#yan!geto

Mid April 2017 

A month came and went before you knew it, and somewhere in that time you’d decided to follow Tomoe’s advice. 

If you were going to make it through this second round, then you'd do what was needed to survive without feeling guilty for your methods. 

You'd allow yourself to be taken by Suguru Geto, your master, if that’s what ensured you lived another day.

Because perhaps that one extra sunrise might lead to your escape from here. After all, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

The calm you’d experienced since accepting this reality felt strange, foreign. 

But it helped that you’d spent most of your days in bed or engaging in light activities that wouldn’t cause you added stress. 

Some days, you would attend meetings with Geto, seated prettily at his side for no other reason. Other times, you’d join him and the girls for walks around the compound—but only with the doctor’s approval.  

Over the course of the month, you came to memorize the various areas housed in the estate, starting with the main house and the path that led toward freedom, toward the outside world. Not that it mattered. Knowing the layout meant nothing when several of his cursed spirits and the servants were always skulking about, watching everything. 

You sighed at the truth of the matter, eyes dropping down to your hands while they worked carefully over the yukata’s fabric in your lap, adding hand-stitched embroidery along the two front panels. It was a belated birthday gift meant to lift his spirits as he’d been the one acting more distressed lately. Probably because he couldn't let out his frustrations on you, you annoyingly realized. 

The last time you’d seen him more relaxed had been during the celebration the girls had thrown for his birthday in February. It was much simpler than yours, but still included a cake and a shared meal. They knew he preferred it that way and honored it. However, they’d still bought him a present to show their love and appreciation. 

This project was meant to be your gift to him, belated or not. 

But he'd already taken it upon himself to claim you as his offering for the occasion—installing himself in your room and sleeping beside you without fail.

It had been a jarring change at first, but you'd gradually gotten used to his presence beside you every night. 

And since sex was off the table, all you could do was talk to each other. 

Sometimes the two of you had conversations about mundane things before ending the day. Other times, he shared pieces of himself you never expected to learn about or to even exist—like stories about his best friend and everything they’d done together as teenagers. 

You could tell he still thought of him fondly. And yet, he never spoke his name to you. It was curious, and you wondered if maybe this friend had died on one of these “assignments” from that technical school he attended. What had he called it? Jujutsu High.  

The thought crossed your mind to ask about his friend's condition, but ultimately you decided against it. For whatever reason, he hadn't told you, and you should just accept that for what it was.

What would prying get you anyway? 

Maybe he just needed you to listen. 

Sometimes that's all a person wants—especially lonely ones. 

It didn’t matter that he had a ‘family’ or a ‘cult’ following; there was always something there, a longing in his eyes that told you he still felt alone in a room full of people.

How could you possibly know that? Because you'd felt the same way at some points in your life, too. Like when you were isolated by classmates in school or looked down upon for being a woman in a male dominated industry as a career. 

Regardless, it wasn't a valid excuse for what he had done to the innocent people of Japan thus far. Which is why, you still thought of him as an omen. And nothing he did now could ever really change that. 

But you were still human, and unfortunately, an empathetic one. So the more time you spent with him like this, the more you began to see how he had once been just another kid society chewed up and spit out—left broken in its wake.

Only in his case, it had been a hidden world of darkness and literal monsters that destroyed him bit by bit until he found a horrific solution to the problem—murdering all non-sorcerers. 

Except you, for some reason or another.

Perhaps you should ask him why during one of these conversations… Because what he had done to you was wrong in every conceivable way.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't just. 

But then again, neither was the life and responsibility he’d been forced to shoulder since he was a teenager.

It no longer surprised you that he’d ended up this way—seeing non-sorcerers as worthless monkeys. 

Sometimes, he wasn't entirely wrong. 

You could admit that there were some people who shouldn't be allowed to exist. Murderers, rapists, traffickers, and pedophiles were a few that came to mind. Though, by that logic, he was already on that list.   

The look on his face when you suggested focusing his efforts on eliminating such vile people instead of ordinary ‘monkeys’ would be forever etched in your mind. 

He had looked… pleased or maybe even proud? 

“All non-sorcerers produce cursed energy,” he said evenly. “So, following that approach wouldn’t solve the issue. Japan would still be riddled with cursed spirits.” 

“Couldn’t it lower the numbers for a little while, at least?” you murmured, looking away from his intense stare.

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “But not enough to ensure the safety of all sorcerers.”

While you focused elsewhere, his eyes remained on you, sharp and assessing as he weighed your responses.

“So once again,” he continued calmly, “I see no point in it.”

You looked back up at him, easily conceding to his ideas without quite realizing it. “That… makes sense.”

“Does it now?” he asked. “I didn’t realize the inner workings of sorcery were so easy to understand.” 

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully. 

“I was a monkey only a few months ago,” you replied softly. “So it was just a passing thought I wanted to ask you about. I trust your expertise, Master. If you say it's pointless, then I know it is.”

He chuckled quietly. “You truly are a survivor, I’ll give you that. But don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“I’m not, Master.” Your eyes never wavered from his in that moment, silently swearing that you were being sincere.

He pulled you close then, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you into his warmth. His voice came soft against your hair as he murmured, “maybe there’s hope for you yet, y/n.”

Oh.

That was the first time he'd ever called you by your name. 

It felt wrong and so out of place coming from him.

Yet… you couldn't stop yourself from blushing. 

It was a small mercy that he was unable to see it from this position. 

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You’d left him puzzled all throughout these weeks.

And despite his initial annoyance, he’d found himself enjoying the calm moments with you that came from the restraint the new regimen required.

You’d gifted him a yukata with embroidery, stitched delicately by your hands. You’d done so even after he’d claimed the right to stay with you every night as his gift. He’d worn it proudly several times now, around you or during day-to-day life that didn’t require his usual monk attire.

Somewhere between the days, he started feeling so comfortable, so at ease with you. 

It was strange, foreign. 

As a result, he’d shared pieces of himself with you he never expected to, going as far as mentioning the things that had happened with Satoru during the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t shared Satoru’s name with you yet, however. 

Was it unfounded jealousy, residual hurt from their last meeting? 

Or his selfish desire to keep you all to himself, even from him, his best friend?

Perhaps that was part of it.

But your comments, and the interest in your eyes when he spoke of those times, were also pushing his reluctance.

“He seems like quite the character,” you’d said once smiling softly after he’d spoken of Satoru’s unruly antics.

He’d leaned down and kissed you then, ending the conversation for the night.

But really, what had surprised him the most so far, were your curious questions and evolved opinions about his plans to rid the world of non-sorcerers.

How had he managed to convince you so quickly? 

When he questioned your motives, you’d sworn that your words had been sincere. 

Yet despite your reassurances, he still suspected you weren’t being entirely truthful. He couldn’t expect you to turn against everyone you’d once known so wholeheartedly—not yet. Not when that world still included people you cared for. Like your past lover.

There were still moments when the anger from months ago bubbled back to the surface. All he had to do was recall the brief smile you’d worn that day in Harajuku—soft, distant, and unmistakably not meant for him. 

The image alone was enough to harden his jealous resolve to find the bastard responsible for it.

And yet, thus far, nothing about him had been uncovered.

That a mere monkey had proven to be so thoroughly untraceable was an insult in and of itself. 

Ugh.

He should’ve interrogated you on the matter before starting this second round of treatments. Forced the name from your lips and ended the uncertainty once and for all. 

But doing so might’ve caused you undue stress and jeopardized the treatment’s progress—and he had no intention of risking another setback.

Still, ridding the world of that worthless man had risen to the top of his priorities, alongside his other goals.

Overall, things were still progressing smoothly. His arsenal of curses had grown substantially, and the events he’d set in motion were unfolding exactly as planned. 

But lately, his attention had been drawn to a particular special-grade cursed spirit. One whispered about among his family and followers. An anomaly that was both powerful and uniquely bound to a host. 

The curse even had a human name, Rika.

According to what Geto had learned from rumors, Rika was attached to a boy who had recently enrolled at Jujutsu High. What was his name again? Yuta Okkotsu.

Apparently, Satoru had intervened and kept him from being executed by the elder jujutsu counsel. 

Ah, what a typical reaction it had been—always blaming the sorcerer instead of addressing the rot festering throughout the rest of the less deserving world.

He couldn’t stand it, and the occurrence had only fortified his resolve.

It was just another reason why Jujutsu High remained first on his list of targets. 

The cornerstone of the jujutsu world? Hah! It’d be nothing but an ill-forgotten system of oppression once he unleashed his wrath. 

Still, such an overreaction had made one thing quite clear: Yuta and his cursed spirit were dangerous enough to inspire fear in the counsel.

That alone had made the boy impossible to ignore and solidified his decision on the matter—he would have to see their strength for himself soon.

Perhaps he could set up a trap where that might be possible. One that would draw him out from Satoru’s reach and protection. It should be easy enough, given how busy he always was after becoming the strongest. 

Yes.

He was certain of it. 

Everything was falling into place, aligning as it should in his grand scheme.

Except for you, once again. 

Granted, he had continued to test your ability to perceive curses and, as of late, you hadn’t missed detecting a single one. It seemed the change he’d prompted in you had become more permanent as your exposure to spirits and his family continued. 

He still hypothesized that bearing his child would cement your window status once and for all. It could even allow you to deepen your awareness and control over the cursed energy that naturally coursed through you already.  

Thinking back to the child, it would take some time to determine if they had been born with a cursed technique of their own. However, if they could see his horde of cursed spirits once their vision properly clarified at around seven months, then his theories would be partly proven correct.

And your place by his side would then be safely justified. 

He wouldn’t have to lose you. 

Nor would he have to argue your worth to anyone—not even himself.

What such a truth would mean for other non-sorcerers, he wasn’t sure yet. Though, it was unlikely he’d leave many alive anyway. 

But perhaps the few he deemed worthy of redemption might survive in his ideal world, a paradise for jujutsu sorcerers.

Or he’d keep you as the only exception. 

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He lay curled against you on his side, with his head resting on your chest and face nestled into the curve of your neck just beneath your jaw. One of his arms was draped loosely across your waist, holding you close, while your fingers moved absently through his hair.

“Master, is it alright if I ask you something?” you said quietly, careful not to disturb the fragile calm. 

“Go ahead, pet,” he murmured into your neck, lips brushing your sensitive skin as he spoke. 

“What made you choose me?” you asked, softly. 

He lingered there against the heat of your body, reminiscing about the smile you’d given him the day he first saw you—the scent you carried that had driven him mad for weeks, setting everything else into motion.

“You make it sound like I was looking. I wasn’t but-”

Inhaling deeply, he drew you in once more, pulling your body closer to his.

“Something about your scent and the smile you gave me. I never could stop thinking about it,” he murmured. “Even now, it still lingers—though it’s been overtaken a bit by my own. I might prefer it that way actually.”

“Oh,” you meekily answered.  

“Did that not satisfy your curiosity?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice. 

“No- I just didn’t expect your reason to be something so… simple?”

He laughed softly, his hot breath making you squirm faintly beneath him from the ticklish sensation it was evoking.

“Were you expecting me to say you were special?”

“No. I know I’m not, master,” you quickly and matter-of-factly answered. 

He moved away from your neck, shifting his weight until he hovered over you, arms bracketing you in on either side.

“You're wrong,” he breathed against your lips, kissing you before pulling back just enough to speak.

“Being chosen by me has made you just that. Remember?”

“Yes, master,” you whispered back, lifting your hand to caress his cheek as a heat crept across your own—like a blushing wife accepting a compliment from her husband. 

God, you looked good enough to eat. 

This month without partaking in you had truly been agony for him.  

He groaned, resting his forehead against yours feeling increasingly aroused. 

“Remind me—when’s the final injection supposed to be?” he asked, the desperate desire obvious in his eyes. 

“In the evening on the third of May, master.”

“Ngh, I have something important to do that week,” he sighed, then added, “but I’ll reserve the fourth just for us.”

“That should be fine, master. Dr. Takemi said we have close to two peak days anyway.”

“Good.”

He kissed you again, more deeply this time.

“The day can't come soon enough.”

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Midnight, May 4, 2017.

You hadn’t expected to be called to his bedchamber at midnight, having been told he was meant to arrive back at the estate in the morning.

Still, you quickly slipped on a silk robe over your nightdress, the fabric cool against your skin as a maid hurried you through the hall. She said nothing as she left you at the door, only bowing and disappearing before you could ask a question.

The room was empty when you stepped inside.

That, more than the summons itself, unsettled you.

Rather than lingering by the door, you moved toward the bed, the quiet space dimly lit by the moonlight slipping through the window. You had just reached the foot of it when you felt his arms circle around you from behind, drawing you back against him. 

The hold was unhurried, affectionate, as if there was no need to rush now that you were here in his arms.

“You're back early, Master,” you murmured as his lips found your neck. 

Much like his embrace, the kisses were gentle, lingering, building without urgency—not sharp or consuming as you'd grown accustomed to. No, this time his pursuit of you was more like a controlled heat, rising steadily. 

You leaned back into him, feeling how easily his body naturally adjusted to yours. The silk of your robe slipped beneath his hand as he nudged it off your shoulder, exposing smooth skin he immediately followed with his mouth. His lips traced the slope of your collarbone, reverent and affectionate, as though every inch of you deserved to be worshipped.

“I grew impatient thinking about you,” he finally replied, still peppering kisses along your bare skin, his hand drifting dangerously close to the bow holding your robe together.

“Sorry, Master,” you breathlessly said, caressing the arm he held around your waist with your own. 

“There are no masters tonight,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low, turning your face toward him with an unfamiliar gentleness. “It’s just me and you.”

Your breath stuttered as his lips found yours for the first time that night. 

“Yes, Suguru,” you whispered when he pulled back from you briefly. 

It was then that you felt a tug on your robe, the bow unraveling and exposing your nightgown underneath. 

He further eased the robe from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms before lifting it away entirely off your body and discarding it somewhere behind you to be forgotten. When you turned toward him after, you caught a glimpse of his half dressed state and his hungry gaze. 

You stepped back instinctively as he moved forward—his eyes never wavering from yours—until the edges of the bed brushed against the back of your knees.

You sat without breaking eye contact, shifting backwards as he followed, the space between you narrowing instead of widening until your head sank back against the pillows at the head of the bed. He braced himself, shifting and adjusting his weight so that he hovered over you with just one arm—body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his bare chest, X-shaped scar and all.  

For a moment, he didn’t do anything else except stare down at you, like a predator does its prey. 

Then his mouth found yours again, only the kiss was deeper this time, filled with more fervor as his free hand slipped to the hem of your nightgown, easing it upward inch by inch before lifting it off your body entirely. 

You wrapped your arms around him, kissing him back just as ardently, arching into him in acceptance of his touches, his advances, his perversions—but were they becoming yours now too?

He groaned, shifting his weight once more to kick off the last piece of clothing keeping the two of you apart.

Left skin-to-skin, he paused only long enough to look at you, whispering, “you’re so beautiful,” as something unguarded flickered across his face before he captured your mouth in another kiss.

But he needed more of you. 

So much more. 

From your lips, he moved on to your breasts, teasing each of your sensitive nipples with his eager tongue until you cried out for him to please continue downwards.

He laughed against your plush skin, loving every second of your impatient moans and selfishness as he traveled down to your pretty little sex, leaving rogue kisses across your body along the way. 

Swiftly, he placed your thighs on his shoulders, pushing them forward so you were spread and ready for his tasting.

“Is this what you wanted, Y/n?” he asked before teasingly lapping at your clit.

“Yes,” you moaned out, reaching down and already threading your fingers in his hair. 

He continued at this torturous pace, taking his time, licking slow and heavy circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you were begging him to devour you. 

“S-s'guru, please. More,” you breathed out desperately. 

Just hearing you say his name sent a sharp pulse of want throughout his body. 

And he obliged your pleas, the sound of your voice still thrumming through him as he flattened his tongue and ran it along your slick entrance in patient, deliberate strokes before slipping a finger inside you. 

“Mmph,” you moaned, tightening your grasp on his now messy hair. 

“Louder,” he mumbled, briefly parting before returning to his devilish ministrations, finger working in perfect tandem with his tongue.  

“Ahh—yes,” you huffed out, louder this time as he'd demanded. “Ff-feels'good”

He kept going, eagerly lapping and sucking while he easily slid another finger into your needy cunt.

You twitched beneath him, breath catching in your throat as your hips began moving on their own, arching themselves closer to his mouth, his fingers sinking deeper inside you with the motion.

At the same time, you began to feel a pressure building up in the pit of your stomach, only growing the longer this went on.  

“S-suguru. M'close,” you cried out, warning him that you were close to climax.

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips again, its low vibrations only driving you closer to the edge. 

“F'faster…” you pleaded, shutting your eyes tightly when he upped the pace. 

Until, finally, the pressure growing inside you reached its peak, and you lost yourself in the pleasure of your release, crying out his name in careless whispers over and over without realizing what it was doing to him each time.

He was losing his mind, desire threatening to take over and pervert this moment as he watched, felt, and listened to your every delicious reaction. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from rushing, from mounting and taking you like every other time before. 

But he couldn't do that again, or at least not today.

Not when he'd started to come to terms with an ugly, undeniable truth about his feelings for you…

So instead of acting on his arousal, on his carnal instincts, he lingered—savoring the intoxicating taste of you before his mouth wandered to your thighs, peppering them with sweet kisses as you twitched and shivered from his attention.

Fighting to catch your breath, your fingers loosened their grip on his hair as you slowly resettled into the softness of the bed.

He chuckled under his breath as he shifted back up to you, his mouth claiming yours once more, kissing you over and over again until the space between you felt hot and hazy—thick with a shared need that only continued to rise in fervor.  

Driven by desire, you responded without thinking, arms sliding around his shoulders, legs curling around his hips in a desperate invitation for more. And he accepted, rolling his hips against you, rubbing his length along your sex, mixing his pre with your cum and enjoying every sensation he'd earned. 

In between breaths and caught up in the growing heat between your legs, you impulsively whispered, “Suguru, I want to be on top.”

His pupils dilated, stunned amusement giving way to something darker, lustful, as a raspy laugh slipped from him before he decided to indulge you.

Without a word, he wrapped an arm securely around your waist and leaned back, easing both of you into a seated position until his back was against the headboard and you were settled in his lap, straddling his thighs.

He'd given you exactly what you'd asked for.

Now what would you do with it?

You blushed as you reached down and pressed a hand against his throbbing cock, rocking your hips and wetness against it, seemingly testing the limits of his control. 

His breathing grew heavier at your actions, his forehead pressing to yours as he let you continue this torturous game.

“Fuck,” he hissed out through clenched teeth, still steadily holding onto your waist, fighting back the urge to slip himself inside you.  

Lucky for him, your patience for games had run thin, too.

You lifted your hips and slowly began taking him, inch by excruciating inch as his grip turned vice-like at your hips, breath hitching in his throat while you sank down, allowing him to stretch you open until he was finally buried inside you. 

Every muscle in his body strained as he forced himself to stay still, fingers flexing at your waist while his brows furrowed from the growing tension between you.

Look at him, suffering through all this unnecessary anguish simply because he wanted to let you finish what you’d started.

Being in love with you truly was a curse. 

You held onto his shoulders for leverage, arching your back as you rolled your hips against his. He watched and felt every aching sensation, his eyes never leaving you as he memorized every detail of your depraved display. 

Left completely entranced by your body, he sought after your breasts with his mouth, greedily sucking and lapping at your nipples as they rose to arousal under his tongue's unrelenting onslaught. 

And, in turn, it had earned him another blissful reward.  

“Mmph—Suguru,” you moaned while one of your hands wrapped around his head, fingers tangling in his hair as electric shocks of pleasure traveled all over your body.

He groaned in approval against your soft skin, thickening inside you.

Your hips came up and down on his cock faster now, chasing the euphoric flutters, needing more of him as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. 

Every movement you made filled you with rapturous pleasure, and yet it still wasn't enough.  

“S'guru, p-please he—ngh—help.”

Heat surged across your body in anticipation as a familiar coil began tightening low in your body, winding sharper and tighter with every grind and breath.

“Does my desperate little problem need my help?” he teased, sharply rolling his hips against yours once—damn it, yes, that's exactly what you needed, wanted, craved. 

“Yes,” you begged, looking up at him, eyes glassy with lust, lips parted in desperation. “Please, I need you.”

You needed him. 

You needed him. 

You needed him.

Oh, to hell with holding back. 

Consumed by your words, he thrust up into you, matching your frantic pace and rhythm as you tightened around him, each movement pulling breathless sounds from your throat as the tension coiled tighter inside you.

“S'guru,” you moaned out, nails digging into his shoulders, forehead pressed against his as he kissed you, his tongue invading your mouth while you continued to whimper.

He felt drunk. And completely out of his mind.  

His hands slid up your sides and closed around your shoulders, pressing your body down harder on his cock.

“Hah—fuck,” you broke away from him to breathe, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. If you didn't, you might have fainted.

One of his hands followed after you, fingers curving firmly at the nape of your neck. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“M'not… need t'breathe,” you rasped out against his skin, lips trailing kisses along his neck before biting down hard enough to leave a faint mark.

His fingers tightened around your plump flesh, taken aback by the sharp jolt of arousal that pulsed throughout his body, all the way down to his throbbing member.

“Harder,” he swallowed. “Bite down harder, Y/n.” 

You dragged your tongue across his neck before biting down again. Harder, like he'd asked, lightly breaking skin this time. 

He grunted, movements growing rougher, more urgent now as he pumped into you like a madman in heat, hitting just the right spot inside you over and over until you were a panting mess—barely holding it together.

“L-look at me,” he pleaded with abandon.

And you did, straight into his eyes, arms locking tight around his neck as your hips worked in tandem with his—both of you chasing after sinful ecstasy together.

“Suguru… m’so close,” you moaned, seeking permission from your master as the coil inside you felt like it was hanging on by a single thread. 

You didn't have to tell him—he already knew from the way you were pulsing around his cock, the sensations dragging him closer to the edge with you. 

“You can,” he managed, his voice riding the breaking point. “I want you to.”

With that, the fraying thread inside you just snapped.

“Ah- I'm- S'guru,” you cried out, your body shaking violently against his as you clutched at him for support even as he continued to mercilessly pound you through your high.

“Y/n—ngh—tell me,” he grunted, losing himself inside you. “Tell me you love me. N-need to hear you say it.”

Drowning in the pleasure, you offered no resistance and gave him exactly what he wanted.

“I love you,” you choked out, only then realizing tears were running down your face. “I love you, Suguru. I love you.” 

The sound of your voice uttering those words—those three despicable, perfect words—shattered whatever composure he had left, sending him past the point of no return as he pushed you down on his throbbing cock one final time before filling you up.

Spent, your body went limp against his chest, trembling in what you thought was the afterglow.

But he wasn’t satisfied yet. 

No, he still needed more of you. 

And not later. 

No. 

Right this fucking second. 

With no patience left to spare, his grip tightened at your waist, and your world tipped over all at once—momentum carrying you both down in a tangled rush of limbs and sheets.

Feeling hot and dazed, you barely had time to register where you’d landed before he began pounding you into the mattress near the foot of the bed, weight heavy, presence overwhelming as you were still so sensitive. 

“S'guru s'too m-much,” you gasped, equally exhausted and overstimulated by the continuation. 

“You can—hah—handle it,” he bit out, cutting off your protests with a rough, sloppy kiss before pulling back just enough to look at you. “Keep- keep saying it.” 

“I—mmph—l-love you ma-master S'guru,” you whimpered, breath hitching in your throat.  

“That's right,” he grunted, crowding further into your space, forcing your legs up and against your chest as if in a mating press. 

Folded tight beneath him, he leaned down until his forehead was pressed to yours, eyes dark with want and fixed on nothing but you. “And you’re all mine.”

“Just mine, Y/n,” he repeated, pulling his hips back and driving himself into your pliant little body again with no restraint left.  

You kept huffing out his name and soft, broken love-yous again and again between each deep, aching thrust, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing throughout the room as you neared your third taste of nirvana for the night.

He felt your nails begin to dig into his back, your fingers tangling themselves in his ruined hair as you broke beneath him once more—and he quickly followed with a groan, burying himself deep as your body clenched and spasmed around him, flooding your insides with everything he had to give.   

Both of you were flushed and breathing hard against each other when one of your hands slipped from his back onto the tousled sheets. He caught it a moment later, lacing his fingers through yours as he let your legs fall back down slowly, still keeping himself inside you as the aftershocks continued to ripple through you both.

Regaining some of his composure, he kissed your forehead, your tear-laden cheeks, your lips while gently caressing your naked, trembling body, lightly tracing his hand along your sides. 

You looked up at him, brushing a stray hair from his face with the hand that was free of his hold, “I'm sorry, master,” you murmured sleepily. “I left your hair so messy… I'll- I'll fix it in the morning.”

Ugh. You were nauseatingly adorable.  

He gave a breathy laugh before kissing you sweetly once more. 

After breaking away, he added, “you'd better stop acting so cute, or I'm never getting off you.”

“Isn't-” you swallowed, getting more and more drowsy, eyelids drooping. "Isn't that the point?”

You still managed to see the vicious smile across his face as he replied, “yes, but you can hardly keep your eyes open.”

You blinked, opening them back up slightly, trying to tune back into his words. 

“And I want you awake, feeling everything I do to you.”

He finally removed himself from inside your heat, causing your body to twitch at the sudden emptiness. You softly whimpered as he lifted you in his arms and placed you back among the pillows at the head of the bed.

He positioned himself behind you, wrapping an arm across your body as he covered the two of you with the soft bed sheets. 

“Sleep well, Y/n. We'll continue this tomorrow,” he murmured against your ear as the world went black.

 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

The Morning of May 4, 2017.

The sunlight of the day streamed into the room from his window, gently dancing across your intertwined bodies.

It woke him from his peaceful slumber as he lay behind you still, his arm protectively around you.

‘What a lovely sight to see first thing,’ he thought as he watched and felt the rise and fall of your chest. 

He pulled you closer, turning you over slowly to have you rest easy on his chest instead.

Luckily, you only opened your eyes for a brief moment before lazily falling back to sleep in his arms. 

He trailed circles down your back as he summoned a curse to fetch Tomoe. 

When she arrived, he instructed her to ready a bath as soon as she heard your voice from across the door. 

“Yes, my lord,” Tomoe replied softly.

“Also, ask the doctor if it’d be safe for her to travel somewhere today.”

“I’ll report back immediately.”

“Good. You may go now.”

His gaze settled on you again as he fondly recalled the way you’d told him “I love you” only a few hours before. 

Even if he had asked for it, there had to be some hidden truth there, right?

You’d said it so many times, too. Over and over. It was perfect. 

He found himself smiling at you fondly—lovingly—until a cruel, intrusive thought slipped into his mind.

Had he been the only one to hear those words?

Or had you said it to that other piece of filth as well?

He sighed, annoyed with the direction of his own thoughts.

If only he could carve that monkey out of your mind and replace every last memory with himself instead.

Wait. 

He could actually try to do that.

If he took you somewhere nice, somewhere romantic.

Might that erase some of him from your mind, little bug?

The faintest of knocks came through the door as Tomoe had returned with the doctor's response.

“My lord, Dr. Takemi said it would be safe for her to travel, so long as she isn’t stressed unnecessarily by it. The treatment should still be effective until tomorrow.”

“Have Suda prepare for my departure, then. And fetch the lady suitable attire for some time outside the estate.” 

“Right away. Excuse me,” she bowed and quickly exited the room. 

Yes, he would make you forget all about that maggot—so the next time you smiled like a woman in love, it would be for him.  

 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

You felt a warmth against your cheek as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 

And the first thing you saw was Geto as he peered down at you with a smile.

‘What a worrying sight to see first thing,’ you thought as you stared back up at him, blinking away your sleepy daze. 

You expected more of the same from before—for him to return to the status quo immediately after being so loving in the midnight hours.

But you were wrong this time.

He was different. Tender. Enamored.

“I’ve told them to draw up a bath for us,” he murmured, lowering himself to your lips, kissing you gently once. “Let’s put on our robes so we can go enjoy it.”

And so here you were now, being held by him from behind in the bath. Like so many times before.

“I spoke to the doctor before you woke,” he said, mindlessly tracing the curve of your shoulder with his hand. “He told me it was alright if we went somewhere today.”

Your heartbeat quickened at the possibility of leaving this place, if even only for a few hours.

“Where, Master?”

“That depends, where do you want to go? I can take you anywhere.”

“Enoshima Island? Or Yokohama, maybe? But shouldn’t the girls decide, Master?”

He smiled, kissing your temple. “We’re not taking them. This is just you and me.”

“...like on a date?” you asked, a bit stunned. Dumbfounded, really. 

He chuckled, pulling your body closer to his chest, the water of the bath moving against the two of you. “You could call it that if you’d like.”

What in the world was going on? And who the hell was this imposter sitting behind you?

“Do you have a preference, Master?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady even as your thoughts tangled over themselves, unsure of what version of him you were meant to respond to.

“Hmm. It’s been a while since I’ve been to Yokohama, so I wouldn’t mind a short trip there.”

“We could get the girls some souvenirs,” you added, your pulse skittering beneath your skin despite your quiet disbelief.

“Oh, they’ll be expecting it, don’t you worry,” he laughed against your hair. “Now let’s hurry this up so we can be on our way.”

“Yes, Master,” was all you could manage, still unsure of whether to trust this suspicious and sudden change in character.

You feared what version of him might await you by nightfall.  

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

June 4, 2017

Despite his kinder, more lenient demeanor since your ‘date’, life at the estate continued on as it always had.  

You had a scheduled medical exam with Dr. Takemi the following week. Only this time, your appointment would be at the newly finished clinic that Geto’s living banks had financed,  including the ever-foolish and recently deceased Mr. Tanaka.

“He never did learn to keep his mouth shut,” Suda had said to Geto after the fact.

Poor man.   

To ease your mind ahead of the impending examinations, you’d asked Geto if you could spend some time with the girls instead of attending the meetings of the day with him. 

“You may, so long as they want you around, pet” was what he had replied before returning his attention back to Suda’s preliminary report.

Thankfully, Mimiko and Nanako were receptive to the idea.

Walking into their room behind you, Tomoe left a small tray of cut fruit and tea before excusing herself, reminding you to eat while you spent time with the girls.

“I will,” you politely replied. “Thank you.” 

“We just got a few pictures from Geto-sama’s camera printed. Want to see them?” Nanako asked while you sat. 

“Sure, I’d love to,” you replied warmly, placing your hands in your lap.

After showing you the more recent photos, the twins grew rather nostalgic and fished out the photo scrapbooks they’d been keeping for themselves and their father. It held years of memories with Geto and their other found family members.     

“This one’s from when we were eleven or twelve,” Mimiko said.

“You two were very cute,” you commented, smiling brightly.

“Were? You mean still are!” Nanako corrected you.

You laughed, holding your hands up in mock defense. “You’re right, my mistake.”

“Hey, this was when we visited Sendai looking for a cursed spirit,” Mimiko said, scanning the image. “Right, Nanako?”

“Oh yeah. It was for one of those centipede-looking curses. I also remember the kikufuku was delicious.”

You nodded in agreement with her final comment, adding your own experience to the conversation. 

"Their specialty flavor was my favorite when I visited with a friend.”

“You’ve been there, too, huh? What about Osaka?”  Nanako asked. 

“Haven’t been there. How was it?”

“It had some really fun shops with cute dolls and clothes,” Mimiko answered for her sister, passing you the album so you could get a better look.

“Show her the ones in Dotonbori,” Nanako added while typing something on her phone.

After seeing all the places they’d traveled to with Geto, they flipped to the last pages of one of the albums as you stood up from your seat to serve yourself a plate of sliced fruit and a cup of tea.  

“Oh, this is when Geto-sama was in that horrible school, Jujutsu High. He’s probably our age here.”

“What was this one’s name again, Mimiko?” Nanako asked, pointing at a figure on the page. 

“Gojo something, I think?” she replied, squinting at the image.

‘Huh, I guess that's a pretty common surname…,’ you thought, the name echoing faintly in your mind as you sat back down, setting the plate on your lap and the cup of tea on the side table.

“Ohhhh yeah—that’s right. Now I remember,” Nanako said, snapping her fingers in realization. “His name's Satoru Gojo.”

Your eyes went wide as the strawberry in your hands slipped from your fingers, landing back on the plate. Somehow, the girls didn’t seem to notice. And why would they? Their focus was on their father, commenting to each other how they preferred the way he loosely wore his hair now.

Meanwhile, your world was falling apart. 

“Look y/n. This is Geto with his best…”

The girls’ words had faded into the background as a dull, persistent ringing overtook your ears. 

No way.

Your gaze locked onto the photograph as if staring long enough might change what it showed—two teenage boys standing side by side, frozen in a different time. Both in similar uniforms, but opposite colored hair. 

No fucking way.

Your breath turned shallow as your mind scrambled for alternatives, an explanation for this unbelievable truth that made some sense. Coincidence. A twin brother. Anything. 

There’s no way this can be happening. 

But it was.

Because right there, on the page of an album filled with your master’s life was his best friend and your Satoru Gojo, with his white hair, sky-blue eyes, and familiar grin. 

The image began to tremble in your gaze as the world around you tilted in every direction, leaving you dizzy and faint. 

“Y/n, are you alright?” 

You could hear the girls' worried voices, but they both sounded distant. Muffled, as if you were underwater. You tried to answer, to steady yourself, but nothing was making sense anymore.

“Mgh, Sa-sato...” 

The plate slid from your lap as you toppled forward in your seat. You numbly felt arms circle around you, holding you up before you could hit the floor.

“Go get Geto-sama—go get Suda!”

Those were the last audible words you heard before the world slipped out from under you and went dark. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Geto leaned his weight onto a wooden armrest at his side, chin propped in his hand. The support allowed him to sprawl out comfortably across the raised platform in the room with one leg folded beneath him while the other was lazily stretched out. 

From that position, he listened with half-lidded eyes, boredom evident in his posture as his followers’ reports continued on below him. 

And without you here sitting beside him, he had nothing to distract himself with from the monotony of it all.

What did it matter if he failed to listen anyway? Suda was writing everything down, and she’d summarize the important parts for him later. 

He groaned internally, trying to readjust his focus when the doors slid open abruptly, and the sound of Nanako's panicked voice cut through the room. 

“Geto! Suda!” she yelled, standing in the doorway, chest heaving and hands clenched at her sides. 

The meeting immediately came to a standstill. 

“Something's happened,” she said, swallowing hard, catching her breath. “Something’s happened to y/n.”

He was on his feet before she could say anything else, moving as quickly as he could toward the girls’ room.

Suda and Nanako followed closely behind, doing their best to keep up.

You were slumped against Mimiko’s shoulder when he arrived, still unconscious, skin worryingly pale.

The sight of you like this made something in his chest tighten, ears ringing as panic threatened to show across his facial features. 

But he had to bury and ignore it for now.

“We were just looking at pictures when she suddenly collapsed. We aren’t sure why,” Mimiko quickly explained as he gathered you into his arms.

Fuck. 

Why were you so cold?  

Without hesitation, he summoned one of his fastest cursed spirits and mounted the creature in one fluid motion, ordering it toward the clinic.

Dr. Takemi and his team of nurses were already outside, waiting for his and your arrival—Suda had seen to that. 

Geto placed you on the clinic bed, watching as the medical team immediately rushed you off to a room out of his view. 

“I’ll keep you informed. Please wait here while we figure out what’s going on,” Dr. Takemi firmly requested, running behind the team after you. 

The quiet of the waiting room was deafening as the adrenaline of the moment slowly drained out of his body.

He slumped down into one of the chairs, attempting to quell his racing heart by placing his head against the cold, hard wall. 

Should he fear the worst? 

Had something gone fatally wrong during your treatments?

Were you going to die?

His breaths grew heavier, more labored, all of a sudden as the mere possibility of your death crossed his mind. 

It shook him to his very core, his body reacting viscerally to the idea of losing you forever. 

He placed his head in between his hands as he hunched over in his seat, hopelessly trying to calm himself down. 

What the hell would he do if you were gone?

‘There was no replacing you,’ he thought, swallowing hard.

The feelings you were evoking in him made him feel vulnerable and painfully human. So much so that, amidst the worry clawing at his insides, there was also a growing anger.   

How had you managed to sink your teeth into him like this, made him this pathetically obsessed with having you—a weak, normal little bug?

He huffed out a dry, broken laugh as the truth he’d already come to terms with pressed harder against his chest.

This whole thing—this so-called experiment for the cause—had only ever been an excuse to take you as his own.

Why else would he jeopardize everything he believed in, martyr himself a hypocrite, and bend his doctrine for a mere woman?

Fuck.

It didn’t even matter that you weren’t worthy of the world he was trying to build.

He just wanted you in it.

With him.

Until his dying breath.

He’d known that for weeks now.

And this sickening dread at the mere thought of losing you proved just how deeply these accursed feelings had taken root.

He stood up abruptly and began to impatiently pace back and forth, no longer able to keep himself entirely still. 

Looking at the clock, he noted that forty minutes had already somehow passed by—without even a whisper of anyone bringing news. 

Should he go looking for someone to demand answers?

‘No, he shouldn't do that,’ he attempted to rationalize. 

But—why was it taking so long?

Just what was going on with you that required so much time?

He looked up at the clock again. Forty-five minutes had passed now.

To hell with it.

He was just about to act on his thoughts when he heard rushed footsteps approaching the waiting area. 

“How is she?” he immediately asked.

“She is doing just fine, Master Geto,” the nurse reassured. “It seems like she might be slightly anemic, and that might’ve caused her to faint.”

A wave of relief washed over him at the news. 

“Dr. Takemi wants to keep her overnight for observations just to be safe, but he’d like to speak to you in his office before you leave.”

His hand twitched.

Leave? Not a chance. 

“Couldn’t I stay with her overnight?”

“Oh, uhm,” the nurse paused, seemingly stunned by the affection implied by his request. “I’m sure Dr. Takemi would sign off on it if you mentioned it to him. Please let me walk you to his office.”

“I’d rather you show me to her room first,” Geto replied, his tone serious and edged with something that left no room for argument.

“A-ah, of course. R-right this way.”

The nurse led him to your room, where the staff eventually brought in a more comfortable reclining seat for him to sit and sleep on during your stay.

Only after ensuring you were safe and settled did he step out to speak with Dr. Takemi in his office. For added protection, he left a cursed spirit by your side while he was away—not that it would do much good anyway, but he wasn't entirely thinking rationally at the time.   

The conversation didn't reveal anything new, as the good doctor was still trying to identify the underlying cause of your anemia. He explained that several tests had already been run on you, but that the results would take some time to acquire—and there was no rushing that process, as much as Geto wished he could. 

“I should have more definitive information for you tomorrow. The IV we have her on should help pick up her levels quickly. But she's stable and doing okay, so there's no cause for alarm.” 

“I appreciate your diligence, doctor,” he replied.

“Of course. If you need anything tonight, just let one of the nurses know. Or call me, and I’ll be here in a flash.” 

After returning to the room, he gently kissed your forehead. Grateful that, so far, everything pointed to you being just fine—and far away from death's door. 

“Rest well, my beloved,” he murmured in your ear before moving towards his seat for the night, positioning himself where he could clearly watch the steady rise and fall of your chest.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈     

June 5, 2017

The sun’s bright, morning rays spilled into the room, disturbing your sleep and slowly coaxing you awake just as another familiar presence came in to finish the job. 

“Hey sleepyhead, want to get up so we can catch breakfast?”

“No,” you murmured, turning and burrowing yourself deeper into the bed’s blanket.

“C’mon I got this great new place I want you to try. I know you’ll love it.”    

“It’s your fault I’m lazy to begin with,” you replied, giggling as he poked at your sides to coax you out of bed.

“Keep it up and I’m going to start calling you a brat instead of princess.”

“But no one’s a bigger brat than you, Satoru,” you smirked before allowing him to bribe you with a loving kiss.

Wait… 

Satoru?

No—this was wrong. 

Your eyes fluttered as you stirred from sleep, a familiar voice breaking through the haze—and it was calling out your name.

“Y/n, hey. Can you hear me?”

“S-Ssa?” you barely mumbled when the person behind the voice slowly came into view.

“I’m here, pet,” he replied, grabbing hold of one of your hands, leaning over while seated in a chair next to the clinic bed. 

“Ah, M-master. Where?” you turned to look around you, slightly confused. 

“We’re at the clinic. Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

Your head began to throb as the memories—the realization—of Satoru’s identity came tumbling back. In an attempt to steady yourself, you moved your unoccupied hand to cup your forehead. You felt the tug of an IV attached to it. 

“It’s fuzzy,” you lied. “What’s this for?” 

“You were with the girls and fainted. I’ve been told it was likely caused by low iron levels. That should be helping.” 

“Oh? That must've been so scary for them. Are they okay?” 

“They’re fine. Just worried about you.” He answered before adding, “as was I.”

Fuck. 

Were you in for a punishment after this? It had been a while since the last time and things had been mostly calm between the two of you lately, but… the fertility treatments were over now, so he could start up again.

Damn it.   

Best to apologize. 

“I didn’t mean to cause you such trouble…” you murmured. “Sorry, Master.” 

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he squeezed your hand. “Does your head hurt?”

“Mmm.”

“I’ll go let them know so they can bring you something for that,” he replied, releasing your hand from his grasp.

‘Why was he being so attentive? How serious was your condition?’ you questioned, but the thoughts quickly faded in the face of a greater worry. 

‘Oh god, what am I going to do about Satoru?’ you groaned out loud, grimacing from the ever present throbbing pain in your head. ‘And what would happen if Geto found out the truth?’

It was good that you weren’t hooked up to a heart monitor or it might’ve been going haywire right now. 

Before you could fully panic about the situation, Geto returned with a nurse. 

She clicked a button, causing the head rest of your bed to rise—essentially forcing you to sit up. 

“Hi sweetheart, I’m nurse Araki. I’ve brought you some water and medicine for that headache alright?”

She handed you the pills and a cup of water. You gulped them down quickly, hoping they would help. It quenched a thirst you hadn’t realized was there also. 

All the while, she was checking your IV bag. She looked over at Geto as she spoke. “Everything is still looking good here. Dr. Takemi will be by to check in with you two in about twenty minutes.”

Before exiting the room she added, “if you need anything else, please let us know. Feel better, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for asking, Master,” you said after she left. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

The word sounded so wrong coming from his lips—foreign, misplaced.

Had he not liked the nurse calling you that?

Or was this a part of some new, weird form of mental punishment? 

“I must be hallucinating,” you mumbled accidentally out loud, forgetting yourself. 

“What? Why do you say that?” he asked, leaning over you on the bed. He actually looked worried, concerned by the implication of your words. 

“Ah, well… you’ve never said that to me, Master.” 

“So the nurse can say it, but I can’t?” he snapped, eyes narrowing as he still hovered over you, hands holding onto the bedrails. 

You felt the panic rise up in your chest. 

Fuck. 

Not good. 

“That’s not what I- I just mean… you usually use p-pet or b-bug,” you answered, stumbling on your words.

He sighed, moving away and returning to his seat, fingers tightening briefly against the armrest. 

“While you’re correct, I don’t enjoy hearing others say such things to you,” he said, tone even despite the obvious irritation beneath it. “So do not allow yourself to be pampered by anyone else from here on out.”

What an impossible request. He was just as insane as ever.

Still, you nodded, choosing not to test him over something so trivial and childish.  

“Then… what should I have others call me?” you asked quietly.

“Mrs. Geto should work just fine.” 

He must have seen the astonished look on your face because he quickly added, “if I allowed two monkeys the privilege to say and believe it, why not also those I consider worthy?”

You weren't quite sure how to respond to that, so you mumbled a soft, “that’s true…” before agreeing to his demand. 

“I’ll do as you say, Master. But I can’t control people…”

“No, you can’t,” he replied evenly. “But tell me who refuses, and I’ll change their mind.”

He didn’t have to elaborate for you to understand what he meant.

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, still plagued by your headache, waiting impatiently for the medication to kick in as you rubbed your temples. 

As a result, a moment of silence passed between the two of you. It was so loud that even the quiet tick-tok, tik-tok of the clock on the wall was audible. 

“The girls told me they were showing you their picture albums,” he suddenly ventured. 

Your heartbeat began to race at the mention of the real reason you had fainted, unbeknownst to him. 

“Yes, they were,” you quietly answered, trying to remain outwardly calm and composed—using the headache and your hand as cover. 

“Did you enjoy them?”

“Mmm, it was nice seeing Mimiko and Nanako grow up beside you. Nanako got after me for saying they looked cute when they were younger.”

“Is that right?”

“She was mad because my words implied they weren’t cute now.”

He chuckled quietly, leaning his chin against his knuckles as he sat beside your bed, elbow propped on the armrest. You could tell he was amused by the exchange.  

“I corrected myself immediately after, so all was forgiven,” you awkwardly laughed yourself, nerves simmering down. 

“That’s just like Nanako,” he smiled. “I’m glad you were able to fix things. She wouldn’t have let it go if you didn’t.”

“I bet,” you smiled back at him, adjusting your blankets slightly. 

“Did you get to the end of the album? There’s a few pictures of me back in Jujutsu High.”

Panic resurfaced, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. 

Should you lie and say no?

But what if the girls had told him you’d seen the pictures before fainting?

He couldn’t blame you if you misremembered something now, could he?

‘Say something, you’re taking too long to respond!’ you yelled at yourself internally. 

“We-” you had just started to say when a knock came through the door.

Knock-knock.

“Enter,” Geto responded. 

In walked Dr. Takemi, who nodded in Geto’s direction before proceeding to inquire on your health. “So, how’s the patient feeling?”

“Better. I had a bit of a headache, but it's calming down now.” you shyly replied, trying to regain your composure. “Sorry for all the fuss.”

“No apologies necessary. I’m glad you’re feeling better. That’s our priority here,” he reassured before continuing on.

“I’m not sure how much Geto has told you, but you had some pretty low iron levels. Given the strict diet you’ve been on for the treatment, we couldn’t quite figure out why at first, so we decided to run a series of tests.”

Dr. Takemi paused briefly, giving you both a moment to process his words.

“Once all the results came back, we were able to determine the cause of your anemia and fainting spell,” he said with a smile, clapping his hands together once before adding, “and it’s actually good news.”

He glanced between you and Geto’s puzzled expressions before finally saying,

“Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

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June 6, 2017.

Tomoe sat quietly in the meeting room along with all the other servants, waiting for Suda to give a report on some “urgent and important news.” At least that’s as much as anyone had heard. Though, no one had seen you in almost two days now, so they suspected it had something to do with you. 

Tomoe had grown a bit worried for your sake, but ultimately she trusted that Geto would not kill you. However, hurting you was a different story. She hoped with all her heart that wasn't the case—that you were okay.  

Finally, Suda formally began the meeting. 

“As of today, there are going to be several changes to the Lady’s diet plan. Along with that, she may no longer participate in certain activities that might lead to injury.”

‘No. No way.’ Tomoe thought, tensing up as realization set in.  

The room remained quiet, every servant listening intently to Suda’s words as she continued.

“She is now in a delicate condition and carrying Lord Geto’s child.”

‘Damn it. It's not fair,’ Tomoe thought, almost trembling with anger. 

“That means we must safeguard her needs and ensure that nothing impacts the health of this pregnacy.”

After all she had done to keep this from happening? That monster was still getting what he wanted. 

He didn’t deserve it.

He didn’t deserve you.

Or happiness.

Or anything good in this world.

Because he had taken everything in hers. 

After the meeting had concluded, Tomoe was able to go to her quarters. She felt cold, numb the entire walk back. 

As soon as the the door closed behind her, she sank to the floor, cupping her face into her hands. Tears of rage and sadness streamed down her cheeks as her body shook all over. Only now she didn’t have to hide it.

Thoughts of her family filled her head.

The one Suguru Geto murdered for being unable to see cursed spirits. 

For being ‘monkeys.’

She clawed at her sides, doubling over as her blood boiled on the inside.

No.

No. No. No!

She couldn’t let this happen.

It wasn’t fair that he would get a family, a lover, a child.

Not when he’d selfishly plucked you from the world, from your entire life.  

Oh, how she had pitied you since the day you arrived. 

You were innocent, ignorant and unaware of cursed spirits—just like her parents and brother had been, only they fell victim to a religious cult that went too far and killed a young girl.

The Children of the Star.

How had her family gotten mixed up in something like that when she’d left home?

She sobbed, remembering the day Geto invaded with all his cursed spirits during one of her visits home. In a sick irony, only she had been the one to see them coming.  

In the end, her family’s naïvety had cost them their lives and her freedom as she’d sworn to serve him in order to atone for their sins.     

And though she acted like the perfect servant, following order after order, inside she was full of vitriol and a need for revenge.

Already, she had been doing everything in her power to keep his selfish wants from becoming reality, sabotaging the pills and injections they’d unjustly forced upon you.

Ultimately, her efforts hadn’t been enough after that damn doctor had gotten involved. 

But that wouldn’t stop her now.

No, she had to take it a step further so that bastard could feel even a fraction of the pain and grief he’d inflicted upon her and so many others—including you. 

Crawling on the ground, she pulled up a floor panel to reveal a hidden compartment. In it was a box filled with herbs she had acquired not long after you’d arrived. 

Staring at the product that would bring about his misery, she could only hope that this necessary evil wouldn’t break you.

‘Please don’t get attached to it my lady,’ she thought, clutching the herbs to her chest. ‘This is the only way I can save you from him and this horrid place.’  

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“shh,” he coos. coos at you, and you immediately swallow, eyes fluttering close. “it’s okay, sweet bun. i’m right here.”

(but you don’t want him to be.)

warm hands cup your cheeks and you feel like throwing up, eyes still squeezed shut— as if trying to convince yourself that the sickening reality of the situation would obliterate itself if you simply didn’t look.

(suguru thought it was adorable.)

“look at me,” he murmurs, in that same voice again.

you want to cry and wail and scream. he knows what that tone does to you. you shake your head, tears beginning to line your eyelids, threatening to spill over any second.

(not unlike your sanity.)

“no,” you whisper.

(yet you open your eyes anyway.)

you try not to look.

try so hard not to see the way his lips twitch into a smile. that same smile which never quite changes, no matter what you do. it haunts your mind, the way the little specks of blood drip away when his lips upturn.

(and despite yourself, you reach out a hand to wipe them away.)

“there you are,” he says, “my baby.”

“suguru,” you say again, a sob escaping your parted lips, and suguru pulls you in his arms.

you want to pull away.

pull away from the endless cold his hands radiate. pull away from the way he presses his lips against your temple again. pull away from the way he feels so safe, despite the way your heart feels like it’s been stabbed with tiny little pinpricks every time you breathe in his scent.

“shh,” he coos. “i’m here.”

he’s here.

(and oh the way he consumes you whole with his presence.)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A crescent moon hung in the midnight sky, shining brightly until it was overtaken by an incoming storm full of dark, dreary clouds. 

Not long after that, the quiet of the twilight hour was interrupted by a growing crescendo of rolling thunder and the ‘pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter’ of rain droplets tapping against the roof and wet ground. 

The noise slowly pierced through your consciousness and invaded your desolate dreams. Often now, they were deprived of anything joyful, replaced instead by nightmares filled with shadows of those things—cursed spirits. 

As you stirred, your eyes fluttered open to face the ceiling of your room for the past three months—a sight that reminded you how none of the horrific revelations and torments you’d endured had been hallucinations.   

You'd gone your entire life in ignorance of those things' existence.

Years. So many simple, easy years.

How you wished you could return to that time—before he'd forced you to become aware. Mercifully, you couldn’t always see them, but empty spaces and corners in a room would never look the same again. 

If only you could erase the moment you'd crossed paths with him, then everything in your life would have been okay.  

Boring. Normal. Sane. 

You'd be home or at work—stressed about deadlines that now paled in comparison to your current situation. It was almost laughable. Never in your past life could you have imagined missing such trivial things. 

But most of all, you missed your friends, your family, and… him—someone who felt like the complete opposite of your captor.

Had any of them looked for you? Or reported you missing?

Part of you hoped they had tried to find you, even if their efforts were pointless and in vain. You knew the devil lying beside you would never let them uncover your location.

It—he—was still sleeping. 

Eyeing his bare chest and the steady rhythm of his breathing, you bitterly noted how peaceful his slumber seemed. How it was possible for him to rest so easily after the monstrosities you'd seen him commit, you'd never know or understand. 

That's why you considered him an omen—one that was solely brought into this world to unleash a plague of death upon humanity. Or rather, upon the humans he had unfairly deemed unworthy of existing—useless ‘monkeys’ incapable of jujutsu sorcery, something you'd learned people were born with or without. A total game of luck and genetics. It made his disdain all the more ridiculous and aggravating. 

You'd also grown so tired of his constant use of that derogatory term. 

But even more so of the three special ones he'd reserved for you.

Bug, pet, problem.

Each term was used in accordance with his ever-changing temperament towards you.

You’d eventually figured that out within these past three months. It was useful information to have, and it helped prepare you for his requests, experiments, or… debaucherous desires.  

He’d call you a bug when he felt repulsed by you and how much he wanted you despite it. 

Pet, for when he let himself indulge in that lust, allowing himself to forget—if only for moments of time—that you were beneath him.    

And, worst of all, problem for when… 

You instinctively gulped, feeling an almost suffocating lump form in your throat before continuing the reflection. 

For when he was truly furious and reminded of who he was—and what he was supposed to do with a worthless thing like you.  

He’d used it again just a week ago when you disappointed him for the second time. Out of spite, a part of you hoped you’d never give him what he wanted: a pregnancy, a child—his child.  

But the other half of you… was terrified of the consequences.

What would happen to you if you never could? If he lost patience?

You'd been on birth control for over a year before all this. Women coming off it can sometimes take just as long to conceive.

Would he finally get it over with and kill—

Before you could finish the thought, you felt the heavy weight of his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer and towards his warm body in the process. 

Your back was now flush against his hard chest while his hot breath slowly ghosted along the shell of your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, and goosebumps bloomed like static across your skin in response.

Shit, was he awake? 

“If you can't sleep,” he murmured, voice low, raspy, suggestive, “we can always do something else. Try again.” 

He bit your ear, hard enough to make you flinch. A throbbing, hot ache exploded at the site as he moved on, dragging his tongue down your neck and towards your collarbone, where his teeth met your flesh once again and sank in. 

You helplessly yelped at the second and sudden rush of pain he'd brought on, unknowingly feeding the complex need he felt for you in the heat of this moment. 

He kissed the newly formed mark he'd left on your skin, red and angry as ever. His actions almost seemed like a loving gesture—as if he were asking for forgiveness for the harshness of his affection.  

You bit your lower lip, stifling a defeated, pitiful laugh that threatened to escape past it. What a ridiculous, passing notion. Monsters like him weren't capable of remorse. 

“Yeah. That's what we'll do,” he decided without your input. Not like it would've even mattered. 

Fuck. No. No. No.

Your stomach twisted as you felt him move away from you, turning you around to face him in the process. The look in his eyes could only be described as hungry, desperate, vile. 

“Come, pet,” he held your chin in his hand, “I want you on top this time.” 

This wasn't a request from your captor. 

It was a demand, and no amount of tears or begging would change his mind now. It wasn't even worth the effort anyway—pity had only worked on him once before. Hell, that one time might have just come down to sheer dumb luck, too. 

Best not to push it.

Especially not now. 

Not after he had shown you, at the greatest expense of others, just how painful he could make your last moments on this Earth. Every bloodcurdling scream, every morbid detail of what he did to those poor souls was burned into your memory—a constant reminder of the reality you were in.

You were trapped in a losing war against him.

And the only way to survive was to choose your battles wisely.

 “Yes, master,” you obediently replied, the words bitter on your tongue as you numbly moved to straddle him like the good pet he expected you to be. 

Survive. Just endure and survive.  

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The faint creak of aged wood and lingering traces of incense hung in the meeting room where Geto conferred with Suda. Tatami mats softened the floor beneath them, while paper shoji screens filtered in the soft gray light of a rain-soaked morning—a lingering echo of the almost incessant thunderstorms over the past week.

In the center of the room sat a low-lying wooden table. At the head of it, Geto comfortably occupied his seat. To his right, Suda sat poised with a clipboard full of important updates in hand.  

“As of today, we've collected a total of 3,653 curses,” Suda reported, reading off her notes. 

“We're right on schedule then,” Geto replied, tone light, casual, optimistic. 

“As far as funds,” she continued, lifting a paper from the board to double-check, “we've begun blackmailing three new individuals. They're quite wealthy, so they should compensate for the two we recently exhausted and disposed of.” 

“Mm. Good,” he murmured, lacing his fingers together in his lap. 

“Be sure Mimiko and Nanako receive their share for the month.” 

“Already done,” Suda replied.

“Should I proceed with our previous arrangements when they come asking for more?” she asked matter-of-factly, flipping to the final page on her clipboard.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest to his throat, the sound rough and unbothered. 

The added cost didn’t faze him. So long as Mimiko and Nanako were happy, content, and secure under his care, the extra expenditure was more than justified.

Besides, he was no stranger to his girls’ expensive tastes and spending habits. He couldn’t help but spoil them, indulging their every want and whim as though it were second nature. Whether it was ensuring they always had the latest technology on the market, helping them keep up with new flashy trends, or accompanying them to spots that piqued their interest, he never hesitated. 

He even recalled the afternoon he had joined them at a popular themed café—the same one where his eyes had first settled on you. Perhaps that had been one indulgence of theirs with consequences far more significant than he had anticipated.

“Yes, please continue to budget for their additional expenses.” 

The corners of Suda’s mouth moved into a knowing smile as she nodded, jotting down a quick notation. “Understood.”

“Next on the agenda is Negi. He’s out recruiting and reported locating a first-grade curse you may be interested in acquiring,” she continued, eyes flicking down to the available notes in her hand. “It's in the Miyagi prefecture. He plans on sending me more details by tomorrow.” 

“Sounds promising. Please provide those to me when he does.”

“Of course,” she confirmed as the papers quickly settled back against the clipboard. 

“That concludes all the updates for now.” She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze directly. “Is there anything else you'd like me to work on, Geto?”

“Look into fertility treatments,” he said with a quiet sigh. “I may have to resort to alternatives if she continues to underperform.”

“That’s not surprising considering she's a non-sorcerer. Is it really worth the trouble?” Suda asked, brows lifting slightly.  

“Perhaps not. But I'd like to try either way.”

“Though I don’t fully understand your reasoning, I’ll get started on it.” 

She rose, adjusting the clipboard beneath her arm as she crossed to the sliding door. With a soft swoosh, she slid it open. Turning slightly at the threshold, she offered a parting glance over her shoulder. “Till next time, then, Geto.”

“Thank you, Suda.” He gave a short, appreciative nod and waved goodbye. 

When the door closed, the room fell silent—leaving him alone with only his thoughts for company. Geto exhaled a hot breath, closing his eyes as he slowly massaged the back of his neck with the heel of his palm. Opening them again, he stared blankly forward before rolling his stiff shoulders. Several faint cracks from his movements barely filled the silence as he began to ponder.   

All these promising updates and numbers. 

Except yours. 

In just three months, all you’d given him was two failed pregnancies and one pathetic attempt to escape him—a bid that had not ended well for anyone involved, least of all the fools who had tried to help you flee.

He considered their attempt to steal you away from him a blasphemous act worth the highest price. 

Those filthy, fickle fucking monkeys had made a mockery of his authority. 

And they had to pay for it. He had to make sure that no one would ever dare try it again—most importantly, you. 

Accordingly, he set his cursed spirits upon the traitors, reducing them to ruins of flesh and bone, their bodies destroyed, defiled, and devoured beyond recognition right before your very eyes. Oh, yes, he had given you a front row seat to the bloody spectacle. 

It was not enough that they suffered their fate—no, he needed you to watch, to listen, to absorb every gruesome detail. Each act of heinous violence was meant to teach you a lesson, to show you the cost of disobedience. 

Guts and gore had repeatedly stained your clothes, your body, and—he hoped—your very soul. He wanted their premature deaths to weigh heavily on you, the same way Haibara’s weighed on him. 

His shoulders slumped as the dark memory from his past resurfaced. He could still picture his friend's battle-torn corpse laid out in Jujutsu High’s morgue as if it had only happened yesterday. 

He was so young, taken far too soon from this world. 

And for what? For the sake of ungrateful non-sorcerers, the very root of the problem in Japan. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that would never truly fade over the years.

He sighed, taking a moment to recollect himself before returning his thoughts back to you.  

At least the ordeal hadn't been entirely useless. As it turns out, repeatedly keeping you one shallow breath away from death's door had left its mark: you were now able to see spirits on a semi-permanent basis.  

For the rest of your life, you'd see shadows, fleeting glimpses into a world once unseen. This outcome aligned with the information Yuki Tsukumo had once shared with him, how fear might help force non-sorcerers to evolve to a higher state. 

While this pleased him, it wasn't quite the end result he wanted. 

It was maddening and tiresome how you had disappointed him in nearly every regard.  

Save for… that.

He clenched his fist and slammed it onto the wooden table, creating splintering cracks that traveled along the edges beneath his knuckles. Anger and arousal coiled and flared through him as his pulse quickened, resulting in a warmth that scattered across his body.

He'd started to feel like a depraved animal in heat, taking every chance he had to mount his bitch.

And no matter how many times he’d partaken—sunk his teeth into the sinfully sweet fruit that was you—it was never enough. 

Any semblance of restraint in him had begun to rot. You were temptation made flesh, and he’d willingly given in every time.

It was shameful, disgusting, and beneath him to feel this way about you. Your failures and betrayal thus far had made this truth more than clear to him.    

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to resist the scent of your skin—still as intoxicating as the first day he saw you. Nor the whimpers that softly slipped past your supple lips, or the harsh breaths you rewarded him with when he pressed into you, or… fuck, the way your body clenched and yielded under his—even when you tried to fight it. 

God, all this reflection had left him flustered and frustrated in more ways than one. 

And all before the day's next obligations. 

He groaned as he fruitlessly attempted to gather himself. Refocusing his thoughts on updating his previous hypotheses instead.

Repeated trauma had, in fact, heightened your awareness of cursed spirits, but not fully. Was there a way to change that?

Could carrying his child make your flawed perception into something more permanent?

Hell, would that glimmer of sharpened sensitivity you'd gained improve his child's chances of inheriting cursed energy? 

These were questions he wanted answers to.

And you were the only one he'd ever want to provide them. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

September 23, 2016

There were moments in between the growing days that you spent trapped here where things just felt different, off, if you will. 

Spurred on by a bizarre request from your tyrant master, you sensed that today was one of them. 

“You'll be joining me for the day. Dress accordingly,” he'd bluntly ordered. To which you meekly replied with a “yes, master.”

Tomoe assisted you, quickly helping you into each layer of your garments, making you presentable enough to be worthy of your title within Geto's cult—the bearer of his future heir. 

For those in the dark, you might have looked like a demimondaine, polished and adorned to reflect his favor. If only they knew you were just like them—another prisoner, forced into the role he made for you as his mistress, his pet to toy with, his bug to bully, and his problem to correct.

After the stunt you'd pulled with those traitorous monkeys, he'd made sure every single member knew the purpose you served, and the fatal repercussions that awaited if anyone dared interact with you without his explicit permission. 

After being dressed as quickly as humanly possible, you hurriedly arrived at the large meeting room. Geto was already seated at the low-lying table in the center of the room.

No one else had arrived yet. 

‘Thank goodness,’ you'd thought as you awaited his next command.  

He looked you up and down thoroughly before finally speaking.

“Come sit by me.” He seemed satisfied with your appearance—that was a relief.

You bowed and walked towards the seat to his left, softly settling on the cushion beside him. 

A faint knock was heard at the door to which Geto acknowledged with one word, “enter.”

It was Tomoe. 

“My lord and lady. I've brought you some morning tea and fresh fruit. May I serve it to you?” 

“You may place it on the table, but the lady shall pour my tea.” 

“Of course, my lord.” 

How old-fashioned could this man be? Internally, you rolled your eyes but obeyed nonetheless.

You were lucky to have been taught some traditional etiquette by your mother; otherwise, he would've used it against you. A pang of homesickness hit you at the passing memory of your mom's gentle lessons. Oh, how you hoped she was doing well.

“I'm intrigued that you know how to do that properly.”

“My mother taught me, master.” 

At your reply, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed annoyed by the information you had shared. You supposed that made sense, your mother was, by his standards, a ‘monkey’ after all.

But his emotions weren't geared towards your mother. Rather, much like you, it had made him reflect on his own. 

“You'll have to do the same with ours,” he murmured, half lost in thoughts of the past. 

“I’ll make sure to…” you trailed off, taking the initiative of plating his favorite fruits and setting them next to his tea. You'd already memorized such minute details and hardly expected him to care or notice.

But you were wrong. He had noticed the gesture. In fact, it had led to more reminiscing on his part. 

As he stared down at the carefully sliced fruit, he thought of his mother again—of quiet childhood mornings spent choosing freshly picked produce at the market, then learning how to prepare and elegantly arrange them just so, making sure to save some for his father when he returned home from work. 

“Is it not to your liking, master?” you asked, worried you'd somehow done something wrong.

The soft tremor in your voice brought him back to himself. His eyes darted in your direction, taking in the anxiousness spelled out on your features—fearful eyes, trembling lips, and all.   

Though he gave no visual sign of it, the memories had unsettled him, but he refused to dwell on them. Instead, he aimed to distract himself with something real, something he could feel, touch. 

Something like you. 

Moving forward, he leaned in your direction, cupping one side of your face with his palm before pulling you in and pressing his lips to yours. 

As the kiss lingered, an intrusive thought struck him. ‘If this experiment of mine fails, will you have to join my parents, too, one day?’

Though unaware of his inner unrest and dark thoughts, you noticed that he was gentler than usual, the act filled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.   

As your lips parted, he murmured a praise, “No, you did well. Thank you, pet.” 

You nodded ever so slightly, still dumbfounded by his soft words. You never expected to hear him speak such niceties. Especially not to you. 

It was so far removed from the norm that you couldn't help from getting lost in his eyes momentarily. Only looking away when he finally moved back into his place, and you remembered yourself.

But… 

‘Was that sadness you'd just glimpsed in his eyes? Or had you just imagined it? Was he even capable of such an emotion?’ You wrestled with these thoughts. 

Regardless, you decided to gather your own plate and tea before you went looking for an answer that could only land you in more trouble.

Not much later did the first so-called guests begin to arrive. Immediately, you could sense the shift in his demeanor as they filled the room, one by one. 

They might have been higher-ranking followers with money, but they were still ‘monkeys’ nonetheless. 

His hatred for them was quite obvious to you. And you hoped they weren't naïve enough to believe themselves special.

Keeping their heads low or aimed only in his direction, they did their best not to look at you for very long, or at all, really. You were grateful that they knew better than to test his limits, lest you have to witness another horrific murder at your expense.

Their evasive movements didn’t escape his notice either—he could tell they were disturbed by your presence, as if even just being around you might incur his wrath. It brought him a smug, twisted satisfaction knowing their fear of him now extended to you. 

That’s exactly what he wanted.

“Rather than keep you all waiting any longer, let’s begin, shall we?”

He set his cup down with deliberate care, fingers lingering on the porcelain rim before folding his hands loosely atop the table. There was no need for respect or proper etiquette on his part here, not in a room full of lesser beings.  

“I've called this meeting to discuss a new project I have in mind—one that I expect you all to enthusiastically support and fund.” He grinned, though it only appeared friendly on the surface. 

And no one was truly fooled by it. 

Meanwhile, you were in the dark, without the faintest idea of what new endeavor he was speaking of. Regardless, you looked to him and listened intently, like a dutiful wife might.  

“I’d like to begin development of a private medical facility, staffed with the best and most capable. It's pertinent to our future.”

But he left out an important detail, one that wasn’t meant for this audience. At the very least, he wanted these professionals to be windows, individuals able to see cursed spirits without the help of a cursed tool. It was just another way he was preparing for a world without the weak rabble. 

He expected no opposition, no rebuttal from his congregation of living banks. That is, until he heard someone clearing his throat to speak.  

“But why would such a facility be needed, Lord Geto?” one of them braved the question.

‘What an idiot.’ You thought, not even venturing to look in the fool's direction. 

“Its main purpose is to ensure the health of my future heir and the woman who carries them,” he patted your head, making sure everyone understood exactly who he was referring to by his statement. 

His piercing stare never wavered from the hopeless man as he continued with his own question.

 “Does that answer your ill-advised question, Mr. Tanaka?”

“P-please forgive me, Lord Geto. I-I didn’t realize…” Mr. Tanaka retreated from his seat and bowed low, hands pressed to the floor, shoulders shaking.

“You hear that, my pet?” He looked at you, eyes full of irritation at being questioned. It scared you, but you dared not look away from his gaze.  

“Mr. Tanaka failed to realize you would need medical care while carrying our child. Isn't that funny?”

You nodded, unable to find your voice—you felt just like the pitiful Mr. Tanaka, intimidated and small as hell. 

But just as before, when the two of you were alone, he shifted towards you from his seat. The faint rustle of his robes brushed against yours as his presence swallowed the space between you.

The palm of his hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he drew you in until… his lips pressed against yours. 

And unlike before, this kiss was hot and relentless, stealing your breath and your will in the same instant as the fever of it consumed you both. 

The only sound that dared disturb the silence of the room was that of your lips meeting. It was deep, possessive, and shamelessly drawn out. The whole of it was meant to make these monkeys uncomfortable, and it had. 

When he finally broke away, his hot breath brushed against your lips, and you realized how fast your heart was racing. 

You felt almost faint as he leaned back, calm and collected as though nothing had happened. 

‘How cute.’ Geto thought, admiring the sight of you struggling to steady yourself, still flustered from his kiss. 

“I’ll let my mistress decide your fate, Mr. Tanaka,” he suddenly declared.

“Should we forgive him for his lapse in judgment? Or is a punishment in order?” Geto tilted his head, a trace of amusement tugging at his lips as he waited for your reply. 

But you didn’t know the right answer. What did he want you to say? 

Before you could respond, Mr. Tanaka began begging you for mercy. You turned and looked at the poor man, then back at your master. This time, you could see the response he wanted reflected in his eyes. It was plain as day what you had to do, to say. 

“I cannot, in good faith, forgive him for disrespecting you so, my lord,” you spoke softly, eloquently.  

He caressed your cheek with his fingers, and you closed your eyes at the sensation, causing goosebumps to travel across your neck and collarbone. 

With this one seemingly loving gesture, it was as if he were telling you that you’d made the correct choice, that your obedience deserved rewarding—like the fucking human pet he'd turned you into. And you hated yourself for it. 

Nonetheless...    

“Punish him as you see fit,” you finished, placing your hand atop his on your cheek. 

A united front. 

That’s what he wanted, and you had so perfectly, so devotedly given it to him. 

Now, every monkey in this room and every servant who learned of your actions would think twice before offering you aid ever again. 

One simple choice—one performance he’d asked of you—and he’d tightened the cage around you without lifting a finger. He was pleased. 

“Of that we are in agreement,” he said at last, turning his gaze toward the trembling man still glued to the floor. “Mr. Tanaka, your monthly dues have been increased by forty percent.”

He gave a faux smile before ending with an unmistakable threat. 

“I don't need to remind you what happens if payment is missed.”

About an hour later, the meeting had concluded with immediate plans set in motion for the facility.   

As the lowly businessmen exited the room, Suda began reciting the next tasks for the day to you and your master.

He sighed loudly, unable to contain how annoying and distasteful he found this next chore—removing spirits from cursed monkeys to add to his arsenal.

And it unfortunately required him to listen to their pitiful pleas for aid.  

But it was a necessary nuisance for the cause, so he'd endure it.

Before entering the public room reserved for such services, he made sure to warn you. 

“Don’t get any stupid ideas. If you try to ask for help from any of them, I’ll kill them on the spot. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head no. 

“Then, keep playing along, like you did earlier.”  

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Several cursed humans had been guided to his temple seeking his ‘salvation.’ 

He hardly listened to their cries, but you took in every single word. What's more, you could see the horrific spirits plaguing each one of the poor souls who visited. It tugged at your heartstrings, while he felt nothing at all. 

With a simple motion of his hand, he removed the curses from them, transforming the creatures into spheres of malice that he'd then swallow and absorb once alone with you.

“They taste like a rag soaked in shit and vomit.” He'd commented unexpectedly as you watched him ingest one.

What else could you say to that except sorry? 

“You should be. It's because of monkeys like you that I have to do this.” He sighed, then added an afterthought, “but at least it's for something worthwhile now.”

Finally, the last case of the day arrived. 

But this one hit you harder than all the rest.

It was a young boy—no older than ten. He looked so scared, so helpless and tired, broken down by that thing hovering over him. 

Just looking at his frail body made tears well up in your eyes. You blinked them away, trying your hardest to hide them for his sake. 

The two of you watched as the boy's father bowed beside his son’s trembling figure and began pleading for aid from Geto. 

Mr. Nakamura explained that he was at his wits' end; nothing the pair had tried thus far had helped his poor child, Hiro.

“There’s something following him,” he started, the panic audible in his voice. “He says she keeps calling his name… and that she looks like his mother.” 

“But we lost her to the sea… three months ago.” 

“I didn't believe him at first. I just thought he missed her. But then things… things started happening.”

“Please. Please help my child,” Mr. Nakamura cried.

As his father begged, the cursed spirit hovered over the boy, weeping softly as if mocking Mr. Nakamura. Its shape warped and folded around Hiro like smoke caught in water. 

‘How terrifying,’ you thought, empathizing with both the father and son. 

Then, without warning, it let out a guttural scream. 

“H-grh-ir-ao!” 

The sound itself was a horror—it was wet and gargled as if the thing were drowning just like Hiro's mother.  

The boy whimpered, pressing his small hands over his ears, his shoulders shaking as he tried to disappear into himself. 

You knew better than to interfere, but the boy’s sobbing cracked something deep inside you—or rather, awakened a maternal instinct you didn’t know existed yet. 

Before you could stop yourself, you left Geto’s side and knelt beside the child, reaching over and offering yourself as a shield against the awful thing looming above him.

It didn’t like that at all. In fact, it became enraged, screeching out something that resembled a “GehHt AwHaYy!”

But Geto wasn’t about to let anything happen to you. He moved swiftly to displace it from the boy. Incredibly, though, it fought against him—like that monkey's worm before. 

It clawed at the two of you, tearing through some parts of your kimono and Hiro’s shirt.

“Enough,” Geto commanded, releasing another curse to drag the wretched thing away from you and Hiro.

All the while it screamed, “noOah, mhngmy baayghby!” over and over until Geto was finally able to convert it into something he could consume and absorb. 

“It's done,” Geto remarked, glancing toward Mr. Nakamura. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Mr. Nakamura wept. “What can I do to repay this blessing?”

Hiro was crying in your arms during the exchange between his father and Geto. He clung to you for what felt like dear life. You cooed softly, rubbing his back in comfort. 

“Shh, shh. It's going to be okay now, Hiro. I promise. My master Geto took care of it. You’re safe now.” 

Geto listened to your words, watching your every move as he replied to Mr. Nakamura. 

“No need. Just take your child and go. Direct others my way if they find themselves in a similar situation.”

“Yes. Of course. Hiro, son, it's time to go.”

He sniffled. “T-thank y-you for pr-protecting me, Mrs. Geto.” 

He twitched—somewhat annoyed that the juvenile had thanked you over him when all you had done was aggravate the spirit, but also because he had assumed you were his wife.

“Go. Live a happy life for me, Hiro. You're free now,” you whispered, hugging him one final time before he and his father left. 

Geto grabbed you off the floor, his grip tight, harsh, and punishing. But that wasn't surprising given what you’d just done. 

“What you did was foolish,” he said at once. “Putting yourself in danger for a useless monkey like that. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I just couldn’t-” you started, but then remembered who you were talking to. “I'm sorry, master, I moved without thinking.”

“Finish that first statement.”

“He was just a child… I couldn't help it. I wanted to save him.”

“But you didn't. I did—because I could. Can you understand the difference between the superior and inferior now?” 

“Yes, master.”

“Really? Then which one are you?”

“I’m your inferior, master. All monkeys are.”

Your words almost made him laugh. To think he’d gotten you to call non-sorcerers monkeys when, only months ago, you’d been one yourself. 

Amusing as it was, he needed to drive the lesson home.

He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’d do well to remember that.”

He tilted your head to the side and bit your neck. You quickly yelped out an “I will,” as the pain flared across your sensitive skin.  

Moving back, he met your eyes again, his tone still as sharp as a knife. 

“Don’t forget that you're mine, bug. How dare you try to leave me again? Didn’t you learn your lesson before?” His words slithered through you, leaving a chill that sank deep into your bones.

“But I wasn't-” you tried to say. 

“No? What if that curse had struck something vital before I got to it?”

You stared in weary silence, unsure of what to say to quell his wrath. Distraught, your eyes flicked from one side of his face to the other.

“Don’t fool yourself into believing that I’ll allow you the peace that death brings. Unless it's by my hand or command, this is the only place you have. Do you understand that?”

“Yes—you're right…please forgive me master…” you begged. 

“Just this once. For following my lead earlier.” He kissed you then, harshly crashing his lips onto yours, only releasing your hair as he finally pulled away.

And all you could do was accept it. 

“Thank you for having mercy on me...”

He didn’t even acknowledge your words before calling for Tomoe, who appeared almost instantly to receive orders. 

“Prepare a bath for the lady and me. And see to the state of her kimono afterward.”

“Right away, my lord,” Tomoe replied, scurrying off to complete her tasks. 

“Come, pet. We need to get this damned monkey smell off of us.”

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“That boy thought you were my wife,” Geto murmured, nibbling along your neck from behind. 

“And you didn’t correct him, either,” he added with the faintest smile, brushing his lips against your skin.

“S-ssorry, didn’t mean t-t-to im-imply anyth-thing” you squeaked, struggling to form and voice a coherent thought or sentence.   

A low, hoarse chuckle followed your response. You could tell he was enjoying your struggle for words. And why wouldn’t he? He was the cause of your undoing after all.  

“What’re you apologizing for? You were only following what I told you to do, right?”

“Y-yes mas-ster-r.” You huffed, voice cracking as he drew circles around your sensitive clit with a heavy hand. He had you trapped on his chest and between his legs in the bath. 

“I don't think I mind that he assumed we were together anyway. Do you?” he asked, deliberately moving faster.

“No!” you moaned out, a little too quickly.  

“Really? Or are you just agreeing because I'm making you feel good?”

“B-both.” 

He laughed. “At least you're being honest.”

“P-please, can I come, master?” You begged, grabbing desperately at his hand beneath the water in need of release. 

“What a selfish little thing you are. No, you absolutely cannot yet.” He bit your ear. “Turn around. Now.”

You already knew what he wanted.

Spinning your body around in the tub to face him, he quickly kissed you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your wet skin against his body until he finally slipped inside you.   

“Haah... Ngghh.. Aaah...” you whimpered, holding onto his shoulders for leverage.  

You ground your hips against him as he thrust upwards into you, slowly at first, but progressively faster, harder until the two of you were moaning and groaning to the rhythm of each desperate, slippery motion.

Water spilled over the edges of the tub, splattering across the floor as your movements grew wilder, more chaotic.

You leaned back, arching yourself away from him, while still holding on as tightly as you could. Somehow, you’d learned to forget yourself in these moments, picturing someone else underneath you to cope—someone you'd almost believed you could love. 

“Fuck. Just like that. How do you always feel so fucking good, princess pet?” Geto grunted. 

Replace pet for princess, and it was like you were writhing on top of another man. One who’d spoken these words in a different tone, but fucked you at the same ruthless pace—just without the violence behind it.

How was it possible that two polar opposites could sometimes say and act in such similar ways?

‘Oh fuck it, who cares? Who. Fucking. Cares.’ You rocked your hips against him even harder than before, chasing that release you so terribly needed, craved—God, ovulation was such a cruel bitch.  

But the high of the moment, and every conflicting emotion that came with it, shattered when Tomoe’s voice broke through the door.

“My lord and lady, please forgive my intrusion.”

You fell back onto his chest, trying to stifle the noises still spilling from your lips as Geto kept pumping his mean cock into you. The remaining water in the tub splashed wildly against your bodies—a sound loud enough to betray what was happening behind the door.

His lack of decorum shouldn’t have surprised you; a false ‘god’ wouldn’t concern himself with the opinion of his servants. 

“Leave. Now.” He spoke angrily through gritted teeth. 

“Apologies, my lord, but you instructed me to report anything involving the twins.”

Those few words changed everything. 

And not just for him, it worried you too.  

“What's happened with the girls?” he demanded, already preparing to exit the bath as he lifted you off of him. 

“I can assure you they’re safe, but they’re asking for my lady,” Tomoe replied.

He'd already dressed himself with a robe, ready to leave the room immediately, when Tomoe's response stopped him in his tracks.  

“Let them know she'll be there in 15 minutes,” he answered, turning to look at you still sitting in the bathtub. You could tell, from the faint crease between his brows, that the request had caught him off guard.  

“Of course. I’ll let them know right away. Please excuse me.” Tomoe replied. 

Before he could even ask, you began giving him an explanation. 

“I've been making them some custom clothes. My mother was a seamstress by trade and taught me everything she knows. I even helped her with orders sometimes.”

“I told them we could work on the last fitting today before knowing you'd need me…” You trailed off, unsure if you should continue or if he’d think you were just making excuses. 

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered you, removing the robe he had haphazardly tied onto himself only a few anxious minutes ago. 

“Next time, tell me if you have plans with Mimiko and Nanako. That’s an acceptable reason to delay your other duties.” He stepped back into the bathtub with you, grabbing a washcloth along the way. After adding body wash to it, he began rubbing it across your skin—just like he had the first time, when you were unconscious. How nostalgic.  

“Once I get you clean, go to them.”

“Yes, master.” 

“And don't worry,” he whispered in your ear, “we'll continue this later, pet.”

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He watched as you quickly dressed yourself and left the room.  

It felt as though you’d taken sound itself with you, leaving only silence behind in the bath now.

Out of habit, he dragged his fingers through his hair, twisting the long strands into a loose knot before gathering them at the back of his head. Then he leaned back against the tub’s edge, closing his eyes as his arms came to rest along its sides, the dimming heat of the water only slightly dulling his frustration.  

Try as he might, he couldn’t keep from feeling irritated by the timing of this interruption. 

And the fact that you’d been so uncharacteristically receptive to him today only made it worse. 

“What a waste,” he muttered out loud, pressing a damp cloth over his eyes and face.

With you gone, there was nothing left to keep his mind from drifting back to the date and its significance.

How had nine years gone by so quickly?

He felt no remorse for his actions that day—killing his parents was simply something he had to do. They had been a part of the corrupt system that unfairly condemned jujutsu sorcerers to death. Sparing them would’ve made him complicit, or worse—a hypocrite to his cause. 

Despite his lack of contrition, his mind still wandered to the life he’d known before all of this. He thought briefly of his hometown—simpler days memorialized with the low hum of cicadas, the gentle clatter of wind chimes in the summer breeze, the glow of fireflies above fresh fields, and the quiet presence of the shrine near his home. 

Then came the next chapter of his life as a jujutsu sorcerer. 

A time when he naïvely believed that the proper shape of society followed the rationale of survival of the weakest, where strength existed to protect the weak, not to rule over them.

He still remembered calling his mother while unpacking his things at his new home—the dorms of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, Jujutsu High for short. 

He’d even shared how lonely it was being the first to arrive. And just as you had done for the boy earlier, she’d comforted him, reminding him that he was never alone—that he’d always have their love and support. She’d gone on to say how proud they both were of him, casually slipping in that his father had bragged to all their neighbors about their son being accepted into a prestigious school in Tokyo. 

But those small comforts from his parents belonged to a time before he met his true friends or his chosen family—people that actually know all of him, not just the “normal” parts fit for monkeys.

Sometimes, he still wondered if reconciliation was possible with Shoko, with Yaga, or even with Nanami.  

But most of all, Satoru Gojo—his best friend, the only person who had ever truly understood him. In another week or two, it would mark nine years since he’d last seen him or Shoko, too.

At one point, they’d been equals—the two strongest sorcerers of Jujutsu High.

But things changed.

Shifted.

And Satoru alone became the strongest.

Then everything spiraled until he realized that the weak never deserved the protection of the strong.

What those villagers had done to his girls was the final straw, marking the exact moment he chose to forge his own path. One that stood apart from everything he’d been taught, and removed him from his best friend’s side.

He exhaled, thinking of the last conversation he'd shared with Satoru. His only regret was not finding a way to convince his friend to join him.

But that would’ve made things too easy—and nothing worthwhile ever is.

In the end, all this recollection had only reaffirmed what he already knew—the choice he’d made to kill his parents was necessary, justified. 

And he stubbornly hoped that his choice of keeping you would be, too. 

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The girls’ room looked and felt nothing like the rest of the hideout. It was warm, bright, and unmistakably theirs—decorated with pastel curtains, a vanity crowded with trinkets, and a shelf stacked with manga and music. It even smelled faintly of a popular perfume you'd recognized—one that had only been released a few months ago, before you were taken by Geto.

It was a welcome change of pace, not just to see something modern in this old place, but to hear laughter, too.

The twins giggled with each other as they tried to stay still for your final pins. You planned to shorten the skirts a little more, just as they’d asked.

You were calm, enjoying the familiarity of the moment as fittings like this were a part of your everyday life with your mother. It was nice—comforting even. That is, until his voice rang through the door and reminded you of where you were.

“May I come in, girls?”

“Of course, Geto-sama!” Mimiko happily responded. 

As he entered the room, he observed the task you were completing on Nanako’s skirt. You noticed the faint furrow in his brows—was it too short for his liking? 

“Is this length alright with you, master?” you asked, opting for being cautious. 

“If that's what they want, then it's fine.” 

‘Liar,’ you thought, completely aware that he was trying to allow them their freedom. You’d do him a favor then, even if he didn’t deserve it.    

“Mimiko, Nanako, would you mind if I added built-in shorts underneath?” you asked before explaining. “I promise it’s in fashion. Most of my mother’s customers who were about your age requested it all the time.”

The girls looked at each other before Nanako responded on both their behalfs. “Yeah, okay, sure. How long’s that going to take though?”

“Hmm… three extra days at most if I only work on them before supper.”

“Awh, really? But we wanted to wear it this Saturdaaaay,” Mimiko whined.

He interjected, “Would you be able to finish faster if I reserved a day for you to work on them?”

“Yes, master. I could finish before Saturday if I had a full day without interruption.”

“Then this task shall be your only priority tomorrow.” He ordered. 

You smiled, not minding this appointed duty. “I’ll do my best.”

“Oh, thank you, Geto-sama!” the twins happily exclaimed in unison. He kindly patted their heads, like the dotting father-figure he was to them. 

It was a sight to behold—so much like the first time you'd seen them together at that café. It still seemed impossible to you, but somehow, this monster was capable of genuine love.

At least for them, anyway.  

You’d never had that yourself, and for a moment, you felt almost jealous of their relationship.

‘How nice it must be to be cared for by a father like that,’ you bitterly thought. ‘Mine probably doesn’t even know I’m missing. And even if he did, he wouldn’t care.’ 

“Miss! Could we also add just one more thing to the top sweater?” Nanako asked, pulling you back to the present.

You couldn’t help but smile softly as you nodded. 

“We sure can.”

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Night had long settled over the temple, leaving only the sound of crickets and the faint flicker of candlelight in his room. He found himself reminiscing again, but this time of you. 

He was so moved by how good you’d been with his daughters today. Your smiles and words had been so sincere—so full of quiet joy as you tried to bring happiness to the two most precious people in his life. 

Even more than that, you’d spent the entire day showing him how natural it was for you to act like a mother—gentle, patient, caring. It looked effortless on your part, always knowing just what to do to offer comfort, and just what to say to soothe or redirect without a trace of judgment.      

And there was no denying how easily you’d read him like an open book back there, understanding his true feelings with a single look. An exchange that was so much like his parents, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the similarity. 

Perhaps, deep down, he had wanted something like that for himself all along. And it was your presence in his life now that made him remember what today symbolized.  

All of this combined had stirred something within him until he was ravenous in his want for you.

Quickly, he moved through the quiet halls toward your room, intent on getting what he wanted. 

As he entered your room, he found you already asleep. But that fact alone changed nothing. Moving quietly, he slipped beneath the covers beside you, careful not to wake you yet. 

For a few minutes, he simply lay there, tracing idle shapes on your exposed skin, watching as goosebumps rose beneath his touch, committing the rise and fall of your chest to memory. 

Not much later, he noticed your eyes begin to flutter open. 

“Master…?” you questioned in your dazed, half-asleep state.

Your drowsy voice, soft with sleep, made him want you even more. 

“I’ve come to finish what we started, pet. You didn’t really think I’d forgotten, did you?”

You blinked up at him, still caught between dreaming and waking as he moved to hover above you. His advances began with gentle kisses, gradually increasing in heat and fervor with each passing second. He felt your breath hitch before entirely giving in to his tongue as it found its way past your lips and into your mouth.

You moaned, wrapping your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. 

Propping himself up with one arm, he continued kissing you while the other explored your body. Moving underneath your slip, setting aside your panties to access your sex, only to find that you were already wet. 

He smiled against your lips, satisfied with your parallel eagerness as he began teasing you, his fingers already tracing slow, torturous ministrations over your sweet spot. As if by instinct, he felt your body arch towards the pleasure his touch provoked. 

He briefly broke the kiss to mock you, his hot breath ghosting across your lips. 

“Look at you, acting just as selfishly as before.”

“S-sorry ma-” he didn’t let you finish, crashing his lips against yours in a moment of passion as he slowly slipped a finger inside you. 

“Mmmph!” you cried out at the sudden intrusion, the sound muffled by his mouth over yours.

And because of your arousal, he began to effortlessly pump his finger in and out of your slippery hole. Nice and deep, while still managing to torment your clit with his mean thumb.   

Once again, he moved back from your lips, giving you a chance to catch your breath. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, wide and pleading for more.  

He chuckled, the sound deep and raspy, relishing the rare sight of you surrendering to your most basic desires. Perhaps you were finally learning your place. The thought only spurred him on further. “I didn’t know I had such a needy little whore.”

“M’not, ma-master,” you huffed out, the words already slurring together in this haze of heat and confusion.

“Is that so? Should I stop then?” he responded, ceasing all his actions and removing his hand from your sex. Your eyes widened in disappointment at the sudden absence, a desperate plea escaping past your lips before you could stop it. 

“Wait! Please don’t stop now.” 

You looked so pitiful. Or was it… beautiful?

He wasn’t sure which he should consider you in this moment. But either way, he savored it—drinking up your helpless reaction like the sweetest of wines. The craving to taste it himself nearly drove him mad, a low sound escaping him before he finally gave in to his impulses. 

The next moment was a blur as he made quick work of your silk slip with his bare hands, tearing it off and throwing the remains onto the floor. You matched his urgency, dragging his shirt up and over his head with trembling hands as he removed the remaining articles of clothing that stood in the way of your bodies touching.

His lips met yours again before rolling downwards, peppering bites and kisses along the entire way—marking every inch of you as his. He settled at your breasts for a time, sucking and circling his tongue around your nipples as they rose to arousal, becoming ever so sensitive to his greedy pursuits. 

A rush of heat spread across your body, and you lost yourself again. You couldn’t keep your hands away from him, fingers tangling in his long hair, wantonly grasping at him in an attempt to balance yourself as his every touch, every perverse movement, overwhelmed every nerve in your body.      

But that wasn’t his final destination. No, he continued down, leaving a trail of heat and teeth until finally reaching the Nirvana he sought to corrupt between your legs.  

Spreading and holding your plump thighs apart, he began lapping at your entrance with his eager tongue, sliding back up to tease your clit one slow lick at a time. He was so desperate to use that bundle of nerves against you until you fucking broke underneath him. 

Your hands had followed him down, fingers still caught in his wild hair. You grasped at it in a frenzy as the sensations on your sex grew hotter, more erotic. Shallow, uneven breaths escaped you, each one failing to steady a heartbeat that only quickened beneath his touch. 

Nonetheless, you shamelessly sought release, needing it more than oxygen and fearing none of the punishments you might earn from him, it seemed.       

He felt your hips rut against his flattened tongue, back arching towards him as your body frantically aimed for more of his attention.

“M-Master, plea-please, can I come?” 

He groaned, your words sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his throbbing cock—what an obedient little toy you’d been today, that was something else he’d have to work on making permanent. 

For a brief second, he moved away from you to give a response. “I give you permission to lose control.” Then he continued lapping at your heat, matching the rhythm of your hips, enjoying the pull of your fingers on his scalp until the coil building inside you finally burst, and everything hit you all at once.  

Your vision blurred as you cried out, body trembling, hands gripping at him like nothing else mattered in the world at this one moment in time.

But this wasn't over yet.

Drunk on the taste of you and that fucking beautiful display of depravity, whatever composure he had left snapped.

Removing your hands from his person, he positioned himself above you once more, sliding his throbbing cock along your slick entrance. 

Still raw and overstimulated, he felt your body twitch at his teasing movements.

“C-can't s't-to-too much, master.” You breathed, barely registering above a whisper. 

He plunged into you anyway, immediately filling you up all the way to the base, grinding his hips against you on purpose just to drive you a little more insane. 

“Mmph, ma-master,” you choked out, unable to keep yourself together at the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you so soon after your release. 

“Not master. Nngh. Suguru—It's Suguru, pet,” he grunted, pulling out and thrusting into you at an increasingly relentless pace, chasing his own high, totally lost and enraptured by you.

Why the hell had he asked you to do that? Who fucking cares.

“I want to hear you scream it,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

“Su-suguru, sug-uru, sugru!” you moaned loudly over and over again, between ragged breaths, tears prickling at your eyes as you desperately held onto his back, nails digging in, leaving bloody imprints behind. 

It flipped an animalistic switch inside him to hear you cry out his name like that, as if all you needed was nothing but him. “Fuck. Don't stop.” He huffed out, now pounding you into the mattress as he savored every second he spent inside you.  

He felt everything: your sex tightening around him, your nails trailing against his back, your staggering breaths. 

All of it.

And each perfect detail was getting him closer and closer to his climax as he stared into your teary eyes. It stirred up a need to kiss you in comfort.  

Oh fuck—he realized he might actually love you, justified existence or not.

He bit your lip then, the taste of blood flooding his and your mouths before he broke away, eyes fixated on your face once more. 

“S'close,” you cried out, feeling that pressure building up all over again as his cock kept hitting just the right spots one ruthless thrust at a time.

“M’t-too, ngh together, pet,” he could hardly form a sentence. 

He lovingly kissed you one more time before finally losing all control of his hips, haphazardly thrusting into you until the two of you came together—just as he had wanted, needed, ordered.

He felt your cunt convulsing around his throbbing cock as he filled you up with everything he had, still relishing in hearing his name pass your lips in hot whispers as the two of you came down from your respective highs.

You jolted, feeling him slip out of you as he maneuvered himself back onto the bed to lie next to you. 

“Come here,” he instructed, signaling for you to lie on his chest. You listened, slowly moving to where he had pointed, fitting comfortably like the missing puzzle piece to his picture-perfect family.   

He pulled you towards him, grabbing your hand and peppering kisses on it before landing his lips on yours affectionately in the afterglow.

As you parted, he made a simple statement while almost laughing. “Hmph, I could use a drink after that.”

You took his words seriously. “I can go fetch something for you, master.”

“Suguru. For tonight, it's Suguru,” he brushed your face with his hand, still smitten. You nodded, eyes darting in every other direction except his face.  

“Anyway, there's no need for you to do that. We have servants for a reason.” 

“B-but it's late and I don't mi-”

He cut you off with a gentle kiss, his lips barely grazing yours. The sound that left him was soft, almost a sigh as he parted away. 

“Don’t ruin a good moment,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips, longer this time. 

“To be here at my side is your only priority now,” he whispered between brief, lingering kisses that felt more tender than either of you were used to. 

His next words carried a quiet command beneath their warmth. “Is that understood?”

“Yes… S-suguru.” 

He thumbed your lips, enjoying how shyly you said his name when you weren't in the throes of passion.

“Good girl.”

And to hell with his parents—this day and night belonged to you and him now.

Twenty or so minutes passed when a maid arrived with water and tea for both parties. 

After quite the taxing affair, it was a welcome intrusion.  

Thirst quenched, the two of you resumed your previous position in bed with you draped over his chest. 

As sleep began to take both of you, he made sure to whisper one final sentiment,

“Don't you dare fail me, pet. I can't lose you, too.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You expected things might be different after last night, when he treated you so sweetly, like a lover rather than a prisoner, comparable to a lowly bug beneath his feet.  

It felt as if things might have shifted. 

Changed into something new between the two of you.

You dared to hope he might turn kind and even consider letting you go.

But you were wrong. 

So pathetically wrong, as everything returned to the status quo the following morning, starting with you calling him master and all the duties that came with it.

“Refer to me as master. You've already lost the privilege to my name, bug.”

 “Get to work on the girls' garments.”

“Expect punishment if you fail to meet the deadline, bug.”

“I'll be back tonight. Be ready for me.”

No semblance of kindness in his words, no hope of anything.

As your hands worked diligently on sewing, alone, you reflected on your naïvety until tears started to fall from your eyes, and you had to take a moment just to breathe. 

You folded over into your body, clutching to your sides, repeating a mantra of self-hatred, chastising yourself. 

‘Oh, you fool, you stupid, stupid idiot, you damn monkey.’

How have you not come to terms with your reality yet? 

You were stuck here.

With him.

And his family.

And his cult.

And his fucking ideals that were already warping your own mind. 

Just look at how you'd even called yourself a monkey. You laughed out loud through the tears. 

There was no way out. He was never letting you go because the devil doesn't bargain—he just takes and he takes and he takes until there is nothing left.  

So what else could you do except conform and give all you had to survive until… 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Look at you.

Weak.

Normal.

Not a care in the world as you walked past him and his daughters, blissfully unaware of the hidden darkness that surrounded and consumed Japan on a daily basis.

How vile.

How absolutely repulsive that a monkey like you had caught his attention. 

But he couldn't be at fault for that.

No.

It was entirely your doing—that glance in his direction, the kind smile that followed, and that intoxicatingly sweet aroma you wore had all been the start of your downfall. 

Meanwhile, the only reason you had looked and smiled in his direction at all was because of the endearing scene transpiring—one that you couldn't bring yourself to ignore as a girl who'd grown up with an absentee father. It was a picturesque moment starring a loving dad treating his two cheerful daughters to desserts at a shop you'd often pass on your way to work. 

Your smile was filled with a hint of envy as this was something you could never have in your life, lest you could turn back time and wish your father into a good, family man. 

It was an innocent enough gesture that only spanned a few seconds—nothing more, nothing less. It really wasn't anything special. 

Or, rather, that's what you initially assumed until you began noticing this loving father turning up almost everywhere you went. 

On your walk to work.

On the bullet train home.

On your days off, while at the gym or your favorite café. 

Once or twice might have been a coincidence, but more than that within a week made it unlikely. 

Was he stalking you? 

No.

No way.

You were just being overly cautious—paranoid, even.

Perhaps he had just moved into the neighborhood and had similar routes and habits to you, or maybe you just hadn't noticed him before that day with his daughters. 

Yes, that had to be it—a logical explanation to your nonsensical worries. 

Alas, for whatever reason, you firmly convinced yourself that your gut feeling was wrong. 

But oh, how right it had been.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

He'd once believed monkeys were only useful for two purposes: collecting money and curses in service of the greater goal—a future without non-sorcerers, without the needless sacrifice of his comrades. But now that he had found you, he realized there might be a third justification in rare circumstances such as this—breeding. 

He himself had been born to non-sorcerer parents, after all. That fact alone was proof enough for him—proof that a transgression this repulsive might be permissible under the right conditions. Proof that even an act this disgraceful could yield something worthwhile in the end.

Yes.

This unseemly attraction he felt for a worthless little bug like you had to be driven by something out of his control, something primal. 

Perhaps he could instinctively sense an undeniable biological compatibility with you—one so potent, so powerful, that it had been driving him mad for weeks.

That had to be the reason he wanted you, right?

Nothing more, nothing less. 

Regardless of the reason, he'd started following you almost everywhere—or at least, whenever his other responsibilities allowed. 

He felt an inexplicable and irrational need to know where you were, how you were, and what you were doing. These feelings disgusted him, but they had become impossible to ignore. 

He'd gone as far as forcing one of his money-collecting monkeys to hire a private eye. Someone to monitor your every move when he, unfortunately, couldn't do it himself. Receiving hourly reports from the private investigator had put his mind slightly at ease, but it still wasn't enough. 

In moments like these, he often found himself wishing he possessed an ability like Mei Mei's—because if he did, he'd be able to spy on you at all times without disrupting his work or inconveniencing his family when he returned home late from trailing you all day.  

This surveillance at a distance could only satisfy him for so long, however. 

And after two painfully drawn-out and busy months, he could no longer keep himself from you. 

It was time you learned your lesson for daring to seduce him, even if he knew, deep down, that you hadn’t meant to.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Click, clack, tap—you'd just sent a message off on your phone before being intruded upon by the man you'd deluded yourself into thinking wasn't a stalker. 

He introduced himself as Suguru Geto and inquired if he could join you as all other seats at the café were currently taken.

Looking around slightly, you confirmed that what he said was true—all other seats were taken by faces unfamiliar to you, which was surprising given how often you frequented this charming café on your days off. He didn’t look out of place either—dressed in a loose sweater and dark slacks, he had the presence of a professor or well-read stranger. Nothing about him felt threatening. That, combined with the presence of others, gave you a false sense of security. So much so that you felt comfortable enough to agree to his request. 

Without saying a word or offering your own name in return, you nodded and smiled softly up at him from your seat. 

"Thanks, miss. If you don't mind my asking, what're you drinking? I'm not sure what to order for myself." He inquired as he settled in and sat across from you.

"Ah, it's just a simple green tea with some matcha. I didn't feel too adventurous today."

He chuckled quietly, "That doesn't sound half bad. You can't beat a classic."

Not knowing what else to say, you hummed a soft 'mmhm' while maintaining that same gentle expression from before. You’d hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but to your disappointment, it was not. 

Instead, he returned and mirrored your friendly demeanor. "Though it is unfortunate. This next part might have been easier on you if you were feeling more adventurous."

Your eyes widened as the uncomfortable aura of his words sent a chill down your spine—had your gut feeling been right all along?

Every excuse you’d made for him—coincidence, routine, paranoia—collapsed in an instant as his eyes narrowed slightly. 

You wanted to stand, to step back... but damn it all, your legs wouldn’t move.

You froze up, barely managing to mutter a soft question. "W-what next part?" 

Not even a second later, you heard the crisp and sudden sssnnaappp of his fingers. 

Following the sound, you felt your body become heavy, like an invisible weight had begun to pile onto your shoulders. What's more, a gradual cold overtook you as the world spun to a dizzying degree. Feeling delirious and fearful, you tried your best to get out of the chair, but your efforts were for naught—they had only landed you on the floor. 

You tried to plead for help from those around you to no avail. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, leaving you almost breathless and unable to even muster a scream. 

You wheezed, taking in each tired, ragged breath as everything in your vision continued spinning around and around until finally…

Nothingness.

Everything had faded to black. 

And you were no longer conscious. 

Geto found himself chuckling as he watched the entire ordeal from his seat, leaning on his elbow, chin in palm. Unbelievably, he had somehow found your pathetic attempt to flee amusing—cute, even. 

At least you had tried to do something. Other monkeys wouldn’t have even done that—he knew that to be true from experience.    

With a wave of his hand, he easily dispelled the cursed spirits he had set loose on your person. They weren’t anything special; they were quite weak, in fact, but they had been enough to subdue you.

Standing up, he moved and lifted your limp body off the ground right into his arms.   

With a tilt of his head, he gestured to his congregation of followers that it was time to leave. 

The unfamiliar faces you had previously noticed readily obeyed, obediently trotting behind their leader as he exited the once full establishment.

The café lay empty now as he'd purposely filled it with his subordinates before—all to ensure your abduction went as smoothly as possible.

"Let’s see if I can shape you into something less pathetic… disgusting little bug of mine." He whispered into your ear.  

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Anticipating your arrival, Geto had moved operations to one of his more hidden locations. He’d also ordered several of his followers to ready a room for you, making very specific demands of what should be placed in it. As for wardrobe, he had Mimiko and Nanako help him find outfits that complemented his own. While they had enjoyed the excuse for a rather long shopping trip, both girls had voiced their confusion on the matter. 

They questioned his motives and interest in a common woman without jujutsu sorcery. He understood their concerns—wanting you for his own went against all his beliefs after all.  

Unfortunately, he did not have a straight answer for them. All he could do was offer a vague reassurance that your involvement might help further the cause. 

And of course, as their savior and father figure, the girls always trusted his judgment without hesitation.  

These out-of-character efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed by other members of the family either. In fact, they were just as confused by his actions as Mimiko and Nanako. He’d given them a similar explanation. There wasn’t much else he could do or say anyway. 

Not yet, at least. Not until he tested this new justification for himself. 

The scent of sacred smoke and damp stone clung to the air as he carried you through the threshold of the hideout, your limp body still in his arms.

“Draw a bath. I intend to bathe her,” he instructed the housemaids, his voice calm but absolute.

Out of respect for and fear of their leader, they hurriedly prepared a warm bath for you as commanded, making sure to place a Shiatsu table in the room.  

“Leave us.”

The servants obeyed without question, quickly exiting the room. The moment the last maid disappeared behind the soft thud of a closing door, Geto placed you on the table and began to undress you.

He took care to note every defining feature of your body as he removed each article of clothing—birthmarks, curves, and all. 

Tracing his fingers along your face, your lips, he realized that he found you disturbingly beautiful.

No, breathtaking was a better word— with a scent just as intoxicating as the first time he saw you. It was strange, he hated how all other monkeys smelled, but not you. 

You were an exception.  

“If only you were one of us…” he murmured, his breath brushing against your neck as he leaned down and inhaled you. If you’d been lucid, the sensation would’ve given you goosebumps.

Moving away with a quiet urgency, he began to remove his own clothing and wrapped a light towel around his waist— he had no intention of taking advantage of you in your unconscious state.   

Once again, he lifted you into his arms and carried you towards the bath. He stepped in slowly, the heat rising around him as he lowered himself into the steaming water. 

Carefully, he settled you on top of him—your back resting against his chest, your head tilted slightly to one side against his collarbone, and your legs draped between his own. 

His left arm circled your waist, keeping you comfortably in place, while his right hand lazily drifted across your soft skin. The rhythm of his breathing pressed steadily against your back, slowly syncing with yours. 

It had been so long since he had felt this way, so calm and relaxed. To such an extent that, for a moment, he forgot who he was and what you were. 

But it was short-lived as the memories of your shortcomings came rushing back. 

Narrowing his eyes as he looked down at you, he felt himself become annoyed and angry, both at you and himself.

How fucking dare you do this to him—make him a hypocrite for wanting you, a worthless, filthy little bug. 

He’d even killed his parents, two people he once loved dearly, because they were a part of the problem he was aiming to solve.  

And here you were now, an exception.

An exception that he was trying so hard to justify. 

As the anger welled up inside him, he closed his eyes and pulled you closer, his fingers gradually digging into the plush of your skin with each passing second. 

‘Maybe I should just get rid of you now,’ he thought bitterly, summoning his cursed spirits to silently encircle the tub. They inched towards you with malicious intent, just as their keeper commanded.  

He meant it—he was ready to kill you, right here, right now. 

But despite your rotten luck for ever attracting his attention, fate was on your side—at least for the moment.

As if sensing the creeping danger, a quiet whimper escaped past your lips in response to his painful grip around your body.   

Then everything just stopped. 

The spirits dissolved and vanished into nothing as that one measly sound shattered his resolve in an instant.

He almost laughed—in frustration, in loathing, at you… and himself. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Not yet, at least. Not until it was definitive and undeniable that he couldn’t keep you.

He loosened his hold on you and sighed loudly, the sound echoing softly off the walls. 

He might as well bathe you, after what even he could admit was something dangerously close to a tantrum. 

Look at what you had turned him into. 

Repulsive. 

Shifting closer to the edge of the tub, he reached for a bar of soap and a soft cloth. Lathering it slowly, he watched the suds gather in his palm before lowering it onto your skin. 

Each pass of the cloth was unhurried—up your arms, along your neck and collarbone, down your thighs and length of your legs. Saving the best for last, he slowly glided the bubbled-up cloth across your chest, tenderly caressing each breast. Another sigh drifted from your lips as your body reacted to his touch, nipples perking up.

How cute. 

How fucking adorable.

He wanted to make it happen again—he needed to hear your sweet little noises. So he circled the cloth slowly, almost sadistically, where you were most sensitive. 

And he got exactly what he wanted out of you.

‘Mmph,’ you whimpered, body twitching faintly in his hold.

He felt himself becoming aroused. The only thing keeping his hardening cock from directly pressing up against your back was the precautionary towel he’d tied around his waist earlier. 

His arm that once wrapped around your waist moved up to one of your breasts, squeezing and feeling for himself how deliciously pliable they were in his grip.

He groaned and slipped the cloth lower, down your stomach towards your sex. 

Instinctively, your body reacted, legs trying to close to protect yourself from this sudden trespass. 

“It’s too late for that, little bug, “ he raggedly breathed into your ear, his voice fraying with desperation. Quickly letting the towel and soap drop to the side of the tub, he pried your legs apart enough to begin rubbing circles around your clit. 

Despite your unconscious state, the abrupt rush of pleasure caused your body to jolt and your breaths to quicken. You rewarded him with even louder sighs and whimpers. 

Fuck.

He felt himself losing restraint with each one that passed your lips. So intensely that his hips began to move on their own, grinding up against you, matching the speed of his feverishly frantic fingers. 

It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Screw decency, who were you to deserve that anyway? Satisfying this urge was all that mattered now. 

Hastily, he moved the towel aside and began grinding himself between your plump thighs, against your hot sex. 

Pinning your legs further together with his own, he continued chasing his high, thrusting up into you. The water sloshed violently against the sides of the tub, disturbed by his shifting weight and erratic movements.

He felt himself almost slip inside you, the head of his cock aching to enter. 

But he denied himself this relief—he wants you to be awake, reacting in full, crying out when he fucks you for the first time. 

“I'll give you this one mercy even if you don't deserve it,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Maintaining his ruthless pace on your clit, he bucked his hips upwards between your thighs as he felt himself getting close... 

But you beat him to it.

All of a sudden, you unraveled, reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess in his arms. The pitch of your previous whines reached a new high as your body trembled and shuddered against him. 

He was left awestruck and ready to burst when it hit him—an even more potent aroma radiating from your body, sweet and maddening. It made his head swim, left him dizzy and drunk on you. In that moment, he actually felt grateful he hadn’t killed you earlier. 

With one final push into the heat between your thighs, he came, grunting and shuddering just like you had only a moment ago. He pulled you closer, fingers dipping into the fat of your perverse body as ropes of his release continued to spill out, mixing in the water between the two of you. 

For a few still seconds after the fact, all he did was hold you—his breath harsh and ragged, heart pounding far too loud in his chest for comfort.

A moment later, he nipped at your neck, lapping up your sweetness—the inexplicable part of you that attracted him like a moth to a flame.

Slightly recollecting himself, he contemplated his next moves.

He could test known theories on you—methods that had allowed non-sorcerers to see curses, if only temporarily. An object imbued with cursed energy might also be an option. After all, even a worthless monkey could see spirits with the right tool. Perhaps he could find a way to craft or purchase something like that for your use.  

But ultimately, whatever he decided next, you had no choice in the matter. 

You were going to be kept here for as long as he needed. Or wanted. 

And, one thing was certain: there'd be no life for you on the outside—away from him—ever again. 

Mine, he thought with grim finality, biting down a little bit harder at the nape of your neck, coaxing another sweet sound from your lips.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he whispered into your ear, 

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you…”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As lucidity returned to you, the first sensation you registered was the ache blooming across your body. There was a dull, uncomfortable heaviness in your limbs, as if something—or someone—had held onto you too tightly.

Groggily, your eyes fluttered open, vision hazy, unfocused.  

You blinked once. Twice. Until finally, the room came into focus.  

Peering around at your surroundings, everything felt foreign. Unfamiliar. Even the clothes you were wearing, you had never seen before. Nor would you have ever bought something like this for yourself—green was never your color after all. 

Where… where in the world were you right now?

And when or… who had you changed into these clothes?

Still confused, you slowly sat up, the blanket that had covered you slipping onto your lap as your gaze swept across the space.

Save for a few details, the room looked like something out of a historical drama. It was arranged in an older, traditional Japanese style with tatami flooring, sliding shoji screens, and a low dresser finished in a deep, lacquered red. Next to the wardrobe, an elegant kimono hung on display, its colors too thoughtfully chosen to be random. In another corner stood a simple folding partition, painted with delicate birds and flowing brushwork kanji. Behind it was a rather large circular mirror, partly covered by a drape.  

There were no signs of clutter or personal belongings. It was obvious that this room had not known a resident for some time. 

After taking it all in, you inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself and keep the mounting panic in your heart at bay. Your head still felt foggy as you struggled to remember how you had ended up here in the first place.

The last thing you could remember was walking into your favorite cafe, sitting down, and seeing unfamiliar faces all around…

Wait, no. There was someone else. 

Someone you recognized, someone who spoke to you…

You cradled your throbbing head in the palm of your hands, trying to conjure up the picture of their face in your mind.

But before it could fully form, your thoughts were interrupted by a soft ‘knock-knock’ at the sliding door. You turned your head in the direction of the sound as a quiet request filtered through. 

“My lady, have you awoken? May I come in?” 

You could tell the soft voice belonged to a woman. 

Was it wise to answer when you couldn’t recall how you got to this place? Or understand why you were even here? Not likely, but really, what choice did you have? 

Maybe, you foolishly hoped, it was better that you weren’t alone. 

“Yes…” you hesitantly replied in a hushed tone, your voice little more than a whisper.

At your answer, the door slid open, revealing the woman who had previously spoken.

She quietly entered the room with a tray of food in her hands. 

“I hope you are feeling well after such a long rest,” she said gently. “I’ve brought you some food to eat, but if it is not to your liking, I can prepare something else, my lady.” 

“Thank you, but I-I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not anyone special to be called ‘lady’. And… I don’t even know where I am. Or why I am here. Could you please help me understand what is going on?” 

“Apologies, my lady. I’ve been instructed only to attend to your basic needs. I cannot answer any of your questions.”

“What do you mean? Who instructed you?” The panic rising in your voice was palpable. 

“The master of the house,” She replied, bowing slightly.  “Now, please, tell me what you'd like to try, my lady. We can’t have you with an empty stomach.” 

She showcased the tray of food to you from the foot of the bed.  

“I won’t eat until someone tells me what’s going on,” you snapped, raising your voice, no longer able or willing to be polite. The situation was becoming more frightening by the second.

She ignored your protest and instead moved to set the tray down on the dresser. Then, she lifted a small plate bearing an array of various sliced fruits and brought it over to you.  

“You’ve been asleep for nearly twelve hours,” she said calmly, the complete opposite of what you were feeling. “I’m sure you must be starving. Please at least try this, my lady.” 

Leaning in closer to you, she picked up a piece of fruit with a pair of chopsticks and gently held it out to your lips. 

“I said no,” you bit out, waving off her attempt to hand-feed you. “Stop avoiding my questions and answer me. Can’t you see that I’m scared? I don’t know how I got here,” you swallowed hard, voice trembling. “So I need to know—who is your master? Where are we? And why am I here?” 

The woman’s expression did not falter. It remained calm and steady, but the tone of her voice took on a note of warning. 

“That is your choice. But understand—there will be consequences for both of us if you refuse to eat. All of your questions will be answered soon… but it cannot be done so by me.” 

What the hell did she mean by consequences?

But based on this short exchange, you’d already figured there was no point in asking her—she wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. One thing was certain, however: this so-called ‘Master’ couldn’t be anyone good. 

You knew you had to get out of this place, and you had to be smart about it. Instead of pointlessly questioning her further, you leveled your voice and asked her to taste the fruit. 

This unexpected request clearly took her aback—the resulting surprise was so plainly written across her once-composed face, it was almost satisfying to see after she'd refused to help you. 

“My lady, I’m not sure I can do that…”

“Why not?” you pressed. “You can’t answer my questions, and I don’t trust your master. I need to make sure it's safe before I eat anything.”

She hesitated for a moment before responding. 

“Very well. If that’s what will convince you, then please choose something for me to taste.” 

You pointed to a specific piece of kiwi. Nodding, she reached for the fruit and deliberately placed it in her mouth, making sure you could see it clearly, as if to dispel any lingering doubt on your end.  

You watched as she chewed and swallowed the piece of fruit. 

“Now we have to wait a few minutes. Just to be sure,” you added cautiously. 

“Of course.”

The time passed mostly in silence as she retrieved an extra set of utensils for your use from the tray. In the end, nothing happened to the housemaid, which meant the rest of the food was also not likely to be poisoned.  

“Was that sufficient proof, my lady?” she asked, now standing beside your bed once more, a larger plate with additional items in hand.  

Instead of answering her, you reached out and took the new plate from her with polite care. Placing it on your lap, you picked up the fresh set of chopsticks and finally began to eat. 

A small, yet visible smile spread across the housemaid's face. You found it strange—how relieved she looked from something as simple as getting you to take a bite.

As you neared finishing the contents on the plate, she asked if you would like anything else from the tray. After telling her no, you requested to be left alone again, claiming you still felt tired. She obliged your request and moved to leave, but just before she slid the door open, you quietly called after her.

“Forgive me… I never asked for your name.” 

She paused, then turned slightly in your direction.   

“You may call me Tomoe in private, my lady. But do follow whatever Master Geto instructs you to use for us.”

With that, she left the room, leaving you to your now spiraling thoughts. 

Why… Why do I know that name? Think. Think. Think. 

Your head throbbed once more as the realization hit you like a freight train. Just like that, you could remember it—his face, sitting right across from you at the café. 

It was him.

Your eyes welled before tears began running down your horrified face.

The one your gut had warned you about… but you had naively dismissed. 

Your fists balled around the bedsheets, your whole body trembling in utter fear. 

The loving father who'd so casually introduced himself as Suguru Geto. 

Your stalker. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Tick, tick, tick, went the second hand on the clock in the room—a sound that had become increasingly noticeable and irritating to Suguru Geto. 

Twelve hours.

You'd been asleep for twelve whole hours.

His patience had been worn razor thin—so much so, he was reevaluating whether he should've just rid himself of you earlier in the bath. 

 Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Ah, there it went again—though impossible, the sound it emitted seemed to grow louder as his annoyance climbed. Each movement of that copper hand mocked him, reminding him of your weaknesses and the reprehensible justification he'd made just to have you. 

A sorcerer wouldn't have been this affected by the spirits he'd used on you—a pathetic little bug unworthy of his time, his attention, his affection. 

Though he believed all those things to be true, he had still ordered the housemaids to tend to your basic needs once you awoke. 

Specifically, he expected you to be fed. You'd need your strength to survive his planned tests. They were also explicitly forbidden from answering any of your questions regarding the situation he had put you in—that was reserved for him, and only him. 

The disgust in his eyes, paired with the uncanny smile he wore when he spoke of the consequences that would befall them if they faltered, made his intentions unmistakable. 

He'd proved time and again that their lives were of no significance to him. They knew that he would—without a hint of hesitation or the batting of an eye—end their very existence if they failed to get you to eat or told you something they shouldn't.  

It was quite funny to him. The way those monkeys undeservedly clung to life, willing to do and believe anything—even following him—just to survive a little longer. 

He leaned back against the wall, furrowing his brows, closing his eyes, and rubbing his temples with his hands. 

The annoying sound crescendoed to an all-time high, shaving away the last sliver of his patience. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Ti— 

In a flash, he had shaped his hand like a pistol, aimed it at that fucking infuriating clock across the room, and impaled it with a small squid-formed curse—like the one's he'd used against Toji Fushiguro. 

Silence at last. 

In the same beat, Tomoe arrived to report on your status and wellbeing—the exact time now recorded and immortalized by the broken clock. 

“My lord, the lady is awake,” she began, keeping her bowing face as steady as she could manage. 

She proceeded to recount what had occurred thus far, making sure to mention all of your questions and the taste test you had required of her before agreeing to eat anything.

A coy smile crept across his lips at the retelling of your cautious request—he liked that you didn't blindly follow whatever somebody told you to do in this unfamiliar, volatile situation. It showed a certain cleverness, the kind that befitted the potential mother of his children. 

That defiant spark might prove troublesome—or entertaining —for him later. 

But you'd eventually learn. 

Whether through fear, enlightenment, or sheer conditioning, he'd make sure his word would become your guiding light—your entire world. 

The shattered clock he'd crushed still read 9:06 pm. 

At exactly 9:21 pm, only fifteen minutes after receiving Tomoe's report, he arrived at your room and began running his tests on you.

They say those close to death can sometimes begin to see curses… let's see if that's true for you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

July 21, 2017.

Gazing at your stomach in the vanity mirror, you noted how you'd started showing ever so slightly that morning.

A part of you thought you were imagining things until Geto commented on it as well, gently pressing his hand against the bump as he caressed your shoulder with the other.

“You'll be seeing Dr. Takemi tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “After this week, we'll be past the first trimester.”

“He told the girls they’d be the size of an apple or peach at this point last time.”

“I bet they loved that.” He said, kissing your temple. 

You smiled gleefully. “They did.”

“Care to accompany me to my meeting later?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you. “It shouldn’t be long, and we can go somewhere off the estate if you’d like after with the girls.”

You nodded excitedly at the prospect before he pressed his forehead to yours, leaning down and pulling you close.

“Then it's decided. I’ll let them know to prepare for our departure once we’re through.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

He listened as Suda reported on the current state of affairs—it was the usual count of curses acquired thus far, the whereabouts of his other family members, and updated intelligence regarding Jujutsu High. 

He glanced over at you, watching as you drank the tea Tomoe had brought over to you. 

You beamed up at him when you noticed his gaze. 

He kept looking at you until Suda’s voice called his name.

“Geto, would you like to explain the next step in our new plans?”

He’d just begun to speak when he felt a tug on his sleeve. Only to turn and find you looking sickeningly pale and on the verge of collapse.

“Sug-guru…”

Everything after that was a blur as he rushed you to the clinic, where the worst was confirmed. 

The child that had changed everything was gone.

And he’d almost lost you, too.

You’d lingered between this world and the next for three whole minutes before several doctors and nurses were able to bring you back.

But you weren't out of danger yet, losing so much blood had left you weak and unconscious. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

July 24, 2017.

He hadn’t left your side at the clinic for the past three days. 

You’d been in and out the entire time. Hardly conscious. Delirious.   

The first words out of your mouth to him in those rare moments when you were awake were ‘I’m sorry’ before you succumbed to the overpowering medications the doctors had you on. 

It was killing him to see you like this.

The twins came to visit you throughout the days, hoping you would be alright and wake up soon. Sometimes, they cried by your bedside together, mourning the loss of their sibling. He tried to comfort them as best he could despite the state he was in.

They noticed how he hadn't really eaten anything and pushed for it.  

“Geto-sama, please, you need to eat something,” Mimiko pleaded.

“I’m sorry girls, I just don’t have an appetite,” he refused.

They had continued to ask throughout the hours of the third day until, finally, they managed to convince him with Dr. Takemi's help.

“She’s going to need you to have your strength later,” he’d reasoned. “It’s going to be harder when she’s awake.”

Geto ate some of the food they'd brought him then.

And they left him alone after that, for a while at least, as he continued to watch you.

He counted the number of breaths you took as he listened to the attached heart monitor obsessively, compulsively.

Beep… thuh-thump. Beep… thuh-thump. Beep… thuh-thump. Beep… thuh-thump. Beep… thuh-thump. Beep… thuh-thump. 

Each sound and wave reassured him that you were still here, still alive, still with him. 

He didn’t even care that the baby was gone anymore.

Just that you’d be alright in the end. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

July 25, 2017. 

“Unfortunately, there may have been something wrong that just wasn’t visible on scans or tests.”

“A woman’s body does this naturally sometimes. We’ll keep looking into what may have caused it otherwise, but for now, all I can recommend is as much rest as possible for her.”

“Fertility shots may become an option again later, but we need to let her body reset, heal, before we consider that again.”

“Grief is going to be a part of that process. She’s going to cycle through every emotion possible many times over.”

“She needs you to be understanding, as hard as that may be right now. This wasn’t her fault. I want you both to know that.”

Those were most of the lines Dr. Takemi had left him with that morning.

He’d almost felt insulted by the implication behind that last comment, as though the man expected him to blame you for something beyond your control.

Yet he also couldn't deny that there was merit to the good doctor's concern. 

He knew the cruelty he was capable of. 

And under different circumstances, he would have blamed you for this loss. Punished you harshly for it, even, as though the grief alone would not already be enough to break you.

Now, as he leaned over you on the clinic bed and brushed his fingers along your face, he couldn’t fathom turning that cruelty on you.

The two of you had been so happy a few days ago. It was gut-wrenching.

How had this happened, beloved?

If he could take all of the pain away from you, he would. 

He ached to hold you, to hear you speak, to bear this with you. 

Together.

Always. 

He grabbed your hand as he sat back down in the chair that had become his bed for the past few nights, bringing your fingers to his lips and pressing feather-light pecks along them. 

It was then that he felt you twitch and stir in the clinic bed. Immediately, he stood, keeping hold of your hand as he called out to you.

“Y/n, I’m here.”

Heavy-lidded, your eyes groggily opened to see him. 

“Ma-” you swallowed, throat raw. Dry. “M-master…”

The sound of your hoarse voice broke his heart into a thousand pieces. 

Frantic, he pushed down the handrail on his side and carefully climbed into the bed with you, pulling you into his arms while minding the IV and the monitor clipped to your finger.

At the same time, he reached over and pressed the call button for a nurse.

Nurse Araki hurried in.

“Bring us some water and anything else she might need now that she’s awake,” he demanded.

“Of course, right away,” she replied, rushing out. He could hear her barking orders to other staff down the hall. 

He looked down at you as tears began streaming down your face.

Had you realized why you were here again, in the very room where the two of you had first received the news?

“Shh, no. None of that, pet,” he cooed, wiping away your tears as he heard footsteps rushing into the room.

“Here, we’ve brought her a pitcher of water,” Nurse Araki announced, placing it on a rolling side table that now hovered over the bed. “Is it alright if we sit the two of you up?”

“Is that alright, pet?” he asked, and you nodded slightly.

“Yes,” he replied a moment later.

He felt the bed hum as it raised the two of you up into a sitting position. Another nurse handed him the cup of water, which he gently brought up to your lips.

You took several small gulps at first, then grabbed it yourself and finished the rest, seemingly quenching an overwhelming thirst. 

“We’ve also brought her a change of clothes, along with a basin of warm water and soap in case she’d like to freshen up,” one of the newer attendants offered.

“I can help her with that,” he interjected, taking the empty cup from you and handing it over to Nurse Araki, who had just finished checking your IV. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, reaching for the cup and placing it on the table again. “With the IV and her delicate condition, it might be a bit difficult on your own.”

“I’ll be careful,” he replied, tilting his head toward the counter on the other side of the room. “Leave the supplies over there.”

He could see the hesitation in her demeanor, in her eyes, before agreeing. “Alright, but if you need anything, Lord Geto, call us immediately.”

Despite their initial reluctance, they followed his instructions. 

After he heard the door click behind Nurse Araki and her colleagues, his thumb brushed lightly over your hand.

“Would you like me to help you freshen up, pet?” he asked patiently. 

You only nodded again in response.

With your quiet permission, he unclipped the monitor from your index finger and attentively helped you out of your current gown. Then he slipped out of the bed long enough to gather the basin, soap, and several washcloths, setting them on the rolling table. Once everything was within easy reach and he had washed his hands, he returned his attention to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he added a few drops of soap to the basin, stirring the water lightly with his fingers to test the warmth. Satisfied, he dipped one of the cloths into the water and wrung it out slightly.

“It won’t be cold,” he assured you quietly as he began smoothing it across your neck and shoulders. His every touch was gentle. Kind. Comforting. Yet he still felt your body twitch away from him several times. 

He hated that, but swallowed down his displeasure for your sake.   

Afterward, he helped you stand at the edge of the bed, keeping one arm around you as he eased you into the clean gown and closed each tie with the same delicate care. When he was done, he drew you in closer so you could lean on him for additional support.  

“Come sit with me while I call for them again,” he murmured against your hair. “I want you to have fresh sheets as well.”

“Okay,” you whispered, slowly following him to the chair as he kept you steady and guided the IV pole along with you.

A minute after you settled against him, he clicked the call switch, and Nurse Araki arrived once more. 

“Yes, Lord Geto?”

“She needs new sheets.”

“Of course, let me call for some assistance.”

With help from the additional staff, the sheets on your bed and pillows were quickly replaced with fresh ones. He kept his eyes on you the entire time as you leaned further into his hold on the chair. 

The moment the fresh linens were in place, Nurse Araki insisted on helping you back into bed, despite Geto wanting to do everything for you himself. She also clipped the pulse oximeter back onto your index finger before stepping away.

“Here are some extra pillows and blankets. I know Mrs. Geto gets cold easily,” she said, handing him the items another nurse had brought in. “We’ll bring her some solid food in an hour. Make sure she rests until then.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Once the two of you were alone again, he tucked you further into the sheets and draped one of the extra blankets over you. He dimmed the lights, then slipped in beside you, wrapping his arms around you with careful restraint.

Just as before, he was mindful not to disturb the IV, aware it was necessary for your recovery. Still, necessary or not, he hoped they would remove it sooner rather than later—the damn thing kept getting in his way.

It was then that he heard your voice break the silence in the room.  

“I’m so s-sorry, S’guru,” you sobbed. “Please, please d-don’t hate m-me.”

He pressed you tighter to his chest. “Shhh. I don't hate you, Y/n.” 

“Maybe you should…”

“You're wrong,” he contested, voice low. 

“But I failed you again… and lost someone so pre-precious,” you hiccupped, your voice thinning to almost nothing. “Our baby, Suguru…”

“And I almost lost you…” he replied, jaw tensing at the memory from only days ago. “You're someone I've come to consider precious.”

For reasons he could not fully understand, you sobbed harder at his words, gasping for air after each tremor rolled through your body in utter agony. 

He only held you, letting you feel everything that needed to be felt, just as Dr. Takemi had advised. 

“The- the girls… how- are they o-okay?” you asked, stuttering against his chest.

They were heartbroken, but he knew it was the wrong time to tell you that. 

“They only want you to get better. As do I,” he answered carefully, avoiding the full truth while listening to your broken huffs and whines.

“Please don't,” you begged, clinging to his robe. “I- I don't deserve it.”

“You do,” he murmured against your hair. “Because I say you do.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

July 27, 2017.

After Dr. Takemi's final physical evaluation, the loss was officially determined to have occurred from natural causes.

But of course it had. 

That was exactly why Tomoe had chosen and used this method in the first place.

What she had not anticipated was how severely it would affect your body after she doubled the dose two days in a row. 

She had never intended for it to go that far. Never intended to bring you so close to death’s door in the same way Geto so often had when you first arrived.

It was both a blessing and a curse that you'd survived the ordeal. 

Maybe it would've been better if you had left this world with the child. Her revenge would've been complete then, and you'd no longer have to endure anything else. 

Yet, as selfish as it was, she was glad you had pulled through. However, your survival was not without other consequences.

You blamed yourself. That much was obvious to anyone who saw you after your stay at the clinic.

Tomoe hated seeing you like this—broken, grief-stricken—but it couldn't be avoided.

Geto and his family would have never let you go if you had run from him in such a condition, with his child in your womb.

But now…

Maybe they would see you as damaged. Less worthwhile to keep or hunt down once the right time to flee arrived. 

And anything that increased your chances of success was worthwhile.

Yes, no matter the pain it was causing you now, this horror was necessary in the end. 

‘I hope you can forgive me one day, Y/n. But if you never can, I'll understand,’ she thought to herself, tucking something forbidden underneath her garments.

And what was this prohibited item?

Your phone.

Your personal cellphone.

The one Geto had missed because you'd sent it off for repairs before ever attracting his attention. 

Not the work phone he'd disposed of after taking you from the café.

How had she gotten her hands on it? 

Pure luck… or maybe it was fate. She wasn't sure, but either way it had worked in both your favors. 

Now all that was left was to find the best time to enact the next phase of the plan she and the other ‘followers’ on your side had devised.

And after that…

She would tell you the truth.

Though maybe not about everything.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

July 29, 2017.

The estate was quieter than usual. 

More muted. 

As though even the walls understood something precious had been lost before it ever had the chance to fully exist.

There had been no body to return home. No formal funeral to arrange. No ashes to carry to a family grave.

So instead, a home altar had been prepared in one of the estate’s more private and serene rooms.

A large, lacquered cabinet-style shrine had been placed against the middle of the back wall. Its doors opened to reveal several polished tiers within.

On the lowest level, a pair of white candles burned beside a ceramic incense holder, where two lit joss sticks released the faint scent of sandalwood into the air. 

The middle tier housed the offerings, which included a small white arrangement of flowers, a bowl of untouched fruit, and a tiny wooden rattle.

On the highest central shelf rested the last sonogram photo you'd received, carefully framed by your very own hands. You had still been in disbelief when you completed the task, numb from the impossible weight of it all. 

Like this couldn't be happening, couldn't be real, couldn't be your life.

On one side of the photograph sat a small Jizō Bosatsu statue, decorated with the baby bear beanie you'd made for them. The figure had been Geto’s suggestion, chosen for its role as a guardian of children who left the world too soon.

A Buddhist memorial tablet was placed on the other side of the frame. It had been freshly inscribed by Geto himself earlier that morning with the words the two of you had chosen together:

“Beloved Child of the Geto Family.” 

You knelt silently on the cushion before the altar while Suguru remained beside you, one hand resting against your back.

Tomoe had left a small bell near the shrine as well. A soft chime echoed through the room when Mimiko timidly rang it after placing down a small offering of candies she and Nanako had bought together the day before.

“I picked the strawberry ones,” Nanako whispered, which was so unlike her. As if she were afraid that speaking too loudly might disturb the child’s spirit.

Your chest tightened painfully as you pictured a different future, one where candies like these would've been shared with sticky fingers and delighted laughter rather than offered at an altar.

In another life, perhaps you could’ve spoiled them together. 

Suguru's hand pressed more firmly against your back the moment your shoulders trembled. Not controlling this time. Not possessive.

Just there.

As a quiet anchor of strength beside you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Nighttime - August 4, 2017.

With only two weeks having passed, it'd been another difficult day for you and the girls. 

He'd done his best to give all three of you as much attention and comfort as he could.

Especially you.

You'd become so reliant, so needy of him that, as sick as it was to say, he was almost enjoying the aftermath of this loss.

Perhaps he truly was something of a monster for feeling this way. For finding any comfort in your devastation simply because it brought you closer to him.

But he could not bring himself to mourn the way you and the girls did.

Did that make him heartless?

When he looked at it logically, he found himself believing this had happened for a reason.

It was entirely possible the child would have been born a non-sorcerer. An unworthy monkey. And if that had been the case, then perhaps this loss was a blessing in disguise. 

A cruel one, yes, but a blessing all the same.  

At least this tragedy might've spared you from watching them endure the same repeated, near-death exposure to his cursed spirits—the very regimen he'd put you through at the start.

The ordeal had also made him contemplate a choice many others would have found impossible.

But it wasn't for him. 

If this had happened further along in the pregnancy, and he had been forced to choose between you and the baby, he would have chosen you without an ounce of hesitation.

Even if it had been possible to confirm that the child would be a sorcerer, it wouldn't have changed his decision.

You might hate him for that choice in the end, but…

He just wanted you. 

That was the whole point of this experiment, after all.

Even he could admit that these thoughts and feelings were ugly. Callous. 

But if his cold rationale and need to have you made him a monster, then…

So be it.  

He sighed, attempting to read the report Suda had drafted for him after being too preoccupied to look at it properly during the day.

Propped slightly upright against the pillows at the head of the bed, he let you sleep against his chest at an angle, one arm loosely anchored around you while the other held the report. His thumb traced slow, absentminded paths along your arm in quiet comfort as he read the same sentence over and over again.

Despite his efforts to concentrate on the metrics, he noticed it immediately—the subtle tremor beneath his arm, the uneven shift in your breathing.

Eyes lifting from the pages to you, he stilled his thumb in case it was his touch causing you distress.

Then a quiet whimper escaped from your lips, followed by the first tear slipping down your cheek and onto him.

Were you even crying in your sleep, beloved? 

Should he wake you from it?

Suddenly, he felt you twitch harder against him, the movement frantic enough to make his decision for him. Without a second thought, he let the report slip from his hand, all but forgotten as it fell to the floor.

Tightening his arm around you, he lowered his other hand to your face, fingers brushing away the tears along your cheek before settling at your shoulder.

“Y/n…” he murmured, gently nudging you to stir awake.

Your body tensed beneath his touch before you jolted slightly against him, a sharp breath catching in your throat as your eyes snapped open.

For a moment, your wandering gaze seemed unfocused, lost—still caught somewhere else.

“Suguru…”

Your voice broke as your fingers pressed instinctively into his chest, grounding yourself against the warmth of him as your breathing turned uneven from a mixture of sadness and fear.

The tears began immediately as you looked up at him, sobbing out the horrific details of your nightmare—how cursed spirits were tearing you apart slowly, eating you alive before the people he'd killed in your name surrounded you next… 

“They said it was my fault they were dead,” you choked out. “Over and over again until… until they screamed that was why my baby was gone now, too.”

It seemed he'd gotten exactly what he wanted from the gruesome lessons he'd put you through all those months ago—when he’d made you watch the heinous violence. The guts and gore.

Their deaths weighed so heavily on your soul, on your conscience, that they were haunting you now more than ever. Just as Haibara's passing haunted him. 

But there was no satisfaction to be felt in this moment. Only immense regret, despite still believing it was necessary. 

After all, how else was he supposed to make you understand your place when those monkeys had defied him and you had tried to leave him?

“It was only a dream, pet,” he comforted, pulling you closer to him.  “I'd never let such a thing come to pass. You are safe here with me.”

“Those ghosts in your head aren't real, and there is no one to blame for what happened to our child.”

“B-but I n-never wanted children,” you stuttered out, finding no comfort in his words. “And maybe—m-maybe that's why t-they were taken from us-”

He leaned down and kissed you then, interrupting your grief-stricken ramblings. 

Moving back from you briefly, he repeated himself with more authority.

“This is not your fault, Y/n.”

“And if my words are not enough to convince you, all the medical reports said so as well.”

He stared into your eyes, searching for confirmation that his reasoning may have calmed your soul, even if only momentarily. 

“I'm sorry, master…” you whispered as you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “So sorry…”

Nothing. His words had done nothing.

“There's no need for that, pet. Truly. I have nothing to forgive you for,” he murmured against your hair, rubbing circles onto your nape in solace. 

“Just punish me for being weak, master…” you softly begged. “That would make it easier to bear.”

His pupils grew wide with something closer to disbelief than anger as he continued to hold you.

Your emotions and reaction shouldn’t have been surprising. He'd been the one who'd forced you to memorize his three principles, the one who'd conditioned you to expect consequences after failing him.

How much regret was he meant to feel in one night? 

“Would it really?” he asked, hoping for a no when he felt you nod instead.  

He sighed. “But I have none to give. And you've not earned any either.” 

You lifted your head from where you were to face him. 

“Should I give you a reason, then, Master?”

“No, pet,” he replied, cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing along your lips. “All I want you to do is recover. Then we can try for another when you're well.”

“I'm scared to,” you mumbled as he moved his finger from your mouth. “What if.. what if it happens again?”

“Don't be. I already asked, and Dr. Takemi said it's unlikely,” he lied for your sake. 

Tears began rolling down your face once more as you desperately looked up into his eyes. “I can't just forget about them, Master. The baby…”

“You won't have to, Y/n,” he reassured, brushing a tear from your cheek. “We'll honor their memory always.”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Yes we will. T-thank you, Suguru.” 

Beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful and broken. 

That's how you looked to him right now. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before gently guiding you back against his chest.

“Rest now,” he ordered softly as he began to hum you to sleep, just like his mother used to when he'd have a bad dream. “I'm here. I have you.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Morning - August 16, 2017.

“Please forgive us for the delay in reporting this to you, Lord Geto. Given the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the Lady, this was the earliest opportunity we had,” Tomoe explained.

“Enough. Just go on,” Geto announced, obvious frustration in his tone. He'd been more irritable as of late. 

Suda motioned for one of the other followers to proceed with their account.

The report detailed the funeral proceedings your mother had arranged after Geto ensured the world believed you were dead.

From what Tomoe and the others understood, their leader's true interest had little to do with mourning and everything to do with the attendees themselves. It was obvious he was searching for someone.

And while the others had little idea, she knew exactly who he wanted to uncover. Your past lover. The one who had cost you dearly that day in Harajuku. 

The turnout at the wake had been modest but steady. Several coworkers attended, with additional appearances from individuals believed to be from adjacent departments. A formal floral arrangement had been sent on behalf of your company, its name displayed among the white chrysanthemums lining the venue. It sat alongside smaller arrangements attributed to personal acquaintances and friends.

A number of local attendees were also present—neighbors and longtime customers of your mother, many of whom had come to pay their respects after years of knowing you both through her work as a seamstress.

In comparison, your extended family's presence was limited. Two individuals from your mother’s side were identified as cousins, while a single man—believed to be your paternal uncle—appeared to represent your father’s side. Such a lack of familial members made it quite apparent how, for most of your life, it had truly just been you and your mother.

One notable attendee was a former romantic partner from your university years, accompanied by his wife. Their presence was brief, but respectful. After looking into him further, Suda noted that nothing was discovered to suggest any continued involvement between the two of you since your breakup many years ago. 

All in all, there was no one who truly stood out as the man he was seeking. 

At least… that's what Tomoe was reporting. 

In reality, there had been two very late, final guests.

A belligerent drunk she quickly realized was your father.

And… 

A man who had brought a bouquet made up of lilies and blue roses with him to offer your mother. 

It was rather unorthodox, but it made sense once Tomoe recognized his voice and saw his face.

Satoru Gojo had come to mourn you.

Besides your mother, colleagues, and friends, he had sent countless messages after your disappearance. Long, rambling, and informative voicemails, too. 

She had been tempted to approach him with your whereabouts that day because of it, but…

Regardless of what he had said, doing so was risky given his past connection to Geto—the bastard who had murdered her family.

According to the sporadic and rare rumors she'd heard, the two had been friends at some point, but something had torn them apart. 

And that was as much as she had managed to learn while serving under Geto.  

See, “Gojo” wasn't a name his followers dared speak freely around the estate—especially not in front of their leader. Past deadly consequences for careless gossip had ensured that much, leaving Tomoe with only fragments of who Satoru Gojo was and what had once existed between them.

Without knowing the full extent of their estrangement, there was always a chance this stranger could still be in contact with Geto. Then everything she had been working toward would be for naught.

There was no guarantee Gojo would have believed her without proof, anyway. So, in the end, she had decided against approaching him.

Besides, he had been preoccupied with your parents, standing between them as your father hurled harsh accusations and pointed insults at your mother, outright blaming her for your death. 

‘What a bastard,’ she had thought, thankful that, by then, they were the only four people left in the funeral hall. ‘Is this what you had dealt with growing up, my lady?’

Tomoe didn't linger after witnessing Gojo come to your mother's defense, quietly excusing herself from the wake.  

If she had stayed any longer, she might've risked one of Geto’s other spies coming to look for her and uncovering this scene. 

“Overall, there was no one who attended that was out of the ordinary for such an affair, Geto,” Tomoe listened to Suda summarize, refocusing on the present. “I have a detailed report for you with pictures of all the guests and additional information if you'd like to review that as well.”

“Thank you, Suda. I'll look it over after this.”

“Tomoe,” he began in his usual harsh tone. 

Had she been found out? Did they know she'd purposely omitted information?

She sat up straighter. “Yes, my lord?”

“The girls requested omelets and toast for breakfast today. See that they’re included.”

“Of course. Did the lady have any preferences?”

“You may go ask her. She's in the altar room,” he answered, dismissing her from the meeting.

Did that mean you were alone?

Gathering herself, she hurriedly went to find you.

You were sitting in front of the altar, eyes closed as the incense smoke slowly rose up.

She considered telling you about the potential plan to flee right then, given how rarely the two of you were left alone now. 

But looking at you here, like this… it was just not the time.

Instead, she dared to kneel by you and offer her own quiet apologies and prayers to the child she'd taken from you. 

Tomoe accepted the guilt and responsibility for it but…

This monstrous act she had committed was also a consequence, a cost, of Suguru Geto’s past violence against humanity—against her family and every other victim caught in his path alike.

And, hopefully, it would also be the price of your freedom.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

August 19, 2017.

It had been a little over four weeks since the miscarriage had occurred. 

Things had not gotten any easier or brighter despite the passage of time, but the twins were doing slightly better—you were glad for that.

Dr. Takemi had cleared you for most things, but was still being cautious when it came to fertility treatments or family planning.

First and foremost, he wanted to make sure that you were alright mentally and emotionally before pursuing another pregnancy.

“Physically, everything looks like it’s healing well, but I’d still like to give it a bit more time before you two start officially trying again.”

“If you’ve had no bleeding or pain, you can resume normal sexual activity—but take it slowly.”

“Take everything slowly. Process what you need to first and listen to your body. Don't force it.”

Your Master had been giving you that look again ever since the appointment. One filled with need, with unbridled desire. 

But you did not reciprocate the feelings. 

You still felt numb some days, and always so cold despite the summer heat of August.

‘There might be no way to avoid his advances later,’ you realized as you sat next to him during lunch with the girls. 

His hand kept slipping and finding its way onto your lap while he idly listened to Nanako tell him about this place she wanted to try on Takeshita Street in Tokyo. Apparently, they sold delicious crêpes with all sorts of flavors. That detail brought up many memories. 

“I used to go to one that was really good there,” you added, trying to redirect his greedy attention, even if only momentarily.

“Oh yeah? Maybe it's the same one then,” Nanako excitedly replied, turning her phone in your direction to show you pictures.

“Yup, that's the one,” you confirmed, smiling sincerely for the first time in a while. “My favorite had strawberry, mango, and kiwi with gelato.”

Nanako and Mimiko's faces lit up with excitement over your description. 

“Did you taste any with custard?” Mimiko asked.

You pondered a moment, thinking back to the last times you'd been to the location. One of those had been with Satoru… you remembered he'd ordered a crêpe with custard, and the two of you had shared a bit of each other's treats. 

There was another smile on your face because of the memory, only you'd learned your lesson from last time, and you wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice.

“I think I did once with my mom, but it only had strawberries that time. I'm sure it's good with other toppings, too, though,” you assured. 

“See, Geto-sama? Even Y/n wants to go. Can’t we try to go soon, please?” Nanako pleaded with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“When did I say no?” He replied, chuckling. “Maybe we can try next week—and Y/n can join us if she's feeling up to it.”

He squeezed your thigh when he said that. 

As the waking hours turned to night and the two of you found yourselves back in bed, you learned your earlier trepidations had been justified—he wanted more than just to sleep next to you tonight. 

It'd started with his usual comforting kisses, but then he'd trailed his lips down your neck as his hands wandered underneath the top of your nightgown.

He groaned against your skin, saying over and over how much he'd missed you, how much he'd been craving you. 

The feeling, as before, was not mutual. It made your skin crawl, the way he was touching you now.

You weren't ready for this. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you tried to endure his advances like you'd done in the beginning. 

Feeling his mouth wandering lower, his tongue on your breasts… it was too much, too soon.

No. No. No!

You couldn't do this. 

“Master…” you whimpered out, pushing him away slightly as he looked up at you from your chest. 

“I- I j-just,” you stuttered, breathing harsher with each word you couldn't seem to find. “I c-can't yet. M’sorry.”

You expected anger. Resistance. His previous forcefulness from when you first arrived, from when he'd first taken you.

But there was none of that.

He simply stopped, adjusted your nightgown back into place, and settled himself behind you before pulling you into his embrace.

“T-thank you,” you whispered softly, shivering slightly in his hold as a chill clung to you.

“Come back to me soon, Y/n. My patience will only last for so long,” he warned as he reached for the blankets and draped them over the two of you. “Sleep well.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Thursday, August 24, 2017.

Takeshita Street.

Given that it was midday on a weekday, the streets weren't nearly as crowded with tourists and shoppers as they usually would've been.

Looking over at the three of them as they decided on their crêpe toppings and flavors, you couldn't help but smile faintly. 

The scene was so similar to that fateful first day you made eye contact with Geto.

Before, you would've given anything to undo that first encounter.

But now… that would mean erasing the child you lost. 

Despite the pain and grief, you couldn't bring yourself to wish that away. You weren't your father. You wouldn't abandon your child, even when all you had left of them were fleeting ‘what-if’ memories. 

They were still debating flavors beside you, though your wandering thoughts only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Suguru peeked back at you for a moment, giving you a silent nod as if to check in with how you were doing.

You returned the gesture, hoping it looked reassuring.

He turned his attention back to the girls then as your eyes lingered on him. 

It was a nice reprieve to see your master out of his usual monk-like attire again. 

You'd learned it was specifically called a Gojo-kesa. ‘Had he chosen that one intentionally?,’ you wondered. It almost felt like a quiet, hidden homage to his former best friend. 

Too bad you could never ask him about it.

“What are you getting, Y/n?” Nanako suddenly asked you.

Strangely enough, instead of your usual favorite, all you wanted was the same crêpe Satoru had ordered the last time you'd come here together.

“A crêpe with custard, a little whipped cream, and strawberries,” you replied matter-of-factly.

“Unlike us, Y/n picked fast,” Mimiko pointed out with a slight smile.

“Well she's been here before, that's why,” Nanako chimed in.

“That's true,” you agreed before turning the question back to them. “Have you all decided on your orders yet? Or are you still thinking about it?”

“I think I'm getting a custard, too, but with chocolate and bananas,” Mimiko shared.

“I'm between a custard with mango or ice cream with yellow peaches,” Nanako declared. “Which do you think would be better, Y/n?”

“Hmm. Well, what fruit do you prefer? I think peaches are in season around August so they should be delicious.”

“Really? Then I'll get peaches with vanilla ice cream,” Nanako finally decided.

You'd grown to enjoy how much they considered your opinions in small decisions like this. 

“So I'm the only one getting something savory,” Suguru added to the conversation while chuckling softly and grabbing hold of your hand. 

“Which one did you pick after all, Geto-sama?” Mimiko asked before you could. 

“Mm. Teriyaki chicken with lettuce and mayonnaise.”

“That's so different from what we're getting,” Nanako pointed out with a grin, almost wanting to laugh.

“It's okay, Nanako. I'll share some of mine with him so he doesn't miss out,” you offered, squeezing his hand lightly as if to tease him. 

“And you can try some of mine so you don't ruin your appetite,” he retorted, giving you the same attentive look he had during your ‘date’ in Yokohama. 

How ordinary this moment must look to others on the outside. But even if it wasn't true, you were grateful for this semblance of normalcy after so much sadness.

Once everyone had received their crêpes, the four of you began walking around while enjoying the treats. 

Suguru's was actually quite good when you took a bite out of it, and he seemed to enjoy yours just as much. 

“Do couples always have to share their food like that?” Nanako questioned as she watched the two of you. “I don't think I could.”

“Nanako, that's rude to ask,” Mimiko interjected.

Her words had genuinely made you laugh—at both the question itself and being referred to as a “couple” out loud. Though, at this point, you couldn't blame her for believing it. A part of you did, too. 

Looking up at him, you were curious to hear how he would reply. 

“Only when they're fond of each other,” Suguru answered before taking another bite of your crêpe like he was proving his own point. “But you're still too young to be worrying about that.” 

“I know, it was just a simple question, Geto-sama,” Nanako reassured before being distracted by a vintage clothing shop. “Can we go in there, please?”

“Go ahead,” he quickly gave permission.

“We can hold onto those while you browse a bit,” you added.

“Thank you, Y/n,” Mimiko said as the girls handed their crêpes over to you.

Watching as they ventured into the shop, you commented, “I'm so glad they're enjoying themselves.”

Feeling his eyes on you, you heard him reply. “I hope you are too, pet.”

You nodded with sincerity as the two of you found a place to stand by without getting in the way of others—not that he cared, really, but you did. 

“Good,” he smiled from beside you. “Is there anywhere else you'd want to go?”

“They have some really fun photo booths I think the girls would love further down,” you suggested after giving it a short thought. 

“Alright,” he replied, finishing off his crêpe and feeding the wrapper to a cursed spirit he quickly summoned and dispelled. “Then we'll go there next.”

Unfazed by his actions, you continued with more details. “The booths even let you decorate the pictures with all sorts of cute things, like frames and digital stickers.”

“Really? I'm curious to see what they come up with then,” he chuckled as he took the girls’ crêpes from you so you could return to your own. 

You took another bite, savoring the sweet taste of the strawberries and custard. It almost took you back to that day you spent here with Satoru. 

‘Stop it,’ you chastised, forcing the memory back down.  

Trying to distract yourself from the thought, you quickly said the first thing that came to mind. 

“I hope they add cat ears on you, Suguru.”

He looked briefly surprised by your sudden comment before amusement softened the expression away.

“Is there a particular reason why?”

“I just think you'd look cute,” you answered, taking a final bite before offering the rest to him. “Would you like the last of it, master?”

“Suguru, Y/n,” he reminded you, reaching for it with his free hand. He'd told you to only call him by his first name today earlier.

“Ah- sorry,” you said, internally kicking yourself because the mistake might cost you later. “I forget…”

Before the conversation could continue, the twins returned with their purchases in hand.

“Look, Y/n, isn't this sweater so pretty?” Nanako exclaimed, showing it off to you. 

“It is—and it matches you so well,” you replied, smiling.

Mimiko had also gotten a few smaller things that suited her quieter style. You'd complimented her choices as well.

Geto shared your suggestion with the girls then, to which they both excitedly agreed.

Not long after, the four of you found yourselves near all of the brightly lit photobooths.

Once they chose a specific one, the twins immediately became invested in the vast amount of decorative options. 

Nanako insisted on trying nearly every digital frame and sticker available while Mimiko pretended to be less interested despite adjusting the placement of each afterward until they were both satisfied.

Eventually, the booth was filled with photos of all four of you together, in pairs, and in smaller groups of three. 

There had been a few pictures with just the two of you—the master and his… well, what should you call yourself at this point? 

Captive? Lover? Or… the mother of his child, even if…  

You shook the thought away, trying not to ruin the mood for the girls’ sake. 

To distract yourself, you added a pair of black cat ears onto Suguru's head while decorating one of the digital photos.

“You really went through with it, huh?” he mused beside you.

“Mm. And I was right, you look really cute with them,” you defended lightly.

A quiet chuckle escaped him before he leaned down to press a brief kiss against your temple.

“Then add the same to yourself,” he murmured. “It'd be unfair if we didn't match, pet.”

Unable to hold back a small laugh, you complied, adding a matching pair of cat ears to your own head beside his.

The final result looked far too much like something an actual couple would've made together.

“Perfect,” he'd commented as you clicked on the option to print the photo. “Make sure you get more than one. They may want a copy.”

It was good that he had instructed you to do so because the twins had loved it. 

And every other photo that had been taken, in fact.

So much so that, before long, they were talking excitedly about adding some of the pictures to their scrapbooks.

You were relieved to hear them mention that hobby again. Ever since losing the baby, they hadn't even wanted to go near the albums. They’d told you it hurt too much, knowing their sibling’s book would never get to be filled with memories. None of you had been to the nursery room either for the same reason.

With the printed photos safely put away, the four of you continued wandering through Takeshita Street until a flower stand tucked between storefronts caught Suguru's attention.

He insisted on stepping into the shop himself, returning with a different bouquet for each of you.

Nanako was soon happily clutching a bright arrangement of sunflowers and soft yellow daisies, while Mimiko held one filled with white cape jasmines and dusky blue delphiniums.

The bouquet in your hand was softer, more romantic, with several blooms of pink lisianthus and plum clematis nestled between delicate sprigs of baby's breath.

Gifting the three of you flowers had been kind of him to do. Sweet, really.

You stared at the colorful array for a minute before looking back up at him with a soft smile. He was trying. You had to give him credit for that. 

“They're beautiful. Thank you, Suguru.”

He kissed your forehead in response before reclaiming your hand in his own, fingers threading naturally between yours as the four of you continued down the street.

“Anything else you'd all like to do before we head back?” he asked.

The girls looked at each other before answering. 

“No, Geto-sama,” Mimiko said. “We're ready to go home.”

“What about you, Y/n?”

“I agree with the girls,” you replied, your heart beating faster at the thought of going back to that place—to be trapped once more.

Even so, you echoed the word without hesitation because that was exactly what the accursed estate had become. 

You squeezed his hand, gazing up at him with a look caught somewhere between resignation and acceptance.

“Let's go home, Suguru.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Early morning - September 10, 2017.

Despite everything that had happened with you, Geto had not reversed the partial postponement on his plans to attack Jujutsu High.

He had also decided against having you or the girls anywhere near Satoru. The risk just wasn't worth it. 

Instead, the status quo had been maintained as he'd instructed in the last emergency meeting. 

Because of that, Suda was out securing additional resources. This included identifying wealthy monkeys worth exploiting, gathering blackmail material, and acquiring promising hideouts.

Meanwhile, curses were still being harvested from monkeys while his followers continued scouting locations with cursed spirit activity.

And Negi had kept a watchful eye on the school for opportunities to observe the newest special grade student. 

The meeting being held this morning was on that very subject.

Since only Geto and the girls were currently staying at the main estate, everyone else had joined the meeting virtually.

Tomoe had luckily arrived to serve breakfast right in the middle of the discussion. She listened intently, trying to memorize every detail as she slowly prepared the twins’ plates and tea. 

“There's a shopping district in Sendai that recently reported an uptick in cursed spirit activity,” Negi explained. “The owners plan to demolish and rebuild it into a new mall, so they've requested Toge Inumaki to exorcize curses in the area before construction begins.”

He paused briefly before continuing. “But our sources also said Yuta Okkotsu will be joining him on the assignment to act as support.”

“I see. That does sound like a perfect opportunity,” Geto replied, resting his chin lightly against his knuckles.

“The Six Eyes shouldn't interfere this time either, Geto,” Suda added, offering more useful details. “We got reports of first-grade spirits appearing in Hatsukaichi—which he's been dispatched to deal with.”

“So he'll be busy,” Geto remarked with quiet amusement. “They must've been quite formidable curses if they required Satoru’s attention. What a waste.”

“Could we go with you, Geto-sama?” Mimiko suddenly asked. “We can help.”

“And Sendai has the Ichibancho mall we want to try,” Nanako added as Tomoe placed a freshly prepared plate in front of her.

“I don't see why not,” he answered in a calm, indulgent tone. “Y/n could join us, too, if she'd like.”

Tomoe hoped with all her might that you wouldn't agree as she placed Mimiko’s breakfast in front of her next.

“They should be arriving in Sendai by three today,” Negi clarified. 

“Then we'll have to ask her soon,” Geto replied thoughtfully.

“Tomoe,” he said sharply, causing her to jolt slightly. 

“Yes, my lord?” she answered, composing herself as she poured the girls’ tea.

“Go and ask the Lady if she'd be interested in visiting Sendai. If she is not, then she may remain here under your watch.”

“Yes, right away,” she bowed slightly in acknowledgment, carefully placing each cup of tea in front of Mimiko and Nanako.

“You'll have to depart soon to arrive before they put down a veil,” LaRue commented. 

That had been the last statement she heard as she hurriedly left the meeting room to find you. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It'd been a little over a month now, but you were still cycling through each stage of grief.

Sometimes you felt the urge to cry. Other times you just wanted to yell into the void.   

You still hadn't let Suguru do more than hold and kiss you—even if his patience was wearing thin. 

Perhaps some part of you still subconsciously resented him for ever putting you in the position to experience this kind of heartache.

After all, you had never wanted children before being forced here. 

You'd even left your first love during university for that very reason. He wanted to marry and build a family with you after graduation, but it just wasn't something you felt you could sincerely give him. Rather than prolonging the inevitable, you had left him so he could find someone else that would. 

If only he could see you now, kneeling in front of an altar for a child lost before they even received a name. 

Swoosh. Thud. Swoosh. Thud.  

The sound of the screen door being slid open and closed abruptly interrupted your thoughts. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” you heard Tomoe frantically announce as she walked in and knelt beside you.

“What's wrong? Did something happen?”

“He's asking if you want to join them in Sendai today,” she rushed out, grabbing hold of your hand. “But you have to stay. Please.”

“I don't understand-” you began before Tomoe cut you off. 

“I need to talk to you, and this may be the only chance we'll have to be here on the estate. Alone. Everyone from his family is going to be gone, my lady.”

Tomoe was trembling, and you could see the desperation in her eyes.

“Please. I have so much to tell you,” she pleaded. 

How could you deny her after everything she'd done for you since your arrival? 

“Alright, I'll stay here with you.”

“Really? Thank you, my lady,” she breathed out, tightening her grip on your hand as you returned it in kind.

“Just tell him that it's too much for me today. That you found me here at the altar, and I need rest. I'll say the same if he asks when he comes to say goodbye.” 

“I will.” Tomoe nodded as she gently let go of your hand and began to walk towards the door. “They should be leaving within the hour.”

“I'll be here,” you assured softly before she left the room, calmer than earlier but still visibly hurried.  

What on earth could Tomoe have to tell you? 

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Tag list: @chiefsandwichcrown @iansimpsforeveryone @bananaxofxthexopera @gradmacoco @abbyslovergirlxo @amesenseii @leviackermansw1fe @heckerverse @keebeees <3

Until what exactly?

What life could you hope to return to after all this?

You could see cursed spirits now. Truly see them. Could you ever go back to ignoring their presence, to pretending the world was harmless and mundane?

Could you sit in an office again, laugh politely at your coworkers’ jokes about life’s daily despairs, and act as though you had never been kidnapped? As though you hadn’t been forced to watch people die simply because they'd tried to help you?

Were you, a mere monkey, capable of such a feat?

You already knew the answer was “no.”

You drew in a shaky, steadying breath and wiped the tears from your face before returning to working on the girls' clothes. The needle in between your fingers slid through the fabric again and again, each stitch carefully placed and precise. 

Hours had passed as you numbly repeated the monotonous actions, over and over, till all that remained were a few final details.

As you finished the last seam, your mind wandered to another soft memory with your mother. She’d always added a personal touch to her projects—a hidden stitch signature that wished good fortune on the wearer of the clothes.

It was a sweet, endearing token that physically embodied the kind soul your mother had. You’d come to admire it ever since you were a little girl.

Knowing it was there on the clothes she sewed for you had always made you feel special, safe, loved—no matter what anyone else thought or said. Even the cruelty of your classmates with their whispered remarks about your broken home and family, could never take that feeling away from you.

Now working on your own projects, you decided to follow in her footsteps, adding that same touching detail to the twins’ garments. The thought alone brought you a warmth you desperately needed in this moment of weakness.

Reaching for the scissors, it was then you realized you might have been wrong before.

So what if you had been born without cursed energy? How was it your fault that you'd been born an ordinary monk—no. 

Not monkey. 

A person.

Damn it. 

An ordinary person!

Ssssnip.

With a life before all this. 

Ssssnip. 

With people you loved, and people who loved you back.

Ssssnip. 

And no matter what he did or threatened, he did not get to decide how you felt or what remained of you.

Ssssnip. 

As you cut away the final excess threads, you firmly reclaimed your resolve.

Not yet.

He would not break you yet—just as your bullies had not all those many years ago.

Because you still had people to live for.

And until your very last breath, you would keep trying to find your way back to them.

Even if you had to return to them as a different person altogether.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

December 14, 2016.

Time rests for no one, much less you. 

Another three months had passed, which meant you'd been trapped here for over six very long months.

Half a year had come and gone like nothing.

And with no real hope to escape or be rescued, all you could do was keep complying in the meantime.  

Day after day, you did what he asked of you. 

It was strange how things had gotten to be almost routine-like.

From the rise of the sun, you had your duties to fulfill—tasks he’d given you and expected to be completed without complaint or error. 

But you're only human. You made mistakes, and they’d started to cost you. And what was the price? Your flesh, your sanity.

Somehow, someway, your body had even grown accustomed to that—his touch, his advances, his perversions.

But the punishments weren't always sexual in nature. Sometimes he'd keep you locked in your room for days with only his cursed spirits for company. The isolation made you desperate for human contact—we ‘monkeys’ are a social species, after all. 

Ugh.

You’d done it again. 

It was frustrating how you’d come to acquire some of his tendencies, down to the derogatory and demeaning words you’d once despised hearing—let alone using.

Each time you caught yourself, you tried to correct it, but this slip of the tongue was happening more frequently than you cared to admit.

Too bad these mishaps hadn’t spared you from any of his reprimands, including the ones that crossed into the sexual domain—such discipline ranged from stinging spankings to the bite of shibari ropes against your skin.

And over your time here, he’d become disturbingly adept at binding you, suspending you in midair, and reducing you to little more than a vessel for his pleasure. 

It was almost morbidly fascinating how he had come to turn his darkest appetites into an art form—one designed solely to remind you of your place in his hierarchy of worth after every one of your minor mistakes. 

Or after every month you failed to fulfill your most important duty: falling pregnant. 

And fail you had, again and again, for six months in a row.  

Because of this, a new endeavor had been added to your list of responsibilities. You braced yourself for it now, drawing a steadying breath in anticipation of the burning sensation to come from the edge of a needle. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, your mind wandered unwillingly to another kind of pain—one tied to his recent fondness for what he called ‘suspended lessons.’

Blindfolded, bound in ropes, and hoisted off the ground, your body had hung face-down, ass-up, arms pinned behind you in intricate knots while cords bit into your thighs and hips, holding your legs aloft. The position wrenched at your shoulders and dragged at your chest until even breathing felt like a form of penance. Worse still was the way it left you on full display, exposed and humiliated for his enjoyment—every sway of the ropes reminding you of just how little control you had, how completely he'd come to own you.

And he made sure you understood that with his words, too. Going as far as requiring for you to memorize his creed and to recite it back to him when prompted.

“D-death for f-fools… puni-shment for the wea-kk… and love o-only for the s-strong,” you managed to mutter through a shallow, strained breath.

“That's right. And which one do you fall under?”

“T-he w-weak.”

“Indeed, because you were born imperfect,” he'd said, voice maddeningly calm while he circled your naked, vulnerable body—like a vulture admiring its next meal. 

“Born a little insect without cursed energy—” he continued as the slow cadence of his steps echoed through the room with a measured tap, tap, tap. You'd desperately listened for each one, helplessly turning your head toward the sound even as the movement pulled painfully at the ropes biting into your shoulders. 

“—crawling along, wasting life itself.”

He'd walked around you again and again, until the sound of his footsteps abruptly ceased, leaving you with nothing but silence.

The deafening quiet was worse than his predator-like pacing because it left you lost, disoriented, and painfully unaware of his whereabouts. 

Just where the hell was he? Oh god—had he left you here like this? 

Panic set in and clawed up your spine as you began to thrash against the restraints.

“M-mas-ter?” you whimpered, your pulse racing at the thought of being abandoned and suspended like this for the night.

Seconds later, you received your answer in the form of a sudden rustle behind you.

It was the unmistakable sound of his clothing being stripped away and haphazardly discarded onto the floor.  

Then came the harsh grip of his right hand on your tired hips, his fingers lacing themselves into the ropes there, pulling your dangling body towards him as his other hand was busy positioning himself to take you. 

You'd tried to beg for him to stop, only managing several hoarse ‘waits’ in between ragged breaths. He'd heartlessly chuckled in response. “Weren't you just calling for me earlier? No, we can't stop now, bug. I still need to teach you your lesson.”

You felt him slip into your sex then, filling you up slowly, patiently, until all of him was inside you, right down to his thick base. 

He'd allowed you to adjust to him, even if only for a few seconds. It was a momentary lapse, a fleeting mercy that he so easily erased and you so quickly forgot in the next instant. Pulling his hips all the way back, he’d greedily thrusted into you, once, twice, thrice before continuing his sanctimonious sermon. 

“You were nothing until I chose you,” he hissed out past gritted teeth. “Gave you a purpose—” he continued, his hands grabbing at the marked, plump fat of both your hips, pushing into you at an unforgiving pace that made breathing an almost impossible task on your part now. 

“fuck—and a place in the world I intend to forge.” He grunted, and you breathlessly whined as your body betrayed you, giving way to the pleasure in the pain of it all.

“Repeat it. Repeat what I just told you,” he instructed as his palm came down on the flesh of your ass, his hips still rutting in and out of you like an animal in heat.  

“Iwasn'thing” you wheezed, your words slurring together. 

“Nopurpose,”

“Noplacen’yourworl.” 

Ssmmaackkkkk.

Another spank landed clean on your defiled body, making you squeeze and squeak out the final piece of the puzzle, “til’youmas-ter!”

“Then give me what I want,” he groaned, punctuating each phrase with a thrust harder than the last. “Get pregnant with my child, and show me—ngh—show me you deserve to be here alongside me.”

“Iw’ll, I’wll, I’will” you'd managed to yell out, the words an incoherent mess as the coil within you that had been building up, up, up burst free, bringing him along with you as he filled you to the brim. 

The humiliating memory and his words lingered in your mind, bitterly appropriate, as Tomoe pressed the fertility shot into your abdomen. It was the next step after pills had proven useless, an escalation in treatment you hadn’t been allowed to complain against or refuse.

The physician and nurses he’d hired for the clinic had already mapped out your treatment plan. Geto himself had made sure of it. You’d endure two weeks of daily injections, each one dragging you closer to the final trigger shot that would push your body into a hyperfertile state—a body primed for the bastard to use, over and over, until his efforts finally took.

“It's done, my lady,” she confirmed, carefully wiping the site one last time. 

“Thank you, Tomoe,” you muttered with a weary sigh as you pushed yourself upright from the bed.

“He’ll want to know your progress,” she continued, packing up the now-used kit and trash. “I’ll report that you haven't resisted. Just… keep to the course.”

All you could do was nod, eyes unfocused, staring forward at nothing in particular. 

“I'll go begin preparing breakfast. Excuse me, my lady.”

The sting in your abdomen lingered as Tomoe slipped quietly from the room, leaving you alone with a heavy silence before moving to start the tasks of the day.

Dawn began as it always did, with you quickly dressing yourself before tending to him. You delicately clothed Geto in his monk’s attire, smoothing each layer into place and tying every fastening with practiced care.

Next came his hair.

Each morning you washed it first, working in products the girls had handpicked for him. Gently, you coursed your fingers through the long, beautiful strands before moving on and using the jade comb his daughters had also gifted him. 

It yielded easily to your touch as you gathered the top portion and tied it back into a neat bun, leaving the rest to spill down his back like a silken curtain.

Of all the tasks expected of you, this was the only one you didn’t mind having to do.

“It's done, Master,” you said at last, your words almost identical to Tomoe's from earlier. 

Sitting at the vanity in your room, he examined your work in the mirror before turning towards you. 

“Not too tight this time. You’re learning.”

His eyes trailed down your body, settling on your stomach—where he knew the injection had been administered earlier.

“How was it this morning?”

You decided to be honest. 

“…Like fire under my skin. But I'll get used to it.” 

He reached out, fingers curling lightly around your forearm—not gently or harshly, but with a firmness that signaled some level of concern. Like the kind of touch meant to comfort a loved one. But it felt so wrong coming from this deranged man.

“If it gets worse, you’ll tell me,” he said. “There's no point if it does more harm than good."

“I'll be sure to,” you replied. 

He let go of your arm and rose from the chair, closing the distance between the two of you. Invading your space even further, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear before tilting your chin upward in his grasp. The kiss that followed almost felt sweet—the kind a husband might give his wife before heading off to work.

When he pulled back, a single word left him, one that was low and assured of your compliance. 

“Good.” 

He claimed your lips again, leaning deeper into it this time. You closed your eyes, quietly accepting it as his hands slid to your waist, pressing you closer against him still. 

Was he already aroused? You hadn't done anything to solicit such a reaction. But it didn't surprise you either. He'd proven just how insatiable he was these past months. 

The one mercy to come out of this treatment was that it forced some measure of restraint on him. Lest he risk ruining the procedure, he couldn't be too rough with you—doctor's orders. Given his ravenous appetite, you'd expected him to be frustrated. These tight holds and fervent kisses were a testament to that.

You slowly opened your eyes as you felt him pull back. The feral look he gave you only confirmed your suspicion—his self-control was already hanging on by a thread. 

And it had only been three days. 

“If today wasn't so busy, I might have taken you right now, pet,” he muttered before pressing his lips against yours for a third time, his tongue sneaking into your mouth.

‘Ah. So it was pet for the day, huh? Good to know. That meant he was in a better mood than usual.’ The thought flickered through your mind as you let out a pitiful noise, one that only spurred him on. The tame grip he'd had on your hips tightened into something vice-like, desperate. You even felt him grind his hips against you several times as the kiss grew more heated.  

But before things passed the point of no return, he pulled back and loosened his hold—just enough to catch your blushing expression.  

A wicked smile tugged at his lips before he leaned down and nipped at your neck, drawing in your scent with a slow, deliberate breath. Goosebumps prickled across your skin, arousal threatening to surface, but you forced yourself to ignore it—to go against how you’d been conditioned to react to his advances.

“It's really too bad,” he murmured against your skin with a sigh, finally releasing you from his grasp and moving away. 

“But we shouldn’t anyway. Not until that’s finished,” he concluded, pointing towards your stomach.  

You almost apologized to him out of instinct, but caught yourself. Instead, you remained silent, still slowly catching your breath after his invasive kisses. 

Observing him, you watched as he readjusted his robe with careful attention to one area. 

Was he trying to compose himself, too? 

You supposed that made sense after what he'd just done.

Not a moment later, his gaze flicked from you to the clock sitting on your vanity—a telltale sign that he was ready to leave your quarters. 

Noticing this, you moved towards the door, sliding it open as he walked through and spoke. “Suda will brief me first. Then I'll join you for breakfast. I expect you to accompany me somewhere after.”

“Yes, Master,” you replied, following closely behind him. Bolstered by the fact he’d called you ‘pet’ earlier, you felt brave enough to push further, “...might I ask where we're going?” 

“You'll see,” was the only response you got in return.

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Ever since he'd left Jujutsu High to forge his own path, he'd made sure to make time for his girls. Never forgetting where they came from, nor how they were treated by the monkeys in that village. Their abuse had been the last straw—the deciding factor that sent him diverging from his future as a jujutsu sorcerer. 

They were the core of his chosen family, and tending to them was a wholehearted priority. It's why he spoiled them to no end, why he had made it a point to schedule an entire day to spend with them at least once a month.

That had not changed even with your arrival.

Which is why he was more than surprised when Mimiko and Nanako requested your presence at their next planned outing. 

Apparently, you had won them over with the outfits you’d personally sewn and handcrafted for them. From what he'd been told, your knowledge of past trends and newer technology had also worked in your favor.    

No, despite all your other shortcomings, the maternal care you showed the girls—and the genuine friendship you had formed with them—was reason enough for him to indulge their sudden request and allow you to accompany them.

And so, for this particular outing, the girls had their heart set on one destination: Harajuku’s infamous Kawaii Monster Café.

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As you entered the establishment, the hostess declared to the four of you that you were now inside the belly of a monster.

Immediately, the place was an assault on the senses, and that was putting it mildly. 

It was a riot of colorful neon lights and warped sculptures that spilled across almost every surface, as if a child's wildest fever dream had escaped their mind and taken physical form. Oversized sweets and animal heads in garish hues hung from the ceiling, while kaleidoscopic patterns bled across the walls and floor—not even the bathroom was spared from this whirlpool of color and bizarre array of fixtures. 

At the center sat a massively pink and cake-shaped stage decorated with white frosting, sprinkles, and other whimsical ornaments—like a pair of cherries, a mad hatter's top hat, and a white rabbit with blood red eyes. The fixture even moved, spinning slowly like a carousel under the glow of rainbow lights and a ceiling reminiscent of a disco ball. As it turns out, performers in eccentric Harajuku-style fashion would take the stage at intervals, adding to the chaotic ambiance of the place.

Truly, every aspect of the establishment seemed designed to overwhelm, to dazzle, to smother reality in a haze of saccharine fantasy.

He noted how quickly Mimiko and Nanako took to it, their eyes wide with delight as they pointed out the bizarre decor and debated what colorful monstrosity to order from the digital menu.

“We can get one of everything if it's too hard a choice,” he declared, much to his girls’ delight. 

Their joy was infectious, spilling over like it always did when he took them someplace new they'd wanted to try. Even he found himself smiling as he watched them from across the table. To see them happy was worth enduring this spectacle of excess and the disgusting monkeys who managed it.

And then there was you.

To anyone else, you might have looked as charmed as the twins—smiling when they did, leaning in when they beckoned you closer to admire the details, or taking their picture when asked. 

But not him. 

No, Geto saw past this surface-level performance. He could see the tension in your shoulders, the ever-so-slight stiffness in your laughter, and the flicker of unease in your gaze whenever a hostess came around or a server set down a plate of fluorescently colored food on the table.

He knew why.

He had warned you before leaving the estate: one false step, one hint of defiance, and the consequences of your actions would be severe—worse still, if you ruined his daughters’ outing. 

In the same breath, he’d made sure to explain, in gruesome detail, what would become of anyone foolish enough to help you, should you dare solicit a monkey’s help while out in the world.

The look on your face then had told him you understood the conditions of this privilege.

Seeing beyond your nerves and fear now, he could tell you were just grateful to be somewhere, anywhere other than the estate. You wouldn't try running away or asking for help, of that he was completely certain. 

With that settled in his mind, he let himself relax, focusing instead on making the day one to remember for Mimiko and Nanako.

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It was a sight to behold, this spectacle of lights, over-the-top interior, colorful food, and surreal entertainment. 

You could tell Mimiko and Nanako were having a great time. Especially when they were taken on stage by the performers, striking poses of their own and dancing along with the music. You made sure to capture the special moment with Geto's camera, which he'd quickly snuck over to you.

You heard the shutter after each snap, collecting memories one after the other. 

Briefly glancing over to look at him for a moment, you noted the small furrow in his brows and his overly clenched jaw as he smiled and applauded along to the rhythm of the music.

It took everything in you not to laugh. 

‘Wow,’ you thought in disbelief as you witnessed the performance he was putting on. Somehow, watching a devil play pretend was much more entertaining than the professionals on stage. 

And as hard as he was trying, he couldn't fool you. 

Not one bit. 

No, you could still see the hatred he felt towards these innocent people in his eyes—and the intensity of it only worsened the closer they got to the twins.

Click. SshhhTk. Click.

Refoucsing, you continued to snap several pictures of Mimiko and Nanako when a mischievous idea popped into your head.

It wasn’t a malicious idea. It seemed rather harmless, actually.  

But if it earned you trouble later, you could always claim the girls might want to see their wonderfully supportive father captured on film—just in case they’d missed it while on stage. That was a solid, plausible excuse he couldn't easily dismiss. 

Anyway, he’d wanted you to take pictures to relive the memory later, right? Why else would he have handed you the camera in the first place? 

No longer resisting the urge and fully convinced of your safeguard, you turned the lens towards him and pressed down on the trigger, taking a clear picture of him before fully returning your attention back to the girls.

From the corner of your eye, you noted that his smile had faltered slightly after realizing what you’d done. Already armed with your excuse, you expected him to say something—but he didn’t. Instead, his focus remained fixed on the twins, even as his patience with the performers wore paper-thin.

For their sake and safety, you quickly took the remaining pictures and signaled to the girls that it might be time to return to the table.

To his credit, he had tried to hide the grimace as they made their way back, but it was still there plain as day to you. 

“Did you two enjoy yourselves?” he asked. 

“Yes, it was so fun~” Nanako squealed. 

“Thank you for bringing us here,” Mimiko added, smiling.  

Despite your hyperawareness of his moods, there was no denying how much of an attentive and loving father he was with them. It truly was the only part of him that wasn't a nightmare.

“Did you see when we made a heart with our hands, Geto-sama?” Mimiko asked.

“I did, hopefully my pet caught it, so we can print it for your scrapbooks,” he replied, tilting his head at you in question.

You began searching for the pose, quickly clicking through the many shots you took. Luckily, you found several images that met the criteria—god, that was a relief.

“I got a few different angles,” you confirmed, nodding at Geto.    

“Oh, yay! Thanks, Y/n.” Nanako responded. 

“Geto slipped the camera to me, so it's really thanks to him,” you decided to say, not wanting to take credit. 

It was then that they turned back to him and cheerfully continued to share their experience of the place thus far.

You couldn’t help but watch and listen to them, much like the first time they’d caught your attention.

And a familiar sting gathered behind your eyes as you did.

You’d always been weak to scenes like this with fathers—whether on a movie screen or right in front of you. How was it possible that you were still yearning for it after all these years?

‘I guess some trauma truly never heals, does it?’ you thought to yourself, taking a slow sip of your drink, trying to will the feeling down when a more frightening thought perverted your longing into something dangerous. ‘At least your child wouldn't have to grow up feeling like this…’

It nearly made you choke, sending you into a short coughing fit. 

You covered your mouth quickly, ashamed and terrified you’d even let yourself think something like that.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” Mimiko asked, patting your back. 

You smiled and nodded reassuringly, “I'm okay.”

“Then we’ll be right back,” you then heard them say as they walked off to the bathroom.

In the same instant, a waitress came by to pick up some empty plates, commenting on how lovely the twins looked up on stage.

“Thank you,” you’d heard him reply with the same fake smile and clenched jaw. 

You'd heeded his warning thus far, but deep down there was a voice screaming inside you to ‘just do SOMETHING!’ 

Tell her. Tell someone. 

Scream. Cry. Beg.

He couldn't kill everyone here and get away with it! Could he? 

‘Yes,’ you gulped as the thought took root in your mind. ‘Yes, he could, and he wouldn't even flinch doing so.’ 

No, now wasn't the time. 

You couldn't do that to the girls anyway. They'd warmed up to you now, and that connection was worth protecting even if you knew their loyalty to Geto would never falter. 

Plus, this poor waitress didn’t deserve to be murdered for your sake. 

In the midst of the interaction and your quiet defeat, a shadowy figure on the ceiling caught your eye as it followed Mimiko and Nanako to the bathroom. 

“Is that one of your things following the girls?” you asked, staring directly at it before glancing back at Geto.

“Cursed spirit,” he corrected you. “It's just a precaution. Can't be too careful with all these monkeys around.”

“You don't have to explain the dangers to me. I'm more than aware,” you replied with a rather sarcastic tone—even surprising yourself with your sudden, stupid boldness. 

‘What are you doing?’ you asked yourself as you listened for his response, hoping he wouldn’t punish you before returning to that cage he called a home.   

He chuckled dryly. “Feeling brave today, are we, pet? But I suppose you're right. You would know about the perils of strangers.”

Bastard.

You changed the subject to something less tense, feeling relieved that he had let your behavior slide and, at the same time, annoyed by his pointed slight.

“This place is different.”

He tsked, balancing his chin on his knuckles as he looked around. “Different isn't the word I'd use. More like egregious or tacky.”

“Well, at least the girls seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“Mm. That is what matters the most,” he grinned as the establishment's music filled the silence the twins had left behind. “By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice the picture you took of me,” he added then.

“I wasn’t trying to hide the fact that I did,” you replied.

“Is that so? Then why did you take it so quickly before?”

“I just thought the girls would appreciate a picture of you enjoying yourself while they were on stage,” you answered, “but I didn’t want to miss anything with them either, so I moved fast.”

“Hmph, I see we’re feeling clever today as well,” he smirked at you before looking away. 

“Was I wrong to do so?” you pressed.  

“I suppose not,” he plainly replied, yawning lightly into his fist.  

The music swelled between you once more, garish and intrusive in the short pause that followed before you spoke up.

“Did you enjoy the food?” you ventured.

“No. It was mediocre at best and far too sweet.”

“It was a bit too sweet for my taste as well…” you trailed off, mind drifting to another time, another person in your life that would’ve loved it here—and who you’d probably never see again. 

‘Had that goof been here before?’ You considered. Given the menu and his constant traveling across Japan, it was possible. 

Without realizing it, you began to smile as you wondered what he was up to out there in the world… and if he ever thought about you like this.

Oh, how you’d come to miss him and his silly, sometimes over-the-top antics.  

It was then that Geto interrupted your thoughts with a sudden question. 

“Tell me. Would you have ever visited this place before? I can see the appeal for teenagers or tourists, but not much for anyone else.”

“Maybe for the experience, or someone with a sweet tooth,” you replied, giving as little information as possible despite the lingering images in your mind.  

“Like who?”

His query stunned you for a second as you looked directly at him in an attempt to gauge the reasoning behind it. 

Was this some kind of a trap to catch you in a lie? Or to gain information to further threaten you with?

Either way, it was better to err on the side of caution with your answer. 

“A coworker or my mother,” you replied, looking down at your half-eaten plate of food and avoiding his piercing gaze. 

“Mm. I can’t picture any of the people I saw you with ever being interested in this place,” he remarked, leaning back in his seat while continuing to stare at you. “And from what you’ve told me, your rather traditional mother would be no exception.”

You tried steadying your trembling breath as you spoke your next words. “Perhaps it was just a lapse in my memory. It has been a while since I’ve seen them all.”

He chuckled, the sound low and chilling. “Or perhaps it's an old lover you’re trying to protect from me.” 

‘Fuck, how had he figured it out?’ You thought, trying to calm the growing panic in your heart. As if reading your mind, he gave you the answer. 

“You can try to hold back your emotions all you want now, but that filthy smile from earlier already betrayed you. I know it wasn’t meant for me.”

“No- master- I wasn’t-” you frantically began trying to plead your case when he quickly silenced you. 

“Enough,” he raised the palm of his hand in the air. “I’ll deal with this and you later. The girls are on their way back. You’d best continue as you were before they left.”       

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He'd tried his best to follow his own advice, acting as if he wasn't furious with you in front of the girls. The last thing he wanted was to be the one to ruin their quality time together. 

But it seems you'd forgotten who you belonged to, if only for a brief moment, when he caught you smiling like a woman in love from across the table. 

Such a display of affection would've been permissible if it had been directed towards him. 

Unfortunately, he knew that wasn't the case. 

It was the lack of fear in your eyes that gave you away, the ease in your expression that fully confirmed it had been meant for someone else.

Someone from your past. 

Someone he'd somehow missed during his investigations. During his stalking of you. 

Picturing you writhing around with a worthless monkey made his blood boil and twisted his insides into knots. He hadn’t cared if you weren’t a virgin before. Hell, he still didn’t, as long as you were his now. But you’d thought about that piece of filth right in front of his eyes. 

Even after the two of you had been getting along…

After he’d allowed you this indulgence and all your brave, insolent remarks.

What a nuisance—what a little problem you were turning out to be again.  

Sighing quietly, he excused himself to the bathroom, hoping that getting away from you for a moment might help him calm down.  

Once there, he braced his hands against the sink and bent forward, water running cold as he splashed it over his face in an attempt to cool himself down further. 

When he finally looked up, his reflection stared back at him. Jaw clenched. Eyes dark. The irony of the juxtaposition against the whimsical decor almost made him scoff as he ran one hand up to slick back his hair, pressing his fingers into his brow.

No amount of distance or cold water would change the anger simmering beneath his skin. 

And the only solace he found was in the punishments he'd already begun planning for you once back at the compound.

A quiet laugh slipped past his lips as he stared at his disheveled state in the mirror, low and disbelieving.

“Is this what betrayal feels like?” he muttered to himself. 

How dare you make him feel this way.

How fucking dare you make him jealous of a monkey.

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After the girls had purchased a few souvenirs and merchandise from the establishment, they requested a tour of a nearby park—it had become quite a hot spot due to its thriving food truck market.

He obliged their request, grabbing hold of your hand the moment you all arrived at Yoyogi Park. 

It wasn't a romantic gesture—his grip was harsh, deliberately meant to cause you discomfort and remind you of the trouble you were in for later. You understood that immediately, and continued your best efforts to act like nothing was awry between you two.    

He’d only loosen his hold when the girls asked for something from either of you—like a photo with him.

You’d just raised the camera, focusing the lens on their smiling faces, when a voice spoke from behind you.

“Y/n?”

You stiffened, clicking on the trigger button and turning toward him after completing the task given. 

The man squinted at you before his face lit up with recognition. “Sorry for stopping you like this, but… it really is you, isn’t it?”

“Ah- Mr. Yamamoto. It’s good to see you,” you replied, forcing politeness into your tone. 

“How’ve you been? It’s been so long. Are you still with Shinwa Corp?”

“No, I’m not working there anymore. I resigned to—”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Geto already heading in your direction, cursed spirits unfurling around you and your former coworker—not that the poor man could see or sense any of them. 

Desperate to de-escalate the situation, you immediately reached for Geto’s arm as he caught up to you.  

“—to start my life with my husband and my stepdaughters. Please allow me to introduce you,” you bowed respectfully. 

“This is Mr. Yamamoto,” you added, voice steady despite the tension, “a former colleague of mine.”

Yamamoto’s eyes flicked between the two of you, then he smiled, visibly overjoyed on your behalf. “Oh, congratulations,” he said warmly. “I can already tell you two make a wonderful couple. Are those your stepdaughters over there, then Y/n?”

Hah. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Thank you. Yes, those are my two daughters. We should be getting back to them, actually, if you don’t mind,” Geto replied, returning the smile while his hand moved from your grasp and settled possessively at your side. 

“Oh, I apologize for interrupting your family outing. Please continue enjoying yourselves. Email me, y/n, and perhaps we can arrange a dinner with my wife to catch up properly.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Mr. Yamamoto,” you nodded, bowing slightly as he walked away.

“I’m sorry, master,” you whispered as soon as it was just the two of you again, your whole body trembling against his tightening grip. 

“Don’t start that up again,” he murmured, eyes furrowing in annoyance. “If the girls notice your nerves, it’ll be worse for you later. Best behave, bug.”

‘I guess we’re back to being a bug today…’ you sadly thought as you forced a smile while walking towards Mimiko and Nanako, who were happily enjoying one of the many treats from the food trucks nearby.

“Geto-sama, Y/n, we saved some for you!” Nanako relayed. 

“Yes, you must try this one, too. We thought you’d like the flavor,” Mimiko added, less vibrantly, as that was her nature.

“Of course, we'll try whatever you want us to,” he cheerily replied, letting go of you to join them.

‘Well, at least they’re still happy and enjoying the day…’ you thought as they handed over the snack to you. 

Taking a small bite, you felt the chilly breeze brush past you then, lifting your hair from your shoulders. You closed your eyes and tried to memorize the feeling, unsure if you’d ever be allowed to feel it again after today.  

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Husband, you had said?

The word had almost made him laugh in the moment—and even now, as he replayed it in his head he felt tempted to do so. 

How could you say it so easily after thinking about someone else only an hour before the fact?  

He grunted, throwing the potted plant on his desk against the wall in his jealous rage. It shattered into pieces in much the same way as you’d made him feel. 

This was the second time he’d been forced to comply with the title because of a monkey. If you hadn’t ruined things earlier, he might’ve entertained it again. Possibly even enjoyed it. 

But not today. Not when you’d more than earned yourself his wrath, albeit restrained due to your treatments.

He would’ve kept you strung up in his room all night if not for that.  

Nonetheless, he’d already decided what he should do with you.

And he hoped it would be enough to placate his warring emotions.    

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You followed a step behind him, head hung low in fear for yourself. 

Even as you entered his room, you dared not look up. Instead, you waited by the door, cautiously listening for his command—it was better not to anger him further.

A sudden, dull thud echoed across the floor, which made you flinch in place. 

“Look at me,” he stated, voice devoid of any chance of mercy. 

Raising your head, he slowly came into your view. There he was, seated on the edge of his bed, postured deliberately with his legs spread. A pillow lay on the floor beneath him, positioned directly between his thighs. You realized then that it had been the source of the sound from a moment ago.  

“Come kneel before me,” he instructed, his stare never wavering from you as you fulfilled his wish and obeyed.

Your wobbly knees sank onto the pillow below him as his hands rose to your face—one cupped your cheek while the other threaded into your hair. Tightening his grip until it stung, he pulled your head back enough to force your gaze up at him before lowering his own down toward you.

His thumb brushed against your lips, lingering there before he pressed down, parting them open.

“That mouth of yours needs to be reminded who it belongs to.” 

You didn’t know whether or not to speak, so you said nothing—only lifting your watery eyes to him in response.

But even that soft, trembling look seemed to irritate him.

You watched as his eyes narrowed, gaze fixed on you with a chilling focus that made it clear he intended to make you pay for your transgression.

“Undress me.”

You didn’t know if he meant entirely, robe and all. But you were too frightened to ask for clarification. 

Nonetheless, you had to do something, so you slowly raised your hands from your lap to the waistband of his pants.  

“Did you think calling me your husband would save you from this?” he asked as you blindly fumbled with the buttons, hands shaking despite his hold. “Answer me.”

“No, Master.”

“Then why say it?”

“I didn't want him to suspect anything, master,” you whimpered. 

He laughed dryly before his tone darkened as he continued. “It wouldn't have mattered even if he had. I have no leniency for monkeys or loose ends. And he was both.”

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer as the reality of Mr. Yamamoto’s fate settled in. 

What a fool you were for thinking that you might have saved your unsuspecting coworker. His poor wife. 

“Did you really think I would spare him?” He clicked his tongue. “Tsk. I’m disappointed. You should know better by now.”

As if mocking you further, he brushed away some of the tears running down your face. “I bet that monkey you were thinking about never made you cry like this, did he?”

Looking at him in a tear-laden haze, you once again said nothing in return as your hands continued at their task. 

Inside though, you answered with a shout. 

‘Of course not! He isn't a monster like you!’  

The external silence you presented him with was neither a yes or a no, but he understood what you meant by it anyway.  

His lips slowly curved into a knowing, sordid smile. “Good,” he murmured, eyes dark with satisfaction. “Then just like you, these tears are all mine.”

He kissed you then, lips crashing into yours with anger, with jealousy, and something else that felt dangerously close to disdain.

Even so, you felt him become aroused beneath your shaky hands as his cock sprang free from the confines of his clothes that you’d just fully undone. 

It was obvious then what was expected of you, what your punishment for daring to daydream about anyone else would be. 

How naïve you had been to think that a mere doctor's words held more power than that of Suguru Geto's—if he wanted you, be it for pain or pleasure, then he would always find a way to have you.  

And there was no point in pretending otherwise, so you began dragging your hand down his length, stroking him slowly as he twitched in your grip. 

Your careful, delicate touches along his painfully hard cock drew a low groan from him, the sound muffled against your mouth before he pulled away and tugged your head down to where your hands were still working on him.

“Now open your mouth,” he commanded coldly. “And satisfy your master.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

December 15, 2016.

The sunlight streamed into your room from your window, announcing the start of a new day.

It brought you no comfort or solace as you pawed at your jaw with your palms, trying to ease some of the lingering ache and discomfort from yesterday’s ordeal. You still felt sore. Raw. Disgusting.

What was the point of surviving this again? You wondered aimlessly, caught in the same exhausting pattern—finding your resolve one day only to feel it thin again after one of his psychotic punishments.

On more than one occasion, you had felt yourself give up like this. Simply coming to terms with your fate—to live by his side as a breeding mare or die by his hand.

But if a simple, unguarded smile had cost you this, then perhaps death would be the better option of the two. 

What's more, Geto hadn't asked you for his identity yet. Whether that meant he was already searching without your help, or simply waiting to drag it out of you when it suited him, you didn’t know.

And that uncertainty was worse than any punishment he could inflict upon you. 

God, you couldn't handle another person's life on your conscience. Not after Mr.Yama- 

A knock at your door pulled you from your morbid thoughts as you lay there, still curled into the sheets, exhaustion clinging to you after everything that had happened the day before.

“Come in,” you called out softly.

You listened to the door open with someone’s footsteps following behind as it shut.

“My lady,” came the familiar voice of Tomoe, polite and impersonal as ever. “It’s time for your next treatment.”    

You looked up at the ceiling as the thought of giving your master a child crossed your mind once more. Even if it ensured your survival, you hoped and prayed these treatments never worked.  

Because your life wasn't worth that high of a price.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

December 21, 2016.

Nearing the trigger shot, he'd been acting almost remorseful for how he'd treated you the week prior. 

He'd given you flowers? Sweets? But no real apologies, of course. How could such fickle things make up for taking a life in your name, anyway. 

You tried not to take his niceties seriously or to heart. They were never real to begin with. 

But that was difficult to do when your days consisted of nothing but him or his daughters. 

It was no surprise then that you found yourself clinging to the scraps of kindness he offered, stuck in this cycle of abuse and conditioning. 

Perhaps it was simply a flaw of the human condition: to hope for a better tomorrow even when surrounded by darkness, and to seek comfort in the very abyss threatening to consume you.

What would happen if he ever stripped away the last of your faltering resilience?

You feared the truth to that nagging question. 

Would you break and fall in love with your captor? 

Would you fully accept his view of the world and forsake everyone you once knew—even your mother? Even him? 

Ever since that day in Harajuku, you dared not say his name in your own thoughts anymore for fear that Geto might be able to discover it somehow. 

But regardless of your trepidation, you'd kept thinking of your friend, your lover—maybe partly out of spite, or as a reminder that your ‘master’ had not broken you completely.   

It was incredible how a once-fleeting connection, equal parts friendship and physical intimacy, had morphed into something else entirely in your mind while you were trapped here. It was never that serious between the two of you, was it? Both of you had wanted it to be casual, right? You couldn't clearly recall anymore.

Even so, one thing was certain: the memories of your time together acted as quiet anchors to the real world, reminding you of who you had been before all of this horror.

And you weren't willing to give that up.

Not yet. 

Or maybe ever.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

December 28, 2016.

You never expected to receive a celebration here, amongst the others who were just like him—his so-called family. But it had been Nanako and Mimiko’s idea, and that alone meant there was no room for refusal from anyone, including Geto himself.

Suda, Negi, Miguel, and Larue would just have to play along, regardless of whatever feelings they held about having you around.

From what you could tell, Suda did not like you. Perhaps she was jealous of your position, or saw you as a thorn in Geto’s side. You weren't sure of the reason, but reciprocated her feelings nonetheless. 

Negi remained largely indifferent, so long as you did not interfere with Geto’s plans. Miguel didn’t seem to mind your presence at all, sometimes talking to you about trivial things like the weather. While Larue often regarded you as an extension of Geto—valuable only for the children you might one day bear for his “king”. 

You didn’t interact with any of them often, but when you did, it rarely ever felt entirely genuine. Something about it all just felt off. Disingenuous.

That sense of verisimilitude or wrongness wasn’t limited to just them; it also extended to Geto most of the time.

Really, the only times he ever came close to acting normal were on the days he asked you to call him by his name rather than master.

And usually it was during or before sexual acts, in the privacy of your bed or his.  

Such was the case on the day after your body had been made the most receptive—the final trigger shot already actively coursing through you as intended.

How strange it was that his questions about your favorite flavor of cake and colors came on the same day the two of you had spent entangled in his quarters—like lovers on their honeymoon, sealed away together with one perverse purpose.

His raspy whispers had traced along your neck as he asked them. You’d hesitated in giving him any responses, insisting that you did not deserve such privileges or luxuries. He’d laughed lowly as he trailed your shoulders with kisses, fully agreeing with you. Still, a celebration was what the girls wanted, and he refused to relent until he finally coaxed the answers out of you.         

At the end of that long night, he’d huffed out a remark that reaffirmed just how utterly fucked trapped you were here. “I hate thinking that you existed in this world for twenty-nine days without me. I'll make sure that never happens again.”

Were you to die with him then? Is that what he meant? The thought made you tremble in his arms. He'd only held you tighter in response. 

Despite the fear, you also felt an odd sense of déjà vu.  

‘Why had his words sounded so familiar?’ You wondered drifting off into sleep as exhaustion took over. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

January 5th, 2017 — Your Birthday.

Before the festivities began, Geto had called you to his room for a “surprise.”

You feared what it may be, but luckily it was nothing more than a beautiful kimono for the occasion. It had floral accents in a mixture of blue, green, and gold hues—a combination of your favorite color with his.  

“I hope it is to your liking.”

“O-of course it's beautiful—thank you, Master,” you replied, brushing your fingers across the fabric as it hung on a display in his room.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, turning your neck to look back up at him with one of his hands before lowering himself down to kiss you. 

“It'll look more beautiful on you,” he murmured against your lips. “Let me call for your maid, so we can get you dressed before the girls get impatient.”

“Yes, Master,” you replied as he kissed you a final time. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You’d been afraid to enjoy the festivities too much, but the twins’ smiling faces made it difficult to keep your guard up.

They were so excited to show you the reception room after dinner—where karaoke and their decorations unknowingly awaited—and you couldn't help but find their eagerness disarmingly endearing.

As you walked into the room, the only people gathered around the dining table were Geto’s family members. It made you slightly nervous as you sat next to him, composed and poised as ever. 

“I’m glad to see it fits you perfectly,” Suda commented, eyeing your kimono. 

“Yes, thankfully. Master Geto has really good taste,” you smiled, turning toward him slightly and placing your hand on his shoulder. You felt like one of those trophy wives with controlling husbands you used to see in movies.

How low had you fallen, huh? 

“I can’t take all the credit—it was a group effort across Mimiko, Nanako, and I,” he tilted his head toward the girls. 

“Oh, well, that makes it extra special then. I’ll cherish it,” you smiled at them. “Thank you, girls.” 

“We can’t wait for you to see the reception room,” Mimiko replied, giddily.  

The remainder of the dinner went smoothly enough after that, with his family easily pretending for a few hours that your ‘relationship’ with their cultish leader was something normal.

Though, the conversations held during the meal felt more like they flowed around you than included you. But that made sense in a way, you weren’t a sorcerer after all. So what could you contribute to such topics?  

Afterwards, there was a strawberry creme cake with twenty-six blue candles that you graciously blew out once lit by Geto. 

The act had drawn a round of congratulatory applause from everyone, and it almost felt like… you were becoming a part of this insane family, too. 

For fear of ruining the mood, you did your best not to dwell on the concerning thought. 

“Geto-sama, can we blindfold her before we head into the next room?” Nanako asked. “We want her to be really surprised,” Mimiko added behind her sister. 

“Of course we can,” Geto replied, looking over and down at you with a wicked smile. “Right, pet?” 

You simply nodded, trying not to remember how and why he usually did. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Okay, ready, Y/n?” Nanako asked as she and Mimiko guided you into the room. 

“Yes,” you giggled, regaining your balance from the lack of sight. They truly were adorable. 

“Alright, here it is~” 

They untied the blindfold and the reception room came into your view, which was lovingly decorated with various hues of blue and gold paper ornaments, lanterns, streamers, and honeycomb flowers. In the center, above the karaoke station was a banner accented with balloons that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/n!” 

Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes as you took everything in, noting how it all perfectly matched the kimono. Their sweet care to include your favorite color across the details made you smile—a truly genuine one at that. 

Grateful and more affected than you cared to admit, you’d made sure to thank them for all their efforts.

“If you're so grateful, then sing a song with us!” Nanako had demanded, with Mimiko insisting alongside her. 

How could you refuse them now?

Following the rhythm and lyrics displayed on the screen, your three singing voices could be heard echoing throughout the compound as Geto and his fellow companions sat and watched. He’d taken several photos with his camera before clapping along with the beat.

After the imperfect performance came to a close, they joyously applauded your combined efforts—more so for the girls you were sure. 

And it was then that Geto began asking everyone to gather together for a family photo. 

At that moment, Tomoe appeared with Geto's camera in hand, ready to take the picture.

Both you and Geto stood in the center of the frame, with you on his left and the girls on his right. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you close as the rest of his family positioned themselves around the four of you. 

You smiled when told to, the flash capturing a moment that would later look far more ordinary than it actually ever would be. 

“Now a cute one~” Nanako declared, giggling with Mimiko as they readied their poses together. 

All you did was raise your hand in the form of a peace sign, as Geto still held you. But a second before the shot was taken, he unexpectedly kissed you on the cheek. 

Why he had chosen to do so, you weren't sure. Was he trying to show off in front of his family maybe? But what purpose would that serve? It left you puzzled and annoyed, having thought you could read him better by now. 

Regardless, his actions had really caught you off guard. You only hoped you'd managed to stay smiling in the photo rather than giving a grimace.

After several other images were taken, he instructed Tomoe to have copies printed and made immediately. Some would be for the girls' scrapbooks, while one in particular was to be framed and displayed on the main wall of the meeting room—where everyone could see it and his happy family.

And unfortunately, it seemed, that included you now. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Before midnight and in the privacy of your room, he asked you what you’d like as a final gift for all the joy you’d brought Nanako and Mimiko. He said you'd earned it. 

You decided to answer, with little hope it would be granted anyway. 

“To send a letter to my mother, Master.” 

The look on his face told you he disliked the request, but you still pressed on anyway. 

“Please, master?” you said softly, tracing your fingers along his cheek. “I don’t even have to write it—anyone you appoint can. I just want something to tell her I’m well, so she isn’t out there worrying I’m missing. Or-” 

He caught your hand in that instant, pressing your palm to his lips before finishing the sentence for you, “or dead.” 

His eyes stayed on yours as he asked, almost too calmly, “what if I want her to think that?”

The tone of his voice remained the same as he offered a threat. “You wouldn’t like what I’d do to her if she started looking for you.” 

He didn’t need to spell it out. You already knew the horrors he was capable of.

The thoughts that followed were enough to make your stomach twist—your mother’s face flashing through your mind, helpless and unreachable as his cursed spirits tore her apart.

“Then,” you said quietly, swallowing hard and giving him what he wanted to hear instead, “tell her I’m dead. So she can mourn me and move on.”

“That,” he replied, a devilish smile curling across his face as he held your chin between his fingers, “I can do, pet.”

He leaned down and kissed you then, slow and unhurried, almost tender-like, which made it all the more disturbing in its context.

He wanted you dead to the world, only alive for him and his family. 

Selfish bastard. 

But maybe it was better this way, lest all the people you cared about or knew share the same fate as Mr. Yamamoto. 

“Thank you, master," was the only response you could muster without giving away your true feelings after he broke the kiss.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Late January 2017

The examination was thorough, clinical, and humiliating in a way you’d grown disturbingly accustomed to. 

It began simple enough, with the nurse drawing blood for a pregnancy test. But then came the more invasive procedures that left you exposed on the bed, with only a paper-thin gown to hide your shame and guard your dignity. 

Though… did you really have any left after your time here?  

You listened as the machine whirred to life before Dr. Takemi began to speak in measured tones while the nurse continued assisting him. 

A cold pressure followed, and you stiffened as the probe was positioned inside you. 

You forced yourself to lie still while the doctor continuously adjusted the angle, his attention fixed on the screen as he captured images and examined the internal state of your body. 

You tried your best not to wince during the ultrasound, but tears still pricked at the corners of your eyes as the procedure dragged on. Tomoe remained at your side, steady, silent, and waiting for an order from your master, who stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed. His presence felt so heavy in the room that it made you even more nervous.   

When it was finally over, the doctor cleared his throat and murmured something about needing to review the results further once the labs were completed. He asked Geto to step outside with him. 

Geto hadn’t spared a glance in your direction as he left. But you could tell from his posture alone that he was dissatisfied. 

That couldn’t be a good sign.

“We’re all done for the day, sweetheart. You did great,” the nurse reassured, gathering the portable sonogram machine to roll it out of your room. 

“You can help her get dressed again,” the nurse informed Tomoe before exiting.

As the door slid shut behind her, only you and Tomoe remained. 

She began helping you get cleaned up, undoing the fragile tie of the paper gown, and assisting you into your undergarments. 

All the while, your body felt hollow in the aftermath. 

Numb.   

You stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly as the weight of it all settled in. 

“It feels like I’m slowly losing my mind here,” you said at last, ridding the room of the awkward silence. How strange it was to hear yourself speak when your voice barely sounded like your own. 

“Do you think he’ll hate me now?”

Tomoe sighed.

Not quietly or discreetly, either. 

That alone was unusual. She was rarely anything but composed. Perhaps it was the first sign she wasn’t as devoid of emotion as she’d pretended to be throughout your time here—save for the day she’d shared her name with you.

“Might I be frank with you, my lady?”

You groggily nodded.

“The master will not hate you. He may be angry with the results, but it is obvious that his feelings for you are stronger than he lets on.”

“You’re wrong…” you murmured as she helped guide your arms into your sweater, her movements gentle and kind. “He’s threatened me with death multiple times. And if this doesn’t work then...” 

“I do not believe he will kill you,” she said quietly, smoothing your hair where it had fallen out of place. “Even if you never give him a child, I think he has become too attached to you to go through with it.”

A soft, broken laugh slipped past your lips before you could stop it, dissolving almost immediately into sobs as tears finally spilled freely down your face.

“Isn’t that worse if it's true?” you choked. 

Tomoe hesitated only a moment before sitting beside you on the bed. One arm came around your shoulders, her hand rubbing slow, steady circles against your back as your body shook beneath her touch.

“My lady,” she murmured, voice low and firm, “you must do what you have to in order to survive here. Do not burden yourself with guilt or fault for that.”

She reached for your hand then, lacing her fingers through yours before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Allow yourself to be taken with him if need be,” she continued softly. “And please remember this—”

Her grip tightened just slightly around your hand.

“You are not as alone as you think.”

“Thank you, Tomoe,” you whispered, squeezing her hand back as you met her gaze through tears, somehow managing a trembling smile despite yourself. “I'll remember.”

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By the first of February, he knew that the fertility regimen you'd undergone the previous month had been a failure. 

The doctor had warned him that this outcome—and even miscarriages—were common during the first few attempts with this treatment. 

“Subsequent trials should increase the procedure's cumulative success rate,” Dr. Takemi had assured him.   

All that was needed now, the doctor insistently emphasized, was patience, a greater understanding of the process, and an updated plan: 

First, to ensure optimal conditions for a second round of treatment, the doctor ordered a waiting period of four to six weeks, which totaled at least one full menstrual cycle. That was more than a month of wasted time in Geto’s mind, but he'd see it through. 

Second, he learned that elevated cortisol levels could negatively affect your fertility. Which meant, for the next few months, you needed to avoid stress as much as possible. 

Begrudgingly, he acknowledged the role he may have played in this setback and agreed to follow the protocols as instructed, even the ones that seemed impossible or downright impractical given the nature of your ‘relationship’.  

That meant he’d have to restrain himself from ravaging you at every whim once again. The very thought made his jaw tighten. Ugh. This delay, this entire timeline, would be torture. 

Third, as an added precaution, you were placed on bed rest and prescribed a strict diet for most of the second treatment cycle—with some exceptions, so long as the doctor allowed. 

Lastly, Dr. Takemi himself would administer the injections to avoid any potential errors that may have ensued in the first round.  

The physician’s proactive reaction and approach offered Geto a measure of reassurance. It seemed there was still some hope left that this method would soon succeed. 

Hope, however, was not infinite.

Nor did it satisfy his curiosities or needs.

And despite all the facts he'd learned, he was still furious and deeply disappointed that you'd failed him yet again.

Really, just how many more chances was he willing to give his little problem after this?

He knew it was something he had to consider even if he couldn't stomach the idea just yet.  

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To his credit, he’d attempted to conceal some of his disappointment and anger from you.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t maintain the act for long. 

But you'd probably have seen right through the façade even if he had tried harder. 

It didn’t matter to you anymore anyway.  

Ironically, what should have sounded alarm bells in your head for your own survival did quite the opposite. 

This failure had actually made you quite happy. Relieved. Grateful that nothing had come of it.

And you thanked whatever deity, whatever force of the universe, that had kept it from happening.

Even if it meant death loomed closer to you than ever before. 

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Trigger warnings (this list may grow as I continue to write the story):

• Abduction • Stalking • Possessive/yandere behavior • Mentions of breeding/forced pregnancy • Mentions of clinical, reproductive-related procedures (e.g., failed treatments, fertility treatments, injections, ultrasounds, miscarriage) • Pregnancy loss • Grief and mourning (e.g., funeral proceedings, angst, sadness) • Psychological manipulation/abuse • Murderous Intent • Canon-typical violence of JJK (e.g., Suguru killing useless 'monkeys', curses hurting/killing/eating people) • Non-con/dub-con • Past and present trauma (e.g., mentions of domestic violence in childhood) • Stockholm syndrome • Sexual coercion • Some bloody events (e.g., death, loss, medical trauma) • Bondage • Smut • 18+ • Minors, please do not read or interact with this story 🤺

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Tags:

The Third Justification, TTJ, Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader, Darkfic, Yandere Geto, Possessive Geto, Psychological Horror, Non-sorcerer Fem!Reader x Geto, Breeding/Forced Pregnancy, Murderous Intent, Coercion, Slow Mind Break, Non-con/dub-con, Smut, 18+, MDNI 🤺