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vilsoo · 1 year

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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.

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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.

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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…

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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!

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.

#🕸️. 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto smut #tw witchcraft #tw yandere #tw homewrecking #tw body possession #tw horror

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mauselet · 10 months

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The Influencer - And All Is Not Fine

This story is for @ask-the-rag-dolly's blog, specifically The Influencer AU. Honestly, loving the blog so much. Huge thanks to Mod Bee for creating it and if you haven't already, go check out her blog.

Big thanks to WanderingDragon and Foolscap Hamato for helping with the fic.

Yes, the story is named after Entropy by Awkward Marina lyrics. Also, the anon/s that speak in orange and red, you got a reference in there cause it felt fitting.

Well, I really hope you enjoy this story!

Story includes: Ragatha X Pomni (but can be taken as platonically), angst, hurt/comfort

TW body horror, possessive behavior, possession, anxiety/panic attack, haphephobia/fear of being touched, questioning sanity, self-neglect

It's been a few weeks since Pomni found out that there were currently hundreds of voices inside Ragatha's head. Wow, and after all this time it didn't sound any less insane. From what Pomni understood, those voices were a virus that had infected the circus and latched onto Ragatha. They couldn't tell Caine about this because he'd likely kill them and Ragatha refused that. For some reason, she wanted to protect them which seemed even crazier than the whole situation. Some of them were friendly, sure, but others…

They attacked Jax, causing him to glitch out. They taunted Ragatha by plaguing her mind with the worst cases imaginable or calling her names or taking her too literally. They spawned that stupid paper shredder!

Oh, how Pomni hated that thing! The next time she sees one, she’ll personally smash it into pieces.

In short, the voices–all of them–stressed Ragatha out. And who could blame her? Sometimes even your own voice in your head can drive you mad. Pomni was actually impressed that the doll hadn’t reached her breaking point yet with these “anons”, as they called themselves, constantly following her.

Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, they led to Ragatha temporarily losing her arm, but it was also thanks to them that she worked up the courage to speak to Pomni again. The thought of that always brought a smile to the jester’s face.

She was glad she could talk to her. Not only because Ragatha was nice and overall pleasant to be around, but it was also good for the ragdoll; especially now that she avoided the other circus performers to prevent another Jax fiasco or a possible infection.

The redhead’s absence was noticed by the others and to Pomni’s surprise, they were concerned about her. When Pomni first arrived, she was too busy spiraling down her anxiety to see it, but these trapped souls were friends. They cared about one another, even if it’d be in their own strange ways. So Pomni decided to reassure them all with daily reports on how Ragatha was doing.

And that was usually the extent of her interactions with them. Until Caine’s adventures forced her to stick around the whole day. Sometimes she was able to avoid them, however, there were times when she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately for her, adventures like these stacked over the course of the last few days, making it basically impossible for Pomni to check on Ragatha.

By the third or fourth day, Pomni was getting anxious. Throughout the adventure, her fingers were constantly convulsing while stuck in an unnatural position, her eyes turned into scribbles and her thoughts were as far away from the game as possible.

Ragatha must’ve been lonely. It’s been days since she’s interacted with anyone. Well…since she’s interacted with someone who meant no harm to her. Hopefully, she was alright…

Pomni suddenly jerked and snapped out of her thoughts as a gloved hand waved in front of her eyes. Her head shot up and she saw Kinger, Zooble and Gangle who announced to her that they found a way to replace her in today’s adventure and that she could go see Ragatha. If she had to be honest, she didn’t even know what the adventure was, but if she really wasn’t needed there…

She gave the three of them a quick smile and dashed to Ragatha’s room as fast as her short legs could carry her. As soon as she arrived and caught her breath, she rang the bell, waiting and…

Waiting.

Pomni felt a pit in her stomach. No, no, no. She shook her head. Everything’s fine, it’s just taking a bit. She rang again.

“R-Ragatha? It’s me, Pomni. A-are you in there?”

But she was still left waiting.

“Ragatha!” she raised her voice, yet still no response.

Oh God, three days… Three whole days with nothing but those voices. That must’ve been a nightmare for the doll and Pomni left her dealing with that alone. She left her again…

“I’m coming in!” she announced and reached for the doorknob. Her body froze as she held it, overwhelmed by worried thoughts, but also by a sense of déjà vu. She chuckled darkly at the memory of desperately wanting to know what was behind a door she shouldn’t go through and then opened.

A wave of relief washed over Pomni as she wasn’t instantly met with a glitching blob with a thousand glowing eyeballs. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room and her heart skipped a beat. Ragatha was there, sitting on her bed, sewing what appeared to be a suit. She was so focused on her work; maybe that's why she didn't register the bell. Pomni can't actually remember if she'd ever seen her this focused, but she looked surprisingly calm and, the jester had to admit, quite pretty.

“Um…Ragatha?” the short woman started, walking over, “I'm sorry for barging in, I was just worried when you didn't answer.” But the ragdoll didn't respond; it was as if she didn’t even notice that Pomni was in the room talking to her.

Was she ignoring her? Was she mad? Did she…hate her? All of those thoughts sounded really ridiculous considering that this was Ragatha we were talking about. She doesn’t even allow herself to hate Jax, someone who’s caused more than enough harm to her, so there is no way she’d ever hate Pomni. Right…? Yet all those thoughts, as unrealistic as they might’ve seemed, felt like real possibilities to Pomni.

Somehow despite Jax putting her worst fear in her room, voices constantly screaming at her and hurting her and Caine forcing her into some of the most dangerous scenarios, not being there for her seemed like the biggest crime of them all.

Well, there was only one way to fix it.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” Pomni let out, her steps slowing down, “I tried to check on you, but Caine’s adventures-”

“Oh, it’s alright, dear,” hearing that gentle voice, Pomni stopped. It was nice hearing her again, but something felt off. Sure, Ragatha occasionally used pet names like hun or sweetheart or even dear–oh geez, Pomni felt her cheeks heating up just thinking about it—that wasn’t the issue. She sounded more nonchalant than reassuring.

That didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t mad and that brought a smile to Pomni’s face. However, that didn’t last long as the doll finally raised her head.

Pomni’s face turned paler than usual if it was even possible, the pinwheel eyes shrunk, making them nearly invisible and her smile vanished as if it was never there.

Oh %$!#... Oh %$!#! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This wasn’t… This couldn’t have been real!

She wasn’t just staring at a black void with two colorful eyes where Ragatha’s button was supposed to be. She wasn’t just witnessing her friend slowly abstracting in front of her! She wasn’t… She wasn’t…

This wasn’t real!

It… It was just one of the digital hallucinations that Caine mentioned. Yeah! That’s it! That’s…That’s what it…was…

But those eyes, that void, they were still there, no matter how much Pomni convinced herself about the opposite.

Caine. She had to go get Caine! As Ragatha said once, maybe there was still time to fix this.

“Stay here!” Pomni blurted out, “I’ll be right back!” She quickly turned around and ran to the door. She’s going to come back this time. This time she won’t let Ragatha suffer.

She reached for the doorknob, but before she could grab it, arms wrapped around her and she was pulled back. One of the arms held her abdomen while the other was around her neck, not too tight yet still uncomfortable.

Feeling the fabric arms against her skin made her dizzy and itchy. She could sense every single pixel touching her, causing goosebumps to spread over her body.

“Where are you going, dear~?” she heard a whisper in her ear. It was Ragatha’s gentle, calming voice- No. It sounded different and…wrong. The voice was demanding and rough.

Pomni’s breath hitched. Was really something wrong with Ragatha? Or was her mind just messing with her? Well, the physical contact didn’t exactly help her think clearly as her body was plagued with this disgusting sensation.

“Don’t leave me~” For whatever reason, those words made the black-haired woman sick.

The doll’s embrace tightened. The touch of the fabric felt so venomous and paralyzing. It felt sickening. It felt wrong.

The jester wanted to escape that trap. She needed to escape it, yet no matter how much the voice in her head screamed at her body to move, it wouldn’t budge an inch. She was frozen in such a predicament with nothing but her racing heart, uneven breath, and voice stuck in her throat.

She attempted to take a deep breath, only to leave herself coughing.

“Are you alright, dear?” That voice again. It made shivers run down Pomni’s spine.

She sucked in another breath and let out a very weak and broken “Ragatha”. She repeated this a few times until she made a sensible sentence: “Ragatha… Please, let go…”

“Let go?” the doll wondered innocently, “why would I do that?”

“Please…” the jester mouthed.

“It’s not like I want to hurt you.” The grip tightened even more. “I would never hurt you. I would never-” The taller woman went silent. She felt the pale jester in her arms trembling and her heart dropped.

“Pomni…” Ragatha let out softly and her embrace loosened, “y-you’re shaking…” Rather than talking to Pomni, however, she seemed to have told it to herself. Reminding it to herself as if just physically feeling it wasn't enough to make it sink in.

Even some of the voices were yelling at her to let go while the others objected. Was it the good or bad ones? What even made them good or bad? Were there even any bad voices? Were there even any good voices?

The voices that objected weren’t yelling, but whispering yet they were somehow much louder than the yells.

“Don’t listen to them–” “You can’t let go–” “You can–!” “She’ll find Caine and tell him about us–” “She wouldn’t–” “It’s too great of a risk–!” “If Caine finds out about us, we’ll be–” “What would happen to Rags–?”

“Ragatha, don’t you care about us? Don’t you care about what happens to you?!”

She flinched, instinctively tensing her hold on Pomni. In no way did she help the situation, with the jester’s body convulsing out of control.

“What is it, dolly? Are we too much for you to handle? Are we too loud? Can you even tell the difference between us and your own thoughts? Is there even a difference at this point?”

Oh God, her knees felt weak, her head was spinning, and tears filled her eye. She felt like she was about to collapse at any moment, but there was something forcing her to stand. Something kept her body like this against her will despite her exhaustion.

“Oh, dollface, do you feel the abstraction crawling under your skin? Or well, fabric? Did we do it? Did we f̴i̷n̴a̵l̸l̴y̸ ̶b̷r̸e̶a̵k̷ ̶y̷o̴u̵?̸”

All the voices then started shouting over one another again. Ragatha couldn’t even make out what they were saying as it all blended into an incoherent mess. With so much noise in her head, she wanted to join them. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs; let out all her frustration not just with the voices, but with her whole body. It would be a beautiful relief, but even that was a luxury. Her body wouldn’t let her. They wouldn’t let her.

She’d swear that in the middle of all the noise she heard things that made her want to throw up. She hoped that it was just her imagination and her brain tried to give those noises some meaning, however… That would mean it was her own thoughts and that creeped her out even more. Strangely, some of those words weren’t anything bad, they were just…words. Yet they all sounded so disgusting. So wrong. Every last one of them.

Every last one…

Every last–

“Please…” One voice silenced all of them despite how weak and broken it was. No… No, it was loud and clear. It was…real.

It hit her like a truck. Everything that just happened in the span of a few minutes. How Pomni walked into the room, apologizing. How terrified the jester was when she saw her. How she stopped her when she tried to leave. How she was holding her this whole time despite the pain she was clearly causing Pomni.

Ragatha jumped back, letting go of the jester, allowing her to collapse to her knees. The small woman was sitting there, swinging back and forth, hyperventilating. She reached her hands to her arms as if to brace herself, but she didn’t touch. Instead, she grabbed her hat and pulled, her eyes shut. The bells one would associate with joy and fun now sounded distorted to both of the performers. The bells were… unnerving.

“Oh my gosh…” Ragatha let out as it all sank in. She covered her mouth and a tear ran down her face as she stared down at the black-haired woman. Her heart was breaking at the sight. “Oh my gosh…”

She did this… No, no, no. The voices did. Right…? She…She wasn’t in control, was she?

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, although, she wasn’t sure if Pomni could even hear her, “I-I lost control of them.” She cried more. “I messed up. Ragatha, you idiot… You %$!# idiot! You scared her. You hurt her! Why would I…? I would never-”

She felt tears rolling down her right cheek too, but that wasn’t possible. She wiped the tears with her hand and when she looked at it, her fingertips were covered by dark liquid.

Her heart stopped, realizing what that was. The dark void was leaking. The voices were right…

The bells on Pomni’s head rang again, causing Ragatha to snap out of those thoughts. There was something more important she had to do than pity herself. Her emotions could wait. Her abstraction could wait! She didn’t matter right now. She didn’t matter at all! Pomni did.

Despite her own breakdown, she rushed over to the jester, kneeling in front of her. She was in tears, barely thinking straight, potentially on the verge of abstracting, but Pomni mattered more.

Ragatha reached her hand towards the pale woman but flinched when she realized it wasn’t the brightest idea considering what caused this in the first place. She instead laid her hands on her own knees so Pomni could see them.

“Hey, Pomni?” she spoke up, her voice trembling. That sure was reassuring…

C’mon, Ragatha! Get a hold of yourself! Pomni needs you! Don’t freak her out.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her yarn, brushing it over her right eye to hide it. She curled her hands into fists and calmed her breath before speaking.

“Pomni, hun?” She was doing her best to keep her voice stable this time. “Look at me, please. Hun, look at me.” Pomni cringed, her body still going back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s just me. The real me, I promise,” Ragatha continued, “I just need you to look at me.” The big eyes slowly opened, showing scribbles, and looked up. “That’s it.” Ragatha smiled at her brightly. “Good job, sweetheart. Good job.”

The smaller woman was still trembling, still pulling at her hat, still swinging back and forth, still not controlling her breath.

“Alright, dear-”

Pomni flinched at that, tears streaming down her face as she looked away.

“O-okay! Okay,” Ragatha said in an unintentional panic. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I won't call you that again, I promise. I promise. You’re safe now.”

Still in tears, the jester stopped pulling at her hat, yet the bells kept ringing. Each sob was accompanied by a happy metallic chime as her body jerked. Ragatha had to admit that it made her wails quite adorable and each little jingle seemingly made a voice in her head disappear each time. But she wished more than anything that they'd stop.

“Pomni?” Ragatha knew she had to keep trying. “Hey, Pompom, hun… Can you look at me again?”

The smaller woman didn't seem to listen. She then choked on her sobs as they didn't mix well with her rapid breathing. Seeing this, some of the voices panicked, but Ragatha had to stay calm. She instinctively lifted her hand from her knee, however, thankfully stopped herself from touching Pomni.

“Please?” the ragdoll’s soothing voice asked and Pomni couldn't deny it. The black-haired woman turned to her, scribbles in her bloodshot eyes.

“Good job.” A smile of relief and reassurance formed on Ragatha's face. “Now, honey, you're having another episode, but that's okay. It's okay, I'll help you through it. I’m not going anywhere. We'll get through it together, okay?”

Pomni nodded slowly, choking on her sobs again.

“I need you to breathe with me,” Ragatha told her, “four seconds in, hold and six out. Four, hold, six.” She waited for Pomni to nod again before she took a deep breath that the jester immediately followed, yet struggling. They held their breath, but sniffles broke them. Then they exhaled together.

“Now, let's try again.”

And as Ragatha said, they did. Breathing was much easier for Pomni this time around.

“You're doing great,” the redhead praised her, “are you able to go on your own?” She watched as Pomni nodded and took another deep breath with her eyes shut. “Good, keep going. You’re safe, hun. Focus on me, okay?”

When Pomni opened her eyes again, they were back to their pinwheel look. Ragatha also noticed that she stopped shaking and the swinging slowed down. Her smile widened in relief.

She kept talking to Pomni while the jester calmed her breath. They were like this for a few more minutes until…

“R-Ragatha…?” Pomni finally spoke up and the ragdoll gasped quietly.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Ragatha greeted her, “you feeling any better?”

“A little…” Pomni’s voice was still pretty weak, but she had much more to say. She held her hands together, rubbing her thumb with the other. “But I should be the one asking you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ragatha shook her head. “I just helped you through a panic attack-”

“And I’m forever grateful for that,” the jester blurted out, “but, Ragatha… You’re on the verge of abstracting!” They both flinched at the yell and Ragatha covered the black void on her face despite being hidden behind the hair. “And it’s all because of me.” Pomni shifted her eyes away. “Because I left you when you needed me. Again!”

“Pomni, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“‘Can’t blame yourself?’ You’re the one to talk,” the pale woman scuffed. She then took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No, you have all the right to call me out.”

“Did it happen because of… them?” Pomni glanced at the taller woman, her eyes narrowing at the last word.

“I think so,” Ragatha replied and noticed Pomni inhaling to speak, but she quickly interrupted her, “that’s why you can’t tell Caine.”

“But, Rag-”

“You promised.”

“And you said you wanted this to stop,” Pomni reminded her, raising her voice, “I understand you don’t want them to die, but think about what they’re doing to you. Stress? Mental breakdowns? Abstraction?!” The doll lowered her head in shame. “Rags, you’re suffering and I can’t bear to watch. You care about the people around you and I appreciate that, but for once in this digital life think about yourself first.”

“No need to worry, darling,” Ragatha said calmly, looking up with a bright smile as if the topic was just a casual small talk, “the anons are actually what keeps me from abstracting, otherwise I’d be in the cellar by now.” Pomni cringed at every word due to how cheerfully the doll said them. “We’re also really, really sorry for touching you. We were so afraid of you telling Caine that we had to stop you somehow. Sorry we hurt you.”

Pomni was just staring at her, an unsure expression painted on her face. This all felt wrong and Ragatha’s next words didn’t ease that feeling.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure that I can join in on the adventures again soon.”

No, that wasn’t right. She just said she’s afraid of Caine finding out, why does she suddenly want to take part in his adventures? And that wasn’t the only thing off.

“What happened to staying in your room to prevent infecting people with the virus?” Pomni wondered, “don’t get me wrong, the others would be happy to see you and they’re definitely worried about you. Heck, Zooble, Gangle and Kinger helped me get out of an adventure to check up on you; it’s just…”

“You’ve been spending so much time with me and you’re not influenced,” Ragatha pointed out.

Well, Pomni couldn’t argue with that. There were still many other issues with this seemingly spontaneous idea, but the more she thought about them the less sense her reasoning as to why they were even issues made. It was as if her mind was getting blurrier the more she tried to use her brain. She must’ve been tired from her previous meltdown.

“I guess you have a point.” She let out a sigh and smiled at the woman softly, but then… Did Ragatha have that wide grin on her face before? That didn’t matter right now; she needed some rest.

“Look, I know I haven’t been here in a while, but I should really go into my room and take a nap,” she explained.

“Oh, no worries, d̶e̶a̸r̴,” Ragatha replied, “have a nice sleep.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.” Pomni stood up and headed to the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned back. “And I mean it, try thinking about yourself. It isn’t hard to care about you; me and at least three other people can agree on that.” Her smile widened as she opened the door. “And Ragatha? …I… Thank you for helping me through the attack, I really appreciate it. You’re a great friend.”

She then closed the door and stayed in the room.

She originally planned on finding Caine the moment she was outside. She was well aware that Ragatha didn't want that, however, Pomni was willing to do anything to help her stop hurting. She didn't care if Ragatha hated her for it–she was sure she would–she just wanted her friend to be safe.

But as much as she wanted that, she couldn't bring her body to go through with it. It was as if it didn't obey her.

“Don't leave me,” she remembered the doll's words. No, it wasn't a memory; it felt like someone just whispered in her ear.

That's crazy. It was just her imagination. Nothing else.

“Pomni, please. Don't leave,” Ragatha's voice begged her. It sounded so real. But there was no way Ragatha's whispers could reach her, right?

The more she thought about it, the more her mind was filled with white noise, static. And the longer that went on, the more that noise made sense to her as if it spoke to her.

“I'm scared,” one noise was much louder. Ragatha's voice.

Pomni's not leaving her again.

She let go of the doorknob and turned around to see the ragdoll still sitting on her knees, showing Pomni her back.

“Actually, can I stay here?” the jester asked, “I don't want you to be alone and…I'd also feel more comfortable with some company.”

“Why of course,” the doll replied, the huge grin remaining on her face. She got up and headed over to her bed. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out her bow and used it to tie her hair up in a ponytail.

“You can take a nap in my bed,” she said.

“Oh.” Pomni blushed a little, not only at the offer but also due to the redhead’s sudden hairdo change. Whatever it was, it had some strong influence on Pomni. "Thanks."

Once at her bed, Ragatha picked up the suit she was working on when Pomni first walked in. It was nearly done. It truly was clothing worthy of someone as powerful as her; someone with influence stronger than the ringmaster himself.

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