ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕏𝕍𝕀𝕀
pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader
word count: 10k
summary: suguru tries, fails, and tries again to deal with the fallout of your confession
tags: geto suguru you are the fakest idgaf'er of all time; hey look it's suguru and satoru getting NASTAY; bottom!suguru for this one because my kings switch; anal sex; angsty angst angst; let's go get depressed over lesbians!; canon typical sexism; uhh tell me if i missed anything
beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust, @svntsbunnie
author notes: sorry guys i was trying to get into character for suguru but method acted too hard and got depressed. oops. thank you all so much for being patient with me! without your comments and support, i would've abandoned this a long time ago. i know this isn't long but i hope it was kinda sorta worth the wait? I LOVE YOU ALL!
Story Masterlist
TRIP DAY 3
12:03 AM
“Let me make sure I understand this correctly,” Shoko starts in that slow, concise manner that’s always meant she’s about to put someone on the examination table herself. “I want to be absolutely crystal clear in the picture I’m painting here.” Cursed energy pools down in her hands, putting a hairline fracture in the glass handle of the mug she’s holding. Further proof of her rising anger. “A hundred percent accurate in laying down what you’ve told me.”
Suguru, who hasn’t lifted his forehead from the table since he texted her the location of the bar that’s he’s been brooding at, groans as a gesture for her to do as she pleases. He’ll happily take whatever punishment she deems fit to dish out, honestly. And after she’s done, she can pop open up his skull and pick at his brain. Someone needs to study it. There has to be some kind of an explanation for the sheer stupidity that he’s displayed in the last forty-eight hours, give or take.
“So, you, Geto Suguru, have been in love with a girl for, essentially, almost all your life—”
“Um…Doctor Ieiri,” Ijichi interrupts weakly. “You can call me when you’re done, if you need another ride. But I really don’t think I should be here—”
“No, you actually do need to be here,” Shoko spits back so harshly that Ijichi squeaks in fear. If Suguru wasn’t already halfway to drunk right now, he’d be absolutely fucking terrified, too. There’s only one other time that he’s ever seen her this angry and…ha. That other time also had to do with you, what a coincidence. “There need to be as many witnesses as possible to how much of an idiot this guy is. I’m going to use him as an example for why you should never date a man, Ijichi.”
“That…that wasn’t really a concern?” Suguru can’t see Shoko’s face, but he can imagine the picture she makes. He hears Ijichi shuffle lower in his seat before stuttering out, “Yes…yes, ma’am! Thank you for the lesson, ma’am! I’m…I’m listening and paying attention, ma’am!”
“Right, so back to this moron,” she continues after audibly gulping down the rest of her beer. “This guy has been in love with his best friend since they were kids, right? They were two weird little peas in a pod back in their village. And then…then, they come to the big city. They enroll in a big shot high school, and they meet a big shot clan guy. A guy who looked like a dandelion in our first year, by the way, and had the socialization skills of someone who’d been raised by a pack of ravenous wolves in the forest.”
Suguru groans, hoping she’ll translate it into the obvious the heart wants what the heart wants.
“And because you, Geto Suguru, despite all your pretty smiles and unfairly beautiful hair and charisma that rivals that of a cult leader, are as much of an enormous asshole as this other guy is…you fall in love with him, too. I’ll genuinely never understand her taste in men, but that’s beside the point.” The half-empty mug is ripped from his hand. Which, yeah, he deserves that, too. “I have to suffer through four painstakingly long years of you pining for the two most oblivious people on the face of the planet.”
Ijichi makes a strangled noise. “Wait! You…you mean…Senpai? And…and Gojo? Geto was—is in love with them?” He gasps. “Wait! Are they in love with him, too?”
“…two out of three of the most oblivious people on the face of the planet,” Shoko corrects before moving on. “You’re all a bunch of idiots. The three of you have made me put up with your bullshit for years. This is not the first time I’ve had to watch you try to drink your woes away, Suguru!”
Suguru groans again. I know, Shoko. I know.
“They whisk you away, right? I don’t know how it was not obvious that this was a romantic getaway. She sent me pictures, and I had to immediately call her because even I clocked how romantic that setup was! But, apparently, the only person with more than one brain cell in the Class of 2009 is me because you went two whole days before you figured it out! Tell me, Suguru, did you make sweet tender love with them, too?”
Suguru knocks his forehead against the table. “Yes,” he answers hoarsely. Because he’s got a death wish, he also adds, “There were even rose petals.” Satoru had played it off as a joke. And, yes, Suguru is really asking for it. He really does want her to put him out of his misery, at this point.
Shoko spends so long gulping his beer that he assumes she’s downed the entire mug. That might be a new record for how quickly she’s knocked back two drinks. “And you still didn’t figure it out until some poor worker at the resort brought up the honeymoon?”
“Yes,” he replies with another hard knock of his forehead against the table.
“Oh, my…” Ijichi whispers, finally understanding the depth of Suguru’s stupidity.
“And then you ran like a little bitch.”
To that, he’ll argue because, “I ran like someone that doesn’t deserve to be loved like that, Shoko.”
“And then you ran like a little bitch,” Shoko repeats harshly. “I’m going to get more drinks,” she says as she starts to shuffle out of the booth. “Ijichi, you’re free to leave now. This guy can give me a lift back home.” Before she walks away, she warns Ijichi, “You better not turn out to be a guy this stupid. I can’t put him out of his misery, even if I tried, but I can do it to you.”
Even when she stomps away and Ijichi slides out from the other side of the booth, too, Suguru still doesn’t raise his head. He’s not sure he can anymore. “Um,” Ijichi starts hesitantly. Suguru grunts in acknowledgement since whatever Ijichi’s got to say, it’s for Suguru himself. “I know that we don’t know each other well, but…I do know Senpai. And Gojo, a little. About as much as you, I guess.” Suguru hears the click of Ijichi pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how it would work, three people, but…I know you all care about each other very much.” There’s an audible shift in the air as Ijichi bows, or so Suguru is assuming. “Good luck, Geto.”
“I ran out of that a long time ago,” Suguru breathes out.
“That may be, but I’ll still be rooting for you all, anyway.”
Suguru says nothing. What’s left to say, anyway? Ijichi is a good guy, but Suguru is serious. There’s no good luck to be had here. There never has been. That’s why he’s in this situation to begin with. All his luck ran out after his second year of high school. No…no. That removes responsibility from Suguru. He couldn’t control his emotions. He didn’t love you enough.
There’s a clink directly in front of Suguru. He tilts his head up, going cross-eyed at the beer touching the tip of his nose now. Shoko holds her own, waiting, so Suguru picks his drink up and they both down their beers. His protesting stomach only allows him half of it while Shoko throws back the whole glass. With her head still tilted back, she puts her glass down blindly and then blinks up at the ceiling.
“You had it all in the palm of your hand,” Shoko breathes out. “And you just…let it go.”
“I had to,” Suguru mumbles. “Shoko, I had to. Because she stood there and told me that the reason why she didn’t protect herself against me is that her body wouldn’t let her. Suguru won’t hurt me, she said everything in her was screaming that night. What else was I supposed to do with that? I didn’t love her enough, then. I don’t think I can ever love her that much.”
“People hurt each other, Suguru. You’re just an idiot that I’m honestly thinking gets off on hurting himself.”
“Pot, kettle,” he shoots back dryly. Getting tired of all her passive aggressive comments, he asks her in a sickly-sweet tone, “Have you found a dress for Utahime’s wedding?”
“You’re such a petty bitch,” Shoko says with a sigh. “Finish your drink.”
This is the third cursed spirit that Suguru has summoned and it’s still wrong. He needs one that can fly. One that’s not a manta ray. And he’s trying to remember what he has that can carry him home, but that’s really hard to do when his head is swimming the way it is. Shoko’s no help. She’s propped against the wall of the alley they’re in, already on her second cigarette.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” she groans around it.
His own second is dangling from his mouth, unlit until he finds a ride. “I didn’t lose, technically. I did it backwards, so it doesn’t count.”
Even in the low light from the street, he can see her roll her eyes. “We said whoever caves first and starts smoking again has to confess. Who are you going to confess to now, idiot?”
“Satoru,” he mumbles. “I left Squid on the beach when I ran like a little bitch.”
“Ugh, I should punch you in the face for doing that to my best friend.”
“You can’t reach my face.”
“Can you please hurry the fuck up before I cut your balls off?”
“I’m trying,” he hisses. “I can’t think, okay?”
“Right, so, I’m going to call a ride for you while I go get a case of beer for myself. Wait here.”
Suguru does as she asks. Leans back against the brick wall behind him where she previously was and lights up his own cigarette. There’s no other way for him to get home since the trains stopped running. He might actually cry if he pulls out one of the manta rays, so…whatever. He’ll deal with the astronomical rate and cramped quarters of a cab not built for someone as tall as him. It’s not like he can’t afford it. It’s not like he hasn’t spent a fortune tonight paying for his and Shoko’s drinks. It’s the least he could do for dragging her out so late.
He’s not sure how much time she spends in there. He tries to keep his thoughts away from you, from Satoru. It’s not working. He wills himself to not pull out his cell phone and text you both. Ask Satoru to pick him up, bring him back, and plead for your forgiveness. Beg to be loved the way he so desperately wants to be. But he is loved, isn’t he? He just can’t accept that.
Ugh, he’s such a piece of shit.
A really drunk piece of shit.
A really drunk and terrible sorcerer, too, while he’s just listing things off about himself. Who gets emotionally attached to their arsenal of cursed spirits, anyway? Can’t even summon the stupid manta rays or squids or anything that’s got a name. Well…you get attached, he guesses…because they’re your thing. You taught him to pay attention to them. But you definitely didn’t teach him to keep the traumatizing ones. No, that was Suguru’s decision.
Wait. Wait, wait. He didn’t tell Shoko about that part of the confession. If Shoko finds out that he tried to scare you with the same spirit that almost killed you, she’d absolutely fuck Suguru up the way he needs to be. He’s drunk as shit and knows he shouldn’t have done that, so he doesn’t know what sober him was thinking.
Suguru knocks his head back against the brick wall before he lets himself slide down, scalp dragging painfully across the brick. It’s the least he deserves. That night…he’d recalled the spirit in a panic. When he realized that he still had it, he’d summon it occasionally. Let the air split open and have those glowing blue eyes stare at him from inky darkness the way that he knew they stared at you.
For a bit, after he forced himself to get better with you, he forgot about it. He only started to summon it recently as a reality check, of sorts. Because drunk him had made the stupid decision to offer his body up. Ugh. Suguru just makes awful fucking decisions whether he’s drunk or not. Can’t someone put him out of his misery already?
Suguru mixed his alcohol. Beer and liquor. Nothing to eat. The acrid, smoky aftertaste of cigarettes finally push him over the edge. He barely misses his pants when he leans over to heave, spilling what little is there in his stomach. He feels so fucking miserable, inside and out. The world is spinning and he’s so drunk now that he…can feel…he’s feeling Satoru’s cursed energy?
“Oh, man, you really are a mess, aren’t you?” Satoru asks quietly as he crouches down to pull Suguru’s hair away from his face.
“What’re you doing here?” Suguru manages to ask through his retches.
“Shoko told me to come grab you, take you home.” Satoru is gently rubbing his back. Suguru is hyperaware of the heat of Satoru’s hand through his thin shirt. “Said she didn’t want to wait around while you keep trying to summon a ride, but she didn’t want to hear Sketch if she left you out on the street to sleep it off. So, here I am to warp you home and tuck you in.”
Suguru groans—half misery, half discomfort. “Shoko is the worst.”
“She sure is, buddy,” Satoru says indulgently while patting Suguru on the back. “You think you can make it home without puking all over me?” Suguru waits until he’s dry heaving to confirm with a shaky thumbs up. “Can you even walk right now?” Suguru thinks about it, groans again, and flips his thumbs up down. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. Piggyback ride time, then.”
“Why didn’t she call me a cab?” Suguru mutters under his breath as he reluctantly and clumsily plasters himself across Satoru’s back.
“Might be some kinda scheme to get us to talk,” Satoru muses as his hands slip under Suguru’s knees. Just before he rises to his full height, he cutely says, “Upsy-daisy!” Suguru’s head lolls forward, pressing against Satoru’s shoulder. If he has to keep staring at the bright neon lights of Tokyo, he’ll puke again. “Think you can handle me warping?”
“No,” Suguru answers honestly. “But do it anyway.”
“I can walk, y’know.”
“That’s too far to go with me on your back.”
Satoru snorts. “You forget we’re sorcerers? This is a breeze for me. You know that.”
“Haven’t I already put you out enough for a lifetime?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a mopey drunk?” Satoru jostles him playfully. It’s not even that hard, but Suguru feels like he’s being rattled. Suguru smacks him on the chest, the best thing he can do as a warning since he’s afraid that opening his mouth will open the floodgates. “Yeah, we’re definitely walking.”
Suguru doesn’t argue.
It’s an hour to the apartment by foot.
Suguru didn’t mean to do it, but his head started to spin as he looked out at the street. He’d pressed his face back into the crook of Satoru’s neck and, before he knew it, he’d been drooling and probably snoring. Somehow, he even slept through the flights of stairs and Satoru fumbling around in his pocket for the spare key to the door of Suguru’s apartment.
Only when Suguru is pressed down onto his mattress and his shoes are being tugged off that he finally wakes. He’s met with blessed, blessed darkness, but his head is already pounding. He blearily watches Satoru, illuminated by the dim lights of the city, and notices something.
Or, rather, a lack of something.
“Why don’t you ever have Infinity up?”
After Satoru has Suguru’s shoes off, he turns toward Suguru with a small, amused smirk. “It’d be a little hard to carry you around with it on, wouldn’t it?”
Suguru tosses his leg against Satoru’s chest as a reprimand. “You know you can absolutely have it on while doing that.”
Satoru grabs Suguru’s ankle, lowering it down onto his lap, keeping it there with a firm grip that sends a shiver up Suguru’s spine. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. I can’t believe you really haven’t noticed until now, though.” He pauses, brows furrowing as he thinks. His thumb absentmindedly draws circles on Suguru’s skin. “Actually, I can believe that since Sketch hasn’t noticed, either. You two are kinda clueless sometimes.”
Suguru gives an offended huff. Tries and fails to tug his ankle away from Satoru. “If anyone has the most clue here, it’s me.”
“Maybe about societal rules, sure,” Satoru agrees. “But when it comes to how other people feel about you? No, wait, you definitely know when they don’t like you.” Suguru feels himself flush from more than the alcohol. “When it’s about how people care for you, that’s when you’re clueless.” His smirk widens into a shit-eating grin. “I mean, you’re just now noticing that I have to make an active effort to keep Infinity up around you and Sketch. It’s been this way since high school.”
Suguru attempts to throw himself up into a sitting position. Attempts. Nothing in his body likes such a sudden movement, though. Satoru reaches out to catch him by the shoulders, keeping him steady as Suguru’s stomach reels and bile rises to the back of his throat. Suguru squeezes his eyes shut tightly, leaning forward to press his forehead against Satoru’s sternum and breathe through it. Satoru rubs his back the entire time.
When it’s passed, Suguru hoarsely argues, “It hasn’t been that long.”
“It definitely has,” Satoru replies with a laugh. “C’mon, Suguru, weren’t you ever a little suspicious about why I had the hardest time controlling Infinity around you and Sketch when we were teenagers?”
Suguru frowns. “I was, at first,” he reluctantly admits. “I knew you had a huge crush on her. But…when it happened around me, too…I just thought it was a best friend thing. Not…not because you…y’know…”
“It was a big, fat crush thing,” Satoru corrects teasingly. “That was actually what helped me realize I had a crush on you, too, actually. Unlike a certain someone in this room, I made the correct deduction that if I had a crush on Sketch and couldn’t keep Infinity up, then I must’ve had a crush on you, too.”
Suguru doesn’t know if his head is spinning from the alcohol or from this confession. “But…you can keep it up around me now…right?”
“Technically, yeah, but it takes effort. Same as with Sketch.”
He knows the answer, but asks the question, anyway. Call him a glutton for punishment. “Why?”
The amusement is gone from Satoru’s voice when he quietly replies with, “You know why.”
Suguru’s body reacts before his mind can catch up. He wraps his arms around Satoru’s waist, seeking comfort despite the awkward angle. “Your body doesn’t recognize me as a threat, either, does it?” Dread sits heavy in his stomach. Heavier than the alcohol.
“Nope.” Suguru tries to pull away. Always running away from the realities that his heart can’t face. Satoru refuses to let him run. His arms lock around Suguru’s waist and as gently as he can, he tilts them both sideways. Suguru goes because he’s weak. He wants to hold Satoru and for Satoru to hold him. He can’t look Satoru in the eye, but he can be in his arms. “No more running for you,” Satoru declares.
“You should be the one running,” Suguru mumbles. “Or…punch me in the face before you run. I made your pregnant wife cry.”
“Pretty sure she made you cry, too, pal,” Satoru says too casually for Suguru’s liking. “Besides, making Sketch cry is the easiest thing these days. Did she tell you about me finding her on the couch, sobbing at the end of a documentary about octopuses last week?” Then, he pitches his voice higher, trying and failing to imitate you. “They’re just so smart, Satoru! And cute! And there’s one that lays her eggs and stays there to guard them and give them oxygen, and she dies because she never leaves them, not even to eat! Isn’t that heroic?”
Suguru chokes out a laugh past the lump forming in his throat. “No, she didn’t tell me, but I’m not surprised. She’s got too big a heart for this line of work.”
“Don’t I know it,” Satoru agrees with a sigh. “So do you, though.” Suguru definitely does not have that problem. Has Satoru forgotten that he was about to go on a killing spree? “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished my morals were a little looser so I could take you and Sketch to Kyoto and never let you leave.”
“That’s tame compared to my thoughts,” Suguru mutters. “Just some light kidnapping?”
“What about adding some chains around your ankles? That more hardcore?”
Suguru bites back a smile. “Mm, I think I’ve read a book or two where the wife is kept in the basement.”
“The closest thing the estate has to a basement is the warehouse where we keep all our cursed objects and tools.”
“Squid’s a nerd. She’d like that.”
“I could let you out every now and then to make a little garden and gut your fish.”
Suguru tries desperately not to think about the bonito, about the trip, about you and the beach. “How benevolent of you,” he says dryly after too long of a pause.
“Felt you tense up,” Satoru points out as he jostles Suguru. “Damn, I really thought I’d gotten your mind off it.”
Suguru feels his eyes burn, so he closes them again. Presses his forehead against Satoru’s chest harder as if that’ll make the urge to cry go away faster. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Well, that’s because I love you, Suguru. I don’t want to see you sad.”
It hurts. To be seen is both pain and pleasure.
Satoru sighs softly, pressing a hand to the side of Suguru’s face. Suguru knows what he wants, but he stubbornly keeps his face against Satoru’s chest. Suguru will selfishly cling to this last bit of comfort before it’s snatched away from him. You’re biased. You’ve been with Suguru too long. Satoru…Satoru is more sensible, surely. You’re Satoru’s wife. Won’t he pick you over Suguru?
“I almost killed her, Satoru. She had—” Suguru grimaces. Hates to admit it, but he amends that with, “Has…so much love for me that her body didn’t protect her. And mine…my…my body didn’t even have that same instinct. And you’re telling me that it’s the same for you, too?”
“Yeah,” Satoru answers. Just as blunt as you.
“Why?” Suguru asks with a hint of hysteria. He lifts his head, staring up at Satoru with stinging eyes full of desperation. “Squid…I…I guess I can understand her…sort of. We grew up together. Up until high school, we were all each other had.” He shakes his head. “It’s not like that for you, though. There’s no bias. So…why?”
Satoru’s expression is a mixture of tenderness and sadness. It breaks Suguru’s heart. Satoru should never look this sad. Why can’t he understand that this is all Suguru can give him? “Are you asking why I’m in love with you?” Yes, but he can’t say that, for some reason. So, he nods. “I mean, there are all these little things about you yourself that I love, but big picture? Kinda the same reason why I love Sketch, but a little different.”
Suguru’s face is getting hot. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” he mutters under his breath.
“Oh, well, now that I know you hate it, I’m going way in depth now,” Satoru says with entirely too much delight. Suguru realizes he really shouldn’t have said anything. “When I met you two…you didn’t give a shit about me. Sure, neither of you knew about jujutsu society, but you still felt my cursed energy, and you figured out pretty fast how influential and loaded my clan was. Everyone I’d met up until then had always been terrified of my power, but if they could manage to get past that, they were reaching for the money,” he explains. “You’ve always treated me as an equal, as a person.”
“I broke your nose in first year.”
He laughs. “Yeah, and that mental image, how it felt, I was jerking off to that for a while.”
Suguru knows his entire face is bright red now. Thank goodness for the dark. “What?”
“Mm, I’m like Sketch in a lot of ways, y’know? Before high school, I can’t tell you how long it’d been since someone actually touched me. Not even sure the guy that cut my hair for that stupid genpuku ceremony managed to touch me which is kind of impressive. They took me away from my parents early, so I don’t even know how much I was held as a kid.” He scratches his cheek, clearly a little embarrassed about what he admitted. “My brain didn’t really care about the difference between good or bad touches.”
“That surely can’t be the only reason.”
“I mean, you are hot as fuck when you’re pissed off. Still, maybe it all just circles back around to no fear. You weren’t afraid to square up against me.”
“Is that all? Seriously? You fell in love with me because I treated you like a human being? The bar for you is in hell, Satoru. Hell.”
Satoru laughs. “C’mon, I’m not that sheltered. It made me pay attention to you and, from there, it was only a waiting game. Why do you think I was as jealous as I was when you dated that chick? You’re a prime catch. I can go on and on about you and Sketch.”
Honestly? Suguru has no doubt that he can and would do that. “Ugh. Don’t. Please.” He finally manages to pull himself away from Satoru, rolling onto his back, staring back up at the ceiling again. “Don’t you have a wife to get back to? I can’t believe you left her alone.”
“The aforementioned wife is the one that sent me here.” Of course. Suguru shouldn’t be surprised. It doesn’t make the revelation any less nauseating. Literally. He throws an arm over his eyes, breathing through his nausea. “What’d you expect? We can’t just turn it off.”
He sighs wearily. “Are you even going to try is the question. You’re both so stubborn.”
“Says you.”
“I have to be with you two,” he breathes out as he drops his arm back down. He still doesn’t look at Satoru, instead turning his head to the side, trying to be as dismissive as possible. “Thank you for coming to get me. I’m all tucked in now. You shouldn’t be leaving her alone for so long.”
“She’s all grown up now. She’ll be fine.” Suguru thinks that Satoru is going to keep needling at him, but…he doesn’t. “But, yeah, okay, I’ll head back. We’ve got to check-out later on this morning, anyway.”
It’s so instinctual, turning to Satoru and saying, “Try to get some sleep.”
Satoru pauses in trying to get up. There’s this unreadable expression on his face, but it’s so disconcerting to be stared at so intensely that he turns back away with a flush crawling down his neck.
“I will,” is all Satoru whispers before he leaves.
It’s a little after noon and Suguru is hunched over the toilet. Between bouts of heaving, he’s pressing his forehead to the cool tile of the nearby bathtub as if that can calm what feels like his skull getting split open. He’s trying to catch his breath when he feels Satoru’s overwhelming cursed energy explode inside the apartment. When there’s nothing left, Suguru collapses against the tub and blearily watches Satoru nudge open the door. He passes Suguru an onigiri and bottle of Pocari Sweat.
Suguru chugs the Pocari.
As Suguru slowly munches away at the plain onigiri, Satoru drifts out of the bathroom. Suguru is slumped back against the side of the tub, blearily staring up at the ceiling, feeling like a human with each bite of rice. When he’s done, he peels himself off the floor and gets to the process of scrubbing the late night away with a cold shower and brushing his teeth.
Satoru is on his DS when Suguru shuffles back into his bedroom, shirtless, towel around his shoulders to catch the droplets from his dripping hair.
“Let me dry your hair,” Satoru demands as he snaps his DS shut.
Now that his hangover is no longer at the forefront of his attention, Suguru can scrape enough brain cells together to ask, “Why are you here?”
“Pissed the wife off so bad that she said she’d rather travel alone,” Satoru explains so casually that Suguru knows it’s forced. “There was a manager nearby, though, so she’s getting a ride home instead of taking the train. I might try calling later to toe the waters. I know she’s hating being stuck in a car for that long a time.”
Suguru settles on the edge of the mattress and Satoru shuffles in behind him. He grabs the towel and starts to carefully dry Suguru’s hair. It must’ve been a bad argument if Satoru is taking his time with this simple task. On the rare occasion that he does this for Suguru, he’s normally faster. Still better than high school, though. Satoru would dry his hair so aggressively that it always annoyed Suguru to the point that they’d end up wrestling…
…maybe Satoru was being intentional about that, now that Suguru knows what he does.
“Did she know the manager?” Suguru asks.
“Yeah. It was some newbie on an assignment to scope out cursed spirits grades.”
“She’ll be fine, then,” Suguru assures him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she spent the entire time talking about spirits.”
“Not sure she’ll have the energy. You made her cry last night. I made her cry today. At this rate, she’ll be swearing off men forever and running into Shoko’s arms.”
Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration. “Satoru, what could you have possibly asked to make her that mad at you?”
“I asked her if she thought things would be better if I stepped out of the picture and let you and her be together instead.”
Suguru’s sure that he goes through the five stages of grief. It takes him a solid minute before he decides to land on anger. And Satoru just…goes on drying his hair as if he didn’t drop such a horrifying question. Suguru prays Satoru wasn’t this callous when he brought this, frankly, incredibly idiotic idea up to you.
Satoru has the decency to be looking away when Suguru yanks himself away to stand up and turn to face him. “Are you insane?” Suguru hisses. “Sometimes, I don’t even understand how you managed to graduate with higher scores than me! For a supposed genius, you have the most backward logic! What were you even thinking?!” His mind and heart are racing. “What was your plan if she had agreed? Just leave my best friend that you knocked up high and dry?!”
“No!” Satoru launches to his feet, too. Face twisted with anger. “The point is so that you and Sketch can be together!”
“My issue isn’t that there’s three of us! It’s that I hurt her! I’m still hurting her! And I’m hurting you, too!”
“You’re only hurting us because you won’t forgive yourself!”
“Would you?” Suguru spits. “Be serious with me—if you hurt her like that, would you be able to forgive yourself?” The bitterness rises up in Suguru, and he can’t stop himself from adding, “That’s a stupid question, isn’t it? Because you can’t. Your body isn’t hardwired like that.”
Satoru’s expression goes flat. “You’re wrong,” he declares. Like he didn’t admit to Suguru last night that he has to actively keep Infinity up around you and him. “Just because I can’t physically hurt either of you doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you in other ways. And I have. I’ve hurt you both.”
“Quit lying to try and make me feel better about what I’ve done. You know you haven’t hurt us.”
“I looked away,” Satoru whispers miserably. It eases some of the anger in Suguru, softening his features. “I’ve always known that you and Sketch have soft hearts. I saw you struggling after Amanai. You were drifting away and instead of seeing it as leaving behind sorcery, I took it as leaving me. So…I kept holding on. I pretended that nothing was wrong. I kept playing at the jester, hoping that if it couldn’t make you happy then, at least, it’d keep you distracted.”
The fight completely leaves Suguru. “Oh, Satoru.” He knew, a little, about this guilt that Satoru has always held. He had no idea how heavy it was, though. “Not everything is your responsibility. We were all kids. None of us knew how to deal with so much trauma and death.”
Satoru shakes his head. “But I did. Until that night with you and Sketch…nothing that happened to us before that…touched me. Not as much as everyone else, anyway. I mean, that’s how I was raised, right? There’s a reason they kept me separated from my parents. I was born to stand above the rest in every single way—physically and mentally. I’m supposed to keep the world safe and human connection is what I’d have to sacrifice to make sure that happens. I wasn’t raised to have a happy ending.”
Genuinely, Suguru doesn’t know how you do it—how you can force the politeness in the face of the Gojo clan, in the face of every single higher-up. Sometimes, he can’t help but wonder if you’d been more intentional in that binding vow you made with Suguru aside from literally tying your lives together. The vow had been to not kill any non-sorcerer. It said nothing of other sorcerers.
When that day comes, the day that every single higher-up reaps what they’ve sown, it won’t be only Satoru with blood on his hands. It’s going to be Suguru, too. And you’ll be right there by their sides. It wasn’t Suguru that you needed justice from. This system is going to pay for what it did to all of you in high school, what it continues to do to every generation that’s come before and after theirs.
“All these years,” Suguru starts lowly, “haven’t we proven that you’re more than the tool they raised you to be?”
“Haven’t we proven that you’re more than the mistakes you made?” Satoru shoots back bitterly. Suguru’s jaw clenches. “See? You still want to argue about it. I don’t know what else we can do. We’re all stuck in this cycle of blaming ourselves and punishing each other because of what we think we deserve.”
“I’m not—” he fumbles with what to say to that. “I’m not trying to punish you. If you just let it go—”
“Well, we’re not,” Satoru very bluntly and stubbornly announces. “You and her, you’re it for me.” He clenches his fists and puffs out his chest as if he’s preparing for a fight. Suguru supposes he is, in a way. This is the exact same way he looked on the day that he told Suguru he was going to confess to you. “The two of you can’t come into my life and rip up the ending and then think that I’m not going to die loving you whenever this new story of mine finally does end. I get it now. I wasn’t born to be a tool. I was born to love you.”
Feeling like he’s being cleaved right in two, Suguru lashes out to grab the front of Satoru’s shirt to haul him close enough for Suguru to get his mouth on. What the fuck am I doing? Suguru asks himself. Fuck, he doesn’t even know anymore.
“Suguru,” Satoru groans again Suguru’s mouth. “Don’t…c’mon, man, don’t ignore everything I just said—” he shudders when Suguru’s mouth drops down to the nape of his neck. It’s always been one of the most sensitive places on his body. Satoru knows that Suguru knows and fists the front of Suguru’s shirt, giving him a little shake. “You’re trying to distract me—”
Suguru reaches down, grabbing both of Satoru’s wrists, keeping him pinned there while Suguru’s thoughts race. “Shut up,” he says hoarsely. “I…I…” Suguru drops his forehead to Satoru’s shoulder, squeezing his stinging eyes shut, trying to swallow down the lump forming in his throat. “Please…I…I get it, but…I just want to stop thinking now, Satoru.”
Satoru’s shoulders slump as he sighs. “Right. I…I get that. You need time to think?”
“Later,” Suguru whispers. “But let me be close to you,” he selfishly begs like the coward that he is. “Just a little while longer?”
“As long as you need,” Satoru replies just as quietly.
“Can I add another finger now?”
“I’m not—” Satoru’s fingers graze his prostate. He jerks as pleasure zips up his spine. “I’m not a delicate flower,” he manages to finish despite the tightening in his gut. He tries his best to glare while saying this. He doubts it’s all that intimidating.
Satoru is plastered to his side, staring at him with those earnest, blue eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says with a jut of his bottom lip. “I’m tired of the people I love hurting.”
Suguru has to squeeze his eyes shut. The bluntness that you and Satoru speak with are a blessing and a curse. “Just shut up and fuck me. You don’t let me treat you like this.” Satoru’s pout deepens. Suguru cuts him off with a testy, “If you don’t get inside me, I’ll pin you down and take what I want, and you won’t come at all.”
“You and Sketch are so bossy,” Satoru grouses as he rolls over on top of Suguru and gets to his knees. “When all I’m trying to do is be romantic.”
It’s sweet, yes, but Suguru doesn’t want romantic. Not right now. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the weekend. He doesn’t want to think about all the ways that he made sweet and tender love to you both. He especially doesn’t want to remember the few times that the three of you were together.
This is easier, focusing on the pure physicality of it. He can focus on Satoru between his legs, on his fingers that dig into Suguru’s thigh to hike them up higher as he presses in closer. He exhales shakily when Satoru starts to push inside. He wraps his arms around Satoru’s neck, threading his fingers through his messy, white hair. It’s a stretch, but it’s so welcome.
“Move,” Suguru demands quietly when Satoru is in to the hilt and pauses to let Suguru adjust.
“I forgot how tight you are,” Satoru wheezes.
“Move,” Suguru repeats as he gently glides his fingers across Satoru’s broad shoulder blades. “You can handle it, can’t you?” If Suguru wants to get put through the mattress, he’s going to have to goad Satoru into it. “Don’t tell me The Strongest is a shit top.”
Satoru places his hands on the sides of Suguru’s head, lifting himself up so that he and Suguru are face-to-face. “I know what you’re trying to do,” Satoru murmurs as his gaze roams over Suguru’s face. He pushes Suguru’s bang behind his ear. It’s such a tender move that Suguru has to close his eyes again. “We’re doing this my way, Suguru,” he warns.
And by my way, Satoru means making love.
Suguru tries his hand at provoking him again. Tugs at his fair hair, digs his heels into Satoru’s ass, scrapes his nails across the pale skin of Satoru’s back. Satoru doesn’t fall for it. He simply takes Suguru’s wrists and pins them against the bed, on each side of his head. Normally, Suguru would be excited for any eye contact, but he already feels pinned down enough—both physically and spiritually. He knows that Satoru’s eyes are sweeping over his face, but he allows Suguru to keep his face turned away.
“Suguru,” Satoru starts on a whisper against Suguru’s ear, breath hot on the shell of his ear. Just as he grinds right up against Suguru’s prostate, he murmurs, “I love you.”
Suguru comes.
All he has time to do is gasp as his eyes snap open, back arching, white streaking across his chest. There’s no time for him to recover from an orgasm so sudden and intense. Satoru—who has been watching Suguru the entire time with a half-lidded gaze, flushed cheeks, and bottom lip between his teeth—digs his fingers into Suguru’s thighs and hikes them up over his shoulders.
Overstimulated, tears are stinging at the corners of his eyes. He throws his head back, burying it into the pillow while his hands reach out to cover Satoru’s. Each time Satoru taps at his prostate, his mouth falls open just a little bit wider. Suguru’s blood is boiling and each pulse of pleasure is just more heat. He’s not sure if he’s having another orgasm or if he never stopped with the first.
The question is answered when Satoru wraps a hand around Suguru’s cock. Feet over Satoru’s shoulders, his toes curl. Suguru’s whine as he comes again is behind his teeth while he feels a strain in his neck from all the tension in his body. Satoru has no qualms about staying calm when he comes himself, hips slamming against Suguru’s ass for a moment before they give aborted thrusts with each spurt of warmth that he feels inside himself.
Both of them slowly come down from it, the tension in their bodies draining with every passing second. Suguru’s limbs feel like dead weight when Satoru guides them down from his shoulders. Skin slick with sweat, panting, Satoru leans down to gently press his lips to Suguru’s. He finally collapses against Suguru with his full weight. He wraps his arms around Satoru’s shoulders before giving a contended hum.
I could have this all the time, a treacherous part of his brain whispers. Suguru watches Satoru’s profile as he slowly starts to doze against Suguru’s chest. Why am I making all our lives difficult?
“Satoru?”
“Hmm?”
Suguru holds his breath before he timidly asks, “How do you keep from letting the guilt eat you alive?”
Satoru’s eyes open at the question, but he’s merciful enough to not lift his head and look at Suguru directly. “I tell myself I’ll never look away again,” he starts after a moment more of thought. “I’ll always do what’s best for you and her, even if that means I might never see either of you ever again. Maybe you can’t trust yourself, but I know, in my heart, that you’d never let anything happen to her. So, if you wanted to take her, the baby, all the kids…if you both wanted a happy, normal life away from jujutsu then I’d spend all the money in the world to make that happen. I’d blow hole after hole in every single person that tried to ruin your peace.”
“Squid and I don’t want you as our own personal weapon.” Suguru brushes his knuckles across the high of Satoru’s cheekbone. “We just want you. Peace isn’t peace at all if you’re not there with the rest of us.”
Satoru does lift his head now, chin digging into Suguru’s pec. “For someone trying to keep things platonic, you say the gayest shit.”
Suguru reaches down to meanly twist one of Satoru’s nipples. His cackles echo in the apartment, getting louder when he uses Infinity to block Suguru from doing any more pinching. So, Suguru tries to shove him off, but Satoru refuses to budge. The two of them start to tussle—Satoru laughing and trying his best not to move while Suguru, red-faced and scowling, tries to shove him off the bed.
Suguru never manages to kick him out of bed, but Satoru does end up underneath Suguru. Satoru kept digging his fingers into Suguru’s most ticklish spots, so that earlier anger is long gone. The both of them are laughing, but Satoru softens when Suguru smirks down at him smugly for having bested him. Satoru sighs wistfully as he reaches up to cup Suguru’s cheek.
“I want to protect your happiness,” Satoru confesses with pure, unadulterated love. “And I promise that I’ll never let a single day go by where you and Sketch aren’t loved.”
It’s Tuesday and you still haven’t reached out to him.
This is a good thing, he tries to convince himself when he, once again, realizes that he’s been staring intently at his phone. Maybe she’s finally learned her lesson. That thought should be a relief. Instead, it just makes him sick. He scrubs a hand across his face, leaning back in his chair, trying to breathe through the twisting in his stomach and heart.
“I need a cigarette,” Suguru mutters to himself. He swaps out his phone for a carton of cigarettes and a lighter when he reaches down into his leather satchel. It’s useless, of course. He’s tried flipping his phone over. Then, he outright tried keeping it out of sight. He hasn’t made it past thirty minutes.
He’s only made it to the smoking area when he hears the echo of a door slamming shut. Campus is quiet since it’s summer break for the students. He turns his head to watch as Utahime comes barreling outside with clenched fists and tears streaming down her face.
“Utahime?” Suguru calls out, alarmed.
Clearly, Utahime didn’t expect anyone else to be here. She yelps, leaping in place. It’d be funny if she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. She turns, only staring at him with wide eyes for a moment before she whirls back around to furiously wipe away her tears.
“Wait here,” he commands as he walks over to stand next to her. She lifts her head, but he tries his best not to look directly at her when he hands her his lighter and cigarette pack. It’s something for her to focus on instead of her raging emotions. “Let me go get you some water.” It gives her time to calm down in private. He’s careful not to touch her. “I’ll be right back.”
It’s only when he’s halfway to the vending machines that he processes how he’s just treated Utahime like you during one of your breakdowns.
Suguru’s flustered when he goes back outside, two water bottles in hand. He’s shocked that Utahime is on the bench in the smoking area and hasn’t run off. “Sorry,” he apologizes meekly after he gives her a water bottle. “I should’ve asked if you wanted to talk instead of holding you hostage. I…it was kind of instinct, I guess. This is what I do when I’m helping Squid—”
“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice still thick with tears. “I’m the one that should be sorry,” she adds after taking a swig of water. “I should’ve waited until I got home. This has to be so embarrassing for you—”
“If you need to cry then cry.”
Utahime gives a watery laugh. “I can’t. That’d only give them more proof that I’m the hysterical woman they think I am.”
His brows furrow. “Who on earth has been saying that about you?”
“The people who just denied me the teaching position in Kyoto,” she answers bitterly. “They didn’t even give me the dignity of a formal meeting. I finished my mission. They told me to report in here. They told me their decision. I wasn’t even fully out of the room before they started discussing other candidates.”
What the fuck? “What other candidates?” Suguru is furious over her degradation. “No one else applied. Even if they had, weren’t you told that the spot was all but yours after you graduated?” It was in December. They’d all gotten together to celebrate.
“That was before I got engaged,” Utahime spits.
“Did your fiancé do this?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know. I—” her shoulders slump in defeat. It’s in her voice, too, when she goes on to explain, “I do know that the Kamo clan head was involved, but I know it wasn’t only him that came to the decision. They told me it wouldn’t be a good investment since I’ll be married soon and pregnant not long after that. It wouldn’t be proper for a future clan head’s wife to be working.”
Suguru’s brain can’t follow that logic because, “Squid is working?”
“Gojo can do whatever he wants. No one is stupid enough to tell him no.” Her mouth twists. “Besides, they all assume that she’ll stop working after she gives birth. I’ve overheard Principal Gakuganji talking with Gojo’s grandmother about it.”
“If Satoru can do whatever he wants then he can get them to rethink—”
“There’s no point,” Utahime interrupts.
“What do you mean? Of course there’s a point.” He can’t believe that Utahime, so headstrong and resilient, is giving up this easy. Where’s that fire and passion that he saw her storming out with? “What about your fiancé? Maybe you can talk to him about it.”
She scoffs. “Gojo is powerful enough that if he wants to marry for love, he can. It’s not the same for the rest of us. We all have traditions that we need to follow.” Her sharp gaze cuts toward him. Defensive, she snaps, “I thought you understood that better than the rest of them. Isn’t that why you rejected Gojo and Duck?”
Suguru reels back as if she’s just slapped him right across the cheek. She may as well have. “Don’t talk about things that you can’t possibly understand.” Utahime doesn’t know the whole truth. He doubts that Shoko has told her. She wouldn’t want to run the risk of Utahime being implicated should any higher-up find out what really happened that night. “I’m no good. I couldn’t protect her. They’re better off with each other.”
“Do you actually believe that?” Utahime asks dryly.
Suguru doesn’t have an answer. At this point, his answer depends on the fucking time of day. “Do you actually believe that marrying this man will make Shoko love you any less?” Suguru shoots back, as bitter and defensive as Utahime is now.
It’s an asshole move. As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he regrets it. She winces with her entire body. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes, but she quickly wipes them away. “Don’t you dare talk to me about things that you can’t possibly understand, either.”
All at once, Suguru understands that Utahime is in the exact same situation that he is. They’re both stuck between the same rock and hard place. “Why do we have to sacrifice their happiness to do what’s best for them?” His gaze drops to his hands. Sometimes, he still remembers the disgust of having your blood on them. He’s never been so disgusted by a texture until he was touching your torn flesh as he desperately tried to staunch the bleeding. “Who are we to make that decision for them?”
Utahime wraps her arms around herself and her bottom lip quivers. “For those of us born into this…most of us don’t have the power to change our own destinies.” She ducks her head. “Shoko is always in the backdrop. She’s saved so many lives, but no one ever thanks her. No more than they’d thank a bandage.” He touches her shoulder, squeezing as a show of comfort. “I know she wouldn’t care about being the other woman, but she deserves to be cherished. For once, she should have someone devoted only to her. That love for her should be unconditional and without shame.”
“Are you ashamed to love her?”
“No,” she whispers. “But I am ashamed that I gave in. Why would she care about being a dirty, little secret? It’s the way I’ve been treating her since the night we started sleeping together.”
“Are you sure that’s how she feels?” Suguru is confused right now about what his future holds, that much is true, but there is absolutely no confusion over his love for you and Satoru. “I never felt like a dirty little secret when I was with them. This love just might be the only pure thing left inside me.”
“I doubt a person like Duck would fall in love with you if that was your only redeeming quality.”
“That sounds suspiciously close to being a compliment,” he teases with a little smirk.
She raises her head to scowl at him. “Shut up. It wasn’t. I only meant that if you can’t trust yourself…I don’t know. I guess put your trust in her. If she thinks you’re worth forgiving and loving, isn’t that all that matters?”
Suguru gives her a playful nudge with his elbow. “If Shoko thinks your love is enough to satisfy her, isn’t that all that matters?”
“Don’t use my own words against me! Ugh, I need someone to study Duck’s brain. I will never understand what she sees in you two.”
Suguru is out on the balcony having his last cigarette of the day, watching the dying light of this summer night when his phone rings. He’d sent an urgent text to Satoru after Utahime left, asking Satoru to call him back, so Suguru just assumes that Satoru is finally calling him back. That’s why he doesn’t even bother to look at the contact before he answers with a gruff, “Hey.”
And his heart stutters in his chest when he hears your soft, shy, “Hi.”
“Hey,” he repeats dumbly. For all he wanted you to text him, he never took time to think about what the fuck he would say to you after this past weekend.
“Um…you weren’t in bed yet, were you?”
“Just because it’s bedtime for the girls doesn’t mean it’s mine,” he jokes before cringing at how awkward that ended up being. He scrubs a hand across his face, resisting the urge to sigh and giving you the wrong idea. “No, you’re fine. I was smoking before I tried to lay down and get some sleep.” He leans back in the chair, legs spreading wide as he settles in to talk. “Keyword being try.” There’s no point with the formalities. He knows where this conversation is headed, so may as well take the dive. “You gave me a lot to talk about before I left.”
“Just like you gave me a lot to think about after you left.” There’s a rhythmic thudding in the background. You’ve been trying to sketch. Now, you’re nervously tapping your pencil. He tries to bite back a fond smile. “Unlike some people, I couldn’t go get so drunk that I couldn’t control my technique let alone think.” You’re keeping it playful. One of the many knots in his stomach unwinds. No matter what, you and him are always going to be best friends. “I did stay go swimming after Satoru left to get you, though. It was nice floating at night.”
“Squid,” he starts after a cluck of the tongue. “What were you thinking doing that? It was late and you were alone.”
“I’m a sorcerer,” you grumble. “It’s like you two forget that I can hide myself from anything with cursed energy.” You huff. “I don’t want a lecture from the guy who came from just being told I love you.”
Suguru’s feels his entire face go red, all the way to the tips of his ears. “It wasn’t only because of that!”
“But that was part of it?”
He fumbles to think up a quip that can distract you. You wait patiently, probably with a smug smirk. “It was only a very small part of it,” he lies.
“Mm,” you hum thoughtfully. “Before he asked me that stupid question—” Suguru snorts. “I had him take me to the Love Call Bell. I wanted to ring it.” Right. You’d told them about it after that old woman explained the story to you. It’s supposed to be a good luck charm in finding love. “But…I didn’t?” Why does his traitorous heart twist? He wants you to give up on him. “Because I don’t need luck. You do love us. Isn’t that right, Suguru?”
“How can I not?” Suguru whispers.
There’s a sniffle. You accidentally knock into your phone as you rub at your eyes. “But…you can’t forgive yourself for what happened that night. That’s why you won’t be with us?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” You take a deep breath, repeating, “Okay.” You’re psyching yourself up for something. “Geto Suguru, I’m challenging you!”
He blinks, dumbfounded. When you don’t follow up that declaration with any clarification, he has to press you with a gentle, “…to what exactly?”
“Sorry. I’m trying to recover from how lame that was. I think I’ve been watching too much Naruto.”
“Mm, I think you’re stalling.” The unhappy noise you respond with is confirmation enough. “Whatever it is, say it. I was cruel when we were on the beach. I’m sorry. I can’t guarantee that I’ll agree with whatever you say, but I listen with an open mind.”
“You don’t have to apologize, but let’s leave it at that. If we don’t, we’ll go around in circles of one apologizing and the other saying it’s not needed and then we’ll talk bad about ourselves to make each other feel better.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear, making sure that it is truly you on the other end. “Since when did you become so emotionally intelligent? Is this Squid? Did you trade bodies with someone?”
“I pity any person that’d want to take my body. I’m wet all the time. Not in a sexy way, either. Every inch of me is covered in sweat. I can’t breathe because of the heat and because my fucking uterus is right up against my diaphragm—” you cut yourself off when you realize you’re ranting. He’s smiling. He can’t help it. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I want this baby out of me.”
“I can tell,” he says with a laugh. “I’m waiting to hear your challenge, by the way.”
“I know, I know. Here it is. So…you think the guilt will be too much, but…you don’t know. Not for sure. Why don’t we try, then?”
His brows knit together in confusion. “Try what?”
“Try being in a relationship,” you clarify. Yet again, his brain malfunctions. “Just hear me out,” you rush to say. “Give us one more shot, except this time let’s go all the way. Let’s see what it could be like. We want to show you that you’re more than your mistakes. We want to show you how loved you are. And, at the end of this, if you still can’t bear to be with us that way then that’s it. We’ll move on and we’ll never bring it up again.”
His mouth opens, closes. Repeat one more time. “What?”
“You said open mind!”
“I know, but…I didn’t think you were going to…what? Make me fall in love with you a week?”
“You’re already in love with us, but that’s beside the point. Oh, and I think the deadline should be a month after the baby is born.”
He presses a thumb to the center of his throbbing forehead. “Why does it feel like four months is cheating?”
“Well, I just thought that you wouldn’t want to risk anything happening to me or the baby. You’re always so quick to remind me of how delicate I am, after all. Don’t you think a broken heart would put a lot of stress on me?” Then, oh-so-innocently, you ask, “Was that the wrong assumption to make?”
Suguru’s eye is twitching. He has to pull his phone away and, for a second time, check that he’s talking to the right person. “You…you’re manipulating me right now!”
“All is fair in love and war,” you sing. “Also, manipulation has never bothered you before. How many times have you flirted your way into getting us discounts?”
“That’s different!”
“No, it’s not. You’re just getting all pissy about it because it’s working. Am I wrong?”
“Do you know how much you sound like Satoru right now? It’s his bad influence. He’s corrupted you. It hasn’t even been six months yet.”
“Alright. I’ll divorce him if I can marry you.”
Horrified, he whispers, “What has pregnancy done to you?”
“I suppose Satoru has spoiled me in some ways. I’ve gotten used to getting what I want and I want you.”
What the fuck? Suguru has to mouth to himself. He reaches for another cigarette but stops short when he notices something even more horrifying. “Why am I hard right now?”
“Want me to tell you how much I love you to help you with that?”
And his traitorous dick twitches! “I’m hanging up now,” he hisses with burning cheeks.
“Do you need time to think about my offer?”
“You haven’t given me much of a choice, have you?”
“Great! When Satoru comes home from his mission, we can come up with date plans.”
Suguru groans. “I’m already regretting this.”
