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osunism · 9 days

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Daughter of Disgrace

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

Rating: Mature to Explicit [for future sexual content and graphic depictions of violence]. Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna Warning[s]: Smut, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga, so if you only watched the anime, turn back. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. 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.

🪧 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.

𓃰 AO3 || OC Masterpost || Fic Masterpost 𓃰

𓃰 Chapter Seven: Anathema

For much of his life Satoru knows that destiny’s hand is heavy on his shoulder. It has been so since the moment he opened his eyes, the sea of of his amniotic changes giving way to the miracle of his lineage’s most prized inheritance. He has known that these gifts, bestowed upon him after so long absent from his bloodline, were meant for a greater purpose. It goes beyond merely exorcizing curses. There is a calling in his abilities that as he came into his own as a young man, took shape.

The Star Plasma Incident, Suguru’s defection and subsequent terrorism.

Suguru’s death.

Satoru’s unwillingness to burn his body, not only for the spiritual repercussions, but because it meant setting fire to the only one who had ever loved him and seen him. It had been his only act of cowardice, and the first stage of his rebellion against the higher ups. They had asked him to kill the man he loved. And then they sought to tighten his leash so that he could not become him. The only one who had ever loved him is dead and they expected him to—well, not the only one. Not any longer.

But fate is not without a sense of irony.

If anyone had told him six months ago that he would meet and fall in love with Ryōmen Sukuna’s only direct descendant—his daughter—Satoru would have laughed. Loudly. Rudely. Because it was an impossibility so beyond the scope of attainability that even his near-clairvoyant Six Eyes could not see it.

And yet, here he is, staring at this woman whom history says should not exist. The higher ups want her blood too. They cannot suffer her to live despite her best efforts to prove she is nothing like her father. Satoru’s only thought when he broke free had been to find her. He had known she’d try something bold, but this…

Sundari stares up at him, her breath still coming in pants, sweat glistening on her skin.

“Yield.” Satoru’s voice is rough with desire, but solid with authority. Sundari has lost two rounds to him already. But not once has she yielded in their spars. She refuses, staring at him with open defiance in all four of her eyes.

“Never,” she whispers. “I’ll die first.”

Satoru can’t deny how hot he finds it when Sundari makes these fierce declarations because he knows her convictions are real. She would rather die than ever yield in battle. His goddess will fight him and anyone else until her body can go no longer. A fearsome creature, a warrior of unyielding and unwavering resolve.

“You always look so pretty under me,” he whispers instead, and like always, his flirtations take Sundari off-guard. Her brows go up, eyes widening slightly. Suddenly the rise and fall of her chest is slower, more measured, and he feels the slight shiver pass through her body. Before she can respond to him in kind, they hear the chattering of the students. Satoru is off of her in an instant, helping her to her feet as they dust themselves off.

“I think Hikmat-san’s almost as fast as Gojo-sensei,” Yuji is saying. Maki rolls her eyes. Of course Sundari is nearly as fast as Satoru. She inherited Sukuna’s immense power. Sundari rubs the back of her head, stretching her aching muscles before Satoru gives her a knowing look.

“Training ground is all yours, kids,” Sundari says as she passes them. “I’m hitting the showers.”

She and Satoru walk side by side in silence. With the adrenaline and heat dissipated, Sundari becomes aware of the brisk autumn air, shivering. Satoru throws his haori over her shoulders. She smiles up at him, and suddenly they are close, his hand finding hers, lacing their fingers.

“You’re such a great sparring partner,” he says. “You should spar with Yuta sometime. He could use some of your fast and loose techniques. Help him think outside the box a little.”

Sundari laughs. “If my mother already trained him then he’s all set. I learned all my dirty tricks from her.”

Satoru chuckles. “Is that why you kicked up all that dust?”

Sundari slaps her forehead. “In my defense, I forgot about your freak-vision! That usually works on opponents who just use their eyes to see and not…whatever the fuck your eyes do.”

Satoru gives her one of his smug grins, and then winks at her with said eyes. Sundari’s cheeks flush with heat and she looks away. Satoru is too pretty for her to look at for too long. Like staring at the sun. Everything about him seems sculpted with terrible beauty and purpose. One would think he’s the asura and not her mother, though Sundari sees the same frightening symmetry in her features, slightly less perfect for want of her father.

They enter the dorms soon after, and as they make their way to the shower, Sundari wonders about something just as Satoru leans in to nip at her earlobe.

“Wanna save some water?” He asks. Sundari shoots him an incredulous look.

“Maybe we should have an emergency meeting in your office,” she says by way of response. “To discuss our upcoming plans.”

Satoru blinks. “Oooh. You are so right. So, a nice long, hot shower, and then an intense meeting in my office.”

Sundari stops walking, crossing her arms to stare at him.

“What?” Satoru asks, grinning. Leering, more like. “I’m just stating the order of the rest of our workday.”

“Uh huh,” Sundari says. “I’m going to actually shower, and you can—”

“I’ll be sure to think of you all hot and wet when I’m fucking my fist.”

“Satoru!”

He doesn’t give her the opportunity to retaliate, and they retreat to the respective showers, men’s on one side, women’s on the other.

In the shower, Sundari takes her first true sigh of relaxation. She learned early on from her mother that there is no problem that a long, hot bath or shower won’t lend perspective to, and she’s not been wrong. Sundari lets the steaming water run over her from head to toe and feels all the soreness in her muscles melt into a languid exhaustion that tells her she and Satoru may very well just cuddle on the couch in his office and nap.

If she is with him, she doesn’t care what they do together.

After her shower, Sundari checks her phone, finding it annoying that the destruction in Tokyo has led to lack of service or spotty service at best. She doesn’t have anyone she wants to contact, save her mother, and since Sukuna took her, it’s been silent. She wonders if her mother will ever have it in her to do her duty. The longer she shirks it, the more people at risk of falling prey to her father.

Sundari tries not to hate her mother for her weakness, but in that moment, she understands. If Satoru were in Sukuna’s place, Sundari would at least try to save him before killing him. But somehow, she doesn’t think her father wants to be saved. One might even say it’s impossible.

Sundari gets dressed, pulling on a pair of loose sweats, a long-sleeved shirt, and piling her braids atop her head. She makes her way to Satoru’s office, finding it empty. He must still be showering. As she waits, it occurs to her she’s never actually been in his office before. She looks around, brow furrowing. It looks like any other comfortable office, but it feels distinctly lacking in personality. There are no knickknacks on his desk, no corkboard of polaroid photos. There is a distinct lack of a person in this office and Sundari finds herself feeling despondent. She knows he works virtually around the clock, but she has never considered what it costs him.

She feels a pair of strong arms slip around her waist. She smiles as Satoru rests his chin on her shoulder.

“Snooping?” He asks in a teasing tone. Sundari huffs out a small laugh.

“Hardly,” she admits. “There’s very little snooping to be done that you’ve not told me yourself.”

Satoru plants a gentle kiss on her shoulder, traces his lips along the curve up to her neck, relishing in her shiver and then her body pressing back against him. He holds her tighter.

“Well, what do you want to know?” He asks. “I’m an open book.”

Sundari’s hands come up, tracing her fingertips over his knuckles. She finds herself loving his hands. She’s never met anyone as strong as her before, and no one strong enough to consider she deserves protection. She smirks.

“Did you think about me in the shower?” She asks. Satoru, to his credit, replies without missing a beat.

“I sure did, that’s why it took me a little longer…” He nuzzles her neck, planting a soft kiss behind her ear. “Plus, you know I like to let you finish first.”

He delights in the flood of heat in Sundari’s cheeks, and she resists the urge to leap out of the nearest window.

They decide to lay on the plush couch together. Sundari rests on her back, and he lays on top of her as if she is the coziest person he’s ever felt, wrapping his arms around her to rest his head on her chest. Without thinking, her hands come up, threading her fingers through his soft hair, stroking his scalp. Satoru lets out a soft groan of pleasure. Since being touched again, he’s always on her. He can’t get enough of the contact. He hasn’t felt this safe with someone since—

“Satoru?” Sundari’s voice is soft.

“Mmn?” Satoru mumbles from between her breasts. Two galactic eyes peer up at her, bleary with oncoming sleep.

“Never mind,” she whispers with a soft smile, stroking his brow with an unhurried thumb. “Go to sleep.”

He blinks, slowly. Sundari massages his temples, and his eyes slip closed as the sun sinks behind the hills and trees. Eventually, Sundari’s eyes close too, and at some point, sleep slips around her and takes her into the dreamless dark. Satoru’s weight is a comfort to her, one she is loath to give up, but she has her Divine Vow to consider. Melancholy wears her brain to exhaustion, and she slips deeper into sleep, willing her mind to be silent.

Satoru wakes up, first.

The sleep he’s gotten is perhaps the best he’s gotten in over a decade. It is a rare moment of true respite, where he does not feel the prickling need to be constantly aware. For a handful of hours, he is allowed to simply rest. After all, he is in the arms of his goddess. His goddess, whom he stands to lose if he doesn’t figure out how to break a Divine Vow.

First, he must deal with Sukuna, then he can deal with the gods. One world-altering crisis at a time.

Slowly, Satoru gets up, and watches as Sundari’s lower eyes open to slits. He gets off her, and then she closes her eyes and continues to sleep. She doesn’t question his motives, and they’ve coexisted enough to learn how to speak without words. Instead, he kneels next to her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. For a moment, his expression is pensive, but there is a soft bend to his smile, a dimness to the usual lambency to his gaze, and even a slight slump in his shoulders. He knows he shouldn’t allow himself a moment like this, not when there’s so much to be done. But he has no choice, and even if Sundari won’t let him save her the way she’s saved him, he can at least try.

Fighting her father seems like a great first step. But there’s other loose ends he must now see to, and he gently brushes a stray curl from her face. A tiny eye narrows at him.

“Spit it out, Satoru,” she grumbles. Satoru will never get over how cute she is when she’s grouchy. He smiles.

“There’s something I have to take care of,” he says. “It shouldn’t take long but I don’t want to worry you.”

Four eyes sharpen and focus on him as Sundari shifts to sit up. She is frighteningly intuitive, can tell there’s something worming around the gray matter of his regenerating brain that he is struggling with. She holds his gaze, fearless and demanding, a goddess demanding answers from her equal. Satoru feels a momentary stab of guilt in his belly. He told her he considered her his equal, and that he wanted her to share in this future he envisioned. It had been a rare moment of vulnerability for him, giving a solid foundation to something that for a few years, had been a source of fear.

He’s only ever shared his vision for the future with Suguru, and that love is lost to him.

He doesn’t want to lose another; he didn’t think he’d ever find connection like that again.

“Satoru!” Sundari reaches up, cups his face, brings him back to himself and the present with his name alone, and those four garnet eyes turning to liquid crimson, soft and concerned. He reaches up to grasp her wrists, rubbing circles with his thumbs in a tender gesture to soothe her. She takes a slow exhale, relaxing. Since rediscovering his love of being touched, Satoru never wants to go a day without touching her, hugging his loved ones, or feeling another living thing against him again.

“I’m going to Jujutsu Headquarters,” he says quietly; so quiet the soft, velvet shadows around them could steal the words away. Sundari is quiet, and he can see her connecting the constellations in her mind, cross-referencing conversations with her knowledge of Japan’s stringent and conservative jujutsu society. Her main eyes flutter, sooty lashes making them stand out as her pupils shrink and expand. Her lower set of eyes narrow and he knows he’s seeing Sundari when she has decided on a very permanent course of action.

“I’m coming with you,” she says at last. Something in Satoru’s heart breaks and heals at the same time. In this moment, Sundari reminds her of Yuta. That devotion, that unwavering loyalty, that iron will and determination. Where Yuta gives the appearance of a fragile bloom reinforced by a shocking amount of steel in his soul, Sundari is an unassailable fortress, guarding a generous and loving heart, and a soul that burns as brightly as his own.

Somewhere between them, where infinity always exists, there’s a balance of their natures. The ruined edges of his soul where Suguru had torn himself away feel like they are struggling to reach toward something.

Her.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Once we go there’s no going back.”

Sundari does not waver. “I’m sure.”

In the end, Satoru realizes there’s no need for subterfuge. The higher ups summon him as soon as they receive word of his unsealing. How fortuitous for them that the culprit of what they declared a grievous crime, has decided to accompany him to this summons. They likely think that they have the two betwixt hammer and anvil. Sundari shares a smile with the darkness of the long corridor when she thinks on how wrong they are.

They come to stand before a large, ornate door. Satoru’s breath has never been steadier, his heartbeat never more consistent.

“I didn’t want my students to see this,” he says softly, and Sundari looks up at him, her lower eyes trained on the door. She doesn’t reach for his hand, but there is a feeling of warmth that passes between them. The business they are about is ugly, bloody work. There will be time for anything else much later.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and Sundari knows he’s asking himself as much as her. She turns all four of her eyes toward the door. Without another word, Satoru pushes them open, and they step into the darkness, the doors shutting behind them.

Sundari doesn’t know what she expected from the inner sanctum of jujutsu society’s most powerful patriarchs, because patriarchs they are. She can immediately see that all the assembled higher-ups are men, hiding behind their rice paper screens in a paltry attempt to be intimidatingly mysterious. She has half a mind to open her domain here and kill them all, but Satoru has a way of doing things.

“You understand the position you’re in, Gojo Satoru?” A gruff and iron voice says from the velvety darkness as Satoru stands at the center. Sundari doesn’t budge.

“I understand the position you’ve put me in,” he says. “Regardless, that’s not going to stop what’s coming.”

“And you brought the abomination here with you!” Another voice, Sundari’s lower eyes cut to her right. She can make out the silhouette of the stooped old bastard behind the illuminated screen.

“You were tasked with the explicit instructions to gather Sukuna’s Fingers and carry out Itadori Yuji’s execution. You have done neither, and as a result Sukuna caused incalculable destruction and all but collapsed the Japanese government in a state of panic! You no longer have the protections of jujutsu society. You are anathema.”

Sundari lets out a quiet and derisive snort, rolling her eyes. She wishes they’d get to the good part, already.

“She’s not an abomination,” Satoru says. “She’s a powerful ally. And for the record: that’s not why I’m here.”

There is a beat of confused silence. Sundari allows herself a slow, excited grin. Ah, finally.

It happens so fast she almost forgets to savor it. These old, conservative men. These men who have dared to collar Satoru and want her to bow her head to their yoke as well. She is not one to take pride in her father’s blood, but he is the King of Curses, and she is his daughter, there is no shackle she will accept from anyone, not even the man she’s fallen in love with.

These men, who have driven so many sorcerers to ruin, come apart like wet tissue paper beneath her hands and his. He wears his infinity like a raincoat, the blood spray never touching him. She wears the blood like war paint, reveling in the slaughter of the people who thought they would ever be able to kill her or Satoru.

Satoru moves like a deadly crack of a whip, so fast she almost can’t see it. He’s strong enough that his punches crater sternums, much like hers. Bedlam carols into the flickering lantern-light of the room; and Sundari almost wants to sing as she kills, dragging a gasping and gurgling old sorcerer through his screen, fingers digging into his throat until the skin bursts and she forces her way past tough muscle, her fingertips scraping the blood and lymph-slick bones, which she crushes to fragments in her preternatural grip, leaving the body limp and lifeless as she moves away. She is a deadly brushstroke across their lives, and when she’s done, her arms weltering in the blood and gore up to her elbows, blood splattered across her face, she lets herself laugh. In this moment, she is exactly like her father.

They leave in silence, Satoru and his blood-splattered goddess, and though her hand is covered in blood, he takes it in his, lacing their fingers with a tight squeeze. He pulls her into his arms wordlessly, and they vanish as dawn begins to color the sky.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. “Good & Plenty” by Alex Isley, Masego, Jack Dine

It’s been some time since either of them have been in his apartment, but it’s easy to break into when your seals keep everyone else out. Sundari smirks as she looks out over Tokyo which, for the most part, is still intact enough that normal life has not been entirely disrupted in some parts. Still, the dawn spilling into the living room reminds her of the first time she and Satoru met earlier in the year.

“Just like the first time,” Satoru says, remembering as well. “Uh…only with more blood.”

Sundari lets out a laugh and they retreat to his bedroom, stripping as they go. Satoru opts to run the shower, and they scrub themselves clean, sharing smiles and laughter without words. And then, they run a bath to soak in to finish off. At some point their utilitarian shower becomes a rare moment of self-care. The tub is large and deep enough for both and she settles between his legs easily, leaning back against him with a satisfied groan.

They don’t talk about it. There’s not much that can be said. The self-proclaimed leaders of jujutsu society declared them an enemy for crimes neither of them committed. They merely responded in kind.

“Tell me about him,” Satoru murmurs. “You fought your dad in Shibuya, what can I expect?”

Sundari blinks. That’s what he wants to know about right now? She supposes she can’t blame him, but if he’s asking her, she knows it can only mean that he’s uncertain he can clinch a decisive victory. And the time of their duel is fast-approaching. She doesn’t understand why she feels conflicted about it.

“My dad’s as powerful as you are,” she says. “And he fights like an actual demon. You’re the more refined martial artist, but my dad knows how to do hairpin turns with his tactics. I don’t think he was trained in jujutsu conventionally.”

“Seems to run in your family,” Satoru teases and she elbows him as he laughs.

“It’s not just that…it’s his domain. When he expanded it in Shibuya, it was open…like mine. What’s worse, is it attacks any and everything until he dismisses it. Oh! Aaaand he can shoot a powerful exorcism arrow made of divine flame.”

Satoru’s brows go up. “Wait? Fire? How?”

Sundari shrugs. “I don’t know. I think…I think I used to be able to do it too, but I haven’t been able to remember how to summon it. I think he has a binding vow around his.” It’s not like she could have asked him since he was busy fighting Megumi’s shikigami.

“If you plan to beat him you have to finish him as quickly as possible,” Sundari warns. Satoru makes a small groan. “Satoru, I’m serious. This is…he only ends jujutsu duels one way. I don’t want to see you sustain any more hurt than is necessary to win.”

Satoru grins. “Aww, Sundari, are you worried about me?”

Sundari sighs. “Of course I’m worried about you! My father scares the shit out of me. I’ve never seen anyone with such callous disregard not just for human life, but life in general.”

Satoru frowns, leaning into to nuzzle her neck, pressing comforting kisses on her skin. It’s rare she admits to fear, he’s learned, and so when she does, he listens. Her father frightens her, he knows, because she fears whatever evil is in him, has been passed to her and will manifest beyond her control. It’s something he was working on with her before Shibuya, and he takes her hands in his, reminding her to remain present. She is not Sukuna, just his daughter. What lurks in him does not lurk in her. Sundari’s breaths even out, and she shuts all four of her eyes, calming her mind. She brings his hands to her lips, kissing his fingers and knuckles.

“He has nothing to lose because he has nothing,” she whispers, and Satoru wonders if it’s possible to pity Sukuna, evil as he is. Sundari doesn’t seem to, though he can’t tell from how soft her voice gets. “But you have everything to lose, Satoru. And that’s what he will seek to kill before he deigns to kill you.”

Satoru is quiet in the wake of her grave words. Sukuna’s cruelty sounds not unlike a curse, but Sundari sounds like he has wounded her before. Or maybe her mother finally told her about what her father was really like. Either way, he files it away to parse later.

They leave the bath, toweling dry and retreating to the bedroom where they both slide into bed without so much as a scrap of clothing between them. He kisses her—really kisses her—and her arms comes around him as he slots himself between her legs. For long minutes it is just them kissing, the heat between them building and building. Satoru’s lips travel along her jawline, tugging her earlobe between his teeth, making her whimper.

It’s nothing like the first time. It’s everything like the first time.

Sundari’s hands slide up Satoru’s back, relishing the sleek feel of muscles gliding beneath her touch, and Satoru’s lips trail along her throat, sucking marks into her skin. Sundari lets herself sink into the sensation, lets her sense be overtaken by Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

“Satoru…” She moans, when his mouth finds one of her nipples, having traced the path of of one of her tattoos. He sucks the dusky bud into his mouth, holding it gently between his teeth while running his tongue over it. Sundari bites her lip to stifle a cry. Satoru pulls away from her breast with a wet pop.

“Don’t…” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. Sundari shivers as she feels his breath on her damp skin. “Be as loud as you want, baby. I wanna hear you…”

So, she lets him.

Satoru takes his time, and beneath the skylight, kisses every inch of Sundari’s body, reveling in the scent of her, the hot satin of her skin, how wet she is for him already. He slides a hand between her thighs, keeping his gaze fixed on hers as his fingertips circling her clit, gathering her slick.

“Don’t tease…” she whispers, and he grins at her.

“Why not? I like hearing you whine for me…”

A warning growl, low in her throat. Satoru feels his cock throb in response. He loves when she gets dangerous in bed, the way her fingers curl into the sheets before her mouth drops open in a strangled moan when he dips two long fingers into her. Her eyes roll back—all four of them—and she rolls her hips into his hand, her head tipping backward onto the pillows as the heel of his palm grinds against her clit, his fingers curling upward inside of her.

“Gnh…fuck, Satoru…” She moans and Satoru strokes her, fingers gliding in and out until the wet squelching of her pussy nearly overpowers everything else. It’s music to his ears, really. His hand is soaked, and she’s about to come, the rhythm of her hips becoming more frantic and desperate.

His thumb caresses her clit in gentle circles, scissoring his fingers inside of her. Sundari’s orgasm is close, a glittering edge she is desperate to splinter herself upon, but Satoru keeps it just out of reach. He wants her begging, and Sundari knows it. It chafes at her pride to do so, but she’s missed him—missed their intimacy in a way she didn’t realize until he was in her arms again.

She begs.

He rewards her, and she comes all over his hand, whining and moaning his name.

When the waves of her climax begin to recede, Sundari’s gaze is soft and blurred with pleasure. Satoru licks his fingers clean, savoring her taste, before leaning in and pressing a warm, loving kiss to her glistening cunt. Sundari shivers again, biting her lip on a half-moan half-laugh that only seems to encourage Satoru to continue. Kisses become the gentle exploration of his tongue, and suddenly her swollen clit is sucked into his mouth, and she can’t control the pitch and volume of her cries.

Suddenly she’s spiraling, her vision sparkling as the sensations seem to rise again and again without stopping. She feels as if she will fly apart, or shatter the skylight if he doesn’t—

“Oh fuck…” she sobs. “Oh god…”

Satoru opens his mouth, spreading her lips wide to torment her clit through another orgasm. This one feels more abrupt than the last, and her thighs quiver around his head, her slick spilling onto his chin. He pulls away reluctantly, and when he looks at her, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her so soft. The violent black lines of her cursed markings do nothing to hide it, and when she comes back to her own skin and bone, she meets his gaze with a grateful sigh.

Satoru licks his lips.

“You are so fucking pretty,” he says, caressing her thighs and squeezing them. She smiles almost shyly, and he can see the heat flooding the apples of her cheeks as her gaze slides away from his. It’s always adorable to him how shameless she is during sex, yet he will call her pretty or beautiful and she blushes like a virgin. He wagers she’s never been able to be this vulnerable with anyone. He’s glad it’s him.

Satoru leans down, and Sundari welcomes him, letting him kiss her until her thoughts are nothing but fluff in her head, working her hips desperately when she feels the blunt tip of his cock nudging her slick entrance. Satoru props himself up on his elbows to look at her, brushing sweat-slick curls from her face as he thrusts into her. Sundari moans louder than intended as she savors the delicious stretch of his cock inside her. He’s so fucking big, and he fills her perfectly. Satoru hisses when she squeezes his cock with her lust-slick walls.

“Do that again and this’ll be a short ride,” he murmurs, and she rewards him with a sultry, simmering laugh that ends in him kissing her as his hips begin to move.

Sundari thinks perhaps she can do this for the rest of her life. And as she thinks that she remembers her divine vow, a promise she cannot break. For a moment, the pleasure is at war with the sadness that she won’t be able to spend the rest of her life with him, but then Satoru brings her back.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle, a little winded as he moves inside her. “Hey, baby, look at me. Stay here with me.”

Sundari nods, biting her lip, her heart too full for words. She keeps her eyes on him, and for the first time since they began seeing one another, they make love.

It’s different. Sundari knows it’s different because when Satoru buries himself inside of her, she doesn’t feel mindless, and when he withdraws, she surges with him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. This closeness is what he loves and craves, and it only serves to goad him, thrusts smooth and languid, but hard enough that the mattress and bedframe groan in protest.

When Sundari comes, it’s unexpected. She’s so present, pinned by Satoru’s warm gaze, that she cries out, tightening her hold around him as her walls spasm. Satoru lets out a soft swear, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

And now they’re fucking.

At some point the want for each other overpowers the need or closeness and Satoru sits up, grasping Sundari’s ankles to press her legs back. She folds in half easily, and he looks down, biting his lip at the sight of his cock buried in her pretty little cunt. His.

He fucks her like he wants to impress this upon her, and Sundari finds herself baffled by the fierce possession in his eyes, the grip on her ankles that may as well pass for true shackles as he holds her legs open and back, plundering her for his own pleasure.

She can’t speak, she can barely breathe, and Satoru thrusts as if his aim is through and not inside. Every impact of skin and against skin is accompanied by the wet, erotic sound of her cunt being split on his cock again and again. The tingle at the base of Satoru’s spine is his first warning, and he fights it because he wants to have as much of her as either of them can garner the strength. Sundari can see him fighting his own climax, and she maneuvers them with gentle coaxing. Satoru allows himself to be put on his back, and his goddess mounts him with ease.

And gods above she rides him. Satoru throws his head back and lets out what can only be described as a whine and a howl as Sundari bounces on his cock, marking him as hers as much as she is his.

It’s everything like the first time; it’s nothing like the first time.

Satoru lets himself come once, and then shifts them again, putting Sundari on her hands and knees before forcing her into an obscene arch. He grips her hips, pulling her back against his cock in a punishing and brutal pace that sees her supine, fingers curling into the tangled sheets in a white-knuckled grip, her voice begging and pleading, chanting his name like a mantra.

“Want me to come inside you, baby?” He demands as he turns her over, forcing her into a mating press, which she welcomes with a truly whorish moan that Satoru is going to think about until the day he dies. She’s babbling, now, even as he attempts to fuck an impression of their bodies into the mattress. Satoru makes her come again, stroking her clit and that tender little plane inside her pussy all at once.

“Yesyesyes…!” Sundari whines, her breath coming in staccato gasps, eyelids fluttering.

“You’d look so fucking good full of my come, tell me.”

Sundari tells him, moaning and whining about how much she wants him to fill her up, wants him to put a goddamn baby in her, and something in Satoru’s mind snaps. All at once the tension in the base of his spine, the tightness in his balls, releases as his thrusts become ragged and desperate, emptying his come inside of her, burying himself deep with a harsh groan.

Sundari leans up, licks a stripe along Satoru’s throat, tasting his sweat as he releases her legs which fall uselessly around his hips. He lays down on top of her, meeting her lips in tired, sloppy kisses before he buries his face in the crook of her neck, kissing the soft, sweaty skin there.

“I love you, Sundari,” he mumbles into her skin. “Fuck. Don’t leave me, baby. I just found you.”

Sundari feels her heart constrict. She can’t even tell him she won’t leave. They both know how this ends. She holds him tighter, stroking his damp hair, blinking away tears.

“I love you, Satoru,�� she whispers, pressing a kiss to his temple. It’s all she can do, for now.

They sleep for most of the day, reveling in the last few stolen moments they can get away with before they rise to dress. Satoru watches Sundari grab her cursed tools from the ancient trunk her mother gave her. One of the weapons is a long trishula, a faded cloth tied around the base of the trident-like blade. Satoru’s eyes go wide at the sight of the weapon, the cursed energy distinctly powerful. He notes that the inside of the trunk is covered in sealing sutras, ancient and weathered, and written in Sanskrit. It’s why he couldn’t see how powerful Sundari’s arsenal was before. But that trishula…

“Sundari,” he says as she dresses, and she looks back at him, holding the weapon in her hands, looking at once like a woman out of her own time and something otherworldly. What’s it like, he wonders, being half-celestial in origin? “Is that…?”

“Hiten?” Sundari finishes with a smile. “Nah, mom said she could never figure out how to steal dad’s cursed tools. This is Lalita, named for the goddess who ironically, I was named after.”

Satoru’s confusion makes her giggle. “It’s a lot. Come on, we’re burning daylight, we heading back to the school?”

Satoru allows himself his characteristic grin and Sundari tries not to be worried about it.

“Nah, we are making a stop in Kyoto,” he says and it’s Sundari’s turn to look puzzled. Satoru closes the distance between them and holds her close.

“Ready to meet my parents?”

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ Masterpost || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ⤳

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

#呪術廻戦 #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #muse writes #jjk x oc #jjk x black oc #oc: sundari hikmat #ch: gojo satoru #otp: ah! his goddess #fic: daughter of disgrace #series: parallax #jjk smut #gojo smut

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anesthesia-beta · 3 months

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Wifey’s mad because Nanami missed date night to “hang out” with work husband and work child, Gojo & Itadori. He has some making up to do 😂.

#ametuer artist #ditigal art #artists on tumblr #black oc #oc tag #black reader #jujutsu nanami #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu itadori

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ghost-reader07 · 3 months

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Title: I'd Let the World Burn (Suguru Geto x Yandere Reader)

Description: Junko is a “little” too obsessed and in love with Suguru Geto. No, like literally, it’s crazy, and very concerning. Her way of thinking isn’t normal. Someone get her therapy. But you know what? Same girl. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be blinded by love…. Sometimes.

And for reasons, Geto can’t seem to make up his mind...

Chapter 1 (Teaser): Blinded By Love

Suguru Geto looks at the familiar face before him with dangerous eyes. His clothes dripping wet with the scarlet, red color of the blood of the civilians he just killed. It was a chilly, dark night and there was only this person and him in the midst of all those corpses. His long, black hair fluttering slightly, his cold purple eyes as hard as stone, no emotion portrayed in them.

"Junko," He called, his voice mixed with many different, sorrowful emotions such as hatred, but also pain. Junko Ivansia, a friend of his; someone he wasn’t expecting to see right now out of all times. Damn it, why did it have to be now that she showed up? But...maybe this was for the better that she showed up now, before Satoru or Shoko got to her. He wanted her to come with him, and even if she didn’t have any jujutsu, she...was the only non-sorcerer he can't bring himself to hate. He asked himself countless times why it was this one woman, this one non jujutsu user that he couldn’t bring himself to hate. He wanted to, wanted to hate and shame her like all the rest of them, but he just couldn’t in his heart. He didn’t know what it was about her. Was it her eyes, her sarcasm that pissed him off most days, the nonchalant way she went about life? All of the snarky remarks she would often make to him and Satoru? The weird obsession she shared with Satoru about their favorite anime? He didn’t know. But what he did know was that he wanted to bring her with him in that moment. Because as much as he hated those damned non jujutsu users, this woman was the one he couldn’t bring himself to hate.

"Su...Suguru, what...what are you doing? What is...this?! You're covered in blood" Junko takes a pause, gulping in nervousness, her voice falling to just above a hoarse whisper. "Who's...who's blood is that?" She asks him. Geto took slow steps towards the woman before him, his footsteps leaving bloodied prints as he walked past the dead bodies. His eyes, however, were always fixed on her. He stops right in front of her, the distance of only a few steps between the two of them. He looks down at her, trying to discern the emotions on his face.

“It’s their blood,” he says in a cold, nonchalant voice, as if he was talking about nothing more than the weather. He looked down at Junko, his purple eyes staring like a silent, deadly storm. “What… What happened? Everything was okay? I just saw you last week! Now you’re killing people?! Wh…what?” Junko takes a step back, not evening noticing that she did, or that she was starting to corner herself between Geto and a nearby ally wall. He noticed how she unknowingly corned herself against the wall. He chuckled lowly and took a large step forward, now towering above her as his hand slammed against the wall right beside Junko’s head. He leaned his head down, close to her face, his breath making contact with her dark skin.

The smell of blood was strong in the air, even if they were outside. Junko gags a little, the blood from his clothes getting onto hers. What happened to the man she loved? The man who held her heart? Sure, she thought he was a little weird and unhinged, but not like this. Junko always thought Geto was odd when they first met, almost creepy even. The way he would give her odd nasty looks from time to time then go to laughing and smiling at her the next minute. She could tell he didn’t like her much when they first met, but that never deterred her from thinking he was...well hot. He still hung around her, along with Shoko and Satoru, when they happened to meet her on a mission and she unintentionally helped them. Then they all kept running into each other. They became friends eventually. This was her friend. While he may not act like it and even denied it sometimes, they both knew they were. So... what was going on?!

"Oh...okay, it's not okay.... tell me what's not okay. I'm sure we can figure it out" she smiles nervously up at him. Geto snorts through his nose and rolls his eyes. Junko, ever the mediator and problem solver. Always wanting to talk things out. But he could feel his heart ached, hearing her sweet, naive words. How could she say things so easily when he's doing such horrible things? How can she not hate him? Why wasn’t she screaming or panicking at this point? It angered him how little she seemed to feared him in the moment. It didn’t make any sense.

"Idiot," He scoffs, his hand tightening into a fist against the wall. He looked at Junko with eyes full of pain, like a broken boy. "Some things, cannot be figured out." He says, his voice almost a sorrowful whisper. Junko was shaking, she seemed nervous now, he could see that. Yet she still smiled at him like everything was okay, even if she was forcing it. He could tell, it was nothing like her usual bright smile. "Of course they can, anything can be figured out. Sometimes you just have to think. So....come on Geto, you're trapping me between the wall, let me out so we can talk" she says, ‘smiling’.

(A/N: Guys please let me know if you'd like more chapters! This is a teaser/introduction chapter to a several chapter fanfic idea I have for Jujutsu Kaisen 💜. But I'm still unsure if I should go forward with it 😅. I have the more chapters planned and mostly written I just want outside opinions on if I should scrap this idea or not. Thanks so much for your feedback!)

#Yandere #black oc #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #jjk suguru #suguru x oc #clinically insane #i want him bad #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen shoko

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tiny-wooden-robot-fics · 2 months

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Magnolia - Chapter Eleven

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

“How am I supposed to present the idea of immortal life to a woman who tried to kill herself a year ago?”

“Maybe don’t lay it out like an option on a menu - that probably wouldn’t go over well. But if she loves you, that means she loves being with you and probably doesn’t want to go anytime soon anyway.” Satoru reaches out, smoothing Suguru’s hair back from his face. “Just keep giving her reasons to want to live, like you have been doing,” he concludes simply.

Suguru is quiet, contemplating his words. As usual, Satoru can see very clearly something he’s been obscuring by overthinking it.

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: None A/N: Thought I would squeeze in an update in between out of town trips. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Eleven: My Love Is As a Fever

“You seem upset.” Satoru makes the observation nonchalantly, one leg crossed over the other as he watches Suguru rifle through one of his bags.

“I’m not upset,” Suguru murmurs, pulling on the pair of boxer briefs he’s taken out of the bag. “But we were kind of in the middle of an important conversation there. And I don’t…” He trails off and shakes his head. “I suspect she won’t want to continue it now.”

“Because I’m here?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t get it,” Satoru shrugs. “She knows I’m fine with the two of you sleeping together, right?”

“She knows,” Suguru affirms. “The thing is,” he continues, joining Satoru on the sofa, “it’s a little more complicated than just sleeping together.”

Satoru looks back at him, his blue eyes bright with amused understanding. “Oh ho ho,” he chuckles. “You like her.” He leans forward, looking closer. “Oh,” he says when he catches sight of the expression on the other man’s face. “That’s a little more than like, Suguru. Does she know?”

“No. We’d just gotten to the part where she admitted how she feels.”

Satoru puts his palms together, bowing his head contritely. “Men-go*... you know I didn’t mean to step on your moment, right?”

Suguru can’t help but to laugh. “I know. You could have called, though.” He offers Satoru a wry smile before leaning over to bestow a kiss on his lips. “Okaeri.”

“Mmm.” Pleased, Satoru wiggles his nose. “So what are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean, what am I going to do?” Suguru asks witheringly. “This involves you too, Mr. ‘I’m not fond of humans.’”

“Yeah, but this isn’t like Nanako and Mimiko,” Satoru rebuts. “This isn’t some child you feel responsible for raising. You may have rescued this woman, but she’s very much a woman. I’ve seen her---”

“Satoru,” he interjects warningly.

“---assets,” Satoru finishes, despite the warning. “All jokes aside,” he goes on, his voice solemn and quiet, “it’s obvious that she’s different. That she means something different to you than Nanako and Mimiko did. Even so… you know that I’ll support whatever you want to do, just like I did with the girls.”

“Oh, and look how far doing what I wanted got Nanako and Mimiko,” Suguru mutters bitterly.

“That won’t happen here,” Satoru sighs. He pauses. “Especially not if you turn her.”

“How am I supposed to present the idea of immortal life to a woman who tried to kill herself a year ago?”

Suguru is quiet, contemplating his words. As usual, Satoru can see very clearly something he’s been obscuring by overthinking it.

“I know you’ve never loved it that I’m gone so often and I stay away so long,” Satoru goes on. “And I wish I could say it’s something I’ll get out of my system at some point. But I can’t. You’ve never asked me to stay in one place forever, and I’ve never asked you to come along with me when I move around. I love you, and if you love her and want her to stay, it would make me happy to know there’s someone home with you when I’m not. And who knows?” He adds, poking his tongue out playfully. “If I stick around long enough, I might end up falling for her too.”

Suguru opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of soft footfalls on the stairs stops him. Both men turn just in time to see Lia descend the last of the stairs. She’s freshly showered, dressed in her pajamas.

“I’m sorry I tied up your shower,” she offers.

“Ah, you just broke one of Suguru’s cardinal rules,” Satoru asserts with a grin. “Apologizing for something you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, right,” Lia exclaims softly, fiddling with the ties on her pajama bottoms. “Old habits, I guess.”

“It’s okay. He tells me I don’t apologize enough for the things I should apologize for. Maybe you and I can balance each other out.”

It makes her giggle a little, and Satoru seems pleased.

“Are you hungry?” Suguru asks, rising from the sofa.

“A little,” she admits. “But I don’t mind cooking - you’re probably wanting a shower too, aren’t you?”

“She’s got a point, Suguru. You smell like sex.”

One set of eyes looks away from him; the other glares daggers at him. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he says hastily, putting his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll take good care of her while you’re showering, and I promise not to touch any of the food.”

Puzzled, Lia looks between the two men.

“Satoru is a horrible cook,” Suguru explains. “If you let him so much as chop a vegetable, he will find a way to ruin it.”

“Duly noted,” Lia nods. Both men are surprised to see that she’s actually smiling. “You can leave it to me.”

“See?” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows. “Go get cleaned up - we’ll be fine.”

My love is a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the sill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are, At random from the truth vainly express’d; For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. -William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147

Her hands are shaking.

It isn’t that she’s afraid of him. While it is true that she doesn’t know him well at all, she knows that Suguru would never have left her alone with him if he felt Satoru would harm her.

But the situation is bizarre. For so long, it has felt like she and Suguru have been living in their own little world, way out here on the edge of the woods where life is quiet and she is learning to look forward to every tomorrow. Hearing that Satoru is unbothered by the prospect of Suguru sharing his bed with someone else is one thing; witnessing his nonchalance firsthand is an entirely different thing.

She isn’t quite sure how to behave.

And then there is the matter of her unintentionally confessing her feelings to Suguru, and the unfinished conversation surrounding those feelings. It’s all an unresolved knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, making her tense and nervous.

“Do you like wine?” Satoru calls from the living room. It startles her, makes her jump, and she nearly burns herself.

“Y-yes,” she calls back.

There is no further inquiry for a few minutes, and she returns her attention to the food she’s making. When Satoru comes back into the kitchen, he is carrying two bottles of wine. “Cab or Merlot?”

“Umm… it doesn’t matter,” she answers. “I like them both.”

“Merlot it is,” he announces. He sets both bottles down and begins rummaging in a drawer. “Where the fuck is the corkscrew?”

“Oh,” she says, reducing the burner heat and joining him on the other side of the kitchen. “He moved all that stuff to this drawer,” she says, motioning to it. “All the corkscrews and can openers and stuff.”

“Ooooh, you’re handy to have around.” Once he’s got the wine open, he pours a glass for her and a glass for himself. He settles himself at the kitchen island to watch her cook in much the same way that she often settles there to watch Suguru.

It surprises her that it doesn’t make her feel uncomfortable.

“Suguru teases me because I can’t cook,” he says after a few minutes of watching her. “Especially since I do like to.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.” He reaches over, filching one of the tomatoes she’s set out for the salad. “I’m kinda envious that you’re both good at it.”

“I hated cooking before I came here,” she confesses.

“Oh?” He raises one pale eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because eating was just something I had to do,” she explains honestly. “I didn’t enjoy it, so I didn’t enjoy cooking. I ate all the same things all the time… and I didn’t really care about learning how to make new food or try different things.” She pauses. “A couple of months after I got here, Suguru suggested that we try a new recipe every week for a month.

“That… was fun,” she smiles, remembering. “It sort of built my appreciation for the love and care that goes into a meal when you prepare it for someone you care about. And it made cooking more fun.”

“Hmm, that does sound really nice,” he admits. “So what you’re saying is you really care for Suguru.”

She freezes, her fingers hovering over the salad bowl. It doesn’t escape his notice that her hand is shaking.

“I suppose it was a bit unfair to spring that on you,” he muses thoughtfully. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was antagonizing you.”

She surprises herself with the words she says next. “Would you have a problem with it if I did? Care for him, I mean,” she clarifies.

Her words seem to surprise him, too. “Eh?” He looks at her with those unnervingly clear eyes of his. “I didn’t know you a year ago, but it seems to me like where you were then and where you are now are as different from each other as night and day.”

Lia shakes her head. “What do you mean?”

“You tried to kill yourself,” Satoru points out bluntly. “A little less than twelve months ago, you were bleeding out of your wrists in the middle of the woods, preparing to die. I don’t know what your life was like back then, but I venture to say that you’re no longer in that same headspace.

“You just told me how much you enjoy cooking now, and eating. You seem to like living here - to enjoy life with Suguru. He tells me sometimes how your eyes light up when you talk about things you enjoy. The list is long, and you should see the way his face softens up when he talks about it. You seem to be happy, and that makes him happy. If loving him is a side effect of all of that,” he goes on reasonably, “why would I have a problem with it?”

His blunt, discerning words have left her utterly speechless. She’s still frozen, rooted to the spot in front of the kitchen island with her shaky hands hovering over the salad bowl when Suguru comes in a few seconds later. “That smells good,” he says. He looks between them, sensing he’s missed something. “Am I… interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Satoru smiles blithely. “I was just about to set the table.”

*Men-go - Gojo says this in JJK 0. It’s the word gomen (which means “I’m sorry” in Japanese) said with the syllables reversed. It’s his way of turning the word a little slangy, and the equivalent of saying something like “my bad” in English.

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Twelve: Haunted (Coming Soon)

Tag list: @therealestpussyeater

(If you'd like to be tagged in this or any of my other work, please DM me to let me know.)

#tinywoodenrobot fics #JJK #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK fanfic #JJK fic #Geto Suguru #Gojo Satoru #Black OC #Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru #Geto Suguru x Black OC #Gojo Satoru x Black OC #Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Black OC

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real-hot-grl-shi · 6 months

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y’all 😐

should I make a series with my ocs & jjk bc I got a really good plot/idea, and I already made most of the characters sooooo yeah 🩷

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luminiamore · 6 months

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ᴜᴋɪʏᴏ

❦ ════ •⊰ ☯︎ ⊱• ════ ❦

𝖎 𝖆𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖒𝖊.

𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖙𝖍.

❦ ════ •⊰ ☯︎ ⊱• ════ ❦

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧..

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - complete

𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 - complete

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐜 - inprogress

more chapters tbd..

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hazzelle-kento · 3 months

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And I’m Back … Now w/ Gojo x Reader 💖

#gojo x chubby reader #gojo x black reader #jjk fanart #anime fanart #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x oc #gojo x poc reader #poc reader #poc #gojo x brown reader #gojo fluff #Biggirlri

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zamtheartist · 1 month

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Taleah sitting in Gojo's chair like Holi Would (no pun intented)

#gojo satoru #gojo x black reader #black oc #taleah #procreate #digital art #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x oc #canon x oc #jjk oc #gojo x black oc

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4pfsukuna · 7 months

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head cannon vs Drabble

Hey love bugs. So while im finishing this Nanami fic should i post headcannons… drabbles i have this random one for reader/o.c getting called out by yuji for them and his brother Choso “eye fucking” another. A drabble for Geto, so many head cannons for Sukuna even one for Toji (reader who ends up falling for Dilf!Toji and his adorable son Megumi eventually having a kid of their own who meg hates but secretly loves as you catch him and his younger sibling listening to your oldies making pancakes at 2am) head cannons for all the men as girl dads im also open to request… please send request ill write just about anything.

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osunism · 1 month

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We Might Even Be Fallin' In Love

Rating: Explicit [Smut and then some fluff] Pairing: Satoru x Sundari [Black Fem!OC] Summary: The miracle of existence bridges the infinity between them.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. “We Might Even Be Fallin' In Love” by Victoria Monet

𓃰 AO3 || FFN || OC Masterlist || Writing Masterlist 𓃰

Gojo Satoru’s Residence, August 25, 2018 22:30

Sundari watches Satoru with the curiosity of a tame predator. Well, not tame. Satoru knows better than to think a woman like Sundari can ever be tamed, even by the likes of him. But she does not snarl and snap at him in earnest, which he takes as a point of pride. He brought a goddess to his side and got her to submit to him. Of course he’s feeling himself.

“Keep your legs open for me,” Satoru murmurs, his hands smoothing up the backs of her thighs, pressing them against her chest. He marvels at how easily she folds into the position he wants, her flexibility something to be commended. His eyes take her in, settling on the bald swell of her pussy. He thinks it is by far the prettiest pussy he has ever seen, and he will never admit it, but the cursed marking that crowns her pussy, stopping just shy of the lips is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He wonders if that means her father…

Can’t think of that right now.

Instead he focuses on memorizing her, the wet and glistening folds, which he traces with his fingers. He doesn’t miss her soft but sharp intake of breath, lips parting to match the ones below. Her sex is quivering under his delicate touch, and he spreads her open, seeking her clit as he traces the clenching hole of her entrance. She shudders, lifting her hips only slightly, offering herself to him.

“Satoru…” Her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. He meets her gaze, circling her clit with his fingertips.

“Yeah?” He asks, teasing her entrance with one long finger, spreading her slick over her clit until is slipped beneath his touch like a peach. Sundari’s breaths come out as soft stutters, and she bites her lip as a whimper dies in her throat, swallowed as she struggles to maintain her composure.

“Use your words, Sundari,” Satoru admonishes, “or you’ll never cum tonight.”

Sundari almost yells at him, she’s so close to begging for it. She needs it, wants it more than anything.

“What does my greedy little slut want?” He asks her and that undoes her.

“You…” She says in a rush of whining exhales. “Please, Satoru…need you inside me…”

Satoru dips one finger inside of her, brows raising when her pussy sucks at it greedily, gripping it tightly. Fuck, she is going to be the death of him for sure. He cannot wait to bury his cock inside her. His balls ache just thinking about it. He slides his finger in and out.

“Mmm, seems like she agrees,” Satoru says, indicating the squelching and slick noises of Sundari’s pussy as he fingered her. “She’s purring for me.”

Sundari tries not to cum on the spot. Satoru adds another finger, drawing out a desperate and surprised moan from her. She maintains her position because he likes her to watch while he ruins her pussy, while he claims it as his. Soon, however, his fingers aren’t enough and he needs to taste her. He kneels infront of the bed, dragging her hips to the edge.

“I wanna talk to her for bit,” Satoru murmurs, his breath ghosting over her glistening folds, making her shiver. “Wanna see how bad this greedy little pussy has missed me today.”

Without warning he dives in, meeting Sundari’s cunt in an open-mouthed kiss. He wants to devour all of her in one go, and Sundari’s head drops back onto the bed as Satoru runs the broad side of his tongue along the side of her clit. Her hips buck but she is held fast by his strong hands, pinned in place while he sucks and slurps on her pussy like it’s the first decent meal he’s had in ages.

“Oh fuck…” Sundari whines, her hands slapping at the bed, fisting the comforter. “Oh fuck…oh god…”

Satoru hums, his eyes flickering up to her, and somehow she swears the bastard seems to look all the more smug for having his mouth full of her cunt. He moves his head this way and that, spreading her open on his face, his lips wrapping around her clit unexpectedly. When he begins to suck she lets out a keening wail that would have gotten them a noise complaint if Satoru had neighbors. Instead, Sundari writhes and screams beneath the skylight of Satoru’s bedroom, and he doesn’t let up, sucking on her clit until her brain feels like it has been struck by lightning, her body electrified and every nerve singing in open pleasure as she cums, splattering her slick all over Satoru’s eager face. He works her pussy until his jaw aches, reveling as her slick drips down his chin and throat.

He pulls away licking his lips hungrily.

“Mmm, you sure do know how to keep a man fed,” he teases. Sundari chuckles tiredly, holding out her arms as he crawls between her legs and she welcomes him. His cock probes her entrance and the slide is smooth between them as he slips inside of her. She groans at the stretch of his girth, the length of him as he occupies every plane of her velvety walls, just barely tapping the entrance to her womb. For a moment, they lay there, entangled and joined at the hip. Satoru leans up just enough to look at her.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, baby,” he whispers, his nose brushing hers. Sundari’s cheeks are warm when he says this. The prospect of him being inside her doesn’t make her blush, but when he looks at her as if she is the softest and most beautiful thing he has ever seen, she wants to hide her face and scream. She tries to look away but he doesn’t let her.

“I mean it,” he says, and he does, kissing her as his hips begin to move. Sundari moans into the kiss, and reaches up to cup his face in her hands, this beautiful man with his powerful gaze and a face Botticelli might envy. She kisses him, again and again, as if he is something precious to her because he is. The first person in her long life to ever want to truly protect her. It shakes her to her core, even as they make love, Satoru tormenting her with deep, long, langourous strokes, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, along her throat and jaw.

“I could live inside you,” he murmurs against her jawling, tracing its sleek angle to her pulse in her throat. “You feel like you were made just for me. A whole goddess…ngh…are you my goddess, Sundari?”

He’s fucking her in earnest, now. Sundari knows what he needs, what he wants. She knows because she needs and wants it too.

“Yes…!” She moans, clinging to him as if he is the sole reason she is still rooted to the earth. “Yours, Satoru…! Just yours!”

“That’s right,” Satoru growls. “Just mine. You wanna be a good girl and cum for me, my goddess? Wanna make a mess all over this cock?”

Sundari can hear herself whining and whimpering her assent. He’s asking if she wants to come apart in his arms, all over his cock, and she’s nodding and moaning yesyesyes in time with his thrusts. He knows his own strength and hers, applying just enough force behind his hips to steal the breath from her lungs.

“Look at me,” he says and she meets his gaze, her pupils blown with lust. “Yeah, just like that. Let me see you when you cum, baby.”

Sundari whines in response as his hand slips down between them, sliding her clit between his skilled fingers in a counter-rhythm to his pumping hips. Sundari has no words, only the keening refrain of his name, and incoherent beseeching for him not to stop, begging him to make her cum.

“Yeah,” Satoru growls. “Yeah—that’s it—that’s it…just like that, baby…fuck you feel so good.” He presses his forehead to hers, while she pants like an exhausted, hungry animal into his mouth. He steals kisses, sloppy and saturated and dwelled upon, drinking down her pretty sounds like they’re as nourishing as her cunt which squeezes him like it’s trying to drain him. He won’t last much longer.

Sundari cums like she’s dying, her back a perfect bow as she arches into Satoru’s thrusting body, heels digging into his back as she cries his name like a desperate prayer, scoring her nails down his back as her pussy flutters around his cock.

“Did you just—shit—gonna make me cum…fuckfuckfuck…” Satoru growls in bone-deep satisfaction as he cums, and Sundari holds him closer than skin, letting out a mewl as he drives into her until he buries himself balls deep, emptying himself inside of her until she’s soaked with him. His hips slow and stutter to a stop as he collapses onto her, dragging his face along the smooth arc of her throat, pressing lazy kisses along her skin, whispering endearments into her flesh. In turn, she turns her head, catching his mouth with her own and they spend their additional energy simply indulging one another wordlessly.

For a long while, the world falls away, and they lay tangled up in one another, body to body, calf to calf, palm to palm. She holds his gaze with open adoration, as if he has brought her the moon and stars. He stares at her with naked fascination and adoration, marveling at the very miracle of her existence. That love once ablated an evil demon’s heart to rust and produced her, a force of nature. He sees the heat rush to her cheeks when he reaches across to stroke the tender plane of flesh beneath her lower set of eyes. She no longer looks ashamed when he traces the sharp lines of her cursed markings. She is Sukuna’s daughter, yes, but she is herself always.

Satoru sees this, and hope she sees it reflected in his eyes. Hopes she can find the bright star of her existence amidst the galaxies that swirl serenely in his vision.

Hopes she knows how glad he is that his heart can beat for love again.

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title banner by me. Dividers and banners by @cafekitsune.

#muse writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #ch: gojo satoru #oc: sundari hikmat #fic: we might even be fallin in love #series: parallax #jjk x oc #jjk x black oc

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