her. He wants to feel all four of her arms on him, pulling him in closer, he wants the extra mouth to lick him while his tongue is down her throat.

She’s on him before he can blink, and this time— he doesn’t hold back.

The blows shared between them are so rapid, neither has time to think. The sounds of skin meeting skin with dull thuds and their heavy, panting breaths are the only noises to be heard. He can barely regenerate his cursed energy at the same speed that she withers it away, and he realizes distantly that he might have never felt as alive before.

One failed movement, and he’s on top of her. His own goddess is hissing out curses underneath him, struggling against his strength as he pins her down to the dewy, wet grass beneath them.

“Yield,” he demands, voice low and breathless.

“Fuck you,” she spits back, locking her legs around his waist to try and flip him. He doesn’t budge, not this time. There’s only one thing on his mind.

“Yield, Sundari,” he says again, this time with a coaxing warmth.

All four of her eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point that her garnet eyes look black. She still struggles against him, but she’s slowing down, realizing how close they are. Very close, at that. Satoru’s on top of her with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressed against her at every intimate junction with his fingers fastened around two of her wrists.

Her other arms have receded back into her, given the position they’re in and the shift of the mood.

“I said fuck you,” she repeats herself, quieter this time, as her eyes flit between his own and his lips. “I’m not yielding.”

“You sure?” He murmurs, as his nose brushes hers. “You look like it. You look like you want to.”

That reignites some of her flame, but she pours it into a different approach this time. Always one to move first, she leans up to crash her lips into his. Satoru returns it with even more ferocity, tongue sweeping between her teeth as he presses her down into the grass, groaning against her lips.

It’s frantic, feverish, the way that she’s tugging at his clothes, and he’s tugging at hers. His cock throbs against the confines of his briefs, as he’s yanking her athletic shorts down her legs and moving his attention to her neck. She nearly growls when he sinks his teeth into her skin, sucking a bruise into the side of her neck.

She meant it when she said she wasn’t submitting to him, he realizes, as she flips them over with the practiced ease of a fighter, situating herself on top of him. Her hand slips underneath his shirt, desperate for touch and seeking more, more, more of it.

“Ready to start begging again, Satoru? You did it so well last time,” She purrs, grinning wickedly, as she scrapes her teeth against his collarbone, eager to slip lower.

“Ha, in your fucking dreams,” he says, before slamming her onto her back.

She gasps, but he knows she can take it. He’s been fighting with her for an hour and tossed her into more than a few tree trunks, she can handle it. If the wide-eyed look on her face is any indication, she likes it. One hand around her throat, he slips the other down her body and between her thighs to feel her wetness. And god, she’s soaking.

Circling her clit with his fingertips, he smiles down at her and knows that he looks just as feral as she does. She writhes underneath him, back arching.

“You got me once, baby. I’ll give you that,” he admits breathlessly, slipping two fingers inside to draw out a strangled moan. “But this time, you’re gonna fucking beg for it. You’re going to tell me how bad you want me to fuck you, and I’ll think about it if you ask nice enough.”

“You—You’re a fucking dick,” she says, but it’s hard to talk when she’s moaning. “Not begging, not doing it.”

“Yeah?”

He knows how she likes it; he remembers her body well. Her pussy sucks in his fingers greedily, as he wraps a hand around her throat and squeezes.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs reverently, honestly. “You’re such a brat too, but you’re gonna take it so good for me, aren’t you? Telling me what a fucking dick I am, while you’re this wet for me?”

“Fuck you,” she says, but it’s a whine more than anything.

She’s getting close, he can tell. The adrenaline still pumping through her veins makes it easier to get close without him having to work for it. He’ll edge her time and time again until she’s a mess, slick and wet and crying for him. He traces the tattoos along her chest with his fingertips when he finally releases her throat, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. Her walls constrict around his fingers, but he retreats before she can cum.

One, two, three times. He brings her to the edge until she’s all but snapping at him, hissing out curses and whines.

“Say please, Sundari,” he murmurs, low and taunting. “Say please, and I’ll make you cum. I’ll make you cum so hard— I know you want it, you’re so wet for me.”

“Fuck— Fuck,” she mewls, rocking her hips against his fingers, as if he’ll let her cum. “Please— Please? Please, Satoru,” she finally relents.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her, as he finally lets her stumble over the edge. “So fucking good for me,” he coos against her lips, as she spasms beneath him, whining and humping his fingers through her orgasm.

The shockwaves of it barely have time to end before he’s slipping his cock into her warmth, hissing out a breath at the way she sucks him in. So wet, and so tight. He can’t help himself, can’t wait a second for her to adjust to his length, he sets a brutal pace in fucking her.

“So fucking good,” he growls against her lips, biting her lower one until he can taste her blood. “That’s it— fucking take it, take all of it.”

He maneuvers her over onto all fours, pressing a hand down to the apex of her spine to force her into a severe arch, as she moans incoherently beneath him. The sound of his hips flush against her ass makes him bite his lip, muscles tensing and flexing involuntarily as he tries to hold back from finishing inside her. She’s about to cum, he can tell, but not without permission.

“Beg for it, tell me how much you fucking want it,” he demands, moving to cover her body with his own, murmuring in her ear. “Know you want it; know you want me to fill up your pussy— don’t you?”

“Yes— yes— please,” she whines, and Satoru’s ego swells to new heights upon seeing this goddess falling apart underneath him.

“That’s it, just like that— don’t stop— tell me how much you fucking need it,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

And she does— she begs beautifully, knees buckling as she trembles through another orgasm. Satoru chases her down to the ground, slamming himself into her over and over again until his entire body seizes up with pleasure. He bites down hard on her shoulder when he comes, filling her up with every drop of his cum.

The two of them stay like that for a while to catch their breath, still half-clothed and panting against each other in the crater they just fucked into the earth.

“Still a dick,” she reminds him, which draws a chuckle out of him.

“You yielded, didn’t you?” He says arrogantly, kissing the nape of her neck as he pulls off of her.

“You’re hearing things,” she says, sitting up to readjust her top. “I never surrendered to you, and I never will. At least, not in a fight.” She winks at him, and he smiles back at her.

Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.

Later that night after a shower and some food, Sundari sleeps in Satoru’s bed for the first time. It feels natural, after all they’ve done. They fucked again after that— inside, this time, rather than outside in the wet grass. Neither of them broached the topic of feelings, but they both know it’s there. Something intangible but real settling between the two of them.

After such a long day, she falls asleep almost immediately, only to be plagued by dreams again.

This one, however, is different from the rest.

She’s standing in her hometown, far from Japan and Satoru and everything else. Back in her old life, where she was The Godslayer, dressed in the trappings of a demigoddess worshiped by her people. This isn’t uncommon in her dreams, but she has an unexpected visitor in this one.

A monk, it seems. His hair is black and long, silky as he moves toward her with a deceptively serene smile on his face. Stitches sit on his forehead, which draws her attention and makes her wary.

“Sundari,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you. Gojo Satoru has made it exceedingly difficult to reach you in the past few months.”

Immediately, she’s suspicious. Whoever this monk is, she doesn’t like the energy he emanates. She doesn’t like the look on his face— so calm, so unbothered, he must be hiding something.

“And what do you want?” She asks, straight to the point.

He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want something from her. Satoru warned her that the higher-ups of the jujutsu society might not be the only people that are looking for her. This monk strikes familiarity somewhere within her, as if she’s seen him before but can’t remember it for some reason.

“Still as blunt as ever, I see,” he says, sitting next to her. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Of course you do.”

“Sukuna has returned, as has your power,” he says. “Do you know why you were sealed?”

She grits her teeth, unwilling to answer. He knows something that she doesn’t, but she’s not naive enough to be tempted by whatever he’s offering until she knows what he wants in exchange for it.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says in her silence. “There are so many mysteries surrounding you, most of which are unknown even to you. Your father, who he is and how you came to be. The seals on your back, an entire life lived that you can only remember bits and pieces of.”

She thinks of her mother in that moment. Nadja would know, she’s certain. The monk has piqued her curiosity— of course she wants to know who she was before her memories disappeared, and of course she wants to know about her father, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

If she had to ask anyone, it would be her mom.

Seemingly reading her mind, the monk laughs. “Nadja thinks of you as a child, even after all these years. She’d never tell you anything.”

“And I’m guessing you can,” she says, annoyed at this long-winded speech.

“Correct,” he agrees. “I can reveal it all to you, shed light on every shadow in your life. I’ve watched you closely since you were born, Sundari. I even helped to put those seals on your back after you slaughtered that town.”

Sundari’s eyes grow wide, horrified at the implication.

“What do you want?” She demands again.

“I want your cooperation in the coming days,” he offers nonchalantly. “Sukuna will regain his full power sooner rather than later, and he’ll fight alongside me in an… event that I’m planning. You could meet him for yourself, let him tell you about his relationship with Nadja, and I could fill in all of those blank spots that you can’t stop obsessing over.”

“So, you want to have control over me when you do something big and fucked up in the future,” she says with an eyeroll. “Got it.”

She seemingly cannot stop running into people that want to control her or collar her. Even Satoru isn’t immune to that. As much as she likes to live in the fantasy of their relationship, she knows that his goal at the end of this is to contain her. In that way, he’s not so different to the monk.

“I want to work with you,” he corrects her. “In exchange, you’ll know everything, including your father. I know you’re not interested now, you think you have other options, so I’ll give you time. When you realize that I’m the only source for uncovering the mysteries your mother keeps from you, I’ll find you. Until then, Sundari.”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, a way of saying goodbye, and she wakes with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the bed.

Satoru is awake in an instant, eyeing her warily in the darkness.

“Nightmare?” He asks groggily.

For a moment, she considers keeping it to herself, just in case. Deep inside, she knows that even if Satoru likes her— even if he loves her— his ultimate goal is not so different to the monk. He wants to control her; he wants her freedom. She’s given it to him by agreeing to stay here willingly for so long, why should she offer up more of herself to someone who will use her like a pawn?

They all do. That’s all she is to them. Whether it’s the monk, or Satoru, or the higher-ups, or her mother— they want to own her, to contain her. They want her collared and docile, so that she doesn’t self-destruct and take the world down with her, like Sukuna.

“What do you want out of this?” She asks, defensive and guarded.

Satoru sits up, shaking his head at her. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want from this? From me? What’s your goal?”

“To protect you,” he says. “I’ve told you that from the beginning—”

“No— you know I don’t need protecting. What is it? Is it just control?”

No one has ever protected Sundari, nor have they ever needed to. She’s been on her own, and she’s been fine that way. If anything, she’s always been the protector, the savior, the one who helps when things go to shit, and someone needs muscle to deal with it.

“Control?” He asks, huffing out a laugh. “Is that what you think this is?”

“What should I think? Why else would you keep me here?”

He scoffs. “I don’t know what you saw in that dream, but the past month you’ve been here, the only thing I’ve done is protect you. The higher-ups want you dead, god knows who else wants you dead— I keep them away from you,” he says, unwavering. “I just want to keep you safe, to make sure that no one wants to use you for their own gain.”

“So that you can use me instead, right? At the end of this? I’m powerful, so you need to contain me, collar me, make sure I don’t fuck you over—”

“Sundari,” he says sharply, cutting her off. “Do you think I could control you, even if I wanted to? If you wanted to leave here right now and go be a force of fucking nature, do you think I could stop you?”

She stares at him, unsure of her answer. Could he?

“You’re not a pawn to me, you are not something I need to keep under my thumb,” he continues. “You’re an equal to me,” he admits softly. “In every way, I see you as an equal, and the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to keep you away from people who won’t see you that way.”

“Why?” She murmurs, uncharacteristically soft and fragile.

“I love you,” he says. “I— I don’t know if it’s too soon, or— fuck, I don’t know, but I do. I love you, love the way you laugh, love your bad attitude, love the way you fuss and fight with me. I want to be with you— I don’t want to take your freedom, I want to work alongside you, just– I want to be near you,” he murmurs.

“You love me?” She mumbles, leaning closer.

“I love you,” he repeats, placing a hand on her cheek. His eyes scan along her face for any reaction. “That’s all there is. I don’t care what you are, or what other people think you are, I just want to keep you safe.”

Maybe she can believe him, if only for right now. The monk’s offer is still on the table, still a temptation that she’ll have to grapple with, but this is real. She’s never been looked after before like this, she’s never had anyone feel the need to protect her, to keep her safe. She’s always been strong— when has there ever been the need for it?

But Satoru is strong, too, and she understands the way he feels. She wants to protect him, too, whatever the cost may be. If anything happened to him, she’d lose her fucking mind, she’d destroy everything in her path.

“Okay— Okay. I’ll work with you,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead to his. A little grin creeps up on her face. “Under the condition that I want strong opponents— I want to fight people that are worth it.”

“Done,” he says, smiling back at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I— I love you. It might be too soon, but–”

He kisses her before she can say another word, and for the time-being, they’re happy.

Writing © 2024 @septembersums and posted with permission. Sundari Hikmat © 2024 @osunism. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging original posts is okay]. This includes my masterlist and fic format as well as feeding my writing to an AI garbage machine. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

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hiraethwrote · 2 months ago

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you guys know the trend where like “give your boyfriend your hair tie and he’ll never take it off”? yeah, satoru is 110% that boyfriend

not just that, but he will not stop at one hair tie. after you give him your first, he will steal them constantly to the point here his wrists are covered

#— musings #alright some thoughts of my love before I have to go to bed #I will manifest in my sleep #last chapter guys #will I wake up happy???#jjk #satoru gojo #satoru #gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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entirelysein-e · 6 months ago

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『 Asking them to draw a heart with their tip 』

☼ synopsis: you ask them to draw a heart with the tip of their dick

☼ characters: Gojo / Geto / Toji

☼ warnings: suggestive

☼ notes: I had way too much fun drawing silly hearts with the tip of my nose for this | don't forget to sign up for my taglist or to request what you'd like to see next!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Gojo

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Geto

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji

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ghxst-bird · 5 days ago

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Part of me wants Gojo to go through on Yuji’s execution part by the end of the story.

Like, don’t get me wrong, I adore Yuji. And I want him to be happy. But Gojo and him just harmonize so interestingly in that they match each other’s energy that it would make the angst even more exquisite.

So excuse me while I’m off sitting in a corner, contemplating an ending where Gojo kills our pure and innocent sunshine boy, and then absolutely loses his mind in the wake of it because, good god, duty wasn’t worth Yuji’s life.

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aza-trash-can · 4 months ago

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I got hit with a bittersweet headcanon or two about Satoru (and Suguru, just let me set the stage for them)

Firstly, I imagine Satoru would be insanely smart when it comes to math and physics. It comes with the territory of his technique being to manipulate space and the concept of infinity. So, I like imagining this translates to having some interest in the universe as a whole and outer space, since he can think about concepts I can only have even a fleeting understanding of when it comes to the nature of the universe

So we have Satoru rambling on and on about these stupidly complex physics concepts to Suguru, who doesn't understand half of the words coming out of his mouth, but he's happy to listen to Satoru ramble about something that manages to actually capture his interest. Something that makes him think. Suguru gets lost in the way Satoru's eyes light up not through the activation of his cursed technique, but through fascination and wonder and excitement over what he's talking about

At some point during one of these rambles, Satoru brings up how everything is made of stardust, or if not stardust, then at least the same stuff that can make a star. Off the cuff says that "that kinda makes everything connected, y'know? Well, everything is kinda connected anyways, but that's a way that more people can actually understand and conceptualise." And, being Satoru, he just rambles on and on after that little tidbit. But Suguru clings to it, holds on to the little facts that he can understand because he loves it when Satoru shares these things, and he loves even more when he can bring it up later and watch Satoru's eyes shimmer like a lake reflecting the sun because he bothered to remember something Satoru likes to talk and think about

And one day, later on, when Satoru goes unusually quiet and his gaze is not quite there, when it's just the two of them and he dares to let Suguru peek past the facade of 'the strongest' (one of two, it's still the two of them that make up that whole), when he says "I don't think I'm human," Suguru says

"You're still made of stardust too." And when Satoru doesn't respond right away, he continues. "Even if you think you're not human, you're made of stardust, like everyone, everything, else. You're still connected to everyone."

Nothing more is said when Satoru fights back tears, hidden as they are behind his glasses. No comment is made when he leans against Suguru slowly. They sit in silence as Satoru falls apart and pulls himself back together without so much as a whisper

Afterwards, maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours, maybe in an entirely new conversation, Suguru floats the idea that they were made from the same star. The iron in their veins still holding the energy of the same supernova, two souls from one bright, shining light, forever connected more intimately to each other than to anything else in the universe. Satoru can't think of a more perfect theory

#aza's character musings #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #this ended up kinda like a mini fic #kinda prose like #but i think that fits for these two

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misdeliria · 1 year ago

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SATORU GOJO

Blue Springs related

Days spent in the classroom were often quiet, aside from Satoru's occasional dramatic outburst. Sitting on the very end along the windows, you developed a habit of leaning against your hand, giving you the perfect angle to watch Satoru's theatrics throughout the lecture.

It only made you laugh harder when Yaga Sensei seemed to feed into Satoru's dynamic, or even better when either of your other classmates flamed him.

But the best part about slow days inside the classroom was when Satoru would pry for your attention with the glow behind his shades and his charming, toothy grin. It never failed to get you smiling in return.

The muted bell tolls signifying the end of the school day interrupts Yaga Sensei in the middle of his sentence, forcing him to clear his throat and train of thought.

"You're all dismissed for the weekend," he concludes the lecture. "I'll be seeing you all."

Yaga Sensei doesn't stay behind to wait for you to clear out, but you don't expect him to. What follows is the debrief with your classmates and any plans to hang out after leaving the school.

Satoru, on cue, pulls out the buttons of his collar and reveals his t-shirt beneath with an obnoxious sigh.

"Man, what a drag," he groans. "That took absolutely forever. I swear, I was falling asleep from the beginning."

He rises from his chair while Shoko skips past you to the windows. She's already fiddling with a cigarette between her lips before opening the airway and pulling out a lighter.

"You should spend less time complaining and more time retaining the information, Satoru," Suguru lightly chastises, packing his little books away and leaning back in his seat.

"He could've at least given us a little time to spar outside," Satoru murmurs defensively, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall beside your desk, between the sectioned windows.

"You sound like a kid," you poke fun at him, lifting a brow and leaning over your desk. "You need playtime outside?"

"I'm a growing boy with developing skills," Satoru huffs, glaring at you with no heat. "I can't be expected to get sequestered indoors behind a desk all day."

"Oh, whatever," Shoko pipes up from her corner, a teasing smile gracing her lips. "You spend all your time inside with your girlfriend when she gets sick, so quit the bullshit."

The label makes your skin crawl, and you shoot an awkward look in Satoru's direction.

"No, we're not-"

"That's completely different," Satoru cuts you off indignantly. "I'm not stuck behind a desk in that situation. I can use all my skills to the best of my abilities." He ends his statement with a wide grin, tilting his shades to give you a complete view of his cheeky wink.

"You're an idiot," you mumble, turning your head away in embarrassment. "You have no idea what you're saying."

You were the most recent addition to the class–to this group. You opted to fall silent in the presence of their regular familiar banter, but lately, you were getting pulled along into the fun.

"You guys don't have any plans today, right? Let's go grab some snacks."

"Only if you're paying."

The soft knocks against the wood sound too loud, cutting through the dead of night. You cringe uncomfortably, bouncing on your toes in anticipation.

The door pulls open to reveal Satoru with a messy bedhead and his baggy pajamas. He’s not wearing his shades, so his eyes are practically glowing in the dim lighting.

“Hey,” you whisper, rocking onto your heels, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to bail on your efforts. “I had another nightmare.”

A wide, sleepy smile stretches across Satoru's face as he leans against the door frame like a putz.

"What do you want me to do about it," he replies with a playful tune.

"If you're going to be mean, I'll see if Suguru is awake." You're quick to pivot on one foot to make way for Suguru's room, but Satoru is faster. He gently grabs your arm and tugs you into his room before you're too far away.

"I was joking," he murmurs, pulling you into his chest and snuggling as close as he can to you like the touch-starved brat he is. "Was it a bad one?"

Your nightmare. It was darker than your average nightmare, with your classmates lying dead around you and your hands covered in their blood, and the sight gave you such a shock that you woke up in a sweating mess with your heart nearly giving out from hypertension.

"I just needed to see you, I guess," you mumble against his warm collarbone. Your arms wrap around his back, tentative fingers tracing over the ridges of his muscles and bones to get a better footing in reality. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Satoru laughs loudly at that, leading you to his bed and nudging you to get comfortable under the sheets.

"Why wouldn't I be okay, hm?" Satoru's efforts to slip under the covers beside you went smoothly as his hands returned to you under the sheets. The side of his face was flush against his only pillow while your head rested and received warmth from his arm.

"I'm nervous Kiyohime will get bloodthirsty again," you whisper, shuddering gently in Satoru's hold. "I'm worried you'll all become victim to it, and I won't have any power to stop her."

Pressing your watery eyes against Satoru's arm, you can feel the arm hanging over your side get tighter around you.

"Don't be ridiculous," he tells you, chuckling softly, and Satoru overwhelms all your senses, slowing your heart rate and planting a seed of drowsiness in you, along with a prompt. "Suguru and I won't ever let that happen."

1 year later

"What the hell," you hissed, kicking off from the wall you were perched on, impatiently waiting. "I'm starving."

Haibara calls your name with a bright smile, watching you saunter to stand beside Kento, jutting your hip out and resting your hand against it.

"I bet they're on their way," he assures you, ever the optimist. "Probably got a little stuck on the assignment."

"Or, they broke something," Kento says bluntly, glancing up at you.

"I'm not playing this game with you again, Nanami," you snarl, stubbornly snapping your head in the opposite direction.

"It's a friendly wager," Kento tries to brush off, speaking your name softly to weaken your defenses. And it was working.

"This stays between us," you glare at Haibara, who shriveled under your gaze. He was responsible for the last time Satoru caught on to your bets with Kento, Suguru, and Shoko–Haibara is too respectful to throw money in.

"My lips are sealed," Kento practically purrs, grinning at you cynically.

"If anything went wrong," you hesitate, nervously glancing around your surroundings in search of a mop of white. "Then, it was likely Satoru's fault." You place your bet in one breath before following it with a relieved sigh. Your nerves are suddenly switched out with excitement, once again eager to meet up with your classmates.

Kento nods before returning to the newspaper he grabbed during their walk into the city.

"Yo!" Shoko's voice calling out over the crowd makes your heart leap in your throat. She's leading the two boys behind her through the masses of non-sorcerers, Satoru is the furthest away, but his arm is in the air to catch your attention.

"How was the assignment?" You ask innocently, side-eyeing Kento, who is looking up from his paper. "You all look like you're in good spirits."

Suguru and Shoko sent you an identical expression that reflected a tired parent, and Satoru wore a forced grin. Hah, gotcha Kento.

"It went great," Satoru grit, throwing a heavy arm over your shoulders once he's close enough. "It was a little too scary for Utahime, but nothing I couldn't handle."

"Is that so?" You question him, smirking at avoidance. Looking at Suguru, he winks at you, curtly nodding before extending a hand out for you to take.

Suguru yanks you out from under Satoru and spins you so he's leaning over your shoulders but still holding your hand. He guides you towards some food stands with Shoko on the other side of him, chatting with Haibara and Kento.

"Satoru?" You look back to see him dragging his feet behind. His expression immediately lights up when you call his name, and he makes quick work of replacing Suguru.

"What's up, sweetheart," he plays off cooly, dragging his hand through his white locks.

"I was just wondering if you were paying," you ask, biting your lip to stifle your laugh, watching Suguru drop his head into his hand with laughter.

Satoru's face falls, turning sour and pulling away, but not far enough that he stops touching you.

"You just after my wallet now?" He leans close with an accusatory glare, and you're sane enough to press your hand against his chest to keep him at a sufferable distance.

"I'm hungry," you pout and raise your shoulders, knitting your brows together as you look up at him.

"You're spoiled, is what you are," he hums in amusement, pulling out his wallet. "On me, guys."

The rest of the group sends you a collective thumbs up behind Satoru's back, all grinning like naughty children.

Your joint assignment with Kento and Haibara went worse than anyone was expecting. Haibara was dead.

And to make the situation worse, Kiyohime took possession of you the moment he hit the ground–nearly destroying everything around her.

As badly as he wanted to appear in your room, Satoru was restricted to knocking on your door once you came home. You didn't come out earlier when Kento came to tell you he was going with Suguru to pay their respects to the body.

"Hey, sweetheart?" He calls softly through the door. His heart feels torn to shreds, laced with guilt and phantom feelings from Riko's murder. "Can I come in?"

He's met with silence, making the weight on his chest unbearable.

"Please," he chokes, biting his tongue. "Need to see you're okay."

There's a quiet, "Okay, Satoru," and he's instantly standing in the middle of your room.

Your room's in chaos–your desk is sitting sideways on the opposite side of the room from its original spot, and the floor is littered with everything.

You're lying in bed, the sheets cocooning you, facing the wall.

Satoru can see your body shaking and hear your quiet whimpers now that nothing separates you.

"Oh, baby," he murmurs solemnly, dipping his knee into the edge of the mattress. His hand reaches for you and squeezes your arm gently.

You throw yourself at him before he can do anything. His anxiety spikes in fear, but relief swims through him when you bury your face into his stomach and sob a little louder without your sheets muffling you. Satoru praises himself for turning off his infinity when he comes to see you.

"It was awful, Satoru," you croak, and he can feel your tears bleeding through his shirt. "I almost killed him too. I just wanted to save them. I couldn't save him."

Satoru placed a hand on your head and entwined his fingers through your hair, holding you against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, throat closing up when your sobs don't let up. "I'm so, so sorry."

a/n: like, comment, reblog my sweet bitch tiddies lmk what you think ❦

#[fic] a thing of nightmares #[muse] ichiyo tanaka #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru

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luvreyn · 6 months ago

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SOLACE

GOJO SATORU X READER

The clothes you were wearing last night were crinkled when you downed them again, courtesy of the man sleeping on the bed. You’re careful as you pace around his apartment, scared that you might wake him up.

Leaving before he wakes up is always the hardest part. You’re not sure how to face him every time you sleep together, after all.

You’re gone before he wakes up.

You looked up when you felt the first drop of snow. For a second, you almost want to go back to where you came from, but your buzzing phone reminded you to breathe and continue on your way, and so you did just that.

•��──────•°•❀•°•───────•

The bouquet smells nice. You smelled it again. It’s vibrant, too. The chrysanthemum, pink carnation, and tulips look so beautiful.

Your phone beeping made you pause in your thoughts. It was a message from him.

Look to your right.

Sure enough. There’s a black car to your right. The window rolls down and reveals him, casually waving his hand.

“Hey!” he greets, completely ignoring Ijichi’s complaints about being late to a meeting. “Where are you headed?”

You look at the bouquet and at him, unsure. You’ve never had the guts to tell him that you always visit Suguru’s grave.

You couldn’t tell the expression on his face when you told him the place you’re going to. Ijichi sighed, used to being ignored when Satoru told you to hop in.

“How are you, Senpai?” Ijichi asked as he drove.

You’re grateful for the distraction from Satoru, whose fingers mindlessly draw circles against your leg. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. Could be better,” he muttered the last part, obviously aimed at Satoru who’s mindlessly looking outside. “We really miss you! It’s been so long since we last saw you. The students are always asking about you, especially Yuta, because of what happened back then-“ he stops, eyes wide.

You swallowed. It’s been so long. 2 years is so long. 2 years of make believes, of promises, of mourning.

“Anyways! Where are you working now?”

You smiled, but you’re aware that your smile is tight. It hurts. It hurts that you’re avoiding talking about Suguru. Like he’s not a big part of your lives. “Just a boring office job. I… I can’t really work as a sorcerer now.”

Satoru squeeze your leg. You’ve never felt his presence that strongly until now.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Shoko used to say that it was grief and the devastation that came along with Suguru’s passing that made you like this... an empty shell of yourself, a useless sorcerer that can’t use a technique. You’ve essentially become a civilian. A monkey.

They tried. They all tried to help you get better, but you can’t. It was like your body was rejecting your curse technique. It was as if you were rejecting the part of yourself that connected you to him now that he’s gone.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Do you… do you think he knows?

He looks at you, waits for you to elaborate.

About us? About this? You gestured toward the space between the two of you.

I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.

What do you think his reaction would be… if he were here?

He laughs, but there’s a lack of humor there. It’s sad.

If he were here, then there’s really no need for the arrangement.

Oh.

He’s right, and you’re so stupid for bringing it up.

You let the silence continue until he offered to drive you home.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Ever since you brought it up, you couldn’t help but imagine what Suguru’s reaction would be.

Which was extremely foolish because why were you even thinking about your relationship with Satoru? Satoru is right. It wouldn’t even exist if Suguru was here.

For his part, Satoru seems to not let your (stupid) question get to him.

“Suguru’s dead,” Shoko casually says while drinking sake. It’s Friday night, and she dragged you all here to celebrate because she decided to stop smoking.

(“So you decided you want to be an alcoholic now?” Satoru jokes. He’s here, but he’s not drinking.)

It took you a moment before you answered. “I know.”

She smiles. “Don’t you think there’s really no need to choose if there’s only one choice left?”

She looks at Satoru, who’s looking at you both from across the room.

You swallowed. “Our relationship is… not like that”

She smiled, small and melancholy. “Does he know that? Do you know that?”

You don’t reply because Satoru is already standing up, eyes locked on you.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“You’re sick?” You look around his apartment. It’s clean, and you have no doubt that his family’s attendant came to clean this place up for him. “For how long?”

He sneezes. “A while.”

“How did you even get sick?”You asked, moving around the kitchen as you prepared lunch for him. You turn to look back at him when he says nothing. “Well?”

He says nothing. Just stares at you as if he can’t believe you’re here.

Unbelievable.

You suppose you’d let him get away with not answering you since he looks really sick.

“Go inside. Hurry.” You shoo him towards his room. You rolled your eyes when he didn’t move and walked towards him, almost pushing him to his room, then his bed. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when lunch is ready.”

He nodded. His nose is red, and he’s breathing heavily. When you turned to leave, he grabbed your wrist. “Stay the night. Please.” Your heart aches for him. He wouldn’t ever let you or anyone else see this vulnerability.

And so you did.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Are you feeling better now?

Yes. Did you miss me?

You rolled your eyes playfully, so used to his antics.

I heard you’re investigating something in the Kanagawa. You paused. Would it overstep your boundaries? You don’t think so… you were friends before you propose that stupid arrangement, right?

You read it again and again before deciding to send it before your courage leaves you.

Take care.

Your phone beeped again and you force yourself to finish the report your boss assigned to you.

It was only right after work that you decided to read the message he sent you. You smiled despite yourself when he sent a picture of him posing in a peace sign, too.

Yes, I’ll be back with your souvenir soon. What do you want? :p

Strangely, that started your message exchanges with him.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Ijichi is so funny. He’s red in the face and he keeps on glaring at me.

You smiled. Stop making fun of him.

Eh. I don’t want to.

You’re so full of it.

:P Shoko’s asking where you are.

He sent a group photo with them next. You swallowed, her question about your relationship ringing in your ears.

Does he know that? Do you know that?

You stop replying.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

An old memory resurfaced.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but you really couldn’t stop yourself from acting out. You’re so angry at everyone. You’re so angry that you lost everything you worked hard for and now have to start all over again as a boring office worker. You’re so angry that you lost him twice (one when he fled, one when he died), You’re angry that his idealism was worth more to him than you, or his parents, or his friends. Most of all, you’re so angry that you can’t be angry at him.

If he asked you to, would you have abandoned your whole belief system and loved ones to join him? You don’t know, and you’re scared of the answer.

It was Satoru who bailed you out of jail after you caused a scene at a local bar.

He was quiet on the drive back to his place after you told him you didn’t want to go home.

“Make me forget.” you sobbed into your hands. “Make me forget him, Satoru.”

He pried your face away from your hands, beckoning you to open your eyes. “Okay.”

He made you forget that night and the following nights after that.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

This time, it was him who sought you out.

You didn’t even got to ring the bell before you’re dragged inside his apartment. It was the first time you saw each other again after you stopped replying to his messages.

This is just a release. That’s what you both told yourself at the beginning of whatever this is…

You know it’s a lie now.

But no, he’s not Suguru. Satoru doesn’t kiss quite like him, and he doesn’t hold you quite like Suguru does.

(He’s not Suguru.)

But despite that or maybe because of that, you love him. You love him.

You love him so much that you’re willing to continue this charade. This mistake. This sin.

Because he doesn’t love you, does he? This relationship started only because you both wanted to fill the void Suguru left.

If Suguru could see you now, what would he think?

Will he think you’re useless and good for nothing? For using his name to fool around with someone he considers his friend, his brother?

You wish Suguru would walk through that door; you wish he would take you back; you wish he was alive because you know that’s the only way you can stop this insanity from controlling you.

And when he pulled you by your nape, lips kissing every exposed skin, you arched your body so used to him that you had no idea that somebody could make you feel again after Suguru’s passing.

You closed your eyes if only to stop yourself from crying—from muttering stupid apologies you both know have been useless since the beginning—that you know would only be a burden to him. You both know this was wrong and that this was a mistake.

He stops, his mouth kissing the tears in your eyes. “Open your eyes.”

You don’t. You're scared he'll see right through you.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

There was something primal in his tone. Something vulnerable, and you opened your eyes to see him looking straight at you. And you search his eyes, searching for the answers only he can give you.

When you found the answer, you reached out a hand to his face, and he leans against it. When he leans in, you kiss him back.

No more mistakes.

Cause in his eyes, you found the strength to stay.

is this my first work this 2024? screaming crying this was in my drafts since 2023 TT___TT i finally got around to finishing it cuz I'm sooo heartbroken over Gojo TT_________TT also for some reason my titles are not giving :(( apologies for the rambling hope everyone is okay!!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #am i heartbroken because i'm a fan of gojo or am i a fan f gojo because i'm heartbroken?#satoru will always be my muse!!#gojo satoru x y/n #reynwrites #reynwrites.jjk

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