#possessive suguru

[isolabellz]

based on this fic

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring Suguru Geto in a curseless AU set in the early 2000s.

Synopsis: Neither one of you are quite over your "Relationship" If you could call it that. You had been avoiding him since the breakup for that very reason. He was the last person you ever expected to see at this party.

The wind was bitterly cold. You blew the smoke out of your lungs, watching it swirl into the clouds and praying it would take you with it. You didn't want to be here. You hated parties. You hated this town.

"There you are!" Your friend groaned as she came outside. "God, you're way too good at disappearing. I've been looking for you everywhere." You took a moment to take her in. Her eyes were filled with worry for you, frustration etched into her eyebrows. You hated to admit it, but you liked that she worried. It made you feel loved again. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

"Yep. I'm here. You should have guessed," you chuckled, throwing your cigarette onto the concrete and stomping it out. 

"Come inside," she insisted, "it's freezing out here." She was right. October nights had always been bitter, but tonight had a particular edge to it. You nodded to her as you slipped your hands into your hoodie. 

"I'm coming." 

"Try to look like you don't hate it here" your friend teased, "miserable is not a good look on you." You disagreed. You thought misery was your default. It was glamorous. It was vintage. It was hand tailored for you. At least, that's how it felt these days. Since things had ended. It had only been six months since your relationship failed, but it felt closer to six decades. Suguru’s ghost clung to you, haunted your body and mind. It felt like you were never not thinking about him. You wondered what you’d do if you saw him again.

“Ah, but that's the thing,” you half laughed, “I do hate it here. Frat parties are for people who like other people. And that's not me.”

“While true, they’re also for people who want to get black out drunk and forget their ex, which is you.” Your friend argued. I mean, shit when she was right she was right. The two of you walked back into the party, the music blasting top twenty pop hits into the air and shaking your soul out of your body. You tied your hoodie around your waist, the heat becoming thick faster than you expected it to. Your friend yelled…something you couldn’t decipher into your ear before disappearing into the crowd. Fuck.

 You sighed and made your way through the ocean of college kids, all swaying, making  waves in time with the music. You found your way to the kitchen, mixing yourself a vodka redbull. You drank it far too quickly, made yourself another one, and got about half way through it before you took another breath. You tuned back into the music, just to roll your eyes. Who burned the CD for this party anyway? You were sure this party couldn’t get any worse. Then it did.

You made eye contact with him the moment he walked into the kitchen, looking tired and disinterested. Satoru was going on and on about something inconsequential, you were sure, and Suguru was looking for a drink to help make his best friend bearable. His corpse eyes found a light in them as they connected with yours. You were sure whatever light you may have had left in your eyes faded instantly. You finished your drink. 

“Dude, are you even listening to-..oh.” Satoru cut his own sentence off as he realized what, or rather who his best friend was staring at. Shit. There was a solid five seconds of the three of you just staring at eachother in a fucked up standoff. Each waiting for the other to make a movie while Brittnay sang about genies in the other room. He looked better than you were fully willing to admit, wearing tripp pants and an old Korn tee over a mesh shirt. Your breath felt heavy in your throat. Memories of the last night you saw him exploded in your mind like war flashbacks. The tears, the fighting, the begging. The goodbye. Fuck.

He made a b-line to you and you b-lined to the back door, your closest escape. “Dude, stop!-” You heard Satoru call, no doubt chasing after Suguru. You were thankful for him. He was rarely the rational one between the two of them, but he was normally able to bring Suguru back to earth when he lost his mind. Maybe that was why they worked. You didn't really care to give it much thought anymore honestly.

“Y/n!” you heard your ex call for you. Fuck he sounded close. You could hear the chains on his tripp pants rattle as he made his way to you. You started to run. You hated making a scene but you couldn’t see him. For all the times you wondered what you’d do if you saw him again, running wasn’t ever really one of the options, but you’re here now. You made your way out the back gate and to your car. Your salvation. You picked up the pace, unlocking your car and falling into the seat with a swiftness that shocked even you. You let out a sigh of relief as your car door closed behind you. Finally, safe. You took out your phone to let your friend know you were leaving.

“Y/n!” Suguru called out as he plopped down in your passenger seat, scaring a squeal out of you. What the fuck?!  

“Get out you bastard!” You yelled at him.

“I just want to talk!” He said back, not yelling, but definitely talking louder than he normally did.

“You’ve fucking lost it Geto!” You matched his tone, “This is breaking and entering!”

“I’m pretty sure that only applies to buildings, Gorgeous.” He grinned, and it was so charming you almost forgot you hated him. 

“Don’t call me gorgeous!” You hissed, “I have nothing to say to you!”

“I have so much to say to you though!”

“Too bad, get out of my car!”

“Give me five minutes!”

“No! I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive like this Y/n! You’re drunk.” You started to yell a comeback, but realized you didn’t have one. He was right. You were starting to feel the drinks of the nights, and we're definitely not good to drive. 

“Then I’ll walk home!” You scoffed. And he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. 

“No you won’t.” He chuckled, “You live too far away. Plus, you would never leave your car unattended at a frat party.” He was right again. You hated how well he knew you. “Let me drive you.” He offered.

“No. you’re drunk too.” you scoffed.

“Am not,” He informed you, “I just got here.”

“Then what the fuck compelled you to just…get into my fucking car?” You asked, still flabbergasted by the audacity. The Suguru you knew would never have done that. He fumbled, looking for an answer. Truth was, he didn’t know why he did it either. 

“I miss you Y/n.” was the best he could offer. You sighed, a deep sigh that felt like it was pulled straight out of your sorrow and you threw your head back onto your headrest. You stared at the roof of your car. This was a bad idea. Suguru came with far too many emotions. Wounds that had barely had time to scab over were ripping open in real time, bigger than they ever were before. 

If you were smart, you would have gotten out of the car. You would have found Gojo to have him collect Suguru, and found your friend to have them drive you home. Or at least have them call you a cab. If you were smart, you would have told him to leave you the fuck alone. You would have saved your heart the extra heart break. You would have forced yourself to remember all the fighting that led you to where you were now, the pain, the heartbreak, the neglect. 

But, you weren’t feeling particularly bright that night. And all you could remember was the soft Suguru. The one that held you close at night, and asked before he kissed you. The one that took you out on late night dates in famous cemeteries cause he read it in a romance novel and thought it was just oh so romantic. You sighed and handed him your keys.

He gave a far too enthusiastic Yes! As the two of you changed seats. You settled into the passenger seat, already regretting your decision. You buckled up as he started the car.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, looking at you. You returned the look, though yours was laced with far more annoyance. 

“I’m annoyed.” you respond. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying, food would be nice. Would probably help you avoid a hangover too.” A hangover sounded like a nightmare. Once again, you relented. 

“Fine, but you’re paying.” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said, pulling out to the street. He turned up the radio, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the song. Everlong, by the Foo Fighters. It made you smile too. Suddenly, you weren’t in your car anymore. You were sitting on Toji Zenins couch, nervously fiddling with your hands as he weighed out an ounce of weed. He’d been your plug for a few weeks at that point, but you still hadn’t grown used to his aura. 

You jumped when there was a knock at his door, and he looked just as confused before a realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit. I think I okay-ed two people to come over on accident.” he laughed to himself. “Hope that's okay Y/n.” he said, going to get the door. It wasn’t, you wanted to leave. But, you didn’t say that. Sometimes you wished you did. 

“Heyy! Weedman!” You heard a now familiar, but then utterly unrecognizable voice. “Thanks for covering me on such short no- Oh, hello!” Gojo said as he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting awkwardly on the couch. Suguru was behind him, quietly observing you. He smiled softly, raising his hand in a wave. His long black hair perfectly framed his sculpted face. His kind eyes seemed mismatched with his almost mischievous smile. You couldn't help but be sucked into his orbit. You smiled gently and waved back. 

“Hi.” before you knew it, Suguru was sitting next to you while Gojo rambled about..something. Honestly, he was always rambling about something. You don’t know why you didn’t leave after you got your weed. Maybe it was because Toji offered to smoke with the three of you to apologize for double booking, maybe it was because Geto kept managing to catch your eye. Either way, the two of you hadn’t really spoken, Toji and Satoru speaking enough for both of you. 

Suguru passed a joint to you as Everlong came on the radio. Toji grimace. “Man, this song is shit.” He said, going to turn it off.

“Watch yourself Zenin,” Suguru said, pointing at Toji and stopping him in his tracks. “This songs hot as fuck, disrespect it again and we’re gonna have a problem.” You really liked Sugurus' voice. 

“Chillax man, this songs not worth trippin’ over.” Toji scoffed, “Especially considering it’s not good.”

“I like it.” You said, the weed making you feel bolder than usual. “I really like the Foo Fighters.”

“Not you too Y/n.” Toji groaned, finally stepping away from the stereo. Suguru looked at you and grinned. It made butterflies explode in your stomach.

“I knew you had taste.” He praised. It was the first thing he had ever said to you. 

“Here.” Suguru said, handing you your drink and jerking you off of memory lane. You grabbed the drink and thanked him. You realized the two of you were parked now. You looked at the burger he handed you and smiled. 

“You remember my order.” You commented. He scoffed as if that was almost insulting.

“Of course I do. I remember everything about you.” He muttered. The two of you started to eat, a pregnant silence filling the car. That pregnant silence, then gave birth to many other smaller but just as intense silences. Blink 182 played softly in the background, but no matter how many times Mark Hoppus asked what his age was, it didn’t cut through the awkwardness in that car. 

“Look, Y/n, I know I-” Suguru started. Rage and despair welled up inside of you.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Geto.” You said very bluntly, finishing your fries. 

“But I-” he started, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to push his already unbelievable luck. But someone had to say something. He smiled softly to himself. “Hey, do you remember when the Red Hot Chili Peppers dropped By The Way-”

“Album or song?” You cut him off to ask.

“Album,” He clarified, “And we raided 7/11 and drove around all night, listening to it on repeat.” You laughed because you did remember that. You remembered it like it was yesterday. You could still taste the blue slushy on your tongue as you tried desperately to analyze lyrics while Suguru insisted The Red Hot Chili Peppers were not the kinda band you analyze the lyrics too, they’re the band you get high to. 

Still, you remembered getting goosebumps the first time you heard Midnights, the opening verse of “Things will never be the same/Still I'm awfully glad I came/Resonating in the shape of things to come/Never waiting when I know there's only one” Speaking to your soul in ways you didn’t quite understand then, but felt like you did now. 

“Yea, I remember,” You giggled, “I think there's still a stain on my seat from you getting mustard on it.” You said, searching for said blemish, “Yea! There it is, right there!” The permanent mark he left in your car. 

“Hey, it is not my fault that you can't eat 7/11 hot dogs without mustard.” He laughed.

“No, but it is your fault you couldn't keep it on your dog, you dog!” You teased.

“I blame Anthony Kiedis.” He grinned with a shrug. This was nice. This felt like old times. This felt like the moments where he was actually him. 

“I think that album’s still in my car.” you muttered. 

One whirlwind later and you were getting slurpees at 7/11, the cashier looking at the two of you with disdain as you laughed and made a mess of the machine he just cleaned. Blue for you, red for him, just like it had always been. Suguru had to grab sour gummy worms and twizzlers. He still couldn’t leave a convenience store without them. He didn’t even like twizzlers, not really. It just ‘felt right’ to grab them. Whatever that means.

You were looking through your CD case when suddenly, he stopped you.

“We got to listen to a different album.” He said out of nowhere.

“What?” You scoffed.

“We can’t try to recreate the magic of the By The Way album release. It would be disingenuous.” He insisted.

“I thought that was the whole point!” You argued, before groaning. “Ugh, Fine! Umm…” You shuffled through CDs. “Fall Out Boy just released an album.”

“Who?” He asked, squinting his eyes in confusion. 

“They’re a new band out of Chicago. This is their debut studio album, it’s called Take This To Your Grave.” you said, holding up the blue jeweled case. Suguru looked…hurt. Like the cavalry had come and made it their personal mission to trample him into the dust.

“You’ve been listening to new bands without me?” He asked, starting the car. That bitter taste of resentment filled your mouth again.

“Well, yea. Life didn’t end because we did.” Besides, this album had been helping you more than you were willing to admit. He nodded in defeat, biting his lip as the two of you pulled onto the road.

“Play it.” he muttered. You didn’t know if you were thrilled with or deeply regretted your decision to play this album, but the opening verse was cutting. Light that smoke, Yeah, one for giving up on me/ And one just 'cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations/ To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar)/ I could have died with you.

“Well fuck Y/n, Is there something you’d like to say to me?” He tried to laugh, but the humor didn’t make it to his voice. “Feels a little targeted.” you shrugged.

“We all cope in different ways.” you muttered. You thought back on your relationship. A backseat romance that belonged to parking lots and famous cemeteries. A relationship that existed on highways and at dingy basement shows, and always on his terms. It was fun at first, even you had to admit. And, maybe it could have stayed as just fun, if he wasn’t so fucking…sweet! He was always so tender with you in the afterglow of your nights together, even if that just met cleaning you up with fast food napkins in his back seat. He was a cuddler too, insisting on you staying the night with him after your nights together under the guise of it being late, when you both knew it was so the two of you could hold each other.

It wasn’t just the after care though, or the sex for that matter. It was him bringing you candy and setting up a movie marathon when he knew you were struggling with your classes. It was him giving you a copy of Rebecca that he annotated because he wanted to share his thoughts with you about it. It was him giving you a copy of The Color and the Shape album because it had Everlong on it, and that was “Our Song” according to him. How could you not have fallen in love?

It started to hurt. That he was so willing to be so sweet and tender with you behind closed doors, but the moment you wanted to be something more, he froze. Suddenly, he didn't know why you guys needed to put a label on things! You guys were having fun, why did you want to mess up ‘the dynamic’ whatever the fuck that ment. Yea, he was fun. But you were tired of being just another hook up in a dingy venue bathroom. Absolutely sick of having to sneak out of his bedroom window, because his roommates would start asking questions if they saw you there for the fourth time that week. He constantly promised he was going to make things official, he just needed time. But, it wasn’t like you were asking him to fucking marry you, just to change your fucking title and maybe take you out on a real date every once in awhile.

Doubts started to fill your head. There had to be a reason he wouldn’t commit to you, right? Was it another girl? Was something wrong with you? It all came to a head six months ago. The two of you were laying in his bed, Crestfallen by The Smashing Pumpkins softly playing in the background as the two of you shared a cigarette, pleasure still throbbing between your legs as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He purred, gently petting your head. You hummed in response, not really believing it at this point. He picked up on your doubt, “I’m serious.” he doubled down. “You’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever been with.” He chuckled.

“That so?” You asked, taking the cigarette from him, “Then why aren’t I your girlfriend?” you asked, blowing smoke in his face. He grimaced as he waved it away.

“We’re doing this again? Seriously?” he seemed so…annoyed. Like this whole conversation equated to a nat he couldn’t quite seem to swat. 

“No.” you shut down, “We’re not.”

“Good.” he said, taking the smoke back, “I’ve told you before, we’re perfect as we are.”

“Perfect for you maybe.”

“Y/n.”

“What? You can’t seriously be shocked I don’t agree with you.” you scoffed, rage starting to bubble in your stomach.

“I’m not shocked. I just don’t get it. What could you possibly get out of a title that’s worth all of the fighting you’re doing for it?” you could feel yourself seething, your blood boiling over. Did he ever listen to you?

“Well, for starters I’d get the safety of knowing that you probably weren't out sleeping around with anyone willing to open their legs for you.” It was Getos turn to seethe. You could tell by the way his jaw clenched that you had struck a nerve deep inside him.

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing in my free time? Just fucking anyone and everyone? That I’m so pussy motivated I just can’t keep it in my pants? Well if that's the case, Babe,” The word ‘Babe” had never sounded so dirty. You would have rather he called you slut, bitch, dumbass, anything. “What makes you think that having a “GiRlFrIeNd is going to magically make me loyal? Huh? What then, Gorgeous? And, not to be that guy, but you’ve let me fuck you in just about every venue, parking lot, and random bedroom this town has to offer, and I’m not even your boyfriend. So who’s to say you’re going to keep your legs shut just because we’re official, huh Sweetheart?” 

Suguru could make you feel on top of the world, or cheaper than dirt depending on his mood. That was the problem with English majors. They had a way with words and more often than not they used them for evil. Any heat you had left drained from your body, replaced only with an inescapable emptiness as you realized the Suguru you convinced yourself was next to you may not have even existed. 

And Geto knew he fucked up. He regretted the words as they were spilling out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself and he couldn’t put them back now. The silence was heavy with all the words the two of you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t.

“Y/n-” Geto started, hand reaching for your shoulder, but all it did was break you out of your daze. You snapped, slapping his hand away as you got up and dressed.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

“Y/n, wait, please, I didn’t mean that-” He struggled to defend himself, hurriedly putting on his pants. 

“You fucking said it Suguru! Lose my goddamn number, I am so fucking done here. It’s so good to know i’m just a fucking fleshlight to you.” you hissed, rushing out of his room.

“I never said that Y/n! You mean so much more to me than that, don’t go!-” he said, following you out.

“Clearly I fucking don’t!” You snapped. Oh good. His roommates, Satoru and Sukuna, were both sitting in the living room. 

“Yes you do Y/n, I love you!” He pleaded. He had never said that before. Satoru audibly gasped. Your entire body seized and seethed. You turned around and smacked him across the face without thinking, making Sukuna laugh,

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again Suguru Geto.”

“I’m not lying Y/n-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off. “I don’t fucking care anymore. You are the worst mistake I have ever fucking made.” You wanted to sound intimidating, but the tears in your voice gave you away. You rushed out of the door before he could see you cry, almost laughing at the “Have a good night!” Sukuna threw your way as you did. 

The sound of a car door closing snapped you out of your day dream. You were at another convenience store. When did you get here? Suguru had just plopped in the seat next to you, handing you a bag. 

“Hold these for me, will you, beautiful?” He asked. You did as he asked, looking into the bag.

“Suguru, these are four lokos.” You pointed out. 

“Yep. best flavors too.” While you may agree with the green apple, he also had a gold flavored one, which was just objectively wrong. Not the point.

“Dude, these will fuck you up, what do you think you’re doing?” You asked as he pulled into a park less than a block away from your apartment. The two of you had spent many a night here on the swings.

“Trying to get fucked up, duh.” He laughed as he took the bag. He handed you the green apple flavored can of death. You sighed as you took it, getting out of the car and moving to sit on the hood with him. You noticed he had turned off the CD, Like a Stone now drifting softly from your car speakers. You wondered when he finally gave up on it. You finally opened the green camo can, and winced as the drink electrocuted your now sober nervous system. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the alcohol saturated your systems. You wondered why you were here with him. What kept you coming back to Suguru Geto. Why couldn’t you just move on? Suddenly, you felt it in your bones when Chris Cornell groaned out “In your house, I long to be/ Room by Room, patiently/ I’ll wait for you there/ Like a stone” 

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the silence. Your head whipped over to him. He was staring up at the stars. He looked so delicate in that moment. Like a gust of wind would shatter him into stardust. 

“What for?” You thought you knew, but you had to hear him say it.

“Everything.” Oh god, there were tears in his voice. It made you put down your four loko. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said to you the last time I saw you. I’m sorry I just tried to call instead of coming to face you, like a coward. And I’m sorry I couldn’t just man the fuck up and make you my girlfriend.” The words were tumbling out of him faster than he could process them, leaving him more vulnerable and honest than he would have liked.

It shook you. You weren't prepared for him to be so vulnerable with you that night. “It’s fine Suguru.” You muttered. He laughed and shook his head, finally looking at you.

“No it’s not. I hurt you.” He said matter of factly. “And then, I doubled down on it to make it all worse.” you were silent for a moment, staring at your dirty converse.

“W…why were you so against being with me officially?” You finally asked the question that had been weighing heavy on you for so long now. 

“I was scared.” He finally admitted. “I was so scared that if we put a label on it, things would change. That suddenly we wouldn’t be hanging out because we liked to be with each other anymore, that we’d just be doing it out of obligation.”

“Suguru, that's dumb.” You sighed, the booze making you a little more blunt that you otherwise would have been.

“I know that.” He laughed, bringing his knees to his chest. “I just…I don’t know. I thought if I kept you at an arm's length, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. There would be that space. But, I don’t know how to keep you at an arm's length. You’re like my favorite song, you get stuck in my head and I don’t even want to get you out. I just want you closer. So, I thought I’d maintain that space by just…not labeling us. And that clearly did more harm than good. When you left, I tried to just…let you go” he sighed, leaning back against the windshield of your car. He looked at you with love and adoration glimmering in his eyes. 

“I figured it was better that way, I tried to forget you. Yea, turns out that's a lot easier said than done. God, I can’t even think about listening to the Foo Fighters anymore. Which, Fucking Sucks because Everywhere But Here just dropped and I can’t bring myself to listen to it because you’re not there.” he laughed at his own stupidity, his palm meeting his forehead. He still couldn’t believe it took him losing you to realize how much you met. How cliche. 

You felt a lump in your throat. You had been wanting to listen to that album too, but couldn’t without him. It didn’t feel right. It felt like cheating. It was why you had picked up the fall out boy album instead. “You know,” You started, “You really hurt me. Like, you really fucking hurt me Suguru.”

“I know-” He sighed.

“But.” You cut him off, “I’ve also been a mess without you. It’s weird. You don’t really know how much you care about something until you’re missing it. And I thought I really cared about you even before the breakup.” You half chuckled to yourself. “And I mean, I want to still be mad about the fight. I want to hold it over your head. I wish I could hate you even half as much as I hate myself. But, I just can’t. I miss you.” you sighed, feeling foolish.

Suguru suddenly placed his hand on top of yours, pulling you out of your spiral. “I miss you too.” He confessed. Followed by a pause. “It’s not too late for us, ya know.” He finally said. “I’d really love to make you my girlfriend Y/n.”

🎵🎵🎵

Laughter filled the air as the two of you walked to your apartment building, deciding it was best to leave the car after the two of you had downed the alcoholic energy drinks. Buzzing with booze and caffeine was a different type of feeling. “Well, this is mine.” You smiled as the two of you walked up to your door.

“Sure is” Geto nodded, “Mind if I come in?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden gentlemanly persona. 

“Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Not the whole time but it was definitely the end goal.” He admitted, and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from embarrassment or alcohol. 

“And what was your plan if I said no?” You teased.

“Well, plan B was to see if you’d at least let me come in while I waited for Satoru to come pick me up.” He admitted. He really was one step ahead. 

“And if I said no to that?”

“Then I’d have one hell of a walk on my hands.” He laughed. You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. His laugh had always been infections. 

“Well, I’d hate to make you walk.” You chuckled as you unlocked your door, the two of you tumbling inside. In true Suguru fashion, he went straight to the stereo system in your room, looking to see what album you had been listening to. About a Girl filled the air of your small apartment. You chuckled softly as you joined him in your room. Of course he would play a CD he burned for you. 

You took a moment to actually take him in. mesh top clinging to his arms, an Alice in Chains shirt covering up the real action. His hair was messy from the walk, half up half down, and he now sported a slight stubble he hadn’t during your relationship. He looked good. He turned to look at you, dark eyes softening as he smiled softly.

“What?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Nothing.” you shrugged.

“Oh, so you wanna just keep eye fucking me? Ok, cool just making sure.” He laughed.

“And what's wrong with wanting to do that?” you laughed. He turned and smirked at you, moving to close the space.

“Why fuck me with your eyes when you could just fuck me?” He asked, a line you 're sure sounded way smoother in his head. You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yea, real smooth there Cruzan Cassanova, you-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Sugurus mouth had connected with you, the taste of pineapple alcohol and cigarettes mixing on your tongue. You melted into him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair. You felt your pulse quicken as the kiss heated up, the drinks of the night combining with his presence to make your head spin. He bit your lip, using the small gasp you let out as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

God, you missed him. Your body cleared up any doubt, if there was any, in that fact with the way it immediately reacted to him. You felt his hands start to wander, moving down your spine to grab your ass. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your body tensed as you felt his hand slip under the waistband of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Look at you princess,” He pulled back to smirk, lust filling his eyes, “Already soaking wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.” He never missed an opportunity to be condescending in bed, did he?

“Get fucked Suguru.” You groaned, your hips involuntary bucking into his hand as he pressed too fingers into your folds. You needed more.

“I assure you, I’m trying.” He grinned, removing his hand and making you almost scream in frustration. He kissed you before you could get a word in about how insufferable he could be. “I’m gonna take care of you Princess, don’t worry.” He assured you as he took your top off, “But it’s been awhile since I’ve been with my favorite girl. And I want to enjoy it.” he purred.

You weren’t sure how, but at some point he had gotten you on your bed and was taking off your pants. “Hey, no fair!” you panted as you realize. He paused what he was doing to look at you quizzically, trying to figure out when he had been anything other than fair. 

“You’re completely dressed and I’m basically naked.” You clarified sheepishly. Suguru held back a laugh at how cute you were. He finished his task, then took off his ratty band shirt.

“Better?” He asked. You felt like you were going to burn from the inside out as you looked at him. The mesh perfectly outlining every bump and crevice of his perfect body. Greek gods wished they looked like him. You nodded.

“Much.” you said as Suguru dragged you to the edge of the bed. You felt needy and helpless under him. He dropped to his knees in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs with intent to bruise. More than once he ghosted himself right where you needed him the most, filling you with frustration. “Suguru please..” You moaned out.

“Please what Princess?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“Please Sug, I need you to touch me.” You begged.

“But I am touching you Darling.” You almost kicked him.

“Suguru Please!” You begged.

“Princess, you can’t already be fucked stupid. I’ve barely touched you, Pretty-”

“Yea, that’s the problem!” you whined. He chuckled darkly at your pain, but relented.

“Where do you want me Princess? Right here?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your clothes core. Your breath hitched and you nodded frantically.

“Use your words Babygirl, you know the rules.” You took a deep breath.

“Yes, please Sir, I want you to play with my pussy.” You felt red hot saying all of those things out loud, but god the look in his eyes was fucking worth it. He was taking off your panties in an instant, marveling at the sting of slick that connected you to them until it snapped. 

“Fucking Christ.” He moaned to himself, one of his hands going to grind on his hard cock. “I’ve barely fucking touched you and you’re fucking gushing.” He chuckled, his hands finally moving to where you needed him to be. The moan you let out as his fingers finally found your clit was embarrassing. “Can anyone else do this to you Doll?” you shook your head almost violently.

“No, no sir. No one but you.” You panted softly, getting lost in the bliss currently filling your bloodstream. Shit, you 're not going to last long. 

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled darkly, two fingers abruptly darting into your cunt and making your entire body tense. “My slutty girl only puts out like this for me, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” he said, rewarding you with a third finger. You gasped at the feeling, your soaking pussy taking anything it could get and more. He curled his fingers, sending a rush of electric endorphins through your body as he graced your g-spot. You moaned out his name, your hands curling into your sheets. 

“Just out of curiosity, what have you been doing for six months without me?” His eyes were dark, letting you know he wasn’t just asking what new books you’d read.

“Thought of you.” You moaned, a tight knot forming in your stomach. 

“Oh?” He asked, pausing his actions. He wanted details.

“I thought about you fucking me.” Right answer, he started moving again, “I thought about how good your cock stretched me out, and how good it felt inside me. I pretended it was you fucking me whenever I used my toys, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing feels like you do Sug,” You moaned out your sloppy confessional. His thumb had found your clit and was massaging it in time with his relentless fingers. His free hand groping himself through his jeans, needed even an ounce of friction. “I’m so fucking close..”

“You’re goddamn right nothing feels like Me princess.” he groaned to distract himself, least he cum in his jeans like a fucking teenager. You felt yourself speeding off a cliff, his words only aiding in pressing the accelerator. “You think a fucking toy could make you feel even an ounce of what I make you feel? That's naive at best Darling. You’re fucking mine nothing and no one is ever going to make you feel the way that I do. Cum for me Princess.”

A few strokes later and you came hard on his fingers, pussy clenching around him in beautiful ways. Suguru didn’t know if he wanted to watch your cunt or your face, but it didn't matter really. He didn’t plan on letting up anytime soon. He finger fucked you through your high, removing his fingers only after you had semi-calmed down. 

He moved over you, slipping his fingers into your mouth which you gladly cleaned off for him, always eager to show him how good you were. You pulled off with a loud pop, looking at him with doe eyes for approval. You assumed he approved, because he was very quickly freeing himself of his tripp pants and boxers with the efficiency only a mall goth could ever possess. He was in between your legs before you had even fully processed what was going on.

He leaned down to leave rough kisses on your neck, the blissful pain of the bruises forming almost distracted you from the feeling of his cock pushing into your soaking wet cum. Almost. Nothing could ever fully distract you from the euphoria of Suguru Getos cock stretching you out in ways only he could. You moaned out his name, hands flying to claw at his back through the mesh shirt. 

He faltered, letting out a shaking breath as he felt your warmth for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “Fuck Y/n. I swear to whatever god there is this pussy was fucking made for me.” He said through a breathy laugh, pulling back just to push back in, stroking your g-spot beautifully and earning himself an embarrassing moan from you.

“So fucking good for me.” he groaned. Every stroke of his hips sent a new wave of electricity through your core, your body reacting to his every move and begging him for more. If Suguru Geto was a drug you were an addict. The pleasure sent your head swirling and your nerves on fire. 

“God you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, “I can’t fucking believe you forgot you we’re mine.” He said, his movements suddenly becoming rougher, forcing you to yelp out his name. “You tried to leave me and then couldn’t even get yourself off Doll, it’s almost cute.” He mocked. “You’re mine do you understand? This cunt belongs to me, Do you get that?” you nodded, trying desperately to take in all his words while the coil in your stomach began to tighten again. He had never been so possessive before. 

“Answer me Slut.” He demanded with a rough buck of his hips. You nodded violently.

“Yes! Yes Sir.” You groaned. You wouldn't argue even if you could have. 

“Say it.” He demanded, “Say my name, say you belong to me.”

“I’m all yours Suguru, You’re and only yours. I’ll never leave again.” You said, your second climax coming on faster than you would have liked. Every stroke of his hips hit your g-spot dead on. He really did know your body better than anyone else.

“Damn right you won’t.” He groaned, his hind falling between your bodies to massage circles into your clit. Your entire body tensed with pleasure as you started to come undone again.

“Sug-”

“I know.” There was no mistaking the way your pussy fluttered around him. He knew you were close. “Cum on me, cum on cock.” You didn’t need to be asked twice. A few more strokes of his dick and you were coming undone all over it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum Princess.” He said darkly, somehow picking up his pace. He wasn;t worried about your pleasure anymore, you got yours. He wanted his. And you felt so good around him, warm and velvety. He could stay in between your legs forever and be happy. He moved your legs over his shoulders, managing to fuck you even deeper than he was before. Your overstimulated moans only adding fuel to his fire. 

“You’re so pretty whenyou’re fucked out, you know that?” He said, condescension dripping from his voice. “So fucking pretty, You’re gonna look even better with my cum dripping out of your pussy, you know that?” The way you moaned and the way you clenched around him was enough to send him over the edge, filling you to the brim and somehow still finding the energy to fuck some of it back into you before collasping onto you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him inside of you and holding you close to him. You felt more thankful than ever to be on the pill as you played with his soft hair.

“I…is fucking Closer playing? Nine Inch Nails?” You asked, suppressing a laugh as you tuned into the song. Suguru lifted up his head to listen, laughing as he registered Trent Reznors distorted growl. 

“Oh my god, I think it is.” He laughed, “I forgot this was on here.”

“Helluva song to hook up to.” You laughed. He nodded in agreement. 

“Yea, definitely not the best for a hookup. But maybe not bad for a round two?”

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader pt.2

Summary: in the second part to this modern college au, obsessive loner!Choso goes too far; reader deals with the consequences of his need to keep you close to him and him alone when he feels like you're at risk of gaining the attentions of an even more popular classmate. Yet another self indulgent piece of work, but sue me, I couldn't stop writing this all day. Enjoy!

Warnings: toxic behavior, obsessive/possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, smut, mating press, rough sex, hurt/comfort, talks of low self esteem, clingy, needy!Choso, begging, crying, break downs, and borderline yandere!Choso, and other less than healthy relationship dynamics.

wc: 5.3k

The birthday cake was placed on the teacher’s desk: the majority of your speech class had decided that since Satoru Gojo’s birthday was coinciding with the last week of exams before break, it would be fun to have a small party. You volunteered to bake the cake; the professor gave permission to use his classroom that afternoon, with the condition the space was tidied up afterward and things didn’t get too rowdy. It was going to be a nice opportunity to celebrate the coming holiday season and the student who was arguably the school’s golden boy. Even those who didn’t like Gojo’s flippant arrogance and teasing nature admired his work ethic and almost supernatural intelligence, to say nothing of his undeniably pretty face. 

Choso was only there because he knew you were attending and in charge of bringing the requested birthday cake. He didn’t feel one way or the other about Gojo, but he would gladly be by your side, eager to hear the compliments your baking would receive and also to make sure no picky eaters decided to get nit picky and spoil your mood. Truly, Choso had been happy on your behalf to hear you had agreed to help with the party. He certainly wouldn’t think to go out of his way to do something like this for people he didn’t really know outside of a forty five minute, twice a week class. Choso was more than proud to be the boyfriend of a person so thoughtful and generous to a fault; it was one of the reasons he fell so hard in the first place. You never needed a special reason to be kind to someone. And of course, it helped that you were still the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and the last few months had been nothing short of heaven.

Except, the cake was red velvet. Choso stands by the teacher’s desk, staring at the cake. It was his favorite flavor. He told you that not long ago and you had promised the first time you made it, it would be for him. 

The cake is beautifully, painstakingly decorated, a perfect ratio of cake and fluffy frosting, sprinkled in bits of dark chocolate; the matching icing spells out ‘Happy Birthday, Satoru!’ in delicate, looping letters across the top. You obviously put a lot of care into making this for Gojo. That afternoon you had been the first person to arrive, followed shortly by another student, Suguru Geto; he wasn’t in the same speech class, but he was Gojo’s best friend and knew some of the class already, so inviting him was a given. The two of you had left to find a lighter and candles, hoping the school store in the basement of the building would provide something suitable. You told Choso he didn’t need to come; you noticed he had seemed a bit drained from studying and his recently acquired part time job, so you insisted he just hang back and relax while you and Geto went to obtain the finishing touches for the cake. 

For the past two minutes Choso has stood in place where you left him, eyeing the cake so innocently sitting atop the cleared off desk. He didn’t know it would be red velvet. Gojo had a sweet tooth and would probably love it. 

Surely this is too much for just an acquaintance. The recipe is a lot more difficult than the stuff you’ve made before, Choso saw there were more steps and more factors that could go wrong and ruin the cake’s moist and spongy texture. Skeptically, Choso narrows his eyes at the round, two tiered dessert. Most of the girls in your shared class offered to bake, but you were the one with the most experience and Gojo had eagerly picked you for the task. You must have felt obligated to make the cake perfect.

Choso’s frown deepens; he is your boyfriend. You promised you would make a cake like this just for him. A gesture like this could easily be taken the wrong way too and you’re so sweet and self effacing, he’s sure the idea of Gojo choosing you to personally make his cake didn’t mean anything at all.

It should be for him.

“What…what happened?”

The smile fell from your lips mere seconds after returning from the school store; Geto, insisting on carrying the purchases, had just been relaying a funny anecdote of one of his and Gojo’s misadventures as the two of you walked back into the now empty classroom. On the ground, right next to the base of the professor's sturdy wooden desk is nothing short of a mess. 

“My cake,” your hands come up to cover your gaping mouth. “What happened?!”

Geto approaches the desk with a confused frown; the cake and the plate it had been placed on are both on the floor. It seemed to have fallen top first, the icing and frosting smeared over the tiles and the plate broken into pieces around it. 

“It fell.” Geto states simply, although not without some incredulity. “Was it close to the edge?”

“No, I, well,” you struggle to recall exactly where you had placed the cake before you left the room. “I didn’t think I put it that close to the edge.”

“There’s frosting streaks on the side too’ it must have just toppled over.” Geto points out with a keen eye, kneeling a bit, bags still in hand. “It might have just been a bit uneven, a little heavier to one side?” he stands to his full height and smiles at you sympathetically. “These things happen, just a little bad luck. I’m sorry, it was a beautiful cake.”

“But everyone’s going to be here soon,” you fret as you search through your bag. “Geto, I’m going to go buy another cake, there’s a store nearby, I’m sure they’ll have something. Oh and I’ll find a custodian, oh no, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this is happening-”

“Let me go.” Geto places a hand over your tensed shoulder. “It makes more sense, I know what kind of cake Satoru prefers the most. There’s plenty of time and a few others promised to bring drinks and snacks.”

“But I said I’d bring the cake. At least let me give you the money for it?” you hold up a few bills with a pleading stare. “I feel horrible, I should have been more careful where I put it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; you are the one who did the work to make it.” Geto chuckles but accepts the money if only to make you feel a bit more at ease. “Maybe it’s better this way: with how good that cake looked, I’d wager you might have ended up with that glutton badgering you for more sweets.”

You return his smile as well as you can. “Thank you. I’m just being silly.”

“You’re fine.” Geto says firmly, but not unkindly. “You call a janitor, don’t try to clean up this alone; we wouldn’t want you to get a cut from trying to pick up pieces of that plate. I’ll be back before you know it; Satoru would sulk all afternoon if I don’t get him something anyway.”

“You’re a good friend.” you smile at Geto gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll call someone right away.”

You do just that shortly after Geto takes his leave; most of the custodians have already left for the day, except for one woman. She promises to be there as soon as she’s done with a request from one of the professors in the neighboring building; she sounds pleasant enough, but you feel pangs of guilt as you hang up and take a seat closest to the teacher’s desk. 

“Bunny? Are you okay?”

“Choso, you’re back!” you look up and wave at him, trying to sound cheerful; he glances at the ruined cake and back to your pained smile. “Ah, were you looking for me? I guess we just missed each other, the basement elevator was out of order, so we took the stairs. What a mess, huh? Geto thinks one side was a little heavier and it made the cake just flop right over the edge. Some bad luck, right? He left to get a cake and the custodian will be here soon, so make sure not to step on the plate bits.”

“Hey, slow down. I’m not worried about that.” Choso’s brow furrows as he studies your shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal, accident…accidents happen.”

You bite your bottom lip harshly as your eyes begin to sting; before you know it, tears are slowly slipping down your cheeks. You quickly avert your eyes, too embarrassed to see the pitying look cross Choso’s face.

“Oh Choso, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I put the cake that close to the edge! Ugh, I should have paid more attention, I told everyone I would make this amazing cake and I messed it all up and now Geto has to go all the way to the stupid store to get another one because I wasn’t careful!”

“Did he get mad at you?” Choso asked sharply. “Did he blame you?”

“No, no, Geto didn’t do anything.”  you bow your head and wipe at your wet cheeks. “He was really nice about it, so was the janitor on the phone about the mess, but I still feel bad. Gojo was just telling me he was really looking forward to the cake too. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed to get a store bought cake and I promised I’d take care of this for the party. Sorry, I know I’m being a crybaby, I should just suck it up, I’m the one who ruined things, I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

You raise your head and Choso is standing in front of the table between him and you; his hands are gripping tightly around the strap of his duffel bag. You wipe the last of your tears and look at him, your chest swelling at how upset he is on your account.

“You’re so sweet. Just having you to vent to makes me feel better already; I’m really just being dramatic, I’ve been stressed out and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Choso cuts you off quietly; he still isn’t looking at you. “It’s mine.”

“What? Baby, no, I didn’t expect you to watch the cake; it’s on me for not making sure it wasn’t so close to the edge, you didn’t do anything.”

“I pushed it.”

Choso’s knuckles are white: he’s strangling the strap of his bag between quivering hands. Finally, he looks into your bewildered eyes

“Choso, is this some kind of joke?” 

“I didn’t want him to have it and, and I thought he might get ideas since you worked so hard to bake it. He flirts with all the girls and you did say you were going to make it for me first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you shake your head and all but leap up from your chair. “You? How could you? And you were going to let me think it was my fault?!”

“No! It was supposed to look like an accident, I didn’t think you’d be so upset,”

“So it was okay for me to be ‘kind of’ upset? Choso, how could you?” you ask him again, voice raising, almost echoing in the empty room. “It’s just a cake!”

“Yeah, it’s just a stupid cake, that’s why I didn’t think you’d get this upset!”

Choso’s mouth clamps shut as your anger gives way to a look of utter hurt. 

“Wow.”

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“Thanks a lot, Choso. Yeah, that really makes it better. Was that your plan? Swoop in and play the comforting boyfriend while I feel like a big idiot? Or maybe you just don’t consider my hobbies anything special; anyone can make a cake, right?” Fresh tears well up in your eyes as you tug your bag over your shoulder. “Nice to know what you really think.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Choso says reproachfully. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“You know what?” you shake your head and unzip the front section of your bag; clumsily you yank out a sealed box and slam it down on the table. Choso recognizes it as one of the little boxes you use to pack individual desserts. “Here, your stupid cake. Surprise.”

The lid of the container is now sticking to the top of the cake but Choso can still make out the messy letters of his name and the heart shaped sprinkles scattered all over the surface. His eyebrows raise as he sees the small, squashed up cake is in the shape of a heart. You glare down at it before turning on your heel without so much as a backward glance.

“Bunny?” Choso snaps out of his trance and begins to follow you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I can explain, just calm down and let me-”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” you stop abruptly in the doorway and give him a nasty look, but you’re barely able to hold yourself back as Choso fixes you with a heartbroken stare. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down when you’re the one who threw a fucking tantrum. Enjoy the ‘stupid cake’, jerk!”

You slam the door in his face and rush down the hall to the nearest entrance, not particularly caring about where you’re going, just as long as you can get as much distance between you and Choso as possible. When you finally get home, you text Geto an apology for taking off and a nondescript explanation for your absence before turning your phone off. You’re exhausted and skip dinner to just curl up in your bed, burrowing in a blanket as if you could shut out the world. Choso’s t-shirt, the same one you’ve been sleeping in nearly every night, is balled up and thrown somewhere across the room; eventually you fall asleep, eyes rubbed raw and nose stuffed as you drift off, hoping maybe this was all just a bad dream.

When morning arrives and you manage to force yourself into a sitting position, it takes you a minute or two to realize the gentle knocking isn’t a leftover remnant from your deep slumber, but a very real sound coming from your front door. You wrap yourself in a robe and slip on a pair of house slippers, equally confused and irritated as to who could be knocking on your door when the sun is barely over the horizon. Just as the knocking stops, you peek through the peephole; there’s no one there. You rub your eyes and unlock your door with a sigh, expecting a leaflet from some early bird salesman or religious group to be stuck in the hinges. Instead you nearly trip over a huddled up mass taking refuge on your doorstep when you didn’t immediately open your door.

“Choso?! Oh my god, you scared me!” you’re still breathing a bit heavily, heart racing thinking a stranger had collapsed on your porch. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Choso scrambles to his feet; you finally notice in his hands are two cups of coffee, one of which is your usual order, but the largest size. He holds it out to you. “Good morning. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

After a beat, you take the cup on autopilot, more preoccupied with the man standing at the threshold of your home. The circles under Choso’s eyes are darker than ever, in addition to how red and irritated they are around the edges, his hair is oily and limp. On closer inspection, you see he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday; now they’re more wrinkled and the slight odor coming off them tells you he hasn’t showered yet. 

“Can I come in?” Choso asks, his voice weak and barely louder than a whisper. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine.” you frown but move aside and open the door wider. “Here, come with me, I left my phone in my room.”

Choso does as he’s told, but trails after you at a slight distance, at least in comparison to how closely he usually stays to you. He’s shivering; it’s the middle of winter and he isn’t wearing even a jacket. How long had he been knocking on your door? How long had he planned to wait there outside? You banish the thought and busy yourself disconnecting your phone from its charger on your bedside table. Choso stands awkwardly in the middle of your room; he hasn’t taken so much as a sip of his coffee or taken his eyes off you, at least as far as you can see. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait but I thought you might have gone somewhere and you weren’t answering your phone, so…” he goes silent seeing his shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner of your room. “I just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

You barely heard him, jaw dropping at your phone’s screen as it fully turns on to show you 32 missed calls, 15 unheard voicemails, 18 unopened texts, and 5 emails, all from Choso over the course of the night. You tap your thumb on the latest voicemail.

“Bunny? Bunny, can’t you just talk to me?” A shaky, nearly unrecognizable croaking comes from the speaker: Choso’s strong voice sounds strained, almost inaudible at certain points, as though he had been screaming until his throat was raw. “I know you’re probably sleeping…or maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again-” A sharp, wrecked sob crackles over the speaker but Choso manages to steady himself again. “But I need to…I need to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I love you so much it hurts. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, I need to see you. I know I messed up, I need help. My bunny? I can’t…oh god, I can’t do this. I-I feel like I’m dying, I’m…I love you. I love you, I love you, just please-”

Your heart drops to your churning stomach as Choso’s words morph into broken, unintelligible sobs. Finally after a few seconds, the other end goes quiet and the voicemail ends. A recorded voice tells you there’s still 14 more previously skipped voicemails; Choso has remained standing, stiff as a board and looking miserably at you. You take a seat on the side of your bed, staring bewildered at your phone; you decide to not listen to the other voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” Choso says in an absurdly small voice. “Can we talk?”

You’re holding the coffee in your hands on your lap and taking a deep breath before raising your face. “Choso, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I don’t think your baking is stupid. I was being stupid.” Choso’s cheeks burn in shame. “I was jealous Gojo was getting the cake first, or I thought he was, and I just…I didn’t want him to have it. It’s always like this.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him slowly, tempering your own indignation. “Do you think he would flirt with me? Or that I would cheat on you?”

“No. I just get so...everyone likes you. So, what if someone better comes along? What if you stop paying attention to me?” Choso shakes his head quickly, gripping his hair like he wants to yank it out. “I have thoughts like that all the time. It's awful. I knew you would be sad, but I really thought it would only be a little and then I could make it better and you would…rely on me more. I don’t want you to get close to anyone else.” he lowers his arm to his side limply. “I know it’s wrong. Are you gonna bre-break up with me?”

You don’t speak just yet; your eyes study his drawn, exhausted face. Choso isn’t trying to make you feel bad for him, you know that much. The truth doesn’t make you feel much better though. 

“I was really mad at you yesterday. I needed space.”

“I know, but-”

“Listen,” you say firmly. “Whatever the reason, that was a really rotten thing you did. It was just plain mean and selfish. Sure, you didn’t really mean to hurt me, but you did. You purposely messed up something I put a lot of work into.”

“I know.” Choso’s expression is desolate. “I like that about you. I love that you do nice things for people even if you don’t have to. Y-you’re so careful and considerate of other people. I was being selfish and it was so, so fucking stupid. You would never do something like that to me…you’re so good to me.”

“Choso, this isn’t just about yesterday.” you soften your tone, mindful of your volume. Choso looks as if one cold word from you could shatter him into a million pieces. “If you were willing to trash something I put a lot of work into for such a petty reason, it’s making me second guess things and now I’m wondering if maybe you’re not the person I thought you were. Is it more important to keep me dependent on you than for me to be happy?” You set your cup down on the nightstand, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Don’t say that.” 

Choso all but drops his coffee onto your dresser, barely glancing at it as he rushes to you; he lowers himself down on his knees, eyes glistening with both unshed tears and sheer adoration as he looks up at your pained face. You let him hold your hands, still folded in your lap, as Choso rests his forehead on your lap. They’re ice cold; how long had he been waiting outside?

“It’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I know I could have just talked to you, I know you would have listened, but I didn’t even give you a chance, I just did what I wanted. I’m not nearly as kind as you.” Choso admits, words muffled as he buries his face into your thighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll do whatever you say until you trust me again. Do you hate me?”

“Choso, I never hated you, I was just hurt.” you squeeze his hands gently. “The only reason I got so upset in the first place is because I love you so much. Hell, the cake for the party was more practice than anything so I could make you an even better cake. If you were worried, you should have just told me. You’re not some evil person from feeling jealous, but what you did was wrong. I really need to know that you understand where I’m coming from, I don’t want us to break up or anything. Did you really think I was trying to end things yesterday?”

Choso nods, head still resting on your thighs. “I thought you blocked me on everything. I thou-thought you didn’t ever want to see me again. I should have waited, Eso even said you probably just needed some space, but…I’m so used to being with you, texting you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No, you acted like a jerk,” you nudge Choso’s shoulder to get him to look up; he does, taking in your face with those pleading puppy dog eyes you can never resist. “I forgive you. I love you baby, so, so much.”

“Bunny,” Choso’s lip wobbles and fat tears roll down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto your hands. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made you cry, just thinking about it makes me want to-to-” he sniffs and clenches his teeth against a whine. “I’m just sorry. I love you. I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurting because of me and I wanted to come here right away, but I thought if I did you’d really be fed up and-”

“You didn’t sleep?!” you slowly sit and move so you’re seated further up the bed; Choso follows suit, basically crawling over your pillows and covers to be next to you, tears still streaming down either side of his face. “Choso, lay down baby, you should take a nap. You’ll feel better, believe me. We can talk more later and get something to eat.”

“‘So good to me.” Choso tugs on your arm. “I want to cuddle.” He immediately moves over so you can hold him, laying on your sides as Choso stares balefully up at you through blurry eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Choso, you need sleep.”

“Please?” he mutters, eyes lingering on your pouty mouth. “Need a kiss.”

“Okay, just a little one.”

“Thank you. You’re always so good to me…”

You knew those basset hound eyes would be the death of you: what started out as a tender, chaste kiss swiftly evolved into big hands massaging your breasts, then fingers tugging at the sash of your robe, and finally you being pushed onto your back as Choso holds you down in a mating press. 

“So good!” Choso can’t stop letting out choked moans, so loud, they almost drown out your cries, pushing your thighs closer to your chest, somehow, some way forcing his cock impossibly deep. There’s hints of pain but the pleasure you get from his cock head rubbing against that little spot just behind your clit was overriding all of it. 

“Baby, gotta slow down, you’ll break me at this rate.” you moan, helpless as Choso ducks his head down to lick and suck on your almost painfully sensitive nipples. He had been playing with them obsessively, pinching, rolling, sucking, even leaving dark love bites all over your breast.

“Love you, missed your pussy so much, thought I was gonna, gonna die!”

“Oh god, Choso, please, please baby, it’s too much!” your head lolls side to side; he’s made you cum three times already. Your pussy is a sopping wet mess and it’s all you can do to not pass out as Choso’s thick cock stretches you open over and over again, surely bruising your cervix. “You’re so-ah!” you let out a piercing shriek that only seems to spur him on to go harder. “So deep in my pussy baby, I can’t-”

“Just a little more, I’m so close,” Choso huffs, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, cheeks burning and hair sticking to his forehead; he’s a mess from his own sweat and your slick covering his pelvis where he just won’t stop pounding into you. “You look so good like this, I could fuck you forever…gonna cum so hard, give it all to you,”

“Cum in me,” you sweep his damp hair off his forehead with a faint, fucked out smile. “I want to feel it dripping out of me…can you be a good boy and cum in my pussy?”

“Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

Choso kisses you roughly, hips rolling into yours, barely pulling his cock out at all, as though he wanted his cum to go as deep inside you as it could go. It’s hot and spurting into your battered insides; thankfully Choso has enough strength left to hold you up as he humps your plush, limp body like a dog in heat. 

“Mine,” he groans, thrusting once more with a violent shudder. “Only mine.”

You suppose it’s not the best idea to encourage him, but you nod anyway, shaky hand in his hair to pet the tangled strands, chest heaving and light headed as Choso pulls his softening cock out slowly so as not to hurt you. He pants against your neck, curled into your side and using his wide palm to rub gentle circles over your hips and thighs.

“My poor bunny.” Choso mutters fondly as his fingers trail over your twitching thighs. “I’ll do better. You won’t regret this. I’m gonna get a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Th-thank you.”

“Sh, just relax, don’t get up.” Choso moves sluggishly to take the box of tissues from your nightstand; the coffee he brought you has somehow not been knocked off in the frenzy. “You’re so cute like this. I’ll wipe you off a bit first, nice and easy. Does it hurt down there?”

“Not really; feels more numb actually.” you roll your head to stare at him directly, meaning to look at least a little serious but you come off more like a grumpy kitten. “Don’t think just because you made me almost pass out that I forgot everything from the past 24 hours mister. I’m holding you to your word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Choso agrees with a hum as he wipes at the mess between your legs. “Thank you again…I still ate the cake you made for me. It was really good.”

“Oh right.”

“Yuji said you should have thrown it in my face.” Choso adds, a bit sheepish at the memory. “I almost didn’t eat it: I thought it would be the last thing you ever gave me…”

“Choso,” you smile at him sadly. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.” Choso brings you into his arms, careful not to jostle you too suddenly. “Just scared. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Why are you scared? Do you still think I want to break up?”

Choso shrugs. “What if the more you get to know me, the more you see bad things?”

“What kind of bad things?”

“If…if I could, I’d keep you with me. Sometimes when we’re alone, I don’t want to let you go. Then I start wondering if trying to keep you safe will just make you unhappy with me or that I’ll scare you off and then…” A single tear escapes Choso’s eye and he draws you in closer to his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do. Compared to you, I’m really selfish and short sighted.”

“No one’s perfect. I’m not.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I overthink things and get worked up over upsetting people. I hold myself to unattainable standards.” you list off tiredly. “And I keep doing this thing where I shy away from letting people really…know me. Like if they do, I’ll just let them down. I feel like an imposter half the time when you say all these nice things about me. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to know me, warts and all. It’s worth getting to be with someone like you, Choso. That’s just how relationships work; you’re always risking getting hurt or disappointed when you let people love you…when you love someone. And I love you.”

“Um…is it bad that I feel happy I’m the only person you talk to like this?” Choso sniffles. “Sorry. I’m being selfish again.”

“Maybe a little, but for the right reasons.” you grin and wipe a thumb under his eye. “For the record, it makes me happy you think of me so highly. You make me feel special.”

“You are special and anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid.”

“Does that include me then?”

Choso looks visibly panicked. “Wa-wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I know, sorry baby.” you kiss him before he starts into another round of apologies. “That was just a little payback. Ah, Choso!”

“Not funny.” Choso grumbles, bundling you into the blankets as you giggle and let out a faux fearful squeal; the sly quirk of his lips betrays his actual intentions. “After your bath, I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.”

[oddishblossom]

— Imagine being loved by me (1) (2)

[symphonyofsilence]

Gojo stop info dumping on Yuta of all people about your failed love life, your broken heart, and your one and only, entirely unprompted. He's probably not as enthusiastic as you are about your Ex.

They had a rather memorable encounter that one time they met.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i can’t really explain this properly but suguru is a “you’re mine, and i’m yours” kinda guy while satoru is just “i’m yours”….. do u get what i’m saying.

[obsesssedblerd]

[MDNI] curse user! suguru x f! sorcerer reader 

previous part 

When your ears finally stop ringing, they register the sound of your own panting. Pleasure still vibrates through your body, and you wait for it to fade. Suguru sighs blissfully, then rolls over so he’s no longer on top of you, resting on the other side of his bed and facing the ceiling. You can tell that he’s also trying to catch his breath. Your body is still trembling slightly. How many times did you cum? You think four, but your mind stopped working properly after the first, so you weren’t sure. 

“Taking you a little bit longer to come back from that one,” you hear Suguru say, and you open your eyes to look over at him. He’s lying on his side and using one muscular arm to prop his head up, his hair—now messed up from sex—sprawled beautifully on the pillow. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly curves into the smirk that you love hate. “Fucked you that good, hm?” 

“Go to hell,” you mumble as you sit up. When you finally get your head back on straight, you sigh when guilt settles into your stomach. Once again, you failed to execute Suguru Geto, and have instead found your way back into the curse-user’s bed after a battle with him. You look around for your jujutsu high uniform, then remember that Suguru ripped it off of your body. You groan when you see the torn fabric on the floor. 

Suguru hands you a hoodie. “Here.” 

“This is the second time you’ve torn off my uniform.” You pull the warm hoodie over your figure, and you try to ignore just how good it smells. How good he smells. “I can’t just keep getting new ones. They’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh well,” he says with a soft shrug. 

Frustration bubbles in your blood, and you get ready to stand up. “Asshole.” Then, you feel his large arms wrap around your middle, pulling you to him so your back is against his chest.

“Running off so soon?” He purrs, then kisses the skin just below your ear as his hands trail down your body. You shiver, unable to stop the small moan of pleasure from escaping your lips, and he chuckles at your reaction. “You’re so cute. You pretend to hate me, but your body’s a lot more honest.” 

You’re about to tell him to fuck off, but he begins trailing kisses down your neck. You hate him. You want him. You want to hate him, and you hate that you want him. You try to tell yourself to remain focused. He’s evil, he’s killed hundreds, he’ll continue to kill as long as he’s left alive.

But you always hesitate to finish the job. 

Your phone dings with a new message, and you snap back to reality. “I-I have to go,” you manage to say, shoving down the part of you that wants to ignore your duties as a sorcerer and let Suguru have his way with you.

“Fine,” he hums. “But just know that this is my last time letting you leave.” 

That stops you. You turn around to face him. “Gonna kill me?” you ask. 

He raises a brow in confusion, then shakes his head. “No, love, you misunderstand me.” He brushes a strand of your hair out of the way of your face. “I fully intend to keep you alive. What I mean is that this back-and-forth is getting tiring. You’re obviously struggling to accept what you truly want, so I’m just going to speed that process up for you.” Your heart races when he smiles. It’s gentle, yet dangerously promising. “When you lose the next time you come to face me, I’m going to keep you.” 

Suguru kisses you possessively with you in his hold. It’s so intense that your head spins. It takes everything to not melt right then and there. You mentally curse at yourself for even thinking about it. When he breaks the kiss, his violet eyes take you in; Your heavy breathing, your slightly dazed eyes and your kiss-swollen lips. “I’m done sharing you,” he whispers. “Not just with the other sorcerers at jujutsu high, but with those fucking monkeys. They don’t deserve you.” He doesn’t say it, but you hear it anyway. You’re mine. 

You don’t say anything, and you can tell that he didn’t expect you to. He releases you, waving you off as you stand up and grab the rest of your things. “See you soon,” he says.

As you make your way back to your apartment—because there’s no way you can head back to the school to report on the mission with hickeys all over your body and your uniform shredded—the last few minutes of your secret encounter repeat over and over in your head. 

Suguru Geto never went back once he finalized a decision. You would be stupid to think that he didn’t mean every single word. 

[vilsoo]

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 ⌇GETO SUGURU

witch!reader x married!geto suguru || WC: 10,779

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. love and sex spells are your expertise; saving your client’s relationships and marriage with your witchcraft. you’d never go out your way to ruin them, until, you meet the handsome married man geto suguru…

𖤐 WARNINGS. witch disguised as sex therapist, implied homewrecking, slight yandere, witchcraft, seduction, impersonation, bodysnatching, body/soul possession, toxicity, eventual smut, horror/thriller themes.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[ANNOUNCER] Your attention please! Horrorland is now opened for all guests. We hope you enjoy our new exciting attractions and parklands this year, such as as Maneaterville, Monster F***** Woodlands, and the return of Horrorland’s famous parkland, Sex and Horror City! Please remember to be mindful of other guests making their way through and abide by our safety rules. Thank you for coming to Horrorland this Halloween!

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] As you are getting seated, be mindful that this 4D simulation ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and jarring motions. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Keep your 4D glasses on for a better experience. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. And absolutely no eating, smoking, or drinking while riding. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ancient love magic, love spells, sex rituals, charms, potions, invocations, incantations, enchantments, runes, hexes, witchcraft.

300 years ago around the early 15th century, you’ve grown as a love witch; mastering the most powerful love and sex spells that many others failed to do. Some covens never knew of this magic nor practiced them, which is why you’ve been protecting it. You were mostly an independent witch your whole life, keeping yourself hidden and far away from the town and its people.

Most of these love spells weren’t learned from the ancient books you came across. You were taught from the love deities themselves; Venus, Krishna, Eos, Aphrodite, and so on. Goddesses that were associated with romance, lust, and sexuality were your teachers for several years. And in exchange, all you had to do was honor them through ritual, prayer, offerings, and most importantly keeping your sexual energy and prowess protected.

It wasn’t until one evening during the witch-hunt period, you fell in love with a man you’ve been seeing. A man that was bewitched and under all your spells, using them to keep him around longer. You loved him so much that you were willing to give up practicing witchcraft and gain your years of humanity back; everything that you missed out on and being a normal, regular citizen living your youth…

Sadly, the good memories and moments you shared just had to end so abruptly. It was hard to keep your witch life hidden, even though you believed nobody would suspect you. When he found your secret basement where all your witchcraft books, candles, pentagrams, cauldrons, and many other powerful objects were hidden, you were outed immediately.

At least you were protected by your divine spirits and guardian angels during the chase. Nobody found you nor did you get burned at the stake, thankfully. You were also able to find a remote location away from civilization, but it was difficult living like this; not being able to retain a normal life with your humanity. But the goddesses noticed, giving you the gift of staying youthful, young, and beautiful forever until the end of time. When the witch-hunt period passed, you managed to live for centuries finally enjoying a normal life through different eras and generations without time catching up.

You’ve then decided to never use your love spells on the people you have an eye on; instead, you wanted to help others.

Fast forward to present time, you were a licensed couples counselor, relationship advisor, and sex therapist. You’ve been helping broken relationships and marriages with your “wise advice” when really you were just doing your love spells behind the scenes. Of course, all their problems went away and customers would give their best reviews and really good pay. The same with sex therapy too; when in need of advice on how to spice things up in bed, you offer it while manifesting the most powerful and passionate sexual energy for them. And ‘till this day, you still honor your love deities even though they retired as your teachers centuries ago.

“Doctor Y/N is ready to see you now,” said your secretary, opening your office doors as your next male client sauntered in.

When your gaze flickered to the man’s face, in that mere, fleeting moment, something alluring about him blossomed within you. Settling on those deep and dark eyes as if linked to the primordial abyss— his charm, beauty, presence, and his energy alone had you hopelessly afflicted…! You haven’t felt such powerful infatuation and attraction in centuries that it was like discovering parts of you that were hidden beneath… What was it about this stranger and his sexual energy that you were oddly drawn to?

You forced yourself from your perverse thoughts and professionally greeted him just like any other client. “Afternoon, you must be Suguru. How are you today?”

“I’m good, how are you?” he coaxed as he sat across from your sofa, the sultry in his voice as smooth as molasses and so ravagingly rich in flavor. So hypnotizing and much more powerful than any enchantment. And his aura was so passionate and bright as the sun, radiant and all illuminating, like a lotus flower bathing on a still pond.

You sighed deeply and recomposed yourself as you sat down. “I’m doing good,” you beamed, not realizing you were all doe-eyed towards him. “You, uh, want anything to drink before we start?”

The way he smiled and chuckled softly out of nervousness was so precious to descry. “No, no. I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

“So, what brings you to this session?”

Your eyes never left Geto’s face as if he was etched deep within your skin, watching him exhale deeply from his agitation. “A close friend of mine recommended you to me. You’re a very skilled therapist and I’ve seen lots of good reviews about you. You must be really good at your job.”

“Thank you,” you beamed, feeling your heart skip a beat from his compliment. “I love what I do and it’s very heartwarming to hear from my clients that they’re satisfied after our sessions.”

“That’s very good to hear, doctor.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Me? Ah… just a little,” he faltered. “I’ve never been to a sex therapist before and I never really talk about my wife and I’s sex life.”

Wife?

Just hearing that come out of those saccharine lips of his had the synapses of your brain frozen. The image of him married, spending the rest of his life with another woman ripped your mind up like a vice and paralyzed you. Immediately the silver titanium wedding ring caught your eye. It felt as if you only had one second to go through all five stages of grief and then force yourself to remain composed and professional.

You. Would. Never.

You were strictly against ruining people’s relationships and marriage. You’d never have just a fleeting thought of homewrecking someone’s marriage or promoting infidelity. It would be a major taboo as a witch! But then again, there was this feeling inside that was screaming at you to keep this man and his sexual energy wrapped around your finger… at a safe and professional distance.

You swallowed thickly. “Oh, that’s okay. That’s normal, Suguru! But in order for you to open up to me, I’m going to ask a few questions about you and your wife’s sex life, will that be fine?”

“Yes, please,” he gestured.

“Can you provide your sexual history? Like when was the last time you had sex with her?”

The moment he had to think about it, you knew where this was going. You almost felt pity. “Uh… I believe three weeks ago? I know, that sounds a little unusual, but, we’ve been very busy lately.”

“I see. Are you guys at least intimate and loving with each other outside of sex, though?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re very passionate with each other. My wife is very charismatic, endearing, beautiful... there’s so much I love about her. But when we we’re in bed, she still wants to take things slow; even though we’re very comfortable with each other. We mostly make love. You know, soft vanilla sex; not that there’s anything wrong with that. I would never pressure her to do something that she’s uncomfortable with. But, I came to you today because… I want to be more experimental with her. I want to spice things up in the bed and make sure she’s enjoying it. And even though I communicate about it to her, she’s still closed off about it. How can I make her open up to me?”

You hummed, trying not to go crazy over the fantasies of him making love like those passionate sex scenes you’ve seen in movies or homemade porn. “I’ve dealt with several clients experiencing that same reluctance your wife has. There’s a variety of reasons; she’s either very shy and awkward about it, or she’s just disgusted about sex in general. Low libido also contributes. It’s extremely common nowadays in women.”

Geto had a dejected sigh, worried about his wife. “Do you mind elaborating, doctor..?”

“When it comes to sex, not all women can voice out what they want. It doesn’t mean that there is something wrong; it just means she’s naturally shy about sex, and that’s completely normal,” you explained. “If your wife seems to want to make you happy in bed but is also reluctant, you should try reassuring to her that you love her, and your desire for a more exciting sex life doesn’t mean that you don’t love and desire her already. Tell her what you’ve done before and what you haven’t. She may feel more secure about trying something new with you. And express why you want a more exciting sex life with her.”

“I really hope I didn’t make her feel that way. God, I would be sick to my stomach if I ever made her feel insecure about herself. What is it about me that makes her… shy?”

You lean back on your sofa, smoothing out your long skirt while trying not to rub your thighs together. You’ve never felt such forbidden lust for a client before, especially a married man. It felt as if you were under a spell instead.

“Um, well— your presence and your aura just radiate… dominance to me,” you piqued while tilting your head. “It’s like… you know what you want and how to get it so easily. A shy woman wouldn’t even dare to take control. In order for that not to happen, allow her to empathize with your awkwardness or shyness about some things in bed. She’ll be a lot more willing to open up to you in return.”

His strong devotion to pleasure his wife was so intense to you. It made your chest thunder and your stomach twist; you had no idea what was going on with you and this stranger’s energy invading into yours. Just how powerful is his lust that it’s making you not think straight? You were feeling needy and filthy, and your energy was drawn into him and him only.

“I see... well, you’re right. I’m feeling a lot more confident that after taking in your advice and support, we’ll definitely cooperate together. She doesn’t have to be all shy with me. We can just work through it together, right?”

You agreed. For the past 30 minutes of spending more time knowing about Geto and his wife in order for the sex rituals to work, you asked more questions and went through the regular procedures of sex therapy. But the more you lingered with him, the more the tension thickened. Suguru had you infatuated and distracted. And even though he had a wife, you couldn’t help but feel such strong attraction. You tried your best not to seduce him. You tried your best to not let your mind wander off into filthy fantasies of him. But the furtive heat and wetness pooling between your legs felt as if it was transmitting onto your sofa. You had this erratic throbbing in the walls of your pussy the more you interacted with him. And you had no fucking clue why.

When Suguru left, you immediately had to take care of yourself. Keeping a spare vibrator in your drawer, you locked the doors and sat down on the sofa Geto was sitting on, spreading your legs while getting off to the vibrator stimulating your aching clit. You’ve abandoned your shame long ago about masturbating in your office on your break; you needed this badly. But such lust and fervor has never felt so urgent in your life that it heavily concerned you.

You moaned as softly as you could, having to muffle yourself to not let anyone nearby hear. And after cumming this fast for the first time in ages, you cleaned yourself up and got ready to leave for home and perform the sex ritual for Geto and his wife. You had to keep pushing away your jealousy in order to satisfy him. The spell would backfire if there were any feelings evolved, anyways. Never has this ever happened to you, though; for centuries you never knew your body could react this way over a man.

What’s spine-chilling was not even knowing why this was happening all of a sudden and why it’s happening in this time and age. It’s like your sexual energy and prowess that you’ve been protecting took over your poise, immobilizing your chaste and unleashing your inner promiscuity, like a deadly parasite attached to you and wanting to feed off it. And for Geto Suguru, a married man and loving husband, his mystifying sexual energy was enough to corrupt you entirely.

I have to stay away from him.

But, if the spell backfires, his marriage would be ruined forever…

That would be my first ever failure as a sexual therapist and healer.

You finally got home and headed to your magicarium, which is your basement with all your witchcraft and magic objects organized neatly. It was time for you to let go of Geto Suguru and only focus on improving his marriage and sex life. Stay professional and proceed with the ritual; then you’ll never have to see or even think of him. You rushed around like this was a life-endangering emergency, gathering everything that you needed. But as you were preparing your ingredients, you suddenly thought about a short-term memory loss spell.

Could that work..?

Since it’s a spell that hasn’t been used in several years, you had to go through all your bookshelves filled with thousands of spells and enchantments. Everything witchcraft related. You tried searching through your potions and journal entries, desperately looking everywhere just to get that man out of your mind. But as you were skimming one last time through your bookshelf, a thick book of various rituals fell down from the shelf.

When you head over to pick it up, the title and the cover caught your eye; something entirely different, something you’ve never performed successfully thousands of years ago; body and soul possession.

Your heart was rapidly racing in your chest for absolutely no reason. Then, you felt it again; your energy being drawn into a force you knew was corrupted… But instead of your sexual energy, it was your impulsiveness. You can feel it pounding inside your head, all the thoughts digging pathways into your brain more agonizing than any migraine. What was going on? What’s happening to you? Why are you feeling like this…?

You dropped the book to hold your face from the rush of anxiety, emitting a loud thud on the floor and opening to a random page right below. When you glanced down and read the subheading, only then had you realized what you fallen into…

This wasn’t witchcraft. It was all demon magic. Black magic. Corrosive to the soul, a diabolic price to pay. You get on your knees and proceed to read the spell out of curiosity:

Body and soul possession: Every intricate detail of this spell is uniquely crafted to mirror your aspirations, summoning the cosmic forces to reshape your physical existence. To perform body and soul possession, one must chant the incantation 3 times during the witching hour on full moon. Allow your soul to possess the other individual’s body and mind, letting go of your old self and feeling reborn into a new life. Your motivation, rapacity, greed, and selfish desires must be intense and strong enough for the body and soul possession to succeed. There will be no going back to your original form if you follow this method, however…

And in that moment, something shifted within you. You could feel the tides of time coming to a halt as sinister impulses took over you, an expulsion of foreign energy spreading like cursed blood in your veins. Imprisoning your lust for what felt like several years had now been released, your energy now lascivious and greedy to satisfy your primal needs. You’ve betrayed your true nature of being a passionate, endearing couples counselor. You failed to protect what your deities have been protecting for you. You’re now a victim to your own rapacious desire, enslaved to this rhythm of such unquenchable fire.

Your entire life, you’ve been stuck in a body that never ages. You’ve lost your friends and families from centuries ago while you get to live as this immortal witch, staying young forever and scorching the earth. But not anymore; no matter how many times you’ve tried dying, tried breaking your curse, tried being reincarnated to a mortal woman, and tried black magic that backfired, you finally found a new life to look forward to. A way you can finally free yourself.

Geto Suguru’s wife was the perfect body to possess. And with your soul inside of her body, you can finally have a taste of his energy you’ve been craving for the longest.

He will be yours to keep forever.

To execute this plan, you had to wait a couple of weeks for the full moon that falls on October 28th this year. It was an agonizing wait, so you decided to pretend things were all going normal and resumed your regular schedule for work. When you performed the sex ritual for Geto and his temporary wife, you just had to know for yourself how it all goes down. And how do you do this? By stalking them both at their house.

A day later after the ritual, you cast another spell that lets you mind control a crow and see through their eyes. The crow was perched on their windowsill, watching as Geto came home from work with his blazer draped over his arm and his body fatigued. His wife then comes in a few seconds later, arms opened for a tight embrace.

“…Hey, hey. I missed you a lot, too,” Geto chuckled as he kissed her cheek. “What’s all this, hm?”

The smile on his face was out of subtle bewilderment, as if he was stunned from his wife all over him like there was no tomorrow, greeting him with kisses all over his face. Evidence that the spell was beginning to work.

“What? I just missed you,” she coaxed, diving into a deep, passionate kiss with him that it made your stomach churn as you watched. “Dinner’s also ready.”

Geto’s lips brush the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of her enhanced pheremones. You can immediately tell by his longing expression that he was already turned on, gliding his hands down her body. But knowing his limits, he purposefully held himself back from taking her on right there.

“You smell… really good,” he whispers. “I’d rather have you for dinner instead.”

The two of them laughed it off, his wife taking his hand to bring him into the kitchen. The rest of their banter was blurred out of your mind when all you thought about was how intimate Geto was. Replaying the way he held her, how he kissed her. Such a loyal, loving husband with powerful underlying sexual energy you were dying to have a taste of.

It was nice to see your magic working perfectly, but that wasn’t your main concern. Not once in your life you ever doubted your love and sex spells. But in this very moment, your main focus was her. Knowing everything about her life, from her identity, schedule, routine, background, personality, etc. in order to take her place and possess her body.

Their dinner conversation was going on for too long. You needed to know more about their life at home and in public together. Just absorbing his wife’s memories wouldn’t even be enough. It’s gonna take a lot for you to fit in this new life, but you were heavily dedicated. And it wouldn’t be that difficult with so many spells you’ve practiced for eternity.

When nightfall finally approaches, the energy in the bedroom was enough to intoxicate your bloodstream. Even from several miles way it invaded you like fire in your ribs and coals upon your tongue, fueling you with such fervor. It seems that the couple had communicated with each other effectively, expressing all of their desires and fantasies in bed. A passionate, special night for them indeed; but it was such a shame that this won’t be going on for long.

Still stalking from the eyes of a crow, the feathers blended with the pitch black sky as you stayed perched by their windows. Geto Suguru has never looked so yummy to you; his body, his face, the size of his big cock… you wanted to get off so bad by the heavenly sight of him. It was already too late to pull away since you were drawn into the energy flowing in the room.

At first, he was so gentle with her. Checking up with her every few minutes as he was going down on her and caressing her body. You were too aroused by this; way too aroused from how he was eating her pussy out. If you closed your eyes and tried enough, you could picture him eating you out instead. Wondering how you would react as Geto kept teasing, making you pull onto his bedsheets that begins to stick onto your skin, crying out his name as you grind your hips on his face...

Then you watched as she got on his knees, gazing up at him with the most tantalizing look in her eyes. You sensed that she was an amateur; her first time ever going down on a male. Geto was still being gentle, willing to guide her and teach her. It was a slow process; but fuck, if only that were you instead. The tight circle of your lips rolling upwards and downwards, peering through your eyelashes and pinning your gaze on him the whole time until he had the urge to fuck your throat... Oh, he’ll have no fucking idea.

You can also hear him talking her through it. Praising her taking his dick so good, but also calling her “my little slut.” God, if only that were you. Showing his gentle dominance that gradually switches to a rough, degrading dom that loves putting a woman in her place. Fucking her until she cries, until she screams, until she orgasms multiple times. That was the kind of energy from Geto that you sensed; all that repressed rough fantasies and desires that he’s been holding back on for so long were bound to come out.

Such a shame, Suguru. She was the first to experience how much of a filthy person you really are deep down...

It’s unbelievable that this man hasn’t laid one finger on you or stood within your presence up close; yet he’s the only man that’s making you muffle your moans and whines out of shame in your own home. Playing with yourself, getting off to this filthy sight… no man has ever had you become this pathetic ever. But deep down, you secretly loved it; as if he’s given you all the power to ruin yourself. That once he lays a finger on you, you want him to make it hurt real good…

The stalking mission became worse as the days gone by, but at least you were making tons of progress retaining information. Whenever the couple wasn’t home, you’d find yourself roaming about inside, sneaking in through their mirrors. You analyzed every room in their home, the way every decoration was arranged, the way their drawers were organized, the food that makes up their pantry, the books that they read, mostly everything until his wife comes home from work. You had to know about where she works, what kind of car she drives, and what exactly she does.

While handling other clients back at work, Geto’s session would occur once a week over Zoom meetings. You got to “officially” meet his wife, putting on a polite and professional facade as you continued “advising” them and following sex therapy procedures. But this mission was all you were invested in for weeks, now taking off so many days from your job just to focus on the couple. It was also fascinating to witness how far they came from their timid sex experience to the point they’ve fucked all over the house every day and night, taking their sexual frustrations out on each other and then having the sweetest, intimate aftercare.

But it wasn’t until your blazing envy and prolonged jealousy of his wife provoked you; You wanted to drain her energy that she was sharing with Geto by psychologically torturing her every few nights. She needed to know that there was someone out there, lurking in the vulnerable edges of her mind, always watching her nearby. Standing beside her bed at night, watching her deep in her slumber. You were a snake slithered into position and ready to strike. Your unsettling presence then waking her up in the middle of the night, shooting up from her bed with a startled gasp and looking around to find nobody.

The hunt for her was never going to stop. All the times she would be alone, whether at work or at home doing chores, you’d torment her with dark magic that paralyzes her with this sinking sensation of diabolical fear and painful turmoil. You gained such satisfaction and amusement out of this, threatening her in the most sinister ways that was all in her head. That was the beauty of black magic and witchcraft; getting exactly what you want out of something standing in your way.

The 28th was finally here. Your mind is screaming at you that it’s time. This was the last night of your mundane life as a witch and being reborn as a normal human being, finally getting a taste of death. There was nothing to miss from a life of immortality. There was no point in honoring your love deities since they don’t come around anymore. And as much as you loved your career in couples counseling, it was time to “retire.”

With your soul leaving your body forever, you decided to leave yourself in a remote location where no one could find your body. You emptied out your whole house as if you moved out and sold it. All of your witchcraft books and powerful objects were stored in another spare underground magicarium you used for centuries, safely hidden and guarded where no one else could find or trespass.

The shroud of night draws nigh, darkness swallowing every last bit of light on earth. At a darkened alleyway, you find his wife walking to the parking lot after her shift. The air around falls colder, sending a shiver coursing down her spine. You can see her but she can’t see you. But she can feel you. You want her to feel you reaping on her. You kept your eyes on her like a prowling wolf seeing their prey on the periphery of their new territory. The eerie, icy silence was enough to make all the hair rise on her skin.

Te video.

You tread so fondly and almost too carefully, ever so gracefully near her body, but as light as a rare breeze in a scorching desert. She still can’t see you, but she heard you; your wintry, delicate whispers of wicked incantations that reverberated in her ears and soaked into the air. She halted on her pathway and averted her head around in alarm, her breathing growing rapid and her eyes darting at every corner.

Such a fickle soul she was, perfect to be tormented alone in a dismal night like this. As much as you wanted her gone, you couldn’t help but take predatory thrill in agonizing a soul like hers that was soon to face the worse demise.

Tu es mortua mulier…

Tu autem ad me pertinent…

She let out a yelp when her head began throbbing, seeing the world around her spin as if she was nauseous. Your incantations now scream in her ears like a shrieking banshee, seizing every fiber of her being in bone-chilling horror. She holds onto the rough concrete wall and kept her head low like she was going to vomit, panting heavily until her heartbeat expelled all of the air from her lungs.

The lamps on the alleyway begin to flicker erratically. A flock of crows caw loudly as they fly fast up above. There were no sounds of cars. No sign of people around. She was a victim trapped in your menacing mind, twisting her reality into a night terror, almost resembling a bad drug trip.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

The woman turned her head ever so slowly to a puddle beside her, leaky water from a ledge dripping on its rippling surface. She leans forward to stare at her reflection, her facial expression mixed with tumult and distorted curiosity. With the alleyway being dark, seeing herself this way was like staring at a helpless version of herself lost in an abyss. Sunken away, forgotten from the world, never to be heard from again…

“No, I— I need to get back,” she uttered to herself. “I need to go home.”

Excipio.

Lured by your incantations messing with her head once again, her eyes follow the direction the sudden gush of wind drifted, all the way to the end of the alleyway. But what she didn’t know, the moment she took her curious eyes off the puddle that suddenly rippled, her reflection was not mirroring her at all.

Her reflection curves a wicked smirk at the corner of her lips, eyes widening as if a feral predator finally cornered their puny prey. In a blink of an eye, you can hear the wife screaming when your hand reached out of the puddle and grabbed her. How unfortunate that her screaming and crying for help was futile, trying her hardest to fight back such a deadly force. She should’ve known it was the last night of her life.

Munera porto mea consortes, corpora muta per auras...

She screams, she shrieks, she struggles with the black water coming out from the puddle transfiguring into a solid rope to bind her wrists behind her head, pinning her down to the ground.

Munera porto mea consortes, corpora muta per auras…

Her head suddenly shoots back with her mouth agape, a sign that she’s no longer in control of her own body. Her eyes start to glow and her limbs completely freeze like a deer in headlights. You can feel your soul resonating into her body as you kept repeating the incantation. She tried fighting it; she really tried her best fighting to keep her own body, like pulling a tooth with a string. But nothing could beat dark magic, finally eating away her soul and energy until she feels herself withering away. Finally cascading on her heart, her mind, body, and soul is now a lost one, somewhere drowning in a deep and dark abyss.

It was time to go home to your husband.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Something shifted in the air when Geto was at home that night.

That feeling of needles piercing on the sides of his body for just a fleeting second. A random shiver running down his spine. A wave of nausea cascading in his stomach. His gut suddenly twisting out of nowhere. He had no idea why he felt this way; why this agitation suddenly washed over him. The last time he endured a gut-wrenching feeling like this was months ago for his first sex therapy session, which he found out Doctor Y/N no longer works there.

Thank goodness for her. If it weren’t for her advice, my wife wouldn’t be as confident in bed with me as she is now, he marveled in his head.

Geto was in the kitchen chopping up vegetables. Saturdays are when his wife comes home late for working overtime, which means he has to prepare dinner tonight. But what utterly surprised him was her coming home earlier than the usual time she arrives.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Of course, greeting each other after coming home from work was a normal thing they do everyday. But your enthusiasm coming home after working 10 hours was just a little anomalous to Geto. But it shouldn’t even be that big of a deal, right..? Maybe she has exciting news. Maybe she’s just happy to come home early. He would admit, her enthusiasm was just adorable. Any expression of happiness and joy from his wife was a beautiful sight to witness.

You make your way to the kitchen, immediately coming together to embrace. Geto felt his lungs closing in on him from how tight you were hugging him, squeezing all the oxygen out of him that he didn’t have enough time to register it.

“Oh my goodness— baby,” he chuckled breathlessly, sliding his hand down to hold your waist. His caresses drizzled under your skin, lulling you and feeling his body heat radiating onto you. Oh, his scent was just enough to send your desires and wanton lust ablaze. Starved of love for far too long, it felt painful deep down, like having an appetite for something unreachable.

“How was work? Everything okay?” Geto’s eyebrows slightly drew together, mentally contemplating this sudden rush of energy you had compared to this morning where you were all groggily and not in the mood for work.

You kept touching him, fiddling with his collar and running your hands down his chest. You couldn’t believe you were finally this close to him; it made you so nervous deep down. His physique was a masterpiece of curvaceous precision, artwork sculpted and delicately lined that you’ve adorned ever since you first laid your eyes on him. It was like doing a reality check to see if this was all real and not just a forbidden fantasy, that Geto Suguru truly belonged to you. Admiring him like an award, rather, a prized possession that you worked so hard to achieve.

“Work was… tiring,” you reply with a feigned sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I was also distracted today, too…”

“Oh? And why is that?” He smirked and inched his lips closer, giving you exactly what you wanted that you just couldn’t bare holding back longer. How can you crave something so rich and true that existence felt like it paled in comparison?

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you at work,” you muttered coyly. “Especially about this morning when you took care of me…”

“Oh, baby…” Geto held onto your hips as he guided you gently to the counter behind you. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

The way your eyes glimmered with passion and fire was so ravishing to him. He knows just how bad you want it, until he suddenly thought about the vegetables that were unfinished.

“…But, I gotta feed you first. You’ve been working so hard. You must be exhausted.”

With a soft kiss on the forehead, Geto walks back over to where the cutting board of vegetables laid, grabbing the knife and continuing to chop. You’ve never got to experience a domestic life with a man this way. He was the ideal, perfect husband. Financially supportive, stable, loyal, loving, housekeeping, all of the qualities and categories you’ve observed while stalking him several weeks prior. But god, you couldn’t wait to physically and spiritually experience the way he is in bed…

The rest of the evening you were getting ready upstairs, then headed down to the kitchen a few minutes later to aid him in preparing. Nothing unusual, unordinary, or out of place happening as the rest of the evening went on. You adjusted pretty quickly with the aid of his wife’s memories that you absorbed. You knew what food he liked, how to operate the stoves and other kitchen supplies, how they set the table, what time they usually eat dinner, and so on. And of course, a sprinkle of flirting here and there.

“Hm. Did you add something?” Geto asks after he ate a spoonful of the food you helped making at the dinner table. “I never tasted Zaru Soba like this before. I thought you’d always follow the same recipe.”

You panicked, not knowing that you might have accidentally changed something and tension would suddenly form over small stuff like this. “Um— I just felt a little… experimental today. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”

“No, no, honey,” he chuckles, reaching over to hold your hand in reassurance. “It doesn’t taste bad. I just thought… this was your family recipe and you stuck with it for years. But no harm in adding something new, right?”

You chuckled it off, trying to recompose yourself from the rapid beating of your heart. Perhaps there were major differences between you and his wife that would take time to adjust. However, you refused. Geto, on the other hand, scrutinized your little mannerisms like always. He’s attracted to every small thing his wife does; whether it’d be the way she sits, the way she speaks, the cute facial expressions she makes that makes him want to figure out what she’s thinking about. But for some reason, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling tonight.

Saturday evening dinners, he knows that you’re tired. Drained, enervated, and groggy all because of work. His wife would eat more slowly and frequently grab the pitcher on the table to keep refilling her glass from dehydration. The water in the pitcher would be iced as well, but tonight you left it at room temperature. You were almost finished with your plate, which is unusual because Geto always finishes his food before you, just so he can sit, talk, and listen as you ate. And the way you sat as well; usually you’d be slouching and massaging your thighs because of soreness and cramps and stress. Right now, your leg was folded on the other and your back seemed perfectly fine, shoulders pushed back like how you would sit in the fancy restaurants he would take you. But he knows just how comfortable you are with him at home that you don’t even have to act all modest and fancy.

How weird. I never overthink about my wife and her wellbeing, Geto vacillated in his mind. She’s just in a good mood..! There’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing about her changed at all…

“What are you thinking about, hm?” you coaxed, rubbing your foot against his leg under the table it caught him off guard. Your gaze flickers onto his, the heated look in your eyes seeping into his skin like water in a wound. The way you take him in was something he’s never seen nor felt before. His wife’s “fuck-me” eyes would be more submissive, more doe-eyed, more slothful, more yearning. That glimmer in your eyes that makes him lose his mind… But the look you gave him just now was enough to penetrate his psyche; rapacious, calculated, greedy— like a predator feening on its prey that it captured, having him all to yourself.

“Ah, I was just…”

Geto’s been contemplating the past ten minutes that he wasn’t even able to register you leaning in closer to kiss him. But it wasn’t just any soft, passionate kiss like you were trying to soothe him or give a loving, tender gesture. The way you kissed him was out of urgency, as if a rush of adrenaline took over you. The greed and desire he could see in your eyes earlier resonated in the kiss. He was confused, but at the same time… he couldn’t resist the way you clung onto him like he’s the only solid thing in your hazy world.

Your bodies bled into one as he kissed you, picking you up just to set you down on the dining table. As much as he wanted to be gentle with you, you were the one that kept devouring farther and rougher in his mouth, turning the kiss sloppy and barricading your hearing with heavy breathing. You’ve been wanting this ever since he stepped foot into your office that day. To feel his ravenous, depraved sexual energy coursing in your veins and setting your ribs on fire. Your wild ecstasy was fulfilling you so incredibly, an insatiable hunger and frenzy growing right at its peak that it greeds for more…!

“Fuck— wait, baby,” Geto breathed out in between kisses, still astounded from how energetic and horny you were despite working a 10 hour shift. “You still haven’t told me about work… What happened? Why are you so worked up tonight, hm?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you purred in his ear, realizing just how good you were at improvising and playing along. “Right now I just want you, Suguru… I want you right here on this table.”

“You didn’t have to tell me twice. I’ll fuck you until the legs of this table breaks.”

Arousal has never felt this intense; maybe you were much more wild and ravenous than Geto deep down. Like an animal driven by nothing more than the primal need to claim him as your own. He could feel how wet and hot you were for him just by lightly brushing his fingertips on your panties, seeing you squirm and grind your hips against him just for friction. Your body’s reaction and your desperation were so adorable to him it made his cock stir in his pants. Perhaps this was the only way to make him stop overthinking about the small stuff and get over it.

Suguru lowered himself down as he pushed your panties to the side. “I’ll eat this pretty pussy out from the back and then fuck you like I always do…”

You could feel him licking the glistening juices off your skin, savoring the taste and the delicate scent that drove him fucking insane. He proceeded to push a finger inside you, so slick and wet for him, emitting whimpers and moans out of your mouth. He adored hearing you make such filthy noises that reverberate off the walls. And he loved whenever you bucked against his face as his fingers curled inside you, hitting the spot and sucking on your clit that he knows drives his wife insane. He would never go on without eating her pussy; not just for her pleasure, but his pleasure as well.

He was also a man that kept his promises; several moments later your head was pinned down on the table as he fucked you so viciously on the table that you were on your tip toes. Shameless moans soaking into the air, his thrusts so rough that the table moved inch by inch on the floor it started creaking. You could finally feel it; you could taste it, you could down it like a drug, you enthralled in his sexual energy… An ecstatic feeling blooming like knots in your stomach and acquainting many unfamiliar parts of you that you never knew were there. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as he fucks you through your orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

Geto has never seen his wife come so hard like that. As if he finally awakened her inner whore, overtaking the pleasure instead of surrendering to it just to soothe her. Oh, she wanted more. She wanted to make it hurt. Make her lose her mind. It made his cock throb when he could see how greedy you really were, how you were so writhed with lust and addicted to the drunken-like feeling when you orgasm all over his cock. As much as he wanted to be the gentle dom he always was to his wife, something about tonight and the exchange of energy in the kitchen made him wild. He was hungry. He was ravenous…

I’ve never felt this way before, he thought to himself. As if my wife bewitched me or something…

If only the poor man knew. Because for the next few days and nights at the Suguru residence, things started feeling different.

Specifically with his wife.

Sure, your sex life together has improved ever since the sex therapy sessions with Doctor Y/N. He was able to indulge in some of his fantasies, including his wife’s. But sometimes it would get out of control; less intimate, less emotional, and more of a way to “get each other off” kinda thing. It wasn’t sex or making love… It was just fucking. He wanted this to be a balance between the passion and roughness. But it was leaning too far into roughness...

Aside what’s been going on in the bedroom, he started taking note of all the small mannerisms and things you do again. Recounting the time of how you started falling asleep way later than him now. The time you reorganized your beauty products and stopped using majority of them, which is unusual because you were obsessed with those specific makeup brands. Even your style and fashion taste is a tad bit different now, especially when you’re off to work— A little more provocative, he would describe. And the fact that you were suddenly all spiritual and astrological, which is extremely odd since that’s one of Geto’s expertise and his wife was unfamiliar with it.

You were never this… bold or outgoing. Out and about in public, you’d be so engaging, eloquent, and confident; the traits of an independent, feminine woman. It may be astonishing to see you’re out of your comfort zone, but seeing this behavior come out of nowhere rather than gradually made him overthink. It was like a light switch where the personality he fell in love with completely reformed itself in just a mere second. You don’t even drink that much either, until, Geto came home one night to you drinking tequila. He knew that too much would make his wife throw up, but taking it away from you suddenly stirred up an argument.

“The Hell’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so weird, lately?” he chided.

“What do you mean I’m being weird? I’m your wife, for fuck’s sake. This is how I normally am!”

“You know that your alcohol tolerance is low with tequila. Give it to me. You’re drunk!”

Your body temperature is even different when you’re cuddling together that it concerned him. And the fragrance you wear that he was so addicted to began to change as well. It was unsettling to even think of or witness, but then again, he kept constantly gaslighting himself that you’re really his wife. Physically the same, like her eyes, hair, face, body, and all... Nothing really changed about your appearance except for the new hairstyles you do and the attires you wear now. You stuck with your regular routine and schedule, knew how everything in the house works, remembered important dates, car payments and all that… There wasn’t anything out of order pertaining to physical matters.

But this gut feeling he endured four weeks ago when you came home on the 28th just couldn’t stop churning in him… There’s a fear that hides in a corner of his brain. Deeper than what he overthinks, like his intrusive thoughts.

No. Couldn’t be.

Why would I think such a thing about her?

He studied his wife again, who was napping right on his lap. Your face remained nonchalant and emotionless as you slept, which was also odd. Usually she would have her lips slightly perched apart as she’s deep in slumber, softly breathing. Sound asleep just like a baby that makes him want to plant kisses all over her precious face. But now you look like you don’t want to be bothered or woken up.

Then he found himself staring at the photos hung on the wall. Their wedding pictures, their anniversaries, vacations, and family gatherings all made him oddly nostalgic, like he’s never going to experience these precious moments of time ever again. He kept staring at his wife on the photos; timid, shy, but undeniably adorable. He really brought the best out of her as she did for him as well. But why does it feel like the woman on the photos is not the same woman laying on his lap right now?

I can’t be having thoughts like this, he panicked. I don’t want to have thoughts like this.

That’s my wife. I married her.

Why would she be any different?

More time had passed, and Geto’s gut feeling kept scorching in him like an endless flame. Because it wasn’t just this bottomless pit of anxiety swirling in his stomach. An irrational fear, fairly similar to paranoia and anxiety, like something or someone is watching him. Keeping him close by. Prompting him to keep looking back over his shoulder, or feel his skin crawl during the nights he struggles to fall asleep over this bullshit.

There were some unsettling nights with his wife. As if her presence, her aura, everything about her energy resonated to him as… caution. Eerie, abnormal, grim. When he first met his wife, she was a sweetheart, a delicate woman; the moment she steps into the room, his body would blossom with unending ecstasy and rapture. He was smitten, madly in love. It made him want to protect her, to hold her all day, to devote himself to her forever… But now he feels the need to shield himself, to keep some distance away from her, and try not to “provoke” her like she’s a deadly predator that’s keeping her prey hostage, ready to strike at any minute. And even though he tried communicating to her about what he feels, it was straight to rough make-up sex. But her strange, erratic behavior still never changes…

Give me a sign, universe, if my gut feeling about my wife is correct…

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

There really was no other way.

It’s a sad reality that people can just change in a snap of a finger. Watching the people that you sincerely care for and love the most just become a whole different person is gut-wrenching and agonizing to bare. Geto couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t understand how this all happened, completely changing the course of the beautiful future him and his wife planned together.

It was impossible to put his finger on. Was his wife really putting on a facade this whole time around him? No. He never questioned anything about her until now and it freaked him out. Seeing her change and act like a whole other person in over a span of a few weeks was just impractical. But at the same time, he couldn’t keep lying to himself anymore.

He had his bags ready with everything he needed just to get away for a couple of days. There was obviously that lingering regret that he might be making the wrong choice. But he was a man that always trusted his gut; never has he ever endured this feeling of every nerve of his body being on high alert. Frozen, tangled in a heap of himself. But because his body had failed him, his mind bears the weight. Like speeding through every option, every possible source of control.

Once you left to go buy food, he was ready to go. Driving far away to the finished lakehouse which is one of the properties he owns, but never took his wife yet since it was under construction for a few months. Never looking back, trying so hard not to dwell on his emotions. His wife’s attitude, behavior, actions… everything was all elusive to him. The way it invaded his mind was the sign all along— a warning, rather. And then there’s this paralyzing belief that led him to his intrusive thoughts, like an insane theory that she is someone else, someone new living in her skin, taking over her body…

My wife is gone. Someone killed her.

That was the mindset he forced himself to conjecture. The drive was two and a half hours, and even though he believed that he left everything behind with no trace, there was that same symphony of paranoia causing a cacophony in his mind. That dreadful feeling of being followed or watched when he leasts expects it. The sinking feeling of making the wrong choice and it was all in his head. His anxiety would even skyrocket if a black Audi, the car his “wife” drives, started following him for more than five minutes.

She’s gone. She’s not coming back.

When he finally made it to the lake house, he was absolutely lost. He’s never felt this alone without the love of his life. He knew that his life, his body, his soul would be devoid without her, and it felt as if he had been grieving, still in denial about what happened. He just couldn’t let her go, but then again… that’s not the same woman he met four years ago.

She’s not going to find you here, he promised himself. Stop being paranoid now. It’s over. She’s gone.

The sunset radiated a soft glow right through the wide windows, feeling his body soothe from all that nausea-induced anxiety and paranoia. Reconnecting with nature; that was exactly what he needed the most. Reveling in the crisp breeze and the lingering scent of pine trees, Autumn was the season that he associated his wife with. Consuming everything pumpkin flavored, raking the orange and yellow leaves littering their yard, being able to wear her favorite sweaters again…

Stop reminding yourself of her. She’s dead.

As he was meditating and alleviating himself with tea the past few minutes, it was already nightfall. The stars were sloshing behind moldy gray clouds. The moon was a waning gibbous, shyly peaking from the shadows with one of its symmetrical sides. He needed to relish in this beautiful moment of tranquility and let himself go from reality.

But it wasn’t until the loud caw of a crow from nearby startled him, perched right on the balcony’s railing just to stare into his eyes. Too enervated from the situation, he ignored it and just went back inside, locking all the doors and windows and closing the blinds. So much pain weighing down on his heart to bear, clinging to his skin like static and stalking him like his own shadow. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. He needed all the time in the world to be alone.

But those damn crows outside the house wouldn’t shut up. He can hear them swarming in groups through trees, followed by the cool winds rustling the leaves. The sounds of nature began to exasperate him along with the ticking of the clock in his room, preventing him from drifting off to sleep. It made his stomach twist and ache again, thinking that the outdoor noises were something else in a remote location like this. Animals? Intruders…?

His heart dropped down into his stomach again. Distressed and unsettled, like anticipating trauma, it was back to the point he had to keep looking over his shoulders, wary as ever. He didn’t know if this was real or a nightmare. With every tick of the clock his stomach falls sick, causing his heart vessel to stretch, pump, and rush to survive.

He’s never known the true feeling of terror in all his life. Psychological torment, anguish, a fight-or-flight moment… He holds his breath as he slipped off the bed and saunters warily downstairs to the kitchen and slipped out the largest knife from the wooden knife holder. He can sense that someone’s here already, feel the presence of some being closing in on his ears and neck. After all the shit he endured the past couple weeks, he let his underlying aggravation seep instead of his paranoia, cluthing the handle of the knife tighter. He was ready to strike at any minute, at any second he sees or feels something unusual in the house.

He checked the front door. Still locked. Everything downstairs remained the same as it was when he arrived, nothing out of place or unusual. It was dark outside, but the moonshine was luminous enough to gleam through the blinds. The sounds of nature became prolonged-silence, the tension so thick it was impossible to slice through. He decided to head back upstairs, still wielding the knife in his hand. If everything was really fine, and there were no signs of breakage or intruders rummaging in any areas of the house… how the Hell was his “wife” sitting so gracefully on his bed, the moment he turned on the lights?

His heart raced like wildfire after seeing you, pounding loudly in his ears. He could feel his own blood being forced through his veins with every loud thump from such unimaginable, staggering fear. You slant your head at him with a small smirk, dressed in a pink silk robe with nothing underneath. Your hands propped beside you, arching your back and folding your legs to show your skin underneath. He remembers his wife wearing that silk robe when they were on honeymoon, which adorned her figure so beautifully… But nothing about this was beautiful or even an attempt to seduce him— he had tempered rage. Fear. Bewilderment. Anger. Frustration. You see it all like a flint behind his eyes, a surging storm taking over.

“Is that how you greet your wife? Holding a knife in your hand like that?” you coaxed, slanting your head at him with a cocky smile it pissed him off.

“You are not my wife,” Geto spat out, pointing the knife at your expressionless self. He cautiously ambles closer towards the bed, feeling his heart beat erratically. “Who are you!?”

The question made her stifle her laugh. She stood up from the bed and Geto backed up, clutching tightly on the knife’s handle he could feel his palms become clammy.

“I’m your wife, Suguru. I’ve always been your wife. We’ve known each other ever since Satoru introduced you to me—“

“You’re not!” he chastised. “You’re not… my—“

“Oh, but I am. You married me in November last year in Thailand. And we had our honeymoon in Malaysia. Remember when I wore this for you?”

Geto’s nose flared as he held back tears, feeling his throat ache as if he was being choked by barbed wire. “Stop. Just— just fucking tell me who you are. I know that you’re not her. Stop fucking lying to me. You’re not the same!”

“And if I wasn’t?” she piqued. “Imagine how terrifying that would be if I really wasn’t your wife all along. Now put the knife down.”

His jaw clenched harder, glaring down at you.“That won’t be happening. I know witchcraft when I see it— what the fuck did you do to her!?”

“You’re fucking insane.” You deadpanned at him as if he offended you, your gesture switching from tender and endearing to menacing, like you were ready to strike him on sight. It made his heart leap.

“Don’t you want a wife who’s not so fragile? Not so delicate and shy and… timid? Knows how to defend herself, knows how to act like an independent woman?” You ambled much closer and Geto was rendered frozen, flinching slightly when you whispered in his ear, “A wife who can fulfill all those dirty fantasies of yours and keep our sex life healthy?”

“She’s not— I don’t need—“

“Yes. You do. I can’t imagine myself living in your shadow all the time. That was our tiny, little flaw in our marriage. Acting as if I don’t have a mind of my own and can’t make smart decisions for myself. Now, you…” your tone falls sharper, channeling up your frustration to roughly push him against the wall so abruptly that the knife slipped from his hands. “What you did tonight, Suguru… Running away from me before our wedding anniversary, leaving our wedding ring on the table, abandoning me as if I was nothing to you… makes me think you’re ungrateful for everything I’ve done. For you, for us, for our marriage.”

Geto felt an uncontrollable ache scorching in his body from this foreign feeling of despair and hopelessness— once again, terror had struck him. The way his body and mind reacts is something he never experienced in his life until now, until the last few weeks, until his “wife” ruined his life…

“No, that was— Please—“ he stammered, gasping when your hand clutches around his throat and roughly pinning him against the wall.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Suguru,” you chided breathlessly. “Our marriage was supposed to be perfect! I did everything I could to fix myself as a wife. And because you didn’t like it, you ruined everything.”

He struggled fighting your suffocating grasp, trying to speak but some words got caught in his throat. When he first heard the phrase, “a woman is no man’s peace,” he hardly believed that would be the case with his wife until tonight.

“I’m— I’m so— sorry—“

When you let go of his throat so abruptly, he fell to his knees, gasping and coughing heavily as he was trying to catch his breath. Never has he ever thought of putting his hands on his wife. Never has he seen it coming from her that she would be the first to hurt him, to put her hands on him. It made him frazzled, penting up all the pain and ache that will never go away. He stared at the floor, swimming in regret and fear until he found the knife sitting under the bed.

“I— I made a mistake,” he breathed out, gazing up at you on his knees as he slowly inched near his bed. “I’m sorry. I was scared. It’s a pathetic, coward excuse of a husband like me. But we can go home, we’ll— we’ll pretend this night never happened. I won’t tell anyone— Please, love. Let’s just go home…”

You slanted your head again and scoffed. “Won’t tell anyone?”

Who is there even to tell?

“If you just want me… for my money or for sex,” he grunted, “It’s fine, I— I just really wanna go home and… be there for you. Fix our marriage together. Live our life together until we die. I’ll even give you my kids.”

“Kids?”

High on adrenaline, Geto grabbed the knife and sliced it through her leg with a grunt, emitting an agonizing shriek from you. As you wailed in pain and screamed at him furiously, he scrambled on his feet and ran as fast as he could downstairs and out the door. Cursing at himself for not grabbing the car keys, his body was still high on alert and adrenaline, urging him to run towards the dark woods where he could hide temporarily until she’s out the house. It was a dangerous, stupid situation he put himself into— but at least he knew some of the neighbors nearby where he could get help. All he had to do was run and never look back, just how he did before.

As he was making his way through the woods, panting heavily and constantly looking back at his shoulders, he tripped over something hard on the dirt and fell into a pit that was hidden behind bushes. Groaning in pain and trying to regain his stability, he tried analyzing where he had fallen, until, something macabre caught his eye.

Doctor Y/N. His sex therapist. Her dead, soulless body laying right in the pit he fell into.

He finally fathomed his true demise. His eyes widened in horror from this inescapable, indescribable terror burning his brain like acid. As if his heart wasn’t erratically thundering and pounding in his chest already, his pulse kept rapidly accelerating and accelerating until he felt like passing out. It took him awhile for this all to register, all to make sense in the nightmare he’s currently living. And for the first time in his life, he screamed bloody murder.

The crows cawing loudly within the trees blended with his scream. You were already caught up with him despite your injury, looking down at your old body and then at Geto who was in distress, which you found hilarious. Now you finally have him wrapped around your finger after understanding the situation— if only the desperate man had listened to you before.

“Oh, Suguru. Did you kill your therapist and bury her near your lakehouse?” you chuckled in amusement. “Try running from me again. If you do… I might as well tell the police that you killed Doctor Y/N…”

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[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. Don’t forget to dispose your 4D glasses at the bins before you exit. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by shono on deviantart ♥︎

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @crysugu @red-velvet-moth-hearts @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @justmaragudytha @apwing @mqfuyuu @1tslilithh @arikomot0si @strawberrymilk4k @tojigasam @strvwberrymilk @shycoffeetaco @honeybeegoburrr8 @killzenin @ackachii @xxhamtara @ecstaacy @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @nanananamiiii @shoyosdoll @blackhoodlea @rodeo-star @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins @jaennii

inspired by the horror fic “dead ringer” by emphemeron, t0bemadeofglass, the lemonade poems by warsan shire, and slightly inspired by Multiverse of Madness.

[espikola]

[selfloverrrrrr]

The Fallen Angel~

Warnings : love, fluff, a lot of plots, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, fallen angel gojo....

Summary: Gojo Satoru was an angel. But instead of falling in hell accidentally he falls on earth and got a life like humans. Then the story begins....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

CHAPTER -1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6 (COMING SOON)

[k-martins]

They are the real drama queens!

[bodega-catto]

[wisecura]

Nanny

It had been a restless evening, the emptiness of your house only adding to the unease. With your husband away on another mission, worry consumed you, and you found yourself checking your phone obsessively. He’d been getting back to back missions recently, the next tougher than the previous. When a message from *Satoru*  flashed on your screen, you sighed, knowing him well enough to brace yourself.  He’d been texting constantly, asking how you were, each question playful yet persistent. But tonight was different.

> “Hey, open up! I brought some company. 😉”

Before you could even think of a reply, there was a knock on the door, quick and insistent. Your heart skipped—you knew Satoru well enough to know he didn't need to wait for an answer. In typical fashion, he’d decided to make an appearance without a second thought. And, of course, Suguru would be there as well, always close behind. Always following Satoru’s impulsive ideas with a tact and restraint that balanced his friend’s recklessness. It’s always been this way. It had been over a year since you’d seen either of them in person, so maybe you should have expected this—an unannounced visit, catching you completely off guard.

Opening the door, you found Satoru and Suguru standing there, too comfortable, as if they’d belonged in your entryway. Satoru’s grin was wide, a touch smug, his sunglasses pushed up on his head so his bright blue eyes could bore directly into yours. Beside him, Suguru wore a slight, closed-eye smile that softened his expression but did little to ease the quiet intensity in his gaze. Satoru looked amused, mischievous, and undeniably pleased to see you, while Suguru’s calm, patient stare held you in place, as if daring you to turn them away. Before you could say another word, Satoru invited himself in, pushing past you.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Satoru’s voice rang out, laced with that playful edge, as he swept past you, already making himself at home in your living room. “A whole year, and you’re acting like we’re strangers. Not very welcoming, Mrs. Kamo.” His voice dropping in tonnage at the mention of your new surname. 

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he dragged it out, each syllable laced with a mocking drawl. You still weren’t used to hearing it. The new name felt foreign, like a title you hadn’t quite claimed.  Suguru, still lingering by the doorway, let his gaze meet yours, that faint smile on his lips—one that seemed strained at the edges, as though he was just as unsettled as you were. There was something in his look that was patient yet pointed, as if he, too, was piecing together the reality before him.

Satoru set a bag of snacks on the coffee table, his eyes sweeping over the clean yet modest room, taking in every detail with a slight arch of his brow, as if comparing it to the grandeur of the Gojo clan estate. The heat crept up your cheeks under the weight of his silent judgment, and you felt a prickle of self-consciousness under their scrutiny. You finally made your way fully into the living room. Suguru followed a step behind you, his gaze tracing the details of the room and lingering over subtle hints of your husband’s presence: a jacket draped over the arm of a chair, a pair of shoes neatly set by the door. No pictures though. You could feel their silent appraisal, the faint tension crackling between the three of you.

The reality was sinking in for them now. They had heard, of course, only a week after you’d married—a brief, cold announcement that their former nanny, their constant presence, was now married to some grade 2 sorcerer from the Kamo clan. The shock had been palpable, but they hadn’t received so much as a word from you about the whole thing. Not a single explanation. It was as if you’d vanished, leaving only a name and title they barely recognized. Your text messages after the news, became short and distant -- less casual, evading any mention of your husband or your new life. Your schedule suddenly filled, enough to displace your meet ups. Satoru and Suguru had been busy after that. Very busy.

Suguru’s typical restraint seemed to slip, his normally calm demeanor laced with the same faint bitterness as Satoru’s. He was calm, but his words carried a bite, a hint of something you hadn’t expected from him. “You know, Satoru,” he began, his voice soft-purring almost, yet laced with mirth, his eyes sweeping over your modest home, “it’s not really her fault. She’s newly wed, after all.” His voice carried a strain, colder than you were used to, his tone dipping into a mocking edge. “Honeymoon phase 'n all.” 

You felt the sting of his words and braced yourself for the inevitable teasing, knowing they had likely heard about your marriage from someone other than yourself. They were bound to find out, and deep down, you knew you had this conversation coming.

Still, you’d convinced yourself it wouldn’t be as big a deal. They had moved out of the clan house, each finding their own paths. Satoru, ever the rebel, had shirked his responsibilities as clan heir, showing his familiar disregard for tradition and hierarchy. He’d never been one to follow the rules, and you had thought—maybe naively—that this wouldn’t matter so much.

His focus honed in on the two children he'd taken in-Megumi and Tsumiki. Suguru, through your insistence maintained his missions to life balance, having also taken in the two girls he met in that village-Nanako and Mimiko. Something you'd advised him on before things had gotten out of control, like in the original story. Your small interferences in this world that allowed for more peace.

Adjusting to life-in this new world had been jarring at first; you hadn’t expected a second life, especially not after your first ended so soon. You’d read the Jujutsu Kaisen manga, even watched the show. So the cold, isolated world of their childhoods was something you were painfully familiar with. Satoru, at least, had the prestige of his clan, while Suguru’s circumstances were far worse than you’d realized. Using your cursed energy-your life-as leverage, you struck a deal with the Gojo clan-securing a place as Satoru's caretaker. Weighing your life on the line, and your compliance with any request the current clan head deemed necessary. And with this promise you were allowed to bring in Suguru. Suguru, once you found him, required little convincing, his situation had been far more unfavorable than you'd of guessed. Despite being only a few years older, you’d practically raised the two boys. Together. The way you thought it should've been. And when they made it through high school still loyal to one another, you felt a deep satisfaction-pride, hopeful for the future you’d managed to shape.

Now, standing in your small home with them after such a long separation, a tentative smile found its way to your lips. The tension, palpable. You tried to ease into the conversation, letting warmth slip into your voice as you went to shut the door. “It’s so good to see you two,” you said, hoping to mask your own discomfort. “I wasn’t expecting you to just… show up…” you hastily corrected yourself, “but you’re always welcome here. I’ve just been busy—”“Busy ignoring us, yeah?” Satoru cut in, eyes still roaming your living room, sounding like he was putting a great effort into maintaining his playful yet bored persona.

The underlying bitterness was still there. He threw himself onto the couch with an unamused scoff. He patted the cushion beside him—a silent command for you to sit—his gaze steady, almost expectant. But you stayed where you were, studying him with a cautious eye. Satoru could be bratty, sure. He’d thrown tantrums before, though they never went beyond pouting and whining, which usually resolved with him clinging to yours side or Suguru’s until his mood lifted. Even as he grew older, that side of him never faded. Clinging was just something he did, a comfort you’d grown accustomed to.

But this time, he seemed more wound up, his tone just a little more cold that you'd like. Not that you were scared he'd hurt you, but you knew you didn't know where this conversation would lead. the unexpected, yeah?

When you didn’t take the offered seat, he rolled his eyes, and his tone sharpened as he continued, “You didn’t even tell us about the wedding. What was up with that, huh? Did they threaten you or something?” His question caught you off guard, a bluntness you weren’t prepared for beneath his casual delivery. Across the room, Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze calculating-watching the conversation unfold- ready to step in if needed. His posture was relaxed-with great effort. The silence stretched, his presence somehow heavier than Satoru’s, until finally, when he felt you wouldn't answer, he spoke.

“Satoru’s right.” His voice was smooth, calm, but the bite never left his words. “You never even told us about…” He paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to search for the right term. “Him. And now here you’re married and… preoccupied.” His words felt deliberately chosen, disapproving. 

You hesitated, feeling their unwavering gazes pressing down on you, making it difficult to find the right words. You had to explain yourself. You knew you did. These two boys, whom you raised and grew up with. Who you protected and cared for. At least you could try to explain yourself, without you giving away the deal you struck with the current Gojo Clan Head. The man that took you in that day. The promises you made.  

 “It wasn’t personal,” you sighed, feeling your voice waver. No. You couldn't falter now. Yet, the explanation felt hollow even as you spoke. “And no, I wasn’t threatened,” you added, a small, half-hearted attempt at a joke that fell flat. “I just… I thought the higher-ups would have informed you. It wasn’t meant to be a secret.” Distance. You've always been reminded to keep your distance from the two.  You look away somewhat guilty, knowing how bland your answer was. It really hadn't been personal. You just knew how busy they were. And with the pressure from the higher ups to move forward...quickly… and the reminder from your Clan Head of your duty. Your role in this society. 

Satoru snorted, crossing one leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back of the couch in a way that took up far more space than necessary.

“Yeah, because I love getting news about you from the higher-ups.” His eyes glinted with a rebellious spark, a hint of challenge in his voice. “But you couldn’t tell us yourself? Not a single heads-up? Didn’t think to mention it in any of those text messages? C’mon, you’re better than that, aren’t you?”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he took in your discomfort, his voice slipping into a low, coaxing tone. He knew what Satoru was doing-but he at least needed to soften you up a bit. Satoru was never one for social cues. “We were only a little surprised, you know,” he murmured, confirming Satoru's words, gently. “We thought you trusted us. At least enough to tell us.” His words lingered in the air for a moment. His thoughts turned to a slightly darker place, once again feeling a little peeved that you hadn't even whispered a word about this to them before.  His expression grew colder-not really able to stop it, more guarded as he seemed to think his next words over. “But it seems like your marriage took priority. Did you think we wouldn’t care? That we wouldn't have anything to say about this?”

You knew what he meant. With how close you were when growing up, not even hearing it from you directly would come as a shock. And with how busy you've been lately….and with your husband's requests. “I’m sorry if I made you feel…” you trailed off, hands wringing together as you searched for the right words. “But it’s not as if I chose him… you know that. The higher-ups arranged it. It all happened so fast, and Itaru doesn’t really like me talking—”

“Ugh, don’t even say that name,” Satoru cut you off quickly, his face scrunching up with barely concealed disdain. His words felt like a slap across the face, and he looked at you as if the very mention of your husband was somehow a personal attack. Surprise was an understatement. You had no idea where the hostility for your husband was coming from. For you? Sure. Before you could dwell on it—Suguru’s hand found your shoulder, a steady touch, though his gaze held an edge that mirrored Satoru’s irritation.

“We’re not interested in hearing his excuses. We’re here for you,” he said softly, as though he was talking to a child. Scolding. “And if he’s already setting boundaries on who you can talk to… well, that’s a problem, no? Especially if he's keeping you from us.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed at your lack of response, a faint smirk forming, though it was devoid of humor. “Let me guess,” an uncharacteristic sneer plastered on his handsome face, “He’s got all these ‘concerns’ about you staying close with us. Convenient, isn’t it? Distancing you from the people who’ve actually looked out for you. Manipulating you into thinking he knows what’s best. What a sly little rat.” You hesitated, words failing to form as Satoru’s words sunk in-almost wanting to defend the man you agreed to marry. The truth was complicated, far more delicate than he was making it sound. Itaru had only requested a little distance from other men, something he’d framed as temporary. He hadn’t forced anything, just… gently insisted. And even when you’d explained to him that Satoru and Suguru were like family—brothers, practically—it hadn’t made much difference. He’d merely restated that it was just for a little while, an adjustment to settle into this new life. Especially while he was being assigned to an ungodly amount of missions recently. He didn't trust that the men around you wouldn't notice a lonely housewife when they saw one. Not that-that-was on your mind, anyway. 

But how could you phrase that now, standing before them?

Suguru’s gaze remained soft, condescending. “So… that’s what he’s asking of you? That you keep away from us? All those months…” His tone even but cold. “Is that really what you want?” “N-no that's not how it is-,” you tried. Satoru crossed his arms, leaning back, challenging you to explain. “Why’s he so worried, huh? Because he doesn’t trust you?” His voice dipped, mocking. “Or maybe he doesn’t trust us, because he knows he doesn’t measure up. He’s worried he can’t compete with what’s already here.” His arrogance, back in full swing. Even with the years spent "counseling" him, you still couldn't knock that bad habit of his. 

You felt like they were twisting your words around, or maybe you just weren't explaining things properly.

But you had your doubts about following through with this too. You knew Itaru’s intentions weren’t necessarily mean, that he was just cautious, wanting to ease into things his own way. But now, under their scrutiny, your reasoning seemed thin, flimsy, as if you were the one desperately grasping for excuses. It didn't help that you felt guilty for not mentioning it before. Your marriage, the move, the reasoning behind your distance, you always opting out of the limited meets ups they scheduled with you. But standing here, with Satoru’s sharp gaze cutting through your feeble defenses and Suguru’s quiet intensity drawing out every buried doubt, you wondered if you’d been deluding yourself this entire time. You'd grown so close with them over the years. They could read all your tells.

“I didn’t mean to push you two away,” you murmured, unsure of where this was going-what they wanted you to say here, looking away from their intense gazes. “I just… thought you’d be busy with missions, training—”Satoru laughed, shaking his head as if the half formed excuse was already ridiculous. “Missions? Training?” he echoed, his tone layered with disbelief.

“You really think we’re that busy? You think we’d just… forget about you?” He held your gaze, “Come on, sweetheart. You should know us better than that.” He glanced at Suguru, exchanging a wordless, intense look, sharing a silent conversation between themselves. Just as they always seemed to do. Suguru’s hand that had rested on your shoulder had drifted to your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin, lingering with an intent that was impossible to ignore. He leaned in a little closer, “We missed you,” he admitted softly-almost a whisper, though the subtle edge in his voice told you he wasn’t wholly satisfied with the answer you’d given. The gesture giving you whiplash from the previous tone of the conversation. “It’s been… strange without you around. Lonely.” The word slipped from him like a secret, his voice carrying a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You swallowed, the ache in your heart threatening to burrow further. The distance you’d thought would be manageable had weighed on them more than you’d realized, and the hint of desperation in both their words had stung, enunciating the fact that your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed as you’d hoped.

“I didn’t know it would… be like this,” you whispered, feeling the confession tumble out before you could stop yourself. Satoru stood up now, stepping into your space with an unsettling confidence. He leaned in close, so close you could see every fleck of color in his brilliant blue eyes. He seemed taller than you remembered—or maybe it had simply been that long since you’d last seen them. “You really thought you could just get married and… disappear?” You knew a threat when you'd heard one, and his tone of voice left now room for second guessing. You couldn't help the shiver that ran up your spine, reminding yourself that this was the same boy you’d once held close after a nightmare, his tear streaked face buried in your comforter. “You don’t just get to leave us like that. You can’t just drop out of our lives. We’re still here, aren’t we?”

You opened your mouth to somehow explain that things had changed now that you were married, but Suguru stopped you in your tracks, his hand brushing lightly over your collarbone, a touch that lingered just a bit too long, sending your heart racing. The meaning behind his actions-not entirely clear, yet there was an undeniable...intimacy to it, one that left you feeling strangely off-balance. Far too close for comfort. “We’re only here because we care,” he murmured, his voice soothing but insistent. “You don’t need to keep things from us.” He stood like a voice of reason. Like the good cop in this interaction, alleviating the harsh words Satoru spewed at you. Yes. Suguru could navigate most social situations. He knew just what to say and how to say it, even if Satoru didn't. They were tag teaming. Convincing you that this had not been a wise choice. Their tones punishing, yet soft enough to prevent you from closing off completely-

Their gazes met again, and the two shared a silent exchange, a flicker of understanding passing between them before Satoru’s smirk grew wider. Finally, stepping back and standing up straight, he gave you a sliver of space. Some breathing room, though his gaze remained fixed, unnervingly smug. His stare heavy, looking down at you. His voice dripped with mock sweetness. “So, tell us—how’s married life treating you?” he asked. “We’re absolutely dying to hear all about it.”

Whiplash. What the hell. You can't say you're completely surprised. The two had always been a troublesome pair. Perfect together, yes. But troublesome. Always keeping you busy. And always knowing how to get what they wanted. What did they want from you? Another apology? You begging? You hesitated, feeling a sense of vulnerability in the change in questioning. “It’s… fine,” you managed, your voice barely steady. “He’s… a good man,” you added, though the slight tremor in your voice didn’t escape their notice. You firmed yourself in your position, nodding along with yourself. They hadn't expected you to say something like that. Maybe some complaining? Maybe a request for them to take you home? But you seemed relaxed. You didn't seem to mind sharing your home with a stranger. With your husband. 

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of dissatisfaction playing across his face as he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest, contemplative but unyielding. “A good man, huh?” tilting his head with an almost lazy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Funny, where is he now? Always leaving his new, little wife all alone?” His tone was sharp, but his actions feigning nonchalance, yet he was daring you to argue. To defend him. “Seems… pretty absent to me,” he added airily. Bored. 

He couldn't be serious. Sure he might be upset with you for keeping your marriage a secret, but you weren't stupid enough not to see the open hostility he seemed to have for your husband. It still felt somewhat unwarranted. The way your husband was acting wasn't abnormal for a husband…right? The missions were part of his duty; you knew that much, even if it meant barely getting the chance to know him, your husband constantly whisked away before he could even settle back into life at home. Your relationship was shallow, even at face value. But he was still a person

Still, the thought crept in—how odd it was, this never-ending string of assignments. And how Satoru seemed to know about your husband's absence in the home. Especially when you refrained from talking about him in the first place.  You look at Suguru, knowing he was the more level headed one of the two, hoping for some kind of control on Satoru's mouth. Suguru, however, seemed to have no intention of letting this slide.

Suguru’s hand tightened gently on your shoulder, his gaze softening but his voice steady, insistent. “You deserve someone who’s there for you,” his voice was as smooth as ever, his eyes meeting yours. “Someone who would put you above any mission, any duty.” His words struck a nerve, surprising you. Surely, The Suguru Geto wasn't belittling your husband for simply fulfilling his role as a shaman? But really, how would they even know about his increased assignments?

The words hung heavily between you, the weight of their shared focus making it hard to look away. They were both so close, their combined presence overwhelming, making you feel a strange mixture of familiarity and unease. The way they spoke, the way they watched you—as though they were challenging you to deny their support, to pretend you didn’t need them, to tell them to leave. You could almost feel the certainty radiating from them, that subtle insistence that seemed to imply they were the only ones who truly understood, the ones who’d be there, regardless of what anyone else thought. It was a weird sensation. 

And maybe they were right. But this wasn’t exactly fair to your husband, was it?

You took a steadying breath, trying to ease the tension rising between you and the two of them. “It’s not fair to judge him like this,” you said, forcing a small smile. “He’s just doing what he’s been asked to do. It’s not like he’s choosing to be away.” You reminded yourself of your duty—the terms you had agreed to when you joined the Gojo clan. This marriage had been requested to strengthen ties with the Kamo clan, to bring about peace-and maybe for them to provide a few other benefits for your clan. And really, the man you married was mild-tempered at worst, a good match in every way. He wasn’t a bad man.

Your words seemed to hang, suspended in the charged silence. Satoru’s expression had shifted from mockery to something darker, his playful edge dulled by the hard gleam in his blue eyes. He studied you, jaw tense, his usual teasing still nowhere to be found. You almost felt scared.

“You’re defending him?” he asked, a boarding on mixture of disbelief and chill, a hint of jealousy just barely concealed. His gaze sharpened, almost accusatory, as if the very thought of standing up for your husband was the worst thing you could have done in that moment. “Tell me…you don’t actually… love him, do you?” The words lay in the air for a moment. Your pulse quickened as you struggled to respond. The intensity of his stare felt almost predatory, something raw and unsettled lurking just beneath the surface. You instinctively backed away, only to find yourself against Suguru, who steadied you, moving his other hand to rest snug on your waist.

Satoru’s bluntness had you reeling, leaving you scrambling for words, as you shook your head silently, unsure of your own movements. His tantrums from before noncomparable to this-“Satoru,” you began, reaching for a steady tone, hoping to comfort him. The familiar name feeling foreign on your lips. After all this time—another thing you’d kept carefully distant. You’d always refrained from using their first names, setting boundaries early on, convinced it was best, even though it felt slightly too formal. The clan head had warned you not to get too close, after all, but Satoru had always pushed back, testing that line with lighthearted, almost bratty tantrums, practically begging you to drop the formality. Only rarely did you give in, maybe a handful of times over the years, and yet here you were, saying it now to comfort him—just like before. 

“It’s an arranged marriage. Love doesn’t exactly come into it right away.” You attempted to placate him, not knowing how to handle his uncharacteristic outburst. His stare softened only marginally at hearing his name fall from your lips. You hesitated, attempting another soft smile, the silence still deafening. “Please,” You don't know what you were pleading for exactly. 

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as though he hadn’t quite heard the words he wanted. He looked away, as if he couldn't bear to see you. Suguru remained beside you, hands in places they normally wouldn't be. His steady presence is as unyielding as ever, watching you with that same intensity, his fingers brushing your shoulder almost as if in silent support—or silent warning. You couldn't just shake him off right now.

This didn't feel right. 

And Suguru’s silence was as intense as Satoru’s gaze. His eyes held that familiar, unreadable look, his unspoken judgment impossible to ignore. He definitely wasn’t pleased either.

“Love shouldn’t come into it at all,” Suguru’s voice was low laced with a tension that sent a chill down your spine. “This arrangement… never should have happened in the first place. They had no right to decide this for you. Not with us here.” The possessiveness in his tone was now unmistakable. If his touches didn't give it away, his tone of voice surely did. Was he really doing this now? 

Satoru let out a frustrated scoff, his hand running roughly through his hair as if he could shake off his irritation. The charm he usually wore so easily was gone, replaced by a rawness that still managed to catch you off guard. “If I’d had any say in this,” he muttered, his tone holding an uncharacteristic bitterness, “you’d never have left the clan house, let alone gotten tangled up in this shit.” His gaze pinned you in place, his blue eyes glinting with something—something wounded, vulnerable. He seemed to grow desperate at the lack of your response. At the lack of your answers. 

“Why didn’t you come to me?” He seemed to be clinging on desperately to his last thread, pleading, a flash of hurt breaking through his usual bravado. “To Suguru? To either of us? At any time, had you just said something-you couldn't have wanted this.”   Right?  The question lingered, an underlying ache, an unspoken need for reassurance, for an answer that could ease the turmoil you caused. His voice begged for your placation. Begged for an answer that would satisfy them. 

“I… I…” Your voice faltered, caught in the swirl of emotions. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t anticipated feeling so cornered, so affected by the intensity of their focus. Satoru’s gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering, while Suguru’s steady presence beside you only added to the weight pressing down on your heart. His hand heavy. But it hit you. It finally penetrated your thick skull. 

The heavy emotion in their voices and the weight of their gazes struck you back through the years you’d shared together. Reminding you once again just who you were talking to.  How had you not pieced it together? Not noticing it before, only now, standing so close to them, you noticed all the subtle changes— In their actions. In their voices. In their build. They felt imposing, more like the men you’d seen glimpses of in the manga, and less like the boys you’d spent so many years watching over.

They've grown. And as dumb as this sounds, these are now, in fact grown ass men. Somehow, in your mind, they’d remained frozen in those younger years, the boys you could still think of as children, as wards, as brothers. You forget, you're not they only one aging. But now, there was a gravity in Suguru’s lingering grip on your waist-your collarbone, a fierce predatory hunger and desperation in Satoru’s gaze that had you questioning everything. Are they seeing an older sister being forced into an arranged marriage? No. That wasn't the expression a younger brother holds for his sister. And that's not the lingering touch a brother should have. You’d been their constant, their unwavering presence through everything—someone they could always rely on. It would make sense for them to see you as an older sister. But…

Before this, everything seemed to fall into place—that was, until the clan proposal blindsided you. The clan had given you a place, a purpose, and protection in this scary world, and with that came oaths and obligations you couldn’t refuse. The marriage was an arrangement, a duty you’d been forced into. You assumed a role that made you closer to them than any other clan member or servant. With only a few years separating you, you’d found a connection with them that no one else could. You had brought them together, raising them as brothers, childhood friends, ensuring they’d have a bond far earlier and deeper than the story had allowed.

When you’d first found yourself isekaied into Gaygay's world, your purpose had been clear: fuck as much shit up as you could-change the loneliness that had defined their past, fill their lives with warmth and support. This ripple will create the butterfly effect you so desperately hoped for. Piece by piece, you’d crafted a life for them that was closer to family, introducing them to each other, creating the foundation they needed to lean on each other—and, as time went on, on you. Shared dinners, afternoon outings, quiet nights, nightmares soothed, and shared beds on nights they couldn’t sleep alone. You’d become a trusted part of their world, and you hadn’t questioned what they might see in you. And how it might change. 

Something cracked within you, a flood of emotions and unanswered questions welling up, leaving you now on the verge of tears. Standing between the two of them as they waited for the answer that might finally satisfy them, even as you struggled to grasp what had shifted between you all. The realization hit hard, leaving you reeling, your stomach twisting at the newfound clarity. All those years you’d brushed off their glances, ignored the intensity that sometimes crept into their words, or the way their hands would linger just a second too long—it all seemed painfully obvious now. But this attachment—this deep dependence—was the inevitable consequence of everything you’d done to shield them from loneliness. This was your fault. You had wanted them to find stability in each other, to grow up without the isolating weight that haunted their futures, to sidestep the darker paths you knew awaited them. To avoid their eventual deaths. 

You’d always imagined yourself fading quietly into the background, a supportive figure as they grew into the powerful sorcerers you knew they’d become. They seemed well on their way to that future, standing shoulder to shoulder, inseparable and stronger than you’d ever dared to hope. But now, standing here under their unyielding gaze, you felt a different ripple of something you hadn’t expected—a need you weren’t sure you even could answer.  

Standing before Satoru and Suguru, you could feel the weight of their oppressive concern. They weren’t ready to let you fade into the background; to them, your life had always been theirs to protect. You'd always been seen as weaker-someone to protect, yet so warm. So theirs. And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you had become more important to them than you’d ever intended. You loved them. You loved them so much. More than their characters in a book. You knew them now. 

Suguru broke through the silence, noticing your distant misty eyes, not wanting to lose you to your thoughts. His voice low, the barely contained frustration sending a shiver down your spine. “They had no right,” he murmured, his voice a fraction of a hair away from the shell of your ear, with a conviction that made it clear he was speaking for the both of them. “Not when we would have done anything—anything to keep you from being used like this.” he seemed to pity your situation. Pitying you. Vying to gain your attention back. They didn't want to see you cry. Ok maybe they did-But if it meant getting answers from you…taking you home… they'd probe as much as they needed to.

“I’m… I’m not being used,” your voice so small, the words sounding weak and wobbly. You knew they were empty, a hollow reassurance that didn’t fool anyone—not even yourself. You had been on the verge of tears before, and all it would take now, is one small kick in that dam.

The man you’d married was calm, steady—a safe choice. You try and convince yourself. Marrying into the Kamo family hadn’t been the worst outcome. not the best either.  You knew the dangers that lurked in the darker corners of Jujutsu society and were aware of the possible fates that could have awaited you if the clan had made a different decision. In that sense, this marriage was practical, logical, clinical. And yet, thinking things over, every reason you’d given yourself for going along with it felt so...insubstantial. If your assumption of their 'hidden' feelings were accurate, it would make sense as to why they'd be so nasty about the situation. In this moment, you couldn't even remember why you'd gone along with it-you sense of duty slowly being forgotten yet creeping in the back of your mind. 

“C’mon now, Doll.” Suguru’s voice was low, threaded with a taunting edge that sliced through the quiet, each word deliberate and laced with something that pinned you in place. The whisper against you ear had you shivering again. When the fuck did his voice get so-He moved over to meet your gaze with an intensity that was hard to meet, making you feel strangely small and fragile in his presence. Despite the fact that you were a few years older, his stance, his tone—it was all so… commanding. He’d never called you “Doll ” before. Satoru was usually the one to throw around the nicknames, playful and light. But this? From Suguru, it felt different—possessive in a way that unsettled you, yet damn near excited you. How did you even feel about this shift? The question barely had time to take root before he continued.

“You can’t be naive enough to believe the clan doesn’t have… ulterior motives marrying you off like that,” he continued, each word deliberate, dark eyes boring into yours with a gravity that made your stomach tighten. The accusation in his voice was sharper than you’d expected, laced with something almost akin to disappointment. It was as if he couldn’t believe you’d allow yourself to be manipulated, to be used by the clan without protest. The accusation sank in, filling the silence between you, leaving you scrambling for words that felt weak before they even reached your lips. “It’s not… it’s not as bad as you’re making it sound,”  what were you saying? Why were you denying it? 

“You’re not… happy here… right?” Suguru’s voice was low and smooth, his words more of a command than a question. The thought of you confirming your happiness with another man…His gaze expectant and unyielding, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response. No. The question wasn't a question; it was a verdict, one he expected you to deny.

Before you could speak, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with disdain.  “Why would she be, Suguru?” he scoffed, his tone mocking, vicious. He couldn't help himself. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, he looked at you with a hard glint in his eye. “He’s weak. Can’t protect her to save his life. Hell, he’ll probably die within a few months with the missions they’re throwing him on. It’d be doing her a favor, really.”

The words were merciless, dismissive in a way that made it clear. Satoru wasn’t merely being critical—he was condemning the man, speaking about him as though he were nothing more than a shadow, something insubstantial, barely worth acknowledging. His gaze flickered to yours, once again-daring you to say something, to offer a defense he wouldn’t allow you to stand by. Daring you to object, to defend the man they both considered unworthy of you.

“Satoru’s right,” Suguru’s voice almost gentle, as if trying to ease you into his words. Still so coaxing, wearing you down. “You’ve always deserved someone strong. Someone who wouldn’t need protection himself.” He paused, watching your reaction closely. “Not someone who’s one mission away from being carried out on a stretcher.”

Suguru tilted his head, studying you with a faint frown, his expression soft but no less intense. “What exactly did you think you were gaining by agreeing to this?” he asked, voice calm but pointed. “A protector? A partner?” He shook his head, lips twisting in a faint smile. “They could have picked anyone, and they gave you… him. Someone who can barely stand his ground, let alone yours.” Suguru let out a soft, derisive chuckle, seeming to laugh at his own joke. “He’s pathetic, really,” murmuring, his gaze flicking back to you. He's gotten more dramatic over the past year. “The kind of man who clings to you because he knows he could never measure up otherwise. Do you really want to be tied to someone like that? Someone who only brings you down?”

You felt your throat tighten, the instinct to defend yourself—and, by extension only, your husband, but Satoru’s eyes flashed, once again daring you to challenge him. “Don’t tell me you think he’s worthy of you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone almost mocking, the pet name laced with double meaning now, as though the mere idea were laughable. “Someone like him doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you. Let alone breathe the same air as you. He’s nothing but a pawn, doing whatever they tell him. And you’re too good to be dragged down by someone so… disposable.”

Suguru chimed in, his voice much lighter, coaxing you to your own answer, as he leaned a bit closer. “We just want what’s best for you,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with the same underlying scorn. “You’re worth more than some mediocre man who can’t even hold his own. Someone who only got close to you because the clan handed you over like… property.”

“I… It’s not about that,” Shut up, you thought. You didn't even know why you were arguing. Why bother when what they're saying is true? You didn't want your husband to die. And with what you knew now, it seemed his assignments may not have been as random as you'd hoped. You needed a second to breathe. To think. You couldn't place your feelings for the two. Did you have those underlying feelings? maybe-yes

“Oh, isn’t it?” Suguru scoffed at your pathetic attempt to defend that weakling, the intensity in his eyes only growing. His chest right up against your back, staring down at you. Satoru crowding your front side. The two had you surrounded. Far too suffocating. “Tell me, Doll, would you trust him with your life? With your future?” That damn pet name was doing nothing to help your nerves. You felt pinned at this moment. The situation seems more…dangerous than it should. 

You felt your resolve wavering under their combined scrutiny, their words pulling at the insecurities you’d tried to ignore, the doubts you’d shoved down for the sake of stability. “It’s not… he doesn’t need to prove himself,” you managed, “Not like that.” You wanted to dispel some of their hostility, but you seemed to be failing.  Suguru’s gaze grew colder, a faint, disappointed sigh escaping him. “You’re defending him, again,” he said quietly, his tone laced with something that felt like reproach. “Why, exactly? What has he done to earn that from you?”

“What, is he good in bed or something?” Satoru’s words cut through the air, each syllable loaded with mockery that hit you like a physical blow. Your head quickly snapped to look up at him, your stare disapproving and awkward. The question and his tone felt so out of place, so direct, so vile, that you found yourself at a loss for words. His expression twisted in disgust, his nose wrinkling as though he could hardly stomach the thought, despite having put it into existence himself. “Ugh, to even think about that bastard’s hands on you…” His voice trailed off, eyeing you up and down as if he'd find your husband's traces on you. His tone filled with a revulsion that left you speechless. “He can’t be that good,” his tone a mix of disdain and something darker, possessive. “Not when he’s so weak. Wouldn't have the stamina to last longer than a minute.” He kept going. And going. 

Caught off guard by the sheer bluntness of the question. Dumbfounded. Words failed you as you struggled to piece together a response, embarrassed and unsure of how to address the accusations he was piling on. You felt your face grow hot, the embarrassment creeping down your neck. “S-shut up,” you stuttered out, unable to meet his eyes. His vulgar words trailing around the room, harassing you. It almost seemed like he enjoyed making you so uncomfortable. He ignored you.

“Satoru,” Suguru interjected, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge. His face remained controlled, almost serene, but his dark eyes betrayed a smoldering intensity, a fire simmering just beneath the surface. He gave Satoru a nasty look, as if telling him to behave. He finally sided with you this time it seemed. His gaze met yours, searching, as though expecting you to confirm or deny Satoru's initial concern. Your sex life. Was that why you were here? He couldn't see any other possibility. No protection. Always away. No previous relationship established. An arranged marriage. One that they could have prevented.

Why were you still here? The thoughts stirred in Suguru's head making him more and more restless at the idea of Satoru being correct. 

“Or,” Suguru finally said, ignoring Satoru’s pouty look as he continued muttering quietly to himself about your husband, and his supposed poor performance in bed, “maybe that's the reason you’re staying, huh?” He leaned in closer, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what this is, Doll? He’s… keeping you around for other reasons? That weakling?” His voice far from friendly, giving way to something more devious and cynical. He was losing his patience. He'd only been wanting to hear it from you. What your reasoning was, but, like Satoru, he couldn't stand the thought of that limp dicked man fucking you. 

The words made your heart race, and you could feel your embarrassment clawing its way up, threatening to betray you further. “I-I..-what-,” you stuttered, head down, and your fist clenching. Your voice sounded so small, as you fumbled through the turn in the conversation, obviously never having breached a topic like

this with them before. 

Suguru’s hand reached out, warm and steady as it tugged your chin to face him. His touch was comforting in its own way, yet his expression still far from warm. He looked at you with a mixture of disappointment, curiosity, his dark eyes searching yours. “Really?” he drawled, his voice a low whisper. “Is that what this is? Because, from where we’re standing, he doesn’t seem like he’s offering you anything you couldn’t find elsewhere.” His thumb traced a gentle line along your lips, his gaze intense. “Or am I wrong?” He simpered. 

Satoru’s hand came to rest on your other shoulder, his fingers warm, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned in. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “You deserve someone who you wouldn't settle for, someone who could actually keep up with you… please you.” His lips quirked up in a smirk, voice suggestive. “And let’s be honest here… he isn’t that man.”

Your face flushed even deeper, caught between the two of them, their words pressing in on you, along with their looming figures. This conversation was growing painful, circling around and around. You felt like it wasn't going anywhere. Not that you could do much to help it. When they had a goal, they achieved it. “It’s… complicated,” your last attempt. Hoping they'd drop it. Hoping that that was the end. Why were you even bothering keeping your situation a secret? Your promises? 

“Complicated?” Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as though the idea was ridiculous. “Oh, come on. It’s not that complicated. You’re married to a man who’s leagues beneath you. Do you really think he’s what you need? That he could satisfy you properly?” His gaze flickered over you, intense and unyielding, and you could feel the question hanging in the air, heavy and loaded. The question was uncomfortably intimate, each word laced with accusation. Satoru held your gaze, the silence stretching between you heavy and loaded, and you felt as though they could both see right through your hesitation. “If he’s everything you want… everything you need,” Satoru murmured, his voice soft, coaxing, “then why does it feel like you’re trapped?” 

His words were gentle, soothing, and framing the accusation as your own. His eyes remained on you, steady and intense, and you felt the weight of his question press against your carefully constructed reasons. They were putting words into your mouth. You knew it. Yet you could admit, it did kind of feel as though you were trapped. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck, caught in your throat. Finally you kept your mouth shut. The intensity of their combined presence, their fingers brushing over your skin, the steady, unyielding weight of their gazes, made it hard to focus, hard to even think. You wanted to go home. 

“Come back with us,” Satoru murmured, his voice smooth and persuasive, his hand slipping to cup your cheek, taking it from Suguru. He tilted your face up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “We’ll take you back to the clan house. We know we’ve… neglected you, left you to figure all this out alone. We won’t make that mistake again.” “B-but I can't defy the clan head…the higher ups…I promised-.” your voice came out somewhat strained.  Satoru’s expression darkened as he ran a hand through his hair, a grimace tugging at his features. He had hoped to wiggle some confession from you. Wanted to see just where your heart lied, and whether it was worth killing off that waste of space husband of yours. 

“And who do you think is running the clan now?” he grumbled, voice laced with frustration. Giving you an out. Tell them you want out of this marriage.  You're shocked. The always so careless and flippant, Satoru Gojo had finally settled and taken hold of his responsibilities. Something you never wanted to pressure him into. He muttered under his breath, cursing the family he was supposed to lead—the family that had taken it upon themselves to marry you off without a single word to him, the heir. Until now, he’d distanced himself from the responsibilities that came with his title, choosing instead to focus on missions, on battles. But this—marrying you off without even a whisper in his ear—was a final insult. It disgusted him almost as much as the man they’d chosen for you. Spineless. Weak. Unworthy-

You swallowed. Before your marriage, both of them were constantly away on missions, caught up in their own responsibilities, and their time with you was sparse—a few hours here and there, sometimes together, but more often than not just brief moments in passing. After the marriage, your interactions dwindled even further as the clan pushed you to focus on your new “duties” and distance yourself from your past. 

His words sound tempting. A promise to take you home. To your familiar room. But what would happen then? Seeing your resolve finally waver, and your decision within reach, their interrogative assault seemed to be finally over. They would seal the deal. You gain reprieve from their questions and smothering gazes, as they seemed somewhat back to normal. Their eyes filled with nothing but warmness and affection towards you. Maybe it would be better to just go back to the clan house and let Satoru deal with the aftermath. He was still the strongest. What was really so wrong with letting him deal with the higher ups? Backing out of your duties. Out of your promises.  “Maybe…” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, the words trailing off as you struggled to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within you, you avoid their gazes. You did love them. It was part of your reasoning for making those changes in the story. What would happen when you got home?  The question repeating itself in your head. They hadn't necessarily confessed to the feelings they'd shown on their sleeves. The idea of going back to the clan house, of letting Satoru handle the consequences, seemed like a relief, a way to escape the uncertainty and pressure you’d been feeling.

Satoru’s hand remained on your cheek, his touch warm and constant, as he leaned in for a hug. Finally embracing you. Sealing the deal. You hadn't realized just how much you missed their hugs. “It’s not complicated, Sweetheart. Just come with us. We’ll take care of everything, handle the fallout, make sure you never have another worm sleeping next to you ever again.”

You let out a soft laugh at this, finding such comfort in his arms at that moment. He was serious, despite his fronting it as a joke. You'd never be marrying another man, aside from himself and Suguru.  Suguru’s remained behind you, falling into the hug you shared with Satoru. “You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone,” he said softly, his gaze holding yours with a steady, unyielding warmth. “We’ve always been stronger together, haven’t we?”

You felt a sense of ease wash over you, the tension that had been knotting your stomach slowly unraveling in the warmth of their words, the gentleness of their touch. With them, the pressure and expectations seemed to slip away, replaced by a comforting familiarity that made the decision feel… inevitable.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, feeling yourself give in, surrendering to the gentle coaxing in their voices, the promise of stability and support that lay within their eyes. The clan house, with them by your side, suddenly felt like the only place you truly belonged.

p. 2

Check out my ao3!

[seiwas]

SEL MY SEL …….. crawling over here for the ask game …………… you already know . who i’m going to ask for phdkdjdkdb IN MY DEFENSE I WILL NEVER GET OVER YOUR VERSION OF HIM !!!!!!!

….. sugu ….. with ’sun’ ……. maybe 👉👈

(🍵 <- a little matcha for your troubles … good luck with the writing exercises my loveee <33 i’m cheering you on!!!)

ARI 🥹🥹🥹🥹 hehe ofc i shall write sugu for u! writing him is always so fun 🥹 thank you for the prompt, and for the matcha!! i will be sipping it as i write this 🥹 it is not a trouble at alllll!! esp if it's for youuuuu 🫶

contains: beautiful, gorgeous, sexy neighbor suguru, mood can be a bit unsettling... honestly a little stockholm syndrome-y (does this count as dark? idk 😭), skewed concept of reality and time

suguru + sun

you move into a new neighborhood on your 24th birthday.

it's a quaint house, fully furnished with wooden panels lining its contemporary build. you consider yourself lucky for finding a place this well-kept at the price point you offered. you're honestly surprised that suguru, your now landlord, accepted your application.

the area sits a few kilometers on the outskirts of the city, but it feels neither too quiet nor too busy; a perfect balance with an impressive view of the rising sun this early in the morning. that, and the people seem friendly, greeting you as they pass by. they even offer to help you haul things out of your car and into the house.

to the right of your house is one that holds the same design elements at yours, although a bit darker in its tones. it's sleek and modern, befitting of a bachelor.

"you must be the new tenant," a voice speaks from behind you, syrupy and smooth. you didn't even hear his footsteps.

when you turn around, you're met with a tall man who greets you with his arms held behind his back as he tilts his head low. there's a calmness that radiates off him, a sort of gentleness that signals he’s someone you can trust.

you nod, introducing yourself with your hand outstretched towards him.

"suguru," he replies as his fingers grab yours delicately. your eyes widen in surprise, recognizing the name, and he merely chuckles in return, a soft laugh that brings out kindness in his eyes.

"i should greet you properly," he lets go of your hand, placing it back behind him. "hello, new neighbor."

.

over shared breakfasts by your porch and impromptu dinners over at his, you grow a liking to suguru. he's polite and thoughtful, often knocking at your door in the mornings to offer you a cup of tea to watch the sunrise.

"you'll only find sunrises like this here," he leans back on the wooden chair you set out as outdoor furniture. his head tilts towards you slightly, impossibly close as you notice the corner of his lips curl up into a small grin.

hues of pinks, purples, and orange blend to illuminate his face perfectly. the sun is beautiful in front you, peeking between clouds as it inches away from the horizon, but something about him is infinitely more magnetic. your stare is immediately drawn to his lips, smooth and supple, before it meets his gaze.

you don't know what's worse―wanting to lean in or be pulled by the look in his eyes.

he fixes things that break in your home, always somehow knowing just when to show up. at first, it was your windows, the one by the attic, too high and dangerous for you to climb; then, it was your kitchen sink, its pipes regurgitating the water going down the drain. he's begun to bring you your groceries too, often asking for a list of what you need when he makes trips out of town.

your days blur easily when you're with suguru, and time passes almost fleetingly as you find your hours filled with soft laughs and touches so delicate you sometimes wonder whether they're real.

it should be noted, you think, how much time has passed since you first met him―an anniversary of some sort.

.

you learn that he owns both houses―his and the one you're currently renting. it once belonged to a friend who had to move for bigger, greater responsibilities elsewhere, he'd said.

"why did you decide on renting?" you ask him one night, over wine and candlelight.

your fingers fiddle with his as he sits you on his lap, this thing between you growing more intimate lately. he rubs his thumb along your thigh, resting his chin by your shoulder.

"you could have sold it or something."

he presses his lips gently on your collarbone.

"i could've," his fingers trail up to your waist, crossing your chest before landing on your chin, cupping it lightly to face him. your heart is hammering in your chest, senses on fire as his nose kisses yours. you think you can count every mole that dots his face beautiful. then, he inches closer, lips grazing yours as he whispers, "but i was waiting for you."

.

you mark each day at sunrise.

your digital clocks and calendars stopped working after some time, but you don't mind. suguru always tells you what date it is when you ask.

this morning, you wake up in his bed, and the sun is still as breathtaking as you remember it, the same pink, purple, and orange hues streaming through his window. when you look closely, the clouds―

"good morning," he brings you tea in bed, his hair topped off with a bun, a half-up-half-down.

your stomach fills itself with something warm and fuzzy as you smile at him, "morning."

"slept well?" his hand reaches for your waist under the duvet, and you giggle, ticklish.

"very," you crane your neck to land a soft kiss on his lips. "what date is it today?"

"october 28," he supplies.

your eyebrows shoot up as you realize, "i have to bring my car to the mechanic."

it's been 6 months now since your last check, right before you moved, and though you barely use your car anyway, it's best to be safe.

you quickly move to get up but suguru's hand keeps you in place, firmly pressed on your waist.

"i'll do it," he says with a smile on his face, "you rest here."

.

you barely see your other neighbors except for the girl who smokes a pack of cigarettes a day and the twins down the street.

when you ask suguru about it, he dismisses the question quickly, saying, "must have moved," as he urges you to take another sip of your tea.

you dream of them that night, on bare streets; it wakes you in a cold sweat, the image of your neighborhood reduced to just your house and suguru's.

.

this is the 200th sunrise since you started counting, which means this is the 200th day since you and suguru officially got together. kind of.

your gift for him is a painting of the sunrise, because it reminds you of him; and because it's become your favorite thing to look forward to, too.

the pinks and purples blend together beautifully as it contrasts with the orange hues, and the sun continues to peak above the horizon as it settles between clouds.

suguru kisses you when you give it to him, the taste of tea right on his tongue.

he frames it on his bedside, and when you wake in his room the next morning, it greets you along with the back of his head, fast asleep.

your eyes flit to the view outside his window, the same pinks, purples, and orange hues. you tilt your head curiously, brows furrowing. the sun stays at the same spot above the horizon, and when you look at the painting again, the clouds hold the same position and shape.

a chill washes over you, your hearbeat pounding.

.

"what date is it today?" you ask suguru as you wash the potatoes in the sink.

another bag of groceries from suguru. now that you think about it, you don't think you've ever gone to the grocery store since moving.

"is it important?" he responds, slightly snappy. you've begun to notice that he hates it when you ask lately.

you eye him from the side.

"i was thinking of preparing a menu of what we'll eat during the holidays, if it's near."

the furrow on his brows smooths out as you give your answer, and so he says, "december 5."

and you know something is wrong, because that can't be it. it doesn't make sense with the sunrises you've counted.

.

you dream again, more and more as the days go by―dirt roads and your house and suguru's, run-down and empty. more things start breaking in your apartment, and suguru always knows when they need to be fixed.

there's a deep, twisting feeling in your stomach that intensifies, festering under your skin; it worsens in the mornings, when you sit with suguru at your porch and you think you see a crack in the sunrise.

.

sunrise valley the place where the sun never sets! ─── beautiful, bright, and destined for people who live just like you! find your new home here.

[DISCONTINUED] — FOR DEMOLITION ON DECEMBER 7. under investigation for suspicious spiritual activity and missing persons.

[doodoodinklefart]

i had made peace with the fact that i wasnt going to be able to make a christmas piece this year and then i blinked and this was on my screen all of a sudden. merry christmas!! can't believe this is how the show ends

[shaplesbean]

uh