It’s Yearning Hours @exquisink - Tumblr Blog

poison on the inside, i could be your antidote (Geto/Reader)

the roots. geto is all sweet lies and false promises, you know that, but not even breaking up with him keeps you out of his orbit. he finds a way to bring you back in his arms, right where you belong, and he refuses to let you move on easily...

cw. nonsorcerer f!mc, toxic ex bf suguru geto (cult leader), reader was once a follower, cunnilingus, piv sex, geto being a controlling manipulative dipshit like always but he's hot he can get away with it, yandere behavior. WC: ~9Kish

You should really, really know better.

No, really--you know what types of tricks he's pulled right out of his crusty dusty ass and yet you can't untangle yourself out of his web of deceit. It's unbecoming of a woman of your stature. Disgustingly educated because upon learning a staggering chunk of the population is functionally illiterate has you jump scared into working a thousand times harder than you already are. You like to think you're an absolute goddess, if you do say so yourself, because unlike what the world tries to tell you, you take pride in the way you present and carry yourself: like you own the entire damn world.

And in every aspect of your world, you do. (Or did.)

…Except in one particular department: whatever weird tango Geto Suguru has you entangled in for the last… what? You actually count on your fingers. Bordering 11 months now since you broke up with him for being such a skeeze. In more ways than one! You have no time for games. No time for anyone's bullshit but your own, and even you have to say no to certain things involving yourself because there are aspects of your life which take much, much higher priority.

In spite of that, though… he finds a way to weasel back into your life like the cunning snake he is. You know of his real background. You know of all the ways he's deceived not only you but the people he claims to help in that overly glorified temple of his, parading around as a fake priest in just about the tackiest getup your eyes have ever bestowed upon. You're no stranger to his quirkier traits; you haven't the slightest idea how deep those quirkier traits of his ran until you've accidentally stumbled upon him cursing one of his billionaire clients to death after draining them of their money and other valuable resources.

You do recall learning inadvertently that he's a high school dropout; he's had to make a living somehow, you guess, but that's not the healthiest way to go about earning that much money.

Yes, while you have been aware of the existence of spirits, you have never known what to do about it. No one else seems to know about them or even believe in them as the mainstream public generally don't concern themselves with such hogwash. But you have experienced it upon your first meeting with Geto--where he's exorcised such spirits that you didn't realize were draining your energies. All this time, you believed you were coming down with an especially bad case of the flu. It is that season, you remember snarking at Geto, but he laughs in response, insisting that you pay a visit to his estate if you want 'true healing,' sounding like every priest ever baiting their next client into their system.

But what a unique discovery--he's actually legit, unlike the myriad of other frauds that have documentaries exploiting every detail of their schemes. He heals you. From the minute you approach him, you feel the weight lifting off of your shoulders, and without telling him in specifics the symptoms you have been experiencing he lists them off like he's been down this road numerous times before.

You almost want to call him God.

And you sort of do. Muttering under your breath in sheer awe of the man towering before you, "God, are you real?"

To which he smirks in response, "Indeed, I am," before laughing more openly at his own joke. You almost want to knock him down a peg or two because like any other man, he is way too damn prideful. The annoying thing about it is that he has a reason to be as prideful and haughty as he is.

And you haven't even gotten to the good part.

Well, you are using the term 'good' loosely…

In that moment, it's when he remarks he'd like, more than anything in the world, to get to know you. Everything goes to shit from there, and yet you haven't learned your lesson.

Maybe there's a part of you that wants to do it all for the sake of it. Maybe you want to string him along like he often does to you. And you absolutely can get away with it--or it's more like he's more than happy to let you believe you get away with it.

Which is what leads you here.

He's got you wrapped around his body like you're the chunky, juicy, dripping filling of his burrito. And he can't get enough of you, peppering soft kisses along the nape of your neck and behind your bare shoulder blades as you struggle to scroll through your news feed on the new phone he's bought for you. (What can you say? You're a simple girl in some ways. You get to take advantage of the fact that he's rich… even if it's not through conventional ways or even legal ways, but what the hell can the police force do about a sorcerer?)

There's nothing much you can do about a sorcerer, either. At the snap of his fingers, he can kill you, and you won't even realize what's become of you until you're projected into Heaven or whatever afterlife exists, if it even exists.

Which is part of the reason why you even humor all of this.

You value your life above all.

And he seems to not be able to get out of your hair, either. You don't know how to feel about that. As much as you agree that you have the potential to attract someone wealthy, and someone powerful, and someone utterly drop dead gorgeous to match your drop dead gorgeousness, what you never expected is that it would be someone like Suguru.

"Why so lost in those eyes of yours, hm?" He laughs behind you, sending shivers up and down your entire system. "You're not trying to plot your escape, are you? You know how I feel about that."

"Does it look like I give a flying fuck about how you feel, Suguru?"

"Watch that tone, pet. I don't want to have to kill you."

There's that deep, deep scowl in his snippier response--you're fighting fire with fire. You both are strong willed. You both are fucking stubborn at that. Too stubborn to admit defeat, too stubborn to let either of you believe your resolves are crumbling down like ancient, dilapidated buildings.

"If you wanted me dead, I would have been dead already," you point out.

"Oh, a smart one," he murmurs between fervent, heated kisses, "Aren't you at least going to admit you missed this? Miss us?"

Your gaze shifts elsewhere. "We both know I'd be lying if I said yes."

"Hm." Rather than retort, he peppers a line of heated kisses down your spine, his tongue following suit, and your lips part into a low moan--anything to keep him satisfied and to keep his murderous intentions at bay. You doubt he's ever going to find the gall to do what he threatens, but you don't want to test such uncertain waters.

Getting involved with him in the first place already has you on thin ice like you're taking a daring hike across the North Pole, and you're no expert at fishing yourself out of situations like these.

Evidently.

Hooking your leg around his neck, he runs his tongue over his lips before digging the wet muscle between your folds. You choke on a gasp, clutching tight onto the smart device in one hand and onto the edge of the headboard with the other. A line of drool trickles from your mouth hung open as more shameless moans spill out, betraying your own convictions over the man you swear you loathe.

And you do. You know you do. But you can't fight against someone like him. What an asinine notion—you can’t honestly believe you could fight back.

At least he knows how to use that mouth when he's not yapping your ear off, finding yourself bucking your hips into his tongue, more strings of moans leaving your own loud mouth. This must get him off beyond his wildest dreams. It's every man's desire to wish for someone like you he can come back to whenever life gave him lemons he can't squeeze fresh out until there's that fresh lemonade. All you're doing is giving him the green light when you should be pumping the brakes on all of this, but how can you?

Lewd slurping of your intimates have you flushing even deeper out of embarrassment, and he gives another breathy laugh, before diving back in and nursing a fresh one out of you that morning. He does everything within his power to make you feel all kinds of humiliating things, especially in the comfort of the bed. He doesn't have to be who he is outside, and is strangely attentive to you. Even you have to admit, he can definitely have his pros as much as his cons, but that doesn't change what sort of atrocities he's committed and what he plans to continue to commit.

This almost seems to act as a form of escapism for him.

Maybe he's not all he's cracked up to be.

"Sounds to me like you're lying to yourself the most," he teases as he pops off of your cunt, the bottom half of his face with shiny from a generous coat of your juices that he's still licking off of his lips like it's a dessert he can't get enough of himself. "No one else can take care of you. Why don't you come back home?"

"Is that why you haven't killed me yet?" You murmur while your eyes flutter shut, trying to find some sense of grounding. "Because you want to give me the spare keys to your place again?"

"You've never not had access to those. And you know I want more than that," he admits, "I can protect you."

"From what?"

He frowns. "You know what's out there now. You know I haven't lied to you… much. If you're back at the estate, then you'll be safe."

You fall silent. And then: "Who's going to protect me from you?"

"You don't have to be afraid of me."

"Don't I?" You retort with a huff. "Look at you. Breaking and entering into my home. Getting me into bed after helping yourself to one of my meals while threatening my life like you own the damn place."

"It was delicious by the way--"

"--whatever! My point is, you can't keep interjecting, Suguru. I have a life."

"Yeah," he scoffs, "On a journalist's salary?"

"I like to think I get by quite swimmingly without your help, thank you very fucking much."

"What's next, you leave me for Clark Kent and then find out he's Superman and you're going to bring me to my doom?"

"Seriously, Suguru? Enough with the DC scenarios. Life isn't a goddamn comic book. And you're no Lex Luthor. You're more of a…" You trail off. "Joker. Or maybe the Riddler. I don't know, and I don't really care."

"Why the villains?"

"…Why NOT the villains? You're obviously no Batman. Unless you're Earth-13 Batman."

"Duly noted," Geto quips, crawling up to you to brush a damp stray of hair away from your face, soaked from sweat. "You know I miss you. You can't be happy like this."

"But without you around, I don't cry," you clap back, "I don't feel like I'm walking on eggshells all the time, wondering if it was finally going to be the day you force your hand and you finally kill me."

"I can't."

"What?"

"I can't kill you."

"That's not that much of a relief," you grumble as your eyebrows furrow. "Or the compliment you think it is."

"I love you."

Irritation flashes in your eyes. "Do you even know what that means?"

"Believe it or not, pet, I do have a heart," Geto retaliates, "One that was stone cold until you waltzed into my life. Why do you think I come back to you so much? It's not to scare you. Not like you think."

"I have to be scared of you," you reply, frowning, "I have to be. I know what you can do. I know how powerful special grades have the potential to be and I know aside from you, there are only three other ones that I remember you bringing up in your meetings. I know I can never trust you, and it's you who made that possible. Things were obviously better between us when I was still blissfully ignorant to your world."

"But you are my sole exception," he declares, resting his forehead against yours as his intense violet gaze bores into yours. It almost hurts to look at him--he puts a whole new meaning to blindingly gorgeous, enchanting, tempting like taking a bite out of the poison apple. "You have to try to trust me about that. You said so yourself, my dear. If I wanted you dead, you would have been dead already."

"Suguru, there's not a single thing in the world you could do to get me to trust you the way I once did."

There's something amiss in his expression---even down to his tone. Softer. Vulnerable. Almost… weak.

"But do you love me?"

That's a song you've heard him perform before, on numerous occasions--desperation. He doesn't shy away from it. Not when it comes to you or to his goals, ultimately.

Something catches in your throat. Something a lot like your heart threatening to spill, arteries and everything. Beyond all logic, beyond all rhyme or reason, you still can't bring yourself to hate him. Knowing what he is, what he's going to do. What he can do to you. It doesn't compute in your mind which strives for logic and practicality and keeping things moving as efficiently as possible. It's how you've gotten far in your life--through sheer determination.

He has that in common with you. You hate to admit it.

"I… can't answer that, Suguru. That's not fair," you manage, suddenly feeling like the air between you became thick and heady and not in a good way. In a 'something's about to go down' way. "Don't forget: it was you who betrayed me. It was you who lied to me. I have every right to hate you."

And yet, you don't. You can't.

"What's not fair is you still torturing me like this," he sighs, steady hands coming to cup your face, brushing along the plumpness of your cheeks. "I know you still cry without me too."

"There's a lot to cry about," you confess, and without skipping a beat, tacking on: "That has nothing to do with you. How long have you been watching me?"

He offers you a wry smile, pecking your nose in that same soft way he always did. Almost making you think he's the Suguru he tricked you into thinking he is, but he's never who he says he is. You're not even sure who the man is in bed with you. Another reason you're scared of him.

"Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

"A fair assessment," you remark, in an almost robotic tone. "Don't you have people waiting for you?"

"You come first." His eyes flit down then back up. "In more ways than one."

You ignore that comment.

"Even before the twins?"

"They can handle themselves, but they miss you too."

"That doesn't really help your case," you point out, and he hums in acknowledgement.

"There's really nothing I can do?"

"Nothing that will change things for your sake, no."

"Worst case scenario I take you anyway. You don't need a life like this."

"It's still mine," you say, "I worked for it."

"I still want to be a part of it," he interjects, "I still want to be yours."

"But what if I don't want you?"

"It doesn't change how I feel about you," he replies as his thumbs caress your cheeks. Tears threaten to spill, and you don't like that he still can effect you at all. It's not fair. None of this is. You have given your heart to the wrong man and just when you think you're ready to move forward, he finds a way to reel you back in hook, line, and sinker.

"Does it not wound your ego that someone you want doesn't want you?"

"Oh, more than I would ever lead you to believe, but the fact that I'm still trying proves you're worth it."

And then he goes and says things like that… does he know what that does to you? Of course, otherwise he might have found a way to reframe those words. You have to remember they're nothing but sweet lies. Men are good at that, but especially he is good at that because at one point in time, he's meant something to you, too.

"How do I know this is not another ego trip for you?"

"What do I have to do to prove to you that my feelings for you were never lies?"

"Do you think I know the answer as well as you?!"

Geto falls silent this time, considering your words. For once, it actually looks like the gears are shifting in that noggin of his, as his eyes scan your face.

"I don't want to be the bad guy," Geto remarks, "I want to make things right with you, if you give me another chance to do that."

"But you haven't done anything to improve where you stand in my life."

"I know."

"So then what is your plan? I'm not some stupid girl, you know. You can't just whisk me away into wonderland and expect me to believe you'd give me the world. You promised me that once and you failed to deliver. I've never been the kind of girl to give second chances."

"So I really am just wasting my time on you?" He quips with a challenging glint in his eyes.

"You may as well be, yeah. I don't want anything to do with you," you declare with conviction strong in your tone. "Every time I want to think I can live a life without you, you try to string me back along and I'm sick of it. I was not happy with you before, and I'm not going to be happy with you again."

You pry his hands off of your face. You're surprised you haven't stained your cheeks with your tears yet, impressed you can hold your own against someone who once brought everything down in your life. And still tries to even now.

"Look at you. Lying more than I ever have," he starts, hands sliding down your hips, gripping tight. "Do you think I don't notice the little cracks in the mask you try to put on around me? You remind me too much of myself in some ways, when I was still struggling to accept the way the things were."

You don't know how to respond to that.

"No matter how you think you feel, pet, you do still feel something for me," he continues, "I know it, in every expression you make. I can tell what you say betrays your true feelings. It's adorable, really, thinking you can hide from me for so long. But I'll always be with you, my dear. I'll always be for you. I wish you would stop being foolish and come back home. We don't need to keep playing charades because the moment you've started to match my energy, you've already lost."

"What makes you so certain of that?" You challenge.

"You shouldn't doubt how sharp my perceptions are," he quips back, "Especially when it comes to you. Don't you know what it means to be a sorcerer? Do you not remember me telling you where curse spirits come from?"

"…Normal humans being unable to control their cursed energy or emotions."

"Precisely," he replies with a smirk. "And what makes you think you're exempt from curse spirits manifesting from your own emotions?"

Your eyes widen.

"Wh-what are you trying to tell me?"

"Doesn't this sound familiar?" He proposes, before clearing his throat: "'I want to be with him but I know it's bad news for me. He's made my life Hell but I love him. I love him!'"

..Have you gone insane, or has he just recited only the stream of thoughts you have ran through in your mind and never dared to utter out loud?

Does this mean you really can't hide a damn thing from him?

"What's the matter, my love?" He coos in that condescending way of his, a finger tracing down the contour of your cheek. "Curse got your tongue?"

"How am I supposed to believe you?" Ah, denial takes the stage, yet again. Shouldn't you know better by now? You have already chastised yourself for continuing to go down this road with him, and you're going to continue playing that game in spite of knowing better, aren't you?

"You don't have to. Since I can't exactly show you proof without resorting to drastic measures," he confesses, "But it is flattering to know you do still feel something for me. I knew those feelings weren't lost after all."

"Say whatever you please to flatter yourself," you huff, scrunching your nose. "It doesn't mean a damn thing if I didn't tell you outright how I felt. You can come up with whatever narrative best serves you. You do that anyway."

"Come home," he retorts with an exasperated sigh. "This has gone on long enough. Maybe I should have just taken you back instead of fluffing all of this up for you."

"That will never be my home, Suguru. I can't be happy with you."

"But you aren't happy without me, either. You have to choose your poison."

"You can't make me do diddly squat."

"I know I can't, but I know that your heart knows the right choice in this matter."

"Delusional as ever, I see."

"Call it what you will, but in the end, I'm usually right."

"Overinflated sense of abilities, at that."

"You can't blame a man like me."

Well, men in general are like that.

"So what do you say?" He starts again. "Give this another shot?"

"I don't give out second chances."

"Even if you know what your heart wants?"

"What my heart wants is none of your fucking business anymore, now is it?"

"Everything about you is my business. I'm still yours," he replies, "Even if you don't claim me."

So full of shit, so full of delusion, so full of hot air… does he ever know when to call it off?

"I don't want to go back with you. Now if you don't mind, I'm on the clock in about an hour or two, so if you could so kindly show yourself out the door…"

"I can't let you go that easily, I'm afraid. I have to resort to drastic measures."

Before you realize it yourself, you're knocked out cold. The last thing you remember is Geto sporting on his best remorseful expression but you know the man lacked true empathy preferred he wouldn't have gone to such lengths.

The last thing you hear before darkness takes over your vision: "I can't help it. I must keep you."

Predictably, the moment you blink your eyes back open, you find yourself facing a familiar high ceiling with that opulent chandelier that previous owners of the Star Religious Group put together. A pounding in your head has you clutching either side as you steady yourself against the headboard, trying to recall previous events. Not much happened, you remember, because you've been too busy arguing for your right to agency and Geto yet again has to take that all away from you because he doesn't know how to handle rejection--much like any other man. He's no different than anyone else--anyone else who carries male anatomy. He happens to have more power over you in more ways than one and he's no different to any man in power or with power who wants to abuse that privilege as much as possible.

"Ah, there's my angel. Welcome home," Geto greets you with that stretched, saccharine smile that kind of treads into uncanniness for you. It always seems performed, especially with his clients, but there's always some cracks in his foundation when it comes to you, and apparently, matters of his heart. Because he insists he actually has one.

What a load of hogwash.

"Piss off," you grunt with a deep scowl, rubbing the sides of your head in soothing circles in an attempt to quell the mild throbbing. How does he act so fast? What are you to do about it? He may not want to kill you, but that doesn't exempt him from being capable of utilizing other means to keep you for himself. "I'm not going down this road with you again, Suguru. Why can't you let me live my damn life? What's so advantageous for me about living here with the man I'm more afraid of than anything?"

"Anything?" He laughs, "Even ultimate judgment?"

"I don't believe in God, so no, not that."

"But you believe in me. Don't you?" He asks, "I"m the closest thing to a God the world will ever know."

"Hardy har har," you respond in a dry tone. "Now, seriously. When are you going to get me out of here?"

"You are free to come and go as much as you please, but if you try to run away…"

"I know, I know. You'll always be able to come and find me."

Geto grins. "That's my girl."

You do your best not to visibly flinch. You have no power in this, you know, but that doesn't mean you don't go down trying. It's a pity you won't get the freedom you yearn for any time soon because he struggles more with letting you go, and you, for understandable reasons, allow it.

"So silent all of a sudden?" Geto points out, "Are you going to be accepting of the fact take you belong here with me?"

"I'm sure you would love that more than anything, but no. You know I can't be happy with you. Not for the rest of my life."

"Hm." Geto hums. "You tell me that to my face, but I know what it is you truly desire. You can't truly hide what you feel from me or should I introduce to you the curses you've created that I've exorcised?"

"How would I even be able to see them, Suguru?"

"There are methods for normal purple to see curses. Kids can see them up until a certain age, but generally it doesn't last for that long into their adolescence. Sorcerers from different clans have created tools to help those who haven't been born with the innate ability o see curses."

This still makes 0 sense to you. Learning anything about sorcery and jujutsu is practically the equivalent of you trying to decipher hieroglyphics.

Which honestly? That kind of tracks.

"…I don't need to see them," you decide, meekly adding, "I believe you."

"Oh? Someone's admitting it to me now?"

"I hate to prove you right, but I do still love you," you say, "Whoever you are."

"Whoever I am?"

"I'm still not sure who Suguru really is," you continue, "If you're really who you say you are or if you truly believe what you believe."

"I never had any doubts in my convictions," he repiles, as his eyes rest on your face. "Until you, my dear."

"I can't say I find that flattering."

"I don't expect you to. I didn't expect for you to admit that to me this quickly," he goes on as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. "But I"m not mad about it. It's something that gives us a little wiggle room. We can make us work, love. I want you to trust me again like you used to."

"We're nowhere near that far yet," you counter, shooting him a glare. "I am still wary of you. I don't know what you're pulling even when I think I've figured you out. I cannot give you my trust, anymore, but I do love you… for whoever I thought you were."

"That's enough for me to work with," he finalizes. "More than I can ask of you."

"Except you didn't ask that of me," you grumble, "You made me confront it. You lured me into a trap like you always find a way to do. That's not asking something of me."

"I'm sorry," he answers, not sounding sorry in the slightest because Suguru Geto never apologizes for anything, not even going as far as to taking you hostage yet again. Never mind how much you vehemently refuse him, never mind how much you don't want to continue to tango with him like this. Not until you're certain of the man he really is--because everything is a blur for you now. Everything is just a discombobulated mess. Is Suguru Geto the man you fell in love with those months ago, or is he nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing?

You can't solve this puzzle just yet… but someday soon, you will, because you haven't a choice on the matter. You are stuck here with him, because you cannot fight the forces you are not trained to fight or to even be able to see.

Fact: life is absurdly random.

Not only that, life is absurd. In every aspect, at every angle, no matter which way you look at it, everything about existence is completely and utterly absurd.

Much like the fact that right now, you have the likes of Suguru Geto catering to your every whim, all because, for once, you have detected that all along he has been telling you the truth about what his true weakness is.

And after everything he's put you through, no one can blame you for reaping the benefits of this newfound (or maybe not so newfound?) knowledge.

The hint of struggle in his expression between his brows as you sink yourself onto his stiff, leaking cock until you sit at the hilt. It doesn't take a genius to notice that he's trying to give you the power. Actually, you have had the power all along; you have just been too stubborn to realize it because you've been too busy denying everything. You can milk all of this--starting with emptying his dick.

"Please," he breathes into a laughably high-pitched wheeze, something you haven't heard out of the man before and it's exhilarating, like watching an impressive tower tumble down into a pile of destruction. "Fuck, you really are perfect for me- aren't you going to take what you want?"

"Patience, Suguru," you purr in a similarly condescending tone that he usually sports in his own cadence, as your fingertips drag along the defined lines of his torso and chest, pinching one of his nipples and his entire body shudders beneath you as you begin to rock yourself against him, settling on a steady rhythm, deciding he's been rough with you long enough.

When he tries to buck his hips upward, you frown, ceasing your movements.

"I thought you were going to sit back this time," you chastise him, but with gentleness carrying your tone--you know better than to try to cross him especially at a time like this. "I want to be the one to give you something, but you have to let me give it to you, Suguru. Or I can stop, and go back to bed. Let you take care of yourself."

"No," he demands in a low growl, hands flying to grip your waist, fingertips digging into your skin. "Don't you dare stop. I'll be good, pet. Take what you want. I'll relax this time- just let me watch my beautiful goddess dance on my cock."

You lean down to capture his lips in a fervent kiss--try as you might to deny it but you can't. You do still feel something for him, whoever he is, whoever he's become. Since you have no conceivable way out, this is the only way you can get something out of it. It's true to a certain extent that you can make the most out of any situation you find yourself in but in this regard, you are left with little wiggle room, with little tools to explore your options. You do not appreciate feeling reduced to something to keep his emotions at bay and his agenda at large, whatever it may be, and you do not think that his love or affections are worth anything more than a serving of soggy fries--disappointing. Disappointing, all of what your life has become because meeting Suguru Geto changed the entire trajectory of it.

Taking everything positive about your life into something completely unsalvagable.

You have never been one to settle or to just accept the status quo. You are still going to find a way to make your life around here as painless as possible. You aren't sure how far you can go, but for now you're trying to drain him completely…

"Is that the best you can give me, Suguru?" You taunt with another twisting of his nipple, causing him to hiss. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the strong one."

Something in his eyes flickers at that statement. If there's anything a man like him, no, if there's anything a man doesn't like, it's his dignity and strength being challenged. Both such strong drivers for their ego and you have set yourself up for something much more than you initially expected.

Which is Geto completely disengaging. Something in his eyes go dark, almost like an act of surrendering, to you, for once; his arms snaking around your body as you sit all the way down on his cock another time, feeling it twitch inside of you, rubbing against every part of you inside just right. But he's not quite there yet- you want to stall this just for a bit longer to savor this small victory, or maybe it's a bigger one than you realize, because he is never one to let himself go like this.

Especially not with someone he otherwise deems as lesser.

But does he really believe anything he preaches anymore? You are the exact reason for you to assume otherwise.

Look at him.

Clawing at you.

His eyes rolling back as you finally milk another one out of him, his seed spilling deep inside of you and filling you to the brim. Some trickling out of your hole and onto his cock like a lewd fountain.

"Doesn't it feel better when you can relax, my Lord?" You tack on that address as your version of layering that coat of icing beyond thick- something to drive your point home.

"Beyond it," he grunts out between gritted teeth, pulling you in for another kissed laden with a kind of desperation you're not only familiar with but it seems to have gone up tenfold in this moment. There it is- you have found one reason to keep going and that's getting to take advantage of him at his most vulnerable. This is yours. This victory is completely yours and nothing can take that away right now.

"I love you," he whispers in that same reverent tone he often carries, and the moment he says it something has changed within you. Or maybe that something has always been there. You have always acknowledged you feel something, something other than loathing- far from it, in fact.

Why does hearing that fill you with . . . Pride?

"I know, my Lord," you reply, "You belong to me, yes?"

"Always," he vows, "I am yours. Forever more, darling. Nothing you do is ever going to change that."

If you cannot win the war, you can be victorious in other battles- much like the one here, in the comfort of his bed, where you dominate, where you decide how hard, where you have control.

Perhaps beyond this, you may find a silver lining. Even if you yourself falling, you have realized how to catch yourself, or at least find a way to support yourself, seek the right accommodations in a less than ideal life where you are constantly fighting for your autonomy and agency. For as long as you can cater to his ego, he shall grant you the privileges you desire.

That has to be enough for now. You have to make it so.

Because this is you walking on that tight rope but you don't know whether you're going to make it to the other side (be it in the literal or metaphorical 'why did the chicken cross the road' sense), and this is the only way you can find and secure that balance.

Your eyes wander, counting the scars still prominent on his chest and stomach. All loud, blaring siren-like reminders of the kind of hardships he continues to face as what he declares himself a higher being. It's something he claims to wear with pride, but why does it also seem to make him feel lost all the same? You recognize it in his longing gazes sometimes. You wonder if the reason why he's so desperate to cling to you is because you have something he no longer has in himself. A semblance of identity, perhaps?

Or maybe it's in your confidence, your own convictions, your own stubborn pride getting in the way and these traits of yours are a mirror to his own.

Ragged breathing snaps you back to reality, a reality you'd much rather not live, as your gaze flits to Geto's face, flushed, debauched, yet doesn't seem that exhausted even after being milked over and over and over. You try to match his pace. His stamina. You're nowhere near his level, but you want to give him a taste of his own medicine, see what it feels like to be on the receiving end.

And yet… he doesn't mind it.

Sitting in silence, never mind his labored breathing--at least you get that much out of him--you don't lift yourself from his cock, somehow still stiff and rigid and ready for another round. It's like the slightest thing about you can set him off and make him want to go at it like rabbits again. You're not sure whether to take that as a compliment because you had hoped to actually tire him out.

Almost isn't good enough.

"Darling," Geto coos, as your eyes chase after that barely noticeable bead of sweat glide across his browline. "What else do you have in store for me tonight?"

"It's gotten quite late."

"Nonsense. The night is still young and I must have more of you," he counters, "This won't end until I say so."

"You aren't supposed to be calling the shots tonight, Suguru. You promised me!"

"Maybe I might have stretched the truth a little," he sighs like he's almost guilty about it but you know this man has never felt guilty for a single damn thing he's ever done. "I can't help it. Do you see yourself? Look at you--flawless. Perfection. And this is all mine."

He pries himself up, supporting himself on his elbows as he dives his head between your breasts, kissing either mound and humming at the suppleness of your skin.

"Clearly the world is in your favor because how else could such a perfect being exist? And who is better than to cherish such perfection, than a superior being such as me?"

There he goes again…

"I adore you. You are the epitome of what a perfect being should be. A deity amongst filth that don't deserve to walk the same Earth you dominate."

Is he going a bit too far with this? Absolutely. Are you at all flattered? Definitely not, you have made that painstakingly clear but that doesn't seem to get through to him at all. You don't know what to do or to say when he gets into these reverent moods--which are coming far more often these days and there's a part of you that wants to relish in it. Even if he sounds just as delusional as he often does, at least these lies are beautiful, like woven silk in an intricate pattern.

"Suguru, I think we should call the rest of the night off," you murmur as you brush your fingers through his enviously long, thick raven hair, admiring the softness, wondering how such beauty is wasted on a man like this. He nuzzles his nose deeper into your cleavage, his lips teasing your skin. You fight back a wince. "You can't show up at your ceremony exhausted tomorrow morning."

He grumbles something under his breath, while considering your words. You're right- there isn't going to be much merit in him showing up to his cult as anything less than the pristine perfect imagine he's built up for himself.

A deity who is worshipped by the very filth he despises… on some other level of an ego trip.

Pathetic. Beyond it.

And yet, understanding that changes nothing about how you still have no real power.

"Perhaps we should wash up and prepare for bed," he concedes after a longer period of reflection. "We have plenty of time to make up for this later."

Oh, absolutely. It's not like you have anything else to offer. He struggles to find some semblance of his true identity in all of this mess while you struggle with just about everything else besides that very thing. In spite of that, though, you are going to do everything to keep your dignity in tact. Nothing he does is going to take it away, even if you do feel something like love in return for him--whatever he is, whoever he is. Whatever he is or whoever he is, he's not the man you fell in love with, he's not the man you actually wanted, once upon a time, to be your forever.

He can't let you go, and you can't let some fallacy of him go.

Are you really so different from each other?

That's a can of worms you're not sure you want to pry open and unleash onto the world.

After washing up, the two of you retire to bed, his arms snaked around your midriff as he presses gentle kisses along your back and spine. In an almost twisted way, it lulls you into a sense of security--if for no other reason than it's something familiar to you--and you drift off into sleep, the last thing you hear is him murmuring words of affection you doubt has ever been true.

For once you welcome the familiarity of Geto ushering you out of bed and thrust into the typical routine. Sometimes even you want to shut off the need to operate on your own and he doesn't waste a second of taking advantage of this particular mindset of yours. It's one of the myriad of reasons why he chose you: he sees you as something vulnerable, something to be taken under his care.

You might have found that insulting a while back. Now you find a sort of comfort in it if for no other reason than you don't have to fight for something. You have been fighting all of your life. Maybe him taking you back is a sign--one blaring at you to lean on something and just let someone else drive.

Why are you so against that in the first place, you wonder, as Geto brushes through your hair before tying it up into a messy bun. He kisses the crown of your head as he finishes wrapping you in a new robe he's designed for you.

What's so wrong about letting him ?

You don't even know anymore. You get to have a break. From thinking, from scheming, from your less than kind mind whenever you're left to stew in your thoughts for a moment too long…

There's nothing wrong with leaning on him, is there?

Is it a crime to actually lean into this now?

You slouch into his chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat (and always shocked to find one), and his eyebrows shoot up, but not out of alarm than intrigue. He doesn't miss a thing when it comes to your needs--not a moment too soon and you hear him murmuring something into your ear in that damning tone of his. The one he uses when he thinks he can get something out of this, or when he thinks he can leverage this mindset you're in which could change at the drop of a hat and he knew it. It doesn't stop him from trying.

"Darling, what's the matter? You're not acting like yourself," he remarks, but it's not out of criticism, no. Just an observation, and a keen one. Like you have said before, he doesn't miss anything when it comes to you. "Did you want to cancel the plans we've made for today?"

"There were plans?" You murmur through a yawn, making your eyes water. Suddenly the idea of being engulfed in blankets again doesn't sound so bad, even if it is his bed you're going to occupy. What's it matter? A bed's a bed. A home's a home. And you don't have to lift a finger anymore because he can take care of you. What are you fighting about anymore? You don't even remember anymore, but you know you're kind of tired of fighting for your life, when you know you don't have to, you don't have to anymore, right?

His laugh rings through your ears, and you don't jolt awake or anything. You don't have that chip on your shoulder like you normally do whenever you're within proximity of him or the thought of him even crosses your mind. No, in fact, you might even go as far as to say you're charmed by his presence, the warmth you remember once upon a time, being a comfort to you.

"You were going to accompany me during this morning's prayer, but I can let you rest for a while longer."

"Can't you cancel?" You grumble, nuzzling your face into his chest, finding yourself smiling at the firmness of his muscles. You miss those. You do kind of miss those a lot and calling them your favorite thing. The kind of abs you can grate cheese on or sharpen knives with, so nice. "And just stay with me?"

You don't know what's going on with you either. Maybe you are just over it. Over struggling altogether. Doesn't he like that kind of thing?

Doesn't he like that you want him to stay? You can't tell. He stiffens against you, and you can feel the dread pooling into your heart, pumping slower, like it's giving out just like you're giving out on everything you have tried to deny yourself.

"Do you really want me to?" He asks, his tone surprising you--he's just as shocked by this sudden shift in you and maybe he's skeptical.

You hum in agreement, droopy eyelids finally squeezing shut as his arms snake around your midriff and Geto escorts you back to the bedroom, settling you down on the edge of the bed. Your eyes flit up to his face, and there it is--a grin so wide and his face is practically aglow like he's in the best part of the fairytale.

Must be nice, you think, that he's getting what he wants after working so hard to win you back. You don't know. You don't know if it's true.

Geto closes in on you, caging you with his body like he can't bear to let you get away (and he can't, he's made that painstakingly clear from the get go). Desperate lips peppering a trail of reverent kisses all over your face and neck, stopping at your shoulder where he pauses to breathe, the way he chases after your touch makes you think he's holding himself back from doing something much worse.

Geto's lips capture yours in another fervent kiss, the desperation evident in his mannerisms, his tongue pushing past your teeth and sliding against yours, as his body closes into yours even more until you're engulfed between him and the mattress. He pulls back for a moment, his dark violet eyes scanning your flushed features, before he presses his forehead into yours. His eyes don't blink. Drinking in the sight of you like he doesn't want to forget even the most obscure detail or fact about you.

It's in these moments where you are most loved, and he's the only one who can give it to you. He's probably right about that. In what most of the average man lacks, he absolutely has. Maybe you're coming to terms with that--maybe you're okay with it being Geto.

Your hands fly up to his face, thumbs tracing the small details, the little mole under his right eye, the plumpness of his lips, bruised a bit from how hard he's kissed you like his you're his lifeline. It's these things that keep bringing you back to him like a bad habit, and you can be mad. You can blame yourself, but does it make a difference when he knows as well as you do you can't fight your true feelings or desires?

His eyebrows raise as he sits back to observe, and time slows, like in those cheesy romcoms your mother used to make you watch to force you to bond with her. His eyes are striking and intense like the precious gems a dragon hoards in its lair. And all they're doing is feasting upon you. Taking you in as much as you're taking him in, because maybe there isn't anyone else out there for you. He's right.

Geto leans into your touch, kissing into your palms. Your breath catches, mouth devoid of anything to say when in normal circumstances you're smart-talking him or something of the kind.

"I don't think I can deny you anymore," you admit, biting your lip, "But I also just… don't trust you."

"I know," he replies, "But we can make this work. I'm not such a bad guy. I've proven that to you."

"But you're not the good guy, either."

"Is anyone?" He retorts with a grin that has a more playful edge to it this time.

"No, not really," you agree, "But I don't agree with what you do. What you plan to do. From what little I understand of it all."

"I don't need you to," he says, a finger brushing away a strand of your hair out of your eyes. He always hates not to be able to see you in all of your glory. He's never stopped making those syrupy sweet remarks about how you get more beautiful each time he lays his eyes on you and it's not fucking fair that he can get away with all of that.

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"Stay."

The request falls from his lips like it's the simplest answer to everything. And maybe it is. Maybe you're the problem: overcomplicating it all when you can just give him another chance to prove himself, but that goes against how you usually move in your life. You don't want to be the kind of girl who gives a man too many chances to let you down.

And maybe it's just not that black and white.

Something catches in your throat again. "You know I have a life outside of you."

"And I won't deny you of that life, should you still want that," he replies, "But stay. I don't need you to agree with me. I don't even need you involved in that part of my life. You aren't either way. You're a much bigger part of my life. I want to make you understand how much more important you are to me."

"Kidnapping me isn't exactly a wise way to go about it."

"I never claimed I was the one with all the brilliant ideas. That's more up your alley."

"How dare you, appealing to my ego like that!"

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing."

"It's the worst. You're the worst! For thinking you can just swoop into my life over and over again until I cave."

"Which you did."

"Which I did, okay yeah, I'll let you have that one. But it's only because I can't deny my feelings anymore and you know it and I know it and I just hate that I can't hate you after everything I've learned about you and I just don't know how to go about this and you can't blame me for that and I hate that you think that just the fact that you love me so much fixes everything!"

"It doesn't."

"You're right! It doesn't! It doesn't change the fact that you lied to me so much about who you are and now I have to know you all over again. I'm not even sure which versions of yourself is truly you and that's just not fair. I might love a man who doesne't even really exist and that's even more unfair to me. Do you understand that? Like, does that get through your brain or are you completely brain dead and too focused on your ultimate life goal and that's destroying the world for whatever bizarre reason that I can't possibly hope to understand?"

"The man you knew before is still me," he insists, "Maybe a filtered version, but it's still me. I didn't completely lie about who I was. I was real with you--as real as I can make it without telling you what goes on behind closed doors. As you can imagine, this sort of thing isn't something we share with the general public."

"Yeah, no damn kidding," you mutter, "Still doesn't make me any less pissed at you. But I still love you. That's the annoying part of all of this!"

"Baby--"

"--no, you're letting me vent and you're not talking again until I finish venting! I am so sick of you thinking you can get away with this all the time and I am so sick of myself for falling for it each and every single time. How do I know you're not just going to disappoint me all over again and we're back at square one? Huh? What am I supposed to do then?--!"

"--You don't have to have all the answers now--"

"--I said you are NOT talking until I figure out what I want to say!--!"

"--Do you know what you want to tell me that you haven't already or that I haven't already inferred myself?"

"Oh yeah? And what is it that you think I'm going to say? What else can you figure out that your curses haven't already revealed to you, all of my deepest darkest feelings?"

"Stop wasting your breath and your energy," he begins, tapping your nose. "You're right where you need to be now. I am going to take care of you. No questions asked. I don't have all the answers for you, and you don't need to have all the answers now. As much as I joke and enjoy the ego boost, I'm no God who is ever omnipresent or omnipotent. I'm as clueless as how to go about things as you are. I don't admit such vulnerabilities to anyone."

You open your mouth to speak. Nothing leaves your usually rambly mouth because that's something the two of you have in common. But nothing is coming. Not a thought, not a quip, not a witty comment…nothing.

You shut your mouth as drool begins to drip out of the corner.

He laughs, swiping the bit off with his thumb.

"I'm glad you're coming to terms with something, my dear. It's only I who can truly see you. Knows what you want. Knows what you like. I'm still the man for you," he goes on, "And I don't plan to be anything other than that for you. You are mine as much as I am yours. Believe it or not, you have vexed me in a way I can never take back. I am so enchanted by you, and I have never once uttered such things out loud. I am usually… somewhat in control of what I allow others to see. But with you, I don't understand. I am… different. I feel different. Maybe not better, but I change around you."

Are you in some kind of fever dream or is Geto spilling his guts out to you for once in his life? And especially for once in the entire duration of you knowing him and falling for him. He's spilling his guts out. To you. He's trying to make amends. For you. He's trying. At all.

Because of you.

His finger traces along the column of your throat, stopping above your collarbone. "I cannot let go of you. You are everything, darling. I just hate to see that I have hurt you--even if I didn't want to. It doesn't matter. We can make this work. But you have to try to find it in you to trust me again. Even a sliver of it is enough for now. Plant the seed, and over time, it'll bloom into something glorious."

"I…"

He pushes his pointer finger against your lips. Shushing you in a second. "Let's not waste your breath any longer. Let's rest for now. How we decide to move on with this is an issue for our future selves. Right now, I just want you to stay. Can you do that for me?"

Numbly, you nod. Rather than another night of physical intimate bliss, he spoons you like you're a frail, fragile scared kitten, covering the two of you in the large comforter. For once, he brings up something you can't logic your way out of, and you're still grappling with that as sleep takes you.

Sure, you'll agree to his terms: this is a problem for a future you, but not now.

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