Archive of Our Own

“And if mama asks what you did all day with daddy, what are you going to say?”

Sucking on his lollipop with some sort of stoic determination, Megumi gazes up at his father standing before him, his big wide eyes closely mirroring the ones his dad had in his youth.

“We spent all day at the arcade and daddy won me lots and lots of toys and sweets.”

“No—” Satoru covers his face with his hands, as he tries his best to conceal his outward frustration with ‘gumi. Suguru had already long schooled him on this, during the early years of raising Megumi; on the 101s of Good Parenting and not succumbing to quick temper when dealing with their son. And thank god for that, because despite how little he is, Megumi’s sensitivity is already akin to that of his mother’s. He’s more sensitive to things as compared to the average child, paying attention to all of the little things and swallowing all of the little jabs without ever voicing out the hurt that he feels, much like what his mother did—and still does—around Satoru.

And it will keep amassing until one day, it reaches a breaking point, and then it all goes… boom.

(Satoru would know. It happened with Suguru. And, in time to come, it could happen with Megumi, too.)

“‘gumi, we already practiced this. Daddy spent the day tutoring you on homework, and then let you watch some educational TV. You can’t tell your mama that I took you to the arcade and let you spend the day there, he’ll freak.”

“Hm,” Megumi says, still sucking diligently on his lollipop. “But I don’t like lying to mama. He trusts me.”

“Well, I don’t like lying to him either, but if he knows what I did with you today, he’s going to let me spend less time with you, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Megumi hurriedly shakes his head at that. Satoru’s a little relieved to see it. Despite Suguru’s current disdain for him, there is no doubt that he hasn’t let any of that frustration influence Megumi’s feelings about his own father. He has taken great care to only speak highly of Satoru in Megumi’s presence, and allows his son to love and appreciate his father in his own way; completely separate from how Suguru feels about Satoru as a—well, husband.

Despite the limited time he gets to spend with Megumi, it’s clear to him that his son cherishes every moment, and genuinely enjoys his time with his father. Megumi looks the most like him, anyway; with his spiky white hair and dark blue eyes, and so perhaps he is able to find familiarity and solace in his father's face. He has gotten his mother’s sarcasm and humour instead, along with his much more thoughtful and gentler demeanour. But if we’re talking about the face? It’s all Gojo. Satoru’s genetic legacy is undeniably strong in his son, and it’s already showing in the way Megumi so easily dominates in his classes at jujutsu high, his strong affinity with sorcery already surpassing all of the children his age.

Megumi’s a budding prodigy, like him. Satoru can tell.

“Well, now that we’re clear on that,” Satoru sighs, pulling the car door back open so he can reach in for Megumi’s school bag. “Before you go, is there something you’ve forgotten to give daddy?”

With a deadpan stare, Megumi confidently utters out: “A kiss.”

And Satoru feels so bad, he actually leans in just so his six-year-old son can peck him cutely on the cheek.

“Okay, but also… What else?”

“Hm,” Megumi actually takes some time to ponder over this. He sees the way Satoru tries to prompt him, jerking his head into the direction of Megumi’s red school bag, and finally remembers what exactly he owes his father.

“A diary of mama’s everyday activities!”

“Yes, yes,” Satoru sighs once more as Megumi unzips his school bag, and pulls out a little notebook. In it, he has meticulously documented every hour of his mother’s whereabouts and doings, at least to the best of his awareness. After all, Suguru doesn’t share every part of his life with Megumi, as he firmly believes that his son should be shielded from the darker aspects of his life. However, since he still spends a significant amount of time with his son, Megumi remains a reliable source of information on all the things that Suguru gets up to when he’s not with Satoru.

“Since the old one is all filled up, I’ve already placed a new notebook in your bag. You can start using that to record mama’s activities from today onwards.”

“Okay, daddy,” Megumi says. He’s still so young, and so terribly innocent. That’s the only reason he obediently listens to whatever Satoru tells him to do—for now. Once he gets a bit older and finally gains the ability to discern right from wrong, he might eventually realise how fucked up this situation really is and put his foot down on all the horrid things that Satoru gets him to do.

But until then, Satoru gets to benefit from his son’s obedience. Is it really so horrible though, to want to know what your wife gets up to when you’re away? They’re not even divorced yet; they’ve only just separated, really. Now that Suguru has firmly distanced himself from the jujutsu world, it's even harder for Satoru to keep track of what Suguru does in a life so far removed from him. At least, back when Suguru was still living at his estate, Satoru could always sense his presence no matter how far he roamed and have his many servants and nannies keep an eye on him. Satoru used to be able to protect him; to come to his aid the very second Suguru muttered Satoru’s name under his breath, and call for him in ways that showed he still trusted him.

Suguru doesn’t do that anymore. Suguru hasn’t called for his help, in a really long time now.

“Thank you, ‘gumi, you’re the best,” Satoru says, offering him a strained smile. Bending down, he awkwardly draws Megumi into a hug. “Daddy will miss you until he sees you again, okay?”

Megumi actually breaks through some of that stoicism that he learned from his mother, to beam up at his father. “I will miss you too, daddy.”

“Don’t forget to tell mama about how awesome you find daddy and how much you like hanging out with me, okay? The more good things you say about daddy, the more likely mama might agree to come back home.”

“Okay, daddy.”

Raising his gaze into the far distance, Satoru sees that Suguru hasn’t come down his apartment block to pick Megumi up yet, despite usually being on time. If Suguru’s feeling petty, he might even arrive even a few minutes earlier, just to retrieve Megumi back into his arms and make sure he doesn’t spend a second longer with his father beyond their allotted time. It’s no matter. Satoru greedily savours the five minutes that he gets with Suguru every week to catch up, even if Suguru might beg to differ. It’s mostly Satoru bombarding him with an endless list of questions that Suguru shrugs and makes low noises at, unwilling to divulge to him with information about his life beyond what is necessary. And during this brief window, Satoru likes to pick apart the Suguru that stands before him, scrutinising his outfit and the different ways his hair might be styled just so he can deduce whether Suguru has just returned from somewhere or has simply spent the day lounging in the big apartment that Satoru bought for him.

(Of course, the house where he and Megumi reside in now has received the endorsement of the Gojo clan, who would never allow anything to befall their only heir.)

Even if Suguru wants to run, he’s not allowed to run far. If he wishes to lead his own life separate from Satoru, so be it. But he’s only allowed to do so in an apartment subject to the Gojo clan’s approval, financed by their funds, and with monthly allowances provided by the clan.

Except, it’s all Satoru, really. Satoru conducts all of these checks, and signs off on everything that Suguru asks for—within reasonable limits. At times like these, he’s grateful for how unhinge and insane his clan gets about these things. He’s grateful that their rules, however unreasonable they may be, will mean that Suguru is bound to him, for the rest of their lives.

If Suguru wishes for a complete break from Satoru, he would have to sever ties with Megumi. And if he knows his wife, that’s never going to happen. Megumi means the world to him, and Suguru would sooner face the gravest consequences than be without his firstborn child.

“Seems like mama’s running late, something I’d never thought I’d ever see,” Satoru jokes. He had received his fair share of scoldings from Suguru in the past, back from when they were still students, where Suguru would always emphasise to him the importance of punctuality. “Well, we’ll just have to make fun of him about it later, won’t we?”

“You should stop making fun of mama, daddy, if you want mama to like you more,” Megumi thoughtfully suggests.

Satoru pulls a face. How was his six-year-old the one talking sense into him?! “You’re right,” Satoru abruptly clears his throat, straightening up. “We won’t make fun of mama. He’s probably held up with something really important, and it’s just something beyond his control. You won’t mind spending a few minutes more with me, won’t you, ‘gumi?”

“I’m okay, daddy. This way, I get to spend more time with you. I like spending time with you.”

Aw. His son is so awfully cute; Satoru doesn’t deserve him one bit.

Fifteen minutes in, however, impatience starts to gnaw away at Satoru. He has begun to wildly tap his foot, a bad habit Suguru has warned Megumi never to pick up, his stance buzzing with growing frustration and worry over Suguru’s non-appearance.

“He’s in danger,” Satoru immediately decides, aggressively throwing his hands up into the air. “He’s in danger, and I’m stuck here, with absolutely no clue where he is. ‘gumi, did mama tell you where he was going before this?”

“Papa, please calm down,” Megumi’s the calm one, speaking in reassuring tones whenever his father gets into his heated moods, much like how his mother used to always do for Satoru. “Mama will be fine. He never forgets about pick-up time. It’s his favourite part of the day.”

“So, you’re telling me he’s dead,” Satoru concludes, as he aggravatedly paces back and forth right next to his car. “You’re his favourite part of the day, and so he won’t miss this for the world. So, the only logical conclusion is: he’s dead.”

“Papa, mama’s going to be just fine. Mama takes really good care of himself. He knows he has to do that, so that he can be in a position to take good care of me.”

He’s right. He’s right. His son is right.

Suguru loves Megumi so fiercely that he would never allow himself to be compromised, as it would mean he couldn’t take care of his baby anymore. Trust Megumi to have come to this realisation even before Satoru did.

Satoru’s right eye twitches. “Hey, are you really six years old?”

Megumi chomps down on his big ass lollipop. “Mn.”

But Suguru is taking long enough that Satoru cannot help but worry, and he hurriedly reaches into his pockets for his phone anyway.

“I’ll just make a quick call to mama, and see what’s holding him back,” Satoru says, as he nervously tries to quell the frantic beating of his heart. “If he’s in need of any help, I need to go to him.”

Megumi knows there’s no easing his father’s anxiousness, even though he believes there’s nothing to worry about. “Okay, daddy.”

But just as Satoru dials Suguru’s number—he has had it memorised ever since he was fifteen—and raises his phone to his ear, the quiet rumbling of tires approaches, and a car very familiar to him stops a short distance in front of him.

Satoru watches as Suguru leans over from where he’s seated in the front, to peck the cheek of the man beside him quickly before stepping out of the car—dressed in rather skintight clothing.

Smokey eyeshadow. Hair done up with loose curls. Jeans that accentuate the shapely curves of his body.

Suguru has made himself up so beautifully, and it’s not for him.

“I really enjoyed my time today, thank you,” Suguru’s voice rings out, as melodious and smooth as he remembers, like a soft serenade caressing the air. He’s laughing, even, with gentle lines crinkling around his eyes, adding warmth to the soft contours of his face.

Satoru hasn’t been able to make Suguru laugh like that in a long time. The last time was… ah, Satoru can’t even remember anymore.

The last time might have been… when Megumi was born.

His entire being begins to tremble with the rage surging through him, as the horrifying piece of knowledge crashes upon him all at once:

Suguru is dating again.

And it’s not with him.

No, rather; it’s with the man whose face Satoru has to see every morning at work—the face that had nonchalantly greeted Satoru this morning as Satoru briefed him on his new mission, the same man who’d been there the entire time in the background when Satoru and Suguru had flirted during all of high school, while everyone else placed bets on their little game of “will they, won’t they”.

Nanami Kento. Seated in the driver’s seat, he delivers a plain nod to Satoru from a distance, lacking even the human decency to get out and speak with Satoru for the second time that day, clearly trying to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. He should have known better. How dare he greet Satoru at work with such a straight face and act as if nothing was wrong, when he’d been dating Suguru on the sly for... how long now? Was this a recent development? How long had this been going on for exactly?

Hadn’t Nanami been there when Satoru proudly declared Suguru his boyfriend for the first time, sneakily stealing kisses from him between classes with nothing but unabashed affection? Hadn’t Nanami visited them the very day Megumi was born, to offer the happy couple his heartiest congratulations? Hadn’t he even gifted them a small abacus, for baby Megumi to get a headstart on being inducted into the world of capitalism?

Hadn’t Nanami seen the way Satoru would hunch over the bathroom sink at work, grappling miserably with his tears and battling the harrowing thoughts that would overwhelm him sometimes—all because Suguru had left him?

Or did none of that matter to him?

Was fucking Suguru, his sweet, beautiful, perfect Suguru, way more important to him?

As Suguru turns his head to face the front, with silken strands of hair gracefully falling over his face, his beautiful smile instantly turns upside down the moment he catches Satoru in his sights.

Satoru doesn’t need it spelled out any clearer than this:

Gojo Satoru, you’ve been replaced.

Closing the car door gently, Suguru bids goodbye to his date, urging him to hurry back home—given the circumstances.

“I’ve got it from here,” Suguru tells Nanami. “You can say hi to Megumi another time.”

Hell, Megumi too?

His chest heaving with the weight of indignant fury, Satoru quickly pulls Megumi into his arms, defiantly asserting his role as his real father in this situation.

With another nod, Nanami departs without so much as offering Satoru another glance on his way out.

That fucking bastard. Satoru has to curl his hands into tight fists to restrain himself from blasting his ass with hollow purple.

Suguru, meanwhile, outstretches both arms as he eagerly approaches his son, happy to be finally reunited with him again.

“My baby!” Suguru calls so sweetly, breaking into an effortless smile as Megumi attempts to break free from Satoru’s grip and leap into his mother’s arms.

But Satoru is holding onto him so tight, not ready to let him go, his nails now unconsciously digging into the thin blades of Megumi’s small shoulders. Nanami has already gotten his hands on Suguru; he can’t be getting his hands on his son, too. He can’t be losing everyone he loves all at a go, nonono… What did Nanami have that he didn’t? What void does Nanami fill in Suguru's life, when Satoru has done his best to address all Suguru could ever need or desire in this life?

“Daddy, you’re hurting me!”

Satoru’s clenching is so tight, it’s starting to leave red marks on Megumi’s skin, even through the thick layer of his jacket.

“Hey, Satoru, stop it!” Suguru’s hissing always works miracles when it comes to snapping Satoru out of whatever daze he’s in.

Protectively pulling Megumi back into his grasp, Suguru checks to ensure that Megumi’s okay, furiously inspecting for any potential injuries with much concern.

Satoru doesn’t even know what to say. Every breath he takes feels punctuated by the sharp edges of resentment, but the second he lays his eyes on Suguru hugging their son, all of that anger directed towards the very love of his life, melts away.

How could Satoru ever stay mad at Suguru? Everytime their eyes lock, it’s as if Satoru’s seeing him for the very first time again, and his breath is once again taken away. Even if his heart breaks, and he’s left with nothing but the shards of a broken heart, none of that changes.

He’s still so desperately in love with Geto Suguru, and that will never change.

“You must have waited long for me, I’m so sorry, baby,” Suguru lovingly whispers to Megumi, as he gently cradles his pouty cheeks. “Mama was out and lost track of time, but I rushed home as quick as I could just to make sure I was here to get you.”

…Out and lost track of time?

Oh, now Suguru’s just plainly rubbing salt into the wound.

How much fun was he having with Nanami to be losing track of time? Suguru never loses track of time. For as long as Satoru has known him, he has always timed everything down to the last minute. Their missions, their dates, their son’s feeding times, how much time Satoru gets with Megumi each week.

And you mean to tell him, Suguru simply ‘lost track of time’?

Satoru’s not buying it. No way. For if Suguru was ever able to do such a thing, then why couldn’t he ever do so with Satoru?

Why did he have to choose Nanami to find happiness with?

And not Satoru?

“It’s okay, mama,” Megumi reassures him, ever the perfect son. “Daddy kept me company. We didn’t wait long. Besides, I won’t get to see daddy until next weekend. So, I’m glad to have had some extra time with him until then.”

Suguru’s gaze lowers upon hearing that, as if he’s burdened by some sense of guilt. As if he’s fully aware that he’s the reason why Megumi gets such little time with his father, that he’s the one thing preventing his son from having the happy, complete family he so desires.

“I might let you see daddy earlier than that,” Suguru kindly suggests, as though he’s doing them a favour. “Mama’s going to be busy the later half of this week, so I might get daddy to pick you up earlier.”

See, the thing about Suguru is that: he has ways of making you feel invisible, even though you’re just right there.

Satoru stands before him as though he‘s a ghost, not deemed worthy of recognition or even a greeting in the last ten minutes he’s been standing there.

But Satoru can’t stop, won’t stop the desperate love coursing through his veins.

“Where are you going?” His voice hoarsely creaks out, biting back on a hundred and a million other things that he wishes to say.

Suguru hardly offers him a glance. The soft and gentle tone he reserves for Megumi turns cold and icy when directed towards Satoru, like he could care less. “It’s none of your business. But if you’re agreeable, if you have the time, I’ll let you pick Megumi up on Thursday night.”

Bitterness coils in his stomach at the harshness of Suguru’s reply. Satoru feels pathetic even admitting, “You know I always have the time. I don’t have much going on apart from the two of you.”

“Well, I just wanted to check,” Suguru responds. “I know Yaga slips in the occasional week-long mission sometimes.”

“I always decline. I’ve stopped taking them ever since Megumi was born. You should already know that. You were the one who requested for it.”

“Well, I’m not in your life anymore,” and Suguru utters it with such casual indifference, so heartlessly, as if he didn’t even need to think twice, “So I wouldn’t know. Maybe you changed your mind.”

Satoru’s voice comes rushing in, a torrent of emotion that is both choked up and laden with pain, “I didn’t…I never changed my mind.”

But you did.

He’s no longer talking about the missions anymore.

But the both of them already know this.

The air around Satoru turns charged, as if the very atmosphere recoils from the force of his seething ire.

“I see,” is the only thing Suguru can counter with. Sensing Satoru is about to get into one of his foul moods again, Suguru straightens back up, grabs Megumi by the hand, and turns his back onto him. “It’s settled, then. We’ll see you Thursday night. Goodnight, Satoru.”

Just like that, Suguru wishes to walk away from him again, without so much as a ‘hey, how are you?’ or a ‘Thank you for caring for ‘gumi over the weekend, it was nice seeing you again’.

No warm peck on the cheek, unlike how Suguru sweetly bid farewell to Nanami.

Normally, Satoru would have taken it in stride. He would have swallowed his pride, tamped down on his frustrations, and accepted his defeat for the evening.

But not today. Not tonight. Especially not after being handed a colossal “fuck you” by the sight of Nanami and Suguru together in a car, sharing plenty of smiles and laughter as if the person standing on the other side of their glass window wasn’t hurting like death and stifling his tears to sleep every night.

If Satoru were to ever meet his death in this lifetime, it wouldn’t be by the hands of a formidable cursed spirit, or even another jujutsu sorcerer, no.

At this rate, it would be of a broken heart.

“Hey!” Satoru yells out in an angry and unfettered outburst, no longer able to ignore the resentment festering in him. Like a dam breaking, it all comes tumbling out of him, a cascade of angry accusations one after another: “What the hell? Is that all you’re leaving me with? I see you get out of a car with Nanami, and you expect me to pretend as if nothing is wrong? Suguru, aren’t I owed at least an explanation? I’m just a sperm donor that conveniently takes Megumi off your hands every now and then, is that it? Why stop at Thursday night? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick him up for the entire week, too? It’ll give you more time to sleep with other guys behind my back, won’t it?”

Oh, lord. He really went overboard with his words on this one. Yeah, he went way too far. But how could you expect him not to? He was hurting. Satoru’s really hurting. He’d thought he had it all under control, having Suguru live in his apartment, having Suguru live off his money, and speaking with Suguru once a week for their ‘five-minute catch-ups’.

They were separated, but so what? Satoru kept tabs on every part of Suguru’s life. Suguru’s not allowed to escape him. Suguru’s never allowed to escape him!

And now, you’re telling him it’s all for naught? That no matter what he did, Suguru would still never come back to him?

That he was still the piece of shit Suguru made him out to be back then—that Satoru would never be anything more?

No, no, no. Satoru’s not able to accept this. Satoru’s not willing to accept this, at all!

Suguru stares at him, beady eyes turned wide with horror, aghast at the careless words he’s unleashing right in front of their son. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between them, with Satoru’s accusations echoing in the charged silence, as Suguru contemplates what to do next.

“Satoru, you…” Suguru’s eyes fall to a close with his brows knitting in great dismay, as though to say: This time, you’ve really fucked up. With one hand massaging his temples, Suguru can’t even bear to look at Satoru in the eye. “Not in front of ‘gumi. Not like this.”

Satoru hastily takes a few steps forward, rushing up to him, with a voice that’s on the brink of tears and filled with such a desperate, dying plea: “Then, when? You won’t talk to me for longer than five minutes, and you won’t even spare me a moment of your day. I—I’m left clinging to mere fragments of you, memories of a Suguru whose existence I’m not even sure still exists. And now, you want me to go home tonight and replay the image of you getting out of his car, over and over again, until it kills me? Suguru, I’ve never asked you this before, but are you intentionally trying to kill me? Would you prefer for me to die? Would you be far happier that way? If I ceased to exist?!”

His explosive frustrations might have been enough to frighten any other child, but Megumi is different. He knows his father, and that meant he knew his father’s heart so keenly.

He knows the only reason his father is acting like this is because he’s in great pain; it’s evident in every shrewd instruction that he gives to Megumi and the numerous hours that he spends delving into questions about his mama and what his mama gets busy with in his absence. His father’s highly paranoid and insecure, and it’s so easy to see why. He’s afraid of being forgotten by Suguru—eventually.

His father’s not wrong for being so worried. Megumi gets worried at times, too.

“Mama, please talk to papa,” Megumi whispers in a soft plea of his own, as he tugs at his mother’s hand. “Papa was so good all weekend, and ‘gumi really likes spending time with Papa. Please don’t make Papa sad.”

Oh, his sweet little Megumi. He is truly Satoru’s blessing, alright.

Only their son has the power to stir Suguru’s heart so. Only Megumi can reach into the deep depths of Suguru’s heart, and move his cold, dead heart to do things beyond his wildest imagination.

“Of course, baby,” Suguru rushes to soothe his kid’s fears. No child should have to worry like this for their parents, or be subject to witnessing the tumultuous fights between their parents. “I’ll speak with papa about this, and fix all of this. But only after we head back up and put you to bed first, okay?”

Megumi looks up at him with such a vulnerable, earnest-filled gaze. “Mn. Can daddy come up with us?”

Suguru hadn’t planned on such a thing, but he can’t possibly bring himself to deny his child anything. He forces out a smile and says, “Of course.”

He doesn’t even look back. Doesn’t even beckon Satoru to come with him, because he, plainly, doesn’t want him to.

But as Suguru leads Megumi back home, Satoru quietly follows after them without getting so much as yelled at or cussed out by Suguru, knowing that’s the extent of Suguru’s invitation to him.

Come to think of it, this must be the first time Satoru’s ever setting foot into Suguru’s apartment. He’d never once been invited over for a tour, even for a bit to take a look at how Suguru had decorated the place after he got the keys from Satoru.

(Satoru possessed duplicates of the keys, of course. But he couldn’t trust himself to keep his hands to himself if he ever trespassed the place without Suguru’s permission. He was bound to mess it up, by inadvertently rearranging furniture or leaving traces of himself behind, and Suguru would inevitably find out, and then his chances of reconnecting with his estranged wife would be even further diminished. He was determined to earn Suguru’s trust back, bit by bit, and if that meant reeling in his stalkerish tendencies for the time being, then so be it.)

But even if Satoru had to throw a big tantrum earlier to finally gain access to this part of Suguru’s life, he’s still taking tonight as a win.

…It’s depressing, sometimes, to realise how far Satoru has fallen from the man that he used to be.

But things didn’t always used to be this way.

.

.

.

At seventeen, Satoru was full of big talk about the grandeur of the Gojo clan estate, how its lavishness and presence of servants meant he’d never wanted for anything else growing up, and how great of an option the place would make for spending their summers. When summer break came and they were granted a brief respite to return home, Satoru cockily extended an invitation to Suguru to visit his estate, partly driven by a genuine desire to spend more time with Suguru outside of class, and partly fueled by a desperation to prove to Suguru that he was more than worthy of providing for him and becoming his... uh, mate.

Not that he knew it then, of course. At that point, Satoru was still in a state of denial about the deep-seated feelings that he harboured for Suguru, as much as his wet dreams and lovesick daydreams proved to him otherwise.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he was certain. Certain that his feelings would be readily reciprocated by the other. And until he had any confirmation of that sort, he wouldn’t dare to venture into uncharted territory. He wouldn’t try to make a move on Suguru of any sort, or foolishly attempt to turn his batshit insane fantasies into reality. And they were not only insane, they were hugely pornographic. Possibly demeaning. Uh… Perhaps even insulting, to the subject of his interest.

So, as far as everyone was concerned, Satoru was completely disinterested in anything to do with love and relationships; and he was also straight, for that matter.

To his surprise, Suguru actually accepted his invitation.

Rather enthusiastically, at that. It seemed as though Suguru had truly relished all of Satoru’s grandiose tales about the opulent Gojo clan mansion, displaying a genuine interest in Satoru’s fascinating, privileged life as a young master.

Satoru was stoked, to say the very least.

This was his chance to impress Suguru, and show him all of the wonders and luxuries that came with marrying into the Gojo clan!

Uhh… Not that he was planning on anything, of course. They were only friends, after all.

He brought Suguru over to his rich boy estate, excitement radiating from him as he eagerly introduced Suguru to every mundane hallway, every vacant room, every filled parking lot, and every garden and tree that adorned the expansive fields surrounding the residence. Every location was a canvas for Satoru to paint a better picture of his world to Suguru, who happily soaked up every detail that was imbued with rich history and significance to Gojo Satoru.

Satoru was extremely pleased by that. He had such a big crush on Suguru, and he was delighted to see that Suguru took as much of an interest in him, as he did for Suguru.

The trouble only erupted when Satoru rudely burst open the doors to a room that was unusually locked, not that it’d ever stopped the young master from forcing his way into any room he so desired to enter.

“...Aaand Suguruuu, this is one of our esteemed ceremonial halls! We use it for all occasions, notably from parties, to religious rites, to housing unwanted relatives sometimes. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time my cousin Akane came over from the States and completely made a huge fool out of…”

Upon stepping inside, however, they were greeted by the curious sight of a group of Gojo clan elders seated around a long table, their expressions etched with much seriousness as they engaged in a seemingly grave discussion.

As their attention pivoted to the intruding pair, one of the elders suddenly stepped forward in a rather ominous fashion—the only one amidst them to be dressed in a purple hooded cloak—and pointed a shaky finger at Suguru.

“Him. Him. He’s the key to what you’ve been looking for.”

A series of solemn gasps escaped them, as the group descended into a hushed whirlwind of whispers and chaos.

“The oracle has decided. The oracle has decided!”

“We’ll have to fulfil the prophecy. There is no other way.”

“We’ve been searching for so long! Who knew he’d fall into our lap, just like this!”

Growing disconcerted under the scrutiny of all those eyes, as if he had been violated in some way, Suguru wrapped both arms around himself and quickly nudged Satoru to lead him away.

“Ne, Satoru, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it…”

Perhaps it was his alpha instincts finally kicking in, but Satoru grew protective of his would-be mate, and hurriedly took his hand into his.

“Don’t worry, Suguru, it’s just the clan elders engaging in their routine weekly discussions again, nothing bad. I’ll extend my apologies for the intrusion, and then we’ll be well on our way, alright?”

Suguru didn’t look convinced, but Satoru was all he could rely on. “Mm…”

But as Satoru approached the group of elders with an uncharacteristically courteous demeanour, he was taken aback when, instead of the usual pleasantries, they pulled him aside for a discreet conversation. The elders, with a quiet yet commanding tone, relentlessly inquired about the boy who stood nearby and was observing the unfolding events with an air of innocence.

“Who is that omega to you?” one of the elders queried, their eyes betraying a deeper interest in Suguru than was normal.

Satoru, doing his best to maintain his composure, responded with a rather measured tone, “...He is under my care.”

The elders exchanged glances, and then, with a rather veiled order, instructed him, “Keep him here and do not let him leave.”

Before he could seek clarification, another elder, with an air of mystery, spoke directly to Satoru, “Gojo Satoru, we have plenty to discuss. Return by the end of the day, and we will reveal that omega’s fate to you.”

Satoru felt a shiver run down his spine as the elders’ words ruminated in his mind. The atmosphere around him suddenly felt so oppressive, although he simply nodded curtly, his expression revealing none of the distress within.

“Understood,” he replied, keeping his voice steady, knowing better than to defy his elders. Satoru cast a quick glance toward the omega in question, who remained blissfully unaware of the impending discussions about his fate.

As he made his way back to Suguru, Satoru’s mind raced. The elders’ interest in Suguru was concerning and very unexpected, and the notion of his fate being decided behind closed doors raised more questions than answers.

What could the elders possibly want with Suguru?

It wasn’t as if Suguru came from a particularly illustrious background, like the Zenins or the Kamos; his parents were civilians, and he resided in a village on the outskirts of Tokyo. If we were to base it on sorcery alone, Suguru would not be the type of person to be registering on his family’s radar.

“Hey, what did the elders say?” Suguru asked him, as Satoru warmly took his hand into his again.

Satoru’s jaw tightened, as he readied his lie. “They were just intrigued by the first friend I’ve ever brought back home.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Suguru stifled a laugh, the tension finally dissipating from his eyes as Satoru ushered him out the door. “I’m the first friend you’ve ever made?”

“Hey, I said ‘brought back’,” Satoru huffed, filled with a newfound sense of relief that made each breath come easier now that they were away from that place. “Not ‘made’.”

Suguru couldn’t help but tease: “Oh, come on. I am the first friend you’ve made, aren’t I?”

Satoru couldn’t hide it for any longer even if he tried. “...Yeah, fine,” he caved.

“Hahaha! Satoruuu, you were such a grumpy kid, weren’t you? I bet you were an insufferable young master, and so nobody wanted to be your friend,” Suguru let out a low snicker, as Satoru guided him back out into the gardens.

“I had nothing I lacked, so I never wanted for anything more,” Satoru grimaced. Although, he continues to quietly think to himself: Until you, at least.

He never wanted anything more, until he met Suguru.

He just couldn’t act on it. Wouldn’t act on it, even if his life depended on it.

(Or, at least that was what he thought.

Satoru still couldn’t shake the feeling that Suguru’s fate, as the elders had mentioned, was intricately tied to the clan and involved a duty much grander than the both of them combined.)

And if they were to order Satoru to do something about his one and only, what then?

.

.

.

Later that night, Satoru emerged from the room after his meeting with the elders, his head swirling with the weight of their decision resting heavily on his shoulders.

“Gojo Satoru, the responsibility falls upon you to mate with that omega,” the elders had declared to him. “He holds the key to birthing the next set of Six Eyes within the next three generations. We cannot afford to let this opportunity slip through our grasp. As tradition dictates, we consult the oracle on all matters concerning the clan. Now that the Six Eyes have manifested in you, we would like to keep it around for a while longer before another four centuries elapse before its return."

Satoru had no intention of challenging such a decree, yet an inherent curiosity prompted him to ask: “And if I were to disagree?”

The room fell into an even more pronounced silence, the air thick with unspoken tension.

The elders exchanged meaningful glances, their expressions shrouded in a veil of unreadable deliberation.

The eldest among them finally broke the silence. “Then, we’ll find another Gojo to do it,” his voice, while calm, carried an undertone of ruthless resolve. “I trust that would be the least ideal option.”

The implied consequences were clear, and the heavy threat resonated with the burden of tradition and expectations placed upon the Gojo lineage. It wasn’t merely a matter of personal choice; it was a duty ingrained in the very core of his identity as the Gojo heir.

Satoru was the only one of his age. All the others in their clan were older, and belonged to a far more seasoned generation than he was. And the notion of surrendering Suguru up to his numerous uncles and godfathers chilled him to the very bone.

Suguru was his.

He couldn’t even be certain if Suguru felt the same way about him, but yeah, he was his.

From the very first day they met, Satoru had felt it. The easy laughter that had left Suguru’s lips as Satoru told one of his bad jokes… It was a soft melody that had serenaded Satoru’s ears, a sweet sound that he couldn’t ever get enough of.

Suguru didn’t know it yet, but he had belonged to Satoru—ever since.

For from the very moment Gojo Satoru set his sights on him, his fate had been sealed.

Suguru never even stood a chance.

Oddly enough, the oracle’s orders didn’t feel like a burden, no. Instead, it felt like freedom, like a liberating force; as if he were being granted divine permission from the very gods themselves. As though the universe, having bore witness to his inner turmoil, wanted to give him its very blessing to act on everything he’d always wanted.

As if all of the stars had finally aligned for him, just to say:

You were right, Satoru. Geto Suguru belongs to you—he has always belonged to you. Only you are allowed to mate him. To mark him, to knot him, to do the most depraved, most heinous of acts to him. To make him yours. He cannot say no, the heavens have divined him for you.

You deserve this, Satoru. You deserve the omega you’ve always dreamed of.

Growing up in the Gojo clan was certainly an experience. All his life, Gojo Satoru had never been denied anything. What made this moment any different?

If Suguru didn’t want any part of this, then he shouldn’t have readily accepted Satoru’s invitation to visit his mansion. He shouldn’t have made himself so available to him, shouldn’t have placed himself in a position where the elders could stumble upon him and discover he held the very key to the clan’s legacy.

If Satoru was left with no choice but to wife him up and make him his mate, then Suguru was the one to blame.

In the midst of grappling with his thoughts, Satoru hadn’t realised he had paced from one end of the hallway to the other, only finally coming to a stop right before the bedroom Suguru was sleeping in for the night.

Right. It was currently the dead of the night. Suguru had retired to bed two hours ago, and must be soundly asleep by now.

…While draped in one of his clan’s many silken kimonos, after soaking in one of their many private hot springs scattered throughout the estate…

…Suguru probably smelled really good right now…

Excess saliva trickles down Satoru’s chin, as his alpha canines begin to protrude. Oh, how they hurt.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Suguru,” Satoru whispered out in agonising pain, with his palm pressed against the sturdy wooden door. “You shouldn’t have come here, and left me with no other choice.”

.

.

.

Despite Suguru’s usual careful and poised demeanour, it seemed that he was, in fact, a rather messy sleeper. Drool cutely traced its way down the side of his lips, imprinting a trail on the soft rice pillows cradling his face. The once-neatly combed strands of his long hair now cascaded in a tousled array, fanning out beneath his head.

As Satoru expected, Suguru looked otherworldly beautiful even in slumber, draped in the elegance of a long silken kimono. What he didn’t expect, however, was Suguru’s slender legs to entangle in such an alluring dance, causing the luxurious fabric to ride up against his thighs, unabashedly exposing the tight curve of Suguru’s ass. The waist sash hung loosely on him, its knot barely tightened, unveiling a generous expanse of skin that exceeded all of Satoru’s initial expectations. Omegas didn’t grow much hair, and so there was hardly even a happy trail. What a slut. From Satoru’s vantage point, he could even catch fleeting glimpses of rosy-red buds shyly hidden beneath the silk garment, leading him to gulp involuntarily.

It was as if Suguru was serving himself right up to Satoru on a silver platter.

And Satoru wanted to feast.

Satoru might be a virgin, but he had watched enough alpha and omega porn for this. He knew what he should be diving into first, and so he did. He grabbed those slim legs of Suguru’s and drew them nice and wide apart, so that he could douse himself in the potent scent of Suguru’s sex. He caught a deep whiff of the omega’s intoxicating smell, and felt overwhelmed by a surge of schoolboy excitement.

How was it possible for Suguru to smell this good? This fresh and ripe for the taking, as though he’d been waiting for it? He had to be a virgin too, right? Satoru had never seen him indulge any other alpha around him. Not that Suguru went out enough to attract the attention of other alphas; his time was predominantly occupied by school, and when not there, he secluded himself in his dorm room. The only alpha he readily hung out with was Satoru, not counting their interactions with juniors. Satoru had been keeping a close eye on their recent addition, Nanami, who had joined Tokyo Jujutsu High not long ago and was a year junior to them. Apart from Nanami, there were no other alpha contenders.

So, Satoru thoughtfully concluded: Suguru had to be a virgin. And he must have kept himself a virgin all this while, for a worthy alpha like Satoru.

Satoru would make it his mission to ensure that Suguru’s wait had all paid off.

But as his hands gradually slipped underneath Suguru’s milky thighs to pull them apart, he was startled to find that there was no underwear to remove, no. No briefs or panties in sight for him to bite at, and yank brutally from Suguru’s skin.

Rather—the boy was… naked.

Fully in the nude. Clothed in absolutely nothing underneath.

Oh, now he was only asking for it.

Satoru turned light-headed at this revelation.

Satoru was so excited to finally make Suguru his, that he was trembling. His long fingers tightly grasped the edges of Suguru’s thighs, the pressure so intense it threatened to imprint red marks. But Satoru didn’t care. He wanted to leave evidence of him on Suguru everywhere. Suguru was his, and he was only doing his duty to his clan. This was necessary. Hurting Suguru, however inadvertently, was absolutely necessary.

He pulled Suguru’s legs so wide, the omega’s hole presented itself, looking tightly stretched but not yet broken in.

But it looked pretty. Every part of Suguru was so, so pretty.

And his hole was no exception.

Satoru lowered his mouth and gave a tentative lick, wondering what it tasted like.

Lingering traces of clean soap and aromatic oils coated his tongue. It didn’t taste bad. It was part of Suguru, and—every part of Suguru tasted so addictive.

Satoru licked it a couple more times, and watched as the tiny cock lying in between Suguru’s thighs rose and bloomed like a flower.

Oh…Suguru liked it.

So what he was doing couldn’t be that bad now, could it?

Encouraged by his response, Satoru pushed his face in between Suguru’s legs, tongue moving and gliding across his entrance.

“Oh…”

Suguru was moaning now. God, he was softly moaning in his sleep. Satoru had never heard him make sounds like that before, fuck. Suguru shivered and sighed with every wet lick, every teasing swirl, every tantalising suck. Sweet omega slick dribbled out of his hole with every passing second, staining Satoru’s tongue and filling his mouth so decadently.

“Fuuuuck…”

More whorish moaning. Suguru’s omega body was so primed and ready.

Satoru couldn’t help himself; he was growing so hard. He pulled his pants down, just enough to free his cock from its restraints, and unashamedly stroked himself as he gently pleasured his omega.

Suguru’s lips curved up into such a delightful smile as Satoru ate him out, as if he were having the most pleasant of dreams. His breaths left him in soft, erratic patterns… Betraying his vulnerability. Suguru squirmed and writhed against the sheets like a cat in heat, as though he were begging for more, more, and more.

His Suguru-chan was so cute.

By the time Satoru stroked himself to full hardness, Suguru had cum a good number of times and was completely soaked. Satoru hadn’t kept count, too focused on lapping up every drop of Suguru’s juices that drizzled deliciously into his mouth. Slick pooled abundantly at the underside of Suguru’s thighs, seeping through the thin layer of his kimono and staining the white futons underneath.

Everything smelled like roses and daisies and strudels and waffles. And Satoru really liked his sweets. An undeniable cloud of wanton omega pheromones was now permeating the room, reeking of desire and an unmistakable plea; one that was beckoning to be conquered, devoured, and mated.

No matter how Suguru wished to deny it, he couldn’t escape biology.

Omega pheromones were to an alpha what fresh meat was to a lion—an irresistible allure that triggered animal instinct and unleashed the predatory nature within.

Thanks to Suguru, Satoru’s mind was now enveloped in a thick fog of his own desire, eclipsing any semblance of rationality or clear thought.

All he knew was that he wanted to knot and breed his omega, and he didn’t care if Suguru wanted it or not. It was enough that he did.

His cock was harder than it had ever been. As he removed his mouth from Suguru’s entrance, he even heard Suguru whine a little bit. Fuck. How was he acting like such a slut, even in his sleep? How was he so desperate for an alpha’s cock, even when he’d never had it once?

Satoru slapped the head of his big dick vulgarly against Suguru’s leaking hole, as he wondered how he would even fit. Sure, his tongue had helped loosen Suguru a little bit, but not by much. Just one look and it was enough for Satoru to know it was going to be a tight fit. He’d already known he wasn’t small, but he didn’t expect Suguru to present such a taut hole to him. Suguru only had himself to blame, for having such a slutty body.

Pressing the tip of his cock in, Satoru hardly bothered to rein in the audible groan that escaped his lips, a primal noise echoing the visceral pleasure that surged through him.

“Fuck, Suguru baby…”

Such sweet tightness. So wet, and so hot. So virgin tight. The muscles squeezed around his dick all at once, fighting him. But Satoru persisted, hands digging into the soft, unmarred skin around Suguru’s narrow waist.

Suguru must have felt a prickling pain, for as opposed to the usual sounds of pleasure emanating from his lips; this time, they were replaced by breathy, but strained, moans.

“Ne, Satoruuu, what are you doing…?”

It took Satoru a while to register that his omega was in distress. Slowly disentangling his mind from clouds of reverie, Satoru awoke from his lustful daze to Suguru’s nails frantically scratching and clawing at his arms, leaving behind angry bloodied welts on his skin in a desperate bid to push him off.

Fuck. Suguru was awake.

“Satoru, Satoru…Satoru!” Suguru anxiously cried out, as Satoru’s cerulean-blue eyes lazily lowered to meet his. Why…was his omega suddenly trying to get away from him? Satoru’s alpha arms only clamped down harder around Suguru, refusing to let him escape. “Satoru, what the hell?! Satoru, you’re sleepwalking! Get off me!”

Satoru continued sliding in, going an inch deeper too, as though he’d just heard no protest of that sort.

And Suguru—oh, he was so lovely, his body responding so lewdly to Satoru as though he were made for him. His hole clenched even tighter around his dick, as another shameless moan left his soft, soft lips. What a slut.

But still, Suguru continued to plead. Breathing helplessly through clenched teeth as his eyes gently fluttered shut, his hips instinctually arched off the bed to accommodate more and more of Satoru that was being pushed in, while cutely whining, “No… Satoru… No, please…”

Haaa? Suguru was protesting way too much for an omega who should be happy that he had finally found his mate. With a gentle shift of his body, Satoru leaned in, allowing the heavy weight of his frame to dwarf Suguru in a firm embrace, and consciously let out his alpha pheromones in an attempt to calm his omega down.

As he pressed closer, he dipped his head into the comforting curve of Suguru’s neck, whispering rather affectionately to him: “I like you so much, Suguru. I’ve always liked you. I think we’re meant to be. Don’t you?”

Suguru’s eyes widened then, as he digested every bit of Satoru’s confession; as though he’d never expected such a thing to come out of Satoru’s mouth—ever. But those words of his were more than genuine and sincere, and had resided for far too long within the deepest recesses of Satoru’s heart. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the alpha waited for an answer—and accepted the gradual slackening of Suguru’s fighting grip against him, as one.

“I don’t know…” Suguru trailed off, reluctant to answer, his hands falling back to rest against the bed. He turned his pretty face to the side, appearing conflicted. “I never thought about it…”

“Hey, hey, Suguru babe, look at me,” Satoru instructed, his grip insistent as he firmly grasped Suguru’s chin, redirecting it to face him head-on. For some reason, tears had already begun to pool in Suguru’s eyes. Had they been there before? Satoru had been too out of it to notice. Marvelling at his omega’s gorgeous looking face, Satoru dreamily sighed, “Oh, Suguru, you’re still so pretty when you cry…”

At that, Suguru actually delivered to him a tight slap.

Now that actually woke Satoru the fuck up.

“I’m not some omega you can easily climb into bed with and take advantage of,” Suguru hissed, even as tears continued to shimmer beautifully in his eyes. “I’m not—I’m not someone you can just use for your pleasure, anytime that you want. I thought we were friends. I didn’t think you’d be capable of this, Satoru.”

Those hands of Satoru’s descended upon him once more, this time forcefully pinning his wrists down against the sheets, chaining him to the bed.

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Satoru furiously demanded of him, his voice now carrying a dangerous edge that had been absent before. The slap had left a red imprint of a hand in its wake, and now his cheek stung. “I love you so much, Suguru. I’m doing this because I fucking love you. I’m not fucking taking advantage of my omega. You belong to me. How would it be considered using you if I’m just claiming what is mine? Hmm? Suguru-chan, tell me.”

Suguru gently lifted his eyes to meet Satoru’s gaze then, a mix of disbelief and shock vividly painted across his delicate features. His voice was broken, apprehensive, when he asked, “You…love me?”

“Of course I do!” Satoru erupted with, his eyes dilating, displaying a wild…almost manic, intensity. “I love you so much, I’m going crazy. Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to spend every second of my time with you. So much so that I invited you over, all because I wanted to show you how good of a life you could have with me here. I think about marrying you all the time—I want you as my mate, Suguru. I’ve never felt this way for anybody else before.”

His warm dick pulsated within Suguru with every word, ensuring that Suguru felt the full weight of his confession: thud, thud, thud.

Suguru’s face… rather surprisingly, was slowly beginning to flush at Satoru’s words, a vivid pinkish-red hue colouring his cheeks and ears.

Oh? Satoru thought to himself, mentally cataloguing every one of Suguru’s minute reactions. Did whatever I say—move his oh so tender heart?

“Did you… invite me over just so you could do this?” Suguru’s breath nervously stuttered as he asked. “Sneak into my bed, and, and…” He couldn’t even say it. “Have your way with me?”

“Of course not,” Satoru rushed to say, even if his throbbing dick seemingly betrayed him. Thud, thud, thud. “I didn’t plan this. I couldn’t have planned it. I—I just happened to find myself walking to the front of your door tonight, and I couldn’t help myself. I thought about how pretty you’d look asleep, and then I…” and Satoru heaved a low sigh, as if severely disappointed at his lack of restraint. “I let myself in. I’m a bad alpha, Suguru. I’m selfish, through and through.”

The anger subsided within Suguru’s eyes even before Satoru could finish his self-reproaching speech. His omega was so kind, so gentle, so forgiving. All Satoru had to do was assume the majority of the blame, and Suguru wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re not a bad alpha,” Suguru softly whispered to him, even as Satoru’s dick continued to twitch inside of him, getting off on his sick fantasy of Suguru making excuses for him, loving him, and accepting all of his faults and bad behaviour without holding it against him. Suguru was so good, so pliant, so tolerant. Satoru didn’t deserve him. (But he didn’t care.)

“Is it… near the time of your heat? I know they can get so hard for alphas,” Suguru gently suggested, making thoughtful excuses, one after another, just for Satoru. “Is that why you came to my room? Did you need some help relieving it?”

It was not. It was not anywhere near Satoru’s heat. Satoru would know; the Gojo clan plied him with pills, desperate for him to curb his mating impulses in fear of him knocking some nobody up with his prized Gojo seed and breeding non-legitimate heirs to the respectable Gojo throne.

Satoru barely got his heat.

(And perhaps that explained why he was so pent-up; that the very minute the elders granted him permission to impregnate someone, he ran to do it.)

But if Suguru was readily making excuses for him, then why should Satoru turn down his kind generosity? Satoru was fucked up; and Suguru was willing to look past it.

Satoru buried his head into the crook of Suguru’s shoulder, and pitifully nodded. “Mm,” he whispered back, grinding himself rather pathetically against the omega. “Suguruu~ I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About fucking you. Can you let me fuck you? Pleasepleaseplease. I want to fuck you so bad. I like you so much. I’ve never felt this way about any other omega. You’re the only one for me.”

Yeah, Satoru had resorted to full-on begging.

Suguru flushed again, enveloped in the sweet murmurings of Satoru. It was as if he took pleasure in those words—revelling in the assurance that he was Satoru’s one exception, that he was his one and only, that he was the only one Satoru would commit such depraved acts with, and no one else.

Oh, Satoru grinned in sweet, sweet victory. Suguru was just as fucked up as him.

“Okay,” Suguru finally softly uttered out.

“Okay?” Satoru’s head perked up.

“Okay, you can fuck me,” Suguru whispered in the silence, even as his face went crimson red upon uttering such crude words. He never expected to be losing his virginity like this, but he had long considered his options, and knew Satoru was the best option for an alpha there was. He’d fantasised about it… more than a couple of times. He let slip his shy confession: “I, um…I like you, too.”

Wait. Really?

Satoru quickly snapped out of his lust-addled mind to ecstatically confirm, “Suguruuu~! You really like me?”

“Mm…” Suguru looked as though he were regretting it already.

“How long? Since when? Have you liked me as long as I’ve liked you? What do you like most about me? Is it because I’m so good-looking, is it because I’m the strongest of them all?”

Suguru stifled a sore laugh. “Satoru, shut up.”

“But Suguru, I, I, I, I’ve waited for this moment my entire life. I want to know everything!”

His dick was a fucking animal, rabidly pulsing within Suguru, somehow getting even more turned on by this new revelation.

“I will tell you everything,” Suguru sighed, sharply wincing as he felt Satoru grow even bigger inside of him—how the hell was it even possible at this point?! Suguru didn’t want to know. “But, we need to take care of your problem first.”

“Our problem!” Satoru insisted excitedly, like a dog wagging his tail. “Suguruuu, you got so wet for me. Can’t you feel how soaked you are? It’s like your body’s begging me to give it a baby.”

“Satoru, don’t say all of that with a straight face,” Suguru huffed.

But this time, as he lifted his gaze to meet Satoru’s eyes, it held nothing but loving warmth and affection.

“Do you really want to mate me?”

“Yes, of course, fuck,” Satoru squeezed him tight in his embrace, thrusting his cock deeply into him as he did so. It earned him another low, purring moan from his omega. Peppering the side of Suguru’s face with soft kisses, Satoru quickly begged, “I want to be your alpha, Suguru.”

“You…want to take care of me?”

“I want to take such good care of you, do all of the thinking for you, keep you here in my house so you’ll never have to swallow a curse again and do nothing else but bear my babies. Do you like the sound of that, Suguru? Hmm?”

Suguru’s eyes fluttered shut. It sounded like a dream. “I… I really like the sound of that, alpha.”

Satoru’s cock had hit the deepest part of his womb. Suguru was absolutely filled to the brim.

It felt warm. Nice. Hot. Complete.

Gently thrusting into him, Satoru mouthed the spot on Suguru’s neck where he’d eventually mark, to claim his as his rightful omega. Softly licking, softly biting. Scenting his glands, lulling him into a hypnotic state. Careful not to break the skin until it was time to do so.

It felt good. It felt so good for Suguru. Satoru could see it in Suguru’s half-lidded eyes, the way he was descending into a sheer state of euphoria, of unbelievable bliss. It was in Suguru’s nature to give in, to surrender every ounce of control to his alpha.

His lips formed a permanent ‘o’ as he softly huffed and panted with every thrust, even crossing his legs over Satoru’s back—not that his feet would ever meet, Satoru’s frame was far too wide for that—to lock Satoru in, shoving the alpha even deeper inside of him.

How cute. Suguru was doing his best not to be a pillow princess. Not that he could do much else in this position; not with how aggressively Satoru was fucking him. But Satoru appreciated the effort.

Every hit of his womb sent Suguru shivering and shaking profusely. The head of his cock continued to graze that sweet spot inside him with every thrust, every movement. It was so huge Suguru felt every inch of it. Mentally, he tried to guess the sheer size of it. Eight inches…no, nine…maybe even ten.

The look of concentration on Suguru’s face was adorable. Satoru wanted to kiss the furrowed brows, the intense pursing of his lip.

Instead, he chose to fuck his omega harder, rougher, more desperately. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck, as he cursed out, “Your pussy’s so tight, so good, Suguru, it’s always clenching around me.” And he sped up his thrusts, as though he were getting closer and closer to his release, “It knows how to take an alpha cock. It’s been trained so well. Doesn’t want to let me go.”

“Satoru,” Suguru struggled to breathe, as Satoru delivered a particular deep thrust. Looking up at his alpha from beneath his long wispy lashes, Suguru encircled his arms around Satoru’s neck, pulling him close. He babbled on confusedly, looking completely fucked out: “I’m tight enough for you?”

“So tight, so so fucking tight,” Satoru assured him through gritted teeth, swallowing down another loud groan. “Ah, ah. Always dreamt of fucking a pussy as tight as yours. Can’t believe my first pussy is Suguru-chan’s pussy.”

Suguru chewed on his lip, his cheeks burning up. Wanting to remind Satoru of the implications that came with taking Suguru as his mate. “You’re not allowed to fuck anyone else.”

Satoru’s breaths quickened, as he leaned over to plant sweet kisses all over Suguru’s face. “Of course not, what are you even thinking, my sweet doll. I’ll never want anyone else.”

“Good,” Suguru hummed, fingers gripping his alpha’s chin.

He felt so cherished and adored by his alpha. He never wanted this feeling to go away.

Satoru couldn’t hold back anymore. Intense grunts escaped from his mouth loudly, as he felt his knot inside of Suguru swelling and expanding in size.

“Oh, Suguru, I’m so close. I’m so, so close. Can I knot you, pleasepleaseplease—”

Because if Suguru didn’t want it, then Satoru would have to pull out now before it was too late, even if Satoru didn’t really want to.

(Actually, Satoru had no plans to stop at all. He’d just come up with an excuse, tell Suguru he really tried not to knot him but couldn’t stop himself in time. Suguru would understand and forgive him anyway.)

But to his surprise, Suguru lifted his cute little mouth to kiss him on the lips, followed by a shy, affirmative nod.

“Okay,” Suguru said, giving him the permission.

Satoru’s knot inflated, the same time he harshly bit down into Suguru’s neck. Blood trickled from the force of the bite wound, as Satoru’s alpha canines extended, marring Suguru’s pale, unblemished skin. Cum spilled into him in torrential amounts, and for a second he thought it’d never stop. Satoru came so much, he was a complete monster.

It hurt. It actually really fucking hurt. Suguru blinked back tears as Satoru marked him for good, trying to breathe through the pain and the pleasure and how everything felt like it was hitting him all at once. Pleasure coursed through his body like never before—but he was also hurting everywhere else. Above all, though, he felt safe. Cared for. Loved. Protected.

His alpha wrapped him protectively into his arms, and Suguru never wanted to leave this safe cocoon Satoru had created for him.

The knot would take awhile to deflate, for it needed to ensure it’d take. That Suguru was successfully bred with a viable offspring, a baby of their own that would grow in his womb not long after. Until then, they remained stuck in this embrace.

Satoru bared his own neck to him in the meantime, in an uncharacteristic display of submission.

“Make me yours,” Satoru whispered out, wearing such a handsome pout.

All of the pain felt worth it to him, right then. “Okay,” Suguru answered him, as his heart briefly tingled in his chest.

They laid back down onto the futons after all was said and done, with sore bleeding necks and bodies bathed in sweat. Locked in a tender, romantic embrace, Satoru engulfed Suguru in a possessive hug, determined to never let him slip away.

Amidst the silence, Suguru blissfully hummed out, “I’m so glad it was you.”

And Satoru thought it but didn’t say the words aloud, Like hell I was letting any other Gojo have you.

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.

.

They were only seventeen when they had Megumi. Suguru was a young mother; perhaps the youngest so far in the history of the Gojo clan. They upheld some pretty morally perverted values for an old-money clan, but they weren’t excessively depraved. Gojo Satoru had completely surpassed their expectations—albeit with flying colours, if they had any say.

The clan got the heir that they wanted, so they didn’t care. Satoru could have knocked Suguru up at age fifteen, and they wouldn’t have minded. (It might have possibly added a layer of complication when it came to bribing the authorities to overlook the underage pregnancy, but whatever). It all worked out fine. The elders at Tokyo jujutsu high didn’t have any say when the Gojo clan exerted pressure on them to hasten the seniors’ graduation by a year, just so they could pull Suguru out of school and place him under house arrest. A Gojo heir was really important. When Satoru himself was born, his mother hadn’t left the estate for almost a year. She didn’t leave the estate for another year following his birth either, not until Satoru had learned how to walk and communicate in words. For newborns, the comfort and milk provided by an omega mother were crucial for their healthy development in the early stages of their life. They couldn’t afford to take any risks.

The rules of his clan were egregious, but they made sense. Suguru was safest within the confines of their estate. Now that he was the Six Eyes’ mate, he would be vulnerable to being accosted by any rival clans, or even attacks by malicious curse users. If Satoru wanted both Suguru and his baby to be safe, then Suguru would do well staying within the four walls of the Gojo mansion, where he’d never lack for anything else.

Suguru… oddly enough, didn’t protest such stringent arrangements. The clan was accommodating enough to allow him to complete his studies, and Tokyo Jujutsu High was able to provide him with the necessary arrangements for an early graduation. So, it wasn’t like he was dropping out of school to bear this baby.

And it wasn’t as if he was being forced into this. He liked Satoru, and he also liked the comfort and security that marrying a Gojo would bring. In a world where many babies were being born unwanted, he especially liked that this wasn’t the case for his beloved Megumi. Everyone anticipated his birth. Everyone loved him, for better or for worse. Satoru had even gone the extra mile to name the child himself, a sweet gesture that had brightened Suguru’s entire week. He’d chosen ‘Megumi’—for being Satoru and Suguru’s little blessing. Suguru absolutely loved it. It showed that Satoru really wanted the kid; and didn’t treat him as some careless afterthought of their mating process, no matter how fun and pleasurable it had been.

Overtime, it occurred to Satoru that it was ridiculously easy to make Suguru happy.

Pregnant Suguru was happy all the time. Pregnant Suguru exuded a carefree radiance, and had a tiny skip in his steps everytime he walked. Pregnant Suguru no longer fit into his old clothing despite how baggy they already were; but none of that mattered to him, who embraced his new body with much adoration and pride.

Pregnant Suguru was the best Suguru. He grew out his silky long hair until it was the longest it had ever been. He stuffed himself full of sweets, overindulging in anything and everything that Satoru brought home from his missions, the ones that took him all over Japan. Pregnant Suguru was more pliant, often sleepy, and perpetually horny. He never said no to sex—rather, he demanded it daily from Satoru. Even spewing some rubbish about it being Satoru’s marital duty to thoroughly satisfy him as his rightful husband.

Satoru believed those days and nights that he shared with Suguru might have been the best they ever had.

Suguru loved him, all of the time. He was never angry with him; could never bring himself to hold anything against him. He forgave him for all of his faults and transgressions, and adored Satoru in ways that—Satoru didn’t think anyone else in the world could. Only his mother could have loved him harder than Suguru. And even then, his mother still loved him less.

They tied the knot in a small, intimate ceremony held within the private confines of the Gojo estate. Only the closest of their family and friends were there. It wasn’t extravagant or overly lavish, and the affair wasn’t unnecessarily long-drawn out; but it was everything Suguru could have ever wanted.

Just him, Satoru, and their baby.

Everything else didn’t matter. Only the fact that they’d finally gotten married in name, just as their mating marks had affirmed them as mates months ago.

Suguru was the most beautiful Satoru had ever seen him that day. With his hair loosely gathered in a bun and tucked under a pure white hood, while dressed in a matching bridal kimono that did a wonderful job of emphasising his graceful silhouette and concealing his pregnant belly. Not that Suguru even cared for such a thing; he was more than proud to show off his pregnant bulge, because it was evidence of life growing inside of him. Of Megumi growing inside of him. Of his sweet little baby.

But everyone adored how slender he had looked in his white frock, and so he kept his mouth shut and smiled prettily at anyone who asked him for a photo.

Satoru stood next to him the whole time, with one gentle hand on his back. Determined to support his pregnant wife wherever he chose to walk next.

They retired to bed early that evening, but not to sleep. Instead, it was to have more insane, animalistic sex. Back-scratching, futon-ripping, bloody-biting kind of crazy ass sex.

“After I birth Megumi, let’s make another one,” Suguru had sultrily breathed into his ear—an order, if Satoru ever heard one—as he straddled him, sinking down onto Satoru’s very hard cock.

“Okay,” was all Satoru could muster in response, a meek surrender to his omega’s desires.

Whatever Suguru wanted, he would give.

And if Suguru wanted another one, then they would make another one.

In this house, Suguru had the final say. No one else.

.

.

.

Megumi was born three days before Christmas. It was a cold winter day at the Gojo estate, where Suguru went into labour. The labour was an easy one; much like how it’d been an easy conception, an easy pregnancy, and now, a smooth and straightforward birth. Megumi was a good kid, and did everything right to make his mother’s life easier.

(Even after he grew older, Megumi remained well-behaved, impossibly obedient, and remarkably well-mannered. He never posed any challenges for his parents; Megumi truly was their golden child.)

Shoko, Nanami and Haibara showed up with their baby gifts. Mei Mei and Utahime too, from the Kyoto compound. And then there was Ijichi, and the other auxiliary managers. Even Yoshinobu and Yaga-sensei turned up.

Everyone was genuinely happy for them. Loved and supported them. And incredibly excited for the latest Gojo heir to join them at Tokyo jujutsu high.

Megumi was proudly paraded around the room, much like treasure or a trophy, as the elders eagerly approached him to catch a glimpse. With his short white locks of hair and dark blue eyes, he bore a striking resemblance to his father, which bode well for his sorcery and power, and greatly excited the clan.

But he already had his mother’s temperament: gentle and calm, and he hardly cried. Baby Megumi peeked an eye open, and gave deadpan stares to the ones he didn’t like. He wore a bright smile, however, for Shoko, Mei Mei, his mother, and even Satoru.

“He’s perfect, don’t you think?” Suguru asked Satoru, as he cradled his newborn child in his arms. Wrapped snugly in a bundle, Megumi looked vulnerable in the face of the world.

Warmth washed over Satoru’s chest then.

Who knew his little misbehaviour would result in such a beautiful child being born?

“He’s absolutely perfect, just like you,” Satoru whispered to him, embracing the both of them.

The two most important beings in the world, enclosed in his arms.

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.

.

Raising Megumi had been an ordeal in itself, and not because Megumi was a difficult child, but rather because of Suguru’s extreme overprotectiveness. The Gojo clan never had to place him on house arrest; it turned out that Suguru himself rarely wanted to leave the estate after Megumi’s birth. He fussed heavily over Megumi, attended to every one of his child’s needs and wants, and could be found next to Megumi at any given time of the day. Eventually, the clan had to find excuses to occasionally get the overbearing mother out of the house, just so they could ensure the sanity of their servants and nannies who Suguru constantly terrorised over the safety and well-being of his only son.

Satoru had heard of omega mothers being territorial of their children; but he didn’t realise the extent of it. It wasn’t like Satoru didn’t chip in, too. Satoru did his best to be a good father; taking on the task of rocking his baby to sleep whenever he discovered Suguru had fallen asleep beside their child, with milk still leaking from his chest as little Megumi happily suckled on him.

He began declining week-long missions, opting for those that could be completed within the day to ensure he could return promptly to his wife and child. Satoru was determined to be a present father, in stark contrast to his own parents. He feared leaving Suguru alone for too long, given how high-strung and anxious he already was as a mother, and so he limited his time away from home to no more than three days. The nannies had told him Suguru exhibited some worrying signs, and Satoru wanted to keep a close eye on him.

Suguru seemed satisfied with the level of involvement Satoru had in their lives, and never expressed any grievances about it. So, Satoru believed he was doing a good job, all things considered. He always placed Suguru and Megumi before anything else, and Suguru knew this about him.

Their once-vivacious sex life had been cut down into half in terms of frequency, but they had been having a ton of sex before, and so it wasn’t as though it was a fair comparison to make. They were still having a lot of sex most nights, with Suguru only being satisfied with three rounds or more each time.

All was well between them. There hadn’t been any tension. They’d hardly argued. Suguru still loved him. And Satoru loved him even more, he loved him to death.

But all of that was about to change when Megumi turned five.

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.

.

The colossal fuck-up took place at a winter cabin belonging to the Gojos, a holiday destination Satoru had chosen for a double-date weekend now that Utahime and Shoko were a thing. After Megumi’s fifth birthday, Suguru was finally willing to leave him behind in the care of his nannies, but only for an extended period of time, which, in his terms, meant just the weekend—two days, maximum. No more. If Satoru exceeded this stipulation by even an hour, Suguru would become cranky, and Satoru didn’t want to have to deal with a cranky Suguru. So a weekend getaway it was.

Since married life began, Satoru rarely hung out with the others anymore, only seeing them around the hallways of Tokyo jujutsu high during his stipulated work hours. Despite being just twenty-two, he and Suguru were already in an entirely different phase of life. As young parents, raising a child proved to be even more demanding and challenging than Satoru had initially anticipated. They’d never taken a vacation. Satoru never got the chance to take Suguru anywhere else; Suguru fretted over Megumi way too much for that. So much for marrying into the esteemed Gojo clan; Suguru had never taken advantage of the wealth of opportunities at his feet, even once.

So, as Suguru and Utahime busily prepared their dinner, while Satoru and Shoko set up the fireplace, Satoru relished the opportunity to spend time with his old friend and escape from the routine of putting his kid to bed.

Shoko, too, seemed to miss the time spent with her high school friend.

“You know, even after all these years, you never did explain how you managed to win Suguru over,” Shoko quipped. “I know Suguru always told us some bastardised version of you ‘creeping into his bed’, but that can’t be true, can it?”

Satoru wryly smiled, and heartily countered with a, “Why, would that be so bad?”

Shoko snorted out loud, not even fazed by the bold admission. “Well, if such a thing were to work for anyone, it’d work for the both of you, I suppose.”

He laughed, and candidly admitted, for the first time ever aloud, “I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or surrender Suguru to the other disgusting Gojos in my clan. And we all know I’m the better choice.”

“Eh?” Shoko’s interest was piqued. “What are you talking about? I thought you crept into his room because you were a horny bastard.”

“I am,” Satoru asserted, but continued on with a flippant shrug, “Some oracle convinced the elders in my clan that Suguru was the key to preserving the Six Eyes in our legacy, and so they demanded me to mate him, or they’d do it themselves.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, having long grown accustomed to the crazy tales he’d share about his old-money clan. “How convenient a threat. You get to wife up the omega you’ve always wanted, and bring glory and honour to your clan.”

But Suguru, who had entered the living room just seconds earlier to inform them dinner was ready, didn’t see it that way.

A pin-drop silence engulfed the room as both Satoru and Shoko raised their heads, their attention immediately drawn to the sound of Suguru’s footsteps taking a hesitant step back.

“It was…an order?” Suguru whispered out, as all light faded from his pretty violet eyes.

The unconditional love and trust that had once filled them—now completely shattered, as if he had been living in a make-believe dream of his own making all this time.

His trembling lips parted, as he repeated his worst nightmare, still holding a spatula in hand that he’d brought from the kitchen, “Y…You said it was your heat. That you thought of me, and that was why you ended up at my front door. That you… did it because you loved me.”

His sweet Suguru. He was an overthinker, a sensitive soul, who bore the weight of his thoughts with a tenderness and fragility of a delicate bloom in a storm.

Satoru really should have known better.

He stood up so fast, he almost tripped over himself. “Of course I love you, Suguru,” he cleared his throat, saying. He wanted to make that very clear. “That has never changed. I loved you from the very start—from the very first day. Believe me, okay, princess?” His voice was imploring for Suguru to listen to him; pleading, even.

Even Shoko had gone quiet. She knew Satoru had royally fucked up.

“But you just said,” Suguru’s lips quivered, his beautiful face looking crestfallen. “You just told me, it was a lie. The elders made you do it. I’d always wondered why they adored Megumi larger than life, much more than was expected, but I never imagined…” This.

The betrayal of his husband. His chosen mate.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Satoru hurriedly said, leaping over sofas and chairs just to rush to his side. “Suguru, you’ve misunderstood. They believed in their bullshit oracle. Not me. I did it because I loved you. I did it because—well, I’d always wanted to claim you as my mate, and they gave me a reason to finally do so. It wasn’t them, okay? It was all me.”

But as Satoru’s arms instinctively wrapped around Suguru’s waist, in the same manner he always did whenever he needed to comfort his mate, Suguru harshly pushed him off, as though repulsed by his touches.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, with eyes flared wide open in heartbreak. They had turned red, and tears now threatened to spill. Turning his head away, he choked out, “Don’t ever touch me again, Satoru!”

His omega was in pain; everyone could smell it. The room had been flooded full of his pheromones, ones that signalled an omega was in great distress. Even Utahime had hastily abandoned her cooking to run out of the kitchen, afraid that Suguru had fallen into some kind of danger.

“Geto, are you okay?! What happened?!”

It had been a bad enough idea to separate Suguru from his child. Already in a heightened state of tension, the stress and anxiety had now intensified twofold as Suguru grappled with the real motivation behind his and Satoru’s union.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I was wrong…”

When in doubt, shoulder all of the blame. That was the way things had always worked between them, and the quickest way Satoru could get Suguru to forgive him.

This time, however, Suguru hardly spared him a glance. His blood ran cold. His voice was raw, crisp. Bitter. Full of numbing disdain.

It no longer worked, Satoru’s foolproof method to secure Suguru’s forgiveness.

“I’ll pack my bags, and then I’ll be on my way,” Suguru said rather sharply, as he angrily brushed past his alpha to get to their room. “Do not attempt to follow me.”

“Suguru—”

“Don’t even bother,” Suguru silenced him. Delivering to him one cold, hard look before he left him for good. “I will never trust you again.”

No matter how much he begged or got on his knees, Suguru never once more gave him the light of day.

By the time Satoru returned to the estate, Suguru had removed all of his things, and moved out.

A month later, he made Satoru lease an apartment for him, one situated in a safe enough area where he and Megumi could live.

Three months later, he served Satoru divorce papers. Satoru didn’t even take a look at them, before ripping it into shreds.

Five months later, he began to let Satoru see Megumi again. Once a week at first, then twice, on the weekends.

Seven months later, Satoru convinced Megumi to begin their little diary of all of mama’s everyday activities.

Nine months later, Satoru saw Suguru getting out of Nanami’s car.

And that was where they were at now.

A broken family, marred solely by the consequences of Satoru’s actions.

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.

.

As Suguru plants a goodnight kiss on Megumi, Satoru carefully tucks him into his blankets.

Megumi gazes up at the both of them within the dimness of his bedroom, with his big doe eyes shining bright. “It’s been a while since mama and papa both tucked me in.”

Satoru sees the guilt on Suguru’s face. And feels his own heart shrivel up in despair.

Satoru says nothing. He can tell little Megumi, I want to be here every night, too, but your mama won’t let me.

But there is no point shifting the blame onto Suguru. It is all Satoru. It is all on him.

Suguru won’t let an ounce of weakness show in front of his son. He simply tells Megumi to go to sleep and have sweet dreams, before turning off the night lights. But the second he walks out of that room and securely fastens the door shut, his demeanour shifts. His voice becomes icy, his carefully constructed facade crumbles, and his eyes narrow into angry, beady little slits.

Satoru absolutely can’t stand it. Against his better judgement, he charges forward, enveloping Suguru in a tight hug from behind, refusing to let go.

“Please don’t date someone else,” Satoru pleads, not even caring about how pathetic he sounds when he says this. His head dips into the empty crook of Suguru’s shoulder as he tightens his grip, having missed such closeness with his mate after so long. “Please don’t give up on us like this.”

Suguru immediately pushes him away, as if Satoru’s touch were disgusting; as if it contaminated his very skin.

It completely shatters Satoru’s already fragile heart.

“Sit,” he directs Satoru, ordering him around as though he were a mere child.

Defeated by Suguru’s chilly response, Satoru doesn’t fight back. Instead, he hangs his head low and chooses a chair in the living room—one that looks the hardest, and the most uncomfortable—and takes his seat with a posture so rigid you would think he were at a military drill.

Satoru rests both hands on the top of his legs, as his gaze wanders across the entirety of the apartment. Within a hundred blinks per minute, Satoru clocks every detail within the confines of this sacred space. Suguru had opted for a more modestly sized place for him and Megumi to live in, but it was still reasonably huge and befitting Gojo standards. Nevertheless, Suguru had decorated it impeccably in accordance to his tastes—black and white, minimalistic and contemporary—and kept everything impossibly neat and tidy, with nary a book out of place.

So. This is where his mate and child have built their life, away from him.

There was a trace of Megumi to be found, in the toys neatly stored away. The immaculately arranged coffee cups and organised photo frames bore the obvious mark of Suguru. And yet, there wasn’t a trace of Satoru in sight. It was as if he’d never existed in their lives; as if he had been completely shoved out of the picture.

Satoru didn’t like that. Because for as long as he can remember, Suguru and him had been joined at the hip.

Suguru made up every part of him. And he’d like to think he did the same for Suguru, as well.

His mate hovers in contemplation before him, wrestling with the decision of whether to commit enough time to this—whatever this was—to warrant taking a seat himself, or remain standing. Ultimately though, he does settle into a chair opposite Satoru, with a coffee table acting as a buffer between them.

That’s the extent of the distance he requires to engage in conversation with a man whose face he never wants to see again.

“You wanted to talk?” Suguru finally asks him, in a voice so biting it threatens to tear Satoru’s heart into shreds once more.

“I,” Satoru swallows tight. Yes, he wanted to talk. But not like this. Not like this. With Suguru staring at him as though he detested nothing more in this world.

“Yes, I, uh, wanted to talk.”

“About me dating Nanami?” Suguru gets straight to the point, already looking annoyed. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, looking so beautiful that Satoru has to actively resist the urge to lean over and kiss him. Suguru’s always beautiful, even at his angriest moments. Satoru likens him to a hissing feline, one that possesses sharp teeth and claws capable of digging your heart from your chest anytime to crush it to bits.

“Yes, about Nanami,” Satoru utters through gritted teeth, holding himself back from spitting out the very name. The sheer betrayal of it all—is what Satoru absolutely can’t stand. And yet, he can’t help but question, his voice heavy with despair, “Why… Why him?”

Why find someone the complete opposite of me?, was what Satoru really wanted to ask. Why couldn’t you have found someone less put together, someone that I could easily compare to? Is it because he represents everything you’ve always desired of me, but couldn’t get? Is it because he is patient, humble, and kind, in all the ways I will never be?

Chivalrous, well-dressed, the type to open a door for you without being asked—qualities that hardly scream Gojo Satoru, whose idea of romance is literally whisking you through the door via teleportation. But in an ideal world, in a world without Gojo Satoru, Suguru and Nanami would have made quite the couple. They would have worked: Nanami’s thoughtfulness perfectly complementing Suguru’s sensitive nature.

Suguru tactfully avoids the question and averts his gaze, answering, “Satoru, it’s not that big of a deal. It was only—one date. I didn’t think to tell you about it.”

It was only one date. Then, today had to be their first. Satoru’s equal amounts of relieved, and upset. Relieved that Suguru hadn’t been sleeping with Nanami under his nose this whole time. Upset that Suguru thought he could even go on a date with another alpha, given their very grey circumstances.

“You’re not allowed,” Satoru’s voice shakes, simmering with restrained anger. “You’re not allowed to date anybody else. We’re still—married, Suguru. We were still married the last time I checked, however many months ago when you left the estate. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I’ve asked for a divorce,” Suguru so casually says.

“And I denied it,” Satoru snaps. “I never signed the papers.”

“That’s your call,” Suguru flatly states.

“It’ll fuck both of us up if we were to break our bond, you know that,” Satoru points out.

“Well, you’ve already fucked me the hell up, Gojo Satoru,” Suguru snarls, shooting him a venomous glare. “So I can’t imagine it’d be any worse.”

“Suguru—” Satoru knows he can’t get any words through to him when he’s in this state. He’s long accustomed to his wife’s hot-headed behaviour. Exasperatedly running his hand up his hair, he persists with his earlier stance, “Whatever it is, you can’t be going on dates in front of Megumi. It’s not appropriate, and it’ll confuse him. I already,” and there’s a sharp intake of breath, as he feels it cut all the way to his heart, “I already don’t get to see him as much, and I can’t have some other man—no, worse, Nanami—be around him more than I get to be around him.”

Suguru actually quietens at that, like he understands what Satoru is coming from. And he appreciates it, whenever Satoru shows the thoughtful side of him, the side where he’s being a good father.

“It was just one dinner,” Suguru’s voice drops to a hushed whisper, as he attempts to allay his husband’s fears. Looking at his feet, Suguru quietly confesses, “There’s not—there’s not going to be a next.”

Satoru could cry tears of happiness.

Suguru’s heart hasn’t completely wavered. Suguru and him—aren’t completely done for!

“So why even go on it, then?” Satoru desperately asks. “Why go on it, if you already knew it wasn’t going to amount to anything?”

Suguru heaves a long sigh, as he slowly explains, “I needed help with some administrative paperwork, and Nanami had expertise in this department, so he helped me out. And when he asked for dinner with me, I—I suppose I felt like I owed him one. So I said yes. But I never thought of continuing anything with him, at all.”

Satoru can read in between the lines, however. “But he’s interested. He’s interested in you. He’s not going to stop at just one dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter, Satoru,” Suguru insists, shaking his head. “It’s not going to be good for Megumi, like you said, so I have no intentions of pursuing anything further. You know Megumi will always take priority, for me. I won’t do this to our son.”

If anything else, at least Satoru has Megumi to help cockblock any of Suguru’s inevitable line of suitors.

“But if we didn’t have a Megumi,” Satoru feels his throat go dry. “You would possibly entertain his affections?”

Suguru’s reply comes a bit slower than he would prefer, a touch less firm than Satoru would like. “No,” he says, though he repeats it twice like he’s trying to convince even himself of his answer. His eyes gently shut in acceptance as he softly, albeit reluctantly, confesses, knowing it’d betray his weakness, “I don’t think I’m easy to love. So, no.”

There it was, plain as day—Suguru’s honest feelings laid bare.

It feels like a knife twisting in Satoru’s heart, for him to witness his mate in such pain.

A knot tightening in his chest, as their minds and souls remained intricately connected through their mating bond; and hurt where the other hurt, and ached where the other ached.

Fuck the coffee table. Satoru’s hand reaches over, and clasps Suguru’s one into his.

Hoping it will bring him as much comfort as it gives to Satoru.

“You’re not difficult to love,” Satoru softly says to him, squeezing his hand tight. Quietly wishing he could kiss all of his fears away. “I’ve loved you all this while. I’ve never stopped.”

For a moment, Suguru hesitates, as though deliberating whether to push Satoru away.

But he chooses to stay.

His eyes still remain closed as he softly utters out, almost in a whisper, “I know you’re worried about your place in Megumi’s life as a father. But I’d never do anything to hurt that. Megumi still—no, he has always—thought of the world of you. He thinks you’re the world’s greatest dad. He comes back from his weekends with you, and spends the next five days constantly talking about you.”

Satoru’s heart swells up to twice its size. He hadn’t known. “He… really does that?”

“Yeah,” Suguru responds, breaking into a quiet little chuckle. “I couldn’t stop him if I tried. And believe me, I’ve tried. I don’t exactly relish hearing about the man I’m trying to get away from, 24/7, you know.”

Satoru’s eyes are downcast, thinking, contemplating. He should really treat his son better, and stop all of this stalking-mama nonsense he makes him get up to. His son looks up to him so much, but for the past year or so, Satoru has spent most of their weekends together plotting ways to win back Suguru. But Megumi deserves much more than that. He’s Satoru’s flesh and blood, moulded in his own likeness, his very own protégé.

Megumi needs his dad now, more than ever.

And all Satoru can care about is the five-minute catch-ups with Suguru that he gets when he drops Megumi off, back at Suguru’s place.

“Even if I liked Nanami,” Suguru coolly brings up, though he quickly remembers to add afterwards, “Which I don’t, I don’t see Megumi replacing you with him, ever. Satoru, you have nothing to worry about in this department. You’re an amazing father.”

Satoru’s voice echoes in the cruel silence, carrying an undertone of heartbreak in the air. “But I could be more.” I want to be more. A husband, a worthy mate. If you’ll just let me in, Suguru—you let me in once before, and you can let me back in again.

Suguru can’t even meet his eyes.

Forget it. Satoru had gotten his hopes up for nothing, after all.

Satoru no longer expects an answer, and so it is with great surprise that Suguru follows up with a rather pensive and wistful,

“Satoru, I don’t know.”

—Which means there’s hope. Which means there’s hope. For this is the most Suguru has given him in nine months since everything unravelled between them, and now there’s a flicker of light to be found at the end of the tunnel; there’s a slight change of mind.

There’s Suguru’s hands twitching beautifully in Satoru’s grasp, seemingly battling the urge to return the grip on Satoru’s hand.

There’s hope. There’s hope!

This is the most they’ve talked in nine months. This is the most Suguru has heard him out.

This is the most that Suguru hasn’t allowed himself to stew in the crippling silence, and let all of his thoughts get to his head.

“There’s more to it,” Satoru urgently asserts, detecting the uneasiness in Suguru’s grip. “There’s more to this; more you want to tell me about. Suguru, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere. Talk to me, babe. I love you so goddamn much, and it drives me insane not to know what you’re thinking. I—I’m never leaving again.”

Suguru parts his lips as if to speak, but ultimately only draws one hesitant breath, before closing them once more. But Satoru looks at him with a face that radiates the warmth of a thousand suns, and Suguru feels compelled to try again. His breath is shaky when he admits, blinking back tears he hadn’t realised were there, “Satoru, I…”

He was so close. They were getting so close. Satoru waits with bated breath.

Suguru, just give in to me.

“I haven’t felt like myself in a long time,” Suguru nervously blurts out, with his beautiful foxy eyes blown open wide in fear. Satoru has never seen him so shaken up. As uncontrollable tremors take hold of his hands and knees, Suguru lets it all pour out, one confession following another: “And it’s only gotten worse and worse, and now I’m losing you. I’ve lost you. And I don’t know what to do.”

Satoru knew Suguru still cared.

He knew, and he’d always known. At times, he came so close to losing all hope. But he’d always remember the Suguru that he’d fallen so deeply in love with, and know that Suguru couldn’t have forsaken him like this. Not out of the blue. Not overnight. Not for the rest of their lives.

Satoru’s breaths quicken as he hastens to assure his mate, all while clenching onto him tight, “It’s not too late. It’s never too late, Suguru babe. I’m right here.”

Suguru never opens up to him. And Satoru knows if he fucks this one chance up, he might even lose Suguru forever.

“It’s just…I,” Suguru hiccups slightly, looking at everywhere else but Satoru, uncertain about how to go about this. But now that he has started, he can no longer stop. He’s only just scratched the surface of what lies beneath. And so, he continues with his remorseful tirade, unleashing a torrent of emotions after bottling them up for so long: “I know marrying me has sucked. I’ve sucked as a wife, and now I’m sucking as a mother. I can’t do anything right. I hated swallowing curses, and I was so grateful marrying you meant I didn’t have to do sorcery anymore. I sucked at all of that, too. And then you told Shoko that it wasn’t something you did on your own. It was some crap about fulfilling your duty to the clan. I—I ended up just being part of the larger picture, a mere tool for the Gojo clan. I’ve really—amounted to nothing at all, have I?”

And he’s gasping at the end of it all, struggling for breath. Everything had spilled out in one go. Swallowing down his tears, he shrugs off Satoru’s hand, just so he can bury his face in his hands. He’s so ashamed, he can’t stand to face Satoru anymore.

His breaths stagger out as he admits rather brokenly, “Satoru, I don’t… I don’t know who I am.”

This was all Satoru’s fault.

Satoru should have seen all of the signs much, much earlier.

The nannies had warned him, hadn’t they? Suguru’s mental constitution had been steadily debilitating ever since Megumi’s birth. Satoru never sought to find out why, perhaps because Suguru was still able to muster a smile most times in Satoru’s presence. And Satoru merely allowed all of Suguru’s worries to accumulate like water behind a dam, until it inevitably burst.

“Suguru babe, my sweetheart,” Satoru anxiously shifts closer to his side, bringing him into a tender embrace. Suguru quickly goes limp in his arms, his head finding refuge in Satoru’s chest. Within Satoru’s embrace, Suguru feels so small, so fragile, so… breakable. Satoru’s only now noticing how worryingly thin Suguru is getting, exacerbated by the poor diet he seems to have had during the nine months they’ve been apart.

Placing a comforting hand over Suguru’s head, Satoru gently soothes him with a hush, “You are the best mother, and the best mate. You were a damn good sorcerer, and if I still had the privilege of you fighting by my side, we’d be an unstoppable match. I can only dream of becoming a team with you. I’d be so lucky.” He pauses, if only for emphasis. “But I’m far luckier to have you as the mother of my child. My Megumi. You’re not ‘just’ part of some larger plan—you are the plan. You are my life’s goal. You are my entire world. And if you don’t know who you are, then look towards me. I remember who you are. I’ll always remember for you.”

Suguru cries. Full-on sobbing into Satoru’s chest, weakly clinging onto his shirt. Dark trails of eyeliner streaming down his face, marking the path of his tears.

It’s everything he’d always longed to hear.

“Satoru, the past nine months—have been so hard,” Suguru confesses with his whole heart, with his voice quivering, with his soft vulnerability etched into every word. “I never wanted to be without you. I thought of you every night. But everytime I considered returning home, I only ended up pulling myself away more and more. I just… couldn’t bear the thought of you loving me any less than I loved you…”

“That’s bullshit, babe,” Satoru quickly interjects, in a state of pure disbelief at what he’d just heard. “Do you even know how pathetic I’ve become after you left? The depths I’ve sunk to just to keep you within my sights? Megumi has had to—oh, I don't even know where to begin. I've dragged our poor son into countless shenanigans and schemes just to keep tabs on you. I even made him start a diary, of…”

“...All of mama’s everyday activities,” Suguru’s tears clear for a brief moment, if only for him to lift his head back up and complete Satoru’s sentence for him. It’s evident he knows what Satoru’s talking about; albeit he hadn’t quite known the source of it. To Satoru’s surprise, gentle laughter trickles out of Suguru’s lips as he happily divulges, “I thought… I thought that was Megumi’s own doing. I found it cute. Sometimes, I’d add on little details to his diary, while he was asleep. 23:00, Mama went to sleep dreaming about his cute little Megumi.”

Satoru can barely hide his grin, seeing Suguru in such high spirits again. “No, it was his bastard father who made him do it.”

Suguru continues chuckling through the tears. Before, the tears kept coming. Now, the laughter can’t seem to cease. “You... You’ve truly imparted your stalker ways to Megumi, haven’t you?”

The alpha made a solemn pledge with two fingers raised, “I promise I won’t teach him to sneak into other people’s beds.”

Suguru’s laughter rings through the air once more; a honeyed, mellifluous sound that seems to dissolve the heaviness permeating this apartment.

Finally, light has returned to Suguru’s beautiful violet eyes.

Satoru knows it’s now or never. He tightens his grip on Suguru, as his voice takes on a firmer, more serious tone, hoping Suguru will give in to him just one more time:

“Suguru, come home with me.”

For a moment, Suguru hesitates. He runs through all sorts of thoughts in his mind—in particular the kind that overthinks, and gets him in trouble often.

Satoru sees it happening, and immediately plants a soft kiss atop his eyelids. “Suguru, don’t think. Just feel. Come home with me, and I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll make all of the decisions for you. I’ll be there every step of the way. I won’t ever let it get hard for you.”

Oddly enough, it’s just what Suguru needs.

Wincing slightly beneath his kiss, Suguru shakily asks of him, “You…promise?”

Covered in smudged makeup streaks and a cascade of loose wavy curls framing his face, Suguru has never looked more beautiful to Satoru.

“I promise,” Satoru vows, pulling Suguru’s face closer and sealing his promise with another kiss, knowing he has prayed to gods he didn’t even believe in for this one very chance.

From behind his bedroom door, Megumi hugs the stuffed pig his dad had won for him at the arcade and silently watches the heartwarming scene between his papa and mama unfold—having wanted this more than anybody else.