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chuluoyi · 4 months

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UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 10

✩°｡ ⋆ a death wish

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, drama, angst, angst, angst, another gojo cameo (but he is being kinda insufferable?), naoya <- a warning in and of itself

notes: soon, guys, soon. not now... but naoya will meet his end soon and yeah, the end is a timeskip. next chapter would explain how :)

listen to: monster - big bang

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter nine : all done <- previous ✩ next -> chapter eleven : transcendent truth

A week later, true to what Naoya said, Megumi still felt like he was the biggest fool out there.

To say that he was simply heartbroken would be an understatement, because it went beyond that. Is there even a word that could adequately explain extent of this betrayal? He was utterly deceived, maneuvered like a chess pawn.

If that day hadn't unfolded as it did, how long would he have remained oblivious to this deception?

And yet, despite that, no matter how searing the pain was, Megumi apparently wasn't heartless enough to drive you out. So he chose to go instead, renting a room at the nearest motel to the headquarters.

He made a conscious effort to avoid you whenever possible—drowning himself in missions so he didn't have to see you in the workplace. And it worked, he hadn't crossed paths with you since last week. The love tucked away in the deepest corner of his heart tugged at him, urging him to at least check on how you were doing, but his wounded pride made him focus on another task at hand.

"Megumi?"

This. Kurusu Hana was calling for him.

"What is it?" he turned to her, who was standing by Tsumiki's bedside, having just finished her enchantments on her. The very least he could get after being dragged into this deceitful marriage with you was Tsumiki being released from her curse.

Hana looked at him curiously. "Are you alright? You seem out of sorts, somehow..."

The past week, all Megumi did outside his workhours was tending to Tsumiki and interacting with Hana in the hospital. After getting to know her a little more, he noticed she was a bit scatterbrained. However, she seemed like a genuinely good person and was pleasant to have around, and before he knew it, he was much more comfortable around her and not exactly holding back his words as he used to.

"Ah, no," he brushed her off. "Just thinking of some things."

"Oh..."

On her side, Hana couldn't help but notice that something seemed different about him. "Is... uh, your wife not coming?"

Megumi almost jerked in his seat. Oh, right. He realized he hadn't mentioned to her that you two weren't on speaking terms anymore. He hadn't felt the need to bring it up.

“No.”

“Uh… I don’t mean to pry, but… did you two have a fight or something?”

“I think that’s what you’d call prying, personally.”

Hana felt like her face would burst into flames out of sheer embarrassment. Come on, you like him but don’t make it that obvious.

"Sometimes talking about it helps, you know," she braved herself. No, she reasoned. She was here as a friend. Not that she was curious.

Or maybe just a bit?

Megumi eyed her sharply. "About what?"

He didn't mean to get snappy. But when you were on the brink of divorce with your wife, you were entitled to, right?

"Your problems," she asserted. "I'm saying, talking to someone can make you feel better."

"To you?"

Hana gulped. "Yeah."

It had been daunting enough to know that he was married. Nothing could be worse than that―certainly not saying that he could rant to her.

Megumi didn't want to have his problem out in the open, much less to someone who was more like a stranger like Hana was. But he had no one to turn to... and truth to be told, he was still in an internal debate with himself regarding everything―what his life had come to.

He scoffed. "Highly doubt it."

"It does! Look, I'm going to start first―"

She then proceeded to ramble about how her landlady was an annoying woman who kept adding extra charges. Her expressions shifted so frequently that it became almost comical.

She was kind of like you, in a way―the expressiveness.

Then again, maybe not really. Evidently, you managed to fool him completely and fully, you were hiding something behind that crafted cheerfulness you showed to him.

"―and haaah! Now I feel much better!" she remarked with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. "See? It's harmless! I won't divulge it to anyone, I promise!"

"Are you an idiot?" Megumi deadpanned, and Hana merely chuckled, abashed at how much she'd gotten worked up over it.

Megumi didn't have much to say, however. He was just grappling with numerous thoughts, and now he started wondering if having someone to listen might offer some relief, even a little. "How would you feel if someone very close to you lied to you?"

"Huh? Someone... close?" Hana was clearly caught off guard. And when he nodded, she tilted her head to the side, seemingly choosing her words carefully. "I'd be upset, of course."

"Would you forgive them?"

"That's a tricky question... I think it depends?"

"On what?"

Hana blinked in confusion. What had happened to Megumi that he pulled this... sad―almost desperate―expression? Who exactly did he want to forgive?

"I'm not an expert on this but..."

At that moment, she had an epiphany―could it be... you?

"If it's truly something that's so unforgivable, then I suppose... no," she decided then, albeit warily, gauging Megumi's reaction. "There's just a limit to what someone can forgive."

"Hmm... A limit, huh?"

Certainly, she wasn't expecting any reaction that would give him away, and Hana wasn't someone who would take an advantage out of someone who was fighting with his wife, anyway. But still, if it was you that he had in mind, then she was... genuinely curious.

Meanwhile, Megumi was left with even more thoughts than before. Thoughts about the whole shit of the ordeal, and you, among everything else. And he thought, he had his answer then.

He still didn't find it in himself to.

You hadn't seen Megumi ever since that day.

You knew he was intentionally avoiding you, given that his work desk in headquarters was always empty whenever you clocked in. And you weren't actively seeking him out either―seeing him would only make you feel shame all over, so no, you were fine with how it was.

It still hurt, but it was more bearable these days.

"Sena-san, are you sure you're alright?" Nobara asked you after both of you finished your mission. You two weren't exactly close, but from a handful of times you were paired with her for missions, you got the gist that she was a fun person.

Glancing at your bandaged arm―an aftermath from your mission earlier, you casually shrugged and remarked, "Oh, this? It's just a scratch, nothing serious."

"Really, Fushiguro should take better care of you," she grumbled. "Why is he still letting his wife taking missions? If I were him, I'd forbid you from this line of work altogether."

Thump!

Your heart squeezed at the mention of Megumi's name, realizing that no one here knew your recent unfortunate circumstances yet. Megumi hadn't told anyone―he was not the type to, to be exact.

"How is he? Is he doing okay?" you looked down, deliberately not meeting Nobara's eyes, because you weren't sure if you would be able to keep this "I'm fine" facade if you look at her in the face while talking about Megumi.

"Hmm? In missions, you mean? Yeah, as always," she blurted nonchalantly. "He's skillful. His talent is enough to bail him out of anything."

Talent. Ha. Now you understand a fraction of what Megumi must have felt, being reduced to just his gift from the so-called Zen'in bloodline.

You let out a sigh, blinking the mist in your eyes away. "Does he get hurt often?"

"Bah. Getting hurt is nothing new. If you ask me, I think he and Itadori just love to race each other to rack up the most bruises, actually."

A frown etched itself across your forehead. "That's not good..."

"Boys will be boys, I suppose. Don't worry too much!" Nobara said with a light chuckle. "I hate to admit it, but Fushiguro knows how to take care of himself far better than anyone here does. You have nothing to worry about."

That gave you some relief. He was fine. And he will be.

"Nobara-san, please keep an eye out for him, yeah?" you muttered with a repressed smile. Keeping tears at bay was tough, but you were determined to stay cool. "I can't always be around for him. He may not seem like it, but someone has to watch over him so he won't overdo himself."

Nobara blinked, obviously taken aback by your simple, heartfelt plea, but she quickly collected herself and barked a laugh. "Leave it to me, Sena-san! I know how to keep those troublemakers by the leash!"

With everything taken care of, you parted ways. Just before heading back to Megumi's apartment―really, one of these days, you were going to move out too because how could you still hog his place?―you found a mail on your desk. A brown, neat envelope.

Driven by curiosity, you swiftly tore it open, only to feel your heart sink to the lowest abyss as you read heading of the pristine paper.

Notice of Divorce by Agreement.

Suddenly, your vision blurred, and you grasped onto the desk, causing the papers to scatter to the floor. A choked whimper escaped your lips, and then it turned into a fit of sobs.

Of course. Of course. Why didn't you expect this? Both of you had to come to a resolution eventually. You couldn't be in a stalemate with Megumi forever―not quite willing to end the marriage but also not entirely wanting to continue it.

And this is how it ends.

A part of you died when you scanned Megumi's formal name and signature, as well as the witness―Kurusu Hana. For fuck's sake. Who was that again? How did the witness to your divorce be someone you never knew?

Suddenly you felt anger coursing through your veins. How was this your life? You never wanted to be embroiled in this shit in the first place. You never wanted to be born in Hara clan in the first place. You never wanted to drag a stranger to your mess in the first place.

And yet you did. And yet you lost everything all the same. You poor mother, how was it fair that she had to pay the price first and now, you too?

...okay, who were you kidding? You had to pay the price because you instigated everything. But still, you couldn't help the pain tearing your chest, the fervent hope that Megumi might understand, the longing that he wouldn't abandon you just like that. Because if the positions were reversed, you would definitely hear him out first.

Alas, fate just didn't favor you. When did it ever, really?

. . .

Oh, the curse breaker.

You finally remembered, right after you furiously scrawled your name and signature on that scrap of paper.

"I'm just saying, if you're going to make her even more miserable, then you should just get a divorce."

It was what Gojo Satoru told him when he somehow got a hold of him and forced his way inside his hostel yesterday.

In a daze, Megumi managed to get hold of the divorce papers and left them on your desk. He knew it wasn't the best move—just as forging someone else's signature wasn't either. But his conversation with Gojo had stirred up a storm of emotions, especially a sense of righteous anger.

"How could you, Gojo-sensei?" he demanded as soon as his mentor stepped into his space, feeling a surge of betrayal coursing through his veins. "What more do you want from me? Is toying with me not enough for you?"

"Megumi," the Six Eyes user began, and unlike all other instances in which he was trying to be funny, now he looked as serious as he could be. "First of all, I apologize for—"

"That means nothing," he bitterly spat. "You have scarred me for life. You and Sena both."

Gojo let out a resigned sigh. "Fair point, but now that we have come to this, you deserve the truth."

And then Megumi heard it all. About how you had no one to turn to, how you came to him to stage everything, how he agreed, and how you dragged Zen'in Ogi into your plans too.

By the end of it all, he was furious. Even more than before.

"You... absolute bastard," Megumi hissed through gritted teeth, glaring squarely at Gojo.

"Yeah, I might be, but you know what, Megumi?" Gojo dauntingly challenged, his eyes gleaming and unwavering with intensity. "For the record, I really thought you could do it."

"Do what?" At this point, he just wanted to rage and not think of anything else, because for the life of him, he couldn't fathom what Gojo Satoru might expect from him or what he himself was capable of doing.

"Taking the Zen'ins to your hands. You have the capability to do so. And with Sena too, she knows what she is doing."

"Is—" Megumi couldn't believe it one bit, the very shit coming from his mouth just now. "Is that kind of reasoning supposed to make me able to forgive you? If you really think so, then get the fuck off!"

He hated it. He hated how he made it sound as if you were just as complicit in this as he was. Even when that was the truth.

"No. Your anger is justified," Gojo stated sharply. "But if you look at it differently, it's actually my acknowledgement of you. Of your strength. All the terrible things you've faced, they hold significance, and reclaiming what's yours from the Zen'in would be the ultimate embodiment of it."

"Don't patronize me! You don't get to fucking choose what I should do! And what's more—I don't need your fucking acknowledgement!"

How arrogant could someone possibly be? Megumi recognized Gojo Satoru as an unparalleled individual, but who did he think he was that he could play with another's fates? A god?

"You may take it however way you wish," Gojo blurted indifferently, seemingly having enough of this too, as he also knew better than anyone that changing Megumi's mind would be a tall order. "And now, what happens?" he scoffed, changing the subject, throwing a glance at the shabby room of his current place to stay. "What do you plant to do now? What about Sena?"

"That's not your business whatsoever—"

"I'm just saying, if you're going to make her even more miserable, then you should just get a divorce."

That was what drove him to do just that. First, the very mention that you might be miserable did something to him, and then second, the feeling of utter betrayal. Maybe cutting you off would make all of this better, somehow.

But now, as Megumi sank on his uncomfortable bed in this cramped space, he had the time to think over Gojo's words in a calmer state of mind. True, what you did was beyond appalling—but it wasn't as if you truly wanted to manipulate him either. You weren't in an ideal situation either, and now, you were just as miserable as he was.

How are you? Have you been eating well? You tend to skip meals when you're upset, and that could take a toll on your health. It reminded him of the time you went on an eating strike before.

"Haah," he grounded out, pulling an arm over his eyes, willing his headache away. How was it that even though you had betrayed him this bad, he was still worried about you?

Two weeks later October 31 Zen'in estate

It is only a matter of time, really.

Naoya could scarcely believe that it had come to this. How his home had shattered in the most grotesque way possible. Brought by his own hands, no less.

But Ogi should have expected it when he insisted on that Fushiguro bastard to keep being in the next line of succession. He should have known that Naoya, the true heir, would have his head.

He had left his daughter with a pretty sound message too. For whoever in his accursed clan still wanted to defy his claim, they were welcome to do so... but only if they were ready to face him and settle it in blood.

As he dawdled inside the barrier that had been pulled down for his supposed duel with Fushiguro Megumi, Naoya mused to himself.

What was taking him so long?

(It just didn't register in his deluded mind that Megumi might have deserted him altogether. He thought everyone and anyone, without a doubt, coveted the position like he was)

Still grumbling to himself, Naoya suddenly noticed a silhouette slipping through the dark curtain, which promptly sealed shut. The curtain was specifically designed for this deadly showdown—it wouldn't dissolve until only one victor remained standing.

Naoya barked a scoff, whirling to face his fated match. "You surely took your sweet time—"

But then his eyes widened as he recognized who stood before him, and then he doubled over in maniacal laughter.

"Hah—ah—what sort of joke is this?" he managed to utter between wheezes, shaking his head in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? Have you completely lost it?!"

A level-headed gaze met his, and Naoya was convinced, this was indeed his day to win.

"Hara Sena— do you really wish to die?!"

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> chapter eleven : transcendent truth

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pin-k-ink · 16 days

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Zen’in Naoya x Reader

CW: naoya, dub-con, non-con, lots of sexual tension as usual, just naoya being naoya

Naoya had always been prideful of his belongings. Everything had to be perfect, elegant and expensive. He would take great pride in choosing these belongings himself. And he knew he'd always choose perfectly. The interior designer he picked for his study? Perfect. His room, clothes, food and even his cursed technique were flawless too. He was absolutely perfect in every way. But the most beautiful and perfect possession he had chosen by far, had to be you.

You were just eighteen when Naoya took you off the streets and conditioned you to be the perfect maid for him. As long as you were around, he didn't have to lift a single finger. And that's exactly how he liked it. Over time, Naoya found himself growing surprisingly attached to you. All the stupid, dumb, cute little things you did unknowingly charmed him.

Like the way you'd press your thumbs to his nape before starting a massage. "There you go again, my pet," he purred one evening as you worked the tension from his shoulders.

"Does master prefer it elsewhere?" you asked meekly.

"Not at all. I simply enjoy your little quirks."

Or the way you'd carefully color coordinate the fruit you prepared for him each morning. "Why must you make even breakfast so aesthetic?" he chuckled.

You blinked up at him. "I aim to please, master."

He savored how you'd lean in close to help him dress for the day, letting his gaze linger over your gentle curves before growling, "Careful now, you tease. Or I may have to discipline you properly."

That evening at dinner, Naoya ordered you to pour his sake. He watched hungrily as you elegantly filled his cup, bringing it to his lips to sip. So perfectly trained. His eyes shamelessly roamed your body, coveting what little skin you showed. He'd already seen your naked form, though he'd never admit how.

Perhaps some minor uniform adjustments were in order to show off your luscious assets more...no, all those beautiful dips and curves were for his eyes alone.

Later, as you bathed him, Naoya relished your attentive ministrations. The way you dripped aromatic oils into your palms before massaging them over his taut muscles. Ah, there were those dainty thumbs pressing into the nape of his neck just as he craved. You really had memorized every inch of his body's landscape.

"Eyes closed again, pet?" he rumbled. "You know my form that well, do you?"

"However else could I fully appreciate your perfection, master?" you murmured, working lower down his back.

Soon those talented hands would explore lower still, dragging breathy approval from his lips. His beautiful temptress knew just how to enliven his senses, even through the most mundane acts of service. Soon, he wouldn't be able to resist having you properly...

Naoya exhaled a sigh as your nimble fingers kneaded along his lower back, skirting dangerously close to the towel preserving his half-hard cock. He could sense your warm breath brushing his damp skin as you worked, utterly unaware of the escalating hunger smoldering in his gaze.

"You've become quite skilled at this, pet," he rumbled in approval. "Attending to your master's every need like the perfectly obedient little plaything you are."

You made a soft noise of agreement, far too dim to recognize the implicit vulgarity lacing his words. In your naivete, you simply preened at the praise, determined to maintain your flawless service.

Trailing his eyes shamelessly over the swell of your cleavage peeking from the kimono's loose folds, Naoya's mouth curved in a cruel smirk. "Perhaps you ought to loosen these robes, my dear. To better access the full expanses of your master's form..."

Without hesitation, you promptly undid the sash at your collar, letting the garment gape open to bare your breasts and abdomen. Gods, the blank innocence on your pretty face as you exposed yourself, waiting for further instruction with such trusting oblivion.

A low growl rumbled from Naoya's throat as he drank in your naked flesh, now completely on display. Resisting the urge to simply seize and ravage you became a serrated edge against his restraint. But not yet...first he would break you properly through torturous degrees.

"Very good, pet. You're learning, He crooned in silken menace. "Now attend to the rest of me with those talented hands...and put that luscious mouth to use as well."

Inclining his body, Naoya allowed the towel to slip lower, exposing his cock fully as he regarded you with blatant expectation. "Worship your master's perfection and perhaps you'll be rewarded accordingly..."

There was the faintest furrow of confusion as you processed his demand. But your training was absolute. Swallowing your puzzlement, you simply dipped your head in acquiescence and awaited further orders to serve him as the mindlessly adoring creature he'd molded you to be.

The sight of your earnest compliance and vacant pliability made Naoya's shaft throb insistently. Soon that sordid innocence would be expertly defiled upon the altar of his selfish desires. He could already taste the exquisite rapture of physically mastering this vapid little possession of his...

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