Title: The Third Justification — Chapter 2, The Cost of [Dis]obedience
Word Count: 10.1k~
Plot -> Chapter 1 -> Chapter 3 (pt. 1) -> Chapter 3 (pt. 2) -> Chapter 4 (pt. 1) -> Chapter 4 (pt. 2) ✨️
Trigger warnings (this list may grow as I continue to write the story): abduction, stalking, possessive/yandere behavior, mentions of breeding/forced pregnancy, psychological manipulation, canon-typical violence (e.g., Suguru killing useless monkeys, curses hurting/eating people), non-con/dub-con, past and present trauma.
Tags: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader, Darkfic, Yandere Geto, Possessive Geto, Psychological Horror, Non-sorcerer Fem!Reader x Geto, Murderous Intent, Non-con/dub-con, Smut, 18+, MDNI 🤺
AN: There is a specific calendar date that I mention in this chapter that is not established in canon. So, I guesstimated it based on the date of the report of Geto’s final mission as a student of Jujutsu High. This has SMUT, so MDNI! Please enjoy 💚
Next -> Chapter 3
Chapter 2 — The Cost of [Dis]obedience
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A crescent moon hung in the midnight sky, shining brightly until it was overtaken by an incoming storm full of dark, dreary clouds.
Not long after that, the quiet of the twilight hour was interrupted by a growing crescendo of rolling thunder and the ‘pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter’ of rain droplets tapping against the roof and wet ground.
The noise slowly pierced through your consciousness and invaded your desolate dreams. Often now, they were deprived of anything joyful, replaced instead by nightmares filled with shadows of those things—cursed spirits.
As you stirred, your eyes fluttered open to face the ceiling of your room for the past three months—a sight that reminded you how none of the horrific revelations and torments you’d endured had been hallucinations.
You'd gone your entire life in ignorance of those things' existence.
Years. So many simple, easy years.
How you wished you could return to that time—before he'd forced you to become aware. Mercifully, you couldn’t always see them, but empty spaces and corners in a room would never look the same again.
If only you could erase the moment you'd crossed paths with him, then everything in your life would have been okay.
Boring. Normal. Sane.
You'd be home or at work—stressed about deadlines that now paled in comparison to your current situation. It was almost laughable. Never in your past life could you have imagined missing such trivial things.
But most of all, you missed your friends, your family, and… him—someone who felt like the complete opposite of your captor.
Had any of them looked for you? Or reported you missing?
Part of you hoped they had tried to find you, even if their efforts were pointless and in vain. You knew the devil lying beside you would never let them uncover your location.
It—he—was still sleeping.
Eyeing his bare chest and the steady rhythm of his breathing, you bitterly noted how peaceful his slumber seemed. How it was possible for him to rest so easily after the monstrosities you'd seen him commit, you'd never know or understand.
That's why you considered him an omen—one that was solely brought into this world to unleash a plague of death upon humanity. Or rather, upon the humans he had unfairly deemed unworthy of existing—useless ‘monkeys’ incapable of jujutsu sorcery, something you'd learned people were born with or without. A total game of luck and genetics. It made his disdain all the more ridiculous and aggravating.
You'd also grown so tired of his constant use of that derogatory term.
But even more so of the three special ones he'd reserved for you.
Bug, pet, problem.
Each term was used in accordance with his ever-changing temperament towards you.
You’d eventually figured that out within these past three months. It was useful information to have, and it helped prepare you for his requests, experiments, or… debaucherous desires.
He’d call you a bug when he felt repulsed by you and how much he wanted you despite it.
Pet, for when he let himself indulge in that lust, allowing himself to forget—if only for moments of time—that you were beneath him.
And, worst of all, problem for when…
You instinctively gulped, feeling an almost suffocating lump form in your throat before continuing the reflection.
For when he was truly furious and reminded of who he was—and what he was supposed to do with a worthless thing like you.
He’d used it again just a week ago when you disappointed him for the second time. Out of spite, a part of you hoped you’d never give him what he wanted: a pregnancy, a child—his child.
But the other half of you… was terrified of the consequences.
What would happen to you if you never could? If he lost patience?
You'd been on birth control for over a year before all this. Women coming off it can sometimes take just as long to conceive.
Would he finally get it over with and kill—
Before you could finish the thought, you felt the heavy weight of his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer and towards his warm body in the process.
Your back was now flush against his hard chest while his hot breath slowly ghosted along the shell of your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, and goosebumps bloomed like static across your skin in response.
Shit, was he awake?
“If you can't sleep,” he murmured, voice low, raspy, suggestive, “we can always do something else. Try again.”
He bit your ear, hard enough to make you flinch. A throbbing, hot ache exploded at the site as he moved on, dragging his tongue down your neck and towards your collarbone, where his teeth met your flesh once again and sank in.
You helplessly yelped at the second and sudden rush of pain he'd brought on, unknowingly feeding the complex need he felt for you in the heat of this moment.
He kissed the newly formed mark he'd left on your skin, red and angry as ever. His actions almost seemed like a loving gesture—as if he were asking for forgiveness for the harshness of his affection.
You bit your lower lip, stifling a defeated, pitiful laugh that threatened to escape past it. What a ridiculous, passing notion. Monsters like him weren't capable of remorse.
“Yeah. That's what we'll do,” he decided without your input. Not like it would've even mattered.
Fuck. No. No. No.
Your stomach twisted as you felt him move away from you, turning you around to face him in the process. The look in his eyes could only be described as hungry, desperate, vile.
“Come, pet,” he held your chin in his hand, “I want you on top this time.”
This wasn't a request from your captor.
It was a demand, and no amount of tears or begging would change his mind now. It wasn't even worth the effort anyway—pity had only worked on him once before. Hell, that one time might have just come down to sheer dumb luck, too.
Best not to push it.
Especially not now.
Not after he had shown you, at the greatest expense of others, just how painful he could make your last moments on this Earth. Every bloodcurdling scream, every morbid detail of what he did to those poor souls was burned into your memory—a constant reminder of the reality you were in.
You were trapped in a losing war against him.
And the only way to survive was to choose your battles wisely.
“Yes, master,” you obediently replied, the words bitter on your tongue as you numbly moved to straddle him like the good pet he expected you to be.
Survive. Just endure and survive.
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The faint creak of aged wood and lingering traces of incense hung in the meeting room where Geto conferred with Suda. Tatami mats softened the floor beneath them, while paper shoji screens filtered in the soft gray light of a rain-soaked morning—a lingering echo of the almost incessant thunderstorms over the past week.
In the center of the room sat a low-lying wooden table. At the head of it, Geto comfortably occupied his seat. To his right, Suda sat poised with a clipboard full of important updates in hand.
“As of today, we've collected a total of 3,653 curses,” Suda reported, reading off her notes.
“We're right on schedule then,” Geto replied, tone light, casual, optimistic.
“As far as funds,” she continued, lifting a paper from the board to double-check, “we've begun blackmailing three new individuals. They're quite wealthy, so they should compensate for the two we recently exhausted and disposed of.”
“Mm. Good,” he murmured, lacing his fingers together in his lap.
“Be sure Mimiko and Nanako receive their share for the month.”
“Already done,” Suda replied.
“Should I proceed with our previous arrangements when they come asking for more?” she asked matter-of-factly, flipping to the final page on her clipboard.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest to his throat, the sound rough and unbothered.
The added cost didn’t faze him. So long as Mimiko and Nanako were happy, content, and secure under his care, the extra expenditure was more than justified.
Besides, he was no stranger to his girls’ expensive tastes and spending habits. He couldn’t help but spoil them, indulging their every want and whim as though it were second nature. Whether it was ensuring they always had the latest technology on the market, helping them keep up with new flashy trends, or accompanying them to spots that piqued their interest, he never hesitated.
He even recalled the afternoon he had joined them at a popular themed café—the same one where his eyes had first settled on you. Perhaps that had been one indulgence of theirs with consequences far more significant than he had anticipated.
“Yes, please continue to budget for their additional expenses.”
The corners of Suda’s mouth moved into a knowing smile as she nodded, jotting down a quick notation. “Understood.”
“Next on the agenda is Negi. He’s out recruiting and reported locating a first-grade curse you may be interested in acquiring,” she continued, eyes flicking down to the available notes in her hand. “It's in the Miyagi prefecture. He plans on sending me more details by tomorrow.”
“Sounds promising. Please provide those to me when he does.”
“Of course,” she confirmed as the papers quickly settled back against the clipboard.
“That concludes all the updates for now.” She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze directly. “Is there anything else you'd like me to work on, Geto?”
“Look into fertility treatments,” he said with a quiet sigh. “I may have to resort to alternatives if she continues to underperform.”
“That’s not surprising considering she's a non-sorcerer. Is it really worth the trouble?” Suda asked, brows lifting slightly.
“Perhaps not. But I'd like to try either way.”
“Though I don’t fully understand your reasoning, I’ll get started on it.”
She rose, adjusting the clipboard beneath her arm as she crossed to the sliding door. With a soft swoosh, she slid it open. Turning slightly at the threshold, she offered a parting glance over her shoulder. “Till next time, then, Geto.”
“Thank you, Suda.” He gave a short, appreciative nod and waved goodbye.
When the door closed, the room fell silent—leaving him alone with only his thoughts for company. Geto exhaled a hot breath, closing his eyes as he slowly massaged the back of his neck with the heel of his palm. Opening them again, he stared blankly forward before rolling his stiff shoulders. Several faint cracks from his movements barely filled the silence as he began to ponder.
All these promising updates and numbers.
Except yours.
In just three months, all you’d given him was two failed pregnancies and one pathetic attempt to escape him—a bid that had not ended well for anyone involved, least of all the fools who had tried to help you flee.
He considered their attempt to steal you away from him a blasphemous act worth the highest price.
Those filthy, fickle fucking monkeys had made a mockery of his authority.
And they had to pay for it. He had to make sure that no one would ever dare try it again—most importantly, you.
Accordingly, he set his cursed spirits upon the traitors, reducing them to ruins of flesh and bone, their bodies destroyed, defiled, and devoured beyond recognition right before your very eyes. Oh, yes, he had given you a front row seat to the bloody spectacle.
It was not enough that they suffered their fate—no, he needed you to watch, to listen, to absorb every gruesome detail. Each act of heinous violence was meant to teach you a lesson, to show you the cost of disobedience.
Guts and gore had repeatedly stained your clothes, your body, and—he hoped—your very soul. He wanted their premature deaths to weigh heavily on you, the same way Haibara’s weighed on him.
His shoulders slumped as the dark memory from his past resurfaced. He could still picture his friend's battle-torn corpse laid out in Jujutsu High’s morgue as if it had only happened yesterday.
He was so young, taken far too soon from this world.
And for what? For the sake of ungrateful non-sorcerers, the very root of the problem in Japan. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that would never truly fade over the years.
He sighed, taking a moment to recollect himself before returning his thoughts back to you.
At least the ordeal hadn't been entirely useless. As it turns out, repeatedly keeping you one shallow breath away from death's door had left its mark: you were now able to see spirits on a semi-permanent basis.
For the rest of your life, you'd see shadows, fleeting glimpses into a world once unseen. This outcome aligned with the information Yuki Tsukumo had once shared with him, how fear might help force non-sorcerers to evolve to a higher state.
While this pleased him, it wasn't quite the end result he wanted.
It was maddening and tiresome how you had disappointed him in nearly every regard.
Save for… that.
He clenched his fist and slammed it onto the wooden table, creating splintering cracks that traveled along the edges beneath his knuckles. Anger and arousal coiled and flared through him as his pulse quickened, resulting in a warmth that scattered across his body.
He'd started to feel like a depraved animal in heat, taking every chance he had to mount his bitch.
And no matter how many times he’d partaken—sunk his teeth into the sinfully sweet fruit that was you—it was never enough.
Any semblance of restraint in him had begun to rot. You were temptation made flesh, and he’d willingly given in every time.
It was shameful, disgusting, and beneath him to feel this way about you. Your failures and betrayal thus far had made this truth more than clear to him.
Yet, he couldn't bring himself to resist the scent of your skin—still as intoxicating as the first day he saw you. Nor the whimpers that softly slipped past your supple lips, or the harsh breaths you rewarded him with when he pressed into you, or… fuck, the way your body clenched and yielded under his—even when you tried to fight it.
God, all this reflection had left him flustered and frustrated in more ways than one.
And all before the day's next obligations.
He groaned as he fruitlessly attempted to gather himself. Refocusing his thoughts on updating his previous hypotheses instead.
Repeated trauma had, in fact, heightened your awareness of cursed spirits, but not fully. Was there a way to change that?
Could carrying his child make your flawed perception into something more permanent?
Hell, would that glimmer of sharpened sensitivity you'd gained improve his child's chances of inheriting cursed energy?
These were questions he wanted answers to.
And you were the only one he'd ever want to provide them.
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September 23, 2016
There were moments in between the growing days that you spent trapped here where things just felt different, off, if you will.
Spurred on by a bizarre request from your tyrant master, you sensed that today was one of them.
“You'll be joining me for the day. Dress accordingly,” he'd bluntly ordered. To which you meekly replied with a “yes, master.”
Tomoe assisted you, quickly helping you into each layer of your garments, making you presentable enough to be worthy of your title within Geto's cult—the bearer of his future heir.
For those in the dark, you might have looked like a demimondaine, polished and adorned to reflect his favor. If only they knew you were just like them—another prisoner, forced into the role he made for you as his mistress, his pet to toy with, his bug to bully, and his problem to correct.
After the stunt you'd pulled with those traitorous monkeys, he'd made sure every single member knew the purpose you served, and the fatal repercussions that awaited if anyone dared interact with you without his explicit permission.
After being dressed as quickly as humanly possible, you hurriedly arrived at the large meeting room. Geto was already seated at the low-lying table in the center of the room.
No one else had arrived yet.
‘Thank goodness,’ you'd thought as you awaited his next command.
He looked you up and down thoroughly before finally speaking.
“Come sit by me.” He seemed satisfied with your appearance—that was a relief.
You bowed and walked towards the seat to his left, softly settling on the cushion beside him.
A faint knock was heard at the door to which Geto acknowledged with one word, “enter.”
It was Tomoe.
“My lord and lady. I've brought you some morning tea and fresh fruit. May I serve it to you?”
“You may place it on the table, but the lady shall pour my tea.”
“Of course, my lord.”
How old-fashioned could this man be? Internally, you rolled your eyes but obeyed nonetheless.
You were lucky to have been taught some traditional etiquette by your mother; otherwise, he would've used it against you. A pang of homesickness hit you at the passing memory of your mom's gentle lessons. Oh, how you hoped she was doing well.
“I'm intrigued that you know how to do that properly.”
“My mother taught me, master.”
At your reply, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed annoyed by the information you had shared. You supposed that made sense, your mother was, by his standards, a ‘monkey’ after all.
But his emotions weren't geared towards your mother. Rather, much like you, it had made him reflect on his own.
“You'll have to do the same with ours,” he murmured, half lost in thoughts of the past.
“I’ll make sure to…” you trailed off, taking the initiative of plating his favorite fruits and setting them next to his tea. You'd already memorized such minute details and hardly expected him to care or notice.
But you were wrong. He had noticed the gesture. In fact, it had led to more reminiscing on his part.
As he stared down at the carefully sliced fruit, he thought of his mother again—of quiet childhood mornings spent choosing freshly picked produce at the market, then learning how to prepare and elegantly arrange them just so, making sure to save some for his father when he returned home from work.
“Is it not to your liking, master?” you asked, worried you'd somehow done something wrong.
The soft tremor in your voice brought him back to himself. His eyes darted in your direction, taking in the anxiousness spelled out on your features—fearful eyes, trembling lips, and all.
Though he gave no visual sign of it, the memories had unsettled him, but he refused to dwell on them. Instead, he aimed to distract himself with something real, something he could feel, touch.
Something like you.
Moving forward, he leaned in your direction, cupping one side of your face with his palm before pulling you in and pressing his lips to yours.
As the kiss lingered, an intrusive thought struck him. ‘If this experiment of mine fails, will you have to join my parents, too, one day?’
Though unaware of his inner unrest and dark thoughts, you noticed that he was gentler than usual, the act filled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.
As your lips parted, he murmured a praise, “No, you did well. Thank you, pet.”
You nodded ever so slightly, still dumbfounded by his soft words. You never expected to hear him speak such niceties. Especially not to you.
It was so far removed from the norm that you couldn't help from getting lost in his eyes momentarily. Only looking away when he finally moved back into his place, and you remembered yourself.
But…
‘Was that sadness you'd just glimpsed in his eyes? Or had you just imagined it? Was he even capable of such an emotion?’ You wrestled with these thoughts.
Regardless, you decided to gather your own plate and tea before you went looking for an answer that could only land you in more trouble.
Not much later did the first so-called guests begin to arrive. Immediately, you could sense the shift in his demeanor as they filled the room, one by one.
They might have been higher-ranking followers with money, but they were still ‘monkeys’ nonetheless.
His hatred for them was quite obvious to you. And you hoped they weren't naïve enough to believe themselves special.
Keeping their heads low or aimed only in his direction, they did their best not to look at you for very long, or at all, really. You were grateful that they knew better than to test his limits, lest you have to witness another horrific murder at your expense.
Their evasive movements didn’t escape his notice either—he could tell they were disturbed by your presence, as if even just being around you might incur his wrath. It brought him a smug, twisted satisfaction knowing their fear of him now extended to you.
That’s exactly what he wanted.
“Rather than keep you all waiting any longer, let’s begin, shall we?”
He set his cup down with deliberate care, fingers lingering on the porcelain rim before folding his hands loosely atop the table. There was no need for respect or proper etiquette on his part here, not in a room full of lesser beings.
“I've called this meeting to discuss a new project I have in mind—one that I expect you all to enthusiastically support and fund.” He grinned, though it only appeared friendly on the surface.
And no one was truly fooled by it.
Meanwhile, you were in the dark, without the faintest idea of what new endeavor he was speaking of. Regardless, you looked to him and listened intently, like a dutiful wife might.
“I’d like to begin development of a private medical facility, staffed with the best and most capable. It's pertinent to our future.”
But he left out an important detail, one that wasn’t meant for this audience. At the very least, he wanted these professionals to be windows, individuals able to see cursed spirits without the help of a cursed tool. It was just another way he was preparing for a world without the weak rabble.
He expected no opposition, no rebuttal from his congregation of living banks. That is, until he heard someone clearing his throat to speak.
“But why would such a facility be needed, Lord Geto?” one of them braved the question.
‘What an idiot.’ You thought, not even venturing to look in the fool's direction.
“Its main purpose is to ensure the health of my future heir and the woman who carries them,” he patted your head, making sure everyone understood exactly who he was referring to by his statement.
His piercing stare never wavered from the hopeless man as he continued with his own question.
“Does that answer your ill-advised question, Mr. Tanaka?”
“P-please forgive me, Lord Geto. I-I didn’t realize…” Mr. Tanaka retreated from his seat and bowed low, hands pressed to the floor, shoulders shaking.
“You hear that, my pet?” He looked at you, eyes full of irritation at being questioned. It scared you, but you dared not look away from his gaze.
“Mr. Tanaka failed to realize you would need medical care while carrying our child. Isn't that funny?”
You nodded, unable to find your voice—you felt just like the pitiful Mr. Tanaka, intimidated and small as hell.
But just as before, when the two of you were alone, he shifted towards you from his seat. The faint rustle of his robes brushed against yours as his presence swallowed the space between you.
The palm of his hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he drew you in until… his lips pressed against yours.
And unlike before, this kiss was hot and relentless, stealing your breath and your will in the same instant as the fever of it consumed you both.
The only sound that dared disturb the silence of the room was that of your lips meeting. It was deep, possessive, and shamelessly drawn out. The whole of it was meant to make these monkeys uncomfortable, and it had.
When he finally broke away, his hot breath brushed against your lips, and you realized how fast your heart was racing.
You felt almost faint as he leaned back, calm and collected as though nothing had happened.
‘How cute.’ Geto thought, admiring the sight of you struggling to steady yourself, still flustered from his kiss.
“I’ll let my mistress decide your fate, Mr. Tanaka,” he suddenly declared.
“Should we forgive him for his lapse in judgment? Or is a punishment in order?” Geto tilted his head, a trace of amusement tugging at his lips as he waited for your reply.
But you didn’t know the right answer. What did he want you to say?
Before you could respond, Mr. Tanaka began begging you for mercy. You turned and looked at the poor man, then back at your master. This time, you could see the response he wanted reflected in his eyes. It was plain as day what you had to do, to say.
“I cannot, in good faith, forgive him for disrespecting you so, my lord,” you spoke softly, eloquently.
He caressed your cheek with his fingers, and you closed your eyes at the sensation, causing goosebumps to travel across your neck and collarbone.
With this one seemingly loving gesture, it was as if he were telling you that you’d made the correct choice, that your obedience deserved rewarding—like the fucking human pet he'd turned you into. And you hated yourself for it.
Nonetheless...
“Punish him as you see fit,” you finished, placing your hand atop his on your cheek.
A united front.
That’s what he wanted, and you had so perfectly, so devotedly given it to him.
Now, every monkey in this room and every servant who learned of your actions would think twice before offering you aid ever again.
One simple choice—one performance he’d asked of you—and he’d tightened the cage around you without lifting a finger. He was pleased.
“Of that we are in agreement,” he said at last, turning his gaze toward the trembling man still glued to the floor. “Mr. Tanaka, your monthly dues have been increased by forty percent.”
He gave a faux smile before ending with an unmistakable threat.
“I don't need to remind you what happens if payment is missed.”
About an hour later, the meeting had concluded with immediate plans set in motion for the facility.
As the lowly businessmen exited the room, Suda began reciting the next tasks for the day to you and your master.
He sighed loudly, unable to contain how annoying and distasteful he found this next chore—removing spirits from cursed monkeys to add to his arsenal.
And it unfortunately required him to listen to their pitiful pleas for aid.
But it was a necessary nuisance for the cause, so he'd endure it.
Before entering the public room reserved for such services, he made sure to warn you.
“Don’t get any stupid ideas. If you try to ask for help from any of them, I’ll kill them on the spot. You don’t want that, do you?”
You shook your head no.
“Then, keep playing along, like you did earlier.”
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Several cursed humans had been guided to his temple seeking his ‘salvation.’
He hardly listened to their cries, but you took in every single word. What's more, you could see the horrific spirits plaguing each one of the poor souls who visited. It tugged at your heartstrings, while he felt nothing at all.
With a simple motion of his hand, he removed the curses from them, transforming the creatures into spheres of malice that he'd then swallow and absorb once alone with you.
“They taste like a rag soaked in shit and vomit.” He'd commented unexpectedly as you watched him ingest one.
What else could you say to that except sorry?
“You should be. It's because of monkeys like you that I have to do this.” He sighed, then added an afterthought, “but at least it's for something worthwhile now.”
Finally, the last case of the day arrived.
But this one hit you harder than all the rest.
It was a young boy—no older than ten. He looked so scared, so helpless and tired, broken down by that thing hovering over him.
Just looking at his frail body made tears well up in your eyes. You blinked them away, trying your hardest to hide them for his sake.
The two of you watched as the boy's father bowed beside his son’s trembling figure and began pleading for aid from Geto.
Mr. Nakamura explained that he was at his wits' end; nothing the pair had tried thus far had helped his poor child, Hiro.
“There’s something following him,” he started, the panic audible in his voice. “He says she keeps calling his name… and that she looks like his mother.”
“But we lost her to the sea… three months ago.”
“I didn't believe him at first. I just thought he missed her. But then things… things started happening.”
“Please. Please help my child,” Mr. Nakamura cried.
As his father begged, the cursed spirit hovered over the boy, weeping softly as if mocking Mr. Nakamura. Its shape warped and folded around Hiro like smoke caught in water.
‘How terrifying,’ you thought, empathizing with both the father and son.
Then, without warning, it let out a guttural scream.
“H-grh-ir-ao!”
The sound itself was a horror—it was wet and gargled as if the thing were drowning just like Hiro's mother.
The boy whimpered, pressing his small hands over his ears, his shoulders shaking as he tried to disappear into himself.
You knew better than to interfere, but the boy’s sobbing cracked something deep inside you—or rather, awakened a maternal instinct you didn’t know existed yet.
Before you could stop yourself, you left Geto’s side and knelt beside the child, reaching over and offering yourself as a shield against the awful thing looming above him.
It didn’t like that at all. In fact, it became enraged, screeching out something that resembled a “GehHt AwHaYy!”
But Geto wasn’t about to let anything happen to you. He moved swiftly to displace it from the boy. Incredibly, though, it fought against him—like that monkey's worm before.
It clawed at the two of you, tearing through some parts of your kimono and Hiro’s shirt.
“Enough,” Geto commanded, releasing another curse to drag the wretched thing away from you and Hiro.
All the while it screamed, “noOah, mhngmy baayghby!” over and over until Geto was finally able to convert it into something he could consume and absorb.
“It's done,” Geto remarked, glancing toward Mr. Nakamura.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Mr. Nakamura wept. “What can I do to repay this blessing?”
Hiro was crying in your arms during the exchange between his father and Geto. He clung to you for what felt like dear life. You cooed softly, rubbing his back in comfort.
“Shh, shh. It's going to be okay now, Hiro. I promise. My master Geto took care of it. You’re safe now.”
Geto listened to your words, watching your every move as he replied to Mr. Nakamura.
“No need. Just take your child and go. Direct others my way if they find themselves in a similar situation.”
“Yes. Of course. Hiro, son, it's time to go.”
He sniffled. “T-thank y-you for pr-protecting me, Mrs. Geto.”
He twitched—somewhat annoyed that the juvenile had thanked you over him when all you had done was aggravate the spirit, but also because he had assumed you were his wife.
“Go. Live a happy life for me, Hiro. You're free now,” you whispered, hugging him one final time before he and his father left.
Geto grabbed you off the floor, his grip tight, harsh, and punishing. But that wasn't surprising given what you’d just done.
“What you did was foolish,” he said at once. “Putting yourself in danger for a useless monkey like that. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I just couldn’t-” you started, but then remembered who you were talking to. “I'm sorry, master, I moved without thinking.”
“Finish that first statement.”
“He was just a child… I couldn't help it. I wanted to save him.”
“But you didn't. I did—because I could. Can you understand the difference between the superior and inferior now?”
“Yes, master.”
“Really? Then which one are you?”
“I’m your inferior, master. All monkeys are.”
Your words almost made him laugh. To think he’d gotten you to call non-sorcerers monkeys when, only months ago, you’d been one yourself.
Amusing as it was, he needed to drive the lesson home.
He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“You’d do well to remember that.”
He tilted your head to the side and bit your neck. You quickly yelped out an “I will,” as the pain flared across your sensitive skin.
Moving back, he met your eyes again, his tone still as sharp as a knife.
“Don’t forget that you're mine, bug. How dare you try to leave me again? Didn’t you learn your lesson before?” His words slithered through you, leaving a chill that sank deep into your bones.
“But I wasn't-” you tried to say.
“No? What if that curse had struck something vital before I got to it?”
You stared in weary silence, unsure of what to say to quell his wrath. Distraught, your eyes flicked from one side of his face to the other.
“Don’t fool yourself into believing that I’ll allow you the peace that death brings. Unless it's by my hand or command, this is the only place you have. Do you understand that?”
“Yes—you're right…please forgive me master…” you begged.
“Just this once. For following my lead earlier.” He kissed you then, harshly crashing his lips onto yours, only releasing your hair as he finally pulled away.
And all you could do was accept it.
“Thank you for having mercy on me...”
He didn’t even acknowledge your words before calling for Tomoe, who appeared almost instantly to receive orders.
“Prepare a bath for the lady and me. And see to the state of her kimono afterward.”
“Right away, my lord,” Tomoe replied, scurrying off to complete her tasks.
“Come, pet. We need to get this damned monkey smell off of us.”
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“That boy thought you were my wife,” Geto murmured, nibbling along your neck from behind.
“And you didn’t correct him, either,” he added with the faintest smile, brushing his lips against your skin.
“S-ssorry, didn’t mean t-t-to im-imply anyth-thing” you squeaked, struggling to form and voice a coherent thought or sentence.
A low, hoarse chuckle followed your response. You could tell he was enjoying your struggle for words. And why wouldn’t he? He was the cause of your undoing after all.
“What’re you apologizing for? You were only following what I told you to do, right?”
“Y-yes mas-ster-r.” You huffed, voice cracking as he drew circles around your sensitive clit with a heavy hand. He had you trapped on his chest and between his legs in the bath.
“I don't think I mind that he assumed we were together anyway. Do you?” he asked, deliberately moving faster.
“No!” you moaned out, a little too quickly.
“Really? Or are you just agreeing because I'm making you feel good?”
“B-both.”
He laughed. “At least you're being honest.”
“P-please, can I come, master?” You begged, grabbing desperately at his hand beneath the water in need of release.
“What a selfish little thing you are. No, you absolutely cannot yet.” He bit your ear. “Turn around. Now.”
You already knew what he wanted.
Spinning your body around in the tub to face him, he quickly kissed you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your wet skin against his body until he finally slipped inside you.
“Haah... Ngghh.. Aaah...” you whimpered, holding onto his shoulders for leverage.
You ground your hips against him as he thrust upwards into you, slowly at first, but progressively faster, harder until the two of you were moaning and groaning to the rhythm of each desperate, slippery motion.
Water spilled over the edges of the tub, splattering across the floor as your movements grew wilder, more chaotic.
You leaned back, arching yourself away from him, while still holding on as tightly as you could. Somehow, you’d learned to forget yourself in these moments, picturing someone else underneath you to cope—someone you'd almost believed you could love.
“Fuck. Just like that. How do you always feel so fucking good, princess pet?” Geto grunted.
Replace pet for princess, and it was like you were writhing on top of another man. One who’d spoken these words in a different tone, but fucked you at the same ruthless pace—just without the violence behind it.
How was it possible that two polar opposites could sometimes say and act in such similar ways?
‘Oh fuck it, who cares? Who. Fucking. Cares.’ You rocked your hips against him even harder than before, chasing that release you so terribly needed, craved—God, ovulation was such a cruel bitch.
But the high of the moment, and every conflicting emotion that came with it, shattered when Tomoe’s voice broke through the door.
“My lord and lady, please forgive my intrusion.”
You fell back onto his chest, trying to stifle the noises still spilling from your lips as Geto kept pumping his mean cock into you. The remaining water in the tub splashed wildly against your bodies—a sound loud enough to betray what was happening behind the door.
His lack of decorum shouldn’t have surprised you; a false ‘god’ wouldn’t concern himself with the opinion of his servants.
“Leave. Now.” He spoke angrily through gritted teeth.
“Apologies, my lord, but you instructed me to report anything involving the twins.”
Those few words changed everything.
And not just for him, it worried you too.
“What's happened with the girls?” he demanded, already preparing to exit the bath as he lifted you off of him.
“I can assure you they’re safe, but they’re asking for my lady,” Tomoe replied.
He'd already dressed himself with a robe, ready to leave the room immediately, when Tomoe's response stopped him in his tracks.
“Let them know she'll be there in 15 minutes,” he answered, turning to look at you still sitting in the bathtub. You could tell, from the faint crease between his brows, that the request had caught him off guard.
“Of course. I’ll let them know right away. Please excuse me.” Tomoe replied.
Before he could even ask, you began giving him an explanation.
“I've been making them some custom clothes. My mother was a seamstress by trade and taught me everything she knows. I even helped her with orders sometimes.”
“I told them we could work on the last fitting today before knowing you'd need me…” You trailed off, unsure if you should continue or if he’d think you were just making excuses.
There was a brief moment of silence before he answered you, removing the robe he had haphazardly tied onto himself only a few anxious minutes ago.
“Next time, tell me if you have plans with Mimiko and Nanako. That’s an acceptable reason to delay your other duties.” He stepped back into the bathtub with you, grabbing a washcloth along the way. After adding body wash to it, he began rubbing it across your skin—just like he had the first time, when you were unconscious. How nostalgic.
“Once I get you clean, go to them.”
“Yes, master.”
“And don't worry,” he whispered in your ear, “we'll continue this later, pet.”
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He watched as you quickly dressed yourself and left the room.
It felt as though you’d taken sound itself with you, leaving only silence behind in the bath now.
Out of habit, he dragged his fingers through his hair, twisting the long strands into a loose knot before gathering them at the back of his head. Then he leaned back against the tub’s edge, closing his eyes as his arms came to rest along its sides, the dimming heat of the water only slightly dulling his frustration.
Try as he might, he couldn’t keep from feeling irritated by the timing of this interruption.
And the fact that you’d been so uncharacteristically receptive to him today only made it worse.
“What a waste,” he muttered out loud, pressing a damp cloth over his eyes and face.
With you gone, there was nothing left to keep his mind from drifting back to the date and its significance.
How had nine years gone by so quickly?
He felt no remorse for his actions that day—killing his parents was simply something he had to do. They had been a part of the corrupt system that unfairly condemned jujutsu sorcerers to death. Sparing them would’ve made him complicit, or worse—a hypocrite to his cause.
Despite his lack of contrition, his mind still wandered to the life he’d known before all of this. He thought briefly of his hometown—simpler days memorialized with the low hum of cicadas, the gentle clatter of wind chimes in the summer breeze, the glow of fireflies above fresh fields, and the quiet presence of the shrine near his home.
Then came the next chapter of his life as a jujutsu sorcerer.
A time when he naïvely believed that the proper shape of society followed the rationale of survival of the weakest, where strength existed to protect the weak, not to rule over them.
He still remembered calling his mother while unpacking his things at his new home—the dorms of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, Jujutsu High for short.
He’d even shared how lonely it was being the first to arrive. And just as you had done for the boy earlier, she’d comforted him, reminding him that he was never alone—that he’d always have their love and support. She’d gone on to say how proud they both were of him, casually slipping in that his father had bragged to all their neighbors about their son being accepted into a prestigious school in Tokyo.
But those small comforts from his parents belonged to a time before he met his true friends or his chosen family—people that actually know all of him, not just the “normal” parts fit for monkeys.
Sometimes, he still wondered if reconciliation was possible with Shoko, with Yaga, or even with Nanami.
But most of all, Satoru Gojo—his best friend, the only person who had ever truly understood him. In another week or two, it would mark nine years since he’d last seen him or Shoko, too.
At one point, they’d been equals—the two strongest sorcerers of Jujutsu High.
But things changed.
Shifted.
And Satoru alone became the strongest.
Then everything spiraled until he realized that the weak never deserved the protection of the strong.
What those villagers had done to his girls was the final straw, marking the exact moment he chose to forge his own path. One that stood apart from everything he’d been taught, and removed him from his best friend’s side.
He exhaled, thinking of the last conversation he'd shared with Satoru. His only regret was not finding a way to convince his friend to join him.
But that would’ve made things too easy—and nothing worthwhile ever is.
In the end, all this recollection had only reaffirmed what he already knew—the choice he’d made to kill his parents was necessary, justified.
And he stubbornly hoped that his choice of keeping you would be, too.
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The girls’ room looked and felt nothing like the rest of the hideout. It was warm, bright, and unmistakably theirs—decorated with pastel curtains, a vanity crowded with trinkets, and a shelf stacked with manga and music. It even smelled faintly of a popular perfume you'd recognized—one that had only been released a few months ago, before you were taken by Geto.
It was a welcome change of pace, not just to see something modern in this old place, but to hear laughter, too.
The twins giggled with each other as they tried to stay still for your final pins. You planned to shorten the skirts a little more, just as they’d asked.
You were calm, enjoying the familiarity of the moment as fittings like this were a part of your everyday life with your mother. It was nice—comforting even. That is, until his voice rang through the door and reminded you of where you were.
“May I come in, girls?”
“Of course, Geto-sama!” Mimiko happily responded.
As he entered the room, he observed the task you were completing on Nanako’s skirt. You noticed the faint furrow in his brows—was it too short for his liking?
“Is this length alright with you, master?” you asked, opting for being cautious.
“If that's what they want, then it's fine.”
‘Liar,’ you thought, completely aware that he was trying to allow them their freedom. You’d do him a favor then, even if he didn’t deserve it.
“Mimiko, Nanako, would you mind if I added built-in shorts underneath?” you asked before explaining. “I promise it’s in fashion. Most of my mother’s customers who were about your age requested it all the time.”
The girls looked at each other before Nanako responded on both their behalfs. “Yeah, okay, sure. How long’s that going to take though?”
“Hmm… three extra days at most if I only work on them before supper.”
“Awh, really? But we wanted to wear it this Saturdaaaay,” Mimiko whined.
He interjected, “Would you be able to finish faster if I reserved a day for you to work on them?”
“Yes, master. I could finish before Saturday if I had a full day without interruption.”
“Then this task shall be your only priority tomorrow.” He ordered.
You smiled, not minding this appointed duty. “I’ll do my best.”
“Oh, thank you, Geto-sama!” the twins happily exclaimed in unison. He kindly patted their heads, like the dotting father-figure he was to them.
It was a sight to behold—so much like the first time you'd seen them together at that café. It still seemed impossible to you, but somehow, this monster was capable of genuine love.
At least for them, anyway.
You’d never had that yourself, and for a moment, you felt almost jealous of their relationship.
‘How nice it must be to be cared for by a father like that,’ you bitterly thought. ‘Mine probably doesn’t even know I’m missing. And even if he did, he wouldn’t care.’
“Miss! Could we also add just one more thing to the top sweater?” Nanako asked, pulling you back to the present.
You couldn’t help but smile softly as you nodded.
“We sure can.”
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Night had long settled over the temple, leaving only the sound of crickets and the faint flicker of candlelight in his room. He found himself reminiscing again, but this time of you.
He was so moved by how good you’d been with his daughters today. Your smiles and words had been so sincere—so full of quiet joy as you tried to bring happiness to the two most precious people in his life.
Even more than that, you’d spent the entire day showing him how natural it was for you to act like a mother—gentle, patient, caring. It looked effortless on your part, always knowing just what to do to offer comfort, and just what to say to soothe or redirect without a trace of judgment.
And there was no denying how easily you’d read him like an open book back there, understanding his true feelings with a single look. An exchange that was so much like his parents, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the similarity.
Perhaps, deep down, he had wanted something like that for himself all along. And it was your presence in his life now that made him remember what today symbolized.
All of this combined had stirred something within him until he was ravenous in his want for you.
Quickly, he moved through the quiet halls toward your room, intent on getting what he wanted.
As he entered your room, he found you already asleep. But that fact alone changed nothing. Moving quietly, he slipped beneath the covers beside you, careful not to wake you yet.
For a few minutes, he simply lay there, tracing idle shapes on your exposed skin, watching as goosebumps rose beneath his touch, committing the rise and fall of your chest to memory.
Not much later, he noticed your eyes begin to flutter open.
“Master…?” you questioned in your dazed, half-asleep state.
Your drowsy voice, soft with sleep, made him want you even more.
“I’ve come to finish what we started, pet. You didn’t really think I’d forgotten, did you?”
You blinked up at him, still caught between dreaming and waking as he moved to hover above you. His advances began with gentle kisses, gradually increasing in heat and fervor with each passing second. He felt your breath hitch before entirely giving in to his tongue as it found its way past your lips and into your mouth.
You moaned, wrapping your arms over his shoulders and around his neck.
Propping himself up with one arm, he continued kissing you while the other explored your body. Moving underneath your slip, setting aside your panties to access your sex, only to find that you were already wet.
He smiled against your lips, satisfied with your parallel eagerness as he began teasing you, his fingers already tracing slow, torturous ministrations over your sweet spot. As if by instinct, he felt your body arch towards the pleasure his touch provoked.
He briefly broke the kiss to mock you, his hot breath ghosting across your lips.
“Look at you, acting just as selfishly as before.”
“S-sorry ma-” he didn’t let you finish, crashing his lips against yours in a moment of passion as he slowly slipped a finger inside you.
“Mmmph!” you cried out at the sudden intrusion, the sound muffled by his mouth over yours.
And because of your arousal, he began to effortlessly pump his finger in and out of your slippery hole. Nice and deep, while still managing to torment your clit with his mean thumb.
Once again, he moved back from your lips, giving you a chance to catch your breath. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, wide and pleading for more.
He chuckled, the sound deep and raspy, relishing the rare sight of you surrendering to your most basic desires. Perhaps you were finally learning your place. The thought only spurred him on further. “I didn’t know I had such a needy little whore.”
“M’not, ma-master,” you huffed out, the words already slurring together in this haze of heat and confusion.
“Is that so? Should I stop then?” he responded, ceasing all his actions and removing his hand from your sex. Your eyes widened in disappointment at the sudden absence, a desperate plea escaping past your lips before you could stop it.
“Wait! Please don’t stop now.”
You looked so pitiful. Or was it… beautiful?
He wasn’t sure which he should consider you in this moment. But either way, he savored it—drinking up your helpless reaction like the sweetest of wines. The craving to taste it himself nearly drove him mad, a low sound escaping him before he finally gave in to his impulses.
The next moment was a blur as he made quick work of your silk slip with his bare hands, tearing it off and throwing the remains onto the floor. You matched his urgency, dragging his shirt up and over his head with trembling hands as he removed the remaining articles of clothing that stood in the way of your bodies touching.
His lips met yours again before rolling downwards, peppering bites and kisses along the entire way—marking every inch of you as his. He settled at your breasts for a time, sucking and circling his tongue around your nipples as they rose to arousal, becoming ever so sensitive to his greedy pursuits.
A rush of heat spread across your body, and you lost yourself again. You couldn’t keep your hands away from him, fingers tangling in his long hair, wantonly grasping at him in an attempt to balance yourself as his every touch, every perverse movement, overwhelmed every nerve in your body.
But that wasn’t his final destination. No, he continued down, leaving a trail of heat and teeth until finally reaching the Nirvana he sought to corrupt between your legs.
Spreading and holding your plump thighs apart, he began lapping at your entrance with his eager tongue, sliding back up to tease your clit one slow lick at a time. He was so desperate to use that bundle of nerves against you until you fucking broke underneath him.
Your hands had followed him down, fingers still caught in his wild hair. You grasped at it in a frenzy as the sensations on your sex grew hotter, more erotic. Shallow, uneven breaths escaped you, each one failing to steady a heartbeat that only quickened beneath his touch.
Nonetheless, you shamelessly sought release, needing it more than oxygen and fearing none of the punishments you might earn from him, it seemed.
He felt your hips rut against his flattened tongue, back arching towards him as your body frantically aimed for more of his attention.
“M-Master, plea-please, can I come?”
He groaned, your words sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his throbbing cock—what an obedient little toy you’d been today, that was something else he’d have to work on making permanent.
For a brief second, he moved away from you to give a response. “I give you permission to lose control.” Then he continued lapping at your heat, matching the rhythm of your hips, enjoying the pull of your fingers on his scalp until the coil building inside you finally burst, and everything hit you all at once.
Your vision blurred as you cried out, body trembling, hands gripping at him like nothing else mattered in the world at this one moment in time.
But this wasn't over yet.
Drunk on the taste of you and that fucking beautiful display of depravity, whatever composure he had left snapped.
Removing your hands from his person, he positioned himself above you once more, sliding his throbbing cock along your slick entrance.
Still raw and overstimulated, he felt your body twitch at his teasing movements.
“C-can't s't-to-too much, master.” You breathed, barely registering above a whisper.
He plunged into you anyway, immediately filling you up all the way to the base, grinding his hips against you on purpose just to drive you a little more insane.
“Mmph, ma-master,” you choked out, unable to keep yourself together at the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you so soon after your release.
“Not master. Nngh. Suguru—It's Suguru, pet,” he grunted, pulling out and thrusting into you at an increasingly relentless pace, chasing his own high, totally lost and enraptured by you.
Why the hell had he asked you to do that? Who fucking cares.
“I want to hear you scream it,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
“Su-suguru, sug-uru, sugru!” you moaned loudly over and over again, between ragged breaths, tears prickling at your eyes as you desperately held onto his back, nails digging in, leaving bloody imprints behind.
It flipped an animalistic switch inside him to hear you cry out his name like that, as if all you needed was nothing but him. “Fuck. Don't stop.” He huffed out, now pounding you into the mattress as he savored every second he spent inside you.
He felt everything: your sex tightening around him, your nails trailing against his back, your staggering breaths.
All of it.
And each perfect detail was getting him closer and closer to his climax as he stared into your teary eyes. It stirred up a need to kiss you in comfort.
Oh fuck—he realized he might actually love you, justified existence or not.
He bit your lip then, the taste of blood flooding his and your mouths before he broke away, eyes fixated on your face once more.
“S'close,” you cried out, feeling that pressure building up all over again as his cock kept hitting just the right spots one ruthless thrust at a time.
“M’t-too, ngh together, pet,” he could hardly form a sentence.
He lovingly kissed you one more time before finally losing all control of his hips, haphazardly thrusting into you until the two of you came together—just as he had wanted, needed, ordered.
He felt your cunt convulsing around his throbbing cock as he filled you up with everything he had, still relishing in hearing his name pass your lips in hot whispers as the two of you came down from your respective highs.
You jolted, feeling him slip out of you as he maneuvered himself back onto the bed to lie next to you.
“Come here,” he instructed, signaling for you to lie on his chest. You listened, slowly moving to where he had pointed, fitting comfortably like the missing puzzle piece to his picture-perfect family.
He pulled you towards him, grabbing your hand and peppering kisses on it before landing his lips on yours affectionately in the afterglow.
As you parted, he made a simple statement while almost laughing. “Hmph, I could use a drink after that.”
You took his words seriously. “I can go fetch something for you, master.”
“Suguru. For tonight, it's Suguru,” he brushed your face with his hand, still smitten. You nodded, eyes darting in every other direction except his face.
“Anyway, there's no need for you to do that. We have servants for a reason.”
“B-but it's late and I don't mi-”
He cut you off with a gentle kiss, his lips barely grazing yours. The sound that left him was soft, almost a sigh as he parted away.
“Don’t ruin a good moment,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips, longer this time.
“To be here at my side is your only priority now,” he whispered between brief, lingering kisses that felt more tender than either of you were used to.
His next words carried a quiet command beneath their warmth. “Is that understood?”
“Yes… S-suguru.”
He thumbed your lips, enjoying how shyly you said his name when you weren't in the throes of passion.
“Good girl.”
And to hell with his parents—this day and night belonged to you and him now.
Twenty or so minutes passed when a maid arrived with water and tea for both parties.
After quite the taxing affair, it was a welcome intrusion.
Thirst quenched, the two of you resumed your previous position in bed with you draped over his chest.
As sleep began to take both of you, he made sure to whisper one final sentiment,
“Don't you dare fail me, pet. I can't lose you, too.”
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You expected things might be different after last night, when he treated you so sweetly, like a lover rather than a prisoner, comparable to a lowly bug beneath his feet.
It felt as if things might have shifted.
Changed into something new between the two of you.
You dared to hope he might turn kind and even consider letting you go.
But you were wrong.
So pathetically wrong, as everything returned to the status quo the following morning, starting with you calling him master and all the duties that came with it.
“Refer to me as master. You've already lost the privilege to my name, bug.”
“Get to work on the girls' garments.”
“Expect punishment if you fail to meet the deadline, bug.”
“I'll be back tonight. Be ready for me.”
No semblance of kindness in his words, no hope of anything.
As your hands worked diligently on sewing, alone, you reflected on your naïvety until tears started to fall from your eyes, and you had to take a moment just to breathe.
You folded over into your body, clutching to your sides, repeating a mantra of self-hatred, chastising yourself.
‘Oh, you fool, you stupid, stupid idiot, you damn monkey.’
How have you not come to terms with your reality yet?
You were stuck here.
With him.
And his family.
And his cult.
And his fucking ideals that were already warping your own mind.
Just look at how you'd even called yourself a monkey. You laughed out loud through the tears.
There was no way out. He was never letting you go because the devil doesn't bargain—he just takes and he takes and he takes until there is nothing left.
So what else could you do except conform and give all you had to survive until…
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