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Gojo Satoru comes to him in the dead of the night, thoroughly soaked in cold, hard blood.
“I’ve killed them all.”
Outside, the rain pours.
The girls have long been tucked into bed. Suguru had hoped to shut all of the windows and doors in the temple before any rain could seep in. The soft thuds of his traditional slippers echo on the wooden floorboards as he quietly shuffles about in the shadows, tending to his tasks with a sort of meticulousness that could only rival that of an overly anxious housewife.
But under the eerie glow of the moonlight, a man lies in wait for him.
A dark silhouette materialises at the front doorstep of his temple, occupying space that had been empty—but just moments ago.
There is only one person Suguru knows who is this tall.
With cerulean blue eyes, an unwavering gaze, a look of profound loss and regret, and an unmistakable plea for something more.
Gojo Satoru’s shoulders rise and fall sharply with every laboured breath he takes. He comes to Suguru panting heavily, gasping for air, like he has only just managed to catch his breath. Fresh blood covers his hair, his cheeks, his fingers, his uniform. His white bandages are nowhere in sight; and so Suguru surmises that he must have immediately come from a battle, then.
And a fierce one, from the looks of it. One that had been difficult enough to exert such a toll on him, leaving him in such a battered state. Teleporting here must have only added to his exhaustion, and Satoru should have known better than to have done it. Unlike his typically poised gait, he’s stumbling forward here and there, as though it hurts to even stand. But he persists, if only to catch just a glimpse of Suguru again.
Satoru shouldn’t be here. They haven’t spoken since their heated discussion on the streets of Shinjuku years ago, and Suguru… would like to keep it that way. Even if Satoru’s badly hurt, the logical choice for him would have been to return to jujutsu high and seek assistance from Shoko; and not to seek refuge at Suguru’s temple, where curses are aplenty, and enemies lurk.
But even as Suguru parts his lips and utters aloud the words he knows he should say, “You shouldn’t be here”, a part of him knows that he will not be turning Satoru away. For how could he ever bear to do such a thing? Red has never been Satoru’s colour. But now it’s all over him, fresh blood streaking across his gaunt cheeks, and Suguru’s concerned that most of it actually belongs to him.
Even back when they were still students, and they still shared smiles and laughter, seeing Satoru in pain had always made his heart ache. It’s still the same for him, now. It hasn’t ever changed.
Satoru gazes at him with such vacant eyes, like he has lost all sense, all meaning; all connection to the world he once knew. And yet, there remains resolute determination, and an unyielding resolve. As though there’s absolutely no room left for doubt or hesitation in whatever he chooses from this point now; there’s only going forward.
“Suguru,” Satoru calls for him, in a voice so small and scared. Like if he says what he has to say, and Suguru still rejects him, he would be completely shattered. But he still presses on, summoning all of the courage he has to exchange words with the only person he has ever truly cared about.
Not the students, not the jujutsu elders. Just—Suguru.
“I did it, just for you.”
Suguru’s heart skips a beat, as he tries to make sense of his words. What could Satoru mean? They haven’t talked in so long, and Satoru has left him alone to his own devices all these years. He’d never once asked anything from Satoru. He wouldn’t have dared to.
“I don’t understand,” Suguru says, with half a mind to walk away, and stop humouring a man who has long given up on him, since aeons ago. But his feet just won’t move.
Satoru sucks in a long, hard breath. “I got rid of them,” he tells him, through gritted teeth. “All of them. Everyone that can possibly stand in our way. I’ve killed them all.”
Suguru daren’t believe it. The revelation of it all—and the consequences of what Satoru has done—crashes upon him all at once, much like the lightning presently ripping through the sky. A part of him used to dream about this once. And not in the subconscious way, like he would repress it and it would come back to haunt him in his nightmares. No, Suguru used to lie awake at night and trace the dots on the ceiling, and willingly entertain impossible notions of Satoru giving up on everything just to join him here. In his shabby room, in a corner of the universe where everyone else refused to touch.
Suguru used to dream about it once.
He just didn’t think it’d ever come true.
“Who’s… everyone?” Suguru asks, his breaths stuttering along with the faltering beat of his heart. He has to be sure.
But Satoru himself doesn’t falter, when he answers. “Yaga. The higher-ups. Even the Kyoto compound. I’ve wiped all of them out.”
Suguru’s hand trembles as he digests the fact. Such a thing—it’s an enormous, unforgivable act. In the realm of jujutsu sorcerers, these crimes bear a weight far greater than anything Suguru has committed. Burning an entire village pales far in comparison to decimating an entire realm of sorcerers.
By doing so, Satoru is effectively declaring war on the entire world. He will become everyone’s greatest enemy.
And there is still nothing anyone can do about it.
However, Suguru remains cautious.
It’s just too good to be true. “I don’t believe you,” Suguru refutes, even as Satoru comes to him covered in crimson red blood. It’s far too big of a risk to take. For Satoru to have done such a thing, he must have completely lost his mind.
Satoru must have anticipated this reaction, for he raises the severed head he had taken with him from the battle, presenting it to Suguru almost like a trophy of war.
Suguru mustn’t have noticed it amidst his shock at seeing Satoru standing in his doorway.
A shaven head, with a face adorned with both a moustache and goatee. Its eyelids bruised but closed, with cracked lips and broken teeth.
Suguru can still hear his voice.
“Yaga-sensei,” Suguru whispers out, in full recognition.
Satoru had really done it. He’d killed their own teacher in cold blood.
His heart actually flutters. No one had gone to such lengths for him before. No one but…
Suguru’s eyes flicker back up to meet Satoru’s, hardly masking his—delightful—surprise. But he makes an effort to swallow all emotion from showing on his face; knowing it would be weakness.
Pretending not to care, Suguru averts his gaze. He curtly tells him, “Why would you do such a nonsensical thing?”
“Because I love you,” Satoru blurts out, as though he can no longer hold it back in. He’d held onto it for long enough. “Suguru, I love you. And I cannot stand being apart from you anymore. As long as jujutsu high exists, they will always be after you. And I cannot take that chance.”
Suguru has waited years for him to say this one thing.
And yet, now that it has come true, Suguru finds he cannot take the chance.
He cannot bring himself to believe it; to embrace a man who he’s not even sure he still knows. To leave behind a temple of curses, and abandon his girls.
Easing his eyes close, Suguru waves him away. “You should go home, Gojo.”
It’s the worst possible thing Satoru could hear, after the impossible lengths he has gone for him.
“Suguru!” Satoru pleads with tears in his eyes, with blood still trickling down his face. He takes a large stride forward, easily closing the distance between himself and Suguru.
Sweeping in, he captures Suguru’s delicate wrist. Then, in a desperate, choked voice, he delivers a bold proclamation to him:
“I have come here to marry you.”
Suguru’s gaze is fixed and unblinking. “W…What?”
“I am here,” Satoru clenches his teeth in determination, as he makes a solemn vow. He says it again, in case Suguru hadn’t heard him clearly the first time. “To marry you.”
“You can’t,” Suguru dismisses him, with white eyes widening in shock. “You’re head of the Gojo clan. No one would allow it.”
“They can’t stop me when they’re already dead,” Satoru tells him, with much exasperation. “Suguru—you’re still not hearing me. Those who can stop us, I’ve already taken care of them. No one’s going to object to us. No one’s going to object to me taking you back, as my wife.”
Suguru’s head spins at the very title he hears.
Satoru’s wife.
Back then, he’d always imagined that a young woman, bearing the name of a respectable clan, would fill that role.
Satoru would marry her, and Suguru would cease to exist in his world.
But as much as Suguru’s heart races at the very proposal, he still can’t find it in him to accept such an outrageous thing. “Satoru, it doesn’t matter what you’ve done. I’m a changed man.”
“I know you hate this life,” Satoru’s tone grows ever so pressing, ever so frantic, ever so insistent; now that he sees Suguru is hardly even relenting. “You’ve always hated swallowing curses. And now you swallow up to fifty a day? I know it doesn’t agree with your body, I know it makes your heats even more painful. You’ve always hated the jujutsu world; you never wanted any part of me. If it’s too difficult for you, why don’t you just walk away from everything? Leave it all behind?”
Coming from Satoru’s mouth, it all sounds so simple.
Fine, Suguru will humour him.
“Then, where would I go?” Suguru asks, in an attempt to challenge him. “There’s no place else in this world for me. If I don’t see my goals through, it’d have all been for naught.” And I’ve come so far now, I can’t possibly give that all up—even if I want to, so badly—I want to escape this cursed fate, this mistake I’ve made, this lonely existence I’ve subjected myself to—
Satoru regards him with imploring eyes, as if the answer has been staring him in the face all this time.
“You could come home with me,” Satoru gently offers. “You’ll be safe in my estate. As Gojo clan head, I forgive all of your crimes. And when you officially become mine, you’ll be placed under my care and protection. If anyone else opposes, I’ll kill them. I’ve killed enough of them. But I’ll kill them all.”
Oh, he has fully gone insane.
But, this is everything Suguru has always wanted…
Why hadn’t Suguru ever realised such a thing before?
Suguru finds that he has been mistaken all along. Red is, indeed, Satoru’s colour.
And he looks so very handsome at this moment, dripping head to toe with it.
Suguru finally gives in.
He tentatively takes a step forward. Tentatively lifts his hand up, reaching for Satoru’s blood-covered face. Tentatively sucks in a breath, wondering if this is the right move to make.
One wrong decision, and there’s no more reversing the consequences.
But when he finally melts into Satoru’s arms, when they finally come together again, oh, it feels like he’d never once left it.
Why did he ever think life would be better without Satoru, again?
“You’re right,” Suguru whispers against his cheek, as he allows his eyes to flutter close. Only with Satoru does he ever let himself go, and confess the deep-seated things he’s held back for so long, having lacked the courage to confront the reality tied with feeling such a thing: “I’ve always hated the taste of curses. And I hate it even more, now. I hate it all.”
It feels so good to let it out. It feels so damn good to let it all out, and not be judged for it.
“I know you do, baby,” Satoru whispers back, trying to contain the happiness bursting forth from his chest as he sees Suguru coming to him—like he’d always dreamed of. “I know you hate this life so much. But you can wash your hands off everything here, and I will take you home, and it’ll be as if none of this ever happened.”
It all sounds so good, like a hazy pastel-coloured dream. Like he’s walking on clouds.
With Satoru around, Suguru never needs to think.
“I never wanted to hurt them,” Suguru admits, so softly that Satoru has to strain his ears to hear him.
But Satoru knows exactly what—and who—he’s referring to.
Suguru has always been one to mask his sentimentality, but Satoru knows his heart too well for that.
Despite how little Suguru spoke about his parents, Satoru knew he was their one pride and joy. It couldn’t have been easy taking their lives.
“They know,” Satoru assures, gently cupping his hand over Suguru’s trembling head, pressing him even firmer into his chest. “They’re still proud of you, no matter what.”
“I already wanted out, so long ago,” Suguru blurts out confession after confession, now that he’s been given explicit permission to do so. “But I couldn’t stop. I thought it was too late. But I, I had to keep going. For the girls. Mimiko and Nanako, they’re still so young. They deserve a chance to live.”
“We’ll take them back with us,” Satoru says resolutely, nodding along. “They’ll have a place in the Gojo household. I promise.”
Suguru briefly hesitates. “And then, for everything else…”
Satoru’s answer comes swiftly; decisively, like he has already long thought about it. “We’ll burn it. We’ll burn this entire temple to the ground.”
It’s a cruel notion; callous, even.
However, it’s necessary for their fresh start.
Suguru shivers from the brute intensity of his words. Since when had Satoru become such an unfeeling man, holding such blatant disregard for other people’s lives?
But then again, Satoru has always been this way. Suguru had simply forgotten about this side of him. He has forgotten many things.
Raising his head, he marvels once again at Satoru’s face.
As though he’s looking at him in a brand new light.
“Satoru,” Suguru softly calls, as his manicured fingers pull at Satoru’s bloodied collar, dragging him over, just so he can grip at his alpha’s clenched jaw. Looking up at him from beneath his dark, feathery lashes, he sensually purrs out, “You look exceptionally handsome today.”
Momentarily stunned, a rosy hue blossoms on Satoru’s cheeks as he tries to make sense of Suguru’s words.
It’s the first time ever—that Suguru is complimenting him, in such a way—
“Suguru, you’rebeautifultome,” Satoru rushes to say, now completely flustered. “As always.”
It flatters Suguru. It warms his dead heart right up.
Tilting his head rather foxily to the side, Suguru finally decides to play nice.
Cutely tipping on his toes, Suguru gives Satoru a gentle peck on the lips.
He had only meant for their lips to brush for a second; nothing more.
But Satoru’s reflexes are quicker, and the minute their lips touch, his arm is greedily snaking around Suguru’s waist, pulling him in closer.
And Satoru kisses him right back, tongue excitedly slipping past the small crevice of Suguru’s mouth. Suguru’s eyes widen slightly, his lips slightly parted in a gasp as he feels Satoru push every single one of his boundaries.
But Satoru’s tongue is wet, pulsing hot, entangling desperately with Suguru’s one, exploring every inch of his mouth with manic intensity. Kissing him as though he has waited for this one moment—for far too long.
“Satorummfff,” Suguru protests weakly, as he is being devoured senseless within Satoru’s grip.
“Suguru baby,” Satoru groans in response, as his hands claw up into Suguru’s hair.
Outside, the rain pours.
It hits Suguru like a truck. The flooding of his alpha’s pheromones enveloping him in an intoxicating, drug-like induced haze. The heat in the room becomes more stifling than ever, searing their skin with every touch. Satoru’s mouth is hot, his tongue is hot, his cheeks are hot, his fingers are burning.
It’s all so very unbearable; and there can only be one reason Suguru’s feeling this way.
Satoru doubles over, the sensation akin to searing pain ripping through him.
“Satoru—!” Suguru exclaims, in worry. “You—You’re in heat?”
Had Satoru forgotten to take his pills? The ones that kept his heat at bay while he was away on missions?
“I knew I was going to see you, so I didn’t…” Satoru trails off, still managing to grin cheekily up at Suguru from where he’s hunching over, despite the evident pain. “Suguru, don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”
“It’s not going to go away,” Suguru chides. “Not until you—”
…Oh.
So that’s what he meant by, ‘I knew I was going to see you’.
Summoning all the strength he can muster, Satoru straightens himself back up, so that his arms can reach over Suguru’s smaller frame once more, just to firmly grasp at his round buttocks.
“Suguru,” he sings, “You’re going to have to help me out on this~”
Renewed with determination, he easily hoists Suguru into his strong hold and skulks across the room until he’s lowering Suguru’s plump ass back down against an altar. Unlit candles and metal trays go flying as Satoru carelessly swipes them off the table to make room for his omega to sit, creating a huge mess all around them.
Suguru winces at all the loud noises he’s making. “You’ll wake the girls up.”
“I don’t care,” Satoru answers back in a gruff voice, too muddle-headed to think. All he can think about now is to fuck, fuck, fuck—“If they walk in, I’ll just tell them we’re trying to give them a new sibling.”
Suguru startles, and finds himself trying to protest again at Satoru’s very definitive statement.
“Satoru, I—”
I’m not sure if I’m ready?
I don’t know if we should be making a baby?
But Satoru has already ruined himself in the jujutsu world for him, and now Suguru wants to deny him when he wants to put a baby in him?
Suguru can’t bring himself to do that. Because, after all, from the very moment Satoru had put that thought into his head—that he was going to make Suguru his wife, that he was going to give him a baby—Suguru’s heart had already long acquiesced.
When Satoru pulls him into another urgent, desperation-filled kiss, Suguru responds in kind, kissing him back with fervour, his hands running up Satoru’s short locks of hair.
He wants me so much, it’s cute.
Suguru doesn’t wince at all when Satoru impatiently pushes his robes aside, forcefully spreads his legs and harshly pulls his thighs apart. He doesn’t wince when Satoru’s mouth leaves his and moves to conquer his neck, his sharp teeth teasingly grazing the spot where he’d mark him when the time comes.
Doesn’t so much as wince when Satoru rubs the front of his clothed bulge against Suguru’s soaked underwear, giving him a titillating, teasing preview of what’s to come.
God, he’s so big.
Suguru can’t help but release small, whorish moans as Satoru eagerly kisses his neck, leaving behind little love bites as tangible evidence of his claiming. Satoru’s pheromones intensify with each passing second, descending harshly upon Suguru and lulling him into his own alpha-induced heat. It’s not supposed to be for another month, but Satoru’s here now and he feels so good, and Suguru can’t think of anything else except—
—Baby, baby, baby.
Satoru will give me a baby.
Oh, the thought of it all makes Suguru so wet, slick running down his pale inner thighs like a buffet feast for his alpha.
With his thighs spread, his silken robes sliding down his shoulders and his slender back arching off the altar, Suguru’s long, wavy tresses of hair hang off the table in a picturesque cascade as he surrenders his neck so wantonly to Satoru.
He must look so terrible right now. He must look like a slut.
If anyone were to walk in right now, Suguru thinks—oh, he wouldn’t even mind it. It excites him to contemplate such a thing, even. A follower of his walking in, seeing their revered leader getting fucked like a wanton slut. They should know exactly who he belongs to.
“Satoruuu,” Suguru purrs, as every fibre of his being calls out for his alpha. Desires for his alpha. Needs his alpha, like water to a dying man.
He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to say anything more.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Satoru mouths against his skin, hands hurriedly retracting so he can disrobe himself. “I can’t wait anymore, either. I want you so bad, I need to fuck you so bad. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
Loosening his pants, he allows them to pool to the floor so he can step out of them. Satoru doesn’t even have underwear on, but Suguru doesn’t question it. He never bothers to question Satoru. His alpha cock is long, big, engorged. Magnificent. The sheer size of it threatens to make Suguru dizzy if he looks at it for too long. How will it even look when it’s knotted? It won’t fit, it definitely won’t fit inside of him. But even if it kills Suguru, he wants to take it.
Satoru eagerly seizes both of his ankles, pulling Suguru towards him until his ass is aligned with the edge of the altar. There’s no time for prep, and neither of them want it either.
Suguru’s hole is looking tight, taut, and very pretty in such a sweet shade of pink. Satoru wants to kiss it so bad.
Gripping his monster cock by the base, Satoru slaps his huge length right against Suguru’s hole, and watches it twitch cutely in anticipation right after.
“You’re such a slut,” Satoru grins, even if there is no way Suguru could be one. No, Suguru must have kept himself a virgin, for him and for Satoru only. Satoru can tell, from how sensitively Suguru’s body reacts to his touches, from how shy and cute he’s acting. “I never knew your body was so slutty. If I knew earlier, haa, perhaps I’d have snuck into your room all those nights, and had my way with you. Forced my dick down your throat, no matter if you wanted it or not. Then stuck it into your ass, and back to your mouth again just so I could cum on your face.”
Fresh, wet slick gushes down the back of his thighs in direct response to Satoru’s words. It’s so obvious. Suguru’s so embarrassed.
“—toru, you’re so mean,” Suguru whines quietly to himself, covering his eyes with his hands.
But he’d thought of the exact scenario a million times. He wonders if Satoru fantasised about the same thing, as he jerked himself off to sleep all those nights they slept in neighbouring dorm rooms.
Satoru only has the patience to tease Suguru for a few moments more. He slides the head of his fat cock against his omega’s hole up and down repeatedly, like how one would to the thick folds of a pussy—Satoru gets his ideas from the porn that he watches, and he has watched many—and stains it over and over again, coating it with his oozing pre-cum. But the sight in real life is far more lewd than how he’d envisioned it in his fantasies, and he completely loses it, seeing Suguru subject to such a vulgar, pornographic thing. So, Satoru can no longer wait. He excitedly grabs the undersides of Suguru’s thighs, just so he can raise those legs up in the air and hook them right over his tall shoulders.
(It’s a stretch for Suguru. He loves how big Satoru is: wide shoulders, tall frame, big dick. Everything about Satoru is big, big, big. And Suguru just has to take it all.)
That’s when Satoru finally pushes the head of his cock in, his monster cock so big it stretches Suguru’s taut hole wide open.
At first, the cult leader struggles to breathe. The sheer size of it all—it completely takes the wind out of him. His mouth having fallen open in a permanent gasp, Suguru’s manicured fingers grip onto the edges of the altar table for dear life, willing himself the strength to take in all of Gojo Satoru.
“Satoru,” Suguru chokes out in a pleading whisper, with pretty tear-filled eyes.
Satoru does not hear him. Or, more like: he chooses to ignore him. Suguru, after all, looks the prettiest when he cries. Drenched in endless sweat and fuelled by his unbearable heat, the alpha is more determined than ever to take and take and dominate Suguru as he pleases.
“Suguru babe, you’re so fucking tight,” Satoru groans, fully absorbed in his pleasure and his pleasure alone as every additional inch of his cock slides inside of his omega agonisingly slowly. Suguru may writhe and squirm, and his stubborn muscles may resist him at every step of the way, but his omega is taking it. “You feel so fucking good. You were made to be fucked, fuck me. Look at you—swallowing me up so good.”
How is Suguru getting off on his praise? His own dick throbs in between his thighs at his words, a little reminder that it’s still here.
“I’m good, I’m being so good,” Suguru blubbers out, rather happily, despite the slight pain.
Satoru grins, seeing how receptive the omega is to his praise, and proceeds to shower him with more: “You’re such a good omega, Suguru, you’re being such a good wife. Just spreading your legs and taking my cock. And once I knot you, oh, and I will knot you, you’re going to give me a baby. I’ll lock you up at home and you won’t ever have to think about anything else again. Don’t you want that?”
Suguru had long silenced the small voice at the back of his mind urging him to stop this, to remind him that this wasn’t him, that he still had duties and responsibilities to fulfil.
“I don’t want to think anymore,” Suguru agrees with his alpha, nodding, his mind already blanking. “I just want to lie here and be fucked good.”
Suguru’s feeling so good from all the pleasure, he hadn’t even realised Satoru had managed to coax himself fully in. Stretching Suguru good, the top curve of his dick protruding just slightly on Suguru’s flat belly. Suguru’s frame isn’t exactly small, so how big does Satoru have to be to even be able to give him a stomach bulge? How could any other human withstand the monstrosity of Satoru’s cock?
Perhaps Suguru was really made for him.
“You’re so pretty,” Satoru coos at the very sight, kissing the top of his omega’s head. “You’re so very pretty when you don’t think and you just let me make the decisions for you, Suguru.”
And Suguru laps it all up.
His womb is filled and ready. He just wants to be a good omega for his baby, he just wants his alpha to fuck his baby into him.
And once Satoru’s fully inside of him, oh, that’s when Satoru goes absolutely mental.
They’re finally joined, and complete.
“You’re my first,” Satoru heartfeltly confesses, as they’re pressed together so close that Satoru can tuck stray locks of hair behind Suguru’s ear. Madly, fanatically, Satoru impatiently asks of him, while giving cute licks to his ear, desperate to know, “I am your first, right? We’re each other’s firsts?”
Suguru has no heart to divulge about his mistakes, the few times he’d had to exchange his dignity for food in the very beginning to make sure he could feed Mimi and Nana for the night.
“Of course you’re my first,” Suguru answers. The first where it matters. But his voice is small. It’s very tiny.
“Oh, good,” Satoru hums, like he’s beyond relieved to hear of it. “Of course I get first taste of this pussy.”
Pussy. Suguru actually blushes, the same time he feels his hole twitching around Satoru’s large cock. He’d never had anyone call his hole that before. He never thought it was pretty enough; but Satoru’s so sweet to him, already giving it such cute names.
Satoru speaks so dirtily to him during sex, it’s as if he’s a brand new Satoru that Suguru is dealing with. He wonders where Satoru picked this up from, because he couldn’t have tried this on any other girls or boys, can he? He just told him he was a virgin. But Suguru likes every version of him, even the one that’s aggressively squeezing at his thin waist, leaving red bruises all over his tender skin.
“From now on,” Satoru sneers, as he begins to fuck Suguru without care, thrusting in and out of him roughly like an unfeeling machine. No more sweet talk; now they’re getting down and dirty. “This pussy is mine.”
Suguru feverishly moans out, “It is.” Forever, and ever. It’ll always be yours, Gojo Satoru, from hereon.
Fucking during heats is always animalistic. It’s feral; it’s rabid. Every loud slapping of skin against skin, every wild grazing of teeth against Suguru’s neck, every uninhibited growl that rumbles out of Satoru’s throat; it’s all so hurried, it’s all Satoru fucking him with only one goal: to breed him.
Suguru is a limp little thing, lying weakly underneath his alpha, reduced to nothing but a breeding toy, a pussy to be used and knotted and filled up to the brim with alpha cum. Every hit has Suguru mewling and moaning, his little cock twitching and throbbing, while his hands grip weakly at the altar table like he’s a deity to be worshipped on the sacred grounds of his own temple. Satoru dutifully worships him, over and over again, encouraged by all of Suguru’s noisy crying; slamming himself back in and out of Suguru’s blooming, reddening hole like a man on a strict mission.
“Fuck, yes,” Satoru is non-stop cursing, as he throws his head back and revels in the pleasure—and power—this gives him. “Your pussy’s ruining me, fuck, Suguru. I’m not going to be able to live without it anymore. You’re, oh, you’re never getting away from me anymore. I’ve wanted you so bad, for so long. You drive me so crazy. If you ever dare to run again, I’ll hunt you right down, I’ll take you right back home with me.”
Suguru whimpers, his face beautifully flushed, with strands of sweaty hair sticking to his cheeks as Satoru’s blunt nails dig into the curve of his hips, “I won’t run from you anymore, Satoru, I promise, my pussy is all yours…”
(But for some inexplicable reason, a sick part of Suguru still indulges in the fantasy of running away. How fun would that be? Perhaps he still wishes to test his alpha; thanks to some sort of twisted, perverse curiosity to see how far Satoru would go to capture him.)
All of the perspiration and sweat mixes with the blood on Satoru’s face, the blood on his arms, the blood on his hands. But even as his alpha’s red fluids drip down onto him, Suguru doesn’t find it disgusting, no. Satoru has worked so hard, murdering the elders in cold blood to prove his sincerity and win Suguru’s favour, and now he deserves his reward, he deserves to use and abuse Suguru’s hole as he pleases.
Everytime Suguru thinks about the lengths Satoru has gone for him, love blooms within his heart like a newborn flower, and he’s overcome with the urge to kiss him, to be close to him.
Raising both of his arms, he beckons for Satoru. The alpha sees that Suguru wishes for him to come closer, and immediately bends himself over like a lovesick puppy, allowing Suguru to encircle his arms right around Satoru’s neck, just so he can pull him in.
“My alpha,” Suguru proclaims softly, almost shyly. He bestows a tiny kiss atop Satoru’s Adam’s apple, where he’s so very sensitive. His omega instincts are fully sated, screaming at him that he has finally found a worthy alpha, the one to relinquish all control to: “You’re so big, so strong. You’ll take good care of me.”
Acceptance. That’s what it feels like for Satoru. Satoru feels as though he’d poured his entire heart out, and Suguru had accepted all of it, all of him.
Omega and alpha, coming together, becoming one.
It’s not just the tightness of Suguru’s hole, no. It’s Suguru loving him right back, returning the love Satoru gave two-fold. It’s Suguru loving him in all of the ways Satoru always wanted. It’s Suguru wanting to mate with him, to become his omega, to be taken home and bred and give him children.
That knowledge alone does it for him.
It causes Satoru’s dick to spurt, spilling every ounce of prized Gojo cum that he has into his omega’s pussy.
Satoru’s cock swells just as he crazedly sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck where his scent glands are, finally—and very happily—delivering his mating bite. He bites down on Suguru so hard, so insistent on leaving behind a noticeable scar, that he draws blood from him. But the act of knotting feels even more painful for Suguru; so extremely painful that it sends Suguru shaking and biting his lip, his fingers desperately clawing into Satoru’s shoulders with a vice grip. This Suguru hasn’t done with anyone else before, and thankfully, because Satoru would know otherwise. In spite of the pain, however, it oddly feels so extremely good to be finally claimed, after numerous unclaimed heats; after so many frustrated nights of rutting against a pillow, all alone. Bliss courses through his entire being, cocooning him in a tranquil haze of happiness.
“Ah—!” Suguru cums all over himself—untouched—in Satoru’s firm hold, as the harsh combination of being marked and knotted overwhelms him so much that it leaves Suguru trembling and curling his toes, his biology finally satisfied with the knowledge that he has surrendered to an alpha’s control.
Suguru’s belly may have protruded just slightly before, but he’s now bloating up to impossible proportions. Satoru’s knot and never-ending cum distends his stomach, creating an unintentional effect that makes it appear as though Suguru’s womb is now fully swollen with a baby.
In Satoru’s eyes, Suguru looks perfect. Round and leaking constantly with Satoru’s fluids.
Awestruck, Satoru cups the top of Suguru’s full belly with his hand, feeling it all around.
“This is how you’d look like with my child,” Satoru hums against his neck. “How so terribly cute.”
Many moons ago, Satoru once dreamt of becoming a power duo with Geto Suguru. He’d always thought they’d rule the world together, have everyone in Japan bowing at their feet, at their greatness.
But it’s okay if Suguru no longer wants any part of that dream. Suguru doesn’t need to get his pretty hands dirty; Suguru only needs to stay at home where his belly can stay constantly round and he can remain safe and take care of their neverending children for him, while waiting for Satoru to return after each mission. Satoru would very much prefer that version, actually.
Once the mating mark is firmly in place, and Satoru’s absolutely certain Suguru’s not going anywhere—not without feeling the consequences of it from now on, at least—he withdraws his alpha canines, and this time, cocks his own head to the side so he can bare his own neck to Suguru.
“Mark me too,” Satoru pleads, sounding more like he’s begging than he’s asking, really. As if he’s still afraid of being turned down, even after all they have done together. “I want to be your one and only alpha. I’ve never wanted anyone else. If you mark me, we’ll be each other’s one and only. That’s all I ask for.”
Gojo Satoru. The most powerful man in this universe, and he has to beg for his omega to mark him back.
Just how much power does Suguru have over him?
He really could make Satoru do anything for him, couldn’t he?
“Satoru, you’re so good to me,” Suguru mewls, as his heart fervently races with the thought.
So he hesitantly lifts his head right up, and mouths the spot where Satoru reeks the most.
God, he smells so good. He reeks of nothing but sweat and blood, in alpha pheromones so uniquely his own, but it’s perfect. It’s so very perfect. You’re perfect for me, Gojo Satoru.
He bites down. In a much tamer fashion than Satoru had bit him, of course; the alpha had gnashed his teeth into him like he was ready to take a whole chunk of flesh out. But Suguru doesn’t have the teeth for that. He bites him in a gentler manner, as is appropriate for omegas. But still administering a bite deep enough to leave a scar, as evidence of his claiming.
With this, they’re finally mated for life.
“My husband,” Suguru muses aloud, tasting the way the title feels on his tongue.
Satoru embraces him so tight, almost squeezing the lungs out of him. “My Suguru.”
Thunder crackles outside, the rain never relenting.
But Suguru’s heart is finally clear and free from any clouds.
And when droplets of water trickle down his back, Suguru knows they aren’t from the rain.
They are Satoru’s tears.
.
.
.
They quietly wake Mimiko and Nanako, and lead them to a safe distance away from the temple before Satoru burns it all to the ground.
Taking refuge beneath the shelter of a large tree, Suguru covers the girls’ ears to spare them from the harrowing sounds of everyone else’s dying screams. In a way, he’s thankful for the pouring rain. It heavily muffles their cries, and washes all evidence of their crime away.
Mimiko, still yawning, hugs her doll and sleepily asks of Suguru, “When can we go back to sleep?”
“When your father is done with his business here.”
“Father?” Nanako curiously asks, wondering if she had heard right. Rubbing at her eyes, she questions, “We have a father?”
“Mn, from today onwards,” Suguru tells her. “Haven’t I told you about him before? He’s my best friend, Gojo Satoru.”
It’s only then that Nanako leans in, and heavily sniffs the air around Suguru. “Mama, you smell weird.”
It’s natural for Suguru to smell different, now that he is mated. Before, his omega smell must have seemed more alluring, more pleasing, more… like an open invitation to acquire a mate. Now, he most likely smells like an extension of Satoru; which, thanks to Satoru’s position in jujutsu society, is something to be feared.
Besides, Satoru’s heat isn’t entirely over, which may explain the fluctuating pheromones, and how they’re all over the place. Satoru and him, they’ve barely covered the tip of the iceberg. It would take days, or perhaps with Satoru’s stamina, weeks, to navigate through intense heats such as these. They had to pause briefly, however, to finish up their business here. Only after taking the girls back to Satoru’s mansion and leaving them in the care of his trusted attendants would they resume what they had started back at the temple. But until then, until the girls are safe; Suguru’s heart can’t find rest.
“Do you not like my new scent?” Suguru asks the twins, worriedly. “I’m still me, I’m still your mama.”
It’d be a problem if his girls became less receptive to him because of this. He’d have to spend more time with them again, to accustom them to his new scent.
“You’ll always be our mama,” Mimiko pipes up, rushing to hug him. “I like the new scent. You smell happier.”
“Happier?”
“Mm. Like you’re not worried about anything anymore,” Mimiko says. “Before, I could always smell your stress.”
“Oh,” Suguru says, with a small smile. “Is that it?”
“Yes, so if papa is the reason you’re happier, then I like him already.”
Such a good girl. Already calling Satoru her father even before establishing a bond with him.
Suguru had been worried that the twins wouldn’t like Satoru very much, but he thinks they’ll try to make an effort just for him. They loved him that much.
Satoru returns to their side after a moment’s wait, this time appearing much cleaner and more composed, having waited for the rain to wash away most of the blood on his hands and face before coming back, not wishing to frighten the girls.
He must be so very tired, having fought all day long. Suguru knows it takes a toll on him, despite the cheery and upbeat persona he maintains all the time.
“Did you wait long?” Satoru asks, as Suguru hurriedly runs up to him and gently cradles his face, with much concern and worry filling his violet eyes.
“No, you were quick. Did anyone put up a fight?”
“Yes, the few curse users did. But nothing I couldn’t handle,” Satoru cockily answers. “I’m the strongest, after all.”
“So, they’re all dead?”
“Of course,” Satoru says. “I couldn’t risk making any more enemies, so I took care of all of them. No one escaped. They can’t come after you, or hurt you anymore.”
They were Suguru’s loyal followers, so it wasn’t as if they ever harboured ill-intentions with him. They’d probably have assumed that Satoru had gotten to Suguru first, murdering him in cold blood before taking care of the rest of them. Suguru doubts it ever crossed their minds that he would betray them.
“Then, we should take the girls home now,” Suguru anxiously says, fussing about his twins like their rightful mother. “It’s pouring, and they’ll get cold. Plus, it’s way past their bedtime.”
“Of course,” Satoru smiles at him. Turning to face the girls, he crouches down and waves at them at eye-level. “Hey, girls. Mimiko and Nanako, right?”
They quickly hide behind their mama, too intimidated by the foreign stranger in their midst.
Ah, right. They haven’t ever met Gojo Satoru before.
“He’s your papa,” Suguru coaxes them. “He’s a good man. He’ll protect us. He means no harm.”
But the girls refuse to move, and choose to cling onto Suguru’s robes instead.
Suguru offers a resigned smile. “They’re shy. It’ll take some time for them to warm up to you.”
“That’s okay,” Satoru grins. “We have all the time in the world, after all.”
A rush of warmth fills his chest. “We do,” Suguru hums.
Satoru takes his hand, and takes him back to where they’ll make their brand new home.
.
.
.
The day before
“So, that’s your grand plan?” Shoko asks of Satoru, as she goes about making her coffee in the break room. “It’s not going to work. Geto’s smarter than that.”
Leaning against the counter, Satoru lazily covers his bandaged eyes with one hand. Going in, he’d already known what Shoko was going to say. “I’m not saying he’s not smart. But I know he’s tired. He doesn’t want this life—he never wanted it. I’m counting on that.”
“He’s not going to believe you killed anybody in the jujutsu world. What is he supposed to do—just take your word for it? Why would he run away with you based on that? He’s smart enough to make a cult, so he’s not going to fall for cheap tricks like that.”
Satoru pauses at her words. Then, he hesitantly retrieves something from the box behind him, as if it will help his cause.
“Yaga-sensei made a doll.”
Shoko almost spits out the first sip of the coffee she’d made. Leaning over, she endeavours to take a closer look at the cursed little thing.
“No way! Is that his head?”
“It’s life-like, right?” Satoru jokes. “I told him, I thought you were only good at making pandas, I didn’t know you were skilled in making humans too. If I had known earlier…”
Maybe I’d have asked for something even more perverse, like a life-sized Suguru for me to hold onto in his absence.
Shoko snorts, as she places her coffee cup back down onto the counter. “It’s narcissism, isn’t it? He couldn’t have just made that overnight.”
“He said it was a few years in the making. He didn’t divulge a reason why. But when I told him about my plan, he said this would come in handy.”
“So, he offered his hard work up to you, just like that?” Shoko laughs. “He’s desperate to save Geto too, isn’t he? I still don’t think this plan will work. But if even Yaga-sensei’s pulling out all of the stops, then I hope for your sake that it does.”
Satoru heaves a long sigh. “Shoko, I don’t have a choice.”
Shoko purses her lip into a frown. “The higher-ups are brutal, aren’t they? Why would they threaten to place such a large bounty on Geto’s head? I didn’t know they cared so much about him.”
“I can’t let them do that, you know that. It would put Suguru in so much danger, and subject him to endless attacks from the other curse users, and I wouldn’t be able to ensure his safety. But I’ve negotiated with the board, and they’ve given me a day’s time. If I somehow manage to subdue Geto Suguru—well, if he chooses to come with me willingly and remain under my clan’s authority—they’ll let it go.”
“Ha! So, your great plan is to lock him up and hide him away?”
“Willingly,” Satoru clarifies, with a long face. But he perks up not even a second later, as he confidently suggests: “I’ll propose to him. I’ll ask him to marry me. Become my mate. We’ll make it a whole official thing. We’ll hold a ceremony, even. I’d expect you to be there. I’m sure he’d want to see you, too.”
Shoko can’t hide her grin. Of course that was always going to be his one true motive, beneath everything else. “You’re out of your mind, Satoru.”
“He’s going to agree. He’s not going to say no.”
“He hates your guts. He’s absolutely going to say no.”
“Alright, say he actually says yes,” Shoko points out. “You bring him home, you marry him, then he sits pretty in your mansion all day. Then what? You never let him out? He only needs to venture out into Tokyo one day, to see that the entire jujutsu society is alive and thriving. Yaga-sensei’s still alive. The higher-ups haven’t been dealt with. Hell, you even have students to take care of, now. Isn’t Geto going to feel so betrayed?”
Satoru grumpily blows a strand of hair from his face. “I’ll get to it when I actually get there.”
“Hey, come on,” Shoko rolls her eyes, with a laugh. “I’ll pretend to be Geto, and you, remain as you are. Let’s see how well you can handle this situation.” Placing both hands on her hips, Shoko imitates Geto in the huffiest manner she knows how. “‘Satoru, I can’t believe you. I went with you because you told me you’d killed everyone just to be with me. Now I find out you did nothing of that sort. In actual fact, you’d deceived me and betrayed my trust. What do you have to say for yourself?’”
Satoru wrinkles his nose briefly, looking annoyed. Then, within a split-second, jumps into a sing-song voice: “Ehhh, you shouldn’t get so angry at this stage of your pregnancy, Suguruu~ It’s bad for the baby!”
“What the hell?” Shoko bursts out laughing. “Satoru, why is he pregnant now?”
“What are you talking about? He’ll be full and round with my baby then,” Satoru insists, with the stubbornness of a boy. “We’ll mate, on the very night we reunite. So, it shouldn’t take long for him to conceive after.”
Shoko smirks. “Oh, you’re just so confident he’s going to say yes, huh? Where was all of that confidence when he was still here, in school with us?”
At that, Satoru’s face actually sinks. Lowering his voice, he sulkily admits, “I didn’t know he was going to run away. I thought… I still had time.”
“To what?”
“Confess my feelings.”
Shoko’s brow raises. “So, what makes you so confident that he’ll reciprocate your feelings, now?”
Satoru frowns, looking to the ground. “I’m not.”
“Not what?”
Embarrassed at having been seen through so easily, Satoru whispers out, “I’m not confident. But it’s my last resort.”
“Oh,” Shoko says. Now, she actually feels pity. Ambling forward, she places a comforting hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Well, good luck, my friend. For his sake, I hope he agrees.”
Satoru chews his lip, and quietly asks, “So, you think it’d be a good choice for him? To marry me?”
Shoko’s expression softens with sympathy. “I think it’s his only choice, Satoru.”
“Oh.” His face falls again.
“But it’s also the best one for him,” Shoko agrees. “At his core, I know he always wanted to be happy.”
“I could make him happy,” Satoru eagerly rushes to say.
Shoko smiles at that. “I actually think you can,” she hums, nodding at him. “He has always liked you. For better or for worse. I think he still holds a soft spot for you, Satoru. I don’t think that ever changed.”
Satoru’s face finally lights up. “Really? You think I stand a chance?”
“I think it’s fifty-fifty. But I know he’s tired, too. You’re his way out. I think he’ll take it.”
“And…” Satoru’s heart leaps into his throat, as he entertains the thought. Like a dog wagging his tail, he nervously asks, “Shoko, if he ever finds out I lied to him, do you think he’d forgive me?”
Shoko cocks her head to the side, genuinely contemplating this.
“You know what?” Shoko says, after giving it some thought. “I think he would. I think he would forgive you no matter what, the same way you forgave him, even after everything he’s done. I think that’s just how it works between the both of you. You forgive, and you really forget.”
A surge of excitement floods through him. “Really?”
“Really.”
Satoru’s lips spread wide into a hearty smile. “I’ll take your word for it then, Shoko.”
.
.
.
Eight months later
The doctor tells Suguru he’s not due for another month. But with how big he’s getting, it feels like he could be due any day now. His feet always remain swollen despite the maids massaging them three times a day—morning, afternoon, and night. Walking has become a painful task, even for short distances. Suguru only wishes to stroll from his room to the dining room to have breakfast with his girls and then, perhaps, accompany them to the garden after lunch to watch them play in the sandbox and feed the fishes. These aren’t long distances, but the Gojo estate is large enough that it feels like they are.
And all of it’s already becoming too much for him.
Suguru hurts all the time.
He doesn’t curse Satoru for it though, no; he really doesn’t. It’s a blessing, this thing growing in him. It’s his baby, his own flesh and blood, his very creation. (Perhaps Satoru helped a little bit. The baby still needs its father, after all.) A cluster of cells that will blossom into new life, holding its own mind, a heart, and values it will live by. Suguru tells Satoru that he doesn’t mind if it’s an alpha or omega, a girl or a boy. He knows the clan elders want it to be an alpha just like Satoru, so they can easily reproduce his cursed techniques. But Suguru secretly wants it to be another girl; perhaps an omega, just like him. He has always appreciated the gentler demeanour of girls, and how they’re typically more obedient and receptive to instructions, much like him.
He doesn’t want to run after another alpha boy like Satoru. He ran after Satoru all the time back in school, trying to get him to listen to Yaga-sensei’s orders. It’d been good fun back then, despite how exhausted he was all the time. But that was then, when Suguru was still seventeen and full of energy and life. He’s in his mid-twenties now, and all the years lost to leading a cult have taken a huge toll on him.
“Mama, the maids want to take us out shopping,” Nanako breathlessly runs up to Suguru in the living room, saying. “Can we go? Please? Papa said Mimi and I could buy new clothing for Ayame’s birthday party.”
Satoru never denies them anything. It’s getting to be a problem.
“Alright,” Suguru says. Now that they’re under the protection of the Gojo clan, they get to go to school, regular school, and mix with children their own age. It’s a privately funded school for rich and powerful families in Japan, but for non-curse users. That had been Suguru’s stipulation for the Gojos when marrying into their clan. I’ll parent the girls however I see fit, and if they choose not to go to jujutsu high, then I won’t make them. The twins, witnessing Suguru’s reluctance to be involved in the jujutsu world, chose to attend a regular school and assimilate into conventional society instead. Suguru readily agreed.
Mimiko heads over to his side, and playfully tugs at the silken kimono he has on all the time. “Mama, do you want to come with us this time? The weather is good today, the maids told us so.”
“I don’t feel up to it today,” Suguru says.
“You never feel up to it,” Nanako pouts.
“Papa doesn’t think it’s safe for me to leave the house now that I’m so heavy,” Suguru says, even though it’s really only an excuse. Yes, Satoru doesn’t like him leaving the mansion, but it’s not as if he explicitly enforces this rule. Suguru’s still allowed to leave if he wishes to. It’s just that he doesn’t desire to. There’s nothing for him out there. No one person he wishes to talk to; nothing he wants to see. The sky looks better from the inside, anyway. “Plus, it hurts to walk now. You know the baby’s due any day now.”
“Okay, then, mama,” Mimiko says, never wanting to push her mother, giving it a rest.
“Off you go,” Suguru tells them both. “Remember to put on your coats, in case it rains.”
“They’ll drive us there and bring umbrellas, so it’s all good, mama!”
Clutching his heavy belly, Suguru bids them goodbye and waddles back to an empty chair at the dining table, where the servants have long cleared their leftover lunch plates.
Instead, a stack of mail addressed to the Gojos now sits in its place. Most of them are for Satoru, typically invitations to lavish parties or high-society events. Marrying Satoru has granted Suguru a glimpse into what occupying a position in high-society is like, but neither of them actively engage in it. Satoru has no interest in spending time outside of his missions with anyone other than Suguru, and he sees no need in making any further connections in Japan.
The servants take care to remove any mail pertaining to the jujutsu world from this stack, upon Satoru’s strict orders. Even the mere mention of it might upset Suguru or send him spiralling again, he’d told them. And I cannot have my wife be upset.
Satoru’s cute like that; the way he thinks his wife so delicate, he’ll crumble into mere pieces at the very reminder of his past.
And so the servants carefully separate the mail into two different piles: one for Suguru, and the other, strictly for Satoru to look at.
But despite their diligence, sometimes a piece of mail or two gets overlooked and left in the stack.
Suguru doesn’t actually mind. He usually sifts it right out, and returns it to Satoru’s pile.
It’s not as if there’s anything about the jujutsu world he doesn’t already know.
Satoru isn’t slick; and his lies are always barely coherent, or inconsistent.
He tells him one thing today, only to concoct an entirely new lie tomorrow, even if the two completely contradict each other.
Satoru has always been a bad liar. That’s how Suguru knows Satoru will never betray him. He couldn’t, even if he tried.
Yes—Yaga-sensei’s still alive. And so are the elders, and so is everyone else. He’d discovered it two months in, when their teacher foolishly delivered a sealed letter to Satoru detailing the official announcement of the higher-ups pardoning Suguru of all of his crimes. But even after he’d read the letter, twice over, with unblinking eyes, before sealing it right back and leaving it where he’d found it, Suguru found that he—couldn’t really bring himself to care about discovering the truth of the matter, because it wasn’t as if it changed anything.
Suguru was still carrying Satoru’s baby.
The girls are still much happier here.
They get three meals a day (with snacks and tea time!), go to a school of their choice, get their own rooms and can buy anything they want, anytime they want.
Suguru doesn’t have to think about anything else beyond the four walls that cage him in here. Outside, he has to contend with the endless cycle of death and the harrowing idea that curses will never stop being reborn. Here, all Suguru has to remember is to take his prenatal vitamins and eat the herbal soup his live-in perinatal nurse brews for him everyday. If he’s feeling up to it, he’ll coach Mimi and Nana on their homework. But even then, they have their own tutor for that.
Plus, if his feet hurt, all he has to do is call for their live-in massage therapist. And then he gets another massage. And another. And another.
And in the evening, when Satoru finally comes back home to him, he’s always scooping Suguru up into his arms—no matter how heavy he’s been getting—and hurrying him to the bed, where he spends a good hour or two pleasuring his wife and giving Suguru toe-curling orgasms before he even dares to sate his own needs in Suguru’s presence.
Suguru’s pampered here.
Really, really pampered here.
With a husband that’s crazily obsessed with him, and who takes such good care of his girls.
What’s there to be upset about?
So, yeah, Yaga-sensei’s alive.
But Suguru doesn’t really care. He’d long put two and two together and realised that this was all part of Satoru’s stupid master plan to place Suguru under his protection and save his life, and Suguru’s not going to be an ungrateful bitch about it.
He could very well have tossed the evidence right into Satoru’s face and pretended to walk away with his bags just to be able to see the alpha kneel at his feet and beg for mercy all night, but—Suguru’s tired, man. He’s too tired to even walk anymore, he has resorted to waddling everywhere. So, no, he’s not going to fake packing his bags just so he can pretend-storm out of the house and ‘teach Satoru a lesson’. He’s a grumpy pregnant person who just wants his baby out already so he can finally walk properly like a normal person.
And anyway, another foot massage won’t hurt.
If Satoru fucks up down the road, and Suguru sure hopes to god he doesn’t because he very much likes his new life here, then maybe Suguru will consider raising the issue just to be able to hold it over his head.
But until he does, there’s no need to be a bitch about it. Suguru doesn’t actually care if the jujutsu elders are dead. He just doesn’t want to be anywhere near them. If they don’t touch him, then he won’t touch them. He’s never going to apologise for massacring that village, or for saving the girls as he saw fit. But he won’t lay a hand on another civilian again, if that’s what they’re so concerned with. He doesn’t care anymore to save the world, or even to save another sorcerer. All he cares about is his family.
His Satoru. His girls. His baby.
They’re his priority now.
Nothing else.
The front door creaks open, just as the cheerful voice of his husband rings through the air.
“Suguruu~! I’m home!”
Just like that, Suguru’s mind clears up, and there’s a lightness in his heart that wasn’t there before. A gentle flutter of joy, just to remind him where he firmly belongs.
“Satoru,” Suguru gets up too quickly from his chair, dizzying himself in the process. Still, a warm smile spreads across his lips, as he happily welcomes his husband back home. “You’re back early today.”
Satoru hurries to his aid, helping his very pregnant wife up. Grinning from ear to ear, Satoru gives him a sweet forehead kiss before elatedly exclaiming, “I bought really yummy souvenirs for you and the girls. I had to teleport back home; I couldn’t wait! Suguruuu, you’re going to have to try all of them, I’ll make you~!”
Yeah, Suguru thinks to himself. This right here, is where he really belongs.