#|| ✦ || MUSE: GOJO SATORU

[entirelysein-e]

『 Forgetting your plushie at their place pt. 2 』

☼ synopsis: You slept at your boyfriends place and forgot your plushie on his bed before you went to work and he reminds you of it

☼ characters: Yuuji / Gojo / Megumi

☼ cw: suggestive at Gojo's part

☼ notes: please feel free to send in some requests or to sign up for my taglist!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Yuuji

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Gojo

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Megumi

[pemizart]

I can't stop drawing him now

[hiraethwrote]

as a girl who loves doing my makeup and genuinely feeling a lot better about myself with it, i cannot stand when men go “i prefer natural girls”, “makeup is false advertising” “girls without makeup look better” because it’s a complete and utter lie

that’s why satoru is the best boyfriend, because he will hype you up both with and without makeup. he will not miss a single breath glazing you up.

just woke up? sleep in your eyes? unclear skin left exposed? birds nest on top of your head? — you will not have the chance to walk out of your bedroom before satoru has you pinned down under him again, proving to you just how insane you drive him.

going out for the night, and your all glammed up? skin glowing in the low light? long lashes looking like straight porn? lips glossed in the most unholy colour? — satoru forgets about whatever plans you have. he’ll push you up against the wall, stuff you full while feeding you a never ending stream of affirmations. and when you eventually arrive for your plans, he’ll apologise profusely but there’s not a single ounce of regret in his words.

[satorisoup]

satoru doodle spread !! 🍡

[yaekiss]

𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Trans masc! Sub! Satoru, no gendered terms used for reader, terms "tcock/tdick" "cock/dick" and "folds" were used to refer to Satoru's anatomy, you eat him out in the backseat of your car, very light degradation (Satoru receiving) lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAREST SEBBY YIPPEEEE @kaedescara !!!!! I know you had the Whiner Extraordinaire, Gojo Satoru, on the mind these few days so I hope u enjoy this hehe <33

You’ve always known your Satoru to be confident, nothing but capable and mighty.

At first, you’d think he would’ve loved showy acts of love, the kind that probably belong in a sappy romance novel. However, you've come to realise that he actually has an eye for all the small little things you always do for him. Your actions convey a sense of you constantly caring for him, looking out for him, and they leave his heart fluttering.

So why is your dear Satoru pouting in the passenger seat during a car ride home after a nice dinner at a restaurant he’s been looking forward to trying for days? Racking your brain for an answer, nothing particularly glaring seems to jump out at you. 

When you rest your hand on his thigh, he makes no move to remove it but what he does next puzzles you further. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him kick his shoes off, pull his knees up onto the seat, and shift his body away to look out of the window. And you know he’s looking for your reaction because every once in a while, he turns his gaze back on you ever so slightly and huffs when your attention isn’t on him.

The second the car rolls to a stop at the next traffic light, Satoru sighs dramatically which has you quirking an eyebrow as you turn to look at him.

“What’s got you in such a mood, darling?” You rub your thumb against his thigh to soothe him, a peace offering you hope he accepts. And he does when he mumbles out his answer.

“You didn’t pull my chair out at the restaurant just now…” His tone is bratty and whiny and it’s your turn to sigh. 

It’s true that you didn’t pull out his chair before dinner but that was only because you were busy helping a nearby waiter who had a beverage spilled on them accidentally. By the time you got back to your table, Satoru had already seated himself, albeit looking a tad sulky.

The lights turn green and the car starts moving once again. Tearing your eyes away from him to focus on the road, you give his thigh a quick squeeze before continuing.

“You really are so petty,” another sigh, “What can I do to make it up to you, darling?” 

“Eat me out.”

It’s unclear how the two of you end up in an empty parking lot but Satoru can’t find it in himself to complain when you clamber into the back of the car after him. The front seats are pushed forwards as far as they can to make space as you settle yourself between his spread legs.

He's coy, already making himself comfortable in his seat. Hands on your shoulders, he leans in close, close, close to your ear, and whispers his demand.

"I want all your attention on me." 

With such a stunner in your backseat, how could you not? You’re going to give him everything until he’s begging you to stop.

You get him out of his pants and when you pull his boxers down, it’s evident how desperate and worked up he already is. A low groan leaves him when your hot breath fans across his sensitive tdick and he can’t resist jerking his hips up. 

Deciding to drag this out, you purposely avoid giving him any substantial pleasure, instead choosing to kiss his inner thighs and suck hickeys into his skin, torturing him by making your way to where he’s whining for it at an achingly slow pace. 

“C’mon, don’t tease HNG-!!” His whining is cut short when you suddenly wrap your mouth around his needy cock, taking him in in one go.

The effect is instantaneous, his hands flying to the back of your head as he doubles over at the sensation of the lewd warmth of your mouth enveloping him. The breath in his lungs is punched out immediately, dragging a loud whine out of him.

Fuck. If it already feels this good, he’ll lose his mind when you suck on it!

“You’re annoying,” your tongue laves up the bottom of his cock and he swears he sees stars, “Ridiculously bitchy.”

“But that’s exactly what makes you so delicious to take apart.” Taking him back into your mouth, you suck hard, never breaking eye contact as you drink in his reaction as he comes. 

His head is thrown back against the headrest, eyes screwed shut and he grinds onto your face, a loud drawn out moan ripping from him. The unbearable pleasure leaves him shaking, pure ecstasy flooding his brain as his thighs clamp down on both sides of your head.

“Muh-more!” He blubbers unintelligibly while rutting against you, his breathtaking blue eyes teary and gleaming as he pleads with you. Your grip on his thighs digs into his skin and he keens at the slight sting.

Detaching from his tdick, your hand goes to replace it, rubbing and toying with it between your fingers when you redirect your focus onto his dripping folds. Flattening your tongue, you lick a stripe up, savouring the taste of him and the debauched melodies leaving his lips. You dive into your dessert, slurping up whatever he has to offer. 

“Ah! Ahh! S-so ghk! Good!” The stimulation is dizzying, his words slurring as he loses himself in the unending bliss. It’s not long before a few tugs to his dick and a harsh suck has him drawing taunt, eyes rolling into his skull as he cums again, hard.

Depraved whines fill the air, he presses himself flush against your mouth, driving you even deeper into him as he creams. Buried between his legs, you work him through his high, wringing out even more vulgar noises from your Satoru, his vision whiting out. Panting, he locks eyes with you, nothing but lust swirling behind them. It’s clear to see that 2 rounds isn’t enough for him.

Finally, your drive back home is peaceful as your petty passenger prince is relegated to a snoring sleeping beauty in the backseat. 

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[saerotonins]

tied red strings of fate

ft. gojo satoru x gn!reader

request: omg .. tadhana by udd + satoru please ? 

content warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, jjk manga spoilers [ch 236], canon divergent, implied that reader knows about curses but is not a sorcerer, lowkey a character analysis but yeah, happy ending

wc: 1283

note: when i saw this request i was so happy because tadhana* is literally one of my fave opm classics! also, im sorry nonnie if this was long overdue, figured i'd give him some fluff at his death "anniversary" heh (albeit a little late). i miss our glorious king sm :(( happy holidays 🎀

song: tadhana-up dharma down

*tadhana=destiny

gojo satoru is a force to be reckoned with. his name rings a bell and brings shivers to the spine of any potential enemies he has. 

he's gojo satoru, the strongest of all, the holy grail of jujutsu sorcery. he's gojo satoru, whose power literally repels and divides everyone else and him.

but to you, he's a lover, a man of his own, an independent being who is capable of emotions. he's satoru. the love of your life.

so when he decided to call it quits, to say you were devastated is an understatement. you were left broken, calling out his name at night hoping he would appear in front of you just one, for closure. him closing the chapter of your book got you weeping and yearning for more of him. 

because even though he's your lover, even you have a hard time of catching a glimpse of who he really is. satoru is an open book, but he's hard to understand. you did all your best to ease him and make him open up, show more of himself to you, bare his truth, the good, the bad, and the ugly, all of them you're willing to accept.

alas, the universe has other plans, the challenge ended even before it began, he is most definitely an enigma, someone that you will probably never get to solve. satoru's backed turned against you was a sight you are never going to forget. you spent months moving on and try to live a life where he isn't yours. it's hard but you try to manage anyway.

so when a knock on your door was heard by the 31st of december, you didn't expect gojo satoru in his full glory standing before you. as shocked as you are, you see his eyes had sunken. he's beyond exhausted but when he sees you, his eyes lighten up and you feel the warmth of his arms and your feet off the floor. you miss this, you miss him, it was all so familiar and something you very much miss. every fiber of your being remembered the way he touched you, triggered by the way his hands gripped onto your waist for dear life. as confused as you are, you reciprocated his gesture, opting to rest your hand on his shoulder blades.

"satoru?" you managed to voice our before you feel him put you down but his embrace remain. he then rests his head on the crook of your neck, then you hear him sniffle. suddenly you feel something drop onto your skin. his tears slowly roll from his face to your neck and shoulders.

satoru's lips wobbles as he tries to contain himself but to know avail, he lets his cries out, deciding to bare himself to you and be vulnerable. he was so so so tired of fighting. as great as the title 'the strongest' sounds, it gets too lonely even for him. being on the top is lonely. and he knows it himself.

he'd rather fall from grace than live a life where he isn't yours. he was too late to realize it. he was so stupid, too cocky, too condescending that it took him facing death before realizing that he wants to live, just for you. so when he finally defeats the evils of the jujutsu world, his first thought is you. the only one who provided light in his dark and desolate world.

as charming and bright satoru is, he is often left in the shadows in the cave but when he came to know you, he was absolutely in love and smitten. you were like a fresh breath of air to him. but when he decides that creeping into your mundane and simple life would rather be selfish of him. someone cursed like him shouldn't be able to be with someone who is blessed and down to earth like you. 

but being selfish be damned, he had faced battles, including one that almost left him biting the dust. he wants you, he needs you in his life and letting you go was definitely a mistake, something that he will never do ever again.

when his cries had calmed down, you finally get his voice again after a long time. "i'm so sorry," satoru started. "i was an idiot, i love you so much and i never stopped loving you. i was so stupid to let you go, i have never loved someone as much as i did with you." satoru knows his worth is probably lesser than any other being the moment he let you go, the only pillar who provided stability and balance in his life. he was impulsive, too proud, and too strong. but the way you held him every time you caged him into your arms is like he was fragile, someone to be protected, someone to cherish.

satoru loved that. and he was stupid to think that was worth letting go.

knowing you has made him scared of death, an entity or event that could break the two of you apart and live in separate worlds, and he couldn't bare to face it. he loves you too much to let himself go and so he fought with you in mind and thank any deity that exists, he finally won.

gojo satoru is the strongest.

so seeing him crumble right before your very eyes as his knees meet the concrete is a shock. he had bowed before you first before he had bowed to any higher up. hell, satoru bowing before anyone else would come as a shock. he held onto your ankle for support, his voice begging to take him back as he spews even more apologies that he can manage.

"please, please, i'm so sorry darling, i'll do what it takes for you to take me back. i love you so much, no other human had made me feel this way, please i'm so sorry. i miss you so much, god, i can't even remember a life before you, please." satoru had begged, begged, and begged, his voice getting louder and louder and each increased volume of his voice his hurt is more evident.

with the way his voice cracked broke your heart, and that's when you knew he meant every single letter, every syllable, every drop of tear, and every breath of his apology. 

you had completely broken the strongest. but satoru doesn't mind. even if you break him a thousand times, he'd painstakingly pick up every single piece of himself to present it to you. and that's what he's doing right now.

"i forgive you 'toru," he barely hears you say through his wails and it slowly comes to a halt. he then lost the feel of your ankles as he sees you kneel yourself to his level. your hands reached to touch his face and there you see his eyes, glassed with tears, love, and regret. satoru feels the heat of your hands on his cheeks and his instincts leaned into it. "i was hurt, but i'm never mad, i just wished you'd tell me why," his heart broke when he heard your voice crack.

"but you're hear now, right? we can fix this, we can fix us." you say as you carefully wipe the tears on his face. satoru nodded as he holds your wrists and caress his thumb on it. "yeah, we'll fix us."

"together?"

"together," satoru said in confidence. 

and with a light heart, satoru leans in to catch your lips on his, sealing his silent promise to never hurt you ever again, or he will never get to forgive himself.

he's gojo satoru.

he'll always find a way back into your arms.

another note: i'm quite unsure with the ending but this is all that i got 😔 i hope this was on par with your expectations nonnie hehe 🫶🏻

[osunism]

Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

🔞 Rating: Explicit [MDNI] ❤️‍🔥 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna ⚠️ Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. 🪧 Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. 🎧 [ godslayer principle ] -- Sundari's Playlist

⚠️ Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

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

𓃰 Chapter 12: In Every Lifetime

"An ending, a beginning, an ending, and a beginning. And so it goes; round and round; the great Wheel ever-spinning. The harmony of death and rebirth; sin and salvation; sacred and profane; poison and cure; disgrace and redemption; curse and blessing.The universe is a series of cycles; the most perfect math there is.

Who says our story must end here, my love?"

We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, and our ravages. But our task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to fight them in ourselves and in others. —Albert Camus

     Yuji cups Sukuna’s remnants in his palm. A miasma of crimson smoke swirls above them. Two crimson eyes glare back at him, and half the remains of a mouth sneer in hatred. Yuji seems unbothered by even this last vestige of vitriol his uncle bears for him. In Sundari’s inverted domain, what they have come to understand is not divine mandate, but a Heavenly Summons, their souls are briefly connected, their memories bleeding into one another’s. For a brief instant, they are alive and dead all at once, and Sukuna sees the simplicity of Yuji’s life unfold before his mind’s eye, painful and warm and filled with all the things his own life lacked.

     He sees his daughter’s ancient origins, from her birth amidst a clan of strong warrior women, to her ascension as a deified sorceress, protector of women and children, to her sealing after the terrible curse—his curse—finally found its fangs at the throats of the innocent; the painful fracturing of everything she was, the loss of all she knew. He sees too, the life she created for herself, a new version of her, still capable of strong, and ignorant of the cursed markings that give everyone pause. He sees memories of her dying her pink hair to jet black, a cloud of curls just like her damnable, beautiful, self-sacrificing mother. But, Sukuna notes with pride, Sundari’s face is all his: pride, insolence, and confidence in unfathomable spades.

     Sundari and Yuji see Sukuna’s soul, fractured and made whole repeatedly over centuries, and the whole cursed story of him unravels itself in their minds, including Kenjaku’s scheme that led to Yuji’s conception. They see all his deeds laid bare, and they see his story with Nadja unravel: love and loss, over and over again, and his determination to find her across the centuries. They feel the terrible emptiness of his unanswered question: why did you leave me? Worst of all, they see Sukuna before he became the force of reckoning he is now. They see the coiled, frightened child with too many arms, eyes, and mouths, and too much power to be controlled. For all of his life, others have sought to control him, and Sukuna has never accepted anyone’s yoke.

     At the core, they understand the hunger in him. Ravenous and all-consuming. Insatiable.

     This is what happens when two domains do not clash…but overlap, two souls vying not for dominance, but harmony.

     Yuji and Sundari’s souls hum on a similar frequency, a sustained note across time and space, heard and felt throughout Heaven and Earth.

     “Sukuna,” Yuji’s voice sounds the way a gentle summer breeze feels, and two crimson eyes glare up at him, glittering with malice…and fear. Mortality has never pressed so closely to the King of Curses in all his days.

     “Let’s try this again,” Yuji says, and there is a compassion in his tone that cuts deeper than any slash Sukuna has thrown.

     “Let’s try living with each other, not to curse one another…”

     Sukuna feels the curse in his guts, squirming and wriggling and burning.

     “Even if no one accepts you…”

     Stop it, brat. Stop it.

     “I can live with you.”

     Sundari is poised for the kill, but Yuji’s words give her pause and she regards him curiously. Even after all her father has done, all he has sought to do, Yuji still seeks to offer him the benediction of mercy? Sundari knows she should be angry—at the very least, offended—but she cannot find it in her heart to care. She feels scraped and raw and exhausted. She wants to end this cycle, to strip away her father’s curse and free the world of the burden that is him.

     But she’s seen his memories, she’s seen what he was, and what he was forced to become.

     “Don’t you dare try and play the compassionate card now, brat,” Sukuna sneers. “I am a curse, and you’d do well not to underestimate me.”

     “You aren’t a curse, dad,” Sundari says, weariness coloring her voice, blood dripping from her nose. She doesn’t know how much longer she and Yuji can sustain this connection. “Just…you can literally try again. Maybe Yuji’s right: maybe there’s another way. Another path. Anything but more of…this.”

     Sukuna’s gaze roils towards his daughter, taking in her appearance. The markings that once limned black into her brown skin are faded, almost more like birthmarks than tattoos. No matter what boon she has won from Heaven, she will bear his markings for all her days. That is how powerful his curse is.

     You aren’t a curse.

     I’m not a curse. I am cursed.

The realization reverberates through their shared connection, and all at once he gasps.

     Sundari and Yuji are suddenly gone, as is the divine presence that had united them. He stands alone in the darkness, but the presence in the void is familiar. He’s been here before.

     “Well, well, well,” a voice drawls, drawing his gaze downward. “Didn’t expect to ever see you here, of all people.”

Gojo Estate, Kyoto, December 30, 2018

     In the aftermath, Sundari dreams. For once, she is uncertain if what she sees is memory or fabrication, but she pays attention. The visions are disjointed, always in media res as dreams are prone to being, but the recurring symbols and themes are there, and she does recognize some bits of her own memories in the patchwork film reel.

     Sundari dreams, and Megumi stands in the darkness Sukuna has left behind, overcome by the sudden silence. He is once again alone with his own thoughts.

     But everything is so fuzzy around the edges. His thoughts move with the ponderous, amorphous pace of a lava lamp’s contents, and somehow always just out of his reach. It takes him hours to figure out how to formulate his thoughts into the obvious conclusion: Unlimited Void. This is the ill effect of surviving five waves of Unlimited Void. His thoughts are disjointed and fractured, out of sync and hard to catch.

     Ironically, he understands Gojo now more than ever.

     His eyes open, and he hears himself gasp, fills his lungs with air, breathes of his own volition for the first time in weeks.

     Sukuna is really gone, but Megumi can feel something knotted in his soul; furrows, like a claw marks. The separation should have killed him, but Sundari had a barrier active to protect him from sharing Sukuna’s fate.

     Megumi hears himself panting as his thoughts come in a sudden rush, then stretch out again at that damnable pace.

     “Fushiguro!” Yuji’s voice shatters the silence, and he sits up suddenly, startled all the way back into his body. His eyes take in the sight of Yuji, clad in his uniform, posing with a box.

     Out of the box springs Nobara Kugisaki. Megumi’s eyes go wide. His mouth works but no words come. Kugisaki, sporting a black eyepatch embroidered with a hammer, nails, and rose crest, grins in triumph.

     “Sorry I missed the party!” She boasts. “I was getting some much-needed beauty sleep! I heard it was a woman who saved the day!”

     Yuji rolls his eyes. “Well, she’s my cousin…technically. Kind of.”

     “Okay…are you ever…gonna explain that?” Megumi asks, frustrated with how slow his thought-to-speech reflexes have become. He imagines Gojo is having a good laugh at his expense about this. Megumi gets annoyed at the very thought.

     “Look who finally decided to join the land of the living!” Gojo’s voice shatters the quiet, and Megumi becomes annoyed for real. But he’s also relieved to see his sensei alive and well. Gojo is grinning, sporting new scars to match Yuji’s own. Megumi touches his face, is relieved to not feel Sukuna’s features swimming under his skin like a parasite. He can feel the rugged scar tissue where Sukuna’s face had overlain his own. It will be some time before he can look in a mirror comfortably again. He catches Yuji’s gaze, and the boy’s brown eyes are soft with sympathy. If no one else understands, Yuji understands what it is like to be ridden by the curse that is—was—Sukuna.

     Over the next few hours, Gojo and Yuji piece together the entire tale of mounting his rescue, from the moment he was taken, to when Sundari freed Gojo, to the final battle. Megumi remembers Nadja’s unexpected sacrifice in more ways than the others, and he looks away at the mention of her name. He had been present for Sukuna’s reunion with her, had born witness to their…relationship. He isn’t sure if Sukuna knew he was aware or if he simply did not care. He isn’t sure how he feels about it, only that he cannot find it in himself to hate Nadja for it. Whatever else there was, love had existed between those two, twisted as it was. And in the end, she’d chosen to save the person who could stop him.

     Megumi wonders if Gojo was right about love being the most twisted curse. In the end, it had claimed Nadja and Sukuna both. He looks at Yuji again, wonders if…

     “Where is Hikmat-san?” He asks. At the mention of Sundari, Yuji and Gojo exchange glances.

     “She’s not awake yet,” Yuji says sadly. “After she dismissed her domain, she collapsed. Gojo-sensei brought her back here with you.”

     Megumi looks down at his hands. He remembers being present when Sundari came back for Nadja’s remains. He remembers feeling Sukuna’s uncertainty. His fear. He was afraid of losing everything, including his life. But seeing his own daughter vowing to kill him had broken something in him. Megumi owes her a debt he can never hope to repay, but Sukuna has taken someone he loves as well.

     “She’s going to be in recovery a while,” Gojo says in that easy way of his, as if he doesn’t doubt Sundari will be up and about in no time. “But she’ll bounce back. I know my girl.”

     “Your girl, sensei?” Nobara asks, waggling her eyebrows. Gojo spreads his hands and sticks out his tongue.

     “Yeah, and if I can convince her, she’ll be your sensei too when you bunch officially become third years.”

     Yuji and Nobara look excited, their eyes sparkling. Megumi looks somewhat suspicious. He has a feeling there’s more to it than Gojo lets on, but he withholds his suspicions if only because his mind is still fuzzy, like moss has grown over the parts of his brain that are normally so quick to connect the dots. How long will this go on for, he wonders. He supposes he should count himself lucky this is the worst of the side effects.

     He should be dead, after all.

     Megumi is strong enough to walk on his own, and he dresses while Yuji and Nobara fill the emptiness with mindless chatter and Gojo looks on with a secretive smile, his eyes blindfolded once more. For a moment, it feels like old times. Megumi looks around for a calendar or clock. His phone’s been lost since Sukuna stole his body.

     “How long has it been? Since everything happened?” Megumi asks. Gojo grins in a way that makes Megumi regret asking the question just as Nobara answers: “You missed Christmas!”

     Yuji frowns and glares at Nobara. “So did you!”

     Immediately, she and Yuji break into an argument about whether or not missing Christmas was more important than saving the world. Gojo’s grin softens into a fond smile, and whatever mischief he had planned for his own response is withheld for now.

     Megumi does not get an answer to his question either way, and sighs.

     By now, he has deduced that they are on the ancestral Gojo Estate, a place he hasn’t been to since he was a small boy still learning to harness his technique. Being trained by Gojo Satoru’s own tutors before matriculating to Jujutsu Tech had made him intimately familiar with the grounds.

     He knows where to go, following Sundari’s cursed energy to another room. His classmates trail after him, still bickering, and Gojo walks behind them at a leisurely, long-legged pace.

     It’s just like old times, it’s nothing like old times.

     Megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes because of course Gojo put Sundari up in his old bedroom. She looked so exhausted, even in her comatose state. Megumi can’t help the stab of guilt that twists in his guts. Yuji places a hand on his shoulder.

     “It’s not your fault,” he says, understanding as always. Megumi’s jaw tenses but he can’t ignore how comforting it is to have Yuji touch him again after having Sukuna put them at odds. “She’s gonna wake up soon.”

     “Yeah,” Nobara says. “She can’t miss New Year’s!”

     “What is it with you and holidays?” Yuji asks irritably. Nobara places her hands on her hips, fixing him with a stare.

     “These are important milestones, and it makes sense that the woman who saved your sorry asses would be there to celebrate with us.”

     Yuji wants to retort that none of that makes any sense and that it was a team effort that took down Sukuna, but Gojo is brushing past them because Sundari is waking up. They hear her groan tiredly—irritably—before she’s moving.

     “Fuck me,” are the first words of the woman who saved the day. Nobara suppresses a snort of laughter, Megumi’s brows go up, and Yuji’s eyes go wide. Only Gojo seems unphased by Sundari’s choice of words.

     “Morning, beautiful,” he says to her, and she squints up at him with all four of her eyes. Her pink curls are disheveled, sticking up in all directions, her skin is dry and a little sallow, and there are shadows under her eyes Megumi’s shikigami could hide in.

     Satoru has never found her more beautiful because she’s still here. Alive.

     “What fuckin’ year is it?” Sundari asks, rubbing her face with both hands and yawning. It’s only when she uncovers her face that she notices the trio of students crowding the doorway.

     “Oh,” she says. “Sorry. Uh…come on in, kids!” She glares at Satoru, who is grinning. “What the fuck, man?” She mouths and he blows a kiss in response. Sundari does her best to fix her face as Yuji and Megumi join her. She takes a look at Megumi’s face, notes the scars in the places where her father’s face once was. He’ll bear those scars for all his days. She looks down at her hands, notes the scars of innumerable slash marks, like macabre tiger stripes. Also a mark from her father.

     The tattoos are still there, black again, no longer faded. Whatever else she got from the boon she demanded, Heaven still sees fit to remind her of her origins. No matter, she will carry the scars and the ink with pride. Let the world see how Sukuna’s daughter treats with sorcerers.

     You can prove them wrong.

Sundari looks at Yuji, who smiles at her, but there’s a blush in his cheeks that wasn’t there before.

     Cousins. She wants to laugh. What the fuck was Kenjaku’s problem? Ah well, at least she can say she’s got some semblance of family left to her. Yuji isn’t so bad, after all.

     “So,” she says. “I’d like to formally apologize for my dad being such a dick. Uh…Yuji, you’re still gross for just eating his Finger like that, but sorry for everything that came after. On the plus side, I got my memories and powers back. On the other plus side, my dad’s dead! Satoru, I’m starving…is there pizza?”

     Satoru laughs despite himself. “Whatever you want, babe. I think Shoko’s going to be by later for a physical.”

     Sundari swings her legs out of the bed and stands. She feels a slight rush that makes her momentarily lightheaded, and feels Satoru’s strong grip on her arm, steadying her. She meets his gaze, and they share a smile.

     Nobara gags.

     “I cannot believe Gojo-sensei got a girlfriend before I got a boyfriend,” she grouses. Yuji glares at her.

     “How is that hard to believe? I had to watch you get your literal brains blown out!”

     Nobara grins, her remaining eye glimmering. “I know. Wasn’t it fucking cool?”

     Yuji makes a face. “It was horrifying! I thought you were dead!”

     “As if some punk ass cursed spirit could drop me! I’m the Girl of Steel!”

     The bickering begins anew, and Megumi lets out a long-suffering sigh. Sundari decides she likes Nobara immediately. Maybe she’ll consider Satoru’s not-so-subtle requests that she look into teaching.

     “Gojo-sensei,” Megumi says. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

     Satoru presses a kiss to Sundari’s temple, giving her a gentle squeeze before excusing himself to the hall with Megumi. Satoru knows there’s a few things he owes to Megumi, but he’s surprised when the door shuts and Megumi immediately throws his arms around Satoru.

     It startles both of them.

     Satoru’s arms come up and he places them around Megumi with a gentle smile. Neither one of them question the moisture soaking his jacket as Megumi simply clings to him.

     “I’m sorry, Megumi,” Satoru says, and means it. “When I took you in all those years ago, this wasn’t what I envisioned for you. I should have prepared you better, but none of us could have—”

     “It’s fine,” Megumi mumbles, taking a deep, shuddering breath. It’s not fine. Not right now. It probably won’t be for some time. “I just…I thought I was going to lose everything I ever cared about. When he…”

     There’s a lot.

     Satoru pulls Megumi back to look at him.

     “Do you want to talk about it right now? Are you ready to?” He asks, none of the usual playfulness in his voice. Megumi swallows, wipes his face hastily.

     “No,” he says softly. “Not right now. It’s too…fresh. My thoughts are still jumbled. I just needed to see that you’re real is all. I thought…when Sukuna figured out how to bypass infinity…”

     Satoru’s brows go up in surprise, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place. So that was why Nadja had intervened. She knew what Sukuna was using the Ten Shadows for. Satoru frowns. Why hadn’t she warned him ahead of time? Likely she counted on Sukuna wanting to counter her in the event of her betrayal. She had been playing against him, and Satoru had just been another piece on the board. No one had counted on her sacrificing her life to save Satoru. He remembers Sukuna’s shocked expression as Nadja countered his World Cutting Slash with her Executioner Blade. He remembers it shattering in her hands and seeing Sukuna’s technique broken in two. He’ll never forget that as long as he lives.

     He wishes he could commend her. He decided he will tell Sundari where Sukuna’s half of Nadja’s ashes are kept, since her own urn was destroyed in the final battle.

     “I’m the Strongest, remember?” He assures Megumi with a grin. Megumi doesn’t look convinced, and Satoru is worried about the state of his ward’s mind. He makes a note to hold Megumi back from missions until he’s been fully evaluated. And to ask if he still wants to be a sorcerer at all given all that has happened to him.

     “Why did you take me in…all those years ago?” Megumi asks. “Was it because of my technique?”

     Satoru hesitates. He’s been bracing himself for this conversation for a long time, but he hadn’t expected to survive his encounter with Sukuna. He’d had a letter prepared in case anything happened to him! Now he has to actually tell the whole gory story.

     Damnit, Nadja.

     “Well,” Satoru says. “It was your father’s dying wish, actually.”

     Megumi’s eyes go wide. “What?”

     Satoru chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s a funny story, in retrospect. A little ironic, really. Like I didn’t even know he had a kid, and then when I saw you it was like—well of course his kid would have fucking Ten Shadows, right?”

     “Gojo! You’re rambling. What do you mean it was my father’s dying wish? You knew him?”

     Satoru sighs. “Briefly, and it wasn’t a happy acquaintance. He tried to kill me, actually. Almost succeeded too. Look, one of these days I’m gonna sit you down and tell you the whole ugly story, and then you can summon Mahoraga or something and we can have it out, if you want.”

     “You killed him, didn’t you?”

     The words are like a guillotine blade, cutting all the life out of the small space between them. Satoru blinks, takes a deep breath, and slowly reanimates on his next exhale.

     “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did. His final words were for me to keep you from being sold to the Zenins. From my understanding your dad was a gambling man, and his final bet was on you, Megumi.”

     Megumi stares at Satoru, his expression caught in a crossroads of too many things to name. For much of his life, he assumed his father had simply sold him off and had been living a charmed life off the money these last few years. For much of his life, Gojo Satoru allowed him to believe this.

     “I tried to tell you when we met,” Satoru says, as if reading his thoughts. “But you said you didn’t care to know what your dad was up to; I can respect that, and you’ve always known your own mind. I figured if you ever changed your mind, you’d ask. I admit my delivery of the news wasn’t the best. This isn’t much better. But the bottom line is he believed in you, Megumi. It’s the one thing he and I have in common.”

     Megumi’s throat bobs in a heavy swallow, and he looks away.

     “And then I got my entire body hijacked by Sukuna, killed my sister—”

     “You didn’t kill her,” Satoru says sternly, eyes flashing like blue fire. “Sukuna killed her, and he did it deliberately to hurt you. That death is not on you.”

     “You don’t know that!” Megumi says. “How could anyone know that?”

     Satoru snorts. “Actually, there’s one guy I can say who does know that. His whole technique revolves around shit like this, actually.”

     Megumi’s brow furrows and he makes the connection in his mind.

     “Higuruma-sama? Yeah…he trapped Yuji in his domain once. Put him on trial.”

     Satoru grins. “That’s him! He agreed to work as a sorcerer without question. He’s absolutely batshit, perfect for the job. Anyway, if you ever wanna know what you’re actually guilty of, just ask him to pull you into his domain. But be careful, if you’re guilty of something really bad, he’ll be obligated to kill you.”

     “What? Why would you tell me that?”

     Satoru rolls his eyes. “Because you’re blaming yourself for shit that wasn’t your fault, Megumi. And since you won’t believe me—your gorgeous, twice-blessed sensei—when I tell you you’re good, then I guess we can see if Higuruma has to, you know…” Satoru makes a quick slicing motion across his neck. Megumi stares at him impassively.

     “Never mind,” Satoru says. “You aren’t…you’re taking this remarkably well.”

     Megumi’s gaze is distant, as if he’s looking into the past and a soft smile crosses his face.

     Hey kid…what’s your name?

     Fushiguro.

     Not Zenin? I’m so glad.

     “What?” Satoru asks. “Don’t keep me in suspense, kid.”

     Megumi blinks like a waking dreamer and meets Satoru’s gaze.

     “Nothing, just remembering something from Shibuya, is all.” he says with a secretive smile. Satoru smiles back. He knows all about nothing. Satoru’s smile fades in the next instant, however.

     “Wait, why Shibuya? Megumi, I can’t even mention Shibuya without three sorcerers cowering in a corner in tears over it. Why are you smiling about that?”

     Over the next several weeks, they piece together the massive puzzle of chaos left in the wake of Sukuna’s devastation, and Kenjaku’s schemes. Sundari learns from the memories she and Yuji shared with Sukuna that Sukuna devoured Tengen whole and absorbed her into himself. As a result, his remains must be preserved in order to maintain the barriers Tengen has been strengthening and maintaining for countless centuries.

     Sundari also knows that Tengen is partially responsible for what Sukuna became. She and Yuji discuss it in private, agreeing to only share the knowledge they’ve gleaned from Sukuna’s memories with Satoru. It means a major power imbalance in favor of the Gojo Clan, but better them than Kamo. There’s also the dilemma of Choso, who bears the Kamo clan’s hereditary technique, but being what he is, will never ever be formally recognized by the clan. Yuji and Sundari take Choso in without question. The Kamo Clan raises no fuss about it, so long as the abomination of their clan’s shame makes no claims for power. Choso himself has no interest in clan politics, preferring to remain with his younger brother, Yuji, who continues his training in the art of Blood Manipulation in earnest.

     Sundari decides she will unpack the strangeness of their family tree at a later date. That Yuji hasn’t freaked out about a single reveal is a testament to his steely nerves, but Sundari thinks it’s because Yuji prefers a more simplistic view on his life and doesn’t overthink the minutiae. Sundari, however, has a millennium of experience under her belt and still nothing has floored her quite like the revelation of her father’s side of the family. Yeah, Sundari tucks that away for later…maybe they’ll recruit a jujutsu therapist they can all talk to one day.

     Aside, there is still the matter of the higher ups being decimated. No one knows who is responsible, and yet there can be no other answer. But who will dare come forward to accuse the Honored One, who is responsible for Sukuna’s defeat and helping return balance back to jujutsu society?

     Sundari has to commend Satoru for his political cunning. He’s consolidated enough power to execute his dream bloodlessly, but that still leaves the problem of jujutsu sorcerers being short staffed year-round.

     There are still curse users out there, and a missing armory from the Zenin Estate that no doubt is finding its way to the black market for exorbitant prices. The work of a sorcerer is unending, and Sundari joins Satoru on his investigations and missions, acclimating to life as a modern-day powerhouse, feared, scorned, and respected all at once.

     So it goes, round and round.

     Time seemed to slip through their fingers like water. The work of fixing Tokyo, of chasing curses new and old, of rebuilding the parts of Tokyo ruined by Sukuna alone…it is exhausting, and it is bitter. But it must get done. Even Nanami, injured as he is, finds a way to contribute in other ways, lending his expertise to the less experienced sorcerers, ensuring they have what it takes to survive in a field as chaotic as this one.

     Little by little, jujutsu society finds a way to limp back to life.

     And Satoru finally does the one thing he has been wanting to do since before this whole mess began: he buries Suguru.

     Once, he might have seen to this task alone, but he calls Shoko, tells her his intentions, and she meets him at the chosen location without any questions asked.

     Watching Suguru’s pyre burn feels like he is burning an old version of himself. Satoru cannot quantify what this moment will mean when he looks back on it later on in his life, when the grievous wounds have finally been balmed to oily scar tissue. He just knows that the version of him that loved a version of Suguru that died long before his body, no longer exists. As Suguru’s remains burn, and he and Shoko pick the bones from the ashes and place the ashes in an urn, Satoru lets himself weep for the first time.

     Shoko watches the strongest sorcerer alive curl up and weep, and she takes him in her arms and lets him. Satoru weeps for all that he has lost, all that was denied him, and all that Suguru could never become because his Six Eyes couldn’t tell him what was wrong before it was too late. He weeps and mourns at last—at long last—and purges his heart of everything. Suguru should have been here. This dream was because of him, and he should have been here. But Satoru knows he must let that regret go too, if he wants to succeed at all, he has to let it go. And after a while, the tears run dry, and his body feels soft and pliant in Shoko’s embrace. He sees the silent trail of tears down her cheeks and knows that they both needed to be here for this.

     It feels like a chapter being closed for both of them, and an unspoken apology for their own culpability in the wounds both of them bear from it.

     But there is no more room for guilt and self-flagellation.

     Satoru gives himself three days of quiet reflection in the aftermath, running the gamut of grief in all its ugliness and beauty and catharsis, and then he returns to the searing present. He returns to the realization of his dream.

     He finds his phone, sends a text to Sundari.

   Satoru resists the urge to point out the joke about too many appendages and organs, considering Sundari’s appearance. If he intends to get any affection tonight, he must behave. He still laughs, though.

     Satoru smiles to himself at her reply. It’s sweet of her, really, to give him space to grieve. Still, funnel cake sounds good, and he misses her. With everything returning to some semblance of normalcy, Sundari returned to her apartment, which didn’t surprise him in the least that it’s in Ginza. He makes a note to tease her about it later. Apparently, Nadja left everything to Sundari in her living will should anything happen to her. Satoru finds that ironic, as well. Still, it’s left Sundari nearly as wealthy—if not wealthier—than he is.

     Satoru considers it. He likes her apartment. It’s a quaint, earthy place with a vibe that reminds him of a rainforest in the middle of the city. Sundari keeps so much green, growing stuff in her home that the very air feels different.

     Satoru can already hear Sundari’s laughter in his head.

     Satoru is glad no one is around to hear his veritable squeal of glee. He needs to tell Nanami to get a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever he’s into. Having one is actually amazing. He wastes no time, packing a bag and taking a cab to Sundari’s mid-rise apartment building. It’s an older building in a more solid style, and far more spacious than newer buildings tend to be. Satoru can make out her balcony, crawling with pothos and wisteria. Smirking and glancing around, he teleports into the air, floating over her balcony railing. Sundari just happens to be walking by when she spots him. Satoru grins when he sees her four eyes go wide, and she lets out a startled shriek before calming down to let him in.

     “What is your fucking problem?” She demands, but there’s no heat in her tone. Satoru closes the distance between them, wrapping her in his embrace and kissing her soundly.

     Sundari forgets his unorthodox entrance in favor of the kissing. By the time Satoru pulls away, his cheeks and hers are flushed, both of them heavy-lidded and half-drunk from the contact.

     “Oh,” Sundari sighs, a drunken smile slipping onto her face before she lets out an involuntary giggle. Satoru grins. It pleases him that he can fluster her and make her soft when the rest of the world must experience her so harshly.

     “You hungry?” Sundari asks. “I can order something or cook.”

     “I came here to eat you,” Satoru says easily as he removes his shoes before entering the apartment proper. Sundari glances at him with a smirk over her shoulder. She doesn’t fluster from his declaration, not after everything they’ve been through, and she doesn’t take his desire for granted.

     “Is that why you’re here, pretty boy?” She asks in that tone that makes Satoru shiver and smile. Yes, he’s her pretty boy. He wants to be her pretty boy. Hers and hers alone.

     “Yeah,” he says and without warning, he activates his technique. Sundari yelps as she’s suddenly drawn to him by an unseen force. Satoru catches her in his arms, and then he’s kissing her again, this time leaving his marks on her jawline and neck, breathing in deeply to imprint her scent on his very soul. Sundari makes small noises of pleasure, letting out a whimper when she feels the soft, wet muscle of his tongue trace patterns on her neck, tasting the salt of her skin.

     “I missed you,” Satoru murmurs into her skin. “I’m so happy I found you.”

     Sundari doesn’t know why her eyes suddenly sting with the threat of tears, and she has to catch her breath and blink several times.

     “I missed you too, Toru,” she whispers, and then lifts his head to look at him, staring into the pieces of Heaven he calls his eyes. “And I’m happy you found me too. More than.”

     It’s simple physics after that.

     Satoru and Sundari make their way to the bedroom, stripping as they go. She loves getting him out of his teacher’s uniform at the end of the day, and Satoru loves undressing her in general. Sometimes what she wears leaves little to the imagination [which he appreciates], but tonight she’s clad in clothes for lounging: a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top that has clearly seen too many wash cycles. Satoru helps her out of all of it, until she’s bare and laying back against the pillows on her bed, looking like some goddess out of a myth.

     As far as Satoru’s concerned, she might as well be. His goddess, at any rate. And he will pray to her in a way that only he can.

     For a moment, they take one another in, blissfully naked. There’s no skylight above Sundari’s bed, but there is a lantern that throws mandala patterns against the walls, dancing through the leaves of her massive monstera that crawls across her ceiling, making everything look wild and erotic and dreamlike. Satoru reaches out, traces the cursed markings on her body: the concentric rings on her strong shoulders; the black bands on her arms, wrists, thighs, and ankles; the ones on her face; the ones on her chest, following the swell of her high and proud breasts. He grins when she gasps as his thumb and forefinger capture and roll a nipple between them. He watches her legs part a little, eager. His eyes drift down, catch the sight of the mandala pattern illuminating the slick on her inner thighs, dripping from her cunt.

     His eyes travel back up to her face, framed by blush-pink curls. Four ruby eyes gaze back, guileless and expectant.

     “You are so fucking beautiful, Sundari,” Satoru whispers reverently. “I could look at you forever.”

     Sundari’s cheeks bloom with heat and she bites her lip, suddenly feeling bashful. She knows she is beautiful, but it makes her stomach go into freefall whenever Satoru tells her. Her heart flutters in her chest.

     “You’re beautiful too,” she whispers, holding out a hand and beckoning him closer. Satoru goes to her, crawling between her spread legs, his cock hard and heavy between his thighs. Sundari’s hand lowers, her fingers wrapping around it and making Satoru hiss in surprise and then pleasure as she swipes her thumb over the head, smearing the droplets of his seed forming at the tip.

     “My pretty boy,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. Satoru leans in, makes a whining sound as she squeezes his cock and nips his glossy, pink lips. “Mine.”

     “Yours,” Satoru says in a rush of breath as she strokes his cock with the tender firmness of one who knows he’s hers. It’s true, and his fingers curl into the sheets as he fights the pressure building in the base of his spine.

     “Sundari…” Her name comes out as a strained and hoarse gasp. Sundari smiles at him knowingly, and he sees the tender cruelty in it.

     “Yes, baby?” She asks, slowing her stroking. Satoru’s hips thrust involuntarily, seeking more of it. He wants to be inside of her—needs it, actually. He wants to envelop himself in the tight, wet confines of her cunt and never leave. He wants to fuck her until she dissolves like spun sugar in his mouth.

     “Oh?” Sundari’s smile becomes a grin. “Is that what you want, pretty boy?”

     Fuck. Had he said all that shit out loud?

     Satoru is silent for a moment, his cock hard as stone in her hand. He’s not the strongest sorcerer for nothing.

     “Yeah,” he says, his tone suddenly harder than before. “I do.”

     The equation between them shifts as Sundari’s eyes light up in excitement and Satoru pounces on her before she can react to the shift in the air between them. They struggle for dominance, of course, mindful of their strength for the sake of the bed itself rather than one another. Satoru still thinks fondly of the crater left by their coupling in his yard.

     This is different, though. There is no adrenaline from battle to fuel them: only the need and want for one another.

     And love too.

     Satoru is so sure this is love because he has tried being without her and he can’t.

     Don’t leave me baby, I just found you.

Eventually, Satoru pins Sundari, grasping her legs to place over his shoulders. He pushes her legs back, exposing her cunt, which opens like a beautiful flower, petals glistening and dripping with dew for his mouth.

     Satoru grins, his eyes glowing in the dim light, and spits directly into her pussy.

     Sundari moans and writhes in response at the obscenity of it all, and then Satoru leans down and meets her dripping cunt in an open-mouthed kiss. He does as he said he would: he eats her. Satoru’s jaw will ache, his tongue will ache, but Sundari will be thoroughly and unerringly sated. He makes sure of it.

     His lips wrap around her clit, sucking hard, moaning as if she is the best meal he’s had in ages. Sundari reaches for him, legs spread, and his hands find hers, linking their fingers while he gets lost in the slippery, wet heat of her, eyes closed in private bliss.

     “Ngh…Satoru…” She moans and he makes an inquisitive sound, looking up at her through heavy-lidded cerulean eyes, glowing brighter than a galaxy’s heart. Sundari keeps moaning his name, dragging out the vowels and hissing out the consonants as he works her clit until tears spring to her eyes and she’s panting and flushed and quivering with the desperate need for release.

     He pulls away just before she can come, and she lets out a frustrated sound.

     “No,” he says, his voice hoarse; chin, cheeks, and lips glistening with her juices. “No, baby. I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel this pretty pussy squeezing me when you lose your mind.”

     Sundari, so desperate to climax, nods and agrees. Satoru leans up, sitting back on his heels and dragging her by the hips into his lap, keeping her comfortably laying on the bed. His cock seems eager too, straining and hot against her went cunt. Satoru bites his lip before reaching down to grasp his cock in one fist, stroking himself before pushing the head inside of her. Just the tip.

     “Satoru!” Sundari hisses, and her eyes flash dangerously even as he rewards her with a smug smirk, teasing her by sliding the head of his cock up and down her slit.

     “Yeah?” He breathes. “Just testing the waters, baby, don’t worry.”

     And then he slips inside of her, relishing the guttural moan that spirals up from her as he sinks down to the hilt inside of her. For a moment he holds her hips, and it very still. He looks down at where they’re joined, the soft white hairs of his pubes rubbing against her clit and making her shiver. He bites his lip again when he feels her walls constrict around him. He’d almost forgotten about her conscious muscle control. But he’s ready, this time.

     “Mmm,” Satoru groans, tightening his grip on her thighs. “Ask nicely, Sundari.”

     Four crimson eyes narrow at him, and he rewards her with a blade-ready smirk, eyes flashing like stars in the dusky twilight of her bedroom.

     “You come into my home to make me beg?” She demands, moaning in frustration and indignation and pleasure alike as Satoru moves his hips just so, giving her just enough friction to make her pulse leap in her veins, but stopping just short of satisfaction. He can do this all damn night. He can do this until the world crumbles to dust.

     “No,” Satoru says. “I came into your home to make you come, but I want you to ask me, Sundari. I want you to ask me to make you come.”

     Sundari glares up at him and Satoru can’t help it: he laughs. She looks so much like Sukuna, down to the way her nose wrinkles to show her displeasure. Sundari bares her fangs.

     “Something funny, Six Eyes?” She growls, and Satoru feels her strength returning, legs pushing against his grip as her ankles lock behind his back. He’s still buried nine inches inside of her, but the way she’s focused you wouldn’t know it. Satoru reaches down, makes her watch as he swipes a thumb against her swollen clit.

     Sundari lets out a choked sound, her control momentarily slipping. Satoru teases her clit with light, tight circles, and her eyelids flutter. The lower ones even close.

     “That’s it,” Satoru purrs, watching her as he feels her pussy grow wetter around him with each stroke against her clit. He contemplates making her come without having to move his hips, but he craves movement as much as she does. It’s a contest of wills at this point, and unlike battles involving jujutsu, the flesh is far less durable during sex. He can only stem the tide of his own climax for so long.

     “S-Satoru…” Sundari’s voice comes out as a stammering whimper, and she pulls with her crossed legs, trying to force him to start moving. He sits there, stroking her clit idly, and there’s an almost cold wintery expression on his face, as if he’s the god and she’s the supplicant.

     The Honored One grins as his goddess opens her mouth and begins to beg him.

     The words come first as a stammering trickle, then a sultry, moaning torrent. She begs him and as she does, he increases the pace of his stroking thumb, spreading her slick over her clit, noting with pleasure when he sees his cock glistening with her fluids in the soft, golden light.

     “Come for me,” he murmurs and Sundari does. Satoru hisses as her walls flutter around him, and he holds her steady, stroking her clit through the orgasm that has her writhing and calling his name. It’s only when she’s about to settle down that Satoru gives in and begins to move his hips. He has been nice enough, and his goddess is strong. He fucks her.

     Sundari’s hands claw for purchase, one fisted in the sheets, the other going to her headboard to grip it tightly or risk getting her head knocked through the wall. Satoru doesn’t give her time to adjust because he’s indulged her pleasure. It’s his turn to chase that glittering edge, and he wants her to take it. God, she has done so much in the short time since her unsealing, he just needs her to take his cock right now.

     For a long stretch of time there is only the sound of Sundari’s short staccato gasps, Satoru’s labored groans, and the heavy, wet sound of skin meeting skin as Satoru attempts to nail her to the mattress. Sundari can’t think straight, and she knows that’s exactly how he likes it, gripping her hips and lifting her halfway off the bed to pull her along his cock. She throws her head back, screaming his name, begging him not to stop, begging him to come inside of her.

     Satoru plans to grant all of these requests in due time, but right now he wants her in every way he can have her. He stops his rhythm to pull her up. Without needing to be told, Sundari tangles her limbs around him: four arms pull him close and together they situate themselves into the Lotus position, face to face, heart to heart, body to body.

     “Hey you,” Satoru murmurs, nipping her lower lip with a smile. Sundari meets his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, the concentric circles within them swirling. The curse she carries is gone, but the brand of her lineage remains. She is terrifying and beautiful and wild and he lovesherlovesherlovesher.

     “Hey you,” she replies, her voice sultry and husky.

     This time, they move as one, surging with one another’s breaths, cresting and falling into the troughs of one another’s respective rhythm, and finding harmony. Somehow the pleasure is insurmountable this way, and both of them become exceedingly aware that this is different.

     “Satoru…” Sundari breathes, and she can’t seem to fill her lungs fast enough as she clings tightly to him, nails scraping his back as she moves. “Satoru…I…”

     “I know, baby, I know,” Satoru murmurs, kissing her tenderly, open-mouthed and saturated, wanting to share her very breath in this moment. “I feel it too.”

     That bright and terrible presence from her domain inversion is watching them. The universe itself is sanctioning this union, and by doing so, redressing an imbalance for which their stars were written.

     The pleasure is beyond flesh, now. Sundari moves her body without thought and Satoru maps the contours of her back with his hands, sliding them up and up against her. He chants her name, kissing her temple, her cheeks, her neck, and taking her earlobe between his teeth just to feel her shiver in delight.

     In this space there are no demands made of the other, no commands, and no roles. There’s only the frequency of pleasure they have found, reverberating through both their souls like some primordial note sung long ago, and sustained through every cosmic union so heavily soaked in fate and destiny.

     When Satoru comes, he realizes that this is exactly how he felt when he was on the edge of death twelve years prior. And Sundari tumbles after him, clinging to him tightly as their thoughts and their very souls seem to touch like two exposed wires, sending sparks to spangling in their blood.

     The bright presence recedes like an ancient wave, and as they return to the skin and bone of their bodies, sweat-slick and panting, they realize that the only presence in the room now is their own.

     “Holy shit…” Satoru breathes, burying his face in Sundari’s neck. “That was…I think that’s the best sex I’ve ever had in my fucking life.”

     Sundari smirks, turning her head to nuzzle him with an almost feral purr.

     “Yeah,” Sundari agrees, her voice quiet and mystified. “Same. Do you think…what did it mean?”

     Satoru raises his head, his eyes swirling with a steady rotation of what Sundari swears are clouds this close. She blinks before the side-effects can start setting in: dizziness, vertigo, and dissociation. Satoru explained it like microdosing Unlimited Void.

     “I have a theory, but let’s talk about it in the morning. Tonight is for fucking.”

     Sundari’s laughter rings in the air like temple bells.

     Winter gives way to the tentative thaw of early spring. Most of the curses have been cleaned up, and Tokyo is almost back to her old self: hustling, bustling, busy, busy, busy. The rhythm of the city returns, and sorcerers resume their work of managing the cursed energy of an entire people. There are changes, however.

     The pay is better, for one. Satoru consulted with Mei Mei for that particular bit, and called a meeting of the clan heads, large and small, as well as elders in the community, and representatives of independent factions in order to oversee the drawing up of a new charter. It took several months, and there was dissent, but the basis of the new charter was laid, and Satoru sees part of his dream brought into reality. Just like infinity.

     Satoru’s snide remarks to Gakuganji the previous summer turned out to not be in jest or even in spite: his birth did herald a shift in the jujutsu world, and the biggest change is the number of sorcerers being born and those recently awakened to their abilities. Satoru helps delegate the task of assessing these new sorcerers and offering them a chance to study at Jujutsu Tech. He has been consulting with his colleagues and they came to the agreement that they can no longer feasibly pull only from high school aged students, especially since Kenjaku’s awakened sorcerers need guidance.

     Thus, Jujutsu Tech becomes open to all sorcerers for study, regardless of background or nationality. Satoru knows the biggest blind spot they had with regards to Kenjaku’s scheme was their obsession with secrecy, even from one another. He vows not to make such a mistake again.

     The changes are met with varying degrees of excitement and disdain. The students currently enrolled are thrilled to welcome more classmates, and sorcerers working for Jujutsu Headquarters begrudgingly welcome the extra hands.

     Despite all this, it is Sundari’s presence that polarizes jujutsu society. Sundari herself has known that it would be this way, but when she receives the first, crisp press of her new Jujutsu Tech instructor uniform, she knows that Satoru has fought a hard battle to approve her for training.

     The uniform itself is splendid: all black, of course, a tailor-cut jacket, with the gold swirl buttons representing Jujutsu Tech, a black mock-neck sleeveless top, and a black form-fitting mid-length skirt, slit up both sides for ease of movement. Her choice of footwear is a pair of black, platform boots. Sundari notes that the jacket itself has the trishula symbol embroidered in red on the back, to match the marking that adorn her and Sukuna’s brow. She smirks, knowing that it was Satoru who likely had a hand in that particular design choice.

     These don’t have to be a curse.

Sundari observes herself in the mirror with a hint of pride. Her pink curls are styled into two puffs atop her head, and she blinks all four of her eyes and for a moment she thinks she sees her father’s reflection instead of her own. She traces her face markings, and then smiles.

     “Well dad,” she murmurs to herself. “Here’s to a better way.”

Sugisawa Municipal High School, Sendai City, April 4, 2019

     The sun is shining when the car winds through the hills toward Yuji’s former high school. Ijichi is silent but occasionally glances at Yuji and Sundari, who sit in the back seat, each peering out their respective windows. The radio is turned to a news station, and they listen with half an ear as reports of Tokyo’s continued recovery from the Culling Games. Of all the barriers that had trapped players inside, Sendai’s region had been the most violent, and the scars of that war—invisible to non-sorcerers—are clear as day as they pull up to the high school.

     “Are you sure about this?” Ijichi asks as they step out of the car. Yuji and Sundari share a look, and Yuji nods.

     “It’ll be fine, Ijichi-san,” Yuji says brightly with his characteristic grin. The scars of Sukuna’s domain are faded, leaving only the slash he received from Mahito, and the scar at the corner of his mouth. Sundari’s own scars from Malevolent Shrine are faint, looking more like tiger stripes than anything else, and nothing can compete with the stark black lines of cursed ink.

     “Alright, I’ll defer to your judgement, Itadori-kun, Hikmat-san,” Ijichi executes a perfunctory and crisp bow. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to go.”

     Yuji and Sundari head toward the school. Since the Culling Games Sendai has been quieter, mostly because the residents are still frightened of the curses that sprung up over the winter like mold. Sundari’s cursed presence alone is enough to send any lesser curses scattering. They are like shy animals, crowding up against the borders of humanity, eager to taste the very people who feed their existence.

     They cross onto the football field and Sundari’s brows furrow.

     “Is there a dead body buried out here or something?” She asks. Yuji glances at her, eyes wide.

     “Wait, so the rumors were true?!” He asks back. Sundari blinks several times, staring at him. She decides not to press the matter further as Yuji leads her to the Stevenson screen further outside of the football field’s endzone. Yuji fishes an ornate, silk-wrapped box from his pocket. The inside is lined with red silk, and sitting there is a mummified finger belonging to Sundari’s father…and Yuji’s uncle.

     “And we’re sure this is the last one?” Sundari asks. Yuji gives her a knowing look.

     “Yeah!” He says. “Since he can’t come back through the Fingers anymore, the energy can ward off evil. A good talisman, don’t you think?”

     Sundari looks down at the box, and it’s not lost on her that both her parents have been reduced to such small talismans. Her mother’s ashes sit on her dresser, and her father’s remaining Finger will now ward off evil. She makes a mental note to come back and see about purifying the energy of this place because she is pretty sure there’s a dead body buried around here.

     Yuji places the box within the screen and shuts the door. Both he and Sundari press their palms together in prayer. For a moment the air is charged with the scent of burnt ozone or burnt sugar. Their cursed energy blooms like a lotus in tandem, the power of their jujutsu sealing the deal, as it were.

     When it is done, the air seems to return to normal, and the sun shines a little brighter. Sundari feels as if her heart is lighter, and there’s a warm feeling in her chest. She bites her lip as tears prick her vision. She never thought she’d feel a modicum of anything for her father. He’d been nothing short of horrible to her in the brief time she knew him.

     And yet…

     He’d loved her mother once. Loved her enough to beg for Sundari’s existence. Loved her enough to stay his hand from killing her. Loved her enough to call Sundari’s existence a miracle.

     Maybe he’d loved Sundari a little bit too.

     “Hey,” Yuji says, glancing at her. “You okay?”

     Sundari blinks away the tears and nods.

     “Yeah…just…taking in the moment. Thanks for doing this, Yuji. It was a brilliant suggestion.” She smiles at him, and he beams with pride, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a war-scarred sorcerer. Just a boy of sixteen with a strange family tree and a new lease on life. Sundari turns away from the Stevenson screen, away from the last vestige of her father.

     “Let’s go,” she says. “I promised Satoru I’d grab some kikufuku for him on our way back. And I’ve apparently got more teacher training.”

     Yuji and Sundari walk back across the football field, back toward Ijichi and the car, chatting about what kind of kikufuku to get, and Yuji offers to show Sundari around Sendai, claiming he’d already given Sukuna a tour, but he wasn’t as excited about it. Their voices fade across the field as the sun crawls across the sky, its light shifting the shadows in the trees.

Unnamed Shore, Unnamed Time

     “Well, well. What’s this, our second conversation?”

     Sukuna stares down at the cursed spirit, who leers up at him with that oil-slick grin and mismatched eyes.

     “Something like that,” Mahito says, recalling that none of the so-called “conversations” had been pleasant ones. He stands to his full height, but even that is nothing compared to the overwhelming height of the King of Curses. “My ability has to do with reshaping the soul, so I guess it makes sense that I wound up in this place.” But something about Sukuna is different…

     “Hey,” he says. Fuck it, there’s not much the King of Curses can do to him in this place. Sukuna raises his brow in response. “Something I meant to ask you. You were lying before, weren’t you? About living according to your nature. You weren’t acting in accordance with your nature at all, were you? You were taking vengeance for what was done to you.”

     Sukuna stares at the cursed spirit and for a moment Mahito thinks he’s fucked up again.

     Instead, Sukuna lets out a laugh that sounds almost amused and self-assured.

     “What difference does it make?” He asks. “I lived how I knew how to go on. I…” He thinks, shuts his eyes a moment, remembering. “Well, not entirely true. I was afraid my own curse would burn me up, so I could only spit out the curses writhing in my guts. I had two paths open to me, and I chose.”

     He doesn’t need to look to feel the familiar chill of Uraume by his side. They are quiet, eyes downcast, but Sukuna can see the tears glimmering on their cheeks. He places an arm around them, giving their slight shoulders an affectionate squeeze. The shiver that runs through them is one of relief and despair. Sukuna looks away from them, his eyes searching.

     “Looking for her?” Mahito asks, his tone taunting. Sukuna’s crimson gaze cuts to the cursed spirit sharply for a moment, questioning without a word. Mahito wonders how far he can press his luck before Sukuna makes good to kill him once and for all.

     “She passed through here not too long ago, we chatted for a bit,” Mahito places a finger on his lips. “Unfortunately, I don’t think her bosses took kindly to her loitering. She’s mortal now, after all. Can’t be caught holding up the cycle!”

     Sukuna’s expression hardens, and the wheels of his mind turn quickly. Where was she, then? If she passed through this place, then her soul must already be on its way to rebirth.

     Two choices.

     In every lifetime, I will probably love you.

     Sukuna shuts his eyes.

     “I see,” he says quietly. “Then if there is a next time, I think it would be nice to walk a different path.”

     “Do you think you’ll find her?” Mahito asks, grinning his malicious grin. Sukuna does not spare the curse a second glance as he takes Uraume’s hand and begins to walk, toward the darkness, toward the light.

     “You’ve gone soft, old bastard!” Mahito grouses. “Chasing after love! Blegh!”

     Sukuna laughs. “Of course I have,” he says. “I lost, after all.”

     Uraume looks up at Sukuna, a rare breach of their unspoken decorum, a question writ in their lilac gaze.

     “We’ll find her,” Sukuna says. “No matter how many times the Wheel spins, she was made for me. We’ll find her.”

Fin. Masterpost 𑁍 Previous Chapter

Author's Final Note: So, here we are at the end of a journey. I don't know if anyone is out there, silently reading my words and bobbing their head to the playlists, but to everyone putting eyes on this story and ears on the soundtrack: thank you! And to the folks who have been commenting on the chapters, or sharing my stories in the fandom: thank you! What initially began as a thought experiment of "what if Sukuna had a daughter with an immortal" became so much more, and I'd like to thank Gege Akutami for giving us Jujutsu Kaisen. I really haven't been this inspired to write for fandom for almost a decade, and I decided to check out this manga/anime and I've been obsessed ever since. It makes me so happy to write stories in such a fascinating world with such intriguing and fun characters.

Even though the manga is over, I'm holding out for an amazing anime adaptation going forward, and JJK is honestly a classic for me that I know I'll love revisiting it for years to come. I have other fanfic for JJK for those of you who are down to hangout at the Parallax Afterparty where I'll be posting stray stories, scenes that didn't leave the cutting room floor, character studies, and other cool lore that doesn't fit into the fics! Or, if you're really fucking with my galaxy-brain OC x Canon agenda, head on over to Lost Worlds & Endless Nights for the Parallax AUs. Or if you want different leads in other universes, head over to my series Sonder! I don't intend to leave the fandom, so for any holdouts: come get ya fanfic, here, hot off the presses! I'll be churning out these puppies for at least another six months to a year.

Again: thanks for reading. Talk to me in the comments or come holler at me on my other socials [if you got 'em] if you've got questions or wanna yell or whatever.

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍 Muse 𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes copying my masterlist format or feeding ANY of my writing to the uninspired AI garbage machines. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[aza-trash-can]

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

[entirelysein-e]

『 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

[misdeliria]

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 ❦

[hiraethwrote]

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

[luvreyn]

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!!

[solaarbeeam]

the strongest - g. satoru

CW :: angst, mentions of death and sashisu tragedy, and geto’s defection

a/n :: not a gojo girlie, but I decided to write this to try my hand at angst.. and here we are.

When Gojo Satoru had enrolled in Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, he had expected to have people groveling at his feet, to praise and worship the ground he walked on, simply because he was the strongest. That’s how it’s always been.

At least, until you, a black-haired delinquent, and an auburn haired snarky healer bursted into his life.

It was once, when Yaga-sensei had asked him and Suguru to come outside for a sparring match. Him versus Suguru, the true strongest. With you and Shoko on the sidelines, you for combat experience, and Shoko as the only proficient RCT-user in the last 400 years.

Suguru brought out a curse. Infinity dropped without his permission. Shoko administered her healing technique immediately. You laughed at him, though in a lighthearted way and not a condescending way.

Infinity dropped for you. Infinity dropped for Shoko too. This was when he knew, he found his forever people. His forever home.

The only Six Eyes user in 400 years. A Curse Manipulator, making the strongest. The only proficient RCT-user in the last 400 years. Last but most definitely not least, you. The user of a technique that’s powerful on its own but works so well once with a group of sorcerers.

And then he came to love you.

He loves the three of you, you, Suguru, and Shoko that is, but he loves you differently. He loves Suguru in a best friend way, all harsh words with softer meanings behind them. He loves Shoko in a best girl way, sharing sweets and stealing sunglasses and rough yet gentle hands healing over his wounds.

The way he loves you, is all hushed words and touches that affect his soul so much he feels like it’s going to overflow one day. His eyes flicker and blink adoringly when he looks at you, and that’s how he should’ve known how this story ends.

In their second year of high school, everything went to shit. He should’ve known. The people he loves are and will always be ripped away from him.

The higher ups have began physically separating Shoko from the four of you. She tries her best to stay with you guys, but the higher ups have gotten to threatening her.

Satoru didn’t like that. He scheduled a meeting with the higher ups. They didn’t call Shoko, a 15 year old girl who has seen too much, to long nights in the morgue again.

One night, when they went out to a festival for Suguru’s birthday, a day late he might add because you had a mission out of town, you finally kissed him for the first time. He held on to you so tight you felt as if he was cradling your soul in his pale hands. Shoko and Suguru, had said, and he quotes, “It’s about damn time.”

Then, after a few rare peaceful months, everything went to shit. Why? Because he, Gojo Satoru, can never be happy. All his loved ones have to be taken away from him.

He’s the strongest. But without the people he loves, the people he cherishes, what is he, truly?

A kid. A kid raised to believe he was a god. All until he realized he was a mortal all too late.

The Star Plasma Vessel Mission. He and Suguru had begged to take you and Shoko along, and so, the four of you went.

He wished that mission never happened.

Amanai Riko died at the age of 14, never able to truly live because of the fucked up system that runs Jujutsu Society. Satoru had finally learned RCT, but he had took brain damage and Suguru was on the verge of death.

You took on Fushiguro Toji and the last of the curses that had swarmed the four of you. It was a bloodbath. Satoru never gave enough props to Shoko. RCT is hard. They’re lucky to have her.

Suguru leaves, just like how all his loved ones are going to do, willingly or forcibly.

He’s ordered to kill him. He does. He comes back and cries ugly tears into you and Shoko until he physically can’t anymore.

His words ring in his head like a bell.

“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”

He never answered.

He found his comfort in you, because you were the only steadfast thing in his life. He loved you with everything he had, and he had a lot. He made sure to hang on to Shoko too.

He becomes a teacher. He gains students, including Toni’s little terror, Megumi. The kids love you.

It’s the happiest he’s been in a while.

Until Kenjaku comes. His eyes tell him it’s Getou Suguru. His soul knows otherwise.

Shibuya happens. Every sorcerer is dispatched, including Shoko, who’s not combat oriented, gets dispatched.

Shoko and you both meet him on the biggest battlefield. Shoko, like the stubborn person she is, insists on healing him. Satoru will never admit it, but she’s always been better at RCT than he has.

Then there’s you, the love of his life, the one person who’s been a constant in his life, who tosses off your jacket and runs into battle. His soul cries out for you, but it’s impossible for him to say it out loud when he has to focus on the fight.

Shoko falls first, and it hurts more than it was to make sure he didn’t get hit. As she takes her last breath, she hugs him one last time, and Gojo Satoru hugs back Ieiri Shoko’s lifeless body.

Then, he looks at you, who fought to the very end, knees to the ground and head to the sky. He scrambles to you, holding you in his arms as the calm before the storm erupts once more.

“Y/N…?”

“Yes, ‘Toru…?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“I wanted to, and I always will.” You cough up blood mid-sentence, and Satoru knows you’re a goner.

“I love you, Gojo Satoru.”

He loves you so much, so so so much, but it wasn’t enough to make you stay. It wasn’t enough to make Suguru or Shoko stay.

He is Gojo Satoru. He is the Strongest.

He was a kid raised to believe he was a God. He fell off his pedestal.

He is the Strongest.

But without you, or his precious people, what is he really?

© solaarbeeam 2024. do not copy or repost anywhere.

[wriothesleysgf]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ OUT OF MOTION — satoru gojo .

about you're home early from college, and satoru has a lovely idea about how you should spend your extra time.

contains [ex]plicit content, stepbrother ! gojo, watersports, f reader, corruption, p⋆rn watching, c*ckwarming.

words 1.2k

“princess? that you?” your big brother bellowed from his bedroom. in the blink of an eye, his tall frame was leaning against his door frame. “thought you weren’t supposed to be home until five, sweets?”

the pet names made your knees much weaker than they should of. “my final class got cancelled, ‘toru. the professor is sick.” you stopped in front of him, looking up at the man with such adorable doe eyes. he smiled down at you, thankful for whatever illness bestowed upon your teacher had blessed him with a chance to spend some extra time with his darling step sister while your parents were still out at work.

“why don’t you come hang in my room for a bit, bubba? we can watch a movie together,” satoru suggested. you didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his vibrant cerulean eyes that told you exactly what sort of ‘movie’ he had in mind. you were suddenly rather glad that you’d chosen to wear a pretty little skirt and a sweet blouse to class today, despite the chilly february weather.

you agreed to the proposal before throwing your school bag onto your bed and heading into satoru’s room. the lighting was dim, as it always was - you loved it because it made his features look even more intense. everything was still as clean as it usually was, with the only object showing that the room was in use being the silver laptop strewn on the bed.

your brother got comfy himself before tapping his thigh, motioning for you to perch on it. you made sure that your skirt splayed out perfectly and your clothed cunt was resting against satoru’s skinny black jeans. every look that you shot him was feigning innocence, as though you didn’t have but a clue what you were up to. either way, the outline of his cock became increasingly visible against the restrictive material.

he booted up his laptop, typing in a website before putting it to the side for a second. “you know the drill, lovely,”

you knew exactly what he wanted as you spread your legs, hiking up your skirt so that he could see the little wet patch seeping through your underwear, accumulated from the anticipation. satoru smirked at your willingness, uttering some teasing remarks about how needy you were for him.

“sweets, so fucking worked up for your big brother, hmm? all this for me? bet you skipped your last class just for a fill of my cock, didn’t you, doll? needed to get your needy little pussy stuffed with your stepbrother’s warm cum,”

you grew heavily embarrassed, instinctively tilting your head downwards so as to avoid eye contact at all costs. satoru chuckled before using his large hand to gently grip your chin and recentre your gaze back onto him. “there we go,” he mumbled before leaning into you, fully intending on kissing your pretty lips. however, you dodged at the last second and his mouth collided with your cheek instead.

“not on m’lips,” you muttered, voice wavering slightly.

“sorry, sweets. ‘s amusing how you’re so resistance when it comes to those glossy lips, but you’re always eager to let me get into that perfect cunt of yours.”

you felt your cheeks heat up once again.

satoru was growing tired of playing with his food, and the near silent room was suddenly filled with the sound of him unzipping his dark jeans and subsequently tugging at his waistband enough for him to pull out his cock. the wispy hairs at its base shone under the room’s low light, and the sheer size of your stepbrother’s cock made you drool a little.

“you ready to come sit on me, sweets? or d’ya wanna take my fingers first?” satoru offered, making your heart do a tiny flip. sure, it was basic courtesy to ensure that your cunt was prepared enough to take his cock, yet the way that he cared for you and the sincerity in his ethereal orbs made you feel fuzzy inside.

“‘s okay, ‘toru,” you agreed, pulling your panties off before straddling his hips.

“fine, but stop if it hurts, okay, angel?”

you nodded. satoru stroked his cock, spreading the glistening beads of precum that were already present. he cooed sporadic praises under his breath as you sunk down on him, taking your time and setting your own pace before you finally bottomed out, with the little hairs on his pubic bone grazing against your swollen clit.

“stay still f’me, princess? i wanna show you something. . .”

it wasn’t really a question, but a softly worded command. this wasn’t the first time that you and your stepbrother had had a ‘movie night’ where instead of a family friendly flick, satoru would put on some porno and you’d often end up bent in a similar position as the woman in the movie playing. although, where these nights were often more impromptu, this time satoru had planned the situation a little in advance. he had you in the exact predicament that he desired: with your pussy wrapped nice and tight around his cock. what you were unaware of, was that that the reason for the room’s cleanliness was that he’d spent the afternoon switching his sheets to waterproof ones. sure, he didn’t know that you’d be home early today, but he was planning on getting you to his room and onto his dick one way or another.

the man positioned the laptop screen so that you could both see it, and then he hit play on the video. it was already in full screen mode, so you didn’t have the opportunity to decipher the content of the video from the title - and yes, he had planned for this.

its beginning bore no stark warnings that this video would be a little more racy than usual. there was a weak plot of a pretty girl’s washer getting broken and the plumber coming to fix the pipes, only for her to end up playing with his pipe. the kicker came about twenty minutes into the material, where you were already whining and whimpering in satoru’s ear, begging for him to fuck you dumb already. your clit tingled and your cunt ached, yet he reminded you that if you didn’t pay attention, he’d happily let you skip off into your room and get started on some assignment that needed your time instead.

so, you returned your focus. all because you wanted your stepbrother to make you cum. the sex only got messier, but here came the one thing that satoru desperately wanted you to see: the man pissed while his cock was still deep inside the woman’s cunt.

“‘toru!” you squealed, looking away and clenching your eyes shut. “that’s disgusting!”

“you know, sweets,” he replied with a smirk, “when i’m this deep inside of you, you can’t hide your feelings. don’t lie, it turned you on a little. i could feel your oh so innocent cunt flutter around my dick.” you stayed quiet, contemplating what to do next. he only took that as a means to continue, this time mocking you. “i bet that’s what your thinking now, princess. ‘oh, i wish my dearest, most handsome big brother would defile my pussy like that! would you? would you piss in my little pussy, ‘toru-nii?’”

though his words disgusted you, there was a degree of truth behind each syllable. satoru often treated you like a princess, so the thought of him committing such a degrading act against you lit a fire deep within your core. as he continued his charade, bullying you into letting him have his way, all you could do was shift in your place and elicit tiny whines - he truly had you wrapped around his little finger.

"so? what d'ya say, princess?"

[osunism]

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.

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[domesticmp3]

i see and totally get it why people already don't like/might not like this chapter (ch.268), moreover, i agree and am with them in not blindly consuming and accepting something, even if this something is a thing you love and sincerely want to enjoy and appreciate. if reading (and, believe me, i'm not saying that in an obnoxious way, what i mean is the simple truth of the more you read - the better you're at noticing patterns™ and connecting the dots™; it's a skill you can better) and especially if analysing texts is something you do either as a hobby or for your studies or at work, you'll see when the author's fumbled. even if a little bit.

if anything, i am more than willing to accept this chapter as a kind of a filler. to say that i'm happy to see megumi back is to say nothing - it's true joy. he's back. alive. smiling. there are his friends, a letter from his mentor, and ahead - a mission to be completed. i in no way mean that it's healthy, after everything he's been through, to be utilised as a sorcerer that fast again, but i can't not say that it is somewhat therapeutic - to do what you're good at again (also, the goal is more than justifiable - they want to save yuuta).

i didn't like that chapter. i didn't not like it. it is just it - there.