#physical paradox masterlist

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Physical Paradox Masterlist

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Your type of Magic

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Lilith in the 1st House

Universal and Motivational Magic

This placement embodies the essence of all other houses, making its magic incredibly versatile. However, its power hinges entirely on personal motivation and emotional investment. If the individual is apathetic or lacks enthusiasm, the magic remains dormant, unable to manifest. When emotionally engaged and motivated, those with Lilith in the 1st House can achieve extraordinary feats, channeling their boundless energy into transformative outcomes. The primary obstacle is a tendency toward discouragement and spiritual procrastination. If doubt or inertia sets in, it can be challenging to harness their potential fully.

Lilith in the 2nd House

Magic of Building and Prosperity

This placement is rooted in creation, growth, and abundance. Lilith in the 2nd House thrives on constructive practices and struggles with destructive or negative energy, such as curses or hexes. Its focus is on stability, sustainability, and nurturing prosperity. Ideal for spells and rituals related to wealth, long-term love, and enduring success. It excels in creating solid foundations and fostering stability in all aspects of life. A need for recognition can sometimes hinder collaborative efforts. Working in the shadow of others or within groups may dilute this house’s potency, so this Lilith works alone or is the leader of the group.

Lilith in the 3rd House

Visionary and Word Magic

This placement connects strongly with the ethereal realms of mediumship, oracle reading, and dream work. The magic of the 3rd House lies in its ability to perceive beyond the mundane, uncovering hidden truths. However, it has limited influence on direct magical interference or physical manifestations. Prophecies, revealing dreams, and channeling spiritual insights are the cornerstones of this house. Its intuitive understanding of symbols and messages is unparalleled. Words hold immense power here. When spoken in anger, they can cause significant harm, often leading to regret. Careful control over communication is vital to avoid unintentional destruction.

Lilith in the 4th House

Ancestral and Intuitive Magic

Deeply tied to emotional well-being and family roots, this placement flourishes in environments of peace and harmony. Its magic is intuitive, nurtured by connection to one’s ancestry and inner tranquility. Lunar cycles amplify its potency, allowing self-taught rituals to be highly effective. Considered one of the most powerful placements, Lilith in the 4th House offers unparalleled capacity for spiritual growth and magical mastery. Practices performed in alignment with lunar energy yield exceptional results. Negative environments, such as those involving mistreatment or humiliation, can severely hinder spiritual growth. If practices are learned in a hostile context, they may become blocked, rendering the tools unusable. Respectful and nurturing settings are crucial for unlocking the full potential of this placement. If you learn a spell in a toxic environment where you feel ridiculed, your energy may reject that knowledge permanently, reinforcing the importance of seeking respectful teachers and sacred spaces.

Lilith in the 5th House

Magic of Luck and Optimism

This placement radiates joy and prosperity, particularly when helping others overcome challenges. It channels creativity and enthusiasm, making it a beacon of hope for those in need. Highly effective for spells that boost businesses, attract luck, or improve self-esteem. Its magic often brings remarkable success to others. Paradoxically, while this house blesses others with fortune, individuals with Lilith in the 5th House may struggle to manifest prosperity or happiness for themselves. Emotional lows or lack of motivation can weaken their magic entirely. A practitioner may help a business flourish with a prosperity spell but find it difficult to stabilize their own finances or emotional well-being. Avoid cluttered, overly symbolic spaces, which may disperse energy. Opt for a clean, minimalist environment to focus your intentions. Techniques like Reiki, which emphasize pure energy transmission, harmonize exceptionally well with this placement.

Lilith in the 6th House

Healing Magic and Herbal Power

This placement excels in health and healing practices, with a natural affinity for alternative medicine, such as herbal remedies, energy baths, and flower essences. Its magic is restorative and deeply connected to physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Healing and renewal are the hallmarks of this house. Rituals aimed at recovery—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—are profoundly effective, making this placement a natural healer. A tendency toward perfectionism can create rigidity, making it difficult to adapt to new methods or ideas. Additionally, the direct and often critical approach of this placement may inadvertently alienate or harm more sensitive individuals, such as those with Lilith in the 4th House. Dive deeply into the study of herbal medicine and energy work, as these tools amplify your magic. Be mindful of your tone and approach, especially when interacting with others, to maintain harmony and avoid blocking your own energies.

Lilith in the 7th House

Magic of Love and Reconciliation

Lilith's influence in this house enhances the ability to create, strengthen, and heal emotional bonds. It grants a profound understanding of relationships and the power to cultivate harmony in personal connections. This placement gives the individual the energy of a “spiritual Cupid,” making them a powerful force in love spells, sweetenings, bindings, and reconciliation rituals. People with Lilith in the 7th House are also highly skilled at leading spiritual groups, teaching with great patience and empathy. Their natural charisma allows them to guide others toward healing and emotional connection. There is an inherent emotional vulnerability when it comes to those they love. Despite their spiritual power, they may struggle to defend themselves against loved ones, often hesitating to use protective magic. This can leave them open to emotional or relational abuse, especially if boundaries are not established. While you have the gift to heal and strengthen relationships, be mindful of imbalances or toxic patterns in those around you. Establish and maintain healthy emotional boundaries, ensuring your talents for union and reconciliation are not exploited or used against you.

Lilith in the 8th House

Shadow Magic and the Power of Transformation

Lilith in the 8th House connects deeply with hidden forces, transformation, and the cycles of life, death, and rebirth. This placement is highly potent, but requires a disciplined approach rooted in secrecy. The strength of this energy is most effective when kept confidential, as discretion and privacy are crucial to success. Lilith in the 8th House possesses the power to perform intense, precise magical work. It excels in destruction of obstacles, protection, and, when necessary, revenge. Its energy is ideally suited for transmuting difficult situations, transforming them into opportunities for growth and renewal. A significant emotional weight accompanies this placement, particularly when attempting to assist loved ones, like family members, through transformative processes. The darker energies generated by this work can turn against the practitioner if not carefully channeled, potentially causing harm if the magical intentions are not pure. Work in clean, isolated spaces free from distractions, as external energy can interfere with the potency of your magic. Cultivate balance through regular meditation and purification rituals to maintain the clarity and power of your work. Avoid sharing your practices with others, as secrecy preserves the effectiveness of your spells.

Lilith in the 9th House

Skepticism and the Search for Faith

Lilith's presence here brings a tendency toward skepticism, particularly toward abstract beliefs or faith-based practices. This can make it challenging to embrace the more mystical aspects of magic that require faith. Despite this skepticism, Lilith in the 9th House is capable of integrating rationality with spiritual practice. These individuals are often drawn to practices that blend science with magic, using logic and methodical approaches to support their magical work. This grounded approach makes them skilled at finding practical applications for spiritual knowledge. A strong disbelief in their own spiritual abilities can be a significant barrier. Individuals with this placement tend to question their practices and abilities, which can hinder the flow of energy and the effectiveness of their work. This constant self-doubt can prevent them from fully embracing their magical potential. To overcome skepticism, seek connection with a trusted spiritual figure—whether a deity, guide, or entity—that inspires belief. Working in a group or with mentors can provide a supportive structure that reinforces faith and strengthens confidence in your magical abilities. Take time to appreciate small signs of spiritual growth and practice patience, allowing faith to build gradually over time.

Lilith in the 10th House

Life Mission and the Power of Direction

Lilith in the 10th House is intimately connected to a clear sense of life’s purpose and the ability to lead others toward their own goals. This placement grants the energy needed to manifest destiny, providing individuals with the insight and determination to guide themselves and others along a meaningful path. This placement allows individuals to open doors and create lasting changes, especially when they are focused on personal fulfillment and success. They have a natural talent for working magic tied to career goals, public recognition, and long-term prosperity. This Lilith is one of a few who can read their own destiny from their cards or other divination method. Lilith in the 10th House requires a clear sense of purpose to work effectively. Spells and magical work that lack a defined goal or focus tend to be less successful. This placement is most potent when working with individuals who are equally committed to their own path and who share a clear sense of direction. Focus your efforts on helping those who demonstrate commitment and clarity about their goals. Use your magical talents to create lasting transformations, such as opening doors to prosperity, career growth, and family stability. Remember to take moments of disconnection from external pressures to recharge and maintain your sense of purpose.

Lilith in the 11th House

Nocturnal Energy and Social Magic

Lilith in the 11th House is most active at night, with its energy waning during the day. Practitioners with this placement should embrace nocturnal work to harness its full potential. It thrives in environments where material connection is emphasized, making it essential to stay grounded—preferably barefoot—when working. This placement is ideal for "popular magic," which focuses on accessible and immediate solutions such as teas, prayers, or simple rituals. Its power is in its practicality, with quick and effective works yielding the best results. While popularity is an important aspect of this placement, it’s essential to work on tolerance toward criticism and external attacks. Those with Lilith in the 11th House may find themselves vulnerable to public scrutiny, making it crucial to develop resilience in the face of negative feedback.

Lilith in the 12th House

Full Spirituality and Unseen Forces

Lilith in the 12th House represents the full spectrum of spiritual energy, embodying both the giving and receiving of divine power. This placement offers immense versatility in magical practice, allowing for work with a variety of spiritual tools, from esoteric texts to sacred Psalms. Highly protected from spiritual attacks, individuals with Lilith in the 12th House are shielded by constant and powerful spiritual energy. Their magic is multifaceted, capable of adapting to many forms and situations. Excessive analysis and caution can prolong the effectiveness of spells. Individuals with this placement may overthink their practices, which can delay results and hinder the flow of energy needed for their work. Focus on balancing the energetic flow of giving and receiving, cultivating a deeper emotional or spiritual connection to your work. Avoid over-analyzing and instead trust the natural flow of energy. Keep your spiritual practices flexible and adaptive, drawing on a variety of elements and tools as needed.

[mononijikayu]

make me your god, i can give you everything — ryomen sukuna.

"I want revenge, my god." you said, your gaze unwavering. "But not on you. Not right now. So let me make my wish clear. You’ve taken enough from me. You can’t give me love, you can’t give me peace. You can’t give me goodness. But revenge—that, you can give me." He raised an eyebrow at you, the amusement in his gaze deepening, though his smirk never faltered. Slowly, he reached down, drawing his blade from his side with a fluid motion. He handed it to you, the gleam of steel catching the light as he placed it into your hands. "You want revenge?" he asked, his voice carrying the promise of something darker, more dangerous. "Then take it, little one. I can give you that. And nothing more."

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, smut, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/ comfort, marriage, parenthood, hurt, betrayal, physical touch, character death, massacre, murder, failed human sacrifice, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, hallucinations, nightmares, grief, toxic relationship, remembering memories, coercion, depiction of massacre, depiction of murder, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of loneliness, mention of drugging, mention of mention of grief, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 29k words

NOTE: i had delays writing this because i told myself i can pull it off much earlier but i kept changing stuff during the planning even during writing and so i delayed more and more and more and so i couldn't have beta-read by my beta reader. but here we are, 27th of december. i hope all of you are well over the holidays!!! please dress warmly and always stay healthy!!! i will be back on the 30th, where a commissioned piece is going to be published. the person who commissioned it approved publication - so i hope you enjoy that. until then!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @after-laughter-come-tears, @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio;

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NEARLY THIRTY OR SO YEARS AND YOU STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TO YOUR HUSBAND OR EVEN TO YOURSELF. Everything about being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine in this life was… an existence of full of constant paradox.

The world around you was both magnificent and oppressive, full of grandeur that suffocated rather than uplifted. Nothing was concrete, nothing was easily explained. Each day folded into the next, all wrapped in the same cycle of luxurious monotony and unspoken tension. 

You had everything and nothing all at once. You were at his side, but you would never stand beside him in the way a true equal would. You were given power, yes, but it was the power of proximity, of favor, of submission. It was not a power you had earned; it was one granted to you, as disposable as it was intoxicating.

You had once dreamed of a life beyond the towering walls of his palace, a life that might have allowed you to breathe freely. But those dreams had been dashed the moment you were forced into the role of his concubine.

There was no escape from him. You knew there wasn’t. There had never been an escape. The day he had chosen to claim you, everything you were meant to be. Everything you wanted to be, everything you had thought you would become had disappeared into the depths of his enormous shadow. 

Your identity, your autonomy, was swallowed whole by the magnitude of his presence, by the demands of your new life. And that life, that existence, was all you had now. There was no way out, no alternative future you could imagine for yourself. What other path could there be, when the path you walked had been forged by him alone?

From the moment you were wed to him, the life you had known before was gone. If you could even call it a life, all of that still had faded into a distant memory. The world outside the gates of Ryomen Sukuna’s own cage of a temple no longer existed in any meaningful way to you. He would not let you call anything else a life. This was it for you, you like to remind yourself. 

The life you led now was one of excess and emptiness, a strange and quiet paralysis that seemed to have no end. And these days drifted by with little difference between them, like a fog that refused to lift. At times you find yourself in this loop, this pattern and sometimes that terrified and unnerves you. 

Each morning was marked by his presence, each night by the silence that followed him as he left you to your thoughts. Each morning a wife, a mother, a companion, a devotee, an appendage living to attend him. You had become nothing more than a part of his world, a fixture, a thing of consequence only as long as it pleased him.

And yet, despite the isolation, despite the weight of it all, there was a strange solace in the company of the children, your beloved Chiharu and Chizuru. They were your only companions in a place where companionship seemed like a forgotten concept. They were not like the other servants, who whispered in fear of Ryomen Sukuna's wrath.

No, Chiharu and Chizuru had become your refuge, your small rebellion against the suffocating presence of your fate. Their laughter, their quiet moments of shared solitude, their warmth against your own.

If you were being honest, these were the few things that reminded you that you were still a person, still capable of feeling something beyond the cold indifference of your existence.

But even their companionship felt bittersweet. You were still bound as a mother, a role you didn’t know you could ever play. And least of all to a man who has caged you, who has trapped you to live for these small joys. And most days, you do not know why you were happy to be caged in the way he has done so.

At times, you could not forget the life you had lost in the same breath as you enjoyed their company. You could not forget that every smile they shared with you was a fleeting thing.

It was a momentary escape before the relentless gravity of your life as Sukuna’s concubine pulled you back into its orbit. You were once a girl, a young girl who thought there was freedom in being who you were. And now there was none.

The stagnation was crushing. Most days, it would have crippled you to the futon had the chain not dragged you before your godly husband. In the beginning, you had tried to find meaning in the smallest things, you had no other choice.

You tried to enjoy the gifts he gave you, the rare moments when he’d look at you with something other than indifference, the fleeting sense of purpose you derived from serving him. Even the garden that you had so loved, the garden you spend most days on. 

But all of that faded over time. It became a game you knew the rules too well, a routine you could not break. A cycle of karma that not even any of the most enlightened would escape. And as the years wore on, you realized that there was no way to move forward, no way to escape the confines of the life that had been thrust upon you.

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps there was nothing else for you, besides this existence, this eternal, unchanging existence. The notion that there could be something more. That there was something outside the sphere of Sukuna’s control. But that seemed like a distant fantasy. It always has been. 

You, a woman of such this age, have nothing. You had no future, only the present, and even that was as mutable as the wind. So much of your life, so much of your time, had been spent in quiet resignation to what you could not change. 

And yet, despite it all, the nagging question still lingered in the back of your mind: was there anything beyond this? Could there be a life that was truly your own again? But those thoughts, too, were dangerous.

To even entertain them was to invite the inevitable conclusion that perhaps your life could never be different, that the cage you had stepped into was the only life that would ever be yours.

The life you led now was a strange mixture of privilege and confinement. You lived in a gilded cage, surrounded by every luxury, every indulgence, but bound by the unyielding weight of your position.

You were bound to Ryomen Sukuna, bound to a life that was neither fulfilling nor free. You were forced to adapt, to find meaning in the moments you could, to seek whatever small joy you could find in the fleeting company of those you cared about. But it was never enough.

And perhaps, in the end, it would never be. Perhaps there would be nothing else but this. In this life, this existence, stagnant and unchanging. Nothing was belonging to you. But you belonged to him. And that will have no end, you had known this by now. The only question that remained was how long you could endure it before the weight of it crushed everything else out of you

Your life has been spent being the wife of a god, a title very few could ever claim to have. And yet it was an intriguing life, you were forced to lay a claim to. You were both exalted and insignificant, revered by the masses but ever aware that their reverence was borrowed from him. 

He was a god, an entity whose very presence reshaped the air you breathed, and you—just a mortal bound by time and flesh—stood at his side. Not as an equal, never that, but as someone he had chosen. For all its complications, it was a position of power few could ever dream of.

Yet, the days blurred together in a rhythm that felt both comfortable and stifling. Your life was one of contentment, a steady hum of satisfaction born from privilege only he can bestow, the security only he could ensure, and the untouchable place he carved out for you in his world. But lately, you’d begun to wonder was contentment all there would ever be? Could it be something more?

That evening, as the torches burned low and cast dancing shadows across the cavernous hall, you sat opposite your husband Sukuna. He lounged on his position with a casual grace that belied his overwhelming power, his crimson eyes fixed on you with their usual intensity. He had come and visited you for the night, and had supper with you. 

It was rare that you were the one visited by your husband. But since you were still recovering from your previous illness, your healer had told you to stay put. Your husband relented in a rare moment to come and bring himself to you. It wasn’t a far walk, anyway. He had moved closer to your hall, after all. Habits had become as important to him too, you supposed.

“You’ve been quiet, little one.” he said, his voice cutting through the stillness. It wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t entirely idle, either. “Why?”

You hesitated, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been… thinking, my lord.” you said at last. “About us.”

His lips twitched in a faint smirk. “Us? Little one, you think of such a concept of us too often.” he echoed, his tone teasing. “It makes me think about how mortals are always fascinated by the idea. But go on.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by his permission. “I feel content, my lord.” you began, meeting his gaze directly. “You have given me everything I could ever desire—luxury, protection, status. I lack nothing. And yet…”

“And yet?” he prompted, his eyes narrowing slightly, his curiosity piqued.

You took a steadying breath. “And yet I wonder where it leads. Is contentment all there is, or is it just the beginning? Does it grow into something more, something greater? What could we become if we let it?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, heavy and expectant. Sukuna rose from his cushion, his movements deliberate and precise, the weight of his power radiating from him with each step closer. His crimson gaze was sharp, piercing, as though he could see the very threads of your thoughts.

“You speak boldly for someone in your position, little one.” he said, his voice low but not unkind. “Most mortals would be grateful for what they have and dare not ask for more.”

“I am grateful, my lord. I hope to reassure you of this.” you replied, your voice firm despite the nervous energy thrumming in your veins. “But gratitude doesn’t erase curiosity, my lord. Doesn’t it intrigue you? What might this contentment lead to? What might we become?”

He let the sake cup rest between his fingers, tapping it lightly as if pondering his next words. Ryomen Sukuna let his scarlet gaze remain fixed on you, piercing and unreadable. Your husband’s smirk softens into something closer to contemplation.

“You mortals.” Sukuna murmured, the faintest note of amusement still in his tone. “So fragile, so fleeting, and yet… endlessly curious. Perhaps that is your one redeeming trait. That, and your audacity.”

You tilted your head, emboldened by his words, though his presence still felt like a weight pressing down on your chest. “And yet, my lord, it’s that curiosity that you find entertaining, isn’t it? Without it, would I have lasted this long at your side?”

His smirk widened, his sharp teeth glinting again as the firelight danced across his face. “Bold and clever as always, little one.” he remarked, swirling the sake in his cup before setting it aside.

“You’re right, of course. I could have discarded you long ago, and yet… here you stand. Thirty years is a long time for a mortal to hold my attention.”

“You give me too much credit, my lord.” you said, giving him a soft smile as you took your own cup of sake and drank it slowly. “I’m here because of your will, not because of anything I’ve done.”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk fading. He stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over you. “Do not diminish yourself so quickly, little one.” he said, his voice low but firm. “There is a reason you remain, though I may not deign to explain it to you. There isn’t any need to do so. Some truths are better left unsaid.”

You nodded, the intensity of his words striking a chord deep within you. “Then perhaps, my lord, we let the path reveal itself in time. Whatever lies ahead, I’ll stand beside you as long as you allow it.” 

As long as time forces me to stay by your side, you want to say. But you did not say. You do not think your husband could take such a truth. You only continue to drink the remainder of the sake on your sake cup. You hum as the burn of the alcohol inflames your throat.

He hummed again, his gaze softening for a fleeting moment before the sharpness returned. “Do not mistake my curiosity for sentiment, little one. You are mine, and that alone grants you the privilege of standing where you do. But I will say this. There have been few that have intrigued me as you do. Let us see how far that intrigue will take you.”

There was a heaviness in the air, a weight to his words that you couldn’t quite place. Yet beneath it all, there was a flicker of something else, something unspoken. It wasn’t love; You had known that as much. Ryomen Sukuna was not a god who entertained such mortal emotions. But it wasn’t indifference, either. It was too tender to be anything like indifference. 

A small smile touched your lips again, this one softer and more genuine. Even if you knew that you shouldn’t. You can’t help it when it comes to him. “As long as you see such intrigue in me, my lord, I will remain.”

He chuckled, low and resonant, as he turned back to his throne. “We’ll see, little one. We’ll see.”

Silence engulfed the room once more, thick and almost suffocating. You busied yourself with the sake, tilting the bottle with practiced care to refill his cup. He watched you as you did so, his gaze heavy and intent, though his expression betrayed nothing. 

You had insisted on performing this task yourself. It wasn’t much too heavy, as the other tasks. If anything, it was a small ritual, perhaps, but one that held meaning for you. He was your guest, even here in your own chambers. You always did this to guests you were fond of, even if there were few. A servant could have done it, but somehow, that felt… wrong. 

When the cup was filled, you stepped back, placing the bottle carefully on the tray. You hesitated then, your hands briefly clenching at your sides as you gathered the courage to speak. The enormity of the question weighed heavily on your tongue, but at last, you stepped forward, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“My lord, I have a question for you.” you began, your voice steady despite the tension you felt. “Have you ever thought about what you would do when I’m gone?”

His scarlet eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. The words hung in the air between you, their weight almost tangible. You looked at him as you put the sake vessel on the side. He looked at you, as though you had just grown another head on you.

“When you’re gone?” he echoed, his tone as unreadable as his expression. It wasn’t incredulous, nor dismissive—it simply sounded as though the concept were foreign to him.

“Yes. Or if I disappear. Of course, I have no plan on leaving, my lord. But I….I am curious.” you said softly, meeting his gaze even as your heart pounded in your chest. “When I’ve passed from this world. I am mortal, after all. My time is finite.”

You paused, searching his face for any flicker of emotion, any sign that your words had struck a chord. You take a pause before you continue. “Do you think there will ever be anyone who could take my place by your side, my lord?”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze turned distant, his crimson eyes narrowing as though he were looking at something far away, or deep within himself. His sharp features remained impassive, unreadable, and the weight of his presence pressed against you like an invisible force.

“No, little one.” he said at last, his voice low and steady, yet carrying an edge of finality. “I have not thought of it.”

The admission, simple as it was, sent a shiver through you. You looked at him, as he shifted. He frees one of his inner arms off his haori, the one you had recently made. Your husband seemed tense at the thought. You had never brought up this question before. It was never a topic of conversation. How could it be, to a god like him, who can never be confronted by such things?

“In thirty years, little one.” he continued, his tone thoughtful, “I have not entertained the thought of your absence. Mortals are fleeting—here one moment, gone the next. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze sharpening as it returned to yours. “You are different.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Different… how?”

“You have lasted, that much is evident.” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of something you couldn’t quite place. “Longer than most. Perhaps it is your curiosity. Perhaps it is your audacity. Or perhaps it is the way you serve without groveling, question without defiance. That… is rare.”

You lowered your gaze, his words settling heavily in your chest. “And when I’m no longer here to intrigue you, my lord?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “What then?”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable once more. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lifted his sake cup, drinking deeply before setting it down with a soft clink. He purses his lips into a flat line before he takes to speaking once more.

“I do not waste thought on things that have not yet come to pass, little one.” he said finally, his tone clipped, though it carried an undertone of something else—something unspoken. “But the thought of someone else standing where you do… does not sit well with me.”

Your breath caught at the admission, small as it was. “Then perhaps, my lord…it is a sign..” you ventured cautiously. “It is a sign that I have left some mark, however small.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Do not mistake my words too much, little one.” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “You are here because I will do it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And yet, my lord…..” you replied softly. “You have willed it for thirty years, for which I comly.”

His crimson gaze narrowed, but he said nothing, the silence once again stretching between you. For all his power, for all his dominance, Ryomen Sukuna seemed, in that moment, almost human, just as he was long long ago. For a moment, a god like him was caught between the eternal and the fleeting, the invincible and the inevitable.

The tension in the room was palpable, the kind of silence that held more weight than any words ever could. Sukuna didn’t speak, but his gaze lingered on you, searching for something even he couldn’t seem to name. You couldn’t name it for him either. You did not know enough of his feelings to give it such a concept.

You stepped back, lowering yourself onto the cushion across from him, your hands resting lightly in your lap. “It is not the sentiment I seek, my lord.” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I wonder—what does my presence truly mean to you? After thirty years and such a life lived, a home and a family… I find myself curious.”

He leaned back slightly, the movement languid yet deliberate, his crimson eyes narrowing as if calculating how much to reveal. “You are bold to ask such things, little one.” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Few have dared to question their worth to me and lived to tell of it.”

“I have nothing to lose by asking, my lord. Lest of all as your concubine.” you replied, lifting your gaze to meet his once more. “And perhaps you have nothing to gain by answering. But I still wish to know.”

For a moment, his expression remained unreadable, a mask of stoic indifference. But then his lips curled into a faint smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the flickering firelight. The expression of his face echoing against the clear surface of the sake on his cup.

“What does your presence mean to me?” he echoed, as though testing the words. “A mortal might hope for love, for devotion. But you know better than to expect such things from a god.”

“I do, my lord.” you admitted. “I’ve never asked for those things.”

“Then you know me well enough, little one.” he said, his voice low and almost growling. “Because what you have is far more rare: my attention. My boredom is a rare thing to keep at bay.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the admission, simple as it was. “Is that so?”

“You intrigue me.” Sukuna continued, his tone almost casual. “You question, yet you do not defy. You serve, but not as a simpering fool. You know your place, and yet you do not grovel. It is… refreshing.”

You allowed a small, tentative smile to cross your lips. “Then I suppose I will take that as a compliment, my lord.”

“Take it however you wish, little one.” he said, his smirk widening. “It is the truth. And that is why you remain.”

Silence befell the two of you again, but this time it felt lighter, less oppressive. Sukuna reached for his sake cup once more, lifting it to his lips as though signaling the end of the conversation. But you weren’t finished. Not yet. 

You were a vixen for that, you admit. You had pressed his buttons enough. Perhaps it was the sake, or perhaps it was your own old age talking to you. Yet you couldn’t help it. You just kept talking.

“And when I am gone, my lord?” you pressed gently, your voice soft but insistent. “Will there ever be another to hold your attention as I have? There is a harem of yours, my lord. I wonder if they will enjoy your own favor too when I am gone.”

He froze mid-sip, the question catching him off guard. Slowly, he lowered the cup, his gaze darkening as he studied you. Ryomen Sukuna had looked more serious about that than your previous inquiry. As though he had such spite and surprise over such a question all at the same time.

“I do not waste thought on what has not yet come to pass, little one.” he said again, though this time his tone lacked the sharpness it had held before. It was softer, almost reflective, though it still carried the weight of his authority. “You ought to stop it.”

“But my lord—” you began, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“There is no one like you.” he interrupted, his voice cutting through your protest like a blade. The statement was simple, but the finality in his tone made it feel as if it were etched into stone. “Is that what you want to hear, little one?”

You froze, his words wrapping around you like a vice. They weren’t meant to comfort, yet they struck somewhere deep within you. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, searching his crimson eyes for something more, something unsaid.

“If it is, my lord?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though it lacked its usual cruelty. “Then are you satisfied with such a reply?”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, their weight pressing against your chest. You considered them carefully, turning them over in your mind as you tried to decipher the emotions that stirred within you. Was this enough? Was this the answer you sought?

“I think….” you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper. “I am not dissatisfied, my lord. But I do not know if I am satisfied, either.”

His smirk widened, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. “Typical of you, little one.” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Always seeking something more, even when given an answer.”

“Perhaps, my lord.” you replied, a small, wry smile tugging at your lips. “Or perhaps I simply wonder what lies beneath your words, to avoid a puzzle. After all, you have always been a man of many mysteries which mere mortals cannot unravel.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “And you, little one, have always been bold enough to peel them away. But heed this from me. Some truths are better left undiscovered.”

You held his gaze, the firelight flickering between you like a silent witness. “And yet, my lord.” you said softly. “You tolerate my curiosity.”

“For now.” he replied, his tone a mix of warning and amusement.

“Thirty years and my lord will keep saying such a thing.”

“I shan’t stop now, little one.”

Silence fell again, but this time it felt different. It was charged, yet not oppressive. There was an understanding between you, unspoken but undeniably present. You had asked your question, and he had answered in his own way, cryptic yet revealing.

Perhaps there was no satisfying answer to be found in such matters, no concrete resolution. But in that moment, the weight of his gaze and the faint, fleeting softness in his tone were enough.

It was a reminder that, in his world of chaos and power, you were still something unique  to him, Something he acknowledged, even if only in his own, inscrutable way.

“Then perhaps, my lord.” you said softly, looking up to him. “What we share is enough. Perhaps it is better not to dwell on what will come after.”

He hummed, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You are wise for a mortal, little one.” he said, though there was a hint of begrudging respect in his tone. “Perhaps that is why I tolerate your questions.”

“Perhaps.” you replied, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But it is also rather likely that you tolerate them because they remind you of something you’ve long forgotten, my lord.”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Careful, little one. You tread dangerous ground.”

“I always do, my lord.” you said simply.

His rare laughter rumbled low and deep, resonating through the room. “Indeed, you do. And perhaps that is why you remain.”

══════════════════

THINGS HAD STARTED TO GET BACK TO NORMAL WITH TIME. The healers were happy to deliver the news that your body was getting back to normal. A news welcomed by your husband, with his own approval. The gods had indeed given you the return of your health. And it shows. 

You were able to stand up without any need for a servant’s aid. The color slowly returns to color the echoes of your cheeks, and the heaviness in your chest easing day by day. And with each passing moment, you felt your strength returning.

It was as though the very act of regaining your health was reclaiming a part of your soul, one that had long been overshadowed by weakness. As your body healed, you were falling to the reality of coming back to your even more mundane life. And along with it knocked your duties as the highest ranking concubine to Ryomen Sukuna. 

It was not a task to carry without such heavy weight on your shoulder. He expected you to be the best. And in the past thirty or so years, you have done your best to be impeccable. You had to do your best, to look worthy of being beside a god–husband.

Though you were often confined within the vast walls of the palace, sheltered from the world outside, there were times when Sukuna deemed it necessary for you to accompany him wherever he demanded you to be. Of course, it wasn’t just for companionship. It was too much of an effort to expose his dominion over mortality. 

Your presence by his side was not just a reflection of your role as his concubine, but a reminder to the people that even the gods had ties to the mortal realm. That he was a divinity holding the hand of humanity with a tight grip.

You had become an extension of him in some ways, a constant reminder that he controlled not just the heavens, but the very fate of those who lived beneath them.

The petitions of the small folk were always the same—prayers for blessings, requests for mercy, or cries for clemency. The villagers would kneel before him, faces pressed to the ground, their voices trembling with the weight of their fear. 

They would beg for protection from the dangers of the world outside the palace walls or for the mercy of a god whose whims were as unpredictable as the weather. You have seen it many times before. The tension in the air was palpable, the villagers’ desperation hanging thick as they made their pleas.

Ryomen Sukuna was ever the imposing figure, even when he had been a human being. His presence alone is enough to make the air seem heavier, more charged. His crimson eyes would sweep across the room, scanning the petitioners as though he were not a god to be appeased, but a predator sizing up prey. 

His answers were rarely kind to anyone, and his mercy even rarer. For those who were lucky, he might grant their requests, if he feels as though the request was sound enough by his standards. For those who displeased him—well, the consequences were often swift and final. 

You have seen your husband tear apart people in front of you and at times, he becomes lenient and lets people off. It was of course a rare mood of mercy, to feel such leniency. On most days his thirst for blood was ever so present, you try to hold yourself together. You don’t know what your husband does.

But of course there will be corpses sometimes. An act, a will that he imposes on people as a god. You don’t ask about where the bodies were. You never do. Not even to Uraume. It was none of your business, it was not your place. But you could still smell it sometimes. Of course, you hold your tongue upon the matter.

Today, you had assumed, would be no different. You stood beside him, composed as always, your hands folded neatly in front of you as you observed the eastern villagers bowing before him with such reverence. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes flickered briefly toward you.

There was a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you maintain your calm, knowing all too well that you were used to these proceedings. He might have expected the same of you today, for his observant, silent companion. But then something happened that shook the predictability of the day.

Your husband Sukuna sat on his ornate throne, a picture of unyielding authority, his crimson eyes scanning the room with a gaze that could pierce through souls. You sat just below him, silent and composed, as a steady stream of petitioners knelt before you and him, presenting their offerings and requests.

And then you saw her.

A woman, frail and desperate, stepped forward, trembling as she approached the dais. Her face was half-hidden by the shadow of her hood, but there was something achingly familiar about her posture, the way her hands clutched at the hem of her tattered kimono.

She knelt before Sukuna, bowing so low her forehead touched the floor. Her voice cracked as she began to speak, begging for mercy for food, for shelter, for protection from the harshness of the world outside these walls. You stared, your breath caught in your throat, as the woman lifted her face to plead.

It was her.

You’re sure.

It’s your sister.

Your eyes widened in shock, the air around you suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. The veil of composure that you had so carefully built over the years, the one that allowed you to stand beside Ryomen Sukuna with unshaken resolve, every bit of it had quickly crumbled. 

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt something raw, something vulnerable, clawing at your chest. It was like the world around you shifted and everything that had once seemed distant, cold, and manageable, now felt impossibly close and unbearably personal.

Memories of your childhood came rushing back in a torrent, vivid and painful in their clarity. The sound of her laughter echoed in your mind, carefree and full of life. You remembered how her voice would ring out through the house, her joy contagious as the two of you played together, running through the gardens, lost in your own world. 

The boys were always together, helping your father at the farm, but you and your sister always helped your mother with the home. You were each other’s best friend, you were certain of that, you remembered it all too well. It was a time when life seemed endless, when you hadn’t yet known the cruelty of fate, the demands of your duties, or the ever-present shadow of Sukuna’s power looming over your every move.

And then there were the tears. The hot piping tears you had wiped away when she was frightened, when she was hurt, when she needed comfort. You had been her beloved elder sister. Her protector then, just as you had hoped to be now.

Her small hand in yours, clutching at you with all the trust and love a child could offer, a bond so unbreakable, so innocent. Those hands, which once grasped at the security of your presence, now seemed so frail, trembling as she knelt before the god you were bound to.

The years that had separated you seemed to vanish in an instant, the time that had once seemed like a natural progression suddenly irrelevant. The elegant robes you now wore, the weight of your position beside Sukuna, the cold indifference you had learned to embrace.

All of it faded away as you saw your sister’s fragile form before you. She was no longer the carefree girl you once knew, but a shadow of her former self—worn thin by hardship, the lines of exhaustion marking her once-soft features. 

Her hair, once vibrant, now hung limp, her face gaunt with the strain of survival. It was as though the years had aged her in a way that was almost unrecognizable.  And yet, the essence of her remained embedded in that worn up body.

It was still there in the way she hesitated before Sukuna, still there in the flicker of recognition when her weary eyes met yours. The bond that had once been so strong, so certain, seemed to rise up again between you. 

Though it was now tinged with the bitter realization of what had passed, of what had been lost in the years that separated you. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of that loss, the deep ache in your chest as you remembered the sister you once had.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of her, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew that she had come here, seeking mercy from the very hands that had shaped your life in ways you could never have imagined. 

She, too, had become a pawn in the web of fate, a victim of forces she had no control over. You had become the living embodiment of Ryomen Sukuna’s will, a silent witness to his power, his cruelty, and yet here was your sister. So fragile, so human, pleading for a chance at life in front of the god who held her fate in his hands.

You wanted to scream, to reach out and take her away from this place, to protect her as you once had. But as you stood frozen before her, you realized that there was nothing you could do. The ties that had once bound you were now entangled with the very power that had claimed your soul. 

The woman before you was no longer the same little girl, that little  sister you had once known. And you, in turn, were no longer the same person who had laughed and cried with her, who had held her close in the warmth of childhood innocence.

The room seemed to close in around you, and for a brief moment, you were no longer the concubine of Ryomen Sukuna, no longer the silent, unfeeling woman who had learned to wear a mask of indifference. In this moment, you were just a sister, desperate and aching for the woman who had once been your whole world. 

The stark reality of her fragile form before you shattered the fragile facade you had built for so long, leaving you raw and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t been in years. And in that moment, it became impossible to ignore the truth. You could never escape the bond that tied you to her, no matter how far apart fate had pulled you.

“Please, my lord.” she begged, her voice shaking, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of her sleeve. “I ask for nothing more than a chance to live. My lord, I beg for your kindness.”

Your hand instinctively reached out, gripping the fabric of your own kimono as you tried to steady yourself. The room felt as though it were spinning, your heart pounding in your ears. You wanted to speak, to call out to her, to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Ryomen Sukuna’s crimson gaze shifted to you, sharp and knowing. He had noticed your reaction, the flicker of recognition in your eyes. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. You purse your lips at him, almost unnerved by his smirk.

“Well.” he drawled, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “It seems this one has caught your attention, little one. Shall I grant her request, or would you prefer to speak first?”

His words were like a challenge, a test. Your throat tightened as you met his gaze, searching for any hint of mercy behind his sharp features. You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you spoke. “She… she is my sister, my lord.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. Sukuna’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with interest. “Your sister, you say? How… intriguing. For you to remember such a thing after all this time, little one.”

Your sister’s eyes snapped to yours, her expression shifting from desperation to shock as she recognized you. “Sister?” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief.

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped forward, your hands trembling. “It’s me, sister.” you said softly, your voice cracking. “It’s been so long.”

Ryomen Sukuna leaned back on his throne, watching the scene unfold with an air of amusement and detachment. He hadn’t remembered any of your family, they weren’t that important even then. He doubts they were note even now. Even after your marriage to him, they had not risen in prominence to the level they would have had they married you to some warlord in the far countryside. 

Sukuna had taken you to wife when you were nineteen summers. A long time has gone on and passed. He would have doubted that you remembered such things from your youth. And yet, you did. You hadn’t seen your sister in so long, and yet you recognized her. Even after all that happened. Even if she had aged. 

But perhaps, you held onto the memories of things. You held on to so much of the past before him, he knew that much. Back then, he had not tied you into his gilded cage. You were free. Perhaps, you held so dearly that life because he wasn’t yet your tyrant. 

You turned to him, your brows furrowed. You shouldn’t even be looking at him about this matter. He had given you leave to do what you wished. It’s why he hadn’t moved. Whatever decision lay ahead, it was clear he intended to let you take the lead. But of course, it wasn’t as if he would let you decide. He was still the power in your relationship.

The tension in the room was palpable, every pair of eyes fixed on you and the woman who knelt before the dais. Your heart ached as you looked at her—your little sister, worn thin by the worst of life’s hardship, her once-vivid features now shadowed by exhaustion.

You stepped closer, your movements measured and deliberate, though your hands trembled at your sides. You couldn’t afford to falter now, not under Ryomen Sukuna’s piercing gaze, not in front of the villagers who watched with bated breath.

“What is your name?” Sukuna asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the air itself.

She flinched, her head bowing lower. “Kiyoko, my lord.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Kiyoko, huh." Sukuna’s voice repeated, his voice dark and smooth.

It was as though the name were a foreign delicacy he was savoring. He stretched out the syllables with an almost unnerving precision, rolling them on his tongue as if the word itself held some sort of power he was trying to understand.

His gaze flicked back to you, a gleam of amusement sparking in his crimson eyes as his lips curled into a smirk, one that didn't quite reach the cold depths of his eyes.

"And what would you have me do with her, little one?" he drawled, letting the words hang in the air with a sense of deliberate weight. "Shall I grant her mercy for your sake? Or does her bloodline mean nothing to you now? They had forcefully married you to me, after all. For their rise on the ladder, of course."

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, like a testing blade, and you could almost feel the sinister pleasure he derived from your discomfort. His words wrapped around you like a chain, each syllable tightening the hold he had over you. 

He had a way of making even the simplest question feel like a demand, a test of loyalty, of worth. His amusement at your predicament was palpable, though he masked it behind the veneer of his usual indifference.

Your throat went dry, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. His words stirred something deep within you, something that you had buried for so long. Memories of your sister, of the love you had once shared, now felt like fragile remnants of a life that was slipping away, just as your control over this moment seemed to be.

To plead for Kiyoko outright would be a grave mistake. You knew that much. That would be something Sukuna would see as weakness, a crack in the facade you had so carefully maintained. He had no tolerance for such displays. 

Yet, to remain silent, to withhold your plea, would betray the very bond that had once made your sister your world. Your mind raced, torn between the two forces pulling at you—loyalty to your husband Ryomen Sukuna, to the man who held you captive, and the love for the sister you had lost in the process.

"My lord." you began, forcing yourself to remain steady. Your voice trembled only slightly as you spoke, but you kept your posture firm. "She is my sister, and I cannot deny the ties that bind us." 

You paused, searching his eyes with a quiet intensity, the weight of your request pressing on you like a thousand unseen hands. "But I know well that mercy is yours alone to bestow."

“That you are very aware. Good on you, little one.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his, refusing to look away, even as the storm of emotions churned inside you. "I ask not as your concubine, but as your humble servant. Please, grant her the chance to rebuild what has been lost."

The words hung in the air, fragile yet resolute. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you remained unwavering, despite the torrent of fear and vulnerability that threatened to overwhelm you.

You had to stay strong—for her, for Kiyoko, and for the woman you once were.

For a long moment, Sukuna didn’t speak, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips twitched upward slightly, and the amusement didn’t fade from his eyes, but something else flickered beneath the surface, something unreadable.

“So you would deny what has been done?” he said, his voice almost a purr now, sliding through the room with a calculated sweetness. "You would ask for mercy when you know better than anyone how little of it I am willing to give?"

His eyes glinted with something like curiosity now, and the smirk faded into something more thoughtful, though still dangerous. "Tell me, hm…." he continued, his tone shifting into something darker.  "Do you truly think that mercy will rebuild what’s been lost? Can you even rebuild what fate has already decided for you, little one?"

You stood your ground, even as his words pressed against you like a weight you could hardly bear. "I know the world is shaped by fate, my lord." you said quietly. "But surely, even fate leaves room for change. For hope."

Sukuna’s eyes darkened then, his smile sharpening into something more predatory. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and deliberate. "Hope, huh?" he murmured, the word dripping with contempt. "Is that what you believe in? Hope?"

There was a long silence. You cannot speak. Not if you wish to jeopardize the case you mean to fight for. And for the first time, you saw something flicker behind his scarlet eyes—an emotion you couldn't name, an expression that seemed to shift with a subtle shift in his demeanor.

“You are brave, little one. Too brave for your own good.” he said finally, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. “Perhaps too brave. But courage doesn’t change much in this world. Not when it comes to me.”

You swallowed, the finality in his voice making it clear that the decision would not be easy. But you had done what you could. The rest was out of your hands. You didn’t know what would come next, but the small spark of hope you had ignited seemed to linger in the heavy air, and that, at least, was something to hold onto.

“Stand.” he commanded, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

Kiyoko hesitated, glancing at you before obeying. She rose to her feet unsteadily, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Your husband looks at you for a moment, but you lower your head at the sight of his sharp eyes cutting through the soul.

“Look at me, girl.” Sukuna demanded. She lifted her gaze, her eyes wide and filled with fear. “Much better.”

“Your sister, my own concubine, has spoken for you,” he said, his tone cold and impassive. “She has pleaded your case, though she knows the risk of doing so. Tell me, Kiyoko—what would you do with the mercy she begs for?”

Kiyoko’s lips parted, but no words came. She glanced at you again, as though seeking strength in your presence. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling but resolute. “I would live, my lord. I would work, I would serve, I would do anything to repay the kindness shown to me.”

Sukuna’s laughter broke the heavy silence, low and rumbling. “Anything, you say?” He leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes glinting. “Then perhaps I will grant you this mercy. Not for your sake, but for hers.” 

He gestured toward you with a lazy wave of his hand. “Your sister’s boldness amuses me, little one. But it’s stale. Too stale to keep me intrigued. But it is interesting to see what will become of you here, little one.”

Relief flooded through you, your knees nearly buckling under the weight of it. Kiyoko’s weary eyes filled with tears, and she dropped to her knees once more, bowing low. “Thank you, my lord.” she choked out.

“Do not thank me.” Sukuna said, his tone dismissive. “Thank your sister. It is her value to me that has spared your life and given you a chance.”

You bowed deeply, your voice trembling as you said. “Thank you, my lord. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

As Sukuna leaned back on his throne, his expression was unreadable, though his scarlet gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. He snickers, waving his hand to signal you to stand from your position.

“Take her to the servants’ quarters.” he ordered the guards, his tone sharp and final. “Let her prove her worth there. If she fails…” His smirk returned, sharp and menacing. “Well, you know the consequences.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The guards moved to escort Kiyoko from the room, but before she was led away, she turned to you, her tear-streaked face filled with gratitude and longing. “Sister, my dear sister.” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Thank you.”

You nodded, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. As the doors closed behind her, Sukuna’s voice cut through the silence. You tried to compose yourself again, but you felt yourself too emotional. You make your way towards your throne. But before you take your chance to sit, your husband looks at you and speaks.

“Do not think your sentimentality will sway me again, little one. I allowed this because it pleased me to do so. Remember that.”

You turned to him, bowing deeply. “Of course, my lord.”

But as you straightened and met his gaze once more, you couldn’t help but wonder if, despite his words, something more had stirred within him that day. You bowed your head once more and turned your position once again and sat down to continue the long day, all the while your thoughts echoed all over the place. Your sister was here. You weren’t alone anymore.

══════════════════

YOU WANTED TO SEE YOUR SISTER AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. But the day had not permitted it. So you had no choice but to wait until the sun met its lover and said goodbye. The dominant echo of the moon yawned against the still koi ponds. It was so quiet tonight, it could be the most peace that could be had in the past thirty years you’d spent here.

The brightly lit temple gardens were a sanctuary, a rare refuge from the opulence and tension that prevailed in Ryomen Sukuna’s earthly domain. The moon cast a gentle glow over the stone pathways, and lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their golden light illuminating the blooms of jasmine and lotus scattered throughout. 

You found your sister Kiyoko seated on a weathered stone bench, her figure barely outlined against the lush greenery. They had finally let her have some air, you supposed. It’s hard to find that perhaps she could be someone who could be trusted.

But perhaps the way your husband looked at you all day, with your own concerns for your sister, had been a catalyst. A fresh breath of air is better than the draft of the servant’s quarters in this time of night.

She looked up as you approached, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Her face, worn thin by the years, was still achingly familiar—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her eyes, even the way she held herself with quiet determination. The years had shaped you both differently, yet the bond you shared remained, unspoken but profound.

You sat beside her, the stone cool beneath you. “Kiyoko.” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Her lips quivered into a faint smile, through her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I thought I’d never see you again, nee–san.” she admitted, her voice raw with honesty. “When they took you, it felt like we’d lost you forever.”

The weight of her words pressed against your chest. You had never forgotten the pain of being torn from your family, not one day. Every single time you had thought about it, it was certainly  the bitterness of knowing you were a pawn in a game far beyond your control that always made you burn in furiosity. 

But it was also the fact that you will end up losing who you were and all you had known, to suffer constant misery in this gilded cage — to never see your family again, that perhaps makes you even more angry than ever before. 

More than anything, it was the thought that there was someone that truly loved you that you longed for. From what you remembered, you were loved once, by your family. And it made you angry and more grievous, to only think of it as memory.

“I thought about all of you every day, you know?” you said, your hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I wondered if you were safe, if you had enough to eat, if you were… happy.”

Kiyoko let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Happy? No, not after you left. Things were hard, nee–san. The village changed. We all changed.” She hesitated, her gaze falling to her hands. “Takashi… he passed. Sickness took him, and it nearly broke our father.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Takashi?” you whispered, the name like a sharp blade against your heart. Memories of your mischievous, spirited brother flooded your mind. “How… How did it happen?”

Her voice wavered as she recounted the story. “It was during a bitter winter, not long after you left. Food was scarce, and sickness spread through the village like wildfire. We did everything we could, but Takashi… he was always so stubborn, so reckless. He hid how sick he was until it was too late.” 

“Don’t…..” You took a moment to breathe and looked her in the eye. You wanted to know, you wanted to see. To feel that same grief as though you were there. “Did he pass well?”

“Like a breath of wind.” She looked at you, her expression both anguished and apologetic. “He always said you’d come back one day. He never gave up on you.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of guilt nearly unbearable. “I should have been there, Kiyoko.” you murmured, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I should have been there to help.”

Kiyoko reached out, taking your hand in hers. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You couldn’t have changed what happened, nee–san.” she said firmly. “You were taken from us. None of this is your fault.”

Her words were a balm, though they did little to ease the ache inside you. “And Mother? Father? Are they…?”

“They’ve passed on, nee–san.” Kiyoko said, her tone heavy. “But allt these years, Mother lit a lantern for you every night. She prayed for your safety. Father… he was quiet a lot, but he worked the fields as best he can."

".....I see." You say, almost grievous at the thought of this unfamiliarity to this loss.

You haven't had parents in years, decades. And yet, you mourn that loss anyway, no matter how foreign it seems to you. You purse your lips in a flat line.

"And you have nieces and nephews, nee-san. They’re well. And growing too, despite the hard times.” your sister added, her voice brightening slightly. “They’re the light of the family.”

You couldn’t help but smile through your tears. “Nieces and nephews…..” you repeated, the words foreign yet wonderful. “I can’t believe it.”

“They’re wonderful, nee–san.” Kiyoko said, her smile growing. “Kenji’s clever, like Takashi, always tinkering with things. And little Hana—oh, she’s wild and free, just like you were.”

Her words filled you with a bittersweet joy, a flicker of hope amidst the sorrow. “I wish I could meet them.” you said quietly. “I wish they could know me.”

Kiyoko squeezed your hand. “One day, they will. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I should hope so.” You say, almost as though you were going to cry. “I have to live long and see them again.”

“You look so different, though, nee–san.” she said, her voice soft, almost tentative. “Healthier… stronger. I barely recognized you at first.”

The bittersweet smile remained on your lips as you tried to find the words. “And you… You’ve been through so much,” you murmured, your voice heavy with both admiration and sorrow.

Kiyoko’s gaze didn’t falter. “Perhaps, you also, nee-san,” she replied gently but firmly. “You have lived a life we can never know. As Sukuna–sama’s wife.”

Her words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. You hesitated, the weight of her statement pressing against your chest. How could you even begin to explain? To confess your own misery felt selfish.

It was a betrayal of the unimaginable hardships she and your family had endured. What right did you have to complain about being unloved or neglected when you had never faced starvation, never braved winters without warmth or droughts without water?

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you searched for the right response. “Kiyoko, my little sister.” you began slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s so much they don’t know. About how I’ve lived, what I’ve become here. They might not understand…”

Kiyoko tilted her head, studying you with that same quiet strength she’d always possessed, even as a child. Her eyes softened, her hand reaching to rest lightly on yours. “Then tell me, nee-san” she said gently. “Help me understand.”

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in her voice chipping away at the walls you've built around your heart. Taking a shaky breath, you looked out at the lantern-lit gardens, as if the beauty around you could somehow lend you the courage to speak. 

“When they married me to Sukuna, I thought… I thought I would become something more than just a girl from the village. I thought it would mean safety, maybe even respect. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all.”

Kiyoko’s brow furrowed, her hand tightening around yours. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I am here, yes. But I am little more than a possession to him. Perhaps a tool for his amusement, a symbol of his power over those who gave me away.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they poured out nonetheless. “He does not love me, Kiyoko. He barely sees me. My life here is gilded, but it is a cage all the same.”

Kiyoko’s breath hitched, her grip steadying you as your voice trembled. “I don’t suffer as you have, little sister. If anything, I live in luxury.”

You continued, your gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I have food, warmth, fine clothes… but those things don’t make a life. I don’t have freedom. I don’t have love. And yet, hearing what you and the family have endured… I feel ashamed even saying this.”

Her fingers brushed against yours, grounding you in the moment. “Nee-san.” she said softly, her voice carrying both sorrow and conviction. “You’ve suffered too. Just because your pain isn’t the same as mine doesn’t make it any less real.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head. “I don’t want to burden you with this, Kiyoko. You’ve already endured so much. I just want you to know… I never stopped thinking about all of you. About the life I lost.”

Kiyoko’s hand moved to cup your cheek, her warmth anchoring you. “And we never stopped thinking about you.”

She continued, almost solemn. “Not a single day passed when we didn’t pray for your safety, wonder if you were happy, hope that you were alive. And now, seeing you here… even in this gilded cage, you are still my sister. That’s what matters.”

Her words broke the dam within you, and the tears spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “I missed you so much, little sister.” you choked out, your voice raw with emotion.

Kiyoko pulled you into an embrace, her arms strong despite her frail appearance. “I missed you too, nee-san.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But we’ve found each other again. That’s what matters now.”

Before you could respond to her, the sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see hand and hand, Chiharu and Chizuru, were approaching. Chiharu held the lantern for her younger brother. It was interesting, how their faces looked. Both of their expressions are curious but warm. 

You had never thought you could ever find the time to introduce your children to your family. You’d never thought you could. Not in any lifetime. But to see this become a reality now, for your sister to see the light of your life in front of them too, it was more than enough to bring you to tears of joy.

“Kiyoko, I’d like to introduce you to my children.” you said, gesturing toward them with a small smile. “These are Chiharu and Chizuru. They’ve been the light of my life.”

She looks at you for a moment and then to the children. Her eyes widened and stills at Chizuru, who was blinking at her. “These are your….”

“Chiharu is my husband’s eldest child, but I have raised her as my own.” You say tenderly eyeing the children with a smile. “But Chizuru, he is my own son. He is three years of age. A smart young boy already.” You stopped and smiled. “Go on, children. Bow to your aunt with reverence.”

You took the lantern from Chiharu and set it aside. The young girl helped her little brother to get into the position and made sure he was comfortable before going down and bowing with careful grace in front of you and Kyoko.

You couldn’t help but be filled with pride as you looked at them both. It was as if you felt that you had achieved the impossible. Your family knows of your children.

Chiharu raised her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Kiyoko–sama. Your sister, my step-mother, has spoken of her family often.”

Chizuru smiled as he too raised his head. “Are you my auntie?”

“Chizuru—”

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Kiyoko looked at them, her expression softening as she returned their bows. “Thank you to the two of you.” she said quietly. “For being born and filling her life with joy.”

“No, Kiyoko–sama.” Chiharu smiles at her kindly, shaking her head. “I should say we are more thankful. I would not have an easier and more comfortable life without her. And without your sister, I would not have my brother. We are more than grateful to you too, for loving my step-mother well.”

Your sister looks as though she was going to tear up too. “Then we can be thankful for each other, for the blessings that come because of nee–san being in both our lives.”

“I should think so.” Chiharu smiles once again at her. Chiharu looks at you. “We are sorry for suddenly visiting and disturbing your conversation, mother. We have come to bid you good night. Forgive us for not sending a messenger ahead.”

You shook your head at her. “That is no problem, Chiharu. It was not a bother at all. Good night. Have a good rest, hm? I shall see you in the morning.”

You embraced Chiharu who hugged you back in return, and smiled as you kissed her cheek. When it was Chizuru’s turn, he jumped into your arms and giggled as you embraced him back. You peppered him with kisses, making him laugh even more. You laughed as you let him go. You placed a kiss on his head.

“Go and make sure he doesn’t end up rolling off his futon again, hm?” You say as Chiharu took the lantern again and nodded. 

As the two left along with the entourage that was just a few meters away, you and your sister were left alone. As the silence between you echoed still as the starry night, the evening deepened with each passing hour and with that, the two of you seemed more content enjoying this moment together, even without saying anything to the other. 

Kiyoko touched your hand gently. “You’ve thrived here, nee–san.” she said, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “But I see how much you’ve endured, too.”

You nodded, tears brimming once more. “I only wish I could have been there for all of you.”

Her smile was small but genuine. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

And in that moment, as you sat together under the twilight sky, you felt a fragile yet undeniable hope take root in your heart—a hope that, somehow, the bonds of family could endure even the deepest of scars.

══════════════════

YOU FOUND YOURSELF UNABLE TO SLEEP AT NIGHT. But what could you do, knowing that your nightmares were ever so present every single night? Ever since your since that day, you were a victim of such dreams which had no place to go.

You couldn’t find yourself and what was reality, when it comes to these dreams. You just couldn’t. And that terrified you. These nightmares grew more frequent with each passing night, clawing into your mind and leaving you restless and uneasy.

Your sister had tried to ease your pains with tea that your mother would make. But as time went on, the nightmares grew worse. It was always the same. It was a hauntingly vivid sequence that left you breathless and trembling. And you hated it. You hated every minute of it.

Each time, the child’s face seemed clearer, his dark eyes more piercing, his expression more sinister. The terror felt more real. The pain, the helplessness, and the oppressive presence of Sukuna—looming like a god indifferent to your suffering were etched into your consciousness with cruel precision. And tonight was no different.

In the dream, you stood in a barren landscape under a sky smeared with crimson clouds. The child appeared suddenly, his small figure emerging from the shadows. He didn’t look menacing at first. At first, his face was round, soft, innocent. He was truly a little baby, a beautiful one at that. 

Looking at you, with the tenderness and softness of a child to a mother, when he is first born. But as his gaze locked onto yours, something in his expression shifted. His eyes seemed bottomless, pulling you into an abyss of despair.

You wanted to move, to flee, but your body refused to obey. He stepped closer, his small hands reaching out. Before you could react, pain erupted in your stomach. It wasn’t a mere stab or cut. it was as if something alive and feral clawed its way through your body, tearing apart everything inside you.

You screamed, your voice raw and ragged, but no sound seemed loud enough to drown the horror. Blood poured out in torrents, staining the earth beneath you. The child’s grin widened, his teeth sharp and gleaming. You tried to fight, to push him away, but your strength ebbed with every passing second.

And then, as always, you saw him. Ryomen Sukuna. He stood at the edge of the chaos, a pillar of calm amidst your agony. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his expression cold and detached.

“My lord…..my lord, Sukuna, please.” you choked out, desperation thick in your voice. “Please… help me…”

But he didn’t move. His smirk deepened, a cruel twist of amusement playing on his lips. “You’re weak, little one.” he said, his voice echoing in your mind. “What use are you if you cannot endure?”

The words struck harder than the physical pain, piercing your soul. You reached out toward him, but before your fingers could brush his robe, the child gave one final wrench, and everything went black.

You woke with a start, your breath shallow and rapid. The oppressive weight of the nightmare lingered, pressing down on your chest. Your hands flew instinctively to your stomach, as if to check for wounds. But there was nothing. No blood, no pain. Only the ghost of the dream remained.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. The silk sheets beneath you were damp with sweat, clinging to your trembling body.

A knock at the door jolted you, and before you could respond, your servant slipped inside. Her gentle face was lined with worry as she approached. “My lady, my lady.” she said softly, kneeling beside the bed. “I heard you cry out. Are you alright?”

You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m fine.” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered. “It was just a bad dream. Nothing more.”

Her own weary eyes searched for yours, doubt evident in her expression. “Shall I prepare tea? Or perhaps a soothing ointment? You seem… troubled.”

“No, that won’t be necessary, do not worry.” you said firmly, though you forced a small smile to soften the dismissal. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

She hesitated for a moment, her concern palpable. But after a brief nod, she rose, bowing respectfully. “As you wish, my lady. If you need anything, please call me.”

You halted and then stopped her from leaving. She turns to you. "Please wake lady Kiyoko. Have her brew that tea for me, please."

"As you wish, my lady."

When she left, the silence of the room enveloped you once more. You leaned back against the pillows, your mind churning. The nightmare had felt so real. Too real. The child’s face lingered in your thoughts, his dark eyes burning into your soul. 

And Sukuna—why had he stood there, unmoving, uncaring? Was the dream a reflection of your deepest fears? A twisted manifestation of your doubts and insecurities?

You touched your stomach again, your hands trembling. Whatever the dream meant, it left a shadow you couldn’t shake. A foreboding that made your heart heavy and your mind restless.

As the moonlight dimmed, you stared into the darkness, hoping but not truly believing that a good long rest, a good sleep would bring peace. The following nights offered no reprieve. The nightmares persisted, each one more vivid and harrowing than the last. 

The child’s face, once haunting, became almost familiar, as though etched permanently into your psyche. His laughter, echoing with malice, stayed with you long after you woke, leaving your chest tight and your body trembling.

By the third night, your exhaustion became noticeable. The children were clever, they always have been, young as they were. Chiharu and Chizuru exchanged worried glances as they helped you dress for the day. The mirror reflected your pale face, the faint shadows under your eyes betraying your lack of sleep.

“Mother, are you alright?” Chizuru ventured carefully, looking at your cold tea and then to you. “Are you….are you sleepy?”

You hesitated, your lips parting as though to confide in him. But the words caught in your throat. He is a child. He does not need to know the sufferings of his mother. Why should he suffer the need to know the grievous nights of yours? That is too much of a burden, to a child.

And even then, what could you say? That your dreams were haunted by a child who tore you apart? That Ryomen Sukuna’s apathy in those dreams mirrored a deeper fear you dared not admit even to yourself?

“I’m fine, my little son.” you said softly, your voice steady despite the lie. “The temple can be… busy at times. Mayhaps, our aging mother is exhausted, you are right. Or perhaps I simply need fresh air. I should ask my lord to let me rest and enjoy the gardens.”

Chiharu put her own utensils down, looking at you with the same concern. “Would you like us to prepare the gardens for your morning tea, mother? A walk among the blossoms might ease your mind.”

“That would be lovely, Chiharu.” you replied, grateful for the suggestion. Anything to escape the confines of your room and the lingering shadows of your dreams. “Mayhaps that would be good. But for now, let’s break our fast.” 

She nodded her head. “Yes, mother. Of course.”

In the wide expanse of the gardens, the gentle breeze and the sweet scent of flowers offered some solace. The koi pond glimmered in the sunlight, the soft ripples breaking the surface as the fish swam lazily beneath. 

It was a day where the summer rain had come and ceased, you think. And so, it was a lucky day to have sunshine. Even more so for your children, who were now playing together and chasing each other, their laughter dancing in the beaconing wind.

You found a quiet corner beneath a blooming cherry tree, the shade offering respite from the midday sun. But even here, your mind couldn’t rest. Not even one moment. You wished you could but the images still flashed fresh on your mind. The child’s face loomed in your thoughts, and your husband’s own cruel indifference in the dream replayed like a broken melody.

Yet, soon enough, a shadow fell across the garden path, pulling you from your thoughts. You could feel the wind change as you slowly opened your eyes. Looking up, you saw Ryomen Sukuna approaching, his regal form cutting an imposing figure against the backdrop of the palace. His crimson eyes glinted with curiosity or perhaps amusement as he stopped a few paces from you.

“My lord.” Your lips echoed as he stopped at the edge of the shade. Uraume was behind him, a few distances away, with arms on their back as they silently followed their master. “You are here?”

“You seemed surprised to see me, little one.” He snickers at you, before taking a moment to look at the children. “Am I not allowed to visit your haven?”

“No….no, it’s not that, my lord.” You say to him, lowering your gaze. “It is just…..I never expected to see you today.”

“Oh? And why do you say that, little one? Is this not my domain, my temple?”

“My lord, you know what I…..” You stopped yourself from being exasperated, earning a laugh from him. “My misery is not a jest to laugh about, my lord.”

“I have lived nearer to your hall in these past three years, little one.” Sukuna retorts back to you, a sly smile on his face as he slowly sits in front of you. “I think it should be a given that this path would be on my way, should I go to the audience hall.”

You purse your lips into a flat line, feeling your eyes stare daggers at him. “That much is true, my lord. But it is not always within your desires to see what I or the children are doing.”

“You are my concubine and the children you speak of mine own loins.” He once more says, almost mockingly. “Should I not be allowed to enjoy both?”

“If my lord wishes to enjoy such a thing, I know he has many ways to do so.” You say to him, fumbling with your hands, as though to tell yourself that you were alright. “But for my lord to have come here, it is a different matter altogether, is it not?”

Silence triumphs between the two of you as the wind breaks against the wide expanse of the trees shading you. His eyes do not leave you for a moment as you try and sit up right, trying to slouch less. You were certain that it was unbecoming to do such a thing in front of your lord husband, even in such a setting. 

“Little one, you are clever. But I should hope you do not continue to do so, at the expense of the joy of it.” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “You are right, certainly. But I should hope that you do not let such cleverness diminish my reason.”

“Oh? And what reason does my lord come to my presence?”

“You’ve been… quiet lately.” He says to you. “At least that is what I heard from your servants. Well, not certainly only quiet. Perhaps troubled, even.”

“My lord, I told you that such servants spying on me for you are unwelcomed and unbecoming—”

“You shouldn’t tell me how I run my household, little one. Even your own is my own. It is I who shall decide how they should be run.” He scolds you loud enough for you to lower your head. “I come here out of concern and I shan’t renege my duty just because you feel admonished. Am I understood?”

You didn’t talk for a moment. 

His scarlet eyes narrow more.

There was something in them.

Things you couldn’t read properly.

You took one deep breath at him.

“Do I make myself clear, little one?”

“......Yes, my lord.”

“Now tell me, what occupies that restless mind of yours?” He asks you, crossing his arms on his chest. “Confirm what your servants say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. In three decades of marriage to this man, it was a rarity that he would ask you of your own feelings in this blunt manner. Much so in a way where concern was truly honest and genuine.

Certainly, your husband demanded honesty and truth. But it was a rare moment for him to decide to do it this way. To confront you when you were caught off guard, to corner you. 

But you wondered if you could do it well. If you could be honest with him about this. It was hard enough to wrap your head around being in the constant rush of horror with these nightmares. Yet it was certainly another to see if people would understand, much less the King of Curses.

It was terrifying to live through it alone, but the very idea of sharing your nightmares with him was both tempting and terrifying. He could perceive it in all the ways he could. Could he offer insight? Or would he mock you, dismissing your fears as childish? 

You rose to your feet, bowing low before him. “My lord…..” you began carefully. “It is nothing of importance. I am certain that my servants meant well, but it is nothing but weariness. I’ve merely been restless as of late.”

He studied you, his gaze piercing as if he could see through your facade. “Restless?” His smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “Do you think I'm a fool, little one? You wear your fear like a shroud. Now, tell me. What haunts you?”

“Should it not be real? I had just found my sister and found out what my family had gone through in such a time.” You argued back at him, almost like a petulant child. “Should this not leave me restless or weary, my lord?”

“Oh, little one. I hope your eyes do not give you away.” He retorts back at you, almost like he was going to laugh. “You would be so good at lying, little one — had your eyes not deceived me.”

You bit your lower lip, looking away at him. Of course, he can. Of course, he would read you. He has always been good at doing so. And you were not even certain how deep into your soul he could see. You looked at the children for a moment and then back to him. Should you really be honest with him about this? Should you tell him? 

More and more time would be passing and you knew he would not give in. He will not leave until he gets to the bottom of the truth you were hiding. You kept biting your lip, hoping that it would just bleed. But nothing, nothing came out as you brutalized your lip. 

Defeated, you lowered your head once more.The words were there, on the tip of your tongue. But fear held you back. If you spoke of the child, of the nightmares, would he understand? Or would his cruelty twist your confession into another game?

Sukuna moved closer, his presence overwhelming. “Speak, little one. I command it.” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance. “Do not make me ask again.”

Swallowing hard, you lowered your gaze. “I’ve been dreaming, my lord. Nightmares… of a child.”

His expression shifted when you said those words, the smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. “A child?” he repeated, his voice laced with curiosity. “What child?”

You hesitated, your hands trembling as you clasped them together. “In my dreams, he tears me apart. From the inside. And you… you’re there. Watching. Unmoved. And I….I would watch, I would watch myself torn apart.”

The silence that followed was deafening, stretching out like a chasm between you and Ryomen Sukuna. His scarlet eyes darkened, the glimmer of curiosity or amusement vanishing like a candle snuffed out.

The smirk he so often wore was gone, replaced by an inscrutable expression that made your stomach churn. He regarded you for a long moment, his gaze heavy and unreadable, as if he were turning over some thought in his mind.

For a fleeting second, hope sparked within you. Could he say something to ease your fears? To make sense of the nightmares that clawed at the edges of your sanity? The thought was a desperate one.

Certainly, it was born of a yearning for answers, for meaning in the chaos that plagued your mind. But he said nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—he simply stood there, his silence as cutting as any words might have been.

“My lord—” you began, your voice trembling with the weight of your plea.

“They are nothing but nightmares.” Sukuna interrupted, his tone sharp and final, as though sealing the matter with those words alone. “They are nothing of consequence.”

The tone of his dismissal stung deep and harsh, perhaps even sharper than you’d anticipated. It wasn’t that you expected tenderness. Ryomen Sukuna was never tender, he could not. But his abruptness carried an air of indifference that left you feeling hollow. 

You wished his words didn’t affect you so much, you wished it didn’t hurt you so dearly. But it does. Thirty years is a long time and yet, he still has hands that are cold. Hands that make you feel like it was stone.

Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the frustration of being so easily cast aside mingling with the lingering fear the dreams had planted in your heart.

“Nothing of consequence…” you echoed softly, almost to yourself. The words felt like ash on your tongue, bitter and unsatisfying.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked over you once more, his expression hardening as if warning you not to pursue the matter further. “Do not let such trivialities cloud your thoughts, little one. You have other concerns, ones that matter.”

“Other ones that matter?” You asked towards him, looking him in the eye. “And what could they be?”

He does not speak for a moment. He stands up slowly, looking at the children and away from you once again. “I shall send for someone to make a tonic, to help with your nightmares. You should drink it, without question. Understood?”

“My lord, I—”

“Understood?”

You swallowed your pride and nodded. “Understood, my lord.”

He nodded at you and then walked away, the flowing fabric of his robes trailing behind him as he walked away, Uraume following suit just a little bit behind him. You stood rooted in place, the weight of his dismissal pressing down on you like a stone. 

The child’s face from your dreams still lingered in your mind’s eye, his haunting gaze refusing to fade, and Ryomen Sukuna’s indifference, that had only been a dream at one point, was now reality. And it had perhaps only made the spectacle of this misery more vivid.

As the garden fell silent again, you sank onto the bench beneath the cherry tree, your thoughts spinning. Sukuna’s words had done nothing to quell your fears, and the questions that haunted you remained unanswered. The dream felt too real, too visceral, to be dismissed so easily.

And though Sukuna had turned his back on your concerns, the image of his unyielding gaze lingered, a reminder that there was no solace to be found in him. You were left to face the shadows on your own, with only the faint rustling of the cherry blossoms as your solace.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE IT TAKES A LOT OF LEARNING EACH OTHER’S LANGUAGE, TO GET CLOSER. You had expected that, the moment you saw your sister Kiyoko. Thirty years. A whole lifetime beyond the years you had known her. You barely remembered the child Kiyoko had been. Those little snippets, fleeting images: a flash of dark hair, a high-pitched giggle, the small hand that once clung to yours. 

But the woman who now stood before you now was a stranger, built from experiences you hadn’t shared, shaped by years you hadn’t witnessed. Getting to know her was like deciphering a language you’d long forgotten, each conversation a painstaking translation of gestures, expressions, and shared silences. 

Yet, slowly, almost imperceptibly, you were sure that your sister Kiyoko had begun to weave her way back into your heart little by little as she served you in your home. Of course, you don’t treat her like all the other servants. You couldn’t. She was your sister first more than she was anything else. 

But she also had to find her way in the world. Your husband has spies in your midst. And so, she does her best to keep with her duties, all the while trying to have moments with you that few can be privy to under the candle light, laughing together as you both experienced the girlhood you never got to enjoy together.

Brushing each other’s hair, reading and writing poetry together, weaving silks and fabrics into clothing together, walking under the brisk sunlight on the best days and most of all, eating together and telling stories, as you would while you sat with each other during supper as children. 

You were sure that it wasn't the rekindling of a childhood bond, you knew you couldn’t. But this was close. This was certainly something that could come close to that. Just as much, there was that desire to enjoy this moment where you both were forging new relationships together, ont that could be stronger and more resilient than the fragile memories of the past.

And with this burgeoning connection came trust. Deep, unwavering trust. Among the sea of loyal servants who populated your own household, your Kiyoko was the only one that you could truly trust and call your own, from the blood of your blood who would never betray you. 

She had quickly become your anchor, the one person you could confide in without reservation. Secrets you’d guarded for years tumbled out in her presence, anxieties that had gnawed at you found solace in her understanding gaze.

Your lord husband Ryomen Sukuna, ever observant, had noticed this shift. He’d seen the way you sought Kiyoko’s company, the quiet comfort that radiated from you when she was near, even when she stood away from the crowd in the audience hall. 

He’d especially noted your reliance on her when it came to Chiharu and Chizuru, your precious children. He could see how much you would find yourself willing to put their safety at her hands during the nights when you needed reprieve.

Or those days when they would wander off endlessly through the temple grounds by themselves. You entrusted Kiyoko with their care without a second thought, a level of faith you hadn’t extended to anyone else.

The nearby hall was bathed in the warm glow of lanterns, their light dancing across the lacquered walls and the golden accents of the intricate carvings that adorned the space.

The rich aroma of the evening meal mingled with the faint scent of sandalwood from the incense burning in the corners. Despite the opulence, there was an undercurrent of tension—something unspoken that lingered between you and Sukuna.

He sat at the head of the table, his imposing figure relaxed but commanding. Every movement he made seemed deliberate, calculated. As you reached for your cup, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“You and your sister, little one.” he began, his tone deceptively casual. “ I have noticed that you both have become close.”

His words carried a weight that made you pause, your weary fingers tightening slightly around the porcelain cup. You looked up, meeting his piercing scarlet gaze. You nodded at him briefly before you drank.

“She is my sister, my lord.” you replied carefully. “It is only natural that we would grow close again after being apart for so many years.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his sharp crimson eyes studying you with an unsettling intensity. He hums to himself. “Natural, perhaps. But closeness often breeds complacency. And complacency invites betrayal, little one.”

The insinuation struck like a slap, though you kept your expression composed. Setting your cup down, you responded, your tone firm but measured. “Kiyoko has endured hardships I can scarcely imagine. She has remained steadfast despite everything. I trust her implicitly, my lord.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes betrayed no mirth. “Trust, little one. You shouldn’t be secure about it.” he said, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse. “Trust is a fragile little thing. It is easy to give but far harder to keep. You may trust her now, but people change, little one. Desperation, jealousy, opportunity—these are the harbingers of betrayal.”

Your pulse quickened, the flicker of indignation sparking into something stronger. “Kiyoko is not like that, my lord. I assure you.” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “She has never sought to harm me. I would stake my life on her loyalty.”

He chuckled, the sound low and chilling. “Stake your life, would you? How noble of a thought that is. And how foolish. You’ve learned much in my presence, yet you cling to naïveté. Trust no one. Not even those you love. Especially not them.”

His words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. You let a moment pass before you inhaled deeply, grappling with the mix of anger and hurt they stirred within you. Finally, a thought struck, and before you could second-guess yourself, you spoke to him once again.

“And do you trust me, my lord?”

The question was bold, and the silence that followed was deafening. Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk faltered, his crimson eyes narrowing as they fixed on yours. He did not answer immediately, his gaze intense and unrelenting, as though weighing the implications of your inquiry.

After what felt like an eternity, he said simply, “I trust you.”

His voice was quieter than before, yet the words carried an unexpected weight. They were not meant to soothe or reassure—they were simply the truth. The honesty of his admission startled you, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“More than anyone? More than Uraume?”

“Did you hear me falter in those words?”

A small sad smile touched your lips, bittersweet in its sincerity. “Then you have nothing to fear from me, my lord.” you said softly. “You do not love me, so you should not expect betrayal from me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Sukuna’s expression gave away nothing, his inscrutable gaze locked onto your own. The moment stretched, the tension in the air palpable, but he remained silent, offering neither agreement nor denial.

Eventually, he turned his attention back to the meal, his movements deliberate and calm, as though the conversation had not occurred. You followed suit, though your thoughts swirled with the weight of his words—and your own. Though he had spoken of trust, his silence on the matter of love resonated louder than any answer he might have given.

The remainder of the meal passed in relative quiet, the weight of your conversation settling like a stone in the room. You ate almost mechanically, your thoughts too preoccupied to truly taste the food before you. 

Sukuna, as always, seemed unbothered, his demeanor exuding an air of control that you had long since come to expect. Yet, his silence lingered, a stark contrast to his usual sharp commentary. When the final course was cleared away, he rose from his seat with a grace that belied his imposing frame.

“Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment, little one.” he said, his voice low and even as he began to leave the hall. “Closeness is a luxury that often demands a price. Be sure you’re willing to pay for it.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind. Closeness, it was a luxury. Trust, it was a risk. Love, it was unspoken. These concepts swirled together, leaving you more conflicted than ever. And more anything, a burden in your heart.

When the hall was empty save for you, you let out a slow breath, the tension in your shoulders finally easing. Sukuna’s warning lingered, but your heart rebelled against his cold pragmatism. Kiyoko was your sister, the last tether to the life you had known before. How could you not trust her? How could you let suspicion take root where love should flourish?

You could not sleep once you took time away from your husband’s presence after that. You felt restless, more than you should. He has stricken doubt in your heart, a place where it shouldn’t be. He who you had more reason to doubt has caused you worry in your heart over someone you can trust wholeheartedly. 

In the early morning sunrise, you found yourself in the garden, drawn to the calming presence of the blooming cherry trees. The sun slowly hung gracefully in the sky, casting a pale blossom of light over the temple grounds. 

You sat beneath one of the trees, your thoughts chasing themselves in circles. A soft rustling of leaves announced a presence, and you looked up to see Kiyoko approaching. She wore a faint smile, her eyes filled with warmth as she joined you on the grass.

“You seem troubled, nee-san.” she said gently, sitting close enough that your shoulders nearly touched. “Is something wrong?”

For a moment, you hesitated. Sukuna’s warning was fresh in your mind, his distrust of others so deeply ingrained that it felt contagious. But as you looked at your sister, her face illuminated by the moonlight, you felt the weight of your bond. She had been with you through the worst, her presence a balm for wounds you hadn’t realized were still open.

“No, sister.” you said softly, your voice carrying the faintest tremor of uncertainty. “I’m just… tired.”

Kiyoko reached for your hand, her touch grounding you in a way that words couldn’t. “You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she said. “Not anymore. I’m here for you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you leaned into her embrace, letting her words soothe the turmoil in your heart. For now, you chose to trust her, to trust in the bond you shared. Whatever the cost, you couldn’t let Sukuna’s cynicism poison the one piece of your past that still felt pure. 

“I can trust you, can I, Kyoko?”

You couldn’t see your sister’s eyes.

But you didn’t want to look at them either.

You feared what you may find in her eyes.

“You can trust me, nee-san. With everything.”

You didn’t want to question her on that anymore.

══════════════════

YOU THINK THAT VERMILLION HALL IS BUILT WITH LAUGHTER. And without it, it was just nothing to be enthralled about. The Vermillion Hall was a hollow shell without Ryomen Chiharu’s laughter to fill its corners or her small hands tugging at your sleeves. Her absence was a weight you carried in silence, each hour marked by the echo of her absence. 

You had grown used to the stillness, to the ache of longing buried beneath years of concessions. But this, this part of it always felt different. You were sharing him with a ghost, after all. And you will always have to, so long as you live.

Yet, it was as if a piece of your heart had left with them, and now you were left trying to mend a void that could not be filled. And you have to admit that to yourself, as much as you should find peace with being the other woman for the rest of your life. 

Your husband Ryomen Sukuna had left for his pilgrimage to honor Ryomen Hiromi, his first wife, and you had watched him go without protest. He had loved Hiromi first and perhaps even last in this earthly world. 

And though that love was a thorn in your side, you understood it. Love, after all, was not something you expected from Sukuna, not for yourself, at least. Yet, the sting of his devotion to another, even one long gone, still felt fresh even after nearly thirty years of marriage.

You told yourself it was better this way. To not feel hurt, to survive in this life, meant to give way. To concede. To let him have this part of himself without interference. It was what you’d learned in thirty years of being his wife. Love was a battlefield, but it wasn’t yours to fight on. And yet, it still hurts.

Evening had fallen, and the gardens were bathed in the pale glow of the rising moon. Your precious son Chizuru sat beside you beneath a cherry tree, his small form nestled against yours as if to shield you from solitude.

He always noticed when you feel this way, even if he was just this small. Your little son had sensed your melancholy, his perceptiveness what most could even as grown adults.

“Do you think they’re thinking about us?” Chizuru’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sure they are, my little love. Your father… he cares deeply for Chiharu. This is a moment for her to remember someone special. Someone who is special to your father also. This pilgrimage is important for them both.”

Chizuru tilted his head up to look at you, his young eyes searching your face. “And for you, Mother? Is it important for you?”

You paused, the weight of her question catching you off guard. “It is important to me too, my love.” you answered finally, though your voice trembled slightly. “Because Chiharu will learn about her special person, and your father will have time to reflect on someone he loved very much.”

“But you miss them already.” He pressed on whining, his tone matter-of-fact. “I wish they could just come home. They can visit that special person some other time. We need them more than they do.”

“I do too, my love.” you admitted, your throat tightening. “I miss them terribly. But sometimes, to love someone means to let them have what they need, even if it hurts you.”

Chizuru frowned, his little brow furrowing. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

You laughed softly, though it was tinged with sadness. “Life isn’t always fair, my sweet love. But we do what we must. And we must live with it. Only then can we live life well.”

Chizuru nestled closer to you, his small arms wrapping around your waist. “I don’t want you to be sad, mother.” he whispered tenderly. “I don’t want us to be sad. Ever.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing a smile for his sake. “I have you here, don’t I? That’s enough to make me happy, my little love. You will always be more than enough for me to be happy.”

The wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms, their petals falling like whispers around you. The night was calm, yet your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words. You thought of Sukuna, of the way he had taken Chiharu without hesitation, his devotion to Hiromi eclipsing everything else. 

You wondered if he thought of you, even for a moment. Did he consider how his choices left you hollow, or was your pain too insignificant for a man like him? Even after all this time, had he ever thought about your grief of being his other woman?

“Do you think Father loves you?” Chizuru asked suddenly, his voice small but piercing.

The question cut deeper than any blade could. You knew that your little son didn’t mean to say such a thing, he didn't know. You have only shown and taught him what he should know. You hesitated, your hand stilling in his hair. What could you say to a child too young to understand the complexities of love, or the lack thereof?

“Your father…” You paused, searching for the right words. “Your father values loyalty, strength, and duty. Those things are important to him.”

Chizuru frowned, his childlike honesty unyielding. “That’s not the same as love, mother.”

You exhaled, your heart heavy with the weight of his innocence. “No, it’s not.” you whispered. “But it’s what I have. Perhaps, it could be something like love, no one can know. But your mother has learned to make peace with it.”

“Then….then I shall love you most, mother!” Chizuru whispers to you, almost excitedly. “Until father can love you well, I shall love you most to make up for that in your heart.”

Your heart swells at your son’s words, as much as it does stun you. He was a boy of three and yet, he takes such responsibility for your grief and pain after all this time. You could feel the tears prick at the edges of your eyes. You smiled at him.

“My precious little love, you are truly the apple of your mother’s eye.”

He giggles. “Hm! And I will always have you as my own too, mother.”

You smile as you push your face on his tummy and tickle him. You didn’t want him to see your tears. He giggles and you stop. Soon enough, a good tender silence stretched between you, the truth too raw to continue. Chizuru’s arms tightened around you as if he understood the pain you couldn’t fully explain.

As the moon climbed higher into the sky, you closed your eyes, the ache in your chest mingling with the soft rhythm of his breathing. You would endure this, as you always had. But tonight, the weight of Sukuna’s absence, and the truth of your place in his heart felt like too much to bear.

Just in the flip of your head against the futon, you found yourself feeling the light against your eyes. The morning light filtered through the thin rice paper walls of your chamber, casting a soft glow over the room. 

You had woken before Chizuru, his small form still nestled in the warmth of his futon. He would not rouse for a while, you think. But you didn’t move as you continued to look at your precious son.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to linger, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The air outside was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint aroma of dew and blossoming wildflowers. You decided to take a morning walk, hoping the tranquility of the garden paths would ease your restless mind. As you wandered farther than usual, passing the bustling early risers in the village, snippets of conversation reached your ears.

“Did you hear? Another stone has been placed in the forest—on Sukuna-sama’s orders.”

“They say it’s beyond the outer banks, deeper in the woods.”

“What could it mean this time? Another shrine? A monument?”

Your curiosity piqued, and without much thought, you found yourself following the murmured directions. The forest loomed ahead, dense and shadowed, but you pressed forward, the intrigue too compelling to ignore. Sukuna’s orders were rarely questioned, and his intentions were often shrouded in secrecy. What could warrant such a gesture?

The trees gave way to a clearing, and there it stood, a massive stone carved with intricate designs and inscriptions you couldn’t fully decipher. Yet, what struck you wasn’t the stone itself but the small figure made of fine wood resting atop the stone.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes began to widen at the sight. You felt the air in your lungs disappear almost instantaneously. 

It was a babe. 

A boy at that. 

He couldn’t have been older than a few months old, his dark hair wild and untamed, his small frame dressed in fine robes bearing Ryomen family crest etched upon it. Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, and you knelt before the small stone and looked upon the small wooden figure. 

Then you turned.

It was that boy.

From your nightmares.

His wide, crimson eyes stared back at you with a piercing familiarity that made your heart lurch. It was like looking into Sukuna’s gaze, even briefly. And yet only softer, innocent. Your hand trembled as you reached for him, and he didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his tiny hand reaching out to touch your face. 

“Mama?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

The word sent a shock through your system. 

“No…” you whispered, pulling back as bile rose in your throat. 

Memories surged forward like a flood, crashing against the dam of your consciousness. Nights in Sukuna’s chambers, his hands on your skin, his whispers that lulled you into a haze and afterward, the strange emptiness, as if you had forgotten something vital.

You stumbled back, your stomach twisting violently. The nightmares, they weren’t nightmares at all. They were memories, fragments of a truth Ryomen Sukuna had stolen from you. He had used your vulnerability, your weakness for him, and made you forget. Again and again, until this moment, when the truth stared you in the face. 

You were pregnant before.

And you hadn’t even known.

The nausea overtook you, and you turned away, retching into the grass. The boy, the babe who could have been your son, watched with wide, confused eyes, his small hands clutching at your sleeves as if to anchor you to reality.

Tears blurred your vision as the realization solidified. Sukuna had lied to you. He had taken something sacred, something intimate, and twisted it for his own purposes. And now, here was the result—a child you hadn’t been allowed to remember, much less cherish.

“What have you done, Ryomen Sukuna?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. The boy looked at you again, his innocent gaze cutting deeper than any blade. “What have you done to me?”

The boy reached out again, his tiny fingers brushing against your sleeve, but before you could say or do anything else, a shadow fell over the clearing. You turned sharply, your heart racing, expecting Sukuna or worse, one of his servants, sent to pull you away from this fragile, terrifying truth. 

But there was no one. Only a strange stillness, a heavy silence that wrapped itself around the clearing like a suffocating shroud. When you turned back, the boy was gone. Your eyes began to shake, your body became frantic as you screamed.

“No!” The word tore from your throat, ragged and raw. You stumbled to your feet, spinning in frantic circles, searching for him. “Where are you? Come back!”

The clearing remained empty, the stone as still and cold as the memories that had begun to claw their way to the surface. Panic surged through you, mingling with the despair already sinking its talons into your chest. You staggered forward, calling for him, pleading into the emptiness.

“Please!” you cried, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave me again!”

But there was no response. No soft voice calling you “mama” and no tiny hand to hold onto. The small babe, that small boy—your son…he was gone, as if he had never been there at all. And he will never be anything else but that. Gone.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto the grass, clutching at the earth as if it could anchor you. Tears spilled down your cheeks in torrents, hot and unrelenting, carving paths down your face as sobs wracked your body.

Why? Why would Ryomen Sukuna do this to you? Why would he take this from you, strip you of every chance of joy, even this child? Why has he robbed you of knowing him, of holding him? Of loving him? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one heavier and more suffocating than the last.

The pain was unbearable, a sharp, gnawing ache that seemed to tear you apart from the inside. You cried until your voice gave out, until your body trembled with exhaustion. And still, the grief wouldn’t relent. It consumed you, pulling you into its depths, leaving you gasping for air.

For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to break. To feel the full weight of everything you had endured—the lies, the manipulation, the loneliness. And now, this. A child you never knew you had. A child who had been taken from you before you even had a chance to love him.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting light over the clearing, but it brought you no comfort. You were alone, kneeling in the grass, clutching at the earth as if it could give you back what had been stolen.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, weeping and trembling in the shadow of the stone. All you knew was that when the tears finally slowed, and the silence settled once more, you were left with one unshakable truth: Ryomen Sukuna had betrayed you once more in the cruelest way imaginable. 

And now, you truly had enough. You cannot stay here. 

You do not want to stay here. You hated him. You truly hated him. 

You wanted to escape this cage and leave him alone.

══════════════════

IT HAD TAKEN YOU A WHILE TO CALM YOURSELF. But when you did, you had decided on it. You wanted to leave him. You wanted to leave him once and for all. You cannot handle being in this gilded cage. You cannot do this, not for much longer. You cannot, you cannot handle being his wife anymore. 

You found your sister in the small courtyard garden, her hands busy weaving a garland of flowers for your Chizuru’s chambers. You took your haori off and then your shoes. When she turned, she found you. She gasped as you approached her, tears swelling down your face. You fell in her arms. 

“What’s wrong?” Kiyoko asked, setting the garland aside. “Nee–san?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your chest heaving as you struggled to keep yourself together. But it was futile—the pain and confusion overwhelmed you, spilling out in a torrent of sobs. You wanted to tell her something. But you couldn’t. She rubs the small of your back, cooing at you as she tries to stabilize your breathing.

“I can’t stay here, sister.” you managed, your voice cracking. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be his wife. I can’t… I can’t live like this.”

Kiyoko whispers tenderly. “Nee-san, calm yourself. What’s happened? Please, tell me.”

Her steady tone was an anchor, but it wasn’t enough to keep you from breaking. The words came tumbling out, fragmented and raw. “I don’t know what to do, Kiyoko. He—he lied to me, again. He’s taken so much from me, from us, and now… now I can’t stay here.”

Kiyoko reached for your hands, her grip firm but gentle. “Slow down, nee-san.” she urged. “What did he do? Tell me everything.”

You shook your head, the tears streaming freely now. “I found out… I found out I had a child. Another child. And I didn’t even know. He made me forget everything, Kiyoko. He took it from me, from my memory. I can’t stay here, knowing what he’s done. But I can’t leave Chizuru with him. I can’t—”

Your voice broke, and you buried your face in your hands. “And Chiharu… I can’t leave her either. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Kiyoko’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “Shh, nee–san.” she whispered, her voice trembling with both anger and sorrow. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out. But you need to think clearly.”

You pulled back, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I can’t think clearly. All I know is that I can’t stay. Not with him. Not after this.”

Kiyoko’s gaze was steady, her voice firm. “Then don’t. Take Chizuru and come with me. Run away from here.”

Her words stunned you, and for a moment, you could only stare at her. “Run?” you echoed. “But Chiharu—”

“Chiharu is strong, nee-san.” Kiyoko interrupted. “Stronger than you give her credit for. And if she truly means as much to Sukuna as you’ve said, he won’t harm her. Not when she is Ryomen Hiromi’s daughter. But you—you can’t stay here and let him destroy you. Not anymore.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a mixture of comfort and resolve washing over you. “But if I run, he’ll come after me, sister.” you murmured.

“Let him come.” Kiyoko said fiercely. “We’ll find a way. Together.”

The conviction in her voice made you falter, the weight of her loyalty and love grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, a fragile glimmer of hope began to take root in your heart. You could be free from this gilded cage. You wanted to. You wanted to be free.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough, sister.” you whispered. “I want to but I am scared.”

Kiyoko squeezed your hands, her eyes blazing with determination. “You are. You will always be strong, sister. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. But you have to make the choice, nee-san. Do you want to stay and let him control you, or do you want to fight for your freedom—for Chizuru’s future?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything you had endured. You took a shaky breath, your tears still falling, but for the first time, you began to see a path forward. You nodded at your sister softly, but determined.

“I’ll fight.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll fight for my son.”

Kiyoko’s smile was bittersweet, her grip on your hands tightening. “Then let’s make a plan, nee–san. Together.”

Kiyoko’s determination was a quiet fire, burning with purpose as she worked tirelessly to help you escape. Every moment, every action, was calculated with the precision of someone who had lived through too many trials and learned from them all.

You had no doubt she would help you escape, but seeing her so focused, so resolute, made the possibility of freedom feel real, not just a distant dream.

The plan was simple, but dangerous. You would leave under the cover of darkness, unnoticed by those who still served Sukuna. Kiyoko knew the right paths, the hidden routes you had never seen before, the ones that would take you far from the temple. She had arranged for a discreet exit, packed essentials, and made sure that Chizuru was ready.

The hardest part was the moment you had to say goodbye to the life you had known. But even that wasn’t truly a goodbye, no. It was a release. It was the freedom you sought and needed.

The relief you had so long prayed to the gods for. The chains that had bound you for years felt lighter now, the weight lessening with every passing hour.

On the night you were to leave, your sister Kiyoko gently woke you, her own eyes bright with excitement and resolve. You didn’t question her. You didn’t have to. You trusted her. There was no turning back. You took a breath and nodded.

Together, the three of you—Kiyoko, Chizuru, and yourself had all left the temple that had once been your prison for years. Your son continued to be sound asleep in your touch, wrapped in a loin cloth on your chest. You kept staring at him as you made your way through the steep steps with your sister. 

The night air felt colder than you remembered, the stars brighter than you could have imagined. As you slipped through the back gates of the estate, the quiet village beyond felt like a world away. And yet, in the deepest part of your soul, you knew that it was only a step toward reclaiming your life.

The journey to your old village in the East was long, but with every mile, a sense of peace began to settle over you. You were no longer looking over your shoulder, no longer afraid of Sukuna’s watchful eyes. Your thoughts were consumed with the possibility of a new life, of freedom, of a future you could build with your son.

Life was good. The mornings were filled with the laughter of children, the evenings with the warmth of a family you had missed so deeply. The simple things, like the smell of fresh bread or the sound of birds in the trees, became treasures you had long forgotten. And, for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

You were no longer in the gilded cage of Sukuna’s palace. You were home. And in this freedom, surrounded by the people who loved you, you realized that you had finally found what you had been searching for all along. A life where you could be yourself, without fear, without pain, and most importantly, without the chains that had once bound you.

It was good. And, for the first time, you could truly say that life was good.

══════════════════

IT HAD TAKEN DAYS AND EVEN WEEKS ON END IN TRAVEL. But you like to believe that it was worth it, you like to think so. Hard as it had been, this was the first time in thirty years that you had felt yourself able to breathe the good familiar air of your youth again. And to do so free from all the heartache of the world.

Your old village was a haven of peace, nestled in the rolling hills of the East, far from the oppressive shadows of your godly husband’s temple. As Kiyoko, Chizuru, and you made your way through the winding paths, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

The air was thick with the scent of earth and the soft hum of the village waking up to another day. You were going to enjoy it with them soon. You were going to live life in the sun, knowing what warmth looks like. There was no tension in the air here, no fear. You were free.

Kiyoko turned to you with a soft smile, her face lit by the soft light of dawn. “We’re almost there, nee–san.” she said, her voice steady, but you could hear the excitement beneath it. “Just a little further.”

Your heart swelled as you looked at her, the sister who had helped you escape, who had never once faltered in her determination to see you free. “I can’t believe we’re finally here at all.” you said softly, feeling the weight of everything you had left behind beginning to melt away. “To be finally home.”

Chizuru, who had been quiet beside you, suddenly tugged at your sleeve. “Mother, what’s that?” he had asked, pointing toward the distant fields.

The sight of your little son, so innocent, so full of wonder, made you smile through the bittersweet emotions in your heart. “That, my love, is where we will make our new life. A place where we can be free.”

“But what about father?”

You take a moment to answer him. You could feel your heart pound at his words. But you shake it off and smile at your son. “We shall be happy there, my little love. We shall be very content there.”

When you reached the heart of the village, the familiar sight of the small cottages, the fields stretching out beyond, and the towering trees that lined the edges of the village brought a sense of calm you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. 

The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers, and the sounds of daily life. It was the chatter of children, the hum of people going about their tasks, all of it almost felt like a melody that soothed the raw edges of your heart.

And then, the villagers came.

As if they had been waiting for your return all along, they gathered around, faces lighting up with smiles that felt like the warmest embrace. You hadn’t seen these people in so long, but it was as if time had not passed.

They were the people who had known you before you were swallowed by the horrors of Sukuna’s world, before you had become a name and not a person.

There was the elder Aiko, the woman who had been like a second mother to you when your own had been absent. Her weathered hands reached out to you, her eyes bright with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Child, is it really you?” Aiko asked, her voice trembling.

She pulled you into her arms before you could answer, and for a moment, all you could do was close your eyes and let the tears flow. These were not tears of sorrow, but of release. For the first time in so long, you felt safe.

“It’s me.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m finally home.”

“Home.” Aiko repeated, pulling back to look at you with a soft, knowing smile. “You’ve been gone so long, child. We thought… we thought we’d lost you forever.”

Behind elder Aiko, more faces emerged. Old friends, neighbors, people you’d grown up with. They all looked at you, as if in awe that you were standing before them again. The sight of them, their kindness, their welcoming faces, made you want to crumble, to fall into their arms and stay there forever.

One of the men, Taro, who had been a friend of your father, gave a hearty laugh. “Well, well, look at this! Our most famous girl finally came home! Your parents and your brother Takashi would have been so happy to witness this, you know?”

You smiled through the tears that still blurred your vision. “I wish they could be here to see this.” you said softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

The weight of the years spent in exile under Sukuna’s thumb felt suddenly lighter in the warmth of their presence.

Kiyoko, who had been standing quietly beside you, smiled too. “It’s like nothing has changed, no?” she said softly, her voice tinged with wonder. She looked at you, her eyes filled with understanding. “This place is where we belong, nee–san. Where you belong.”

Chizuru, who had been shyly hiding behind your leg, stepped forward at the urging of a kind woman who knelt down to her level. The woman, a mother herself, smiled warmly. “You’re our precious girl’s little one, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Such a bright child.”

Chizuru’s small face lit up with the compliment. “Yes, I’m Chizuru! My mother says we’re going to stay here now.”

The villagers laughed, their joy infectious. “Of course, dear.” the woman said gently, giving Chizuru’s hand a soft squeeze. “Welcome to our village.”

A little further away, a group of children were peering at Chizuru, their curiosity piqued. One of the boys came forward shyly, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers. “Would you like to play with us?” he asked, offering him the flowers.

Chizuru’s eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, I want to play!”

As your precious son ran off with the other children, you couldn’t help but watch your little one with a heart full of gratitude. He was free, too—free to be a child again, free from the oppressive atmosphere that had haunted him before.

Kiyoko, who had been watching you closely, finally spoke up. Your sister’s voice filled with quiet resolve. “This is where we’re meant to be, nee–san. It’s been so long. But you’re finally free. And you’ll never have to go back.”

You looked at her, your sister who had risked everything to help you escape, who had stood by you in ways no one else ever had. She was right. This was where you belonged.

You were no longer someone’s wife, no longer just a piece in Ryomen Sukuna’s game or played to the tune of his whims. Here, you were simply you. No titles, no expectations, no chains.

For the first time in decades, you could breathe without fear. The weight of the past didn’t disappear, but it felt lighter, more distant, as if it could no longer reach you here.

“We’re free, sister.” you said softly, the words tasting sweeter than you could have imagined.

Kiyoko smiled, her hand brushing against your arm. “Yes. Free. And you’ll never have to be anyone’s possession again.”

══════════════════

THE NEWS SPREAD FAR AND WIDE THAT RYOMEN SUKUNA’S CONCUBINE AND SON WERE MISSING. That was the whisper of the neighboring village, at least that’s what you heard. But perhaps, it was most certainly the truth.

You would not put it past your husband to go and be searching for you. Not when you had taken control off his hands and most of all, his own flesh and blood away from him.

Ryomen Sukuna was looking for you, and all of his associates were trying to locate you and Chizuru without fail. But so far, none have been able to find you. You had tried to make sure that there would be no trace of you, no sign that you had ever been here. 

You used every tactic you could think of to erase your presence from the records of your past life. Both of you had changed your names to mingle with people you knew. You had reverted to using old names that you knew your husband would not know of. You continued to do everything in your power to cover your tracks.

But you also knew that you would mostly be relying on the goodwill of the villagers who had opened their arms to you. They had to continue to keep their mouths shut and continue to pretend like nothing had changed or that anything else had happened.

So far, it has worked.

The peaceful rhythm of life in the village was everything you’d ever dreamed of, and you clung to it like the last thread of hope. The sounds of the village, children laughing, the chatter of neighbors, the rustle of wind in the trees had become a familiar comfort. 

You had never known what it was like to live without fear, without the oppressive weight of Ryomen Sukuna’s presence looming over you. Now, you know. Life had been… simple. And in its simplicity, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever known.

There had been adjustments, of course. The transition from luxury to the more humble life in the village was not easy. The comforts of Ryomen Sukuna’s massive complex of a temple were far removed from the reality of a small home in a tight-knit community. 

Cooking over a wood fire, washing clothes by hand, and dealing with the constant ebb and flow of village work had been a steep learning curve. At first, you had struggled with the roughness of it all and of course, your hands were not accustomed to the calluses of labor, and your body had complained at the physical demands placed upon it.

But as each day passed, you grew accustomed to it. You grew strong in a way you hadn’t known was possible. And with each small victory, like the first time you successfully cooked a meal from scratch or helped mend a fence, you felt more and more like yourself.

The biggest joy, however, was seeing your son Chizuru. The boy who had once been confined to the rigid structure of Sukuna’s training now ran freely with other children. They had welcomed him with open arms, and the sound of his laughter, so carefree and full of joy, filled your heart in a way nothing ever had before. 

He was no longer being trained for some cruel purpose, no longer being shaped into a weapon. He was just a child, playing with other children, learning the simplest of joys. He has tried to find himself climbing at the bases of trees or playing in the dirty puddles.

One afternoon, as you watched him from the porch, you caught sight of him laughing with a group of local kids. He had a huge grin on his face as he chased after them, his feet kicking up dirt in the warm, golden light of the setting sun. 

It was a sight you never thought you’d see, not after the years of grueling discipline and the cold indifference of Sukuna. This was freedom, and you could see it in your precious Chizuru’s eyes. He was happy here. He had found life here, as you had when you were a child.

“He’s happy, sister.” you said to Kiyoko, who had been standing beside you, watching him too.

Kiyoko smiled softly. “He is. And you’re happy too, aren’t you?”

You nodded, a slow, steady smile tugging at your lips. “I never thought I would be. But here… here I’m free. We’re free.”

Kiyoko looked at you, her gaze soft but steady. “I’m glad, nee–san. You deserve this. You deserve to feel whole again.”

For the first time in years, you felt whole. The pieces of you that had been scattered, lost, torn apart by the weight of your past were coming back together. You were no longer just the wife of Sukuna, a tool in his hands, or a prisoner in his games. You were you.

As the days went by, it was easier to forget the shadows of the past. The fear that had once ruled you, the constant vigilance, the anxiety over what might happen if Sukuna found you. All that had began to fade into the background. 

The villagers were kind, and they welcomed you without question, offering help when it was needed, but also allowing you the space to settle into the rhythm of life. You found yourself growing attached to the people around you, to the quiet comforts of this simple existence.

But even in the quiet moments, when the wind blew gently through the trees, you couldn’t completely silence the nagging fear that lived just beneath the surface. Sukuna was searching for you. He had to be. You knew him better than anyone, and you knew that he would not let you slip away so easily.

But for now, you could breathe. You could live. And the thought of that of just living was enough to silence the worry, if only for a while.

At the turning echoes of the night, you waited for your son to return. As you sat by the hearth, the soft crackling of the fire filling the silence, Ryomen Chizuru approached you. His small face was flushed from playing outside, his hair wild and tousled.

“Mother! I’ve returned!” he said shyly, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers. “I picked these for you.”

You smiled and took the flowers from his hand, feeling a warmth fill your chest. “Thank you, my dearest love. They’re beautiful.”

He beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling. “I’m happy here, Mother. I like playing with the other kids.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t allow them to fall. Instead, you hugged him tightly, pulling him close. “I’m happy too, Chizuru. We’re safe here. We’re home.”

And for the first time in so long, you felt the weight of your past truly begin to slip away. Here, in this quiet village, surrounded by the warmth of family and the laughter of children, you were no longer a prisoner.

You were free. And as the days stretched on, you held on to that freedom with everything you had, never looking back, never forgetting how far you had come.

══════════════════

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN WELL THIS DAY. The morning had started like any other. Chizuru was playing outside, his laughter echoing through the village as he ran with the other children onto the wide expanse of the rice fields.

You had gone about your daily routine, preparing food and cleaning, the familiar rhythm of life settling over you like a warm blanket. But as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, a sinking feeling settled in your chest.

Ryomen Chizuru was nowhere to be found.

At first, you thought he was just playing a little longer, perhaps hiding among the trees or in the nearby fields. But as minutes turned to hours, panic began to rise. You asked the villagers if they had seen him, but no one had.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the last time you had lost someone you loved. You could feel your body shaking as the light of day began to fade. You rushed to the edge of the village, searching through the forest, calling his name into the silence.

“Chizuru! Chizuru, where are you?”

Your voice was frantic, trembling with fear and desperation. The sun’s last rays barely touched the tops of the trees, the shadows growing long and heavy as the day turned into night.

Your breath was ragged, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t bear the thought of him being lost out here. You pushed forward, your mind racing with every horrible possibility, when suddenly, you felt a sharp pain at the back of your head. The world spun wildly, and before you could even comprehend what had happened, everything went dark.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, the cold of the forest floor pressing against your skin. You tried to sit up, but the dizziness overwhelmed you. Blinking against the night, you saw the flickering light of torches, the orange glow casting eerie shadows across the trees. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as you forced yourself to stand, only to find yourself surrounded by the villagers. Their faces were grim, expressionless. They stood in a tight circle, watching you with an unsettling stillness.

Your throat tightened, panic rising again as you searched for Chizuru. But he was nowhere in sight.

“Where is my son?!” you cried, your voice hoarse and filled with dread. But your question was met with silence.

And then, through the sea of villagers, a figure emerged. Elder Aiko.

Her gaze was cold, her ancient face marked with a solemn expression. She walked toward you, her steps measured, as though she were leading a ritual. She held her hands before her, as if in prayer, her voice rising in a chant that made your skin crawl.

“This is necessary, child.” she began, her voice like the sound of dry leaves rustling in the wind. “A prophecy must be fulfilled. It is your blood that holds the power to destroy Sukuna.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You could feel your knees trembling, as the weight of her words sank in.

“A prophecy?” you asked weakly, barely able to understand what was happening.

Elder Aiko nodded, her eyes glinting with an unsettling conviction. “Yes. It is said that the child born of your blood, the child you love so dearly, will be the one to kill Ryomen Sukuna. And to prevent this, we must end his life. Only then can the gods bless us with immortality. And Sukuna is one of them. We must offer him as a sacrifice, for he is the key.”

A choked sob escaped you as you tried to move toward her, but strong hands gripped your arms, holding you back. “No! No, you can’t!” You struggled against them, panic clawing at your chest. “Chizuru is just a child! You can’t take him from me!”

But the villagers were unmoved. Elder Aiko continued her chant, her voice growing louder. “The gods demand it. They will bless us. If Chizuru is sacrificed, the gods will ensure that Sukuna will never harm this village again, he will bless it. And if Sukuna blesses us, we will be given a life eternal. The blood of a god runs through him.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked around, but no one spoke. No one moved. It was as if they had already made up their minds, as if your son’s life meant nothing to them in comparison to the promises of immortality.

“Please, please. Let my son go.” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, don’t do this. Chizuru has nothing to do with this. He’s just a child. He’s my child! He’s all I have left…”

But your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Child.” Elder Aiko said, her voice soft now, but cold. “You must understand. This is for the greater good. For the survival of us all.”

The world around you seemed to spin. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound deafening in your ears. You fought against the villagers holding you back, desperate to reach Chizuru, but they were too strong.

And then, a chilling silence fell. Chizuru was dragged forward, his small body limp, his face pale and streaked with tears. His eyes met yours, full of fear, confusion, and hurt.

“Mother…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You cried out for him, trying to break free, but the villagers tightened their grip. Elder Aiko’s hands rose to the air, signaling the beginning of the sacrificial ritual. She held a dagger high, gleaming in the torchlight, her face twisted in reverence.

“No!” you screamed. “No, you can’t! He’s my son, my child! Please!”

The air was thick with tension, and the flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the clearing, making the scene feel like a twisted nightmare. You tried desperately to break free from the villagers’ grip, thrashing in their hold, but they were unrelenting. The ropes were tight, and their hands were stronger than you could fight against.

"Let me go! Let me go!" you screamed, thrashing violently, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum of terror.

"That's my son!" you cried, your voice shaking with disbelief. "He’s just a child! He’s not a threat to anyone! He’s my son! You can’t—"

But no one would listen. Their faces were cold, unmoved, as if they had already made their decision. You felt your entire world slipping away, your vision blurring with tears. Despair clawed at your insides, but then, something more horrifying than anything else crept into the depths of your mind.

At the back of the crowd, you saw her.

Your once beloved younger sister.

The one person you had trusted more than anyone in the world. The one person you thought would never betray you. But there she was, standing with them, her face cold and distant, watching as your son was dragged forward.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No… no, this can't be happening. You… You’re not... you’re not with them.”

But she didn't say anything. She simply stood there, silent, her eyes meeting yours. And that was enough. The truth hit you like a physical blow.

"You…." you gasped, your voice breaking. "You… you betrayed me!"

A sickening wave of rage surged through you. Your knees went weak, but you couldn’t stop the flood of fury pouring out of you. Tears poured out of your eyes, over and over as you screamed at her, trying to free yourself.

"How could you?!" you screamed, your body jerking in the villagers’ hold as the ropes cut into your skin. "How could you do this? This is your own blood, your own flesh, and you—"

Your sister's expression remained unchanged, as though she were some cold stranger and not the person you had shared everything with. “This isn’t betrayal, nee–san.” she said, her voice cold, unfeeling. “This is for the good of all. Don’t you see? Your son’s death will lead to the prosperity of all. His death means a thousand years of Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Clouded my mind?” you snarled. “You think this is about him? This is about my son, Chizuru! My son! Your own fucking blood, sister! And you intend to kill him? For some nonsense of a prophecy?” 

You struggled even harder, pulling against the ropes as they dug into your wrists. The sight of Ryomen Chizuru being dragged to the altar, his face full of fear, made your vision swim. You continued to scream at her. “You foul bitch, I will kill you, I will end your life!”

“Say all the threats you want, sister. But you will thank me.” She smiles at you, guiltlessly and gleefully as possible. “Your sacrifice will bring about a new age.”

Your sister’s words twisted in your mind, forming a sick knot of betrayal. Your sister, the person who was supposed to be your closest ally, had manipulated you from the start. She’d drugged you.

She’d poisoned your mind with nightmares, with false memories, all in an attempt to separate you from safety, from where you could be protected. From Ryomen Sukuna. To drive you to this moment.

"You drugged me, didn’t you?" you spat, your words dripping with venom. "You… you twisted my mind, made me think I was losing my sanity! You made me remember all those horrible things, things I didn’t want to remember. Things I didn’t need to remember. And all for this? To turn me against my own flesh and blood?"

Her face was unreadable, but there was a coldness in her eyes, an indifference that cut deeper than any blade. “I did what was necessary.” she said, her tone detached, as if she were discussing something trivial. “You haven't seen it yet, nee–san, but this is the right path.”

“He?” You roared, the pain of the situation consuming you. “He’s my husband!” The words were out before you could stop them, the weight of your desperation making your voice shake. "And Chizuru is my son! What makes you think that my husband would forgive you—"

But she interrupted you, her eyes dark and resolute. “He will only bring destruction. Lord Sukuna will understand that. Your ignorance and your child are the key to his downfall. This must be done.”

You felt the ground beneath you shake, the world falling apart as the terror of the situation sank deeper into your bones. Your mind fractured, torn between disbelief and fury. This was your sister—your own flesh and blood—and she was about to be the one to help kill your son.

The blood drained from your face as a wave of helplessness and heartbreak engulfed you. You screamed, a sound that seemed to tear from your very soul, raw and guttural. Your son continued to cry, trying to move away from his constraints.

“NO! You can’t! I’ll never forgive you!” The words were like a curse, a promise that you would never be able to undo. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Only the horror of watching your son be taken away filled your vision.

The villagers, her supporters, held their ground. They were unmoved by your screams, your rage. You were nothing now, a broken woman caught between the betrayal of her sister and the loss of everything she held dear.

And when the dagger rose again, you knew it was too late.

It was all too late.

The air was thick with smoke, the heat suffocating as the flames grew higher, curling like tendrils around the very earth itself. The ring of fire that had once been a symbol of your despair now felt like a suffocating cage, one that was closing in on you. 

The light flickered and danced across your tear-streaked face as you knelt on the ground, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch in helpless horror. And then, through the haze of smoke and fire, you felt it. A presence you so truly know. It was an all familiar, terrifying presence that chilled you to the core.

Sukuna.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of relief and dread flooding your chest as his figure emerged from the flames. His crimson eyes gleamed with cold fury, his posture regal and commanding. The power he exuded was unmistakable, and even the fierce heat of the fire seemed to bow to him.

Your bonds, which had been so tightly wound around your wrists, loosened as if the air itself had given way. You slumped forward, unable to keep yourself upright, but the world around you had already fallen into chaos. The villagers, who had once been so sure of their mission, now turned to flee in terror as Ryomen Sukuna’s anger consumed them. His power was like nothing they could have anticipated.

Without hesitation, he moved. He didn't even flinch as his curses tore through the village, each scream and cry a bitter symphony of destruction. You could see it in his scarlet eyes. Your husband didn’t care. These people had chosen to make an enemy of him, and they were paying the price for their arrogance.

It was a carnage.

Screams filled the air, but they were drowned out by the crackling of the fire, the rush of death. The far flung of this eastern village you had once called home was burning, the ground soaked with the blood of the men and women who had tried to sacrifice your son. But your heart was torn between the horror unfolding around you and the instinct to protect what little remained of your family.

He spared your family, it was all enough. You could see it in his movements, his cold precision. He knew exactly who to target, who to leave. The others, the ones who had come for Chizuru, were left broken, bloodied, their bodies already crumpled on the ground in pools of red. But your family? They remained, bruised and beaten, but alive.

Ryomen Sukuna stood before them now, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the wreckage. The fire danced behind him, casting shadows that twisted and writhed like demons of their own making. He didn’t even look at you at first, his gaze locked on the destroyed village before him.

But then, his scarlet eyes shifted. They met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in the depths of them, something you couldn’t quite place. It was only for an instant, but in that instant, you realized that he wasn’t just punishing the villagers. 

He was protecting you. 

He was doing this for you.

His voice broke through the chaos, cold and commanding. "Uraume." he called, his voice cutting through the smoke. "Take Chizuru. Get him out of here. And feed him the tonic. He must forget all about this."

Uraume, ever loyal, nodded quickly, moving without hesitation to do as Sukuna had ordered. You watched them, a sickening mix of relief and guilt swirling in your chest as they disappeared into the smoke, your son spared from the violence that surrounded you.

Ryomen Sukuna's gaze turned back to you, unwavering and implacable. His voice softened ever so slightly, but there was still an edge to it. You shivered as you looked upon him, bruised and broken.

"You are safe now, little one." he said. "I won’t let anyone take what’s mine."

But his words fell on deaf ears as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t quite process the flood of emotions, the relief that your beloved son was finally safe, the horror of everything that had just happened, the overwhelming guilt for the destruction he had wrought.

You were free from his misery at that moment, yes, but at what cost? The village lay in ruins. Your sister, betrayed and broken, lay among the fallen. And once more, you were back into the fold of that gilded cage. Everything had been torn apart. Everything had gone to hell. 

And still you would end up in his arms. You would never find yourself anywhere else. You have found your place in the world. Unwilling or not, it was by his side you were bound to by fate. Perhaps now, your only choice in this life too. Your husband Sukuna stood there, his power absolute, his presence all-encompassing.

But somehow, you could say that you were finally safe. 

The blood that stained the ground was not your son’s blood.

That was the only thing that you were glad about. 

And as you slowly stood, still bruised and grievous,  the world around you burned, but you couldn’t help but feel... something. Something twisted, something strange. In this moment, in this world of fire and destruction, you realized you were trapped between two forces. One that you loved and one that had brought you unimaginable pain.

But perhaps this was the only world you would ever know.

This is the only fate you were truly to be ever allowed in life.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of ashes and the smoke and most of all the harshness of blood. The village is a smoldering ruin behind you, one which you could not care for. The cries of the wounded and dying still echoed in your ears, but the worst of it had already passed. 

Ryomen Sukuna stood before you, silent, his crimson eyes flashing with a quiet intensity that matched the storm raging in your chest. He could feel it in you, you think. That unadulterated rage that only a mother could have.

Your family, your own blood, was kneeling before you, their faces contorted with fear. The very people who had once called you their own, now reduced to begging for mercy.

They had betrayed you, used you, and twisted everything you once knew. They had sought to take your child, the innocent life you carried, the child who had done nothing wrong but to be born into a world that saw him as a threat.

And now, they pleaded for their lives.

They begged for forgiveness.

But there was none to give.

Sukuna didn’t say anything. Your husband didn’t need to. His silence spoke louder than any words ever could. He had made sure the threat to your family was erased, that those who had conspired to take your child, your lifeline, were dealt with. But this? This was your reckoning.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of rage and disbelief. For so many years, you had been blind to the truth. Your family, the people you had trusted, had orchestrated the horrors you had endured.

They had used your love for them as a weapon, manipulated you into submission. And now, with your son in your arms, your heart only knew one thing. They had to pay. And they must do so now.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. The only sounds were the choking sobs of your family, the desperate pleas falling from their lips as they crawled before you, their hands trembling with fear.

"Please, forgive us." one of them whimpered, their voice cracking under the weight of their terror. "We didn’t know what we were doing. We never meant for any of this to happen. You were always family... please...!"

Another cried out, "We thought we were doing what was best for you! For all of us!"

Your sister finally cries out. “Nee–san, please…..They forced me to do this, please spare my life!”

But you weren’t listening anymore. 

You had already heard enough.

Your gaze flicked to Sukuna, his eyes unreadable, waiting for your command. You didn’t need to ask him for help; he had already done his part. He had given you the power to protect your family, to protect the child who was the only thing left in this world that mattered to you. The one thing that kept you from falling into the abyss.

"I should have known." you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of grief and fury. "I should have seen it. I should have seen you all for what you truly were."

They were nothing but shadows of their former selves now. They were all broken, pathetic, pleading for a mercy they didn’t deserve. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. They had tried to take everything from you. And you wouldn’t let them.

“You sold me off to Sukuna all those years ago.” You say, watching the fear in their eyes fester and grow. “To save this village. My memory is clear now. After all this time. How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so foolish…..Ah, such dreams of joy that I never was born to have.”

A sob escaped from one of the women, someone you once called sister, as she crawled forward, her face wet with tears. "Please! Please don't do this. We were wrong, I see that now. We never wanted to hurt you. Please!"

Your grip on your son tightened as you turned your gaze from her. "You already have, sister." you said coldly, your words slicing through the air like a blade. "You’ve already hurt me. And now... now you’ve hurt him. My only precious light in this world. My son."

Sukuna’s presence behind you was a solid wall, unwavering, but it was your own anger that filled the space. The rage, the betrayal, the years of suffering. All of it collided within you, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Not for them. Not for the family who had hurt you, who had tried to take away everything you cared about.

And for the first time in your life, you felt free from the chains that had bound you. The shackles of guilt. The chains of love. The weight of all that had been done to you, to your heart, was finally being lifted.

"You tried to take him from me." you said, your voice cold and detached. "But you will never touch him again."

And as the words left your lips, the world seemed to still, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized that the people you once loved, the people who had once been your family, had been nothing but monsters in disguise. They were no longer worthy of your mercy.

And neither were they worthy of the life they begged for. The fire in your eyes mirrored the flames of the village. As Sukuna's shadow loomed behind you, you felt no hesitation, no remorse. This was the moment everything changed.

Your son, your lifeline, would never be harmed again. And that, above all else, was all that mattered.

Your husband’s eyes, those sharp crimson orbs, glinted with something both dangerous and darkly amused as he watched you. He was, as always, unreadable in the depths of his presence, one who had the power to shape lives with a mere word or gesture. And right now, his gaze was on you, waiting.

"Revenge, little one." Sukuna said softly, his voice deep, almost contemplative. "You want it, don't you? I can feel it in your soul, like a moth burning into a flame. You want to take everything they’ve taken from you, to destroy them as they destroyed you."

You didn’t look away. His words rang true, but they didn’t hold the weight they once did. You had already crossed that threshold. The darkness inside you had long been awakened.

And now, you stood there, your heart hardening with every passing second. Your family, your people, had betrayed you, had taken from you in the most unforgivable of ways. But they were not your focus anymore.

You turned to face Sukuna, your expression cold, distant. The anger still pulsed in your veins, and the grief threatened to swallow you whole, but now, it was replaced by something else. A sense of clarity.

"I do want revenge, my lord." you said, your voice steady, resolute. "But it is not just for them. It's for me. For my son. For the life they tried to take from us. And yes, Sukuna… even for you."

His gaze flickered with amusement, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "For me?" he repeated, as if the very thought amused him. "Do you think you can destroy me? Or is it that you think I have wronged you too? After everything I’ve done for you… after the power I’ve given you?"

"You’ve wronged me in ways I cannot even describe, my lord." you replied, your tone cold but sharp as a blade. "And yes, I want revenge on you too. For the things you've made me forget, for the ways you've manipulated me. For the things you have put upon me."

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem fazed by your words. He knew the anger was there, the desire for vengeance, and he respected it. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted to tear him down, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But there was something different in your eyes.

"And yet, little one…." he continued, his voice low. "You don’t seem afraid of it. Afraid of me, of what I could do. But that can wait. What is it you want from me now, little one? I am your god, after all. I can give you everything."

His dark scarlet eyes held yours, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. You thought for a moment, but there was no hesitation in your heart. You had already made your choice.

"I want revenge, my god." you said, your gaze unwavering. "But not on you. Not right now. So let me make my wish clear. You’ve taken enough from me. You can’t give me love, you can’t give me peace. You can’t give me goodness. But revenge—that, you can give me."

He raised an eyebrow at you, the amusement in his gaze deepening, though his smirk never faltered. Slowly, he reached down, drawing his blade from his side with a fluid motion. He handed it to you, the gleam of steel catching the light as he placed it into your hands.

"You want revenge?" he asked, his voice carrying the promise of something darker, more dangerous. "Then take it, little one. I can give you that. And nothing more."

You took the blade from him, the cold metal pressing into your palm as your fingers closed around it. There was a weight to it, a weight that felt heavier than just the steel. It felt like the culmination of everything, of all the betrayal, the grief, the bloodshed. 

It felt like the world was giving you the power to right all the wrongs, and you weren’t about to waste it. And so, you find yourself turning back to face your family, the ones who had once been your blood, your people, your foundation, you raised the blade high, your voice trembling but filled with purpose.

"Reap what you sow." you said, your words carrying the weight of everything you had endured, everything you had lost, everything you had become.

The silence that followed was deafening. Your family, those you had once loved, now saw the true extent of your resolve. And in that moment, you realized something. They were no longer your family. They were nothing but enemies now, and they would pay the price for their betrayal.

Sukuna’s smile lingered behind you, a dark approval in his gaze. He had given you the means to exact your revenge. He had given you power. And as the blade gleamed in your hand, you felt a surge of strength that was yours to command.

It was time for them to feel the weight of what they had done.

It was time for them to pay.

The air was thick with bloody tension. The quiet heavy as you stood before your betrayers. Your family, your once beloved family, now looked nothing more than prey, cowering in fear as they realized the power in your hands, the authority you now commanded.

Their faces, once familiar and comforting, had transformed into the faces of the enemies who had plotted against you. Their pleas for mercy rang hollow, like echoes in a void, as they begged for their lives, for a second chance. But it was too late for second chances. You had crossed the point of no return.

Your husband could only stand behind you, his presence like a shadow that loomed large, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. He had given you the power to destroy them, to claim your revenge, and now he waited. 

It was a game to him, but for you, it was something more. It was catharsis. It was justice. It was the moment you had been waiting for. The moment where you finally took control of your fate. Your eyes never left the trembling figures of your family as you raised the blade higher.

You could feeling the weight of every second that had led to this moment. You wanted to make them fear as your son has, you wanted them to wait as your son had done so in tears. You wanted them to suffer. Over and over again. That was now your desire.

You could hear the desperate sobs, the apologies spilling from their lips, but it didn’t matter anymore. They had forfeited their right to forgiveness long ago. You could scarcely care for any kindness. You don’t want it. You don’t have it. You don’t need to give it.

"You made your choices." you said, your voice cold and unwavering. "And now you will live with the consequences."

The words were a declaration, a sentence. They had wronged you in ways that could never be undone, and now you would be the one to decide their fate. You could hear Sukuna’s low chuckle from behind you, a dark satisfaction in his tone.

"Go on, little one." he purred, almost as if urging you, savoring the moment. "Show them the power they never believed you had."

For the first time in years, you felt no hesitation, no fear. The blade felt right in your hand, as if it had always belonged to you. You were no longer the wife of a tyrant, no longer the puppet of a man who had played with your mind. You were your own. And they would answer for what they had done.

You advanced, each step slow and deliberate, your family shrinking back, their faces pale with terror. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except the reckoning that was long overdue. And then, as you reached the closest of them, you raised the blade high, your gaze locked onto theirs, and with one swift motion, you brought it down.

The sound of the blade cutting through flesh was sickeningly satisfying, the thud of its impact resonating in the air. The first of them fell, their scream cutting short as they crumpled to the ground. 

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t feel guilt. You felt nothing but the sense of justice that had long been denied. The rest of them looked at you, horrified, and begged for mercy. But the words meant nothing now. They had betrayed you, and now they would reap what they had sown.

One by one, you took them down, their bodies littering the ground as their pleas became weaker, more desperate. Sukuna’s eyes followed your every movement, his dark amusement growing with each life you claimed.

Finally, it was over. The last of them fell to the ground, their life snuffed out in an instant. The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the soft crackling of the flames in the distance. You stood amidst the bodies, the blood staining your hands, your clothing, your soul.

But you didn’t feel regret. You didn’t feel sorrow. You only felt the cold satisfaction of a long-awaited vengeance fulfilled.

You turned to face Sukuna, your eyes meeting his without fear. His smile was wide, almost pleased, and he stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the carnage you had wrought.

"Impressive." he said, his voice a low murmur. "You’ve come far, little one. You’ve become more than just a pawn."

You didn’t respond. There was no need. The act spoke for itself. You had taken control of your own fate, and in doing so, you had reclaimed a part of yourself you thought you had lost forever.

Sukuna watched you for a moment longer, then, with a satisfied nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you to stand amidst the destruction. You had exact your revenge. You had claimed your freedom. And now, for the first time in years, you were truly free.

Your son was safe. And for now, that was all that mattered.

══════════════════

IT WAS DAWN WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF AT ANOTHER VILLAGE. You were still full of the blood of traitors when you and Sukuna arrived at the inn. The metallic tang clung to your skin, the crimson stains marking you as a warrior and his wife—Ryomen Sukuna’s wife. 

No one questioned it. No one dared. The air inside the inn buzzed with silence, thick and oppressive, as villagers averted their gazes and shuffled away like shadows in the candlelight. They knew better than to keep quiet, or lose their lives trying.

You had been quiet the entire journey, your rage simmering just beneath your surface. Even now, as the blood dried, you clenched your fists, teeth grinding as the emotions clawed at you.

Anger, grief, hollow triumph. Sukuna’s sharp gaze followed you as you moved, your face a mask of stone. In the privacy of your shared room, he finally spoke, his tone low and laced with command.

“You’ve been silent long enough. Speak.”

But instead, you turned, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating off him. His expression hardened in warning, but you ignored it. Slowly, you tilted your head up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t gentle. Not at all. It was desperate. The kiss was a collision, sharp edges meeting sharp edges.

Ryomen Sukuna stiffened, stunned by the act. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his robes, anchoring yourself as you pulled back, your voice trembling, not with fear but with a deep ache. You looked at him, almost as though you were possessed.

“Make me feel something, my lord.” you said, barely above a whisper. “Anything but this anger.”

A moment passed. It was that stillness, heavy and charged, that triumph. Then his mouth curved into a wicked grin, all sharp teeth and cruel hunger. Before you could take another breath, Your husband Sukuna had all but hauled you over his shoulder with ease. He had been marred with laughter, deep and rumbling.

“If that’s what you want, little one.” he drawled, his voice dripping with a dark promise, “I’ll make you feel so much more than anger.”

He wasted no time at all, laying claim to you like the fearsome god of yours hewas. Your husband's hands were rough, his movements unapologetic. But they were familiar. They were what you cpuld consider safe in the sea of betrayals.

Ryomen Sukuna soon devoured you in a way that only he could. In a way that could make you forget. In a way that only he knew would comfort you and care for you and make him hated by you and revered by you to tears.

You knew it all too well how he was. Ryomen Sukuna was a god known for being possessive, demanding, yet intoxicatingly thrilling. You knew that well, better than anyone else.

His touch ignited every nerve, leaving no room for restraint or hesitation. You were his, and he intended to remind you in every way possible.

A shaky moan escaped your lips, your body trembling under his relentless pace. Your legs quivered as he shifted seamlessly, the sheer ferocity of his need leaving you breathless.

Sukuna’s grin widened, predatory and smug, as he leaned closer, his demonic breath hot against your ear. You whimper against him, almost like a wounded prey.

“Look at you, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “Already trembling, and we’re just getting started.”

When he moved, roughly claiming you anew with his cocks, the sensation sent a sharp jolt through your body. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, desperately against his flesh.

Your mind a blur of heat and sensation. He growled in satisfaction at your reaction, his grip tightening as he continued to take you, utterly unrelenting.

Every motion, every touch, was calculated to unravel you entirely. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in this primal, consuming dance.

And with every moment, Sukuna proved that he alone could make you feel this, too raw, vulnerable, and completely alive. Only he could make you feel good and feel hatred pasionately like this.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to keep your focus tethered to the present, the here and now. The way Sukuna overwhelmed you, the way his hands gripped you as though he might break you, the way his rough breath mingled with your ragged moans.

You clung to it like a lifeline, not wanting to feel anything else. Not the anger that gnawed at your insides, not the guilt threatening to drag you under. Just this moment.

The pleasure was all-consuming, a storm that battered against the walls you were trying so hard to keep upright. Every thrust, every growl, every bite against your skin shattered another piece of the barrier you built between yourself and the world outside. 

You wanted it to drown out the memories, the blood, the weight of everything you carried. Sukuna noticed, of course. He always did. His fingers dug into your thighs as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, his voice a growl against your ear.

“Don’t you dare run from this, little one.” he said, his tone dripping with command, with understanding. “Feel it. All of it.”

You shook your head, a low whimper escaping your lips. You didn’t want to feel—not the ache of your body, not the pressure building like an unrelenting tide, not the faint echo of shame that lingered just at the edges of your consciousness.

“I don’t want to—” your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as the pleasure and emotion tangled into something unbearable.

Sukuna’s grin softened, only slightly. His pace slowed just enough to torment, his hands roaming over your trembling body with a reverence you hadn’t expected. He leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear, his voice quieter this time.

“Then let me take it from you, little one.” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Give it all to me. Every shred of it.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you arched into him, your body betraying you, seeking more even as your mind tried to pull away. Sukuna’s laughter was dark, triumphant, as he resumed his relentless pace, his second cock filling you so completely it left no room for anything else. Not thoughts, not regrets, not fears.

You bit your lip, tears slipping free as your nails dug into his back. Dissociation warred with surrender, each wave of pleasure pulling you further into a place where nothing else existed but him. And in that moment, you let it take you. 

Because with your husband Sukuna, there was no escape. Only submission. Only this raw, unrelenting claim that tore down every wall you tried to build. Perhaps, that was what you needed. Perhaps that was what could stop everything else from making you fall apart.

The tears you tried so hard to suppress slipped down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting. Sukuna saw them, of course. His crimson eyes glinted with something between mockery and possession, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that only stoked the fire inside you.

"Good, good." he growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he drove into you again, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, making you feel every inch, every ounce of his control. "Let it out. Don’t you dare hold back from me."

You couldn’t speak. Your lips parted, but all that came were gasping, shuddering breaths as the heat of him consumed you. Your hands clenched into fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to anchor yourself, but Sukuna was unrelenting. He wanted you unmoored, completely at his mercy.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, willing yourself to disappear into the sensations—the sharp pleasure, the burn of his touch, the bruising grip of his hands on your hips. Anything but the world outside, anything but the blood and the weight of what you’d done.

But Ryomen Sukuna wouldn’t let you. He never did. His hand found your face, rough fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You could feel your hot tears poured against the drying blood on your flesh.

"Eyes on me, little one." he ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You don’t get to run. Not from this."

Your gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes struck you like a blow. You hated how he saw through you, how he stripped you bare in every way that mattered. From all that anger and all that bitterness to all that weakness and all that grief.

But there was no hiding from him. Not when you’d willingly placed yourself in his hands, no matter how much it burned. He took you as you are, accepted it all over and over again. As you have done the same with him.

He slowed again, rolling his hips with agonizing precision, making you feel every inch, every movement. You whimpered, your body betraying you as it responded to him, trembling, tightening. His smirk widened, cruel and knowing.

"There you are, little one." he murmured, almost tenderly, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth. "Feel it. Let it break you."

And it did. The pleasure crashed over you, dragging you under like a riptide, and you clung to him as though he were the only solid thing in a world gone to chaos. The walls you’d built shattered, leaving you raw and exposed, every emotion spilling over like a dam bursting.

You hated him for it. 

You needed him for it.

As your cries softened into broken gasps, Sukuna didn’t relent. He carried you through it and then began again, his hunger insatiable, his hold on you unyielding. His lips found your neck, his voice low and mocking against your ear.

"Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, little one." he said, his laugh rumbling against your skin. "I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of that anger. Nothing but me."

And he did. Over and over, until the only thing left was his name on your lips, his mark on your body, and the steady, consuming presence of the man who would never let you escape. Until you forgot everything all over again.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Platonic ¡yan! Dick Grayson x Batsis x Jason Todd

A/N: Another discussion post because we need to talk about Grayson! Thank you for your contribution, mootie! You are so good at bouncing off of ideas. I hope you don’t mind me writing this🤭

@siririus

Context

Masterlist

Craziest thing about all of this is, it's a paradox. Is Dick really only this upset because his batsis is prefers Jason?....Or is it also because it's almost like she's taking his brother away from him and they are becoming each others favorites?

In the previous post, i said how dick has a fear of being pushed to the side and forgotten. He's scared of no longer being needed anymore and this relationship kind of symbolizes that. You never needed Dick, even in the beginning. Jason leaned on Dick a lot as they knew each other the longest and it took so much work to mend the fractures in it. Now Jason is confiding in you more...you understand each other way more.

It's a complex issue.

One solution you might say is just for them to form some kind of trio...But he's tried. LOL Grayson has crashed many of your hangout sessions to use it as an opportunity to become close to you.

He knows you won't leave because you like Jason too much and he also gets to spend time with his brother. perfect. NOT.

Dick cannot seem to grasp the concept that you and Jason have a "parallel play" kind of thing going on. Like you mentioned Jason is subtle. He's not really trying to do something over the top, he just wants to chill and do his own thing. SO you guys might chat for like five minutes then he turns around to go read his book while you're playing a phone game. It's enough for you two to just be near. But Dick, he's internalizing it. He thinks you stopped talking because he's there. He thinks you guys are having way more action packed hangouts when you're alone. To him, just sitting next to each other isn't "hanging out".

He'll try to keep pushing for a conversation and you guys are like...eh. Or he'll try to force you all to do fun games ect. and it usually ends with you leaving first or Jason getting upset then you walking out together.

But that couch thing is so funny. I think that Dick would've been like waving you down to sit next to him all smiley and he has your favorite snacks in a cute little box but Jason just motions his head and you choose that. Stab right in the heart. He's not even watching the movie anymore, he's just paying attention to you guys.

Do not fall asleep on Jason. I think that'll high key bring Dick to tears. He wants that so badly. Dick is super physically affectionate but he's constantly craving hugs and all of that. You falling asleep on Jason reminds him of when Jason and him would have sleepovers in the living room, and Jason would always end up sleeping on his shoulder or lap.

He's tried hugging you before but you just go incredibly stiff and shaky so it's not even fulfilling to him. He wants to carry you on his back, do your hair in the mornings, cuddles, handshakes..ect. He wants to be your best friend. I do think you just even holding his hand would calm him down or holding his arm would help him to feel better.

He does attempt the subtlety of Jason. It doesn't really work the same way because well, he cannot contain himself. He's feral. Plus you assume the seat is for Cass or Babs instead so you never choose it. Like he gets to the dinner table first, saves the seat for you, and you sit next to him but he makes it so weird AHHAHA. Like he's trying to remain calm but he's breathing so hard. You finally chose him. (it was the only seat left) BUT YOU CHOSE HIM. You didn't scurry away like usual. He's just staring at you because he's so happy and you are sending help signals to Jason who is finding this all very amusing. Dick, wont stop talking either and he keeps filling up your plate with food. He gives you a corner piece of the brownie..he loves you so much.

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟑 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇-𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

kinktober day 003 | IW!wife!wanda x gn!reader

you've always loved writing stories since young, but the tale of you and your wife writes itself, and it ends with a sweet happy-ever-after.

cont. soft sex, established relationship, romance + fluff

word count. 1477

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

You’ve always had a thing for writing stories.

From the most devastating tragedies of a sapphic couple in medieval times, to the spiciest of female homoerotic tension during a zombie apocalypse, there were no words beyond the coaxing grasp of your vivid intelligence.

Encompassing was what it was, how the words flowed from the edge of your mindwires to the tips of your fingers, spilling onto page after page of literary beauty. You could get lost in it for days on end, spinning that marionette with a poetic dexterity, making her dance to your stories until her legs could take no more.

It was no secret that writing had been an extraordinary talent of yours, that would later take shape in the path of your future career. 

So there you were, sitting at your study desk on a lazy Saturday morning, nimble fingers flying over your keyboard in an intricate dance, each pausable breath, each rush of words that woved into the fabric of your story.

It’s quite picturesque, if you’re being frank; what with freshly brewed coffee in a steaming hot mug that read ‘Pride not Prejudice’ (Yes, there was an overload of rainbows decorating its surface,) and a breathtakingly idyllic view of the morning sky.

Of course, the skyline would never quite compare to the sight of your lady stepping out of the bedroom. The only causation to cease your words.

“Y/N?”

It’s a beautiful calling, tainted with a sleep-dragged croak of the throat. Brown doe eyes slowly blink to meet your gaze, soft feet making tentative contact with smooth marble.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you respond softly, eyes savouring the sight that is your wife in one of your cream Oxford shirts. Wanda's beauty is underlying and unsaid, beyond the boundaries of conventional and beyond your dictionaried words.

Certainly, Wanda has the traits of what define beauty: your shirt on her is partially unbuttoned to tease at a tantalizing cleavage, the hem of the clothing is high enough to show off the expanse of her porcelain legs.

But it's also the way the sunlight falls on Wanda's skin, like she's a descendant of the Gods that crafted the essence of light, like she was made to dance and roam in the beauty of the day.

It's the way the morning glow accidentally highlights her Grecian-sculpted cheekbones, and the way her light-brown freckles casually pop in that light. It's her collarbone scattered with your marks of violet hues, and that fading scar on her right thigh you never fail to kiss.

A sleepy sigh escapes from Wanda’s lips, and she runs a hand through her perfectly dishevelled hair. You don’t have to say anything, only nod your head in the slightest. The rest is second nature: Wanda slides herself into your lap, arms hooking around the back of your neck, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

Perhaps it was second nature, truthfully, because Wanda didn’t need control when she was around you. You were her control, her steadfast pillar, her rising sun. You were a constant in her ever-changing world, always by her side regardless of whatever insurmountable task might be in her way.

You let an imperceptible sigh of content slip through your lips, but you never stop typing for a second. Emotion was difficult for you to convey, paradoxically, considering the amount of feeling you could put into words. In actuality, it was hard for you to laugh carelessly or have an outburst of fury. Your emotion was quiet and unspoken, much like in the present moment.

Wanda, however, seemed to have other plans in mind.

It started off innocent, because you truthfully believed she was just being affectionate and physically in need of human warmth. And maybe it was, as your girlfriend eased into your lap, nuzzling adorably into your comforting scent.

But when Wanda’s hips begin moving unsubtly, breath growing more delicate on to the curve of your neck, you’re sure without a doubt that this is another one of those times Wanda sought a different kind of fulfillment, the kind that lay adjacent to her pretty thighs.

Your hands dance a little faster on the keyboard. Your eyes are still gazing over the top of Wanda’s head, firmly determined to complete this part of the novel you were working on. 

“Y/N…” Wanda says, reverently softly, pressing up into the warmth of your bodily heat. “Mhm?” you hum absent-mindedly, tucking your forearms in a little closer to entrap Wanda in your embrace.

You replace a comma with a fullstop just as Wanda shifts uncomfortably in your lap. Your wife’s legs fall open and slides her centre around the muscle of your right thigh. Something rises in your chest at the sensation of bare centre meeting your warm skin. 

She cranes her pale neck like a swan, pressing her warm mouth against your neck. You shift imperceptibly, switching a three-letter phrase into a subject-verb concord. When Wanda’s tongue pokes out between her ruby lips, when her sharp teeth scrape over the pulse point of your neck, when her curled hair brushes your exposed skin, an uncontrollable shudder runs through your body.

Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Your spelling is becoming sloppy, almost like there’s a distraction.

Almost in retaliation, you jerk your knee up, the one that had been situated between Wanda’s thighs, and the mewl that leaves her mouth breaks her porcelain-doll composure. Satisfaction pools in your hips.

Words don’t need to be said between the two of you, as a slight shift in the atmosphere of the dining room sets itself. Wanda’s pants become shallower and quicker, the undulation of her hips speeding up, her legs clenching tighter around your thigh.

Your hands are flying over the keyboard now, your fingers twitching with bridled electricity, having need of some alleviation to express your ever-increasing libido. It’s a wonder how your eyes aren’t yet completely glazed over; yet, they’re moving in mechanical function to type, like you’re clinging on to a fragment of sanity. 

Because honestly, remaining sane while your wife let out the most pitiful whines into your ear certainly wasn’t an easy task. 

“Y/N,” Wanda cries, finally, emitting a sound as she clutches onto the soft fabric of your collared shirt. You can see, in your peripheral vision, the way Wanda’s face morphs into an expression of pleasure, the lines in nose-bridge forming a scrunch. 

Wanda is, without a doubt, the most breathtaking woman you’d ever laid your eyes upon. Reverent devotion bleeds from your mindwires and on to the page, staining it a crimson red as she nears her high. 

Your right thigh is moving in sync with each of Wanda’s humps, and she’s chasing that pleasure for all it’s worth: The clenching of your thigh muscles, the harsh jerks of your thigh as she struggles to ride it properly. 

Leaning down, your lips caress the shell of your wife’s ear, and from your mouth flows the words that are the final seal of acquiescence.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

Just like that, something snaps inside Wanda, and the edge of your brainwaves fray like an old rope. In that moment, you know your words can take a rest. 

The movement of your fingers come to a halt. There was an unfinished story before you, the plot unfolding but not quite complete. But with Wanda by your side, she writes your story for you, carves the path towards a bittersweet ending. 

She takes the words from the deepest depths of your heart and lets it pour out her mouth, unashamedly, unapologetically, indescribable emotion overflowing from those blossomed lips into her trembling figure, her flushed cheeks.

“Y/N,” Wanda moans, and her sounds raise in pitch when you buck your hips up in a moment of your fractured composure. Her hips grind shamelessly onto the muscle of your thigh, chasing that stimulation.

It’s far from the most intense orgasms you’d brought Wanda to, because she can’t ever reach that level of ecstasy without your prodding fingers or your devil-tongued mouth. Perhaps that’s half of its beauty, though, that the two of you were incomplete without the other.

Wanda curls in your lap as she recovers from her high, enclosed within your forearms and the desk, face buried into your chest to engulf her senses in your scent. There’s sacred solace in the way you tilt your head down to press a fluttering kiss on her neck.

Your word document remains open but unfinished, the coffee in your mug grows cold. Sweet nothings and promised everythings are exchanged between the two of you until the sun has fully risen, hues of amber and gold painting the room.

The only story that mattered was the one before you, the one waiting to be explored.

You’ve had a thing for writing stories since young, and this particular one ends with a happy-ever-after.

this fic is really special to me. i think it's probably some of the best writing i've put out there, so i'd be incredibly grateful if you could give it a reblog ♥

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[esmedelacroix]

All the ways I defy you.

pairing: exboyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: Since the end of your relationship, Miguel has been acting strange. At home, at work, and even around his own friends. He even goes so far as to break work rules all, for you?

cw: very angsty, depressive behaviors, tiny suggestive part

a/n: Hey! Just wanted to say thanks so much for all the love on the first part I uploaded a while ago! This is coming to you very late I know. I was a bit stressed with finals and moving out of my dorm. Here's part two, I hope you enjoy it! A comment, like, or repost is always appreciated.

previous part | miguel masterlist

*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course, when I thought that I could rid her of my life for good, the universe sent her flying in my direction. I do not want to be near her. Not because I hate her but because I know I make her upset. I don't want her to be around someone she associates terrible feelings with(me). Yet there she was drenched at our front door.

"I'm currently on the hunt for an apartment, but I didn't know this was going to happen—so—sniff—I'll have to stay here for a while. Is that okay?" my sweet girl asked as she averted her eyes. Drenched in rain, runny mascara, and her tears. Voice quivering and body shaking.

"Yes, of course, yeah, come in," I responded a bit too quickly, opening my door wider for her to enter. I stepped aside and rummaged through the bathroom getting her a warm fluffy towel.

"Um, I'll take the couch so you can sleep in our—my room," I said, correcting myself. Which only made her tears spill more.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, you'll catch a cold if you don't," I assured.

"Do you even care?" she muttered under her breath.

Yes, Of course I do baby you're my everything.

"I'll be in my office if you need anything," I sighed.

. . .

Sleeping uncomfortably on your couch is not for that week. But that didn't compare to the feeling of hearing my ex-girlfriend crying herself to sleep in the bed we once shared. Our physical proximity was so close. All I had to do was get up, open the door, and cuddle her. Tell her everything is going to be okay.

How can one be so close to someone but so far at the same time? The paradox of my situation with my ex-girlfriend tore my heart, mind, and body apart.

Just then her cries and sniffs died down and I could hear her familiar soft snore that she swore she didn't have. When I closed my eyes to sleep, the first thought that came to my head was her. Her sleeping form. How peaceful her face looked. The way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. My perfect girl was the first and last thing I thought about. Her mere existence in my imagination had lulled me to sleep. Fuck, I made a mistake letting her go, I thought to myself.

. . .

"Hobie Brown," I said sternly.

"I already know, I get it, but things happen, mate," he shrugged, foreseeing the lecture he was about to receive from me.

"No, I don't think you 'get it' because you broke one of the only three key rules you have to follow here," I interjected.

"Just let him off the hook this time," Gwen interrupted.

"No. I can't. You, Miles, and Pavitr could learn from this as well. Don't disrupt the canon, report to me after every single mission, and never, ever, ever leave your post," I lectured.

"What if something important happens?" Miles questions.

"Nothing is more important than keeping the canon intact," I snapped.

"At this rate, you and your girlfriend will break up before I finish my written report. She must really enjoy your relationship; If you could even call it that," Hobie smirked as he walked away.

That shut me up. Because what he predicted was not far from reality. Are my rules too much? I couldn't say anything back to him because he might have been correct. For the first time ever Hobie Brown got the last word. The rest of the afternoon I reflected on myself and my rules. Not leaving your post is important, I told myself.

. . .

"I got your text," Peter B sighed as he took a seat next to Miguel in the cafeteria.

"You broke up with her?" he asked, quivering a brow.

"Yeah, it was just too much," I sighed, rubbing my hand along my face.

"What do you mean? She's like the best thing to ever happen to you. The first time I ever saw you genuinely laugh was the day you brought her to work and she kept cracking the worst dad jokes. And you're telling me you broke up with her?" he rambled.

"Peter, I was making her unhappy," I admitted.

"Then just stop making her unhappy. It's as easy as that. Knowing her, she probably communicated what was bothering her with you too," he said sternly.

"I can't just stop following protocol," I said, stating the obvious.

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," Peter sighed. My lungs felt like they had been attacked by a million bees. Palms were sweating buckets at the mere thought of experiencing my baby Gabriella disappear in my arms again. Her painful screams filled my ears. The grief-stricken reality that her daddy, her "hero", couldn't save her. Amid my miniature panic attack, Peter placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Successfully pulled me from the nightmare I was reliving back into the present.

"But, Peter, Gabi, I—I can't let that happen again. What if a parent, just like me and you, loses their kid the same way I did? I just-I can't do it. I have to keep the canon undisturbed," I said, stumbling over my words.

"Miguel, that isn't going to happen again, you have us now. You have help," Peter said a little softer, noticing that he hit a nerve.

"I would never forgive myself if millions of families, partners, and could-have-been end or cease to exist because of me," I admitted.

"Miguel, if you were to leave your post, you would have someone fill in for you. You give yourself all of these extra jobs that you don't need to be doing," Peter insisted.

"But if I don't do it, someone's going to make a mistake," I insisted.

"Or you can trust in the people that you hand-picked for this job," Peter suggested.

"It's more complicated than that," I rebutted.

"No, it really isn't. You're just making it more complicated. You need to trust in your team," he finished.

"And maybe get your girl back?" he suggested as he got up to get Mayday from Gwen's lap to go change her diapers.

. . .

You called out of work sick. Truthfully, you were glued to the bed. You didn't have the desire to get up or do much of anything. You hadn't showered that morning or eaten breakfast. All you did was stare at the ceiling, out the window, and the framed photo of you and Miguel that he hadn't put away yet.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes swelled to oblivion, and your stomach was empty and practically eating itself. The refrigerator called out to me but I didn't answer. I couldn't. Does he even care like I do? You asked yourself.

Staring blankly at the limewash accent wall of your once-shared room that you were considered a guest in. Just then your phone rang. You shot up and immediately checked who it was. You shamelessly smiled when the contact name "my miguel 💕" popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button after taking a deep breath.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi, you're probably at work right now, sorry to be a bother," he started.

"No, not at all. I called out today. I've been feeling under the weather," you assured.

"Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner? I'm going to get Chinese takeout tonight," he said.

"Yeah, I'll have whatever you're having," you responded.

"Okay, I'll be back around 7:00 with dinner. You know where the medicine is, take care of yourself please," he assured.

"Okay, I'll be expecting you," you replied before hanging up first.

He told you he'd be home around seven but you didn't count on it. He broke most promises anyway.

You decided to finally shower and have a small snack. You sat on the couch with your Kindle in hand. The couch smelled like him. The throw pillows smelled like his lavender-scented shampoo. You couldn’t help but wrap yourself in the blankets he had used the night before. It didn’t compare his hugs but it was good enough for now.

You spent some time reading some romance novels. Putting yourself in the shoes of the heroine and pretending that the love interest was him. Pretending that it was Miguel who ran all the way to your house while it was raining to hold you and wipe your tears in the dead of the night. Instead, you sat in your living room wondering whether or not he would actually do that for you.

You heard keys in the door and it opened soon after. You got up and slowly approached it with a pillow in hand as a weapon. You had no idea who could be dropping by the apartment at this time. Just then Miguel turned the corner takeout in hand and you wound up to hit the perpetrator. “Whoa calm down, it’s just me,” Miguel chuckled.

You let out a long exhale in relief. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be home so early,” he sighed as you put the pillow back on the couch.

“What do you mean? I said I’d be here around this time and you said and I quote, ‘I’ll be expecting you’,” he teased.

“Well I’m just kind of used to you saying things and not delivering,” you said under your breath loud enough for him to hear as you helped him unpack the food he got and set it on the living room coffee table.

“Well I decided to be less of a dick today,” he quipped.

“Should’ve done that when we were still together,” you answered half-joking.

He gave you an apologetic look. His mouth opened then closed. Like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Like he always did. I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve been pretty shitty huh?” he said with a pained expression on his face.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured taking a seat next to him.

He put something random on Netflix to watch while you got water for the two of you. As usual, he never read the synopsis of anything he watched and accidentally put on 365 days. Classic Miguel. “Oh god, this is a bit inappropriate,” he commented, almost choking on his lo mien.

“It’s nothing we’ve never done before,” you smirked.

You watched his cheeks flush out of the corner of your eyes. He hugged the my melody plush you had gifted him a while ago a little tighter. He adjusted his glasses sheepishly.

You recalled the time you asked him about his glasses. Him being ashamed when he admitted that he needed to use glasses whenever he looked at a screen because played too many video games as a kid.

Suddenly, the TV blended in with all the other noises in the background. The sounds of cars honking on the streets outside the window, the rain constantly hitting the top of the air conditioner, the soft hum of the drying machine, and the—tick—tock—of the clock on the wall.

It was just you and Miguel in that room then. Stealing glances at each other. Contemplating whether or not you should release the many unspoken words bottled up inside. “I’m moving out in 2 days. I found a place,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, that’s….great. Seriously, good for you,” he says looking away. What you didn’t know was that Miguel wasn’t congratulating you. He was trying to convince himself that you leaving was a good thing. That it was good for you and for him. That it was everything he wanted.

You could hear the pain in his voice and although you could see his face. You knew the downcast expression that was painted on it.

. . .

Two days went by way too quickly. Two days of sleeping on the couch. Two days of coming home early and on time to spend time with my loved ones before she left. Two days of baking sweet treats while we watched Romance movies. Two days of soaking in her presence before it was completely gone from my life.

As soon as I knew it, that morning when I decided to help her move her things out instead of going to work. I put Jess in charge of the morning instead which she was ecstatic about.

Once the final box was loaded in the moving truck we faced each other at the front door. The front door I’ve her drunk body through. The front door we used to kiss at when we couldn’t wait to get in our house. The front door she knocked at with all of her stuff when we decided to move in together. The front door where I would chase after her after an argument. The front door I revealed I was Spiderman at. The front door she came to drenched with rain in tears the day I broke up with her. Which was now the front door that we would say our last goodbyes at.

We looked into each other's eyes for a good 30 seconds. Tears filled her eyes and mine. "Just, come here big guy," she sighed, opening her arms to me.

I was hesitant. If I touched I was afraid I wouldn't want to let go and I would hold on forever. All I could control was the now. So I pushed those thoughts of fear away and I held her. Her arms wrapped around my waist. One of my hands rested on her back while the other was on the back of her head caressing her hair. For once I built up the courage to say what was on my mind without holding myself back. I took a deep breath in before admitting, "I'll miss you,"

"I still love you," she replied before letting go and walking out the door for the last time.

I heard the door click and it was final. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

. . .

I felt lighter as I walked down the hallway to my office. Memories of her still played endlessly in my head but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder when I took Peter's advice and split my jobs up with my coworkers.

Today most of the spider society would be in Pavitr's universe catching any extra anomalies that slipped under our radar. As well as closing the quantum hole that was starting to form. We had almost all hands on deck in this assignment and I would be leading it.

The mission reached a new height for us when a Prowler variant from a different universe was found. Gwen and I were on him while also trying to keep the streets and civilians safe. Peter joined us soon after he finished his task. Just when we had cornered him, my watch began to ring. The contact name appeared as "Mi Corazon" and my heart dropped. My heart dropped because the only way she could call me on my watch was with the emergency one I had made for her. She was in trouble. I looked around at Peter and Gwen and they both urged me to answer. "If you need to go, you should go," Peter said, fighting off the Prowler who took this as an advantage to strike.

"Don't worry about us, we got this," Gwen called out, giving Peter a hand while looking back at me.

"But, I can leave my post. I made that rule," I stuttered as the ringing of my watch heightened my nerves. Peter gave me a look

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," the words played through my head as the worst possible time.

I can't, I can't do it. I have to stay, I thought to myself.

"You should be able to," I told myself.

As I battled with myself in my head, Peter snapped me out of it. "Answer that call, Miguel. I'm sure you'll regret it later if you don't. We got it covered. Trust in us? Please?" he called out.

Every cell in my body and even my brain told me not to answer the call and not to leave my post. But every beat in my heart and whisper of my soul told me to answer the damn call. So I did.

. . .

I had never swung through the streets of Nueva York faster than I was now. Her little voice fueled me even though biologically I should have no energy right now.

"Miguel I need you, I need you right now,"

If a branch was in my way I simply swung through. They would hit my body and bruise me a bit but none of that mattered right now.

"Someone broke into my house,"

Tears began to form in my eyes wondering if she was okay. If she was safe. “ You still there baby?” I asked as I swung past building upon building.

“Yeah—sniff—I’m here,” she replied. I let out a relieved sigh.

“Just wait right there, baby. Stay on the line, I’m almost there,” I breathed out.

. . .

You didn’t expect him to drop everything at an important mission for you. That's why you didn’t tell him that you knew who robbed your house.

That’s why you didn’t tell him that your ex-boyfriend had texted you the moment he found you that you and Miguel split up. The same ex was the reason why Miguel had to help you tighten your home security before you moved in with him.

So when Miguel found you on the ground a mess with tears still streaming down your face. You felt as though you had to tell him. "This was Kyle wasn't it?" he asked.

"How'd you know?" you asked, looking up at him, his arms still wrapped around you.

"I had a bodyguard follow you around for a while just to make sure you were okay while I figured out a time to help you install some security here. They noticed a guy was loitering outside of your apartment building a lot but they assumed he was a resident," he explained.

"I'm sorry I called you for this, I'm a mess and you were doing something important, probably," you rambled.

"No, nothing is more important than your safety and your happiness," he interrupted.

"Miguel, you don't have to say that to make me feel better. I know how important holding the Spider-Verse together is to you," you admitted.

"You're more important. So much more important. I'd sit and watch the whole Spider-Verse crumble and burn as long as I’m watching it with you safe in my arms," he confessed, holding you tighter.

"I'm sorry I never told you that sooner. Or showed that in my actions when we were together. There hasn't been a single day I haven't thought about you since I first met you. I thought that by breaking up with you, you'd be happier and you'd be free of me. It's hard being in a relationship with me and it's even harder to love me because I'm so flawed," he continued.

All the things he wanted to say but never dared to say to you spilled out at once.

"I just didn't want you to think I'm weak," he admitted sheepishly.

Shock struck your face. He's been struggling so much and you didn't know. "Oh Miguel, I could never think that. You are the strongest man I know. Once I had to bike up a very steep hill to get a bandage for my little brother who scraped his knee, it was really hard. Another time, I took a test that had 120 multiple-choice questions and two essays in two hours. That—was really hard. But the easiest thing I've ever had to do..." you started as you cupped his cheeks with both of your hands.

"...is love you. It's a pleasure—to love you, Miguel. You are not an inconvenience to me" you assured.

The two of you held each other on the floor of your trashed apartment. For the first time out of many to come, Miguel defied his protocols and the canon for you. He challenged his way of being for you. And he conquered his fear of opening up all to be a better man for you.

"I know it's hard for you to talk to me about what goes on in your head, and we'll work on it but this is a really good start. Thank you," you said.

"Does this mean we're back together? You really want to be with me after all this?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," you chuckled.

"I love you to the moon and back," he sighed.

. . .

to be continued ?

----------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @truth-dare-spin-bottles @hobiebrowns-wife @lazyjellyfish300 @scaryplanetdestroyer @lauraolar14 @reader-1290 @prettygirleli @spicydonut25

[estellan0vella]

Hidden Affection ❀ Uraume (REQUESTED) Masterlist

The evening air is crisp and clear, a stark contrast to the warmth that fills the secluded corner of the courtyard. Lanterns flicker softly, casting a gentle glow over the meticulously maintained garden. It's here, amidst the whispering bamboo and the trickle of a distant stream, that you find yourself entwined in Uraume's arms, savouring the precious moments of peace and affection.

Your heart pounds with an intoxicating mix of excitement and fear. Being the younger sister of the fearsome Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, your life is one of paradoxes. Your brother's reputation for ruthlessness precedes him, and while his protection has ensured your safety, it also places you under intense scrutiny that makes your hidden relationship with Uraume all the more thrilling and dangerous.

Uraume's fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your face, their touch as delicate as the petals of the cherry blossoms that surround you. Their eyes, usually so cold and calculating in Sukuna's presence, are now filled with a softness reserved only for you.

"My lady," they whisper, their voice a hushed caress, "do you not fear the repercussions of our secret?"

A smile tugs at your lips. "Fear is a constant companion in my life," you reply, "but with you, I find courage."

They lean in, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath away. It's a kiss that speaks of longing, of stolen moments, and of a love that defies the dark reality of your existence. For in this moment, you are not Sukuna's sister, and they are not his loyal servant. You are simply two souls bound by an unbreakable bond.

Yet, as always, the shadow of your brother looms over you. Sukuna's protectiveness knows no bounds, and his wrath is a force to be reckoned with. The thought of his reaction if he were to discover your relationship with Uraume sends a shiver down your spine, but it also strengthens your resolve.

As the days turn into weeks, your clandestine meetings continue. Each encounter is filled with whispered promises and fervent embraces. Uraume's presence becomes your sanctuary, their touch your solace. Yet, the weight of your secret grows heavier with each passing day.

One evening, as the crimson sun dips below the horizon, you find yourself in your brother's presence. Sukuna is seated in his grand chamber, a place that exudes his overwhelming aura of power. His eyes, the same piercing crimson as yours, lock onto you with an intensity that makes you pause.

"Come closer, sister," he commands, his voice a deep rumble that leaves no room for disobedience.

You obey, approaching him with a sense of trepidation. Despite his fearsome reputation, Sukuna has always shown you a certain softness, a rare kindness that he reserves for you alone. But today, something in his gaze is different. Sharper.

"I have been hearing rumours," he says, his tone deceptively calm. "Rumors that concern you and Uraume."

Your heart stops. The blood drains from your face as you struggle to maintain your composure. "Rumors?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.

He rises from his seat, his towering form casting a long shadow that seems to envelop you. "Yes, rumours," he repeats, stepping closer. "Whispers of secret meetings and forbidden affections."

Panic wells up inside you, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "Brother, I..."

Before you can utter another word, Sukuna's hand reaches out, gripping your chin with a force that borders on painful. "Do not lie to me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. "I am not a fool."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "It's true," you admit, your voice trembling. "I... I love Uraume."

The silence that follows is deafening. Sukuna's grip tightens for a moment before he releases you, stepping back as if your confession has physically struck him.

"You love Uraume," he repeats, the words dripping with disdain. "My most trusted servant. My confidant."

"Yes," you whisper, "I do."

For a moment, Sukuna simply stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he begins to laugh. It's a dark, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine.

"You are a fool," he declares, his laughter dying as quickly as it began. "Do you not understand the danger you have placed yourself in? Uraume is bound to me. Their loyalty is to me."

You take a step forward, your fear giving way to a fierce determination. "I understand, brother. But my heart belongs to them. And theirs to me."

Sukuna's eyes narrow, his fury palpable. "And what of Uraume? What do they say?"

"They love me," you say, your voice steady. "We love each other."

For a moment, Sukuna remains silent, his expression a mask of conflicting emotions. Then he turns away, his back to you. "Leave me," he commands, his voice cold and distant. "I need time to think."

You hesitate, wanting to say more, to plead your case, but you know better than to push him further. With a bow, you retreat from his chamber, your heart heavy with uncertainty.

The days that follow are tense and filled with an uneasy silence. You and Uraume continue to meet in secret, though the joy of your stolen moments is now tinged with the ever-present fear of discovery. Sukuna's reaction to your confession haunts you, and you cannot help but wonder what he will do.

One evening, as you and Uraume sit beneath the cherry blossom trees, their hand in yours, you voice your concerns. "What if he forbids us from seeing each other?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Uraume's gaze is steady, their eyes filled with a determination that mirrors your own. "Then we will find a way," they say firmly. "I will not let him come between us."

You nod, drawing strength from their resolve. "Together," you murmur, "we can face anything."

The confrontation comes sooner than expected. One night, as you and Uraume share a quiet moment in the garden, Sukuna appears before you. His presence is like a storm, dark and overpowering.

"You defy me," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Even after my warning."

Uraume rises to their feet, positioning themselves protectively in front of you. "My lord," they begin, but Sukuna cuts them off with a sharp gesture.

"Silence," he snaps, his gaze shifting to you. "You will return to your chambers. Now."

Fear claws at your heart, but you refuse to back down. "No," you say, your voice trembling but resolute. "I will not leave Uraume."

Sukuna's eyes narrow, his anger a palpable force. "You test my patience, sister."

Before you can respond, Uraume steps forward, bowing deeply. "My lord," they say, their voice calm and respectful. "I love your sister. I have always been loyal to you, but my heart belongs to her."

For a moment, the tension is unbearable. Then, to your astonishment, Sukuna's expression softens, if only slightly. "You love her," he repeats, his voice quieter.

"Yes," Uraume replies. "I do."

Sukuna is silent for a long moment, his gaze shifting between the two of you. Finally, he speaks. "If you betray her," he says, his voice deadly serious, "I will destroy you."

Uraume nods, their eyes unwavering. "I will not, my lord."

With a final, piercing look, Sukuna turns and walks away, leaving you and Uraume alone once more.

In the aftermath of Sukuna's reluctant acceptance, the tension eases somewhat, though the shadow of his disapproval still lingers. Your relationship with Uraume, though still hidden from the wider world, feels more secure. Sukuna's warning remains clear in your mind, but so does the unwavering love you share with Uraume.

As you sit together beneath the stars, Uraume's hand in yours, you find solace in their presence. The future is uncertain, and the path ahead is fraught with challenges, but with Uraume by your side, you feel ready to face whatever comes.

Together, you have defied the odds. Together, you will continue to do so. For your love is a flame that will not be extinguished.

Requested by @juliii

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 2 - Caning

Cardinal Primo x GN!Reader

Cardinal Primo is always far too hard on himself, but sometimes he needs a break. Sometimes he needs you to be hard on him, too.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 4.5k.

Reading Time: 18 min.

Warnings: blood, caning, dom/sub dynamic, flagellation, impact play, masturbation, praise kink, self-flagellation,

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Recommended listening: Take Me Back To Eden - Sleep Token

The first sound to greet you as you stepped into the dimly lit chapel was a series of grunts, echoing off the cold stone walls and reverberating deep within your ears. The heavy breaths that followed were punctuated by sharp intakes, each noise tinged with an unmistakable pain that clawed at your heart.

Curiosity propelled you forward, your head peeking around the corner. The sight that met your gaze was both haunting and mesmerising. Cardinal Primo knelt on the unforgiving stone floor, his torso bare and glistening with sweat. His left hand propped him up, trembling under the weight of his self-imposed penance. Blood trickled from open welts marring his back, testament to the punishment inflicted by the cane clutched tightly in his right hand—a stark symbol of self-flagellation.

Sweat beaded on his brow, cascading down his face in rivulets that blurred the lines of his paints, giving the impression of black tears streaking down his skin. Each mark on his back spoke volumes of his struggle; you could easily believe he had shed real tears at some point, the rawness of his wounds suggesting a depth of suffering that went beyond the physical.

Primo had always been relentlessly hard on himself, a man who believed he must bear the weight of his mistakes alone. The Ministry, a construct of mercy rather than judgment, had never mandated such punishments. Yet, remnants of a past steeped in the shadows of the False God lingered, twisting the beliefs of those who still sought redemption through pain. For Primo, these rituals had become a cruel necessity, a ritual of remorse that broke your heart each time you bore witness.

He straightened his posture, exhaling a shaky breath as he swung the cane with renewed vigour, allowing it to strike his body with brutal force. Another grunt escaped him, the impact driving him forward into that same three-pointed stance, a position of both agony and resolve. It was a strange paradox—the desperate sounds he made stirred something within you, igniting a heat that spread through your core, awakening desires you never knew existed. The sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, mingled with the crimson droplets of blood, created a visceral tableau that left you breathless and yearning.

You couldn’t help but sigh, the sound cutting through the air like a whisper of acknowledgment. His gaze snapped to you, wide and startled. “I… didn’t hear you… come in,” he panted, his breaths labored, each word a testament to the toll of his actions.

“I’m not surprised,” you replied, trying to keep your tone lighthearted, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere. You stepped closer and took a seat in the pew just behind him, granting yourself a front-row seat to his torment. “With all that noise you were making, I can hardly believe I’m the only one who dared to step inside to witness this.”

As you settled into the pew, the air grew heavy with tension, each breath you took charged with an unspoken electricity. Cardinal Primo steadied himself, the grip on his cane tightening as he drew a deep breath, a moment of silence hanging between you like a fragile thread.

Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, he swung the cane again, the sound of wood connecting with skin echoing through the chapel. The sharp crack resonated like a thunderclap, followed by a low grunt that escaped his lips, the force of the impact causing him to falter forward once more. The sight was visceral, his body wracked with the effort, and your heart raced at the rawness of it all.

Each strike seemed to peel back layers of his stoicism, revealing a deeper pain that resonated within you. You watched as the blood welled up from the new wound, trickling down his back in crimson rivulets, contrasting starkly against his pale skin. The visceral act stirred something primal within you, a mix of empathy and an inexplicable desire that made your breath hitch.

He straightened again, sweat glistening on his brow, and for a moment, your eyes locked. In that fleeting connection, you sensed the weight of his struggles, the burden he bore not just for himself but for the ideals he represented. You wanted to reach out, to pull him from this cycle of self-destruction, but the intensity of the moment held you captive.

Primo inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling like a storm-tossed sea. It was then you realized that each swing of the cane wasn’t merely a punishment; it was a desperate plea for absolution, a yearning for a release that seemed perpetually out of reach. And yet, watching him, you felt a strange awakening, an urge to understand the depths of his suffering, to explore the fine line between pain and redemption that he walked so precariously.

“Why do you do this?” you finally dared to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as though breaking the silence would shatter the fragile spell that had ensnared you both.

Primo had spent the morning in the council chambers of the Ministry, where heated debates raged over the direction the faith should take. He had been tasked with mediating discussions between factions that were increasingly at odds, each side clinging fiercely to their interpretations of doctrine. The weight of the responsibility bore heavily on him, a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon his shoulders.

That day, in the midst of the arguments, a slip of his tongue had ignited a fierce backlash. He had misquoted a sacred text, an error that had caused an uproar among the devout. Whispers of doubt spread like wildfire, and he felt the gaze of his peers turn cold, their judgment piercing through him. The feeling of failure washed over him, drowning out the voices of support that tried to remind him of his worth.

The aftermath of the meeting lingered in his mind like a dark cloud. He replayed the moment over and over, consumed by shame. To him, the only way to atone for his perceived failure was to seek redemption through pain. It was a twisted form of penance, one he believed would appease the higher powers he sought to serve, including the vengeful shadows of his own fears and doubts.

In his mind, he thought of Satan as a force of truth, a harsh but necessary guide. To stand before such a power without scars seemed unfathomable. So, in a desperate attempt to cleanse himself of the perceived sin of incompetence, he turned to self-flagellation, believing that suffering would somehow restore his honor and reaffirm his commitment to the faith.

As you watched him now, each strike of the cane was both a physical act and a spiritual one—a ritual designed to wash away the stain of his mistake and prove his worthiness, even if it meant courting the darkness he feared. In that moment, you understood that his desire for redemption was not just for the sake of the Ministry but for his own fractured spirit, striving to reclaim a sense of purpose in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

You nodded in understanding as he recounted the events that had pushed him to this desperate act of penance. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you felt the tension crackle between you. The next swing of the cane sliced through the silence, the sharp crack reverberating against the stone walls, followed by a grunt that echoed with both pain and resolve.

Your thighs tightened.

You seized the moment to speak, your voice steady yet soft, cutting through the haze of his suffering. “The Dark Lord is more merciful than this,” you said, letting your words sink in. “Suffering is for the followers of the light, the children of the False God. And, He’d want you to feel the pleasure in the pain, at least.”

Primo paused, the cane hanging limply at his side, his breath hitching as he absorbed your words. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, battling with the internal struggle that raged within him. The idea seemed foreign, almost blasphemous, yet a part of him hesitated, yearning for a glimmer of relief from the relentless cycle of pain he had subjected himself to.

“Pleasure?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with doubt. “How can I indulge in anything but punishment when I’ve failed?”

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes locking onto his, willing him to see the truth in your perspective. “Redemption doesn’t solely lie in pain, Primo. It’s in the balance, in embracing both light and dark. The Dark Lord doesn’t seek to break you; He seeks to mold you. Embracing pleasure doesn’t diminish your devotion—it enhances it, allowing you to rise stronger from your trials.”

As the words left your lips, you noticed a subtle shift in his posture. The rigidness began to melt away, if only slightly, as the weight of his self-imposed burden wavered under the promise of something more. In that moment, you saw the flicker of hope ignite in his eyes, a yearning to reclaim not just his honour, but the joy of living, even amidst the shadows.

Almost quietly, and with a small smile, he responded, “I should have known you’d come for your pound of flesh.” His gaze lingered on you, a mixture of challenge and vulnerability in his eyes. The statement hung in the air, charged with a tension that sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his gaze, a slow smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Perhaps I have,” you replied, your voice low and sultry, deliberately teasing the edge of his discomfort. You stood and walked over to him, hooking your index finger below his chin. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out. He looked somehow innocent in all of this. “Perhaps I’ve been sent here to do His bidding.”

“It would be a great pleasure to be punished by you.”

He placed the cane in both of his hands and held it up to you, like a knight offering a sword to his queen. The cane trembled slightly in his hands as he offered it to you, his eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of reverence and desire. His lips parted as though he were about to speak, but no words came—only the quiet, charged silence between you. Trust radiated from him, unspoken yet undeniable, but instead of taking the cane, you chose a different path.

Slowly, deliberately, you sank to your knees before him, the movement commanding his attention. His breath hitched as he watched, every inch of you now level with the vulnerability he tried so hard to suppress. The tension between you was electric, a palpable pulse of need and anticipation. You let your hand slide behind his neck, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a jolt through you both.

Without breaking eye contact, you pulled him toward you, and the kiss that followed was anything but gentle. It was desperate, hungry, and raw—a collision of longing and pent-up emotion that neither of you could hold back any longer. His lips crashed against yours, warm and insistent, as if he were trying to lose himself in the intensity of the moment, seeking solace in the heat of your touch.

A soft groan escaped him as your mouths moved together, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. His hands, once so steady, gripped your arms with a fervor that matched the wild beat of his heart. You could feel the tension in his body, every muscle taut as though he were on the verge of breaking. His kiss was filled with everything he had been holding back—months, perhaps years, of isolation, of denying himself any comfort beyond the sting of his cane.

You deepened the kiss, the passion between you intensifying as you pressed closer. His breath came in ragged gasps between kisses, each one more desperate than the last, as if he were afraid to let go, afraid that the moment would slip through his fingers if he didn’t cling to it. To you.

Your bodies moved in sync, lips parting, tongues intertwining, with the Cardinal fully submitting to you with nary a fight left in him. The taste of him—sweat, salt, and something deeper, more primal—ignited a fire in you, your desire burning hotter with every passing second. He kissed you like you were his salvation, his escape from the torment he inflicted upon himself.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, lips swollen, your foreheads pressed together as the intensity of what had just passed settled between you. His chest rose and fell heavily, and his eyes, dark with need, searched yours, pleading for something more than what his punishment could offer. “Let me make you feel good,” you panted, resting your forehead against his. “Let me help you.”

“Y-yes,” Primo stammered. The feelings in his chest were threatening to overwhelm him if he didn’t keep himself in check.

You locked your lips to his again, allowing the kiss to return to the same heat it was before. As your tongue entered his mouth, you travelled your hand down from his neck, across the sweaty expanse of his hairy chest and soft stomach, and onto his clothed crotch, earning a gasp from his lips as you made contact. Gently, you began to stroke over him, his limp cock beginning to stand to attention at your touch. You were like a magician with the way you touched him, playing with the right spots to make it feel so fucking good so early on. He was wrapped around your little finger, his body answered only your call. Tonight, you were going to help him in more ways than one.

Flagellation had never felt like this before, neither had pleasure, if Primo was being honest. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but the dull humming of pain on his back mixed with your hand on his core had given him a whole new religious experience. Satan’s wrath at his back, His mercy at his front - and it felt incredible. He never wanted it to stop.

You broke the kiss once more, making him whine in response. “Do you still want me to cane you?”

“Sathanas - please. Please.”

Primo’s begging was delicious. You let your fingers trail along the waistband of his trousers, teasing the skin beneath, but you didn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet. “You’ll get your punishment,” you promised, your voice dark with promise. “But tonight, Primo, it’s going to feel like a blessing.”

His breath caught, his body trembling at the weight of your words, and you could see it in his eyes—he was ready to be yours, to give in to the dark, twisted pleasure that only you could provide.

Slowly, you trailed your hand down from his waistband, brushing your fingers over the growing hardness between his legs. He gasped, his hips bucking slightly into your touch, but you kept your movements slow and deliberate, keeping him teetering on the edge of pleasure without giving him the release he so desperately craved.

“Tell me, Primo,” you murmured, your fingers ghosting over his cock in featherlight strokes. “Do you want more pain? Or more pleasure?” You kissed the edge of his jaw as you spoke, your breath hot against his skin, every word a temptation he couldn’t resist.

His eyes fluttered shut as a low moan escaped him, the mix of pain from his earlier flagellation and the pleasure of your touch driving him to the brink. “Both,” he finally breathed, his voice trembling. “I need both.”

You smiled against his skin, satisfied with his answer. “Good,” you whispered, before pulling back slightly, your eyes locking onto his. “Then let’s begin.”

You reached for the cane, still gripped in his trembling hands, and pried it from his grasp, your fingers brushing his as you took it from him. His eyes followed your movements, wide and filled with anticipation, as you stood before him, the wooden cane held firmly in your hand.

“Remove your trousers,” you commanded, looking down at him with hooded eyes. Primo obliged immediately, scrambling off the floor to obey you as quickly as possible. He was fully hard now, cock red and aching, and pleading to be touched once more. The sight of it made your mouth water.

“Touch yourself,” you continued, “slowly.”

Primo spat in his hand and wrapped it around his head, softy and slowly twisting as he began to fuck himself in front of you. He was needy. Desperate. Wanting.

You raised the cane slightly and brought it down in a swift, sharp strike against his thigh—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him gasp. The combination of the pain and his touch made his entire body tremble, the contrast pushing him into a deeper submission.

His moan was low, guttural, and you could tell that he was already starting to lose himself in the mix of pleasure and pain. “Do you like that?” you asked, your voice teasing, as you leaned down to brush your lips against his.

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice hoarse and breathless. “More… please…”

You smiled against his mouth and delivered another, harder strike, this time to his other thigh. His reaction was immediate, his back arching as he let out a strangled cry, the cane in your hand and the desire in your touch working together to pull him deeper into submission.

“Good boy,” you purred, pressing your palm harder against his now throbbing cock as a reward. “You’re doing so well.”

His entire body seemed to melt at your words, his mind surrendering completely to your control. The pain, the pleasure—it all blurred together for him now, each sensation heightened by the other, until he was nothing but a trembling mess beneath you.

“Where do you want the pain now, Primo?”

“B-back. My back.”

You grinned at his trembling voice, watching as he begged for more, his body a quivering mass of need and submission. His cock was slick with his own spit, his hand slowly twisting and stroking, but the desperation in his eyes told you he was aching for something more—something only you could give him.

With a teasing hum, you moved behind him, the cane still firmly gripped in your hand. His back was already marked with the remnants of his self-inflicted punishment, the red welts standing out against his pale skin, but you knew he craved your touch—the combination of pain and pleasure only you could deliver.

“You want the pain on your back, do you?” you purred, running the tip of the cane lightly over his shoulders. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his body quivering with anticipation. “Are you sure, Primo? I can make it hurt so good, but you have to ask for it.”

“Please,” he gasped, his voice ragged. “P-please, punish me.”

The sound of him begging for it, so willing, so eager, made your heart race. You raised the cane, hesitating for just a moment to let him feel the anticipation, before bringing it down sharply across his shoulders. His body jolted, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the pain radiated through him, but you could tell by the way he arched into the blow that he wanted—no, needed—more.

Without giving him a chance to recover, you brought the cane down again, striking a bit harder this time, the sound of the impact echoing in the chapel. His back arched once more, his hand faltering for just a moment on his cock as the pain overwhelmed him.

“You take it so well,” you cooed, stepping closer to press your body against his. You let your free hand trail over his heated skin, feeling the way his muscles quivered beneath your fingertips. “Do you want more, Primo?”

“Yes,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “More… please…”

You delivered another strike, the force sending a tremor through his entire body. His back was now a canvas of red, each mark a testament to his submission, and yet he still begged for more.

“Keep touching yourself,” you ordered, your voice firm but seductive. “Don’t stop. Go faster.”

He obeyed, his hand moving over his cock in quick, desperate strokes as you continued to bring the cane down on his back, each blow making him cry out in a perfect blend of pain and pleasure. His moans grew louder, more frantic, and you could see that he was close, his body trembling on the edge of release.

You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You can come, Primo, but only when I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice strained. “Please… let me come…”

You smiled wickedly, your hand ghosting over the welts on his back before delivering one final, hard strike. His entire body jolted forward, hips now doing most of the work as continued to fuck his hand as hard as he needed, a choked cry escaping him when he tried to hold back, his cock throbbing in his hand.

“Not yet,” you teased, your voice dripping with control. “Not until I say.”

He whimpered beneath you, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, but he obeyed, desperate for your approval, desperate for the release only you could grant.

“You were doing this for the Dark Lord’s forgiveness, weren’t you, Cardinal?” You taunted from behind as you landed another painful blow. You watched as the blood bloomed from the fresh wound.

“Y-yes!”

“Keep fucking that hand, Cardinal, but beg for His forgiveness. Beg Satan and He might grand you pleasure.”

Primo gasped, the sting of the blow igniting a fire within him. “Satan,” he cried out, his voice trembling with desperation. “I—I beg for Your f-forgiveness! I’ve sinned - fuck! And I seek Your mercy. Please… gra-ant me pleasure in my suffering!”

Each word spilled from his lips with a fervour that only deepened his submission, the mix of pain and longing pushing him further into the depths of his desire. “I’ll do any… anything for Your grace,” he continued, his hand moving faster against his cock. “Mmmm… fucking Hell! Please, please, please, let me f-feel Your love through this pain!”

His voice grew more frantic with each plea, the raw vulnerability of his words sending shivers through him. He was completely lost, teetering on the edge, surrendering himself to the dark power he both feared and craved.

You felt a tingling in your body, all over it, in fact. You could feel a breath shoot down your spine from your ear, as if someone had just whispered into it. The smell of sulfur filled your nostrils and left you convinced. You leaned down again, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “He has granted you his mercy. come for us, Primo,” you whispered, your voice a soft command, then a final blow to his back.

With a guttural moan, Primo finally let go, his body convulsing with the intensity of his orgasm as he spilled onto the stone floor, pooling just in front of his knees, his back arching beneath the weight of the pleasure and pain you had given him. He gasped for air, his entire body shaking as he rode the wave of his release, his mind and body completely yours.

You smiled down at him, watching as he collapsed to the floor, spent and trembling, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soothing now as you knelt beside him, running your fingers gently over his sweat-slicked hair. “You did so well.”

Primo’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he looked at you with something close to reverence. He had given himself over to you completely, and you had taken him to the edge and back again. Now, he was yours—body and soul.

As you helped Primo to his feet, he leaned against you, his body still trembling from the intensity of what had just transpired. You helped him back into his trousers - not before using the pant leg to clean up his mess, which earned you a weakened chuckle from him. The chapel, with its cold stone walls, faded from your mind as you guided him outside, the night air wrapping around you both like a comforting embrace, swirling around his wounds and making him hiss and tense in response.

Once you reached your place, you settled him gently onto the soft bed, the contrast of the plush sheets against his still-sensitized skin making him shiver. You took a moment to admire him—his body marked with red welts, a testament to his surrender and bravery. “You did so well tonight, Cardinal,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. “You were incredible.”

Primo looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability, and you could see how much your praise meant to him. You moved to gather some supplies—a damp cloth, antiseptic, and a soothing ointment—to care for his wounds. As you returned, you knelt beside the bed, taking a moment to let your fingers gently trace the marks on his back.

“Every scar tells a story,” you murmured, meeting his gaze. “And tonight, you showed just how strong you are. I’m proud of you for getting His forgiveness, but I don’t want you to do this again, please. Not as a punishment. I’ll draw blood from you if you want but nothing justifies this as a genuine punishment.”

He sighed softly, the tension in his body beginning to ease as you cleaned the wounds with gentle, careful movements. Each brush of your fingers against his skin elicited soft gasps from him, and you could see the way he surrendered to your touch, allowing you to take care of him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised again, applying the ointment with tenderness.

Primo’s cheeks flushed at your words, and you couldn’t help but smile. He seemed to glow under your attention, his vulnerabilities transforming into strengths. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” you added, leaning closer to press a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Inside and out.”

As you finished tending to his wounds, you took a moment to let your hands linger on his skin, relishing the connection between you. “You deserve to feel safe, to be cared for,” you whispered, your gaze steady on his. “And I’ll always be here to take care of you, Primo.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of your words sinking in. “Thank you,” he breathed, his voice a soft whisper filled with emotion. “For everything.”

You smiled at him, feeling a swell of warmth in your chest. “No need to thank me. It’s my pleasure to care for you. You’ve given me so much already, and I want to give you the same in return.”

As you settled in beside him, the atmosphere shifted—filled with tenderness and a deep sense of understanding. In that moment, you knew you would protect him, nurture him, and help him explore the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, both in and out of the shadows.

Prev./Next

[paradiseprincesss]

intro (end of the world) | jonathan crane

summary: jonathan reflects on how much he truly adores you.

warnings: none, this is pure fluff.

word count: 800 words

masterlist

"jonathan, you don't have to do all that." you say with a giggle (which makes his heart soar), watching your beloved boyfriend from the couch whilst sitting comfortably.

"yes i do." he says matter-of-factly, picking up the heavy boxes and moving them around.

the two of you were in the process of moving in together, having found a gorgeous but quaint little apartment on the east end of gotham - perfect for the two of you. the sun was setting and the rays of light shining through the glass sliding door, which lead to the balcony, was reflecting onto jonathan; making him look like an angel.

he insisted that you sit this one out - by "this one," he meant the entire process of moving. well, the physical part of it, that is. he hadn't let you carry a single box, acting as if you were a delicate flower that would crumble at any given moment.

earlier on, he had let you carry one box, just one; and it was the lightest one out of all of them, weighing maybe ten pounds, at most. as you were putting the box down, it had accidentally slipped out your grasp, causing it to fall from your hands and snag the side of your freshly done acrylic nails - causing one of to break.

before you could even say "ouch," jonathan was rushing to your side going into full-blown doctor mode, doting on you in his own way - which you found adorable.

you tried to reason with him about it, telling him that it didn't hurt very much, and that you could manage - but he wasn't having it.

and that's how you ended up spending the rest of the afternoon on the couch, not lifting a single finger while jonathan did all the heavy lifting and hard work.

"i think that's the last of the boxes." he announces proudly, and you just shake your head at him with a soft laugh. "you're ridiculous."

he comes over to you on the couch, smiling, and pulls you into his side as he gives you a loving kiss.

smiling.

that was something jonathan didn't do very often, if you ever worked with him, you would know that - but you weren't work.

you were everything to jonathan. everything. he could never get tired of you.

when he first met you, he couldn't tell whether you were a fragment of his imagination or not. you were just so beautiful, he'd never forget how it felt to cross paths with you for the first time. in that moment, he'd come to learn what love at first sight was.

through the course of your relationship, he was left astonished on a regular basis. "how are you real?" he'd ask himself, while watching you do the mundane, every day tasks of life. how could someone look so angelic while doing something as simple as watering a potted plant or writing down their grocery list for the week?

he knew the answer to that question; because it was you.

how could someone look so perfect on their worst day? because it's you. how could jonathan possibly let someone into his heart and see his vulnerable side, you ask? because it's you, that's why.

you were the answer to everything in his world, the beautiful soul that brought his flatlining soul back from whatever purgatory he was living in before.

and if said purgatory was truly a real place, then so be it. if he was to die right now, and his soul was sentenced to stay in a state of purgatory, hell on earth for eternity - he was okay with that, because in his living, waking life - at least he got a chance to know you, to love you, and to call you his.

your voice brought him out of his thoughts as he held you tightly on the couch, the sun gleaming it's golden glow on the two of you.

"if the sun refused to shine, would i still be your lover?" you ask, your paradoxical question making him smile as he answered you. "of course you would be, my love. you'd be mine in every universe."

with a sigh, he asked you his own paradoxical question. "if the moon went dark tonight, and it all ended tomorrow, would i be the one on your mind?"

you looked at him with that same lovedrunk gaze you always gave him, smiling cutely, and beaming like the sun outside.

"you never leave my mind, actually." you tell him, and you could've sworn he was almost tearing up as he looked away from you for a moment, and you could tell he's feeling a little emotional - but that's alright because it's with you, and you are his absolute everything.

in his past lifetime, this lifetime, and the rest to come.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Kiko’s Masterlist

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Another Level Masterlist

Status: Complete

“You’re a Zenin.”

More like an unwanted mistake. Which, funny enough, had actually been the first words she ever heard her father say to her. - Kurisaki Rinko was born an unwanted bastard child to the Zenin clan, having since grown into an unwanted bastard adult. Her stubborn refusal to be discarded resulted in a display of strength that many would call (they had, many times to her face, in fact) an unhinged lack of self-preservation. But lucky for her, that unhinged display caught the attention of a particular blue-eyed menace who happens to be more fun to rile up than anyone she’s ever met.

Read Another Level on AO3

Physical Paradox Masterlist

Status: In Progress

How they went from: “I’m kinda impressed,” Gojo stated, sliding his sunglasses onto his face. “Didn’t expect a psych major to know this much about philosophical theory.” Rinko blinked at him slowly, raising her eyebrows as she scoffed. “I’m sorry, mister unresolved childhood trauma,” she said, stepping closer and poking a finger in his chest. “But I don’t really give a fuck if you’re impressed.”

To: “Your professor is leading the world of cognitive and behavioral research,” Gojo told Rinko's students, chest swelling with pride. “And she’s really pretty-” “Oh, she’s fucking gorgeous!” he agreed. “She has it all. Smart, funny, beautiful. She’s honestly perfect. It’s incredible she-” “Married you?” Touma interjected. “I know. I thought the same thing when I first met you.”

Read Physical Paradox on AO3

Gokudō Masterlist

Status: On Hold (I will finish this eventually, though)

Gokudō (極道): the extreme path. A term used to refer to members of a Yakuza syndicate.

-

“Now, why is a pretty girl like you in an ugly place like this?” “Some might say the contrast is tragically poetic,” she replied easily. “Yeah, well,” he drawled, a smirk pulling at his lips as he stepped up to stand beside her. “Others would say it’s tragically idiotic. What’s your name, pretty girl?” “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?” she asked, her pulse jumping at his quiet chuckle. “You already know who I am.”

-

She never asked to be part of this world. A world filled with greed and violence and revenge. She never asked to be part of the world where life was as meaningless as dust. The world stained red by the blood that pooled beneath her mother’s body after she was forced to watch her die. She never asked to be part of the world driven by hatred and bloodlust, but she never asked to leave, either.

Read Gokudō on AO3

One-Shots

Before I Love You - (angsty Gojo/Rinko AU, hopeful ending) - Part 2: Broken Lens | Author's Discussion

Fight Me? - (Nurse!Gojo shoots his shot with a grumpy patient)

Blurbs

For Your Health - (College!Gojo just wants to help his girlfriend stay healthy)

Untitled Unfinished Angst (very angsty Goinko bc Kiko is not ok)

Previews

Untitled (a self-indulgent Goinko AU about healthy relationships) - Preview 2

Bittersweet Memories (an angsty au inspired by The Vow)

Random Asks and Kiko's Rants

Ask: Advice for AO3 writers and when you're in a creativity rut

Ask: How Do I plan the plot for stories?

Rant: The issue with meaningless angst

Kiko's Original Work

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Sample: Blurbs 2

Meet some characters

Another Life - Short Story

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Sturgeon Moon in Aquarius ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

This year’s Full Sturgeon Moon in Aquarius is also a rare blue moon that occurred on 19 August (sorry this PAC is so late aaagh!!!). Following an insane influx of aenergy during the Lion’s Gate, the theme surrounding this blue moon is Perseverance. This period is all about amassing resources and gathering momentum.

I’ve a feeling this year’s autumn (Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius) season is going to be massive and possibly even life-changing for the spiritually awakened ones ^^ You’ve got to be in the receiver mode of miracles and rare opportunities to really notice! Practically all the aenergies now are leading us to a greater sense of freedom to do what we want when we want.

Also, there’s this sense of…a mandate…? That should push Humanity towards liberating themselves from the enslavement of automation and AI. See, technology isn’t necessarily evil, right? Think about how great it is to have the kind of connectivity we have today; how amazing information dissemination has become in this Internet era.

Technology, just like currency, is impartial. In the end it all boils down to how you’re entertaining the evil agendas of evil people using tech for evil purposes. Become aware of your own habits and inclinations if you don’t want to be a fool-tool of the raggedy corporations. In essence, this Full Moon’s Aquarius aenergy is saying: ‘Use tech to your advantage instead of becoming a slave to it.'

‘Don’t be tech’s little bitch; make it your biotch.’

High time you reclaimed your divine birthright to co-create high-quality Reality instead of getting enslaved by tech that seeks to ‘map you out’. This the era you say to yourself: ‘I’m engineering a more prosperous Reality with my clear conscience.’

GNOSIS: The Dark Rise of Brain Rot Content by Moon

deck-bottom: XV The Devil Rx, Gold Astrologer (Simon Forman), Priestess of Ritual

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Heart Filled with Sweet Colours

t r a n s f o r m a t i o n – Page of Cups

I see that you’ve transmuted very many negative aenergies within yourself, most of all, negative emotions as well as sensations in your body. Seems you were guided to do this by your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides after having experienced an extreme level of suffering—could be emotionally or physically or both. When you arrived at the most extreme end of what you were struggling with, you couldn’t have gone any other way but to turn your situation around by reclaiming control over your own thoughts and emotions, which effectively shifted your directions and decision making.

There’s a really good quote that says this: ‘When a situation is good, enjoy it. When a situation is bad, transform it. When the situation can’t be transformed, transform yourself.’ You had to learn quite a bit and finally chose to do the last. You’ve known more; now you’re wiser; but wise people are sometimes very pure and childlike. And that’s the beautiful paradox of ‘growing up’ with compassion in your heart. You transformed yourself to be kinder and more loving towards yourself and the crazy-ass situations you found yourself in; now, it’s just easier to extend that love and compassion to the world outside of yourself~♪

t r a n s g r e s s i o n – 4 of Swords Rx

Many of you tuning into this Pile most likely have been in isolation mode for quite a while. The aenergy of this FM in Aquarius, namely the ruler of the 11th House of networking, is pushing you towards becoming social again. And this time everything is going to be (or has been) different. You’ll see that not only are the people in your physical Reality a lot nicer and more compassionate (like you’ve shifted timelines) but you’re also more capable of handling the low-vibing monsters that you may sometimes still have to interact with, with more patience yourself XD

Basically, you’re learning or have learnt to operate in society with more ‘tact’ now. You’ve spent a great deal of time learning to accept a more practical conception of ‘good and evil’ in the world. But to you, good and evil isn’t just black or white; you’re a person who’s come to understand the many colours of good and evil when applied in many different situations. This is wisdom, a gift, that not many have yet to grasp. Your ‘return’ to society is for you to expand this consciousness further and wider!

t r a n s c e n d e n c e – 10 of Wands

The vibe of your ‘return’ to society at large is reminiscent of the Gautama Buddha LMAO He returned to his hometown/home and became a teacher for those who weren’t yet awakened to the higher level of consciousness he had worked so hard to attain! So yeah, a ‘modern priest’ aenergy surrounds you very strongly here; although I find that the majority of you tuning into this Pile are actually quite cute XD Idk why I’m getting a strong ‘gamer girl’ vibe from you. You could also possess a strong sense of aesthetic of your own.

You’re a highly spiritually advanced being but in a cute package, is what I’m getting LMAO At this point in time, your communication skills are getting polished and refined, far beyond what you’re already capable of doing. You may want to look where your Mercury is located in your natal chart, what aspects it makes, and check out what you have in your 3rd House, as well as check out what House is ruled by Gemini ^^ The insight will empower you further at this point in time!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Red Alchemist (John Dee) & Priestess of Intuition

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Solid to Liquid, Calmly

t r a n s f o r m a t i o n – Knight of Pentacles

Hold up! You’re about to jettison down a new portal of adventure, pretty soon but before that, hold up; planning and a readiness of the mind is very necessary at this moment. This Moon Reading is very tardy so I’m going to be reading an aenergy that’s pretty much already transpired by the time you’re reading this XD More to come for you in the next FM in Pisces PAC regarding this aenergy, OK? But for the most part, I’m sensing that you’re still in preparation mode for something big that’s just around the corner for you.

Just like the liquid in the glass in the pic you’re attracted to, there’s something solid that’s turning to liquid, but slowly and naturally. You’re not being burnt or heated up to melt…you know what I mean? Because melting solid to liquid can be a painful experience for peeps who’ve been through a lot, right? The Universe is gracefully granting you a peaceful time to manifest your Life Purpose in the most natural and pleasant way just yet!

t r a n s g r e s s i o n – 5 of Pentacles Rx

So, enjoy this peaceful time. I sense that it’s possible that a lot of you tuning into this Pile have been SO used to chaos and drama—so used to bubbling madly at 110C—that now you don’t know how to just…be…when no stress, no drama is going on. It could be that you were a dramatic person before. Maybe you were toxic. Or maybe you couldn’t help but be that way because you were simply surrounded by toxic betches! But that’s all in the past, OK?

If you look around and become aware of where you are now, it becomes super clear how far you’ve carried yourself away from all of that low-vibrating Reality ^^v Understand that you’re ‘weaning off’ drama, chaos and other types of ‘addictions’ caused by high-level toxicity in your old Reality. I’m getting that this is the prime time to study as much as possible about ‘surviving narcissistic abuse’ to give you not only knowledge but also validation :D

t r a n s c e n d e n c e – Knight of Cups

Other than just ‘surviving’ trauma, if that part doesn’t necessarily ring true for you, there’s also this sense of just using this peaceful time to readjust yourself to a more spiritually attuned Life. Perhaps some of you are getting into crystals, meditation, healing audio tracks, subliminals and reiki. Maybe there are other ‘spiritual’ hobbies and practices beyond these ones hahah You’ll know if you resonate~ I’m being told that this Aquarius FM really does bring that sense of balance between ‘spiritual practices’ and ‘modern technological living’ for you.

Maybe you’re meant to know more about this (especially if you identify as a Starseed) but a lot of the human qualities that we classify as ‘positive mental states’ are…technology. Things like harmony, peacefulness, positive mindsets, intelligence…all of these are practically technology. There are ways we can trigger such ‘states of mind/being’ by means of…technology. So yeah…Imma leave you with that for now XD

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Green Magus (John Dee) & Priestess of Energy

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Pile 3 – Integrity Just Like Jelly

t r a n s f o r m a t i o n – Page of Pentacles

The other two Piles are very focused on the idea of rest and self-care, but as per usual, Pile 3 is always about going places and learning shit LMAO In this regard, if you’re not physically going places, this is indicating your mind going places through meditation, daydreaming, movie-watching, or documentary-binging. You know what I mean~ This the period you’re enriching your inner world through any means available to you at this moment.

Whilst doing this, don’t forget your water intake, OK? Vitamins and real foods are crucial for you at this moment. Your cells are digesting a lot of Light. Remember that Light is INFORMATION. That’s why Darkness is the absence of information, right? Light is Information; when Information is digested well it becomes Knowledge; when Knowledge is applied well it becomes Wisdom; when Wisdom is put to the service of all it becomes En-light-enment~

t r a n s g r e s s i o n – 7 of Pentacles

Prospering towards wisdom, I’m seeing that you’re currently being taught to be perfectly OK with things taking their sweet time to unfold! If this is the Pile you resonate with the most, you’re literally on the precipice of your grandest Life Purpose yet! Your Life Purpose is big, you know that, right? It could possibly even change the world or perhaps you resonate with having a Life Purpose that revolves around the creation of a Prototype what will alter the way Humans think or do shit~

This either shares a resemblance to Nikola Tesla or Adolf Hitler. This either takes on the archetype of Sadhguru or Teddy Bundy~ Your take LMAO Either way, you’re meant to disrupt your society and scatter it all! But that’s the thing, right? If you’re gonna be a social menace that’s in the service of Light instead of Dark, you’ve gotta learn to keep your INTEGRITY. Because… what was that again? Absolute power absolutely corrupts?

t r a n s c e n d e n c e – King of Swords

‘Nothing discloses real character like the use of power. It is easy for the weak to be gentle. Most people can bear adversity. But if you wish to know what a man really is, give him power. This is the supreme test.’ – Robert Ingersoll

‘It is from weakness that people reach for dictators and concentrated government power. Only the strong can be free. And only the productive can be strong.’ – Wendell Willkie

‘To have intelligence there must be freedom, and you cannot be free if you are constantly being urged to become like some hero, for then the hero is important and not you.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

Do you understand your role in the next chapter of your ARC? Not to be some kind of a narcissistic wielder of power but to be a gentle-albeit-passionate reminder for the people, that only they can save themselves from this pathetically enslaved existence of theirs caused by a lack of Integrity.

Got no integrity? Got no intelligence? Go succumb to AI already -__-;

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Gold Astronomer (John Dee) & Priestess of Integrity

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[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

[celiastjamesoscar]

Masterlist

A/N: collection of stuff I’ve written. I also don’t know what a word count is, so heads up!

Requests: Open

Current request list: 11

Fluff: 🍦

Angst: 🗡️

Personal favorite: 🛼

Smut: 🎃

REQUESTING

I will write smut, it just depends on what it is and if I’m comfortable with writing it

I will write romantic or platonic

I write for fem and gender neutral readers

I won’t write for male readers

——————————————————————————

Wednesday Addams

Luminous Waters 🍦

You drag your girlfriend Wednesday to a beautiful pond that you discovered and enjoy the stars together. (3.1K words)

Exile 🗡️🗡️🛼

you and Wednesday were best friends when you were kids, but after Nero’s death, she became cold and distant, and your former friendship turned into a rivalry. Ten years after your friendship ended, unusual circumstances force you two back together. (12.3K words)

Like Real People Do 🍦

Wednesday has been running through your mind, plaguing your every thought. So when you go out one night to get a grasp on these thoughts, you run into the Addams, who was suffering from thoughts about you. (2.3K words)

To Be Alone

Being alone was something special to Wednesday, but being alone with you was sacred. And she refused to share you with anyone else, even if that meant owning up to her feelings (2.7K words)

Tara Carpenter

Devil in the Details 🗡️🗡️🛼

Tara accidentally runs into on campus, and she’s immediately enchanted by you and asks you for help. You give her the wrong advice and she holds it against you. (12K words)

Himbo Next Door 🍦

you met Tara in the elevator your apartment and you two awkwardly hit it off. You begin to form a situationship with her, but Sam disapproves of you. (5.5K words)

Jenna Ortega

Drafting it up…

Sam Carpenter

No Hard Feelings 🗡️🍦🛼 pt 2 🍦🗡️ pt 3 🍦

Tara makes plans with you to go to dinner and watch a movie, but she forgets and can’t go. So she sends Sam in her place (17.1K total words)

Umbrella Paradox 🍦 Pt 2 🍦🍦

When visiting a local cafe shop late one night, you meet the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, but you get off on the wrong foot. (12.9K total words)

Sweat and Serendipity 🍦

While working out at your local gym, you run into someone you haven’t seen before. (4.9K words)

Wildest Dreams 🗡️🍦🛼

you are helplessly head over heels for Sam, even though she despises you. But your relationship with her changes when you get in a lightly physical altercation with her.(6.3K words)

Would that I 🗡️

You accidentally ran into someone at a frat party, and she quickly became your best friend. But you fell for her sister, who wouldn’t even give you the time of the day (this is a shitty description) (6.8K words)

Talk 🎃🍦

Sam was never used to being treated with tenderness, but she loved the way you treated her like she was the most fragile thing you ever held. She craved your soft kisses, and she needed you (1.38K words)

Say Yes to Heaven 🗡️🗡️🍦🛼

It was never Sam’s intention to fall in love with you, but after countless nights tangled up in sheets together, she fell for you. But her love came with consequences, and she knew she could never provide you with the life you needed. So she broke up her arrangement with you, breaking your heart in the process as well. (11.8K words)

Happiness is a Butterfly 🗡️🍦

the plan was to tell you at some point, but Sam didn’t know how. Only when you find out by accident about your girlfriend’s activities, does Sam realize the consequences of continuing her father’s legacy. (9.9K words)

Cinnamon Girl 🍦🛼

Getting a dog wasn’t the best idea, but Sam grew to love the fur ball when she found out you were the dog’s vet. (8.6K words)

Jeans 🎃🍦

It had been too long since you had Sam, and you desperately needed her. (1.3K words)

We fell in love in October 🍦

Late night talks with Sam were always your favorite, especially on the roof while you two admired the sky together. (3.0K words)

Comfort Holds 🍦

A long day at work leads the best kind of de-stressing at home: Sam holding you. (1.7k words)

Wish I Knew You 🍦

Unofficial meant many things to people, but to college students it meant one thing: party. But unofficial takes a turn when you get into a fight, and Sam has to walk you home. (3.5K words)

Night Shift 🗡️🍦

Sam blamed you for the 2022 attacks, she blamed you for everything. But guilt drives people into blindness, and Sam eventually finds herself seeking your comfort. (18.0 words)

Smut Headcanons

Natasha Romanoff

Clean 🍦🍦

when Natasha comes back hurt from a mission, she lets you clean her wounds. (3.6K words)

Wanda Maximoff

Champagne Problems 🗡️🍦

You were going to propose to Wanda, but a stupid argument ruined your night, and maybe even your relationship. Can you fix it before it’s too late? (3.8K words)

[that-student-that-has-homework]

The Rationality of Emotion

Al-Haitham / Reader Chapters: Chp 1 | Chp 2

Read the Full Story on Ao3 | Tumblr MasterList Here (Maybe even leave me a comment please? :3< )

Summary: Kaveh simply couldn't believe that Al-Haitham was going to marry before him! Not that ill-tempered, bullheaded, brutish excuse for a man! Not just that! The rational brute was marrying the Emotional Scholar, of all people! Rationality and Emotion? Marrying? How could this be possible?! --o-- A story in which: you just wanted help reading some runes, your parents wanted to you to marry, Al-Haitham wanted a cover story for when he went out into the desert, and Kaveh is...well...he's...he's there for you. Needless to say you're now all one big happy (?) family!

Chapter 1: Unexpected

The sun had long since set, the moon, or what of it could be seen anyway - it had phases and for all he knew it could be a new moon tonight, he’s been rather preoccupied with his latest design and hadn’t had the chance to admire the lovely glowing orb. 

Hmph. 

That annoying roommate (effectively a tyrannical landlord despite his grace in allowing him to stay with him-this man operates in paradoxes doesn’t he?) of his would argue that - actually most students would argue that the moon doesn’t in fact emit any light, rather it reflects the light of the sun and whatnot. Yes, he was very well aware, thank you very much, he’d studied elementary physics as well.

In fact he was likely more knowledgeable in physics than that linguist. He was an architect, an engineer.

Nevermind all that, what was important was that it was late and his roommate had yet to return, much to his pleasure really. It wasn’t uncommon that he’d be out late or even go for trips without warning, perhaps this was one of those blessed situations where he would be able to go for days without seeing him. Lovely.

Of course things could not always be so delightful, as the architectural genius (yes he truly was a marvel) had just about completed the application of his honey mask that he heard the door open. He’d rather not be seen with his face covered in honey, not that he really cared if that excessively confident junior of his saw him in such a state, he simply wasn’t in the mood to explain himself.

“Kaveh,” oh how unusual for him to approach him first.

“What is it? I’m busy,” the man in question said as he made sure that he had in fact covered the entirety of his face in honey.

“Is that so?” Came the unimpressed reply. “Suit yourself.”

Suit himself? What on Teyvat? Appearances be damned. Kaveh made his way out to the kitchen; he had to wash his hands and return the honey jar either way after all. Once that task was dealt with he approached his housemate who…

Where was he?

The sounds of running water from the restroom gave away the scribe’s location. Perhaps it really wasn’t all that important after all. For all he knew, Al-Haitham was probably about to inform of something truly infuriating and pointless to him.

-_-

The following week he found the parts to a new piece of furniture, a bed, in one corner of the salon. Oddly enough it was wider than the standard size, perhaps a queen sized bed? How peculiar, from what he’d witnessed of the prickly scholar he didn’t care for such extravagance. No matter, it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

The day after that the architect returned late at night to see a new pile of wood in the salon. Seems the scribe really was upgrading his furniture. Kaveh moved to inspect the craftsmanship on the wood. Al-Haitham had taste, as much as he hated to admit it. Though it was simple, it was tasteful, and would likely not go out of style any time soon.

The following night the reputable architect pulled an all-nighter at his atelier in the Akademiya, working diligently to complete a blueprint, and only managed to finally return to his shared accommodations the night after. Which coincidentally was when things truly became strange. The third room in the house, which was mostly used for storage, was now occupied with that large bed he’d seen before, a closet, and yet another pile of wood in a corner of the room.

Just what on Teyvat was going on?

No sooner had he thought that, then the door had opened, the owner of the house marching in. Excellent timing, truly, he needed an explanation for all of these changes.

“Just what is going on here?” He asked, gesturing to the former storage room.

The pleasant expression the scribe seemed to have before dropped, vanishing without a trace. Wait - pleasant expression? Unless he was reading a book, or things were going his way, that was rare. Was this all an elaborate plot to mess with him? Nevermind that!

“Isn’t it obvious?” The scribe returned.

Kaveh stared at him in silence. 

Obvious? Obvious he says? It was so deep into obscurity that there couldn’t be anything remotely obvious about it. It might as well be the Abyss!

“Had it been obvious I wouldn’t find the need to ask you, now would I?” He sighed.

“You have a tendency to ask about the obvious with little thought,” his junior shrugged, “have you given the situation any thought prior to asking?”

“I’ve given it plenty of thought,” much more than it deserved really, “I was under the impression you were changing your furniture.”

The unimpressed expression his housemate gave him was truly punchable. Clenching his fists to restrain himself from physically attacking his housemate, he continued, “however you’ve placed them in the unused room of all places, what are you planning?”

“You got that far and still didn’t find the answer?” Dear Lesser Lord Kusanali, it was taking every fibre of his being not to grab the nearest thing-a rather large volume that the irritating man had been reading recently coincidentally-and lob it straight into his head. 

The jerk had the audacity to sigh, like he was the one who was tired, “we’re going to have another person living here soon.”

“What?”

“Is it that much of a surprise?” He moved past him to the kitchen, the architect following. “I tried to inform you earlier, however you were busy.”

“When did you-” oh. That was why the scribe had uncharacteristically approached him back then.

Nevermind that though: there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“Who? ” He had to warn them, unless they absolutely, desperately needed lodging, no! Even then! It would be best if they stayed far away from someone so insufferable. Then again he was there, he’d make it all bearable-

“My wife.”

“Your what? ” The architect looked his roommate up and down as though the signs of matrimony would magically appear upon him. “You’re married?”

“Not yet,” came the calm reply.

“You’re engaged?! ” Unbelievable! “Who in Teyvat would agree to marry you?”

“To my understanding, I’m a rather attractive candidate,” the engaged scribe returned calm as ever, “I’m able-bodied, capable of providing due to my prestigious employment, and have a respectable lineage.”

“The poor girl, what sort of trickery did you resort to?” Kaveh would have to find her and ask what possessed her to make such a horrible decision.  

“Trickery? What nonsense are you babbling about?” The scribe folded his arms across his chest.

“What sane, rational lady would agree to wed you?” He marched up to him. “What kind of things did you say to her? I didn’t even think you were capable of such speech!”

The perplexed expression that usually brought him a semblance of joy only served to fan the flames of-of…uh…of confused irritation? 

Surprise? 

Goodness! 

He was a cocktail of bewildering emotions!

“If you’re insinuating I employed dishonest methods to impress my future spouse,” oh bother, he did not have the patience to deal with Al-Haitham’s temperament on a good day - let alone when he’s as deprived of sleep as he was right now, “I’ll have to advise you: choose your next words carefully.”

“You mean to tell me she was impressed by you, as you are?” The blonde scoffed, “there’s no way she knows about your temper.” He waved his hand dismissively, after all if a lady knew of…oh no. “Unless! It can’t be!”

His housemate returned his look of horror with a bored look of his own. 

“Has she been blinded by…by…by,” dear Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word, “l-l-lo lo-loo-temporary affection,” he really couldn’t say it, “and is incapable of thinking rationally when it comes to you?”

He hated to admit it, but he has overheard ladies giggle and croon over Al-Haitham, on the rare occasion they would glimpse him. Well with how he dressed-nevermind that!

“She’s viewing you through a rose tinted lens?! She’s not in the right mindset to be making life decisions then,” oh he absolutely had to find her, “quickly tell me her name.”

To his greatest surprise, Al-Haitham had a rather smug, if small, smile upon his face, “well I can assure you that’s not the case,” he gestured in explanation, “my fiancee was not under the blinding influence of love, or as you put it ‘temporary affection,’” his expression only grew more smug, “we both came to the decision to marry after discussing it in depth and evaluating it rationally.”

Kaveh didn’t believe a word of that. Not for an instant. There was no way. Absolutely not. She had to be a convincing actress or something. 

“Impossible, you’re the only insufferable person who uses logic in these situations,” the architect denied, “she must be a very compelling actress.”

“In which case she would be the dishonest one,” his astute junior returned, “I hope you realize your response implies that she is so acutely infatuated with me she would actively seek to appeal to my personal preferences.”

Why this! 

“How did you arrive at that conclusion?” Disbelief contorted the architect’s pretty features into a scowl. 

The absurdity of such a notion. 

“You said she could be pretending to be rational in order to marry me. By acquiring me as a husband, she establishes an exclusive romantic claim to me and discourages most competition while maintaining leverage against the outliers. All of which would imply a very keen desire to monopolize me, hence: infatuation.”

“That’s not it at all! She could simply be in desperate need of a husband for any assortment of reasons!”

He’s been a fake lover to a lady scholar once or twice, helping them ward off unwanted attention for a while. He’d also heard some scholars complain about how their parents wishing for them to marry was getting in the way of their work. Not to mention the sheer number of scholars who married for the sake of a project or research (which was more often related to genealogy). 

There were the contract marriages of those wishing to be done with it all too. Oddly enough they were mostly successful, with feelings developing between them later.

Unfortunately this poor lady was to marry this bullheaded linguist so the chances of that were nothing short of zero, and he was being generous. On a particularly bad day Kaveh would be compelled to put that number in the negatives.

“So you mean to say you’re concerned I’m being taken advantage of?” The obstinate nuisance inquired. 

“How you arrive at these outlandish conclusions is beyond me,” Kaveh massaged his temples with one hand. 

“As is basic reasoning it would seem.”

“Excuse me?” The disrespect! 

Hmph! 

If he wants to be like that then: “you said your wife,” the poor foolish girl whom he had to rescue, “was coming to live with us.”

“Strictly speaking, given she will be mistress of this house as I am its master and she, my wife,” he spoke coolly, “you will be living with us,” 

The audacity. No matter if he was right! There were kinder ways to put it! 

Nevermind that though, “but you’re not married yet, meaning she’s your fiancée.”

“Yes.”

“Then you mean to say your fiancée is coming to live with us,” while he wasn’t usually one for semantics, he refused to yield.

“While she is currently my fiancée,” now this Haravatat scholar, definitely was a semanticist, “she won’t move in until we marry and hold the wedding ceremony. At which point she will be my wife not fiancée and as my wife she will be coming to live here, with me, as is customary of a married couple.”

“Goodness this poor girl,” well the marriage had yet to go through, “how did you manage this?”

“I proposed.”

“Clearly. No one’s going to propose to you,” Kaveh had so many questions, “But what drove you to propose?”

“Her openness to marriage, obviously” Al-Haitham’s tone revealed just how stupid he thought the inquiry was.

“That’s not-” the blonde sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, goodness he was much too tired for this, “nevermind, who is she?”

“You’ll be meeting her soon enough.”

Ugh. As much as he wanted to save the girl, he was running at fumes and this stubborn ox of a man was not going to budge. Regrettably. 

“When is the wedding? I better be invited.”

“Yes of course,” he gestured noncommittally, “I wouldn’t dare think to exclude my own housemate.”

By the tone he was using it was clear he had considered not inviting him.

–

Kaveh felt he needed to air his grievances about this current dilemma to someone who would be able to fully understand the gravity of the situation. He was also in desperate need of inspiration, so he decided a trip to the Avidya Forest was necessary. He’d be able to kill two birds with one stone that way.

“Al-Haitham? You mean the scribe?” Tighnari’s puzzled expression brought the blonde a sense of calm.

“Yes!” Kaveh responded eagerly. “To think someone so insufferable would!” He paused in the middle of his tirade. “Who could possibly subject themselves to such misery?”

Collei, bless her, the sweet girl, came by with some fresh tea and some snacks at that moment. Her master was quick to take them off her hands, with only a small complaint from her.

“Is Al-Haitham really so bad?” She couldn’t help her curiosity.

She was fortunately spared the misery of having to meet the insufferable scholar. Kaveh couldn’t be any more thankful, truly.

“I’ve told you about what it’s been like living with him,” the architect accepted the little handleless tea cup with its plate that the forest ranger offered him, “and this is just a temporary arrangement caused by extreme circumstances. This girl is about to be permanently stuck in this situation!”

“I imagine her situation will be different from yours given she’ll be his wife,” the proficient botanist offered a cup to his pupil.

“Regardless!” Kaveh continued. “I just want to know who would be so tasteless? so blind? Who could despise themselves so much as to marry Al-Haitham?”

“Hmm, I think you’re asking the wrong question,” came the pensive response of the forest watcher. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m more interested in why he decided to get married,” Tighnari gestured, as he returned to his seat, “he doesn’t seem like the type to particularly enjoy company.”

The blonde paused. 

Truthfully that was curious.

As Tighnari had said: Al-Haitham conducted himself in a manner to ward people off. He wasn’t the type to engage in conversations for the sake of fostering friendships.

“How did this happen?” The curious architect wondered aloud. “Then again he is a man. Perhaps this is just a means to that end?”

“There are alternate solutions that are less work than marriage,” the long-eared fellow rebutted.

“This is true, however,” Kaveh squinted at nothing, frowning, “if we assess this with the rationality he’s obsessed with.”

“Oh. Then I could see why he’d consider it.”

“Yes, rather than regularly exerting effort on varying conquests that could each bring about their own problems,” the blonde pinched the rim of his tea cup, lifting it to his lips, “in this case his conquest resides in his house, requiring little effort.”

“And there would be less complications should these ‘conquests’ result in children,” the ranger added, “though there are contraceptive methods and herbs according to the literature.”

“That is a horrifying thought,” the architect shook his head.

“What is?” One of Tighnari’s ears tilted slightly to one side as if in question, before a laugh emerged from him. “Oh you mean Al-Haitham having kids?”

Kaveh simply nodded.

“Well there’s no guarantee they’ll inherit his personality, they might get their mother’s,” the botanist mused.

“Assuming her personality is radically different,” the blonde leaned back, “according to Al-Haitham he and she decided to get married after assessing it logically.”

“No two people are exactly alike, you know.”

“True, true,” he sat up again in a pensive stance, “now that you’ve mentioned it: it is curious who could have managed to earn his approval.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” Tighnari refilled Kaveh’s tea cup.

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

-_-

The Light of Kshahrewar returned to Sumeru City shortly after, full of inspiration, and even more questions.

The reclusive bookworm of a scribe…yes…who could possibly…draw his attention? Who could possibly be deemed as compatible? Possibly a person of mild temperament? Who knew?

At his atelier, the architect was very pleased to be graced with the presence of a certain Vahumana scholar, to whom he could rant endlessly about every architectural style in history. Yes, this historian was a rapt listener who delighted in the knowledge he offered and often contributed some fascinating facts as well. Facts which sometimes inspired his imagination.

A dear acquaintance.

He’d been in the middle of talking about the architecture and the engineering employed by the ancient desert civilization prior to the destruction caused by the Archon War and whatnot, when the topic of a rumored tomb dedicated to the wife of some king or another came up. 

To his surprise, he did not receive the awe and adoration he’d expected. The response was tame, and mostly curious, bordering on suspicious as the tale seemed unfamiliar to this particular historian. Not that there was any doubting Kaveh’s little fun fact! Not at all! But kings that doted on their wives were few and far between usually.

“You must admit that the notion of a man loving his wife enough to dedicate a great architectural wonder to her is a romantic one though,” the architect insisted.

“It makes for a romantic tale no doubt,” the delightful scholar smiled in concession.

“I sense there is a ‘however’ in your statement,” Kaveh folded his arms across his chest and leaned back.

“Well,” that was a rather tentative tone, “I suppose I could be overly cynical, there is an extensive library of love poems dedicated by men to their lovers.”

The architect felt his previous joy return. Ah if only Al-Haitham were so easy to reason with!

“In all honesty, I am more interested as to how this temple and the theory of it being dedicated to a king’s beloved wife came about,” ah yes spoken like a true Vahumana scholar! “I wonder what analyses and artifacts they excavated to arrive at such a conclusion.”

He hadn’t looked into it much beyond the conjectured blueprints, which were stunning - make no mistake! So, he didn’t have an answer to that. 

Oh well.

At least his enthusiasm regarding how romantic the notion was reciprocated. While the initial response betrayed his expectations: he was delighted that his point of view was now as appreciated as it ought to be. 

After all, who wouldn’t enjoy such a romantic gesture.

Oh.

He knew who.

Al-Haitham.

Hmm…perhaps he could do with a feminine opinion.

“I’d like your opinion on something,” he asked after a short lull in the conversation.

“Yes?”

“My roommate recently mentioned he’s getting married,” he paused staring at some random tile as he gathered his thoughts, “he mentioned he and his fiancée had come to the agreement to marry logically.”

Well that was a strangely awkward look he was receiving, “do you actually believe that?”

“I think people should not neglect rationality when trying to choose a spouse,” he could not believe thi- “though some attraction is also necessary.”

“You mean to say,” Kaveh took a moment to better articulate his thoughts, “love is not necessary when marrying?”

“Which form of love are you talking about?” Goodness, where did the past agreeability go? 

Ah yes! He’d forgotten a critical fact: Vahumana scholars could be just as semantic as Haravatat scholars.

His attention was brought back to the current conversation with a sigh, “I apologize Kaveh, I don’t have the energy needed for this kind of discussion today.”

Oh? Well he could understand that, it was getting to be later in the day, he’d been considering either returning home or heading out to eat.

“A rational conclusion to marry is okay in the presence of subtle attraction,” was the verdict he received.

How astonishing. He’d have expected more weight to be attributed towards emotion. After all sat before him was none other than-ah no he knew better than to use that insulting moniker.

Still he’d expected this scholar to share in his opinion. To stress the importance of love in establishing a relationship. It was strange that the opinion presented was closer to that of Al-Haitham’s. He’d never have expected it.

The well dressed artist blinked himself back into reality when a fancy looking envelope appeared in his peripheral.

“I’d originally intended to give this to you and leave you in peace,” Kaveh found himself receiving a sheepish smile, “however your discussion about the recovered architectural techniques pre-dating the archon war was enthralling! I really enjoyed it! Thank you for telling me about it!” 

The Light of Kshahrewar himself, warmed up at the appreciation expressed. With a final farewell he was left to his own devices.

Naturally his first instinct was to open the envelope. Such fancy stock, was this perhaps a confession? While the feelings wouldn’t exactly be mutual…the architect wouldn’t deny him entertaining the thought of such a relationship following a confession. Besides he could never blame anyone who found him attractive, he- 

“You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Wedding of Al-Haitham and-”

He pushed the card back down, closing the flap of the envelope. Closing his eyes and shaking his head he pulled out the card yet again…

“You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Wedding of Al-Haitham and-”

He once again put the invite into its envelope and closed the flap.

It was a wonder his eyeballs didn’t fall out of their sockets.

The mystery lady, the poor pitiful girl, his target for rescue…

Of all people… 

Al-Haitham was marrying YOU?!

[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 1

series masterlist

pairing: anakin skywalker x f! reader

summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands. 

warnings: minors dni! ageless blogs dni! none this chapter but the series will have eventual smut, canon-level violence and just general warnings. 

a/n: hello hello hello! i’m working on creating more appropriately sized chapters and spacing things out but i’m so excited to work on this series. this series is based on a request from @breatheeagainnnn 

word count: 2.7k 

Anakin Skywalker is lost.

The revelation comes to him when he is lost in the deep waters of his meditation, distanced from the buzzing matter of physical reality as he is swept by the currents of the Force. He drifts without anchor, each surge threatening to submerge him, to overwhelm him if he loses his control.

He seeks to control the Force. The Force seeks to control him. 

And the network of the universe ebbs and flows around him when the truth is drawn from his bones. It’s a presentation of three fragmented parts that unsettle Anakin right down to his soul. 

The first. He is afraid. He is the Chosen One, something he’s heard so much that it has lost its meaning. The Messiah lost the message. 

Bring balance to the Force. Bring balance to the Force. Bring balance to the Force.

He doesn’t know what that means anymore. And if he fails, what then? His fear of falling into the Darkness paradoxically increases the hold that it has on him. 

The second. He pines for what he cannot have. 

Padme Amidala is the breath in his lungs, reviving him with each heartbeat. But she couldn’t love him the way he loves her, telling him as much with just a hint of sadness on her graceful face. She shut him out and without her, he feels weaker. 

The third. Anakin is losing control. Obi-Wan can sense it too, because every training session is overshadowed by a sense of urgency. Every move is sloppier, more dangerous, and even in training, his desire to triumph is clouded by his desperation, as if winning would allow him to truly understand it all. 

And all of this culminates in him realizing that he is lost, without hope and without guidance, and nobody will understand. Obi-Wan could never understand, for he still sees Anakin as the child that he rescued so many years ago. Obi-Wan just doesn’t get him. Master Obi-Wan would do anything for his padawan, truly, but Anakin can’t bear the thought of burdening Obi-Wan with this. Besides, it would only reinforce Obi-Wan’s view that Anakin isn’t ready to be a Jedi Master. 

A knock on the door to his quarters startles him and he scrambles to get up as Master Obi-Wan opens the door. 

“Anakin, there’s someone here to meet us,” Obi-Wan says, frowning. Anakin runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he frantically pieces together an appearance of cool indifference. He’s a Jedi. He can’t feel rattled. The two Knights obscure their faces with their hoods and walk out of Anakin’s quarters. 

Anakin follows Obi-Wan to a room where a single figure stands hidden by a hooded cloak, surrounded by a number of handmaidens each adorning the same pinched, tight-lipped look. 

“Leave us,” a low voice says from under the cloak, and each of the handmaidens file out of the room without sparing even a single glance behind. Anakin reflexively reaches for his lightsaber, but then the figure steps into the beam of light streaming from the window and takes off the hood. And he lays eyes on you for the first time. 

You’re not nearly as beautiful as Padme, nobody is, but still, there’s something so mesmerizing about you. Motes of dust dance in Coruscant sunbeams around your head and it looks like a halo, makes you look holy, and he can’t stop himself from staring. He’s studying the details of your face, scanning, and it’s to a point that he can’t pretend it’s for threats. He almost forgets to breathe when you bow your head to him in respect, and he has to bow back. Anakin’s eyes are still transfixed on you when you begin to speak. 

“Master Kenobi, General Skywalker,” you begin, and the two Jedi push their hoods down. “I come to you in need of assistance. As you are aware, the current Queen of Naboo’s two terms are near their end. But what has been kept secret is that I’ve been chosen as her successor, which will be revealed to the citizens of Naboo in a fortnight.” You take a deep breath and smile weakly as Anakin and Obi-Wan mutter half-hearted congratulations. “What I need is protection.”

“So then why do you require our aid? I’m sure you’re aware that Naboo has its own governmental protective forces, and I’m unsure that they’d take the Jedi Council’s interference in their sovereignty kindly,” Anakin asks. He’s more guarded than he intends to come off, but the question holds still. You don’t appear to be a fool, so there must be more depth to the matter. At his questioning, your eyes flit briefly towards the door before you step closer to the Jedi, toying with the front of your robes as nervousness overtakes you. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m much older than the usual elected Queen, and it is not by coincidence,” you murmur. “I did not get here alone. Under the command of Senator Amidala, I’ve spent the past couple years infiltrating the Naboo separatists. They manipulated the selections such that I would become Queen.” At the mention of Padme, Anakin bites back a sigh and forces himself to pay attention to your words. 

“That is very dangerous,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing his hand over his beard. “I assume you’ve been relaying your findings to the Senator thus far?” 

You nod sharply in response. 

“I see. The Council—“ Obi-Wan begins, but you shake your head frantically and grasp him and Anakin by the robes, pulling them closer to you. 

“No. Not the Council. I do not know who I can trust. There are Separatist spies everywhere. My handmaidens, for example, are all Separatist spies who don’t trust me because Padme is my cousin. While I don’t doubt the integrity of the Jedi Masters, I fear putting them in danger if my operative fails, or if word gets out.” You’re frantic but quiet, and constantly checking at the door to see if any of your wardens have overheard your betrayal.

“And yet you trust us,” Anakin rebuts. He doesn’t trust you, not one bit; how could he ever trust a spy? If you’re so willing to lie, even if it is to the Separatists, how can he be sure that you’re not lying to him? 

“Padme told me that I could trust you. She said to give you this,” you say, shoving your hand into your pockets to produce a necklace, which Anakin recognizes immediately. It’s one he knows all too well, as it’s the necklace he’d gifted Padme before he had even joined the Order. And he decides that if nothing else, you are honest about Padme. And that’s all that matters to him. The part of him that still burns for her overtakes him and he knows that he can’t let her down. 

“I’ll do it,” Anakin says. Obi-Wan glances warningly in his direction, but there’s a certain resignation and relief in Obi-Wan’s posture. Anakin hasn’t taken this kind of initiative in a long time, and Obi-Wan was beginning to grow concerned that all hope for the Chosen One was lost. 

“Alright, the matter is,” Obi-Wan pauses mid-sentence, looking at Anakin’s determination, “settled. We will aid you in your transition away from the Separatist group and expose their interference.” 

”You have misunderstood me, Master Kenobi,” you whisper, voice hush with urgency. “I’m so close to finding out the identities, locations, of key leaders. There are Sith Lords that are regularly hologrammed into our meetings. Should I be tasked with something significant as the Queen, Darth Sidious has already alerted me that I will be tasked with the assignment in his presence.” 

Obi-Wan begins to respond to you, but Anakin cuts him off. “If you have a plan, why don’t you tell us already?” He’s frustrated by your impatience. Maybe Obi-Wan was right about politicians. You glance at him, annoyed. 

“I was getting to it, General Skywalker. As I was saying, this mission is imperative and it is essential to the fate of the Republic and thus, the galaxy, that I am not put in harm’s way before I am able to succeed in exposing the identities of key Separatist forces. I cannot trust the guards provided by the Naboo government, as I don’t know who is a Separatist plant. So—“

“So you need our protection to… what? Kill the spies? And how would that work if Naboo has its own protection for you? I highly doubt they’d take the involvement of the Jedi Council kindly,” Anakin says sharply. You nod at his rapid-fire questioning, unfazed. 

“Something like that. I need to make sure that any communications I have and discoveries I have are protected, and if anyone finds out, that they’re eliminated before they can eliminate me. So not necessarily kill the spies, but I need actual protection, and I need someone that I know I can trust. And…” you trail off and step back, toying with the hem of your sleeves as you sigh. 

“What is it, milady?” Obi-Wan asks you gently. You press your hands to your neck and look up at Anakin. 

“The way I see it, there’s two things we can do. General Skywalker, I understand that as a Jedi Knight, you have a padawan yourself. Ahsoka, correct? We could have her—” 

“No,” Anakin interrupts quickly. “Ahsoka’s far too young, and while I believe that she will grow to be a very competent and powerful Jedi, now is not the time to thrust her headfirst into a mission alone.” You nod at the Jedi’s assessment. 

“Of course, General. We’re thus presented with the second plan. I am, as Queen, permitted to have a husband. I’ve been building the identity of a lover in my life, and while there is none, this leaves me room to marry without suspicion in the eyes of the Separatists.” You take another deep breath and look at both Anakin and Obi-Wan, shoulders tensed. “If I marry either you or Anakin, then I’ll be able to have you in my chambers regularly, privately.” 

“And you’re certain it must be us?” Obi-Wan asks. You nod quickly, sharply. 

“I can’t trust anyone but the two of you,” you whisper. Obi-Wan nods at your words, then bows his head. Anakin follows suit. 

“Thank you, milady. We’ll meet you at midnight, in the gardens, to settle the matter.” Obi-Wan and Anakin hide under their robes once more, being even more careful to disguise themselves as you call out loudly for the handmaidens to return. 

~~~

The hours pass quickly, and you soon find yourself in the cover of the night’s darkness. Sleep eludes you tonight, and you are filled with restlessness. Your handmaidens have retired, sleeping outside of your bedchamber to ensure that you don’t leave. But they fortunately didn’t notice the ledge that goes from underneath the bedroom window to the bridge connecting the guest quarters to the Temple. 

The air in the room feels stale and suffocating as you toss and turn, counting down the minutes until your meeting with the Jedi. Your heart thumps torturously in its cage before you abandon your futile attempt to chase sleep. You find yourself at the window, sliding it open quietly as the breeze rushes in to kiss your face. Coruscant is beautiful and silent at this time of night, with only the whispers of distant sounds of the city blowing past you. 

The building ledge meets your bare feet when you slide over the window, and the distance from you to the ground is dizzying. Your palms and feet begin to feel slippery from sweat as your thoughts begin to spiral, fear of falling weakening you. You force yourself to shuffle closer to the bridge, focusing on controlling your movement as you do. 

And yet somehow, it’s all so freeing from this far up. No restrictions, no eyes on you, and all the troubles in the galaxy seem so small at this height. You could fall. Or you could keep going. The fear wasn’t what mattered, what mattered was that you were here and alone and it felt safer than you have felt in years. 

You force yourself to keep moving, ignoring the sweat gathering at the nape of your neck. Once you reach the bridge, you quickly jump onto it and hurry towards the gardens. 

The moons make the night soft with their hazy light. You swear that the temple seems so much more powerful in this light, with fewer Jedi wandering the grounds. They spare you a glance when you run past, your nightgown fluttering behind you. 

General Skywalker is the first thing you notice when you reach the garden, twirling a flower in his hands. It looks almost out of place with him, delicateness contrasting the strength of his hands. You get the feeling that he knows you’re there, despite the quietness of your arrival and the fact that you’ve been almost holding your breath as you watch him.  

“It won’t be a real marriage, you know. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die.” Ah, yes. Padme had warned you about this— about the intensity of his affection. Anakin Skywalker is not a man who works in subtleties. You hold back a scoff at his arrogance, choosing instead to clasp your hands in front of your nightgown and nod. 

“I don’t ask for your affection, General. Nor your companionship. I would, however, like for us to be allies.” The light of the planet’s four moons is muted in the garden, distorted by the thick layer of clouds and it makes the moment feel private. But you’ve been a double agent for long enough to know that there are always ears and eyes. You hold your tongue in fear of revealing something that could expose your mission just to get General Skywalker’s favor. 

General Skywalker clenches his jaw and drops the flower, studying you before nodding quietly. The flower is crushed under his boot as he stalks towards you. 

“But-” Your breath catches in your throat as you look into his eyes because he’s… pretty. You hadn’t thought of it before now, but as the moons’ lights fall so gently onto him, he seems ethereal. “But you will have to fake your affection, General. If you are unable to do that, I will respect that, but I’m afraid that would mean that you wouldn’t be suited for this mission.” 

“Padme recommended me for this mission, didn’t she?” General Skywalker asks you quietly, and you bite back a sigh at his obsession but find yourself nodding, albeit hesitantly. “Then the matter is settled, milady.” He leans in towards you, and you are lost in his eyes. 

“The matter is far from settled,” Master Kenobi’s sharp voice cuts through. You step back from Anakin, pressing your hand gently on your collarbone as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Your ears ring with embarrassment at the closeness that the Jedi Master had found you two in. 

“Agreed, Master Kenobi. I propose that General Skywalker join me within a month’s time on the planet. We will rendezvous somewhere we’ll be caught, publicly but also by my handmaidens.” 

“Force their hands,” Master Kenobi says, rubbing his jaw with the pads of his fingers as he thinks through the details of your plan. 

“I take issue with one large part, milady,” General Skywalker objects. He looks irritated, as he mostly has within the short time that you’ve interacted with him. Is this how he is as a lover? If so, no wonder Padme left him. 

Master Kenobi sighs aggravatedly and waves at the General, urging him to continue. “Padawan, I’d like to finish this conversation before the sun rises.” 

“I’ve got the feeling that it’ll do more than raise a few eyebrows if the Queen suddenly gets a new husband, all while one of the Jedi Knights and padawan to one of the greatest masters is… what, on a mission?” 

You smile grimly at his question. 

“There’s an easy answer to that question, General.” General Skywalker narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “You’ll have to fake your death.” 

[slytherheign]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS | daniel ricciardo

PART 4/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: ex!daniel ricciardo x fem!reader, max verstappen x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

WARNINGS: rejection, false hope, infatuation, feelings of hurt and overwhelming pain. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. we have reached the end of the series! sorry if i hurt some of you emotionally. btw, there are a lot of references to the previous parts in this.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Rejection.

A word that carried so much weight in matters of the heart. It hit him with a force he never saw coming, leaving him breathless, bewildered, and questioning every decision he had made.

The pain of rejection cut deep, undermining the confidence he once had, and casting shadows over the hopes and dreams he dared to envision. 

Rejected.

Rejected from McLaren.

Rejected from a Red Bull seat.

And now, he was rejected once again.

In an instant, his world felt shattered, and he questioned just how worthy he truly was of love and affection.

He poured his heart out, baring his soul in that vulnerable moment when he knelt on one knee. He thought you had shared something meaningful, a connection that was genuine and real.

He thought it would be enough.

Daniel’s car traveled home with one less person inside that night. But even if he was already in his garage, he refused to step out of his car. He stayed so he could sit there in his hurt. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within him.

It was hard, almost impossible, not to take it personally, to wonder what could have gone wrong. Was it something he said? Something he did? Or perhaps it was simply a matter of timing and circumstance, beyond his control.

He ran his hand through his hair, his face reflecting a mixture of frustration and resignation.

He could say that he longed for clarity, a glimpse into your thoughts and reasons, but that would be a lie. Because in all honesty, he kind of saw it coming.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that you picked Max or the fact that there was a part of him that always knew you would pick Max.

Why did he even try?

Oh, right.

Hope.

Because of hope.

He tried because you showed him hope.

You showed him hope—a glimmer of light that he hadn't seen in ages. Life had become monotonous, blending into an array of muted gray, until you came along. Your entry into his life was like a vibrant burst of color, injecting new life into his weary soul. He dared to hope, to believe that he had found something extraordinary.

It was a peculiar feeling. To be caught between longing and despair, to have his heart both soar and shatter within the same breath. The intoxicating aura of love was both a beacon of hope and a cruel illusion, and he found himself entangled in that painful paradox.

With a final deep breath, he left his car, ready to face his family who were staying in his home just for this special night. He told his family for a reason, he just couldn’t keep it in.

But now he wished he didn’t.

Cheer and applause were what met him when he entered the door. His family had huge smiles plastered on their faces, clearly excited about the news they were expecting. 

Until it stopped.

It all stopped when his lips trembled, trying to fake a smile. 

It all stopped when they saw the tears on his face.

They didn’t even need to ask what happened. They already knew.

His sister splashed out the bottle of Dom Perignon, but no one was celebrating. 

"She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's fucked in the head," his father said. His mom’s ring was still in his pocket, and your picture was still in his wallet. But love… 

Love slipped beyond his reaches.

There was nothing to celebrate.

Max was walking you home, still holding the umbrella to protect you from the rain. Neither of you spoke and neither of you really cared. Max knew, from the way your lips shook, eyes cried, and the whimpers that left your mouth, that you did not want to speak at that moment. He respected and understood that.

He was more understanding now than he was before.

You were speechless. Your mouth could not utter a single word, but your mind made up for it by clouding itself with overwhelming thoughts.

You remembered that one night when fate played a part in your first meeting with Daniel. 

That night, he asked you to dance and you refused. You refused because you knew he was asking you to dance to a song of love and new beginnings.

But after a single conversation, it was you who asked him if he was still willing to dance.

You always knew that dancing was a dangerous game. But that night, you started it when you offered your hand to Daniel.

The dance continued. 

But now, you dropped his dance while dancing. Left him out there, crestfallen on the landing with your champagne problems.

One for the money.

Two for the show.

You never were ready.

So, you let him go.

And you left him alone.

You just didn’t know the answer until he was already on his knees and asked you.

You couldn’t even give him a reason.

His proposal should have brought you joy, excitement, and a feeling of being cherished. But instead, you had found yourself struggling, torn between the present and the ghosts of your past.

The same exact past that was walking beside you right now.

It was not that Daniel wasn't kind or loving, he truly was. He possessed all the qualities one could desire in a partner. But your heart lingered elsewhere.

There was someone before him. Someone who awoken a flame within you, a love so fierce and profound that it felt like it could withstand anything. And then, life happened, you drifted apart, and your paths diverged towards separate horizons.

But even as the seasons changed, and new opportunities came knocking at your door, that love never truly left you. It remained etched in the deepest recesses of your being, an indelible mark upon your soul.

Accepting his proposal would have been a betrayal, not only to him, but to yourself as well. It was a painful decision to make, but you owed it to yourself and to him, to be honest and not settle for anything less than a love that was pure. For one can only truly give their heart to another when they are whole themselves.

His heart was glass and you dropped it.

You didn’t even notice you reached your apartment until Max opened the door for you. He sat you down on your couch, before leaving you for a moment to heat some water and prepare a bath for you. 

He went back right after, crouching in front of you so he could see your face. You were looking down, still crying. He placed a finger under your chin, moving it upwards so you could face him. And then he fixed the wet hair that covered your face, wiped your tears, and kissed your forehead.

The heart wants what it wants, and yours was still beating in an unbreakable rhythm alongside the person in front of you—Max.

You suddenly recalled what Daniel told you before, when he told you an advice his father gave him and then he explained it.

“Time matters, yes. But the length is subjective. Love is not supposed to be a competition where time is the sole judge. Sometimes, longer doesn’t mean healthier, and shorter doesn’t make it insincere or artificial.”

He said that love was not supposed to be a competition. And he was not wrong about that.

It wasn’t a competition because it never was a competition in the first place.

You loved Daniel, but you were in love with Max.

It was always Max.

He poured his heart into that proposal, believing that you were the one. He had envisioned a future together with you, filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. But perhaps fate had different plans in store for him. And though it stung him, he must pick up the pieces and keep moving forward.

His heart ached now. Those promises whispered in the darkest hours, the dreams woven with tender hands, they all shimmered with the possibility of a love that transcended boundaries. He clung to those words, as fragile as glass, praying that they would withstand the test of time.

Yet, here he was, lost in a labyrinth of broken dreams. The reality bit bitterly, gnawing at the frayed edges of his shattered heart. False hope, they called it. A cruel game of chance that you unwittingly roped him into. He knew, deep down, that you didn't do it intentionally. And that knowledge is what steeped his sorrow in a pot of bittersweet brew.

Because despite the pain that seared through his veins, he couldn't summon an ember of anger towards you. Love had a way of blinding people to the faults of those we held dearest. And so, he found himself teetering on the precipice of resentment and forgiveness, unable to fully commit to either.

It was a lonely place to be trapped in, the emotional escape room in his heart that didn't have an escape. The echoes of once-hopeful conversations reverberated through the hollow chambers of his mind, each word etching deeper into his wounded heart. 

Though the pain felt overwhelming now, Daniel knew that time would heal his wounds. It may take days, weeks, or even months, but he would pick up the pieces, rebuild his shattered heart, and learn to love again.

NETHERLANDS. AUGUST 25, 2024.

Daniel was running down the paddock, planning to head to the pitlane when a curious photographer stopped him to ask a question.

“Sorry for asking this, but I think I speak for all of us,” the photographer pointed to the fans behind him who were clearly recording this exact moment. They cheered the moment Daniel looked at them and he smiled. “When I say we are all curious about what really is your relationship with Y/N?” the photographer continued.

He chuckled. “Why did you want to know that?”

“Well, she hasn’t been beside you for months and then we just saw her with Max hours ago before you came.”

He could only smile, a genuine one.

“Y/N and I are friends, really close friends like what we’ve always been.”

“Really? Some of us thought you were dating because she was seen a lot with you before,” a fan shouted.

He laughed.

They didn’t need to know.

“What? I can’t have a female friend now?” he joked.

“Now that I’m thinking about it… you never launched anything,” the photographer mentioned.

Right. Even after dating you for months, you didn’t want to be affectionate with him in public. That was another telltale sign he chose to ignore. That was the reason he decided to propose in just under 6 months of being in a relationship with you. It was because he was in a rush, he thought that if you became engaged, you would finally let him tell the world about the two of you.

Now that he thought about it, maybe what he had was just an infatuation. An infatuation so intense that it hurt like the real thing. Maybe for so long, he just wanted to feel something and you came along at the right time. He didn’t even know anymore. And he didn’t want to know. It was all in the past.

“That’s right,” Daniel nodded. “Because we have nothing to launch.”

Just as he said that, you and Max entered his view. You two were holding hands and Max was laughing at something you said.

Daniel smiled.

“Look at them,” he gestured to you and Max, the photographer and the fans looked at who he was pointing to. “Max and her are literally meant for each other.”

“I’ve never seen Max laugh like that before,” the photographer said.

“Well, Y/N is the only one who could make him laugh like that if we’re being honest,” he chuckled again. “They make a great couple, they make each other so happy. And I’m happy for them,” he said.

Love wasn't a dead-end road; it was a winding path, full of twists and turns. Rejection was a part of that journey. For deep within, beyond the realms of rejection, dwelled a longing for love that refused to extinguish. He believed there was someone out there, someone who was meant to be for him, just as you were meant to be with Max.

There was one more thing Daniel always believed in other than taking chances.

It was that everything happens for a reason.

You and Max caught his eyes. Max nodded at him, he nodded back. 

If he could turn back time, he wouldn't change a thing.

He may not have found the love of his life, but he did find another best friend. 

He smiled at both of you, and you returned his smile.

You both knew Daniel would find the real thing instead.

She would patch up the tapestry that you shred.

And he wouldn’t even remember all your champagne problems.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

JOIN THE FINALE CELEBRATION!

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 58 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 57.1 | lesson 57.2 | lesson 58.2 | lesson 59

throwing us back into the SF after the last lesson's cliffhanger was indeed a choice

i wanted him so become a demon so bad y'all don't understand 💔 i'm happy that they didn't do a full 180 and turn him back into an angel though bc his fall was so pivotal to his character arc

this is actually really interesting. i wonder how much of his angel-ness is in his genetic/physical makeup, too, considering the fact that he still has demonic genes despite never fully turning into one

i feel like the different sets of genes battling for power also explains why he seemed emotionally off and physically sick when we found out he was turning into a demon. maybe he was like 95% human and 5% angel up until a certain point

we know that mammon's skin has burns on it from the celestial jewelry he used to wear, so maybe their angelic genetic makeup got physically and chemically destroyed during their fall. maybe simeon's body still had some kind of angelic genetic makeup until he started turning into a demon, and then the demonic genes destroyed whatever angelic part was left of him

either the celestial realm didn't know about what would happened to simeon when he became human and spent excessive time in the devildom, or they didn't care and wanted him to suffer the possibility of transforming into one due to overexposure as an extra cruel punishment

part of me wants to believe that they didn't know bc of the way raphael reacted, but i still don't trust michael. at ALL.

idk i'm yapping

i still want simeon to turn into a demon but i don't want him to have to go through the physical and emotional pain it takes to get there. but i also don't want him to suffer through not able to physically be there for raph and luke bc he don't he allowed back in the celestial realm if he's a demon. UGH

ahhhh yes i love it when the stakes are raised

but are they really raised when we know that simeon's not gonna die? probably...hopefully

idk maybe that teaser really did mean something...

i'm very glad that it isn't just a one-and-done kinda solution though. that makes it more engaging

see every time i wanna praise him for thinking of something smart and sweet and kind he ALWAYS has to bring a profit into the situation 😭 this mf

also "fartin' around" ?? (i can't believe i just typed that) LET MY MAN SAY FUCK. we all know it's what he meant

beel just like me bc my dumbass didn't know what the fuck a manchineel was. googled it to see if it was a real word

if y'all could've heard the sigh i just let out 😭 it's okay though. it's fine

i'm a little less mad bc it's what simeon himself said that he wants. even though he said he never really felt like an angel in the way that the rest of the celestial realm angels did but whatever. i think he's doing it in part because he does miss being an angel, but mainly because he wants to be able to be there for luke and raphael after seeing how his transformation affected them, and he won't be able to be there in the way that he wants or the way that they need him to be if he's not an angel, or at least allowed in the celestial realm

honestly if he turns into a demon atp it's just the devs fucking with him just bc they like to torture his character 😭 like imagine the potion is something that reveals someone's "innermost desires" or the race that their soul is destined to be and he ends up not being an angel ??? luke especually would be devastated

the fact that they have to go all the way back to the cave where they met cerberus to find the last ingredient feels kinda full circle. i feel like they knew the game was ending here

bc why else would the apple be in a place that solidified the brothers' positions and status into what we know them as in the present day

this also makes me kinda sad bc there was so much potential to explore the time paradox shit they alluded to all throughout the game

from the characters in the past feeling like the guest room was a second home

to the brothers in the past feeling intrinsically connected to mc despite never having seen them before

to the characters in the present feeling like they hadn't seen mc in months and crying uncontrollably for seemingly no reason

and now this...

i did the other option too just to see what levi's reaction was and GOD i wish we had more than 2 lessons left

are they gonna make barbatos time travel to get the apple? what if they travel to the exact time that mc and the brothers went there and the gang ends up seeing mc in the past through barbatos' portal? UGH i wish they did more with the time travel stuff it would've been so cool