Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gojo Satoru was only a few months old when Suguru first met him.

And even then, it was from a distance. Suguru had been seven at the time, too young to fully understand who Gojo Satoru was, beyond what he had overheard from his parents and other sorcerers. They spoke about him in hushed, awed tones—the child born into the Gojo household possessing both Limitless and the Six Eyes, in over 400 years. A rare, almost mythical occurrence. A sorcerer who, one day, might become the strongest of them all.

But to Suguru, he was just a baby. A tiny thing cradled in his mother’s lap, bright blue eyes blinking curiously at the world around him. He didn’t seem all that different from any other child. Yet the way powerful sorcerers from various clans had gathered to see him told Suguru otherwise. This baby was important, special in a way that Suguru, even then, could not yet comprehend.

Suguru had always been a quiet child, standing behind his mother as the adults spoke. They were talking about him, about his developing Cursed Spirit Manipulation technique and how, in time, his abilities might be of use. His parents were non-sorcerers, but their ties to the world of jujutsu ran deep through extended family history. It had been a shock when they discovered their son could see curses. Even now, they barely understood what it meant, but despite that, they never tried to force Suguru into the normalcy they were so accustomed to.

When Suguru stepped into the Gojo estate that day, he noticed something strange. There were no curses. Not a single one lurking in the corners, in the shadows, or trailing after people like they did everywhere else. Even in temples, Suguru could always see them. But here? Nothing. It unsettled him at first, making him question why. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t the only one seeing things others couldn’t. It was calming for once even if it did freak him out because he was so used to seeing them. They were his normal.

Before long, their visit came to an end. The woman holding Gojo Satoru stood, adjusting the baby awkwardly in her arms. Suguru hadn’t been paying much attention to his parents’ conversation, but he could tell from their expressions that they had been asking for something—pleading, even. The woman, however, looked unmoved. A group of guards arrived to escort them out. His mother sighed, placing a gentle hand on his back to guide him forward.

Just as he was about to turn away, Suguru’s gaze met Satoru’s. Blue locked onto violet.

And Suguru felt it. The cursed energy. A shiver ran down his spine, something instinctual and undeniable. Strength. Raw, unshaken strength. It was in that moment that he began to understand why he was considered special and why so many feared him. Even now, when he could barely stand on his own two feet.

That was the first and last time he ever saw Gojo Satoru.

Over the years, he heard the name again and again, but only in passing, often in idle conversations among other sorcerers. There was always a sense of fascination, an undercurrent of competition and envy surrounding the child prodigy, but Suguru had little interest in any of it.

Suguru grew, training harder, honing his abilities and growing in ranks. He soon presented as an omega, refined his Cursed Spirit Manipulation technique, and became stronger—though never the strongest. That title would always belong to someone else. And soon, Gojo Satoru faded from his thoughts, replaced by missions, battles, and the ever-present taste of swallowed curses.

Life moved on.

And for a long time, Suguru forgot.

Until one day, his family received a letter. One that was stamped with the unmistakable emblem of the Gojo Clan. It was an invitation, personally addressed to him. A monumental thing, really.

The Geto family name held no weight in the world of sorcerers. There was no powerful lineage, no deep-rooted influence. And yet, the strongest clan among them—the Gojo Clan—had sent a letter to their doorstep. It was almost impossible to believe.

Suguru had just returned home from a long mission when he walked into a scene of pure chaos: his parents screaming, crying, and talking over each other, clutching the letter as if it were a sacred artifact. Apparently, a messenger from the Gojo Clan had delivered it in person, informing them that they were expecting Geto Suguru at their estate soon.

It took a while to calm his parents down before he could even sit and process what was happening.

His mother, barely able to contain her excitement, wiped her teary eyes and said, "They see you now, Suguru. They finally see my son for who he is."

Suguru tilted his head, confused. The unopened letter sat on the table in front of him, the bold Kanji of "GOJO CLAN" stamped across it. And in the corner, their own humble family name—Geto—written in small print.

"When your father and I found out you could see and exorcise curses, we were terrified for your future," his mother continued, voice thick with emotion. "You know about the three great clans, don’t you?"

"Yeah," Suguru replied without hesitation. Who didn’t? The Zen’in, the Kamo, and, above all, the Gojo. He had been taught about them since childhood. Even though his parents were non-sorcerers, they knew enough about the hierarchy that ruled the jujutsu world.

"We never had the connections to even speak with such powerful clans," his mother admitted before adding, "but back when Gojo Satoru was born—"

Gojo Satoru.

The name stirred something in the back of his mind. A memory—faint, distant. Blue eyes. Strong curse energy. The feeling of raw, effortless strength. He barely remembered the details, but he had never forgotten that moment. The day he first witnessed true, natural power. One that required no effort, no struggle. Just pure, overwhelming might.

"—his mother made an exception," she went on. "She invited sorcerer families from all backgrounds to celebrate his birth. Even non-sorcerers. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the child."

"You’re making them sound too generous," his father cut in. "They let us in because of Suguru."

And he was right. The Gojo Clan hadn’t just thrown their doors open to anyone. The only non-sorcerers allowed that day were those with connections to higher-ranking clans. The only reason the Geto family had been permitted was because Suguru’s ability set him apart, because even as a child he had potential that many high-born sorcerers did not.

His mother shot his father a glare before continuing. "I always wanted you to have proper training. High-class resources. The kind of education and guidance only elite sorcerers could provide. I knew you could make a name for yourself in the world of jujutsu, but staying with us… I feared we were holding you back."

Suguru frowned. He had always hated the way his mother spoke about non-sorcerers. As if they were lesser. As if they were weak.

It wasn’t like he resented the jujutsu world, but he also didn’t dream of power or prestige. His school wasn’t the best, he had to fight curses constantly, and the pay wasn’t great either but he didn’t hate it. He never wanted to be the strongest. He just wanted to protect people. Normal people. That was enough for him.

"I pleaded with the Gojo Clan," his mother confessed. "Begged them to take you in. To train you under their care. I assured them you wouldn’t let them down. I wanted you to observe Gojo Satoru, to learn beside him, to become something great."

Suguru vaguely remembered now.

"But they refused," she said bitterly. "They said their son didn’t need anyone by his side. That he was perfect alone. And in the end… I had no choice but to give up."

Suguru raised a brow. "Train alongside him? Mom, wasn’t he a newborn?"

His mother waved off the question like it didn’t matter anymore. "But now, Suguru," she whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Now, they’ve finally acknowledged you. They recognize your strength and your worth. I’m so proud of you."

Suguru wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Happy? Grateful? Proud? It was all so sudden, so unexpected. He glanced at the letter again.

"You haven’t opened it?" he asked.

His parents shook their heads in unison. "We were waiting for you."

With a sigh, Suguru reached for the envelope, his parents watching with anticipation. He tore it open, unfolded the letter, and began reading.

He wasn’t even halfway through when his lips curled in irritation. Clicking his tongue, he tossed the letter onto the table.

"This is bullshit," he muttered.

His parents exchanged worried glances before his mother hurriedly grabbed the letter, her voice wavering as she began to read it aloud.

“This letter is sent on behalf of the Gojo Clan with a formal request regarding Gojo Satoru, heir to the clan.

Following his twelfth birthday, Satoru has recently presented as an alpha. However, with his mother—the only omega within the clan—currently unwell and absent from the estate, he has struggled to regulate his instincts and has grown ferocious. His behavior has become increasingly reckless, raising concerns about his development and control.

Geto Suguru has been highly recommended for this role. As an omega with an exceptional grasp of cursed techniques, his abilities and gentle nature distinguish him among his peers. It is the request of the Gojo Clan that he assist Satoru during this critical transition, providing the necessary guidance to help him adapt.

Should this request be accepted, Geto Suguru will be granted private accommodations within the Gojo estate, along with all necessary provisions. His contributions will be recognized and appropriately compensated.

The Gojo Clan looks forward to his response.”

"Recognize my worth? What a fucking joke," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "They don’t want me. They want an omega to babysit their precious alpha prince."

His parents exchanged glances. A flicker of disappointment crossed his mother’s face, but she quickly masked it with excitement.

"This is wonderful news!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "Do you realize what this means, Suguru? You’ll be living in close quarters with the Six Eyes! Do you know how many sorcerers would kill for this opportunity?"

Suguru gaped at her, incredulous. " You cannot be serious."

"I am!" she insisted, leaning forward eagerly. "Think about it—there are plenty of omegas in the jujutsu world. Plenty . And yet, they chose you Suguru. That must mean something, don’t you see? They recognize your strength. You’re different from the rest." She pointed at the letter, showing it to him. "See? They even mentioned it in the letter!"

Suguru’s irritation grew. He wished his mother could understand that the world of sorcery was not as noble as it seemed. He had spent enough time around sorcerers from different schools and the children of higher clans to see the corruption for himself—how they cloaked their self-interest and cruelty in the guise of heroism, claiming to protect those who couldn’t see the horrors they fought.

"No. And I don’t want to see, because I’m not going."

But despite his protests, he ended up going anyway.

Because his mother would not stop.

Every waking moment, she was talking about the Gojo Clan. The prestige, the opportunity, the connections, the money—on and on, until it became so unbearable that Suguru finally snapped.

Just to get some peace and quiet, and to see for himself what the hell was so special about that kid, he packed his bags the next night and left in the morning. 

His mother, still beaming, kissed his cheek and reminded him to call before waving him goodbye as he got into the waiting taxi.

And just like that, his life took a turn he never asked for.

Suguru felt out of place.

Everyone around him, men and women alike was dressed in traditional attire while he stood out in his school uniform. He’d chosen it to represent his identity as a sorcerer, thinking it would make a good impression. Yeah, he wasn’t a Special Grade but as a Grade 1 sorcerer, he wasn’t far off. Now, though, he wondered if he should have worn something else. The invitation letter hadn’t mentioned a dress code, but this place clearly had an unspoken one.

A worker escorted him to one of the rooms, where he was served tea. As he settled in, he quickly noticed that most of the workers and maids here were either betas or alphas. 

As he sat, he glanced out at the garden. The estate was massive and it had taken him an extra ten minutes to walk up the mountain road just to reach the entrance. Apparently, this was private property and public transportation wasn’t allowed—something he found absurd. He’d always known the Gojo clan was wealthy but seeing it first hand was another thing entirely. 

Fifteen minutes passed before the Gojo Clan head finally arrived.

Suguru bowed in greeting, following suit as everyone around him did the same. The man before him was tall, with brown hair streaked with white, his expression stern and unreadable. He hummed in acknowledgment before speaking.

“Geto Suguru.”

“Gojo…sama,” Suguru replied. He could feel the overwhelming energy radiating from the alpha, intense and commanding, it was impossible to ignore.

“You have a decent scent.”

Suguru wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or simply an observation, but he nodded and replied, “Thank you.”

As they walked through the estate, Suguru couldn’t help but take in his surroundings. He had been here once before, when he was much younger, and back then, the air had been crisp, untouched by curses. The Gojo estate was known to be well-protected, a sanctuary free of corruption. But now… something was off. The balance, the energy in the air it all felt wrong.

There were curses lurking in the corners of the estate, lingering in spaces where they had no right to be. Suguru had noticed them even before passing through the main gates. None of them were special grade, so Suguru didn’t even consider absorbing them, but their presence alone was unsettling. Why were they here? How could they exist in a place protected by the Six Eyes? It didn’t make sense.

His unease only grew stronger when a sudden, overwhelming scent hit him like a slap to the face—thick, burning, suffocating. His stomach twisted, nausea curling in his gut. His cursed energy flared instinctively as he scanned the area. The air was heavy, saturated with something dark and potent. He followed the trail with his eyes, and there it was—a thick, black haze of cursed energy spilling from a distant door.

Suguru clenched his fists. Is that him? It was rare for an alpha, especially one so young, to emit such an oppressive presence. No wonder the Gojo Clan had personally reached out. 

But since when had he signed up for babysitting? The fact that his personal details had been passed around among powerful clans didn’t sit right with him, but he should have expected it the moment he set foot in Tokyo Jujutsu High. The school was funded by them, after all.

The clan head came to a stop before the door.

“He refuses to come out,” the man said flatly. “We’ve tried everything. His cursed energy is disrupting the balance of this estate. Just last week, we exorcised over a hundred curses that slipped in because of him.” His tone remained even, but there was a weight behind his words. “Three men were lost in the fight.”

Suguru inhaled sharply. That explained the curses he saw roaming freely outside.

“I don’t usually entrust outsiders with clan matters, but I believe you may be an exception, Geto Suguru.” The clan head turned slightly, studying him. “If you can make Satoru listen, I will see to it that your family name is recognized among the most prestigious in the sorcerer world. I will also ensure you are promoted to special grade.”

Suguru’s eyes widened slightly. That was… quite the offer. And judging by the state of things, the task balanced the reward. 

Still, there was one thing that nagged at him.

“Has he killed anyone yet?” Suguru asked, unable to stop himself.

The clan head let out a quiet chuckle, which, given his otherwise severe expression, was almost unsettling.

“No. Curses, yes. But humans? Not yet.”

Suguru exhaled. “That’s… good to know.” For now.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” The clan head adjusted his yukata. “Consider this your first test,” he added, giving Suguru a sharp, almost challenging look.

Suguru frowned. “You’re not staying?”

“Satoru cannot tolerate the presence of another alpha,” the man replied simply. “That includes me.”

Suguru stiffened. That was something the letter had failed to mention. They had warned that Satoru had grown reckless, but not that he outright rejected the presence of other alphas. 

It wasn’t unheard of, Suguru himself had experienced something similar when he first presented. The scent of alphas had been overwhelming, almost suffocating, making it hard for him to be around them for too long. But he was an omega, so his reaction was different and understandable, given his nature.

In Satoru’s case, however, it seemed the young alpha was trying to assert his dominance in a clan full of other alphas, likely feeling threatened by the storm of emotions building inside him, emotions he couldn’t handle or control.

What didn’t sit right with Suguru was the fact that the clan head, the pack alpha of this clan, seemed to be struggling to manage his own son. If Satoru were an omega, it might have made more sense, but as an alpha, shouldn’t they be getting along? Shouldn’t the father be guiding him, teaching him about his biology and how to navigate his instincts? Do young alphas usually develop such hostility toward their fathers during their transition? 

But what could Suguru even do? Maybe he could help soothe out Satoru’s violent tendencies, but what else? 

It was starting to make sense why he’d been called here, perhaps he was meant to replace the boy’s sick mother. Maybe Satoru had a deep connection with her, and her absence was causing him to act out. Suguru had questions—so many questions—but no clear answers.

The clan head’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Don’t hesitate to defend yourself if necessary,” he said, turning to leave. “Not that you’ll be able to land a scratch on my son anyway.”

There was an unmistakable confidence in his tone, one that irked Suguru just a little.

And then, he was alone.

The cursed energy leaking from the room didn’t lessen. If anything, it seemed to pulse, as if responding to his presence. The air was thick with tension, the acrid scent pressing against him.

Defend himself huh? Suguru wondered if that would really be necessary. If the kid was rejecting the presence of alphas, then surely it would be easier for Suguru, as an omega, to navigate the situation. Right?

Suguru took a deep breath, steadied himself, and slid the door open.

A crushing weight bore down on him, pressing into his skull, ringing through his ears until everything blurred. His vision swam, the edges of the room twisting with the suffocating pressure of cursed energy. The air was thick, almost tangible, heavy with a dark presence that coiled around him like a predator. And the scent—burning, acrid, unbearably sharp—stabbed through his lungs like a blade.

His body screamed at him to retreat.

Suguru gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. He pressed a hand over his nose, instinctively layering himself in his own cursed energy, forming a weak barrier just to stay standing. What the hell is this?

Then, a voice cut through the suffocating weight.

“Who are you?”

Steady. Clear. Young.

But laced with something unnatural.

Suguru blinked rapidly, trying to focus. He found himself staring into the darkness of the room, yet beyond it, past the open veranda, a figure sat bathed in daylight.

Two glowing blue eyes met his.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

The pressure surged in response, a suffocating wave that knocked the air from his lungs. His body betrayed him, knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t even gasp—his throat locked up, his chest too tight to take in air. His vision blurred again, this time with the sting of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

What is this? His nails dug into the tatami, trembling. His cursed energy? Or… forced submission?

Panic crawled up his spine. His body was shutting down, his instincts screaming, and before he could even process it—

His pheromones slipped out.

Not the kind an omega released to entice an alpha. No, this was different. This was submission. A desperate, instinctive plea for mercy. I am weak. I surrender. Let me live.

A cold wave of shame crashed over him.

Suguru had never released this scent before. Not once in his life. He had never been put in a situation where he needed to. And yet, here he was, brought to his knees, body betraying him against his will.

And just like that, the shift was immediate.

The suffocating weight in the air began to ease. The bitter, burning scent gradually softened, turning into something sweeter. The cursed energy that had flooded the room began to retreat, dissolving into the air like mist in the morning light.

Suguru gasped, his body finally able to take in a breath. He fell back onto his hands, sucking in deep, desperate lungfuls of air as his chest heaved. The nausea ebbed. The trembling subsided.

And then—

“Omega.”

Suguru’s head snapped up.

The boy in front of him was nothing like the monster he had just encountered.

Gojo Satoru stood in the light of the open veranda, dressed in a white yukata patterned with delicate blue leaves. His snowy-white hair fell slightly over his forehead, and those same inhuman, celestial blue eyes watched Suguru with a look of curious innocence. 

As if he hadn’t nearly crushed him to death just moments ago.

Humiliation curled hot and bitter in Suguru’s stomach.

Suddenly, it all made sense why people spoke of Gojo Satoru as if he were a god, why they envied him, why they resented him. Suguru understood it now. 

He really is divine.

Suguru had made a huge mistake. He hadn’t put his guard up, hadn’t prepared himself, and hadn’t taken the situation seriously enough.

His fists clenched at his sides. His entire body still felt shaky, but he forced himself to move, willing his legs to push him up despite their unsteadiness. He refused to stay on the floor like this, defeated and vulnerable

Suguru managed a smile, even if his pride was in shambles.

Fuck babysitting. If Suguru was going to survive here, if he was going to walk out of this estate with his dignity intact, he was going to make sure he left stronger than he was when he walked in.

Satoru moved hurriedly towards him before Suguru could fully recover. Suguru hadn’t expected the boy to react so quickly, let alone approach him with such apparent concern.

Up close, Satoru was tall for his age, but still smaller than Suguru. He tilted his head staring up at him with those impossibly bright blue eyes, his expression twisting into something between confusion and worry.

“You’re an omega,” he stated, not quite a question, but not entirely an observation either.

Suguru let out a slow breath, forcing a small smile as he reached out, fingers brushing over the boy’s soft white hair. “That’s right,” he confirmed. Then, without missing a beat, he added, “And you almost killed me, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes widened, mouth parting slightly. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “I’m sorry.” His brows furrowed, frustration bleeding into his expression. “You’re an omega, and as an alpha, I should be protecting you, right? I don’t know what happened.”

Oh, this poor child.

Suguru could see the internal struggle plain on his face, his instincts screaming at him that hurting an omega was wrong, clashing with the rational part of his mind trying to make sense of it. The confusion in his eyes was almost heartbreaking.

Suguru understood. He really did. Transitioning was brutal, especially without an omega presence to stabilize him now that he had rejected alpha presence. Suguru himself had avoided his alpha father and friends for months after presenting, unable to stand their proximity.

“It’s okay,” Suguru reassured him, stroking his hair lightly. “I was just joking. No need to panic.”

Satoru visibly relaxed at that, his shoulders losing some of their tension. Now that the oppressive energy in the room had settled, Suguru could finally register the boy’s natural scent—sweet and fresh, with hints of spring rain, the deep woods, and the ocean. Balanced. Neither overwhelmingly strong nor aggressively masculine, just…comforting. 

It suited him.

Alphas in this age tend to slowly adapt their natural scent. He assumed Satoru might be going through the same.

Satoru studied Suguru for a moment before asking, “Do I know you?”

Suguru tilted his head slightly. “Do you?”

Satoru mirrored his movement, tilting his head in the opposite direction in a way that was almost endearing, then shook it. “I don’t think so.” He said. “Then who are you?”

Suguru knelt in front of him on one knee, their heights now almost even. He placed a hand on Suguru’s shoulder, meeting his gaze and introduced himself, “I’m Geto Suguru, a sorcerer from Tokyo Jujutsu High. I’ve come here to look after you, Satoru.” He paused before adding, “Do you mind?”

Satoru shook his head immediately. “No, I like you, Suguru,” he said without hesitation. Then, with an easy smile, he added, “You smell so good. I like it.”

Suguru wanted to ignore the fact that the kid had not only called him by his first name but also skipped any honorifics. Still, he assumed it might just be something Satoru was used to.

It was hard to believe this was the same kid from just moments ago.

“Thank you,” Suguru replied. “You seemed really angry earlier. Do you want to talk about it?”

Satoru hesitated. He lowered his head, his face twisting with mixed emotions.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it now,” Suguru said gently. “Do you feel better?”

Satoru nodded. “Yeah, I do. I don’t feel irritated anymore. It must be because of you. Your presence made everything disappear.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Suguru said with a soft smile. “I know things are rough for you right now, and everything feels confusing. But trust me, Satoru, it’ll get easier once you get used to your body. You’ll need to learn to control your pheromones and emotions, okay?”

“I’ll never hurt you again,” Satoru said, taking Suguru’s hand. His eyes were earnest, filled with determination. “I promise to protect you from now on, Suguru.”

Suguru blinked, then let out an amused laugh.

“Alright then,” he said. “I suppose we should get along, huh?” He patted Satoru’s head one last time before standing up. “Why don’t you give me a tour of your house?”

Satoru perked up immediately, his entire face lighting up. “Sure!” he said eagerly.

Young alphas could be difficult—stubborn, temperamental, overconfident. But they also craved responsibility, needed to feel like they were in control. Letting Satoru take the lead in something as simple as a tour would give him a sense of self-assurance.

So Suguru let him.

Satoru took his hand and led him out of the room. The moment they stepped outside, the servants and workers stopped what they were doing. They bowed deeply as they greeted him.

“Satoru-sama.”

Their voices carried both respect and relief. They seemed happy to see him, probably because he hadn’t left his room in days, maybe even longer. But Satoru barely paid them any attention. He was too focused on leading Suguru forward.

The estate was huge, a maze of wooden hallways, open-air walkways, and wide gardens. Satoru walked ahead with confidence, talking non-stop. His voice was full of excitement as he pointed out different rooms and areas.

Suguru listened, asked a few questions, and let him talk. He took in as much as he could, learning about the clan, the places Satoru liked and disliked. But what stood out the most was how much Satoru hated his own family.

“I hate this place,” Satoru said suddenly, frowning at an especially fancy-looking room as they passed. “I wish I could burn it to the ground.”

It was a harsh thing to say for a twelve-year-old, but Suguru wasn’t too surprised. Maybe it was just his hormones talking.

“It’s quite a big place, don’t you think?” Suguru said with a light laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Satoru stopped and stared at him as if he was an idiot. Suguru froze, wondering if he’d accidentally offended him. Before he could ask, Satoru raised a finger, a swirling red cursed energy forming at its tip—strong, intense, and unmistakably dangerous.

“Red would do it,” Satoru said casually,  grinning.

“Oh,” Suguru said, realizing the kid wasn’t joking. “You might want to put that away.”

The red energy dissipated, and Satoru lowered his hand. “Of course,” he said, his tone almost sweet. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Suguru.”

Suguru’s eyebrow twitched. Damn brat.

As they kept walking, Suguru began to notice something interesting.

The curses that had been hanging around earlier—the ones that felt out of place in a home like this—were slowly disappearing.

He glanced at Satoru, who was still talking excitedly, completely unaware of what was happening around him.

This kid was going to be terrifying when he grew up.

As they walked through the estate, their path was suddenly blocked.

Suguru noticed him immediately. The clan head, tall and imposing, his presence commanding attention without a word. He must have heard the news from the servants that Satoru had finally stepped out of his room.

His sharp eyes flickered over his son before settling on Suguru, dark and assessing. Suguru wasn’t oblivious to the way Satoru’s fingers tightened around his hand at the sight of his father. The shift in the boy’s demeanor was immediate, his posture stiffened, his scent changed, something sharp and guarded slipping into his expression.

Satoru had planned to keep walking, to lead Suguru past him, but that wasn’t an option now. He couldn’t ignore the clan head, not when the man was so clearly expecting acknowledgment. He stopped and bowed his head in respect, though he could feel Satoru bristle beside him.

The clan head’s gaze lingered for a moment before he spoke.

“You actually did it, Geto,” he said, slow and measured. “Good. Very good. I’m impressed,” he continued, folding his arms across his chest.

Suguru returned the polite gesture, bowing slightly. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ll have the servants show you to your quarters. Rest assured, we will take care of you well. And your weekly payment will be sent to your household.”

Suguru barely restrained the urge to scoff. I almost died today, I hope it’s worth it.

Before he could respond, Satoru cut in.

“Suguru will sleep in my room,” he said, his voice firm, almost growling. “He doesn’t need a separate room.”

Suguru tensed, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Satoru, that’s—” he laughed nervously, hoping the boy would take the hint.

The clan head’s expression didn’t shift, but the temperature in the air seemed to drop.

“Geto is a guest here,” he stated coldly. “He has come to take care of you, and he will be paid for it. He is not your friend, Satoru. I don’t think I need to remind you of that.”

Satoru’s grip on Suguru’s hand tightened. His scent spiked with irritation, a deep growl bubbling in his throat. His entire posture screamed defiance.

Suguru, sensing things about to escalate, placed a gentle hand on the boy’s head. “Satoru,” he said softly, “it’s alright. We have the entire day to spend together. Let’s talk about it later, okay? I’ll be here for a while. We have plenty of time.”

Satoru held his gaze, his jaw tight, but after a moment, he nodded reluctantly.

The clan head observed the exchange with mild surprise. Suguru didn’t miss the hushed whispers from the workers lingering in the hall.

“Hmph.” The clan leader huffed, straightening. “Well then. You will resume your training tomorrow,” he said, addressing Satoru before turning to Suguru. “Feel free to join him.”

Suguru gave another respectful bow, though he already knew he wouldn’t enjoy whatever hellish training Satoru had to endure.

The clan head made a move to leave but then paused, glancing back one last time. His eyes darkened slightly.

“One more thing,” he said, voice edged with warning.

Suguru held his breath.

“Address Satoru properly. It’s Satoru-sama or young master for you. Don’t get too comfortable.”

With that, he turned and walked away, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ouch. Suguru exhaled, running a hand through his hair. 

Beside him, Satoru was fuming. His scent flared with irritation, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides.

“How my omega addresses me is none of his business,” he muttered, glaring after his father. “Suguru, don’t listen to him. I like it when you call me just Satoru. There’s no need to be formal. You’re not a servant.”

Suguru blinked, his mouth parting slightly. Maybe not a servant, but he was still technically being hired by Satoru’s father.

“I think we should respect your father’s wishes,” he said, trying not to laugh as he forced the words out. “After all, he is the clan head… Satoru-sama. ”

Satoru’s nose scrunched in displeasure. “Why does that matter?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Shouldn’t an omega only obey the wishes of his alpha?”

Suguru nearly choked.

“You sure say some weird things,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Where is he even learning this stuff?

Satoru’s stare was unwavering, serious and full of conviction, but Suguru wasn’t about to entertain him.

He’s just a kid.

One day, when he is older, Satoru would probably cringe at all of this.

Suguru was given a proper room and a set of traditional clothes to wear during his stay. Although he had brought his own clothes, the maids insisted it would be better to follow the estate’s dress code. So, it turned out there was an unspoken dress code after all. Suguru quickly changed into the new attire, letting some of his hair down as he adjusted the yukata.

Satoru had waited just outside the entire time, refusing to leave him alone. The kid had offered to help him settle in and seemed determined to stick by his side.

The staff were attentive, almost overly so. They asked about his food preferences, any allergies he might have, and made sure he was comfortable. Not long after, lunch was brought to his room. Suguru hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the meal arrived. The workers praised him, thanking him profusely for agreeing to take care of their young master.

Satoru clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed by the unnecessary attention.

The meal itself was surprisingly good—light, fresh, and perfectly portioned. Suguru hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he found himself asking for seconds.

Satoru, however, wasn’t paying much attention to his own food. Instead, he watched Suguru eat, his bright blue eyes studying him intently, as if trying to commit every movement to memory.

“You should eat too,” Suguru said between bites, gesturing to Satoru’s untouched plate.

Satoru only hummed in response before reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small plate of sweets. “Here,” he said, offering it to Suguru. “These are my favorites.”

Suguru accepted it with a nod of thanks, popping one into his mouth. It was good, though much sweeter than he usually preferred. Still, he appreciated the gesture.

At some point, as Satoru lay sprawled on the floor, rolling onto his stomach to show off his Digimon card collection, he asked, “Hey, Suguru, how old are you?”

Suguru, sitting cross-legged, glanced at him. “Eighteen,” he answered. “But I’ll be nineteen soon. In February.”

Satoru considered this for a moment, his nose scrunching slightly as if working through something complicated.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait a little longer then,” he said with an air of certainty.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Wait for what?”

Satoru turned on his side to face him directly. “Until I can marry you.”

For a moment, Suguru just stared at him, unsure how to respond. The comment had come out of nowhere. He’d already sensed that Satoru had developed a liking towards, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Marry me? Those are some big words, you know,” Suguru said, trying to brush it off lightly. Still, the sudden confession felt odd and left him slightly uncomfortable.

Satoru sat up, moving a bit closer. “But I mean it. I’m serious,” he said, his expression unwavering. He wasn’t nervous or shy, just confident and completely earnest.

Suguru cleared his throat, managing a small smile. “We just met. How about we get to know each other a lot more first?”

“Okay,” Satoru agreed, nodding. “I guess you’re right.”

Most kids might keep their little fantasies to themselves, but Satoru clearly wasn’t one of them. 

Like seriously, marriage?

Suguru shook his head. He wondered how long it would take for Satoru to realize how absurd some of the things he said sounded.

Night fell, and with it came another problem.

Satoru refused to leave.

“I want to sleep here with Suguru!” he declared loudly, his voice carrying through the halls.

The maids hesitated, clearly caught between obeying the child and following the clan head’s orders. “Satoru-sama, we can’t—”

“Shut up!” he snapped.

Suguru, who had been setting up his futon, sighed. His hair had come loose over his shoulders, and he sat down, rubbing his temples before motioning for Satoru to come closer.

The boy stomped over.

“Satoru,” Suguru began, keeping his voice calm, “if you don’t sleep in your room, I might get in trouble.”

Satoru’s brows furrowed. “But if you sleep alone, who will protect you?”

Suguru blinked. “Protect me?”

“Yes! From the alphas! What if they do something bad to you?”

Suguru let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Oh dear.”

Satoru was completely serious. His expression, his scent, he wasn’t joking.

Suguru placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You know, I’m a pretty strong omega myself.”

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “Are you?”

“Of course! Tomorrow, when we train, I’ll show you what I’m capable of,” Suguru promised. “Until then, why don’t we both get a good night’s sleep?”

Satoru was quiet for a moment, chewing on his lower lip.

“You’re not going to leave, right?” he asked, voice smaller now, uncertainty creeping in.

Suguru softened.

“Absolutely not,” he assured him.

Satoru studied his face, searching for any signs of dishonesty. Finally, he sighed and turned toward the waiting maids.

“Goodnight, Suguru,” he muttered, though there was still a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Suguru smiled. “Goodnight.”

The door slid shut, and at last, silence filled the room.

Suguru exhaled, sinking onto his futon. What a strange kid.

His fascination with Suguru was definitely intense in a way that didn’t quite fit, considering this was their first real meeting. (The brief one when Suguru was seven didn’t count.)

Suguru assumed Satoru’s liking to him stemmed from the fact that the boy hadn’t been around many omegas before. Or maybe it was just loneliness. Suguru hadn’t seen any other children around the estate, and given that Satoru had locked himself away for days, it made sense. It could even be something tied to Satoru’s wolf instincts. 

Whatever the reason, Suguru hoped it would fade soon.

Suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He wondered how long he’d have to stay here.

At first, it was harmless.

Suguru had convinced himself that Satoru’s infatuation was nothing more than a childish crush, something fleeting, and innocent. It should be normal. Satoru was a newly presented alpha, barely a preteen, and clearly starved for companionship. His little compliments and the way he hovered around Suguru like an eager puppy had been amusing, even adorable at times.

Until it wasn’t.

The first sign that something was off came the very next morning.

Satoru burst into his room at the crack of dawn, throwing himself onto Suguru’s futon with unfiltered relief. His bright blue eyes locked onto Suguru, lighting up as if he’d been afraid the omega would disappear overnight.

There was something sweet about the way Satoru looked at him—until it shifted into something else. Something unsettling.

At first, it was just words. Suguru would be getting dressed, tying his hair into a neat bun, when Satoru would watch him say things like:

“You’re so beautiful, Suguru. I’ve never seen an omega prettier than you.”

Suguru would laugh, brushing it off with a gentle flick to the boy’s forehead. “How many omegas have you ever met in your life?”

Satoru always answered with confidence. “Plenty. Before I presented.”

Suguru never took it seriously.

Not yet.

That day, they trained together for the first time.

Or rather, Satoru trained while Suguru mostly observed. The kid was surrounded by elite sorcerers who drilled him relentlessly, but it was clear he had little interest in them. His focus wandered constantly—toward Suguru.

When Suguru finally demonstrated his technique—summoning his curses, using them to fly and easily eliminate lower-grade curses—Satoru was captivated. His eyes followed Suguru’s every move with a fascination that none of the other sorcerers shared. To them, Suguru was barely worth acknowledging, no matter how skilled he was.

But to Satoru?

Suguru might as well have been the only person in the world.

The day dragged on. Satoru had more lessons to attend—politics, strategy, sorcery fundamentals. And Suguru, much to his dismay, was expected to accompany him to all of them.

It was exhausting. More than that, it was dull.  But the most unnerving part wasn’t the boredom. It was the way Satoru watched him. In the car rides between lessons, Suguru would catch Satoru staring at him—silent, unmoving, unblinking—for long stretches of time.

And then, the clinginess started.

At first, it was tolerable.

Suguru didn’t mind that Satoru always wanted to sit next to him, or that he reached for his hand a little too often. It was understandable—Satoru was young, and for whatever reason, he was drawn to Suguru.

But then it went beyond that.

The nights were the worst.

Every single evening, without fail, Satoru would throw a tantrum about wanting to sleep in Suguru’s room.

“I deserve to sleep with you,” Satoru would insist, arms crossed, blue eyes flashing with stubborn determination. “You’re my omega. You’re here to take care of me.”

No matter how many times Suguru tried to reason with him, it never sank in. The clan head had already made his stance very clear that Satoru was strictly forbidden from spending the night in Suguru’s room. The whole situation displeased him immensely, and he was growing impatient with Satoru’s defiance.

And the most frustrating part was that because of Satoru’s Infinity, no one could physically remove him from Suguru’s futon.

The workers couldn’t touch him. The guards couldn’t drag him back. Even the elders had given up trying.

Which meant every night, it was up to Suguru to convince him. And Satoru was persistent. Every single day, without fail, he would shower Suguru with gifts—candies, chocolates, expensive clothes, delicate pieces of jewelry. He even went as far as ordering the workers to prepare elaborate flower bouquets, all carefully arranged just so he could present them to Suguru with that same smug, self-satisfied grin.

And that’s when it really started to dawn on Suguru.

Is this kid…courting me?

The thought was so absurd, so insane, that he tried to dismiss it immediately.

But then came the fucking scenting.

At first, it was subtle. Suguru would catch Satoru lingering a little too close, brushing against his arm, hovering near his shoulder. A passing touch here, a fleeting moment there—it was easy enough to ignore until it wasn’t.

Soon, Satoru wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. Suguru would catch him openly rubbing his nose against his clothes, pressing into his shoulder, scent-marking his hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The moment Suguru realized what was happening, he finally snapped.

“Satoru,” he said sharply, pulling his hand away. “Stop that.”

Satoru met his gaze without hesitation, completely unbothered. “Why should I?”

Suguru exhaled slowly, trying to keep his patience. “Because you shouldn’t be doing that. It’s not appropriate.”

Satoru only shrugged. “But I want to.”

Suguru tried to explain, tried to make him understand that this wasn’t something he should be doing with an omega so casually— especially not with him. He tried to be gentle, to reason with him, but Satoru wouldn’t listen.

It was only when Suguru finally said, “If you don’t behave, I’ll leave,” that Satoru stopped.

His expression darkened, his entire body tensing.

Then, finally, he muttered, “…Sorry.”

But before Suguru could even open his mouth to respond, Satoru added, “But I should be allowed to scent my omega.”

Suguru’s stomach twisted. “I am not —”

But before he could finish, Satoru disappeared.

Just like that.

Teleported away without another word.

Suguru let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. It was getting harder and harder to keep up with the kid. A boy as young as Satoru shouldn’t be behaving like this with an omega who was much much older than him. An innocent puppy crush was one thing, completely understandable. But this? This was absolutely unacceptable. The kid had no manners, no concept of personal space, and was spoiled, arrogant, and undeniably a brat.

At times, his behavior was fitting for his age—possessive, stubborn, entitled, emotional.

But at other times it was downright creepy.

There was no hesitation in Satoru’s affection, no uncertainty. He wasn’t guessing at his feelings. He knew them, or at least, he believed he did.

And that was what made Suguru uneasy.

There came a moment when he began to wonder if the line already been crossed? Or was it still being blurred along the way?

When did it all start to feel just a little too out of hand?

Because somewhere along the way, the water had started spilling out of the cup.

And Suguru was beginning to realize that the behaviors that he had assumed to be harmless…

Wasn’t harmless at all.

Suguru’s dragon swished past overhead, its form casting a long shadow on the ground. A burst of laughter followed.

“This is so cool!” Satoru called out, riding on its back, looking as if he belonged there, completely at ease.

It had been almost a week since Suguru arrived, and honestly, it was one of the most exhausting weeks of his life. He’d contacted his parents, reassured them that things were fine—conveniently leaving out every unsettling thing about the Six Eyes heir. That was about 99% of the experience, after all. Suguru was, for all intents and purposes, a caretaker. Nothing more. Except for the constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched even when he was sleeping.

Satoru had insisted on training together, so Suguru had joined him a couple of times, learning about his techniques and flaws in the process. But Suguru couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually getting stronger or just wasting his time.

Still, his first week’s pay was magnificent. Seeing the money in his account almost made him forget the dread he’d endured.

His parents were thrilled to hear from him, but all they ever wanted to ask about was Satoru. It pissed him off more than it should have.

Suguru leaned against the wooden frame of the veranda, exhaling. His dragon glided smoothly into the room, and Satoru leaped off, still too high. Instinctively, Suguru panicked, ready to catch him only for Satoru to pause mid-air, floating effortlessly.

A smug grin spread across the kid’s face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Suguru muttered, sinking back down. “You can float.”

Before he could react, Satoru dropped right onto him, his full weight pressing down on Suguru’s lap. 

“Never let your guard down, Suguru,” Satoru teased.

Suguru let out a small, awkward laugh before waving his hand, recalling his dragon back into his palm.

“You have such an amazing cursed technique,” Satoru mused, shifting slightly. “How does it work? How do you get curses to obey you?”

“I have to defeat them first,” Suguru explained. “Once I do, they turn into an orb that I have to swallow in order to absorb them.”

Satoru made a disgusted face, as expected. “Do they taste good?”

Suguru sat up, nodding gravely. “Absolutely horrible. That’s why I only bother with special grades now. The rest just aren’t worth it.”

“How many have you absorbed so far?”

“More than a hundred,” Suguru admitted, “but only a handful of them are special grade.”

Satoru’s expression lit up with genuine admiration. “You’re really strong, Suguru.”

Suguru smiled at the sincerity, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“And together,” Satoru added, “we can be the strongest.”

The strongest.

That title alone felt like a burden.  Suguru preferred when Satoru acted like this—calm, curious, and engaging—instead of his usual bratty self. It should’ve been like this from the beginning.

“I don’t think you need me to become the strongest,” Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “But sure.”

Satoru grinned. “Well, I need you to bear my children, so I do.”

Suguru froze. His smile dropped immediately, replaced by the deepest frown he had ever worn.

“...You’re twelve. You shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that,” Suguru said, unable to hide his discomfort.

Satoru hummed, pouting. “I won’t be twelve forever. One day, I’ll grow up.”

Suguru pushed himself up to his feet, forcing himself to take a slow breath. “You can decide then. For now, we should head out for training, Satoru-sama.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Satoru muttered, his tone shifting dangerously close to commanding.

Suguru exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.

“Just…stop this already,” he said, his patience thinning. “I can’t keep explaining to you that what you’re doing is inappropriate. It makes me uncomfortable, Satoru. Stop. ”

The room filled with the sharp burn of Satoru’s scent.

“Why are you getting mad?” he asked, voice tight. “What exactly did I say wrong?”

Suguru turned, his jaw clenched. “You—” He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. “You need to think before you speak. I know you’re not a complete kid, that you know things, but you still can’t go around saying things like this to me so casually, Satoru.”

“But why?” Satoru’s voice was eerily calm. “I’m going to mate you and mark you as mine someday anyway.”

Suguru sucked in a breath, pure disgust flashing through him.

“That’s never going to happen,” he said firmly. “I’m not your omega, and I will never marry you. And we will never speak of this again. Now hurry up, you’re late for training. Your father will be angry if he hears about this.”

Satoru’s scent burned hotter, heavier. His chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths, his hands curling into fists.

Suguru stood his ground, refusing to entertain this any longer.

Then, after a long pause, Satoru grinned.

“Did you have sex yet, Suguru?” he asked. “Or are you saving yourself for me?”

Suguru’s entire body jolted with shock.

“SATORU.” His voice cracked with rage as he surged forward, releasing one of his curses—a manifestation of his anger, lashing out at the boy.

It couldn’t even touch him.

Satoru stood there, his Infinity blocking the attack effortlessly, and Suguru was so furious, he almost released another one—

Until he heard the sniffle. Suguru’s rage shattered in an instant.

Satoru’s eyes were brimming with tears. His lip trembled as he tried to suppress it but a fat tear spilled down his cheek, followed by another, as he began crying silently.

Suguru’s heart dropped. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He immediately pulled his curses back, stepping forward in alarm. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching out—but his hands met nothing.

Satoru still had Infinity on.

The boy let out a broken sob, his breath hitching.

“Why don’t you like me back, Suguru?” he choked out, voice barely above a whisper. “Am I not good enough for you yet?” His shoulders shook, his fingers curling tightly into his sleeves. “I promise… I promise I’ll take care of you, protect you, love you better than anyone. Stop treating me like a kid. It fucking sucks.”

Because you are a kid. Suguru wanted to say it, but the words never left his lips.

Suguru blamed himself for this. He shouldn’t have reacted so violently.

“Satoru,” Suguru said softly, his voice gentler now. “It’s not like that. I do like you. I think you’re cool, strong, and capable. But you have to understand—I’m much older than you. And like the workers here, I’m only here because your father asked me to be.”

Satoru didn’t respond, but his breath was uneven.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea,” Suguru continued. “Please forgive me.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—Infinity flickered off.

Suguru wasted no time, immediately pulling Satoru into a hug, rubbing his back.

The boy gripped onto him tightly, burying his face in his shoulder.

After a moment, Satoru mumbled in his chest, “I’ll grow up one day, too.”

Suguru sighed, pulling back slightly to wipe the tears from his face.

“…Do you wanna skip training today?” he asked, offering a small smile, trying to shift the conversation. “Go get some ice cream instead?”

Satoru hesitated, then sniffled and nodded.

Suguru sat in the snow covered garden, staring at the frozen pond, lost in thought. His meeting with the clan head had been brief—just one question, one answer.

"How long do I have to stay here?" he had asked.

"Until Satoru's mother recovers."

The balance and ecosystem of the estate, along with the cursed energy, had stabilized, and they didn’t want things to spiral out of control if Satoru lost his grip again. Suguru had been shut down before he could even mention that he didn’t want to stay anymore. It seemed he had no choice.

Frustration simmered beneath his skin. If Satoru’s mother never recovered… would he be stuck here forever? He let out a slow breath, watching it fog up in the cold air. Satoru was training elsewhere, and Suguru had taken the opportunity to slip out for some much-needed distance. He didn’t know what to do. Today, Satoru was supposed to be taught by someone from the Zenin clan, something about handling cursed weapons. Suguru should have been there, but he just couldn’t bring himself to go.

He let his head fall between his knees, sighing deeply. His hair slipped loose, and he played with the rubber band, letting the strands fall around his face. His yukata hung loosely around his chest, letting the cold air brush against his skin. He closed his eyes, tilting his face toward the sky, letting the weak winter sun warm his skin.

“Rough day, sweetheart?”

Suguru’s eyes snapped open.

His head whipped toward the voice, the sudden brightness of the sun nearly blinding him. When his vision cleared, he saw him.

The scent hit him first. Strong, intoxicating, and unmistakably alpha filling his senses. The man was huge, with a muscular build and towering height, easily taller than Suguru. His black hair framed a sharp face, a faint scar slicing through the corner of his lip. He wore a deep purple yukata, slightly oversized, hanging loose over his frame like he didn’t care enough to tie it properly.

But what unsettled Suguru the most was the lack of presence. He hadn't sensed him approaching at all. No cursed energy. Nothing. It was as if he had materialized out of thin air.

A non-sorcerer?

Suguru stood up, slipping his sandals on as he narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked warily. “And why are you here?” He approached cautiously, his nerves prickling. The alpha was so much taller and broader than him, and it made Suguru feel oddly small.

The man chuckled, the sound deep, amused. “Relax. I might be a little lost.”

That smirk—Suguru didn’t like it. It was the smirk of someone who knew exactly where they were.

“I came for Gojo Satoru,” the man continued easily. “Supposed to be training him. Cursed weapons, all that crap. Normally, I wouldn’t bother with teaching some brat, but the Gojo clan paid me well, so here I am.” He stretched his arms above his head like this was all one big joke to him.

He was…hot. Suguru gulped, feeling an unexpected pull toward him. Wait—did he just say something about teaching and cursed weapons?

“You’re the instructor?” Suguru asked, blinking.

The man grinned. “Yeah. Name’s Toji Zenin. Well, it used to be. Took my wife’s name. I go by Fushiguro now.”

“O-oh,” Suguru managed, his voice barely above a whisper. So this incredibly attractive alpha was married? Suguru hated how disappointed he felt at that revelation. The feeling made him want to smack himself.

Toji must have caught the shift in expression because he let out a low chuckle. “She’s been gone a while now,” he said.

That should not have made Suguru feel any better, but—god, he was horrible—somehow, it did.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru muttered, glancing away. He needed to get a grip. 

“Don’t be,” Toji said with a shrug. He had to be much older than him. Suguru was so distracted that he almost forgot his initial question. 

Suguru cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “You’re a Zenin, but you don’t have cursed energy,” he noted. “How is that possible?”

Toji smirked. “Born without any.” He tapped his temple. “Can’t even see curses.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping, and Suguru’s face burned.

Suguru’s brows furrowed. “Then how do you—”

“Because I’m stronger than you think, Suguru,” Toji cut in smoothly, leaning in slightly, his presence suddenly suffocating.

The way Suguru’s entire body heated up was absolutely humiliating.

“How do you know my name? Ze—Fushi—To—” Suguru stammered, his words tangling. What the fuck is wrong with you? He scolded himself internally. This was so embarrassing, and Toji was watching him with an amused glint in his eyes.

Toji chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “It’s fine. You can call me Toji. And as for how I know your name… you figure it out.” He tilted his head, giving Suguru a small wink that made his stomach twist.

Suguru suddenly become hyper-aware of his appearance. He hadn’t been sleeping properly these days. Did he even look presentable?

This man was dangerous. Not in the way Satoru was, all raw power and arrogance—but in the way he could slip into spaces unnoticed, in the way his smirk made it impossible to tell if he was toying with him or genuinely interested.

Suguru forced himself to straighten, clearing his throat. “I should take you to Satoru then,” he said, regaining his composure. “He’s training a little ways from here.”

Toji’s smirk widened. “Lead the way. Unless, of course, you’d rather spend some alone time together.”

Suguru’s entire body tensed. Was he joking? Teasing? Or—

God, get a grip, Suguru.

He turned away, pulling his hair up into a loose ponytail, fully aware that Toji’s eyes were on him. He let the strands shift, deliberately exposing the nape of his neck as he secured the tie.

“Satoru-sama is this way,” he said, glancing at Toji from the corner of his eye. “Follow me… Toji-san.”

Toji scoffed, and Suguru could feel his gaze scanning him as they walked. The snow crunched under their feet, and Suguru felt oddly warm despite the cold. His heart raced, and he didn’t know what to do with the unfamiliar feelings swirling inside him.

Chapter Text

Suguru was so mesmerized by Toji Fushiguro that he completely forgot he was an alpha. What was the Clan Head even thinking? This was extra work at this point.

The moment Satoru saw Toji beside Suguru, his cursed energy and scent flared violently. His eyes burned with intensity, a low growl escaping his throat. Around him lay the remnants of several cursed spirits, some of them higher grades, now lifeless on the ground. In the background, a group of observers stood, taking notes and overseeing the training.

Suguru cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Um, Satoru-sama, this is Toji Fushiguro from the Zen’in clan. He’s your instructor for today,” he said, trying to keep things neutral.

Toji barely acknowledged Satoru, his voice indifferent. “Nice to meet you, Gojo Satoru. Hope we get along.”

It was painfully clear that he didn’t actually care. His body language, his tone—everything about him screamed that he was one of the few people in the world who wasn’t even slightly impressed by the Gojo name.

Satoru, predictably, ignored the introduction and instead turned straight to Suguru, his voice accusatory. “Why are you with him?”

Suguru bristled at the tone. Why the hell was this kid acting like he was cheating on him?

“This place is huge, kid. I got lost, okay?” Toji said casually, resting a hand on Suguru’s shoulder. The touch sent a sharp jolt down Suguru’s spine, his heart pounding against his ribs. But Satoru… God, if looks could kill.

Quickly, Suguru stepped away, putting distance between them before Satoru did something drastic—like Hollow Purple Toji on the spot.

Apparently, Satoru hadn’t mastered that technique yet, but given the circumstances, Suguru wouldn’t put it past him to attempt it out of sheer spite. The kid loved to show off, always running his mouth about his abilities, always eager for praise. He was full of himself, but Suguru had grown used to it now.

And yet, even if he hadn’t used the technique before, maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t hesitate now.

“I think we should begin training,” Suguru said, stepping closer to Satoru, brushing his fingers gently through his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

Satoru’s gaze remained locked onto Toji, sharp and unwavering. But Toji… Toji just looked down at him like he was nothing. Like the god everyone claimed Satoru to be was just another brat throwing a tantrum. Toji’s alpha presence was overwhelming, and it was doing strange things to Suguru making him feel dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“Alright,” Toji said, calling over one of the workers and asking for his bag and some cursed weapons.

As they moved to retrieve the equipment, Satoru suddenly yanked on Suguru’s hand, his grip possessive. “You smell sweeter,” he muttered, taking a deep inhale. His expression twisted, displeased.

Suguru’s breath caught.

Shit.

He cleared his throat quickly. “It’s intentional.” It wasn’t. “Thought it would calm you down, Satoru.”

Of course, he couldn’t exactly say the real reason, he couldn’t just admit that Toji’s dominant alpha presence was what affecting his omega instincts in a way that was completely out of his control. 

“You’re smelling sweet for me?” Satoru asked, almost believing the lie.

“Don’t twist my words.” Suguru sighed. “Omegas don’t always release pheromones for… whatever you’re thinking.”

Satoru didn’t respond right away. Instead, his sharp eyes scanned him with a frown.

“You never tie your hair up like that,” he observed.

Suguru scowled. “Satoru, don’t start.”

“Why are you getting defensive?”

“God,” Suguru muttered, rubbing his face in frustration. He caught Toji smirking out of the corner of his eye. Before he could say anything else, something flew through the air toward him. Reflexively, Suguru caught it—nunchaku, heavier than expected, pulsing with cursed energy.

Another object was tossed toward Satoru—a blade. Satoru didn’t even bother catching it. The weapon hovered mid-air, held in place by his Infinity. His face remained passive, uninterested.

Toji clicked his tongue. “Haven’t even started training and you’re already making a mistake, kid.” He held a sword casually at his side.

“Huh?” Satoru growled.

Toji raised his own sword slightly, his grip easy, confident. “If you’re gonna use a cursed weapon, you actually have to hold it.” He tilted his head. “I thought you’d be smart enough to know that.”

Suguru gulped. Toji had no fear of Satoru, and it was both impressive and terrifying. Among sorcerers, Satoru was hailed as the strongest, untouchable and unmatched. Even those who hated him acknowledged his power.

Satoru scoffed, then laughed loudly. He deactivated his Infinity and caught the blade mid-air with a swift move. “What makes you think I need this, Fushiguro? Do you have any idea who—”

It happened in a flash. One second, Toji was standing six feet away; the next, he was behind Satoru, striking him with the flat side of his sword. Satoru hit the ground with a gasp, coughing and struggling to breathe.

Suguru was stunned.

The strongest sorcerer of their generation…

“See, that’s exactly why you need it,” Toji said, his voice calm but firm. “Stop acting all high and mighty and get serious. I don’t like training arrogant brats.” He turned to Suguru, his expression softening. “Feel free to join, Suguru. You’ve got great potential. I’d love to have you—” He paused, smirking. “—as my student.”

Suguru’s grip tightened on the nunchucks. “I—” he started, but Satoru’s groan interrupted him.

“Fuck,” Satoru cursed, slowly getting to his feet. Suguru moved to help him, but Satoru shoved him away roughly.

“Get the fuck away from me, you filthy omega!” Satoru snapped.

Suguru’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

Toji clicked his tongue in irritation.

“You,” Satoru said, pointing at Toji. “You played dirty.”

Toji tilted his head, unfazed. “I was just teaching you in a way you’d understand.”

“Bullshit,” Satoru spat. “Fight me again for real this time.” He raised his hand, red cursed energy swirling around his fingers.

“Satoru, don’t! You’ll hurt him!” Suguru instinctively stepped in front of Toji shielding him, his voice desperate.

“It’s fine,” Toji murmured, leaning in close, his breath hot against Suguru’s ear. “Move.”

“But—” Suguru hesitated, his eyes darting between Toji and Satoru. The look on Toji’s face, calm and confident, reassured him that things would be okay. Reluctantly, Suguru stepped aside.

Satoru’s mouth was bleeding, and Suguru’s eyes widened. Was it because of Toji? No. Satoru’s scent was burning too, a mix of rage and frustration that made Suguru’s stomach churn. The overwhelming pressure of cursed energy and alpha pheromones was too much. Suguru clenched his nose, trying to block out the suffocating smell, and retreated to a bench in one of the nearby rooms to steady himself.

The glowing red energy around Satoru’s finger grew brighter and more intense. Suguru could see the workers and observers in the distance beginning to retreat, sensing the danger. The air felt heavy, charged with power, and Suguru struggled to breathe.

But then, just as the red energy seemed to reach its peak, it stopped.

“Ah!” Satoru screamed in pain as Toji appeared behind him in a flash, pinning the boy to the ground. Toji pressed Satoru’s chest down, pulling his arm back in a painful hold. Suguru watched in awe. How could someone with no cursed energy or the ability to see curses do this to the Gojo Satoru, the so-called strongest of them all? It was unbelievable.

“You see, brat,” Toji began, his voice steady and unyielding, “your problem is this: you’re definitely gifted. You’ve got immense strength—probably more than me. But what you lack is—” He twisted Satoru’s arm slightly, making the boy cry out in pain. Suguru winced, his heart aching at the sight. “—discipline,” Toji concluded, releasing Satoru’s arm.

Satoru groaned in pain, and Suguru immediately rushed to his side. He tried to help the boy up, to get him to medical attention, but Satoru shoved him away roughly.

“Satoru, turn your Infinity off. I need to—”

“Go away,” Satoru snapped, his voice trembling. Suguru could see the tears welling up in the boy’s eyes, and it broke his heart. He couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.

“Satoru, your father will—”

“I said GO AWAY!” Satoru shouted, shoving Suguru again with enough force to send him stumbling backward. Suguru nearly hit a tree, but Toji caught him just in time, his strong arms steadying him.

Satoru got to his feet, clutching his injured arm. His mouth was bleeding heavily, and he was chewing on his inner cheeks and lips in anger, the pain evident on his face. Suguru felt a pang of guilt and hurt, blaming himself for the situation.

Satoru glanced at Suguru, still in Toji’s arms, and his expression darkened. Without a word, he disappeared into thin air, teleporting away to somewhere Suguru couldn’t follow.

“Looks like that kid’s got a crush on you, Suguru,” Toji said, whistling softly.

Suguru suddenly realized how close they were, his back pressed against Toji’s chest. He quickly stepped away, his face burning with embarrassment.

“You should’ve taken it easy on him, Toji-san,” Suguru said, avoiding Toji’s gaze.

Toji hummed, his tone casual. “Soft parenting ain’t for kids like him. He needs to taste defeat to learn.”

To some extent, Suguru agreed. But the idea that someone could stand a chance against Gojo Satoru was something the Jujutsu world had yet to accept.

Deep down, Suguru didn’t want to admit it, but having Toji around lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. It made him feel… protected.

“How about we take a break? Maybe grab some tea or ramen?” Toji suggested, his voice light and teasing.

Suguru finally looked at him, and it was a mistake. Toji’s expression was warm, his eyes glinting with something that felt like a hint.

“Shouldn’t we look for Satoru instead?” Suguru asked, his voice hesitant.

Toji waved a hand dismissively, narrowing his eyes and making a face. “Let the kid have his time. Not only did he just get his first taste of defeat, but it also happened in front of his crush. Let him mourn.”

Suguru couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, the tension easing slightly.

“And trust me,” Toji added, “he won’t want any company right now. He needs time to cool down.”

“I guess you’re right,” Suguru agreed, his shoulders relaxing.

Toji smiled, his expression softening. “Ramen, then? I usually don’t pay for people, but I’ll make an exception for a pretty omega like you.”

Suguru blushed, his heart fluttering despite himself. It was such a stupid, cheesy line, but he couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped him. 

“Sure,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Thirty-two.

That’s how old Toji Fushiguro was—more than a decade older than Suguru.

Suguru had known Toji was older, but now, seeing the stark difference in their ages, he wondered if he should stop hoping for anything to happen between them. Toji was also a former member of the Zen’in clan, and from everything Suguru had heard, they didn’t favor women or omegas. Even if Toji had said he was cutting ties with them once and for all, Suguru couldn’t help but worry a little.

He was undeniably attracted to Toji. That alpha was a fantasy made real. Tall, broad, strong, older, devastatingly handsome. Just looking at him was more satisfying than the ramen Suguru was inhaling. His sheer presence was enough to make Suguru want to drop to his knees and submit. Toji was the kind of alpha who commanded obedience without saying a word.

So yes, Suguru was attracted to him. But he wasn’t sure if that was enough.

Meanwhile, Satoru had been missing for two days.

Suguru had expected the clan head to be furious. To fire Toji immediately, maybe even declare war. But surprisingly, nothing like that happened. Instead, Toji was given his own room, fresh clothes, and meals, settling in as if he belonged. The clan head even sent people to search for Satoru and had personally thanked Toji for training the boy, looking genuinely impressed.

Suguru worried for Satoru. Maybe it was his omega instincts, but no matter how much Satoru tried to act grown, he was still just a kid. Seeing him hurt—his lips bitten raw, blood staining his mouth—had unsettled Suguru deeply. Satoru had never looked so vulnerable before.

Even as Suguru sat in an old ramen shop downtown with Toji, he found himself distracted, unable to fully enjoy their “date.” He kept thinking about Satoru, worrying about him. He had even bought sweets from a local shop, hoping they might cheer him up when he returned.

But the worst part? He had slept soundly for the first time in a long while. That unsettling feeling of being watched had disappeared. Satoru’s absence brought him peace to think clearly, yet it also left a hollow feeling in his chest.

Today, Toji had called him to the training grounds, wanting to test Suguru’s skills. Suguru felt a mix of nerves and excitement. He wanted to impress Toji. Not just with his looks, but as a sorcerer. He didn’t want the alpha to think he was weak, to see him as another delicate omega. Did Toji share the Zen’in clan’s outdated views? Suguru hoped not.

Tying his hair into a tight ponytail, he studied his reflection longer than usual. He adjusted his yukata, securing it around his waist, accentuating his curves. Training in this outfit was a hassle, but he wanted to look his best.

When he arrived, Toji was fussing over a collection of cursed weapons, his yukata hanging particularly loose today.

“Toji-san,” Suguru greeted, noting the way Toji’s sharp eyes scanned him from head to toe before a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Suguru,” Toji hummed, gripping a pair of nunchaku before tossing them toward Suguru. He caught them with ease, his gaze locked onto Toji’s. “Show me what you got.”

Toji lifted a small knife, pointing it at Suguru—an invitation, a challenge.

Suguru swallowed hard. Fighting Toji? The man who had the ability to kill a god? His nerves spiked. He felt more anxious now than he had when facing his first special-grade curse.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Toji said with a lazy grin. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Suguru tightened his grip on the nunchaku, cursed energy crackling through them. He had never been skilled with cursed weapons, and Toji was a master. He might not win, but he refused to back down like a coward.

“Don’t,” Suguru warned before swinging the nunchaku, shifting into a defensive stance.

Toji simply smirked.

Then, he began removing his yukata.

Suguru’s breath hitched, his body heating instantly. He bit his lip, suppressing a whimper as his mouth watered at the sight before him.

Toji wore a skin-tight black shirt tucked into loose white pants, a belt cinched around his waist. His muscles flexed as he stretched, rolling his broad shoulders. His biceps were thick, his abs faintly visible through the fabric. He was devastating.

Suguru pressed his thighs together, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Not now. He needed to focus.

Toji let out an amused chuckle, watching him with something predatory in his gaze.

Without hesitation, Suguru lunged, swinging his body and attacking straight on. Toji stood still, carefree, unfazed. Sensing an opening, Suguru feinted, twisting midair to strike from the side. For a split second, Toji seemed surprised.

Then, before Suguru could land a hit, a strong arm wrapped around his waist, yanking him back. He gasped as his body collided with Toji’s, the cold edge of a blade brushing against his throat.

Damn it.

“Not bad, Suguru.” Toji’s voice was low, breath warm against his ear. His large hand squeezed Suguru’s waist, holding him effortlessly. “But you’re nowhere near good enough yet.”

Suguru huffed, puffing his cheeks in frustration. “Let’s go again.”

Toji released him gently, smirking. “As many rounds as you want.” The look he gave Suguru said so much more, and heat pooled in Suguru’s stomach.

They sparred for a while longer, but no matter what, Toji continued to disarm him with ease, pinning him down in different positions. Suguru did manage to land one hit—only for Toji to effortlessly toss him across the garden. He landed against a tree, winded but unharmed.

When he looked up, his hair had come undone.

“Oops. My bad.” Toji grinned, twirling Suguru’s broken hair tie between his fingers.

Suguru frowned, snatching the torn band from Toji’s hand, attempting to fix his hair.

“You look better with it down,” Toji murmured, brushing a loose strand behind Suguru’s ear.

Suguru’s face burned. “I-Is that so?”

Toji hummed in response, stepping a little too close. Something might have happened, but Suguru chickened out, quickly moving to sit on the veranda. “I need a break,” he muttered.

Toji didn’t argue, simply sitting beside him, drinking from his water bottle.

"Suguru, you’ve got what it takes," Toji said, his voice steady with conviction. "A little more training, and you’ll be special grade in no time."

Suguru huffed, crossing his arms as he eyed the bulge of muscle beneath Toji’s sleeve. "If anything, you training me is just making things harder," he muttered, eyes lingering on the alpha’s biceps. What he wouldn’t give to have them wrapped around his neck, squeezing the air out of him.

Toji let out a low, amused laugh, his head tilting back slightly. The way his lips parted, the casual ease of his expression—it made something warm unfurl in Suguru’s chest, something he wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge.

Their conversation drifted toward Satoru after that, with Toji asking what the kid’s deal was and why he’d been called here in the first place. Suguru explained everything. Satoru’s obsession, his childish antics, the sheer stubbornness that made dealing with him so exhausting. Toji listened, nodding along, even offering a sympathetic grunt when Suguru sighed heavily.

"It feels wrong to hate a kid as young as Satoru," Suguru admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t hate him—not yet, at least. I just wish he’d learn some respect, maybe try to understand people a little better." He exhaled sharply. "But then sometimes… he’s just a kid, you know? He’ll show me his video game collection or ramble about some ridiculous trading cards, and for a moment, it feels normal. He can be funny. He can be sweet. But then—" Suguru shook his head, a shiver running down his spine. "Then he ruins it."

Toji hummed, watching him closely. "Sounds like you’ve got a soft spot for him."

Suguru frowned. "Of course, I do. He’s just a baby," he said, exasperated. "Sometimes I wanna squish his cheeks or read him bedtime stories." He hesitated, lips pressing together in a tight line before continuing. "But clearly, Satoru expects something else from me. And that… that’s disgusting to even think about."

Toji studied him for a moment, his gaze heavy. Then, he reached out, brushing a thumb over Suguru’s cheek. His fingers were warm, calloused, lingering just long enough to make Suguru’s breath hitch. Toji’s eyes flickered down to his lips, something unreadable in his expression.

"Do you want kids of your own someday?" he asked, voice quieter now.

Suguru swallowed, his gaze shifting away as he thought about it. "M-maybe," he admitted, his voice softer than before. One day, after reaching special grade, after securing his place in the world—then, maybe, he’d think about marriage, about a family of his own. But for now, it was just a distant thought.

Toji seemed satisfied with the answer, watching him like Suguru was something delicate—something worth admiring. The attention made Suguru squirm, his thighs pressing together as warmth curled deep in his stomach.

Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let his guard down around this alpha.

Suguru was just on the brink of sleep when he heard the faint sound of a sliding door opening. He was too drowsy to pay much attention until a familiar scent filled his senses, followed by the weight of a smaller body pressing against his back.

His eyes fluttered open. “Satoru?” He shifted to his side, and even in the dark, he could tell it was him.

Satoru didn’t say a word. He just lay there, his hand resting possessively against Suguru’s body, as if seeking comfort in his warmth.

Suguru frowned, concern immediately overtaking his drowsiness. “Oh, baby, are you okay?” He pulled Satoru closer, rubbing gentle circles on his back. Reaching over, he turned on the nearby lamp, bathing the room in soft, golden light.

For a while, there was nothing but silence. Then, finally Satoru spoke, his voice quiet, strained. “I’m sorry, Suguru,” he said, barely above a whisper. His voice trembled. “I… I didn’t mean what I said to you.”

Suguru sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I forgive you. Just… don’t disappear like that again. I was worried sick, Satoru.”

“You were?”

“Of course I was,” Suguru said, his tone gentle. “I care about you. You’re a promising young man with a great future ahead of you.”

Satoru let out a shaky breath. “But I lost,” he muttered, voice bitter. “I’m nothing but a failure… a loser.”

Suguru clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t say that,” he chided. “This is just the beginning. Five, ten years from now, you’ll be the strongest of them all. Growth takes time, Satoru. You can’t be so hard on yourself.”

Instead of responding, Satoru buried his face against Suguru’s chest, letting out a low, frustrated growl. Then, his voice came again, softer this time. “Do you like me, Suguru?”

Suguru stiffened. “…I do. But not in the way you want me to,” he said, making sure his words left no room for misinterpretation. “I’m sorry.”

Satoru glanced up at him, his eyes burning with something unreadable. “Why?” he demanded. “Is it because I’m younger? Because you think I can’t satisfy you the way you want me to?”

Suguru’s breath caught in his throat, and he immediately withdrew his hand, shifting away from him. “Satoru,” he said, voice firm, “you should go back to your room. Your father will be angry.”

“He’s not here,” Satoru replied flatly. “Left earlier for some clan meeting.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Suguru said. “You should still go. I don’t want you here.”

Satoru didn’t move. “I don’t care what you want,” he said stubbornly. “I want answers. Stop avoiding me.”

“There’s nothing more to say.”

Satoru let out a humorless laugh. “So it’s true, then,” he muttered. “You think I can’t love you the way you need.”

Suguru exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You can’t. And most importantly I don’t want you that way. You’re just a kid, Satoru. There will never be anything more between us.” He turned his back to him. “Now, go. I have training in the morning.”

Silence filled the space again, thick and suffocating. Suguru was starting to think Satoru had finally given up when his voice came again—soft, but laced with something dark.

“You’re mine, Suguru,” he murmured. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

A shiver crawled down Suguru’s spine, but he refused to acknowledge it. He took a slow breath, shutting his eyes, willing himself to just sleep through this madness.

He heard the door slide open.

“Don’t let other alphas get too close to you, especially him, ” Satoru said, pausing at the doorway. When Suguru turned his head, he was met with an eerie glow in those piercing blue eyes—something unnatural, something unsettling. “I wouldn’t like that.”

Then, with a sharp clack, the door slid shut behind him.

Suguru exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. Sleep felt impossible now.

Just a few rooms away, Toji was sleeping. Should he…?

No. That would be risky. Even if he really wanted to.

Shaking his head, he rubbed his face, willing away the impulsive thoughts. Instead, he tried to picture Toji. The curve of his lips, the sharp cut of his muscles, the roughness of his hands. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, another pair of blue eyes kept creeping into his mind, refusing to let him go.

Heat flared through him suddenly, unexpectedly. His body ached, slick pooling between his thighs before he even realized what was happening.

“Ah, fuck,” he breathed, shifting uncomfortably as the overwhelming heat settled deep inside him.

Why now? Why all of a sudden?

Grimacing, he forced himself up, stripping off his clothes and hurriedly changing into something dry. He didn’t have the energy to do anything else about it. He just needed sleep.

Even if he knew he wouldn’t get any tonight.

The next morning, Suguru expected to see Satoru at the training grounds. But to his surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Even after asking around, the staff had the same answer that Satoru hadn’t been home yet and that they were still searching for him.

Suguru frowned. That didn’t make sense. Satoru had been in his room last night. He had felt his warmth, and had spoken to him.

Had he… been dreaming?

“What’s bothering you?” Toji’s voice pulled him back to reality. “You’re distracted.”

Suguru hesitated before sighing. He explained everything—Satoru’s late-night visit, his strange behavior, and now, his sudden disappearance.

Toji crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “That brat’s weird,” he muttered. “Probably just checking up on you. Who knows what the hell’s going through his head? Kid acts real childish.”

Suguru exhaled slowly. “It’s getting out of hand,” he admitted. “I thought he’d grow out of it eventually, but—”

Toji placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m here now,” he said simply. “Don’t waste your time worrying about him. Focus on getting stronger. You’ll need it.”

Suguru nodded, pushing aside his thoughts and returning to his training.

Still, something about all of this felt… off.

Satoru was the head of the clan’s only heir. And yet, no one seemed particularly worried about his absence. They were searching, yes but there was no urgency, no panic. Almost as if they knew he’d be fine.

Or as if they knew exactly where he was.

With Toji around, Suguru’s presence felt almost unnecessary. Maybe an alpha was what Satoru needed after all.

Suguru shook the thought away and focused on the blade in his hands. The year was ending soon. Maybe he should visit his parents, it had been a while since he last saw them.

A deep exhale left his lips as he swung his blade, arms moving fluidly through the air. Sweat dripped down his skin, his breath coming out heavy, but it felt good to move. It cleared his mind.

Behind him, Toji sat at a distance, watching.

Then, suddenly—warmth.

Strong arms wrapped around Suguru from behind, trapping him in firm heat.

Suguru froze, though he didn’t hate the sensation.

Toji’s chest pressed against his back, his grip firm as he reached for Suguru’s hand, the one holding the blade.

“You need more power,” Toji murmured, his voice low and deep against his ear. “Here—like this.”

He guided Suguru’s hand, tightening his grip on the blade’s base before swinging it in one smooth, powerful motion. “See?” he murmured, breath hot against Suguru’s neck. “Put enough force behind it so that the blade isn’t even visible when you move.”

Suguru was barely paying attention.

His body was burning. His thoughts were a mess. The heat from Toji’s chest seeped into him, his scent clouding his senses. The alpha was so big that his body practically swallowed Suguru up, making him weak in the knees.

Fuck.

“Toji-san…” Suguru’s voice came out weak, breathless.

Toji hummed in acknowledgment, his hand sliding from Suguru’s arm to his chin, tilting his face up. His touch was rough but warm, his thumb brushing over Suguru’s jawline.

Suguru swallowed hard. He felt small, vulnerable. His entire body was reacting, begging for cock. Heat pooling deep inside him, slick forming embarrassingly fast. His thighs pressed together on instinct. 

Was he…Was he going into heat?

Or was he just this desperate?

Suguru didn’t know who leaned in first.

Toji’s lips were on his, warm and slow, moving against him like he had all the time in the world. Suguru whimpered, his entire body trembling at the contact. His blade slipped from his grip, forgotten as Toji’s hands gripped his waist, lifting him effortlessly. He clung to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, needing more. His scent spilled out, sweet and intoxicating, curling around Toji’s like an invitation.

When they pulled apart, Suguru was panting, chest heaving. Toji licked his lips, watching him with a dark, knowing smirk.

“Suguru,” he said, voice smooth, pleased. His hand brushed over Suguru’s face, thumb swiping over his kiss-swollen lips. “I—”

“Satoru-sama is back!”

The loud announcement echoed across the estate.

Suguru’s entire body tensed. Panic surged through him as reality slammed back into place.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed.

He pushed away from Toji so fast he didn’t even realize how high off the ground he was until he stumbled, hitting the dirt hard.

Scrambling up, he wiped his lips, his entire body a flushed, trembling mess and his underpants completely soaked with his slick. He has never been so wet in his life before. It was painful.

“We… We should go,” he stammered. “Um… Sorry, I—”

Toji groaned, running a hand through his hair. “God, baby, you’re such a mess,” he drawled, lips curling into a smirk. “Damn that brat for ruining the moment.”

His eyes flicked over Suguru’s disheveled state.

Then, voice deepening, he murmured, “Make it up to me next time, hm?”

Suguru bit down on his lip hard trying to calm himself, but it was no use. Smell of his arousal had already spilled out, thick and sweet. Toji’s nose twitched, eyes darkening as he took a slow inhale.

“Oh?” His voice was teasing, amused. He tilted his head, watching Suguru squirm.

Suguru bit his lip, overwhelmed by shame and embarrassment. Without another word, he bolted toward his room, desperate to change out of his soaked clothes.

Satoru looked different.

Or maybe it was just the air around him—something had shifted.

There was an arrogance in the way he carried himself, a quiet cockiness that felt different from his usual obnoxious self. And the strangest part was that he wasn’t even doing anything.

Dressed in casual clothes—a hoodie and shorts, something Suguru had never seen him wear before—he looked almost unrecognizable. His usually pristine white hair was a mess, tousled as if he hadn’t even bothered running a comb through it. He sipped lazily from an energy drink, silent, gaze unreadable.

Suguru sat at a distance, Toji beside him.

Across the table, the clan head sat composed, but the tension in the room was thick, pressing down on Suguru’s chest like a weight.

Satoru’s gaze flickered toward Toji more than once, lingering for just a second too long before he returned to his drink. He wasn’t even sitting properly. One leg up, sprawled out like he owned the place.

His father finally broke the silence.

“Where have you been, Satoru?” The words were calm, but there was a sharpness beneath them.

Satoru didn’t answer right away. He shifted, changing the position of his leg, before finally scoffing.

“Why do you care?”

The clan head’s expression didn’t change. “Because I’m your father.”

That made Satoru laugh—cold, humorless.

“Toji-kun has come all this way to train you,” his father continued, his voice clipped. “It was wrong of you to leave so abruptly.”

Satoru hummed, stretching his arms above his head. “Pay him enough, and I’m sure he’ll kiss your ass too.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“Satoru!” The clan head’s voice cracked like a whip, his fist slamming against the table. “How dare you speak that way to your father?”

Suguru stiffened. For a second, he wondered why he and Toji were even here—why they had to witness this private family matter. His gaze flickered to Toji, expecting some kind of reaction.

But Toji barely looked fazed. If anything, he just stared at Satoru with an expression bordering on boredom, as if he could barely tolerate the kid’s presence.

Satoru, unfazed, finished his drink and tossed the can aside carelessly, not even looking to see where it landed.

Then he stood up, hands in his pocket. 

“I went to visit Mother.”

The words were quiet, but they had an effect. His father stilled. His anger didn’t completely fade, but something in his expression shifted—hesitation, maybe.

Suguru wasn’t sure if he should believe him. He wasn’t sure if his father believed him either.

Then, Satoru finally turned but not to Suguru, not even sparing him a glance, but straight to Toji.

The look in his eyes sent an uneasy shiver down Suguru’s spine.

“Toji,” Satoru said, lips curling into a slow grin. “Let’s train, shall we?”

There was something unnatural about that smile. Something that made Suguru’s stomach twist.

Toji only laughed. “Sure,” he said, standing. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Suguru swallowed hard.

Something about this felt wrong.

And he suddenly had a very, very bad feeling.

If Suguru had to say he was merely impressed, he’d be lying.

This wasn’t the same Satoru from a few days ago.

It was like he had transformed into an entirely different person.

His movements were sharper, faster.m, almost unnatural in their precision. His awareness of his surroundings had heightened to an alarming degree, his reflexes honed into something terrifying. It was hard to keep up, even just as a spectator. The speed at which he and Toji clashed was unreal, their forms blurring with every strike.

Suguru wasn’t the only one in awe.

“Satoru-sama is truly the chosen one,” one of the maids whispered, eyes glistening with tears.

“He is our savior,” another murmured, hands clasped together in reverence.

But Suguru wasn’t sure if what he felt was admiration or fear.

How could a child improve this much in such a short time? No one stood a chance.

Even Toji—who was never one to be easily impressed—seemed momentarily taken aback, struggling against the younger boy. But in the end, he still won.

Suguru exhaled, a strange sense of relief washing over him.

Still, the thought gnawed at him. Satoru is growing. This wouldn’t last forever.

The fight concluded, both combatants stepping back, chests heaving. Toji wiped sweat from his brow, while Satoru, unfazed, approached Suguru with that grin—the kind that made his stomach twist. For a moment, it felt like he had grown taller—more imposing.

Suguru instinctively took a step back.

“So?” Satoru asked expectantly.

He wanted praise.

Suguru hesitated before managing a smile. “You did great. Well done.”

Satoru’s grin widened. “Thanks, Suguru.”

It was then that Suguru noticed Toji’s expression—jaw tight, a vein pulsing in his forehead. He could feel the frustration rolling off the older alpha, his scent thick with restrained irritation. It was only a matter of time before Satoru reclaimed his dominance.

Suguru was growing uncomfortably accustomed to being caught in the middle of their rivalry. He could tell this was only going to get worse.

And from that day on, Satoru joined them in training every single day.

Each session, he grew faster, sharper, stronger. It became clear—soon, very soon, he’d surpass even Toji.

Sometimes, he trained with Suguru, but compared to Toji, he was weaker. It annoyed Suguru more than he wanted to admit. But Toji always had a way of soothing his frustration—whispering in his ear, holding him close, pressing his lips against his skin when no one was looking.

But the problem was, Satoru never left him alone.

Toji’s annoyance with Satoru grew with each passing day. It wasn’t just the young alpha’s rapid improvement or the looming possibility that Satoru might one day surpass him. It was also the way Satoru constantly inserted himself between Toji and Suguru, disrupting any chance of intimacy. Whenever things between Suguru and Toji started to get too close, Satoru would appear—interrupting, breaking the flow, ruining everything.

At night, when the clan head was away, Satoru would slip into Suguru’s room, attempting to scent him from behind, nuzzling against his neck. 

And not only that, but he would press his smaller body against Suguru, his hands and legs wrapping around him in a way that made Suguru extremely uncomfortable. One time, he even felt two small fangs brushing against his nape.

It made Suguru gasp out loud, kicking Satoru away from him. But Satoru didn’t even look startled. He would repeat the same pattern every night when the clan head wasn’t around. Suguru was always on high alert, never letting his eyes fall shut. It was reaching the point where he was downright scared of what might happen if he wasn’t careful—if he let his guard down too much.

Every night, Suguru had to push him away. Had to tell him no. Had to beg him to leave.

And Satoru had grown more possessive— more jealous—than ever before.

But now, he showed it through actions rather than words.

It was in the way his gaze darkened whenever Toji touched Suguru. The way his fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to tear Toji away.

It was as if Satoru had always gotten everything he wanted in life—except for Suguru.

And that was something he refused to accept.

Suguru, however, never wavered. No matter how stubborn Satoru got, he never let his advances go further than they should.

And then, one day, Toji finally snapped. He pushed Satoru harder than ever, training him to the point where the next morning he couldn’t even get out of bed.

Toji, of course, was perfectly fine.

Suguru didn’t need to be told twice when Toji practically dragged him out of his room that morning. And he didn’t mind at all. He liked it, wanted it. He was exhausted from  Satoru’s action and craved Toji’s presence. 

They left the estate early, escaping to a quiet park outside the clan grounds.

And there, away from it all, away from Satoru, away from the suffocating lands of the Gojo clan as they made out for hours. Toji pressed Suguru against a tree, his hands firm, rough yet warm as he kissed him deeply. The alpha’s scent was intoxicating, seeping into his skin, making his knees weak.

Suguru let himself melt into it—let himself forget about everything except this.

Toji growled low, his hand slipping beneath Suguru’s shirt, fingers tracing along his skin, his mouth trailing along his jaw. He could feel Toji’s chest vibrating with restrained need, his scent thickening as he rubbed against him.

“I should scent you properly,” Toji murmured against his neck. “So he’ll know.”

Suguru tensed.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to.

But…

“Satoru will be upset,” Suguru admitted, voice breathy, reluctant. “He might—he might destroy something.”

Toji exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against Suguru’s.

“Brat’s ruining everything,” he muttered.

Suguru swallowed hard, looking away.

They stayed like that for a while, simply holding each other, lips brushing in lazy, heated kisses.

For the first time in forever, Suguru felt like he was finally himself—not a trained warrior, not an obedient omega, not someone stuck between two powerful alphas.

Just…Suguru.

And Toji let him be.

They spent the rest of the morning wrapped up in each other, lips swollen, bodies flushed, before eventually making their way back to the estate.

To Suguru’s relief, Satoru was still asleep.

He hurried to his room, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, he scrubbed himself clean. Erasing every trace of Toji’s scent.

Because if Satoru caught even a hint of it—

He didn’t want to think about what would happen.

Time passed in the same unbearable rhythm. Suguru caught between them, between this. Unable to take his relationship with Toji further like he wanted, he missed out on all the sweet moments of a fresh relationship like going on dates, eating together, and letting the entire world know he was dating the alpha.

The continuous scenting from Satoru caught Toji’s nose multiple times, and it was clear the alpha hated it. Satoru was always so proud whenever he caught Toji’s irritated expression. Whether he was sitting beside him, training beside him, or eating beside him. 

As unsettling as it was, Satoru wanted to make it clear that Suguru was his. He would never leave them alone or let Suguru wander off too far. The only times they could be together were when Satoru was asleep, but his lack of sleep was slowly starting to affect Suguru’s health. Just for one day, he wanted to spend time with Toji without the constant presence of Satoru.

And then, the New Year came.

That morning, he, Toji, and Satoru visited the temple together. The air was crisp, the sky a soft shade of winter blue, and despite the occasional stolen glance between him and Toji, they barely had a moment to themselves.

But today was different.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru was leaving to visit his sick mother with his father. He didn’t want to go, of course. He clung to Suguru, nuzzling against his neck, mumbling about how much he’d miss him.

But eventually, he left.

And for the first time in weeks, Suguru breathed.

He and Toji walked along the temple grounds, the world peaceful around them. Snow blanketed the earth, melting under the gentle warmth of the morning sun. They wandered past a nearby river, making quiet conversation, their hands intertwined.

But Suguru wasn’t expecting what came next. He wasn’t prepared. 

“I love you, Suguru.”

His heart stopped.

The words settled in the space between them, gentle yet firm, like a promise. Toji’s grip on his hand was warm, grounding. The sunlight shimmered over the lake, the wind whispered through the trees, but all Suguru could focus on was him.

Toji.

The man he had fallen for so hard, so completely, with all his being.

The man he had wanted since the moment he first saw him. There had never been any doubt in his mind, no hesitation in his heart. 

Suguru felt his chest tighten, something hot rising in his throat. His eyes stung. He had been waiting—waiting for this.

“Toji-san, I—”

His vision blurred as he broke into a bright, breathless smile, throwing his arms around Toji, climbing him like a tree.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “I love you.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, warmth spilling between them like sunlight.

When they finally pulled back, Toji cupped Suguru’s face gently, his touch warm and reassuring. He leaned in, capturing Suguru’s lips in a tender kiss. Suguru melted into it, his heart pounding as he savored the moment.

And then, Toji murmured against his lips. “Suguru, I want to be with you. By your side, for the rest of my life. ”

The words were like home, comforting and grounding him. He felt safe, protected, and more loved than he ever had before. He nodded, his voice soft but firm. “I feel the same, Toji-san. I want that too.”

Toji exhaled, a small smile playing on his lips.

But then his grip on Suguru’s hand tightened—just slightly.

His expression shifted.

“Suguru,” he said carefully, voice lower now. “There’s something I need to show you before we move forward. I think it’s only fair to you.”

There was something in his tone—something that sent a ripple of unease through Suguru’s chest.

His fingers curled slightly around Toji’s hand.

“What is it?” he asked, throat dry.

Toji hesitated for half a second. Then, he lifted Suguru’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles softly.

“Come with me.”

When Toji told him they were going to his home, Suguru had half-expected the Zen’in estate.

But instead, the taxi ride ended thirty minutes later in front of a small, one-story house. It looked old—dull-colored walls, chipped paint, and a gate that groaned loudly as Toji pushed it open.

The moment Suguru stepped inside, he felt it. A strong cursed energy lingering in the air.

“Is this where you live?” Suguru asked as they walked through the entrance.

“Yeah,” Toji answered simply, kicking off his shoes. “Sorry if you expected more. Ever since I cut ties with the Zen’in clan, I’ve been struggling a little.”

Suguru immediately shook his head. “No, no! It’s fine. I understand.”

Toji had told him about his past, about the way his own family had discarded him. Suguru never liked the elite clans either—just a bunch of self-righteous assholes.

Smiling, Suguru hooked his arm around Toji’s, pressing close as they stepped inside.

A girl greeted them almost instantly, no older than middle school age.

“Toji-sama! Welcome back, it’s been a while!”

Then, she noticed Suguru. Her eyes flickered to where their arms were linked before she gave a polite bow, which Suguru returned.

“How’ve you been, Tsumiki?” Toji asked, loosening his coat.

“I’m good!” she chirped.

“Has he been bothering you?” 

Tsumiki let out a laugh, waving her hand. “What, him? No way! he’s the sweetest kid in the world. Quiet. Obedient.”

Suguru blinked, confused, as Toji ruffled his hair with an affectionate grin.

“You can go now, Tsumiki. Thanks for your help.”

She nodded before taking the cash Toji handed her, reminding him there was tea and snacks in the kitchen before heading out.

Once she was gone, Suguru turned back. “Who was she?”

“The neighbor’s kid,” Toji said, stretching his arms. “She helps me out sometimes.”

Suguru raised a brow. “Helps?”

“You’ll see.”

Toji took his hand, leading him further inside. The wooden floors creaked beneath their steps, the walls peeling in some places. The house needed serious renovation, that much was obvious.

And then they reached the room.

The first thing Suguru noticed was the crib.

Then the scattered toys on the floor, the faint music playing from a mobile above the crib—soft and sweet, a lullaby.

Unlike the rest of the house, this room was bright. Baby blue walls, carefully arranged blankets, warmth spilling from the soft light of a lamp in the corner.

Suguru’s heart pounded in his chest.

He already knew what was going on here.

Toji stepped inside, avoiding the toys as he moved toward the crib. Suguru followed, peering over the edge.

Inside, a baby slept peacefully. Tiny, delicate, dark-haired—he couldn’t have been older than one.

Suguru stared.

There was no doubt—this was Toji’s son.

“His name is Megumi,” Toji murmured, gaze soft as he looked down at him. “He turned two in December. I… wasn’t there for his birthday.” A breath. “I was too busy babysitting another brat in the Gojo estate.”

Suguru swallowed hard.

He should say something, but his mind was racing.

“…Why didn’t you tell me before?” he finally asked, voice quiet. “Why now?”

Toji exhaled, his expression shifting into something almost… regretful. “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of how you might react. I didn’t want to ruin what we were building.”

Suguru crossed his arms. “How old do you think I am, Toji?”

Toji opened his mouth, but Suguru was already shaking his head. It wasn’t about age. It was about trust.

Toji reached for him then, fingers curling around his wrist, pulling him close until their foreheads met.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Toji whispered.

Suguru hesitated.

“I don’t either,” he admitted, glancing at the crib. The baby’s soft breaths, the rise and fall of his tiny chest. Megumi.

“But…” Suguru’s voice wavered. “I don’t know if I can raise him.”

Toji didn’t hesitate. “We’ll do it together,” he said, firm. “I’ve seen you, Suguru—you’re good with kids. You’re patient, kind, strong.” His voice softened. “You’re so beautiful.”

Suguru’s stomach flipped.

“Fuck, I love you,” Toji breathed, pressing his forehead harder against Suguru’s. “I want a fresh start. With you. ”

Suguru let out a shaky breath.

His logical mind screamed at him.

But his instincts—his omega —whispered back: Give in.

Let Toji love you. Let him claim you. Let him give you his children one day. 

He is the one. He is your alpha.

Suguru swallowed. “Toji…” His voice caught in his throat as he gazed up at the alpha. His eyes full of love and need.

Then, finally—

“Make me yours.”

Toji cursed under his breath, grabbing him in one swift motion and throwing him over his shoulder.

Suguru gasped, barely processing the movement.

His gaze flickered to the crib—

For a brief second, tiny dark eyes met his own.

But then, he was carried into another room, thrown onto the futon—

And he stopped thinking.

A quick glance at the ceiling—then Toji was over him, kissing him roughly, hands already working to undress him. He peeled away Suguru’s yukata, pausing only to press open-mouthed kisses along his skin. Suguru felt himself growing wetter by the second, his mind hazy, drowning in the heady pleasure of it all.

He should be focusing on Toji.

But suddenly, his thoughts wandered—to places they shouldn’t.

Satoru.

His possessiveness. The way his eyes darkened whenever Suguru was with Toji. His fascination with him, something unsettling, something dangerous.

The way he kept reminding him that Suguru was his—

What the fuck?

Suguru gasped as Toji’s hands gripped his thighs, pulling him closer. Pushing away the intrusive thoughts, he wrapped his arms around Toji’s neck, pressing their bodies flush together, reveling in the heat between them. His underwear was gone before he even noticed, and suddenly, he felt shy. Vulnerable. But also—

Hot.

Toji trailed kisses down his body, leaving a wet path over his chest, stomach, thighs. The foreplay was slow, intense. Suguru couldn’t stop himself from trembling, his body reacting instinctively, slick pooling beneath him. Toji opened him up properly, taking his time, but when he finally pushed in—

Fuck.

He was so much bigger than Suguru had expected. A sharp, stretching pain shot through him, making him whimper.

“Relax,” Toji murmured, kissing the side of his face. “I got you.”

Suguru tried, but it was too much. His breath hitched, his body stiffening.

And then, Toji suddenly stopped.

“…Suguru.” His voice was different now. “Are you… a virgin?”

Suguru whimpered. He should’ve said something earlier.

He swallowed, nodding slowly, eyes pricking with tears from the overwhelming sensation. “S-Sorry,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t even sure why he was apologizing. Some small, twisted part of him wanted to apologize to Satoru too. But he knew he’d never say it out loud.

Toji exhaled sharply, then leaned in, kissing Suguru’s forehead. His hands roamed soothingly over his body, gentling him, comforting him.

“There you go,” Toji whispered, his voice warm. “Such a good omega.” Another kiss, this time on his lips. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Suguru whimpered, fingers digging into Toji’s back as he started moving—slow at first, letting him adjust.

And soon the pleasure started flooding in within the pain.

Suguru’s mind blanked, his omega instincts overtaking everything else. It wasn’t just good. It was everything. The heavy weight of Toji’s body pressing him into the futon taking his breath away, the way he stretched him so open and perfectly, the way he whispered his name hotly against his ears—

“Alpha…”

Toji groaned, moving deeper. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered against his skin. 

The pain faded quickly, replaced by waves of pleasure so intense that Suguru thought he might lose his mind. His body responded instinctively, clenching down, pulling Toji in further, his moans spilling into the air. It was raw, primal, something deep in his soul clicking into place.

It wasn’t long before Toji came, pressing deep inside him as he filled Suguru with his release. The sensation alone pushed Suguru over the edge, his own orgasm crashing through him, leaving him boneless.

They lay there, both breathing heavily. Toji pressed one last slow, wet kiss to his lips before finally pulling out and rolling onto his side.

Suguru hated the emptiness that followed. His body craved Toji’s warmth, his scent, his touch. He curled into him instinctively, head resting on Toji’s chest, the room thick with the scent of sex.

A satisfied purr rumbled in Suguru’s throat, his omega instincts pleased, feeling safe.

“You honor me by making me your first, Suguru.”

Suguru huffed, lifting a lazy hand to swat at Toji’s chest. “Stop being so cheesy, old man.”

Toji chuckled. “Old man? You wound me.”

“An old man with a toddler,” Suguru teased.

Toji smirked, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Megumi would like you,” he murmured. “I’ve met plenty of omegas in my lifetime, but trust me when I say—I’ve never seen one as gorgeous as you.” His voice lowered. “You’d be perfect…as my wife. My mate. As Megumi’s mother.”

Suguru hummed sleepily, still basking in the post-sex haze. His mind was clouded, focused only on how beautiful and warm Toji was, how well their bodies fit together.

Perfect.

Toji ran his fingers through Suguru’s hair, gentle, tender.

“Suguru,” he called.

Suguru made a soft noise in response, eyes barely open.

“What do you think of marriage?”

Suguru’s eyes snapped wide open. “W-What?”

Toji turned onto his side, reaching out to trace his thumb over Suguru’s lower lip. “I’m an old man, y’know,” he said lightly. “I don’t have much time to waste. And I have Megumi to think about.”

Suguru understood that, but—

“Toji-san…I’m still so young. And more than that—I haven’t even made it to Special Grade yet. It’s my dream. I can’t just leave it behind.” he said, sitting up.

Toji was silent for a moment.

Then, he sighed, moving up and pressing his chest to Suguru’s back, wrapping his arms around him from behind. His body was warm, chasing away the cold bite of the air in the room.

“You can still be Special Grade,” Toji said, chin resting on his shoulder, voice calm. “I’ll never hold you back. Tsumiki can watch Megumi when you’re away. And I’ll train you myself.”

Suguru hesitated.

Could he really balance both?

Would it be wise to get married at this age?

He loved Toji. He knew that. He was so sure.

But leaving behind his entire life, his home, to stay here…

Toji’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you, Suguru.” A kiss against the nape of his neck. “I’ll protect you. Provide for you. Make love to you every single day.”

Suguru melted. Those words—they felt so real. So genuine. He was such a weak warrior, he never had a chance of winning this battle. He wanted to trust Toji. His love burned so fiercely that it seemed as though nothing could go wrong as long as Toji stood beside him.

His mind was already fogging over again, the warmth of Toji’s body lulling him into a sense of comfort, of belonging.

“I need some time,” Suguru murmured.

Toji exhaled through his nose, but nodded.

“Also,” Suguru added, “we should get going. Satoru will be back soon. He’ll definitely throw a tantrum if he finds us both missing.”

Toji clicked his tongue. “That damned brat.”

Suguru giggled, pressing his face into Toji’s chest. He had a lot of washing up to do but it felt wrong to scrub off Toji’s scent.

Because Toji was his alpha now.

And just the thought of it sent a warm, twisting feeling through his stomach. My alpha.

Suguru sat on the veranda, running a brush through his damp hair, the cool evening air settling over him. He had taken his time washing up, scrubbing his skin thoroughly, though he never even considered scrubbing away Toji’s scent willingly. He just had no choice for now. 

He had also taken an after-pill on his way here. He wasn’t ready for a pregnancy scare right now. Everything had happened so fast—so desperately—that protection had slipped both their minds.

Looking at Megumi made Suguru wonder what his mother must have been like. 

He had never asked much about her—just a few questions here and there. Toji never seemed eager to talk about her either, so Suguru never pressed further. It was likely a sensitive topic for him. Besides, Suguru was the one by Toji’s side now. Why would he even want to bring up his dead wife anyway?

He planned to visit his parents soon. Maybe he could tell them about Toji. He wondered if it was too soon though. But how would they react? Their son tangled up with an older man, a man with a two-year-old ? They probably wouldn’t be thrilled.

Suguru chuckled to himself.

Satoru still hadn’t returned, but Suguru knew it wouldn’t be long. Maybe spending time with his mother had calmed him down. Just then, Suguru heard a car pull up outside, followed by Satoru’s voice echoing through the hallways.

“SUGURU!”

It was always endearing how excited Satoru got when he was about to see him.

The door slid open, and there stood Satoru, smiling brightly, warmly. Suguru smiled back, relieved to see him in a good mood. “Welcome back, Satoru,” he said, raising his arms for a hug.

But then, the smile vanished in an instant.

Satoru’s nose twitched, and his entire body stiffened. His eyes darkened—blue fading into something sharp, almost red, his energy crackling. He was furious. The burn in the air was suffocating—thick with raw, unfiltered rage.

Suguru barely had time to react before—

CRASH!

A flower vase on the table suddenly flew past Suguru, smashing against the wall outside.

“Satoru?” Suguru called, his voice trembling. His heart pounded in his chest. He had never seen Satoru like this—not since the day they’d met.

“You,” Satoru growled, appearing in front of Suguru in an instant. He grabbed Suguru’s collar, yanking him close. “You reek of him,” he spat through clenched teeth.

Suguru frowned, trying to pull away, but Satoru’s grip only tightened.

“You let him fuck you, didn’t you?” Satoru growled, his breath hot against Suguru’s face. “Spread your legs wide open like a desperate little bitch and let him use you.”

Suguru’s stomach dropped. His mouth fell open—but no words came out. The venom in Satoru’s tone, the disgust laced in his words— it hurt.

“Satoru,” Suguru’s voice wavered. “Let go. Now. ”

But Satoru didn’t. He glared, fingers clenching into the fabric of Suguru’s kimono. And then—he laughed.

A cold, sharp laugh.

“Were you that desperate? ” he sneered, brushing his hair back. “You could’ve come to me. I would’ve fucked you so good, you wouldn’t be able to think of anyone else.”

Suguru gasped. His chest tightened. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of Satoru’s mouth. They cut deeper than any blade.

“…Satoru,” he warned, voice shaking with something between disbelief and fury. “Stop it. Right now. Or else—”

“Or else WHAT?! ”

Satoru’s voice boomed through the hall. The walls trembled, his cursed energy flickering violently. Suguru took a step back, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"You think I can’t do better than him just because I’m some kid, huh? I trusted you, left you for one second, and you—" Satoru paused, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

Suguru didn’t know what to do. Anything he said would only make Satoru angrier. And the way Satoru’s scent burned the air—it was dizzying, suffocating.

Satoru wouldn’t even let him explain. But what was there to explain? Why should he justify himself to a kid? Who was Satoru to tell him what he could or couldn’t do? Who he could fuck or not? The thought made Suguru’s blood boil. How dare he?

“I promised to love you. To take care of you. To protect you. To give you everything—the world, Suguru. And what do you do?” He took a step closer, voice dripping with venom. “You ran off like a desperate little bitch, wagging your tail for some filthy bastard to fuck you full.”

Suguru’s nails dug into his palms.

Satoru’s voice rose, rage blazing. “Is this what I get for loving you? You disgusting whore— ”

SLAP!

Suguru’s hand flew out, slapping Satoru across the face. The sound rang through the hallway. Satoru’s head snapped to the side, a red mark forming on his cheek, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

Suguru’s eyes widened.

His infinity—

He turned his infinity off?

Why?

Satoru touched his cheek, his expression softening for a moment. “Do you love him?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking.

Suguru’s chest ached. Guilt and anger warred inside him. He felt terrible for hitting Satoru, but the pain in Satoru’s voice made his eyes sting with tears.

He had never wanted to hurt Satoru.

But right now he wasn’t sure which of them had hurt the other more.

“Answer me, Suguru.”  Satoru said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The door slid open, and two beta maids rushed in, their eyes wide as they took in the scene. They must have heard the shouting, the crash, the sheer rage radiating from Satoru.

“Satoru-sama?! Are you alright?” One of them, a girl with short black hair and striking yellow eyes, immediately knelt beside him, concern flooding her face.

“Leave us alone.” Satoru’s voice was quiet—too quiet.

The other maid’s eyes flicked to Suguru, sharp with suspicion. “Did you do this to him?”

A pit formed in Suguru’s stomach. He had nothing to defend himself. 

“He slapped Satoru-sama?” the yellow-eyed maid whispered in horror, her voice rising in anger. “Unbelievable. We need to report this to the clan head immediately—”

“I told you to leave. ” Satoru’s voice dropped lower, but this time, it was laced with something dark.

The second maid ignored it, stepping forward. “Satoru-sama, let’s get you to the medical room. That wound looks bad—let us trea—”

“LEAVE. US. ALONE!”

His cursed energy exploded.

A surge of blue lightning lifted the maid clean off the ground and hurled her across the room. She slammed into the wooden wall with a sickening crack—the force of it shattering the panels.

She didn’t land in the same room.

She went through it.

The other maid screamed . She bolted to her fallen companion, stepping over the splintered wood, hands shaking violently.

“Yumiko?! Yumiko! Oh my god— ”

Suguru couldn’t breathe. His hand flew to his mouth, bile rising in his throat. The air was thick with the stench of blood, of death.

The maid—Yumiko—was limp. Her skull was cracked, blood pooling beneath her head, soaking into the wooden floorboards.

The other maid sobbed, cradling her lifeless body.

“She’s dead. Oh god, she’s dead —”

Suguru’s vision blurred. His chest tightened. His entire body shook as the realization hit him like a cold, merciless wave.

Satoru just—

Satoru just killed someone.

An innocent person.

And it was his fault.

A click of the tongue. “How annoying,” Satoru muttered. He raised a single finger, red light swirling at the tip, crackling with raw energy. “I should’ve just shut them both up.”

Suguru’s blood ran cold.

“No— Satoru, stop!”

He moved without thinking, lunging forward, grabbing Satoru’s wrist, hands trembling.

“Satoru, please —” His voice broke. His grip tightened. “Please don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. Just—don’t hurt anyone else. Please.”

The energy around Satoru flickered, his breathing heavy.

Suguru could feel it—the slightest hesitation. The crack in his anger.

Satoru’s gaze flickered toward him.

“…You still haven’t answered my question, Suguru,” he said. His voice was low, deadly.

Suguru sobbed, his body shaking as he clung to Satoru. He couldn’t stop crying, the guilt and fear crushing him. Satoru didn’t react, didn’t say a word. He just stood there, letting Suguru sob into his shoulder.

Soon the room filled with people. The clan members, the staff, everyone who had heard the commotion arrived hurriedly.

Yumiko was lifted onto a stretcher, but the wailing of the other maid told them all they needed to know.

There was nothing that could be done.

No amount of sorcery could bring the dead back.

Suguru sat frozen in the corner, knees drawn up, hands covering his mouth. His body felt feverish, his stomach in knots, but the sickening scent of blood wouldn’t leave him.

At some point, Toji arrived like a storm, eyes scanning the destruction. Searching.

His gaze landed on Suguru.

For one aching moment, Suguru thought—he’s going to hold me. He’s going to take me away from this.

But he didn’t.

Probably because Satoru was still there.

Satoru’s cursed energy was still suffocating, his infinity up, his father screaming at him but unable to touch him.

Suguru felt sick. His stomach churned, and before he could stop himself, he vomited onto the floor. Toji stepped forward, as if to help, but Satoru hurled a table across the room between them, his face cold and his eyes locked on Toji. It crashed into the wall, splintering into pieces. The sound was deafening, and Suguru flinched, his body trembling as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. He hiccuped, struggling to catch his breath, the weight of everything crashing down on him.

Everything was falling apart.

Suguru was eventually led away by the workers. They gave him water and tried to calm him down, but he couldn’t stop shaking and couldn't stop hiccuping as he continued to sob. He had never been so terrified in his life.

All he could think about was the maid—her lifeless body, the blood, the way she’d died because of him.

Satoru disappeared again, and the Gojo clan erupted into panic. Everyone was searching for him, their fear palpable. It was almost suspicious in a way. This was the same clan that had barely reacted when Satoru had vanished after his humiliation at Toji’s hands.

That night, Suguru was summoned to the clan head’s office. He knew why. Suguru sat before the old man, his hands limp in his lap, his mind still reeling. The man didn’t ask for details about what had happened between Suguru and Satoru. There was no lecture. No accusations. He simply told Suguru to pack his bags and leave by morning. He slid a thick envelope across the desk.

“Take this and go,” the clan head said coldly. “And don’t speak of this to anyone. If you do, you and your parents will be erased from existence.”

Suguru nodded numbly, taking the envelope. As he turned to leave, the clan head added, “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Suguru didn’t respond. This same man—this very same man—had once promised him a special-grade promotion. Promised to make his family name known.

Suguru hated them. He hated them all.

The clans. The higher-ups.

He wished they would all burn.

His belongings had already been packed. A small, empty room was assigned to him for the night.

Suguru lay down on the hard futon, staring at the ceiling. Eyes hollow. Stomach sick.

His ears still ringing with the cries of a dead girl.

The room was silent except for the soft rustling of fabric as Suguru shifted on the futon, eyes shut, but sleep refusing to come. His hair spilled around him like ink, loose strands sticking to his damp skin. His body ached from exhaustion, from the weight of everything that had happened. He wanted to leave. To be anywhere but here.

The door slid open. A sliver of light cut through the darkness, casting a long shadow over the floor. Suguru didn’t move. He knew who it was before the voice even reached him.

“Suguru.”

He exhaled quietly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I came to see you.” Toji stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His presence was steady, grounding. He knelt beside Suguru, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that had settled in Suguru’s chest. “How are you feeling?”

A large, calloused hand brushed against his forehead, fingers threading through his hair, easing some of the tension that coiled in his muscles. Suguru let out a quiet hum, barely a sound, but he leaned into the touch without thinking.

Toji’s scent filled the air—strong, rich, comforting. It seeped into Suguru’s skin, soothing the raw edges of his nerves. An alpha’s instinct to comfort. He knew it well. And right now, he wanted it more than anything in the world.

“I got fired,” Suguru murmured. His voice was flat, detached, but there was something bitter at the edges.

Toji huffed out a small chuckle, unfazed. “Figured. I was ready to fight that old bastard myself if he didn’t let you go.”

Suguru scoffed softly. “Fight him for what?”

“To take you with me.” A beat of silence. Then, quieter—“Our place.”

Something in Suguru’s chest tightened. His fingers twitched before reaching out, hesitating for only a second before he intertwined them with Toji’s. The warmth of his palm, the steady grip was enough to make Suguru’s throat close up.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Toji simply stayed, fingers absently tracing circles against Suguru’s skin, the slow rise and fall of his breath against Suguru’s temple lulling him into something dangerously close to peace.

Suguru swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “I washed properly. Every part of me. And yet… he still smelled you.”

Toji smirked, and Suguru didn’t have to look to see it. “Hurts to hear,” he said, voice amused, “but I’m also a little proud. Now he knows exactly who you belong to.”

Suguru frowned. “He almost killed me, Toji.”

“He won’t,” Toji said simply. “Because…” He hesitated, voice dropping just a fraction. “That brat loves you.”

Suguru let out a sharp breath, something between a laugh and a scoff. “Then he’s a fool. He should waste that love on someone who can love him back.” A pause. “Not me.”

Toji hummed, shifting slightly before murmuring, “You deserve to be loved too, y’know.”

Suguru didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to.

Toji moved then, sliding down beside him, pulling Suguru against his chest with an ease that made it seem like he’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe he had. Maybe Suguru had just never let himself notice.

A slow, lingering kiss pressed against his forehead. Toji’s fingers ghosted over his back, firm yet careful, tracing the curve of his spine in a way that made Suguru’s body relax despite himself.

Then the shift—subtle but unmistakable. The heat of Toji’s breath against his temple, the way his grip tightened just a little. Suguru barely had time to react before Toji’s lips brushed against his own.

Soft. Unrushed. Lingering.

Suguru didn’t pull away.

Not until he felt Toji’s weight shift over him, pressing him deeper into the mattress.

“Toji,” Suguru murmured, turning his face away. “Not here.”

Toji exhaled, mouth ghosting along his jaw. “I want to comfort you,” he said, voice low. “Let me.”

Suguru sucked in a breath, his hands coming up to Toji’s shoulders, pushing lightly. “Not now,” he whispered, firm but not unkind. “Take me with you—to your place. Then you can have me however you want.”

Toji stilled for a moment before a slow, knowing smirk curled against Suguru’s skin. “That so?”

Suguru felt the heat rise in his face but didn’t answer.

Toji chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. His hands skimmed down Suguru’s back, lingering at his waist before he flipped him effortlessly onto his stomach. Suguru gasped, body instinctively arching under the weight of Toji’s presence.

“There you go,” Toji murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. His hand palmed over Suguru’s lower back, then lower, squeezing his ass possessively. “Presenting for me like a good little omega.”

Suguru let out a shuddering breath, burying his face into the pillow. “Bastard,” he mumbled, though there was no real venom in his voice.

Toji’s mouth ghosted along the nape of his neck, breath hot against his skin. “I’ll take all your pain away,” he whispered, fingers curling into the sheets beside Suguru’s head. “And I’ll pour my love inside you.”

Suguru trembled, his body betraying him in the worst way. He wasn’t even sure if it was the words, the touch, or the sheer exhaustion that was making his head spin.

Toji leaned down, his lips brushing Suguru’s ear.

“Just be quiet for me, okay?”

Suguru whimpered softly. They hadn’t even bothered to fully undress before Toji pushed into him, his movements rough and urgent. Suguru could feel the alpha pressing deeper, his body instinctively producing slick to ease the way. Toji’s grunts filled the room, low and primal, as he moved faster, driving into Suguru with a force that made him bite down hard on the pillow beneath him. Toji seemed angry, and Suguru’s omega instincts screamed to please him, to soothe his rage.

So Suguru let Toji take what he wanted, losing himself in the moment, trying to forget the chaos and pain of everything that had happened.

But then—

The door slid open.

At first he didn’t notice the door slide open. There was no sound, no warning. His breaths came in ragged gasps as Toji pounded into him, and Suguru’s soft moans escaped in broken whispers, the alpha’s name slipping from his lips.

Then, suddenly, the air grew heavy, oppressive, as if the room itself was being crushed, pressing down on him, suffocating him. Suguru’s entire body erupted in goosebumps before his brain could even register why. 

Suguru’s stomach churned, and a wave of nausea washed over him. His eyes fluttered open, and his body froze, every hair standing on end.

Six eyes. 

For a moment, Suguru was sure he saw six glowing blue eyes staring at him from the shadows, piercing through the darkness, glowing like some celestial entity peering into his very soul. But then in a blink, they shifted, merging into two. Sharp and cutting, brimming with something unreadable. Something dangerous.

“Satoru… Toji—fuck—” Suguru panicked, his body shuddering violently. He felt Toji still inside him, his breathing heavy but his movements halted. Satoru’s face became clearer under the faint moonlight streaming through the veranda. His eyes burned into Suguru’s soul, as if he could see every nerve, every bone, every flicker of energy within him.

Toji chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on Suguru’s hips. “I had a feeling you’d show up,” he said, thrusting into Suguru again, making him gasp loudly.

“T-Toji—what are you doing?! Get off me!” Suguru cried, his voice trembling with fear and frustration. Satoru stood silently, his expression unreadable as he watched them, his gaze cold and calculating.

“It’s okay, Suguru,” Toji murmured against his ear, his voice dripping with mockery. “Put on a good show for the kid. Let him see what you really want from your alpha.”

Shame and humiliation crashed over Suguru in waves. He clenched his teeth, his frustration boiling over, but he felt powerless to stop it.

Satoru didn’t speak right away. He didn’t move. He just stood there, watching—watching Suguru, watching Toji, watching the space between them.

“Suguru,” Satoru finally spoke, his voice icy and sharp.

Suguru couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He wanted to disappear, to bury himself and never face the world again.

“I came here to apologize to you,” Satoru said, his tone eerily calm. “But it’s clear you don’t care about my feelings. You never did.”

Suguru’s chest tightened. That wasn’t true—he wanted to say it wasn’t true—but the words caught in his throat. His knees ached under Toji’s weight, and his mind raced with regret. He never should have come here, never should have agreed to any of this. If only he hadn’t gotten involved, none of this would have happened.

“Toji, let go,” Suguru demanded, trying to pry himself away.

But Toji only chuckled darkly, leaning in as if to stake his claim. “Why should I? You’re exactly where you want to be, aren’t you?”

Suguru glared at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Why him?” Satoru asked, his gaze never leaving Suguru.

Toji let out a low, mocking laugh, the kind that dripped with condescension. “You really want the truth, brat?” he sneered, his grip on Suguru’s waist tightening, possessive. “It’s staring you right in the fucking face.” His voice dropped, taunting. “You really think you could ever give him what he needs? You might be powerful, but that doesn’t mean shit here. Suguru doesn’t care about your talent, your name, or your little prodigy act. That’s why he’s here—with me. And that’s why he’ll always choose me.”

Suguru’s irritation ignited into full-blown anger.

Fucking alphas. Always so goddamn arrogant. Always turning everything into a pissing contest, desperate to prove they were the strongest, the most deserving. As if omegas were trophies to be claimed.

“Toji, shut the fuck up!” Suguru snapped, pushing against him, frustration boiling over. “You’re the adult here so act like it! Stop this childish bullshit before you make things worse.”

But Toji didn’t budge. If anything, his grip only tightened, his presence suffocating. His lips curled into something dark, something dangerous.

“He needs to learn,” Toji murmured, gaze locked onto Satoru. “Needs to understand that not everything in this world belongs to him. That he can’t just take whatever he wants and expect no consequences.” His tone dropped even lower, the weight of it pressing into the room like a storm about to break. “Some things—some people—just don’t belong to him.”

Satoru was still staring at him, his expression unreadable—until he smiled.

It was a slow, eerie thing, curling at the edges like it didn’t quite belong on his face.

“Well,” he said, lifting a hand, cursed energy crackling at his fingertips, “if you’ve made your choice, then I guess I’ll just have to kill him.”

The entire room dropped in temperature.

Both Toji and Suguru tensed, instincts screaming at them as the entire Gojo estate imploded.

The air shook with a deafening boom, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Every building, every structure—except the room they were in—was obliterated in an instant. The world seemed to collapse into chaos.

Screams echoed in the distance, raw and panicked. The moon bathed the ruins in cold silver light as Suguru scrambled to his feet, his hair falling messily over his face. His body was taut, senses sharp, hands instinctively moving to summon his cursed spirits.

Above them, Satoru stood in midair, gazing down at the wreckage like a deity surveying the world beneath him. He looked calm, almost detached, as if the destruction meant nothing to him.

Suguru’s stomach twisted. How many had already died?

Terror gripped the survivors. Some cried out in panic, screaming that it was over—that they were all going to die because Gojo Satoru had gone berserk.

The clan head stumbled into view, barely standing, supported by a worker who must’ve risked his own life to protect him. His face was pale, his eyes wide with desperation as he searched for his son. “Satoru!” he called out, his voice cracking. But Satoru didn’t respond.

Then his gaze landed on Suguru. The old man’s face contorted in pure rage. “This is your fault!” he roared. “I’ll kill you, you filthy—”

A flick of Satoru’s finger. A pulse of blue energy. It carved through the space between them, grazing the clan head—not killing him, but warning him.

Suguru barely had time to process it before his eyes caught movement in the sky.

And his blood ran cold.

Curses.

Thousands.

No—tens of thousands.

The sky twisted with writhing, grotesque creatures. They flooded in from all directions, filling the air with a thick, oppressive miasma. 

He’s dropped the barrier.

The words of the clan head echoed in his mind. Gojo Satoru controls the ecosystem.

He had unleashed hell itself.

Screams rose as the first wave hit. Guards and sorcerers fought desperately, trying to hold the line, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Suguru gritted his teeth, summoning his own curses to fight back. Toji, already retrieving his weapons, cut through the creatures with terrifying efficiency. He couldn’t even see curses, could only sense them due to his heavenly restrictions and yet—he exorcised over a hundred in one breath.

It was war.

A war against humanity, waged by the very god who was meant to protect it.

And yet, this was their fault.

They had crowned Satoru as a god when he was always meant to be a child first.

A child with unimaginable power and no one to guide him. 

This was the price of their arrogance. The price of messing with a god.

Suguru fought until his limbs burned, until his cursed energy was nearly drained. He fought even as the stench of blood filled his lungs. And despite everything, he protected the clan head—even though he hated him, even though the old man had blamed Suguru for provoking his son into this madness.

But Satoru?

Satoru just hovered above it all, watching.

Why hasn’t he moved yet?

That thought barely formed before Satoru did.

He lifted a finger.

Suguru felt his breath catch, eye widening in terror.

“Red.”

“Blue.”

No. No, no, no—

Suguru’s heart stopped as he followed the trajectory of Satoru’s aim—straight at Toji.

The colors fused. The very air hummed with destruction.

“Purple.”

The blast formed, crackling with devastating power. Suguru’s body moved on instinct—he threw himself in front of Toji. 

“Satoru, please—don’t do this!” he screamed.

Satoru stared down at him. Expressionless. Disappointed.

The energy in his hand grew brighter.

Toji exhaled, unbothered. “Take care of Megumi if I die today,” he muttered.

Suguru refused to let that happen.

He dropped to his knees, hands clenched, voice shaking as he begged. “Satoru, don’t. Please don’t do this to me,” he bit down his lower lip hard as he finally uttered the next words, “I-I love him! I love him, Satoru!” He confessed.

The purple light flared.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a deafening blast, the purple energy dissipated, the ground shaking violently. Suguru collapsed, gasping for air, his body trembling with relief.

In the blink of an eye, Satoru disappeared.

Suguru’s ears rang, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely hear anything else. Toji pulled him into a hug, but it didn’t help. Suguru’s body wouldn’t stop shaking.

The Gojo Clan was gone.

Chapter Text

Following the winter of his 19th birthday, Suguru married Toji Fushiguro.

It was a decision made after countless nights spent in Toji’s small, weathered home, pressed beneath blankets, limbs tangled together as the older man held him close, loving him. Toji never left his side after everything was taken from him. After Suguru was stripped of his very identity as a sorcerer.

The aftermath of the Gojo Clan’s destruction had been brutal. The higher-ups convened an emergency meeting, a court hearing in all but name. Representatives from both the Gojo and Zenin clans were summoned, along with Toji and Suguru, dragged before the council to be judged.

The charges were clear.

When Gojo Satoru had lifted the barrier, unleashing thousands of curses into protected areas, the results were catastrophic. Special-grade curses infiltrated the human world. Innocent civilians were slaughtered. Entire cities lay in ruins. The balance between sorcerers and non-sorcerers teetered on the brink of collapse.

And someone had to pay for it.

The Gojo Clan’s head, bloodied but standing, wasted no time pointing his finger at Suguru. His voice was sharp with loathing as he spat accusations, branding Suguru a whore, a lowly omega who had seduced their son, tainted him, ruined him.

Suguru fought. He fought to defend himself, to make them listen, to escape the death sentence they were eager to place upon his head. But the weight of the Gojo Clan’s fury was suffocating, unrelenting. And the Zenins, though less vocal, were just as ruthless. Their anger was directed at Toji, though, not out of true blame, but because he had defied them, made his own path, and rejected the legacy they had forced upon him.

Suguru, however, was expendable.

The decision was nearly made when Toji stepped forward, his voice slicing through the courtroom like a blade. He spoke with a confidence that rattled even the elders, laying bare the truth—how Satoru had been the one to back Suguru into a corner, how his obsession, his possessiveness, had spiraled into something uncontrollable. He told them the truth they refused to see: that it was their god-child’s fury that had ignited this madness, that had led to destruction.

The Zenin clan, true to their reputation, barely acknowledged this. Instead, they turned their scrutiny to Suguru’s status as an omega, using it as ammunition.

“This is why omegas should never be sorcerers,” they sneered. “They’re nothing but a distraction—weak, vulnerable, liabilities.”

Suguru’s fingers curled into fists. He had spent his whole life proving otherwise, defying the low expectations placed upon him.

When he had first presented as an omega, the world hadn’t seemed to care. He was too powerful, too skilled, his abilities overshadowing whatever biological predisposition others expected him to succumb to. He was neither fragile nor submissive, but he wasn’t an alpha either. His presence unsettled people, scent suppressed by blockers, heat controlled by suppressants.

He had never let it define him.

But here, in this room, among these people, his body was no longer his own. It was an excuse, a weapon wielded against him, used to explain why Satoru had wanted him so badly, why Toji had stepped in to claim him. His existence, reduced to nothing more than a catalyst for disaster.

Then, amidst the vitriol, Naoya Zenin spoke.

He didn’t take Suguru’s side. He never would. But he took Toji’s.

And in doing so, he proposed a sentence not of death, but of exile.

“The abolition of his curse techniques. He is never to step foot in the world of sorcery again. If he is caught using his abilities—” Naoya smiled, sharp and cruel, “—he dies where he stands.”

The higher-ups agreed.

Suguru’s world shattered.

Everything—everything—was taken from him in an instant.

His hands trembled as the verdict settled over him like a burial shroud. His dreams of being a special-grade sorcerer, of protecting the weak, of making a name for himself were all gone. His identity, the very thing he had built his existence upon, erased. He begged. He pleaded. He got on his knees, desperation clawing at his throat, his voice cracking as he begged them to reconsider.

But once a decision was made, it was made.

And just like that, Suguru ceased to be a sorcerer.

He walked out of that courtroom stripped bare, ruined, and irreparably broken.

During those devastating nights of hurt and defeat, Toji was all Suguru had.

The nightmares came relentlessly, the same horrific scenes playing over and over. Six glowing blue eyes, an innocent girl’s lifeless body, the fear—bone-deep, suffocating. He would jolt awake, drenched in sweat, heart pounding like a war drum, breath shuddering as he gasped for air.

Toji never left his side. He would sit up, arms wrapping around Suguru’s trembling frame, comforting him through the panic. He never said much—never whispered empty reassurances—but he held him, firm and steady, until the shaking stopped and the sobs quieted into exhausted silence.

Suguru didn’t know if he could ever forgive Satoru for what he did to him.

Since that night—the night he stood frozen, watching in horror as Satoru unleashed Hollow Purple at Toji—he had not seen him once. Satoru hadn’t been at the trial. Hadn’t been in the meeting hall. Hadn’t come to find him afterward. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving only destruction and unanswered questions in his wake.

And yet, despite everything, Suguru couldn’t bring himself to hate him.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. He should.

Satoru was the reason he lost everything. The reason he had to claw his way through the wreckage of his own life. The reason his entire future had been ripped away from him, leaving him stranded in a world where he no longer belonged.

And yet—something inside him ached.

A part of him still felt responsible.

Has he ever given Satoru the benefit of the doubt? Had he missed something—some warning sign, some plea hidden beneath all that arrogance and power?

Satoru’s actions both terrified and enraged him, but more than anything, they left him with a deep, lingering sadness. Because Satoru was hurting. He always had been. And no matter how hard Suguru had tried, he could never help him heal. And it was so fucking frustrating because no matter how much he tried to move forward, no matter how much he tried to forget Gojo Satoru—he haunted him.

There was nowhere to go. He couldn’t return to his parents, not after everything. He couldn’t bear the thought of facing them, of hearing the disappointment in his mother’s voice as she told him how much she had believed in him.

They had called him. Left messages. Pleaded for him to respond.

He never did.

But when he finally made his decision—when he agreed to marry Toji—that was when he finally returned home.

Toji had promised him everything. That he would find a way to restore Suguru’s identity. That he would help him stand again. That he would never leave his side.

Maybe Suguru was naive. Maybe he was desperate. Maybe he just needed to hear someone tell him that there was still hope.

So, when Toji asked him a second time—he didn’t say no.

His parents sat across from him at the dining table, their faces shadowed with something heavy—something unbearably human.

His mother didn’t scream. His father didn’t tell him to leave and never return.

No.

It was worse.

His mother pulled him into a hug, her voice soft, pleading. “Don’t do this,” she whispered. “Even if you can’t be a sorcerer anymore… even if you never use your abilities again… you are still our son. We are still here.”

Suguru felt his throat close up.

“We will always stand by you,” she promised. “But this… this isn’t the answer.”

She told him he would regret marrying Toji. That he was too young, too lost. That Toji was a man twice his age, a man with a past he couldn’t fully understand. That he was using him, lying to him, leading him down a path Suguru would never be able to turn back from.

“And how,” she asked, voice thick with emotion, “do you expect to raise a child who is bound to be a sorcerer when you are no longer allowed to be one?”

Suguru didn’t listen.

Being a sorcerer had been everything to him.

And Toji was the only one who could give it back.

So, he told them the truth. That they were invited to the wedding, that they could come if they wanted, but if they chose not to, then fine—he didn’t need them.

And then he left.

His parents didn’t come.

He had expected that. It was fine.

The wedding was small. Simple. Nothing extravagant, nothing fancy—just him, Toji, and Megumi in Tsumiki’s arms.

Even though his mind was spiraling, his heart aching, he still wanted to look good for his alpha. So he dressed carefully, choosing the prettiest kimono he could find, brushing his hair until it shone, adorning it with delicate ornaments. A touch of red lipstick stained his lips. While Toji, dressed in a simple yukata, stayed in the other room with a grumpy Megumi, he was right about one thing: Megumi did have some unknown dislike toward his father. He hadn’t even fully developed consciousness yet, and still, he was already acting all grown up.

Tsumiki helped him, small hands smoothing the fabric, brushing through the strands of his hair with innocent curiosity.

She was the first to say it. The first to truly acknowledge it.

“You’re really young,” she murmured, hesitant, watching his reflection in the mirror. “Are you sure about this, Geto-san?”

Suguru met his own eyes in the glass. And he smiled. “Never been more sure in my life.”

After the supposed wedding night, when both the alpha and omega took their vows, promising to be together till death do them part, they celebrated with a feast that evening, enjoying amazing food and drinks.

Later, they officially registered their marriage in court, legally binding their union.

Suguru did not change his last name. He wanted the jujutsu world to know him as Geto and not Fushiguro.

At some point, Megumi had been taken to Tsumiki’s for the night—likely at Toji’s request. Their first night as a married couple was supposed to be special, uninterrupted. It was only when Suguru entered their bedroom that he realized how much thought Toji had put into making it so. Soft candlelight flickered along the walls, the scent of fresh flowers hanging in the air. The futon was freshly made, the sheets smooth and inviting. A record played faintly in the background, a slow, intimate melody.

Suguru exhaled. He wasn’t nervous. They had done this plenty of times before. He knew Toji’s body, the way he moved, the way he touched. And yet… something about tonight was different. The weight of it settled over him, tightening in his chest. Maybe it was the realization that from now on, this wasn’t just something fleeting. He was Toji’s wife now. For life.

And suddenly, he was a bit nervous about it, his nerves firing up. Would the mating bite hurt? Was he ready for it? Was his omega ready for it? God, everything was starting to overwhelm him. Just then, he heard the door slide closed behind him, making him flinch, his heart leaping in his ribcage. Breathe, Suguru. Breathe.

“Nervous?” Toji’s asked with a chuckle. When Suguru turned, the golden glow of the lanterns made Toji look almost unreal, so enchantingly beautiful. Suguru parted his lips, but no words came. Instead, he turned back toward the mirror, pretending to fix his hair, hoping Toji wouldn’t notice the way his hands trembled slightly.

Toji did notice, of course. He always did.

A moment later, strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him into the solid heat of his alpha’s chest. Toji’s nose brushed against his scent gland, his voice a low murmur against Suguru’s ear. “You look so good tonight.” 

“Are you going to mate me?” he asked, voice quieter than he intended.

Toji hummed in consideration. “Maybe not tonight.”

Suguru’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to look at Toji, brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Don’t want to overwhelm you,” Toji said simply. “You’re still young, and the pain might last longer. We’ve got time.” He smirked, voice dropping lower as his hands roamed. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight, yeah?” he said seductively, rubbing his nose against the scent glands of Suguru’s nape.

Toji began kissing his neck, moving downward while gently undoing his kimono to reveal his back. He left soft, wet kisses along Suguru's skin, making him shiver and take in a deep breath. But before he could fully immerse himself in the bliss of it all...

Suguru swallowed hard. He should have let it go, should have accepted Toji’s words at face value, but something about them unsettled him.

“I want you to mate me,” he admitted. “It’s a ritual to do it on the wedding night.” His gaze lifted, hopeful, shimmering with something pleading, something vulnerable.

Toji exhaled through his nose, arms tightening around Suguru’s frame.

“Suguru…” He cupped his cheek, tracing his thumb along the curve of his lips, his brow, the delicate slope of his jaw. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Do you think I don’t crave to have you as mine, fully, completely?”

Suguru’s expression faltered. “Then why—”

Toji kissed his forehead, lips lingering for just a second too long. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Suguru pouted, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ve taken you inside me plenty of times. You think I can’t handle a little bite?”

Toji scoffed. “It’s not the same thing, darling.”

Suguru didn’t respond, just huffed against Toji’s chest, stubborn.

Toji chuckled, running a hand through Suguru’s hair. “Be good for me, alright?” His voice was low, gentle, coaxing. “Trust me on this.”

Suguru breathed out slowly. It was frustrating, but it was hard to argue when Toji spoke to him like that—so soft, so steady, like he knew exactly what to say to unravel him.

“…Okay,” he murmured.

That night, all of his doubts, all of his tension, melted away beneath Toji’s body. The alpha took his time, stretching out the night as though savoring every second of it, as though memorizing the way Suguru moved beneath him. He bent him in different positions, wrung out every sound he could, left Suguru utterly wrecked and aching for more.

Suguru never wanted it to end. He loved the feeling of being pressed beneath Toji’s body weight, of being consumed entirely. He loved Toji’s body, the way he smelled—intoxicating, masculine, thick with spice and warmth like cinnamon. When things got too intense, Suguru would sink his teeth into Toji’s bicep, gasping against his skin, letting himself be lost in the pleasure of it all.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he did not think of Satoru.

Much later, as they lay tangled together in the dim light, Toji pressed a lazy kiss to Suguru’s temple.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he murmured as Suguru lay on his chest, bare and breathing gently, his fingers tracing idle patterns over Toji’s hand. “And thank you for accepting my stupid son into your life.” His voice was softer than usual, as though admitting such a thing made him vulnerable. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Suguru giggled, the sound light and content. Everything felt perfect—Suguru was truly happy, and he regretted nothing. He wanted to spend every night of his life like this, wrapped in Toji’s warmth, and wake up beside him every morning. During his time here, he had even managed to grow a little closer to Megumi, though it might take more effort to fully adjust to the boy’s guarded nature. Still, Suguru had a feeling it would all work out in the end.

“Remember your promise, Toji,” Suguru said, lifting his head to rest on his hand as he gazed at the alpha’s face. “I married you for a reason, you know. Aside from the fact that I love you, of course.”

Toji laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Of course, of course, my special-grade sorcerer. The queen will one day reclaim his crown.”

“You’re forgetting one more thing,” Suguru added, his lips curling into a sly smirk.

Toji licked his lips, letting out a small chuckle as he shook his head. “Kill all the higher-ups, huh?”

“And Naoya Zenin,” Suguru added, his voice firm. As long as that bastard’s head remained untouched, Suguru knew he would never rest easy.

Toji grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t know you were this ruthless. I’ll have to be careful around you from now on.”

Suguru laughed, nodding in agreement. As long as Toji stayed by his side and loved him, Suguru believed he could reclaim the crown he deserved—and more.

I love you,” Suguru murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of Toji’s lips, right on his scar. Apparently, he had gotten it from a fight, and Suguru loved to kiss it. He kissed it again and again, shifting to lay over Toji’s chest, gently holding his face as he peppered him with more kisses, making Toji giggle.

“Love you too, Suguru,” Toji replied, his voice warm and steady.

With his right to use sorcery stripped away, Suguru spent most of his days either looking after Megumi or training in the garden, honing his physical abilities instead. 

Yet, no matter how much he tried to suppress his old habits, muscle memory would often betray him. Sometimes, his hands moved on their own—summoning curses, channeling cursed energy to sharpen his senses or aim at targets. And each time, he would glance around, making sure no one was watching.

Megumi, however, remained distant. 

Most children were naturally curious, full of energy and eager to explore the world around them. But Megumi was different. He was a quiet child, rarely crying, never throwing tantrums. He entertained himself without much need for Suguru’s interference.

“I’m your new mommy, Megumi-chan,” Suguru teased, cradling the baby in his lap. Megumi simply blinked up at him through thick lashes, those striking dark blue eyes gazing at him with unreadable indifference. 

Then, without a word, he rolled off Suguru’s lap and crawled away.

Suguru sighed. Three months. He had been here for three months, yet Megumi still wasn’t used to him. Sure, the boy had warmed up slightly—at least he no longer recoiled from Suguru’s touch—but there was no real attachment. And honestly, Suguru didn’t feel particularly motherly towards him either. The idea that he would be raising this child for at least the next ten or so years felt... strange. Unfair, even.

As for his father, Megumi seemed to tolerate him at best. His little face would scrunch up in a permanent frown whenever Toji was around, and Toji, being Toji, only found amusement in it.

“Why does this thing always have that angry kitten look?” Toji muttered, holding Megumi in a way no child should ever be held—by the fabric of his clothes, hoisting him up midair like a stray cat. "Smile a little, will ya? You should feel honored being in the presence of your old man.”

Suguru couldn’t help but chuckle, though concern flickered in his chest. “That thing is your son, Toji-san! And put him down properly before you drop him,” he scolded, reaching out instinctively to support Megumi’s back.

The moment Suguru’s hands touched him, Megumi latched onto him like a lifeline, clinging to Suguru’s chest in a clear attempt to escape his father’s grasp.

Toji scoffed. “Tch. He definitely likes his new mommy, doesn’t he, brat?” He reached out, pinching Megumi’s chubby cheek with one hand.

Suguru caught the faint flicker of cursed energy dancing along Megumi’s tiny fingers before the boy reached for Toji’s hand, sinking his baby teeth into his father’s finger in a weak but determined attempt to bite him. Suguru stifled a laugh, pulling Megumi closer while Toji muttered a curse under his breath. A little later, the father and son shared a bath while Suguru took the time to prepare dinner.

The only person Megumi seemed to genuinely like was Tsumiki. She had been around in the beginning, helping Suguru bond with the boy, but now that she had started high school, she was busier. Occasionally, she still came by to lend a hand, but for the most part, Suguru was on his own.

Toji emerged from the bathroom with a grumpy-looking Megumi in his arms, both of their hair damp as Toji roughly attempted to dry Megumi’s head with a towel. Suguru watched the scene with quiet amusement. It was...endearing. And the omega couldn’t help but wonder…

What if one day, it was his child in Toji’s arms?

The idea of carrying the alpha’s pup stirred something warm in his chest, heat curling low in his stomach. He almost laughed at himself.

Shaking the thought away, he busied himself setting the table. They had dinner together, and afterward, Suguru tucked Megumi into bed before slipping away to join the alpha for the night.

Every night, without fail, they ended up like this.

Toji was still in his prime—strong, relentless, and insatiable. And Suguru was a young omega with raging hormones, desperate for the touch of his alpha. They fit together perfectly, balancing each other in a way that felt almost fated.

But there was one thing Toji never gave him.

“Please, alpha—mark me.” Suguru’s voice was breathless, pleading, his face pressed into the mattress as Toji’s weight bore down on him. The alpha’s cock was buried deep inside him, thick and throbbing, stretching him in a way that made his body sing.

Some nights, Toji was slow, teasing, almost gentle. But tonight was not one of those nights.

“Fuck,” Toji growled, his breath hot against Suguru’s nape. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, circling the spot where his mark should be. Suguru shuddered, waiting—hoping.

But he already knew.

He’s not going to do it.

Instead, Toji sucked at the area lightly, leaving soft kisses that burned in the worst way. Suguru whimpered, his frustration bubbling over into a low, irritated growl.

“I told you,” Toji murmured, voice deep and commanding as his hips slammed into Suguru with unforgiving force, “I’ll mark you when the time comes.”

Suguru clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. His hands curled into the sheets, body tightening beneath Toji’s relentless thrusts.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be mad at me now.”

“You’re mean,” Suguru bit back, panting. “Did you mark your first wife? Or is this some kind of principle of yours?”

Toji froze. Suguru felt it—the way the alpha’s movements stopped, the air around them thickening with tension. He’d hit a nerve.

“That’s not true,” Toji murmured, his lips brushing against Suguru’s ear in a half-hearted attempt at soothing him. “I told you why. Be patient for me, baby.” He pressed a kiss to Suguru’s temple, his hands stroking over his hips possessively. “Besides, everyone already knows you’re mine.”

“It’s not enough!” Suguru snapped. His body burned with the desperate need to be claimed, to bear Toji’s mark like a badge of honor. Maybe it was just his omega instincts, screaming for recognition. Or maybe it was more than that—the tradition, the ritual, the unspoken rule that omegas were meant to be mated on their wedding night. It felt wrong to go against it.

How long was Toji planning to make him wait anyway?

Instead of answering, Toji let out a quiet chuckle, amusement lacing his tone. “You’re so cute, Suguru.”

Suguru’s irritation flared. “Don’t treat me like a kid!” He turned his head to glare at Toji over his shoulder, face flushed with frustration.

Toji only smirked, his grip tightening. “Oh yeah? And how old are you again?”

Suguru’s frown deepened. He huffed. “Too young for you, right? Then stop fucking around with me.” He reached up, trying to push Toji’s face away, but the alpha caught his wrist with ease and in an instant, Suguru found himself bent further forward, his back arching as Toji pinned him effortlessly. It wasn’t meant to hurt—just enough pressure to remind him who was in control.

Toji’s breath was hot against his ear, as he growled. “I don’t need permission to fuck my wife.”

Suguru gasped as Toji pressed his face into the mattress, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper.

“Now, be good for me, sweetheart,” Toji rasped, his hand slipping under Suguru’s stomach to hold him in place. “Let me finish.”

Suguru shuddered, completely lost in it. There was something about Toji’s strength, the way he handled him so effortlessly, that made him melt. No matter how frustrated he was, how much he wanted to fight back—he always gave in.

Because in the end, he wanted it.

“You’re so mean…” Suguru whimpered, his body trembling beneath him as he finally surrendered.

Toji groaned, his movements growing erratic, his grip on Suguru’s hips tightening until it almost hurt. 

“Gonna knot you,” he gritted out, voice raw, animalistic. Suguru could feel it—the swelling, stretching him impossibly full, locking them together. His stomach tightened, heat spreading through him as Toji’s knot pulsed inside, filling him with warmth.

Damn it.

At this rate, it was only a matter of time before Toji got him pregnant.

Only if he hadn’t been forced onto birth control.

It wasn’t that Toji had actually forced him. But with Megumi still just a baby, they couldn’t afford another one. Not yet. Toji wasn’t exactly a wealthy man, and another mouth to feed wasn’t something they could risk.

Suguru gasped, his body shaking as the last waves of pleasure washed over him. Toji collapsed onto him, his broad chest pressing against Suguru’s back, his mouth brushing over the bare skin of his neck.

And yet, still—no bite.

He’s so mean.

“Damn, Suguru,” Toji muttered, his lips curving into a lazy smirk. He pulled Suguru closer, possessively wrapping an arm around his waist. “You were made for this.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Suguru’s jaw. “Made for me.”

Suguru’s breath hitched. His body ached, everything burning, but there was only one thing he could focus on.

He really did love this man after all.

The first few months of their marriage had been...blissful.

Toji had spent most of his days with Suguru—always by his side, helping him, training him, raising Megumi together. It was their own little honeymoon phase, the kind everyone talked about. And while Suguru treasured those days, he wished Toji would take him out somewhere. Anywhere.

But Toji barely stayed home now.

Every time Suguru brought it up, Toji had the same excuse.

"Megumi's too small," he'd say, rubbing slow circles into Suguru’s back after sex. "We can’t just leave him behind. Maybe after he’s a little older."

Or sometimes, "It’s not safe. The Zen’in clan could still come after him."

And, more often than not, "I have work. Gotta provide for my family, yeah?"

Suguru knew Toji wasn’t entirely wrong. It was true. Megumi was still young, and as Toji’s son, he wasn’t safe from the Zen’in’s influence. And then there was the money. Toji was constantly looking for work, hopping from one job to another, insisting he needed to take on more to support them both.

After all, Suguru was no longer a sorcerer.

That truth weighed on him more than he cared to admit.

He would lay on Toji’s chest at night, listening to him talk about their future—how much he wanted Suguru to have everything he’d ever dreamed of. And yet, despite the sweet words, Suguru couldn’t shake the heaviness settling in his heart.

Because Megumi was a quiet, easy child. He rarely cried, only getting grumpy when he was hungry. Most of the time, he entertained himself, content with whatever toy was in his grasp. He didn’t need constant babysitting, and Toji was strong enough to destroy the Zenin clan, which made Suguru wonder if Toji was just making excuses. Was it really about Megumi’s safety, or was there something else?

Maybe Megumi simply didn’t like him.

Suguru could already see the child’s cursed energy developing—strong, untamed, swirling around him like an unseen storm. He had felt it the first time he stepped into this house, lingering in the air. And now, with Toji barely home, it was Suguru’s responsibility to handle it.

The alpha would return late most nights, sometimes early, sometimes hours past midnight, covered in blood and fresh injuries. And Megumi was always asleep by then, unaware of the life his father was living outside these walls.

If Suguru was lucky, Toji would take a day off—maybe once a week.

At first, Suguru had understood. They needed money, and Toji was doing everything he could to make sure they never struggled. But over time, the distance became unbearable.

It wasn’t just about the money anymore.

Suguru missed him.

Megumi needed his father.

And every time Suguru tried to bring it up, Toji would brush him off with the same tired reassurance.

“I’m doing this for us, baby. One day, you’ll have everything you ever wanted.”

But all Suguru wanted was him.

“I don’t need money, wealth, or glory, Toji-san,” Suguru murmured, carefully wrapping fresh bandages around the alpha’s injured arm. His fingers were steady, but his heart felt anything but. “I just need you by my side… I need you to give me back the name I deserve. You promised.”

He tried to ignore the lingering scent of alcohol on Toji’s skin, but it was impossible.

Toji exhaled, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he reached for Suguru, pulling him onto his lap with ease. “Oh, baby, I know.”

“Don’t,” Suguru warned, placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “You’re still injured.”

“It’s fine,” Toji muttered, his grip tightening around Suguru’s waist as he buried his face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply. Instinctively, Suguru tilted his head, his body betraying him as his ear brushed against Toji’s lips.

“Toji-san…” Suguru tried to push away slightly, but Toji only pulled him closer, his warm tongue tracing along the edge of Suguru’s jaw, sending a shiver down his spine.

But they needed to talk.

Every night, Toji came home late, exhausted, covered in wounds, reeking of blood and cheap liquor. And every night, instead of speaking, instead of listening, he used Suguru—took and took until he had nothing left to give.

Suguru didn’t mind, not really. He wanted to be the one Toji turned to, the one to take in all of his stress, to let him fill him up until there was nothing left. But…

Not like this.

Not when they hadn’t spoken in days. Not when Suguru was drowning in loneliness.

Before Toji could lift his shirt, Suguru caught his wrist, stopping him.

“No.”

Toji stilled. His green eyes flickered with confusion—genuine, unguarded. He looked almost…surprised. “You don’t want me?”

And the way he said it…why did it make Suguru feel so guilty?

“I… I do,” Suguru admitted, his voice softer now. He struggled to meet Toji’s gaze, pressing his lips into a thin line. “But… Megumi.”

Toji frowned.

“He’s developing his cursed technique. Slowly, but it’s only a matter of time before it gets out of control,” Suguru continued, tightening his grip on Toji’s wrist. “And I don’t think I can handle it alone. He barely even likes me—”

“That’s not true,” Toji interrupted, cupping Suguru’s face with both hands. His touch was warm—so at odds with the violence he carried.

“Megumi’s just reserved,” he said, voice steady, sure. “I’ve seen the way he acts around you. Trust me, Suguru—he likes you a hell of a lot more than he likes me.”

Suguru stared at him, processing his words.

Maybe… maybe Toji was right. But that didn’t change the fact that Suguru felt like he was doing this alone.

“Toji, I need you here,” he said finally, his voice almost breaking. “I know you’re working hard for us, but… I can’t do this alone.”

I feel so alone without you. Without your presence.

Toji sighed. Then, without another word, he pulled Suguru into a tight embrace, his fingers threading through his hair, rubbing slow circles against the back of his head. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji’s voice was quiet, almost tired. “You know I’m trying my best, right? I hate being away from you and Megumi too. We’ll figure it out together. I promise.”

Suguru wanted to believe him. He wanted to trust that Toji would be more present, that he would stay—not just physically, but truly be there. A little more effort, a little more love. That was all Suguru was asking for.

And so, he chose to believe.

That night, despite his initial refusal, despite the ache of loneliness still settling in his chest, Suguru let Toji have him. He let the alpha press him down, take him apart, touch him like he always did—hoping, just hoping, that when morning came, Toji would still be there. That he would wake up next to him, just like he always had in the beginning.

“I love you, Toji,” Suguru whispered, his hands cupping Toji’s face, his violet eyes filled with raw emotion.

He always told him. Every night. Every chance he got.

Toji used to say it back—less often, maybe, but still, he had said it.

Now…

Toji only stared at him for a moment before offering a small, easy smile.

He didn’t say it back.

Maybe Suguru was just overthinking it.

Day by day, Suguru felt himself slipping further away from the sorcerer he once was.

At seventeen, he had become a Grade 1 sorcerer—one of the best of his generation. His parents had been so proud, hopeful for his future. And even if Gojo Satoru had always been there, taking the title of the strongest, Suguru had never minded. He had been content growing at his own pace, with his own hard work.

But now…everything has changed.

Drastically.

In the span of just a year, he had gone from a rising star in the Jujutsu world to a man stripped of everything that made him who he was.

Apparently, the Gojo Clan had even placed a bounty on his head at some point.

Suguru had no clue about this—not until Toji told him. And even then, it felt surreal. No one had come for him, no assassins lurking in the shadows, no threats at his doorstep.

Because Toji had taken care of it…?

“I killed them before they could try,” he had said casually, as if it were nothing. And while Suguru did believe him, there was something unsettling about it all. It was strange that he was still alive.

The Gojo Clan, despite nearly being wiped out, had begun rebuilding itself over the past few months. Almost half of their members had been slaughtered. And as for Gojo Satoru? He had completely disappeared—vanished without a trace. But Suguru knew he wasn’t far. The ecosystem had finally stabilized after all that chaos, which meant Satoru was likely calm and steady now. He was relieved the kid had finally moved on from him. There had been times when he’d feared looking up to find the sliding door open, two blue glowing eyes staring at him. He’d even had nightmares about it. Not that he had much time to think about the young alpha anyway—he had his own home to take care of now.

Suguru only heard whispers, scattered pieces of information passed through the wind and, occasionally, through Toji. But he had no real connection to the Jujutsu world anymore. And Toji… well, Toji wasn’t around enough to talk about it, anyway.

But then, the morning after their conversation, something changed.

Toji woke up next to him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Suguru didn’t wake up to an empty bed.

And for that single day, things almost felt normal.

Toji took the day off, spending time with Megumi—trying to understand his cursed technique, watching as his abilities slowly began to manifest. Suguru, finally, got some time to train again. It had been a good day. 

Until he asked Toji a simple question.

“How long until I can be Special Grade?”

“We’re not picking a fight with the higher-ups until Megumi is older,” he said. “Once he’s stronger, he can help us take them on.”

Suguru had never felt such crushing disappointment in his life.

He didn’t say a word after that. Even when Toji tried to talk to him, he ignored him. He still had to cook, still had to clean, but beyond that he refused to acknowledge him.

Toji clung to his back, holding Megumi in his arms, murmuring soft apologies. “C’mon, baby. Try to understand.”

Suguru didn’t respond. He just scrubbed the dishes harder, letting the loud clatter of plates echo through the kitchen.

Because this—this was exactly what he had given everything up for.

He had left everything behind, abandoned his life, his family, and married Toji because he thought he would get his name back.

His identity. His place in the world.

And now, Toji was telling him to wait ?

To be patient until Megumi grows up?

What was he supposed to do until then? Be a housewife, stuck in this ugly fucking house?

His hands clenched around the dish he was holding, jaw tight as frustration burned inside him.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

This wasn’t what he had sacrificed everything for.

He trusted the alpha.

Toji lounged on the veranda with Megumi, lazily stretching his legs while Suguru busied himself outside, hanging clothes to dry. He needed to move—to do something—just to burn off the frustration still simmering inside him.

But as he placed another piece of clothing onto the rod, his entire body tensed. A sudden pressure crashed over him, invisible yet suffocating, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His chest clenched as his breathing quickened, eyes flicking up to the sky.

Nothing.

Suguru swallowed hard.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt this—this presence, this creeping, heavy sensation crawling over his skin, wrapping around his throat like unseen hands.

It had happened before.

A lot of times.

In this house.

He had brushed it off every other time, but now it felt too real to ignore.

“What’s wrong?” Toji’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Suguru exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he grabbed the empty laundry bucket and headed inside. Toji followed him all the way to the kitchen, trailing behind like a shadow. Megumi had already drifted off into a nap, leaving the two of them alone.

“You still mad at me?” Toji asked, stepping closer, reaching out.

Suguru nudged him away without a word.

Toji clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that.”

He continued annoying him, murmuring apologies, calling him baby, love, cheesecake , whatever nickname he could think of, desperate to get a reaction.

“You should really go take a bath,” Suguru muttered, shoving him off. “You smell horrible.”

Toji grinned. “How about we bathe together?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—leave me alone, old man!”

Megumi’s wailing pierced through the walls.

Suguru instantly regretted raising his voice, pressing a hand to his temple.

Toji let out a long sigh. “I got it,” he muttered, turning away to deal with his son.

Suguru sighed, deciding to take that bath after all.

But as he moved toward the washroom, something shifted.

A sound. A movement.

Someone—or something—was in the other room.

His body went rigid, instincts flaring as he followed the presence to the bedroom he shared with Toji. Every nerve in his body screamed, his cursed energy pooling into his palm as he slid the door open in one swift motion—

Nothing.

Suguru’s eyes flicked around the room, scanning every corner.

His gaze settled on the closet.

A cold weight settled in his stomach.

He knew something was off.

His fingers twitched as he gathered cursed energy, every fiber of his being screaming at him to prepare. He swallowed hard, sliding the closet door open in one sharp movement, ready to strike—

Empty.

His breathing was heavy, uneven. Was he… imagining things?

“Suguru.” Toji’s voice pulled him back. He turned to see the alpha standing in the doorway, Megumi nestled in his arms, sniffling.

“He’s hungry. Will you make something for him?”

Suguru steadied himself, casting one last glance around the room before exhaling.

“Yeah,” he said simply.

Toji studied him for a moment, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong? You look tense.”

Suguru hesitated. Toji had sharp instincts—great instincts. If he hadn’t sensed anything, then maybe…maybe it really was just his imagination.

“No,” he said finally, shaking the thought away. “I’ll go make dinner.”

“You hear that, brat?” Toji grumbled, shifting Megumi in his arms. “Now stop crying and man up already.”

Megumi responded by screwing up his face in irritation and clawing at Toji’s cheek. Toji yelled, pulling the child away from his face, but Megumi only gripped him harder.

Suguru just stood there, watching the chaos unfold, and wondered—not for the first time—if Toji had married him just to have a mother for Megumi.

Suguru sighed, heading straight to the kitchen, ignoring them.

Toji had stopped training with him altogether.

And Suguru…Suguru had completely lost himself.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had summoned a curse, the last time he had felt his cursed energy thrumming beneath his skin. He didn’t know what lay beyond the walls of the house anymore—beyond the dull, lifeless garden where no flowers bloomed, no birds sang.

Every day bled into the next, an endless cycle of monotony.

Housework. Cooking. Taking care of Megumi.

Over and over and over again.

And lately, it had only gotten worse.

Megumi had finally summoned his first divine dogs—his inherited shikigami. He was a shinigami user, something incredibly rare. Toji was proud. The alpha has always been open about his hatred towards the Zenin clan. Suguru could still hear his voice in his head, full of pride, full of something that Suguru himself could no longer feel.

Suguru just didn’t care.

He didn’t care about Megumi, about his growing power, about how amazing his technique could be. None of it mattered to him.

Toji had told him to help Megumi adapt to it because Suguru was a curse manipulation user and so, he should know how to guide him. But Suguru had only nodded silently, wondering what exactly he even was anymore.

The divine dogs were a nuisance.

They hated him.

Megumi still couldn’t control them properly, and while he treated them like harmless playmates, they turned into snarling beasts whenever Suguru so much as stepped near. They growled, bared their teeth, barked like he was an intruder in his own home.

It was frustrating.

Annoying.

He had tried telling Megumi to control them, but it never worked. If anything, it only made the dogs more aggressive, more protective of Megumi—as if Suguru was some kind of threat.

As if he was something lesser.

As if he wasn’t a former Grade 1 sorcerer, once feared for his immense power, once known for eliminating even special grade curses.

As if that person had never even existed.

In the shower, Suguru spent more and more time just thinking.

What was he now?

What had he become?

Something inside him felt hollow. A gaping emptiness that stretched wider with each passing day. He didn’t know what was causing it. Or maybe he did know. He just didn’t know how to accept it.

At first, Toji would come home late, gone for most of the day, but at least he came back. At least he would take a day off here and there to spend with his family.

Now, he was gone for days at a time—sometimes two, sometimes three.

Suguru was tired.

Tired of waiting. Tired of begging. Tired of asking for more, for anything, for him.

But whenever Toji was home, they had sex.

Suguru never said no.

Because in those fleeting moments, it was the only time Toji held him, the only time he felt wanted, the only time he could pretend—to himself, to his aching heart—that he was loved.

Even if by morning, the bed was always empty.

And the few times they did talk, it was always the same.

Megumi.

Has he improved? Can he summon more shikigami? Is he eating enough? He needs to grow stronger to fight the Zen’in clan.

Megumi this. Megumi that.

Megumi, Megumi, Megumi.

Fuck.

It was all he ever heard.

Never once did Toji ask how Suguru was doing.

Not once.

Sometimes, Suguru couldn’t help but resent Megumi. He knew it was wrong—petty even—but the thought still crept in, unshakable. If only Megumi wasn’t around, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Toji would have given him more attention, cared for him, loved him better. It hadn’t always been like this. In the beginning, Suguru had adored Megumi. He never felt a motherly connection to him, but he cared—genuinely. He wanted to raise him well, to bond with him, to treat him like his own. Maybe even give him a sibling one day.

But now… all he wished for was Megumi to disappear.

“You still won’t mark me,” Suguru said one night, his voice small, empty.

Toji had just come home, already stripping off his clothes, his hands reaching for Suguru’s shirt, when he stopped.

“Darling, I told you to wait a little longer.” His voice was gentle, too soft, like he was soothing a child.

Suguru hated it.

“How much fucking longer?” he snapped, voice rising, face twisting with frustration—no, with hurt . “It’s been over a year.”

Toji blinked, clearly caught off guard. Suguru has never raised his voice at Toji before.

“Suguru—”

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Toji’s expression shifted instantly, his body tensing as he reached out but Suguru slapped his hand away, the sharp smack echoing through the room.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

A dangerous silence followed. Suguru barely had a second to process what he had done before the air changed. Alphas didn’t like this. Omegas weren’t supposed to act this way. It was nature, ingrained into them—a weaker animal challenging a stronger one, begging to be molded, to be put in its place.

The air grew thick with Toji’s pheromones, burning slightly, warning him. His eyes darkened, something flickering in them, something primal, something dangerous.

“Watch your mouth, Suguru.” His voice was low, a quiet growl vibrating deep in his chest. “Don’t talk to your alpha like that.”

Suguru shivered, instincts overriding his anger, a shiver running down his spine. His breath hitched, his instincts screaming at him to submit. A small whimper escaped his throat before he could stop it.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Toji quickly realised what he was doing. “Shit.”

The air shifted again, the burn fading.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to scare you, love,” Toji muttered, rubbing his face. “It just… happened. I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me.”

He shifted on his back, putting distance between them, his voice softer now. Suguru didn’t answer. His head was bowed, fingers digging into his own shoulder as he tried to steady himself.

It was stupid.

So fucking stupid.

Because after all this time, after everything—he still wanted Toji to hold him.

“I’m just worried,” Toji said, his voice quieter now. “I can’t be home all the time because of work. If I mark you now, it might affect you negatively.” His gaze softened as he exhaled. “I’m almost there, baby. A better job, a better house—for us. Fighting for your name. I want to give you everything. I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

His hand brushed against Suguru’s cheek, hesitating, almost as if asking for permission.

“I care about you. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You’re already hurting me.

Suguru wanted to say it. The words were right there, clinging to his throat. But in the end, he swallowed them down, like he always did.

Toji’s touch lingered, warm against his skin. Suguru let out a slow breath, his fingers lifting to press Toji’s palm against his cheek. It felt nice. Comforting.

“I love you, Suguru,” Toji murmured.

Suguru’s eyes widened.

How long had it been since he had last heard those words?

Something bloomed in his chest, something fragile and desperate, something that made him weak. He should be standing his ground, should be angry, should be holding onto his hurt. But...

Instead, he leaned in, burying his face against Toji’s neck, inhaling his scent, wrapping his arms around him.

So weak.

But just as quickly as warmth settled in his chest, a shiver ran down his spine.

Something felt wrong. His body tensed as he pulled back, his eyes scanning the room.

“What’s wrong?” Toji asked.

Suguru hesitated. “…Do you not feel that?”

Toji tilted his head. “Feel what?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but no words came. Maybe…maybe it was just the wind.

“…Nothing,” he finally murmured. Shaking the thought away, he forced his voice to steady. “Megumi’s abilities are growing rapidly, but he’s having trouble controlling his divine dogs. It would be good if you could help him. I did what I could, but there’s only so much I can do.”

Toji hummed, nodding. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Don’t worry, you’re amazing.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Suguru’s lips, soft and fleeting.

Suguru hesitated.

“…Can we not tonight?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m really tired.”

There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Suguru was almost scared of how Toji would react.

But the alpha only smiled, nodding as he placed another soft kiss against his cheek. “We should sleep then.”

Suguru swallowed. That’s it?

He watched as Toji simply pulled his shirt back on, laying down into the bed without another word. No argument, no irritation, no resistance.

They lay side by side, Toji switching off the light. But Suguru couldn’t shake the unease crawling up his spine. Is he upset? Unhappy?

The silence pressed against his skin, heavy and suffocating.

After a moment, he shifted, hesitantly leaning in, wrapping an arm around Toji’s waist. He pressed close, voice barely a whisper.

“Toji-san…”

“Hm?”

“…Are you angry?”

Toji let out a soft exhale. “Of course not,” he murmured, his arm tightening around Suguru’s waist, pulling him in. “Why would I be angry, Suguru? Don’t overthink this.”

Suguru bit his lip. “We can do it if you want to—”

“Suguru.” The warning in Toji’s voice was quiet, firm. Suguru immediately shut up.

“…Okay,” he whispered.

He closed his eyes, but that uneasy feeling still lingered—settling into his chest, heavy and suffocating. Why does it feel like something’s wrong?

Suguru ignored it, pressing his face against Toji’s chest, forcing his body to relax.

Eventually, sleep pulled him under. But that feeling never really left.

Suguru woke up to a searing pain deep in his stomach, right above his womb. A sharp, unbearable ache that left his body trembling and his skin feverish. His throat was dry, nausea rolling over him in waves, and worse—he could already feel the wetness between his thighs, sticky and hot.

Shit.

His heat was close.

He pressed a shaking hand against his lower abdomen, trying to steady his breathing. His entire body was burning.

“Toji…” he rasped, voice trembling. 

But the other side of the futon was cold.

Suguru’s chest clenched. Did he leave already?

A sharp pain tore through his stomach again, and he let out a strangled groan, curling in on himself. He felt sick, dizzy, overwhelmed—his instincts screaming for his alpha. He needed him. He wanted Toji to hold him, soothe him, and take care of him just like he had promised. That was how it was supposed to be.

The sliding door opened.

Suguru’s breath hitched, his glazed-over eyes widening in relief when he saw him.

Toji stood at the entrance, half-naked, a towel draped over his shoulders, drying his damp hair.

“Suguru?” Toji called, worried. But the moment he inhaled, his expression changed. His face twisted, jaw clenching as he turned away slightly, raising a hand over his nose. “Fuck, you smell—”

Suguru whimpered, his body reacting immediately to Toji’s presence, slick pooling between his thighs. His vision blurred slightly, heat clouding his thoughts as his omega instincts screamed for relief.

He reached out, voice weak and desperate. “Alpha… it hurts.”

He barely managed the words before his body betrayed him, his limbs giving out, his mind sinking into the overwhelming need consuming him. He waited, waited for Toji to hold him in his arms and love him all day long. Until it didn’t hurt anymore.

But instead of coming closer, instead of coming into bed and holding him, soothing him, Toji stepped back.

Suguru’s heart sank.

“You’re not taking suppressants?” Toji’s voice was sharp, almost scolding. “Fuck, Suguru, you should be more careful.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Wait here.”

The door slid shut.

Suguru blinked, his breath hitching as something heavy settled in his chest.

What?

He whimpered, curling in on himself, feeling utterly rejected.

Toji left.

Why?

His body ached, his mind was spinning, and all he could think was—why isn’t he helping me? He is my alpha!

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, his body pulsing with discomfort, his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. The pain was unbearable, his heart pounding as he waited.

Finally, the door slid open again. Toji walked in carrying a bag of medicine and a bottle of water.

And he was wearing a fucking mask.

Suguru felt like he had been slapped.

His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening, something breaking inside him.

“You—” His voice wavered, and he bit down hard on his lip, blinking back the sting in his eyes. He wanted to scream, to cry , to beg, to curse, to anything —but all that came out was a pitiful whimper, his body trembling with rejection.

Toji sighed, kneeling beside him, placing the bag of suppressants within reach.

“Suguru, listen,” he started, his voice too calm. “Take the suppressants. I know you want me to help you, but you have to understand—I can’t right now.”

Suguru pressed his lips into a thin line.

Can’t?

The word hit him harder than he expected.

“I have to leave soon,” Toji continued, rubbing his temple. “I can’t be here for you all the time. As much as I’d love to stay, we also have Megumi to think about—”

Suguru snapped.

“Hire a fucking maid then!” His voice cracked, desperate and raw. “Or a worker, a sitter—I don’t care! I need you! This is my first heat in over two years— don’t do this to me! ”

His voice shook, his body trembling, but he meant it.

All Toji ever talked about was Megumi. Megumi’s future. Megumi’s safety.

It was always about Megumi.

Never about Suguru.

Never him.

Toji sighed like he was dealing with a fucking child. “Suguru, we can’t afford a maid.”

Bullshit.

“I’m saving money for Megumi’s future,” he continued. “In case he needs—”

Suguru saw red. Before Toji could finish, Suguru snatched the suppressants, tearing the bottle open and dry-swallowing three pills before Toji could stop him.

“Suguru, stop —that’s too much—”

“Get out. ” Suguru shouted, his eyes burning with something between rage and devastation.

Suguru was done.

Done waiting. Done being patient. Done begging.

He felt sick, his heat still simmering under his skin, but worse than that was the unbearable ache in his chest, the overwhelming, suffocating loneliness.

Toji didn’t move at first, just watched him.

Then, finally, he sighed, standing up.

“Tsumiki’s coming over later,” he muttered, adjusting his mask. “I told her to check on you.”

Suguru huffed, glaring at the wall, refusing to look at him.

Toji exhaled heavily. “Don’t get angry, baby. This is for your own good. You’re just being overly emotional because of your heat—”

Suguru’s grip on the blanket tightened so hard he thought the fabric might tear.

His teeth clenched, his jaw aching with the force of holding back what he really wanted to say.

He wanted to kill him.

Yeah. Maybe it was his heat or whatever, but he swore —he was losing his fucking mind.

Toji stood there, waiting for a response, but Suguru said nothing.

Because if he opened his mouth now, he might actually throw something at Toji’s fucking head.

And then, without another word, Toji left.

The door slid shut.

Suguru exhaled loudly. His body was trembling, heat still lingering under his skin, but more than that—his anger.

His hurt.

His emptiness.

The suppressants started kicking in, his heat dulling, his body cooling, sweat sticking to his skin.

But none of it mattered.

Because for the first time in his life, Suguru wished he had never met Toji Fushiguro.

Suguru spent most of the day lying around, drifting in and out of sleep. The suppressants had done their job—his heat had subsided completely—but they had left him feeling wrecked. His body was sluggish, his mind clouded, and every attempt to move sent waves of dizziness crashing over him.

When he finally forced his eyes open, the room spun.

His vision blurred at the edges as he rubbed his temples, trying to steady himself. The dim, golden glow seeping through the window told him the sun was already setting.

He had slept the entire day.

With a heavy sigh, Suguru dragged himself out of bed, his legs unsteady beneath him as he made his way to the other room. The faint sound of laughter reached his ears and when he stepped inside, he found Tsumiki sitting on the floor, playing with Megumi. The child clung to her, delighted by her presence, small hands reaching for her as she guided him through a simple game.

She looked up when she noticed him. “Geto-san! You’re finally awake.”

Her smile was warm, kind. So different from the cold emptiness he had grown used to in this house.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Suguru swallowed, his throat dry. “Better” 

“Good,” she said with a small nod, standing up and dusting herself off. “I made some food for you. Eat before it gets cold, alright?”

Suguru blinked, startled. “You…made food?”

Tsumiki laughed. “Of course. I figured you wouldn’t be in any state to cook today.”

There was something about her casual care, her effortless kindness, that made Suguru’s chest tighten. She was just a kid herself and yet she had stepped in so easily, filling the gaps in their broken household without a second thought.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“No problem.” She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I need to head out now. I promised my friends I’d meet them.”

Suguru’s eyes widened slightly in realisation. Friends.

He nodded absently, watching as she left, her presence slipping away as if she had never been there at all.

And just like that, the silence settled in again.

Suguru turned his gaze to Megumi, who was still playing, completely unaware of the hollow ache blooming in Suguru’s chest.

It hit him all at once.

He was alone.

Truly, completely alone.

He had no one.

No one to talk to, no one to laugh with, no one to simply exist besides Toji.

His mind drifted back to his high school days—to Shoko, to Haibara. They had been his closest friends. The ones who had always been there, through laughter and pain. And yet, when he got married, he hadn’t even invited them.

It had been ages since he last spoke to them.

What would they say if they saw him now?

The thought unsettled him. Because suddenly, he wasn’t just missing them—he was missing himself.

Suguru had always been someone who lived. He used to spend his days training, pushing himself to be stronger. His nights were filled with reckless fun—late-night ramen runs, arcade games, movie marathons, simple joys that had once felt so natural, so effortless.

Now he couldn’t even remember the last time he went out for a movie. Or shopping. Or played a sport.

When was the last time he had even stepped outside for something other than grocery shopping or running errands for this house ?

It crept over him slowly—this crushing realization that he was missing something. Something significant. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know if he’d ever get it back.

Megumi clung to Suguru’s leg, small hands gripping tightly as he mumbled something incoherent, his big blue eyes staring up expectantly.

Suguru blinked. Weird. Megumi wasn’t the clingy type. Still, he sighed and picked him up, balancing the child against his hip.

“Hungry?” he guessed, rubbing small circles on Megumi’s back as he made his way to the kitchen.

What he didn’t expect to find was a basket.

A very expensive looking basket.

Suguru narrowed his eyes. It sat on the counter, filled to the brim with dark chocolates—the good kind, the kind that melted perfectly in your mouth, the kind that cost more than he could justify spending in his lifetime.

And next to it was tea. A variety of teas. His favorites.

Suguru’s jaw tightened. What the fuck?

His first thought was Tsumiki, but she was just a kid. No way she had the money for this.

His second thought was Toji.

…And then he laughed. Out loud.

Yeah. Right.

Suguru picked up a chocolate, turning it over in his fingers. It was high-end. The kind you’d find in fancy department stores, the kind only rich sorcerers could afford.

His stomach turned.

His entire body went cold.

There was no fucking way Toji had done this. Not in a million years.

Then who?

A shiver ran down his spine as his fingers clenched around the chocolate. He quickly shoved it back into the basket, skin crawling. His mouth was dry, his breath uneven.

This house is haunted.

That was the only explanation.

Suguru hastily grabbed the entire basket with his free hand, Megumi still balanced in his other arm, and stormed outside.

Without hesitation, he threw the basket straight into the garbage.

Megumi blinked, tilting his head.

“Do you know something?” Suguru asked dumbly, staring at the kid.

Megumi just stared back. Then tilted his head further, as if trying to understand his insanity.

Suguru exhaled sharply, scanning the area—the roads, the sky, the alleyways nearby.

Nothing.

No one.

But the unease wouldn’t leave him. His heart pounded in his chest, thoughts spiraling. Does he have a stalker? Is someone watching him? He shook his head. He needed to tell Toji.

But Toji never comes home that night.

And so, Suguru doesn’t sleep.

Not really. He spends the entire night lying next to Megumi, one eye open, body tense, mind running through a hundred possibilities.

By the time morning came, he felt like shit.

So when Toji finally walked through the door—quiet, hoping Suguru would be asleep—Suguru launched himself out of bed, dark circles heavy under his eyes, practically running up to him.

“You’re here,” he exclaimed, voice frantic. “Fuck, where have you been?! Do you have any idea —”

“Woah, woah, woah—Suguru, calm down.” Toji blinked, hands raised slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Suguru took a sharp breath, trying and failing to calm himself. “Did you bring those chocolates and tea for me?”

Toji tilted his head. “Huh?”

Suguru’s stomach dropped.

I fucking knew it.

“It must be the Zenin Clan,” he rushed out, pacing now. “Or Gojo. They’re probably trying to poison me or lure me into a trap —but how did they even get in—”

“Suguru.” Toji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was me. I put them there.”

Suguru stopped dead and stared at the alpha like he was some ghost.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You bought all that chocolate and tea? For me?”

“Yeah…” Toji shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “All of that.”

Suguru squinted. He doesn’t believe it. Not for a fucking second.

“…What did you do with them?” Toji asked after a pause.

Suguru crossed his arms. “I threw them away.”

Toji’s mouth falls open. “What?!”

Suguru glared. “You really wanted me to believe you’d spend that much money on me?”

Toji clutched his chest dramatically. “Damn, that hurts.”

“Oh, shut up. You left me during my heat. You barely give a fuck about me—”

“Suguru.” Toji exhaled, stepping forward, placing firm hands on Suguru’s shoulders. “You need to sleep. You look sick.”

“I—”

Before Suguru can protest, Toji picks him up in bridal style.

Suguru gasped. “Toji—what the—put me down —”

“Nope.” Toji carried him straight to their room, ignoring Suguru’s half-hearted struggling, and gently set him down on the futon. Suguru huffed, still wired, still tense, still trying to process everything.

Toji sighed, sitting beside him. “Just sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Suguru muttered after a moment, shifting under the blankets. “For throwing them away. I was just so—”

“Don’t.” Toji cut him off, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Just close your eyes.”

A beat of silence. Suguru does as told, letting his eyes flutter shut, his mind still buzzing.

And then, suddenly—

His eyes snap wide open, comically slow, like a corpse awakening.

Toji shivers.

“…It was really you?” Suguru asked again, voice eerily serious.

Toji stared, gulping nervously. “Yes, love, it was me.”

“You actually spent that much money on me?”

Toji nodded, trying not to be too offended.

Suguru’s voice lowered slightly, almost hesitant. “…You really love me?”

Toji swallowed, nodding again, more deliberate this time. “I do.”

Suguru lets out a slow breath. His eyes flutter closed again. This time, for real as he fell asleep.

Toji exhaled, leaning back against the futon, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling. “That was close.”

Chapter Text

Lately, Suguru had noticed an uncomfortable cycle that was becoming impossible to ignore.

You could overlook a single small cut on your finger, barely visible at first. But when those small cuts multiplied, covering every part of you, it became impossible not to care.

Toji had fallen into a pattern—one Suguru had initially brushed off but could no longer deny. They would argue. Always about the same thing. Toji’s emotional unavailability. His absence. His indifference to their family. The fight would escalate, sharp words exchanged, and then, inevitably, Toji would press him down into the mattress, fucking away the anger until neither of them could speak.

Then, in the morning, Toji would apologize.

He would stay home for a little while, spending time with his family, holding Suguru close, making him feel loved again, making Suguru believe, just for a moment, that he was trying. That he cared. That he wanted to change.

And then, the very next day, Toji would prove him wrong.

He would leave. He would disappear for days.

And when he returned, the cycle would start all over again.

Suguru quickly realized that Toji was never meant to be a husband. A father.

And maybe, Suguru was never meant to be his either.

He wondered if Megumi’s mother had tolerated this same behavior. If Toji had been different with her—more present, more loving, more willing to give his time and devotion. The thought fucking hurt.

That woman didn’t even exist anymore, and yet Suguru resented her. He was jealous of a ghost.

Maybe he had been nothing more than a replacement from the start.

But clearly, he wasn’t a suitable substitute.

He still couldn’t bring himself to love Megumi the way Toji wanted him to. No matter how much he tried.

The child wasn’t his.

And the way Toji treated him now only made it clearer that Suguru wasn’t a wife. He wasn’t a mate. He wasn't a partner. He was just a convenience. A warm body Toji could sink into when he needed relief. A babysitter he didn’t even have to pay.

No gifts. No effort. No trips.

Just the bare minimum.

But the worst part—the part that ached the most—was the lack of love. Suguru felt like he was being spoon-fed drops of affection, just enough to keep him going but never enough to truly satisfy him. To fulfill his hunger. He hadn’t married Toji for his money. That much was obvious. He had fallen for him because of the way Toji had once made him feel protected. Wanted. Loved. Cherished.

But sometimes, acceptance was so much harder than ignorance.

Toji only ever told him I love you in two situations:

During a heated argument.

And every time his cock “accidentally” ended up buried inside Suguru.

Lately, Suguru couldn’t help but wonder…

Was love supposed to be so physically and emotionally draining?

Suguru had lost so much weight. His once-strong frame had withered away, muscles shrinking until he barely recognized himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark, and he no longer took care of himself. He no longer felt good in his own body. He was tired, so tired. His body sluggish, his mind clouded, his heart empty. Even smiling felt like a chore.

He sat on the veranda, gazing up at the sky, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to decide what he should do. Because at this point, he was nothing more than just a soulless creature.

Megumi played nearby, summoning his divine dogs with ease. The shikigami appeared more frequently now, growing stronger, more obedient—to him.

Suguru watched in silence, trying to care, watching them surround Megumi, running with him, purring and licking at his face. 

But then one of the bitches barked at him for no reason. Loud and sharp, making Suguru flinch, his body tensing. But more than that, his patience snapped. 

His tired eyes flickered to Megumi, and he yelled, “Make them stop.”

Megumi hesitated, startled by the harshness in Suguru’s voice. And because he had yelled, because his tone had shifted, the two divine dogs immediately turned on him, baring their teeth, low growls vibrating in their throats.

Suguru’s fingers curled into fists.

He was so done.

So, so fucking done.

Something inside him cracked. His entire body shuddered in rage. Before he could stop himself, his voice rose again, this time sharper, harsher, angrier. “I said, MAKE THEM STOP!”

Megumi stiffened. His small hands curled into his shirt, his shoulders shaking as fear flickered in his wide, dark blue eyes.

Then the white divine dog lunged at him. Suguru barely had time to react before teeth sank into his hand. A sharp, burning pain tore through his skin as blood pooled around the bite, dripping onto the wooden floor.

Suguru screamed.

But not out of pain.

Out of rage.

Something surged inside him, something that had been dormant for too long. Cursed energy swirled around his body in thick, violent waves, crackling in the air like a living thing.

The anger, the hatred, the hurt—it erupted.

Suguru didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. His power manifested on instinct as one of his curses appeared behind him.

The hookworm curse.

The air around him shifted, heavy with malicious intent. His long, dark hair whipped around in the wind, his energy crackling against his skin. Megumi took a step back, his small body trembling. The divine dogs whimpered in fear. But Suguru didn’t care.

For the first time in ages, he felt alive.

His chest heaved, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark as he stared at the scene before him. Megumi was crying. Loud. Heartbreaking.

But his sobs barely registered in Suguru’s ears.

The curse swished forward, latching onto the white divine dog, slamming it against the wall with a sickening crack. Blood spilled from the dog’s mouth as it whimpered, body twitching from the impact.

Megumi screamed. And Suguru just sat there. Unmoving. Unfeeling. The curse slithered beside him, its grotesque body curling at his feet, waiting. Suguru petted its head. A twisted sense of satisfaction curled in his gut as he smiled. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

"Suguru, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!" Toji’s voice roared through the house. 

Suguru jerked, his head snapping up, his heart sinking the moment he locked eyes with Toji. 

Toji’s expression was pure disbelief as he stormed forward, his entire frame tense. His sharp eyes scanned the scene—the trembling, crying figure of Megumi, the lingering presence of Suguru’s curse, the unmistakable scent of violence still thick in the air. 

Suguru’s cursed energy vanished in an instant, his consciousness snapping back as the hookworm curse disintegrated.

Megumi was still wailing, his small body trembling so violently that he could barely stand. Suguru blinked, really looking at him—his puffy, red-rimmed eyes, his tiny hands shaking uncontrollably, his cheeks streaked with tears. And then as his gaze flickered, he noticed Tsumiki who was standing behind Toji at a distance, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes filled with shock. She had seen everything.

Suguru’s lips parted, but no words came out.

"What did you do?” Toji's voice was lower now, rough, and harsh.

Suguru didn't answer. His body felt numb.

Toji moved past him, scooping Megumi up into his arms. The boy instantly buried his face in his father’s chest, sobbing so hard that his entire body shook. The divine dogs had already disappeared, their presence vanishing into thin air.

Did Suguru…kill one of them?

Toji’s gaze snapped back to Suguru, sharp and furious.

Suguru flinched. The sheer anger radiating from the alpha made his entire body tremble, his instincts screaming at him to submit—to shrink, to apologize, to beg —but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He wanted to call out to him, to say something, but the words lodged in his throat.

Did Toji not see the blood dripping from his hands? Did he not see the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of everything crushing him down?

Was Megumi the only one he ever truly cared about?

What about me? Suguru thought bitterly, his chest tightening. I’m hurting too.

The pain was too much. All of it— everything—was too much.

Suguru turned on his heel, unable to bear it any longer. He walked away, ignoring the sound of Toji calling after him, his voice rough and edged with frustration. He heard Tsumiki murmuring something about taking Megumi inside, and heard Megumi’s sniffles fading as she led him away.

Then he heard footsteps approaching. Fast. Heavy.

Toji was following him.

Suguru’s heart pounded as he moved faster, nearly stumbling over himself in his rush to reach the kitchen. It was the only place he could lock himself in as all the other doors in the house were sliding doors, easy to break through.

His hand barely grazed the doorknob before Toji caught him.

He was slammed against the wall, the impact rattling through his bones. The alpha’s broad body caged him in, his grip tight—too tight—pinning Suguru in place no matter how much he struggled.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Toji growled, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp edge. Suguru hated it. Hated how harsh it was, how unyielding. Hated how it made him feel small, weak. His heart slammed violently against his ribs—so loud, so fast, he swore Toji could hear it. 

Suguru was scared. 

Scared of Toji. Scared of what the alpha could do to him. Scared of how he made him feel.

Suguru gasped, his body burning, trembling with everything—anger, grief, exhaustion, betrayal. The pain from the divine dog’s bite pulsed against his skin, but even that was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

It hurt.

Suguru thrashed against Toji’s grip, grunting, growling, trying to push him away but the alpha didn’t budge.

“Let me go!” he shouted, his voice cracking. Toji’s grip loosened slightly, his expression shifting.

"How could you hurt Megumi?" His tone shifted instantly as if he was the one who had been wounded, as if he was the one who had been betrayed.

Suguru froze. His breathing turned uneven, his shoulders shaking as his fingers curled into fists. He bit down on his lip, hard , forcing himself to breathe through the lump in his throat. He couldn’t even look at Toji. He couldn’t.

His hand throbbed. The bite marks burned, blood still trailing down his wrist. His body ached.

“I—” Suguru gasped, his words barely forming. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I—I didn’t know how to control him—his divine dogs, they just—” His breath hitched. “They bit me, Toji. They hurt me.”

Toji took a deep inhale, stepping back, rubbing his forehead roughly. “Do you have any idea what you just did, Suguru?” His voice was lower now, but not softer. “You could’ve seriously hurt Megumi. And not only that if anyone finds out about this, you’d be executed.”

Suguru let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp. “Oh? Worried you’ll lose your free maid?”

Toji snapped. His face twisted with fury, his jaw clenching so hard that the muscles twitched.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” he growled, stepping forward again. “Is that what you think of me?”

Suguru finally lifted his head, meeting Toji’s gaze head-on.

“Don’t you?” he shot back, his voice trembling, filled with something ugly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers shaking at his sides.

“Megumi is all you care about,” he continued. “You never come home this early, never. But today you mysteriously appeared because of who?”

Suguru pressed on, his voice bitter, his throat aching with the force of holding back everything he had wanted to scream for months.

“Your precious son,” he spat, “the one thing left of your dead wife —the one memory you probably cling to.” 

“SUGURU!” Toji’s roar shook the walls, his expression darkening.

Suguru shuddered, his body reacting on instinct. But he refused to back down. He refused. His chin lifted defiantly, but his hands shook in pain.

“What?” His voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. “Am I wrong?”

Toji glared at him in silence. Warning him. Suguru sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as his vision blurred. His chest ached. His hand still bled. His heart hurt. His voice cracked as he spoke again, softer this time.

“I got hurt too, Toji,” he whispered. He lifted his injured hand slightly, his fingers trembling, the blood now dripping onto the floor.

"Your son hurt me."

Toji’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as his brows drew together, tension radiating from his entire body.

“But no,” he let out a weak, breathless laugh, “it’s always my fault, isn’t it?”

Toji sighed, trying to hold himself together, his jaw clenching as the thick scent of his burning pheromones grew heavier in the air. Frustration seeped from every inch of him as he dragged a hand over his face, fingers pushing through his hair, his movements slow, exhausted.

“Megumi is just a baby, Suguru,” he reasoned, voice still hard, but his expression flickered just for a second. Suguru let out a choked sob, his hands clutching his shirt, gripping the fabric as if it could hold him together.

“I’m your baby too!” he screamed, voice breaking.

Toji’s eyes widened.

Suguru’s entire body trembled, fat tears spilling down his cheeks as his breathing came out in ragged gasps. He tried to stop, tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, his sobs wracking through his fragile frame.

“W-what about m-me? I’m your—” Suguru hiccuped, his lips quivering, his fingers clutching his chest like he was physically trying to hold in the pain.

“…your baby.” His voice was barely above a whisper now.  His head dropped, his shoulders shaking, his body curling in on itself as he sobbed into his hands.

“Your baby, Toji-san…” he whimpered, his voice so small, so vulnerable, so achingly desperate.

Love was not supposed to hurt like this. It was meant to be the most beautiful thing in the world, something that lifted you up instead of tearing you apart. But when it became one-sided, when one heart still beat wildly while the other grew still, it became the very thing that destroyed you.

Love was just like death. Once lost, was gone forever.

Suguru could feel Toji looking at him. Staring. His breath was uneven, his body trembling, barely able to keep himself upright. His legs felt weak, his chest hollow. And then Toji pulled him in. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly against a broad, steady chest.

“I forgot just how young you are,” Toji murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Suguru’s head. His voice was low, almost regretful. “I’m sorry, Suguru. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

Suguru hiccupped, his sobs still shaking through him, his face buried against Toji’s shirt.

“Of course you’re my baby,” Toji said, his grip tightening. “Shh, don’t cry, love. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Suguru’s legs gave out. Toji caught him effortlessly, lifting him with ease and placing him on the table instead, keeping a firm hand on his waist to steady him. Tears still poured down Suguru’s face, his nose runny, his entire expression a mess of exhaustion and pain. He sniffled, his chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.

“Show me your hand,” Toji said. Suguru barely moved, but Toji took his hand anyway, carefully inspecting the wound. His jaw clenched slightly, his fingers tightening just a little as he saw how deep the bite was. He sighed and quickly grabbed the first aid kit, disinfecting the wound. Suguru hissed,  flinching as the alcohol-soaked cotton pressed against the torn skin.

“Stay still,” Toji muttered, wrapping the bandages around his hand with practiced ease. Then he grabbed a tissue and gently wiped Suguru’s tear-streaked face.

Neither of them spoke, they just sat there, the weight of everything between them was too heavy to put into words.

Toji didn’t leave that night. And Tsumiki took Megumi away, giving them the space they so desperately needed.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, yet strangely peaceful in its own way. The night deepened, shadows stretching long across the room. Suguru sat near the veranda, his long, unkempt hair cascading over his face and shoulders, strands pooling onto the floor as he rested his head against his knee. It had grown so much over the years, now reaching past his waist.

But he wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. Breathing alone took more strength than he had. So he simply sat there, eyes closed, letting exhaustion press down on him.

Behind him, Toji stood near the door, arms crossed, just watching.

He didn’t speak. Not until he finally moved, stepping closer, reaching down with a comb, gently running it through Suguru’s tangled hair.

Suguru didn’t stop him. He didn’t have the strength to protest anymore.

Toji worked in silence, carefully brushing through the knots, his touch uncharacteristically patient. He tried to gather the strands into a bun, only for it to slip loose between his fingers. Clicking his tongue in mild frustration, he tried again.

“I thought you liked me with my hair down,” Suguru murmured, his voice so quiet it barely carried through the air. He didn’t look at Toji. Just stared at the ground.

Toji stilled for a moment, as if caught off guard. Then, with a quiet hum, he set the comb down, his hands slipping through Suguru’s hair one last time before gently pushing some strands away from his shoulder, exposing the honey skin of his neck.

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against the nape. His breath was warm, his lips barely a whisper against Suguru’s skin.

“…I’m sorry.” he murmured. 

How many times had Toji said that now? Suguru didn’t even know anymore. The words meant nothing to him.

Toji didn’t say anything else and instead, he just held him. His arms wrapped around Suguru, firm and steady, pulling him close in an attempt to comfort him.

Other times, Suguru loved this. He loved the way Toji’s bigger frame caged around him, the way his warmth seeped into his skin, the way his presence alone made him feel safe.

But now, it felt heavy like a burden. 

Suffocating.

Suguru could smell the faint traces of Toji’s pheromones in the air—comforting, calming, the alpha trying to soothe him just like he always did. But Suguru’s omega was too broken to be comforted. Too tired to heal.

"Toji…" Suguru murmured. “Let’s fuck.”

Toji’s body stiffened.

“…What?” His voice was quiet, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

Suguru finally moved, turning to face him fully. His expression remained blank, his eyes dull, his lips barely parted as he spoke again, his voice flat. "I wanna fuck."

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a plea. It was nothing.

Just a detached, emotionless statement.

Toji just stared at him. No words came out of his mouth.

Suguru exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes like this was an inconvenience, before reaching for the hem of his oversized shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift movement. But before he could go any further, Toji stopped him. His hand closed around Suguru’s wrist, his grip gentle yet firm, halting his movements.

“We shouldn’t,” Toji said quietly, his voice calmer now, but his eyes flickered with something close to concern. "You’re not in the right state of mind right now."

Suguru let out a breathy laugh.

Then he laughed harder.

Low and breathless, shoulders shaking slightly, his head tilting back, his entire frame trembling with something unhinged.

"Are you calling me insane?" he asked between laughter, his pupils blown wide, his expression shifting into something manic. 

"Suguru, stop." Toji's brows furrowed, his frown deepening.

But Suguru kept laughing.

Pressing a hand against his mouth, he tried but failed to stifle it, his fingers shaking, his shoulders still trembling. His body felt wrong, his mind felt wrong, everything was wrong. And then he dropped his hand from his lips, placing it under his chin instead, tilting his head as he looked at Toji with a bored expression.

"You gonna fuck me or not?" he asked, voice dull. His lips curled slightly—not into a smile, but a mocking grin.

"That’s the only thing you’re good at anyway."

Toji's nostrils flared. His body tensed, his jaw locking, irritation flickering in his eyes.

“No.” His voice was firm, low and final. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at Suguru again, this time more tired than angry. "You need to eat. And you need to sleep."

Suguru scoffed, stretching his arms above his head with a lazy groan, already bored of this conversation. His eyes stung slightly as he yawned, his fingers idly tapping against the wooden floorboards of the veranda. His gaze drifted lazily to the garden, the dim evening light casting long shadows across the ground.

Then suddenly a wicked thought formed in his head. It made him smirk darkly.

“How old do you think Satoru is now?” he asked, lowering his head to the back, tilting it slightly to glance at Toji from the corner of his eyes.

Toji frowned. “Huh?”

“Thirteen? Fourteen?” Suguru hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “He should be at least fourteen by now.”

Toji’s frown deepened.

“Why the fuck are you bringing him up now?” he asked, irritation lacing his tone.

Suguru grinned, slow and sharp, dragging his lower lip between his teeth before speaking again.

“I was just wondering,” he mused, voice smooth, almost thoughtful. “If back then, I should’ve listened to that kid. If maybe I should’ve waited for him instead of spreading my legs for a loser like you.”

He saw the vein pulse on Toji’s forehead, a clear sign of his growing anger. But Suguru didn’t stop.

“He was just a kid, yeah,” he continued, voice soft but deliberate, watching the way Toji’s shoulders tensed, the way his fingers curled into his thighs.

“But maybe—” Suguru bit his lip, his smirk deepening. “Maybe he would’ve fucked me better than you ever did.”

Toji’s entire face darkened. His breathing slowed, deliberate, controlled—too controlled. But his knuckles had turned white. His jaw locked. And his eyes were glowing.

Suguru had struck a nerve.

How funny.

The pack wolf always had an underlying fear of being replaced. Of being defeated by the newly presented cub. Nature was cruel. No one ruled forever. The cub should be killed before it could even think about challenging the alpha. But unfortunately for Toji, the cub was already too strong for him to kill. He may have taken the cub’s bitch, stolen him away, but the omega, the bitch in question, was not just something to be owned.

Suguru knew.

If he wanted to—

If he defied his instincts—

He could tear the alpha’s throat out himself.

Because killing was a part of nature, too.

And nature was never kind.

“You want me to fuck you, right?” Toji’s voice was low, dangerous. His eyes were empty, dark, not a hint of warmth in them as he grabbed Suguru’s wrist, forcing him down onto the hard ground. “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

Suguru barely reacted. He simply lay there, unflinching, as Toji hovered over him, his broad frame casting a shadow over Suguru’s smaller one. His grip was tight, pinning Suguru’s wrists in place, his weight pressing down on him.

Any other time, Suguru might have whimpered. Might have struggled, might have begged—mercy, please, Alpha—

But tonight, he didn’t care.

The sex was brutal.

There was no gentleness. No love.

Suguru dug his nails into Toji’s bareback, scratching deep, angry red lines into his flesh until they bled. He bit the corner of Toji’s lip—the same scar Suguru used to kiss so gently, so lovingly—but this time, he sank his teeth into it, growling, too furious to care.

His lower abdomen ached, his body screamed, but he kept going.

They fucked like animals, raw and untamed, the air thick with nothing but anger and frustration. Not caring about each other’s pleasure. Nothing. Sex has always been Toji’s way of communicating. A way to shut Suguru up, to keep him on his knees, to remind him who was in control.

So Suguru would use that exactly.

If that was the only way to make the alpha see, to truly feel, just how much he had been burying within himself, how much pain he had inflicted on him, then so be it.

Toji tried to kiss him more than once, wanting to shut him up but Suguru denied him every time. No matter how desperate Toji was, how many times he tried to capture Suguru’s lips, the omega turned away, refusing to let him have his way.

There was no warmth. No comfort.

Just rough, punishing need.

At some point, Suguru flipped them over, straddling Toji, riding him so hard his legs ached, his body protesting against the abuse. He didn’t care. The room was filled with primal sounds—animalistic grunts, ragged moans, rough gasps.

The kind of noises that would have the neighbors threatening to call the police.

They didn’t stop for hours.

By the time it was over, Suguru’s body was covered in bite marks, bruises painting his skin in deep shades of red and purple. Toji wasn’t any better. His huge frame marred with scratches, teeth imprints littering his chest, shoulders and corner of his lips.

Both of them lay there afterward, side by side, their breathing heavy, the silence growing between them. Suguru stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling slowly, his entire body numb.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

“I’ve had a lot of regrets in my life.” His voice was quiet. Steady.

“But loving you…” Suguru turned his head slightly, just enough to look at Toji out of the corner of his eye.

“…was my biggest one yet.”

Toji didn’t reply. Didn’t even move.

Suguru closed his eyes. And despite the ache in his body, despite the heaviness in his chest, he finally let himself sleep.

By the time Suguru opened his eyes the next morning, Toji was already gone.

He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t sad, or angry, or anything at all.

Somewhere deep inside, he had already known the alpha wouldn’t be there when he woke up. So instead of feeling hurt, he laughed. A hollow, bitter laugh that echoed through the empty house, bouncing off the walls like a cruel joke.

How had he been so fucking blind all this time?

Suguru stretched his arms, his body aching in places that had long since gone numb. Then, he dragged himself to the bathroom, stepping into the shower, letting the hot water scald him, letting it burn away the night before, the filth, the everything.

When he stepped out, he wiped the fogged-up mirror and stared. His entire body was covered in marks—bite imprints, deep bruises, hickeys staining his skin like he’d been attacked by a wild animal.

He laughed again.

Even harder this time.

Then, without hesitation, he started packing his bags.

The doorbell rang a moment later. Suguru opened the door to find Tsumiki, holding Megumi in her arms. For a moment, she just stared at him, eyes widening slightly as her face flushed. Suguru could see the way her gaze flickered to the marks on his neck, the evidence of the night before displayed so shamelessly across his skin.

Suguru just smiled, reaching out to gently pat her head.

Megumi, however, flinched. His little hands clutched at Tsumiki’s shirt, his entire body stiffening at the sight of Suguru. It was obvious that Megumi didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Suguru didn’t react. Didn’t care. He has never truly cared about Megumi. Suguru asked Tsumiki to look after Megumi for a while as he packed his bags. She hesitated but nodded. She didn’t ask why he was packing. Didn’t ask where he was going. She probably already knew what was happening.

After finishing, Suguru went straight to the district court.

Getting the divorce papers was easier than he thought.

By the time he returned home, they were already signed, placed neatly on the kitchen table where Toji couldn’t miss them. 

Tsumiki didn’t say a word. Not when she glanced at the papers. Not even when Megumi, hungry and restless, tugged at her sleeve. 

It was only after a while, when Megumi became extremely jittery, growling, whining, his cursed energy flickering as he attempted to summon his shikigami again that she finally spoke, her voice hesitant.

“Geto-san…are you going to feed him?”

Suguru didn’t even look up.

“Megumi can starve to death for all I care.”

Tsumiki sucked in a breath, letting out a gasp, her expression shifting—shock, scared, something that Suguru didn’t care enough to decipher. She picked Megumi up without another word and walked away, closing the door softly behind her.

Suguru remained at the table. All day. He didn’t eat. Didn’t move. Didn’t do anything except stare at the wall, waiting.

Toji didn’t come home that day. He didn’t come the next day either. Suguru stayed where he was, unmoving while Megumi remained at Tsumiki’s place. At some point, Suguru overheard the neighbors cursing him, calling him cruel, heartless, a monster for abandoning a child.

He didn’t care. He could kill them all if he wanted to. The cursed energy crackled in his palm, dark and vicious, swirling at his fingertips like an untamed storm. He could do it. He thought about doing it.

But instead, he clenched his fist and waited.

The alpha returned after five days.

Megumi was standing beside him, small and quiet, his little fingers clutching Toji’s jacket.

Suguru hadn’t eaten a single grain of rice in all that time. He had done nothing but go in and out of the shower, scrubbing his skin raw, trying and failing to rid himself of the disgusting scent of the alpha that clung to him.

A scent he had once loved.

Toji stepped inside. He didn’t speak. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the divorce papers lying on the table where Suguru’s signature sat in the corner. 

For a long moment, Toji just stared. Megumi watched too—curious, wary, his small body tensing at the sight of Suguru. He felt the boy’s fear but it didn’t matter. He reached for the pen and held it out toward Toji.

A silent command. Sign it.

Toji hesitated. Just for a moment. Then, slowly, he took the pen, his fingers brushing against Suguru’s. He exhaled, gaze lowering, before pressing the pen to paper. His signature slashed across the page.

Done.

The moment the ink dried, Suguru grabbed his bags and moved, stepping past Toji, his feet carrying him toward the door.

“Suguru…” The alpha called, his voice quiet and hesitant. 

Suguru stopped but he didn’t turn around. Hearing his name from that mouth made his stomach churn, made his chest twist with something sick and unbearable. 

Then, slowly, he raised a hand—palm up—silencing him. 

And then, he walked out.

And never looked back.

Freedom never came easy. Freedom itself was a myth. No one was truly free in this world full of corruption and cruelty. But there was still something about it. A feeling. A relief that came with it, no matter how much pain or time it took to reach.

Suguru wandered the streets for days, aimless, starving. The city buzzed around him with bright neon lights, endless chatter, the distant hum of life continuing without him. Eventually, he found himself by the ocean, sitting on the shore, letting the wind whip through his hair as he breathed—slow and steady.

It felt good.

Calming.

For the first time in a long while, he felt…peaceful.

He never returned to his parents. Even though he knew they would take him back without hesitation, he just couldn’t face them. The shame was unbearable. They had been right. He should have listened to them. But it was already too late.

Nearly three years of his life, wasted in that hellhole.

Three years stripped of everything—his identity, his dignity, his self.

He needed to start over.

With whatever money he had saved from his high school missions, he managed to rent a tiny apartment in some forgotten corner of Tokyo. The place was barely livable. The floors creaked, the paint was peeling, and the only furniture was a mattress on the floor.

Suguru was so thin. His ribs jutted out, his skin stretched too tightly over sharp bones. He couldn’t even bring himself to stare at his reflection in the mirror anymore. 

The old woman in charge of the apartment took one look at Suguru and took pity. She brought him into her home, sat him down at her table, and placed a warm meal in front of him without a word. The moment he took the first bite, he broke. Tears welled up in his eyes before he could stop them, spilling down his cheeks as he chewed, the simple act of eating feeling almost unfamiliar. His hands trembled around the bowl, his throat tightening as he forced himself to swallow.

How long has it been since someone made him food like this?

How long had it been since he had been taken care of? Since he had been fed out of kindness, not obligation?

Suguru couldn’t stop crying. He gulped down mouthfuls between ragged breaths, his tears dripping onto the table, his shoulders shaking from the sheer overwhelm of it all. The old woman sat across from him, watching in silence, not knowing what to say. But she didn’t need to. She simply stood, refilled his plate, and made him eat . Not just to fill his stomach but to numb the aching void in his chest, to soften the sharp edges of his pain.

And Suguru, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, let himself be cared for.

That night, she let him stay.

Suguru told her everything. And she just listened. Let him sob, let his body shake from the weight of it all, let him break in a way no one else had ever allowed him to. She held him like he was her own grandson, gentle and understanding, patting his back as he let himself fall apart.

Days passed.

She helped him settle in, cooked for him when he was too weak to do it himself.

But no amount of kindness could fix him.

Suguru drowned himself in alcohol and cigarettes, spending his nights on the tiny balcony, staring blankly at the city below as he downed bottle after bottle, his lungs burning with every drag.

He wanted to forget.

Wanted to wipe the memory of him from his mind.

But the past clawed at him, haunted him in his sleep, lingered in the corners of his thoughts like a ghost that refused to leave. The face of the alpha—his voice, his touch, his absence—remained. 

Did Toji ever love him? Even just a little? Whenever Suguru had asked, the alpha had always said he did. Always told him he loved him. But those were just words, weren’t they? 

Did he ever truly mean it? When Suguru had given him everything—his heart, his body, his devotion, his very soul—had Toji ever felt anything real for him in return? Or had it all been lies? Had the promises meant nothing from the start?

Toji Fushiguro had comforted him at the wrong time.

Suguru had been too young, too naïve, too foolish to see things for what they really were. And now, even after everything, even as time passed and the old woman reassured him again and again that it wasn’t his fault—he couldn’t stop blaming himself.

The guilt sat heavy in his chest, refusing to fade.

No matter what anyone said, it never got any better.

Days blurred together.

The walls of his apartment closed in.

And slowly, Suguru disappeared into himself. Locked away, suffering alone.

The scent of cigarettes always reminded him of Shoko.

Whenever Suguru placed a cigarette between his lips, he was always reminded of her. Shoko had been so young when she first started smoking. He had warned her, tried to make her stop, but she never listened, always brushing him off with that lazy smirk, telling him she could just heal her lungs with reverse curse technique if it ever became a problem. Suguru wasn’t so sure about that. But he had kept her secret anyway.

He had never been particularly fond of any kind of drug. He always believed there were healthier ways to cope, better addictions to fall into.

But oh well...guess he had been a bit too confident in himself.

For a long time, he hesitated reaching out to her—his fingers hovering over his phone, his chest tightening with uncertainty. What if she was angry? What if she didn’t want to hear from him? What if she hated him for how much time had passed?

Still, before he could stop himself, he dialed her number. Because the loneliness was suffocating. The longer he stayed in that cramped apartment, the more the memories crept in—unwelcome, unrelenting. The scent of cigarettes, the lingering warmth of another body, the way he used to hold him—firm, possessive, like Suguru belonged to him. It made his skin crawl. He needed to hear a different voice.

Something that wasn’t him.

The phone barely rang twice before she picked up.

“Holy shit,” Shoko said, voice laced with dry amusement. “You’re alive, Geto?”

The moment he heard her voice, Suguru’s breath caught and his heart nearly stopped. It had been so long. And she still hadn’t changed.

Oh god, what a relief.

His lips trembled, his grip tightening around the phone. Before he could even form a single word, a choked, broken sob tore from his throat—raw and uncontrollable, spilling out before he could stop it.

“Oh, fuck,” Shoko muttered. “You’re crying dude?”

Suguru tried to speak, but nothing came out except shaky breaths.

Shoko sighed. “Well, now I feel bad,” she muttered. Then, after a beat, she added, “I actually thought you died.”

Suguru let out a weak laugh, wiping at his face. “Yeah… I probably did. Just a little.”

“You asshole,” Shoko huffed. “You didn’t even invite me to your damn wedding! What the fuck, Geto?”

Suguru’s breath shook at the mention of it, the pain creeping back in like a dull blade pressing against his ribs. His fingers tightened around the phone.

“…I’m divorced now,” he said.

Silence. For a second, all he could hear was the faint crackle of the call, the static hum of Shoko processing his words.

And then she laughed. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Shoko sighed, but there was no real edge in her voice, just exasperation, the kind only an old friend could have. “What the hell were you thinking, marrying a former Zen’in like that, huh?”

Suguru chuckled weakly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”

There was a slight shuffle on the other end of the line.

“Give me your address,” Shoko said. “I’m coming over. Couldn’t celebrate your wedding, but hell if I’m not gonna celebrate your divorce to the fullest.”

Suguru let out a soft laugh, a slow breath escaping him, something in his chest loosening , just a little. He gave it to her without hesitation.

Slowly but steadily, Suguru began to heal.

With the help of his friends, he found his footing again. The pain never vanished completely, but over time, it became bearable.

Shoko was the first to visit. She walked through his door with a deadpan expression, punched him in the gut, hard enough to make him grunt but not enough to drop him, then she clapped a hand on his shoulder. Steadying him.

She brought food. A lot of food.

And alcohol.

And enough cigarettes to kill them both twice over.

They sat on the balcony, surrounded by a ridiculous spread—ramen, fried chicken, rice, pizza, all piled onto flimsy paper plates. At the center of it all was a cake that read: "Happily Divorced."

Suguru just stared at it. "Are you serious?"

Shoko popped a confetti cannon in his face, the tiny pieces fluttering around them. "Congratulations. You’re finally free," she said with a smirk, then leaned back, lighting a cigarette. "I missed you, Geto."

Suguru let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, a little weirded out but already feeling lighter. He cut the cake. They spent most of the evening smoking rather than eating, sitting in comfortable silence until it cracked, split open by everything he had been holding in.

He told her everything. The pain. The betrayal. How different he felt. How much he had changed.

"Shit," Shoko exhaled smoke, watching it curl into the night. "Looks like someone had cursed your marriage."

Suguru let out a humorless chuckle. "Falling for him makes me think I was the cursed one."

Shoko frowned and smacked his back, harder this time. "Oi. Stop that self-blame bullshit. Seriously, why the hell did you even marry that bum? And why’d you stay so long?" She flicked ash into the tray, watching him carefully. "I mean, you’re Geto Suguru. You’ve never been the type to stick around when something felt off."

For a long moment, Suguru was quiet. Then, with a deep breath, his expression darkened.

"...He was so fucking hot," he muttered.

Shoko blinked. "Hah?"

“He was big, strong, and he fucked me so good.” Suguru took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling through his nose. “Every time I was under him, connected with him, I forgot about everything else. My mind just—shut off."

Shoko stared at him, eyes narrowing. "Dude. What the fuc—"

“But imagine this.” Suguru’s voice hardened. His hands clenched into fists. “The thing that kills you is the same thing that feels like heaven. The sweetness in your mouth that dissolves your tongue like acid.” His teeth ground together, his jaw locking as the anger boiled over. “Yes, I loved it. I loved having him inside me, I loved how he pressed against me like he was a part of my own skin. Because I fucking loved him.”

His breath came sharp, chest rising and falling.

“But the moment he stopped loving me back—or maybe he never did,” Suguru let out a sharp, bitter laugh, “when I stopped feeling like I mattered…that same touch, that same body that once gave me comfort made me feel disgusting.”

Shoko’s cigarette burned between her fingers, forgotten.

“I stopped feeling pleasure because my brain wouldn’t allow me to,” Suguru’s voice shook, low and sharp, his rage coiled so tight it was suffocating. “That’s how numb he made me. His absence turned our home into a grave. And I let him. I let him use me.”

His hands trembled slightly as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“I wasted my body on him.” His voice cracked, just barely. “And I hate myself for it. For letting him use me. For trusting him with my future. I hate that he left his touch on me like a scar I can’t get rid of. My love destroyed me.”

Suguru took a deep, shuddering inhale, biting down on his lip as he exhaled smoke.

“I was blind. A fucking fool.”

Shoko didn’t say anything at first. Just watched him, let the silence settle between them. Then, finally, she reached for her pack, flicking out a cigarette before placing it between her lips.

Suguru took another drag, exhaling smoke through his nose.

“…Damn,” Shoko muttered, flicking her lighter open. “The D was that good huh? I always knew you were into big, beefy alphas, but holy shit. This is next-level fatal attraction.”

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. He was grateful Shoko wasn’t drowning him in pity or empty sympathy. This was much better.

“It’s just my nature as an omega. I can’t control it, hah.”

“Shut up,” Shoko scoffed, lighting her cigarette. “We both know that’s bullshit. You just like ‘em big.”

He huffed out something between a laugh and a scoff. “Maybe you’re right. It is my fatal attraction. I should probably change my ideal type…not that I plan on dating anytime soon.”

Shoko hummed. “Whatever works for you. But, Geto-kun, don’t blame yourself too much. If anything, you’re the victim here. And honestly, you’re better than me. If I were you, I would’ve killed the bastard and burnt that house to the ground.”

Suguru had thought about it. Hell, he still thought about it. The rage never truly faded.

“…Right,” he muttered. “I could’ve done that. But that damn kid…Toji’s kid.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I thought about him, and I just—couldn’t. Even if I never really cared for him, killing a child is a sin I won’t commit.”

Something flickered in Suguru’s expression, something dark and bitter. His voice dropped lower, almost menacing.

“Toji loved that kid,” he murmured, jaw clenching. “Megumi was the only thing he gave a shit about. And—I’m not blaming a child for his father’s bullshit, but…” Suguru trailed off, biting down on his lip.

He couldn’t say it. Even thinking it felt wrong.

What kind of monster had he become?

Megumi was just a child. A victim of Toji, just like Suguru was. If anything Suguru should be feeling bad for him.

Shoko must’ve noticed the shift because she leaned back against the railing, staring up at the sky. “Tch. Seriously. Having a father like him is already a misfortune. Poor kid. They should just throw him in an adoption center at this point. At least he’d be better off.”

“Hm,” Suguru exhaled. “Pretty sure the Zen’ins already have their eyes on him. God knows, maybe Toji will sell him to the Zenins himself.”

“Or maybe the Gojos,” Shoko said offhandedly.

Suguru groaned, a low, irritated growl escaping him. “God, don’t even say that name. Who cares where that kid ends up? It’s not my problem anymore. I just want to move on.”

Shoko blew out a long stream of smoke. “You still wanna be a Special Grade?”

Suguru hadn’t even thought about it. That dream felt distant, buried. A dream he has long given up on. And maybe it was better this way. He hasn’t swallowed a curse in years, the taste long forgotten. Not that he ever liked it to begin with. It was horrible.

The answer came easily.

“…No.” He exhaled. “I’m tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of the Jujutsu world. Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I can’t fight alone.”

Shoko turned her head, narrowing her eyes. “Oi. Who said you’re fighting alone?”

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “You think just the two of us could kill the higher-ups?” He let out a slow, bitter laugh. “The only person who could actually pull that off is Gojo Satoru.”

“That nightmare of a kid.”

“Oh my god.” Suguru ran a hand down his face. “I don’t even wanna think about him. I’m just glad he got over me and never reached out again. One headache was bad enough.”

Shoko raised a brow. “Damn. Broke his heart that badly, huh?”

Suguru snorted, shaking his head. It was ridiculous.

“Maybe he’s the one who cursed me,” he muttered.

And just like that, they both burst into laughter, clinking their glasses together before taking a drink.

“Well, good,” Shoko said, smirking. “Jujutsu society already sees you as a war criminal, anyway.”

Suguru grinned, voice dripping with amusement. “I know.”

They drank together in silence for a while, the night air cool against their skin.

Then, casually, Shoko asked, “Thought about visiting your parents yet?”

Suguru took a slow sip of his drink, the alcohol settling warm in his stomach. He felt a little lightheaded, but maybe that was just exhaustion.

“…We’ll see,” he murmured.

Soon after, Haibara visited.

As bright and earnest as ever, he beamed the moment he saw Suguru, practically bouncing with excitement. He didn’t pity him, didn’t treat him like something fragile. He just asked questions, chatted about everything like nothing had changed.

And somehow, with the three of them together again, things fell back into place.

Suguru’s apartment transformed. The small, dim space became something livable and warm. He and Shoko repainted the walls in soft, pastel colors. A fish tank sat in the corner, bubbling peacefully. Hanging plants lined the balcony, swaying gently in the breeze. New furniture filled the space, giving it life.

Suguru started cooking again, just for himself, experimenting with recipes, finding joy in the process. He took care of himself, got a haircut, kept up with skincare, showered regularly, even painted his nails.

He picked up small part-time jobs, nothing too demanding, just enough to cover the little things, just enough to keep moving forward.

He spent more time with his friends, letting laughter come easier. They spent nights smoking together, shit-talking the higher-ups, the clans, the absurdity of the jujutsu world. They went shopping, visited salons, wandered through malls with no real destination in mind.

And with each passing day, he realized something—

He was forgetting Toji Fushiguro.

Not completely. Not yet.

But piece by piece, little by little, the man who had once consumed his every thought began fading from his mind.

One day, Shoko looked at him over her cigarette, eyes scanning him like she was assessing something.

“You look good,” she said simply.

Suguru raised a brow. “I always look good.”

Shoko flicked her cigarette at him. “Dumbass, I mean you look healthy.”

And maybe she was right.

He had gained weight. His body no longer skeletal, his ribs no longer visible through his skin. His hair was brushed properly, falling in soft waves down his back. His face had lost that hollow, tired look. His face fuller, softer. He felt pretty, looking at his reflection now.

He was alive again.

“Well, I do have some news for you. I wonder how you’ll react,” Shoko said, stretching out on the soft mattress of Suguru’s bed. She flicked her cigarette away, watching the wind chime sway gently by the window, the soft flicker of lights filling the room with a quiet warmth.

Suguru had mostly quit smoking—only indulging occasionally. These days, he spends his time healing, going to libraries, talking to strangers, and feeding the neighborhood cats. Simple things.

He lay down beside her, arms stretching above his head, his much shorter hair spilling onto the pillow. It barely brushed his neck now and he was planning to grow it out again.

“Is it bad news or good news?” he asked lazily.

Shoko let out a short laugh, rolling onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as she gazed at him.

“Well, I don’t know… but it’s about your ex-husband, so, yeah—PTSD warning.”

Suguru snorted, shaking his head. “What? Is he dead?”

“Nope.” Shoko grinned. “Worse. He got remarried.”

Suguru blinked. Then, to his own surprise, he laughed. It hadn’t even been a year.

“Oh, really?” he drawled, suddenly amused. “Who’s the unlucky person?”

“Dunno,” Shoko said, flopping onto her back again. “The streets are saying it’s the neighbor. Apparently, he made her cheat on her husband or some shit.”

Suguru’s amusement faded as realization clicked. His eyes widened slightly.

And then, he scoffed, laughing louder this time, shaking his head in disbelief.

Fucking Tsumiki’s mother.

Of course. Of course.

And suddenly, Suguru really couldn’t believe this was the man he had once loved.

He realized just how over Toji he truly was. Looking back now, everything about the alpha—the betrayal, the neglect, the mess he left behind—was nothing but a bitter joke. There wasn’t a single part of him that longed for that man anymore.

All he felt was disgust. And relief.

“What?” Shoko teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “You feel bad?”

“Shoko,” Suguru grinned, tilting his head toward her. “Do I look like I feel bad?”

That bastard had only proven what a broken, pathetic excuse of a man he was. A third marriage?

“If anything,” Suguru said, voice laced with amusement, “she’s just another victim. A temporary caretaker for Megumi until he finds the next one.”

Shoko chuckled. “I’d love to see how long they last.”

Suguru hummed, then paused as a tingling sensation ghosted over his nape. His fingers brushed against the bare skin, a strange lightness settling there—like something had been lifted, something that had unknowingly weighed on him for far too long.

And then, it hit him.

Toji never marked him.

Not out of love. Not out of hesitation. Not because he cared about Suguru’s well-being and didn’t want to hurt him.

But out of mercy.

Toji had never marked him, never claimed him—not because he was holding back, not because he saw Suguru as something precious, but because he never intended to keep him for long at all.

Suguru was temporary. Replaceable.

The realization coiled deep in his gut, simmering into something bitter. The thought was irritating. But strangely, it didn’t hurt. Not anymore.

No pain. No frustration. Just a strange, quiet acceptance.

Suguru let out a slow breath, his body sinking deeper into the mattress, into the quiet comfort surrounding him.

And as sleep pulled him under, he realized that he was free.

Truly free of Toji Fushiguro, free of the scars he left behind. Because in the end, Suguru had won. He had healed. He had grown. He was stronger now—sharper, wiser, more whole than he had ever been.

He no longer ached for closure, no longer craved answers that would never come. Toji was nothing more than a lesson now—an ugly, painful one, but a lesson nonetheless. And Suguru had learned. He had learned to put himself first. To love himself more than the alpha who never truly loved him back. To move forward without looking over his shoulder.

Did he hate that alpha? Absolutely. But more than that, he pitied him.

Because while Toji would always be running—always chasing, always destroying—Suguru had stopped.

He had found peace. He had found happiness. And that was something Toji Fushiguro would never have.

Not as long as Fushiguro Megumi existed.

Time passed, and Suguru was happy.

Truly, genuinely happy.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living. And with every passing day, he felt lighter, freer. The weight that once suffocated him, the pain that once defined him, all of it slowly faded into the background.

The days no longer felt like a burden. The nights were no longer haunted.

And Suguru grew stronger.

Stronger than he had ever been.

He found a teaching job at a nearby elementary school with a decent paycheck. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was his. His students adored him, showering him with handmade gifts, bright smiles, and so much love that it filled the hollow spaces in his heart.

He stayed close with his friends, even as life pulled them down different paths. Shoko was busier now, Haibara too, but he wasn’t lonely. His world had expanded.

In his school, there was Miguel, a towering African alpha with a thick accent and a heart of gold. Manami, a kind omega who always looked out for him, always made sure he had someone to lean on. The old woman who had taken him in still invited him over for dinner, fussing over him like he was her own. The neighborhood cats adored him, curling up against his legs whenever he walked by.

And in his tiny apartment, filled with books and plants, with colorful greeting cards and little handmade gifts from his students. He spoiled himself when he wanted to. He took care of himself because he deserved to. He slept soundly most nights now.

And Toji Fushiguro. The man who had once consumed him, who had left scars so deep Suguru thought he’d never heal has faded completely from his life.

Suguru no longer thought about him. No longer felt his presence lurking in the shadows of his mind.

The past had finally let him go.

And just like that—

Seven years passed.

Suguru stretched his arms behind his back, letting out a quiet groan as he adjusted his glasses, eyes skimming over his students’ assignments. He hummed absently, a soft giggle escaping as he read through their wild, imaginative answers. The topic was "What I Want to Be When I Grow Up," and as expected, kids never failed to surprise him. Some answers were heartwarmingly sweet, others downright ridiculous.

“Suguru-chan, working hard again~” Manami purred, her head resting on the desk in front of him.

Suguru looked up and gave her a small smile, nodding. “My shift’s almost over, just a few more papers and then it’s the weekend.”

Manami let out a dramatic groan, leaning back in her chair. “Ugh, I wanna go somewhere far. I’m so tired of all this. You up for drinks tonight?”

“Maybe not tonight,” Suguru replied, flipping to the next page. “I have an old friend I need to visit. Sorry.”

“Aw, that sucks.”

“Next time, alright?”

She smiled. “Yup.”

Suguru finished grading the last of the papers, stacking them neatly before stretching again. He washed his face in the faculty restroom, then gathered his long hair into a loose bun. It had grown past his waist now. His female and omega students adored it, always gushing over how pretty it was. He wanted to cut it…but maybe not today.

“I’m heading out,” he said, grabbing his bag and waving to Manami.

She waved back and smirked as he turned to leave. “Oh, and try to give Miguel some thought, will you? That alpha is head over heels for you.”

Suguru froze for a second, warmth creeping up his face. “Manami-san! ” he spluttered.

Manami just laughed, wiggling her fingers at him suggestively. It wasn’t like Suguru lacked attention—alphas approached him all the time. But dating…he hadn’t really thought about it. Not seriously.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet.

Even if he was pushing thirty now. (Twenty-eight!)

Suguru sighed. Maybe I’ll just die alone.

It wasn’t a sad thought, not really—just a quiet acceptance. Destiny had already made it clear that he wasn’t meant to be anyone’s lover, mate, or wife. That kind of life simply wasn’t written for him.

Well, whatever.

Before leaving the school, Suguru spotted Miguel on the playground, coaching a group of kids for sports day. His presence was commanding, effortlessly drawing attention and respect from the children. He was good with them, patient yet firm, making sure each student felt seen and protected.

And, god, he had such good muscles.

Suguru really tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice. If Suguru's eighteen-year-old self had met someone like Miguel, hopelessly romantic and naive as he was, he would have fallen for him instantly.

Alright, enough of that. Suguru scolded himself, shaking the thought away.

As he walked past, he gave Miguel a friendly wave. The alpha tensed for a brief moment before bowing slightly and waving back.

Immediately, the little menaces on the field erupted into whispers and giggles.

"Miguel-sensei totally likes Geto-sensei!"
"They should get married!"

Miguel scowled, eyes narrowing. “Ten laps around the field. Now.”

Their joy turned into exaggerated groans of despair, but they obeyed. Suguru couldn’t help but laugh as he continued walking, catching the way Miguel visibly tensed. Cute.

But no! Absolutely not. Suguru refused to let his needs or passing attraction get the better of him this time. Hell no.

The evening was warm, the lingering heat of summer wrapping around him as he wandered the streets. He was looking forward to the night—meeting up with Shoko and Haibara, catching up over drinks. It had been a while.

As he walked, his sharp eyes caught sight of curses slinking in the corners of alleyways and lurking behind buildings. Small ones. Weak, insignificant things.

A nuisance, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

With a sigh, he exorcised a few lower-grade pests before moving on, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Even after all these years, even after everything—he could still see them.

It was a drag. But that was just the way life was.

He continued walking but something felt off. He suddenly felt something strange. A heavy, cursed energy nearby. Suguru’s body tensed instinctively, his senses sharpening as his gaze flickered across his surroundings. His breath slowed, his pulse steady but alert.

This cursed energy felt…familiar.

His eyes darted across his surroundings. The street was quiet, the trees casting long shadows in the fading evening light. But something was lurking. Watching. 

His pulse quickened. Where?

Then— a movement. A flicker between the trees, barely perceptible but there. A shadow stretching just a little too far, bending unnaturally against the pavement. It was subtle, almost easy to dismiss, but something in his gut told him otherwise.

And then, it was gone.

Wait.

No.

Not gone.

Suguru felt it.

Right under him.

His own shadow.

Oh, fuck.

His guard shot up, muscles coiling as he shifted his stance, preparing to fight if necessary. His cursed energy stirred beneath his skin, waiting, watching—

And then, the shadow moved.

Suguru’s breath hitched, every nerve in his body on high alert as something began to emerge from the darkness.

Someone.

At first, all he saw was a head of spiky black hair.

Then, a face.

Dark blue eyes.

The rest of the figure slowly materialized, stepping forward from the shadows until he stood fully in front of Suguru.

A boy.

No—

A teenager.

Maybe a pre-teen, but definitely young. He wore a branded T-shirt and shorts—expensive, well-kept. Suguru’s body remained rigid, caught completely off guard, his breath stuttering as he stumbled back slightly, his mind struggling to catch up with what just happened.

The boy’s eyes widened slightly. “Sorry” he spoke quickly, looking away, his voice softer than Suguru expected. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Wait.

Wait a damn minute.

Now that Suguru was truly looking, taking in the features, the cursed energy, the dark bangs framing those familiar blue eyes—

His jaw dropped.

No.

No fucking way.

He stared, heart hammering, face twisting. The boy refused to look at him, almost nervous in his presence. The resemblance was uncanny, enough to make his skin crawl. But it couldn’t be. Right?

There was no way this was—

”Megumi!”

A voice called out. Suguru’s head snapped toward the source as he spotted another figure approaching, the golden hues of the setting sun casting their silhouette in long shadows.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Did they just say Megumi?

Suguru’s nostrils flared, his face twisting with irritation as his gaze snapped back to the boy in front of him.

His face.

Those eyes.

Fuck.

It was him.

Fushiguro Megumi.

And he had grown. Taller now, though still shorter than Suguru, but his features had sharpened. 

More defined.

More like—

Suguru’s throat tightened, a sharp ache slicing through his chest as the realization hit him like a knife straight through the heart, twisting its way into old wounds.

Because fuck, he looked so much like him.

Like his father.

And it was really messing with Suguru’s head.

Megumi barely met his gaze, shifting uncomfortably under Suguru’s stare, his fingers clenching slightly at his sides. 

Suguru clenched his fists, struggling to stay calm. For the first time in years, he felt completely unprepared for what stood before him.

"I told you not to wander too far." The stranger’s voice was calm yet firm, carrying an unmistakable authority. The figure approached, walking at an unhurried pace, hands tucked casually into his pocket. Who was he? Someone related to Megumi? 

Suguru narrowed his eyes, trying to make out his face, but the dim evening light obscured the details. Even so, the presence alone told him enough.

An alpha. A powerful sorcerer. Grade 1, or maybe even Special Grade.

First, Suguru saw the uniform. Navy blue, crisp, and unmistakably from Tokyo Jujutsu High, the same one he himself had once worn. His stomach twisted at the sight, memories stirring before he could stop them.

Then, his gaze traveled upward. A pair of round black glasses sat on the stranger’s nose, slipping just slightly. His face was still obscured by the dim light, but something about the sharpness of his features, the effortless confidence in his posture, felt disturbingly familiar.

And then—

White hair.

Suguru’s eyes widened, his body tensing. Recognition slammed into him, piece by piece, slow and inescapable. The puzzle fit together with terrifying clarity.

It was him.

Gojo Satoru.

But not the boy Suguru remembered.

He had grown. So much.

He was no longer a boy. The boy Suguru once knew was gone. He was a man now, taller than Suguru, his frame filled out, his shoulders broader. His entire presence was commanding and heavy. It was not just his alpha presence but also his cursed energy, controlled yet immense. His hair was longer, messier, tousled carelessly. And his voice, when he spoke, was deeper and richer, carrying a weight that had not been there all those years ago.

Satoru stopped beside Megumi, placing a hand on the boy’s head, ruffling his hair with a rough affection. “You keep messing up your training,” he grunted, voice deep. “How many times do I have to explain it to you?”

Megumi made an annoyed noise but didn’t resist, tolerating the gesture like it was routine.

Suguru could barely process what he was seeing. His breath caught, his chest tight, his mind struggling to keep up. This was nothing like the boy he had known all those years ago. This was a man. One who had grown, changed, yet somehow still carried fragments of the past.

And his scent—god, his scent.

A dizzying mix of ocean and woods, strong yet soothing, wrapping around Suguru like an unrelenting tide. It was intoxicating, almost suffocating in its familiarity, an alpha’s presence so overwhelming it sent a shiver through him. His omega stirred, instinctively reacting, responding as if it had suddenly awakened.

He was lost.

Memories stirred at the back of his mind, unbidden and relentless. A twelve-year-old Satoru, cocky, insufferable, bursting with life, grinning with that carefree confidence that had once been so infuriating. For a fleeting moment, Suguru could almost see that boy standing there.

But the man before him was nothing like the child he remembered. A fully realized alpha. Powerful. Unshaken. The contrast was staggering.

Then, Satoru turned his attention to him, tilting his head slightly, a slow, lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Oh?”

His round black glasses slid down just enough to reveal those eyes— those eyes. Striking, brilliant, glowing like liquid sapphire in the golden hues of the setting sun.

Fuck. Goosebumps erupted across Suguru’s skin the moment he saw them again.

His lips parted before he could think, his own voice barely a whisper.

“…Satoru?”

The name felt foreign on his tongue, like it didn’t quite belong here, in this moment, in this reality.

Satoru’s grin only widened, his eyes twinkling with something unreadable.

“Is that you, Suguru?”

Chapter Text

The day Satoru first saw him, he knew Suguru was his.

He was just a few months old then, cradled in his mother’s arms, barely able to understand the world around him. Countless sorcerers had come to see him—powerful ones, unremarkable ones, even ordinary people drawn by curiosity. But among them all, Suguru was the only one who truly caught his attention. The only one who mattered.

From that moment on, Satoru searched for him.

He grew older, but the memory of Suguru never faded. Those deep violet eyes, that pretty face. The inexplicable pull Satoru felt toward him was unlike anything else. His father brought him the rarest toys, his mother made him the sweetest dumplings, and while those things brought him joy, none of them compared to the feeling that lingered from that fleeting moment.

It was as if he had seen Suguru’s soul—recognized it—and known, instinctively, that it fit perfectly with his own.

For the longest time, as a child, Satoru thought of Suguru as something mythical, like a fairy or a dream slipping through his fingers. He didn’t understand love back then. His mother would say she loved him, would call him her sweetest boy, and in those moments of affection, he got a vague sense of what love was supposed to be. But even then, he knew what he felt for Suguru was not the same love he had for his mother. It was something else entirely. Something deeper. Something permanent. 

A memory etched into his very soul.

But the most frustrating part was that while Satoru could recall every detail of Suguru’s face and the way he stood beside the adults, smaller but no less powerful. He couldn’t remember his name. That single missing piece made finding him feel impossible.

Satoru had always gotten everything he wanted. Any toy, any sweet, anything that wasn’t available in the country would be brought in just for him. He was loved, yes, but more importantly, he was feared. Born perfect in every way—the strongest, the wealthiest, the most beautiful. The kind of existence people could only bow to.

But none of it satisfied him.

He killed his first special-grade curse at seven. He was a force of nature, a balance between the living and the non-living. A phenomenon. He had power beyond comprehension, and for a while, it was fun—floating in the sky as his mother screamed for someone to catch him, destroying things simply because he could, being showered with the most expensive gifts because his family had the means to do so.

But eventually, it all became boring.

Satoru had too much power. Too much strength. Too much of everything. And it left him with nothing at all.

And then, at ten years old, he finally found him.

Geto Suguru.

He wasn’t from any of the elite clans. His parents were non-sorcerers. He attended Tokyo Jujutsu High. Seven years older than Satoru but that detail was insignificant. 

Satoru found his biography in his father’s office, tucked away among a list of sorcerers from Jujutsu schools across the country. Normally, he wouldn’t have spared such documents a second glance. They were dull, irrelevant. But then, his eyes landed on a familiar face.

Suguru.

The moment he saw the picture, he knew. Those striking violet eyes, the ones that had lingered in his memories for years, stared back at him from the page. His heart pounded as he scanned the text, eyes moving hungrily until they landed on a single word in the secondary sex section.

Omega.

A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escaped him, something warm and electric rushing through his veins.

Relief. Excitement. Joy.

This had to be destiny.

Satoru presented as an alpha at the age of ten. A little early for most kids, but his parents had always known it was inevitable. He was the Gojo heir, born to lead, to rule. And if Suguru was an omega, then fate had already decided for them. They were meant to be together.

He didn’t waste a second. Grabbing the paper, he strode into the next room where his father and mother were seated. Without hesitation, he placed the document in front of them.

“I want him,” Satoru demanded.

His father barely spared a glance at the paper before his gaze shifted back to him, frowning. “Satoru, that is not a toy. That is a person.”

“I know,” Satoru replied impatiently. “Bring him to me. He is my omega.”

His father’s expression darkened. “What nonsense are you talking about? Put that back on my desk and go.”

Satoru’s lips pressed into a tight line. His fingers clenched into fists. His frustration crackled in the air, his cursed energy responding to his emotions like a storm ready to break.

He stomped his foot. “I said, bring him to me!”

His mother, silent until now, observed him with her usual quiet elegance. Her long white hair shimmered under the light, her beauty as ethereal as ever. Unlike his father, she never scolded him for his outbursts. She simply watched, waiting for the right moment. And then, when his cursed energy threatened to lash out, she stepped forward and pulled him into her arms. Her touch was gentle, her scent warm and soothing. She combed her fingers through his hair, whispering soft words to calm him. Satoru’s breathing slowed, his anger ebbing away under her care.

His father had always hated how much of a mama’s boy he was, but it wasn’t just about love. His mother was the only omega in the Gojo Clan. She was the only one who could give him the comfort, the stability he needed—especially now that he had presented as an alpha.

She tried to explain things to him, to make him understand. That a pack should always follow its alpha. That a clan must obey its leader. If his father didn’t want Suguru here, maybe it was for the best.

She also told him that Suguru himself wouldn’t want to be here.

Blah, blah, blah.

Satoru listened. His mother had a way of making him listen, even when he didn’t want to. And for a while, she succeeded in distracting him. He threw himself into training, convincing himself that if he just grew up faster, if he just became stronger, he could claim what was his.

But then his mother got sick.

And everything spun out of control.

Without her presence, without her scent to ground him, Satoru felt like he was unraveling. He needed an omega presence. He needed Suguru.

During those years, he pushed himself harder. He perfected his teleportation, learning to cross vast distances in seconds. But there was one problem. He had been so excited when he found Suguru’s biography that he forgot to check where he lived. And now, his father refused to show him.

With his mother gone and his hunger for his omega growing unbearable, Satoru’s power spiraled. The ecosystem itself began to react—natural energy shifting, warping under the weight of his imbalance.

His father had no choice.

Satoru would get what he wanted.

What he didn’t know, what no one had told him, was that Suguru was already within the Gojo estate. And Satoru’s senses, thrown into chaos, had failed to notice.

The moment their eyes met, Satoru knew.

Even through the haze of distress that clouded the omega’s face, he recognized him instantly. Like clockwork, like fate.

But something was wrong.

Suguru rejected him. Again and again, no matter how much Satoru insisted, no matter how devotedly he courted him. It confused him, infuriated him. He couldn’t understand why Suguru kept pushing him away, refusing to even give him a chance. Sure, Satoru was younger. Sure, they couldn’t legally marry yet. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were meant to be together. It was written in their blood, in their very existence.

And yet, Suguru refused him.

Satoru had never seen his mother disobey his father. He had never heard her raise her voice at him or question his authority. She had always been gentle, submissive, the perfect omega to his father’s perfect alpha. So why was Suguru—his omega—so defiant?

He was already aware that his father loathed his fascination with Suguru. Disgusted by it, even. Maybe it was his ego. Maybe it was because the Geto name held no real weight in the Jujutsu world. Whatever the reason, Satoru didn’t care. Suguru was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. Everything he couldn’t have—yet.

But Satoru was patient. Even if Suguru rejected him now, he wouldn’t give up. He knew they were meant to be. Once he was older, once he proved himself, Suguru would see. He would finally understand that Satoru was the only one for him.

Everything could have been perfect.

Until Toji Fushiguro arrived.

That waste of the Zenin clan ruined everything.

He had never felt threatened before. Never had to fight for something he wanted. But Suguru was drawn to Toji since the moment he met him. He could see it, clear as day.

And Satoru hated it. He hated it so much that he wanted to kill Toji on sight. To rip him apart the moment he saw him standing beside Suguru. But he didn’t. Instead, he silently accepted the challenge.

And he lost.

Not in battle. But in the way that mattered most.

He saw it. The way Suguru looked at Toji. The way Suguru pleaded for his life, willing to throw everything away for that filthy alpha. Satoru had never felt this kind of anger before. But beneath the rage, there was something worse. Something far more unbearable.

Hurt.

Why?

Why was Suguru so drawn to him?

And then, in the back of his mind, a memory surfaced. His mother’s voice, soft and honeyed when she spoke to him—harsh and scornful when she spoke of others. The way she looked down on the omegas in their clan. There hadn’t been many left by the time Satoru was old enough to notice. She had gotten rid of most of them, claiming that omegas had no place in a clan full of alphas. That they were distractions.

He remembered the way she talked about them.

Filthy. Whores who spread their legs the moment they were in the presence of an alpha.

Satoru’s mother had always been kind and loving to him. But she was not perfect.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

The way Suguru acted around Toji.

The way he let that alpha close to him.

That night, Satoru lost his mind. He said things. Cruel things. Things he regretted the moment they left his mouth. He wanted to apologize. Let Suguru know how horrible he felt seeing him cry, hurting him.

Untill, when he saw Suguru being fucked like a stray dog in some filthy room by Toji.

Sex.

Was that all it took?

Toji had proven it that night. Had shoved the truth in Satoru’s face and laughed. Suguru hadn’t chosen him because he was too young. Too inexperienced.

Satoru could have given him everything.

But that wasn’t what Suguru wanted.

He wanted Toji.

And Satoru had never known pain like this before.

Toji took everything that should have belonged to Satoru.

Suguru’s virginity. Suguru’s hand in marriage. Suguru’s obedience.

And worst of all—his love.

Maybe Toji showed him some mercy to not knock Suguru up on their first night.  But it didn’t matter. Because in the end, Suguru still chose him.

Suguru did not love Satoru the way Satoru loved him. 

It was a bitter truth to swallow, but Satoru forced himself to accept it.

The night when everything burned—the night the Gojo Clan fell, the world was invaded by cursed spirits, and, worst of all, the night Suguru confessed he loved Toji—Satoru disappeared.

He didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. He just teleported.

Straight to the Himalayas.

The freezing air bit at his skin the moment he arrived, but he welcomed it. He climbed higher, settling on a snow-covered peak, letting the cold numb his body. Letting it swallow him whole.

He sat there, alone. All day. All night.

Until he finally passed out.

When he woke, he wasn’t in the snow anymore. He had been found and rescued by a group of local monks. They were kind, tending to him without question, offering him warm meals and shelter. They asked about his past, his purpose, though the language barrier made real conversation nearly impossible.

But luckily, among them was a Japanese monk who spoke his language, who became his bridge to the others. Through him, Satoru learned more about them.

They were simple people. Good people.

Unlike the world he came from—a world of greed, cruelty, and power-hungry men—the monks sought none of it. No power. No status. No selfish desires. They only wanted peace. To connect with nature. To understand the strength the human body was capable of achieving.

Satoru had never known a life like that. He was born the strongest. Power had always been his entire existence, the thing that defined him. He didn’t hate it, not really. But sometimes, it was just so unbearably boring.

What was the point of getting everything you wanted if there was no challenge?

The human body was made to endure. To struggle and achieve. Without hardship, there was no real joy in victory. 

That, among other things, was one of the lessons the monks taught him.

He stayed with them for two months. He trained. Not with cursed energy, but with his body. Running miles down the mountain. Carrying water on his back. Strengthening himself in ways he had never bothered to before.

He learned to cook. He meditated. He even prayed.

And, strangely, it helped.

Not in the way people might think. He didn’t walk away a changed man, wiser and kinder, reborn as some saint. He was still Satoru Gojo. Still rotten to his core.

But he understood things better now. Patience. Control. The value of a calm mind. Even love. Though he wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge. 

Living with the monks had been its own kind of therapy.

Not because it made him better.

But because it gave him the tools to get exactly what he wanted.

When Satoru returned, he quickly learned that Suguru had married Toji Fushiguro. Worse, he was no longer a sorcerer. The fucking higher-ups had forced him out, stripping him of everything, and Toji had seized the perfect opportunity to take him.

It pissed him off. Enraged him. He wanted to kill them all. 

Even Suguru.

But no. Self-control. Patience. Timing. He had learned those things. 

So Satoru waited as Suguru played house with Toji. As he settled into his pathetic excuse for a married life, the perfect little housewife.

Two years. Four. Ten. It didn’t fucking matter how long. Satoru would wait. Because no matter what Suguru thought he wanted, no matter how hard he clung to Toji, no matter how many children he had, how deeply he tried to bury himself in that life—none of it would last. None of it was real.

Every other man, every fleeting romance, every desperate attempt at happiness—they were just passing phases, experiences, lessons for Suguru. Because the road only led one way. And at the end of it, it was Satoru who stood waiting. Always. His destiny. His god.

Satoru waited. For years, he waited.

Because that was how their story was meant to be written. No matter how broken, bruised, or lost Suguru became. He would always belong to Satoru.

"Ijichi, come pick Megumi up. I’m busy, so I can’t take him home," Satoru said, phone pressed against his ear as his eyes stayed locked on Suguru. Megumi stood beside him, silent as always, though the frown on his face was impossible to miss.

Ijichi agreed with a sigh, muttering something about Satoru abusing his teleportation. Satoru barely listened.

He hung up and turned to Suguru with a grin. "Sorry about that. Once Megumi’s gone, we can hit that café down the road and catch up." He ruffled Megumi’s hair roughly, almost teasingly. "Megumi’s been a real pain lately. Maybe I should ground him."

Megumi shot him a glare. "Fucking scum." he muttered.

Satoru chuckled. He really had no idea where the kid picked up that filthy mouth.

Suguru, meanwhile, stood still, gaze flicking between them before he exhaled sharply and turned on his heel.

Satoru almost panicked. "Hey—Suguru—"

"Forget this ever happened," Suguru said, not looking back. "Forget we ever met. Goodbye."

He walked away, but Satoru wasn’t about to let that happen. With a blink, he teleported right in front of him making Suguru flinch, just barely.

"Hey, c’mon, don’t be like that. It’s been so long. I missed you," Satoru said, voice softer now.

Suguru’s expression darkened. "You think we were just some old pals or something? Be fucking for real, Satoru."

Shit. He missed the way Suguru said his name. It distracted him, almost made him forget what they were even arguing about. And now that Suguru was a little shorter than him, it made Satoru feel so fucking good.

From a distance, Megumi stood watching, arms crossed, face set in that same unimpressed frown. He looked both bored and vaguely disgusted. Not that Satoru cared.

Satoru rubbed his back casually. “How about we grab something to eat? Maybe some coffee? You still like coffee, right? We can talk—just talk. That’s all I’m asking.”

Judging by the way Suguru was looking at him, though, his chances weren’t looking great.

“No,” Suguru said flatly. “Move before someone sees us together and puts me on another death row.”

Satoru scoffed. “You really think that’s possible when I’m with you?”

“Confident as ever.” Suguru exhaled. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“That’s not true.” Satoru slipped his glasses down slightly, revealing his eyes, hoping—maybe foolishly—that it would have some effect on Suguru. “I’m different now. Not like before. I can show you if you want.”

Suguru’s stare was unimpressed. “Yeah, sure.”

“Please, Suguru,” Satoru pressed, voice quieter now. “Just a little bit of your time.”

Suguru looked away, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. “I’m busy. I have a meeting at seven.”

“It’s 6:30,” Satoru pointed out instantly, leaning in just a little closer. “Ten minutes. That’s all I want.” He batted his eyelashes for good measure.

Suguru hesitated, his frown deepening. “...Fine. Not a second more. And after this, you will never reach out to me again.”

“Deal,” Satoru said, grinning just as Ijichi’s car pulled up in front of Megumi. The kid wasted no time getting in, slamming the door shut. The car rolled a little closer to where Satoru and Suguru stood, and with a quick motion, Satoru signaled for Ijichi to roll down the window. Megumi didn’t even bother looking at him.

“Make sure he eats dinner and gets to bed by ten,” Satoru instructed. “Don’t let him wander off, even if he acts all rebellious. Take him straight home.”

Ijichi nodded. Satoru also kept one eye on Suguru—just in case he tried to run.

Megumi clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. “I wanna go to the dorms.”

“For what? Yuuji’s not even there. It’s empty,” Satoru pointed out.

“I prefer it there. Why can’t I stay?”

“Because I said so,” Satoru replied smoothly, managing a smile. “Don’t argue with me.” His tone carried a slight warning.

Megumi didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t even wave when Satoru did.

Finally, they were alone.

Suguru held up his phone, flashing the screen where a timer was already counting down. “You have eight minutes.”

Satoru’s eyebrow twitched. “We better run then.”

Suguru rolled his eyes.

If there wasn’t a timer counting down, Satoru would’ve just sat there and admired Suguru’s beauty. He looked just as breathtaking as Satoru remembered. Maybe even more so. No longer weighed down by heartbreak, he carried himself differently now, more put together. His hair, those lips, those sharp violet eyes. He was like a painting. And he smelled good too, like a bakery. Sweet and mouthwatering.

They placed their orders. Satoru, of course, went for the most over-the-top, sugar-loaded milkshake, drowning in sprinkles, ice cream, and syrup, while Suguru ordered just an espresso and a croissant.

Satoru had been about to start the conversation when, to his surprise, Suguru beat him to it. Clearly, the question had been bothering him for a while.

“What the hell are you doing with Megumi?” Suguru asked, eyes narrowing.

Satoru rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, yeah… I’m kinda his legal guardian now.”

Suguru scoffed. “Did you buy him?”

“Wow, Suguru. You’re blunt.” Satoru smirked. “Not really. His father left, and I took him in before the Zen’ins could sink their claws into him.”

For a moment, Suguru’s expression shifted—something unreadable, something tense. 

“...He left?”

Satoru nodded with a shrug. “Yeah, no one knows where he is now.” A lie.

Suguru scoffed, shaking his head. “What about his third wife? She leave too?”

“Yep.”

“How long did they last?”

“Three months, give or take.”

Suguru laughed. And for a moment, Satoru just watched him. The timer on his phone showed three minutes left. 

Their drinks arrived. Satoru took a sip of his milkshake, while Suguru casually dunked his croissant into his coffee, chewing almost contentedly. There was something restrained about him like he had more to say but was holding back.

"So, I guess you’re a teacher now?" Satoru asked, as if he didn't already know that. “Makes sense. You always liked kids.”

Suguru glanced at the timer, then gave a noncommittal, “Hm.”

“Well, guess what? I’m a teacher too!” Satoru announced proudly.

Suguru didn’t even blink. “God help the poor students under your care.”

Satoru crossed his arms, pouting. “Pretty sure they all like me.”

Suguru hummed, clearly unconvinced. Then he took another bite of his croissant and checked the timer. “Time’s up.”

That annoyed Satoru, though he tried not to show it. Instead, he simply reached over and reset the timer. “Sit down, Suguru.”

“A deal’s a deal, Satoru.”

Satoru sighed. “At least finish your food.”

Suguru didn’t listen, already gathering his things, moving to leave. And that’s when Satoru grabbed his wrist—not forcefully, but firm enough to make him pause.

“Please,” Satoru said quietly, eyes locking onto Suguru’s. “I’m begging you.”

They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment. Then, finally, Suguru sat back down.

Still soft for him. Or maybe…now that Satoru was older, he was attracted to him in a different way.

“The more time I spend with you, the more those awful memories creep back into my head.” Suguru exhaled, finally letting himself crack, even if just a little. “You were a horrible kid. Did you know that?”

Satoru hummed, tilting his head. “Yeah, I know. I learned. I changed.”

Suguru narrowed his eyes, then took a slow sip of his coffee before scoffing. “Do you ever cringe at the things you used to say to me? Honestly, I would’ve found it cute if you weren’t so damn creepy all the time. You were clingy, too. In a bad way.” He took another sip, lips curling into something amused. “Well, whatever. I’m just glad you’re finally over me.”

Satoru raised a brow, something in him feeling slightly—no, deeply—offended. Then, slowly, he smirked. 

“Over you?” He leaned in, voice dropping. “Suguru, what are you talking about? I’d still fuck you.”

Suguru choked slightly on his coffee, setting the cup down with an irritated growl before looking at Satoru like he was a lost cause. “And here I thought you finally grew up.”

“That’s right, Suguru.” Satoru’s voice was light, teasing, as he leaned in closer, eyes locked onto Suguru like a predator sizing up its prey. “I’m all grown up now. Told you I wouldn’t be twelve forever.” His gaze flickered, slow and deliberate, trailing over Suguru with hunger in his eyes as if the omega were something to devour.

Suguru leaned back, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. Physically. But everything else? Still the same.”

“That’s not true.” Satoru stirred his milkshake lazily with his straw. “I’m a changed man. It’s just that my feelings for you haven’t changed.”

“Fucking get over it,” Suguru snapped, voice rising slightly. Then, shaking his head, he muttered, “You’re, what…?”

“Twenty,” Satoru answered. “But I’ll be twenty-one soon. In December.” He took a slow, deliberate lick of the ice cream, lips curling slightly as he glanced back at Suguru.

Suguru propped his chin on his hand, looking away as if regretting this entire meeting.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered under his breath.

Satoru ignored him. 

“So,” he started smoothly, “when can I take you out? You free next weekend?”

Suguru let out a sharp, disbelieving scoff, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. God, he looked good when he did that. He looked good when he was annoyed. Satoru wondered how he’d look crying under him.

“You must be exhausted, keeping up this ‘good guy’ act,” Suguru said, unimpressed.

“I’m just thinking about you,” Satoru replied, pushing his glasses down slightly and running a hand through his hair. His tone dropped, quieter. “Haven’t  you wasted enough of your life already?”

That struck something deep. Suguru tensed. For just a second, Satoru saw it. Regret. Anger. A sadness so old and heavy that it clung to him, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

Old wounds never really heal, not without leaving scars that last a lifetime.

Poor Suguru. No matter how much of a better, happier place he was in now, being a sorcerer was ingrained in him. Leaving behind something you were born to do, something you had a passion for, wasn’t easy. It never was. And the scariest thing of all? The passage of time.

Suguru shook his head, trying to steady himself. “That’s rude.”

The slight downturn of his lips, the way his brows knitted—Satoru wanted to kiss him so badly.

“Sorry,” Satoru murmured, though he wasn’t sure he meant it.

A notification chimed from Suguru’s phone. He glanced down, eyes widening slightly before he cursed under his breath. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Shit, I’m late,” he muttered, pulling out his wallet and fishing for cash.

Satoru frowned. “Don’t bother.”

Suguru paused, then gave him a look before shrugging and slipping the money back into his wallet. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he turned and walked out of the café. Satoru watched him go, sucking on his straw until the last of his milkshake was gone. He set the empty cup down.

Then, without a second thought, he teleported. Suguru barely had time to react before Satoru appeared right in front of him. He nearly stumbled back in surprise, scowling. The night air was crisp, the streetlights casting long shadows over them.

“Stop appearing like that—”

“Give me your number.”

Suguru stared at him, eyes dark with irritation. He already looked like he was at his limit.

“You heard me,” Satoru pressed.

Suguru exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. “You never reached out to me all those years. Why bother now?”

Satoru tilted his head, watching him closely. “Did you want me to?”

“What?”

“Reach out to you. Save you from your abusive husband. Take you away with me. Make you forget all the pain” His voice was quieter now. “Is that what you wanted?”

Suguru’s entire body went still. “How do you know about all that?”

“Who doesn’t know about you?”

There was something close to shame in Suguru’s eyes, even as he tried to conceal it. But just as quickly, it hardened into irritation. “Satoru, move out of my way,” he growled.

Satoru didn’t budge. His voice softened, almost pleading. “I like you, Suguru. I really do. Won’t you give me a chance?” He swallowed, his lips twitching into something small, something innocent. “I’ll be so good to you. I promise.”

Suguru bit his lower lip, rubbing his forehead. There was a faint flush dusting his cheeks. Barely noticeable, but it was there. Was it anger? Frustration? Embarrassment? Satoru couldn’t tell. But either way, he looked cute.

Suguru exhaled sharply and stepped closer. His voice was low but filled with quiet anger. “The fact that you have the audacity to ask me out after what you did to me—” He shook his head, his expression twisted with something raw. “I can’t believe you. But honestly, I’m not even surprised.”

“I was a kid back then, Suguru. I didn’t know better,” Satoru said. He did, in fact, agree that some of the things he had done back then were stupid and not clever at all. 

However, he didn’t really regret destroying the Gojo clan. They had been getting on his nerves for a long time.

Suguru’s gaze locked onto him, somewhere between a glare and something much more painful. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something else, but for a moment, all he could do was stare. His eyes wavered, frustration thick in the air between them.

Then, finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, Suguru said:

“You ruined my life.”

Satoru clenched his fists. He didn’t feel emotions like guilt or remorse often. Those were foreign to him. Things he could never quite grasp the way others did. Most people, good or bad, didn’t mean much to him. He existed somewhere in the middle, a balance of amusement and detachment. He didn’t particularly enjoy hurting people, but if he had to? Well, he wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

But Suguru…Suguru was different.

Suguru had always been the only one who could pull real emotions out of him. Ones he didn’t understand, ones he didn’t know what to do with. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Satoru loved him for that.

“I didn’t,” Satoru said, his voice quieter now. “It was the higher-ups who made that decision. I wasn’t even there when it happened.” He looked at Suguru, expression softening. “I’m sorry, Suguru. I really am. But trust me I can fix this. I can help you get your name back, get your Special Grade title. Just let me—”

Suguru let out a low growl, but he kept his expression blank. His voice was flat when he asked, “Where were you then?”

Satoru opened his mouth. But nothing came out.

Suguru let out a sharp laugh, humorless. “Where were you,” he repeated, his voice rising, “when they took everything from me? Where were you all those years?”

Satoru had no answer. He wanted to pull Suguru into his arms and hold him, to take away all the pain, to promise him that he would never let anything like that happen again. He wanted to love him so much that he’d forget everything else.

But Suguru wouldn’t let him. Not yet. 

“I’m sorry,” Satoru said again, this time barely above a whisper.  Suguru exhaled, long and slow, like he was trying to compose himself. Then he stepped back.

“I need to go.” He said. “Please just let me. And don’t follow me.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Satoru didn’t stop him.

Satoru's mother often told him that she had married his father for his wealth and power, not because of his looks, though she admitted he was handsome enough. What truly drew her in was his willingness to give her everything she desired, never once refusing her demands. She believed that for a marriage to last, intimacy had to be balanced with mindfulness and emotional connection. By intimacy, she never explicitly meant sex—of course, she would never say such a thing to a child. But even at twelve years old, Satoru understood exactly what she meant.

Satoru had always been curious about why Suguru chose Toji over him. Aside from the obvious fact that he had been just a kid, too young for him. He never truly understood what drew Suguru in so intensely, until he decided to see for himself.

As it turned out, Toji Fushiguro was right. Suguru did want his alpha to pin him down, to fuck him senseless against the mattress until his thoughts dissolved into pure, shuddering need. That hunger, that desperate pull, was what had drawn him to Toji in the first place.

Well, except for the fact that Suguru did love him, which Satoru couldn’t help but feel a bit upset about. Omegas were emotional creatures, no matter how much they tried to deny it. Alphas used their brains most of the time, while Omegas followed their hearts until reality taught them a harsh lesson. It was sad, really. If Suguru had ever poured his heart into loving Satoru, Satoru would have given that love back twice over.

Toji had never truly offered Suguru anything.

Except for his big cock.

But then again, as Satoru’s mother always said, everything required balance. Intimacy wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper, something spiritual—at least, that’s what the monks had told him.

Was a few minutes of pleasure really all Suguru needed? His house was a complete dump, and the fact that a beautiful omega like Suguru was staying there was nothing short of blasphemy.

How dare Toji?

In Satoru’s mind, if Suguru were to be trapped anywhere, it should atleast be in a golden cage and not in a place like this.

This wasn’t the first time Satoru had stepped into this house. He always made sure to float just above the floor whenever he entered because the damn thing creaked with every step.

But the real reason he came to check on Suguru wasn’t just his fixation. He needed to understand what kept Suguru here for so long, even after being treated like nothing more than a servant—the kind Satoru had seen countless times in his clan.

Sure, he had called Suguru a whore, but there had to be something more, right?

No…The thought of Suguru being nothing more than that made Satoru irrationally upset in a childish way.

Oh no, my Suguru couldn’t be a whore. He was more than that!

Satoru came up with a plan. He would observe Suguru without interfering in his life. He wanted to understand him even if that meant watching from a distance while Suguru was fucked by another alpha day after day.

Satoru already knew that Suguru’s relationship with Toji wouldn’t last. Toji Fushiguro was never the type for marriage. Ever since his first wife died, he had been adrift, lost in life. He had only ever loved one woman. He had tried to sell off Megumi but failed, and now, he neither wanted to raise the kid nor knew how to. He just needed someone who would do it for him.

Suguru had simply been the right person at the right time.

So, Satoru kept his distance, watching as Suguru took care of the house, as he tried to bond with Toji’s son. He never got too close because Suguru had sharp instincts, and because Satoru, for all his patience, wasn’t sure he could control himself.

And then came the day he almost got caught.

It had been nearly a year since Suguru married Toji. Satoru would be turning thirteen soon, yet he still found himself checking in on Suguru from time to time. He wasn’t exactly free, though. With his mother’s health deteriorating rapidly, he had to be by her side in her final moments because, at this point, no one knew how much time she had left. His father, usually composed, was crumbling under the weight of losing his wife. The once-mighty clan head now barely stood, paralyzed by fear.

But today, Suguru seemed to be in a good mood. He was training in the garden while Toji held his son in his arms. Satoru remained high in the air, far enough that no one could see him, though his Six Eyes let him observe everything with perfect clarity.

And once again, he noticed that Suguru was still unmated.

Toji had to be some kind of coward to have an omega like Suguru and not claim him properly. If it were Satoru, he wouldn’t have wasted another second. Still, he couldn’t deny that a part of him was glad. A small victory, despite the circumstances. He could already feel his fangs ache, his instincts whispering about what it would be like to sink them into Suguru’s nape.

Soon enough, the peaceful, domestic scene shattered in an instant. Suguru suddenly looked upset, his anger evident, while Toji seemed to be struggling to calm the omega. Satoru could hear bits of their conversation—not clearly, but enough to catch what mattered.

The bounty.

The Gojo clan had placed a bounty on Suguru, and Toji had supposedly killed the assassins sent after him.

What a blatant lie.

Satoru felt his blood boil.

It wasn’t Toji who had saved Suguru. It was him.

The moment Satoru found out about the bounty, he stormed into his father’s chambers, his cursed energy flaring so violently that even the elders had trembled in fear. There was no debate, no negotiation. His father had been just as terrified of him as the rest of the clan. Satoru had made it simple. If they didn’t remove the bounty, he would burn everything to the ground. 

The Gojo clan was still in the process of rebuilding, its ranks weakened, its numbers dwindling. And in the end, Satoru was all they had.

And everything they feared.

With a single demand, Suguru’s safety had been secured. No power-hungry clan, no higher ups, no so-called elder could ever lay a hand on him—not as long as Gojo Satoru was alive.

And now that fucking scum was taking his credit.

Satoru lost control. This time, his presence flared just enough for Suguru’s instincts to kick in. Suguru’s head snapped up toward the sky. He almost saw him. But before that could happen, Satoru teleported away just in time, exhaling a deep breath of relief.

Still, being the insufferable boy he was, Satoru couldn’t resist testing some boundaries. 

It was obvious that Suguru had noticed strange things happening around the house. Toji never caught on, which was odd, but it only proved how much potential Suguru had. If he could sense Satoru’s energy, even when Satoru was carefully concealing it, then Suguru was meant to be Special Grade.

But now, look at him—doing household chores, slaving away for a man who didn’t deserve him.

It pained Satoru to see him like this.

Satoru stood in front of the veranda, listening as Suguru and Toji argued somewhere in the kitchen. His gaze drifted around the worn-down house as he stepped—or more like floated—inside.

And that’s when he realized he was hovering directly over… Toji’s kid.

Fushiguro Megumi. That was his name, if Satoru remembered correctly.

The boy’s eyes snapped open immediately, locking onto Satoru’s blue ones. There was a moment of silence. Satoru, for some reason, dumbly waved at him. He didn’t even know why he did it.

Megumi started crying.

Satoru froze. The approaching sound of footsteps made his stomach drop. 

Oh fuck, what do I do, what do I do—oh wait, I can teleport.

Feeling incredibly stupid, he disappeared just in time, reappearing in another room with a sigh of relief as Toji entered to check on his son.

But then he noticed where he had teleported.

He was in the hallway, with a clear view of the kitchen. And standing there, untying his hair, was Suguru. His head turned sharply, eyes almost locking onto Satoru.

Shit.

Satoru barely had time to react before he teleported again—this time into the closet of Toji and Suguru’s shared bedroom. He held his breath, heart pounding, as he heard Suguru moving, investigating. But by the time the closet door swung open, Satoru was already halfway across the country, his pulse still racing.

And yet, despite everything, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Satoru was back in the closet by nightfall.

He was a bit worried about Megumi. The kid could definitely talk, and the fact that he had seen Satoru… yeah. There was a fifty-fifty chance he was getting busted today.

He tried to make himself as comfortable as possible in the cramped space, which was practically impossible. Concealing his presence was easy, and seeing through the door? Even easier. If the Jujutsu world ever found out this was how Gojo Satoru was using his powers, they'd be furious. And probably disgusted.

He could see Suguru holding Megumi, while Toji—fresh out of the shower—sat on the floor, rubbing his damp hair. Megumi was restless, shifting in Suguru’s arms, and Suguru, for all his patience, was clearly struggling to figure out what the kid wanted.

"What’s up with you today?" Suguru asked softly, brows furrowed.

Megumi squirmed, reaching toward his father. "Dada… ghost," he mumbled. "White hair…ghost."

Oh. Fuck.

Satoru went rigid. This is it. I’m done. I’m dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could turn back time or erase memories. He even considered dying his hair black.

"Ghost?" Suguru blinked, glancing between Megumi and Toji, confusion written all over his face. "Toji-san, what is he even trying to say?" he whined, pouting.

Toji just shrugged. "Maybe he had a bad dream."

Megumi huffed, puffing out his cheeks, clearly unimpressed with his useless father. Then, he turned back to Suguru, looking at him expectantly.

"Mama, there’s a ghost!"

Suguru’s eyes widened. "Toji-san, did you just hear that?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

"What?" Toji tilted his head.

"Megumi just called me Mama," Suguru said, completely forgetting about the whole ghost situation. Satoru almost sighed in relief but held it in.

Toji chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "Well, you are his mother, Suguru."

Suguru huffed. "I know, but he’s never called me that before. Maybe I misheard?" He turned to Megumi, pressing their foreheads together. "Can you say that again, baby?"

Megumi turned his head away, whining. Satoru could see the flicker of hope in Suguru’s eyes only for it to dull into quiet disappointment.

"You should put Megumi to sleep. It’s late," Toji said. "Besides, it’s not every day I’m home like this. Let’s spend some time together. Maybe have some wine? You like that, don’t you?" He gave Suguru a look that made his intentions very clear.

Suguru flushed softly.

Satoru frowned. What the hell? Weren’t they just arguing a while ago?

"Hm, but my taste is expensive, though," Suguru teased.

At this point, Megumi had already drifted off on Suguru’s shoulder. Little troublemaker. The kid had almost gotten Satoru caught today. Next time, he’d have to be extra careful around him. Good thing his vocabulary hadn’t fully developed yet.

"You bet," Toji smirked, pulling out a bottle of wine from a cupboard.

It wasn’t even remotely expensive. Satoru was pretty sure his baby formula as a kid had cost more than that. But what annoyed him most was Suguru’s reaction. His face lit up, and Satoru could practically smell the happy pheromones slipping out of him.

That’s all it takes?

If cheap wine made Suguru this happy, then Satoru could fill a pool with the finest wine in existence just to see his reaction.

It was heading exactly where Toji wanted. Their conversation had drifted into topics Satoru had no interest in, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop listening—not when Suguru’s voice was so sweet, especially when softened by alcohol. He was mushy, cute, unfiltered. They spoke less, and Toji teased more. Satoru watched them like he was tuning into some episode of Discovery Channel.

Before long, their glasses were forgotten, pushed aside as Toji pulled Suguru into a heated kiss. The omega whimpered against his mouth, his cheeks flushed, eyes dazed. The way he looked at Toji—so full of want, so warm, so devoted—made Satoru want to kill some random passerby just to vent the fury simmering inside him.

Why?

Why couldn’t Suguru look at him like that?

Satoru forced himself to stay calm. He had learned to control his anger, to wield it like a weapon instead of letting it consume him. Instead, he focused on Suguru’s voice, closing his eyes and pretending—just for a second—that he was in Toji’s place.

He failed.

Toji barely had to try to make Suguru melt. A little sweet talk, teasing words, lingering touches, a slow and deliberate closing of distance and Suguru crumbled. Easily. He responded to it all, letting himself be pulled in with nothing more than a few murmured affections and the right amount of pressure.

And then Toji took what was his. Suguru was on his lap now, gripping his shoulders as Toji kissed down his jaw, then lower, sliding his yukata open to reveal his chest. A soft moan spilled from Suguru’s lips.

He was so easy for him.

Suguru lay on his back on the tatami floor, his long black hair spilled over the floor, trailing dangerously close to the closet where Satoru sat, silent, watching.

Toji hovered over him, yanking his own shirt over his head before tossing it aside. Then, without wasting any time, he started working to remove Suguru’s yukata completely.

Suguru just lay there. Docile. Obedient. Letting the alpha do as he pleased.

And Satoru was trapped, barely inches away from them. So damn close.

When Toji fucked Suguru, he showed little to no mercy. He pressed two fingers against Suguru’s lips, pushing them inside with a quiet command. “Suck.” Suguru obeyed, his tongue curling around his fingers, wetting them with his saliva as Toji began preparing him gently.

Satoru watched, a question nagging at the back of his mind. Why? Weren’t omegas naturally slick down there? That’s what the books said. Maybe Toji was just…bigger. That made sense. Of course, he was. Satoru clenched his jaw, a flicker of insecurity creeping in. What if he didn’t end up taller? What if he wasn’t as big? Would Suguru still want him then? The answer felt painfully obvious—probably not.

Suguru’s moans filled the space, broken and breathless. His body trembled, back arching as he squirmed beneath Toji’s relentless thrusts. He still wasn’t used to this. Maybe he never would be. Toji clicked his tongue, grabbing Suguru’s wrists and pinning them down, keeping him still. “Tch, quit movin’ so much,” he muttered. Must’ve been the alcohol making Suguru this pliant. He was a mess. A goner.

Satoru had never been this close before. He’d always left before things got too heated, before the sight of Suguru in such a vulnerable position could dig its claws into his mind. It made him look…pathetic. Weak. It reminded Satoru too much of that night. But now, watching Suguru like this—seeing him, hearing him—it was different. His stomach felt tight, heat coiling low between his legs.

He should leave. He really should. But his body refused to move.

Toji’s pace grew rougher, each thrust making Suguru gasp, his bitten lips parting in a sound pathetically close to a sob. His whole body shook, overwhelmed by the force of it, the sheer dominance pressing down on him. It almost felt like Toji was doing it on purpose.

“Toji-san… please—slower…I c-can’t—” Suguru’s voice broke, his entire body rocked forward with each movement. His wrists strained under the older alpha’s grip.

Toji smirked. Then, for the briefest second, his gaze flickered forward right where Satoru was.

Satoru flinched. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was looking at him. But that was impossible.

Toji leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against Suguru’s lips before whispering against his ear, “Oh, Suguru, I know you can take me. You always do—my perfect omega.” He placed a small kiss on Suguru’s forehead, almost tender, before grabbing his waist and flipping him over with ease.

Suguru gasped, his breath hitching as his body adjusted to the sudden shift. His violet eyes widened in surprise, his back arching so perfectly it almost seemed natural. Strands of dark hair tumbled over his face, framing his flushed cheeks as his gaze met Satoru’s.

For Suguru, it was nothing. Just the closet. A surface.

But for Satoru…it was a breaking point.

His entire body burned, heat pooling deep inside him, his fingers curling into fists. Suguru looked devastating like this—his face a mess, lips swollen, tear tracks glistening at the corners of his eyes. Beautiful. Satoru hated the way his body reacted, the way his cock stiffened at the sight. How could anyone resist an omega like Suguru? His scent was intoxicating, thick with arousal, seeping into Satoru’s lungs like a drug. Toji was fucking him good, and Satoru could practically taste Suguru’s pleasure in the air, as if it was coating his tongue, sweet and maddening.

Still, even as another alpha fucked his omega right in front of his eyes, Satoru’s desire never wavered. If anything, it only grew stronger.

He still wanted Suguru.

“Toji-san…” Suguru whimpered, voice barely above a breath, tinged with something soft, almost sweet. “Toji…”

But the alpha didn’t slow down. He didn’t go easy on him. He fucked him, deep and relentless, making Suguru’s arms tremble as he barely held himself up. His bitten lips quivered, trying and failing to suppress the moans threatening to spill out.

And Satoru saw everything.

The way Suguru’s eyes rolled back, the way his lips parted as he gasped for air. The moment he dropped his head, dark strands of hair shielding his face from view, Satoru nearly groaned in frustration. But then Toji grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking it back, rough and possessive.

Suguru winced at the pull, and suddenly, his face was in full view again.

Satoru was still hard. Painfully so. His thighs pressed together instinctively, but he refused to touch himself. The thought of jerking off while watching Suguru take Toji made him want to rip his own hair out.

“C’mon, Suguru,” Toji drawled, voice laced with boredom as he leaned his heavy body against Suguru’s back. “Don’t hold back. I wanna hear you scream my name.” A slow smirk curled his lips.

Suguru hesitated, glancing sideways. “...But Megumi?”

Toji scoffed. “Don’t worry about him. You know our kid’s a heavy sleeper.”

There was a pause—a fleeting moment of uncertainty—before Suguru finally let go, his moans spilling freely into the room, raw and desperate. As if he wanted the world to hear.

As if he wanted Satoru to hear.

Satoru clenched his jaw, fingers twitching at his sides, thighs pressing tighter together. He wouldn’t touch himself. Not now.

Maybe later, in the privacy of his own room, where he could fist his cock to the memory of Suguru’s gorgeous, ruined face.

But not now.

Even if Satoru didn’t want to accept it, a small, twisted part of him admired Toji. Just a little.

It was the way he controlled Suguru so effortlessly, how dominance came naturally to him. The way Suguru melted under him, completely undone, as if Toji was the only man he had ever wanted. Satoru hated it, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny the fact that Toji was good at this. He was good at making Suguru submit. Effortlessly. 

Satoru was impressed. Toji Fushiguro truly was an alpha worth some praise.

Suguru barely stirred now, his body lax, breaths shallow. Spent. His eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, but just before sleep took him, he managed to whisper, “I love you.”

To Toji.

The older alpha leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Suguru’s face. “You were amazing. Now rest, sweetheart.”

With that, he pulled out, cleaning Suguru up with care before dressing him again, slipping his yukata back over his shoulders. Toji himself moved with practiced ease, sliding his pants back on before tucking Suguru under the blankets.

Meanwhile, Satoru still sat inside the closet, half-hard, but the arousal was fading, replaced by something more bitter. The air was thick with the scent of sex, clinging to the room like a suffocating haze, and for a moment Satoru thought he might vomit.

He should leave. He needed to leave.

Satoru watched Toji step out onto the veranda, a cigarette already lit between his fingers. The orange glow flickered in the dark, casting shadows over his sharp features as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke.

Satoru had noticed that Toji never smoked around Suguru.

Did Suguru even know his husband smoked? Did he know where Toji went for work, the things he did? If Satoru were an omega, he would never blindly trust an alpha the way Suguru did. Because Satoru knew alphas. Their kind. Their nature. They were all more or less the same.

Toji leaned against the edge of the veranda, his gaze drifting, searching. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward the closet. Towards him.

Huh?

The older alpha tilted his head, amusement flickering in his expression as he exhaled the last of his cigarette. A smirk played at his lips, something between a scoff and a challenge. He discarded the cigarette with a flick of his fingers, the ember dying out against the floor. The veranda door was still open, the cold air slipping in to carry away the lingering smoke.

Toji’s gaze lingered on the closet, his eyes dark, knowing. Testing.

Then, he shifted, settling beside a sleeping Suguru, watching over him with a quiet possessiveness before speaking—voice smooth, deliberate.

“You wanna come out, kid?”

Fear wasn’t something Satoru felt often. But right now—right now—as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as his heartbeat pounded against his ribs, as his stomach twisted into something unfamiliar—he wondered.

Was this fear?

Or was it just the sheer shock of being caught?

Either way, Satoru was speechless.

Turns out, it wasn’t that Toji couldn’t sense his presence like Suguru.

He could.

And he did it a thousand times better. Probably even better than any Special Grade sorcerer. 

Satoru scoffed. This was the second time today that Toji Fushiguro had managed to impress him, and it pissed him off. He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. He just sat there in the darkness of the closet, silent, thinking.

He had been watching over Suguru for months now. And all this time, Toji had known.

Why hadn’t he told Suguru? Did he enjoy the idea of being watched? Or—no. That wasn’t it.

Toji didn’t see him as a threat at all. That was it, wasn’t it? The older alpha was just that confident. He knew that Satoru couldn’t take Suguru away from him.

That Suguru wasn’t his to take.

Toji was still staring. His gaze was unreadable, but the slightest curl of amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. He shifted, resting lazily on his side, running a slow hand down Suguru’s back. 

“Hm, maybe I should wake him up for another round,” he mused, voice dripping with boredom. But his eyes gleamed with something else. Challenge.

Satoru’s cursed energy flared before he could stop it, jaw locking in irritation. His fingers twitched with the overwhelming urge to crush Toji’s throat—to wipe that smirk off his face—to burn that arrogance into nothing but ashes.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he teleported. One second, he was in the closet. The next, he was above the house, staring down at the rooftop beneath him.

And Toji instantly looked up, grinning.

Terrifying.

His senses were downright inhuman. Monster.

Satoru exhaled sharply, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. He killed every curse he came across on his way back, his irritation fueling his power, turning every single one of them into dust. By the time he reached the estate, the servants scrambled out of his way in fear as he stormed into the bathhouse. He sank into the cold water, trying to calm down. 

The time wasn’t right. Not yet.

Toji could have all his fun while it lasted.

Satoru wouldn’t fight for Suguru.

Not now.

He didn’t need to.

He would simply wait.

Suguru could live out his “perfect” little married life for as long as he wanted. And in the meantime, Satoru would grow. Because Suguru sure as hell didn’t like boys.

"You're laaate," Shoko drawled when Suguru finally arrived at their usual meeting spot. A cozy, old-fashioned Japanese restaurant that was unusually packed tonight. He’d had a hell of a time finding them in the crowd.

"Overtime, Geto-san?" Haibara asked as Suguru slid into the seat across from them, dropping his bag beside him.

Shoko already had a cigarette dangling from her lips, her tired eyes shadowed by dark circles, while Haibara, ever the bright one, still managed to look cheerful—though Suguru had noticed that glow dimming over the years. The two had started drinking without him, Shoko on her second round and Haibara on his first. Plates of food were already scattered across the table.

"No," Suguru exhaled, reaching for a drink and taking a long sip, hoping to dull his mind. "But you wouldn't believe who I ran into on my way here."

"Your ex-husband?" Shoko quipped lazily, flicking ash into the tray.

"Worse," Suguru said, grimacing.

"Your step-son, then?" Haibara guessed, half-serious.

"Yeah, sure. But guess who was with him? You’ll never guess," Suguru said, still wrapping his head around the absurdity of it. Of all people, Satoru had taken Megumi in? Didn’t he hate Toji?

"Gojo Satoru," Shoko deadpanned, leaning back in her chair.

"Bingo." Suguru raised his glass in mock celebration.

Shoko snorted and shook her head. "No way. You ran into them both?"

"How'd that even go?" Haibara asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Horrible," Suguru muttered. He took another sip before glancing between them. "And hey—did you guys know he’s a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High now?"

Shoko and Haibara exchanged a look. Then Haibara let out a nervous chuckle, his eyebrows twitching. "Ah…well…"

"You guys! Why didn’t you tell me?"

Shoko shrugged, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. "I don’t see him much. I’m usually busy dealing with injuries and corpses. But I did run into him once. He joined pretty recently, didn’t he?" She turned to Haibara, who nodded.

"We had a small welcome party for him," Haibara admitted. "It was kinda shocking that he wanted to be a teacher. Didn’t see that coming. I don’t run into him often either, but he’s with Fushiguro a lot. It’s like he has a favorite student or something." 

Haibara raised his hands in a quick gesture, as if to clarify. "Oh, right—Fushiguro only joined recently too. I meant to tell you, but I forgot."

"I didn’t bother mentioning it," Shoko added, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. "Figured you wouldn’t care that much."

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, as a person, he might have appreciated knowing. He supposed he understood, though. He wasn’t as connected to the Jujutsu world or to his old friends as he used to be.

Suguru nodded quietly in understanding.

Hiabara took a sip of his drink, humming thoughtfully. "He really is strong, though. Kind of charming, too. But Nanami and Utahime-sensei aren’t exactly fans. And Principal Yaga? Always yelling at him when he’s around."

"You sure know a lot about him," Shoko noted, glancing at Haibara from the corner of her eye.

Haibara scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Nanami complains about him a lot."

"He’s a bit young to be a teacher, don’t you think?"

"Too young to be Special Grade, too," Shoko added.

Suguru had already assumed that much. It was obvious. Satoru might’ve been Special Grade since he was thirteen or something.

"God, I know, right?" Haibara groaned. "We’re older than him and still not Special Grade. It gets to me sometimes."

"Couldn’t care less," Shoko said, rolling her eyes and waving a hand dismissively before taking another drag. They were caught up in their own conversation, and for a moment, Suguru felt strangely out of place.

"By the way," he said, gripping his beer mug. "Megumi’s not his favorite student. Satoru is his legal guardian."

That made them pause.

Shoko raised an eyebrow while Haibara blinked in mild surprise.

"...Huh. That explains why Megumi hates him so much," Haibara mused. "Honestly, I thought the Zen’ins took him in. Seeing a shikigami user with that kind of ability… the kid’s got potential."

"Well, who the fuck cares about all that now?" Shoko said, clearly amused. "Geto just ran into his step-son and the kid who turned his life upside down, all together in the same alleyway. Damn. How are you feeling?"

"And what even happened after that?" she added, leaning in with interest. "Did you make him get on his knees and apologize? Or did you run?"

Suguru let his head fall back against the seat, taking another sip of his beer before exhaling heavily.

"I wish I could’ve run. I wanted to, but Satoru kept insisting on dragging me to some café... And god, that kid hasn’t changed at all." He shook his head. "At first, he was acting all ‘I’m a changed man, I’ve learned, blah blah blah’—and then, a few seconds later, he was straight-up admitting that he’d still fuck me and that he wasn’t over me. He even asked me out. Followed me like a damn dog, trying to get my number. I denied, of course. Barely managed to slip away."

Haibara made a face, while Shoko burst into laughter.

“Like, can you fucking believe him?" Suguru scoffed.

"He’s all grown up now, huh?" she teased, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Obviously," Suguru grumbled. "But mentally? Still the same kid I remember. He tried so hard to act different, but he failed."

Shoko smirked, resting her chin in her hands. "So…is he big now?"

Suguru choked on his drink. "Shoko!"

"What?" She shrugged, utterly unapologetic. "When I saw him at school, I thought, ‘Damn, he’s exactly your type now.’"

Suguru shook his head in disbelief, while Haibara stayed quiet, sipping his drink as he observed the exchange.

"You cannot be serious."

"Are you at least a little attracted to him?" Shoko pressed.

Suguru’s lips pressed together as he thought about it. Of course, Satoru was a man now. A grown adult alpha. His voice was deeper, his height taller than Suguru’s. But this was still the same Satoru—the boy Suguru once knew. Even if he never truly hated him, resentment still lingered. His life could’ve been so different if he’d never gone to the Gojo clan that day.

"That’s just wrong," Suguru muttered. "He was a kid back then. I remember when he was shorter than me, when he had that baby face. I can’t just… No."

Shoko tilted her head. "You’re making it sound like you groomed him or some shit. What’s wrong with it? He’s grown now. And still obsessed with you."

"Shoko, what exactly are you suggesting?" Suguru frowned, his tone sharpening slightly.

Shoko scoffed, grinding her cigarette into the ashtray before giving him a slow, knowing smirk. "I’m saying…why not give him a chance?"

Suguru narrowed his eyes, like he misheard what she just said.

"You don’t have to fall in love with him," she continued, voice smooth and coaxing, "or even get emotionally invested. Just play around a little. See what happens." She tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "After all, wouldn’t it be fucking thrilling to have the strongest sorcerer on a leash?"

Suguru blinked. Keeping who on a leash? Satoru? That was laughable.

He had tried before—tried to rein Satoru in, to control him, to guide him. He had failed. Spectacularly. Not once, but multiple times. And look where it had left him.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, Shoko-san," Haibara said, almost nervously. "Besides… Gojo-kun has Fushiguro to look after now. Wouldn’t it be like going back to something he already overcame?"

Suguru made a noise in agreement, slamming his glass down, relieved that Haibara had voiced exactly what he was thinking.

"Exactly," he said, nodding. "And knowing Satoru, it will probably be ten times worse."

Shoko rolled her eyes. "Worse? Suguru, be serious." She leaned in slightly, the mischievous glint in her gaze never wavering. "We’re talking about the strongest and wealthiest sorcerer alive. You could have anything you want—if you play the game right. If you keep the upper hand." She smirked. "And let’s be real, you already have the advantage. He’s still in love with you. Clearly."

Suguru scoffed, picking at his food. "That sounds like a dangerous game to play. Too risky," he said, chewing thoughtfully.

"What, are you worried about Fushiguro?" Shoko asked, watching him carefully.

"Gojo is Fushiguro’s legal guardian, not his father. He won't interfere like you're thinking."

Suguru hummed, keeping silent, not wanting to entertain this topic any longer.

He shouldn't even give this any thought. It was reckless. But the way Shoko framed it, it almost made sense. Satoru was attractive now, undeniably so. The sharp angles of his face, the way his scent had made something deep in Suguru’s omega instincts stir…

Still.

If older alphas were bad news, then younger ones somehow felt worse.

And Satoru? Satoru was a category all on his own.

"Well, the choice is yours. I’m just saying," Shoko said with a casual shrug. "Maybe it’s destiny messing with you, giving you another chance to undo past mistakes. Use your brain this time, not your heart. But yeah—besides, younger ones are easier to control."

"Ah, Shoko-san, that sounded really creepy," Haibara said with a laugh.

Shoko just smirked, flicking her gaze toward Suguru, who was quietly drinking his beer, lost in thought. "Say what you want, but Gojo is still devoted to you. All these years, and he’s still not over his childhood crush. Isn’t that crazy?"

"You’re not wrong about that," Haibara admitted. "Most alphas lose interest in omegas when things don’t go their way. If he’s still chasing you after all this time, Gojo-kun must really like you." He hesitated before adding, "Still… if you ask me, I wouldn’t suggest going back down that road."

Shoko clicked her tongue and shot him a look, making Haibara shiver slightly. The conversation shifted after that, moving on to lighter topics. They drank, ate, and laughed in a way Suguru preferred.

But Shoko’s words lingered.

He told himself not to dwell on it. Don’t think about it.

And yet, when the alcohol seeped into his bloodstream, clouding his thoughts, all he could see was him.

The way Satoru looked now. The sharpness of his face, the height difference that hadn’t been there before, the way he carried himself now—broader, more defined, no longer the lanky boy Suguru once knew. His strong scent, clinging to Suguru’s skin. And those eyes. Icy blue, locked onto him like a gravitational pull.

The way Satoru had begged him to stay.

The more Suguru thought about it, the more he considered Shoko’s suggestion.

By the time he stumbled into his apartment, his body felt unbearably warm. It had been a long time since he’d felt this. Since he had even wanted to. He had spent years focusing on himself, keeping his emotions and instincts under control.

But tonight was different.

He was soaked through, his cock already hard as he stepped into the shower. His breath hitched as his hand wrapped around himself, slow strokes easing the ache, but it wasn’t enough. Not when his mind was consumed with him.

The memory of Satoru’s voice, deeper now, but dangerous. Like a warning. The way he had leaned in too close, his scent clinging to Suguru’s skin. The way his hands—bigger now, rougher—would feel pinning him down—

Suguru cursed under his breath, gripping himself tighter, chasing the relief he desperately needed. He came harder than he had in years, chest heaving, water washing away the evidence of a moment he wished hadn’t happened. It had been so long since an alpha had made him feel like this. Even Miguel hadn’t been able to stir his instincts like this.

Satoru was bad news.

Suguru would have to stay away.

No matter what.

He couldn’t make the same mistake again.

Chapter Text

Satoru’s fixation on Suguru had long passed the threshold of reason. So long and so intense that it became a permanent thorn in his father’s pride. The old man could barely look at his son without the bitter taste of shame rising in his throat. And Satoru knew it. He just didn’t care.

The last time his father truly snapped, his voice cracked through the Gojo estate like a storm. He spat with venom, screaming that Satoru should be doing better things than chasing some bitch who didn’t even spare him a second thought. Worse still, the omega was bound to another, married and spoken for.

“He’s not marked yet,” Satoru had answered coldly, like that one fact was enough to justify everything.

But his father—already half-mad with grief—exploded. He shattered dishes, flipped furniture, his cursed energy spiraling into chaos. Ever since Satoru’s mother fell into a coma, the man had become unhinged. The doctors had all but declared her gone. They’d suggested releasing her. Easing the burden.

But his father refused. Threatened to kill them all. The clan leader was certain that his mate would awaken for him one day.

In that, Satoru saw something he respected. A desperate loyalty. A hopeless, clawing love.

When his father had told him to focus on “better things” than loving someone who didn’t love him back, Satoru had really thought about it. What better things? What was there that he couldn’t already do? Satoru was invincible. He had nearly wiped out more than half of  the Gojo clan, and who did they blame? Suguru. The omega who fought only to protect.

Satoru could destroy, build, and buy whatever he wanted. But not love. Not the one thing he craved.

In a clan ruled by alphas, where affection came as bruises and discipline, Satoru had always found peace in his mother’s lap. Her fingers in his hair, slow and gentle, always made everything go quiet. She spoke to him in that soft, steady voice, full of warmth. It was the only thing that ever made him feel truly calm. 

But his father hated that. Said it made Satoru weak. Said he had to be tough. 

That’s partly why he brought Toji Fushiguro around to train him in the first place.

Satoru hated being around alphas. Their presence was heavy and cruel. Not gentle. Not comforting. Sure, he had a violent side too, the part of him that wanted to destroy and tear things apart. But there were other times—quiet, aching moments—where all he wanted was to rest his head on Suguru’s lap. To feel his fingers in his hair. To hear soft words meant only for him. For the world to disappear around them.

What Satoru wanted—needed—was love. Suguru’s love.

Even if it came with control, consequences, conditions—it was still love. Or at least, his version of it. Everyone defined love differently. Satoru’s was consuming. Possessive. A devotion that bordered on violence.

But he’d make sure it wasn’t one-sided. Suguru feared being caged but Satoru would show him there was beauty in captivity. Safety. Worship.

He’d give him everything. Whatever clothes he liked, wherever he wanted to go, anything he desired. And in return, Suguru would give him his body, his loyalty, his future. He wanted to mark him, claim his womb, and have Suguru belong only to him. 

The kind of love that wrapped itself around them so tightly there’d be no way out. No leaving. A love so deep that if anyone ever tried to break it apart, they’d bleed.

Satoru was fourteen now. Over the past few months, he had stopped spying on Suguru as often as he used to. That didn’t mean his obsession had faded like some passing crush or that he’d come to terms with how strange it was to be so fixated on an omega much older than him. Not at all. 

He was just bored. 

So fucking bored of watching the same scene play out every day.

Suguru had become the picture-perfect stay-at-home wife. Tidy, obedient, and domestic. He did his chores without complaint, and took care of Toji’s kid like it was his only purpose. Day in, day out—it was the same. He didn’t even train much anymore. There was nothing new to see.

Out of curiosity, Satoru had trailed Toji once or twice, just to see what kind of man he was outside Suguru’s world. He only managed to stay hidden because Toji had alcohol in his system, dulling his sharp instincts. Apparently, the guy was some kind of hitman, taking shady contracts and killing for cash.

Satoru had half-expected to find him crawling into brothels or flirting with anything that walked. But no. He was loyal to Suguru. Strangely loyal. Satoru didn’t get it.

He’d overheard Toji talking about his dead wife once. It wasn’t loud or poetic, but it was there, clear in between the silences. The alpha had been in love. Deeply in love. The kind Suguru begged from him. 

He mentioned Suguru too when one of his friends asked about his so-called second wife. Toji barely gave it a second thought. His tone was flat, almost bored, like he was talking about someone irrelevant. The things he said were careless, tossed out without meaning, but they carried weight. Heavy enough to crush Suguru if he ever heard them. 

Satoru had considered recording it and sending it to Suguru. Just to watch the cracks deepen. But he didn’t. He figured it was only a matter of time before Suguru unraveled on his own.

He wanted things to fall apart naturally. No interference. Just time.

If their relationship ever started to grow stronger—if Suguru got too comfortable, too emotionally attached— then Satoru would act. But it wasn’t necessary yet. Whatever Toji felt for Suguru, it wasn’t strong enough. Not really. Not like Satoru’s love was.

Toji liked to provoke him, sure. Maybe he enjoyed playing the role of protector, the man of the house. But love? No. Not the kind that endured. Not the kind that fought.

Satoru still admired him, in a twisted way. He respected his strength, his independence. But honestly?

Toji was kind of a fucking loser.

He knew how to keep Suguru around. That much was clear. But it also looked like he had stopped trying. Like he was giving up. Slowly. Quietly. 

And that…that gave Satoru hope.

Satoru eventually stopped stalking them both and threw himself into missions and self-development instead. He trained relentlessly, mostly because it kept his mind busy. 

He grew taller. Stronger. But never wiser.

Distraction was easier and pain disguised itself well in sweat and bruises.

He made time to visit his mother. She lay motionless in bed, the monitor beside her softly blinking with the rhythm of her fragile heart. Even like this, she looked beautiful. Peaceful. Like a ghost that hadn’t realized it was dead.

Satoru stared at her face and wondered if he would look like her when it was his turn to die. He doubted it. He’d imagined his death in countless ways, but the worst was the image of himself lying somewhere forgotten, body rotting away like roadkill, picked apart by birds. Maybe no one would care. Maybe no one would show up to his funeral. Maybe no one would even notice he was gone. He’d just vanish. Quietly. Without chaos. Unlike his father, no one would go mad over him. No one would mourn him. No one would remember him.

Maybe that was the point.

He stepped closer and reached for her hand. It was soft and cold, lighter than he remembered. 

“Mom…” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I cursed you. I’m sorry you had to carry a monster like me.” 

The words bled out slow and shaky. He pressed her hand to his head, hoping for some flicker of what used to be. A mother’s fingers in his hair. Her voice, low and loving, calling out to him and then pulling him into her arms gently like she always used to. He couldn’t even remember what her voice sounded like anymore. 

But she didn’t move. Not even a movement that only his six eyes could notice.

She used to smell like cherry blossoms. Her scent had always reminded him of spring, a permanent bloom that made everything feel lighter. Now, even that was fading. He could barely trace it in the sterile air. It was rare for him to like the scent of an omega enough for it to stick in his mind, and Suguru was the only exception. His scent didn’t match hers at all, but somehow, it reminded Satoru of the same peace.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he caught sight of his father leaning against the wall, silent. They didn’t speak, but Satoru could tell just by looking at him that the old man was glad he came. Maybe even a little relieved.

Satoru didn’t visit often. He couldn’t stand it. His father called it duty, but to Satoru, it was torture. He hated seeing her like this. Watching her exist without living. 

Sometimes, he wished she would just die already.

At least then, she could stop suffering.

Time moved on, as it always does without asking for anyone’s permission. Days blurred into each other, and somewhere along the way, Satoru began to feel as if he was being hollowed out. Like something inside him was unraveling thread by thread, and by the time he noticed, he couldn’t remember where it started or how to stop it.

The silence got louder. The loneliness crept in slowly. It didn’t announce itself. It didn’t need to. It slid into his bones like cold water, soaking through, staying there. His own thoughts stretched wide like shadows at dusk, swallowing everything else.

Some days he couldn’t tell if he was awake or just sleepwalking through the hours.  Some mornings, when he caught himself in the mirror, he’d stop and stare—not because he liked what he saw, but because the boy looking back felt unfamiliar. Like a stranger had slipped into his skin when he wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t tell if it was time that changed him, or if he had just slipped too far out of himself.

He had never felt so weak despite being so strong. It was like his soul had rotted from within. He could barely feel his own existence. When was the last time he even heard his voice outside his head?

He didn’t know what he was anymore.

And in those moments, always, his thoughts would wander to one person.

Toji Fushiguro.

He hated him. Resented the calm he carried, the way he walked like he had nothing to prove. Toji had Suguru waiting at home, a kid with raw talent, and a love that—though quiet—was still real in the ways that mattered. The world didn’t applaud Toji. He didn’t have wealth or legacy, his name didn’t echo through the clan walls. But still, he had something Satoru didn’t.

And that drove Satoru insane.

In his young mind, Toji had become the villain of the story. The man who stole everything he wanted. His rival. His enemy. But the worst part—the part that made his jaw clench and his fists curl—was the truth he could never say out loud: he didn’t just hate Toji. 

He wanted to be him.

Satoru sat on the veranda one sleepless night, back against the frame, the cold breeze brushing past him. His thoughts were a mess again, tangled and heavy. Sleep had become a thing of the past. He could barely remember what rest felt like. Even when his body shut down, his mind didn’t. It just kept spinning, spiraling, drilling into every dark crevice he tried to ignore. His temples always ache these days. A dull throb that never fully left.

He pushed himself up and stepped into the bathroom and looked at the mirror. Really looked. The image that stared back still had the softness of youth—baby cheeks, a body still stretching toward manhood. Still not what Suguru would want. Still not enough.

He wasn’t enough.

The crack of his fist against the glass echoed, sharp and immediate. Shards clattered into the sink, blood welled from his knuckles, warm and red, running down his wrist. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t move for a while. It stung, but it was real. And the pain...it felt good. Like he was alive again.

He picked up a piece of the broken mirror, held it in his palm, and tilted it just enough to catch his eyes. He turned it slowly between his fingers. Watched how it framed just one piece of his face at a time. An eye. The curve of his mouth. The side of his nose. Nothing ever whole. Always fragments. He stared. Long and hard. Like if he looked deep enough, he might find what went missing.

He angled the shard down, just a bit. Let it brush against the inside of his wrist.

Just a touch.

Satoru scoffed and let the piece fall with a dull clink and called the maids to clean it up, not caring that it was nearly three in the morning. Blood still trickled from his knuckles. They noticed, of course they did, but no one said a word. They knew better than to ask.

Later that night, he teleported to the Himalayas. Again. He spent his time with the monks, hoping the silence would do what noise never could. He asked for guidance. For peace. For anything that could cure him. Cure the sickness he was going through. He stayed with the monks for days. Weeks maybe. Long enough to almost feel human.

The Japanese monk told him that nothing outside of him was causing this. 

Not Suguru. Not Toji. 

It was him. 

His own mind tearing at itself. His own refusal to rest, to accept, to let go. 

His mind was not his enemy. But it was sick. 

And nothing was more dangerous than a mind that believes it is broken. 

“Despite all your powers, you are not a god,” the monk told him. “You are just a boy.”

A boy clinging to a love that was slowly undoing him.

Satoru nodded. He listened. Took it in with the calm face of someone who understood.

But he didn’t let go.

He never did.

Suguru’s unusual distraction in class didn’t go unnoticed. Nanako and Mimiko had caught onto it quickly, exchanging glances before one of them leaned in to ask, “Are you okay, Sensei?”

Suguru blinked, a little too slowly, then waved them off with a small smile. “It’s nothing. Just the heat making me feel a bit off, I guess.”

The twins nodded, concern still in their eyes. “Make sure you drink water and rest, okay?”

“I will,” he promised and turned back to his lesson, eyes trailing over the text he’d read a dozen times already.

Lately, things have been oddly calm. Satoru hadn’t approached him in almost a week. Suguru had been so sure the young alpha would keep trying, hounding him until the end of time, refusing to give up. But instead, nothing. Satoru had apparently taken the hint. Accepted it.

That was how it was supposed to be. It was better this way. Right?

Then why did it bother him so much?

With a quiet sigh, he excused himself, heading to the washroom to splash cold water on his face. The chill helped a little. He stared at his reflection for a moment longer than he meant to, then left, making his way to the teacher’s room.

Miguel and Manami were already there, chatting quietly over some papers. Suguru sat down across from them with another soft sigh.

“What’s bothering you?” Manami asked, leaning casually against the table.

“Nothing really, just the weather,” Suguru replied, reaching for some work to keep him busy.

Manami hummed, not convinced, and glanced at Miguel, who gave her a subtle look. Suguru tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the paperwork in front of him.

“You still up for drinks tonight? Like I mentioned last week?” Manami asked.

“Sure,” Suguru said without thinking too much.

“Yeah!” Manami smiled, turning to Miguel. “You coming too?”

Suguru noticed the way Miguel stiffened slightly, arms crossing as he played it cool. “I guess I can.”

Manami nudged his shoulder with a smirk. “Stop trying to act all cool, big guy.”

Suguru couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped, watching the two of them banter. It was nice, he thought, to be around people who didn’t expect anything more than his company.

He finally finished his shift, and along with Manami and Miguel, exited the school. From a distance, he noticed a group of students gathered near the front gate, crowding around someone. Most of them appeared to be omegas, though there were a few alphas and betas mixed in.

“What’s happening over there?” Suguru muttered to himself.

“Dunno,” Manami replied, squinting. “A celebrity, maybe?”

A celebrity, huh? But as Suguru got closer, the figure at the center of the crowd became unmistakably familiar. The alpha stood taller than most students, his white hair making him stand out effortlessly. He wore a loose white shirt tucked into jeans, the top two buttons undone. A rectangular pair of glasses sat on his nose, and he grinned like an idiot while students fawned over him. He looked good… not that Suguru wanted to give it any real thought.

Took him long enough.

Suguru smirked to himself but felt just as equally annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to be approached by him at school. Taking advantage of the crowd, he tried to slip past unnoticed while the young alpha soaked in the attention.

“Oh, he’s gotta be a celebrity,” Manami gasped, clearly impressed. “Or a model, right? What’s he even doing here? Probably someone’s brother…I should totally give him my number.”

Miguel only grunted, arms crossed, silently observing.

“Don’t bother,” Suguru said, brows furrowed. “He’s probably younger than you.”

“As if I couldn’t already tell,” Manami rolled her eyes.

“I think I know him,” Miguel said suddenly, drawing both of their attention.

“Seriously?” Manami asked, raising a brow.

“I’m not sure…but he looks familiar.”

Suguru glanced at Miguel, wondering. He’d never mentioned anything about the jujutsu world before, but Suguru had always been a little suspicious. Given Miguel was from Africa—one of the only regions other than Japan where sorcerers still existed—there was a chance.

As Manami and Miguel continued chatting, Suguru quietly tried to slip around the crowd and make his way down the road unnoticed. But he failed.

“Suguru~” Satoru’s voice rang out, sing-song and light. Suguru froze.

“There you are,” Satoru grinned, eyes locking onto him. “I was waiting for you.”

Everyone suddenly went silent. All eyes turned to Suguru.

This was hell.

Within seconds, he was surrounded with students swarming him from every direction.

“Geto-sensei?!”

“You know him?”

“Oh my god, is he your boyfriend?!”

“He is not—” Suguru started.

“That’s why he wouldn’t give us his number!”

“Geto-sensei’s into younger guys?!”

“No—”

“I’m so jealous.”

“Where did you guys meet?”

“How’d you land someone like him?!”

“Idiot, look at Geto-sensei. You think he struggles getting cock?”

Suguru gasped, his face flushing as he raised his voice. “Mind your language!”

Meanwhile, Satoru stood at a distance with a completely fake innocent look on his face, hands in his pockets, pretending he had nothing to do with this chaos. Manami glanced at him with a deadpan expression, clearly unimpressed at his hypocrisy. Miguel looked just about done with all of it. He clapped his hands together—loud—so loud even Suguru flinched.

“Go home. All of you. Now.”

The students hesitated only a second before grumbling and slowly leaving, some still sneaking glances at Satoru like he was a walking poster.

As soon as the crowd cleared, Suguru stormed up to him, jabbing a finger right into his chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Took a while to track down your school,” Satoru said, casually.

Suguru’s eyes narrowed. “Y-You’re stalking me, aren’t you?”

Satoru tilted his head, that infuriatingly calm smile playing on his lips. “Nope. I just missed you.”

Suguru growled. He wanted to smack him.

From behind, Manami crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “So... you do know him.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Suguru said quickly. “He’s just someone I knew. From the past.”

Satoru scoffed. Suguru shot him a glare.

“Oh? If that’s all, then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I gave him my number,” Manami said, already pulling a slip of paper from her pocket.

“Wait—” Suguru tried to stop her, but she was faster, handing it to Satoru with a confident smile. “I’m Manami. Call me.”

“Manami-san!” Suguru groaned, his voice rising a pitch.

“What? You’re worried about something?”

“No! Just—ugh, fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care,” Suguru said, throwing his hands in the air.

Manami giggled. “Ah, I didn’t get your name,” she said, turning back to Satoru.

“It’s—”

“Gojo Satoru,” Miguel cut in, arms crossed.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“You’re popular in Africa.”

“Really?” Manami blinked. “For what?”

Miguel shrugged. “No idea. People just know him.”

“That’s weird,” Suguru muttered, shooting Satoru with a suspicious look.

Satoru rubbed the back of his head and grinned, annoyingly smug. “Heh…thanks.”

“Well, if you all don’t mind,” Satoru said, voice light but eyes sharp behind his glasses. His gaze flicked to Manami, and she seemed to falter slightly under it. “Can I steal Suguru for a minute? Been a while. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

“No,” Suguru replied instantly. “We’ve done plenty of that already. Besides, we’ve got plans tonight. So tough luck, kiddo.”

Satoru’s smile faltered just a little, but he recovered quickly, leaning forward with a teasing lilt in his voice. “Aw, don’t be like that, Suguru. I’m sure they can survive without you for one evening. Right, Manami-san?” His grin widened as he pulled her number and gave her a cheeky wink. “And I promise I’ll call you later tonight.”

Manami's eyes sparkled. “Well in that case, go ahead! Take him!”

“Huh?” Suguru blinked. Miguel raised an eyebrow.

Manami grabbed Suguru’s arm with a grin. “Come on, you owe me. You can tell him all the nice things about me, yeah?”

“But—” 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re actually into him.”

“I’m not!” Suguru growled.

“Perfect!” she chirped, then shoved Suguru right into Satoru—hard enough that he stumbled forward. Satoru caught him, hands firm on Suguru’s shoulders, their faces suddenly inches apart.

Manami waved cheerfully as she dragged Miguel off, ignoring his annoyed grunts.

Suguru steadied himself, immediately stepping back and brushing off Satoru’s hands. “That damn woman…” he muttered, cheeks just a little pink.

Satoru chuckled under his breath, then took a slow, deliberate step closer. Suguru’s jaw tightened as he instinctively stepped back, only for his back to lightly hit the gate behind him.

“Looks like luck’s on my side today after all,” Satoru murmured, voice deep now, eyes fixed on Suguru. “Right…baby?”

Suguru cringed. “Shut up.”

“Suguru, you can’t keep running from me,” Satoru said, trailing behind him, rattling off suggestions like a desperate salesman. “Aquarium? Cat café? Five-star restaurant? I’ll make the reservation right now,” he added, already pulling his phone out.

Suguru didn’t say a word. Just kept walking.

Annoyed, Satoru stepped right in front of him, making Suguru flinch just slightly. “Stop ignoring me,” he muttered, irritated.

Suguru sighed, rubbing at his temples. “I told you to leave me alone, kid.”

“Who the fuck are you calling a kid?” Satoru growled.

Suguru smirked. “You’re twenty. That’s practically still a fetus. A bit of height and some muscles don’t change that.”

“Oh, really?” Satoru said, crossing his arms. “So what, I gotta turn fifty for you to even consider liking me?”

“You’d still be a kid in my eyes,” Suguru said with a teasing grin, watching Satoru’s expression twist into a frustrated pout. It gave him a bit more satisfaction than it should have.

Satoru looked up at the sky dramatically, then stepped in again, voice lower now. “Maybe I can change your mind. You might be surprised, Suguru.”

The omega rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly in the chest, walking past. But he didn’t get far. Satoru caught his wrist and pulled him back.

“You really hate me that much?” His voice had dropped into something quieter. Softer. Almost fragile.

“I...” Suguru paused. His gaze flicked away, lips pressing into a line. “I don’t hate you, Satoru.”

For a moment, the younger alpha looked almost too young again. That vulnerability in his expression, so raw and open, struck something in Suguru. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt a little softer toward Satoru.

“I just wanna spend time with you,” Satoru said, voice soft but earnest. “I know I can’t undo what happened. But I like you. Really like you. I mean it.”

Suguru exhaled slowly. “Okay, listen. You’re technically old enough now, so try acting like it.” He gently pried Satoru’s hand off his arm. “I get it, you like me. And yeah, it’s legal now,” he added, sarcasm laced in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right. Some things just don’t work. We don’t work.”

"That's not true," Satoru said quickly. "From the moment I saw you, I knew. It felt like my soul recognized you before my mind could make sense of it. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. You just haven’t realized it yet. Can’t you see? Something’s been pulling us together from the very beginning."

“Are you sure it’s not just you stalking me?”

Satoru gasped. “I would never do that!”

“Sure,” Suguru muttered, clearly unconvinced.

“I’m serious,” Satoru said. “It’s not just fate. It’s…like imprinting.”

Suguru raised a brow, a soft scoff escaping him. “Imprinting?”

Satoru nodded, stepping closer again, almost as if drawn by something he couldn’t resist. “Yeah. Like something primal. Like I was made to find you. That no matter what else I do, it’ll always circle back to you. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s not obsession. It’s not a crush. It’s like...fate wired into my bones.”

Suguru stared at him. His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but it didn’t quite happen. 

“Oh baby,” he said, voice laced with a tired fondness. “That’s not a real thing.”

He almost pitied Satoru for how desperate and devoted he was. It was sad, really. Kind of cute too, in the same way a student sounds when they talk about becoming a witch or a superhero to save the world.

“It is to me,” Satoru said, voice steady. “You won’t know unless you give it a chance.”

Suguru folded his arms, eyeing him carefully. Was it too soon to even entertain the thought? Still, something about Satoru’s stubbornness piqued his curiosity. He wanted to see how far this kid would really go.

Satoru took a step closer, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, revealing sharp blue eyes that sparkled under the sunlight. His scent hit Suguru hard—warm, clean, overwhelming. Suguru stiffened.

“I just want to be good to you,” Satoru whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of Suguru’s ear, making him flinch. “Give you what you deserve.”

Suguru parted his lips to respond, something sharp on the tip of his tongue but then Satoru’s phone started ringing. He cursed under his breath, snatched the phone out of his pocket, and answered it with a growl.

“This better be important, Ijichi, or I swear to—what? Where? Wait, who the hell sent them on that mission? Oh. Right. I did.”

Suguru watched as Satoru’s face shifted from annoyed to alarmed. Then he hung up, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish laugh escaping him.

“Well, this is bad.”

“What now?” Suguru asked, curious.

Satoru looked him dead in the eyes. “I need your help. It's Megumi and Yuuji. I sent them on a mission and… turns out there might be a special grade curse.”

“You what?!” Suguru’s voice cracked in disbelief. “Megumi is barely twelve and only Grade 3. You cannot be that fucking irresponsible.” (He got this information from Haibara.)

“I know! That’s why I need you. Come on—we don’t have time!”

“But I can’t use Jujutsu anymore!” Suguru groaned.

“I’m with you. Who the hell cares?”

Suguru inhaled deeply. Something old and heavy stirred inside him. His cursed energy surged like a wave breaking free after years of silence, wrapping around him, pulsing with life. He raised his hand and with a spark of power, summoned the massive rainbow dragon that curled in the air beside him, shimmering with raw energy.

Satoru’s eyes lit up, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his face. “There you are.”

He lifted off the ground, floating effortlessly in the air above him. “Try to keep up,” he called down.

Suguru leapt onto his dragon, the creature roaring as it shot into the sky beside Satoru. The wind rushed past his face, the city blurring beneath them. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest.

Fuck, he missed this.

The rush. The power. The feeling of being alive.

When they arrived, Satoru immediately spotted Ijichi pacing outside the abandoned building, his expression tense as he searched the area. Satoru descended to the ground, striding over to him.

“Where were they last seen?” he asked urgently.

Ijichi, looking shaken, replied, “This is where they were sent for the mission. But now—no trace. They just vanished.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed. “They’re inside the domain,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Above, still perched on his dragon, Suguru scanned the area with sharp eyes. He then noticed a faint distortion in the air. His voice rang out clearly, calling Satoru’s name. The younger alpha looked up, followed his gaze, and in the next moment, he was slicing through the barrier with ease.

Suguru steadied himself, preparing for battle, though uncertainty gnawed at him. It had been so long since he fought… would he still have it in him?

Inside the domain, chaos had already taken hold.

The Special Grade curse stood menacingly in the center. Megumi was bruised, his hands in signs, barely staying on his feet. He looked close to collapsing. Nearby, a pink-haired boy—had to be Yuuji—was pushed into a pile of rubble, blood streaking down the side of his head as he staggered back to his feet, ready to fight again.

Suguru’s heart twisted at the sight of them. These were just kids.

He and Satoru burst through the domain walls, the sudden shift catching the Special Grade off guard. But almost immediately, more curses surged forward, surrounding Megumi and Yuuji. Panic flashed in the boys' eyes, but the moment they spotted Satoru, a spark of hope lit their faces.

Then, the special grade curse lunged at Yuuji.

“Yuuji!” Satoru shouted, lunging forward and throwing his arm around the boy just as he delivered a devastating Black Flash to the special grade curse, hurling it across the wall. The impact sent shockwaves through the building, smoke and debris clouding the space around them.

Megumi’s voice rang out in panic through the haze. “Itadori!” He called out, eyes wide with fear, unaware of the curse creeping up behind him.

He didn’t even have time to react.

That was when Suguru struck.

He released his hookworm curse, launching it at the enemy just in time to knock it away from the boy. Then he quickly jumped from his dragon, caught Megumi in his arms, and summoned more of his cursed spirits to intercept the advancing threats.

Megumi clung to him, trembling, his body wracked with fear.

“You’re okay now,” Suguru said softly, his voice calm and steady. “It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

Megumi’s eyes snapped open, locking onto Suguru. For a split second, there was something unreadable in his gaze—until it shifted. His focus darted past Suguru to the writhing hookworm curse looming behind him. Horror twisted Megumi’s face, then fury.

“Get away!” he shouted, shoving Suguru back with more force than expected and stumbling onto his own back. The omega frowned, catching his balance. He had just saved the boy, and this was the reaction he got?

Megumi muttered something under his breath—inaudible to Suguru—before scrambling up and bolting toward Yuuji. “Is he okay?” he asked, voice tight with worry.

“Perfectly fine. Yuuji’s strong, isn’t he?” Satoru replied, giving Yuuji’s shoulder a light slap.

Sitting on the ground with a slowly bleeding forehead, Yuuji gave a thumbs-up, grinning. “Yep, I’m fine, Fushiguro. Don’t worry.”

Megumi pouted at the sight of the bleeding which immediately got worse, and within seconds, the three of them were in a chaotic panic, Megumi scolding Satoru while he tried to defend himself, waving his hands.

Suguru just watched wondering who the fuck made this guy a teacher. 

With a sigh, Satoru finally unleashed a Hollow Purple, obliterating the special grade curse in one flash of power. Suguru handled the rest, swiftly exorcising the remaining curses. Before they exited the domain, he quietly compressed the special grade into an orb, slipping it into his pocket.

Outside, Ijichi was a mess of nerves and relief, practically flailing his arms as he rushed over to the group. He nearly collapsed when he saw Megumi and Yuuji alive, even if a little roughed up. Megumi was helping Yuuji walk, the pink-haired boy leaning on his shoulder and laughing like they hadn’t just survived a life-or-death battle.

“Thanks, Gojo-sensei!” Yuuji chirped, then he glanced at Suguru, “You too!”

Megumi, under his breath, grumbled, “That fool sent us on the mission in the first place…”

Ijichi turned to Satoru, voice rising in a frantic pitch. “You are absolutely not qualified to be a teacher! And bringing Geto Suguru in? Are you insane? The higher-ups will have my head for this. I’ll be punished for sure—”

“Shut up, Ijichi,” Satoru cut in, annoyed. “The higher-ups can’t do shit. Tell them to fuck off.”

Suguru scoffed at that, rolling his eyes.

“Geto Suguru?” Yuuji blinked, his eyes widening slightly. “Wait— you’re Geto Suguru? That’s crazy!”

Suguru arched a brow, tilting his head. “You know me?”

“Of course! You’re really famous,” Yuuji said with a grin. “You’re that Grade 1 sorcerer who destroyed the Gojo clan, right?”

Suguru’s eyebrow twitched. “...Huh?”

Megumi’s eyes blew wide in horror. Ijichi went pale, visibly trembling. And Satoru dragged a hand down his face like he just aged ten years.

“Itadori!” Megumi hissed, yanking Yuuji to the side and whispering furiously, “You idiot! That wasn’t him—it was Gojo-sensei! ”

“Wait, what? ” Yuuji’s voice wasn’t exactly quiet. “Gojo-sensei destroyed his own clan? But why?!”

“I don’t know, but it was him!” Megumi snapped, trying to stay hushed but clearly failing.

“But the Kyoto students said he was responsible! Even Maki-senpai—”

“Being responsible and being the one who destroyed them are two different things, you fool!” Megumi growled, his voice rising to full volume now.

Suguru stood still, arms crossed, watching the kids’ exchange like he was teetering on the edge of a combustion. Then his eyes slowly slid to Satoru—sharp and cutting.

The young alpha flinched. Hard.

“I’m so confused,” Yuuji whispered loudly, glancing nervously at Suguru.

Satoru cleared his throat, forcing a too-bright smile. “Ijichi, why don’t you take them back to the dorms now? They did great. Really. I’ll give them some money to celebrate or something. Nanami’s probably worried about Yuuji too. Go on, you guys should head out.”

Yuuji perked right up. “Money?! Awesome!” He flung an arm around Megumi’s shoulders, dragging the boy with him toward the car. Megumi looked annoyed like he always did.

As Ijichi drove off, Satoru let out a long breath.

“I guess the universe’s reminding me exactly why I should stay the hell away from you,” Suguru said, voice low as he tilted his head with a mock grin.

“Suguru, please—”

But Suguru was already walking off.

And Satoru had no choice but to follow.

“Are you going to swallow that?” Satoru asked after trailing behind Suguru for a while.

“What?” Suguru glanced back at him.

“The curse. In your left pocket. You gonna swallow it?”

Of course Satoru would know.

“I don’t know,” Suguru admitted. He wasn’t even sure why he kept it.

“Maybe you should,” Satoru said. “You know…take your power back.”

“Eh. They taste disgusting. I’d rather not put something like that in my mouth again.”

Satoru hummed. “Still, it was part of you. Even the grossest, most rotten things about us... they make us who we are. Humanity’s kind of ugly like that. Doesn’t mean we don’t carry it.”

Suguru chuckled. “Since when did you become a philosopher?”

Satoru laughed too. “Who knows? Maybe time turned me into one.”

Suguru hummed in thought, pulling the black orb out of his pocket and staring at it. Take my power back? It had been ten years since he last tasted a curse. This one was a special grade, too. Maybe...

He brought it close to his face, sniffing it—no real smell. Then, slowly, he parted his lips.

Satoru watched him from the side, eyes hidden behind his glasses but smirk unmistakable. “Go on.”

Suguru hesitated only a second longer, then opened his mouth wider, pushing the orb in bit by bit. The moment he swallowed, his whole body jolted—revulsion kicking in hard.

“Ugh—gross!” He grimaced, rubbing his mouth. “It’s just as bad as I remember.”

He wiped his lips with his sleeve, catching Satoru still watching him with a smirk, clearly thinking about something dirty.

“What?” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing,” Satoru scoffed, looking up at the sky instead. “It’s just...good to see you back again.”

Suguru gave him a puzzled glance. “You’re a weird kid.”

“Stop calling me a kid, god,” Satoru whined.

Suguru giggled. Something inside him felt lighter, freer. Like he was seventeen again. For a moment, he imagined what it would’ve been like if he and Satoru were born in the same years, gone on missions together, and grown stronger side by side. 

That thought alone made Suguru smile.

It was nearing nightfall by the time Suguru made it back to his apartment.

Of course, Satoru had followed him all the way there.

Suguru debated whether to let him in or not. But with how persistent the young alpha was, practically glued to his side, it felt pointless to resist. He sighed. Fine. It’s not like anything was going to happen between them anyway. Just a casual hangout...hopefully.

“Sorry for intruding~” Satoru chirped as he stepped inside, kicking his shoes off—only to immediately smack his head against the low entrance.

“Shit—ow!”

“You’re too tall,” Suguru said, raising an eyebrow. He was tall too, but somehow never managed to hit that same spot. The apartment was small but maybe too small for someone like Satoru.

Rubbing his head, Satoru tugged off his glasses, blinking as his eyes adjusted. Suguru caught a clear view of them now, unshielded and gleaming in the dim light.

He wandered in, eyes skimming the space as Suguru tossed down his bag and pulled his hair loose with a sigh.

“Nice place you got here, Suguru,” Satoru said, dropping onto the sofa with a loud grunt. His legs spread wide, claiming space, and without warning, he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Suguru stared. “What are you doing?”

“It’s hot,” Satoru said simply, continuing until his black undershirt was visible beneath.

“I’ll turn the AC on,” Suguru replied, grabbing the remote quickly. “Keep your shirt on.”

Satoru smirked, running a hand through his hair, his alpha presence thickening the air. “Geez, Suguru…don’t make it so obvious.”

So obvious, huh?

His scent was practically bleeding into the walls. It was intoxicating, heavy. Addictive. Suguru didn’t need that kind of temptation lingering in his home. 

Yeah, the shirt better stay on.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen,” Suguru said coolly, tilting his head. “Actually…I’ve seen way more.”

He let the words hang, giving Satoru a pointed look that said exactly what he meant.

And there it was—a glint. Just a twitch in the corner of Satoru’s smug grin. A crack in the cocky exterior.

Heh.

Suguru smirked to himself. That landed.

“You want dinner?” Suguru asked, already halfway to the kitchen.

“Never thought you’d ask. And yes, absolutely. I’d never turn down food made by you,” Satoru grinned, though it looked more forced than genuine.

“I was actually thinking about ordering takeout,” Suguru replied casually.

Satoru’s grin dropped into a dramatic frown, complete with a pout.

Suguru rolled his eyes and reached over to tug at his cheeks. “Fine, I’ll make you some instant noodles, happy?” he teased, clearly enjoying the sight of Satoru being both grumpy and undeniably cute.

“Pretty sure you used to cook feasts for your ex-husband every other day,” Satoru mumbled, sulking. “I’m so unspecial, huh?”

That earned him a firmer pinch, both of Suguru’s hands now gripping Satoru’s cheeks as he squished his face. “And how do you know that?”

“Megumi told me,” Satoru said, half-lidded eyes locking onto Suguru’s with a lazy kind of amusement.

Suguru hummed, finally letting go. “Fine. I’ll make you something quick and delicious. But only if you promise to leave after you eat.” He sounded like a teacher negotiating with a particularly stubborn student.

Satoru nodded solemnly, like a child agreeing to rules he had no intention of following.

Suguru tied his hair up as he stepped into the kitchen. Stray bangs slipped loose, falling softly across his face. He turned on the stove and set a pot to boil, deciding on Zosui. He kept the spice low, knowing Satoru’s sweet tooth and his intolerance to anything too hot.

Meanwhile, Satoru lounged on the couch, his long limbs taking up more space than necessary. The small apartment didn’t give them much room to breathe—the kitchen, dining area, and living room were all one open space, and the bedroom just behind the couch.

“Mind if I take a shower?” Satoru called out lazily.

“Do you have spare clothes?” Suguru shot back.

“Nope.”

“Then no.”

“Can you at least lower the AC? Still hot.”

“No. The bill will be higher.”

Satoru groaned loudly, making Suguru chuckle. He went back to stirring the Zosui, focused as the savory scent started to fill the space when suddenly, he felt Satoru's powerful presence behind him.

Before he could turn, he felt warmth radiating against his back, his alpha scent overtaking even the smell of the broth. His chest was nearly touching Suguru’s back.

“That looks good,” Satoru murmured, voice low and close, lips just near Suguru’s ear. His breath was warm, his presence irresistible.

Suguru tensed slightly.

Satoru leaned in even closer. “Smells so good,” he whispered, dragging the words out as he took a slow, deliberate inhale but not of the Zosui—but of him, nose brushing close to Suguru’s neck. “Can’t wait.”

Suguru felt his ears heat up, a slow burn creeping down his neck. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, suppress it, deny it—his omega instincts kicked in before his thoughts could catch up.

Suguru clicked his tongue, biting down hard to stifle the sudden rush of heat that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He spun around, ready to shove Satoru away. 

“Get out of here—”

Pause.

Fuck.

Satoru had ditched the shirt completely, now left in just that damn black undershirt—tight, seamless, clinging to every inch of him like it was tailor-made to ruin Suguru’s life.

His shoulders were broad, collarbones peeking just under the shirt’s neckline, the material stretching over his firm chest, hugging the shape of it. And those arms— fuck —his biceps flexed slightly as he brushed a hand through his snowy hair, veins running faintly beneath his skin.

Suguru didn’t know where to look. Or if he should look at all. But he was looking. He was staring. Salivating, almost. His mind screamed to pull away, to not give in, but his body betrayed him with every flustered heartbeat and shaky breath.

Satoru in his usual baggy uniform was one thing. He was more on the leaner side. Suguru knew he was well-built, of course he did, he wasn’t blind. But he didn’t expect him to be this big. All that muscle hidden so casually beneath those oversized clothes of his, like it was nothing. And now, stripped down to that tight black undershirt, it was impossible to ignore. 

Suguru clenched his jaw, trying to compose himself, but he knew he was already a mess. 

Maybe he really was a whore after all.

“I-I told you to keep your shirt on!” Suguru shouted, panicking.

“I told you it’s hot,” Satoru said, all innocence, flexing casually again as he ran a hand back through his hair, lips curling into that wicked grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

Clouded by hormones or maybe just mesmerized, Suguru pushed weakly at his chest. “Put your damn shirt back on!”

“Relax, Suguru,” Satoru grinned, unbothered. “It’s not like I’m naked.”

Gods, he might as well be.

“Hmph!” Suguru turned his head away, face flushing deep red. But before he could retreat further, Satoru clicked his tongue and reached out, tugging him by the wrist until Suguru stumbled right into him, chest to chest.

“Calm down, Omega,” Satoru growled, his breath brushing Suguru’s skin. “You’re not exactly being subtle.”

Suguru’s whole body stiffened. The scent hit him again, thick and heady, curling into every breath he took. Alpha. All-consuming. It surrounded him, soaked into his clothes, into his skin. And that heat radiating off Satoru’s body wasn’t helping.

Every part of Suguru’s omega instincts screamed to submit, to fold, to get on all fours and let the younger man do as he pleased.

But he resisted.

Barely.

When their eyes met, Suguru noticed something. There was a hunger in Satoru’s gaze, intense and full of want. Just a few moments ago, he’d been all playful and baby-faced, but now it was like he flipped a switch. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. That look in his eyes said everything. 

He wanted to fuck Suguru. Plain and simple. 

Suguru wondered if maybe he should give Satoru a chance. To let him fulfill all the fantasies that he was clearly holding back behind those eyes. God knows for how long. 

After all, he’d been loyal and dedicated to him all these years. Ever since he was a kid, really. The kind of loyalty any omega could only dream of. 

Suguru didn’t know whether to call him a hopeless yearner or a total creep. 

Maybe he was a little bit of both.

The truth is Suguru was curious too. Curious to know how Satoru would treat him if he ever gave in and let him take control. Would he be just as big down there as he was everywhere else? The thought came uninvited, and before his eyes could wander lower, he forced himself to look away. He tore himself free from Satoru’s grip and returned to the stove, hands moving as he stirred the Zosui as if his heart wasn’t thudding hard against his ribs.

It was too soon. Way too soon.

Suguru wasn’t that easy.

Behind him, he heard Satoru scoff and lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. The omega could feel the weight of his gaze even without looking and he was trying very hard not to peek at those big meaty arms. Suguru was going crazy. 

“What’s stopping you, huh?” Satoru asked. “What’s got you holding back from what we both want?”

“Past mistakes,” Suguru replied flatly. “Obviously.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not your ex-husband,” Satoru shot back. “I’m better than him.”

“I doubt that.”

There was a pause and then Satoru’s voice came closer again, low, husky. “I could show you tonight.”

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek, the spoon in his hand pausing mid-stir.

“...Can you not?” he said, trying to steady his voice. “Just let me cook in peace. Get out of the kitchen.”

“Alright, alright,” Satoru groaned, dragging his feet dramatically as he headed back to the couch.

Suguru exhaled, forcing himself to focus on the food. Letting him in was a mistake.

Soon enough, the food was served, and Satoru’s entire face lit up with excitement—actual stars in his eyes. That babyish charm came rushing back, all wide-eyed and grinning, and Suguru would be lying if he said it wasn’t…endearing.

For someone born into so much wealth, raised under the suffocating scrutiny of the Gojo clan, it was almost absurd how happy a simple Zosui made him. Suguru still remembered how carefully curated his meals used to be—measured, balanced, clean. And yet here he was, practically bouncing over rice in soup.

It reminded Suguru of a day from years ago, back when he was still new in the Gojo estate. He had bought a cheap candy from a street vendor for a young Satoru, and the kid had been over the moon, clinging to him all day, calling him “wifey” in the most obnoxious way possible. 

God, that child was absolutely insufferable. And looking at him now, hunched over a bowl, face full of joy…nothing much had changed.

“I wish I could kill every man who’s eaten your food before me,” Satoru said out of nowhere, eyes locked on Suguru.

Suguru snorted, laughing. “You only really have to kill one.”

“Right.” Satoru smirked, but there was a glint in his eye that didn’t quite match the playfulness in his voice. “It’s funny…no one would guess you were ever married.”

“Because I still look young?” Suguru raised a brow, teasing.

“Nah,” Satoru replied, making a face. “You never had a mating mark, did you?”

Suguru’s lips parted. Then shut again. Silence.

Satoru tilted his head, that knowing look creeping back in. “Married with no mating mark? If you were mine, I would’ve done it the second we said our vows. I’d make sure it stayed fresh—red and obvious—for the world to see.”

His voice dropped into a low growl, and Suguru felt it like a pulse in his stomach. A shiver crawled up his spine, and he instinctively pressed his thighs together.

Clearing his throat, Suguru looked away. “You…why don’t you try dating someone your own age? Big age gaps aren’t exactly ideal. You should be careful.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” Satoru said with a laugh.

Suguru pouted. “Yeah, okay. I made a mistake. You don’t need to keep throwing it in my face.”

“You just couldn’t wait,” Satoru said, more serious now, his tone gentler. “But I did. I still am. And I will. Until you give in.”

Suguru blinked, caught off guard by the shift. He turned back to his food, slowly picking up his chopsticks. “You want dessert after?”

Satoru lit up again, smile wide. “Yes, please! Do you have strawberry ice cream?”

Suguru burst into laughter. The sudden flip was too much. 

Satoru was nothing like Toji. 

Toji had been a wild dog, feral and impossible to tame. Satoru, on the other hand, was more like a house-trained pup. Maybe it was the age gap or maybe it was just who he was. 

Sure, he had his moments too. He was aggressive, dominant, too bold for his own good but underneath all that, he was eager to please. Loyal. The kind of alpha who’d wag his tail at the smallest show of affection. No wonder Suguru felt this strange softness toward him, even while being undeniably attracted to him. 

Satoru was still young, still learning. And maybe Shoko had a point—if Suguru took the time to train him properly, he might actually be worth keeping.

“Why are you laughing?” Satoru puffed out his cheeks in a pout. So cute. Hard to believe this was the same man known as the strongest sorcerer alive, the most feared and capable of mass destruction.

“Nothing. Just finish your food,” Suguru said, shaking his head with a small smile as they continued eating in comfortable silence.

After dinner, Suguru headed for a quick shower. When he returned, towel around his neck, still drying his damp hair, Satoru was right where he left him—sitting on the couch, phone in hand.

“Satoru…you need to leave,” Suguru said, walking over. Then his brows furrowed. “Wait, is that my phone?”

He snatched it from Satoru’s hands.

“I was just saving my number,” Satoru said, far too casually.

Suguru growled. He hated people touching his things, especially his phone. But when he looked at the contact saved, his eye twitched.

‘My Alpha😍❤️’

He didn’t even know how to react to that. Meanwhile, Satoru giggled like an idiot.

“You do stuff like this and expect me not to treat you like a kid?” Suguru grimaced, trying so hard not to laugh. This was the type of shit he would imagine a young Satoru to do and find it cringe when he grows up. But clearly…

Getting Satoru to actually leave took serious effort. The excuses were endless.

“It’s late, what if a strange man attacks me?”

“Who the hell would attack you ?”

“What if a curse tries to kill me?”

“You’re literally the strongest sorcerer alive, Satoru. Go home!”

He finally shoved him to the door.

Satoru stood there, hands in his pockets, head tilted, eyes full of that annoying, adorable puppy eyes sadness. It didn’t work. Suguru wasn’t letting him stay. Not when there was only one bed, a cramped apartment, and a very dangerous possibility if he did.

“Mean,” Satoru grumbled under his breath.

“You should be grateful I even let you in,” Suguru said, one hand already on the door. “Now, go.”

But instead of stepping away, Satoru leaned in, rubbing the back of his neck as his hands slipped around Suguru’s waist, pulling him close. His voice dropped to something soft. Hopeful.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Suguru’s hand immediately went to his face, palm pressing over Satoru’s mouth. “No.”

“Please? Just a little one?”

“No.”

“Okay… cheek then?”

Suguru narrowed his eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line. One firm look, and Satoru stepped back immediately, his hands dropping, eyes glancing down.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He looked genuinely embarrassed and a little hurt. Damn it. Suguru hated how bad that made him feel. Especially when the young alpha  had asked so sweetly.

Instead, Suguru reached out and ran his hand through Satoru’s hair, fingers brushing lightly against his scalp.

“Go home now, Satoru,” he said, his voice soft, almost like a lullaby.

Satoru froze. His eyes widened just slightly before fluttering half-shut. He didn’t move, just leaned into the touch like he’d waited years for it. Despite being taller, stronger, bigger, he curled into Suguru’s palm like a tame thing. Submissive, almost.

A light blush spread across the young alpha’s face as Suguru kept running his fingers through his soft white hair. Satoru looked…peaceful. Happy, even. 

But there was also a flicker of vulnerability he saw in the young alpha that tugged at something deep in Suguru’s chest. Shit.

Then Satoru looked up and met his eyes. His hand came up to catch Suguru’s, pressing it gently to his cheek. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Satoru’s expression unreadable. But those eyes…Suguru saw everything in those eyes.  

Satoru wanted to love him, hurt him, own him, protect him, worship him. 

It was all there. 

Suguru didn’t know what to feel. It was too much, too confusing.

Satoru lifted Suguru’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his fingers before nuzzling his nose gently on his wrist. Suguru didn’t pull away. He just watched quietly, letting it happen.

“I’ll make you mine,” he said quietly, eyes shining. “No matter what.”

And before Suguru could even react, Satoru smiled and added, “Goodnight, Suguru.”

And then he teleported, gone in the blink of an eye.

Suguru just stood there, blinking slowly, a slow heat crawling up his face. His heart was pounding. His stomach flipped.

“…Damn it,” he muttered, pressing his wrist—the same one Satoru was nuzzling, scenting—against his nose.

Now his whole apartment smelled like Satoru.

And worse…so did he.

Chapter Text

“You should quit your job,” Satoru said as he and Suguru walked down the road.

Satoru had been trying to get Suguru to go out for dinner, but Suguru kept turning him down, saying he had school the next day and too much work with exam season coming up. Satoru wasn’t happy about it, but he huffed and agreed, suggesting they go out on the weekend instead.

“What?” Suguru asked, making a face as if he hadn’t quite caught that. Satoru was wearing his round sunglasses again, a black, oversized long-sleeve shirt that hung loosely on his frame, paired with grey pants. It was as if he only cared to show off his muscles when it was just Suguru around—just for Suguru to admire and get distracted by him.

“I said you should quit your job,” Satoru repeated, sounding more serious this time. “You don’t belong there.”

Suguru rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Oh yeah? Where do I belong then?”

“With me, of course,” Satoru said without missing a beat. “Come be a teacher at Jujutsu High. Teach the new generation of sorcerers. They need someone like you.”

Suguru paused, glancing over at him with a wide smirk. "But they already have you, don't they?" he said, sarcastically. 

Satoru's eyebrows twitched slightly as he let out a chuckle. "I know I'm incredible and all, but I can't do it all by myself."

Suguru’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I'm sure you can handle it," he said, before turning and walking away.

Satoru groaned and followed, as he always did. "Suguru, come on, it’s not too late. You can still become a special grade sorcerer. You’re not alone. I'm right here with you. You have nothing to fear."

Suguru wasn’t afraid. He was just uncertain.

The Jujutsu world had cast him aside, branding him a villain. In return, he had accepted his defeat, shutting them all out completely. Yet, all these years, there had been moments when his heart ached, longing for a return to the way things once were. Even though the Jujutsu world was tainted with corruption, he had loved that fire, that intense burn inside him. He had felt it again recently, during his fight with the powerful curses, when he saved those children. It felt good, almost like he was finally reclaiming something lost.

But then again, there was a comfort in his normal life that he couldn’t easily let go of anymore. Stepping back into that chaos, something that had once defined him, was tempting, but it also made him uneasy. It wasn’t as simple as it used to be, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to return to that life.

Satoru stopped him, stepping in front of him and taking his hands gently. The young alpha was slowly getting more comfortable with the physical touch, though it was only because Suguru was allowing it. 

"Trust me, Suguru, when I say this: there are children there who look up to you. Maybe not everyone, but they recognize your strength. You're an inspiration to them, no matter what anyone else says." 

Satoru moved a little closer, his blue eyes peeking through his glasses as they locked with Suguru's.

"And most importantly... I need you, Suguru. Please."

Suguru's cheek flushed slightly, his heart doing strange flips. What was he, seventeen? He licked his lips and slowly pulled his hands back, looking away. 

"I'll think about it," he said, stealing a quick glance at Satoru before quickly averting his gaze. "You...want to come over? I was thinking of making some soba," he added, not even sure why he offered. He had school tomorrow, after all.

"You know I can never say no to you," Satoru replied with a grin, slipping his hands back into his pockets as they began walking toward Suguru's apartment.

No matter how much Suguru pushed him away, rejected him, Satoru never stopped trying. Almost every day, he would come to pick Suguru up from school, waiting patiently by the gate. It was becoming increasingly difficult to explain their relationship to his coworkers—what exactly they were to each other.

Satoru would shower Suguru with gifts, attempting to take him on trips abroad. One time, Suguru opened his door to find himself standing in front of a literal flower garden, surrounded by piles of presents delivered by workers. The sheer amount was too much to fit into Suguru’s small apartment, so he ended up giving some away—luxurious over-priced chocolates and flowers—to Shoko, Haibara, and even his students. 

A lot of the tea, coffee, and wine he kept for himself. But one particular gift basket stood out. There was something strangely familiar about it, as if he had seen it before, the contents stirring a sense of déjà vu he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t remember where or when but it was there. So he left it on his table, hoping that in time the memory would come back to him.

Satoru had a bad habit of leaving his clothes behind in Suguru’s apartment. Sometimes draped over the couch, sometimes forgotten in the bathroom. And each time, it took everything in Suguru not to give in to his instincts. His omega clawed at him to touch, to breathe in Satoru’s lingering scent, to slip into those clothes and lose himself. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but he hadn’t acted on it. Not yet. Somehow, he still had self-control. Even though he didn’t know how much longer it would last.

His body responded instinctively whenever Satoru was near, the scent of him sinking into Suguru’s skin, clinging to him in places he couldn’t wash clean. That scent haunted him, curling into his sleep and into his dreams. The omega would wake up breathless and flushed, his underwear soaked through, weighed down by a shame too heavy to bear.

This was a battle.

And Suguru wasn’t sure he was winning.

He didn’t quite know how to feel about Satoru anymore. Part of him was repulsed by being attracted to a man he had once seen as a young boy. Yet another part of him found a sick, twisted satisfaction in Satoru’s obsession. He loved the attention so much that he was in denial even to himself.

But the whispers from his past kept warning him, no matter how deeply he wanted to lose himself in Satoru.

In the Gojo clan, most young alphas lost their virginity by the age of fourteen. Unlike the rest of society, where first times could be sentimental or delayed with suppressants, for them, it was simply a rite of passage—an inevitable step toward maturity. 

Alphas outside the clan had the luxury of controlling their ruts with medication, but Gojo traditions forbade such artificial restraints. Their bodies were meant to obey nature’s demands, not suppress them. Mating was not a matter of choice, but a ritual carved into their lineage since ancient times.

Not a single generation had dared to defy it.

And Satoru would be no exception.

In fact, he was late. Fifteen years old, and Satoru had yet to take an omega to his bed. He showed no interest in them—no hunger, no instinctive pull—much to the clan head’s disgust. It was obvious that he was holding himself back, resisting what every alpha in the Gojo can was born to fulfill.

But biology was not so easily denied. Without suppressants, without release, his rut would consume him. And the consequences were dire. Prolonged restraint could cripple his fertility, erode his strength, and fracture his mind. The clan couldn’t afford weakness, least of all in their heir.

The clan head was never one to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with his son. Satoru knew this well and he’d long since accepted it. He was already painfully aware of the truth. Every time his father sent older omegas or even some his own age to tempt him, Satoru had turned them down. Sometimes with polite refusal, sometimes with a sharp warning.

But it wasn’t easy. 

As his rut approached, even the faintest scent of an omega set his mouth watering, saliva dribbling down his chin while he frantically rubbed it, desperate to keep the fiery hunger in his gut at bay. The Gojo clan now had more omegas than Satoru had ever seen growing up, and their sole purpose seemed to be to lure him in, to make him break.

Satoru had misunderstood his own nature. Every human had weaknesses. Some cracked under fear. Others under love. Some were undone by desire.

His weakness was the battle raging between his conscious mind and his willpower. He was a healthy teenager, after all. His rut had only fully taken hold since he turned fifteen. And now, it was growing harder and harder to control. His thoughts blurred, his scent slipped beyond his control, and the relentless itch of growing fangs drove him slowly to the edge of madness.

At one of his most vulnerable moments, an omega was sent to him as a test or perhaps a trap. Satoru sat slumped in the corner of his room, the air chilled to soothe his burning body. His vision blurred, every nerve on fire, mouth dry as sandpaper, and his cock strained painfully against the thin fabric of his yukata.

She was older than him. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, maybe nearing thirty. Long black hair framed her face, her hand soft and warm against his fevered cheek. Her eyes were sharp, cat-like, and the scent she carried was intoxicatingly sweet. The edges of reality began to blur, and Satoru’s mind slipped, unable to recognize who she truly was. 

Suguru? 

No...but the way she held him, the way she whispered his name—

Satoru lifted his head to meet her gaze, and what met him wasn’t the familiar purple, but a shade of green that cut through his haze like a blade.

That day, Satoru nearly killed her.

After that, no omega dared come near him. Fear had taken root where temptation once lingered. And his loss of control wasn’t just his own burden—it rippled through the curse world, throwing the delicate balance of its ecosystem into chaos. His true rut hadn’t even fully arrived yet; this was only the beginning. When it finally did, it would be nothing short of a disaster—for himself and for the entire Gojo clan.

It began with his fangs aching as if someone was twisting and pulling them out one by one. Blood flooded his cock, the pressure burning through his entire gut. Saliva dripped uncontrollably from his mouth as his alpha surged, swallowing what was left of his humanity. The room around him was already reduced to rubble, dust settling on shattered walls. His fingernails dug into the floor, every part of his existence screaming in agony. 

The clan head and the elders scrambled to find a way to ease his suffering, but they were just as lost as he was. Somehow, they moved him to a stronger room—one built to withstand him—though Satoru could have torn through it regardless. They offered him natural herbs, hoping the faint scent would calm the storm within him. But it barely did.

In a last desperate act, an elder dragged a trembling omega girl into the clan’s plans. They dressed her in the worn clothes once belonging to Geto Suguru. The scent was faint but unmistakable. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be used as bait for Satoru but the Gojo clan was ruthless, selfish, and unyielding.

Tears streaming, the omega was shoved inside the room. There was no escape.

Satoru was no longer a boy. He was a beast. His blue eyes glowing like a predator in the dim light, fangs grotesquely long, scent overpowering and inescapable. The omega’s legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed, sobbing. 

The young alpha’s nose twitched as he lunged, pinning her roughly to the floor. His eyes traced her form with a low growl.

Frozen and trembling in fear, she barely noticed when something wet dripped onto her face. Blinking, she saw heavy tears falling from Satoru’s eyes.

“You’re not Suguru,” he rasped, voice dark and barely human. “Take off your clothes and go!”

The omega didn’t hesitate. Stripping off the yukata over her clothes, she stumbled out, desperate to escape, tripping in her haste.

Satoru inhaled the faint scent of Suguru lingering on the yukata, his hand wrapping around himself as he rode out the rest of his rut, clinging to that single piece of clothing like a lifeline.

When the storm finally passed, Satoru awoke to find Suguru’s yukata damp with sweat and stained with his own release scattered around him. He drew a shaky breath, slowly returning to himself after the torment.

He was the first alpha male of his generation to endure a full rut alone. Without a partner, without suppressants. It was both a point of grim pride and quiet shame for the Gojo clan. 

Later, they gave him the medicine that’s usually given to alphas once their rut has ended. That very day he visited a doctor, starting a regimen to prepare for the next time and hoping for the day when he could spend his rut with the omega he truly desired.

Satoru’s teenage years were slipping away fast, fading before he ever had the chance to truly feel them, to live them the way any normal teenager should. And as he edged into adulthood, a quiet part of him still waited for Suguru to call out to him. Just once. He would come running. But the call never came. 

He already knew everything: the divorce, the small apartment Suguru lived in now, the school where he worked, and the slow, ordinary life he was trying to rebuild. Living like any other normal human, gently trying to heal. 

Satoru let him be. He could wait some more years. 

Sooner or later, their paths would cross again.

Lately, though, Satoru had been feeling incredibly good. His hands still felt warm from the blood he'd spilled just moments earlier. The curses in Tokyo were getting more aggressive, more organized. Sorcerers were being lost too quickly, and there weren’t enough to replace them. That meant more work for him. Annoying, but manageable.

Still, today was different. He had somewhere important to be.

He would’ve teleported, but after draining much of his energy earlier, walking was the better option. The house looked mostly the same—weather-worn, half-collapsing, a memory barely standing. The air was thick with the presence of cursed spirits. Low-grade ones, crawling through the cracks like vermin.

Satoru paused for a moment, eyes scanning the broken doorway before stepping inside. Almost instantly, the curses scattered, vanishing in his presence. He made his way toward the backyard.

There, sitting on the veranda, was Toji’s kid. His knees pulled up to his chest, face hidden between them. He didn’t seem to notice Satoru’s presence.

“Fushiguro Megumi-kun, right?” Satoru said casually, one hand in his pocket, a grin tugging at his lips.

Megumi flinched, snapping upright, suddenly alert. His eyes locked on Satoru, a deep frown forming as he scrambled back, hands forming signs—ready to summon his shikigami.

“Who are you?” Megumi asked, eyes narrowing, voice low and cautious.

Satoru raised a brow, unimpressed. “Relax,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not here to hurt you.” His tinted glasses slipped slightly down his nose, revealing sharp blue eyes that studied the boy in front of him.

Megumi was clearly malnourished. His face was hollow, stripped of the baby fat that should’ve still clung to a boy his age. His clothes were torn and caked with dirt. His cursed energy was faint, barely detectable. Bruises marked his knees, one still scabbed over poorly. He’d probably fallen with no one around to help him back up. Satoru’s gaze lingered on the boy’s hand, something unsettling catching his eye. He took a step closer, a frown forming on his face.

“Go away!” Megumi snapped, but the sound was weak, barely louder than a whisper. His knees trembled as he tried to stay upright.

Satoru paused, letting out a slow sigh and rolling his eyes. “You do realize your dad is never coming back, right? He left you.”

“I don’t want to hear about him,” Megumi growled. “Go away or else—”

“Or else what?” Satoru snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. “You really think you can fight me like this? You can’t even stand. I could take you down without lifting a finger.”

Megumi inhaled sharply, teeth clenched, and summoned his black Divine Dog with a trembling hand.

“I said—I—” he tried, but his breath caught. His body swayed, legs buckling beneath him. His eyes fluttered, and before he could finish, he collapsed to the ground. The shikigami vanished instantly.

He was weaker than Satoru had expected—or rather, he’d been weakened.

Satoru stepped fully inside, crouching beside Megumi’s unconscious form. He took the boy’s hand gently, inspecting it closer. Burn marks ran along the skin, and several fingers bore the thin, healed-over scars of shallow cuts—kitchen knife injuries, most likely. Signs of neglect. Of survival.

His gaze shifted around the cluttered space—dusty, half-forgotten toys scattered across the floor, mess piled in the corners. It didn’t look like anyone had truly lived here in a long time. Just existed.

Satoru moved deeper into the house, toward the kitchen. He opened the fridge.

Empty.

A sour stench hit his nose immediately. Rotting vegetables, expired milk, a few cracked eggs long past their time. On the stove, half-chopped vegetables floated in water that had long since gone bad. The whole place stank of abandonment and slow decay.

He returned to Megumi, still lying there in the same collapsed position.

“I’m honestly impressed you’re still alive, Megumi,” Satoru murmured, kneeling again. He slipped a hand under the boy’s back and lifted him into his arms with ease. Megumi was lighter than he should’ve been.

“Well then,” Satoru said softly, adjusting his grip, “let’s get you out of here before the Zen'ins get their filthy hands on you, yeah?”

Satoru brought Megumi to his mansion he owned in central Tokyo. Taking him back to the Gojo clan wasn’t an option. He couldn’t risk it.

Megumi remained unconscious for over twelve hours while the doctors worked quietly around him. They changed him out of his tattered clothes, gently cleaned the grime from his skin with warm towels, and treated his wounds—some of which, the doctors said, could have turned septic if left any longer. Monitors beeped softly as they tracked his heartbeat and blood pressure, IV drips feeding strength back into his fragile body.

He hadn’t eaten in days. The fact that his system hadn’t shut down completely was nothing short of a miracle.

“He’s strong,” one of the doctors remarked, almost in disbelief. “Too strong, for someone his age.”

Satoru said nothing, but he understood. The boy had the will to live.

No wonder the Zenin clan wanted him so badly.

He listened closely as the doctors explained what to expect when Megumi finally woke up and how he would be cared for. Nothing too complicated. Megumi was going to be fine. He just needed proper food and rest. 

“Can’t you just use Reverse Cursed Technique to heal him?” Satoru asked, glancing to his side. “Shoko.”

She stood just a few feet away, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers, her tired eyes quietly watching the flurry of medical activity around Megumi. Satoru had called her earlier, hoping for help. After all, she was one of the best at reverse curse technique, a skill Satoru himself hadn’t fully mastered yet. But it turned out the situation wasn’t as straightforward as he had expected.

Shoko narrowed her eyes at him. “This isn’t something you can fix with Reverse Cursed Technique. I expected you to know that, Gojo.”

Satoru leaned back slightly with a sigh. “Natural healing’s going to take time.”

“Well, what’s the rush?” Shoko shrugged. “Honestly, why’d you even take him in? Especially…considering your past.”

She didn’t need to say more. He understood.

Satoru didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned and left the room, making his way to the balcony. Shoko followed. The cold wind swept over them as he leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the city lights below.

“You feel bad for him, don’t you?” she asked, reaching into her coat pocket for a cigarette. “Sympathy? Pity?”

“Not really,” Satoru replied flatly.

“Then what? What’s your reason?” she pressed, lighting the cigarette between her lips.

Satoru exhaled slowly, then turned around to lean his back against the railing. “Better me than the Zenins. Kid’s got potential. His cursed technique is powerful and I’m the only one who knows how to shape it properly.”

“So you took him for his abilities,” Shoko scoffed, taking a slow drag.

“Something like that,” he said, without hesitation. “If he were just some random kid, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Shoko hummed, letting the silence stretch as smoke curled in the air between them. Her gaze lifted to the sky.

“What do you plan to do with him next?”

Satoru scratched the back of his head. “Train him. Make him stronger. Maybe a special grade, someday.”

Shoko gave him a sideways look. “So… you want to raise him.”

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“It sounds exactly like that, Gojo-kun.”

Satoru let out a low growl, clearly annoyed. Raising a kid wasn’t exactly part of his plan—especially when he was barely an adult himself. But he wasn’t lying about his real interest: Megumi’s curse technique and the potential it held. That was the true reason he brought the boy in. Satoru needed someone capable who could take on at least half the burden he carried for the future of the Jujutsu world.

And even at such a young age, Megumi showed signs of having that potential. If left to the Zenin clan, they would only corrupt him and it could start a clan war, a headache Satoru had no desire to deal with. 

So yeah. He had to take Megumi in. Simple as that.

“Anyway,” Satoru said, casually shifting the conversation, “how’s Suguru doing?”

Shoko took a long drag from her cigarette, the ember burning softly in the cold air. 

“Better than before,” she said after a pause. “He’s healing. Growing. But he’s not satisfied—not really. No matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise, I can see it in his eyes.”

Satoru smirked, gaze distant. “Figures. Suguru was never built for ‘normal.’”

Born to non-sorcerer parents and hitting Grade 1 by seventeen, Geto Suguru had never been ordinary. The Jujutsu world with all its blood and rot and glory wasn’t just his battleground. It was his sustenance. Walking away from it was like cutting off his own limb and pretending he could still move it.

“I should head back,” Shoko murmured, flicking the ash from her cigarette and snuffing it out against the railing. She tucked the remainder back into the box, slipping it into her pocket.

At the door, Satoru called after her, “Don’t mention any of this to Suguru.”

Shoko waved without looking back. “Not like I see him much anyway.”

The door clicked softly behind her, and the familiar silence settled once more as Satoru patiently waited for Megumi to wake up.

It wasn’t until nearly 48 hours later that Megumi finally stirred, his eyelids fluttering open like they were trying to resist the light. Satoru, seated nearby, leaned forward slightly, a small wave of relief washing over him knowing that Megumi hadn’t died before proving what he was capable of.

“Good morning,” Satoru said, voice cheerful, as if nothing about this was strange.

Megumi blinked slowly, his mind clearly struggling to catch up to his surroundings. The sterile smell, the clean sheets, the quiet hum of the IV line near him. Then, as clarity dawned, he sat up too fast, wincing when the needle in his arm pulled.

“Easy,” Satoru said, rising from the bed. “Let me take that out before you rip it out yourself.”

He reached for Megumi’s arm, but the boy recoiled instantly, eyes wide with alarm. His fingers twitched, reflexively forming the first signs to summon a shikigami.

“Where am I? What do you want from me?” Megumi demanded, his voice hoarse but laced with defiance.

Satoru leaned back casually. “Where are you? Think of it as your new home. You might want to start getting used to it.”

Megumi glanced down at the fresh clothes draped over his small frame, the bandages wrapped carefully around his arms, then let his gaze sweep across the unfamiliar room. 

A low growl rumbled from his throat. “What’s your motive? Why did you bring me here?”

His cursed energy stirred—stronger now, rough around the edges but flaring to life, flickering around him like a warning.

Satoru let out a heavy sigh and dropped his hand with an exaggerated groan. “Man, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

His expression shifted, the playfulness dropping from his tone. “I’ll be clear. I don’t want anything from you. Not right now, anyway. But the Zenin clan is after you. So let me ask you this: would you rather be here with me, living your life on your own terms, comfortable and free to make your own choices or would you prefer to be with the scum of the Zenin clan who’ll treat you like nothing more than a slave, abusing you and barely keeping you alive for their own purposes?”

Megumi stayed silent, still tense, his eyes wary as he tried to make sense of everything.

“And God forbid you ever present as an omega—your life would become a living hell. Didn’t your father ever tell you the stories about what the Zenin clan is truly capable of? That’s part of the reason he left them, you know.” 

Megumi’s cursed energy gradually faded as he lowered his hands. “Why should I trust you?” he asked, voice steady but cautious. “You’re a sorcerer too. A strong one, stronger than anyone I’ve seen. You didn’t bring me here out of kindness. There’s a reason. What is it?”

Satoru hummed. “We can get into the details later. Right now, how about we start with something basic—like food? You have to be starving.”

Megumi turned his gaze away, not offering a reply.

Satoru didn’t push it. He gently removed the IV from Megumi’s arm, placing a fresh bandage over the spot as the boy hissed softly. Once it was secure, he stood and motioned for him to follow. But when Megumi tried to rise, his knees buckled beneath him. He was still too weak to walk on his own, so despite his protests, Satoru scooped him up and carried him to the dining room.

The table was already set, filled with carefully prepared dishes. Satoru had hired specialized chefs to cook a nutritious yet light meal, prioritizing Megumi’s recovery. The food steamed gently in porcelain bowls—rice, soup, vegetables, soft protein, everything a child’s starved body would need to rebuild.

Satoru sat across from him, watching in silence.

Megumi didn’t move at first. He just stared at the food. His eyes trailed across the spread, wide and gleaming faintly almost like he didn’t believe it was real.

Satoru could only guess how long it had been since the kid had a proper meal. The last time he saw him in good shape was when Suguru was taking care of him. Back when Megumi had been healthy with round cheeks and boundless energy. Now, he looked like a shadow of that child. All sharp lines and hollow skin.

But Satoru didn’t feel sympathy. Not exactly. Children starved all over the world. Megumi just happened to be one of them. The only difference was that he was slightly fortunate because Satoru had decided to pull him out of that house before things got worse. 

“Go on,” Satoru said. “Dig in.”

Still, Megumi hesitated. His eyes flicked to Satoru, cautious, uncertain. He was starving—anyone could see it—but still he paused, like a skittish kitten unsure of what to trust.

Satoru didn’t know what to do with that. He never had a sibling, never dealt with kids, let alone ones who had been beaten down by the world so early.

So he did the only thing he could think of—he picked up his own chopsticks, opened the rice cooker, and served himself a bowl. He took a bite, chewed slowly.

“Don’t you want to get stronger, Megumi?” he said, looking at Megumi directly, his piercing blue gaze meeting the boy’s dark blue ones. 

Megumi’s lips parted, then closed again before he finally reached forward. His small hands trembled slightly as he picked up the chopsticks, the other hand gripping the edge of the bowl. He scooped up some rice and brought it to his mouth.

He chewed cautiously at first, his eyes widening as if surprised by the simple warmth of the rice. Megumi took a deep shaky breath, and Satoru noticed a faint light flickering in his dark eyes—like a single star shining softly in a vast, endless night sky. 

Something inside Megumi snapped. Maybe it was his hesitation or his guarded trust breaking, because suddenly he lunged into the meal, shoveling rice, curry, shrimp, and soup into his mouth, cheeks puffed, eating too quickly to swallow properly.

Satoru let out a small laugh. “Hey, slow down now. The doctors said you shouldn’t—”

Satoru froze, his eyes widening as he watched tears streamed down Megumi’s face, falling heavily onto the table and soaking his shirt. The child didn’t stop eating, didn't pause to wipe them away as he shoveled food into his mouth like it might vanish if he hesitated.

Something unfamiliar tightened in Satoru’s chest.

A sharp and aching pull that felt foreign and overwhelming. It clawed at something deep inside him, a feeling he didn’t recognize, something he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before.

His breath caught. For a moment, it felt like his own ribs were pressing in too tightly around his heart. He didn’t understand it. This wasn’t supposed to affect him. He didn’t care about Megumi. Not like that. He hadn’t brought Megumi here out of compassion. The kid needed to eat to survive, to grow stronger. That was the point. That was the plan.

Then why…why did watching this tiny boy cry over a bowl of rice feel like it was crushing him from the inside out?

He didn’t have the answer. And maybe he didn’t want to find one.

Satoru’s hands curled into fists, knuckles pale. He lowered his head, eyes shutting tight as he fought back the unfamiliar wave of emotion rising in his chest. He pushed it down, like he always did. He didn’t have time to be swallowed by things that served no purpose.

When Megumi finally finished eating, his shirt was soaked with tears, shoulders still trembling as he sniffled between quiet sobs. Satoru stood, collecting the dishes in silence.

“Now, now,” he muttered, stepping over and placing a hand on the boy’s head, ruffling his hair. To his surprise, Megumi didn’t flinch this time. He leaned into the touch, just a little.

“Your face is a mess,” Satoru said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiping the boy’s cheeks, careful around his swollen eyes. “Did you eat well?”

Megumi sniffed, his red-rimmed eyes still glossy, crumbs stuck near the corner of his mouth. He nodded.

Satoru smirked. “Good.”

He knelt, lowering himself to eye level, one hand resting atop Megumi’s head again. His voice softened, the corner of his lips tugging into something close to a genuine smile.

“You’ve got to eat well, train well, and get strong, Megumi. Strong enough to defend yourself from the Zenin clan,” Satoru paused for a moment. “Strong enough to keep up with me.”

Megumi stared at him, head slightly tilted, like he didn’t quite understand what he meant. Satoru let out a soft laugh and stood up again, balancing the pile of dishes in his hand.

“I guess I haven’t properly introduced myself yet,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m Gojo Satoru. And…this isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

Megumi blinked, confusion flickering across his face.

Satoru sighed, half-smiling at the kid’s expression. “Yeah… I really suck at this.”

Over the next few weeks, Megumi steadily regained his strength. The hollows of his cheeks filled out, his body no longer frail. He could walk properly now, and his cursed energy was beginning to take shape. Becoming visible, tangible, almost weighty in the air.

Satoru gave him a room downstairs, the closet packed with branded clothes—winter coats, summer shirts, shoes for every season. There were toys, too, even though Megumi hadn’t asked for anything specific. He had three proper meals a day, and Satoru had stocked up on snacks and sweets just in case. Megumi rarely touched them on his own. He’d only eat them when Satoru handed them to him directly.

They didn’t have a real bond yet—not quite—but Megumi was less guarded now, slowly growing more at ease. He was a quiet kid. Satoru didn’t have the time to be home with him all day, but Megumi kept himself occupied, summoning his shikigami or watching whatever was on TV.

He almost never smiled. His face usually hovered between neutral and vaguely grumpy, like a perpetually annoyed cat. There was something unsettling about how mature he seemed for his age, a little too sharp for such a small body.

Meanwhile, Toji’s corpse was still out there, rotting in some forgotten corner of the city. Satoru would have to deal with it eventually. It was waiting.

“Hey, don’t you ever wonder where your dad is?” Satoru asked one afternoon, stepping into the living room just as Megumi was watching the latest episode of Pokémon. The black Divine Dog was curled up beside him on the couch, a silent sentinel.

Megumi glanced at Satoru, then turned back to the screen. “No. I just wish Tsumiki was here with me.”

“Tsumiki, huh…” Satoru said, groaning a little as he flopped onto the couch next to him. “What happened to her?”

“She went to live with her mom after the divorce.”

“I see,” Satoru murmured. The conversation trailed off into a pause. “You should be watching Digimon instead.”

“Lame. Pokémon is better,” Megumi replied flatly.

“Hey, no it’s not!” Satoru shot back, a little offended, and the two started bickering. Eventually, Megumi just narrowed his eyes at him in that unamused, cat-like way of his—silent, judgmental.

Satoru sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, you win,” he muttered, reaching out to ruffle Megumi’s hair.

“Don’t touch me,” Megumi grumbled and leaned in to bite his arm but of course, he couldn’t get past Infinity. He puffed out his cheeks in frustration, letting out a quiet, annoyed growl. Satoru laughed, settling deeper into the couch as the Divine Dog purred contentedly beside them.

As they watched Pokémon together, a sudden brilliant idea struck Satoru.

“Hey, Megumi, do you like cars?” Satoru suddenly asked, wiggling his eyebrows, a excited grin tugging at his lips.

Megumi tilted his head. “Cars?”

That year, Satoru took him to the F1 Japanese Grand Prix—with VIP tickets, no less. Satoru usually went alone. Taking someone along was new and let alone a kid that young. But he figured it might lift Megumi’s spirits a little.

He taught him the basics of the race, dressed him in his favorite team’s jersey, even plopped a helmet on his head for fun. It annoyed Megumi a little, but he didn’t take the helmet off. Satoru put one on too, teasing him that they matched now. 

Satoru shouted and cheered for his team, while Megumi sat beside him, wide-eyed like he was seeing something magical for the first time. Satoru remembered being just like that when he watched his first F1 race.

“So cool…” Megumi murmured, eyes fixed on the race track. 

And so it worked. By the end of the day, Megumi was buzzing with excitement, firing off questions, eyes locked on the cars speeding past just meters away. As VIPs, they even got a close-up look at the pit stops, with engineers crouching down to explain the mechanics which Megumi paid extra attention to.

Satoru saw Megumi happy and smiling for the first time since he brought him along, feeling a sense of accomplishment like he’d just cleared level one.

From that day on, it became a tradition. No matter how their relationship shifted or evolved over the years, they always went to the Grand Prix together. Just the two of them. It became their thing. And their thing only.

A memory Megumi would carry with him forever.

Satoru figured it was about time to start Megumi’s training. The earlier, the better.

They began with the basics: hand-to-hand combat, speed drills, and the fundamentals of controlling cursed energy. Satoru kept the lessons short but steady, introducing him to new techniques he might someday develop. Megumi was eager. He listened carefully, tried his best, and despite his small frame, managed to keep up surprisingly well.

But not long after, Megumi caught a cold. Training came to a halt, and Satoru found himself in caretaker mode. He fussed more than he’d admit. Making sure Megumi took his medicine, swapping out damp cloths, checking his temperature. 

One evening, after tending to him, Satoru stood to leave only to feel a small tug at his sleeve. Megumi didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look up. Just held on, silent.

Satoru sighed, taking the hint, and sat back down. He stayed by Megumi’s side until the boy finally drifted off. At some point, Satoru dozed off too, slouched in the chair beside him.

Most nights, Megumi was perfectly fine sleeping on his own. But there was one late night when Satoru was lying in his bed and heard his door creak open. Megumi stood there in his pajamas, half-asleep, eyes heavy.

He didn’t say anything, but Satoru could read it in his face. A nightmare.

Megumi shuffled over, climbed onto the bed without a word, and slowly lay down beside him. Satoru glanced at him, tempted to tease but stopped himself.

He just let him stay.

“When I grow up, I want to present as a strong alpha like you,” Megumi murmured sleepily, lying beside him. His voice was soft, barely more than a breath, eyes blinking slowly in Satoru’s direction.

Satoru was still awake, scrolling through his schedule for the next day as he paused to glance at the boy beside him. Megumi was likely half-asleep, saying it without even realizing. He reached out, gently brushing Megumi’s hair back, coaxing him toward sleep.

“You can be a strong omega too, you know,” he said. “I know someone who is—very, very strong.”

“Stronger than you?” Megumi asked, blinking slower now.

Satoru smirked. “Hmm…maybe not stronger than me. But still strong.”

“If I’m as strong as you,” Megumi mumbled, “I won’t be scared of any…anything…”

Satoru chuckled quietly. “Who said I’m not scared, Megumi? I get scared too.”

“Really?” Megumi whispered.

Satoru nodded. “I’m scared of love. Scared of losing people who mean a lot to me…”

But by then, Megumi had already drifted off, his breathing slow and steady. Satoru reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, shifting a little to hold Megumi a little closer, just in case he rolled over and fell off the bed.

He’d always slept alone ever since he was a kid. His father had never let him sleep beside his mother, even when he was small. 

This…this felt strangely comforting.

Satoru slept well that night, maybe for the first time in a long while.

When he woke at 4 a.m., Megumi was clinging to him, arms wrapped tight like he was afraid Satoru might vanish.

And for a moment, something inside Satoru softened. A quiet ache he hadn’t expected. A weakness he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.

He had to pull himself together.

Carefully, he eased Megumi off of him, placing the boy back against the pillow. Then he got up, dressed for the day, and left without a sound, leaving Megumi sleeping alone in the still, early morning.

Satoru had recently visited Tokyo Jujutsu High. Not that he ever really attended classes properly but technically he was still a student.

Nanami wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him. Naturally, that only encouraged Satoru to be more annoying than usual.

Shoko, on the other hand, was genuinely curious about Megumi. She smiled warmly when Satoru told her the boy was recovering well.

Principal Yaga had advised Satoru to enroll Megumi in a regular school first, before even thinking about Jujutsu High. Satoru listened for once and did just that. Though Megumi quickly earned a reputation for getting into fights with other kids. And winning, mostly.

Which, to Satoru’s credit—or fault—made him oddly proud. Instead of scolding, he’d give Megumi tips on how to fight better next time. That usually led to both of them getting scolded together by Yaga.

Nanami once told him that any fool could raise a child better than he could. Any fool but him. That comment offended Satoru far more than he expected.

Meanwhile, word had already reached the Zenin clan that Megumi was under Satoru’s care now. That fact alone was a warning. They knew better than to make a move. Still, it earned Satoru a few more enemies. On top of the many he already had. Not that it bothered him. No one could touch him.

But there was something else he’d been avoiding. Something he had to deal with.

One morning, he packed Megumi into the car, bags in the backseat, and drove out of the city. They arrived at an isolated clearing, far from the noise and lights of Tokyo. The sky was overcast, the trees bare, and the distant cawing of crows filled the air. The place had a sharp silence to it. A little unsettling and eerie for a kid like Megumi.

Satoru got out, opened the trunk, and began pulling out the bags.

It was finally time to take care of what he’d left behind.

“What is this place?” Megumi asked, glancing around the empty lands while Satoru pulled bags from the trunk.

“Our training spot for today,” Satoru replied, dragging out a long, heavy shovel from the bag and resting it on his shoulder.

Megumi frowned. “I don’t sense any cursed spirits. And…what’s that for?” He gave the shovel a suspicious look.

“It’s more of a physical exercise kind of training,” Satoru said, opening another bag with a grin. “Don’t worry, I got one for you too from the toy shop.” He handed Megumi a brand-new, kid-sized shovel that was perfect for his size.

Megumi took it, brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. He clearly wasn’t convinced.

Satoru slung his shovel back onto his shoulder and motioned ahead. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

They walked into the abandoned area—shattered buildings scattered across fields of dead grass and dried leaves. Megumi hesitated a little, but followed close behind.

It wasn’t far from where Satoru had hidden Toji Fushiguro’s corpse. 

A short walk from the car. The hole was still there, unfilled—wide, open, deep, and long since settled into the landscape. Satoru hadn’t bothered with a coffin. Toji didn’t deserve one anyway. He stopped in front of it, stomping his shovel into the ground and leaning on it as he peered inside. The body was well concealed, buried too deep for Megumi to notice. Or anyone really. 

The thing was, Satoru had only covered the body with a thin layer of soil—just enough to keep it hidden from view, making sure no one would stumble across it. But now, it was time to settle the matter for good. 

And surely, if Toji could somehow know…wouldn’t he be grateful to learn that his precious son had helped bury him properly? 

“Alright, Megumi,” Satoru said, spinning around with mock enthusiasm, the shovel placed between them. “Today’s mission is to fill this hole! We’re not leaving until it’s done.”

Megumi blinked, slowly stepping forward to inspect it. “But it’s so deep,” he said, glancing down.

“That’s the point,” Satoru replied brightly. “It’ll build character. And strength. And patience.”

With that, he scooped up a load of dirt and tossed it into the hole. “Hurry up now!”

Megumi whined, puffing out his cheeks, shovel in hand, staring at the gaping hole. Then he let out a soft, tired sigh, trudged forward, and began scooping dirt and dropping into the hole little by little, clearly still unsure what the hell kind of ‘training’ this was.

Satoru watched him, a smirk playing on his lips.

He wasn’t sure if this counted as parenting. But it felt like something.

They hadn’t even reached halfway when Megumi suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed down into the pit.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asked, noticing the change.

Megumi blinked, staring at the hole. “I don’t know.” 

Then, after a pause, he went back to filling it.

Satoru just shrugged and picked up the pace. They didn’t stop until the sun had fully set, the last handful of dirt covering the pit. Satoru jumped over it, stabilizing the loose earth beneath his feet.

“That’s it. Well done, Megumi—Megumi?!” Satoru turned to find the boy sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, dirt smudged across his clothes and face.

Satoru immediately crouched beside him and reached out.

“I’m never…” Megumi panted, voice shaky. “…doing this training again.”

Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle, scooping him up in his arms. “You did great. I’m proud of you.” He rubbed Megumi’s head affectionately.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but to Satoru’s surprise, Megumi wrapped his arms around his neck, still breathing hard, and stayed there. And there it was again—the sudden strike in Satoru’s chest, a warmth he still wasn’t used to.

It was true. Satoru liked Megumi. Even if he might never love him the way he would love his and Suguru's children someday.

Maybe.

“Now, now—that tickles,” Satoru said, gently easing Megumi out of his hold and setting him down. “Come on, let’s go have some dinner, alright? How about wagyu or sushi? And ice cream later to reward your hard work.”

“Okay,” Megumi replied, his eyes lighting up. Satoru was slowly getting used to those eye-smiles. They communicated so much without words. He pressed a hand affectionately over Megumi’s head as they walked back to the car.

Satoru didn’t even realize how much less he’d been thinking about Suguru since Megumi came into his life. Suguru was still there, his pretty face drifting back now and then, but it happened less and less. And with that, a peace settled inside Satoru. The itch under his skin eased. He was starting to enjoy life on his own terms.

He was less angry now. Less hurt.

Megumi made him feel human. 

Something Satoru never thought he was capable of being.

The harsh winter slowly gave way to the gentle arrival of spring. Cherry blossoms began to bloom, their delicate pink petals peeking through the branches. And right before Satoru’s eyes, Megumi was growing up fast. 

In just a few months, Megumi had transformed completely from the fragile little boy Satoru first found. He was stronger now. Both emotionally and physically. Stronger than ever before.

Though Megumi would never admit it aloud, Satoru could sense he’d grown somewhat attached to him. 

Over time, Megumi had gradually opened up, becoming more at ease and less tense around Satoru. And lately, it felt like Megumi wanted to be near him more often, to spend time together, even if he never voiced it out. Satoru would tease him about it sometimes, only to be met with a grumpy denial from Megumi.

It was deeply satisfying to see how far Megumi had come. Seeing him reclaiming the childhood he’d almost lost, living freely, feeling safe. Even if he still didn’t smile or talk as much as most kids his age, the sparkle in his eyes and the softness of his expression said enough. He was finally at peace, in a safe place. 

It was like watching a flower slowly unfurl under the sun, blooming beautifully.

Recently, with his schedule a bit lighter, Satoru had made it a routine to take Megumi out for morning walks. Megumi wore a winter jacket several sizes too big, bundled up like a little dumpling. His soft cheeks pressed against the fabric as Satoru zipped the jacket all the way up, fingers brushing through Megumi’s spiky hair while gently cupping his face between his hands.

“Warm enough?” Satoru asked. Megumi nodded, letting out a small noise as he wiggled slightly against Satoru’s grip.

Satoru stood up, hands slipping into his pockets as he adjusted his glasses. “Alright, let’s head out then.”

As they stepped out of the house and onto the familiar streets of Tokyo, Megumi summoned his black Divine Dog to trot alongside them. The sun was still gentle, not yet fully risen, and patches of snow lingered in the corners of the sidewalks and playground. 

Megumi played alongside his shikigami, occasionally launching snowballs at Satoru, sparking a playful snow fight between them that ended with Megumi bursting into giggles. Seeing the kid this happy was always a rare and welcome sight. After all, this was how childhood was meant to be.

With the park nearly empty, it was the perfect chance for Satoru to squeeze in some training. He let Megumi exorcise a few low-grade curses lingering around the playground—nothing too serious, just enough to keep him sharp. Megumi handled it with ease, barely breaking a sweat as he summoned more of his shikigami. His control and technique were improving with each passing day.

Satoru ruffled Megumi’s hair roughly, a grin on his face. “Not bad. But don’t get cocky—you’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Yeah…” Megumi mumbled in response, just as his Black Divine Dog padded over and began licking his face, nuzzling against him affectionately. Megumi's small hand reached up to gently pet the shikigami, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Kuro really likes you,” Satoru said as they wrapped up their training and began the walk back home. “He must be your favorite, huh? Since you always summon him first.”

“There used to be two,” Megumi replied quietly. “But my dad’s second wife…he killed one of them.”

Satoru glanced at him, the playfulness in his expression softening. “Were you scared?”

Megumi hesitated, his hand tightening slightly around the soft fur of his shikigami. After a moment, he gave a small nod.

They walked in silence for a while, the early sun casting a warm glow over the city. Birds chirped overhead, and the streets slowly filled with people out for their morning walks. The world felt calm, the season wrapping everything in a gentle embrace. Spring has never been beautiful like this before for Satoru.

As they passed by a river, a row of cherry blossom trees in full bloom greeted them, the air sweet and thick with their scent. Megumi stopped for a moment, looking up at the pink petals fluttering down. A few landed in his hair and  Satoru let out a light laugh as he reached over and brushed the petals away.

“We should definitely have a picnic here sometime,” Satoru said with a grin. “All I can think about is sakura mochi and warm tea. Or maybe we go all out with a bento box, right Megumi?”

Megumi’s eyes lit up, a rare sparkle in them. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Satoru smiled, the soft chill of spring brushing through their hair as they strolled side by side beneath the canopy of cherry blossoms. Megumi dashed a few steps ahead, racing playfully alongside his Divine Dog, his laughter blending with the rustle of petals in the breeze.

Satoru paused, watching him with a quiet fondness, then called out, “Megumi.”

Megumi turned around, confused, and jogged back toward him.

“Walk with me,” Satoru said gently. “Don’t wander too far.”

“Why can’t you just walk faster?” Megumi grumbled.

“I can,” Satoru replied smugly. “I can fly too, you know.”

Megumi let out a small hum and pouted, but slowed down to fall in step beside him.

They walked for a few beats in silence before Satoru spoke again, voice softer now. “There’s something I need to tell you, Megumi.”

Megumi looked up at him curiously. “What is it?”

“You mentioned your dad’s second wife earlier. Do you remember his name?”

Megumi blinked at the unexpected question, pausing for a moment. “…I do. Why?”

“If he was your dad’s wife, that would’ve made him your stepmother, you know,” Satoru said, eyes fixed ahead.

“I guess so…” Megumi muttered, frowning. “Why are you bringing this up?”

Satoru came to a stop, closing his eyes briefly before meeting Megumi’s gaze. His voice was calm but carried a weight behind it.

“Because I’m in love with him, Megumi.” A soft, almost bittersweet smile tugged at his lips.

A strong gust of wind swept through the street, ruffling their clothes and hair. Megumi’s eyes widened, the light catching in his pupils just enough for Satoru to notice.

“Huh?” Megumi blinked, almost stunned.

“Geto Suguru,” Satoru said quietly. “I’m in love with him. And one day,” he added with a laugh that sounded far too goofy for the moment, “we’re going to get married.”

Another gust of wind rushed past, and Megumi stumbled slightly. Before Satoru could reach out, he caught himself and straightened up.

“You love him?” Megumi asked again, his voice quieter now, like he needed to hear it once more—just to be sure. 

“Yeah, for a long time now,” Satoru admitted, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “I figured I should tell you because, well… depending on how you look at it, he might end up being your mom again. Legally, I’m your guardian, after all.”

He chuckled to himself and started walking again, half-talking to Megumi and rambling under his breath. “Not that it’s happening anytime soon—I mean, I’m not even old enough to marry him yet but one day, for sure . And then we’ll have kids together—”

Suddenly, Satoru realized Megumi was no longer beside him. He turned to see him standing still a few paces back, head bowed, his shikigami circling him, whimpering softly. Megumi’s fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his shoulders stiff.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asked, concern flooding his voice as he walked back over. He crouched down, gently tilting Megumi’s face up with one hand.

Megumi’s brows were furrowed in a hard, angry frown.  Satoru thought that he might get wrinkles before he even hit his teens. His eyes shimmered—not from tears, but something deeper. Something wounded. He looked…hurt.

Satoru’s smile faded. “Hey… what’s with that face?” he asked softly, trying to read the storm behind those eyes.

Megumi slapped his hand away, stepping back before turning on his heel. “I want to go home,” he said sharply, already walking ahead.

“Oi, giving me attitude now, huh Megumi-kun?” Satoru called out with a forced grin, his eyebrows twitching as he hurried to catch up with Megumi.

“Shut up,” Megumi muttered, without looking back.

From that day on, something shifted between them. The slow, careful bond they had been building began to fray at the edges. Megumi stopped trusting him. The respect—the quiet closeness—they had started to share slipped away, fading silently like snow melting under the spring sun.

Four years later.

“I’m kinda nervous, ah,” Satoru muttered, fidgeting dramatically as he walked. “I wonder how Suguru will react, seeing me after all these years. Maybe he’ll be like, ‘Oh, Satoru, you’re exactly my type~ kyaaa~’” he said, throwing in a dramatic impersonation with fluttering hands and a mock-swoon. “Or maybe he’ll go full tsundere—‘It’s not like I’m attracted to you or anything!...Anyway, you wanna come over?’”

Satoru giggled to himself, completely lost in the daydream, voice dropping into a ridiculous imitation as he played out every possible reaction Suguru might have.

“Shut up!” Megumi snapped, his voice sharp with irritation. He stomped beside Satoru, teeth clenched, brows furrowed so hard it looked  painful. “You’re insufferable. Why the hell am I even here? Go talk to him yourself, you damn coward. I don’t wanna meet him again, and I definitely don’t want to be involved in whatever this is.”

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the street in warm, golden light. They were near Suguru’s school. Not to visit, but to wait. Satoru had timed everything perfectly, knowing Suguru would be walking home along this route soon. And now, his grand plan was set in motion.

But Megumi looked ready to explode.

“Huhhh?” Satoru scrunched his nose, poking Megumi on the head. “Don’t be dumb. That would be way too suspicious. I can’t just walk up to him and start chatting like we’re besties from the good old days. I need bait. And you, my dear Megumi, are gonna help me.”

“Why me?!” Megumi barked, voice cracking in sheer outrage. He looked moments away from sinking his teeth into Satoru’s arm. “I don’t wanna do this! And you’re braindead if you think this garbage plan of yours is going to work!”

“Oh, it’s going to work perfectly,” Satoru said with far too much confidence, crossing his arms and striking a pose, one finger nudging his glasses. “Suguru has no choice but to fall for me this time. I’m tall. I’m hot. I’m big. I will fuc—” He choked mid-sentence, coughing violently. “I-I mean, I’ll treat him better than your useless father ever—”

“I’m going to kill you,” Megumi cut in coldly, eyes darkening.

Satoru groaned. “Aren’t you at least a little curious how he’ll react when he sees you again?”

“No. I don’t need to know anything,” Megumi said through gritted teeth. “Because it’s obvious he hates me. And I’m not exactly thrilled to see him again either.”

“Are you still scared of him?”

Megumi took a long, quiet breath—his expression unreadable. Then he turned on his heel. “I’m going back.”

Satoru crouched slightly in front of Megumi, the sinking sun casting sharp shadows over his face, his round glasses catching the light just enough to give him a faintly menacing look.

“You’re gonna be a good kid and do exactly what I say,” he said slowly, his voice low and firm. Megumi flinched. Not out of fear, but pure irritation. That particular tone never meant anything good.

“Or else,” Satoru added, narrowing his eyes, “no hanging out with Yuuji for a whole month.”

“You—” Megumi growled, defeated.

“C’mon, Megumi,” Satoru’s voice shifted instantly, the threat melting into a syrupy whine. “After everything I’ve done for you, you won’t help me with this one little thing? I swear Suguru isn’t going to attack you. If he does, I’ll step in.”

Megumi shot him a skeptical look.

“What?” Satoru pouted. “You don’t trust me? So mean!”

“You only ever give me headaches,” Megumi muttered, his voice low with exhaustion. “So fucking annoying.”

And with that, he turned and began to sink into his shadow, bit by bit. Satoru watched him proudly as the technique took hold—smooth and controlled, disappearing like ink into water. He had gotten so good. His curse technique was maturing beautifully.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Megumi-kun~” Satoru sang, grinning ear to ear.

Megumi’s body disappeared halfway into the shadow now. His voice echoed softly, “You left me no choice. You never do. Not like you ever cared for me. You were always selfish like that.”

Satoru caught only the last few words, confused, as Megumi vanished completely into the darkness, moving beneath the trees, along the wall across the street and toward his assigned target.

Something in those words sat oddly in Satoru’s chest but before he could dwell on it, his Six Eyes caught movement.

Suguru.

He was already there.

Satoru could clearly see the subtle shift in Suguru’s expression as he crossed paths with Megumi. Surprise. Recognition. A flicker of confusion.

Megumi had played his part flawlessly, as always. That kid really was the best.

A rush of thrill—sharp and electrifying—ignited in every corner of Satoru’s body. After all this time, after years of waiting, years of watching from the shadows, he was finally going to see Suguru up close again. Always at a distance, always just out of reach. He had only ever watched over him quietly, from afar. But now, for the first time since Satoru was twelve, they would stand face to face.

He needed to play it cool. Calm. In control. Charismatic. Dominant.

God, he couldn’t stop smiling.

Satoru slipped his hands into his pockets and drew a deep, steadying breath. The air was crisp, the sky painted in the golds and purples of early twilight.

This was it.

He started walking, slow and casual, then called out, voice ringing through the street. 

“Megumi! I told you not to wander too far.”

Chapter Text

Satoru was gone.

And Suguru was bored out of his mind. He hadn’t even realized how much the young alpha used to fill his days and keep him entertained until he was gone. He had been living alone for a long time, and for a while, he convinced himself that was how things were meant to be—just sticking to his daily routines and going out now and then with friends or colleagues.

But then Satoru came into his life and changed everything.

“Business trip,” Satoru said casually that evening. “Out of the country for a bit.”

Then he’d flashed that infuriating grin and leaned in, fingertips grazing Suguru’s cheek. “Text me, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

Suguru had slapped his hand away with a scowl. “Finally, some peace and quiet. Don’t come back soon.”

Satoru only laughed. “Hey, don’t be such a princess. I know you’re gonna miss me~”

“As if”

Satoru hadn’t taken him seriously, as if he knew his absence would affect Suguru. And it turned out—it did. Instead of relaxing or using his time for something else, Suguru found himself feeling restless. But on the bright side, he now had time to think about his relationship with Satoru and where it was going.

It wasn’t complicated, exactly. But it wasn’t simple, either.

He felt too old and tired to keep overthinking it, so he finally faced his own feelings. He decided to give Satoru a chance after all. 

For all his flaws—and there were plenty—he had been patient. More patient than Suguru had any right to expect. He never pushed too hard, never got angry when met with silence. He waited. He respected Suguru’s pace. That didn’t mean he wasn’t demanding in his own way—Satoru was nothing if not vocal about what he wanted—but he never crossed the line.

Meanwhile, things were shifting at work, too. Rumors about ‘Geto-sensei’s young, hot boyfriend’ had already spread across campus like wildfire—and they weren’t going down anytime soon.

At some point, even his colleagues started approaching him directly, fishing for confirmation. Suguru tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t exactly deny it either. After all, Satoru had been acting like his boyfriend in every sense.

Miguel, for some mysterious reason, had completely stopped showing any interest in Suguru. It was a little off-putting, especially considering how long the alpha had been courting him.

Suguru naturally assumed Satoru had something to do with it. His frequent appearances had made it clear Satoru was invested. But that didn’t mean Suguru felt the same. So why did Miguel suddenly back off?

Had Miguel thought he couldn’t compete with Satoru? An alpha almost two decades younger than him? Ridiculous. But still, Suguru couldn’t bring himself to ask—too awkward.

And then there was Manami. To her disappointment, Satoru never called. She was furious, refusing to speak to Suguru for days, accusing him of lying about his relationship with Satoru.

“I wouldn’t have judged you for liking younger men,” the omega had said bitterly. “You didn’t have to lie to me.”

The thing was, both Miguel and Manami had no idea Suguru had been married for almost three years—and divorced. Explaining that was difficult enough. Trying to make them understand his complicated situation felt impossible.

So Suguru avoided the topic as much as he could, offering only vague answers.

“I used to tutor him when he was young,” Suguru said nervously one time, laughing it off. “I’ve seen him grow up. There’s no way I’m attracted to him. Though… maybe he has a little crush on me.”

Neither Miguel nor Manami seemed convinced.

Satoru spent most evenings at Suguru’s apartment. Mornings were usually busy for both of them since they were teachers, even if Satoru didn’t take his job as seriously as Suguru did. Still, sometimes Satoru would show up in the morning too, right before Suguru left for school. He would walk with him, and sometimes they’d grab an egg sandwich from the nearby store or coffee. They’d eat together, and Satoru would tease him, saying it was almost like a date. Suguru would just roll his eyes and wave him off.

They also fed the neighborhood cats together. Suguru was in charge of giving them dinner, while his flatmates took turns feeding them in the morning and afternoon. It was kind of a shared duty among the people living in the building.

Friday nights were usually reserved for Suguru to hang out with his colleagues. If Shoko and Haibara were free, they’d meet up too. Satoru also seemed busy on Fridays as he rarely showed up when Suguru got home late.

Saturdays were for movie nights. Satoru’s movie picks were often a little childish, or sometimes just plain inappropriate. Suguru never let him go through with the wild choices, so most of the time they watched what Suguru wanted. Afterward, they’d snack at the nearby conbini at 2 a.m., walking through the quiet, empty streets. Sometimes they exorcised lower-grade curses on the way, Suguru glowing under the moonlight. Now and then, Suguru would summon his curses to fly under the night sky, with Satoru joining him.

Suguru usually spent most of Sunday mornings lying around and sleeping off the exhaustion. Later, they’d go grocery shopping together. Suguru always made Satoru carry all the bags, of course. Sometimes when Suguru cooked, Satoru would be stuck peeling, cutting vegetables or cleaning up. 

Satoru was also busy and burdened. A special grade sorcerer with a world constantly tugging at his sleeve. But somehow, he always carved out time for Suguru. Even if it meant eating half a meal before vanishing or silencing his phone through a movie night.

Sometimes, though, the calls wouldn’t stop. The phone would buzz and buzz until Suguru, with a sigh, would hand it to him.

“Just pick it up already.”

Satoru would grumble the whole time, stalking off while muttering, “Why can’t they just find someone else?”

Other times, he’d cross his arms and pout, flat-out refusing to answer. “I don’t care if they die,” he’d say dramatically.

And Suguru, suppressing a smile, would squish his face between both his hands. “You have responsibilities, Satoru. You can’t just ignore them. They need you.”

Satoru would huff, eyes softening just a little. “But I don’t wanna leave. I like spending time with you.”

That—those words—did something to Suguru. No matter how hard he tried to push it away, he could feel the warmth spreading inside him, pressing in, undeniable.

Satoru could be unbearably sweet sometimes. The kind of alpha every omega dreamed about. The prince charming type. And, annoyingly, some of his flirting actually worked.

One evening, just after Suguru stepped out of the shower, towel around his neck and damp hair clinging to his temples, Satoru gasped—loudly.

“Holy shit.”

The sheer panic in his voice made Suguru freeze, immediately shifting into a defensive stance like he expected a special grade curse to come crawling out of the walls.

“What? What happened?” he asked sharply, scanning the room.

Satoru clutched his chest dramatically. “Nah, you just looked so beautiful I got startled.”

Suguru groaned, palming his face. “God...you're unbelievable.”

But the warmth blooming in his cheeks gave him away. He hated that it got to him. But despite the corniness, the look in Satoru’s eyes always made it clear how much he wanted Suguru under him. And as the days went by, it was obvious he was nearing his limit. Suguru wasn’t doing any better either; his hormones always acted up when Satoru was near, and he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at the young alpha’s mouthwatering muscles.

At this point, they were practically eye-fucking each other.

It also didn’t help that it had been so long since Suguru had sex. He didn’t even know how he’d lasted this long without a hook-up or casual release, especially with the way his body still craved it. But thinking about it more, it made sense. Suguru wasn’t someone who could sleep around just to scratch an itch. He needed to actually like someone—feel a real connection—before anything physical could happen.

So, he kept his boundaries clear with Satoru. No kissing. No touching. Not even holding hands. But he wasn’t entirely cold either. He let Satoru sit close on the couch, close enough that their shoulders would touch while watching TV. Sometimes, when Satoru pouted and asked sweetly to be fed, Suguru would roll his eyes and give him a few bites. Just a few. Just enough to shut him up.

Yamada-san, the sweet old lady who had once taken Suguru in like her own when he was broken and lost, had quietly given Satoru her stamp of approval—and honestly, that felt like a huge deal. She’d seen Satoru hanging around him so often that she was convinced that Suguru was finally dating someone. He always denied it, but he could see where she was coming from.

Even Yamada-san’s fat tabby cat, who normally hated alphas, loved Satoru. She’d rub herself all over him and curl up on his lap, purring like she owned him. Suguru found himself lowkey jealous as the cat was never that friendly with him, even after knowing him over the years. 

But that was the real turning point. Once the cat approved, Yamada-san warmed up to Satoru instantly. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow about their age gap. She knew about Toji, though Suguru had never mentioned Satoru to her. Maybe it was better that way.

She’d even invited both of them over for dinner one evening—something none of Suguru’s friends had ever experienced. She was like that one grandma who always brought up marriage, telling Satoru how Suguru was getting older and needed a good alpha to look after him. Satoru didn’t miss a beat, whining that he wanted to take care of him, but Suguru wouldn’t let him. Suguru had turned so red that night, too flustered to even snap at him. He just sat there quietly while the two of them talked like he wasn’t even in the room.

That night, for the first time, Suguru let Satoru stay over.

Satoru had dozed off on the couch, exhausted and fast asleep, and Suguru just didn’t have the heart to wake him. So he left him there. In the morning, he was already gone, having slipped out quietly before sunrise. At 5 AM, Suguru received a text from him: “Wanted to make you breakfast but had to run for an urgent mission. Hope you slept well princess.” 

When Satoru returned, he came with a lot of gifts—bags full of little souvenirs, hair accessories, soba noodles, and less-sweet cakes and muffins.

“For letting me stay,” he said with a grin.

Satoru could be really good to him. Always making sure Suguru's coffee and tea was stocked, the wine he liked sitting neatly in the cabinet, even remembering the little things without ever being asked. Sure, he flirted a bit too shamelessly at times—bordering on sexual harassment—but most of the time, it felt good to have someone like him around. Someone who stayed.

Despite the age difference, Suguru felt more emotionally closer to Satoru than he ever did with Toji. There was something in Satoru’s eyes—a kind of hunger, a need—that Suguru had never seen Toji have. Satoru looked at him like he wanted him. Really wanted him.

Suguru hadn’t let Satoru inside him. Not yet. But even so, the young alpha was slowly founding his way to the doorway of Suguru’s heart. The chains around it were loosening. He could feel it. Sooner or later, that door would open.

He didn’t even realize when the attraction shifted into something deeper. Something he couldn’t name yet.

He found himself craving Satoru now. Not just in the fleeting, physical sense. But deeply. Fully. There was lust, yes, but underneath that was something more vulnerable, more terrifying: a longing to be touched, to be held, to be seen and kept by an alpha he actually wanted. Someone who wanted him. 

To be powerful, and to be loved by someone who saw that power and cherished it. That had always been everything Suguru wanted.  And everything he could never quite have. 

Now, at twenty-eight, with a young alpha constantly orbiting his world, offering promises of that very love, it sometimes felt like a lie. But other times, it felt so real that it lit a flicker of hope from inside him, made him feel seen like he wasn’t sinking beneath the surface anymore. Like he was floating in a vast, endless ocean of blue—free and weightless, like a bird soaring through a sky full of color and light.

When Satoru spoke to him with that open, effortless charm, when they shared quiet meals in the comfort of his home, when he made Suguru laugh with his silly, childish pickup lines and jokes—it felt like rediscovering a part of himself he thought he’d lost. A piece of youth that had slipped quietly through his fingers. And somehow, Satoru made all of it feel possible again. 

It was Friday night, and Suguru was bored out of his mind—restless. He was supposed to hang out with Shoko, but she’d cancelled at the last minute, claiming she’d been called in for an emergency.

And now left on his own, all he could think about—to his horror—was Satoru. The last five days, Satoru hadn’t texted him much beyond a few casual good morning/night messages and some pictures of desserts he was eating. But for the past two days, nothing. No updates. No calls. 

Suguru had started wondering if maybe…Satoru had finally moved on. Found someone closer to his age. Someone easier. Someone emotionally available. Someone who didn’t keep pushing him away.

The thought made his chest ache, even if it was only fair. He had been rejecting him, after all.

He tried to distract himself by reading, but his eyes kept drifting. He considered grading a few papers but the thought of dealing with elementary school spelling errors made him groan. He just wasn’t in the mood.

So he took a quick shower to clear his head. Then headed into the kitchen, slicing up a lemon and tossing it with some salt and chili powder. One of his favorite late-night snacks. The sharp sourness always helped settle him when he was stressed or hyperactive.

He remembered the wine Satoru had gifted him a few weeks ago and pulled it out, pouring himself a glass. The first sip was smooth, just enough bite. He settled at the table, lazily sucking on a lemon wedge between sips of wine, letting the flavors clash and mingle on his tongue.

Eventually, he decided to watch some Hentai. Something he hadn’t done in a while, mostly because Satoru had been practically living in his space lately, and obviously, watching it at school was out of the question.

But maybe this had been a mistake.

Because when the omega on screen wrapped his lips around the alpha’s huge cock, all Suguru could picture was him. 

Satoru, with his infuriatingly cocky, confident self, always acting like he was better—bigger. Always teasing Suguru with his tight shirts, his muscles flexing right in front of Suguru’s face, making him wish they were around his neck instead, choking him as he bit down on his biceps. Satoru, always spreading his legs, the tent between them looking heavier and bigger the more Suguru noticed it. His taller and broader frame, always looking down on Suguru like he wanted to eat him up. Ruin him. 

Suddenly, he was reminded of one of those moments when Satoru’s flirting crossed the line into straight-up sexual harassment—because obviously no matter how sweet Satoru tried to be, at the end of the day, he was still just another alpha, thinking with his cock.

It was late at night. Suguru sat on the floor, carefully painting his toenails with shiny black polish, completely focused on the task. The TV played some old sitcom quietly in the background, but neither of them were really paying attention. Satoru lounged on the couch nearby, watching Suguru closely with a soft smile.

They were planning to have dinner together, like they had for many nights before. Suguru had even bought an extra set of dishes ready for Satoru, since the young alpha had been joining him so often it only seemed natural.

“Hey, Suguru,” Satoru said, shifting closer on the couch.

“Hm?” Suguru responded without looking up, brushing another stroke of polish carefully over his toenails.

“You once mentioned you only swallow special grade curses, right?” 

It wasn’t unusual for him to bring up jujutsu-related topics out of the blue, and Suguru had grown used to these little windows into Satoru’s world. Sometimes it was even interesting to hear about the dramas and conflicts that surrounded him.

“Yeah,” he replied casually. “Though it’s not exactly true. I tried to only take in special grades for a while—got tired of swallowing down the weak, disgusting ones. It was more of a personal protest than a real strategy,” he added with a soft laugh.

“Well,” Satoru’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward slightly. “I’m a special grade.”

Suguru finally looked up, his brush hovering mid-air.

“…”

“And I’m also a prime alpha,” Satoru added, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in just a little closer.

“Shut up,” Suguru muttered, shaking his head.

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice dropping a bit, almost teasing, “I probably don’t taste bad either. Wanna find out?”

He said it more like a challenge, voice low and deep, as he leaned back in the couch. One of his knees nudged against Suguru’s shoulder, his legs spreading wide. From where Suguru sat on the floor, the angle gave him a clear view, and his eyes dropped before he could stop himself.

The outline of Satoru’s cock was right there, facing him, pressing against the fabric of his sweats. He wasn’t even fully hard, but it already looked thick and heavy between his thighs. Suguru swallowed hard, his mouth watering before he could come up with an excuse for himself. It had to be unintentional. He told himself that. Over and over.

But Satoru was still staring at him, watching him react with a quiet smugness, and Suguru could feel his cheeks burn hot. His pride snapped into place. No. There was no way he was going to give in like that — not yet. They hadn’t even kissed. He wasn’t about to let this annoying, cocky alpha get his way so easily.

Then he noticed the sudden cold drip on his toes.

He looked down in horror.

The open nail polish bottle had tipped, and glossy black was pouring over his foot and straight onto the pale fabric of his expensive couch.

“Shit—!” he yelped, grabbing for the bottle in a panic, jerking upright to stop the spill —but his movements were too fast, too clumsy. The bottle slipped, and in his attempt to catch it, some of the polish flung straight toward Satoru.

It hit him across the cheek and nose in streaks.

For a second, they both froze.

Then Satoru blinked and, like an idiot, wiped at his face—only to smear the polish even worse, dragging it down his jaw and smudging his temple. He looked completely ridiculous now, spotted and streaked like some tragic mime.

Suguru stared, wide-eyed—torn between laughing and crying as he looked between the ruined couch, the black polish dripping from his toes, and Satoru flailing like a fish out of water, making everything worse with every movement.

“You ruined my couch,” Suguru muttered, dabbing a tissue soaked with nail polish remover against Satoru’s cheek later. He wasn’t exactly gentle about it, scrubbing the smeared black polish off his skin.

“And you ruined my face,” Satoru shot back, wincing when Suguru rubbed a little harder, leaving his pale skin slightly blotchy.

“Both your fault,” Suguru said flatly, focusing on a stubborn spot near Satoru’s jaw.

Since that night, Suguru couldn’t stop thinking about Satoru’s cock. It was embarrassing—no, humiliating—how often the memory came back to him. That casual way Satoru had sat, legs spread, sweats tented just enough to give a glimpse of what was underneath. He wasn’t even fully hard, but he still looked...big. And then that stupid line, the not-so-subtle suggestion about getting on his knees.

The omega had brushed it off, acted like he wasn’t fazed. But the truth was, the thought kept replaying in his head. How would it feel to have Satoru in his mouth? Would he taste as cocky as he acted? The curiosity gnawed at him. And now, every time Satoru came over, Suguru’s eyes would flicker down—just for a second, just long enough to check. Was he really that big, or was it just the angle?

Suguru's cheek burned at the memory with a mixture of shame and arousal as he hastily shut off the porn video, fingers fumbling before reaching for his wine again. He took a slow sip, the cool glass doing little to soothe the warmth spreading through him. Desperate for distraction, he grabbed a lemon wedge and bit down,  the sharp tang of citrus bursting across his tongue, the bitterness of the rind grounding him—if only for a moment.

But it wasn’t enough.

His mind betrayed him, conjuring images he couldn’t—wouldn’t—shake. Satoru, towering over him, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips as Suguru sank to his knees obediently. The way his mouth would stretch open, throat tightening around him, struggling to take him deeper, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Would he be gentle at first, letting Suguru adjust, or would he waste no time, thrusting into the wet heat of his mouth without mercy?

Suguru inhaled at the thought, his fingers twitching against the stem of his wineglass. Maybe Satoru would fist both hands in his hair, keeping his head in place and use him, fucking his mouth with slow, deliberate strokes before losing control, driving into him with full force, his grip tightening against Suguru’s hair as he does. 

The idea of being reduced to nothing more than a willing toy, of Satoru’s voice dripping with praise and degradation in equal measure—

He bit down harder on the lemon, sucking obscenely, the sharp taste doing little to distract him. Heat was building low in his body, a slow ache forming as he shifted in place, thighs pressing together. His breath grew unsteady, frustration curling at the edges of his desire.

Suguru remembered the way Toji used to fuck his face. Those nights when their arguments turned too heated, the alpha losing control, his patience snapping, and Suguru would end up on his knees, choking on him.

One night stood out in his memory. Toji had stumbled home late again, reeking of alcohol, blood staining his clothes. Megumi was asleep, and Suguru had tried to keep his voice down, but the anger had boiled over. He’d shouted, and by some miracle, the kid still hadn’t woken up.

Toji hadn’t tolerated that though.

He’d grabbed Suguru by his ponytail, yanking hard enough to loosen the tie, sending sharp pain through his scalp. Before Suguru could react, Toji had forced him to his knees, the impact bruising against the hard floor. The alpha was clearly drunk, his sharp green eyes fixed on the omega like he was prey freshly caught. Like he wasn’t his wife at all, just some whore he found in an alleyway. Suguru’s heart was hammering in his ribcage as he gazed up at the alpha with soft, puppy-like eyes—half scared, half turned on.

Now, as Suguru relived the memory, the face above him shifted. Dark hair turning white, cold green eyes replaced by piercing blue.

Satoru.

“Always running that little mouth of yours,” Satoru gripped his hair tighter making Suguru hiss at the sting, hands reaching out to grab the alpha’s instinctively. He didn’t hate it. In fact, he’d always liked having his hair pulled, but the way Satoru was looking at him now sent a strange flutter of fear through him, making him wet between his legs.

“Toj—Satoru,” he whimpered, caught between memory and fantasy, reliving it all in his head—only this time, with a different alpha.

"I’m going to make sure you never raise your voice at me again." Satoru growled, grabbing his face tightly. Then he yanked down his pants, freeing his thick erected cock—veiny and angry.

And he was right, Suguru never raised his voice at him again, not until the day he left him. 

He remembered how rough and harsh it had been—so intense the friction burned his eyes, tears spilling over despite himself. He sucked on the salty lemon juices, the sting reminding him of that same burning feeling from that night, making his throat ache slightly. The older alpha had been furious with him then, and though Suguru had been angry too, he was quickly forced into submission. Too easily.

The alpha gripped Suguru’s hair tightly, pushing his head up and down along his length, leaving Suguru a complete mess—saliva dripping from his chin and onto the floor as he gasped for air, maybe even mercy.

When he pulled out, he came on Suguru’s face—hot release painting his skin, white streaks dripping down in thick, shameful lines. But as pleasure and humiliation tangled deep in his gut, his mind betrayed him—because behind his closed eyelids, it wasn’t Toji he saw.

It was Satoru.

Only Satoru.

Suguru bit harder into the lemon, the sharp burn and salty tang filling his mouth as he rubbed his thighs together, letting out soft whimpers and moans. Despite their fights and the brokenness between them, Toji had left a mark on his body—one he couldn’t forget.

Even after officially leaving Toji, Suguru had always missed the sex more than the man himself. Toji was experienced, older, and dominant. Satoru, on the other hand, was young. Only twenty. Suguru wondered if the young alpha would be that rough with him, if he knew how to handle him. 

But deep down, he feared Satoru was still a virgin. Too inexperienced.

Being the one on the receiving end, Suguru didn’t want bad sex. Toji had never disappointed him in that regard. The sex was always perfect. Flawless. A solid ten out of ten.

Suguru spat out the lemon, his hand moving between his legs as he rubbed his thighs, searching for friction. He was close—so close. Just one more push—fuck. He brought his wrist up to his nose, inhaling deeply. It had been five days, but Satoru’s scent lingered faintly on his skin. Maybe it was all in his mind, but catching even a trace of it sent a shiver through him. His toes curled as he rubbed harder, breathing in the memory of Satoru.

With a broken moan, Suguru came, his breath coming fast as he rested his head on the table, eyelids heavy, the chair under him dripping with his release. 

“Fuck…so pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Desire always made him feel so stupid. Satoru made him feel so stupid. 

Just then, his phone chimed. Suguru took a shaky breath and reached for it.

Satoru : Hi baby

Satoru : Missing me yet?

Suguru almost got too excited when he heard the doorbell. Embarrassing, he scolded himself as he stepped out from the kitchen area, where a pile of papers and forms lay scattered on the table. He’d been grading assignments and filling out paperwork. He had his glasses on, and his hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few strands falling into his face.

It was Saturday night. He was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of comfy pants.

The doorbell rang again. Satoru was impatient.

“Coming,” Suguru called out, letting out a deep breath. He tried to stay calm. Act cool. Be casual. He didn’t care about Satoru. Not at all. He definitely hadn’t missed him. Not even a little. Nope.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open, half expecting to see Satoru standing there with that usual grin on his face—but instead—

Nothing.

The hallway was empty.

Weird.

Suguru tilted his head, stepping out a little to glance around. The corridor was quiet, the open balcony just as silent. Had he just been pranked by some neighborhood kids?

A small frown tugged at his lips. He was almost disappointed. He turned to head back inside—

And something dropped right in front of his face.

Suguru gasped, stumbling back with wide eyes as he hit the floor, landing hard on his butt. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. For a second, he couldn’t even process what had just happened.

Then came the sound of familiar, unfiltered laughter echoing through the hall.

Satoru was hanging upside down, white hair swaying slightly, and he was wearing a black blindfold—something Suguru had never seen him wear before. He was dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, looking far too pleased with himself.

He’d scared the living hell out of Suguru. He hadn’t felt his presence at all. Not even a trace.

Satoru twisted his body with snake-like ease, landing on his feet with a soft grunt, then leaning down toward Suguru. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, baby.”

Suguru was still breathing hard, heart racing. He glared up at him, voice low and sharp. “That was your plan, you asshole. Don’t ever do that again!”

Satoru placed a hand under his chin, grinning as he studied him. Even though Suguru couldn’t see his eyes, he could feel the weight of his gaze. Satoru was getting some twisted thrill from seeing him like this.

Suguru scowled, cheeks hot, and pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his clothes. Satoru stood as well, his tall frame ducking slightly to fit through the doorway.

“What’s with that stupid blindfold?” Suguru asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Ah, this?” Satoru slipped a finger under the fabric, lifting it just enough to reveal one of his striking blue eyes. “Thought I’d try a new look. What do you think?” he asked, sliding the blindfold back down.

“It’s creepy.”

Suguru liked it.

It was hot.

Satoru hummed, the smirk never leaving his face.  He stepped forward, and instinctively, Suguru stepped back. Satoru leaned in just slightly, his shadow casting over the omega, his face way too close.

Suguru’s frown deepened, nerves prickling under his skin. “What?”

“I missed your pretty face,” Satoru said softly. “Couldn’t stop thinking about it these past few days.”

There he goes again—flirting like it was his second language.

Suguru clicked his tongue. “I don’t have time for this. Come in if you want, but don’t bother me. I’ve got a mountain of work to finish.”

“Alright, princess. As you command,” Satoru said with an exaggerated bow.

Suguru’s face flushed—part irritation, part embarrassment. “Cut it out with that already.”

He settled back down at the table, Satoru following and sitting beside him. The alpha smelled unusually good today. Like the heart of a forest after rain—woodsy, fresh, calming. Not overwhelming, at least not right now. 

What was strange, though, was that Satoru wasn’t talking or teasing like usual. It was strange. He just sat there, watching him. And with the blindfold and his hair pulled back, he looked older—more composed. Mature, even. 

“So,” Suguru finally said, eyes still on the textbook, “how was your trip? Anything fun?”

“Not really,” Satoru replied, leaning back. “Same boring stuff. I also had to visit the Gojo clan for one of their stupid meetings. That was the worst part, honestly.”

The Gojo clan.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know much about Satoru’s life before they reconnected. He never asked. Never brought it up. He’d been too busy trying to keep himself in check—fighting the way his omega instincts flared around Satoru. It was always Satoru who asked the questions, who reached out first. Not the other way around.

But things were different now. Suguru was starting to accept how he felt. And if he was going to let himself feel something real for this alpha, he had to accept all of Satoru—including the parts he didn’t understand and disliked. 

“Do you ever feel responsible for what you did to the Gojo clan?” Suguru asked, turning to face him. “You destroyed it. Killed more than half its members. That night was horrific.”

The Gojo clan was slowly going extinct. That was no secret anymore. Even after being distanced from the Jujutsu world for years, Suguru knew it. Everyone did. It was only a matter of time before the entire clan collapsed.

And for now, the only thing holding it together was Satoru.

But he was unpredictable. Dangerous. And honestly, not trustworthy.

Satoru crossed his arms, his posture radiating indifference. “Yeah, I destroyed the Gojo clan,” he said, flatly, without a shred of remorse. “But I could repopulate it if I felt like it.” He pulled off his blindfold slightly, those piercing blue eyes locking onto Suguru. “I just need the right omega to help me out,” he smirked.

Suguru stiffened, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He didn’t even understand why this was getting to him. This was sexual harassment, wasn’t it? Satoru was practically saying he wanted to breed him. God, he felt so stupid.

“W-Well, good luck with that. Hope you find someone,” he mumbled, quickly turning away, practically burying himself in the textbooks.

Satoru snickered, clearly pleased with the reaction he’d drawn out. The air between them thickened, and Suguru could feel the unease in his gut. The textbook might as well have been blank. He couldn’t focus.

Then Satoru shifted, dragging his chair closer, one arm casually draping behind Suguru’s seat. Too close.

“What are you doing?” Suguru asked, voice low. When he turned his head, Satoru’s face was inches from his.

“Just wondering if this is fun,” Satoru said casually, glancing over the clutter of textbooks and papers.

“It’s not fun at all. No job is fun,” Suguru replied, annoyed—though he still didn’t pull away. He should’ve told him to move. But he didn’t.

“Do you really have to do this now? I just got back—didn’t you miss me?”

“Yes—no, I mean…They need to be returned to the students by Monday. I have to finish it today.”

Satoru sighed dramatically. “Fine. Get on with it, then.”

Suguru shruged, eyes dropping back to the papers in front of him, trying to focus—but he couldn’t because Satoru was leaning in, his breath hot against Suguru’s skin. His nose brushed the shell of Suguru’s ear, lips trailing down the side of his face, slow and deliberate, pressing softly along his jaw. He inhaled deeply, taking in Suguru’s scent, hot tongue gliding over his scent gland, and it made Suguru’s whole body tense. His face burned, his stomach turned over. His omega was begging him to lean in, to give in, to melt—but his mind was still trying to fight it.

“Satoru…” Suguru’s voice cracked, quiet and unsure as he pushed weakly at Satoru’s chest. “Let me work.”

Satoru didn’t move. Not that Suguru was really pushing him away anyway. He grabbed Suguru’s hand, fingers sliding between his, holding tight. Then, with a pull, he dragged Suguru against his chest, the chair scraping loudly under them. Suguru gasped, caught off guard, now practically sitting on Satoru’s lap. Their faces were so close—too close. Even with the blindfold, Suguru could feel the weight of Satoru’s gaze on his mouth. The air between them buzzed with heat. Satoru smelled stronger than ever—like something wild, deep, and dangerous—and Suguru knew the young alpha was finally at his limit.

Suguru parted his lips, maybe to say something—but nothing came. He bit his lower lip instead, surrendering. 

Satoru leaned in, and just like that, all of Suguru’s resistance—the stubbornness, the games, the push and pull they’d been playing for the past month—crumbled the moment he felt Satoru’s lips on his.

It was slow at first—soft and deliberate. Satoru kissed him like he’d imagined it a thousand times, like he was memorizing the shape of Suguru’s mouth, learning how he tasted. Suguru’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted into the kiss. Their faces fit together perfectly, like they’d been made for this. Made for each other. Satoru tasted as fresh as he smelled—but sweet, so sweet, like it would rot Suguru from the inside out if he dared to want more. 

The kiss deepened and then it shifted—quickly turning hotter, messier. Satoru’s mouth moved over his with need, with hunger. His lips parted wider, pulling Suguru in deeper, and the omega followed, helpless against it. Their mouths moved in sync, wet and open, tongues brushing, breathing heavy. Suguru whimpered into the kiss, fingers curling into Satoru’s shoulder for support as his back pressed into the chair.

Suguru could feel it all—the tension, the want, the restraint barely holding Satoru back. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and god, it felt so good. Suguru couldn’t think anymore—just feel. Satoru was everywhere and exactly what he’d been trying not to want. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it without losing his mind. Being naive and stupid again, like he was back then.

Suguru felt Satoru's hands slide under his waist, another steadying around his legs. Their mouths never broke apart as Satoru lifted him effortlessly from the chair. Papers rustled and scattered as Suguru was settled on the table, his breath catching as their lips finally pulled apart.

“Fuck…” he breathed, voice low and shaken, lips parted, swollen and glossy, his hand reaching to hold onto Satoru’s shoulder. 

Satoru leaned in again, fingers brushing Suguru’s face as he gently removed his glasses, setting them aside. At the same time, Suguru’s hand reached behind Satoru’s head, fingers curling into soft hair as their mouths met again—rougher this time, more aggressive, like they both couldn't have enough of this. 

His hand slid to the blindfold, pulling it away as he broke the kiss. Looking up, his eyes met Satoru’s bright blue ones. They gleamed with want, hunger, messy hair falling back over his forehead, wild and untamed. So raw, so intense. Satoru was absolutely breathtaking. It made Suguru nervous—but painfully turned on.

Suguru’s body was reacting faster than he could keep up, warmth curling low and tight in his belly. Slick gathered between his thighs embarrassingly fast and he knew Satoru could smell it too.

He bit his lip, then pulled Satoru in again by the hair, deepening the kiss, tongues sliding in wet heat, lips bruising. Satoru responded with equal fervor, hands firm, steady. Then he pulled away just enough to kiss down the side of Suguru’s face—along his jaw, to the hollow of his throat—leaving behind slow, heated kisses that only made Suguru crave more, his hand gripping the young alpha’s hair, pulling him closer. 

He was so far gone that he wouldn’t even mind if Satoru fucked him right there on the table. Maybe bend him over, press his face against the wood. He didn’t even care about going to the bedroom. His mind was spinning, and Satoru tasted so good, his scent intoxicating, overwhelming, flooding every one of Suguru’s senses like a drug. His omega felt like a caged wolf finally unleashed. He wanted him. He wanted Satoru so badly.

“Satoru—” Suguru whimpered, leaning closer into him, wanting their cocks to rub together.

“All this time…just waiting and holding back,” Satoru murmured, his fangs lightly grazing Suguru’s neck, making him hiss softly. “You could’ve come to me after your divorce. I could’ve fucked you senseless, made you forget all your pain.” He growled. “So why didn’t you?”

Suguru whimpered, his voice trembling. “I don’t know—please.” His knee pressed between Satoru’s legs, feeling the semi-hard bulge beneath the fabric. He needed it inside, needed him, so badly that shame had long since burned away. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. 

But then Satoru pulled back, a slow grin spreading across his face. Suguru blinked, confused.

“Why didn’t you?” Satoru’s tone shifted, serious now, eyes searching. “I waited for you all those years. Why didn’t you reach out?”

Suguru frowned, confused. Why was he bringing this up now? They were so close to fucking—wasn’t this what Satoru wanted? They were both hard, for fuck’s sake. And Suguru was so wet, soaking through his pants, thighs trembling, his omega practically begging to be fucked by the alpha. 

He licked his lips nervously, shifting slightly, aware of the sticky heat between his legs.

“Of course I wouldn’t have...You were what, like fifteen back then?”

“So?” Satoru shrugged. “No one had to know.”

“… ”

“It’s not unusual in the Gojo clan for young alphas to sleep with older omegas, if that helps explain.”

Suguru’s eyes widened in shock. “Satoru, that’s fucked up.” Then, realization dawned and a hint of curiosity flickered. “Wait—does that mean you’re not a virgin?” He raised an eyebrow, hopeful. He’d never really given it much thought before, just assumed, given how fixated Satoru was on him. But…he was an alpha, after all, right?

Satoru laughed, a mocking edge in his voice, maybe a little offended too. “You really thought I was a virgin?”

“You do act like one.”

That definitely hit a nerve.

“I’m not,” Satoru said, crossing his arms with a huff. “And I’m very experienced.”

Suguru honestly doubted that but right now, with how horny he was, he didn’t care. He lifted his leg, slowly pressing against Satoru’s clothed cock. He was hard—so hard—that Suguru couldn’t believe that he was still not inside him.

“Then show me,” he said, not caring how desperate he sounded. “Show me how experienced you are.” 

Satoru stilled for a second, his eyes dropping to where Suguru’s leg brushed him, then back up. Slowly, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Suguru’s ear. His other hand cupped Suguru’s face, warm and big and maddeningly gentle. And then, he kissed his forehead. Soft. Affectionate.

“Go out with me first”

Suguru froze, blinking once, then twice, pulling back just enough to stare at him.

“…You’re serious?” he asked, incredulous.

Satoru nodded, his expression calm. “I want to do this right. One step at a time.”

Suguru stared in disbelief, completely thrown. He was pooling with sweet slick, spreading his legs willingly, and this alpha—this fucking alpha—wanted a date? 

What the actual fuck.

He could have taken him right then and there, fucked him hard and sorted out the dating later. So why was Satoru acting like this now? For months, he’d been practically dry humping Suguru at every chance and now—

“I’ll never get what goes on inside that head of yours,” Suguru sighed, disappointed. He wasn’t desperate enough to beg Satoru to fuck him, he still had some sanity left, even though his leg was still pressed against Satoru’s hard cock. “You really don’t want to?”

“Of course I want to,” Satoru said, voice low and rough. “In fact I’m barely holding myself back right now. But you owe me a date first.”

“You waited all those years…”

“I can wait one more day,” Satoru said with a sly grin. Then his expression shifted—his eyes darkened with hunger as he leaned in, cheek brushing against Suguru’s. He whispered, “You’re gonna cry when I’m inside you.”

Suguru shivered at the promise.

Satoru scoffed, smirking. “Be ready. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.” He pressed a soft kiss to Suguru’s lips, biting his lower lip gently.

Then, reaching up, he pulled his blindfold back over his eyes. “Make sure you look good for me,” he teased with a smirk. “I’ve got some business to take care of.” He ruffled Suguru’s hair like he was a pet, a rare tenderness in his touch. “Later, babygirl.”

With one last kiss, he disappeared—leaving Suguru aching and restless, sticky and frustrated. Suguru let out a low whine, unable to believe Satoru had just left him like this.

Chapter Text

Satoru was ecstatic about the date unlike Suguru, who was still pissed off and sulking over yesterday’s incident. But true to his word, Satoru showed up at exactly 7 PM outside Suguru’s apartment, pulling up in a sleek, black, shiny, a very expensive looking car. A Rolls-Royce Wraith Black Badge, he said casually when Suguru asked. 

He looked way too good in black and white—wearing a crisp white shirt underneath a sleek black vest-style top. The fabric hugged his chest and arms just enough to show off his build, the top two buttons left open to reveal a hint of collarbone and smooth skin. The sleeves were casually rolled to his elbows, forearms flexing with every movement, veins visible beneath the skin. A silver watch clung to his wrist, gleaming under the streetlight and his hair was styled to perfection and no glasses in sight. Suguru had never even seen him drive before.

Could this guy get any hotter?

Suguru kind of melted the moment he laid eyes on Satoru. All his earlier annoyance vanished in an instant. Satoru was the kind of alpha omegas would buy sperm from just to have his babies, even if they couldn’t have him. 

The omega had probably put more effort into his appearance today than he did on his actual wedding day. Mostly because he was hoping Satoru would just lose control and fuck him on the spot—maybe in the car and forget the whole date altogether.

To his utter disappointment, that didn’t happen.

He wasn’t looking forward to the date nearly as much as he was looking forward to what came after it. Funny, considering he used to be a hopeless romantic. Now? He was just a freak. But hey, at least he was still hot. Satoru was going to have a very hard time focusing tonight. Suguru would make sure of it.

He let his hair down, clipping the middle section back with a butterfly clip while the rest fell around his face in soft strands. He added a touch of red lip tint to make his lips look fuller, a little eyeliner to sharpen his already fox-like eyes. He looked like a painting.

Some earrings, a loose white crop top, and wide-leg black pants completed the look—perfectly framing his slim waist and showing just enough chest to tease. His hair now reached past his waist. He hadn’t worn it down like this in a while.

“God, you really make it hard to hold back, Suguru,” Satoru said, eyeing him up and down as he leaned against the car.

Suguru just flashed him a wide smile, though his eyebrow twitched. He wished he could punch Satoru in the face.

Satoru held the door open for him, letting him slide in and Suguru nearly sat on his own hair in the process. The car’s interior was a polished brown leather, luxurious and sleek. A beautiful car, really. But Suguru didn’t care in the slightest. He was way more interested in riding the driver.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked as Satoru started the engine and pulled out of the lot. He looked ridiculously good behind the wheel, one hand resting on the steering wheel as he drove, looking like he owned the world. 

“I made a reservation for us. A special one in—”

The young alpha went on, but Suguru wasn’t listening. His eyes were glued to the alpha’s veiny hands, imagining those long fingers buried inside him.

Satoru clearly noticed. He scoffed, then casually reached over to caress Suguru’s thigh, hand moving higher between his legs until he grabbed a handful of muscle and squeezed—hard enough to make Suguru gasp.

“You’re distracted, princess,” he murmured, smirking. “Can’t wait, hm?”

Suguru frowned, trying not to pout. “Yeah, can’t wait for our extravagant, fancy, over-the-top date with the strongest sorcerer—on some rooftop café or whatever you just said.”

“Rooftop café?” Satoru huffed. “Wow, you really weren’t listening. That actually hurts, y’know~”

Suguru shifted in his seat, turning to stare out the window instead. Maybe he could try to enjoy the evening. He didn’t want to be rude—not completely, at least.

It wasn’t a rooftop café but it was definitely close. And Suguru had to admit, he was impressed. The place offered a breathtaking view of Tokyo, with the Tokyo Tower glowing in the distance, almost close enough to touch. Their car had pulled up outside what looked like a twenty-story building, sleek and extravagant. Too much, honestly. Yet fitting, when it came to Satoru.

They were escorted by a private butler straight to the rooftop, which, to Suguru’s shock, had been reserved entirely for them. A full bar glittered at the side, stocked with every kind of alcohol imaginable. The entire space was bathed in warm lights and open sky, impossibly pretty and Suguru couldn’t stop staring. The menu was overwhelming, featuring dishes from all over the world, not just Japanese cuisine. It felt unreal, like the two of them had slipped into their own world, a world they owned together.

Suguru knew Satoru was filthy rich, but this…this was on another level. Almost unfair.

He ordered a glass of whiskey, while Satoru was poured something from a different bottle—clearly not alcohol. Suguru knew the young alpha had barely any tolerance. Still, he didn’t judge. He just took a slow sip of his drink and allowed himself to really be present, to really feel the moment. With the menu far too long to navigate, he let Satoru order for them both.

“So?” Satoru asked, eyes gleaming, clearly fishing for praise.

Suguru took a sip of his drink, glass resting lightly against his lips. “Not bad,” he said, smirking. “You really know how to show off.”

“I just want you to have the best first date,” Satoru replied, surprisingly sincere.

Suguru raised a brow, his smile lingering. Yeah…it really was his first date. Toji had never taken him on one. Thinking back, he couldn’t quite understand what had pulled him so strongly toward the older alpha—especially when he’d never made him work for it. Satoru, on the other hand, was putting in effort. And in this moment, Suguru couldn’t deny he was enjoying being the center of it.

But even with the meal—the wagyu beef, the crab pasta, the special sushi crafted by world-famous chefs—nothing compared to the alpha sitting across from him. Satoru was glowing, impossibly radiant. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every bite, every sip, and when a drop of his drink slid down his neck, Suguru had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it clean.

He wanted to crawl under the table and have Satoru for dessert.

He had never felt this needy before. Maybe his heat was close. That had to be it. Right?

Speaking of desserts—Satoru may as well have ordered the entire bakery. There were way too many on their table. He’d made sure to include the less sweet ones for Suguru too. The matcha cake was actually pretty good, and the cheesecake wasn’t bad either. But Satoru was devouring all of them like a man possessed. How he didn’t have diabetes yet was beyond Suguru.

Still, he looked adorable enjoying his dessert. Suguru was sure his slick was just as sweet. Maybe Satoru should give that a try too—

Suguru shook his head, horrified at himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even have this many horny thoughts during his every night hentai phase as a teenager. Satoru brought out the worst in him. This alpha was definitely trouble.

“Don’t drink too much. I want you sober,” Satoru said, casually dabbing at his mouth with a tissue as Suguru reached for another sip of his whiskey.

Suguru blinked at him. “Okay,” he said almost obediently, putting the glass back down. 

God, what the hell was wrong with him?

He should just jump off the damn roof.

“This—um, this place is kind of like a hotel too, right? With rooms in it?” Suguru asked, watching as Satoru casually pulled out his black card to pay the bill without even glancing at the total.

Satoru smiled at the waiter, handing the card over before turning to Suguru with a smirk.

“Yeah, it does,” he said, leaning in, eyes gleaming. “Plenty of rooms we can use.”

Suguru pressed his thighs together, heat rushing through him. God, he hated how excited he was. He reached for his water, trying to cool off, sipping slowly as the waiter returned and handed Satoru his card back.

That was it. The meal was over.

Which only meant one thing—

We’re gonna have sex. 

We’re gonna have sex. 

We’re gonna have sex. 

We’re gonna have sex. 

We’re gonna have sex. 

We’re gonna have sex.

Five minutes later, Suguru found himself in the passenger seat of Satoru’s car, the door clicking shut beside him.

Huh?

“That was a great night. Let’s go home,” Satoru said casually, settling into the driver’s seat.

Suguru stared at him, stunned.

Is he doing this on purpose?

Suguru should’ve seduced the waiter while he had the chance. The guy was cute enough—a beta, sure, but at this point, Suguru would let an omega fuck him too. Male or female didn’t matter. He was that desperate.

He sat stiffly in the car, glaring out the window while his angry pheromones seeped into the air like a warning. His hair was practically levitating from sheer irritation, but of course, Satoru didn’t seem to notice. Or care. He just kept driving, whistling like he hadn’t just blue-balled an entire omega into psychological ruin.

Maybe Suguru should just accept defeat.

He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cold glass, watching the city blur by. God, he wished he had an ex-boyfriend or anyone he could call for a hookup. The ex-husband option was out of the question. But the truth was, even if he had someone else, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Not without that spark, that pull.

Unfortunately for him, Satoru was the only one who lit that match and the only one he was willing to bend over for.

The car came to a stop, and Suguru sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt as he reached for the door.

“It was a great night. Goodnight,” he said dryly, unlocking it.

“Wait—” Satoru started, but he was already stepping out.

Suguru froze the moment his feet hit the ground.

What the hell?

His eyes widened at the sight before him—a literal mansion. The kind that looked like it belonged to ancient emperors or something out of a historical fantasy. Ornate woodwork, towering gates, paper lanterns softly glowing…it was stunning.

“This… isn’t my place,” Suguru muttered, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“It’s mine,” Satoru replied casually, already walking around the car to join him.

“You live here?” Suguru blinked at him, floored. Not that he should’ve been surprised. The man did swipe a black card like it was a library pass and wore clothes worth more than Suguru’s yearly rent.

“One of the places,” Satoru said, running a hand through his hair.

One of—

Suguru inhaled slowly. Exhaled slower.

“Get back in,” Satoru said as he opened the driver’s side again. “I need to park, then we’ll go inside.”

Suguru gave him a long, unreadable look. As if trying to see through the smooth charm and into whatever the hell he was thinking.

“Go inside to do what exactly?” he asked. He needed a hint. Or a confirmation. Or maybe just wanted to hear it from him.

But Satoru only smirked, nodding toward the car like he was already losing patience.

“Get in.”

It wasn’t really a request.

Suguru climbed back into the car wordlessly, the door clicking shut behind him.

As the car approached the grand gate, a robotic beep sounded at the entrance. Satoru rolled the window down, and a soft beam of light scanned across his eyes.

A robotic feminine voice chimed, smooth and reverent:

“Satoru-sama, welcome home.”

With a low mechanical rumble, the gates parted open, and Satoru drove in with that same effortless grace he carried in everything he did.

The closer they got to the mansion, the more surreal it became. It wasn’t just big—it was absurdly massive, like something straight out of a fantasy drama. Suguru was starting to understand why Shoko had pushed so hard for him to give Satoru a chance. Having the strongest and richest sorcerer wrapped around his finger? Yeah, it was starting to look like a deal too good to pass up.

As they pulled into the garage, Suguru’s eyes widened further. At least ten high-end luxury cars sat neatly in rows like showroom models. Lamborghini, BMW, Mercedes, even a Honda done up in matte black and chrome. Each one looked like it cost more than a small nation’s healthcare budget or its collective kidney market.

Suguru hadn’t realized Satoru was this into cars. Sure, he remembered him mentioning F1 once, but he’d teased him about it—something like, “What fun do you get from watching cars go in circles?” Satoru had actually looked offended, and now Suguru could see why. This was serious to him.

The engine went silent as Satoru parked the car with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. He stepped out, circled around, and opened the door for Suguru.

Suguru climbed out slowly, still taking it all in. The perfectly polished garage, the sleek machines, the quiet hum of wealth and taste.

It was beautiful.

And just a little terrifying.

“What do you even need so many cars for?” Suguru asked, still eyeing the rows of gleaming vehicles. “You barely drive.”

Satoru shrugged, hands in his pockets. “I like cars.”

“But why buy them if you’re not gonna use them?”

“God forbid a man has hobbies,” Satoru huffed, adding a dramatic little pout.

Suguru scoffed, letting his gaze drift across the showroom-like garage until a glint of electric blue caught his eye. “That one’s pretty. I like the color—Lambo, right?”

“That’s an Audi R8,” Satoru corrected. He then pointed toward a sleeker black beast at the far end. “That’s the Lamborghini. Centenario.”

“Oh? They look kinda similar.”

“They’re not—” Satoru started, and Suguru immediately realized he’d triggered something. The alpha launched into an impassioned explanation—engines, horsepower, torque, transmissions. It went on and on.

Suguru zoned out halfway through, shifting on his feet, too horny to care about the mechanics of V10s or twin-turbos.

He groaned, clasping his hands dramatically. “Are we really going to stand here talking about cars all night?”

Satoru grinned, stepped in, sliding his arms around Suguru’s waist and pulling him close. “Of course not,” he murmured before kissing him softly, lips warm and sure.

Suguru’s whimpered softly against his mouth, his ears burning at the sudden closeness.

“I’ve always wanted to bring you here,” Satoru said, brushing a second kiss to his forehead before lacing their fingers together and leading him inside.

“God, you must’ve been suffocating at my place all this time,” Suguru said as the front door opened. He slipped off his shoes at the grand entrance, which looked big enough to fit an elephant.

Satoru chuckled, unstrapping his watch and setting it down on a nearby tray, toeing off his own shoes. “Honestly—”

Suguru shot him a sharp look, brows raised in warning.

“—uhh, not really,” Satoru quickly said with a sheepish laugh. “Bigger isn’t always better.”

Suguru tilted his head innocently, licking his lips slowly. “Bigger is better though.”

Satoru’s eyes gleamed as he stepped in closer, that smug smirk curling at his lips. “Oh? Then you’re going to love it.”

“Love what?” Suguru asked, playing along.

“My place,” Satoru murmured, voice low, teasing. “And the other ones too.”

“I guess,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He’d half-expected Satoru to slam the door shut, grab him by the waist, kiss him roughly, slamming him against the walls, and then carry him straight to the bedroom and fuck him stupid. But instead, Satoru just stepped inside calmly, tossing a casual glance over his shoulder and motioning for him to follow.

Suguru sighed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face, but he followed Satoru anyway. His eyes wandered around, taking in the tall walls and the spacious room that opened up before him. A massive chandelier sparkled above them, and a grand staircase spiraled upward as they entered the main hall. Big and numerous couches were scattered throughout, giving the space an almost excessive sense of size. It was all too big. The aesthetic and lighting were stunning, almost royal in their elegance. Suguru had only ever seen places like this in pictures, never in real life. There was even a balcony overlooking the main hall from the upper floor. 

With walls stretching up so high, Suguru couldn’t help but feel incredibly small.

He trailed behind Satoru all the way to the kitchen, where Satoru told him to sit at the long wooden stretch of the table while he rummaged through cabinets, fussing with some glasses. Chandeliers hung even here, making Suguru feel, oddly enough, like a princess. The kitchen was open-concept, with a sleek island in the center. There were so many stoves—modern and undoubtedly expensive—surrounded by high-end décor and pristine finishes. Everything screamed luxury.

Suguru sat down, eyes drifting slowly around the room, drinking in every detail until they caught on a nearby wall lined with framed photos above another cluster of couches.

They were mostly of Satoru and Megumi. There were a few pictures of Megumi as a child and recent ones too, his expression as guarded as ever. One showed Megumi as a child, bundled in winter clothes, standing beside Satoru in his Jujutsu High uniform with the black Divine Dog at their feet. Another captured the two of them wearing F1 helmets and matching jerseys—Satoru had Megumi hoisted in his arms, both of them grinning. It might’ve been the only photo Suguru had ever seen where Megumi was genuinely smiling. 

Suguru just stood there for a moment, staring.

“Suguru,” Satoru’s voice called from the kitchen, soft but pulling.

He turned and walked over, settling back at the table where two glasses of wine waited. Satoru was already seated, watching him with that familiar, unreadable look.

“Megumi’s really like your son, huh…” Suguru said, chin resting on his hand as he observed the young alpha across from him, unimpressed but curious.

“Nahhh,” Satoru waved him off lazily, wine glass in hand, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a small sip. So he did drink—strange. Suguru hadn’t expected that. Something about it felt…off. “I’m too young to be anyone’s dad,” he added.

“His brother, then?” Suguru asked. He hadn’t expected Satoru to be this close to the kid. Judging by the photos, Megumi probably lived here too. He quietly hoped the kid wasn’t around tonight.

“Just guardian is fine,” Satoru replied, eyes still on his wine. “Megumi’s strong. Might take over someday.”

Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Take over what? He's your heir now?”

“No. Well—how about we just drop this topic for now?”

Suguru didn’t budge. “I don’t really care much. I’ve just always wondered why you took him in. You hated his father.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said quietly, looking at Suguru now. “But Megumi’s nothing like his father.”

“He does look like him,” Suguru pointed out, watching closely.

Satoru’s jaw tensed slightly, as he nodded, frowning. “Unfortunately”

Suguru laughed—a short, breathy sound—but it died just as quickly.

Wait. What the hell were they even doing?

Why had Satoru brought him into the kitchen instead of the damn bedroom? Why were they sipping wine and talking about Megumi of all things? Why wasn’t he being pushed up against a wall or bent over the nearest expensive surface like he had expected?

More importantly—why was Satoru still sitting a whole foot away from him like they were on some formal arranged marriage date set up by their parents?

What the actual hell was going on?

Suguru had expected Satoru to go completely feral the moment he’d given him actual consent to fuck. Like tossing a goat into a lion’s den. Except the lion right now was behaving more like an elegant duck—calm, poised, doing absolutely nothing—while the supposed prey sat there practically begging to be eaten. 

Somehow, he had ended up as the hungry lion instead.

Wasn’t porn supposed to be all about ten seconds of baseless dialogue followed by immediate, no-questions-asked fucking? Then again, Suguru usually skipped all the intro nonsense and went straight into action, so maybe he wasn’t the best judge. Still—

Seriously, why was this taking so long?!

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

(Why aren’t you fucking me?)

Suguru didn’t mean to sound so pitiful, but the soft tilt of his eyes and the hint of sadness in his voice gave him away.

Satoru glanced over, lips brushing the rim of his glass before he set it down. “When was I ever mean to you?”

Fair point.

“Well, you’re being mean to me right now!” Suguru huffed, puffing his cheeks without realizing and furrowing his brows like an annoyed cat.

“How so?”

Ugh. Suguru wanted to scream. Satoru should’ve bent him over the table by now—hair in fist, forcing himself on him, thrusting hard and fast. Who cared? Who the fuck cared anymore?!

Suguru needed to calm the fuck down.

So he reached for the wine glass and chugged it in one go—only to immediately spit it back out in a fountain spray.

“What the fuck is this?!” he gagged, wiping his mouth.

“Ah—cranberry juice,” Satoru replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his head like a fool.

“You served me cranberry juice in a wine glass?” Suguru really wanted to cry.

“I don’t drink. And I did say I want you sober,” Satoru replied smoothly.

Suguru blinked at him. His eyes drifted to the delicate way Satoru sipped his cranberry juice, pinky slightly raised, wine glass tilted like he was hosting a gala.

Was this man seriously pretending to drink alcohol like a child playing adult?

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek, barely swallowing a laugh.

Satoru, completely unbothered, kept sipping—watching him with those glacier-blue eyes, calm and neutral. Suguru couldn’t figure out what was running through that head of his. His biceps flexed as he moved, his posture lazy but deliberate. He looked stupidly good. Sexy. And still…he hadn’t made a single move. He was still not touching him.

What the hell was he waiting for?

Suguru’s brows furrowed. Maybe he wanted Suguru to beg. To ask. Maybe this was some game. But then—his eyes narrowed.

There it was. Just for a second—Satoru’s hand, barely trembling as he held the glass. Barely noticeable. But Suguru caught it.

And suddenly, Suguru’s mind went to the worst possible conclusion.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, hand covering his mouth as he sniffled dramatically. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Satoru’s eyes snapped up, a low growl rumbling from his throat. “Huh?”

“You totally lied to me. That’s why you have no clue what to do,” Suguru accused, eyes narrowing in mock pity. “It’s okay, I would’ve given you a crash course in sex ed. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

This. This was his nightmare. And it was unfolding right in front of him. No wonder he was hesitant about dating younger men.

“What the hell are you on about?” Satoru looked properly offended now, brows furrowing in frustration.

“It’s okay, Satoru, I’m not judging,” he was, he really was. 

Satoru clicked his tongue. “I had an entire harem, if that’ll help clear your doubts.” 

“Really?” Suguru asked flatly, clearly not buying it. “How many people were in this… ‘harem’ of yours?”

A short pause.

“Five,” Satoru answered, side-eyeing him like he was the crazy one.

“Huh…” Suguru blinked, tilting his head. No matter how he tried, he just couldn’t picture that. Like… how would one even handle five people? Were they doing the work? Was he? What kind of logistics did that require? He looked Satoru up and down, deeply suspicious.

“Then tell me what you did to them.”

Satoru slightly frowned at him at first, then smirked, the corner of his lips twitching, raising his glass like a toast.

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll show you soon enough.”

Suguru screamed internally: Then show me now, damnit!

“Aren’t you celibate for the past seven years?” Satoru suddenly asked.

“How would you know that?”

“Just a guess. Am I wrong, though?”

Suguru said nothing—just let out a long sigh, his shoulders sinking slightly. The fact that Satoru still wasn’t touching him…it was starting to gnaw at him, slowly but surely.

Was he not attractive enough? Did he not look good tonight? He’d actually tried, put effort into his hair, his outfit, everything. He wanted to look hot, sexy, irresistible. So why…why was Satoru still keeping his distance?

Did he not turn him on? Make him hard enough? 

That sinking feeling settled deeper in his chest, and before he could mask it, the sadness bled onto his face. His expression softened, lips slightly parted, eyes dimmed—not angry, not dramatic—just quietly, visibly sad. So sad. 

Satoru set his glass down and finally made his way over to him. But Suguru didn’t look up. He sat still, eyes fixed on his hands, lips slightly pouted—quiet and small in a way that looked almost heartbreaking. Defeated.

He reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around Suguru’s hand before leaning in close, breathing warm against his skin. He dipped low, catching Suguru’s earlobe between his lips, grazing it with a soft bite.

“So needy, aren’t you,” he whispered, his voice a teasing hush as he pressed a kiss just below his ear.

“…Shut up,” Suguru muttered, his tone brittle, “Go away if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, but I do,” Satoru said, voice dipping low. His hand moved to grip Suguru’s face firmly, tilting his face up until their eyes met. “I just like seeing how much you want me.”

And then he kissed him—deep and slow like he meant it. Suguru melted instantly, hands curling into Satoru’s shirt as their mouths moved together, eyes fluttering shut.

It felt good. So good. 

Finally.

“You want me?” Satoru asked, voice low and rough as he pulled back slightly and Suguru instantly hated the distance.

Swallowing hard, Suguru nodded, breath shallow. Satoru’s grip on his face tightened.

“Say it.”

“I want you,” Suguru whispered, locking eyes with him. “Please.”

Satoru’s expression darkened, a cruel glint in his gaze. “You want me to do what?”

God, he was insufferable. But if that’s what it took, Suguru would say it. He’d give him the words.

“I want you to fuck me, Satoru,” he said, hand lifting to cup his cheek, thumb brushing his skin. “Make me yours.”

Something shifted in Satoru’s eyes, blue irises clouding with something darker, heavier. He let out a low snicker, then leaned in and crushed their mouths together in a kiss that stole the breath from Suguru’s lungs.

Suguru gasped into it, arms winding around Satoru’s neck, holding tight. This kiss was nothing like the last—hotter, filthier. Their tongues clashed, sliding together in a way that made Suguru dizzy, lips parting just to keep up. The heat swirled, building fast, and Suguru had to push him back for just a second, panting hard, lips slick and eyes wild.

In one swift motion, Satoru lifted him up and set him on the table, lips immediately descending on Suguru’s neck, biting and grazing along the skin as he moved lower, heat trailing in his wake. His hand reached up, unclipping Suguru’s hair, letting it tumble down in long, silken waves.

Suguru’s fingers fumbled at Satoru’s vest, tugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. He quickly moved to unbutton his shirt, impatient when he felt Satoru’s hard bulge press against his thigh.

Satoru let out a low breath, almost a scoff, before slipping a hand behind Suguru’s neck and grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing a soft gasp from Suguru’s lips. The movement froze him in place, his shirt half-opened, chest rising and falling.

“Look at you,” Satoru murmured, blue eyes dark and fixed on him. “Do you even know how fucking irresistible you are?”

Suguru batted his lashes up at him, lips parted, completely undone. “Then what are you waiting for?” he whispered. “Have me.”

Satoru’s other hand came up, his thumb brushing over Suguru’s bottom lip, smudging the tint slightly. His eyes darkened, something feral sparking behind them.

“I will,” he murmured, voice rough, “and I’m going to take my time with it.”

Before Suguru could react, Satoru threw him over his shoulder effortlessly, drawing a surprised squeal from him. God, he’s so fucking strong. And he did it all with one hand. Suguru’s eyes widened, his omega instincts flaring with submission. His legs dangled in the air, upper body hanging down like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes—except a sack that was currently slicking up embarrassingly fast. 

The scent of his arousal immediately thickened the air as Satoru carried him into another room and tossed him onto the bed with ease. Suguru bounced slightly against the mattress before Satoru climbed on top of him, mouth already seeking his. Their lips met again and again, hot and frantic, as hands roamed.

Satoru yanked Suguru’s crop top over his head, flinging it aside without breaking the kiss for more than a second. His body pressed flush against Suguru’s, chest to chest, their heat merging.

Suguru couldn’t get enough. He clung to Satoru like he might vanish, greedy in the way his hands roamed, in the way his lips chased after more. He wanted to be greedy. He deserved to be selfish—just this once. Even if Satoru left him after, even if it all vanished in the morning, he wanted all of him now.

Satoru’s mouth felt so good—hot and sinful against his skin. Suguru’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft whimper escaping him as the sensations rippled through his body like waves of electricity. He could feel the heat building between them, their clothed cocks grinding together, adding delicious friction that made him squirm and cling tighter.

Satoru’s lips traveled down, trailing wet kisses across his chest before latching onto one of his pecs, sucking hard. Suguru gasped—then screamed—eyes snapping open from the sudden rush of pleasure. And that’s when he saw it.

Himself.

Lying beneath Satoru, mouth parted, body flushed, and eyes wide. His heart skipped—confused for a second—until he realized he was staring at the mirror mounted on the ceiling right above them.

Why the fuck is there a mirror on the ceiling?

Satoru’s mouth was still working mercilessly on his chest, tongue dragging over his abused nipple, but now Suguru was seeing all of it from above, like a live broadcast. The mirror was huge, spanning the entire width of the bed. It felt like watching porn, except it was them and it was real.

“Satoru—what the hell,” Suguru scowled, cheeks flushed, breath heavy. He pushed at the alpha’s shoulder, glaring upward. “You put that there on purpose, didn’t you?”

Satoru’s mouth pulled away from Suguru’s chest with a wet pop. His shadow loomed above him, blocking the ceiling mirror as he hovered over Suguru, that same long, wicked smirk spreading across his face.

Suguru gritted his teeth. “You’re a devil in human disguise.”

Satoru grinned, giggling softly as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off—finally, finally showing Suguru what he’d been dying to see for weeks. He had been curious for so long, always wanting a peek.

Suguru’s mouth went dry, or maybe it watered—he couldn’t tell anymore. His brain short-circuited, eyes glued to every flex, every inch of smooth skin and hard muscle. He was leaking, wetness soaking through his clothes, heart pounding like he was in heat. His eyes might as well have had hearts in them with how good Satoru looked.

This must be what a dog felt like staring at a juicy bone.

He felt like a bitch ready to be knotted, bred, desperate and eager, wanting to be Satoru’s personal sex toy. No, not just a toy. His favourite one. The only one he’d ever use. The one he’d keep.

He was so lost in that thought, in the sight of Satoru, that he didn’t even notice the rest of the room—the ceiling wasn’t the only place with a mirror. There were mirrors everywhere, angled perfectly so he could see everything. Every part of himself. Every part of Satoru. All designed to remind him exactly who was going to be in control tonight.

“There are two rules for tonight,” Satoru said, voice low as he leaned in, pushing two fingers past Suguru’s lips. The omega bit down, sharp and defiant, but the alpha didn’t even flinch—those glowing, predatory blue eyes locked onto him like prey.

“One: keep your eyes open. No matter what.”

He withdrew his fingers slowly, letting the saliva trail before tossing Suguru’s pants down in one smooth motion. His knee came up between Suguru’s thighs, forcing them apart, holding him wide open. And then—without hesitation—he pushed a slick finger inside him, making Suguru jolt, a soft wince escaping him. Another hand came down to hold his trembling leg firmly in place.

“Two: no running. If you try, I’ll chase you down and make sure you regret it.”

Satoru’s finger sank deeper, curling with precision, knowing exactly where to touch to make Suguru squirm. The omega bit his lip, hard—eyes flickering upward as they locked on the mirror above. Watching it. Watching everything Satoru was doing to him. Every movement, every reaction.

And it made him feel so exposed.

So utterly humiliated.

So completely his.

“You understand?” Satoru asked, unbuckling his belt. His cock strained against his boxers—even bigger than before. Was that even possible? Was that supposed to fit?

Suguru swallowed hard, eyes glued to it, already doubting his own ability to handle it. It had been so long.

A sharp pinch to the inside of his thigh snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“I asked you something,” Satoru said, tone clipped.

“I—I understand,” Suguru muttered, still breathless, still seething at the way Satoru was handling him. Like he wasn’t older, like he had no control, no pride left. And maybe, judging by how eagerly his body responded, maybe he really didn’t have any left to begin with.

Satoru made a low, satisfied sound—almost a purr—as he leaned down, lips pressing to Suguru’s inner thigh. The kiss turned into a trail, moving closer, lower, until—

Suguru gasped, his legs snapping shut instinctively around the alpha’s head the moment he felt his tongue. It was hot, wet, sinful—the way he moved, slow at first, then deeper, more purposeful. Suguru’s entire body jolted, toes curling, hips twitching. He couldn’t help but look—up into the mirror, where the entire scene played out in agonizing clarity.

His own reflection stared back: wide-eyed, flushed, mouth open as he watched Satoru eat him out like he was starving, white hair fanned between his thighs.

Suguru’s fingers tangled in that hair, pulling slightly, grounding himself as he moaned, unable to take his eyes off the image in the mirror—how good he looked, how good Satoru made him look.

“Sweet,” Satoru murmured, pulling back with a glint in his eye, licking his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood and shoved his pants down, finally freeing himself.

Suguru blinked once. Then twice.

Then he actually felt a bit scared.

That— that thing was monstrous. Long, thick, red at the tip and veined like it was carved from marble. And, for some reason, Suguru’s brain chose that moment to notice that Satoru’s pubic hair was white too.

He didn’t know why that detail stuck with him.

But it did.

“Go on, Suguru,” Satoru murmured, breath hot and voice dripping with smug command. “Put on a good show for me.”

His grip tightened around Suguru’s thighs, holding them wide as he positioned himself. Suguru’s breath hitched—his heart pounded with anticipation, nerves, and something far more primal—as he watched the thick, flushed head of Satoru’s cock press against his still-tight entrance.

It wasn’t going to go in easily. He knew it. Panic flared.

It’s gonna hurt—

And then Satoru pushed forward.

Suguru choked on a gasp, back arching as he was stretched open around him, legs held up firm by the alpha’s unrelenting grip. His eyes flickered wildly—from between his legs to the ceiling mirror above. The reflection stared back at him, obscene and raw, like he was watching himself in a high-budget porno: legs spread, face twisted in something between pain and pleasure, Satoru’s cock forcing its way into him.

He turned his head, overwhelmed—and found another mirror on the side wall. He turned again. Another one.

There was no escape. The room was filled with them. No angle spared him from witnessing exactly how wrecked he looked.

Humiliation coiled in his chest, but his body betrayed him—slick and sticky, pulsing around Satoru’s cock as if inviting more. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. How could this stupid, arrogant alpha make him feel so dumb, so small, so good all at once?

“Satoru,” he whimpered, voice soft and strained, pleasure bordering on pain as he felt himself being filled too much, too fast, the friction burning in a way that made his toes curl. “It’s too much.”

Satoru didn’t slow down. Didn’t offer pity. He only leaned forward, voice low and dangerous against Suguru’s ear. “We’re just getting started, babydoll.”

His tone made Suguru shiver. It was deep, rich, and soaked in dominance. Combined with that overwhelming alpha scent, musky and sweet, Suguru felt lightheaded—like his mind was dissolving under the weight of it all.

But even if it was too much, even if he felt like he was going to break, he wanted it. He needed it.

He wanted every inch buried inside him, wanted to be ruined by this cruel, beautiful alpha who seemed so determined to drive him out of his mind.

And then, in one sharp, brutal motion, Satoru slammed into him—all the way in, bottoming out in a single thrust.

Suguru nearly jolted off the bed, body arching from the sudden stretch. The young alpha was impatient—so damn impatient.

“Fuck…you’re so tight, Suguru,” Satoru growled, his voice low and rough, face flushed as he leaned over him. His arms caged Suguru in on either side, muscles flexing as he held himself steady.

Suguru gasped, breath stolen, tears clinging to his lashes as his eyes burned. He could feel Satoru deep — all the way inside, pressing against his guts, his womb. His thighs trembled, his whole body shaking from the pressure and the sheer overwhelming fullness.

“S-Satoru…please, alpha—” Suguru moaned, voice cracking, caught somewhere between begging for mercy and asking for more.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Satoru smirked, a wild laugh slipping from his lips as he pulled out just to slam back in, making Suguru cry out with a broken gasp.

“I’m your alpha. Your mate. Your future husband,” he snarled, voice getting rougher as his thrusts turned punishing, hips snapping forward again and again. “And you’re mine. Only mine.”

Suguru’s body rocked with each thrust, the bed shaking beneath them, his moans growing louder with every rough movement. It burned —every inch of it— but it was the kind of burn that twisted into pleasure so intense it hurt so much. 

“Say you’re mine,” Satoru demanded, voice low and rough — halfway between a growl and a command. “Say it.”

“Yours…” Suguru gasped out, his voice barely holding together.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Satoru—ah—!”

Satoru’s pace picked up, faster, rougher, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room, hot and loud.

Suguru could see everything—every shameful, needy part of himself reflected back in the mirrors. The tears on his cheeks, the way his body moved with every thrust, the raw, desperate expressions he made. No matter where he looked, the mirrors showed him just how wrecked he was.

So he made the mistake of shutting his eyes.

And in seconds, Satoru’s hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp.

Suguru’s eyes flew open, locking onto Satoru’s face. His hand reached up automatically, fingers curling around Satoru’s wrist.

“What did I say about rule one?” Satoru said, tightening his grip just a little more.

Suguru could only look up at him — wide-eyed, breathless, completely submissive. In that moment, it felt like Satoru was the only thing that existed. The only thing that mattered.

Then came the bite—Satoru sank his teeth deep into Suguru’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

Pain bloomed, hot and sharp, sending electric shudders through Suguru’s entire body.

“Don’t—!” Suguru cried out, trying to push him away, turning his face away as more tears welled in his eyes, the sensation of Satoru still moving deep inside him too much to bear.

Satoru leaned in and kissed him to shut him up instead. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, far softer than Suguru expected. His hands stayed firm, pinning both Suguru’s hands down against the bed, keeping him trapped while his hips kept moving.

And in that kiss—that sudden tenderness—Suguru’s body began to relax, just a little.

Then Satoru pressed a kiss to his forehead. One to his cheek. Then his jaw.

Something about it — the contrast between the brutal pace and the careful affection—made Suguru melt. It eased the tightness in his chest, even as his body trembled beneath him.

He wanted to touch Satoru so badly. To hold his face, to dig his nails into that broad, powerful back.

Even Toji—who had taken him rough plenty of times—had never treated him like this. The older alpha could be brutal, sure. He’d pull Suguru’s hair, throw him around, fuck him like he owned him. It hurt, but it always hurt in a way that Suguru could handle—that he even liked.

But this?

This was different.

Satoru was fucking him like he hated him. 

And it was too much.

Suguru wasn’t sure how long he could take it. If Satoru kept going like this…he might not make it through in one piece.

“Satoru—stop—slow down! It hurts,” Suguru cried out, his voice raw as he looked up at the alpha, eyes pleading for mercy.

“I want it to hurt, babydoll,” Satoru said, pressing a kiss to his lips, voice low and trembling. “I want you to feel the pain you made me live with all these years,” he whispered against his mouth, their noses brushing.

Suguru couldn’t think anymore. The young alpha was fucking his brains out. Whatever intelligence he had was long gone. It was like every wire in his brain had been pulled loose. 

“I’m sorry, baby…I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whimpered, twisting against Satoru’s grip until he freed his hand, wrapping it around the alpha’s shoulder and pulling him close into a soft, intimate embrace as he tucked his face into Satoru’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, quieter this time, voice breaking. 

Satoru paused for a moment, his breath warm against Suguru’s neck as he leaned in, pressing a soft bite to his skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to ground him. 

When he started moving again, it was slower, the brutal pace softened, each thrust more controlled, more intimate and tender. The pain dulled and gave way to a rising pleasure that pulled soft, helpless moans from Suguru’s lips. His fingers clung to Satoru’s back, nails dragging down with desperate need, leaving behind raw, red lines across his pale skin.

Like a canvas under his hands, and Satoru the only thing he wanted to hold.

“Been dreaming about this since I was—fuck—” Satoru groaned, bracing himself on one hand as he looked down at Suguru beneath him. His hips kept moving, fucking Suguru slow and deep, he was being so gentle now. Suguru felt his orgasm pressing closer. He was feeling so good.

“I’m gonna keep you like this for the rest of our lives. I’m never letting you go again.”

Suguru couldn’t say anything, just let out a sound to agree.

“This is exactly where you belong, don’t you?”

Suguru hummed again, his eyes locked on Satoru’s. He didn’t want to look at any of the mirrors showing their messy, filthy act. He only wanted to look at Satoru. For once, he wasn’t shy about it. In the past, he always looked away during sex, but now he kept his gaze on the alpha because it felt different. Satoru wasn’t just fucking him anymore. He was loving him. They were making love. Or atleast Suguru felt like they were. He was always a little delusional like that. Hopeless. 

Their eyes stayed locked the entire time as their bodies moved together, refusing to separate, fitting perfectly as one. Suguru could feel himself getting close, his breathing growing heavier as it built up. His eyes fluttered shut, rolling back slightly as Satoru kept hitting that spot deep inside him again and again—until Suguru let out a loud moan, calling out the alpha’s name, his mind going blank for a second as he came, his cock twitching as white spilled across his stomach. He might have even blacked out for a moment.

Then he heard Satoru groan loudly above him, coming almost at the same time, and suddenly Suguru felt something swell inside—his belly pressing out slightly as the young alpha knotted him, forming a visible bulge over the skin. Thick, hot cum filled him deeply, spreading warmth through his womb.

And that's when it hit Suguru—they hadn’t used any protection. But the feeling was so intense and overwhelming, so full of pleasure, that the thought quickly vanished from his mind.

Satoru collapsed on top of him, their warm bodies pressed together, both of them breathing hard. Suguru kept his arms wrapped around him, holding him close. They stayed like that for a while in silence, slowly coming down from their high.

After a moment, they kissed. Satoru found Suguru’s lips and kissed him gently, lovingly, taking his time as they waited for the knot to go down.

“I want to mark you,” Satoru growled, nibbling against his neck. “Suguru, let me mate you—”

“No,” Suguru said firmly, pushing his head away. “Not now.”

Satoru’s fangs were starting to show, sharp and gleaming, pressing slightly into his lower lip as he begged, “Please Suguru, Please let me—

“Satoru.” Suguru growled, grabbing his face and making him look at him. “It’s a ritual to do it in the wedding night. You can’t break that.”

“Who even cares about some dumb ritual these days?”

“I do,” Suguru said. And that was the end of it.

Satoru pouted, muttering under his breath. Suguru giggled at his grumbling, gently caressing his face while the alpha’s cock was still buried inside him. His body ached all over, completely worn out. And the moment he closed his eyes, he slipped into unconsciousness—too tired to stay awake any longer.

When Suguru stirred awake, he was greeted not by his own reflection, but by a plain white ceiling. The mirrors were gone. This wasn’t the same room. His entire body ached—dull and tender in every muscle, skin littered with bite marks that stung when he shifted, making him let out a low groan.

There was a strange sensation low in his abdomen too, a gentle sting blooming near his womb, pulsing with each breath.

Sunlight poured through the curtains, golden and warm, accompanied by the distant chirping of birds. 

The room was simple and modest, especially compared to the rest of the house. It had a plain closet, a study desk, and walls decorated with anime and car posters. Shelves were filled with manga, neatly arranged figurines, miniature car models, and even some Lego sets. 

Suguru noticed a lot of cars and F1-related merchandise. There was even a helmet with “Red Bull” written on it. It was clear that this was Satoru’s room. Being in this space made Suguru feel a little special, like he was in the alpha’s…den.

Suguru stretched, his muscles protesting as he moved. Just then, the door creaked open.

Satoru walked in, dressed in grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt—fresh from a shower, hair slightly damp, looking unfairly handsome. He looked like a dream, casual and radiant in the morning light.

“Good morning,” Satoru said with a soft smile, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to Suguru’s forehead. He smelled clean, like soap, aftershave, and something unmistakably him.

“Sleep well?”

God. Look at him. Acting all sweet and gentle now like he hadn’t absolutely wrecked Suguru last night. 

Suguru let out a low noise, shifting slightly. “Did you change my clothes?” he asked, glancing down at the oversized long-sleeved T-shirt he was now wearing with some Digimon character on it. 

“Uh-huh,” Satoru replied without an ounce of shame. “Fucked you so good you passed out.”

Suguru clicked his tongue. “I can’t believe you actually went ahead and put all those mirrors,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Humiliating me is your kink, isn’t it?”

Satoru scoffed, lips curling into a smug smirk. “You should be grateful I didn’t record it and send it to your ex-husband.”

Suguru raised a brow. “You know where he is?”

“Nope,” Satoru said with a shrug, sticking out his bottom lip in mock innocence. He leaned in, expression shifting to something darker, more intense. “Honestly? I just wanted you to see how fucking beautiful you look when you’re being ruined by the right man. The only right man.”

“You’re a menace.” Suguru let out a quiet growl, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his face.

Satoru smirked, closing the distance to capture Suguru’s lips in a kiss. He tasted like toothpaste, minty and fresh.

Suguru pulled away a little. “Don’t—I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“I don’t care,” Satoru said, leaning in again and deepening the kiss. Suguru let out a small whimper, giving in, body relaxing into it.

He felt good. Warm. Safe, even. It was a strange feeling—soft and peaceful in a way Suguru never thought he’d feel.

Satoru had always come with too many red flags. And now that he’d finally gotten what he wanted, would he get bored? Young alphas were like that—they loved the chase, and once it was over, they moved on. Even if Satoru had chased him for seven years, Suguru still couldn’t help but wonder if he’d lose interest now that he’d finally fucked him.

Then again, maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

Suguru had given in, not because he trusted Satoru, but because the emptiness inside him had become too heavy to carry alone. It hurt too much. And for once, it felt good to let someone close. To stop fighting. To be touched, held, and completely taken.

“So,” Satoru said, pulling back with a grin, “how’d I do? Rate my performance.”

Of course. One thing about Satoru was that he always wanted praise. Always fishing for compliments. 

Suguru wasn’t about to feed his ego.

He made a face. “Eh. You were alright, I guess…” He rolled his eyes, waving his hand. “Maybe a 4 out of 10.”

Satoru’s jaw dropped. “Four?! You’re kidding.”

“You were way too rough!”

“I thought that’s how you liked it.”

“And who told you that?”

Satoru raised a brow, unfazed. “Hmm…then what do you want?” He leaned in close, voice dropping low near Suguru’s ear. “Want me to be gentle? Make love to you like we’re soulmates in some tragic historical romance?”

Suguru’s face flushed. “God—shut up.”

Satoru chuckled, pulling Suguru gently into his chest. The alpha was clearly in a good mood, his pheromones indicating just how satisfied he was.

“Breakfast?” Satoru asked, pressing a soft kiss against Suguru’s cheek. 

“Sure,” Suguru mumbled, resting against him as he glanced up. “But what time is it?” 

It was Monday, after all and he had school.

“Still early,” Satoru said, brushing his fingers down Suguru’s back, eyes soft and hopeful like a puppy. “Stay a little longer. Please?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hummed, rubbing his cheek against Satoru’s chest. A warm, giddy feeling fluttered inside him. “I'll freshen up first.”

“Alright,” Satoru said. “I’ll be downstairs. Waiting.”

Suguru gave a small nod and slowly got out of bed. The oversized shirt hung down to his thighs as he glanced around the room, spotting a door nearby that had to be the bathroom.

This felt like the perfect fantasy. Suguru was feeling happy, genuinely happy. Like a teenage girl living out her dream romance. Waking up sore but satisfied, the smell of breakfast waiting downstairs, his alpha cooking just for him. Just the two of them in the kitchen, warm and glowing from the night before.

Sure, last night he’d been desperate to be fucked—but now, with his head clear and heart full, all he wanted was quiet time together. A slow, domestic morning like couples have. 

Are they a couple? Suguru wasn’t sure yet. But at this moment, he was content experiencing the kind of love he had always longed for.  Even if it was temporary, he wanted to let himself live in the moment and enjoy it while it lasted.

Their first time had been…intense. A little rough, a bit too much with all those mirrors. But honestly, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. In fact…he liked that Satoru could take control when needed. 

Suguru giggled to himself. Love always made him a little dumb.

But was he really in love?

Maybe.

…Maybe.

“Also…” Satoru began, voice a little hesitant.

Suguru paused mid-step and glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind if Megumi joined us for breakfast?” Satoru asked carefully, eyes searching his face.

Suguru’s smile vanished in an instant.

Chapter Text

Morning light streamed through the windows, catching on the suncatchers and scattering soft, colorful patterns across the floor. The entire mansion was bathed in a golden glow, so beautiful that Suguru felt like a princess in a storybook. 

Breakfast was just as inviting. There were steaming bowls of rice, natto, miso soup, silky tofu, and perfectly cooked eggs. Alongside it sat a stack of fluffy pancakes, drizzled with maple syrup and dusted with powdered sugar, enough to feed an entire family.

It could’ve been perfect…if Fushiguro Megumi wasn’t there to ruin it.

Suguru walked down the spiral stairs in another one of Satoru’s oversized anime t-shirts and sweatpants that were way too big on him. As he stepped down the stairs, Suguru realised that Satoru had carried him all the way up last night. The thought made Suguru bite his lip, warmth creeping into his cheeks before he could stop it.

Megumi was already sitting at the table, dressed casually, waiting as the food was brought out. He glanced at Suguru out of the corner of his eye, then looked away without saying anything. Suguru didn’t say anything either. 

He never really knew what to say around Megumi. Ever since Megumi was a baby, he had always been quiet around Suguru—so quiet it eventually felt normal. Like that was just how it was between them.

Looking back, Suguru wasn’t sure Megumi had ever liked him. Not as a mother. Not even before Suguru killed his divine dog. The truth was, they were never meant to have a mother-son relationship. Just two souls that Toji had thrown together, hoping something would stick. It didn’t. And maybe that was fine. Maybe both Suguru and Megumi had silently accepted that a long time ago.

But now Satoru was trying to do the same thing again—trying to force a bond between two people who didn’t want one. And both Suguru and Megumi were far from okay with it.

Supposedly, Megumi had come back from the dorms early because no one else was around and it wasn’t safe to leave him there alone. Ijichi had driven him back in the morning. 

But Suguru didn’t believe that for a second. Jujutsu High was protected, sacred, shielded from cursed spirits. That excuse was weak. Suguru has lived in the dorms before so he knew. 

Satoru pulled out a chair for him, right across from Megumi, just as the maid brought in the last of the breakfast—a tray with two cups of coffee and one glass of milk.

Suguru paused mid-step, eyes flicking to the coffee as he slid into his seat. Two cups?

Since when did Satoru start drinking coffee? The last time Suguru had offered him some, he practically gagged at the bitterness.

Then Megumi casually reached over and took one of the mugs, sipping from it like it was normal.

Oh.

So the glass of milk was for Satoru.

Suguru wanted to cry. Why did he find that so cute? 

In a weird way, he just wanted to baby Satoru—squish his cheeks, pat his head, make him nap on his lap. All that cringe stuff. He didn’t even know why he felt like this toward Satoru. Maybe because he was younger? It was strange. 

He’d never felt this way about Toji.

But then again, Toji didn’t drink milk at breakfast. Or sip cranberry juice from a wine glass.

Suguru wasn’t sure what to make of Satoru anymore. Was he secretly a soft, cuddly baby under all that loud, cocky, “I’m the dominant alpha” attitude? 

Or was he just a complete psychopath?

Megumi didn’t acknowledge him—but his eyes drifted to the fresh bite marks on Suguru’s neck, just visible where Satoru’s oversized shirt had slipped off one shoulder. His gaze lingered for a second too long before shifting to Satoru. Then, without a word, he turned back to his plate, acting like Suguru wasn’t even there.

Suguru blinked, trying not to let it get to him. He wondered what Satoru was thinking when he asked, “Do you mind if Megumi joined us?” 

Did he not mind? They had just spent their first night together, and the very next morning, Satoru wanted Megumi there—with them? 

Was it just alphas in general, or only the ones who chased after Suguru that were so emotionally dense?

They ate in silence. Satoru sipped his milk, and made a small, satisfied noise as he took a bite of pancake—way too sweet for either Suguru or Megumi’s taste. The two of them stuck to the normal breakfast, quietly united in that at least.

“Did you make all this?” Suguru asked, reaching for an omelette after taking a sip of his coffee which was perfectly bitter, just the way he liked it.

“Nope,” Satoru said. “I’m kind of lazy when it comes to cooking. But when I do cook, I’m actually pretty amazing at it.” He turned to Megumi with a grin. “Right, Megumi?”

Megumi took a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Yeah,” he said, setting the cup down.

An eleven-year-old is drinking coffee. An eleven-year-old. Suguru tried not to look too horrified. Maybe it wasn’t that weird. Maybe.

“Megumi loves my cooking,” Satoru added, clearly teasing.

“I do,” Megumi replied calmly. Satoru looked a little surprised at how honest he was being.

Suguru frowned. So Satoru hadn’t made the breakfast. That was kind of disappointing. And now Megumi was just sitting there, being all smug about it—like he’d been the first to try Satoru’s cooking. Like he got something Suguru hadn’t.

Suguru wished Satoru had cooked this morning. He’d always been the one cooking for Toji and Megumi in the past. Just once, it would’ve been nice to be on the receiving end. To be taken care of.

He let out a quiet sigh and kept eating his warm food. What a sweet little family they were pretending to be. Weren’t they?

“Did you buy a new car?” Megumi asked, picking up some tofu and glancing over at Satoru.

Satoru perked up right away, eyes lighting up. “You noticed? It’s a Rolls-Royce Wraith Black Badge. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

He looked so genuinely excited that Suguru almost felt jealous of a car.

Megumi gave him a blank look and shrugged. “A Ferrari would’ve been better. A red one.”

Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course you’d say that!”

The two of them slipped easily into a conversation—arguing about car models, colors, speed, engine power. Suguru didn’t have the slightest clue what they were talking about. It was like they were speaking a language he didn’t understand. Bit by bit, he felt himself fading into the background, watching like an outsider while Satoru and Megumi stayed wrapped up in their own world. They weren’t even trying to include him. 

Suguru hated that feeling. That cold, sinking feeling of being left out. His scent slipped out before he could stop it. Satoru instantly went still, glancing at him with a nervous expression.

Satoru cleared his throat. “Oh—did you hear? Yuji presented recently.” he said. “He is an alpha.” 

Megumi blinked. “So that’s why he hasn’t been at the dorms.” 

“He’s fine now,” Satoru said quickly. “Nanami texted me this morning. He’s picking you up later for a mission. Low-level curses—nothing serious. You’ll be fine.”

“If it’s Nanami-san, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Satoru groaned. “You like him more than me. How ungrateful.”

Beneath the table, he reached over and gave Suguru’s hand a gentle squeeze—like that alone was supposed to fix something.

“He hasn’t presented yet, right?” Suguru asked, eyes fixed on Megumi as he took a slow sip of coffee.

“No,” Satoru said, lips twitching into a smug little smile. “But I think Megumi’s going to be an alpha.”

“Oh, he’s definitely an omega,” Suguru replied without missing a beat.

That actually got Megumi to look at him—frowning, caught off guard.

“Huh? Really? Why do you think that?” Satoru asked, glancing between them.

“Isn’t it obvious…” Suguru said. He couldn’t tell if it was instinct or just something he’d picked up over the years, watching his students go through their early changes. Unpresented omegas often gave off subtle signs, especially around dominant alphas they were close or felt safe with. There was a kind of pull to it—unconscious, almost biological. Most of them didn’t even know they were doing it.

Megumi was no different. Suguru could sense a quiet possessiveness in him when it came to Satoru.

It was just a theory. But the chances were high.

And if he was right—once Megumi presented, things would get complicated. He might start seeing Suguru as a threat. As competition.

And if he turned out to be an alpha after all?

Then he’d really be his father’s son.

Either way, Suguru didn’t like the possibilities. 

“Obvious, huh?” Satoru didn’t sound convinced. His smile thinned into a slight frown. “Megumi’s turning twelve in December. We’ll know soon. Most kids present around that age, so it’s fine. I was just a special case.”

Suguru turned to him, brows furrowing. “What do you mean? You also presented at twelve.”

Satoru looked like he’d just been caught lying. He made an awkward sound, rubbed the back of his neck, and gave a nervous laugh.

Across the table, Megumi scoffed—and actually smirked—as he glanced at Suguru.

Suguru narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Then he turned his attention back to Satoru, gaze sharper now. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Satoru immediately shook his head, waving a hand in protest. “Nope! Nothing! Absolutely not.”

“I heard people who love each other don’t keep secrets,” Megumi said casually, reaching for more food as he locked eyes with Suguru. “Something Utahime-sensei mentioned the other day.”

“She probably had a fight with Shoko,” Satoru muttered, shooting Megumi a subtle glare. “Don’t listen to her.”

“I don’t like his attitude,” Suguru said, voice cool and tight, eyes still locked on Megumi. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

“Ah, don’t mind him,” Satoru said quickly, leaning over to ruffle Megumi’s hair roughly. “He acts like this with me too. Suguru’s gonna be my wife soon. Show him some respect, yeah?”

Megumi slapped his hand away with an annoyed huff, scowling.

“Huh? When did I agree to marry you?” Suguru asked, raising a brow.

Satoru smirked. “You don’t get a choice, baby.”

Megumi stood up abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “Disgusting,” he muttered, already walking away, disappearing deeper into the house without looking back.

“Hey, don’t be like that, Megumi-kun,” Satoru called after him, pouting a little. Then he sighed and shook his head. “He’s probably never eating with us again.”

“Good,” Suguru said flatly, lifting his coffee cup. 

Satoru blinked, caught off guard by the tone. He tilted his head, watching Suguru with lazy amusement, propping his chin on his palm.

“Scary, scary~”

Suguru had to fight the urge to throw his coffee in Satoru’s face.

The young alpha shifted beside him, one hand sliding onto Suguru’s thigh and giving it a firm squeeze. A soft gasp escaped before Suguru could stop it.

“Stop that,” he warned, voice low.

“God, you’re so hot when you’re irritated,” Satoru sighed, his hand still wandering.

Suguru slapped it away with a sharp flick and a click of his tongue. “Don’t piss me off more than I already am.”

Satoru huffed a laugh—but it faded quickly. “Suguru, I’m sorry about Megumi. He’s just going through that pre-teen rebellion phase. Or whatever it’s called.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s all it is,” Suguru muttered, stabbing his chopsticks into the rice. “Not like he hates me or anything,” he added, chewing angrily in between the words.

Satoru shifted again, this time reaching for Suguru’s hand, gently. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just a kid. You need to be more…understanding.”

Suguru froze, fingers tightening around the chopsticks. Understanding?

A familiar, sickening feeling twisted in his stomach. Megumi lived here. This was his home. Satoru was his legal guardian now—practically a father figure. And if things between him and Satoru were to get serious, to go deeper, then Megumi would inevitably become part of that equation too.

And that meant stepping back into a role he had fought so hard to leave behind. It meant playing the part of Megumi’s mother again. Falling back into the same cycle that had once nearly broken him. 

Only this time, it would be worse. Because every time Suguru looked at Megumi, he saw Toji. A living reminder of the alpha Suguru had tried so desperately to forget.

And Satoru? He and Megumi got along effortlessly. Like they’d always belonged in each other’s lives. Satoru clearly liked the boy and cared about him. He was already taking Megumi’s side without hesitation. 

Each piece of this scenario pressed harder against Suguru’s chest, a weight he couldn’t shake off. The idea of repeating that past, of being trapped in it again, made him feel sick.

He went quiet, staring down at his plate as his appetite disappeared.

Satoru noticed. “Suguru?”

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang.

Suguru snapped out of his thoughts, his head jerking up.

“That must be Nanami,” Satoru said, standing. He turned toward the hall. “Megumi! Nanami’s here—hurry up!”

No reply.

A maid entered a moment later, politely asking if she should get the door. Satoru waved her off. “I’ve got it,” he said, already moving.

Suguru reached for his coffee, hoping the bitter taste would ground him.

“Megumi? Yuji’s here too, by the way. I just didn’t tell you,” Satoru added, louder this time.

“Coming!” came Megumi’s voice at last.

Satoru turned to Suguru. “Wanna come meet them?”

Suguru stood with a shrug, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair. “Sure.”

Megumi appeared from the hallway in his Jujutsu High uniform, heading for the front door. Satoru and Suguru followed behind him.

Nanami had been Suguru’s junior in high school. They hadn’t been close, but Suguru remembered that he and Haibara had been dating even back then. Years later, they’d moved in together, and—according to Haibara’s own words—had “adopted a kid.”

That kid, it turned out, was Itadori Yuji. And now Nanami and Haibara were raising him like temporary parents.

Shoko had been furious when she found out she hadn’t been invited to yet another one of her friends’ “weddings”—to which Haibara insisted that they weren’t married, just cohabiting and doing everything a married couple did.

Haibara’s choice in an alpha, and his luck had clearly been much better than Suguru’s. He’d hit the jackpot with Nanami, especially when it came to raising a child together. Suguru had never once heard the beta complain about his love life. Must be nice.

Suguru had asked about Nanami a few times, half-heartedly suggesting they meet up again. Plans were made, postponed, and eventually forgotten, swept away by the chaos of their lives.

He still remembered how Nanami used to look. But when the door opened and Suguru saw him again, it caught him off guard. Nanami had grown taller, more filled out, undeniably handsome. His face was more defined now—sharpened by time and exhaustion, like most seasoned sorcerers. And beside him stood Yuji, who looked completely different now: a young alpha, taller, shoulders squared with confidence. 

His entire face lit up when he saw Megumi, before his gaze drifted past Satoru and landed on Suguru. He paused for a second, then gave a quiet, respectful bow.

Suguru nodded back gently in return.

“Fushiguro! Is this where you live? This place is freaking awesome!” Yuji said, glancing around the house with wide eyes.

“Isn’t it?” Satoru grinned, proud.

“A bit too much,” Nanami muttered. “You really know how to shamelessly show off your wealth.”

“What can I say? I have too much money,” Satoru replied with a cocky grin, earning a deeply annoyed look from Nanami.

Megumi leaned in toward Yuji and asked quietly, “Are you okay? Was your transformation painful? Gojo-sensei told me.”

Yuji scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. “A little. But Nanami-san got me meds. And Haibara-san brought me snacks and made sure I didn’t die, so I’m good now.”

Nanami shifted slightly, glancing to the side with a rare flicker of shyness.

“Awh, look at that! Papamin being all cute,” Satoru teased as expected, and Nanami responded with a soft growl, brows furrowing in that familiar way.

Then Nanami’s gaze drifted past Satoru and settled at the back—where Suguru stood quietly, observing the group. Yuji and Megumi were chatting among themselves, leaving Suguru a bit on the outside.

“Geto-san,” Nanami greeted with a soft smile. “How have you been?”

Suguru stepped forward, smoothing his shirt and subtly tugging the collar to hide the marks on his neck. His fingers brushed his bangs down just a little further.

“Nanami...God, look at you. All grown up.” His voice was light, but there was warmth in it. “I hear about you from Haibara all the time. I’m good. And you?”

Nanami gave a slight shrug. “It’s alright. I’ve been going back and forth between assignments as a sorcerer.”

“Or so I heard,” Suguru replied, then immediately turned to Satoru and pinched his cheek hard, making the young alpha yelp in protest.

“Oww—Suguru!” Satoru whined dramatically.

Suguru glanced back at Nanami. “Tolerating this brat must be a headache for you.”

Nanami sighed, a little too heavily. “Honestly? Yeah. But props to you, Geto-san. You’re in for the real ride if you choose him out of everyone.”

“Hey!” Satoru hissed, leaning toward Nanami with a dramatic pout. “It took me forever to win him over. Don’t jinx it.”

Suguru laughed, but there wasn’t much amusement in it. And despite Satoru’s words, he really was questioning all of it—this whole idea of choosing Satoru, of Satoru winning him over. He was really, really questioning it.

“Well, we’d better head out then,” Nanami said, ignoring Satoru’s rambling as he glanced down at the kids. “Let’s go—and follow my orders.”

Yuji nodded enthusiastically, giving a playful salute, while Megumi simply gave a small nod, and bent down to put his shoes on.

“Don’t go easy on them, Nanami!” Satoru called after them with a grin.

As they began to leave, Nanami gave Suguru a polite wave. “I’ll see you soon—hopefully.” 

Suguru returned it with a faint nod, watching as they stepped out.  Megumi lingered for just a moment at the door, glancing back at Satoru with a look Suguru couldn’t quite read. Then they were gone, the door closing softly behind them.

“Finally,” Satoru groaned, stretching lazily before sliding his arms around Suguru’s waist from behind, pulling him close. “We’re all alone now,” he murmured, his breath warm against Suguru’s ear.

Suguru’s face remained impassive, a small pout tugging at his lips. He clicked his tongue in mild irritation and slipped out of Satoru’s hold.

“Let go. I’m going to be late for school,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

Satoru followed him like a shadow, undeterred. His arms wrapped around Suguru again—tighter this time—as he buried his face in the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his nape, his fangs lightly grazing over the skin, making Suguru tense just a little. Satoru took a slow, deep breath, breathing in Suguru’s scent, as he pressed his semi-hard cock against him.

“Suguru,” he growled, the sound rumbling in his chest, gently turning the omega to face him. 

Suguru looked back at him with a blank expression, breathing slowly.

“Skip today,” Satoru said, eyes dark with hunger, hands firm on Suguru’s waist.

“I can’t,” Suguru replied, turning his face away. “I shouldn’t–”

“Just one day?” Satoru pleaded, pulling him closer. “Stay with me. Please, baby.”

His scent was thickening, clouding the air with need. The young alpha was barely holding himself back. His hands roamed, more insistent now, tracing over Suguru’s sides, his back, his hips. On any other day, Suguru might have melted under that touch—let Satoru take him apart piece by piece, willingly. 

But right now, he was too irritated to feel a spark.

Satoru leaned in, their foreheads brushing, lips ghosting over Suguru’s as if begging for a kiss. But Suguru turned his head, and pushed Satoru’s hands off with a little more force this time. He stepped back, putting some distance between them.

Satoru’s face crumbled a little, wearing those damn puppy eyes he pulled when things didn’t go his way.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brows drawing together.

Suguru leaned back against the kitchen island, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he drew in a steady breath. Satoru stood a few feet away, watching him with his head tilted slightly.

“Satoru,” Suguru began, voice low but steady, “I don’t think we should be together.”

Satoru stiffened, the air between them suddenly heavier. His eyes widened just slightly, a flash of disbelief washing over his features.

“What?” he asked, voice rough—low and sharp, like a growl trying to restrain itself.

Suguru averted his gaze, jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. 

“We’re not going to work,” he said finally, forcing the words out before doubt could take over. “Last night…I wasn’t in the right state of mind. I—yes, I was desperate. I haven’t had a connection in a long time. I acted on impulse, and I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m sorry.”

The air shifted again, thick with the subtle scent of burnt wood—faint, but acrid enough to make Suguru twitch his nose, recognizing the alpha’s distress scent immediately.

“You’re telling me what happened between us was a mistake?” Satoru asked, eyes never leaving Suguru’s face. 

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Suguru said quickly, firmly. “What would be a mistake is letting it happen again. Letting it become more. Last night—it was a moment, nothing more. It’s normal, considering our biology…but that’s all it was.”

Satoru stood still for a beat, silence stretching heavy between them before he dragged a hand down his face, visibly frustrated. 

“Is this about Megumi?” he asked, voice rough. “The only reason I took him in was because he has potential. The Zen’in clan would’ve twisted him, turned him into a weapon, maybe even sparked a clan war. He’s my responsibility, that’s all.”

“It’s not about him,” Suguru replied quickly, too quickly—eyes narrowing. “It’s about us. Mostly us. Megumi is…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek. Anything more would’ve sounded pathetic, lower than he was willing to be.

He drew a breath, forcing the words through the tightness in his chest. “We’re not going to work. We’re too different, Satoru. I’m not who I used to be. I’m older, slower. Past my prime. You’ll get bored of me eventually. I’m okay with the quiet life now. You—you're still at the center of everything. And your clan—”

“Fuck them!” Satoru snapped, cutting him off, voice sharp and sudden. “You think they can control me? Like they ever could?”

Suguru flinched, his mouth tightening. “That’s…that’s not the point,” he said, his voice faltering. “I just…” He paused, struggling. “I’m not even sure how I feel about you. And even if I do…I don’t think it’s strong enough to hold without tearing.”

Satoru stared at him, something wounded and furious flickering in his eyes. 

“What happened between us last night—” his voice cracked into something sharper, “—it meant nothing to you? Is that what this is about?”

He stepped forward, and suddenly Suguru felt smaller. Diminished beneath that towering, relentless alpha presence.

He hated it.

Looking away, Suguru crossed his arms tighter around himself, like armor. “It’s complicated,” he said, forcing himself to meet Satoru’s eyes. “I didn’t hate it. I just…”

He exhaled. “I have this thing. I can’t usually sleep with anyone. I never can. And when I finally could, with you, I—”

“So you like me,” Satoru cut in, sharp.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then what is?” Satoru snapped, his voice rising, echoing in the kitchen. “Use your words, DAMN IT!”

Suguru flinched at the tone, breath catching in his throat. He straightened, eyes hardening. “Don’t raise your voice at me,” he said sharply.

But Satoru was already moving—stepping in close, caging him against the kitchen counter with his arms braced on either side. His scent was suffocating, thick like toxic smoke, poisonous, rolling off him like waves of heat. 

Satoru leaned in close, voice low and guttural. 

“Tell me what you want, Suguru,” he growled. “Say it. ”

Suguru’s frown deepened, his scent turning bitter. His omega instincts bristled under the weight of Satoru’s presence, and he hated it—hated how easily that alpha pressure unsettled him. It infuriated him, the way his omega recoiled, whimpering in fear. How Satoru’s dominance could strip him down so effortlessly, make him feel small. Powerless. Reduced to something fragile, when all he wanted was to stand his ground.

The omega growled low in his throat, the sound more warning than threat. “Fine,” he spat, voice steady despite the tremor in his gut. “I’ll make it clear, then.”

He straightened, stepping into the oppressive heat of Satoru’s presence. The young alpha towered over him, making Suguru lift his chin defiantly, eyes locked on his—unflinching, unwavering.

“You told me to give you a chance. I did,” Suguru said, voice trembling with fury and bitterness. “I went on that stupid date. I let you fuck me.”

The next words burned on his tongue, cruel and deliberate—but he had to say them.

Even if it was a lie. Even if it meant walking away from the only thing that had felt real in a very, very long time. He had to do it. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions overtake him again; he knew all too well the damage that could do. And Satoru...Satoru deserved better. He deserved someone whole, not someone still battling their quiet insecurities and old wounds.

“And I feel nothing for you, Satoru,” he continued, exhaling hard. “No feelings. Nothing. There’s no future where we’re happy together—not one that’s mutual.”

The air shifted violently.

Satoru’s scent hit the ceiling—thick and burnt, like scorched wood and ash, flooding the room until Suguru could barely breathe through it. His instincts screamed at him to back down, to submit, to apologize. But he didn’t. 

This had to end. Before it got worse.

If this was what it took to make him let go, if hurting Satoru was the only way to save them both from each other, then he’d do it. If pushing Satoru away meant setting fire to everything between them, then so be it. He would burn it all down, even if it broke him in the process.

“You know what?” Suguru scoffed, eyes glinting with mockery. His voice dropped, cold and laced with venom. “Maybe I can sleep around with other alphas now. You were a decent test run, after all.”

The atmosphere in the room snapped. 

It was like the moment right before a bomb drops—when the light flashes too fast, too bright, and everything knows it’s about to go to hell. Or that split second when you step onto the road and see headlights bearing down on you.

Wait—what the—

Suguru instinctively took a step.

Satoru didn’t move, but something in his eyes flared. Something Suguru had never seen before. Not just glowing—they burned. That brilliant blue ignited like cold fire—blinding, paralyzing. Pure, unfiltered rage.

Then it slammed into him.

The bloodlust.

It was insane.

And Satoru wasn’t even trying to mask it. Maybe he couldn’t.

Fuck. Fuck—

Goosebumps rose along Suguru’s skin. His whole body locked up, instincts screaming. He couldn’t tell if it was raw fear or something worse. It wasn’t just power—it was like being swallowed whole. By darkness. By those eyes. All six of them. 

He’d seen a young Gojo Satoru lose control before. He knew what he was capable of. How dangerous he could be.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

This was the strongest sorcerer alive, unleashed.

The pressure in the room crashed down in an instant—Satoru’s cursed energy bled into every corner, warping the air until the room felt like it was spinning. The air grew heavy, thick, like gravity had tripled. His alpha pheromones surged with it—wild, suffocating. Smoke. Heat. Power.

Suguru’s knees almost gave out. His throat went dry.

Some part of him—deep, primal, omega—screamed:

Run.

Run!

And yet, even with fear twisting in his gut, Suguru’s body moved on its own—muscle memory and survival instinct taking over. His cursed spirits appeared behind him without a single command, flickering into existence like shields. 

A smaller animal, when cornered by a predator it cannot outrun, will still fight. It doesn’t matter if the fight is hopeless. Survival is the first law.

And right now, every cell in Suguru’s body was convinced he was about to die.

Not just die. Be killed. Hunted down by the predator standing in front of him.

His body reacted before thought could catch up. He dropped into a defensive stance, breath sharp, eyes wide, heart thundering in his chest. 

Satoru’s burning blue eyes swept over Suguru, then flicked past him, acknowledging the curses bristling behind their master. His chest rose and fell once, sharp and tight.

Then—slowly, agonizingly—he dragged a hand through his snow-white hair. His jaw locked, and he exhaled like he was trying to force something toxic out of his lungs. He leaned forward against the kitchen island, one palm flattening on the counter, the other scrubbing hard across his face.

His cursed energy began to recede. So did the scent. The crushing pressure in the room lifted, inch by inch, like smoke rising after a fire.

Silence.

Suguru didn’t move. Not yet. He held his stance for several long seconds more, muscles taut, nerves buzzing with adrenaline. His curses hovered behind him like silent, watchful ghosts. Only when the threat seemed to truly pass did they start to fade—hesitant, reluctant.

His arms dropped to his sides, trembling.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath. His body was still tight, too alert. 

What the hell was that?

Had Satoru really meant to kill him?

Was that real?

Or was he just imagining it? Overthinking?

But that bloodlust—it had been real. Too real. He had felt it, that moment when something inside Satoru cracked open. And yet…Suguru still couldn’t fully believe that Satoru had truly wanted him dead. He didn’t know what to believe. His mind was spinning.

Satoru stood with both hands braced against the counter, head bowed, shoulders heaving with each breath. The light in his eyes had faded.

Suguru stayed frozen, unsure what to do. Unsure what this even was now. It felt like he’d just stared death in the face…and survived. He could’ve sworn he’d just seen his life flash before his eyes.

“Don’t leave me,” Satoru said softly, his voice cracking—raw and vulnerable. He turned slowly to face Suguru, and the look in his eyes made Suguru pause. There was no anger. Just pain. Deep, aching pain. And fear.

“You’ve always been my only purpose,” Satoru continued, voice shaking. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

He looked like he might cry.

“It doesn’t end with you, Suguru. ‘Get bored’—is that what you think?” He gave a broken laugh. “You’re not some prize I’ve been trying to win. If it ends with you…then it begins with you, too.”

“I’d spend the rest of our lives doing boring routines, watching shitty shows, living quietly—if it means I get to have you. Just you. Only you.”

Suguru opened his mouth, but nothing came out. 

The shift was too sudden. The air was filled with alpha pheromones—sad and wounded—and it left him reeling. Confused. Overwhelmed. But...the softness in Satoru’s voice, the honesty in his words made his heart ached.

“I don’t know how else to prove it to you,” Satoru whispered. “How else to make you see…you’re the only one for me. The only one I’ve ever truly desired.”

“Satoru…” Suguru murmured, stepping forward.

“Is it really that easy for you to walk away from me?” Satoru asked, voice shaking. “Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Satoru, I—”

“Am I that awful to be with?”

“No, you’re—”

“Do you still see me as a kid?”

Suguru shook his head quickly, moving closer. “No. No,” he whispered, reaching out with trembling hands. He cupped Satoru’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin under his palms. 

“I’m sorry. I acted so immaturely. I shouldn’t have…” his voice softened, sincere and regretful. 

Satoru’s dim blue eyes flickered, glassy and uncertain. 

Suguru swallowed hard. He should have been an adult. He should have sat down and had a real conversation. Instead, he lashed out. Instead, he ran.

Satoru bowed his head, and Suguru felt it—a tear sliding down his cheek, warm against his palm.

Shit.

“Fuck, I…” Satoru’s breath hitched. His teeth clenched as he looked up at Suguru, and god—Suguru had never seen him like this before. Hurt. Crying.

It tore through him. The guilt hit hard and fast.

“I love you, Suguru,” Satoru said, voice raw and shaking.

Suguru’s eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat.

“I’ve always loved you. No matter what. And I always will,” Satoru whispered, leaning into Suguru’s touch, eyes shining. “You come first—always. Please…don’t leave me. You mean everything to me. I can’t—I can’t live without you. Not again. Not after all these years…”

Suguru kissed him. His body moved before his brain could catch up. He rose onto his toes, pulled Satoru in, and pressed their lips together—frantic, desperate, overflowing with everything he hadn’t said. 

He was weak in the face of love. He always had been.

And that—that—was his greatest flaw. His deepest vulnerability.

Satoru kissed him back, soft at first, then rougher, hungrier. One hand slid around Suguru’s waist, lifting him slightly off the floor.

“Do you mean it?” Suguru pulled back, breath shaky, cupping Satoru’s face in both hands. His expression was serious, searching. “When you said you’ll put me first. Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” Satoru said without hesitation, eyes wide and full of need.

Suguru leaned in and kissed him again—hot, deep, his mouth greedy. He moaned against Satoru’s lips as his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, dragging him closer. Their pheromones clashed and tangled in the air, thick and heady, heavy with want. Their breathing grew louder, heavier, as the kisses turned messy and urgent—tongues sliding, teeth clashing, nothing careful anymore.

“Satoru…” Suguru breathed, pulling back just enough to smirk. There was a shift in his eyes—something sharper, commanding. “I’m not going to leave you. And I’ll let you fuck me—if you listen. If you stay loyal and give me everything I want. You understand?” 

Satoru nodded instantly, desperate, pressing in until their chests touched, hard cocks straining between them. “Yes. Yes, Suguru,” he gasped. “I’ll do anything you say.”

Just like the good, obedient dog he was meant to be.

Suguru was tired of being afraid. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to show the greedy, corrupt fuckers of the Jujutsu world that the whore they had claimed him to be had managed to hopelessly make their strongest sorcerer, the god himself, fall for him, fight for him, accept him when they rejected him, love him in a way that was invincible. 

Satoru was his, only his. 

His powers, his glory, his legacy, his very soul belonged to Suguru.

The omega groaned, his body growing slick with arousal as their lips crashed together again, the tension between them igniting instantly. Their cocks rubbed against each other, friction hot and maddening, and Satoru lifted him up onto the counter with a low grunt, hands desperate—grabbing, tugging, pulling at clothes in frantic movements.

Suguru’s pants were yanked down with haste, and his hand slid beneath Satoru’s shirt, fingertips grazing over firm abs and hard muscle before wrapping around Satoru’s cock, stroking him slowly but purposefully. Their mouths met again and again in heated, messy kisses, breath mixing, lips swollen.

Then—Satoru pressed his cock against Suguru’s entrance.

Suguru gasped, his head falling back with a sharp hiss. He was still sore but he didn’t really care. He wanted it. Satoru’s mouth was on him, hot and greedy, lifting his shirt and sucking at his nipple, tongue and teeth driving him wild.

Suguru was painfully hard, slick gathering fast between his thighs. The rush of nearly dying, the high of making Satoru beg, the overwhelming tide of everything they’d just said—it was too much. He needed something to drown it out.

He needed Satoru.

Needed him to fuck the fear and doubt right out of his mind.

His nails dug into Satoru’s back as the alpha pushed in slowly, stretching him inch by inch, giving him time to adjust. It still burned, but Suguru took it—welcomed it—like he was meant to. Like his body knew exactly who it belonged to.

“Mine,” Satoru growled against Suguru’s throat, voice rough and possessive. “You’re mine. You were born for me—to take me, to be bred by me.”

Suguru moaned, his whole body shuddering. His hands slid up, framing Satoru’s face as he pulled him in, crashing their mouths together. He sucked on Satoru’s lower lip, biting down hard, gasping against his mouth with each deep thrust.

But then, Satoru suddenly paused, breath ragged. “I’m sorry…for earlier. I didn’t mean to—”

Suguru cut him off with a searing kiss. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I understand.” He tightened his grip on Satoru’s shoulders, urging him on. “Just—don’t stop. I need it.”

The young alpha obeyed. He pulled out and slammed back in, thick and deep, stretching Suguru so wide it felt like he was being split open. Satoru was just so big. Suguru could feel every inch of him. He’d always loved the size difference between them, loved how effortlessly strong Satoru was and the way he could manhandle him like nothing. It made his head spin, left him hot, flushed, and soaking wet.

Satoru was fucking him right there on the kitchen counter, raw and reckless, while workers were probably still somewhere in the house. It was even better than last night. More desperate. More Intimate. Like they were both intoxicated by each other, drunk on heat and sensation. 

It still stung a little; his body still adjusting to the thick stretch of Satoru inside him—but god, the pleasure buzzed through the pain until it was one, leaving Suguru feeling dizzy and panting. 

He was close—so close.

His mind was fogged over, hazy and unfocused. He couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t hold on to anything except Satoru. The way he moved inside him, the way he fucked him, filled him. Satoru’s body was everywhere: against him, inside him, wrapped around him, owning him completely. Everything else faded into nothing.

“If only you’d realized this sooner, Suguru,” Satoru said with a dramatic pout, his hips never slowing. “I would’ve spent my whole damn youth fucking you like it was my favorite pastime. You’d have been the only omega I’d keep in the Gojo clan—just for me. Just to please me.”

Suguru scoffed, rolling his eyes—but he couldn’t stop the smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Right…” He laughed, low and breathless. 

He didn’t know what possessed him, but the idea of fucking around with a young, cocky, obsessed fifteen-year-old Satoru didn’t seem as repulsive as it once had. It was absurd. Inappropriate. Maybe even disgusting. He should’ve pushed the thought away, buried it deep. But there it was, lurking at the edge of his mind—unwanted, unshakable. Something he would never seriously entertain…and yet. 

A sharp moan escaped his lips as Satoru’s cock found that sweet spot again and again, so deep, brushing up against his womb, sending sparks up his spine.

“Fuck… Satoru.”

Satoru growled against his ear, hips jerking harder, breath hot. He bit down on Suguru’s earlobe, panting, the wet slap of their skin echoing through the empty kitchen space. 

Suguru wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking himself in time with Satoru’s thrusts—and then it hit. His orgasm tore through him, muscles clenching, vision white-hot as he came hard.

Satoru wasn’t far behind. With a final thrust, he knotted inside him again, thick heat spilling into Suguru as he groaned, his body trembling.

They both breathed heavily, tangled and flushed, as Satoru collapsed against Suguru’s chest, bracing himself with one hand on the counter.

Suguru cupped his face, gently tilting it up. Satoru glanced up at him, flushed and panting, eyes gleaming like sunlight rippling over ocean water.

He was so adorable.

Still so much like the twelve-year-old boy who once clumsily tried to court him, and now grown, an adult alpha, and yet still chasing him with the same stubborn devotion. 

Maybe accepting this foolish, flawed puppy wouldn’t be so terrible. 

If he knew his place. If he listened. If he let himself be shaped. Suguru could live with everything else.

Even Megumi. 

Maybe it wasn’t too late to mold Satoru into what he could’ve been all along.

He’d missed the chance once. But perhaps this time, he wouldn’t.

“Oh, Satoru,” Suguru cooed, his voice lilting with affection, almost sing-song. “You grew up so well for me, baby.”

He ran his fingers along Satoru’s face, tracing the sharp lines like he was admiring something he owned. A slow, knowing smirk curled at his lips.

“Only for me.”

Satoru’s grin mirrored his, eyes gleaming with something sharp as he leaned in, kissing him in quiet agreement.

“You’re really leaving?” Satoru called out from the couch, sounding half-whiny, half-hopeful. “C’mon, Suguru, it’s my day off. We could go out, have some fun.”

Suguru stepped out of the bathroom, a robe wrapped around him. His thighs were still slick from earlier, their mixed release sticky against his skin—it felt a little gross, so he’d taken the time to shower. He was already running late. Towel-drying his hair with one hand, he glanced at the clock and began searching for his clothes, quickly slipping them on.

Satoru was sprawled across the couch in the same clothes, hair a mess, faint red scratch marks running down his arms—Suguru’s handiwork. He looked a little worn out, a little smug and undeniably sexy, wearing that post-sex glow.

“I think we’ve had enough fun for now,” Suguru teased, tying his hair up while scanning the floor for a missing hair clip. “Besides, I can’t just skip out. Schools in Japan are strict, you know.”

Satoru groaned and dragged himself upright, padding over to rest his chin on Suguru’s shoulder.

“You’ll quit eventually, right?” he mumbled.

Suguru leaned into him slightly, amused. “Hm…my students love me too much.”

“Bribe them with candy,” Satoru said flatly.

That earned a quiet laugh from Suguru as he made his way toward the door. Satoru followed, still trying to talk him into staying—and for a moment, it almost worked.

“Honestly,” Suguru murmured, pausing at the threshold, “I think I need some alone time. To think.”

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah. Take another seven years, why don’t you.”

“Not that long,” Suguru replied with a small smile, sitting down to put on his shoes. “A lot’s happened. I think we both need a little distance.”

“I don’t,” Satoru said softly. “I can never get enough of you.”

Suguru shook his head, already expecting Satoru to say something like that. He stood up, turning to face the alpha fully.

“I… I like you, Satoru. I’m done lying to myself. But…”

“But?” Satoru echoed, eyes narrowing slightly.

Suguru exhaled, steadying his voice. “If we do this—really do this—it’s going to change everything. It’s a big step and I need time to prepare for that. I’m not running away. I swear.”

“Don’t even think about it, Suguru,” Satoru said, his tone dark, almost threatening.

“As I said,” Suguru replied, raising both hands in mock surrender before tiptoeing up to press a kiss to Satoru’s cheek. “Now, can you do me a favor and drive me to the nearest pharmacy?”

Satoru raised a brow, clearly suspicious, then let out a scoff, unimpressed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “Sure. Let’s get you some birth control while we’re at it. You’re gonna need it.”

Suguru flushed. “God, you’re truly insufferable. Wear protection next time!”

“With you? Not a chance.”

Suguru just sighed, long-suffering. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha refused. Not that he was exactly innocent either. He always let them get away with it.

After picking up the morning-after pills from the pharmacy, Suguru took them in the car under Satoru’s watchful gaze. It was a little weird, but he didn’t dwell on it. Satoru dropped him off at school with one last kiss.

That day, the gossip was louder than usual. Maybe it was Satoru’s flashy sports car, or maybe it was the unmistakable scent of alpha still clinging to Suguru, even after he’d showered. 

Either way, it caught the attention of more than a few coworkers and students. And with all of it swirling around him, Suguru found it almost impossible to focus.