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tonycries · 4 months ago

Text

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that.

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes.

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck.

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one.

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir.

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have.

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber.

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time.

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.”

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face.

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife.

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out.

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you.

Finally.

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.”

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. .

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.”

Next. Next. Next. Next.

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break.

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never.

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before.

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

��Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done.

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked.

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need.

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor.

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably.

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits.

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll.

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you.

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most, “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.”

RIP—!

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now.

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears.

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy.

But he does for you anyway.

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt.

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard.

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt.

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second.

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt.

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy.

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for.

You.

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air.

Shit - he was big.

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close.

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.”

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone.

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy.

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?” His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle.

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you.

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him.

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.”

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear.

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive.

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass.

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying?

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die.

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside.

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

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littlestrawberry · 6 months ago

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Wings sourced from beekeepers dealing with the loss of their hives due to extreme weather, the pieces are made to memorialize the bees.

"A veil lifts between two worlds: light and dark; life and death; individual and union. It is worn in ceremony of transition. It is a fabric of both grief and celebration, made up of a community, a hive." by lucijockel

#naturecore #gardencore #art #beekeeping #bees #save the bees #fairycore #uploads #cottagecore #grief

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s0dium · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since.

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party. His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on.

"And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me.

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both?

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it.

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.”

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents. What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”

You can't believe you are doing this.

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation.

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle.

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree.

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen.

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure.

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you.

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up."

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?”

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave.

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring.

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you.

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest.

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess.

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?”

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #geto x you #geto x reader smut #getou x you #getou smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #kinktober

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willowed-wisp · 1 month ago

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ghost as a dad [ simon riley ]

part two | part three

- Never wanted kids, he was so careful not to get you pregnant but with the amount you guys fuck, it was bound to happen.

- You’re scared when you get that positive test… you cry out of fear that you’ll have to get rid of the thing you had always wanted.

- It took you a week to gain the courage to tell him, you just left the pregnancy test on the kitchen table and left for work. You wanted to let him sit with it for a few hours.

- When you did return home, he sat on the sofa- elbows to knees looking down at the test. How long had he been like that?

- You waited for him to speak, while you shuffled around with that nauseous feeling bubbling in your stomach.

- It was late in the afternoon so you started chopping some vegetables for dinner, “I’ll call the termination clinic in the morning…” Your voice mulled over the slices weighing down on the wooden chopping board.

- Fingers crawled along your waistband as he rested against the sink. “No. You’re not.�� You rested the knife down.

- “I thought you didn’t want kids…?” Your eyes on the verge of tearing, looking back at him. Your cool, mysterious man… finding purchase in those deep dark eyes.

- His bare hands wrapped around you- resting under your shirt. “I can’t put you through tha’,” His light hair tickled while his chin rested on your shoulder, “You’re the only person I’d wanna do this with.”

- He was there for the first and second of your pregnancy. Simon held your hair back while you threw up almost every day and he rubbed your back.

- Simon is very careful when having sex with you, but he soon realised that you feel everything 10x as much. And your sex drive is through the roof, he’s never been so needy in his entire life… you were so desperate for him and he wanted you just as much.

- Simon gets deployed during your 7th month. He doesn’t want to go… nearly refuses. Unfortunately he can’t do that.

- You’re stressed after he leaves. But his family takes care of you- he asked for them to.

- When he lands back on British soil, he immediately phones you. You pick up, and the cry of a baby is all he hears before he drops the phone and falls to his knees.

- He’s crying, actually in tears. “Is Y/N alright, LT?” Of course Soap was the one to see him like that.

- Simon nods, laughing, “I’m a dad…”

- He’s never driven so fast in his life, and you’re there on the sofa he had been 8 months ago with that test in his hand. This time you cradle a little human in your arms, swaddled like a bundle.

- He drops to his knees once more, ripping his mask off. And your warmth covers him with the little sighs coming from the now awake baby.

- Simon fell in love. He didn’t know if he was looking at a son or a daughter.

- You two didn’t want to know the gender.

- “Simon Riley… meet your daughter…” He melted again, face red and brown eyes bloodshot as he cradled the little one in his arms. Dotting into the identical eyes staring up at him.

- That’s when he held her close, head against his chest. “My little princess…” He hummed so gentle, rocking her slightly.

- He is so girl dad coded. He’ll be so sweet with her and she’d always come to her dad if anything was wrong

- Your little girl would play with his masks all the time, it never annoyed him- only making him giggle. Telling her to stop so playfully and boyishly, that you’d never seen him so soft-hearted before.

- You most likely have at most two more children after your daughter- maybe one girl and a boy.

- Simon definitely teaches your children self defence from a young age. Safety was everything and he wasn’t always around to protect them.

- He’s there every award ceremony he’s on leave and is the most doting father ever.

- Your children’s friends are terrified of him, until they get him talking- then they’re like ‘your dad’s cool.’

Did you want a part 2 of this?

Part Two is posted!

———

masterlist

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #headcanon #cod smut #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod

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wholoveseggs · 4 months ago

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Homecoming

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen x Reader} You haven't seen your husband since your passionate wedding night, leaving you to doubt his love. Now, three months later, you're round with child and missing him more than ever—until he suddenly returns.

♡♡ This is purely just to get all my daddy Daemon feelings out, I 100% believe he has a breeding kink. ♡♡

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, major breeding kink, slow sex, so so so much fluff, a little bit of angst and Daemon apologizing in bed...

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke

@deamonloverrrr @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonsleep

It was another quiet night, in a bed far too large for one. The wind was gently blowing through the curtains, bringing with it a cool breeze and the smell of the sea. It was late, and everyone was asleep, yet you laid awake, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

You rolled over onto your side, the silk of the sheets sliding against your bare skin. These days, sleep evaded you, no matter how much you tried. If it wasn't your thoughts keeping you up, it was your changing body and the ever growing life inside of you.

Three months ago you had gotten married to the prince Daemon, a dream of many girls across the kingdom. But your marriage was hardly that. The day after the ceremony you woke up in an empty bed, and hadn't seen your husband since, leaving you to wonder if you had done something wrong.

He had left you no letter, no message. Nothing. Only the memory of your wedding night, the way he touched and kissed you, his sweet whispers of adoration as he made you his. On the loneliest days you would close your eyes and remember it all, his lips on yours, the way his fingers caressed you, the feel of him inside you.

You place your hand on the small bump of your stomach, a smile spreading across your lips. Although it had only been one night, he did his duty and you were pregnant. A piece of him was always with you.

But it wasn't enough.

You longed to see him again, to touch him and be held by him, to tell him of the life growing within you. You wanted so desperately to be with him, but instead you were left with the ghost of his love, a memory that wasn't enough to fill the hole in your heart.

You sighed, trying to push away those thoughts, and attempted to fall asleep, but every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his handsome face. You opened them again and sat up, staring into the darkness.

You could see the light of a torch through the cracks of the door, and the sound of footsteps. You knew exactly who it was, the guard outside your door. His shift was almost over, and soon a new one would be out there, watching over you. There was a muffled conversation, and the sound of someone walking away.

A few moments later the door cracked open, and the torch light poured into the room. Your eyes squinted at the sudden brightness, and as the person entered the room they shut the door.

You were about to give your guard a kindly lecture on waking you up when you noticed that it wasn't the guard who had walked in, but a hooded man. You opened your mouth to call for help, but before you could get a sound out he was at your bedside, his hand covering your mouth.

"Don't scream, my love, it's me." He whispered.

You blinked at the voice, your mind taking a second to process what was happening. Your eyes widened, and you reached for his hand. He took it away from your mouth and intertwined your fingers together, his other hand pulling down his hood.

"Daemon." You breathed, looking up at his face.

The torchlight casted a warm glow on his handsome features, highlighting his strong cheekbones and sharp jawline. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, hanging past his shoulders, his eyes were dark and clever, looking you over with admiration.

You pulled him towards you, your lips crashing into his. He let out a sigh, a sound that sounded almost pained, and returned your kiss. Then you harshly pushed him away, hitting his chest.

"Where have you been?" You demanded.

"I had matters to attend to." He told you.

"Three months!" You cried. "Three months I waited for you, and you were doing what?"

He smiled and pulled off his cloak, his eyes raking over your form. He reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

You wanted to be angry with him, you really did, but the look he was giving you, like he was starved, melted away your resolve. You leaned into his touch and looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Asshole," You whispered.

"My love." He whispered back, leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for another heated kiss. You were angry, yes, but seeing him now made all of that fade away. Your ire could wait until the morning.

His lips were gentle and loving, and you were so happy that you had almost forgotten that he had been gone. He kneeled on the bed and pulled you close, his hands cupping your cheeks.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, smiling and breathing hard.

"I thought you left me," You admitted, your hands gripping his wrists, as though you could keep him there forever by holding on to him.

He hummed, his nose nuzzling against yours and you pressed yourself closer to him, trying to get as much contact as possible.

His large, warm hands moved down to the swell of your stomach. He placed his palms flat against the bump and leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Did the maesters tell you?" You asked, placing your hands over his.

He nodded, his eyes lifting up to meet yours. "How are you feeling?" He asked, with such gentle kindness that it made your heart melt.

"Big." You answered, laughing slightly. "I can't wear any of my old clothes, and I have to have new ones made all the time. And the way the ladies look at me when I go out..."

He shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him, his thumbs caressing your skin. It was true that you had changed since the wedding, your body swelling with his child. You were nervous about how he would react, but the softness in his eyes and the way he touched you told you otherwise.

"I wish I could have told you the news myself, it's a shame you had to hear it from some crusty old maester," you said.

"It is a wonderful thing to return home too," he smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

He kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist. You smiled into the kiss, your fingers weaving through his long, silver hair. You could feel his lips turn up against yours, and you both pulled away.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your features, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hands trailed down your sides, sending a wave of heat through you.

"My prince," you said softly, your fingers brushing along his cheekbone. "We've already made a baby. You don't have to do this."

He laughed, and shook his head, a look in his eyes you couldn't decipher. "I forget just how innocent you are," he said, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

“Well, whose fault is that?” You teased, smiling up at your handsome husband.

You sucked in a breath as he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"It's true, I've been away for too long, my lady wife has forgotten what it is I crave," he breathed against your skin, his lips finding yours once more.

Your hands slid down his shoulders and arms, feeling his muscles. He pulled back slightly and tugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

"You have gotten bigger as well," you said, running your hands across his chest, feeling the hard muscles.

He smirked, a cocky gleam in his eyes. "Oh?"

"It suits you," you said, a playful smile on your lips.

His hand came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingers caressing your jaw. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his.

"And you are more beautiful than the day we wed," he said, his voice husky.

"My prince flatters me." You breathed, a blush rising on your cheeks.

His eyes went to the ties on your nightdress, a row of pretty little bows that went down to the valley of your breasts. He tugged at one of the ribbons, the fabric becoming loose.

He pushed it aside and his hand moved up to caress your breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple, causing you to gasp.

"Still as sensitive." He said, a smirk on his lips.

He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, before gently biting down. You tugged hard on his hair, your legs kicking and squirming as he continued to play with you.

"Daemon," you moaned.

He hummed, the vibration causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. He let go of your nipple, and his mouth moved lower, placing hot kisses along your skin, his hand pushing up your night dress.

"Perhaps a bit more sensitive." He commented, his hand brushing along your thigh.

He hooked a finger into the waistband of your small clothes and pulled them off. You were now naked, your body on full display for him, and he leaned back and admired his work. His hand on the swell of your belly, his thumb tracing over a stretch mark.

"Beautiful." He said, a sincerity in his voice that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked away, suddenly shy. You had only spent one night with him, and now he was here again. His touch, his words, they all still had an affect on you, making your stomach flutter and heart race.

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to your bump, his hand resting on the side of it, his lips trailing lower. You smiled softly, and ran your fingers through his hair, the silver strands smooth between your fingers.

His hand came to rest on your thighs, gently coaxing your legs open. You watched as he positioned himself between them, his head almost disappearing behind your bump.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his smirk was all too knowing, causing you to blush and turn away. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out and licking up your slit.

You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. He did it again, this time focusing his attention on that sensitive little spot he introduced to you on your wedding night. He placed a soft kiss on it, his tongue circling it.

"Dae-ah," you moaned, trying to muffle the sound by pressing a hand over your mouth.

You didn't know if it was the fact that you were pregnant, or maybe that you missed him more than anything, but everything felt different, his touch more intense.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, holding you down as his tongue licked and circled you. His mouth moved down and his tongue slid into you, making you arch and cry out. He lapped at your arousal, his tongue going in and out, the sounds he made, the hums and sighs, driving you wild.

He groaned, a sound that vibrated through your entire body, and his tongue went up, swirling around that little spot again, his mouth closing over it.

You moaned his name, your thighs squeezing him, your whole body trembling as your release washed over you.

He placed a few more kisses to the inside of your thighs before rising up, his hair messy and face glistening with you. He wiped his face with his arm and leaned down, his lips capturing yours.

You could taste yourself on him, and you kissed him hard, your hand tangling into his hair, the other reaching down to the ties of his trousers. He helped you undo them, and kicked off his pants.

His hard length sprung free, and you wrapped a hand around it, causing him to let out a shaky moan. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and his eyes locking onto yours.

You slowly started to stroke him, and he let out another moan, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath hot against your skin.

"My love," he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You loved the effect you had on him, the control you had. To have the prince of dragonstone, the most dangerous man in the realm, at the palm of your hand, made your heart flutter.

His hand found yours, and he guided it away from his length, a whine leaving your throat. He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss before positioning himself between your legs.

He slowly pushed himself in, causing you both to moan. It hurt a little, just like the first time, but his hands were on your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin, and he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting you adjust.

"My love, I'm not going to break," you said.

He smirked and gave a shallow thrust, a gasp leaving you.

"I can't be too careful with what is mine." He said, leaning down and giving you a heated kiss.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his hand sliding up the length of your leg, coming to rest on your bump, his other hand planted next to your head, holding himself up.

He started to move, his length slowly sliding in and out, the pace slow and gentle. You could feel every inch of him, rubbing against that perfect spot. A soft moan left you, and you reached out, your hands on his chest, feeling the hand planes of muscle underneath his skin.

His thumb caressed your belly, his eyes never leaving your face, studying every detail, memorizing each feature. You felt so exposed under his gaze and turned away, your cheeks flushed.

He smiled, a soft, loving smile, and kissed you.

"How I've missed you, my beautiful wife," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You looked up at him, seeing nothing but love in his eyes. It was the way he had looked at you at your wedding, the two of you standing there in the sept, whispering promises to each other. The world had disappeared around you, and in that moment you were the only people that existed.

He kissed you again, and began moving a little faster, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. He groaned, his hand still gently stroking your bump.

"I can't believe such a perfect creature could bear my child," he said, his eyes trailing down to where his hand rested.

"Our child," you corrected, giving him a teasing smile.

He hummed, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your waist and helping you into a sitting position. He pulled you onto his lap, and you moaned at the way he was buried deeper inside you.

His lips left open mouth kisses on your shoulders, and his hands rested on your hips, guiding you. You braced yourself on his shoulders, his hands back on your bump as you moved. You knew he liked the feel of it, and he couldn't get enough.

Your name left his lips as you bounced in his lap, his hands cupping your ass, squeezing you. You moaned, your hands sliding into his hair, tugging at the silver locks. You were growing louder, your body humming, that feeling building within you.

"Not too loud, my love," he whispered. "I do not wish for the guards to hear,"

A moan, that was halfway to a laugh escaped you, and he cut it off with a deep kiss. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, as you kept moving, the feeling of your release building.

"For your lovely sounds are only for me," he continued, his voice in your ear.

You let out another shaky moan, his hands squeezing you. He was moving his hips to meet yours, and you could feel him shaking beneath you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, and pulled you harder, his voice soft yet commanding as he talked you closer to your peak.

Your hands gripped his arms and back, and when he said your name, a deep, low groan that sounded almost pained, you toppled over the edge, falling in a pool of ecstasy. All the pent up emotions and frustration that you had been holding in were released, and you let go of a final moan that you muffle in the crook of his neck.

He followed soon after, capturing your lips in a heated kiss and letting out a deep, satisfied moan. You clung to him, afraid that he might disappear if you didn't. His arms were wrapped around your middle, cradling you close to him, his lips pressed to your temple.

The two of you breathed in each other's air, a simple shared breath, your foreheads pressed together, your eyes closed. You could feel his lips on your sweat slicked skin, his fingertips still caressing your bump.

When you both had returned to your senses, he gently laid you back on the bed. He leaned down, the tip of his nose nuzzling against yours, and peppered your face with little kisses. You smiled and let your eyes flutter open, finding him staring at you, a sweet, lovestruck look in his eye.

He grabbed the blanket, and covered your naked form with it, tucking it around you, almost protectively. He crawled under with you,his head resting against your chest, his hand still protectively cradling the swell of your stomach.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and ran your fingers through his hair, smiling. He looked up at you, his eyes sleepy, and he pressed a kiss to your bump.

"I hope it's a boy," you said, continuing to stroke his hair. "With the most handsome features, and a true warrior, like his father."

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes closing, and his arms wrapping around your waist. "I hope it is a girl, a daughter that looks just like her mother."

He was silent for a moment, and you wondered if he had fallen asleep, when his eyes suddenly opened.

"Or perhaps both," he said, his voice serious, a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"Twins?" You laughed. "I don't think I could handle two little dragons running about."

He chuckled, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin. "I will be here to help you," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I am not going anywhere."

"You better not," you warned, poking his chest. "You've kept me waiting long enough."

He laughed again and caught your wrist, bringing your finger to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there. He slid his arms back around you, and pulled you close, your foreheads touching, your noses brushing.

You were content, your heart filled with so much love for him, and as his breathing evened out and his eyelids drooped, you knew he felt the same. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what was to come. Of a big family, a happy life, and many more nights just like this one.

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foreverdolly · 9 months ago

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

← previous chapter | next chapter →

If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization:

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died.

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this?

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion.

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room.

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters.

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.”

There it was. The truth.

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield.

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong.

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

It was a guard.

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this.

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls.

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground.

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat.

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned.

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you.

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you.

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in.

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged.

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you.

And so they did.

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades.

He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length.

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing.

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . .

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent.

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face.

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.”

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on.

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust.

He had to pay for what he did to you.

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault.

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway.

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt?

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway.

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start.

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead.

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all.

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely.

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore.

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head.

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved.

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out.

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you.

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you.

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood.

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide.

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin.

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell.

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck.

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again?

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences.

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone.

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation.

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you.

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power.

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.”

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was.

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night.

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.”

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved.

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?”

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides.

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub.

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs.

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again.

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep.

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would.

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now.

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now.

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly.

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this.

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.”

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd.

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-”

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated.

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would.

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump.

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in.

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin.

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off.

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off.

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lalunanymph · 3 months ago

Text

GRASSLAND ROMANCE

SUMMARY the strongest tribal chieftain sets the stage to claim his most priceless reward

WARNINGS prisoner of war!reader, slave!reader, tribal chief!sylus, first time, fight-to-death-trope, concubine!reader, oral sex, breeding, mentions of lactating, size kink, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of misogyny, bartering, winning her favor trope, loosely based on the new sylus myth card, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS it's daddy sylus's time hehehe second one down, 2 more to go !! sylus is my ult bias and I definitely wanted to go for more of a khal drogo x daenaerys vibe when I started this out, so keep an eye out for bit of dark content discussed here... that being said, will be cross-posting this to a03 soon so stay tuned! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ZAYNE ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The grasslands were not kind to those unfamiliar with its ways.

As a little girl, your grandmother would tell you stories of the fearless warriors traversing these bare lands in search of resources to plunder, steal and conquer. It instilled a sense of fear in you; a knowing instinct to never step out of line less you wanted to suffer the consequences of losing everything you loved.

The day you met Sylus was the day your short life came to its meaningless end.

Taken from your homelands to his tribe, you were relegated to cleaning tasks and cooking; trying to keep your head down and eyes off of you less you wanted to suffer fatal repercussions.

Your days living in sweet bliss were over; your childhood and girlhood gone in one fell swoop.

And yet, despite your best efforts to go undetected, you wound up catching the eye of the fearsome chieftain. His calls for you to his yurt could not be ignored.

You fully expected him to take advantage of your vulnerable state, using his position to conquer what remained of your dignity and hope.

But, Sylus proved to be a different man behind his ruthless reputation.

A fan of music and wildland games, he often asked you to keep him company for the day, and when the nights got too cold, you were ushered into his private space, allowed to warm yourself with his brazier.

The scent of moist rose and grapevine trimmings filled the air as you lounged right in Sylus’s arms, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the fire glowing brightly while snow and sleet raged outside of his yurt.

The fearless tribal chieftain was a relaxed man tonight, savoring the presence of his favorite concubine right in his lap. His large hands stroked your hair, fingers running through your locks. The robes he dressed you in were heavy yet comfortable, providing you shelter from the cold; a stark difference from the slave rags you were forced to wear during your earlier encampment.

“What is on your mind, beloved?”

Beloved. Despite what everyone said or thought about you, Sylus saw you in a different light. A tender and cherished one.

You turned your head to gaze at him, a softness you reserved solely for him shining from your eyes.

“I was lost in my thoughts; thinking back to the time when I first got here.”

A dark look flitted across his face, and he fixed you with a prodding look.

“I know what happened was not ideal for you, beloved. But, you are safe now. I will not let anyone in this camp harm you.”

His promise was as good as gold in this world. Sylus was not someone who would mince words or give you false hope. Despite his stature as one of the most fearsome conquerors of this land, he was a man of integrity and word.

And yet… you couldn’t help the sadness eclipsing your features.

The ceremonial choosing of his bride was coming up soon, and from the lines of women prepared for him, you paled in comparison. These women were trained from birth to please him, cook for him, and be the bearer of his children. They were thought in the grassland ways, something you were not familiar with.

The women chosen for him did not stick out like a sore thumb, nor were they foreigners of this land.

Each of them were meticulously handpicked to appeal to his tastes and desires; where you fit in, you had no clue.

It wasn’t as if you were his tribe’s de facto pick. You were sure you weren’t on any of the elder’s lists, your fate relegated to being his concubine for life.

As if he could read your mind, Sylus tilted your face up to look him in the eyes.

“Beloved, you are the only one for me. There is no one else in these lands I would rather spend my days with.”

You wanted to ask him why; what could possess a man like him to love a lowly woman like you?

But, you enjoyed his caresses on your cheeks and jaw; snuggled closer to him as the wind tore through the night, safe and secure right in his arms.

The next morning, you were pulled aside by one of the village elders, Enkh, as he looked you up and down.

“My son needs a new wife after his old one died in childbirth,” scrutinizing you from head to toe, he fixed his beady gaze on you like a dishwasher studying a piece of vermin on a brass plate. “And you will do.”

The idea of being married to Enkh’s son, known as the most ruthless and cruel man in the entire tribe, filled you with unadulterated fear. You had no say in your fate, and spent the entire day wondering how to tell Sylus—the chieftain himself—of your dilemma.

But, you didn’t have to open your mouth and divulge the truth.

Sylus already knew.

He called you out to his tent, where some men who were sparring upped and left the second you arrived. In your hands, you held a pouch, given to you by Enkh’s wife before you left their yurt.

A symbol of choice for a woman about to be married, you were given explicit instructions to hand it to his son after his sparring win tomorrow. It was tradition for the winner to receive a wife as compensation, and from the thunderous look on Sylus’s face, you could tell he was not at all pleased about this latest development.

“They claimed you, just like that? Without my agreement?”

Despite not being his official concubine, everyone in the tribe knew of your position with the chieftain. You were virtually untouchable, and only higher up families like Enkh’s, could make the play for one of his concubine’s hands.

This displeased your lover, who took it as an affront to his rule.

But, he didn’t react the way you expected him to, with violence and malice as the forefront of his actions.

Sylus led you to the heart of his yurt, where thick layers of felt and wool provided insulation from the chill. Dressed in traditional Bökh gear, he was preparing for the ceremonial sparring to begin when he heard word of your impending nuptials to Enkh’s son. He dragged you down to his side, letting you rest on the rugs and pillows surrounding the area before he shared what was on his mind.

“Do you want to marry into that family, Y/N?”

Instinctively, you shook your head. “No, Sylus.”

He nodded, pleased at your swift rebuke. “I am going to be honest with you—the only way we can circumvent both of our fates to marry different people is for me to participate in the fights myself.”

You gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. “But, it’s unheard of. You are the chieftain!”

Rough fingers touched your face, caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you.

“I know, my beloved. But, think about the alternative. I do not want to lose you.”

A grin stole across his handsome features, and he shot back: “If I lost, I’d be stuck here forever—in this limbo of never having you… but then again, could I really lose?”

Unperturbed by his musings, you raised the stakes by straddling his lap, glaring down at him. In this position, he had to hear you out; he had to allow logic to take hold of his wilful mind.

“Sylus, the rules of the game means that you have to steal the gem from your other opponent and then you can stake your claim. Are you sure you want to do this? You cannot back out once the games have started.”

The Grassland Festival, or the most important festivity for Sylus’s tribe that was happening in a few hours, was in tandem with the fighting ring for men to win the hands of their future wives.

His red eyes, which shone like a grassland sunset, appraised your form astride his lap; soft and sure.

“My love, you severely underestimate my devotion to you.”

Turning your fates around, he flipped you back onto the soft pillows and rugs, a look of fond playfulness in those jewel-toned eyes.

“All I have to do is fight, yes? And I have never lost a fight.”

His soft touch tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “You are the prize I must win, my love. I will do everything I can to make sure we stay together.”

Filled with happiness and the surety of his tone, you put your faith in what came next.

Long and nimble fingers snuck to your waist pockets, where he retrieved the pouch given to you by Enkh’s family.

“Hey—!”

You tried to reach back for it, but he held it from you, a smirk playing on his defined lips.

“Is this what you are going to give the boy?”

Warmth splashed across your cheeks as you tried to glare him down.

“Despite what you may think, you do not own every aspect of me, Sylus. I reserve the need to keep some secrets to myself.”

He hummed, clearly not believing you. “And yet, you spoke of the sincerity of our feelings. Isn’t this me being honest, little dove?”

You sputtered, tripping over your refutes, and he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, love. Let me make it simple—”

He lifted you closer to him, letting you fall over his lap. The sudden proximity filled your senses purely with him; igniting sparks of heat across your entire body.

“If someone were to hand the champion a pouch, should he take it?”

He was teasing you, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon.

You huffed, trying to swipe it again. But, he was nimbler than you, yanking the pouch away from your outstretched hand.

Sighing, you tried to pull him up, grumbling when you barely made him move an inch.

“Have you been training more?” You grumbled, eyeing his broad shoulders; the muscles stretching across his tanned skin.

“Perhaps. Although as much as I have been honing my skills, I do still need someone to look out for me.”

His smirk threatened to affect your entire composure, and you darted your eyes away, flushed and embarrassed at how easily he could get to you.

The faith you had in him to win was astounding; there was a reason why he was known as one of the best warriors in the grasslands.

“You’re the champion,” you grumbled under your breath. “Do you need me to watch your back?”

In response, Sylus’s smile softened around the edges, his red eyes taking on a tender quality.

“Let me paint you a scene, love: I win the challenge, and then I get to be yours. How does that sound?”

Tugging a stray lock of hair which fell loose from your braid, Sylus waited for your answer patiently.

It was useless to try and dispute him. Whatever the strongest wanted, he would get—and he clearly wanted you.

“Alright,” you responded softly, conceding with a smile. “If you win tomorrow, I will hand you my pouch. There is nothing you cannot do.”

Responding to your confidence, he chuckled softly, teasing you more by dragging you closer to him, enjoying your weight pressing onto his body.

“Or, we could do it together.”

He hummed, touching the hollow of your throat with his cool lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to staunch your reckless sounds.

“The second I get that gem, you run up to me, crowning me as your chosen one and I respond back.”

Struggling to control your raging thoughts, you murmured: “Will it work—such boldness?”

To answer your question, he smirked, finding your flustered expression and slight doubt adorable.

“My, my, love. Are you doubting me?”

The world flipped around, and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder. You gasped, confusion mingling with surprised delight as Sylus manhandled you with practiced ease. He stepped past the plush pillows and rugs, opening the flap of his yurt to bring you out into the mellow morning.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Your sharp inhale spurred on his laugh, his low and rich chuckle making you flush warmly.

“Didn’t you tell me this before, love? Actions speak louder than words.” To your mortification, he was heading right to the middle of the courtyard, where spectators were already gathering to witness the fight.

“Sylus—!”

You smacked his broad shoulders, but he wouldn’t let you down. Sylus already had a plan in mind and you were helpless to stop him.

“Oh, love, relax,” he teased, taking long, purposeful strides towards the other villagers. “I need to show them I already have a lover. And since she won’t let me take her away…” you could plainly picture his cocky smirk. “... I’ll just have to take her myself.”

The rest of the villagers stopped in their tracks when they noticed their chieftain walking towards them, a smaller woman in his arms. Elders dropped what they were doing to whisper under their breaths, their judgemental eyes trained on Sylus’s smug face and the look of mortification on yours.

“Sylus—”

He set you down in the front stand, tossing you a wink for good measure.

Whispers rushed around the arena like wildfire, catching aflame from the look of pure devotion in his eyes; a look reserved just for you.

Enkh’s son, a hulking brute by the name of Altan, shot him a glare—insulted by Sylus’s blatant claim on you.

Motivated by his wrath, the tribal chief turned to the other man, raising a brow.

“Altan, son of Enkh!”

His voice boomed across the field, shocking you out of your mortified stupor.

“You dare claim one of my concubines as your wife? Do you know what that entails?”

The atmosphere in the arena tilted towards a frenzy, the people inadvertently roped in to witness the showdown of the year.

Since ceremonial rites were read and sacrifices were made, the last agenda for today would be the warrior fights. Sylus took his spot in the ring, unafraid. The head monk, a calm man by the name of Bataar, whispered something to Enkh, who glared at you as if this entire ordeal was your fault.

You shrank back in your seat, attempting to hide your scorching cheeks behind your palms.

The fight began, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an unfair one. Sylus, whose expertise and years on the field, easily overpowered Altan, pinning him to the ground. A horn blared, and the winner was declared.

A stirring eagerness and relief moved you from your seat, and you didn’t care for customs or etiquette when you ran across the ring, jumping right into his open arms. Sylus lifted you off your feet with ease, spinning you around, his laughter mingling with yours.

In his palm, he held the priceless gem he stole from Altan’s belt— a symbol of his opponent’s virility. Its capture meant that he had won the other man’s intended bride fair and square. He handed it to you, and right in front of his entire people, you proudly proclaimed your acceptance of his proposal—slipping the jewel right inside of your pouch and handing it to him.

Triumphant, Sylus took your offered gift, tucking it in the lapels of his leather harness with a contented grin.

The tribe elders were helpless to stop their strongest from claiming you, as was the custom of these rituals.

Sylus had no hesitation when he slung you over his shoulder again, a conqueror who had rightfully won his beloved.

He didn’t care if whispers of your status or his incredible defiance towards the elders would reach his ears; all Sylus could think about now was savoring this priceless reward he fought hard to obtain.

Bringing you back to his yurt, Sylus let the flap fall close behind him, a clear signal to the rest of the tribe that he intended to enjoy his winnings in peace.

Your back met the soft pillows and rugs, his broad build blocking out the rafters letting in warm morning sunlight; lost in the depths of his jewel-tone eyes.

They shone like precious rubies, far more valuable to you than any material item in this world.

The feel of your palm stroking his cheek, your fingers playing in his hair, suddenly made his stomach twist into hard knots. They were impossible to unravel, a bowline loop which went on for eternity.

His breathing turned ragged, gaze going soft as he looked at you—really took you in.

The sight of his beloved—his bride—right here in his home, about to be taken and claimed by him, set his nerves ablaze more than any war cry ever could.

Sylus moaned unabashedly when you tangled your fingers in his hair, bold enough away from the prying eyes of others to fall prey to the undeniable attraction you’ve felt for him since the first time you saw each other.

He lets you bring him in for a kiss, your lips sweeter than wildberry dew.

“Sylus…”

The possessive need to claim you flared in him when you called out his name.

Smoldering attraction turned into a wild, untameable blaze, threatening to consume him whole.

Due to his rugged nature, he never had a woman this close to him, her touch a balm to his rough edges.

In your arms, Sylus was more than the fearsome tribal chieftain whose name could strike fear in any man’s heart.

He was wont to your desires, an instrument of your love.

“Please,” you licked your lips, and his eyes followed the gesture with a blatant look of desire. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Sylus captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, swallowing your moans whole.

Your tinier fingers in his hair tightened, bringing his body closer onto yours. He fought back a shiver from the force of his desires as his body covered yours completely, trapping you beneath him under his weight.

“My love, you are playing a dangerous game,” he growled, adoring how fragile and small you felt under his hulking mass.

Dragging your hands down the slope of his shoulders, you felt his muscles rippling under your touch; his broad frame and the layers of sinew forming his brawny build leaving you lightheaded.

“Oh, my love. The sight of you underneath me, looking so vulnerable and lovely,” his voice dipped lower, a hoarse edge taking over it. “... it’s driving me wild.”

Shying away from such a bold declaration, you bit your lower lip. “Sylus, will it hurt?”

Sensing you were speaking about the act of copulating, he took your hand, rubbing circles on your palm.

“A little, but it is nothing you cannot handle. Besides, I will be with you through it all—I will not hurt you, my love.”

The idea of a ruthless tribal leader like him, promising some young slave girl that he would be gentle with her, was so far-fetched from your idea of what a conqueror was that you began to relax in his presence.

You trusted Sylus because he has proven time and time again how your comfort and safety were his priorities.

Especially when he was this close to claiming you.

Steady yet hasty hands slowly unraveled the lapels of your thick coat, his breaths tumbling out in silent huffs. Sylus’s large palms were warm—far too warm on your chilly body.

The great chieftain was a silent, nervous wreck when he glanced down at his beloved, watching her with soft eyes and reaching out to her with an even softer touch.

“Sylus… please.”

The cadence of his name on your tongue will never not be the sweetest thing he's heard in his life.

You returned the gesture, removing his leather gauntlets, slowly stripping him off his warrior bravado to reveal the sweet and gentle man underneath.

“Please, what?” He whispered against your throat. Outside, the cool breeze rattled the rafters, but inside his yurt and in his arms, you were warmer than a butterfly in spring.

You seized, back arching when he kissed a tender path from your neck to your bare chest.

The sight of your hardened nipples and smooth curves whipped through him like a frenzy, and Sylus grew impossibly hard at the image of your sweet body, swollen with child.

His child.

The fantasies of your breasts filling up with milk, the slope of your belly gently curving with the promise of his heir…

His thin patience was hanging by a thread.

Sylus shrugged off his sheepskin pants, tossing it to the side of the yurt as he quickly worked on the lapels and hooks of your clothing.

Once your smooth body was bare to him, Sylus’s gaze softened, his tone almost reverent when he said:

“You look beautiful, my beloved.”

You had not imagined your wedding night (or, in this case, morning) to be a tender affair.

Where every brutish belief you once held towards his people melted away with every tender touch of this gentle chieftain.

Sylus propped a pillow under your hips, careful to lean his full weight onto you. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan seeping past your swollen lips when you felt his tongue glide across your breasts, taking his time to play with and suck on your nipples.

His mouth moved down your body, teasing you with whispery kisses.

Parting your thighs wide, you realized a second too late what he was doing until he slotted himself in between; mouth pressed to your pelvis.

“Sy—”

The protests fizzled out the second you felt his tongue parting through your folds, tasting the effect he had on you.

Low whimpers slipped past your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Sylus… mhmm… s-stop—

But, he didn't relent. He glanced up at your flushed face, shaking his head.

You can take it, beloved. Can't you? For me?

It wasn't the reluctance that set you back but the shame of such an intimate experience.

You had never experienced a man this close to your sensitive parts; the idea of him in this position itself was too much to bear. You should be worshiping him, not the other way around.

But, Sylus refused to listen to your pleas and moans—hellbent on pleasuring you.

His tongue traced patterns on your clit, drawing out more of your high-pitched whines. There was little doubt whoever passed by the yurts could hear your pleasured sighs.

Sylus couldn't care less.

He wanted the whole tribe to know you were his; that he had chosen you and you had chosen him.

His tongue delved deeper into your core, tasting your excitement. Some of it stained onto his face, his chin drenched with your juices.

Your hips rocked to the rhythm his tongue set, your moans reaching fever pitch.

Good girl. That's it. Show me how much you want it.

Sylus murmured, working you through your cresting pleasure.

It came like a rising high within you, soaring higher than any eagle could as you crashed to the ground, screaming his name.

Sylus tightened his grip on your thighs, doubling down on his efforts. Your mess stained his cheeks, his chin, driving his desire to a burning point.

He worked his way up your body, leaving kisses on every inch of skin his mouth could reach.

Finally reaching your lips, Sylus poured every bit of his devotion for you into this heated kiss, swallowing your moans and letting you taste him on his tongue. Strings of saliva connected your lower lip to his, hanging by a tenuous thread.

The heat of your cheeks would have burned you alive, the tension between your bodies rising to a feverish pitch.

Tenderly, he nudged your thighs to wrap around his defined waist, opening you to be taken by him.

The first stretch was accompanied by his lips on yours, coaxing you to relax and open up to him.

That is it… good girl… taking me so well…

The deeper he sank in, the more loud he was with his praise.

I adore you… you sinful, sweet girl… take me… take me good…

Sylus!

Your cries reverberated across the sheepskin walls. It felt like drowning, your body sinking deeper into the plush woolen pillows.

Oh, oh… oh, right there…

He licked into the heat of your mouth, tracing the ridges of your teeth.

There? Does it hurt? Do I make you ache?

Yes, you responded deliriously. Yes, yes and yes.

It was the kind of pain you could never forget, yet you desired it all the same. A masochistic plea of your body to be devoured and conquered.

Sylus raised himself up on his forearms, the bulging, rock hard muscles rippling with every exertion; his thrusts almost knocking you backwards if it weren't for his tight grip on your hips.

Every collision of his cock against a spot deep inside of you made your toes curl; leading you closer towards your desperate end.

Sylus—can't… close…

It felt like a ball of tension growing bigger and tighter, growing uncontrollably hotter with every thrust, every heated whisper of his praise against your ear.

Sylus nipped your jaw, tracing his tongue against the curve of your lower lip.

His gentle insistence, coupled with his brutal thrusts made your body run hot and cold.

Goosebumps erupted across your skin. You were growing dizzier and hotter.

You gasp—fuck, fuck, this is too much—and he tells you just take it, darling.

Take it for me.

He nipped Your earlobe, pushing deeper against your body.

Does it feel good? Are you close?

Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded.

Yes, Sylus… almost…

Good, he traced his tongue across the heated Seam of your mouth.

Give it to me, darling. Let go for me.

One request. You gave into him.

“Yes, yes,” you shuddered, digging your heels into his lower back.

Sylus groaned, expressions contorting into painful bliss when your walls contracted around him.

He worked you through them, letting you stab your nails into his broad back.

That's it, darling. Give it to me. Come undone for your husband.

Husband.

The word sent an unrestrained quake straight through your soul.

Yet, the reality was far sweeter.

Sylus slumped on top of you, spent after releasing ropes of warmth deep inside your quivering cunt.

Languidly, he rolled you onto his chest, skin pressed to warm skin. You were spent, soaked and still wrapped around him.

The act of consummation was over. You finally belonged to him.

And for the test of his days, Sylus would make sure to show you how much you mean to him; going above and beyond to declare his love.

“I love you,” he slurred into the heat of your throat. “Always have. And from the very beginning.”

You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe in the warmth of his arms, finally allowing yourself to embrace the reality of this powerful man’s infatuation with you.

Amidst the vast and intimidating grasslands, you had ensured your survival as the feared chieftain's wife, with Sylus unwaveringly by your side.

#🦢 writes #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus qin #lnds sylus #love and deep space #love and deepspace #lads #mini series: wander in wonder

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months ago

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Aegon x niece! reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter) smut please! Aegon has always been in love with her and manages to convince Alicent and Viserys to let him marry her. The reader is just as in love and when they get married, thwir wedding night is full of love and passion and 🫦. Aegon hugging her tight while fucking her and reader whimpering and moaning in his ear 🤌🏽

I received so many requests these past days and got inspiration for a lot of them (14!!), so expect more very soon <3 I'm trying to include everything (smut, angst, action)

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p + v, loss of virginity

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Standing in the Great Sept of Baelor, your eyes couldn’t stray from Aegon. Blood was dripping slowly from his bottom lip after being cut after being cut and smeared on his forehead. His frizzy hair had been tamed and the cold of his clothes made the blue of his eyes stand out.

A dagger was handed to you to cut your palm with. You hissed slightly, watching as blood seeped out. You held your hand away from your pretty dress, not wishing to dirty it with blood, then passed the dagger to Aegon who did the same. He clasped his hand with yours, your blood mingled together as a blood silk was wrapped over your joined hands.

Queen Alicent wanted Aegon to marry following the Faith of the Seven, but he insisted on Valyrian tradition as the bond by blood was unbreakable.

‘’Blood of two, joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time or darkness and light,’’ the officiant said, reading from an old book.

Aegon could feel his heart racing. He couldn’t wait to call you his wife, to walk around court with your arm looped around his. And to no longer have a chaperon following you everywhere. It was so annoying. The only times you were able to be alone together was when you would elope on your dragons.

If your parents thought a chaperon would stop you from sharing kisses and letting your hands wander to places they should not be, they were mistaken.

The officiant finally allowed you to kiss, and every part of Aegon ached to shove his tongue into your mouth and kiss the life out of you in front of everyone. But he restrained himself, settling for a kiss that would be just enough to make your cheeks flush.

When the ceremony came to an end, everyone was bright back to the Keep. You rode a carriage with Aegon and your little brother, Joffrey, which you suspected was a scheme by your parents to make sure no sexual activities would happen in the carriage.

Aegon's hand was resting on your thigh, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. ‘’This is so frustrating. They really did this on purpose, didn't they?’’

‘’It’s not entirely a bad thing. I wouldn’t want you to crease or stain my dress before the feast,’’ you said, smoothing the shimmery white fabric of your dress as you fawned over the gold embroideries. You had never seen a more beautiful gown.

Aegon smiled smugly, thinking back to your last dragon ride together and the kisses you shared in the clearing…and his hand that slipped into your riding pants. ‘’Little does these fools know, we’ve played them before.’’ Smirking, he leaned in again. ‘’You know what kind of effect you have on me, wearing that dress. Especially knowing what's underneath.’’ He gave your thigh a little squeeze, his hand starting to move upwards just for a moment.

You quickly covered his hand with your own, stopping him. ‘’Stop it. Not here.’’

You looked over and saw Joffrey sitting on the opposite seat. Luckily, the boy was too preoccupied staring out the window to notice anything.

A sigh left your husband’s lips. ‘’I don’t want to wait until tonight. I won’t be able to.’’

Thankfully, the journey to the Red Keep was short. The doors to the carriage were opened and Aegon stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you out. He took a moment to let his eyes roam over your body, his gaze hungry. Before he could say anything, you pulled him towards the castle and to the throne room where the festivities would be held. Inside, the room was decked out with gold drapes and beautiful flowers — nothing less for a royal wedding.

The music began as you and Aegon made your first entrance together, your arm linked to his. He had promised to not let you fall in front of the lord and ladies. The guests cheered as you both made your way down the grand aisle, to the large table where your families stood, waiting for you to begin the feast.

As the night went on, you danced and ate cake and indulged in more wine that you would allow yourself to help with the nerves later. You were dancing with Helaena and laughing when you felt an arm snake around your waist and wet lips on your neck.

You leaned into Aegon’s chest and Helaena took this as her cue to find another dance partner.

‘’Do you think they will notice if we leave the festivities early?’’ he whispered in your ear, having enough of this feast and wanting to be alone with you.

You glanced around, searching for your parents. They seemed all involved in conversations with other lords and ladies, but one last pair of eyes was on you: Otto Hightower. Since he caught you kissing in an alcove when you were five and ten, he had been following you and Aegon like a hawk, disproving of your courtship.

‘’If you can find a way to escape your grandsire, I’ll follow you,’’ you replied.

Aegon’s laughter mixed with yours as you were running to Megor’s Holdfast where the royal chambers were. It felt like all the times you slipped away from court together to avoid being caught.

As soon as the door of Aegon’s chambers closed, his lips were on yours and his hands were all over you, grabbing and pulling with a hunger that made your pulse race. The urgency in his movements left you breathless, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

Clothes were taken off in haste, allowing your lips to kiss more skin. You threw your head back and moaned softly, nails sinking into Aegon's milky skin as he kissed down your neck and to your bared breasts, giving them the attention he's dreamed of.

‘’Aegon, please,’’ you whimpered, feeling his erect cock prod at your lower stomach.

He pressed a last kiss to your nipple and nodded, walking you back to his bed. You crawled up to the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Aegon joined you, hovering over you, and studying your flushed face for a moment, before he bent down to kiss your lips again.

You were thankful that your mother had opposed the humiliation of a bedding ceremony. You would never have been able to relax under the eyes of men standing around the bed, waiting for blood to mark the sheets.

While you were distracted by his kiss, Aegon moved a hand between your bodies to play with your cunt a little, helping you relax and prepare you for his cock. His girth was larger than the fingers he’s inserted before and he didn’t want to hurt you.

It would be a lie to say you didn't feel anything when he slid into you. The pain was unlike anything you felt before. Seeing the tears prick in your eyes and your pained face, Aegon was quick to sooth you with sweet words until the pain subsided.

His first thrusts were slow and overwhelming. It was a kind of pleasure you never experienced before.

‘’I love you, Aegon,’’ you said, seeing stars when he reached a particular spot.

He kissed you sweetly. ‘’I love you.’’

You hugged him tight while he moved his hips, his ears blessed by your whimpers and moans.

A chill blew from the windows, refreshing the warm air after your entercourse. You shivered, clinging to Aegon under the sheets. He closed his eyes, ready for a night of sleep, when your voice stirred him.

‘’Can we do it again?’’ you asked in a whisper, your head resting on his chest while bathing in the afterglow.

Aegon grinned at the ceiling, thanking the gods for giving him a wife that was just as horny as him.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity @Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd

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fvsm4x · 3 months ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 - „I don‘t deserve someone like you“

—In an arranged marriage to the powerful sorcerer Gojo Satoru, you, a blind young woman from a noble family, quickly realize the harsh realities of your new life.

.contains blind fem. reader x gojo satoru, gojo is shitty, angsty, hurt no comfort, curse au, cheating, mistress, toxity, wc. 6.1k

The scent of jasmine filled the grand hall, its soft, almost cloying sweetness failing to mask the tension that lingered in the air. The wedding was beautiful, by all accounts—ornate chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft, golden light across the room. Tall vases overflowed with white lilies and roses, draped with vines that twined delicately around their stems. Everything was pristine, perfect, a vision of elegance and status befitting the union of two powerful families.

But beneath the surface, it all felt wrong.

The whispers of the guests were hushed, though not out of reverence or respect for the sacredness of the ceremony. They whispered because of you. They stared, eyes flickering between curiosity and pity, hidden behind false smiles and hollow words of congratulations. They pretended to celebrate, but you could hear it—the murmurs beneath their breath, the way their voices dipped just low enough that they thought you wouldn’t notice.

But you always noticed.

You stood still, hands folded in front of you, your posture impeccable as you’d been trained, listening as they spoke about the bride. The blind girl. The one without cursed techniques. The one Gojo Satoru—the Gojo Satoru—was marrying.

The ceremony had been just as silent, just as stifling, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing into you like needles. You had felt their gazes on your back as you walked down the aisle, guided by your father’s hand. Each step had felt heavier than the last, each footfall an echo in the vast room, but you held your head high, your expression calm and serene, as you had practiced countless times. The world around you was dark, as it always had been, but your senses were sharp, attuned to every shift in the atmosphere, every murmur, every movement.

No one questioned the marriage aloud, but everyone doubted it in private. The Gojo clan needed an heir, and you—born into a noble sorcerer family, though cursed with blindness and lacking any ability to fight—were chosen for the role. Not because of your power, not because of love, but because your bloodline was old and respected. Your family’s name still held weight in the jujutsu world, even if you did not. And Gojo… well, he was too important, too powerful, for anyone to refuse his family’s demands.

You could feel the tension in the room from the moment you entered. It rippled through the air like a current, crackling just beneath the surface of polite conversation. Your family had assured you this was the best course for both you and them. It was your duty, they’d said, to carry on the family’s legacy, even if you couldn’t do it the way your ancestors had. You would be a wife, a vessel for a future heir. That was your purpose now. You weren’t here to fight curses or stand beside him as an equal. You were here to bear the weight of an alliance and ensure the bloodlines remained pure and strong.

And he?

Gojo Satoru, the man you were now married to, had been as distant as the stars. Even during the brief ceremony, his presence felt like a cold wind brushing past your skin. He hadn’t said much—his voice, when he spoke the vows, had been flat and indifferent, devoid of the charm and magnetism that he was known for. His hand had touched yours only for the briefest moment, cool and detached, as though the act of taking your hand was more of an inconvenience than a gesture of unity.

There had been no tenderness, no sense of connection. It was as though he were performing an obligation, fulfilling a requirement, nothing more.

And now, as the ceremony gave way to the reception, he was nowhere to be found.

You stood alone in the grand hall, surrounded by the murmuring crowd, your fingers grazing the soft fabric of your wedding gown as you shifted your weight. The gown was heavy, draped in layers of delicate silk and lace that clung to your skin, a reminder of the weight of the expectations placed upon you. You could hear the soft rustle of the fabric as you moved, the sound barely audible over the hum of conversation and the gentle notes of the ceremonial band playing in the background.

The guests were mingling, their voices a blur of idle chatter and veiled judgment, and you were left to endure it all in silence.

"Such a shame," someone whispered, though you couldn’t tell who. Their voice was soft, yet the pity in it was sharp enough to cut. "A blind girl, no cursed energy…"

"Can she even fulfill her duties?" another voice added, the words tinged with disbelief. "Gojo must be furious."

Your heart tightened, but you kept your face composed, as you had been taught. You didn’t react. You didn’t turn toward the voices or acknowledge them in any way. You had long since learned that reacting only gave them power. So you stood still, hands clasped in front of you, listening as they judged you without hesitation.

“She must be so nervous,” a woman murmured to her companion, her tone laced with false sympathy. "I can’t imagine being so helpless."

Helpless.

You had heard that word so many times in your life. It clung to you like a second skin, a label that you could never quite shed, no matter how hard you tried. They saw your blindness and your lack of cursed energy, and they assumed that was all there was to you. A burden. An empty vessel.

It wasn’t just the guests who thought that. You could feel it in the way Gojo had treated you during the ceremony. His absence now was only confirmation of what you already knew—he didn’t care. To him, this marriage was just another arrangement, another responsibility to check off his list. You had been chosen for your lineage, not for yourself.

He wasn’t going to try, and neither were you.

It was only after what felt like an eternity of standing alone, the weight of the room pressing down on you, that you felt a shift. The atmosphere changed, a ripple of movement through the crowd, followed by the distinct sensation of someone approaching.

You knew who it was before he even spoke.

"Looking for me?"

His voice was smooth, casual, tinged with amusement that felt out of place in the solemnity of the occasion. It was the same voice he had used during the ceremony—bored, distant, with just a hint of arrogance. You had heard Gojo Satoru speak before, though never to you, and his voice was always laced with that same careless charm, as though everything and everyone around him were beneath him.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t turn toward him immediately, taking a moment to compose yourself, to control the surge of frustration that rose within you. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, calm.

"Where have you been?"

The question was simple, but it carried more weight than the words alone. Where had he been? On this day of all days, the day that was meant to unite you, however meaningless that union might be. You hadn’t expected warmth from him, but a part of you—buried deep—had hoped for something more than indifference.

"Busy," he replied, as though the question itself were a joke. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him for details. He wouldn’t have given them, anyway. His voice was closer than expected, and you felt a subtle shift in the air as he moved closer. "This whole thing is exhausting. Don’t you agree?"

His words dripped with nonchalance, as though the day had been an inconvenience to him. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps the thought of being tied to someone like you—someone who couldn’t see, someone who couldn’t fight—was more than just a burden to him.

You remained still, though your fingers tightened slightly around the delicate fabric of your gown. "I suppose it is," you replied softly, your voice carefully neutral. "But it’s necessary."

Gojo laughed, the sound low and mocking, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, as though he were studying you, amused by your response.

"Necessary?" he echoed, his tone mocking. "I guess that’s one way to put it."

There was a pause, and you could feel the tension between you thickening, the space between you filled with unspoken words. You wanted to say something—something sharp, something that would cut through his arrogance—but you held your tongue. You had learned long ago that sharp words would do nothing here. Not with him.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned in slightly, “did you think this would be anything more than an arrangement?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t let your expression falter. “I didn’t expect anything more than what was promised,” you answered carefully.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because that’s all it is. An arrangement. Nothing more.”

You could feel the cruel smirk tugging at his lips, even if you couldn’t see it. You didn’t need to see it. You could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he stood too close, invading your space as if to remind you just how small, how insignificant, you were in comparison to him.

The room around you felt colder, even though the temperature had not changed.

“Don’t worry,” he said, stepping back as though to release you from his presence, “this’ll go much easier if you remember that.”

As Gojo disappeared back into the crowd, the warmth of his presence faded just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an emptiness that settled deep in your chest. You kept your face composed, your expression serene, as you had been taught. The noise of the reception swirled around you, a cacophony of clinking glasses and laughter, but none of it reached you. It felt distant, muted—like you were standing in a world that wasn’t meant for you, a world that you could never fully inhabit.

You didn’t need to see to know what was happening around you. The guests would be watching him now, the great Gojo Satoru, as he moved effortlessly through the crowd, exchanging smiles and pleasantries with his admirers. They’d hang on his every word, laugh at his every joke, their attention glued to him like moths drawn to a flame. He was the star of this union, after all—the one everyone came to see. Not you.

You were nothing more than the shadow in his light.

A part of you wanted to slip away, to retreat into the safety of solitude where the weight of the expectations and the judgment wouldn’t suffocate you. But you knew better. Your place was here, standing still, enduring. You had learned long ago that this was your role in the world of sorcerers—a silent participant, always on the periphery, always observing but never truly part of the action.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

The voice was soft, tentative—your mother’s. You hadn’t heard her approach, but the gentle touch of her hand on your arm was familiar, grounding. She was the one who had guided you through this life of duty, the one who had taught you how to survive in a world that had never been kind to those like you.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice steady. The lie slipped easily from your lips. It was a lie you had told so many times before that it felt almost like the truth now.

Your mother’s grip tightened slightly, her thumb brushing your arm in a subtle gesture of comfort. “He… he will come around,” she murmured, though even she didn’t sound convinced.

You resisted the urge to laugh at her words. Come around? Gojo Satoru? You had known, even before the wedding, that he wasn’t the type of man who could be swayed by something as simple as a bond of marriage. He was above all of that—above you. He was the strongest sorcerer alive, the most powerful, untouchable. And you? You were nothing more than the bride chosen for him because of your family’s name. A bride he could ignore without consequence.

“There’s no need for him to come around,” you replied softly. “This marriage is what it is.”

Your mother hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You will find your place,” she said finally, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. “It may take time, but—”

“I know my place,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. You could feel her flinch, her hand withdrawing slightly, and a pang of guilt shot through you. She didn’t deserve your frustration. She had done what she thought was best for you, even if this life felt like a cage. “I’m sorry,” you added quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I understand,” your mother said gently, though you could hear the strain in her voice. “I know this isn’t easy. But… you must remember your duty. This is about more than just you or Satoru. It’s about the future of our family.”

Her words, though well-meaning, did little to comfort you. You had heard them countless times before—spoken by your father, by your uncles, by the elders who had decided your fate long before you had any say in it. Your family needed this marriage. It was a strategic alliance, a way to secure your family’s position in the jujutsu world, to ensure that their legacy would continue through the next generation. You were simply the vessel through which that legacy would be carried.

But what about you? What did you want?

Not that it mattered. In this world, your wants were irrelevant.

“I know,” you whispered, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. “I understand my duty.”

Your mother didn’t reply, but you could sense her reluctance, her uncertainty. Perhaps a part of her regretted the role she had played in this arrangement. Or perhaps she simply didn’t know how to help you, how to guide you through something she had never experienced herself.

After a moment, she squeezed your arm again, then quietly slipped away, leaving you alone once more in the sea of murmuring voices and clinking glasses.

The journey back to the Gojo estate was quiet and uncomfortable, much like the rest of the day had been. You had ridden alone, save for the driver and a house staff member assigned to assist you, a man whose presence was unobtrusive and respectful, though it did little to ease the weight in your chest. The noise of the reception was a distant memory now, replaced by the soft hum of the car engine and the occasional rattle of the road beneath the wheels.

When the car finally came to a halt, you felt the subtle shift in the air, the familiar scent of the estate reaching you through the open window. The door beside you opened with a soft creak, and you turned your head slightly, listening as the staff member stepped out and came to your side.

"Lady Gojo," he said quietly, his voice steady, "we’ve arrived. May I assist you?"

You nodded, grateful for his presence even if the formality of it felt strange. His hand found yours with a practiced gentleness, and you allowed him to guide you from the car, your feet sinking slightly into the gravel as you stepped onto the driveway. The estate was large, its grounds sprawling and ornate, though you had never seen it with your own eyes. You had been given descriptions, of course—told about the lush gardens, the grand architecture, the beautiful traditional touches that made the Gojo residence a place of prestige. But to you, it was simply a place. Another cage, perhaps larger and more opulent than the last, but a cage nonetheless.

The man guided you carefully, his pace slow and deliberate as you walked toward the main entrance. The stone path beneath your feet was smooth, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you moved. You focused on the sounds around you—the distant chirp of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft shuffle of your guide’s footsteps. It was a comfort in a way, grounding you in the present, keeping you from drifting too far into the overwhelming thoughts that threatened to consume you.

As you reached the doors to the estate, another figure emerged from inside—a woman, her footsteps lighter and quicker than the man’s. You could tell by the soft rustling of fabric and the light scent of jasmine that she was one of the house staff, perhaps the one assigned to assist you personally. She approached with the same quiet respect, her presence calm and unobtrusive.

"Lady Gojo," she greeted softly, her voice smooth and measured. "I am here to assist you with getting settled. Shall I help you to your chambers?"

"Yes," you replied quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Thank you."

The man who had guided you this far bowed his head slightly, murmured a polite farewell, and took his leave. The woman stepped forward then, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she gently guided you through the grand entrance of the estate. The cool air inside the building was a sharp contrast to the warmth of the evening outside, the scent of incense and wood filling your senses as you walked.

You could hear the faint echo of your footsteps in the vast, empty halls, the sound a reminder of the sheer size of this place. It felt too big, too impersonal. The kind of space where someone could get lost—physically and emotionally.

As the woman led you through the winding corridors, she remained quiet, her touch firm but never forceful. She was practiced, you could tell, in the way she moved with you, guiding without pushing, always attentive to your pace. There was a quiet understanding in her actions, as though she knew that this day had been overwhelming, that words weren’t necessary right now.

When you finally reached the doors to your chambers, she opened them quietly and stepped inside with you. The room was cold, untouched, the air still and heavy. The silence hung between you both as she guided you toward the center of the room, stopping near the bed.

"Shall I help you with your gown, Lady Gojo?" the woman asked gently, her voice soft but professional.

"Yes, please," you answered, though a part of you hesitated. It felt strange, being undressed by another, but the gown was heavy, its intricate layers difficult to manage on your own, especially after such a long day. The weight of it felt unbearable now, pressing down on your shoulders, a physical reminder of everything this day had been.

The woman moved with care, her fingers deft as she began to undo the delicate clasps and ties of your wedding dress. You stood still, letting her work, the fabric of the gown slowly loosening and falling away from your body as she removed it piece by piece. The cool air brushed against your skin as each layer was peeled back, the heaviness gradually lifting, though the emotional weight remained.

Once the gown was fully removed, she folded it with precision, setting it aside on a nearby chair. You felt lighter, freer in a way, though the emptiness of the room and the absence of the man who was supposed to share it with you left a coldness in your chest.

"Would you like me to prepare anything else for you tonight, my lady?" the woman asked, her voice still calm and measured.

"No," you replied softly, shaking your head. "That will be all. Thank you."

With a quiet bow, she left the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her the only sound that remained. And then, you were alone.

Alone.

The word echoed in your mind, filling the empty space around you. You stood there for a long moment, the coldness of the room seeping into your skin, the emptiness of the house pressing down on you. This was your life now—a life of silence, of isolation. A life in which you were nothing more than a vessel for a future heir.

You hadn’t expected Gojo to be here, but even so, his absence stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He hadn’t cared enough to even pretend. This marriage, this life—it meant nothing to him. And to everyone else, you were just the blind girl. The one without cursed techniques. The one chosen not for her strength or power, but for her bloodline. A tool.

With a heavy sigh, you walked slowly to the bed, the soft rustle of the sheets the only sound in the quiet room. You crawled into bed, the cold fabric wrapping around you like a suffocating embrace. You stared into the darkness, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. Would it always be like this? Would this be your life—empty, cold, and filled with the constant reminder of your insignificance?

The cold sheets didn’t provide any comfort, nor did the quiet. The weight of the day pressed down on you, and despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. Instead, you lay there, your thoughts swirling around in your mind, the reality of your new life sinking in.

The morning light filtered through the room’s large windows, though its warmth did nothing to chase away the cold that lingered in the air. You had hardly slept, the weight of the previous night pressing heavily on your chest. The events played over and over in your mind—the whispers, the ceremony, the emptiness. And now, waking up in this unfamiliar place, it was hard to shake the sense of displacement, of being trapped in a life that was not your own.

You sat up slowly, your body stiff from the restless night. The thin fabric of your nightgown offered little comfort against the morning chill, and for a moment, you remained still, unsure of what to do next. There was no routine here, no familiar rhythm to fall into. You had always known what your life would be—quiet, measured, controlled by duty—but now it felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under you, leaving you floating in a strange, empty space.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, soft but insistent.

"Lady Gojo," came the familiar voice of the woman who had helped you the night before. "I’ve brought you tea. May I enter?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice quiet.

The door opened, and you heard her footsteps as she approached, the soft clinking of a tray as she set it down on the small table beside your bed.

"I’ve also brought a change of clothes," she continued, her tone respectful. "If you’d like, I can help you dress for the day."

You nodded, though the thought of dressing for the day felt strange. What was there to do? What purpose did this day hold for you? You didn’t belong in this world of sorcerers and cursed techniques, of power and prestige. You were just the blind girl, chosen to be Gojo’s wife for reasons that had nothing to do with who you were and everything to do with what your family name represented.

The woman helped you out of bed, her hands gentle as she guided you toward the wardrobe, where she had laid out a simple, elegant kimono. You could feel the delicate silk between your fingers as she draped it over your shoulders, her hands moving with practiced ease as she tied the obi around your waist.

"Do you know what your plans are for today, my lady?" she asked quietly, though there was no judgment in her voice, only politeness.

"I don’t," you admitted, the words feeling heavy. "I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do."

The woman paused for a moment, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders as she adjusted the fabric. "You may not have cursed techniques like the others, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing for you here. The Gojo estate is large, and there are many things to explore if you’d like. The gardens are beautiful, and the library is filled with books from all over the world. You don’t have to…"

Her voice trailed off as though she had realized she was speaking out of turn, but the kindness in her tone remained.

"I don’t have to what?" you asked softly, curious about what she had left unsaid.

"You don’t have to wait around," she finished, her voice gentler now. "You don’t have to wait for someone to tell you what to do. You’re Lady Gojo now, and this is your home too."

The words settled into you, though they felt foreign, like a suit of armor that didn’t quite fit. Could this place ever really be your home? Could you find your own way here, among people who saw you as nothing more than a blind girl married to a man who didn’t care about you?

When the woman finished dressing you, she stepped back, her hands folding neatly in front of her. "Is there anything else I can do for you this morning?"

"No," you replied, your voice soft. "Thank you."

She bowed slightly and left the room, leaving you standing there, dressed but feeling no more ready for the day than you had before.

The silence that filled the room after her departure was thick and suffocating. You could feel the weight of the emptiness pressing down on you, the quietness of the house a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that had filled your mind since the wedding. A part of you wanted to crawl back into bed, to hide under the covers and pretend that none of this was real. But the woman’s words lingered.

You don’t have to wait around.

You had spent your entire life waiting. Waiting for your cursed techniques to appear. Waiting for your family to tell you what your role would be. Waiting for this marriage to happen, knowing it was never really a choice. But now, as much as you felt out of place, there was a flicker of something inside you that wondered if she was right. Maybe there was more to this life than just waiting.

With slow, deliberate movements, you made your way to the door. Your hand found the handle, and you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet of the estate enveloping you. The corridors were long, and though you couldn’t see them, you could feel the vastness of the space around you—the echo of your footsteps against the smooth floors, the subtle shift in the air as you walked.

You didn’t know where you were going, but for the first time since you arrived, it didn’t matter. You just needed to move, to take a step forward, no matter how uncertain.

As you neared a door, the sounds from within grew unmistakable—soft murmurs, the rustle of fabric, and then a quiet, intimate sigh. The knot in your stomach tightened. You already knew what you would find if you dared to push the door open, and yet your feet carried you closer, your heart thundering in your chest as your hand instinctively brushed against the doorframe.

Inside, Gojo’s voice was low, playful, teasing in a way you had never heard from him before. It sent a shiver down your spine—not from the words themselves, but from the realization that this was a side of him he had reserved for someone else.

Through the small gap in the door, you heard her—a soft giggle, followed by a breathy gasp as Gojo’s voice dropped lower, too quiet for you to make out the words. The tone was unmistakable though, thick with seduction, as if he was savoring every moment of this forbidden encounter.

You stepped closer, the barely-there creak of the floor beneath you drowned out by the sounds inside the room. There was no mistaking what was happening now. Her quiet moan was unmistakable, and the soft, wet sound that followed made your breath catch in your throat. Your mind painted a picture you didn’t want to see—Gojo leaning in, his lips pressing against hers with a hunger that had never been directed toward you.

The dull thud of your heart in your ears drowned out almost everything else, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. You shouldn’t have been standing there, listening to your husband making out with another woman, but the pull of the moment kept you frozen in place.

A light gasp escaped her, followed by Gojo’s chuckle, and then you heard him kiss her again—longer this time, deeper. The sound of their lips parting, the soft exhale of pleasure from the woman, filled the room. It was like a physical blow, striking you with a force you hadn’t expected.

It was the kind of kiss you would never have. The kind of affection you would never receive from him.

You had always known it, deep down. Gojo had never promised you anything beyond the formalities of marriage, and you had accepted that, hadn’t you? But standing here, listening to him give someone else the affection you would never know, the truth of it stung in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

You pressed your palm against the cool wood of the doorframe, forcing yourself to breathe through the growing lump in your throat. The walls seemed to close in around you, the air too thick, too heavy. Your body screamed at you to turn away, to walk back to the safety of your solitude, but your feet felt anchored to the spot.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply this hurt, how thoroughly he had already broken the fragile illusion you had tried to build around this marriage. But as you stood there, every tender sound that came from inside the room seemed to chip away at whatever resolve you had left.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you pulled yourself away from the door. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as if each step was a battle against the weight of your own heart. You wouldn’t stay to hear the rest. You wouldn’t allow yourself to witness any more of Gojo’s betrayal.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A betrayal.

It didn’t matter that this marriage had never been built on love, that it had been nothing more than a transaction between two powerful families. You had still given yourself to him, even if only in the way you had been told to, and now, he was giving parts of himself—parts you would never have—to someone else.

As you made your way back down the hall, you forced yourself to hold your head high, your face impassive, though inside, the ache that had started when you overheard their conversation had turned into a deep, gnawing hurt.

You wouldn’t confront him.

But even here, in the peacefulness of the garden, you couldn’t escape the nagging thought in the back of your mind—the knowledge that no matter how far you ran, you would always be trapped in a life that wasn’t yours.

And you weren’t sure if you could ever find a way out.

As you wandered through the garden, the air heavy with the scent of flowers, you couldn’t shake the hollow ache in your chest. The calmness of the space did little to ease the knot that had formed in your stomach, the knowledge of Gojo’s casual betrayal lingering in your mind like a bitter aftertaste. You tried to ignore it, to focus on the sensation of the soft breeze against your skin, but the conversation you had overheard replayed in your head.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, you heard his voice.

“Ah, there you are.”

The sound of Gojo’s voice cut through the stillness of the garden, light and casual, as if he hadn’t just been somewhere else, entertaining another woman. You stiffened, your back straightening instinctively, but you didn’t turn toward him. You didn’t need to see him to know that the easy smile was probably plastered across his face, his usual carefree attitude masking whatever true thoughts lay behind those bright blue eyes.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel path, growing closer until you could feel his presence beside you. He stopped, his hands probably in his pockets, his head likely tilted with that insufferable smirk still playing on his lips. The scent of his cologne, sharp and faintly sweet, filled the air around you, overwhelming the natural smell of the flowers.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of casual curiosity. “I figured you’d still be sleeping off yesterday.”

You said nothing for a moment, your hands tightening slightly at your sides as you tried to maintain your composure. The silence stretched between you, and you could feel his gaze on you, even if you couldn’t see it. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet but steady.

“Just walking,” you replied, your tone cool. “Isn’t that what people do in their own home?”

There was a beat of silence, and you could almost hear the grin spreading wider across his face.

“Right, right,” he said, amusement dancing in his voice. “Our home.”

The way he said the word “our” felt like a mockery, as if the very idea of this being your shared space was some kind of joke. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the wave of frustration that threatened to rise. This was your life now, tied to a man who didn’t care, bound by a duty you hadn’t asked for.

“You’re up early,” you continued, your voice steady but cold. “I thought you’d be… occupied.”

Gojo let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and almost teasing. “Ah, you heard that, huh?”

There was no apology in his tone, no trace of guilt. If anything, he sounded amused, as if the idea of you hearing him with another woman was nothing more than an inconvenience, a slight miscalculation on his part. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you struggled to keep your composure.

“What does it matter?” he continued, his voice light and airy, as if this were all some kind of game. “You know what this is. You knew what this would be.”

His words hit you like a slap to the face, and for a moment, the air seemed to still around you. Of course, you had known. This marriage wasn’t built on love or trust; it was an arrangement, a union forged out of necessity and obligation. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with such casual disregard for your feelings, made the reality of it all the more painful.

You turned your head slightly in his direction, though your eyes remained unfocused, your gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.

“I know what this is,” you said softly, your voice carrying a quiet strength. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be so cruel.”

Gojo’s laughter rang out, sharp and biting, and you could feel the shift in his demeanor, his charm slipping just slightly to reveal the edge beneath.

“Cruel?” he echoed, the word rolling off his tongue like a taunt. “This is reality. You’re the one who agreed to this. You knew exactly what you were getting into. You can’t act surprised now.”

Your chest tightened, the frustration and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, of knowing just how deeply his words had cut. Instead, you drew in a steady breath, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said quietly, the truth hanging between you like a heavy weight. “Neither of us did.”

For a moment, there was silence. You could feel his eyes on you, studying you, perhaps weighing the truth in your words. And then, with a soft exhale, Gojo’s tone shifted again, the sharpness receding as his usual nonchalant air returned.

“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice softer now but still distant, “that’s the way the world works, isn’t it?”

You didn’t respond, the quiet settling between you like a heavy fog. This was the man you had married—Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer alive, a man who wielded immense strength and influence but saw the world through a lens of detachment and indifference. He lived in a reality where emotions were weaknesses and connections were expendable. And now, you were a part of that world, tethered to him by duty and expectation.

But even as you stood there, feeling the weight of his presence beside you, a small flicker of resolve burned within you. You couldn’t change him, and you couldn’t change the circumstances that had brought you here. But maybe, just maybe, you could carve out something for yourself within this life. Something that wasn’t defined by him or by the expectations of others.

“I’ll leave you to your walk,” Gojo said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve got things to do.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he left you standing alone in the garden. The emptiness he left behind was palpable, but you stood there for a long moment, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

This was your life now—a life filled with silence and distance, with a husband who saw you as nothing more than a convenience, a vessel for an heir.

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