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osunism · 4 months ago

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「Before It's Gone」

Rating: Explicit [MDNI] Pairing: Toji x fem!Reader Warning[s]: Explicit sexual content including cunnilingus, PIV sex, breeding, and praise kink. Summary: You and Toji are crazy about each other. He's just late to realizing it. [Fluff, a smidge of angst on Toji's part, and smut] Note: It's my first reader fic!

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. "Before It's Gone" by Jon B

AO3 ♱ OC Masterlist ♱ Fanfic Masterlist

Toji doesn’t realize he’s crazy about you yet.

Not when he’s coming through your door, taking up the whole frame, smirking down at you with those sharp green eyes, and that hungry glint in his eyes. You’ve got to stand up on your toes to reach him and he teases you, leaning over you to ghost his scarred lips over yours like the world’s deadliest feral cat.

“Miss me, doll?” He purrs, chuckling when you bite your lip while his large hands grasp your hips, pulling you close, up and up until your feet are dangling and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

Only then does he kiss you, and boy does he love kissing you.

He’s got a thing for your pretty little mouth, dishing out sass and affection alike. He thinks your lips are like soft, velvety rose petals. He loves nibbling on the lower one, tugging it gently before biting just hard enough to hear you whimper.

“Toji…” you mumble as he keeps kissing you.

“Hn?” He doesn’t stop either, licking into your mouth, large hands cupping and supporting your rear, giving both cheeks a generous squeeze.

“The door…” you giggle. And he looks back, sees the front door is still wide open. He chuckles, shutting it behind him before he gets back to the task at hand.

“Thought about you everyday while I was gone,” he whispers into your yielding mouth. “Missed my pretty girl.”

He carries you into the kitchen, setting you on the island counter, his hands rubbing your thighs affectionately, squeezing them until he’s sure he leaves an impression of his fingerprints there. You look up at him, and he looks down at you and there’s a tender bend to his mouth that makes his smile less sharp. It melts the frost in his eyes, makes the green appear warmer. He doesn’t realize he looks like this when he’s looking at you. The only time anyone stares at him this close is when he’s killing them. But you…

You’re something else.

He reaches up, cups your face like something precious, traces his thumb over the contour of your cheek, smirking when he feels the heat rushing and blooming under his touch. His thumb traces your lips, marveling at their softness. You smile and press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb. That undoes him, makes nerveless heartstrings thrum with an old familiarity. He’s felt like this before, and never thought he’d feel this way again.

And you look into his eyes and you see something you’ve never seen before: fear.

Toji is afraid. Afraid of what it means when his heart lurches out of his chest everytime you giggle or laugh. Afraid of what it means when his lips twitch into a soft smile whenever your name pops up on his phone. Afraid of what it means when he’s eager to wrap up assignments and come home to you, to lay his head in your lap and feel all the half-buried ghosts of his life go quiet for a while. Most of all, he’s afraid he will lose you, as he has lost everything else he has ever been brave enough to care about so deeply.

And while Toji is feeling all this fear well up inside him, you’re looking up at him with a tenderness he doesn’t feel he deserves. He blew into your life like a storm and you never complained. He disappeared and reappeared like a stray cat, but you always had a hot meal and a warm bath ready for him whenever he turned up on your doorstep. And eventually, you found yourself making a space for him, noticing the negative space of his absence when he was away, doing whatever dark and filthy work put that look in his eyes.

“Toji, baby, what’s wrong?” You ask him, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, mimicking his earlier movements. He smiles at you as you trace the lines that carve out his face, and he leans in as you draw him down to press a soft kiss to his lips, tracing the scar at the corner of his mouth with your own.

“Nothing, doll,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “Just glad to be home.”

That’s what it is. That’s what he’s feeling with you. He leans in to nuzzle your neck, kissing the tender expanse skin all the way up to your pulse and your jawline. You sigh contentedly.

“Let’s go to bed,” you whisper, and Toji doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to him as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he carries you as if you weigh nothing, and you take this time to bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale him. He smells like cologne, sweat, and gun oil. The muscles beneath are as hard as iron, yet Toji is as gentle as a butterfly with you. He is a man who knows his own strength and he’d break his own neck before he ever let harm come to you by his hands.

“Ride’s over,” he teases, and you open your eyes to realize he’s standing at the edge of the bed. You shift as he lowers you down, and you’re once again made aware of just how big he is in general. Toji is a man who takes up space in any room he’s in. When you first got to know him, you felt a subtle unease in his presence, as if he were a cat on the verge of fear-biting or scratching. Eventually, you realized this presence was simply who he was. Whether he intended harm was something he had control over, and he’d never once given you reason to believe he’d ever harm you.

Now, his size thrills you, in every way imaginable.

You love the way his voice rumbles your name into your brown skin, the way he praises you in soft murmurs of affection.

“You wanna take this off for me, baby girl?” He whispers in your ear, a hand crawling under your shirt, cupping your soft breast. You make a small little gasping noise as the rough pad of his thumb swipes over the dark bud of your nipple, smirking when it hardens immediately. You nod, not sure why it requires an answer. He leans back, watching you pull the shirt over your head, eyeing your pretty and perfect tits appraisingly. He looks like a wolf of a man, and you bite your lip, clad in nothing but your panties and thigh high socks. Toji thinks you’ve never looked sexier than right now.

You spread your legs, and his eyes travel down, brow raising at the wet spot in your panties.

“Already wet for me, pretty girl?” He teases. “I’m flattered.” He reaches down, traces the shape of your cunt through the damp fabric. He can feel it quivering, and you whine, shifting your hips involuntarily, chasing his touch and whimpering when he withdraws. He’s not going to let you get there so easily tonight, and you fix him with your best glare, full lips pouting. It amuses him, of course. You remind him of a hissing kitten, teeth not even sharp enough to sting, claws too tiny to break the skin. He teases the edge of your panties.

“Toji…” you whimper. “Please…don’t tease me, baby…”

Toji leans in between your spread thighs, pressing kisses along the soft flesh on either thigh, working his way closer until the rough edges of his scar trace the damp contour of your pussy through your panties. You make another noise, a desperate noise, and he laughs.

“Use your words, baby,” he tells you, meeting your eyes, already pricked with tears of frustration. “Tell me what you want.”

You feel your pussy throb at his words. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your quivering flesh. But he wants to hear you beg him for it, and so you naturally resist…or try to.

But Toji is patient. His entire career is a testament to patience. He takes lives for a living, beloved. Your bratty resistance is nothing to him. Right now, the power is in his hands, and so are you, so if he wants you to beg him to fuck you with his tongue, that��s what you must do.

“T-Toji…” you stammer his name at first, hips struggling against his inhuman strength, an exercise in futility. “Need your tongue inside me…pleasepleaseplease…”

And then the words are coming out like a spray leak from a dam’s cracked exterior. Your feeble, bratty resistance shatters beneath the weight of your own desire and Toji grins.

“Yeah?” He confirms, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss on the damp gusset of your panties. “This what you want, baby girl? Want me to give this pretty little pussy a nice long kiss?”

You nod vigorously, chanting a chorus of yesplease. So well-mannered, and Toji rewards you, hooking a finger into your panties to slide them aside. You take smug satisfaction when you hear his soft, reverant swear at the sight of your naked cunt in his face. He traces your soaked folds with his fingers and your moan from the contact, spreading your legs wider.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re melting,” Toji whispers, spreading you open with two fingers to expose the swollen bud of your clit. He doesn’t give you time to prepare, leaning in to run the broad side of his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. Your mouth drops open in a soundless cry, before a small wail spirals out of you when Toji’s lips fasten around your clit and sucks in a pulsing rhythm. If it weren’t for his grip on your thigh, your hips would have stuttered into a gallop against his mouth. But Toji holds you still, forcing you to endure the endless compounding pleasure of his lips and tongue exploring every slick fold of your pussy. He pulls away briefly with a wet pop, his lips and chin glistening as he smirks up at you.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he coos. “Think you can take me tonight?”

He slips a finger into you as he says this, drawing out a moan from you as he begins to slide it in and out. Your pussy is talking to him, now, and slick squelching is the only sound in the bedroom before you nod your head. Yes, you can take him. You always try, but Toji is just so goddamn big you struggle sometimes.

Tonight, however, he takes his time.

He dives back in with his mouth, suckling your clit, rolling it between his lips and along his tongue, chasing the increased volume of your moans, and the wailing of his name as you beg him for release. Your pussy clenches tight around his finger before he adds another, increasing the sensation of being filled while his mouth works expertly.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, reaching to grip the headboard. “Oh fuck…Toji…Toji…”

Toji doesn’t let up. He keeps up the pumping of his fingers, crooking them upward to rub that spongey plane of flesh that makes your eyes roll back as you cum around his fingers and all over his face, moaning and whining incoherently as he finally—finally!—allows you to move your hips. Toji licks you clean, sucks his soaked fingers, and licks his lips with a low purr in his throat.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good, princess,” he says. “I could eat you all night, but I need to feel you cum around my cock tonight. You think you can do that for me, baby?”

You nod, your eyes glassy with pleasure. Of course you can. As good as his mouth feels, his cock feels even better.

Toji gives you a show, but it’s not the kind of show he knowingly puts on. He’s just one of those men that is effortlessly sexy by virtue of existing. He pulls his shirt over his head and your eyes rake over the rippling expanse of muscles that comprise him. It takes everything for you to not start panting like a dog when you spot that sexy, veiny Adonis V that vanishes into his pants. And when he comes out of his pants and briefs, freeing his cock, you can’t help but bite your lip, your cheeks burning with heat that has little to do with your first orgasm of the night.

Toji knows you’re looking of course. He always knows. He smirks when he catches you staring at his cock, a thick and long length. He’s a lot to take in, quite literally. He reaches down and starts stroking himself slowly.

“Come here,” you whisper to him and Toji, as dominant as he is, can’t help but come to you in that moment. Your voice is so soft and needy, and how can he resist when you open your arms and legs and welcome him like that? He moves with a panther’s lissome grace, and you’re reminded of what he is, what he does. He captures your mouth in a kiss, and your lips part beneath his with a soft moan.

“You want it?” He whispers against your lips, forcing you to maintain eye contact. You can feel the heat from his cock brushing against your thigh.

“Yes,” you whine softly against his lips, hungry for another kiss, which he indulges. “Toji please…need you inside me…please…”

Toji angles his hips just so, and the blunt tip of his cock nudges it agaisnt your dripping entrance. He’s prepared you, though, and the initial stretch of him sliding into you is not as painful. In fact, it feels really, really good. As evident from how you moan loudly. Tears prick your eyes, and one spills down your cheek.

“I know, I know, baby,” Toji coos, kissing your lips and then your cheeks, licking away the tears. He rolls his hips forward. “Almost there. You’re doing so good for me, baby girl. So fucking good…”

He grunts as he rolls his hips again, withdrawing partially only to bury more of himself inside of you. You whine and sob, and then gasp as he hilts himself inside you, his pubes brushing your clit in a startling friction that has you moaning helplessly against him.

“Mmph, baby…squeezing me so tight…” Toji growls against your lips. You whimper in response, your walls sucking at his cock greedily, as if you don’t want him to leave. You really don’t.

Toji takes his time, looking at you and holding your gaze.

“You ready?” He asks you and you nod. He kisses you deeply, and then he starts to fuck you.

Normally, with Toji, he’s all rough and domineering, wanting to wring you limp with sweat and tears before he finally comes inside of you, growling and gripping you until his fingerprints are branded in your marrow. But tonight? Oh he wants you to be lucid for the ride. He’s tormenting you, making you gasp as he drags every inch of his massive cock out of you and then slides it back in with a fluid motion of his hips. It doesn’t take long for that rhythm to get you whimpering and pleading for him to never stop.

“Ooo…Toji…don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop…” you beg, and he’s grinning at you, before you feel his hands sliding under your thighs, pushing them back, deepening the angle until the breath is a whine in your chest, until your eyes flutter and you let out a strangled, keening sound.

Toji growls in approval. “Good girl…” he kisses you, devouring your whimpers and mewls like the wolf he is. “Good fucking girl…feel so fuckin’ good cummin’ around my cock. You want me to put a baby in you? Want me to fill this pretty little pussy up with my cum?”

Your mind is still frazzled from the intensity of your orgasm to register your response, which is a babbling chorus of yesyesyesyesyesyesyes…please put a baby in me, Toji!

Toji’s got you in a mean mating press, now, leaning up to get a good look at your dripping cunt split around his cock. He reaches down, pulls his hips back just enough, and squeezes his fingers around the swollen lips of your pussy against his cock. He groans from the sensation and your back arches, walls clenching, and Toji resumes fucking you at a brutal pace.

He just wanted to feel how tight a seam you create around his cock. You take him so well, which is no mean feat. And you take him deep.

Every slap of his balls against your ass makes you yelp, and every thrust steals a gasp from you, words failing but the fucked out look in your eyes conveying everything Toji needs to understand you.

“Yeah?” He teases you again, leaning down to nip at your plump lips. “You like the way I fuck you, princess? Like taking my cock so deep like this? Look at this pussy, baby. So fucking greedy.”

You moan in response to his vulgarity, because it’s all true as far as you’re concerned. Yeah, your pussy is greedy for him, and why shouldn’t she be? Look at him!

Toji teases your clit with his thumb, and he almost laughs at the shocked look on your face before he’s riding you at full gallop toward another orgasm.

And when you cum, stars burst across your vision momentarily, like dancing lights all around the bedroom. Toji’s thrusts become ragged, losing rhythm, and you feel his cock pulsate inside of you as your walls spasm around him. He floods you with liquid heat as you moan his name. Toji takes it as a point of pride that he can get you to sing in bed the way you convince him to sing karaoke.

He releases your legs, and they tumble loosely around him. This new closeness lets both of you indulge in slow, sloppy kisses, your arms tangling around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. He tugs your plump lower lip between his teeth.

“Mmm, I love you so much, baby girl,” he groans, reveling in the sensation of his cock soaking inside of you as you kiss him tiredly, your eyes soft and blurred with pleasure.

“Mmhmm,” you reply with a grateful little sigh. “You’d better…”

You squeal when he pinches your hip in response, but neither of you seem inclined to stop kissing. Toji sits up a little to get a better look at your face.

“You’re so damn gorgeous, baby, wish I could keep you like this forever,” he doesn’t know why he’s feeling so emotional looking at you. He hasn’t fully realized it yet. So you reach up and cup his face in your hands, holding his verdant gaze.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you tell him. “I’m right here.”

Toji doesn’t know what’s happening to his heart, the way it stutters in his chest at your gentle words. He knows you mean it, knows that no matter how long he’s gone for, or what hour he drags himself exhausted and ragged through your door, you will never turn him away. He doesn’t understand why, because you ask nothing of him. At least, nothing he’s unwilling or unable to give you.

He smiles, letting you draw him down for a kiss.

He’s not quite ready for the dream to end just yet. He’s crazy about you, after all.

Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

#muse writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #ch: fushiguro toji #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #jjk x black!fem reader #jjk x black reader #toji x black reader #fic: before it's gone #series: sonder

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osunism · 3 months ago

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Crystalline

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

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

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

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

Satoru is getting bored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She should not have four fucking eyes right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The brick crumbles, leaving a sizable crater.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, fuck, let’s go,” she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could get some,” he answers nonchalantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She grins. “Yeah, in a fight.”

“Bet you couldn’t,” he argues.

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

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

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

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

“We can always try again.”

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

But now…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She has no fucking clue what to do with that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This one, however, is different from the rest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?” She demands again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nightmare?” He asks groggily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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