#Erix | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arcanarix · 26 days

Text

Fated Divergence, Ch. 7 // Yandere! Suguru Geto X Non-Sorcerer Darling

AO3 (+prev. chapter)

Word Count: around 8.3K

CW // geto is unhinged, sex marathons (kinda), masturbation, more unhealthy things ;D

At this point, time lost its meaning; each passing moment in the temple blending into the next as your mind retreated to a place where reality couldn’t touch you anymore, where you weren’t the ‘make-believe housewife’ of a mass murderer. The very mass murderer currently hovering above you, eyes locked on yours; your hands interlocked over your head like you were actually lovers as he jerked his hips, pushing more of his length into you. Your hand squeezed his every time he thrusted a bit too hard, and he’d respond with an apologetic kiss on your nose or forehead. He’d murmur little nasties or sweet nothings into your skin, taking note of the smallest details about you. He even pointed out how you scrunched your nose every time you came, and how he found that little quirk of yours irresistible and he couldn’t get enough. You knew none of this was real love; nothing Geto could ever feel for you could ever come close to it. You always prided yourself on being smart, perceptive. That likely was what drew Suguru to you from the beginning.

All this was to him was another way to possess you, to claim you, but never to break you (he knew you never truly would)—this was just dominance under the guise of affection.

His gaze was unyielding, never breaking from yours as he moved within you. His lips brushed over your hardened nipple, kissing it gently, and your body shook from the treatment, pulling you back into the present. Your breath hitched, and he hummed in satisfaction, closing his mouth over your stiff little nub, suckling it with vigor and passion, swirling his tongue around the stiff nub before delivering the same treatment to the other nipple. You arched your back involuntarily, little breathy gasps escaping your mouth, much to your dismay. You hated giving him the satisfaction that you, on some levels, enjoyed this, because he was still kind to you here, but you couldn’t afford to be stupid.

You couldn’t escape Geto’s obsession, ultimately. All consuming and overwhelming and terrifying all at once.

Suguru had all the time in the world to devote only to you now. The once bustling activity in the temple had slowed, which left him with nothing but you to occupy his free time. And of course nothing would stop him from taking advantage of this, pretending like he cared for your pleasure more than his when you knew better—it was just another way to possess you.

The moments where Suguru left you alone, off to exorcise the ‘cursed spirits’ from unsuspecting clients, or to lead his followers in sermons, or to host meetings with other leaders, or whatever else, those were the only moments of reprieve you ever had. But even in those brief moments, you were never truly free from him—he tasked you with watching over the girls, ensuring they stayed out of trouble or didn’t cause any mischief. He deluded himself into thinking you had been putting effort into becoming part of his family, and in his mind, he rewarded you with far less cruelty as a result.

But did it matter? Cruelty was still cruelty; he merely repurposed his.

You doubted that could even be regarded as a reward, but as long as he didn’t make you endure another episode where he took photos of you at your most humiliated, at your weakest…

As your thoughts drifted again, trying to find that little moment of respite, his voice, that damning, affectionate purr of his, snapped you back to reality.

“You’re awfully silent,” he observed, kissing between your breasts along with another languid roll of his hips. When you uttered a little gasp from shock, he chuckled, pleased with that reaction. “That’s better.”

Each roll of his hips was calculated, controlled, like always, as if he wanted to toy with you (which of course he did, that was his thing). He wanted to see how long he could make this last until you caved, begging for something, anything.

Then, after a few more rolls of his hips and grunting like he’d discovered what he wanted, his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Come for me.”

That tone left no room for argument.

You didn’t refuse his demand; your body responding before your mind could even consider protesting. Your walls clenched around his cock and milking him of his own arousal. But he was far from finished with you. He leaned in and peppered little kisses along your neck, whispering praises to you that only tightened the ball and chain that weighed heavy on your soul, as he kept fucking into you, still hard, still wanting.

His hand snaked down to your stomach, as if seeking something. Likely he imagined he could feel a bit of a bulge there, his bulge, and you gulped, hiding your face into your pillow in shame. But Suguru wasn’t having that. Not ever. He growled your name, his tone sharp and displeased, demanding you meet his piercing violet gaze.

“If you don’t look at who is doing this to you, then it’s safe for me to assume that you wish it was someone else,” he sneered, tone dripping in jealousy. “You’re not wishing Satoru took my place, are you, my love?”

The mere mention of Satoru’s name made your body run cold from fear. You’ve seen what Suguru was capable of, and not even the full extent of his abilities yet, and you were frightened what he would do to you if he thought even for a second you still had Satoru in your mind.

“No, Suguru,” you replied, tone wavering. “It’s only you, only you on my mind.”

Your lies slipped from your lips, coming as easy as breathing to you now. Another survival tactic you have mastered since your captivity—which in reality, likely hadn’t been that long, but you were adaptable. You would only tell Suguru what he wanted to hear and nothing else, even if it betrayed your feelings and your desires. You didn’t matter here anymore. You couldn’t afford to make him angry; you couldn’t afford to make him snap.

His expression softened, the hardness in his eyes melting into something almost tender. It made your heart sink, because in these moments, he looked breathtaking. Something out of a happier fairytale where the prince saved you from the troll.

But in this case, the troll wore the prince’s face.

That prince was the troll.

“Good girl,” he purred, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You were impressed you didn’t flinch though you truly wanted to recoil. The shifts in Suguru’s demeanor, the way he could go from cruel to kind in nanoseconds, still caught you off-guard every time. It almost had you believing that there was still some humanity left in him; that maybe, he wasn’t as far gone as he seemed, and some humanity in him could be salvaged.

But you couldn’t afford to be stupid or naïve. Never.

He pulled out of you, sighing in glee, like an excited child as he lay in bed beside you, brushing his fingers through your hair. He murmured your name again, and you dared to meet his eyes, looking back at you, shining with pure affection in them. Almost anyone could be dumb enough to fall for it.

“You have been so good,” he praised, his bony thumb grazing your cheek. “You have been so good, that I want to give you everything. I want to share my world with you. You really are perfect for me.”

“Thank you, Suguru,” you replied, attempting to snuggle into him.

Just give him what he wants, you told yourself like a life coach, drawing lazy circles along his chest, exploring every curve and crevice of his muscles. He appeared so thin, but he hid so much under that robe.

He kissed the crown of your head, soft, gentle. He pulled away for a moment to bring back supplies to clean you up, wipe away the evidence. Each time, he became gentler and gentler with you. It still felt like a mockery.

After he wiped you down, he returned to snuggling in bed with you, pulling you flush into his bare body, his legs interlocking with yours.

His constant presence suffocated you.

Suguru kissed along the nape of your neck, stopping at your shoulder.

“You are in my world now,” he murmured, tone soft and silky; it almost made you flinch, but you willed yourself not to lest it angered him. “I only hope you let me in yours, my love. Rest now. I have much planned for us tomorrow.”

His hand snaked down to interlock with yours, sighing in contentment as he held you close like a protective lover, his body practically draped over you. You willed yourself to sleep. Even a few hours of bliss, a few hours where you didn’t have to live like this, was enough.

Gojo…please help me, you thought before you got lost in a dream.

As Satoru ambled his way through the streets that led to your apartment, suddenly a sense of urgency exhorted him to act. He just wanted to find anything that you would need there before he came to get you; in case you left anything behind, which obviously you did. The sense of unease hung heavy in the air as he pondered over how to confront Geto because he understood long ago there was no negotiating with the madman. He quickened his pace, because the sooner he got there to fetch your belongings, the sooner he could go and find you and get you out of whatever predicament you were in. Unfortunately, his schedule was tightly packed, and he could only make so much time for you but damn it he would make as much time for you as he could. His long strides carried him over the stone pavement. At the very least the usual bustling streets around your corner of town were eerily quiet this time in the morning. He found the silence oddly comforting.

He turned the corner to your street, a familiar voice called out to him from behind.

“Gojo! Gojo, wait!”

He halted in his tracks, twisting around to see your friend, Mei, hastily catching up to him, her confident air shattered by the current predicament, he was certain of it. She kind of looked like she had just woken up, which likely wasn’t far from the truth because working at the Shibuya clinic likely meant insanely early shifts. Her eyes were wide with panic, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She finally reached him and clutched at his arm as if trying to anchor herself.

“Gojo, Gojo! She’s gone!” Her voice wavered, voice laden with desperation. She glanced up at him through her brilliant green eyes, expression pleading for some kind of reassurance that her friend was okay, that you were okay, and as much as Satoru wanted to lie to her, he knew that wouldn’t be productive in this case.

He nodded, his own concern for you masked behind his calm and collected demeanor. “Yeah, I know…I’m headed there now, going to see if I can gather anything else before taking action.”

Mei exhaled a shaky breath, her grip on his arm tightening as her body quaked in place. “I-I just came from there, but she wasn’t in the apartment. Her phone and car were still there. She’s gone! And I wasn’t there for her like a friend should be.” Her voice cracked, the fear and the pain seeping through her words like salt in a wound. She looked like a fragile glass on the brink of shattering because her friend was gone.

She presented him your phone, battery nearly dead. Without a word, he accepted it. That was one thing he came there for, among others. He could likely cut the trip short.

The gears in Satoru’s mind shifted. He placed a reassuring hand on Mei’s shoulder, squeezing it gently as if trying to ground her from her downward spiral.

“Hey,” he began softly, his voice calming. “I already know Geto has something to do with this. So don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of her. I’ll get her back from him, I promise.”

Mei’s breath caught at the mention of Geto’s name, as the realization dawned on her. Of course. Of course he had something to do with it! Now the fear that threatened to consume her twisted into something darker, something that gnawed at her from the inside out. She wanted to speak, but the words died on her lips, replaced by a shaky sigh. She glanced up at Satoru through her eyelashes, her eyes searching for any shadow of a doubt, but Satoru steeled his resolve.

Then Satoru’s gaze drifted a bit past Mei, eyes scanning the area with his heightened sense of awareness. He noticed something immediately—those imperceptible wisps of cursed spirits floating all around her, clinging to Mei like parasitic tendrils. The faint images of mold colored skin-like blobs full of eyes came to his vision. His oceanic eyes sharpened, the subtle shift in his demeanor gone unnoticed by Mei who seemed ever oblivious to the curses Geto inflicted upon her. Geto’s meddling was more invasive than he anticipated.

Wordlessly, he channeled his abilities in a subtle yet precise manner. The cursed spirits around Mei quivered in fear in response, like a rodent sensing the approach of a predator. With a swift, discreet gesture, he vaporized the curses clinging to her, dispersing them into the air like smoke in the wind. Mei then shuddered, unaware of what just happened, assuming that it was just a light breeze brushing past her. But she did mention suddenly feeling lighter, but that didn’t change that you were still gone, practically evaporated, and she wasn’t there for you. She kept beating herself up over not being there for you when you needed her the most.

“I’ve not been able to hold food down for days,” Mei explained, twiddling her thumbs. “I had to go on leave from work just because of it. Then when those symptoms died down, it felt like millions of eyes were watching me everywhere I went. Even when I closed my eyes, I felt them. All around me.”

Satoru’s hand lingered on her shoulder, offering her wordless security.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay now,” he swore, his voice steady. “Just leave this all to me. I’ll get her back safe.”

Mei nodded, though the worry etched on her face hadn’t disappeared and Satoru didn’t expect it to, either. If you trusted him, then she had come to trust him as well. Mei always commended you for your keen eye—you knew who to trust, who not to trust, who to turn a blind eye on. You saved her from many heartaches in the dating scene. Mei knew how lucky she was to have a friend like you.

The thought of you being in Geto’s possession still made her stomach churn, like those mysterious symptoms returned in full force.

“Please bring her back, Gojo. She’s my best friend. My sister. The closest thing to family that I will ever have. I don’t know what I’d do without—!”

“—I will,” Satoru cut in, his voice leaving her no room for doubting him. “I swear to you, I will.”

He glanced back at Mei one more time as he turned to leave, his eyes softening. “I hope you end up feeling better,” he then added. “We’ll stay in touch.”

As Mei watched Satoru go, her heart pounded in her chest. She prayed his promises weren’t empty, he didn’t seem like the type to make promises he couldn’t keep, though. If anyone could bring you to safety again, it was Satoru; Mei didn’t know what kind of things Geto was capable of, and Mei wasn’t even fully aware of the true gravity of the situation.

When you woke up, you found Geto had already left, perhaps to attend to his typical duties. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, something caught your attention. You stared at the gold band on your left ring finger, the faint light from the morning sun creeping through the windows catching the strange, delicate engraving—a rune of some kind? Were those a thing in the world of jujutsu sorcery? Like hell if you knew anything about magic or cursed energy. Beyond what you learned in fantasy novels. Was it some other kind of arcane symbol? Your heart pounded as your mind swirled with confusion and dread. The ring felt cool to the touch, its weight foreign on your hand.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching your arms over your head, and allowing the coolness of the wooden floor to ground you for a moment. Without bothering to change out of the nightgown, you stormed out of the room to find him.

It was still bright and early in the morning, so the hallway wasn’t bustling with any of Geto’s mindless followers or allies. Your bare feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the prayer room, a place that, despite its serene appearance, was steeped in the darkness that followed Geto wherever he went. When you arrived, the door had been slightly ajar, and as you pushed it open, you saw Geto seated at the center of the room.

His posture seemed relaxed, his eyes closed in the middle of his morning meditation. He looked peaceful, almost ethereal in that moment, like he was a deity in human form. But of course you knew way better than to revere him like a God, no matter how much he gloated about being one to his cult.

“What is this?” you demanded, voice shrill and trembling slightly in spite of your efforts to sound strong. You thrust your hand out, the gold band catching the light again as if to mock you. The rune almost seemed to pulse, almost alive with the cursed energy Suguru likely channeled into it. “I woke up to see this on.”

Geto sat in silence, eyes still closed as if your intrusion was nothing more than a mild annoyance, like a bug flew in the room, or like a mere ripple in the calm waters of his mind. What kind of fucking audacity did this man have? Just as you were about to address him again, demanding he explain himself, his eyes pried open. The serene indifference in his demeanor made you feel so insignificant in that moment.

Sighing, he met your eyes, his gaze calm as he took in your reaction. His violet eyes, however, flickered with something else—something dangerous. Something you should not challenge. Slowly, he raised his own hand to reveal a matching gold band on his finger. The engraving on his ring was identical, yet different—where yours was blue, his was a deep blood red; it made chills dance down your spine. His expression remained unreadable; his calmness only adding to your unease.

“How kind of you to notice,” he replied, his voice smooth and composed, a mockery to the anguish brewing inside of you as more of your autonomy had been taken away. Deliberately done only to deepen that mental anguish consuming you. “It’s exactly what you think, my love. I meant what I said last night; we’re official now. Perhaps not yet on paper, but you are bound to me through that ring. No mere human can break it as it a cursed tool of sorts, forged by one of my sorcerer allies. Someone like me can, but I never plan to sever our bond.”

You stood there, gawking at him; your mind grappled with the gravity of what he was trying to say. His words hung in the air. The dread coiled tighter in your gut as you felt that ball and chain suddenly yank you further down into his clutches. A cold sweat broke out across your skin. You weren’t stupid; you knew exactly what the ring signified in its traditional sense, but a part of you clung to the hope that this was just a hoax, just another trick because you still weren’t sure what any of this cursed energy or jujutsu sorcery things meant. You didn’t understand the full extent of how dangerous Suguru Geto really was, how much of a threat he posed to the state of humanity.

The seriousness in Geto’s tone dashed such hopes that this wasn’t real.

This was more than a ring. It was a binding. Everything about his presence suffocated you.

“I can’t believe you,” you spat, your voice laden with venom. Anger surged within you like lightning, fueled by your sheer hatred for the man just sitting there like he didn’t just throw your whole life away for his amusement, for his happiness. He had taken every bit of your agency now; it left you trembling with rage. How dare he did this!? How dare he take your life, your choices, and twisted them to suit his own agenda? You knew nothing about the world he lived, and now you were bound to him.

As you glared at him, you caught onto the little curve of his lips, and the way his eyes observed you with that very amusement you loathed to see, mocking you. Of course he expected such a reaction; he knew you would be furious, and this only made you angrier.

Geto remained undeterred by your outrage, his calm demeanor unwavering. He tilted his head slightly.

“You poor girl,” he replied in that classic condescending tone of his. “I never anticipated you would accept my hand in marriage willingly. But you must understand, you belong to me now. With that ring, you are my responsibility and completely under my protection. I will never allow anything to take you away from me or for anything to happen to you. You should be thanking me, because now you have a God by your side willing to destroy the world for you.”

“Thanking you?” you hissed, your hands clenching into fists as you fought the urge to lash out, to strike him, to claw that infuriatingly smug expression off of his face, but you were outclassed in this case. You’d never be a match against something you couldn’t even begin to understand even if you tried. “You took everything away from me, Suguru! You made all of these decisions for me, and you expect me to be grateful for catching your attention?”

He slowly rose from his spot in the center of the room, his movements ever graceful, deliberate. He approached you, each step calculated, until he was close enough to you that you could feel his breath fanning your forehead. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something darker and more dangerous. He leaned in, bringing his face level with yours.

“Exactly,” he purred, his voice a low, velvety whisper that made your skin crawl. His eyes bored into yours, expression unreadable. “You belong to me now.”

His words were thick with finality, like a decree from a God to his creations. Your breath hitched, the gravity of his words finally sinking in, and you wanted to scream. You wanted to fight back against the ball and chain attached to you that now became a permanent thing. But any efforts of resistance at this point was futile. He possessed a power and a strength you could never hope to understand or to measure up to even if you did, and he was relentless in the pursuit of anything he wanted.

And in that moment, all he wanted was you by his side as he damned the rest of humanity.

“Why?” you rasped, voice trembling. “Why me?”

If you blinked, you would miss the way his expression softened just a fraction. The fine lines on his face easing as he regarded you, someone he claimed to revere as his Queen. His gaze remained intense, unyielding.

“Because you’re perfect,” he uttered, as if it was just the simple truth. “Because you’re pure. Unlike those other useless monkeys running that circus outside. And now, I can ensure no one else can ever taint that purity of yours.”

Your heart pounded erratically, each beat echoing in your ears like a war drum. You wanted to escape—so badly, you wished you never crossed paths with Suguru Geto, but now he got you where he wanted you, at long last.

“Dear God,” you whispered, glancing down at the engraved gold band that mocked you every time it reflected the morning light seeping through the room.

He hummed, his sinister smirk widening.

“Feel free to call me that,” he replied, his tone dismissive to your turmoil. “This is a time to rejoice, my love. I’ve given you power beyond your comprehension. You should embrace it.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Suguru…”

He pulled you in flush against him, his lips brushing against your ear as he replied, “No matter. Now I am yours, whether you want me or not.”

This man had completely taken over your life.

“Please, Suguru… let me go,” you croaked, “I’d rather you kill me.”

He pulled back slightly, meeting your eyes as a frown stressed his features.

“No,” he retorted, leaving no room for negotiation. “Why should I punish myself by killing you, when I found someone I want to share my future with in this cursed world? You are mine. That is the truth. I will never let you go.”

The two of you stood in silence, the tension weighing heavy on your shoulders. His presence suffocated you, his power radiating off of him in waves that you could almost feel against your skin. You wished to run, every instinct within you screamed to run, to flee this nightmare but would it mean anything?

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want from me, Suguru?”

“Because you are a light that illuminated the darkness in my life, and I refuse to let that light be snuffed out. Least of all by Satoru.” He brushed his lips against yours. Gentle. Fleeting. “The world is an ugly, rotten place. Filled with despair, all caused by humans. But I can shield you from it, my love.”

His words were meant to be a comfort to you, but instead it only deepened the dread coiling in your stomach.

“I want my life back,” you replied, the strength and defiance in your voice returning. It was tinged with desperation though.

He tutted at that, shaking his head almost pityingly. “Your old life is gone. That doesn’t mean you can’t start anew, in a new world order, with me. You will never be alone now.”

You tried to create some distance between you, taking a step back. That ring on your finger was the official ball and chain; now it was no longer metaphorical. Only the man in front of you could free you, but he never would.

“I will never truly be yours, Suguru,” you dared to say, but you carried strength through your words. “Even if you have bounded me to you.”

Something flickered in Geto’s eyes—something you couldn’t name. Perhaps the shadow of the man he once was, whoever Satoru knew before he became whatever this monster was. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that cold, calculating gaze of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

“We’ll just see about that,” he replied, his voice as calm and serene as ever. It pissed you off beyond belief. “But know this, my love, you will see me as a blessing in your life rather than a curse, just as I’ve come to see you as my one true blessing in a world full of curses.”

With those words, he twisted on his heel, returning to his position in the center of the room to resume his meditation, as if the exchange between you both never occurred. His dismissal was infuriating, but it was final—he considered this matter settled.

“We’re not done speaking,” you sneered, your voice sharper than you intended, cutting through the silence again. There was a faint twitch in his jaw, a sign he had heard you, but he remained in that position, his eyes closed as he returned to his meditation.

It was almost as if he disregarded you completely. But then his eyes opened again, dark and piercing, locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch in your throat.

“We are,” he retorted, his tone as sharp as yours, leaving no room for argument. “Return to our bedroom and get dressed. You will accompany me later for a meeting with other leaders.”

You froze at those words, a cold shiver crawling down your spine like pests. The idea of being paraded around as his possession, as his wedded wife, made your blood boil.

“I will do no such thing!” you countered, the defiance in your voice barely masking the fear that lurked just beneath it.

Geto’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening.

“You will do as I say,” he said, voice low. “Or I’ll be certain to punish you again. Do you want that?”

The threat lingered in the air between you both, and suddenly you lost the ability to breathe. Your words died on your tongue, the fight in you momentarily doused by the cold, harsh truth in your situation. You held no power over him. You knew what he was capable, knew what he would follow through on his threat without hesitation or a hint of remorse.

Yet, you still despised submitting to him without any kind of resistance. It was uncharacteristic of you.

“No,” you finally whispered, the word barely audible as it slipped past your lips.

His gaze on you remained steady, unyielding, intense.

“Now do as I told you,” he commanded, the finality in his words leaving no room for debate, before shutting his eyes again.

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the prayer room, your feet dragging across the wooden floors. Your eyes were downcast, a sense of defeat settling over you like a storm cloud. Even now, though, even as you felt the weight of his control weighing down on you and your heart, you refused to break. It was never in your DNA to give into anyone, especially not some man, regardless of what power he wielded, and you would not let him strip away any fragments of your autonomy without fighting the good fight.

When you returned to the bedroom, there was a chill in the air, and the walls felt closer, as if not only was Suguru’s constant presence suffocating you, but so was the room you shared itself. You moved with mechanical precision, your hands trembling as you dressed in the robe he had left out for you. The fabric felt soft against your skin, but it provided no comfort for you—only a reminder of the role you were expected to play for his happiness.

Not moments later, as you adjusted the robe around your body, the door creaked open, and you felt his presence behind you before you even turned around. Geto had a way of taking up space unapologetically, making anywhere his own with nothing more than his mere presence. He approached you from behind, his footsteps soft and quiet against the floor, and before you could react, his arms were around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“The meeting’s not for another two hours,” he murmured into your ear, practically breathing down your neck like a dragon breathing fire. The sensation made you shiver. “…but it’s better you’re dressed for the day. Although…” He trailed off, his lips grazing the nape of your neck as he spoke, and you saw his smirk through the reflection in the full body mirror. “…I wouldn’t be opposed to celebratory sex while we wait.”

His words made the color drain from your face, but also sent a rush of warmth to your groin.

You hated that you’ve come to crave his touch, in a way.

“Suguru,” you began, your voice soft and sweet as you combed your fingers through your hair, trying to focus on the mundane action to steady your racing heart and mind. You rested your free hand over his entwined ones, feeling the cold metal of the gold band against your skin. The sound of the rings clinking together snapped you back to reality again, reminding you of the ball and chain that now officially bound you to him. “I’m not in the mood.”

He tightened his hold on you, his grip a warning—reminding you of the power you lacked over him.

“Are you in a position to refuse me, my love?” he asked, his voice matching your soft tone—a reminder of the likely consequences of your defiance.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, a battle raging within you once more. You wanted to scream, to shove him away, to tell him exactly what you thought of him and his so-called affections for you. Any resistance would only lead to more trouble for you. So you took a deep breath, forcing the retort on your tongue to die before you escalated things needlessly.

“No,” you whispered, the word tasting bitter on your lips. But as you spoke, a plan began to manifest in the back of your mind. If he wanted you to control you through pleasure, then perhaps you could use that as leverage. An Uno-Reverse, if you will. Perhaps you could reclaim some semblance of control, even if only for a moment.

Without another word, you leaned into him, letting your body relax against his, sensing the tensions in his muscles as you did. Even Gods woke up on the wrong side of the bed, it seemed, not that you would ever call him a God. He wasn’t even much of a man to you. Your hand trailed down his body, moving until you reached his pelvis. His hardness could be felt through the soft silk of his robe, and a small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of your lips when his breath hitched in response to your touch.

Bingo. If you affected him like this, the odds were in your favor for once.

Play along, you reminded yourself. Just play along.

You twisted around in his arms, moving with a newfound confidence, guiding him toward the bed. He followed your lead without resistance, his eyes dark with desire and curiosity at your actions. As you shoved him down onto the mattress, you caught a glimpse of his expression—intrigued, perhaps even impressed, by your sudden boldness. Perhaps a small victory for you, but you relished in the moment.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling him, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned down to kiss him. He responded immediately, his lips plunging against yours with a hunger that gave you a sense of power surging through your veins. For the first time since your captivity, you had the upper-hand.

He deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist again, pulling you closer as if thinking you would pull away any given moment. You allowed him to take what he wanted for now, but you had your own agenda, this time around. When he pulled back to speak, and you seized the opportunity to tie your hair back into a ponytail, you caught a glimpse of the desire burning in his eyes—something you planned to take advantage of, for once.

“What are you doing?” he inquired, his voice thick with arousal, but also a note of uncertainty. He clearly didn’t expect this.

As you adjusted your ponytail, you pulled back, slipping out of your robe and allowing the fabric to fall to the floor in a wisp of silk. You relished in the way his eyes raked over your form, drinking in the sight of you. Another thrill of satisfaction overwhelmed at the way his breath quickened, and likely his pulse too. You knew you were affecting him; you knew you were making him lose control.

You haven’t felt power like this in so long, and you didn’t want to let that go to waste.

“Taking charge,” you said finally, your voice steady, suddenly confident—you found that strength again. Your hands roamed over his body, exploring the hard planes of his chest, admiring the firmness of his muscles beneath your fingertips. “Do you oppose a challenge?”

His eyes flashed with something—surprise?—but then he smiled that slow, dangerous smile of his.

“No,” he replied smoothly, his grip on your waist tightening as if to anchor you to him, and perhaps to maintain his self-control as well. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You took these words as permission, becoming bolder as you reached down to free his cock from the confines of his robe. His breath caught in his throat again as you took him in your hand, stroking him in a slow rhythm. His eyes fluttered shut, his head falling back against the pillows as he allowed himself to surrender to you.

But you weren’t done with him yet. You had a plan, and you intended to see it through.

You bent down, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. His girth filled you, and you reveled in the power you felt as his body already began to tremble from your treatment. His muscles tensed beneath your hands as you took in more of him, your tongue swirling around him like you’d done this countless times before. His hand reached down to yank your hair, guiding you, but you didn’t let him take charge this time. You managed your own rhythm, slow and steady and agonizing, taking him to the edge but never letting him tip over.

His cock twitched in your mouth, a telltale sign that his release was coming. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. Just as he was about to, you smirked, pulling away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a lewd pop. His eyes snapped open, a flash of irritation in his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, to demand that you continue, to let him finish, but you silenced him with your smirk growing wider.

“We’re far from finished,” you murmured, your voice a low purr that made yourself shudder. You discarded your panties sometime ago, and now positioned yourself above him, your slick entrance hovering just over his throbbing, needy dick, drenched in your spit and his pre-cum. You could see it in his eyes—the wait killed him, and it was the most satisfying thing you’d seen in your life.

Him completely at your mercy.

You took your time, teasing him as you rubbed his tip between your folds before lowering yourself onto him, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. You were ready, having slicked yourself up with lube before this plan had even taken shape, but you still took your time. You savored the feeling of him stretching you. His size still overwhelmed you, and you flinched at the initial discomfort. You still didn’t stop. You had to prove a point. You kept going, inch by inch, until you were fully seated with is cock buried balls-deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hands finding your waist, his eyes dark with need as he marveled at the sight of you towering above him. “Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect for me. Look at you. Let me worship you. My Queen. My Goddess.”

Those words, laden with reverence, steeled your resolve. Now you truly had the upper-hand, if only for now, and you intended to milk every minute of this. You began to move, at a slower pace first, grinding your hips against his, testing the waters, what felt good to you.

You leaned forward, your hands resting on his stomach for balance as you rode him. Your movements slowly became more confident, more controlled. Each time you lifted yourself off of him, you felt the way his cock throbbed, the way his hand tightened on your hips as he tried to gain some control back, to try to pull you back down.

But you didn’t let him take charge. You set the pace. You set the rhythm.

As the moments passed, his breathing grew heavier, more ragged, more desperate with need, as he struggled to maintain control. His cock twitched again inside of you as he neared the edge once more. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction just yet. You were going to draw this out as much as possible; you were going to make him wait. You were going to show him that you were a player in this game of life too, and it took two to tango.

“Suguru,” you purred, breathless, and he met your eyes, his face flushed. “I want you to watch me. I’m only looking at you. That way, you know I’m not thinking about anyone else when I do this.”

His gaze remained locked on your as you continued to move. He devoured the sight of you. He was completely at your mercy, and that spurred you into riding him harder.

You leaned back up, arching your spine as you took him in completely. He filled you to the hilt. His hands moved to your thighs, grasping at you with desperation. But you didn’t let him win.

You continued to move, the pace relentless, your hips rolling languidly against his as you chased your mown pleasure, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

His eyes flashed with something again—that spoke of a need to claim you. But now you were in control, and you reveled in it.

“Suguru,” you purred again, moaning. “Tell me what you want.”

His voice was rough with need when he answered.

“I want you,” he growled, desperate to feel you closer. “I want you to take everything I have.”

The tension continued to build with in you. Your movements began to grow more frantic, more needy. You were on the brink, and you knew he was too. The way his cock throbbed inside of you told you he was ready.

But not yet. Not until you had taken everything you wanted from him.

With a final thrust, you pushed him over that edge.

He came with a shout, his body tensing beneath you as he released himself inside of you. He gripped onto your waist so tightly there were definitely going to be bruises left later. It didn’t matter in that moment. Soon after you too sent yourself spiraling into your own climax.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you slowly came down from the high of your release. He didn’t release his grip on you.

You stayed like that for a moment, the two of you just catching your breath. When you met his eyes, you saw a different expression—satisfaction, admiration…? He didn’t say anything, but that look was enough.

You smiled a little. You won, even if only for a moment. You came out on top for once.

His hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he looked up at you. He admired your afterglow.

“You impressed me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a newfound respect for you. “Perhaps you are stronger than I thought.”

Your smile faded as you squeezed his hand, the gold bands clinking together once more. “I’m not made of sugar.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You certainly aren’t.”

Despite knowing better, despite the numerous times he swore to himself that he wouldn’t allow these emotions for you to get in the way, even Satoru Gojo had to admit he had his own fair share of vices he struggled with from time to time. The need—that overwhelming, pathetically desperate need—burrowed deep into his bones, festering, encapsulating him. At this point he needed to free himself of this pent-up frustration of particularly the sexual variety, this unbearable tension that had taken root inside him like an unwelcome parasite. And after all of those images, those fucking images that Geto had sent of you to Satoru in quick succession, each one more tempting than the last, that hold he’d maintained on hhis self-control finally crumbled. His pride, his resolve, both shattered into a million pieces.

All because he couldn’t deny how desperately, pathetically he wanted you.

He never loathed himself more for something like this. Deeply, in the darkest compartments of his mind, he despised his own weaknesses. And yes, even the strongest sorcerer alive, Satoru Gojo had his fair share of weaknesses or vulnerabilities that he would never dare share with the rest of the world. In the end he was still a man, a man desperate for you. Here he was, giving into the thought of claiming you as his own, shielding you from the likes of his former best friend (though he’d rather not call him a former best friend, he still loved Geto, even after what he became).

Satoru had lost count how many times he’d done this routine since he got back to Japan—how many times he’d let those images of you break him down until he was a trembling, whimpering mess. He became a slave to his own desires for you. These hours he spent between missions, lectures, training sessions… these brief moments of solitude became a battlefield where he waged war against himself.

And he kept losing. Miserably. Each and every time.

Hunched over in the shower, his body trembling with shame and endless need, Satoru’s glazed eyes remained fixated on his phone, the thread of pictures burning into his skull. There you were, you, at your most vulnerable, your most fragile, and dare he say…your most beautiful. Furious, his mind raged at him, nagged at him reminding him why this was wrong, that he should be disgusted or repulsed, anything but this. Anything but so beyond turned on at how gorgeous you looked like that. Submissive. Perfect. He was supposed to be your hero. But what the fuck kind of hero did something like this? What kind of protector found himself weak and pathetic by the very images that should have spurred him into action instead?

”Fuck, fuck fuck--!” His voice, a strangled whisper, barely escaped his lips as he cried your name over and over and over again like he was praising a God, laden with a desperation which only fueled his self-loathing. Thank fuck he hadn’t been on Jujutsu Tech grounds, and instead in the privacy of his own penthouse. If anyone saw him like this, if anyone witnessed the strongest sorcerer Satoru Gojo brought pathetically to his knees by nothing more than a series of cruel, calculated images of you, he wouldn’t know what to think. And the person witnessing this wouldn’t know what to think of him either—other than beyond the titles, he was just a man. He would never forgive himself for this. This was beyond shameful. Disgraceful. Unproductive.

Weak.

But he couldn’t fucking help it, and that was the worst part of it all. Geto knew. Geto knew him the most intimately of all. That sick bastard knew exactly how to push his buttons, playing Satoru like a goddamn marionette. Geto anticipated this all, Satoru didn’t doubt it. He was toying with him, pushing him to the brink of madness that rivaled Geto’s.

“I need you, fuck, I need you, please please please I just want to—!”

How was a man of his big age still acting like a hormonal teenager!?

The words spilled from his lips like torrential rain—such a pathetic confession which only worsened everything for him. He came for the fourth time that day, his body shuddering from the aftershocks, and yet somehow it still wasn’t enough to sate him. The ache for you persisted, gnawing at him, clawing at the inside of his chest like a feral beast hat refused to be tamed, that couldn’t be tamed if he tried.

What the fuck is WRONG with you!? If Satoru didn’t get a grip, then how could he focus on what mattered, which was protecting you?

Satoru sat down into the tub of the shower, his breathing ragged and labored, and his heart pounding like a war drum. The water beat down on him, scorching hot, threatening to burn his skin off, but it didn’t do what it was supposed to do, to cleanse the fraud wearing his skin. He hated himself for this.

He hated himself for falling for you, when you needed help, when you were vulnerable, meek.

But again, despite his titles, despite his achievements, despite his background, Satoru Gojo still was, at his core, a man.

And when another image of you flashed in his mind, smiling at him, giggling at one of his stupid jokes, admiring him and seeing through him and not what the world of jujutsu sorcery saw him as (not that you were even aware of the world), he gave into his impulses again. He’d already be running 10 minutes late to the next lecture with Yaga.

He glanced at the soiled pair of panties he stole from your apartment, tossed in the laundry basket, hardly anything seductive and likely nothing you’d miss or even notice was gone when you returned, swallowing.

What a weak fool he was, but he was weak for you, and perhaps, that was the only form of weakness he’d embrace about himself.

79 notes · View notes