#unwilling bride series

[gojoest]

ENTANGLED ━━━ chapter one

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin f! reader

series masterlist┊next chapter

synopsis: you — the daughter of zenin naobito (the head of the zenin clan), born with no cursed energy and therefore deemed to be the disgrace of the clan — have only one dream. to escape from your own blood that’s rejected you ever since birth, even if it means you have to dirty your hands in the process. when simply running away is not an option, for they would indubitably find you and drag you back for worse, you find your getaway in the arms of an enemy clan  

warnings: MDNI, canon divergent, non-linear narrative (a lot of jumping back and forth between past & present, it’s indicated accordingly), female reader, she/her pronouns, reader is a zenin born without cursed energy, discrimination, abuse and bullying during childhood (she gets the toji treatment :/), brief mention of direct maternal death (regarding reader’s mother), childhood friends that fall out but come together, marriage of convenience (but with a twist), eloping, pining, kind of slow burn ngl, ijichi, shoko, geto, naoya + naobito cameo, mentions of food and alcohol, terms of endearment (calls you miss zenin, bride-o-mine, then mrs gojo later on + sweetheart <- so do you but with a lot of sarcasm behind it), sexual tension, male masturbation, although it’s left vague there’s some elements of incestuous behaviors on naoya’s end, wc: 9.3k

chapter one guideline & timeline:

I. The News — takes place in the present time.

II. The Proposal — two weeks prior to The News.

III. Sealing The Deal — two days after The News.

IV. The Past — flashback to the past, mainly from reader’s pov. this part is to be continued in chapter two, from satoru’s pov.

V. The First Night — after Sealing The Deal.

VI. Bad Faith — the day after The First Night.

The News 

Nobody could ever predict what Gojo Satoru was up to, except for one specific behavioral aspect of his — those who’ve spent a fair amount of time around him could easily figure that whatever it was on that man’s mind, it was, without any doubt, unorthodox and crazy. 

Yet every now and then, Gojo Satoru managed to outdo himself and exceed even their wildest expectations. This time — by dropping a bomb nobody saw coming, especially not from him.  

“Gojo-san, there’s an upcoming mission assigned to your students, and you are to supervise them throughout it”, Ijichi hands a document regarding the occasion, but his arms hang in the air as the blindfolded man is absorbed in a rather peculiar activity, patently unwilling to receive the papers. 

“Eeeh”, Satoru drags out a displeased whine, without even bothering to look at Ijichi. Currently seated and mindlessly spinning around in a swivel chair that he rummaged out earlier that day from one of the storage units in Jujutsu High and dragged into the classroom for god knows why. His entire attention focused on keeping his long legs up in the air as he spins as fast as he can without possibly breaking the chair, but still, he shows some semblance of interest. “When? Where? What’s it about?”, the words spoken in slow monotone. 

If you look at the papers, you might know the answer to all these, Gojo-san. Ijichi thinks to himself but, of course, doesn’t dare say it out loud. “It’s in two days from now, the location is—” 

“Stop right there”, Satoru cuts him off, ceasing his childish ministrations with his feet landing a heavy stomp on the floor. He slowly gets up. “In two days?”, he rubs his chin, thinking, “I am afraid, I can’t. I am getting married then” 

Of course, you are. Ijichi thinks in an internal monologue. 

“With all due respect, Gojo-san”, he clears his throat to push back the laughter that’s about to climb up and out his throat. “You could’ve come up with a better excuse than this to, umm—”, after fixing his glasses, he continues, “—ditch your duties” 

“That was not an excuse, Ijichi, nor was it a joke. I can’t believe you think so lowly of me as a teacher”  

For a second there, the evident seriousness in his voice sends a shiver down Ijichi’s spine, which, to be honest, is not entirely caused by the way Gojo spoke to him, but also what he spoke of just now.  “I really am getting married”, he repeats. 

“Oh?”, Ijichi’s eyes widen, unable to utter another word other than an exclamation while processing the credibility of his words. This man is not joking? This man, of all men, is getting married? For real? 

“To be more precise — in two days from now, I will be busy kidnapping this bride-o-mine” 

“Oh?!”, still speechless, another gasp leaves Ijishi’s mouth. “You’re eloping?”  

“That is correct, ten points for you Ijichi!”, Satoru claps his hands. “Keep this a secret for the time being. I know it's a matter of time for everyone to know, but I'd rather they found out after it’s official since prying eyes might get in our way and spoil our plans. Got it?” 

Ijichi only nods in return. 

“Good. As for the mission — let Nanami handle it in my stead, the students will be fine as long as he’s with them” 

After Satoru left, excusing himself with a “oh, so many things to do before the big day, you know?” spoken with his trademark silly chuckle, Ijichi stood there in the empty classroom for a while, frozen. Shocked to his core still, but now also curious. Who was that woman to make Gojo Satoru want to marry her? 

The Proposal 

(two weeks ago) 

“To say I was surprised to get a call from you would be an understatement, Miss Zenin”, Satoru grinned at you, taking off his sunglasses immediately upon your arrival and placing them on the table. 

It’s not that you were late — he was simply early, something quite bizarre for him honestly. Already ordered drinks for the both of you and waiting for you to show up with his legs crossed and fingers nervously tapping on the table — again, being nervous was something quite unusual for him as well. 

“And to ask me to meet you here of all places—”, he sprawled out on the chair, leaning his back against the wooden splat, his long legs reaching the other side of the table from beneath and pushing the chair there with his feet to invite you to sit. He was being a gentleman in his own way, to which you rolled your eyes but made no remark. “Are you going to ask me to kill someone for you?”, a mocking chuckle escaped his lips after he finished his sentence. 

“Not necessarily”, you replied, unamused.  

The day before, you called him. Asking to meet you here, in this secluded spot disguised as a cafe which regular people avoided, since it was a place swarmed by dangerous individuals and illegal activities. Drugs, kidnapping, assassination — whatever shady dealing you could think of. It had to be this place, after all there was no way for a Zenin to meet a Gojo out in the open, considering the bad blood between the two clans since generations ago. Especially not the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the clan head, and Gojo Satoru, the pride and leader of the Gojo clan. It would’ve caused consequences, for you at least. 

“You’ve got some balls to come here alone though, I must admit. As intriguing as always”, Satoru scoffed. “I don’t remember the last time I sat this close to you. Not since we were kids”, his lips slightly curved into a nostalgic smile as he reminisced about old times. “Now you avoid me anywhere you see me, like I’m some sort of disease”, and the smile shifted back to a regular one, although you could tell it was forced, just to keep his usual nonchalant appearance. “Not that we meet outside of clans’ gatherings, but still—” 

“Can we skip the yapping and cut to the chase? I don’t have much time”, you interrupted. “Sure, Miss Zenin”, he shot back. 

Miss Zenin. The way he called you that annoyed you abysmally, and that probably was his intention all along. But you had to ignore it for now, you really didn’t have much time on your hands — you had to go back home before anyone would notice you weren’t around. 

“I have a favor to ask, actually — it’s more of a proposal” 

 “Listening”, his head tilting to the side, eyes locked on your lips, awaiting the words. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Silence. 

It took him a few seconds before he could speak, pondering in his head whether he heard you right. Eventually the only word he could utter was “What?”, to which you said nothing. You figured it was best to give him some time to process the information.  

“What’s the catch?”, he spoke again, eyes now squinting. 

“Glad you asked”, you gave him a knowing smile. 

“Of course. I would say it’s a joke but no way you’d call me out of the blue just to pull my leg” 

“True, it isn’t a joke” 

“I believe it’s not out of love either? Unless... I am wrong? Have you been harboring such strong feelings towards me all these years?”, his tone slowly transitioning back into mocking after the initial shock had faded. 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “You wish. See, that would only happen in your dreams” 

Laughing, he slowly shifted in his seat. Leaning his body forward to rest an elbow on the table and press a cheek against his palm, his other hand playing with the straw of his drink. “So, you want out of the clan, huh? And finally have the courage to do it” 

“You figured?” 

“Well, I grasp things quickly. Considering how the Zenins treat women and especially those born without cursed energy, like yourself, this wasn’t hard to predict. But I am surprised by the choice of your method” 

“And I am surprised you didn’t cut me out by now since this was a shot in the dark”, you eyed him, baffled but pleasantly. 

“Let’s say I am intrigued by your proposal, which turned out to be quite unromantic, but I'll look past it”, a mystifying grin splattered on his lips. "Also, as you already know, there’s a Zenin or two I am willing to help”, he laughed. “So, tell me — what’s in that beautiful head of yours?” 

"Well, as you already guessed — I want to leave the clan. Being a Zenin is not for me, never has been. I’ve been treated like an abomination all my life, looked down upon like I barely fit the criteria to be human in their eyes just because I was not gifted with abilities, and I am done with it”, you paused, trying to hold back the cracking of your voice. All the years of mistreatment washing over you as you spoke. You took a deep breath, “Simply running away is not an option, they will find me and drag me back for worse. You know it. But if you help me—” 

“—their hands will be tied”, he finished your sentence.  

You nodded. “They can’t go against you. Well, there might be a slight commotion, namely coming from my brother, Naoya. But he won’t do anything brash without father’s approval” 

“That lousy brat? I didn’t know the two of you were so close”, Satoru lifted an eyebrow, a bit bothered by this. 

“We’re not, but it’s complicated” 

He got the message — you did not wish to talk about it. And he’d let it slide. For now. “And you think you’ll be free once you become a Gojo?” 

“Not immediately, but eventually — yes. I don’t plan on staying by your side until death do us part, you know” 

“What an eventful meeting this turned out to be — first I get a marriage proposal, and now a divorce, all at once”, he laughed, covering his eyes with a hand. Perhaps to hide something in them that didn’t quite align with his laughter. “What if I get attached and refuse to let you go?”, he spoke, with a tone more serious that it took you aback a bit. “Have you considered this?” 

“Are you a comedian now?”, you brushed it off. “We both know such thing won’t happen” 

“How come you’re so sure?” 

“It’s happened before, you know it” 

“We were kids back then”, he smiled softly, with a sprinkle of regret on his lips. “We used to sneak out to spend time together, but things are different now” 

“But you stopped coming” 

“My training got more intense, didn’t have time for games anymore” 

“You bet. I know you did it to keep me out of trouble. You were aware I was getting scolded and punished for meeting you” 

“Oh?”, he gasped. “You knew?”, a powerless laughter followed the realization that all these years you didn’t just avoid him out of spite. Part of him felt at ease about it, that you always understood him, even without words. Just like back then. Maybe because you were both a mutation of a different breed — a special boy put on a pedestal by many, a monster if you will; and a nonspecial girl looked down upon by her own blood as a disappointment, barely a human — yet the loneliness you carried weighed the same on your hearts. 

“Yea”, you sighed. “Back then you did it to keep me out of trouble, now you’ll do it to get me out of one. When the time comes, we’ll separate but keep it a secret. If my clan finds out, they won’t let it slide. I’ll show up for gatherings every now and then, to dodge any possible suspicions, but that’s all. Treat this like a deal” 

“That’s all good, but deals require an equivalent exchange so both parties benefit from it. You get your freedom. But what about me — what do I get in return?” 

Your lips curved into a scarce smile, delighted that he was willing to negotiate. This could actually work, you thought. “Well, it’s not like your family will be very pleased to have me but still. The most important thing is, you won’t ever have to deal with the blind dates your clan sets you up on, with an arranged marriage in mind. I bet they’re nagging you about it constantly since you’re pretty much of age now” 

“What my clan is concerned about is an heir, marriage is just a stepping stone. How will this temporary thing between us do that? Temporary and fake on top of that?”, he questioned through a scorn. 

“I’ll give you a child”, you shot at him in a heartbeat, voice unwavering. This was part of the plan after all. 

“What?”, he laughed, tilting his head in pure astonishment at your offer. 

“We will lead a normal married life, like a proper wife and husband. I’ll have your child, this secures me even better. That way I’ll be tied to the Gojo clan forever, not the Zenin” 

“You’re aware what we need to do in order for you to have my child, right?” 

You were, but when he put it like that your face got hot against your will, heat burning your cheeks and sizzling on your ears. “I am”, you mumbled, unable to look him in the face. Petrified to meet his gaze. 

“You really are insane”, he covered his face with both hands. Perhaps he was petrified, too. 

“Coming from you that’s rather concerning. Now back to the point — you up for it?” 

“Alright. Let’s do it” 

Sealing The Deal 

(back to present) 

For the past two days Satoru pulled all the strings possible in order to speed up the marriage procedure. He diligently prepared all the needed documents to officially register your matrimony. All that was left was to go to the ward office and submit the marriage application after signing it along with two witnesses. 

With that, today would mark your last day as a Zenin. 

“Do you know who the girl is?”, Shoko asks, leaning against the wall in the ward office hallways, waiting for Satoru and the mystery bride to arrive. 

Geto shrugs from next to her, “Nope, no clue. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is happening — he is actually getting married” 

“You of all people didn’t know he was involved with someone?”, she scoffs, turning her head in his direction. “Strange, maybe he was hiding the love of his life from you so you wouldn’t snatch her away” 

“He wasn’t involved with anyone, if he was — we both would’ve known. Besides, what do you mean by that? I would never break the bro code, come on” 

A semblance of a lazy laugh slips through Shoko’s lips. One can tell she didn’t get much sleep (again) by how lethargic and unenthusiastic her reactions were. “Girls end up falling for you always, so maybe he chickened out to introduce her” 

“That’s because he sucks with girls”, Geto snorts.  

Satoru wasn’t exactly the sweep-you-off-your-feet type of guy. His looks were bewitching, that was a given, and women would latch on him, only to give up shortly after. And all the reviews were unanimous — I want someone that will put me first, but with him — I don’t see it ever happening, his mind is elsewhere.  

“Maybe he finally caved in after years of his family pestering him to get married”, Shoko throws another guess. 

“Satoru caving in to an arranged marriage? Seriously, Shoko... Does he look like the type to listen to what elders tell him to do?” 

“He never looked like the marrying type either, yet here we are” 

“I don’t know”, Geto sighs heavily. “This is way too odd” 

“Hey, hey~”, Satoru’s voice echoes through the hallways. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my bride was barely able to sneak out from the Zenins. You know how the old farts there are” 

Hearing the name Zenin, Shoko and Geto glance at each other with the same perplexed look in their eyes. A Zenin? Sneaking out? 

Forcing a somewhat adequate smile, you shake their hands. You could tell they were taken aback after hearing your name, it was written all over their faces that they didn’t quite endorse this insane whim of Satoru’s. 

“Satoru, can I have a quick word with you”, Geto pulls him to the side after giving you a polite smile as a form of apology. 

“Are you eloping?”, he whispers, although quite audibly, “With a Zenin? Have you actually lost your mind, Satoru?” 

“Suguru”, Satoru lazily drapes an arm over Geto’s shoulder, “Yes to your first question, as for the second — have you ever seen me be normal about anything?”, he laughs. 

“Not the right time to humor your misery, Satoru”, Geto says through gritted teeth all while forcing a smile looking your way, to avoid any awkward impression on your end that the two of them were talking about you (even though that’s exactly what was going on). “There’s existent animosity between your clans already, are you trying to start an actual war all over again?”, he snaps, giving a sharp nudge to his side. 

“Ouch~”, Satoru yelps. “Come on, Suguru. What can they do to me?”, his words brimming with confidence compel Geto to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Do you remember, that one time on the rooftop back when we were still students in Jujutsu High, I told you about a girl from my childhood?”, Satoru continues. 

Geto nods. He does remember it vividly, after all it was the first and last time Satoru has ever talked about a girl of his own accord and with so much passion behind his voice. 

“That’s her.” 

“It’s our turn”, Shoko interrupts. “Let’s go get you married” 

As you all entered the hall, Suguru gave Satoru a soft pat on the back and glanced over his shoulder at Shoko with a validating nod. 

Satoru got a pass from his moral compass. 

-- 

Signatures were inked, rings were exchanged, and vows were made to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part. 

It is said that vows are crucial in a marriage, they set the tone for your relationship going forward and serve as a ground to build your values on. Whatever values could be built on a soil soaked with lies, you thought to yourself as you all walked out. As soon as the ceremony was over Shoko rushed out to get the dose of nicotine her body was yearning for the entire time inside the ward office, leaving you three behind. 

There was nothing holy about your union, it was a lie to begin with. And, naturally, so were your vows. It shouldn’t bother you this much that you were to break the fake promises you just made to the man that handed you a one-way ticket to your freedom. 

“What’s with the face, Mrs. Gojo?”, Satoru softly pokes you in the arm, the unease in your expression doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “We just tied the knot, yet you look like you just walked out of a funeral” 

A funeral. Right. That’s how it felt to you. 

You buried yourself, your past, in there. You got what you wanted, but part of you was terrified of the new person you were to become. Mrs. Gojo, huh? You were not in the right headspace to be snarky about it now. 

“I’m fine. All these formalities are draining, that’s all” 

“Then we’ve got to recharge”, he grins, then turns around and shouts at Geto who’s walking a few steps behind and scrolling on his phone, “Suguruuu, let’s celebrate, shall we?” 

“Geez, you’re loud, Satoruuu”, he cracks an irked grimace, sticking a pinky finger into his ear. 

“There’s no need for that”, you whisper, tugging at the hem of his shirt.  

Satoru’s fingers trace over your knuckles, hesitant to get a proper hold of your hand, but he gives in anyway, “We have to pretend there is”, he speaks in a low voice, and wraps his hand around yours. “Besides, it’s lunchtime. We need to eat” 

You don’t resist, neither his touch nor his words.  

On your way to the restaurant that your (now) husband made a quick call to reserve a table for four, Satoru sat on the driver’s seat — a rare occasion, usually Ijichi drives him everywhere — glancing at you beside him on the passenger seat at every opportunity, studying your features and how much they’ve changed compared to his childhood memories of you. It’s not like he never saw you after that. But you’d never let him take a good long look at you, always running away the moment you noticed him around. Before he could know it, he was smiling, mouth agape — a soundless “ha” passing through the crack of his lips, the sunlight hitting his eyes, yet he couldn’t blink — he had to take you in. He was back to being a child at that moment, wearing his genuine feelings on his face without knowing how to mask them. And you... you were even prettier now. 

The two sitting on the backseat exchanged an astounded look after observing the scene unfolding before their eyes. Who would’ve guessed that their friend had such a hidden, soft spot for someone and could make such genuine faces? 

The Past 

You were born with bad luck. 

That’s what you told yourself. And that’s what others, who felt sorry for you, thought so too. Mostly those unfortunate enough to be servants in the Zenin clan that have witnessed way too many things happen to you. 

First, you were born into the Zenin Clan as the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the leader — that alone was the biggest mishap the heavens bestowed you with. A problematic clan with questionable values, where owning powerful cursed techniques was held in highest regard and considered the measure of your worth as an individual and whether you were fit to be a Zenin. Rejecting, without an ounce of remorse, their own flesh and blood and looking down at them like inferior beings did they deem their ability weak and unworthy. 

With that being said, here comes the second — you were born into that clan, with no cursed energy. You didn’t make the cut ever since the beginning. The clan didn’t even mourn the fact you were lacking, they simply treated you indifferently, and sometimes with disgust, like you were one of the servants — easily replaceable. “It’s not enough that you were born a girl, but you are also lacking the gift. You were never meant to be part of this family to begin with, the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”, your grandmother would often tell you, right before throwing you into the disciplinary pit with curses. Till then, maybe through some miracle you could manifest some cursed energy if she locked you up there for long enough, so you could be at least a little bit useful. 

Wait. There’s a third, too — your mother lost her life giving birth to you. It’s not like you felt any guilt for that, you never knew what parental love was anyway, therefore didn't see it as a burden that weighed on your conscience. In fact, you were partly relieved that there was one person less to mistreat you there. 

Your older brother, Zenin Naoya, would often use this to harass you. Telling you “Maybe you’re not that hopeless after all, since you killed mother. Or maybe that’s even worse — she’s going to be your only kill” with that revolting laugh of his.  

Other kids looked down on you too, avoiding you like you carried some disease. There were rumors even, how childish, now what you think back — that if you came closer to them, you’d rid them of their powers and of their mothers too. Oddly enough, those rumors were started by none other than your brother. Perhaps he wanted to be the only one to pick on you. While he made every woman walk three paces behind him, he’d keep you close, telling you in a condescending manner “How am I to look down on you if you keep walking behind me, little lamb?” 

And you truly were a little lamb. Living and growing only to get the life in you eaten away by the Zenins. A sacrifice for no good. 

But the summer of your sixth year was different. 

You met a boy. 

He looked like winter in the middle of summer. Snow-white hair falling over his face and likewise lashes, sitting like tender snowflakes on his eyelids. The bluest blue in his eyes you had ever seen in your life, and if you stared long enough it’d throw you into a trance. 

There was a sense of loneliness to him akin to winter too. 

How when the cold months came around, people would spend less time outside and instead run to their homes to warm up in front of the fireplace. He was the winter people were hiding from. 

And you figured, you had heard of him. He was the special boy of the Gojo Clan, the first in centuries to inherit both The Limitless and The Six Eyes, whose birth alone shifted the power balance in the world, who had a bounty over his head at such a young age for being a force too great to be kept alive. 

He was the complete opposite of you, yet somehow the same as you. One rejected for being too much, and the other — for not being enough. Both were similarly exhausting, arduous, and lonely. 

You first met during a clans’ gathering. The big three brought together under one roof to discuss some matters you can’t quite recall now, just like you don’t remember the reason you were brought along. Perhaps to carry stuff around, like you always did. 

An exchange of shy glances as you waited outside, sitting on the wooden engawa (veranda) led you both slowly scooching over closer to one another, until the gap between you was small enough that you could see how his heartbeat made the collar of his kimono flutter ever so slightly. 

“Is it sweet?”, the boy pointed at the popsicle in your hand. “It is”, you answered along with a nod. Bringing it up to his mouth — “Want some?” — you invited him to take a bite as he looked at you with uncertain eyes. A blush painting a beautiful cherry hue on the pale complexion of his cheeks. He nibbled on the side of it — “It is!” — his eyes grew wide, a glow in them. 

“You’ve never had one? — surprise in you voice. “Of course, I have”, he lied, scratching the back of his head, a bit embarrassed of possibly seeming uncool in your eyes. 

He had a strict regime when it came to the food he consumed. Whatever he put into his mouth had to be of great value and nutrition, diligently prepared by the best chefs, so his body, or as others saw it — the shell where a god resided in — would grow healthy and strong to be on par with his powers. 

It was the first time you shared food with someone else. You usually ate alone, disgusted by the Zenins surrounding you around the table that your throat felt too tight to swallow anything that you put in your mouth, be it water even. 

And it was the first friend you ever made. While everyone up until now turned a blind eye and avoided you, he didn’t run. He even stayed. 

Introducing himself as “Satoru" only, he deliberately refrained from saying his full name at first. When you never pushed him to reveal it, he turned a bit fidgety. 

“You never asked about my last name” — lips slightly pursed, the muscles on his face fighting off a pout but failing eventually. “Maybe I’m not that interested in you” — tilting your head, you teased, yet — “Just kidding, I know who you are” — you quickly added upon seeing his brows knitting in dejection. “But you can be just Satoru with me” 

From that day onward you’d meet in secret every now and then, whenever both of you could manage to sneak out. For just a little bit. To eat popsicles and other sweet things together. 

That was, until your brother found out. 

Naoya always kept tabs on you after all. You were a prey to him, and chasing you was like a game. It was only a matter of time before he knew. Or perhaps he did already but let you sneak out on purpose so he could use it to his avail and torment you further. 

Naturally, the time you spent with Satoru fell shorter compared to that spent in the disciplinary pit. “That’s to teach you a lesson, little lamb”, Naoya would say with a twisted look in his eyes as he locked you up in there. 

At times like this, you’d remember your grandmother’s words — “the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”. 

...and an idea brewed in your mind. 

If you could run away right now, you would. But where would you go? What would you do? You were only six. If your own flesh and blood was this cruel to you, how could you expect the outside world to treat you any better? 

You were not that naive. You knew you had to wait. 

You endured the endless hours that felt like days and weeks in that pit, surviving by pure miracle every time. Or was it hope that kept you fighting? Because you knew, by the end of it, as long as you were alive, you’d find a way to meet your friend, the only one you had. And maybe he could save you one day. Maybe, tomorrow you could make a promise to each other — that when the time came and you were both of age, you would take his last name and be freed of the curse you were born with. 

...but Satoru never showed up. 

(to be continued) 

The First Night 

(back to present) 

It was getting late. You spent more time than originally planned at lunch with Shoko and Geto as everyone had already cleared out their schedules for the day to join you on your escapade. 

You thought at first, that the entire time you would have to dodge questions such as How did this happen? When did you start seeing each other? When did you decide it was time? Who proposed? How? Doesn’t the animosity between your clans worry you? Have you considered the consequences even? Are you perhaps pregnant? Is this why all the rush is for?, etc...  

But that never happened. Neither of them pried, nor made you uncomfortable invading your personal space. In fact, they made you loosen up a bit by being warm and friendly, already treating you like one of them, mocking Gojo’s constant mischiefs in front of you. The setting resembled that of a parent-teacher meeting where you were in the role of the parent, and they were the teachers complaining to you about Gojo. It was a rather humbling experience for the whitehaired man who sat there pouting and subtly gesturing for them to cut it.  

But when he heard you laughing at their stories, he ceased. Sucking it up, he let them continue playfully bashing him. He had really missed your laugh. 

“So~ we’re here — welcome to your new home”, Satoru points at the huge mansion after helping you hop out of the car. One of the bodyguards in the yard immediately took the keys from his hand and drove the car away to park it in the garage area. 

To say this thing before your eyes was huge would be an understatement actually. After you quickly scanned the place you noticed there were a few more houses built around the mansion, and perhaps even behind it.  

The Gojo household was located in a huge, fenced area with a single front entrance, for security purposes (so it would always be known who walked in and out under meticulous surveillance), leading to a big yard with a well-kept garden befitting the Gojo Clan. The first house in front, and the biggest, was the main mansion — inhabited by Satoru’s parents and grandparents (from his father’s side), while extended family (like aunts, uncles, cousins — basically the most important members of the clan) resided in the ones around it. 

Satoru, despite being the clan head, did not live in the main mansion. His place was relatively isolated from the rest (ironically resembling the life he led and the powers he had), situated far behind all the houses, right before a path that led to a forest-like area as part of the Gojo property. 

“No way”, you gasp — “Don’t tell me you live with your entire clan?” — as you quickly pad forward, leaving him a few steps behind, to further inspect the place. 

“Not technically but yea, we stick together — clan traditions deem it this way”, he sighs. 

“Never took you as the tradition following guy, to be honest” 

He chuckles, “What can I say — I am full of surprises~ But truthfully, as the clan head I can’t just up and leave, you know? Besides...” — a pause, observing you as your eyes roam around studying the place, head turning from one side to the other in astonishment. Then his gaze shifts to his left hand. Lifting it slightly and spreading his fingers to look at his ring, and then back at you. “...sometimes deeply rooted habits are hard to break. Especially if one holds onto them for too long. It’s hard to let go no matter what kind of person you are” 

“There’s something even beyond you, Gojo Satoru?”, your voice almost mocking but somehow lacking the right tone to it, too distracted by your surroundings. 

He laughs, “Maybe. Just one little thing only” — words mumbled under his breath, too soundless for your ears to catch on. 

-- 

After you made it in, he gave you a full tour around the house. Walking you through each and every room, thoroughly explaining where things were and how you could touch up anything you desired and change it to your liking — this was now your home, too.   

The last stop was the bedroom.  

“Should I carry you in bridal style? That’s how newlyweds do it~”, Satoru smirks at you, arms crossed around his waist, his side leaning against the doorframe. 

You were about to make a face there for a second and give him an eyeroll, maybe even pick on him for watching way too many romcoms, but you held back. 

“Sure, why not”, you mumble instead, looking down. 

After all, before you was the room where certain things were to happen in, according to your deal, and you thought it’s best to let him indulge in this play pretend and carry you in as your feet were frozen in their tracks anyway. Nervous of what was ahead, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. 

“Oh?” — caught off guard, not expecting you to actually go along with it, he gasps, but then — “Right?” — quickly plays it cool. “Alright, bride-o-mine, here we go” 

Charging towards you with a slow step, he leans down so your eyes are on equal level, face an inch away from yours. So close that, as he cracks his lips open to swipe a tongue across them his hot breath feels like steam against your skin. Licking his lips, a habit you were painfully familiar with, it was something he did when he got nervous that seemingly didn’t change from when he was little. 

He scoops you up effortlessly, holding you tight but tenderly at the same time. His fingers clutching firmly around you yet at the same time careful enough to not bruise you.  “Almost there”, he pushes the creaked door open with his foot and carries you in through the doorway. 

Flustered, you turn your head the other way in an attempt to hide the heat eliciting from your face. You were way too close. His scent invading your nostrils, you could almost distinguish his natural body odor from his perfume. 

“Oh, my... If you shy away this easily”, he carefully sits you on the bed — “how are we to make that baby~ Hm?” — and smugly smirks as he plops down next to you right after, his knee scarcely brushing against your leg.  

“Tch...”, you click your tongue, heat still spreading like fire on your cheeks, and even far up to your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted to bed me right away?” — is he really going to jump on you now? Why bring up the baby talk otherwise... 

He gasps in an overexaggerated manner, gluing fingertips to his mouth, “Thought I could give you some time to adjust, but if you insist...” 

“Ugh, Gojo”, you aim a reflex eyeroll his way. 

“What now, are you talking to yourself?” 

“Excuse me?”, you lift a brow. 

“You’re a Gojo too now, you know?”, a grin on his lips, the kind he makes when he’s about to win something. “When you refer to me, you have to say my first name — Sa-to-ru — to avoid any confusion~” 

See, that was his goal all along — to make you call him by name, just like in the past. 

...but two can play this game. You had no intention of losing this battle to him. 

“Sweetheart”, your tone overly delicate on purpose, as you tilt your head, cheek pressing against your shoulder. “Isn’t this better?”, you flutter your lashes at him. 

His reaction comes slow. The full grin from a second ago is now a half, the other half — a surprise, with a sprinkle of a new, unknown to you glint in his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, sweetheart”, he breathes, scooching closer to you. An arm finding its way around your waist, wrapping itself from the small of your back all the way front, hand stopping at your navel. 

A flinch shudders through your body, but he’s got you still, you can’t pull away. “What happened to giving me time to adjust?”, you mutter, not as feisty anymore. This was a side you haven’t seen to him, which you figured was natural. You knew him as a kid, now — he was a man. And like all men do, he was acting on his urges. 

“You push my buttons”, he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, until your noses are brushing and breaths are exchanging. His free hand rolling up and tucking the few strands of hair falling on your face behind your ear, then slowly sliding to the back of your neck. “Trying to get me excited?” 

“If a mere endearment excites you this much, what will become of you when I say your name?” 

He laughs, his breath infesting your mouth. Lips accidentally grazing yours from the action itself, which draws a low, helpless hum out of him. “Care to find out?” 

You jolt — something about the way he was looking at you told you this wasn’t just some simple teasing — and finally bring your hands to use and push him away and get up. “I need a shower” 

“Ah, got all hot and bothered? It’s okay, I am used to it — I have this type of effect on women all the time~”, he chuckles, earning yet another eyeroll from you. Reaching behind to grab a pillow and sit it on his lap, subtly hiding the fact that he got all hot and bothered, too. “You know where the bathroom is, sweetheart” 

He won this round. 

-- 

Satoru is still sitting in the bed, back relaxed against the headboard with one foot thrown over the other on the mattress, as you make your way out of the bathroom. You smell like him now, he thinks — only natural after having to use his shower gel and shampoo — as your freshly showered self approaches the side of the bed your pajamas were carefully folded and placed at. He took it upon himself to buy them for you, along with some clothes, and shoes, and bags, since you couldn’t pack and take anything with you. 

“Can you, umm”, you fidget, “turn around or something? I want to get dressed” 

“There you go again, shying away from your own husband”, he smugly teases. 

“Oh, you want to watch so bad? How perverse of you, sweetheart”, you mock, loosening the belt of your bathrobe so the fabric covering your shoulders slides down a bit, revealing more of your flesh. 

There’s a good chance for this reverse psychology to backfire now, you think, but you just couldn’t make peace with him picking on you like that. 

He shifts in his place, now sitting up on the opposite side, legs touching the ground and his back turned against you. The transition was so quick and instinctive as if he, by sheer luck, dodged a bullet aimed to take his life. “I’d love to stay for the show but, you see...”, he rubs the back of his neck, “I need to check the report regarding my students’ mission from today” 

“I see”, a victorious smirk on your lips as you watch him walk away. 

This round was yours. Now you were even. 

-- 

You were going to be trouble. 

The report was, of course, an excuse. He had to make it out of the room, or he would’ve done something terrible to you. 

His face burning hot as he quickly stripped himself of his clothes in one of the guest rooms downstairs and went straight into the bathroom to cool off. An aching pulse on his groin dragging inaudible curses from his mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

A stream of ice-cold water hitting his face, hugging his shoulders, cascading down the rest of his well-built body before washing down into the drain. He stands there still and completely unaffected by the temperature. He was burning inside. 

Eyes shut, he thinks about you — about the way that bathrobe loosely enveloped your frame, about the gap temptingly revealing bits of your cleavage, leaving little to the imagination... about sliding his hands down into that very gap and pushing it open, taking the fabric covering your shoulders in his hands and pulling it down your arms to expose your breasts... about clasping both of your wrists behind the small of your back while his other hand moves to the side of your face and holds your chin before kissing you hungrily... then moving to your jawbone, and then lower, and lower... and lower, kissing and nibbling until he reaches your nipples, and then further below... 

His hand relentlessly stroking his cock to the visual of you in his imagination. Part of him absolutely disgusted by what he was doing right now, thinking how he was tainting the innocent girl from his memories. But then another, the one he couldn’t suppress — shamelessly trying to picture even beyond, making up in his mind what he thought your sweet expressions and obscene sounds would be like under his touch.  

His balls tighten up to him as he pumps himself from base to head with firm strokes, low growls rising from his throat echo through the walls the faster his hand works up and down his shaft. 

The tension soon leaves his body, his cum oozing out from between his fingers and spraying all over the bathroom tiles.  

Oh, you were going to be trouble for sure... 

-- 

“What puzzles me though, is that nobody has called you all day”, he walks into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. “In all honesty, it’s been bugging me for a while now”, a hand brushes back his damp hair. 

“They think I’m staying over at a friend’s place”, trying to ignore the view before you, you avert your gaze from him and his ridiculously lean body and well sculpted six pack that looked way too perfect to be real. He probably came here half naked, on purpose, to get back at you for earlier... Say nothing, say nothing, say nothing — you kept internally repeating to yourself. Play it cool. 

“And they let you?”, he casually saunters over to you, his hand reaching behind you to grab a hold of his nightwear sitting on his pillow. Seriously? He had to walk all the way to your side only to reach for the pajamas placed on his? What a sore loser... 

“Mhm”, you hum, lips tight and eyes looking down at your lap, “I managed to convince father. The odds were in our favor, I guess? — But I have to pay them a visit tomorrow, to deliver the news” 

“We will pay them a visit”, he corrects you. “I’m coming with you” 

“You don’t have to” 

“But I want to”, he insists, his resolve is solid. 

“Okay”, you don’t resist any further. “What about your family? When are we telling them?” 

He makes his way to the bathroom inside the room, while still speaking to you from over there. At least he’s not as shameless to get dressed in front of you.  

“They’re easy, I’ll talk to them some time tomorrow. Might organize a little thing to introduce my wife properly, heheh” 

“How do you think they’ll take the news? I mean, I know they won’t endorse it but — on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it will be?” 

“What does it matter when it’s fait accompli? Besides, they can’t go against my decisions, so”, he shrugs after making it back, fully dressed now. Thanks god. But wait... 

“Did you seriously get us matching pajamas?”, you look him up. He was wearing the exact same pair in blue, while yours was a light shade of pink. 

“Yea?”, he emits a dorky snicker. “Don’t you think it’s cute?” 

“Ew, cringe”, you fight back a snort. 

What a truly bothersome man... 

Bad Faith 

— (n.) dishonest behavior with the intention of deceiving someone. “bad faith” refers to dishonesty or fraud in a transaction. depending on the exact setting, bad faith may mean a dishonest belief or purpose, untrustworthy performance of duties, neglect of fair dealing standards, or a fraudulent intent 

You slept well for once in your life, despite being in a new place, a new bed — you knew you owed it to the fact you were away from the Zenins.  

The same can’t be said about Gojo though. 

He stayed wide awake all night, restless, turning and tossing, making occasional visits to the shower even, to calm it down. Annoyed to some extent by how he was the only one in turmoil while you innocently slept next to him, unaware of his condition. He felt like an insatiable teenager all over again. How embarrassing, he thought... 

During the whole car ride to the Zenins, he kept yawning and rubbing his eyes from beneath his pitch-black sunglasses that were adeptly hiding his dark sleepless circles caused by none other than you. 

“You can wait in the car”, you try your chance one last time after arriving. 

“I said I’m coming with you, so don’t waste your breath” 

“Fine” 

After you both make it past the gates of the Zenin household, the few of the servants standing in the veranda quickly pad inside — most likely to bring it to your father’s attention, you think. 

All the rest you got the night before instantly leaves your body now that you’re in Zenin territory, your chest filled with unease as you cross the threshold of the place that, despite being so big, could never quite fit you in and be a home to you. 

Your mouth feels too dry, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it keeps sitting there like an immovable object, growing bigger even the further you step in. 

Unknowingly, you’re grabbing Satoru’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Relax. I am right here”, he leans in to soothingly whisper in your ear, which makes you realize your actions. You pull your hand away, picking up your pace. 

...only to slow down and take a step back the moment your eyes fixate on none other than your brother, Naoya, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Waiting for you. His hair falling on his face, covering the look in his eyes but by the way his teeth bite into his lower lip, you can tell — he’s not thrilled by the view of you together.  

“Well, well”, a loud, hysterical laughter erupts from Naoya’s mouth as he strolls over to you, thumbing the bridge of his nose. “If this doesn’t remind me of good old times when my little sister would sneak out to play with you — are you perhaps falling back into that bad habit of yours, little lamb?” 

You flinch as Naoya’s claw-like hand reaches for your shoulder, ready to hook his grip on you, but with a swift move Gojo stands in front of you and stops your brother, leaving him unable to go any further due to his infinity. “Hello to you too” 

Naoya clicks his tongue, not pleased with the impenetrable intrusion. “Tch... Move, don’t butt in in family matters” 

Satoru chuckles condescendingly, “I am family too now, you know? — Dear brother-in-law" 

A jarring burst of inconsistent, unsettling laughter follows this declaration, each sound leaving Naoya’s lips grows more hectic and twisted, the tone wavering between low and high, and it sends a chill down your spine. 

“Huh... sis... that true?”, the deranged madness in his voice dying down now, but he speaks with a timbre of sinisterness. His eyes wide, unblinking and staring right at you with piercing lunacy in them. 

He had the same exact maniacal aura to him right now, just like years ago when he first confronted you about the secret escapades with Satoru. 

Terrified, you hug your shoulders. Head turned the other way, trying to hide from the sharp daggers in his gaze. 

You only manage a nod, and the sick sound from seconds ago echoes through the hallway once again. 

“You—”, Naoya grits his teeth, trying to draw near you but the whitehaired man before him won’t budge. “How long have you been plotting this for, huh?” 

Irritated at Gojo’s technique that leaves him unable to come any closer and wipe that mighty grin off his face, Naoya takes his frustration out on the wall by punching a hole right through it. “You fucking as—” 

“Naoya”, your father’s voice approaching from behind him interrupts the commotion. “Go cool your head off” 

“Tch...”, it’s not that he feels like complying, no. His arrogant self would never bow down to anyone, not even his own father, the clan head. 

But walking away right now gave him a chance to pass by you — and he’d gladly take it, as there was something he wanted to confirm.  

“Did you let him touch you, little lamb? Answer me — did you?”, he stops right behind you and whispers from over your shoulder. 

You wince, his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. Noticing that Satoru’s hand is moving slightly up and getting ready to possibly attack your brother, you gesture at him to stop. Mouthing a silent it’s fine. 

“Don't but in in husband-wife matters, our sex life is off-limits for you, brother”, you mutter over your shoulder. 

“Pfft”, his eyes squint knowingly at you. “Good — I don’t smell foreign residuals on you. Good, little lamb. Good.” 

-- 

“So, you two, huh?”, Naobito, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the tatami room, takes a sip of his sake and wipes the droplets drizzling from the corners of his mouth. 

It was barely noon, yet your father, as per usual, had already started his drinking for the day, most likely during the early hours of the morning at that. 

You hum, but the man beside you, your husband, had something more to say. 

“What can I do, old man — your daughter’s a beauty, I had to go and take her. Pardon my rudeness, I forgot to ask for your approval first” — to which you basically facepalm yourself. 

“If you had done that first, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, you arrogant brat”, Naobito drags out, the alcohol must be getting to him. “But the damage is done already, what can I say”, he adds through a hiccup. 

“—or do, against me — Right, old man?”, Satoru shoots a proud grin, then on a more serious tone, he continues — “She’s mine now. And I don’t quite fancy it when people pry on what belongs to me. So, I ask of you to act accordingly from now on, or there will be consequences” 

“You ask? Yet this sounds more like a threat to me” 

“It could be, depends on you” 

Silence. 

The air in the room is intense and heavy after these exchanges. There’s a calm smile on both of your father’s and husband’s faces, yet the glare in their eyes is as cold as absolute zero. 

“With that being said, glad we’re on the same page and thank you for the half-assed belated blessing~ I will take care of her from now on, don’t you worry”, your husband nonchalantly breaks the silence, then looks at you with a quick shake of his head towards the door. Meaning, our job here is done. Let’s go. 

“You might go, I wish to speak to my daughter, alone” 

Satoru glances at you, looking for consent in your eyes. You nod affirmatively, “Wait for me in the car” 

Before walking out, Satoru gives one last warning. “Old man, if you try anything funny, I’ll make this place one with the ground beneath you”  

-- 

“Make this place one with the ground?”, Naobito laughs uproariously. “You’ve gotten under his skin. Good.” 

He gulps down another cup before proceeding, “He’s always got a soft spot for you. I’ve seen his eyes wander in search of you during clans’ gatherings, but this — this is beyond my expectations even”, he wheezes. “Good job. You’re finally doing something right and being useful to the clan” 

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my own sake”, you grit your teeth. 

“I don’t care for your purpose so long we sow the benefits of what you reap, just like I don’t care how you do it so long you take him down — poison him or slit his throat in his sleep, I couldn’t care less. Just make sure he’s dead by the end of it — it’s the only way to get that lousy freedom you’ve been babbling about all these years” 

The terms were clear from the beginning, yet your stomach fills to the brim with guilt, threatening to spill out from your mouth the more your father speaks of it. 

And he continues, “If you give him a child too in the meantime — even better. That way the Zenins can take over the Gojo Clan”, a greedy curve on his mouth wet with sake. “But in all honesty, what surprises me the most is you, actually — you’re more of a Zenin now than ever”, an unhinged laughter cracks his lips. 

Your father’s words stab through your heart like a sharp knife. Snapping a few necks for the greater good for yourself, your freedom, shouldn’t be a problem after all you’ve been through. 

But then, why does it feel like he is right? You are more of a Zenin now than ever. Why does it feel like the more you try to run away from the Zenins, the more you become one? 

And why does your heart ache so much for the man you are to kill soon?

[starmocha]

want me, need me, love me [Sylus/Reader ★ 1510 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] When you had made that plan to sell Sylus, you didn’t realize it would come back to (literally) bite you. A/N: This…was originally just a scenario, but I guess it turned into a ficlet in spite of my self-ban that I wasn’t going to write Sylus fics right now until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. In my defense, it’s only appropriate to post this during the cat banner and I always lie to myself <333 Snuck in some light breeding kink because @yourlocalcatscammer got into my brain and I fear I have already exposed myself enough with my last few fics so why bother hiding this anymore 🥹

It was pretend. Just a little ploy.

You knew it.

Sylus did too.

So how did it end up with you trapped underneath him on a couch, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his voice so hoarse and needy? He wouldn’t stop rubbing his cheek against you, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

“Sy-Sylus, what’s gotten into you?” You tried to push him off, but he was too heavy, too unwilling, too…gone. Was it because of the special gene product? It couldn’t have possibly rewired his whole demeanor, could it? You vaguely recalled him attempting to snatch a parrot earlier when, for a brief moment, the feline instinct in him was triggered. You continued to struggle. “Snap out of it!”

“Miss…you really are heartless,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, “Letting another woman have me so casually?”

You flustered, confused. “What are you talking about?” You looked up at him wide-eyed, startled by the darkened gaze that peered down at you. You swallowed slowly, your words careful and measured, as if you were soothing an agitated wild animal, “Sylus…it wasn’t personal…”

He narrowed his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone terse. His kissed along your shoulder, leaving little love bites along the way. You squirmed, feeling your body heating up under his feverish ministrations. He sighed and grunted softly, his touches growing bolder.

“Say I’m yours,” he mumbled into your neck, desperation laced his deep voice. He nuzzled his cheek against you over and over again, behaving just like a frustrated cat. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shivered as he husked, “Let me be yours.”

Want me.

“Sy-Sylus, snap out of it! What are you—ah…” Your words died at your lips, a gasp escaped. He had pushed your shirt up, your bra unhooked and tossed to the side without a care. Without hesitation, the Onychinus leader took your sweet little nipple into his warm mouth, his tongue swirling leisurely around the sensitive nub, making you arched up, gasping and crying from the sudden electrifying stimulation.

He grinded languidly against you, and as he suckled greedily, he murmured, “…touch me…my…my ears…”

Your mind was hazy, teetering between rationality and the growing lust that was clouding your judgement. You looked down at the head of silvery-white hair against you and the pair of cat ears twitching restlessly atop Sylus’ head. Nimbly, your fingers stroked the sensitive feline ear, feeling the soft tufts of fur between your fingers. He hummed happily, and he sucked harder.

“Ah—!”

His hands reached down to grab your hips, keeping you grounded against the couch. He brushed against you, and you trembled, feeling his bulge over your skirt.

“Sy-Sylus…”

He looked up, the normally haughty expression that graced the feared and notorious Onychinus leader’s face was gone. Right now, he wore a different expression, one that only you were allowed to see. He looked at you lust-filled and wanting, his lips slightly parted, soft sighs escaping. His eyes softened a little, enough for you to notice.

Need me.

You felt a burning ache inside you, one that he had started, and one that you knew only he could quell. Those soft crimson eyes of his beckoned you closer, silently urging you to let go, to submit to the growing heat between the two of you.

Hesitantly, you leaned up, taking his lips for yourself, long and slow. Sylus stilled, surprised, seemingly taking his time to register the moment. When he realized you were answering his silent pleas, he smiled against your lips. His ears flattened back as he kissed you deeper, his hands fumbled with both your clothes.

Your panties slipped off, his pants unzipped, and his hardened member freed from its confines. He nudged his hip forward, the head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. You gasped and gripped his jacket.

“…Take me…” he mumbled lazily, his mouth finding your nipple again. Your other breast was massaged, caressed and shamelessly groped, your sweet, irresistible moans lured out, answered by his own deep, sultry groans as he suckled hungrily.

You whimpered helplessly, giving up on your attempt to resist him. You were aching so much right now, wanting and needing him in a way you had never felt before. Your fingers found their way into his hair, getting lost in the silky strands. “…Y-yes…”

He moved forward and you arched up, crying out. More and more of him eased in, his deep groans were intoxicating, your own desires igniting as he filled you, your walls stretching wonderfully around the massive intrusion. You buried your face into his neck when he bottomed out, gasping into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you securely. He guided you away from his shoulder and you lay beneath him nearly sobbing in frustration. He looked down at you, flushed cheeks and vulnerable. Again, his warm breath fanned against your mouth as he asked softly, “…Can I…”

“Yes!” You interrupted, your moans tumbling out as he started to move, slowly at first before he built a faster rhythm. Again, you vaguely wondered if he was still lost, still submissive to his feline instincts, because the way he was moving was much more animalistic than you would have expected. It was hurried, graceless, feral, but it was filling you just the way you wanted, the way you needed right now.

Every delicious stroke of his length had you mumbling deliriously, lost in this moment of heavenly pleasure. “Mm…ah…ah…Sy…Sylus…”

His lips found yours again, taking your moans selfishly. He groaned as you clenched around him. “…fuck…Miss…”

You cried out as he spread you more, pushing your legs back, taking you even deeper. “Oh god, oh god…!”

“Mm…breed you…need to breed you…make you mine…m…yours…yours…” He was moving more erratic, his words so frenzied and incoherent, you weren’t sure if he was even registering what he was saying. He was driven purely by a natural need, an instinct so feral, he seemed more animal than man in this moment.

You felt infected by him, by his words, your own traitorous body craving what he was saying. “Ah…yes…yes…ah…breed me…breed me, Sylus…” You weren’t thinking clearly anymore. There wasn’t a single rational thought left in your little head. The only thing you could focus on was his powerful thrusts, reaching you deep where you needed.

“O-oh, Sylus…”

So close. So close, you could feel yourself peaking. Just a little more, almost, almost—

“Mm…Miss…inside…?”

“Yes!” You cried out, your pitch higher than normal, so desperate and needy. He thrusted forward, pushing in even deeper with a heavy groan. His eyes met yours for a moment before you closed yours, screaming out your climax as he coated your walls with his seeds, filling you fuller than you thought was possible.

Distantly, you could hear Sylus mumbling in between his moans.

Love me.

“…mine…yours…yours…”

You panted softly, hearing his own breathing matching your own. You moaned, whimpering as he pulled out, feeling his seed dripping out of your cunt. Slowly, you opened your eyes, seeing Sylus’ flushed face close to yours. He still appeared to be under his feline influence, looking dazed and lost.

Your eyes traveled all over, taking in his satiated expression, seeing the sweats on his glistened skin.

“Ah…oh, I have my lipstick on you.” You touched his lips, seeing red lipstick smeared across. You rubbed your thumb against his mouth, trying to wipe it clean. He stopped you.

He smiled, almost delirious with joy. “Good,” Sylus husked, “You should cover me all over. Mark me as yours.”

Before you could respond, his face was buried in your chest again, his arms tightening around your waist. He nuzzled against you, behaving much more docile now. You rubbed the back of his head for a bit, the soothing act calming him even more. It didn’t take long before you realized he had fallen asleep on top of you. His breathing had slowed, the rhythm steady. He seemed much more relaxed than he was earlier.

You scratched the feline ear atop his head, smiling softly when it twitched in response to your light touch. Sylus instinctively hummed softly in his sleep, pleased.

When he would wake up later, you wondered would he even have remembered what had happened? Would he remember how he had behaved, the words he had spoken? Would he deny it? Make excuses?

You smiled.

You didn’t particularly care. You saw the real him. He would always lower his guard around you, always be transparent about how he felt about you, and now tonight, you realized it wasn’t just that he desired you, but he wanted you to reciprocate as well. Wanted you to be possessive of him, to want and need him in the same way that he felt for you.

To be equally possessive of one another, a mutual obsession with one another.

You almost laughed aloud. Why, what an exquisite idea, you thought to yourself.

You kissed your fingers before pressing them along Sylus’ cheek. He purred softly.

How cute.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

Pairing:

Soft!dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

What started out as a fantastic night out at Eden club in London ended tragically for her.

Warning(s): Angst. Slightly dub-con (unwanted kiss). Death. Violence. Minors, dni! Note: last part of the mini series.

Word Count: 661

She could remember it in some ways where the memories began to solidify in flashes, a montage of the massacre of one man that happened at Eden Club.

She remembered being happy while drinking gin in a fancy glass, laughing at what her husband had jest.

She was happy, with a thin gold band wrapped around her ring finger, shiny under the golden hues of the lights at the club.

They had eloped so quickly in the morning, quickly that they couldn’t stand still and take it all in that they were getting married on a piece of paper. Perhaps they should’ve stayed and taken it all in slowly if she had known this was going to be their last night together.

The music ending sounded like the death march when a mass of storm came barreling, destroying everything they had touched.

“Tommy, no!” She screamed, voices erupted around them in a frenzy, but refused to intervene.

He was cruel. Just like everything about him. His eyes, pale blue, were encrusted in ice. Crystallizing the already frozen water, but his aura felt like death. It reeked of grim reaper, desperate to ensnare a living breathing soul.

It was crystal clear when blood was being spilled across the fancy tiles on the floor, splattered all over her and all over the man whose face was covered in hues of furiousness.

If she had thought or been asked what he would’ve done to declare her husband’s death, she would’ve thought or said he would’ve used a bullet in the gun he favored in his holster.

Not his bare hands, never his bare hands.

Perhaps he felt a bullet going through the brain or the heart was too simple, too kind, an act of mercy that she knew Thomas rarely gave out unless he had a bleeding heart in that moment which was very few and very far between.

It ended with his hand gripping the cap in a death-like vice, swinging across her husband’s face and neck, severely splitting his flesh and everything underneath into a snarly mess.

Her heart stopped at the sight of death in his eyes when he finally turned his head to face her. 

Nothing gold can stay under the golden hues of light of the club she had thought was her temporary Garden of Eden, but the serpent had entered and destroyed it with death with venom of blades that could be found sewn on his cap and poison from his fists.

“That must have been a new record, a bride and a widow in one day.” He muttered bitterly, coldly. It may have been said at a normal low tone, but to her he might as well have shouted them at her because those words hurt.

“Fuck you, Thomas!” She cried out, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks. She felt sick.

She could not stand the sight of him anymore, and she turned away from him, intending to run away again.

She was jerked back by him by a vice-like grip on her arm, and she was spun around to face him.

Her lips curled into a grimace when she felt slick fingers gripping her jaw, she could feel her husband’s blood smearing into her skin.

“I warned you,” he murmured, then she flinched at the next words. “I fuckin’ warned you, didn’t I? Eh?” He shouted in her face, eyes blazing with fury. His fingers digging into her bicep, for sure there were going to be finger shaped bruises in the morning.

“You will learn, Y/N. No one fucking touches you, or speak to you, or even marry you and live.” He hissed, nearly frothing at his mouth before closing in.

Unlike before where it was a purposeful act of brushing while she was unwilling, he forced his lips onto her still unwilling ones.

She swore she could taste blood, Edward’s blood on his lips, and her heart stopped for the second time that hour.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink

>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know &lt;3

>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie >>> wc: 4.6k >>> event masterlist:

he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.

at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your  wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it. 

you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything. 

he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.

you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes. 

he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd. 

he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway? 

the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face. 

“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies. 

“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes. 

“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake. 

“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it. 

“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same. 

“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile. 

“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow. 

“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them. 

instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.

“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes. 

“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.” 

and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him. 

you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement. 

he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present. 

“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew? 

“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?” 

you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.

“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?” 

you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again. 

“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond. 

“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too. 

he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.” 

you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious. 

“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.” 

you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.” 

“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”

“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.” 

his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?” 

you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.” 

“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face. 

“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same.  he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.” 

you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.” 

and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.” 

he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.

“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.” 

you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?” 

he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.” 

your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off. 

“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt. 

“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most. 

“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.

“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly. 

“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech. 

“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?” 

you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again. 

“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?” 

“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire. 

“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?” 

you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.

that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.” 

he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.” 

he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”

 he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later. 

“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.” 

your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged. 

[honeycreammilkshake]

Hey so idk if you know about this, but in Japan the politicians are going ham on trying to get BL and GL censored and illegal (???)

And with how gege likes bl, gl, and a lot of queer romances in general, do you think if he didnt play it safe, sukuita would have been canon?

i think i've read about the recent backlash on yaoi/yuri/etc in japan. and i'm really happy gege came out in support of queer series. i feel like it means a lot that they did that.

i also have a feeling that gege knew exactly what they were doing when they made sukuna and yuuji so shippable, but i'm also sure that jjk being a shounen would have prevented sukuita from being canon either way, only because then the series would technically be classified as yaoi or bl instead. and since this was marketed as shounen, it's highly unlikely that the publishers will allow it turn into bl (especially now that there's more censorship of yaoi).

however, gege still (so unsubtly) went out of their way to give us some of the most bl-looking scenes between yuuji and sukuna.

i mean just look at this!!! sukuna is like some kind of lovesick kitten, trailing after yuuji the whole time, yet insisting he's nothing more than an intimacy-hating stray who can't stand any kind of closeness or warmth. but if that's the case, why cling so much to yuuji, who (may i remind you) was the only guy to treat sukuna as human??? i don't know, kinda looks like you're a bit needy for that affection, sukuna.

then there's them constantly taunting each other like boyfriends that can't stop being competitive for one moment. (over the literal smallest of stuff, too. you know the infamous king of curses couldn't care less what kind of crayfish he got if he wasn't with yuuji... he constantly has to show us - so painfully unsubtle - just how much yuuji gets to him.)

but at least he gets to one-up yuuji during archery... though of course the brat isn't as impressed as he should be. (you can just sense the hurt pride dripping off of sukuna's words after yuuji said playing with him wasn't enticing.)

i mean, this whole chapter just made me feel like sukuna is like those tsundere guys in yaoi who can't tolerate having feelings for the cute protagonist everyone loves, so they have to be as edgy-looking and rude as possible whenever their crush comes around. (and then their crush is just 10x nicer to them because of it, which only makes them even more insecure and angry.)

sukuna, it looks like you're repressing lots...

... especially with whatever you got going on here—

(do you think gege drew this with a nosebleed?)

and just when you thought it couldn't get any gayer... these two are pretty much canonical soulmates whose fates have been chained together since before they even met.

(i think i'm noticing a trend with how gege draws them like this —back to back, two parts of a matched set, all but fused together.)

it reminds me of those yaoi manga where the protagonist becomes an unwilling (at first) bride to the monster guy everyone else hates but then slowly starts falling in love with him despite everything because oh maybe he isn't so evil after all.

and though the most recent chapter have really made it seem like yuuji has been pursuing sukuna in this way, let's not forget that sukuna was also the biggest flirt with yuuji before all the feelings hit him far too hard.

sukuna, you've known yuuji for only a few days and you're already feeling up his heart? isn't that usually not until the 3rd or 4th date?

so he does something like that but then has the nerve to act all coy with yuuji later on...

"it's annoying" he says but he's smiling. he looks almost excited. (yes, we know you like yuuji looking up at you without permission, sukuna, we get it already. you don't have to spell it out for us so obviously.)

and yuuji, honey, you know he's into that, right? stop falling for his thinly-veiled traps; you know he loves to bait you like this, you're just feeding his ego. (and also i can't forget to mention just how frustrated sukuna gets when yuuji does ignore him!)

oh and remember that fighting is how sukuita flirts, just in case you didn't pick up on that already.

they look so excited to be doing this right now — yuuji's unhinged grin, sukuna's "fight me" eyes... (mappa, it's a crime that you didn't animate this ;-;)

i'm crying, they could have done comedy together.

also... why are they grinning at each other like this?

sukuna's sitting on top of you, yuuji so why are you looking up at him with that completely unhinged look on your face? (i would say get a room but isn't that what innate domains more or less are?)

and again. if we didn't understand it perfectly well enough already, gege doesn't want us to forget that sukuna just loves it when yuuji fights back.

just look at his feral grin at the idea of yuuji trying to take him on... he loves messing with this brat.

and although sukuna and yuuji are never officially married, the fate they're forced to is almost exactly just that. in sickness and in health (mostly sickness) they are bound to each other, and only death does them part.

crazy how they got divorced TWO times...

.... yet they still can't escape whatever threads them together

even if it's not explicitly stated, it's still heavily implied that yuuji was the one to set sukuna on this different path, to remind him of whatever humanity he had left.

he was the one to connect with sukuna as the king of curses was dying.

to hold him gently and remind him that the monster he is was a matter of chance, that they could have shared that same curse if yuuji hadn't had his grandfather to provide him the fulfillment he needed while sukuna didn't have that in his own life.

to even propose that they could live together, even if he alone would accept such a thing.

it's like something straight out of a doomed romance story. i've never seen such romantic dialogue even in actual bl romance.

and if the heartbreakingly, over the top romantic dialogue wasn't enough, this is their official art, too:

like does any of this look straight to you? (also sukuna can't stop trying to get his hands all over yuuji, it's insane.)

i think it's pretty clear that sukuita is essentially canon already. and short of gege drawing them violently making out with each other (which, technically, that's what fighting is like for them) that crazy one-eyed cat made it nearly transparent that sukuita is actually a thing.

gege, you're THE shipper. to think they got away with inserting the most wonderfully messed up and fascinating yaoi story into a shounen series about a boy who literally sticks his enemy's fingers in his mouth is just crazy.

[katakaluptastrophy]

This may be something you have already covered, or considered and discarded, but. Thoughts on Jod being trans?

Because it seemed slightly odd to me, that a AMAB kid going to his grandmother’s house would be allowed to play with his mum’s toys. Especially if they’re “traditionally girly” toys, as opposed to being told to run around or given a ball to do sports.

Whereas a little AFAB kid would gladly be given his mum’s dolls by a traditional grandma and told to play nicely and quietly. Not identifying with the Barbies so much as finding them so pretty (especially compared to the Ken dolls that look nothing like him, which he feeds to Ulysses the dog).

And then, two or three decades later and finding that he is now God. He has consumed the Earth and her siblings and made her anew.

How easy is it to change the bits about himself he never felt were right? To remake himself as God in the flesh? To look upon himself and say, it is good?

"When I was seven, you know, all Nana had to play with in her house was some of Mum's old toys. And my favouite out of all of them..." He gave a long, shuddering sigh. "My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie," he murmured. "I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures. There was also a Bride's Dream Midge, but Mum had cut Midge's hair into this weird mullet. It was Barbie for me." She looked at him. He looked at her. He added, "Not Hollywood Hair Ken. Mum had him too, but he was a creep. I gave him to Nana's dog to eat."

This is what we get when John is describing the "scraps of id" that lead him to make Alecto look like some kind of nightmarish Barbie. The 'id' is, psychoanalytically, the most instinctual, basic part of the self. If John is being truthful here, then he's expressing something very basic about himself and his motivations in making Alecto.

I'm not convinced that we can infer anything about his Nana's attitude towards what toys a child should be allowed to play with. John is probably born somewhere between the mid 90s to the mid 20s, so it's just as possible that John playing with his mum's old Barbies is evidence that his family was fairly progressive. Or too poor to afford new toys. Or just ambivalent about the toys he played with.

In terms of John and gender, or at least John and masculinity, this interview has an interesting insight into what Tamsyn might be doing with that:

the God of the Locked Tomb IS a man; he IS the Father and the Teacher; it’s an inherently masc role played by someone who has an uneasy relationship himself to playing a Biblical patriarch. John falls back on hierarchies and roles because they’re familiar even when he’s struggling not to. Even he identifies himself as the God who became man and the man who became God.

Though of course, to quote a different interview, this is a series where "readers will end up STICKY and GREASY with GENDER and BIBLE" and where Lyctorhood is "a huge genderfuck".

So I think there's certainly scope for trans readings of John, which shift the framework for the way that John is positioning himself in relation to his masc roleplaying of god. There's a number of elements that would have a very different resonance in such readings, not least putting Alecto into such a specific version of a woman's body, and the tension between his own exercise of bodily autonomy and his utter restriction and violation of others' bodily autonomy.

Personally, my take is that John is meant to be a type of cis man I'm sure many of us have met - one who is at pains to demonstrate his feminism, who perhaps finds the boundaries of masculinity confining to some extent, but who is ultimately unwilling to examine how deeply those boundaries are part of the way he views the world and interacts with others. And with John, this is writ large, quite literally: endowed with godlike power, he falls back on the patriarchal image of god. John may go out of his way to tell us that the maternity problem was important to him, that he played with Barbies, that he *cares*, but at the end of the day that introspection doesn't translate into his actions.

Regardless of how John came to his relationship with masculinity, he's stuck with - or perhaps in context we could say haunted by - a very particular conception of patriarchal masculinity.

[viroman]

Fanfic idea

Au: without Leila (it doesn't matter if there is a system and siyeon)

Returning to the capital after winning the war of conquest, Callisto entered into a new war - with the queen and Marquis Ellen. Oscar, unwilling to rule and tired of being a way for the family to maintain power, told Callisto all the secrets of his mother and grandfather. Their father, already a former emperor, did not interfere with the overthrow of his wife and happily crowned his eldest son. The younger one moved to Ellen’s estate, which had been vacated after a series of executions, and began to lead a quiet and peaceful life.

Soon the question arose about the marriage of the young emperor. According to the law, the bride must be an unmarried girl whose age cannot exceed the age of the emperor by more than five years and have the highest title at the time of matchmaking.

The Duke cursed the entire imperial family when the letter arrived.

Yvonne was at first inspired - the emperor was not only a magnificent handsome man, but also a hero of the Empire! However, the rose-colored glasses fell from her eyes when Callisto cut off the head of the attacking foreign mercenary in front of the crowd. From that day on, the girl locked herself in her room, ignoring the requests of her father and brothers to leave - refusal to marry could deprive them of their title or turn into a large-scale confrontation.

Callisto's father, Henry Regulus, advised him not to conflict with the Eckharts, forget about Yvonne and turn his attention to the girl with a slightly lower title - the sister of the Marquis of Berdandi, Viola. Oscar asked naively: “But the Duke has another daughter!Why not her?” Henry just laughed, saying that both daughters were dear to the Duke. The difference is that Yvonne is objectively aware of her position in society and knows how to keep her mouth shut. Penelope has a tongue with spikes, she does not take into account statuses (Henry was convinced of her coarse vocabulary himself) and is unlikely to obey unquestioningly. The Duke will not take risks and will not even show his warlike daughter.

Callisto decided to come to the duchy and discuss the situation: there he witnessed a quarrel between Derrick and Penelope. Now it was clear what the father was talking about. She looked straight into the eyes, holding her head high, her speech was too harsh, and she clearly did not care about the status of her interlocutor.

The Emperor turned to the Duke:

– It doesn’t matter which daughter I marry, right? The law does not prohibit this.

– Your Majesty! Penelope has a difficult character, I think that you will not get along with each other.

– Don’t worry, I’ll find a common language with her.

Much to all surprise, Penelope did not object to marrying the Emperor, she just grumbled all the time, which greatly amused Callisto.

The Duke, like everyone around him, was amazed that the Emperor was not angry at the Empress’s rudeness, but flirted with her in every possible way. For a long time, Penelope resisted Callisto’s advances, but still gave in.

I love the moments when Callisto admires Penelope's combativeness. It's a banal plot, but that's what it's made for.

[lost-inanotherlife]

Lost S1 Rewatch: Destiny&Deception

I've just finished my S1 rewatch (after 20 years, gosh) and I find myself groundlessly surprised.

Surprised because I've just realized how deep the theme of "deceptions&lies&cons" runs through the series.

Groundlessly because it doesn't exactly take a genius to notice it, the writers are absolutely clear in that respect, every episode of S1 features a bunch of lies and some good ol' deception for good measure.

So while I wouldn't deny that "Destiny vs Free Will" is one of S1's major themes... I wouldn't say it's the MAIN theme. I think "Deception" is. Which is possibly even worse because if the main theme of a narrative is "Deception" and the close-to-main-but-not-quite is "Destiny" you kinda know you're in for a hell of a ride.

If we stop and think about it, the vast majority of Losties are not exactly people unwilling to deceive for their personal gain, tell lies and sometimes even straight up con others.

Kate and Sawyer are, of course, professional manipulators and the fact that they are among the main characters is already super telling. Sayid is a "communication officer", an expert in detecting lies and, we'll come to know in "The Greater Good", a good one in telling them too in order to basically con his own friend. Jin and Sun know too well the intricacies and the depths of lying: Jin lies about his own father to his soon-to-be bride and then keeps lying to her about his business with her father (although, it must be noticed, that it's a reluctant lie and something he didn't even know he had gotten himself into in the first place). Sun lied about her English, yes, but, most importantly, she was planning to leave Jin and failed.

Then we have Locke who surely tells some white lies. He seems to portray Helen as his partner but maybe this is less of a lie he tells other people than one he tells himsel. He also lies to the travel agency about his physical condition. Not to mention all the lies he tells on the island. However, Locke is undoubtedly the victim of a vicious con. Anthony Cooper, John's father, is a better confidence man than Sawyer could ever be.

Shannon is also a deceiver and sort of a scammer because she's schemed this convoluted way of getting her hands on the money that she didn't inherit from her father by playing Boone and leaning on his twisted love for her. Conversely, Boone is a victim both of Shannon's deception and of Locke's lies. Boone tries to be stealth when he steals the remaining water because he wants to ration it but fails miserably. On an island inhabited by more or less successful deceivers he was the innocent sacrifice the island demanded.

Walt lies too but, I mean, he's a child, although I bet that burning the raft took some pretty crafty scheming for a 10-year-old. He comes clean to Michael so that's good. Michael also lies to Walt but I've got a hard time classifying it as a "deceiving lie" because he didn't tell his long-lost, grieving-the-death-of-his-mother estranged son that his adoptive father has basically returned him to sender. So, yeah. But hey, still thematically relevant.

Charlie is both deceived by his own brother and a deceiver to Lucy, the rich girl he dated to steal some of her antiques in order to get some money to buy more drugs.

Claire, like John and Boone, is a victim of the deception of both his son's father, Thomas, and of Mr. Makin, the psychic.

Hurley is the proverbial exception to the rule because I think his lie is a rightful omission. All the more so if we think about what happens when he tells the truth (Charlie thinks he's taking the piss, Jack quite vulgarly implies that he's crazy). Which is ironic because his "lie" (not disclosing the info about the curse and the numbers) would actually make A LOT of sense on the island.

Finally, Jack. What about him? I think he's the character that deceives himself the most. He lives by the "Do No Harm" rule and the same name episode tells us exactly this: do no harm to others but you can harm yourself no problem.

And what about Rousseau and Ethan? Ethan literally infiltrated the Losties and deceived them while Rousseau disguised her motives to approach the Losties (i.e. to inform them about the imminent coming of The Others) in order to kidnap Aaron.

So what does this all mean?

Season 1 seems to silently ask: are Destiny and Deception the two sides of the same coin? Is Deception inherently weaved into the fabrics of Destiny or is Destiny at work through Deception? Is Destiny itself a Deception? Or is it lie we tell ourselves so we can pretend to not care about the consequences of our actions, like Jack's father Christian ("That's why the Red Sox will never win the World Series")? Oh, so many questions!

Beautiful, beautiful season! <3

[ariadnesweb]

Witches in Utena are extremely elusive figures, contrasted and scapegoated by the 'Prince'.

By context, all of the Black Rose Duelists (except for maybe Mikage*?) are witches, existing only in relation as the shadows of their princes. Of course, by the nature of duelists, they are also princes, though noticeably more pitiable and weaker than the student council. Ms. Himemiya, the notable witch herself, is at her most active, vindictive, and empathetic during this arc, helping push and break the other black rose duelists.

Kozue and Shiori are notable even within this array, having a strong presence in the first and third set of duels, and notable for having 'enchanted' their princes through manipulation, leading to an easy understanding of their 'witchiness' in the fandom and the audience. But having done so successfully, they become immortalized as their princes' princesses, who are unwilling to scapegoat the girls. Is this a victory? In the 3rd set of duels the pair return as Rose Brides, having established a solid foothold within the realm of women, either by maintaining an indispensable job (Kozue as Miki's adult counterpart, a bride), or by subsuming her entire character into getting a noble prince to take her (Shiori in her relationship with Ruka, a princess, loyal and bitter to the end).

The other notable witch in the cast is Nanami, Kiryuu Touga's younger sister, and known darling terror of the school. Her abrasive and cold-faced attitude easily places her as the antagonistic jealous counterpart to Himemiya, but this abrasiveness is shortly subsumed. Touga makes Nanami a duelist, and soon after abdicates his responsibilities, leaving Nanami as the Student Council President Pro Tempore for the rest of the series (or until Nanami's last duel - it is her decision, Touga never returns, and the Student Council is never disbanded). Until said last duel, Nanami joins Miki and Juri in the maintenance of the student council theater, theatrically musing on the stabbings and workings of the arena. It takes the events of "Her Tragedy" and "The Romance of the Dancing Girls" to shake her out of her cyclical anxieties, as the growing pains of adulthood snap the idling dreams of princes into perspective; Nanami is Touga's witch, his excuse, shadow, and scapegoat - the thing he uses to keep the other girls at bay, the thing that will never be respected or loved in its anger. The reprieve of a witches power, adult intimidation and sensuality, is only cold misunderstanding to her peers.

Himemiya is Akio's witch, the younger sister he uses to terrorize his fiancee and students, who is terrorized in turn by everyone else in the school.

In lieu of his now-implied-dead fiancee, Akio has no qualms turning Anthy and Utena against each other, functionally leaving them as each others witches. The victory of one is the disappearence of another, and so on.

Though disappearing is its own sort of victory, anyways.

*Mikage is technically Utena's shadow, being the negative chosen one, but due to the nature of princes, he maintains his position by 'Princessing' Utena/Tokiko/Mamiya and scapegoating the other researchers (the ghosts of Nemuro Memorial Hall). The closest Utena has to a proper black rose counter part are Anthy/Tatsuya/Wakaba, who face the emptiness of her idealism.

[heartslobbf]

Hm.

Nanami and Juri are girl princes. Maybe Kozoue too... Shiroi maybe?

Saionji and Miki are boy princesses.

more complicated than this imho but thats just because im weird and transsexual. i have rambled underneath about my feelings about boy-princess- and girl-prince-isms, and the general bullshit of ohtori’s rigid categorisation because it’s something that compels me to no end.

juri is a girl prince but everyone forgets that she's a girl until she actually tries to act like a boy, and then they punish her for it. nanami is like a calf-shaped prince. ive said this before, but it's genuinely how i feel. she's not a girl, she's a farm animal (to ohtori; and admittedly, there isn't much difference in ohtori, but it's explicitly said about nanami when it isnt for other girls).

now. ive never really got the 'miki is a boy princess' thing because like.... sure miki is a 13 year old androgynous little boy with short hair and he doesnt exactly ooze masculinity in everyones eyes but um. two things. one is that he actually commands more respect than saionji as a male and therefore princely figure (saionji isnt princely whatsoever and never tries to be bc his ideas about masculinity are in contradiction with akio's all-american bullshit) and the other is that he is, hilariously in my opinion, the only character other than akio shown to drive the car in the series. like, it's a dream sequence/projector illusion (?) but the fact that we see miki in the driver's seat, hands on the wheel, is kind of a huge deal for the show where they loveeeeeee to refuse to show you stuff that destabilises ohtori's artifice. miki has a very conventional and straightforward desire to be a prince to anthy (you know, if you ignore everything with kozue; but arguably his displacement and warping of his feelings in that way is typically ohtori) and he could totally pull that off imho. he's just a little too young for the moment, and unwilling to manipulate and coerce others like, say, touga is. this isn't to say there's no gender fuckery going on with miki because there 100% is, as there is with all rgu characters, i just wouldnt describe him as a boy princess.

anyway <3 kozue deffo has princely qualities but i would probably box hers in with anthy's. they are both princes repackaged as witches because their genders destabilise the ideal of the prince and its artifice. this is something that happens to all of ohtori's little sisters, because they demonstrate utmostly princeliness towards their brothers, but nanami gets special calf-shaped prince privileges because i have kiryuu sibling brain worms. anthy and kozue are very conscious of their witchification as they are conscious of their sexuality, and how that impacts their relationships with their brothers. nanami is not.

shiori is also an interesting case because she and ruka are. well. theyre just fucking bonkers arent they. everything they say about each other is also equally applicable to themselves. i think that out of our three roles (prince, princess, witch/rose bride), some combination of witch and princess seems most fitting? like shiori is 100% a witch, and ruka was the perfect prince until he got sock-puppeted by akio in such a way that. well ruka's complicated and frankly i dont have time to get into it right now (know, however, that i hate his reanimated guts). shiori wants to be a princess and she wants to be pursued hopelessly but in having that desire, she is a witch. there is perhaps a perverse princeliness to her desire, but id argue that that's just what being a witch is. slayyyyyyy

now in regards to saionji. he's a boy princess but also it's complicated. saionji doesnt want to be a prince and saionji doesnt have any interest in princehood because, fundamentally, he doesnt care for it. princehood is built upon these americanised ideals and aesthetics that dont resonate with his very traditionally japanese understanding and performance of masculinity, and he just feels kind of disillusioned and defensive and all-around miserable that he's being 'left behind' in this 'old world' without any fucking chevys in it. like he doesnt want a chevy but everyone else has massive hardons for chevys and all his male peers think thats the only way to attain true masculinity and it makes him sooooooo mad, and frankly, even though he's a misogynist freak, i get that. maybe i am just an american car hater, who knows.

anyway saionji's inclination to the princess role (it's a bit more of a bride role than a princess role, but these distinctions are muddy; i'd argue a princess is entirely passive, but a bride actively wills the outcome of a duel) is deeply sad to me because it's just like this guy has absolutely no idea what the hell he's supposed to do to have a place in this world, attain specialness, command respect and attention. like he was repeatedly mocked for and excluded from attempting masculinity and he certainly cant be a princess (wow isnt this an interesting idea i wonder if it relates to the transfem reading haha what) and he doesnt feel any inclination towards either gender presentation particularly. he likes woodcarving and cooking, is artistic and earnest and expressive, but he's also a devoted kendoka whose sense of masculinity is closely tied to that practice. his gender is, by ohtori's rules, desperately confused and inconclusive. thus he forms part of the trifecta that is himself, utena and nanami, or as i like to call them: transgender freaks and cowgirl. good lord have they slipped through the cracks of this evil bastard system and attempted to fit all the same, understanding absolutely nothing about the impossible spaces they try to fill.

anyway whatevs. now im gonna talk about anthy and touga because my blog is the anthytouga show in my mind despite rarely talking about them and mainly just reblogging deranged art (affectionate) of them. anthy and touga are bonkers to me because they ARE the norm, but also no they arent. and that's the whole thing. like they embody the ideal so perfectly (prince and princess respectively), but anthy's also a witch, and the rose bride, and touga isn't really a prince. theyre unable to join as a prince and princess should, unable to be virtuous and perfect due to their knowledge and awareness. like, theyre both aware of the artifice of their existences and performances, but neither of them can really artiulate that awareness because doing so would jepoardise the positions theyre currently in. for touga, that's a very valuable one that has him close to 'escaping' (read: getting the key to the birdcage and holding it over everyone else's heads). for anthy, it's also valuable but not for herself, not really. it's valuable because it's a position from which she can help akio, and akio needs her, and she is indebted to akio and obliged to sacrifice herself eternally for him. etc etc etc. god i hate this man. you get what im saying with this. it’s about the precarious position that you are placed in as a victim, the power dynamics of it all. you have the knowledge that could crack the world’s shell easily, but you have been caught in such a way that you believe sharing it would kill you (again). it wouldn’t be worth anything. all it does is highlight how disgusting and awful you really are, and you can’t let anyone know that (the objective truth) because then they will stop loving the idealised you you’ve been performing and see the real you (evil and monstrous). ohhhhh what’s that Judith herman quote about being filled with black slime that pours out of your mouth when you open it. anthytouga hours (i am inconsolable rn)

sorry about this rant! i simply have too much to say about this goddamn show and merely wish to discourage people from 'girl prince' and 'boy princess'-ing characters into boxes. you know, utena's whole girl prince thing is actively critiqued by the show because there's nothing revolutionary about assimilation. every character in this show's cast is androgynous and it's up to us to determine what we think those unique expressions of androgyny mean. there are certainly girl prince-isms and boy princess-isms to characters, some more so than others, but you know. the ambiguity and freedom of the transsexual or whatever

[rockislandadultreads]

Read-Alike Friday: Atalanta by Jennifer Saint

The Witch’s Heart by Genevieve Gornichec

Angrboda's story begins where most witches' tales end: with a burning. A punishment from Odin for refusing to provide him with knowledge of the future, the fire leaves Angrboda injured and powerless, and she flees into the farthest reaches of a remote forest. There she is found by a man who reveals himself to be Loki, and her initial distrust of him transforms into a deep and abiding love.

Their union produces three unusual children, each with a secret destiny, who Angrboda is keen to raise at the edge of the world, safely hidden from Odin's all-seeing eye. But as Angrboda slowly recovers her prophetic powers, she learns that her blissful life—and possibly all of existence—is in danger.

With help from the fierce huntress Skadi, with whom she shares a growing bond, Angrboda must choose whether she’ll accept the fate that she's foreseen for her beloved family…or rise to remake their future. From the most ancient of tales this novel forges a story of love, loss, and hope for the modern age.

Ithaca by Clarie North

Seventeen years ago, King Odysseus sailed to war with Troy, taking with him every man of fighting age from the island of Ithaca. None of them has returned, and the women of Ithaca have been left behind to run the kingdom.

Penelope was barely into womanhood when she wed Odysseus. While he lived, her position was secure. But now, years on, speculation is mounting that her husband is dead, and suitors are beginning to knock at her door.

No one man is strong enough to claim Odysseus' empty throne—not yet. But everyone waits for the balance of power to tip, and Penelope knows that any choice she makes could plunge Ithaca into bloody civil war. Only through cunning, wit, and her trusted circle of maids, can she maintain the tenuous peace needed for the kingdom to survive.

This is the first volume in “The Songs of Penelope” series.

Phaedra by Laura Shepperson 

Phaedra has been cast to the side all her life: daughter of an adulteress, sister of a monster, and now unwilling bride to the much-older, power-hungry Theseus. Young, naïve, and idealistic, she has accepted her lot in life, resigned to existing under the sinister weight of Theseus’s control and the constant watchful eye of her handsome stepson Hippolytus.

When supposedly pious Hippolytus assaults her, Phaedra’s world is darkened in the face of untouchable, prideful power. In the face of injustice, Phaedra refuses to remain quiet any longer: such an awful truth demands to be brought to light. When Phaedra publicly accuses Hippolytus of rape, she sparks an overdue reckoning.

The men of Athens gather to determine the truth. Meanwhile, the women of the city, who have no vote, are gathering in the shadows. The women know truth is a slippery thing in the hands of men. There are two sides to every story, and theirs has gone unheard. Until now.

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan

Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.

Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.

To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos.

This is the first volume in “The Celestial Kingdom Duology” series. 

[tj-dragonblade]

Tea and Books Asks

Tagged in by @littledreamling , @mathomhouse-e , and @quillingwords thank you!

1. What period of history do you enjoy learning about?

As long as it's not the fucking founding of America and drafting of the constitution, again, we're golden

2. Who is your favourite fictional character and why?

Of all time? Impossible. Current fandom specifically? ...uh. Kind of also impossible. But I think if pressed Hob might just barely edge out Dream in the standings. Because? Because...his vibes? Immortal Everyman who's not all woe-is-me this-life-is-misery is a delight and idk he's just got that je ne sais quoi that makes me smile and say 'That one, that's my favorite'?

3. What do you order at a café?

It's a rare occurrence but. Some sort of coffee, extra sweet, extra whichever flavor added. Caramel and pumpkin spice are both excellent

4. Libraries, botanical gardens, or art galleries?

Of the three, I've only ever been to libraries, so, that

5. Do you have a favourite film soundtrack?

Beauty and the Beast 1991 probably. The score tracks on that just. Do things to me. Fond of a lot of Hans Zimmer's work as well (Lion King, PotC off the top of my head) and I keep circling back around to the Robin Hood Prince of Thieves soundtrack every few years

6. What does your dream home look like?

Underwater. With bits above water too, maybe half and half, but the important things I've always wanted are submarine airlock entryways and enormous windows with an underwater view. Not too far from civilization either

7. What makes you feel better on gloomy days?

Long solo drives with good music played loud

8. What are your top three films? Books?

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home; The Princess Bride; Beauty and the Beast

I've read fanfic almost exclusively the past twenty years but, let me think...I was very taken with the Shannara series by Terry Brooks in high school; I spent some time on the Vampire Chronicles after that and The Vampire Armand was my favorite (because Armand was my favorite more than because it was actually a good book)

9. Are you an organized person, generally?

...Ish. I dislike clutter and mess, but I wouldn't really classify myself as 'organized' by any standard measure of the word

10. Do you have a favourite classic novel?

...I am extremely fond of Alice in Wonderland and Wizard of Oz both but more for their permutation into pop culture and malleability therein than for their actual books specifically

11. What character archetype or trope is your favourite?

I have a laundry list, and they're generally best when multiple tropes are blended in one character. But maybe...let's go with The Foreigner, The Outsider, the one who often holds up a lens to humanity or whatever majority/default group is involved to offer commentary, try to understand, and who is perpetually Apart from them, usually unable (or unwilling) to quite blend in or assimilate completely even when they may be welcomed and accepted.

12. Do you prefer baking or cooking?

...give me a relatively simple recipe with clear instructions and I'll probably be okay, in either arena

13. Which season do you feel at home in?

In my current climate? Summer. Summer means I can get out and go places and do things. I love autumn in theory but in practice it's far too short, far too cold too quickly, and just a very depressing reminder of the half-a-year of winter that will follow

14. What is your opinion on poetry?

It should absolutely exist, integral facet of humanity, etc. Not really anything I actively seek out, however

15. Do you speak formally when texting and emailing?

Emails are nearly always business related whether home or work, so yes. Texts are not exactly formal but it's rare that I'd ever fail to capitalize, use copious abbreviations, etc. Punctuation droppage depends entirely on who I'm talking to and whether I need the clarity punctuation can provide

16. How do you organize your music playlists?

Haaaaaah. Let me count the ways:

- by artist, when I want The Good Tracks from their discography (and related projects) in chronological order

- by genre

- by pairing - many pairs have multiple permutations of their playlist also

- by character

- by character group

- by theme (e.g. Moon, Aquatic, etc)

- by mood

- by fic inspiration/writing soundtrack

- I have playlists for Disney movies where I put the songs and score pieces back in movie order since the soundtracks always group them separately and I also leave out the shitty radio versions of the songs

- I also have a playlist with all my individual Disney playlists combined in chronological order by movie release date

- by vibes

- by which family member I'm driving with

- I have a playlist for stuff that's in (or contains sections that are in) 3/4, 6/8, and various other non-4/4 time signatures

- I have a couple different playlists of favorite voices

- there's a giant playlist where I dump all the stuff I've rated 4 or 5 stars (some 3s may also get included), sorted by play count, for when I don't know quite what I'm really in the mood to listen to

- aaaaaaand then I usually have two or three playlists in constant flux for whatever I'm really craving to listen to at this particular point in time

17. Who is your favourite author?

Can't say as I have one

18. Chai or hot chocolate?

Chai

19. Do you prefer forests, sea shores, or meadows?

Sea shore, hands down

20. If you were to cultivate a fruit orchard, what would you grow?

Everything I would name I have developed allergies to so. Maybe not. Kinda sucks.

[jessenigma]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

An interesting question! I'm limiting this to anime and manga since that's most of what I've been into for a few years now and my list of beloved characters is too long as it is. 😅

In no particular order, since goodness knows even the entries on this list are very much apt to change:

Olruggio (Witch Hat Atelier) - I love a good grouchy character who secretly cares immensely for people, and he has an amusing goatee situation to boot. Also his role within Qifrey's atelier is similar to my actual job, so I vibe heavily with him.

Sarasa (Kageki Shojo) - I love stories about performers and I love Sarasa's determination and confidence. She is so very much herself in the best way and we should all try to be like her tbqh.

Gennai (Ooku) - Gennai is possibly the coolest human being ever on the planet, a true renaissance lesbian who can write smut, invent cool shit, and create the first vaccine to help with an epidemic raging for decades. Also Gennai gives me all the gender feels and I like it.

Yuuri (Yuri on Ice) - As someone whose career goals were cut short by anxiety, I have always found Yuuri the most relatable character that way, and the fact that he manages to get up and try again even though it's hard as hell for him makes me cry. It's so hopeful.

Alice (Ancient Magus' Bride) - I love Chise with all my heart, but somewhere along the way with this series, I developed an even bigger soft spot for Alice. She's trying so hard to be useful, much like Chise, but she goes so quick to anger when anyone tries to take care of her in return and it breaks my heart.

Makio (Ikoku Nikki) - I can't even begin to count the ways that I vibe with Makio, whose entire mode of existence is intensely relatable to me as someone who's pretty much the same age. She isn't all put together but not in a "oh, wacky disaster!" sort of way, more of a "she has cobbled together things that work for her kinda but can't withstand the addition of another person" sort of way. She's also super pretty and I swoon. I'm reading this manga painfully slowly in French just for her.

Masa (House of Five Leaves) - I love one (1) awkward samurai who manages to stumble his way into a life of crime because he really just wants to find a place where he's happy and wanted.

Chihaya (Chihayafuru) - Chihaya has exactly two brain cells and they're devoted to karuta and Daddy Bear and I love that for her. Her passion for a niche card game is fantastic and the way she wants to connect to other people through karuta is the best.

Kikuhiko/Yakumo (Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju) - He's such a stubborn jerk so much of the time and I adore him for being such a beautiful stubborn hot mess who's unwilling to admit to being a stubborn hot mess.

Seigi (Jeweler Richard) - I will always love a good disaster bisexual and, even if Seigi isn't necessarily bi, he definitely fits in right here. His breathless narration of his boss's beauty is frankly amazing - as is his inability to recognize when everyone around him is going "sir, are you dating this man? - and his care for others is touching. I'm dying to get more of his story asap.

[lostwcnderlands]

" The fey are magical, capricious, illogical, and unexplainable. "

𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖊, 𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 . . .

inspired by tinkerbell's secret of the wings && the iron fey series by julie kagawa. an exclusive pair with @storybooklcve's ariella dawn.

. . . . you knew there was a home for out there somewhere. it never felt like yours in the pillars of ice. love is an unknown touch until fingers grasp your own. an unwilling throne, a crown thrown with sweaty, empty hands - the heart will never ache the way it does for the pirouettes of summer . . . .

as the eldest of three, pressure was not uncommon for the young fae prince as he grew up in the winter woods, where the home of the unseelie royalty were kept apart from the rest. queen mab, mother && ruler of the realm, was not known for her kindness; but rather, her fearsome nature and wild antics. she had come to the throne young - and her mistakes along the way had caused the unseelie court to suffer even beyond her walls of steely ice.

from birth, he had been betrothed. queen titania of the seelie court had, mysteriously, become pregnant at the same time as the young queen mab - creating the most fitting opportunity to create a treaty of (hopefully) lasting peace between kingdoms. one unseelie prince for a seelie princess. with true love out of the question for ambrose; he found his sense of purpose in other ways. he tried not to think of how he'd never met his bride-to-be... or how, they would always live apart; how if he dared cross too far into her world or she into his, then harm would befall their wings.

the brothers were inseparable - as the fae of their court && from the summer realm were assigned talents && duties, it was them who took on the role of repairing their mother's mistakes. for ambrose, he shied away from the spotlight, taking to quieter hobbies and tending to his meticulous collections. with tensions low between the courts, morale between the realms was at an all-time high, and it was not uncommon for unseelie && seelie alike to intermingle, and grow bonds together.

of course - not for ambrose, this was forbidden. queen mab still hated the seelie queen, despite the peace treaty, forbidding any of her sons to interact beyond the line beyond absolute necessary. an odd rule to give someone betrothed into the summer royal family, but it made for an easier time to avoid the knowledge of his doomed betrothal. until... someone made it impossible to ignore.

in the end, it was a summer fairy after all that caught ambrose's attention; but she was not of royal blood, no, simply a performer with dance moves that could mesmerize even the coldest souls. he'd had no choice but to pursue her, falling further in love than he ever thought possible. like her name, ariella was the dawn - sun, stars, moon, and more.

but queen mab found out. in order to protect the secret, and end the affair quickly, she ordered him not to see the summer dancer again. it became harder to see ariella, but ambrose never gave up. he would grow more && more daring with his attempts to extend their time, increase it's frequency... pressing the boundaries between sensible && safe until he flew too close to the sun. wings of frost had cracked, leaving his right wing torn and fragile.

for a time, ambrose managed to hide the injury. he thought, perhaps, it would heal - with rest, with ice, with pixie dust. when no improvements were made, and the damaged parts of the wing began to chip off like thawing ice, ambrose knew he had to accept his new reality. with a torn wing, he would never fly again. when he refused to tell his mother what had happened, queen mab's hatred clouded her judgment, and she assumed that the seelie court had broken the treaty of peace.

a wall of ice, unbreakable && thick, was erected between the realms, and a new law was ordered to all. no one crosses the border. no one goes in... and no one goes out. the betrothal broken, ambrose finally had everything he'd dreamed of; the freedom to love who he chose, and roam without pressure to return. without wings, he was useless as a warrior or an icon of power, especially until it was his turn to rule. queen mab cared little about what he did now, as long as it stayed within the unseelie realm, and he caused no further harm.

but without ariella, it was empty && unsatisfying. taking to the workshops, ambrose devised a new purpose. he would find a way to break his mother's ice - and to make living in both worlds possible, once and for all.

“ The faery lords are immortal. Those who have songs ballads and stories written about them never die. "

[innerdreamercollective]

The More I Hate by Alta Hensley & Zoe Blake, writing as Blake Hensley, is now live! 

His family dared to challenge mine, so I am going to ruin them... starting with stealing his bride.

Only a cold-hearted villain would destroy an innocent bride's special day over a business deal gone bad...

Which is why I choose this precise moment to disrupt New York High Society's most anticipated wedding of the season.

As I am Luc Manwarring, II, billionaire heir to one of the most powerful families in the country, no one is brave enough to stop me.

My revenge plan is deceptively simple: humiliate the groom, then blackmail the bride's family into coercing the bride into marrying me instead.

My ruthless calculations do not anticipate my reluctant bride having so much fight and fire in her.

At every opportunity, she resists my dominance and control, even going so far as trying to escape my dark plans for her.

She is only supposed to be a means to an end, an unwilling player in my game of revenge.

But the more she challenges me, the more I begin to wonder... who is playing who?

Tearing off the gilded veneer of elite privilege exposes the sordid scandals, dark secrets, and taboo desires of New York's jaded high society in this dark romance series from best friends and USAT Bestselling authors Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley, writing under their new pen name, Blake Hensley.

  Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3u8zbBT

Amazon Worldwide: https://mybook.to/TMIHate

Paperback: https://mybook.to/TMIHatePB 

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3uhw8qW

[mediamixs]

5 horror romance movies to watch on Valentine's Day

Even the hardiest horror fanatics need a day to indulge in the sweeping romanticism of the season, however twisted a form the cinematic manifestation of that love might take. Here you have the best horror romance movies to watch on Valentine's Day.

1-Vampyros Lesbos (1971)

The tagline for Vampyros Lesbos is "a psycho-sexadelic horror freakout." It's about as accurate a descriptor of the joys within as can be mustered. Beautifully shot, with a killer psychedelic rock'n'roll soundtrack -- Vampyros Lesbos details the journey of a vampiress who must satiate her unbearable craving for female blood.

2-Bride of Chucky (1998)

Bride of Chucky marks the point where the series takes a more humorous turn, often into self-referential parody. Contrary to the previous three films, the violence in Bride of Chucky is punctuated by humour to deflate the macabre visuals. The film follows the events of the previous films continuity-wise, but not tonally or in a continuation of those film's overall plot, where Chucky pursued the main protagonist Andy Barclay.

3-Spontaneous (2020)

When students in their high school begin inexplicably exploding (literally...), seniors Mara (Katherine Langford) and Dylan (Charlie Plummer) struggle to survive in a world where each moment may be their last. As an unexpected romance blossoms between them, Mara and Dylan discover that when tomorrow is no longer promised, they can finally start living for today.

4-Red Riding Hood (2011)

Valerie is a beautiful young woman torn between two men. She is in love with a brooding outsider, Peter , but her parents have arranged for her to marry the wealthy Henry. Unwilling to lose each other, Valerie and Peter are planning to run away together when they learn that Valerie's older sister has been killed by the werewolf that prowls the dark forest surrounding their village.

5-Scream 2 (1997)

Sidney is in college and once again finds herself the target of a psychotic killer. However, this time, the killer's murder count is higher and the killings more outrageous.