The Unknown Heir

渋谷事変_七海建人

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

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Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland@ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

trio sketches

yeah, my boyfriend’s pretty cool, but he’s not as cool as me

thank you to the lovely @/luvluvluv06 on twitter for my first commission of me and boyfie takuma! they still have commission spots open so check out their amazing art 💕

[papamin au 🐅] a day at the aquarium 🐠

7 to 3

men in suits are my weakness

jujutsu kaisen

✿ smut ✧ fluff * angst

one shots

i am currently in process of reworking some of these. i will reblog once complete. i have taken a few works out of this list to be re-written entirely, but they are still on my blog somewhere.

satoru gojo

with me ✧ summary: as you find yourself awake at night, you wonder if it’s time to confess to captain gojo. (pirate au)

gojo's bride 5.4k words summary: as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

morning after ✧ summary: after sleeping with Satoru for the first time, you wake up to him making you breakfast. just a cute little comfort drabble tbh!

new years kiss ✧ summary: gojo devises a plan in which you can share a new year's kiss in secrecy.

when flames dance 2.4k words ✿* summary: as prince gojo's bride is chosen, you're left to experience one last night within his chambers.

heat ✿ 2.6k words summary: gojo isn't human. even if you can't explain it, you can feel it, in more ways than one.

payback ✿ 2k words summary: after learning your boyfriend has been cheating on you, satoru devises a plan of payback.

blood,night ✿ (satoru x reader x suguru x megumi) 4.6k words summary: as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

suguru geto

pull *✧ summary: two years had passed since you'd broken up, but when suguru serves you in a coffee shop, you feel the pull to him once more.

blood,night ✿ (suguru x reader x satoru x megumi) 4.6k words summary: as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

choso kamo

red,blood ✿ 10.8k words summary: bitten by a stranger, you notice an extreme aversion to food - instead craving one substance above all. moments from taking a life, choso brings you back to normalcy; with only one issue. it's choso's blood that you crave.

christmas tree ✧ just you, choso and his little brother yuji decorating the christmas tree!

heart-shaped roach ✿ 0.4k drabble cw: smoking weed (dubcon)

a white christmas ✧✿ 3.2k words summary: you and your daughter spend christmas with choso and yuji.

toji fushiguro

mornin' ✧ 0.7k words summary: waking up beside toji!

you shouldn't ✿ 4k words summary: arriving at toji's home after a break-up, you decide to finally make a move.

good girl ✿ 1.3k words summary: after accompanying toji to the zen'in residence, he wants to thank you.

wedding night ✿ 1.4k words summary: after an arranged marriage to unite your clans, you're left alone in a hotel room with your new husband.

insatiable ✿* 2.3k words summary: falling for toji, you finally venture to his home in order to confess, only to be met with a questionable encounter leaving you confused through your admiration for him.

first time✿ summary: after toji finds out you're a virgin, you find yourself in an ultimatum.

choke ✿ 0.8k words summary: just a smutty drabble tbh

kento nanami

two lines 0.8k words ✧ summary: after finding out you're pregnant, you contemplate what to do.

overtime 1.2k words ✿ cw:office sex, semi-public

megumi fushiguro

blood,night ✿ (megumi x reader x suguru x satoru) 4.6k words summary: as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

reunion 2.1k words ✿ cw:spitkink

yuta okkotsu

a piece of advice 2.6k words ✿ summary: after you offer condom advice to yuta, you put forward a second suggestion.

yuji itadori

blood ✿ 3k words summary: you don't understand why your boyfriend won't come over while you're on your period. the secret he's been keeping from you surfaces as he's faced with the iron scent he loves - yuji is a vampire.

sukuna

lord✿ 2.5k words summary: After confessing your sins, Sukuna is unsatisfied by your devotion to an undeserving God.

the proposal*✧✿ 5.5k words summary: an evening within a club owned by sukuna had ended in a late night conversation, the beginning to a secret friendship between yourself and your sister's boyfriend. only, when pining over one another for so long, you can't keep yourselves from the truth; you were in love.

maki zen'in

girl ✿ summary: after maki arrives in your home riddled in self-doubt, she learns your true feelings toward her.

l’amour de ma vie — geto suguru.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that." He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Not Safe For Work (NSFW), R-18, Angst, Toxic Love, Romance, Break-Up, Situationship, Toxic Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Lack of Communication, Dysfunctional Relationship, Hurt/No Comfort, Depression, Emotional Distress, Emotional Manipulation, Disassociation, Anticipatory Grief, Smut, P to V Sex, Bathtub Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Smoking, Depiction of Dysfunctional Relationship, Depiction of Unhealthy Behaviours, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Cigarettes and Smoking, Depiction of Disassociation, Mention of Physical and Or Bodily Harm, Mention of Murder, Mention of Blood, Mention of Character Death, Mention of Future Events;

WORDS: 9.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if i should be honest, i think this little thing surpasses pretending as always and the other woman in terms of the sad meter. i really enjoyed writing this because it was just raw and emotionally revealing. if anything, this is my current favorite. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did and still do!!! i love you all <3

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kayu's playlist, side 1500;

EVER SINCE YOU MET HIM, HE FELT LIKE HOME. You and Geto Suguru had always been inseparable, two halves of the same whole from the very first day at Jujutsu High.

While the world often paired him with Gojo Satoru — the two of them known for their strength and partnership — there was something between you and Suguru that ran deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. You were his mirror in ways Satoru could never be. You understood him not just through the bond of shared power but in the quiet moments, in the spaces between battle and duty.

Where Satoru reveled in his god-like strength, you and Suguru shared the burden of understanding the world’s cruelty, the cost of being sorcerers. There was an unspoken connection between you two, built on a mutual respect for the world’s darker truths and the weight that came with protecting it. You saw him, truly saw him, in ways no one else could — not even Satoru.

It happened slowly, you're falling in love. It wasn’t some grand, sweeping romance but rather a quiet thing that grew over time, unnoticed at first. The little moments where you stayed back after training, talking under the stars, your conversations deep and philosophical, both of you sharing dreams, fears, and the weight of what it meant to bear the responsibility of a jujutsu sorcerer.

It was in the way he’d find you after a tough mission, silently standing by your side until you were ready to speak. The way his eyes softened just for you, in a way they never did for anyone else.

There was no sudden realization, no epiphany — just the slow warmth of knowing that his presence had become as necessary to you as breathing. You would exchange a glance across the room, and in that look, you would know what the other was thinking. It was as if your souls were entwined, slowly knitting together over time.

Suguru had always been cautious, thoughtful, but with you, his walls seemed to fall away bit by bit. He didn’t have to hide the weight of his worries, the questions that plagued him late into the night. And in return, you shared your own vulnerability, your own doubts, the moments of quiet despair that came with your duties.

Your hands would brush against each other during missions, the brief touch sending sparks through your veins, but neither of you spoke of it at first. It was too fragile, too precious to put into words. But those touches lingered, the brief glances became longer, and soon, the silences between you were filled with the unspoken understanding of what you both felt.

You fell in love in those small, stolen moments — not all at once, but in the way his gaze lingered a little longer on you during training, the way he would seek you out even when there was no reason to. You noticed how his voice softened when he spoke your name, how his laughter felt more genuine when it was with you.

It was gradual, this love. It wasn’t fireworks or grand confessions. It was a quiet, persistent thing, growing slowly but steadily, as natural as the rising sun. And before either of you truly realized it, you had become his other half — not just in battle, but in everything.

And Suguru, who had always carried the weight of the world so heavily on his shoulders, found solace in you, found love in a way that didn’t need words or declarations. You were his mirror, his equal, the one who truly understood the depths of who he was. 

And he, in turn, became yours.

The change was subtle, barely noticeable at first. It was in the way Suguru’s shoulders relaxed when you were around, the way his eyes would light up just a little more when you spoke. Your friendship, already so deep, had slipped effortlessly into something more intimate without either of you acknowledging it out loud. It was as if neither of you wanted to disturb the delicate balance, afraid to name the thing that had grown between you for fear it might shatter.

You began to spend more time together outside of missions and training. You’d sit side by side in the library, poring over old texts or discussing jujutsu theory long into the night. On rare afternoons off, you’d find a quiet corner of the campus to sit and talk about everything and nothing — your pasts, your dreams for the future, your shared frustrations with the world you were tasked with protecting. In those moments, the world seemed smaller, more manageable, as if it was just the two of you in it.

There were no grand gestures between you and Suguru, but the small things added up — the way he would bring you tea without asking, knowing exactly how you liked it; the way you’d patch up his wounds after a particularly difficult mission, your fingers lingering on his skin a little longer than necessary. He’d watch you as you worked, his gaze soft, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. 

And you? You found yourself looking forward to the moments when it was just the two of you, when the weight of your roles as jujutsu sorcerers could fall away and you could just be. You knew you were falling for him, slowly but irrevocably, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t need to. What you shared with Suguru was natural, inevitable, like the slow blooming of a flower. 

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after a particularly grueling mission, that something shifted. You had been injured — not seriously, but enough to warrant Suguru’s concern. He had stayed by your side, helping you back to your room after Gojo had left to handle the debriefing. You could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw was clenched, his usual calm exterior cracking just slightly.

“Suguru, I’m fine. Really.” you said softly, trying to reassure him as you sat on the edge of your bed. “It’s just a scratch.”

But he wasn’t listening, his eyes dark with worry as he knelt in front of you, his hands hovering over the bandage on your arm. “You shouldn’t have taken that hit!” he muttered, his voice low, almost angry. “I should have—”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Hey.” you said softly, your voice drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “It’s not your fault. We’re a team, remember? We look out for each other.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and something shifted between you. The air grew heavier, charged with an emotion neither of you had spoken aloud but both of you had felt for a long time. Suguru’s hand moved to cover yours where it rested on his cheek, his touch warm and firm, grounding.

“I don’t want to lose you, you know that....” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “I can’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching slightly as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. “You mean too much to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him, your own feelings rising to the surface, too powerful to ignore any longer. “Suguru…” you began, your voice soft, but he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’ve been falling for you, doll.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession was something too fragile to say aloud. “Slowly, but completely.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the truth of your own feelings spilling over. “Me too.” you whispered back, your hand still cradling his face, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I’ve been falling for you too.”

There was a brief moment where the world seemed to pause, where everything else fell away — the missions, the responsibilities, the looming sense of duty that always seemed to hang over you. In that moment, it was just you and Suguru, the quiet intimacy of your confessions binding you together in a way that was both new and familiar.

Then, as if some unseen barrier between you had finally crumbled, Suguru closed the small distance between you and kissed you, softly at first, his lips tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips met his, a flood of emotion rushed through you, and you kissed him back, your hand tightening slightly on his cheek as your other hand found its way to his shoulder, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, neither of you in a rush, savoring the moment as the truth of your feelings settled between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Suguru rested his forehead against yours once more, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

“Maybe we were always meant to find each other like this,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t known he was capable of.

You smiled, your heart full as you whispered, “Maybe we were.”

From that moment on, things between you and Suguru were different — but in the best possible way. The love that had been quietly growing between you had finally been given a voice, and while nothing about your relationship was rushed or flashy, it was solid, rooted in years of friendship and understanding.

You were two peas in a pod, and now, you were more than that. You were his mirror, his equal, his partner in every sense of the word. And together, you faced the world — not just as sorcerers, but as something more.

THINGS QUICKLY CHANGED. With all the highs came the lows, and you could trace the exact moment you began to lose Suguru. It was the day Riko Amanai died. Everything shifted after that. Geto Suguru had always carried a weight on his shoulders — the responsibility of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the burden of protecting the weak from curses that never seemed to end. 

But after Riko’s death, that weight seemed to grow unbearable. You saw it in the way his eyes grew darker, the way his silences stretched longer, how the light that had once shone in him began to dim. 

Where once his passion burned brightly, there was now only a smoldering ember, flickering weakly in the face of despair. The laughter you used to share felt distant, a memory that seemed almost foreign in contrast to the ever-present heaviness that hung over him.

He had always been quiet, thoughtful in his approach to life, but now that stillness took on a different shade — it wasn’t contemplation or a moment of rest, it was something far more unsettling. It was the beginning of withdrawal, of detachment from the very things that used to anchor him.

He no longer met your gaze in the same way; when he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing through you, as if he was trying to find something beyond the present — something that would ease the ache in his soul.

Conversations that had once flowed freely between you both became strained, stilted, weighed down by unspoken pain. He started questioning everything. Not openly at first, but in quiet, haunting ways — in the pauses between words, in the way he’d linger before answering, as though the truth was too bitter to speak out loud.

You knew Suguru was strong, resilient, but Riko’s death had shaken him in a way that left him fractured. It wasn’t just about losing someone; it was about what she represented — the possibility of something better, something worth fighting for. When that was ripped away, so too was Suguru’s belief in the world he had dedicated his life to. 

And as that belief crumbled, you could see him beginning to unravel, piece by piece, day by day. His sense of purpose, once steadfast and clear, became clouded by doubts and questions, and you feared that he might never find his way back.

There were moments when you caught glimpses of the Suguru you used to know — fleeting sparks of the person who still believed, still fought. But they were just that: moments. Each one shorter than the last, like the dying flickers of a candle on the verge of being snuffed out.

It was in those moments that you knew you were losing him, and no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, he was slipping through your fingers. And you were helpless to stop it.

At first, you tried to reach him. You stayed by his side, offering your hand, your presence, anything you could to help him through the storm of grief and guilt. But Suguru had already begun to slip away, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t pull him back.

The moments of warmth between you grew fewer and far between. Where there had once been easy conversation and soft smiles, now there was a distance — a hollow space between you that seemed impossible to bridge. Suguru, once so attentive, now drifted away even when you were right next to him. You’d talk, but he’d be somewhere else, his thoughts consumed by something darker, something you couldn’t touch.

It drained you, the slow unraveling of your relationship. The pain of watching the person you loved most in the world grow cold, distant, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on. But you stayed. You stayed because you meant it when you told him he was the love of your life. You stayed because you couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning him in his darkest hour, even if he no longer wanted you there.

And he didn’t. You could see it in the way his gaze no longer softened when it landed on you, in the way he brushed off your concern with short, clipped words. He no longer sought your comfort. When he was hurting, he turned inward, shutting you out completely. And yet, you stayed, clinging to the hope that somewhere deep down, the Suguru you had fallen in love with was still there, buried beneath the grief and the anger.

But it wasn’t just grief. You could feel the bitterness growing in him, a festering resentment toward the world that had demanded so much from him, toward the system that had failed Riko, that had failed all of you. He stopped talking about your future together, stopped talking about anything that wasn’t steeped in cynicism and frustration. He was changing, and you could feel it, a slow and terrible shift that left you standing on the outside, helpless to stop it.

The breaking point came in quiet moments, little by little, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You weren’t the love of his life. You weren’t his anchor, his equal, his partner. Not anymore. Suguru’s love had been replaced with something else — an obsession, a mission that consumed him, left no room for you or the bond you had shared. He became fixated on a world where the weak didn’t have to suffer, where sorcerers like him weren’t forced to bear the weight of protecting humanity. His ideals twisted, hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.

And you watched, heartbroken, as the man you loved disappeared into that darkness.

Even when he pushed you away, you stayed. You stayed because you loved him. You stayed because you believed, deep down, that there was still some part of him that loved you too. But with every passing day, it became harder to hold onto that belief. The way he looked at you had changed. There was no warmth, no affection, only a distant coldness that chilled you to your core. 

You would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling while Suguru sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts, the space between you stretching wider and wider until it felt like you were in different worlds entirely. You could feel the end coming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

Because he was the love of your life.

But you could no longer say the same for him. 

Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

The nights were the hardest. You would lay beside him, and though the silence between you was heavy, it was in the quiet moments leading up to those encounters that you found a semblance of the closeness you had lost. When Suguru touched you, it was almost like a desperate attempt to reclaim a part of himself that was missing — a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

When he made love to you, it was a paradox. It was as if he was trying to find solace in you, to fill the void within himself, even if the effort often left you both raw and aching. His movements were urgent, almost frantic, as if he was trying to escape from the pain that had consumed him. His touch, though sometimes rough, was filled with a fervor that betrayed the depth of his emotions, a desperate reach for something he had lost.

You would lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust a mix of pleasure and pain. Even as tears streamed down your face, even as your body shook with a mix of conflicting emotions, there was a strange sense of connection. It was in these moments of vulnerability and rawness that you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved — even if it was through the prism of his own desperation.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with yours, and the room was filled with the sound of your shared intensity. It was as if the pleasure was a balm for both of you, a way to soothe the fractures that had formed in your relationship. His hands gripped you tightly, his body moving with a fervor that spoke of a deep-seated longing to feel something, anything, that resembled the love you had once shared.

In those moments, when the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was the connection between your bodies, you felt a bittersweet semblance of closeness. Even as his pleasure mingled with your own tears, there was an undeniable intensity to it, a shared experience that temporarily bridged the emotional chasm between you.

But even as you felt him inside you, lost in the throes of passion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was also a form of self-medication for him — a way to numb the pain, to forget the pieces of himself that were missing. It was as if he was trying to patch up the voids within him, using you as a vessel for his own fleeting moments of relief.

And so you continued, both of you lost in it, in a dance of pleasure and sorrow that seemed to provide a temporary escape from the reality of what had become of your relationship. The intimacy, though deeply painful at times, was also a reminder of what once was, of the bond you had shared — a bond that was still there, hidden beneath layers of grief and change.

As he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensing above you, you could feel the release echo through both of you. And though the moment was fleeting, it was a reminder of the connection that still lingered, however strained and fractured it had become. You lay there, both of you panting and spent, the silence of the room wrapping around you once more, the echoes of your shared experience lingering in the stillness.

In those moments, you clung to the hope that despite the overwhelming changes, there was still a part of Suguru that needed you, that loved you in the only way he knew how to express now. It was a painful paradox, but it was all you had left — the bittersweet solace of feeling loved through the remnants of a passion that once defined your relationship.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru….” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. 

His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust, “I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder. “You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “Take it. Like the good girl you are. Take it.”

YOU WEREN’T GOOD AT BEING ALONE. Not even after ten years had passed. Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

The nights were the hardest. You would lay beside him, and though the silence between you was heavy, it was in the quiet moments leading up to those encounters that you found a semblance of the closeness you had lost. When Suguru touched you, it was almost like a desperate attempt to reclaim a part of himself that was missing — a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

Even after he left and defected, becoming Jujutsu society’s enemy — and in a way, your own enemy — Suguru still sought you out. It didn't matter that years had passed, or that he had crossed lines no one could return from. Ten years later, you still let him in. You still let him ruin you.

You told yourself you wanted to care. To be angry, to be disgusted, to shut the door on him the moment you saw his familiar silhouette lurking in the shadows. But the truth was, it was hard to care.

Even with the blood on his hands — the blood of innocent people, of those you once fought beside — you let him ruin you. Because you loved him. You always had, and some part of you suspected you always would, even if he didn’t love you anymore. 

And maybe that was the most painful part — knowing that his love had withered into something twisted, something tainted by his bitterness toward the world. But you? You held on to what once was, clutching it desperately, as if it could somehow bring back the man he used to be. The Suguru who laughed with you, who shared quiet nights under the stars, who believed in protecting the world no matter the cost. 

Now, all you could do was lie back in the tub, bright bubbly water enveloping your body, offering a moment of warmth in a life that felt increasingly cold. You have been there for a long while now. But you didn’t have the energy to leave. You’ve been on a mission for a whole three days, and you had nothing left in you. Nothing but bitterness and perhaps, the energy for a smoke. 

All that was left in you was the will to smoke the cigarette between your fingers. You watched it burn lazily in your grasp, a thin stream of smoke curling up. It was addicting, to watch it dancing above the tip like fleeting memories. Fleeting, unattainable memories that you couldn’t quite grasp with everything in you anymore. 

Your vinyl played those rough melodies, the loud boom of it filling the cramped, claustrophobic bathroom with anything but peace. Somehow the chaos was all that kept the thoughts in your head out. It was all that let you breathe. It was almost peaceful — almost enough to pretend things were normal. Chaos, you think, was the only thing that made your life have harmony. Even if it kills you softly.

You can only ever look up at him, leaning against the doorframe. Your deep, dead eyes looked at him as though there was still light in them. As though there wasn’t any resentment, any grief. As though there was nothing but emptiness. Perhaps all that will ever be left behind in them were those tired tenderness. 

That brutal acceptance of what he was, what you had become to each other. You took a deep hit of the cigarette, taking in the smoke as though it was the oxygen you needed. His gaze never left yours as the smoke snarled through your face. 

Suguru could only ever return the gesture, though you could see the deep set of  fatigue etched in the lines of his face. His once-bright purple eyes, the ones that used to light up with hope and purpose, now seemed dull, as though the weight of his choices had drained the life from them. He, just as much as you, had become soulless. Lifeless. Walking corpses. Nothing more, nothing less.

His purple haze lazily traveled over your body, taking in the curves, the skin glistening under the dim light. But there was no lust, no hunger. At least, not that you know of. These days, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But you suppose, his eyes tell more than his mind does. As empty as they were.

All you can see in him was acceptance, even if it was just a flash of a moment. That same old tired familiarity. He had seen you like this countless times before — vulnerable, exposed, both physically and emotionally. And yet, somehow, this moment felt different. More final, more resigned. More exhausted. More empty. Each and every time, you think it gets worse. But you suppose that’s just what it is.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did you. What was there left to say? You had given him your love, your body, your trust, and in return, he had broken you. Over and over again. But still, you let him. Because no matter how far he had fallen, no matter how many lives he had taken, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away.

You watched him as he stood there, wondering if he ever thought about what you could have been — if, in another life, things might have turned out differently. But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. You don’t wanna think about it anymore. Instead, you took another  heavy drag from your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs as the silence between you stretched on. Only the loud chaos of the vinyl remained, and maybe, the tap water’s flow on the sink.

You wondered if he was going to stay the night, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. Either way, you would still love him, even as he ruined you again. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you always did. And some part of you suspected that deep down, you didn’t really want it to stop.

You exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching as it twisted into the air before dissolving into the dimness of the room. His eyes lingered on the ash filled with water before returning to your face. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but the silence between you stretched on, thick and heavy.

"Suguru." you finally broke the stillness, your voice quiet but steady. He blinked, as if hearing his name after so long startled him. "What are you looking for? After all this time, why come back?"

His gaze faltered. You could see it in his eyes — the hesitation, the wariness. He didn’t want to answer, not fully, not truthfully. "I don’t know, if I’m being honest." he murmured after a pause, his voice hoarse. "Maybe I’m just… tired."

You offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "We’re both tired, Suguru. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here. Why do you always come back."

He pushed himself off the doorframe, moving closer to you, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the horrendous music. His large fingers brushed the edge of the tub, his eyes tracing the ashy bubbles floating on the surface.

 "Do you ever think about what we could’ve been?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You took another drag from the cigarette, the embers glowing brighter in the dim light. "I used to." you admitted, staring down at the water. "But thinking about it didn’t change anything. What we are now… it’s not what we could’ve been."

His expression tightened, a shadow of regret crossing his features, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt beside the tub, his fingers trailing through the warm water. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt intimate — too intimate for what you had become.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that."

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

You looked at him then, really looked at him. The lines of exhaustion, the hollowness in his once-bright eyes, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. He was a stranger now, and yet… he was still Suguru. The man you had loved, the man you still loved. Even after everything. And you hated it. You hated everything about it. You hated him. And yet….and yet, you loved him all the same.

"I don’t know how to stop coming back to you." he admitted, his voice raw. "I don’t even know if I want to."

You sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Maybe you’re not supposed to," you said softly, flicking the ash from your cigarette into the water. "But that doesn’t mean this is healthy. For either of us."

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was soft, familiar, and you closed your eyes against the warmth of his palm, against the flood of memories his touch brought with it. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things were different, that you hadn’t ended up here, in this cycle of love and destruction.

But when you opened your eyes, reality came crashing back.

"Suguru," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "You ruin me. Every time. And I let you."

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "I know," he said, his voice breaking. "I know. And I’m sorry."

You laughed softly, bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry doesn’t fix anything. It never has."

He lowered his head, the exhaustion in his posture more evident than ever. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can."

You took a final drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it slowly. "Then maybe," you said quietly, "you should stop trying."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a sadness that ran deeper than words. "And if I don’t know how to let go?"

You reached out, your fingers brushing his, before pulling away. "Then we’ll keep doing this. Over and over again. Until there’s nothing left of either of us."

Suguru stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his guilt, his regret, in the silence that followed. You wanted to believe he would leave this time — that he’d walk away and never come back. But you both knew the truth.

He wouldn’t.

And neither would you.

The splashes of the bathwater almost seemed to compete with the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding, creating a symphony of intimate noise that filled the cramped space. The small bathroom was alive with the sensory chaos of your passion. The ashy, bitter, bubbly water in the tub surged over the edges with each of your movements, cascading down the sides and creating a pool of frothy suds around the base.

Geto Suguru, relaxed and reclining against the porcelain tub, looked every bit the picture of serene indulgence. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, a reflection of the deep, contented sighs escaping his lips. His usual composed demeanor was softened by the way he surrendered to the moment, his purple eyes half-lidded as he took in the sensation of your body pressed intimately against his.

The rhythm of your bodies moving together created a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock in a silent room. The sound of the water mixing with the echoes of your shared breaths and whispered moans painted a vivid picture of the intense connection between you. Each splash and ripple seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, adding a physical dimension to the emotions that were already swirling around the small space. 

In this confined setting, every movement was magnified, every touch felt more pronounced, making the experience all the more enveloping and consuming. The heat of the water and the warmth of Suguru's body combined to create an almost intoxicating environment, where the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the sensory overload of the moment you were sharing.

Your fingers clutched the rim of the tub for support, knuckles turning white as his hands gripped your waist, guiding your hips with a slow, deliberate pace. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with lust and something darker — something that lingered between desire and destruction.

Geto Suguru’s gaze was heavy-lidded with passion, with pleasure. His tired eyes never leave your face with every moment. His lips parted slightly, releasing a low groan as your movements quickened, water splashing violently around you. It was intense, almost punishing, the way you moved together — like you were trying to drown out everything else, the pain, the guilt, the past. In these moments, nothing else existed.

He let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening as he thrust deeper into you, sending another wave of water crashing against the sides of the tub. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, mingling with the music still softly playing in the background. It was a strange contrast — the gentle melody against the raw, primal intimacy unfolding between you.

"Fuck…" Suguru muttered, his voice rough, barely audible above the splashing water. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I can’t… stop."

You gasped in response, your body arching against him as he pressed deeper, harder, his movements becoming more desperate. There was no tenderness, no softness — just need. Need for you, for the release, for the fleeting escape from the weight of everything that had come between you.

But even in the heat of the moment, you felt the familiar ache creeping back in, the realization that this wouldn’t change anything. You were caught in the same cycle, both of you — tangled in a web of love, regret, and ruin. And even as you lost yourself in him, in the way he filled you completely, you knew that this would never be enough to heal the wounds you both carried.

Your breath hitched as he buried himself deeper, your thighs trembling with the intensity of it all. His name left your lips in a soft, broken whisper, and for a moment, it felt like you were both on the edge of something — not just release, but something far more terrifying. The edge of losing yourselves to each other completely.

But as your climax built, the water splashing and your moans blending with the music, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not at that moment. You leaned down, your lips brushing his as your body shuddered around him, and in that fleeting second, it was just the two of you — all the pain, the guilt, the love, suspended in the air between the breaths you shared.

Then, with a final, desperate thrust, everything shattered.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure finally subsided, the water still sloshing gently around you both. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as the fog of lust cleared, reality settled back in — heavy and suffocating. You stayed there for a moment, leaning against Suguru’s chest, your breath still ragged, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

But as his hand slid up your back, a soft caress, something inside you broke. This couldn’t continue. Not anymore.

You slowly lifted yourself off of him, your body protesting the movement as the water rippled in your wake. You stood up, the warm water dripping off your skin, but you felt cold inside. Turning your back to him, you grabbed the towel from the rack, wrapping it around your body, trying to create some distance — any distance — between you and what had just happened.

"Suguru." you said, your voice quiet but firm. You still hadn’t turned to face him. "This can’t happen again."

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting. You could almost hear his thoughts, the confusion, the quiet disbelief. He probably thought you didn’t mean it. That you were just saying it because the guilt always hit harder after intimacy.

You turned to face him then, your eyes meeting his. His expression was calm, though there was a flicker of something — maybe sadness, maybe frustration — in his eyes. "You have to stop coming here," you continued, your voice shaking slightly. "This is… it’s destroying both of us. And I can’t do this anymore. I won’t."

He shifted in the tub, his elbows resting on the sides as he sat up, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to understand where this was coming from. "You don’t mean that," he murmured, his voice low and even. "You always say you’re done, but you never are."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I know. I’ve said it before. But I mean it this time, Suguru." You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "This… whatever we’ve become, it’s not love anymore. It’s pain. And I can’t keep letting you back into my life just so we can tear each other apart."

He ran a hand through his wet hair, his jaw clenched as he listened, his gaze never leaving yours. "You still love me," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s the problem," you replied, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I do still love you. I think I always will. But that’s not enough anymore."

You stepped closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tub, your hands gripping the porcelain, your face inches from his. "Every time you come back, I let you in because I hope… I hope something will change. Maybe, this time, you’ll stay. Or that you’ll choose me over whatever it is you’re chasing. But you never do. And I can’t keep living with that."

Suguru’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, just as quickly, his usual calm mask slipped back into place. "You think I don’t want to stay?" he asked, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place — regret, maybe, or guilt. "You think I don’t miss what we had?"

"Then why don’t you?" you shot back, the frustration and heartache boiling to the surface. "Why do you always leave, Suguru? Why do you keep coming back, only to walk away again?"

He didn’t have an answer, and in that silence, the truth was louder than anything he could have said.

"I can’t keep doing this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I need you to go. And this time, I need you to never come back."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw the same brokenness in him that you felt in yourself. But instead of pleading or apologizing, he stood up, the water dripping off him as he stepped out of the tub. He grabbed his clothes, moving quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Suguru," you called after him, your voice wavering. "Please. Don’t make this harder."

He paused at the door, his back to you, his head tilted slightly as if considering your words. Then, without turning around, he muttered softly, "You always knew this would end like this."

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the quiet room.

You stood there for a long time, the sound of the bathwater still rippling behind you, the music still playing softly. But the space felt emptier now, colder. You sank to the floor, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of his absence settle in your chest.

This time, you told yourself, it was really over. But as you sat there in the silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had truly meant it. Or if some part of you was still waiting for him to come back.

YET WORDS ARE EASIER THAN ACTION. And you know, you were born to be a liar. Both of you were. And in the quiet aftermath of Geto Suguru's departure, you knew deep down that the promises made were nothing more than echoes of empty words. The truth was, you weren’t ready to let go, and neither was he. The cycle, though painful, was one you both knew too well — and you were trapped in it, unable to break free.

As the door closed behind him, you sat alone in the bath, the water now cold and stagnant, reflecting the dim light of the room. You stared at your own reflection, the tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes mingling with the water’s surface. The silence felt heavy, oppressive, a reminder of the lies you had told each other and yourself.

Hours later, long after the bubbles had dissipated and the water had turned colder than ever before, you heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. He was back — just like always. The moment you heard it, a part of you felt a twisted sort of relief mixed with the sting of knowing you’d once again fall into the same pattern.

Suguru walked in, his face a mask of the same weariness you’d seen before. He didn’t say a word, but the silence between you was charged with the understanding of what was to come. It was a dance you both knew well, and despite the hurt, there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of it.

You stood up from the tub, wrapping yourself in a towel, and looked at him, your expression a mix of resignation and reluctant desire. "You came back." you said, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

Suguru nodded, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "You knew I would."

You swallowed hard, fighting back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. "I did. I guess I always do."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe forgiveness, or understanding, or just the old connection that seemed to bind you both together, no matter how hard you tried to sever it. "I’m sorry," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "For everything."

You shook your head, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Sorry doesn’t change anything. It never has."

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, his touch as familiar as it was painful. "Then why do we keep doing this?"

You didn’t have an answer. Instead, you reached out and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. "Because we’re both liars," you said quietly, your voice breaking. "And we both know it. We lie to ourselves and each other about what this is, about what we want. And then we repeat it. Over and over."

He nodded, a resigned look in his eyes. "Maybe we’re just afraid of being alone. Or afraid of facing what we’ve become."

You turned away from him, walking slowly back to the edge of the tub. The cold, wet surface felt distant now, a reminder of how you’d tried to distance yourself from this pain, only to find yourself pulled back in.

Suguru followed, his presence heavy and unsettling. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You sighed, looking at him over your shoulder. "We do what we always do. We pretend. We tell ourselves that this time will be different. Maybe, somehow, it will all work out."

He came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace, his warmth mingling with the coolness of the room. "And then what?"

You leaned into him, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence despite the turmoil it brought. "And then we repeat. We rinse and repeat. Until we can’t anymore."

The space between you was filled with the heavy weight of your shared history, the cycles of love and pain that had come to define your relationship. As his lips brushed against your neck, the old familiar spark of desire reignited, even though you knew it was just another fleeting escape from the reality that awaited you both.

For now, you let him hold you, let the old patterns resume. You knew you’d fall back into the same routine — the lies, the hurt, the fleeting moments of connection. And as he began to kiss you softly, you resigned yourself to the truth you both avoided: that the cycle was far from over, and you were both too entangled to break free.

And so, you parroted the same lies, whispered the same promises, and let yourself be swept up once more in the inevitable repetition.

THAT DECEMBER RAIN WAS A PARADOX TO THINK ABOUT. You began to think that maybe, just as much, the rain was just like your love for Geto Suguru. And maybe, that’s the only way to describe everything about these past twelve years of being a prisoner to love. An inescapable, rough paradox.

When Suguru made love to you, it was a rough paradox. His touch was both urgent and tender, driven by a desperate need to escape the pain that had consumed him, yet somehow still managing to convey a deep-seated longing for connection. His movements were frantic, as if he was trying to fill a void within himself that could never truly be filled. It was as though every thrust, every caress was a plea for solace, for something that would make him whole again.

As he pressed into you, you could feel the raw intensity of his emotions, a tumultuous mix of pleasure and anguish. His touch was sometimes rough, but there was a fervor behind it that betrayed the depth of his feelings. It was a paradoxical experience — he sought to find relief in you, yet his desperation often left you both feeling more exposed, more raw than ever before.

You lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust an amalgamation of pleasure and pain. The contrast between the physical sensations and the emotional turbulence was almost overwhelming. As his body pressed against yours, you could feel the heat of his desire, his need to escape from the emotional abyss he had fallen into. Each movement was a reminder of the complexity of your relationship — the way it was interwoven with both intense pleasure and deep-seated hurt.

Tears streamed down your face, not just from the physical sensations, but from the emotional weight that seemed to press down on you both. Your body shook with the conflicting emotions that came with these moments of vulnerability. The pleasure was undeniable, but it was mingled with an aching sadness, a realization of the cyclical nature of your interactions.

Yet, despite the tears and the pain, there was a strange, bittersweet sense of connection. In these moments, you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved. It was a love expressed through the prism of his own desperation — a love that was as flawed and tangled as the relationship itself.

His breaths were ragged, his movements increasingly frantic, as if he was trying to drown out the pain that clung to him, that clung to both of you. His hands gripped your hips with a fierce urgency, his gaze locked onto yours as if trying to find something in your eyes that could make everything right again.

Despite the intensity and the pain, there was an intimacy in these moments that was deeply profound. You could feel the depth of his need, the rawness of his emotions, and the connection that persisted even through the chaos. It was an unspoken understanding, a shared experience that bound you together in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As he reached his climax, his body trembling above yours, the release was a mixture of relief and sorrow. You could sense the fleeting solace he found in these moments, the temporary escape from the anguish that had become a part of him. And as he collapsed against you, both of you panting and spent, the room fell into a heavy silence.

In the aftermath, you both lay there, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the weight of the cycle you were trapped in. The connection was palpable, but so was the realization that, despite everything, you were both still searching for something — something that might never be found. And as you lay there together, the intimacy of the moment was tinged with a poignant sense of resignation, the awareness that, even in your deepest connection, you were both still haunted by the same demons.

In these moments, you were reminded of the paradox of your relationship — the way it was both a source of comfort and a reflection of the pain you both carried. And as you lay there, holding each other, you knew that despite the rawness and the tears, you would continue to navigate this cycle, searching for solace in each other, even as you remained trapped in the same, unending pattern.

But even as you felt him inside you, lost in the throes of passion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was also a form of self-medication for him — a way to numb the pain, to forget the pieces of himself that were missing. It was as if he was trying to patch up the voids within him, using you as a vessel for his own fleeting moments of relief.

And so you continued, both of you lost in it, in a dance of pleasure and sorrow that seemed to provide a temporary escape from the reality of what had become of your relationship. The intimacy, though deeply painful at times, was also a reminder of what once was, of the bond you had shared — a bond that was still there, hidden beneath layers of grief and change.

As he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensing above you, you could feel the release echo through both of you. And though the moment was fleeting, it was a reminder of the connection that still lingered, however strained and fractured it had become. You lay there, both of you panting and spent, the silence of the room wrapping around you once more, the echoes of your shared experience lingering in the stillness.

You both lay naked together, the warmth of your bed now replaced by the chill of the room. The silence was heavy, filled with the echoes of your shared vulnerability and the weight of what was to come. Suguru’s body was pressed close to yours, his breath warm against your skin, but the intimacy of the moment was overshadowed by the gravity of his next words.

“Satoru and the Jujutsu society…..” Suguru said quietly, his voice carrying a determined edge. “I’m declaring war on them tomorrow.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your heart raced. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and resolve. “You know I can’t let that happen,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’d have to kill you before I let you get to Satoru. You know that.”

Suguru’s lips curved into a sad, knowing smile. “Maybe it’s better that way, don’t you think?” he said softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and acceptance. “Maybe it’s better that you and I can’t be on the same side in this.”

The finality of his words was crushing, and tears began to stream down your face. You felt an unbearable ache in your chest, the raw pain of knowing that the love you had shared was leading to this inevitable end. 

“Why did you have to make a home in my heart like this?” you asked through your sobs, your voice cracking with the depth of your sorrow. “Why did you have to become such a part of me?”

Suguru laughed bitterly, a sound that cut through the room like a knife. “I should ask you the same thing, hm?” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “Why did you let me in? Why did you give me a place in your heart when you knew how this would end?”

The room fell into a profound silence, the only sound the soft, stifled cries that escaped you both. The weight of your shared pain and the knowledge of the impending separation hung heavily in the air. The love that had once brought you together was now the source of your deepest anguish.

Suguru’s voice broke the silence, soft and filled with a tenderness that seemed out of place in the current turmoil. “I love you, with everything in me.” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you the most in the world. And if there is a next life, I hope….our rebirthed souls would be happy together.”

You looked at him, your heart shattering at his words. The intensity of his love was clear, even in the midst of the devastation he was about to bring. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, to find some last shred of comfort before the end, but the reality of his decision was unchangeable.

Suguru rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He dressed quietly, his back turned to you as he prepared to leave. The finality of his actions was palpable, and you could feel the end drawing near, a dark and inevitable conclusion to everything you had shared.

As he opened the door to leave, you felt an overwhelming sense of finality. This was it. This was the end. There was no going back, no more second chances. The love you had for each other had brought you to this point, and now it was tearing you apart.

Suguru looked back at you one last time, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. Then, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

You sat there, alone in the silence, the tears flowing freely now. The emptiness of the room felt like a reflection of the void left in your heart. The weight of his departure, the knowledge of the impending conflict, and the finality of his words all combined to leave you in a state of profound sorrow.

As you wept, you felt the crushing realization that this was truly the end of everything you had known. The love, the pain, the shared moments — all of it was over. And as you cried out the last remnants of your heartache, you knew that you would carry the weight of this loss with you forever.