THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️

— CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batmom!Reader

They came for you when you least expected it.

That’s how it always goes, right?

You were on your way home from Gotham’s Police Station, where you worked as one of the best detectives. You were already running late, as you so often did when you were deep into cases, and you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings. You knew this city like the back of your hand, even when it was dark out, you could probably navigate home with your eyes closed.

You grabbed your phone from your pocket, wanting to update your husband that you’d be home soon. You already told him that you’d be a little late but you knew how he worried, and how he hated when you tended to push yourself at work with an abundance of cases.

Just as you began to type out a message, a sudden bolt of electricity hit you square in your back. You could hardly form a thought before your muscles locked, body tensing and seizing up, and you collapsed onto the ground, going limp.

Your phone shattered to the floor, the screen cracking as it met the pavement — just like your forehead, blood spilling as you banged your head.

A foot came smashing down on the phone, rendering it completely useless.

“Should we grab the phone? We don’t want anyone to know she’s gone.”

“She built a life for herself here. They’ll know either way, but they won’t get her back.”

Two pairs of arms hauled you up from the ground, dragging you back, legs and feet roughly hitting the sidewalk over and over again. Your wedding ring slips off your finger, falling onto the ground.

“Tell Dreykov we’ve got her. She’s coming home.”

One of the agents pushed a button on their belt. It began blinking and, wish a flash, the three of them — one unconscious — disappeared into thin air.

No one was around to see. It was a rather quiet night.

//

Bruce couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed when you still hadn’t shown up. Usually you’d text him if you were going to have a late night at the office, but you’d gotten to a habit of forgetting to send it over the past few weeks, too engrossed in whatever case was on your desk. Bruce already didn’t think that staying so light and pushing yourself was good for you, the forgotten texts made his stomach twist even more.

“Alfred, you haven’t heard from Y/N, have you?” Bruce asked, already knowing the answer.

His butler fixed him with a regretful, pitying look. He’d heard this question many a time before. “No, Sir. Perhaps one of the children has?” Alfred suggested. They both knew that if you hadn’t texted Bruce, you hadn’t texted anyone else.

Still, Alfred followed his boss into the main living room, where the kids were lounging. “Have any of you talked to your mother?” Bruce asked.

He received shakes of heads and murmurs of no.

Bruce sighed, sinking into his eloquent armchair, gaze resting on the clock as its hands ticked by. It was getting late, even for your standards. Should he be worried? You always scolded Bruce for being too overprotective, but still . . .

“Dad, look!”

Bruce snaps his head to see his son, Damien, standing over at the window. He joins him and the rest of the family crowds around, only to gasp in horror.

There, in the sky, is the unmistakable bat light. But not the usual one. No, this one is red. When the two of you got married, Bruce had a small device inserted into your bands. It would be able to detect a hard fall and, upon doing so, would display that light if you were ever in danger.

Bruce’s heart began pounding.

“Stay here. Alfred is in charge,” he instructed. Even though the kids were worried for their mother and wanted to go out with Bruce, no one dared go against him.

Within minutes, Bruce was suited up and hopping on his motorcycle. The Batmobile was too flashy for this time of night and he had no time to worry about making it invisible. Bruce sped off, not caring how cold or loud the air was was. He raced towards that light, expertly driving down the streets.

Coming to a sharp stop, Bruce sprinted towards where he could see the glint of the band. He looked around widely — the street was barren.

It was only when he got close that he noticed your shattered phone on the ground. This damage couldn’t have been done from a simple drop.

Bruce felt sick. Physically sick.

Something had happened to you. Something bad. There was no ransom, no villain threatening him. He always thought he’d know what to do if anyone he ever loved was endangered, but you had been taken from him.

There was never enough preparation for that.

─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ tethered⠀ 〳 ⠀ geto suguru & kenjaku ‵

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀( synopsis ) your husband has been acting quite strange lately.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, written with black reader in mind, husband!geto suguru, soft!geto, mentions of geto being a musician, i think in this geto gives off hozier vibes when it comes to being a musician, yes i describe geto as having tattoos cause who going to stop me, geto calls reader pumpkin bc it's cute (thanks alfie), sick man kenjaku, i mean geto is like briefly mentioned, so does this make this a kenjaku thing idk, partner swapping, siri play she knows by j.cole, spit kink, choking kink (but nothing too extreme), missionary position, marking kink, brief mention of oral (f.receiving), overstimulation, breeding kink, inspired by jordan peele's 'us', wc: 1.9k, minors dni !

click here to read on ao3

YOUR HUSBAND WAS COMPLETELY BREATHTAKING. The way his long black hair fell down his back in the morning when the sun was playing peek-a-boo through the curtains of your condo. Some days you found yourself tugging on those strands of hair when he took comfort between your thighs and was eager to taste you on his tongue like a piece of sweet candy. It was breathtaking how the tattoos that imprinted his skin caused your heart to skip. Especially the one behind his ear that was your initials. The cute nickname of pumpkin he would call you when he peppered your face with soft subtle kisses, the scent of him causing you to be intoxicated while giggles bounce from the back of your throat.

How gentle he was with your puppy Doberman Abel because he thought a puppy was perfect practice for a child. The way he would strum his guitar in the living room while humming a lyric from a song he had written. While also claiming he needs a quick kiss on his lips to help his creative juices flow. Your husband was like a prince charming written by a lovesick author. You couldn't ask for another husband. 

But lately, he's been acting strange.

He was coming home later than usual. He's been forgetting about date nights. His touch just became cold. You expected he was cheating, like any other partner who could feel their soulmate tugging away from them. On nights when you thought it would be perfect for doing random pops-up at the studio, he would be there when you waltz into his studio—alone, strumming his guitar and jolting down music lyrics. When he sees you, that twinkle in his eyes you knew so well lit up.

Maybe, you were overthinking.

You confided in his best friend. You were questioning if he's been noticing anything strange about Geto. No one knew him better than his best friend, Gojo Satoru.

"We went out drinking the other night, and he was his usual self. He was so excited about finishing up his album. You know how he gets when the label pushes him to wrap up a song or something." Satoru would exclaim.

That was true. Suguru’s manager has been a bit pushy about the deadline for his sophomore album.

You were overthinking. Your heart settled back to normal as the thoughts of your husband's strange behavior went away. Geto's touch no longer felt like a touch that felt like it was from a stranger. His kisses went back to feeling like you were on cloud nine.

Or so you thought?

Suguru was an excellent kisser. His kisses started soft and subtle. Like a quick peck just to see what lip gloss flavor you were wearing for the day. Then they got eager, like he had to get one quick kiss before getting tugged away for something. He'll pull you close. He'll let his large hands grasp your body like you were the most delicate doll ever. Finally, he'll strike. He'll let his lips drag across your jawline while his fingertips trace your waistline. He wanted you to beg for you to slip his hand into the comfort of your bottoms.

But for some reason, Suguru didn't even let you beg for him to feel how badly you wanted him. His hand instantly climbed into your bottoms as he was on top of you. Through the rough kissing, you could hear him let out a sigh of satisfaction. He completely indulged in the pool of wetness in between your thighs, and you eagerly spread them further apart to give him room.

You winced at the feeling of him biting your lower lip, not even having enough time to react to the pinch of blood that drew from your plush lips. Suguru took it upon himself to let his tongue lick up the blood on your lip as he was aching to taste you. 

In the back of your mind, you wondered what had gotten into your husband. The two of you did have a couple of drinks tonight during dinner, but that never had him acting too brutish. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it; the only thing you could do was indulge in his newest sexual ways. Especially when your slick was staining his guitar-playing fingertips as your fingers grasped at his hair to tug out the black scrunchie holding his hair out his face. Your fingers glide through the strands of silk, occasionally tugging at it to gain a groan from him. 

Clothes begin to vanish from your bodies with each passing second. You could hear your heart thump against your chest each time Suguru placed a kiss on your neck, which turned into nibbles. Your skin grew hotter, feeling the swelling of the hickey that formed upon your neck. Your kiss-bruised lips gasped apart when the two of you finally became one. Perfect-manicured nails pierced at Suguru’s tattooed skin feeling his cock stretch you out. His callous fingertips brush against your waist, cooing softly in that voice that makes you feel lightheaded. On a regular night, he always comforted you at a time like this. He consistently mumbled delicate words of praise like a sweet tune on a Sunday morning while his thick cock was barely inside you. 

Once again, you didn’t know what had gotten into your husband. He tugged you closer, and his hips pushed forward, bullying his cock into your drooling cunt that twitched in anticipation due to his sudden movement. He let out a hiss as if it was his first time feeling you clasp around his hardened member. His eyes traveled down to admire how your face scrunched up in pure bliss. His lips curled into a smirk before he rolled his hips at a rhythmic pace that drove the both of you insane. If only you knew. 

If only you knew the despicable deal, your husband made for the price of fame. 

You had lost track of time while the only thing that echoed in your eardrums was the lewd sound of skin slapping against each other. Geto decorated your skin with so many markings that you mentally lost count. Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel the fiery pit in your stomach. You were so close to cumming; frankly, you didn't want it to stop. Your nails dragged across his skin like a teacher would do to a chalkboard to get her students' attention. Your tears blinded your sight, and your brain was in complete mush. Your thoughts kept spinning back to why your husband was fucking you like this? Your Suguru never let his hips ram into you so aggressively. His kisses never were so stern that they made you feel abhorred.

As if he read your mind, his hand went up to grasp at the headboard that was colliding against the wall. The sound distracted him from not only your cute whithers of a name that wasn't his but the voice in his head of the other man screaming at him to stop, that this wasn't a part of the deal.

"I'm fuckin' you like this because you're mine."

You felt like your lower half exploded when that phrase fell from his lips, letting out a long, drastic cry of pleasure. Although your drooling cunt fluttered around his cock—he wasn't finished with you yet. Your eyes looked at your husband, above you, with a look you never gave him before. It was a look with so many questions you were too exhausted to search for the answers. You watched him stick his index and middle finger inside his mouth before letting it tiptoe between your sweat-coated bodies. His fingers rubbed at your clit, and his grin grew even more sinister, watching you attempt to slither from his cock, tapping at that one spot that caused your toes to curl.

"Go ahead, let it all out." He coos while his strokes slow down to mimic your pants.

The blood rushed to his face quickly, causing his cheeks to crimson. His strands of hair stuck to his forehead due to the sweat droplets that decorated it, and it finally hit him that he was at his boiling point. He was so close to filling you up. Because you were his, you were his, not that lousy musician. Soon, he couldn't control himself. His hips were bucking forward like a hormonal college student that just gotten his first whiff of pussy. With a hushed groan of your name, he cums quickly, and it is so much of it. Thick ropes of cum spill out of you with each exhausted and sloppy thrust from the man you call your husband, Suguru. A complete mess stained the sheets before his body plops down next to you. His cock went limp, and his brain was still egging him on for more (or was that the voices in his head?).

Your face was buried into the crook of Suguru's neck while exhaustion finally washed over your body. You could feel him place a kiss on the crown of your head as you cuddle up against him some more. Your body is completely marked up and leaking with his cum. You didn't even have enough energy to utter I Love you like you usually do after sex with him.

"Sleep well, pumpkin, and I love you too." You heard your husband say before your eyes fluttered closed.

The following morning, as you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom, your mind replayed the events from last night. That wasn't your husband. That wasn't the man you said I do to. But he looked like your husband. He looked like Suguru. His touch didn't feel like Suguru's, though. But it was him, right? He called you by that nickname that had you giggling when it flew out his mouth. Pumpkin.

Your fingertips delineate alongside the bite marks and hickeys on your soft flesh. Suguru never marked you up like this. He would always say—he didn't need to decorate your body with marks to prove that you were his. His demeanor and his words confirmed it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of damp arms wrapping around your waist. You are so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even notice your husband has finished showering. The water droplets stained the t-shirt that belonged to him while his grasp on you grew tighter. His lips kiss the artwork he created on your neck the previous night, and the scent of his shampoo tickles your nose. With each second, the kisses on your neck grew rougher, and below in your panties—grew damper.

"Suguru, not right now. I have work soon, and you must go to the studio to wrap up your album." Your words come up as an ached whisper, not wanting to cave in his sexual favors this morning.

Your eyes shifted closed when you felt his teeth nibble at the sensitive spots on your neck, and his hand disappeared in your underwear. Your eyes soon snapped open when you heard a voice that didn't sound like Suguru. It was more sinister. Bone-chilling. Menacing.

"Who's Suguru?"

Your eyes looked into the mirror, and you felt your stomach create the most unappealing knots. Your heart felt like it was bashing at your chest so aggressively that it was trying to escape from your body.

As you stared at the man in the mirror who was grasping at your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, and the most devilish smirk on his face, you knew you should have gone with your gut.  The stitch lines on his forehead were as disturbing as the thought that you didn't sleep with Suguru last night.

"Kenjaku."

TAGS — @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @aiyaaayei @shamelesshoefairy @noriken @satorhime @reiners-gf @getosbunny @gobblethiskitty @soumies @mind-over-meagan @mymelancholy @kristvns @nathalunalune @vivibabiez @4522-08 @heejayy @uzumakioden @ddostoyevskyy @honeycomb-biscuits @puff-puffsweetener @holeyahsama @shyartnerd564 @comatosebunny09 @whatdidhesayyyy @sways-posts @animepickle7 @acourtof-stress-and-kpop @alittlearlert @r-xochitl @sookisaurus @cyancherub @sleepy3 @hellavile @stunnababyyabyyy

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if the returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

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marvel masterlist!

-miles morales

corazón despeinado —angst, fluff

cielo en la mente — angst, fluff pt 2 to ^

un beso — fluff

BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

bounded

Geto Suguru x f!Reader

Bounded!Geto tag

summary: Despite being the only person in your clan with the weakest presence of cursed energy, you were not deemed entirely useless. To your father, you were the greatest offering they could give to Geto Suguru, and to your surprise, he accepted.

cw: arranged marriage, Geto becoming possessive, mild choking, unprotected sex, DUBCON, creampie, fingering, manipulation , a little bit of dacryphillia, loss of virginity, corruption kink, breeding kink

wc: 5.4K

a/n: hope y’all enjoy this one. It is rather sweet? But still a little dark. Geto will and can breed you, make sure that you’ll provide him the necessary heirs he needed. And in this fic, I imagine that he would actually be a very loving husband as time goes by, because his wife had no sin as bad as his that could make him hate her. uwu

If you like my work, don’t be shy to heart and reblog! or tip me on Ko-fi!

M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T

The tug at your hair snapped you out of your daze, reminding you of the present. Eyes focusing on the mirror from its blanked out state, you were met with a reflection you didn’t quite recognise. Golden ornaments adorned your head and was weaved into your hair, shimmering with red gems. Your makeup was done in a natural fashion, your mother keen on keeping your look natural, pure and radiant, to make sure the ‘buyer’ would be satisfied with what he was promised. The pure white wedding kimono felt heavy on your body, the fabrics not weighing much seemed to weigh like sacks of stones. To wear something so beautiful and intricate was something you weren’t used too as well.

“You make a beautiful bride,” your mother smiled behind you, a warm smile that made you tell yourself that despite the circumstances, at least she was happy.

And you were reminded just what you were supposed to do today.

To fulfil a duty only you in your family can do and was able to. You weren’t much use to your family due to you having under developed cursed technique. ‘You are weak’, they said. ‘You have cursed energy but it’s not strong enough like everyone else in the family.’ Because of that you were raised to do house chores well, taught about how to be a good wife and a mother. You were happy that even though there was a hierarchy of power in your family, they never abandoned you. They still treated you as a daughter, cousin and sister. If doing this will make them happy, then you’d happily oblige because for once, you were of use.

But why couldn’t you shake the heavy feeling in your heart, as you walked down the aisle in the temple. Your father’s arm linked with yours provided no comfort as you approached and managed a glimpse of the man who was your groom. Your soon to be husband.

Unlike the times you’ve seen him in the gatherings of his followers, he wore ceremonial black robes, a fit that radiated a different kind of superiority and energy than his usual Buddhist styles robes that he masqueraded in.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You were going to marry the leader of the organisation your family devoted themselves to, a man so powerful and malicious that he massacred a hundred or more civilians in one night. A mass murderer. A man who deemed shamans and cursed users to be superior than normal humans. You barely knew anything about who he really was, only the stories, testaments and word of mouth from other devotees who would visit your clan.

The whole part of the ceremony went as practiced and as traditionally as you were taught but when it came to the part to where the bride and groom kiss, your hands that were in his large ones, hands that had caused so much pain and suffering, trembled. Unlike you, his dark eyes were warm and calm, his smile as well, but despite managing to remain composed, you were reluctant and frightened. Maybe it was because of how unreadable he was when he looked at you that way. That concerned you more than the fact you were kissing for the first time in your life, and more so, kissing a stranger.

The two of you exited the shrine, arms linked with each other as the people you called family and his followers, showered pink blossom leaves or rose petals in the air, celebrating the marriage of their leader. He thanked them humbly with a smile and nod of his head, the two girls who he had rescued also smiling and even tearing up at the sight. You had been with them before, your father asked by Geto himself to have his daughter be somewhat of a female presence for them, and that’s how you got somewhat close to the two girls, looked after them as if they were your little sisters.

You kept quiet on the way out and folded your hands neatly on your lap in the car that escorted the two of you to the new house you would be living in. This was the first time you two were alone and you couldn’t tear your eyes from your fingers, scared to see what expression he wore.

“I didn’t get to say this,”he broke the silence, his voice as alluring as always. “You look very beautiful.”

You didn’t expect that.

Out of respect, you stuttered a gentle, “T-thank you.” Also not expecting the soft chuckle that bubbled from his chest.

“My pretty wife can’t look me in the eyes.”

You missed the light joking tone in his sentence and panicked. Looking at him, wide eyed as you quickly blurted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—

You were met with an expression almost mirroring yours. His eyes were wide and slowly blinking at your reaction, more surprised than your panic. His cheek had lifted off his palm that he had been leaning on, admiring you without you even knowing.

“I didn’t say that to scare you,” his brows raised slightly. “I was merely teasing.”

“T-teasing?” Your brows knitted together.

“Yes, teasing. Couples do that to each other.” He spoke in a matter of fact. You knew that. It’s just you didn’t expect this to be a normal marriage. Does he really intend to see you as his equal, his other half? Rather than just a woman bound to him by oath, whose duty was to bear him heirs. “You know what your duties are I assume. Your parents raised you differently from your siblings.”

You nodded, doing your best to not let your gaze waver, anxious if that should anger him.

“I’m to bear you children.”

“You are to be my wife.”

The both of you spoke at the same time. Each other’s words surprising one another once more.

Geto knew of his reputation and how it instilled fear, respect and admiration from his followers, but despite his deep seated belief in his ideology, he wasn’t as heartless as everyone believed. He asked your father, his clan being the only clan that severed their ties with Jujutsu Tech and risked their connections with other clans, to name a few, Zenin, Kamo and Gojo, to follow him, and to offer you as his wife.

“I will not be dishonest with my wife and not admit that the main intention of this marriage is to have heirs. My own clan. Once my goal has been reached, I would very much like to rest and watch the world that I have made for my followers and other sorcerers.”

“A world where sorcerers are not sacrificed nor obligated to save normal humans,” you recalled what he had said long ago, the first time you’ve ever heard or seen him. When your family pledged their allegiance and loyalty to him and his goal.

You noticed the little twitch of the end of his lips going higher, a proud, gentle and flattered smile adorning his face.

“Exactly.” He leaned his chin on his palm once more, legs spreading wider as he continued to stare at you with that look you didn’t quite understand. Was it mockery or interest? “Though your father offered you to me…”

Offered. The word echoed in your chest, making your heart sink at how you were given away like an offering to please a God.

“I already found you endearing even before.”

A merciful, kind, God perhaps.

The pit in your chest disappeared, and was now filled with a thousand butterflies fluttering as you felt your heart skip a beat. He had always been a charmer, he charmed people to follow him, to devote themselves to his cause and if they don’t, he instilled fear in them, threaten them.

The rest of the journey to the new house was silent, your heartbeat drumming in your ears. The large traditional Japanese styled home was funded by none other than one of the many donors that supported his cause. There was only the two of you when your arrived in the secluded home, surrounded by woods for privacy, unlike your clan, there were no maids or servants to maintain the upkeep of the lot. But Geto assured you, as he slid open the door that looked out the lawn, that there will be a maid or gardener that would come by, and that you won’t shoulder as much housework as you thought. It was just for the time being, he wanted to be alone in this new house with his wife.

After dinner and soaking in the bath, you found yourself in the master bedroom, in your cotton robe looking for your sleepwear. The clothes were new and the only ones that were yours were formal dresses you had in the past, other than that everything was new, from daywear to sleepwear. Not wanting to stay naked any longer under the robe, you slipped on some comfortable cotton underwear before putting on a silk set of a thinly strapped camisole and soft silk bottoms, that were shorter than the ones you owned but comfortable nonetheless.

While you were eying the low made bed in the middle of the lantern lit room, you didn’t hear Geto entering the room but a low whistle caught you off guard, making you turn quickly, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed. Your butt sunk into the soft mattress, your fingers clutching the comforter laid on top of it as heat rose to your cheeks and you averted your gaze.

But the image was still fresh in your mind, his hair messily beautiful in a loose bun, droplets of water leaking down his naked toned torso, your heart for the brief second you saw him, beating so fast at v line that pointed down his hips, only a cotton towel covering his lower body.

“Geto-sama,” you gasped, looking down at your lap, folding your legs beneath you.

“My wife should call me by my first name, don’t you think?” He raised a brow, his tone teasing as he stepped closer to the bed where his own robe laid on the corner.

You nodded, remaining still in your place, waiting for orders cause you were unsure of what to do in his presence, in your shared bed.

“You look very pretty wearing the clothes I’ve bought you,” he hummed, stepping closer, his hand unable to stop itself from reaching out and pushing your hair behind your shoulder.

His fingers brushing your bare shoulder made you shiver, warmth spreading from where he touched you to your chest, to your core.

“You’re so timid,” he softly said out loud, enamoured by the woman before him. A woman that he knew was untainted by the monkeys, someone raised to obey him, support him, stand by his side no matter what and the more he stared at you, the more he relished in the idea of being your first man, your first everything.

“Do you not like me?” He teased.

“No!” You quickly objected, the thought absurd, the panic in your voice catching him off guard. “Geto-sama is everything and more than I could ever ask for. I promise to be a good wife.” Your eyes finally met his, unaware of how your words made blood rush down to his cock. He wondered just how good you’d be for him.

“I don’t doubt your words, my dear.” He placed his hand on your shoulder now, warm palm covering your skin. He had half the urge to slip the thin strap down your shoulder.

You couldn’t stop staring at him. His raven black hair messily strewn behind his back, strands falling over his handsome chiselled face and dark eyes staring into yours, he wasn’t robed in the thick clothes he always wore, this was a side of him only you were honoured to see.

His long fingers traced your jaw before cupping your cheek, making you look up at him, his eyes glowing with something you can’t quite place but entranced you all the same.

“My dear wife, I ask you now, if you willingly offer your body, heart and spirit to me?”

You should’ve been scared. Should've been stubborn and have resisted. He was a stranger whom you only knew of from afar, a leader you and your family followed devotedly, and yet, your answer fell so softly from your lips selflessly. As if his very being took your breath away despite of the fear of the unknown. As if he was a god and you were a devote worshipper, ready to serve him and be at his disposal.

“Yes.”

Why did he make you feel like this? Was it because of his strong cursed energy that yours could never amount or compare to? Or was it fear of not fulfilling your duties as his wife?

All those questions soon disappeared when he pushes you on the bed, pinning you beneath him, palms on either side of your head and your thighs between his legs.

“Such a good little kitten,” he purred, warm breath tickling your ear and teeth nibbling at your lobe, a soft mewl squeezing from your throat.

“Obey me and you will be rewarded,” he pressed a kiss on your neck this time, lips hot on your skin and sending a heat straight down your core. He kissed along your jaw before he hovered his face above yours, his lips so close it almost touched your own. He forced you to meet his eyes, gripping your chin. “Stand by me and I will be yours.”

“I promise,” you swore breathlessly, wanting to feel more of him. To lose yourself in the way his presence overpowered you. “I promise to love you.”

“I’ll hold you onto that promise,” was all he said before his lips finally met yours with a heated passion that made your shiver.

Geto wasn’t trying to be romantic by any means, it just happened. The expressions you made whenever he spoke to you were cute and endearing, your voice and the way you offered yourself to him without a second thought fed his ego, and your timid,starry eyes , captivated him to the point where he actually wanted to make this an actual marriage for you.

Marriage bounded you to him. You were his, and something about that made him possessive.

You blinked hazily when his lips parted from yours, their warmth something you craved for. Geto’s hand caressed your mid-drift, the silk camisole rising and bunching under your breasts, the straps falling of your shoulders as he trailed his hand higher. His fingers brushed over the curvature of your breast, his fingertips making contact with your hardened nipple making you bite your lip and press your thighs together.

His touch was gentle. Something you didn’t expect from him. The way it made you feel was addicting. It was like rays of sunshine shining and warming your skin. You couldn’t believe you were letting a man touch you like this, it was embarrassing how easily you succumbed to him. But he was your husband.

You stared up at him, a tinge of coal colored fear prickling behind the dark red waves of lust. His slanted eyes were cold, demanding even. His dark long tresses fell over his broad shoulders as he shadow loomed over you, as if veiling you. His warm fingers now traced your collar bones, your chest rising and falling with anticipation, lips parted and swollen from kissing. You awaited his next move with bated breath.

“Say it again,” his voice lowered in volume, dangerously so. His eyes were moving all over your face, taking in every detail of your expression. Fear, confusion, lust. It was written all over your face. As well as obedience. Submission.

His long fingers enclosed around your throat, the action making your eyes meet his. He squeezed gently, forcing your lips to part in a cute little ‘o’, your brows knitting upwards as you tried to breathe in his hold. You weren’t even fighting back. Was that how much you valued your word?

“Tell me your sweet promise again,” he husked, his other hand gliding down and under the waistband of the satin shorts, fingers pressing against your clit through your panties, your slick seeping through the fabric. You pressed your thighs together, biting your lip

“I…” you tried to say, losing focus when he slowly drew circles over that sensitive part, your hips writhing not sure if it was to get away from his touch or to have more of it.

“Tell me, wife,” he squeezed the sides of your neck again, his thumb, despite the threatening hold he had, caressed your skin.

“I promise,” you managed to get out, voice pitchy and trembling, a soft moan leaving you when he pushed your panties to the side to dip his fingers between your slit; warm fingers tracing up and down, spreading your wetness before going back to massaging your clit. Your core clenched. “I promise to love you, Suguru.”

An unbecoming whine left you when you felt his finger slip past your entrance. Your gummy walls welcomed the intrusion, clenching greedily around his digit, even more so when he added another.

“I like it when you say that,” he smirked, satisfied and amused with how your body reacted to his touch, how sensitive you were. “Make sure to say it often. For me.” His hand left your neck.

You nodded, your hand coming over your mouth to muffle your voice when he began to move his fingers in a come hither motion. He was rubbing your sensitive spot so easily, your thighs were shaking.

“Can you feel how wet you are, darling? You’re dripping,” he leaned down, whispering in your ear.

You could. You could feel how wet you had become the more he touched you, the more he pumped his fingers in and out your cunt. Your arousal was leaking from your hole and you could only moan and whine at how good it felt. You didn’t want him to stop.

“And it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

You nodded your head quickly again, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close as your hips twitched and writhed with pleasure.

Getou could feel your tight heat clench around his fingers, signalling you were close to cumming. He internally swore at how tight and warm your walls were, he can’t help but imagine how good it would feel once he splits your virgin pussy with his cock.

“Suguru,” you panted, eyes squeezing shut, face scrunching at the overwhelming, new sensations. “I-I c-can’t.” You didn’t know what you were saying but somehow he knew.

“It’s okay, darling. You don’t have to hold back. Cum around your husband’s fingers,” he rasped in your ear, a smirk dancing on his lips before he nibbled at the sensitive part on your neck. Once you heard his words, as if on command, you felt that tightening knot inside you snap, it’s threads exploding in different directions form your core, pleasure licking at every fibre of your being.

“W-wait,” your hand barely wrapped against his wrist, your body still spasming from your orgasm, his fingers still curling and scissoring inside your cunt. “Too m-much.” Your hips tried to wriggle away, something he found cute as he tilted his head to the side, admiring the woman who would carry his child.

“I got carried away,” he said simply, pulling his fingers out and opting to slowly circle round your clit. He didn’t get carried away, he just wanted to get a glimpse of your expression should he overstimulate you. With the way you were breathing heavily beneath him right now, eyes bleary and blinking to gather yourself, he wanted nothing more than to breed you dumb.

You’d let him wouldn’t you?

“It’s okay,” you easily forgave him, voice small as your eyes moved from his face and trailed down his torso, stopping where his towel was still wrapped around his hips. You reached out, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, shyly tugging at it to loosen. “S’not fair.” You mumbled.

Geto chuckled. You only had cum around his fingers and you were already so drunk on lust. “I wasn’t sure if you would want to go all the way tonight,” he teased, bringing his fingers to his lips, tongue sliding along his long digits to taste you. Your eyes widened at the gesture, your walls clenching tightly with need as more heat crept up your cheeks. “It’s only our first night as husband and wife after all, and I am but a stranger to you aren’t I? I didn’t want to scare you.” He was telling you things that would make you give up to him, he wanted you to wholeheartedly beg for him to take you.

He continued to clean off his fingers with his tongue, his eyes never leaving yours as he did, knowing that it would spur you on.

You turned your head away as if embarrassed to have been caught looking at something you shouldn’t have seen.

“I’m not scared,” you murmured, a hint of shame swelling in your chest at how you so greedily wanted to feel more of him.

“You’re not?” His voice was light, playful even. He unwrapped the towel around his hips, letting it fall to the side before wrapping his hand around his hard, throbbing cock, his eyes on your glistening wet pussy.

“N-no,” you replied, your hands gripped the pillow under your head. You were not scared of him. You were far more scared of admitting you wanted more.

After all he wasn’t a stranger anymore, right? He was to be your husband for the rest of your life and what you two were doing was something so intimate between two lovers.

A unfamiliar heat prodding at your entrance made your head snap to face him once more, eyes wide and searching for what it was. His cock was lengthy and thick, the head flushed pink. It was hot and throbbing against your pussy as he slowly rubbed his length between your folds.

How was that going to fit inside of you?

“You’re staring,” he clicked his tongue in a teasing manner, hand on your abdomen, thumb slowly rubbing circles on your clit. He guided his cock along your slit, rubbing the bulbous tip on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan so sinfully.

“S-Suguru…”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I don’t know if I can,” your voice trembled, clueless to the tears that collected on your lashes.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he caressed your cheek. “You promised to love me didn’t you?” He pushed the tip in, earning a sharp gasp from you. “You’ll let me do the same right?”

You were taking deep breaths, the feeling of the hot leaking tip inside your chaste cunt, stinging. You couldn’t believe the tip was in and it already had you keening.

“I promise to be gentle,” he cooed, continuing to rub your clit and leaning forward slowly, easing himself inch by inch into your tight warm cunt. He shuddered from the mere sensation of being inside of you. You were squeezing his cock so tightly, your eyes were a teary mess of fear and confusion.

“Relax,” he soothed, pushing deeper til he was buried to the hilt, a fullness you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts,” you cried softly, eyes squeezing shut as tears streamed down your cheeks. “You’re t-too…”

“Too what?” He leaned forward, propped on his forearms so that his face was close with yours.

“Too big,” you whimpered, your walls spasming around his length, trying to adjust to his size.

“You feel so good. You’re squeezing my cock so tightly . It’s taking all of me to not to ravage you,” he rasped in your ear, such lewd words making your core tighten. “Oh?” He mused. “You react so well to me. Do you like it when I talk dirty to you?“

“K-kiss me, Suguru,” you forced your eyes open, tears flowing freely as the feeling of his cock spreading your walls began to no longer feel painful, your body now overwhelmed by the new sensations of pleasure. “P-please,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life.

If that would ease your pain, he will.

Being a ‘good husband’, he pressed his lips onto yours, drawing his hips back at the same time, to distract you from the discomfort of being your first and last man. Oh, how addicting the embrace of your walls were as he dragged his cock in and out of your increasingly wet cunt. He muffled your moans with his kisses, his tongue dominating your mouth, adding to the already dizzying sensation of his cock fucking in and out of you.

The fear you had disappeared away as your body melted for him. Increasing hot warmth, spreading through your body as your body begged for more. Now growing used to the rhythm of his hips, to the shape of his cock and his hot kisses.

“How lucky I am to have such a beautiful wife,” he muttered, your lower lip between his teeth as he leaned back, straightening up and holding your hips.

Praises spilled from his lips, his words only making you a slave to him, to his every word, every touch. Oh how you wanted to please him. You felt spoiled already. To have been shown and showered with the intimacy a husband and wife shares on your wedding night. You’ll keep your promise like an oath, you swore as you stared at his face. Were you the reason for the pleasure indulgent look on his face? He appeared feral as if he was a wolf going to devour you.

As your belly grew taut and the pleasure that was sparking throughout your body doubled, you’d let him. You’d let him do anything if it pleased it. Was this love? You weren’t sure but it felt like it.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, drunk on the thrusts of his cock, the tip brushing against a particular spot inside you that you moaning so obscenely. “S-Suguru, ah, f-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, fucking you deeper, your back arching. “You’re gonna cum again aren’t you?”

You nodded, legs squeezing tightly around his waist, his eyes watching your breasts bounce with each hard stroke, adoring the blooming marks he made on your chest. Your cries of pleasure were music to his ears, a melody that he only elicited from you. They got higher in pitch the closer you reached your peak, your words incoherent as your sweet cunt sucked him in.

Your velvety walls were heavenly, soft, warm and deliciously hugging his cock. Your arousal spilled from your cunt, leaking onto the bed as a ring of white at the base of his cock formed. He groaned at the sight, fucking into your harder.

Lips parting into a silent scream, nails digging into the flesh of his back, your walls clenched around him, so tightly his hips stuttered it’s pace. The warmth builded up in your belly exploded to every part of your body, trembling and spasming at the intense wave of pleasure that swept through you. You felt as if you were floating, your mind was blank, and the bed felt like clouds against your skin while all you could do was look at him.

“Good girl,” he cooed, able to draw his hips back til his cock almost left you before plunging into you once again, using the wetness from your release to bring him closer to his own. “You take me so well. You look so pretty like this,” he spoke, his compliments making you blush and turn away.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval, grabbing your face roughly with his hand. “Keep looking at me. Don’t hide yourself from me.” He seethed, his other hand pulling you down by the waist to meet each deep thrust.

“T-too much, Suguru. I-I cant anymore! Came already,” you panted, your much smaller hand wrapping around his wrist to stop him or to tell him to slow down.

“We’re not done yet, darling. The night has just begun,” his voice began to loose its steadiness. “I have every intention to fill you full of my seed.” He groaned, giving his final thrust as he spilled inside of you. Hot cum filling your womb, you felt his cock twitch inside and was not able to suppress a moan at how good that felt.

He fell forward but made sure not crush you either, his forehead rested against your own, and the heavy, staggered fanning of his breath on your lips matched your own. “We need to make sure it takes.” He said softly, eyes closed in bliss and kissing you.

Geto remained still inside of you, emptying himself in your womb and as he did, he peppered your chest and neck with kisses, letting you come down from your high before pulling away.

The emptiness that followed when his cock slipped from your cunt, made you shiver. Geto sat back on his heels, his large hands on your hips as he watched his cum leak from your abused cunt. “Mhm, don’t want that to go to waste now don’t we?” He chuckled softly, plugging your hole with two fingers as if to shove back his seed into you.

Eyelids heavy and blinking slowly, you steadied your breaths. Your core was still contracting little by little from your release, and inside your belly felt warm. A warmth you didn’t think you’d find comforting.

Before you could even come to, Geto gently flipped you over onto your stomach, your cheek pressed against he pillow as he lifted your hips up, propping your lower body on your knees. Your pussy was a mess, your slick dripped down onto your thighs and onto the bed, and every time your walls would squeeze around nothing, white cum would seep out your pink hole.

“I have no doubts about your promise,” he spoke, guiding his tip to your swollen cunt once more. “I have no doubts you’d be a good wife.” His hands massaged the fat of your ass, squeezing hard before slapping the flesh, making you whimper. “Do you remember your vows?”

“Ye—ah! Y-yes,” you shakily responded, shivering with pleasure when he plunged back into your cunt once more, the fullness filling you up again.

“Say them again,” he commanded, thrusting languidly, giving you just enough friction.

“Suguru, p-please,”

He needed to hear your words of promise. Geto didn’t know why but he craved it. It was a reassurance that he didn’t know he needed til now.

“I, Y/N, take you, Suguru,” you muttered softly, hands gripping the sheets below as you slowly rocked forward with his thrusts. “T-to be my husband…”

He didn’t expect you to actually be able to say it and yet here you were, face pressed against the pillow with voice quivering and soft moans leaving you, ass up and taking his cock, reciting your vows from heart.

“….T-to love and to cherish,” you continued, your own hips moving, begging for more, meeting his shallow thrusts.

“And?” Geto stilled, leaning over to press his back against yours, his cock buried to the hilt and pulsing in the warmth of your walls.

“A-and,” your hands fisted the sheets when his hand snaked around your body to rub your swollen clit. “And to obey.”

Suguru moaned in your ear, breathy and sweet, it sent shivers down your spine.

“Good girl. Never forget your vows. From here on out,” he carded his fingers through your hair before grabbing a fistful and straightening up, angling himself to reward you with pleasure and his seed. “It’s til death do us part.”

𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦? (series)

(synopsis…) 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 - 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙺𝚂 𝚁𝙰𝙵𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁𝙾𝙽 ❝You're a hard man to love and I'm. A hard woman to keep track of. You like to rage, don't do that. You want your way, you make me so mad❞

○○○ Y/N Heyward is Pope Heyward's younger sister. Growing up, She was always surrounded by his friends, John B, JJ, and Kiara, who are like her extended family now, While her brother and his friends are known for their daring adventures, Despite her young age, she's wise beyond her years and often serves as a moral compass for her friends and family. She is also a bit shy and introverted, preferring to spend her time with close friends or curled up with a good book. Y/N has never felt the need to join in on their wild escapades (until now), preferring to support her brother and friends from the sidelines. This never diminished her love and loyalty to her family and friends, though. Her sweetness and innocence have always made her a beloved figure on the island.

○○○ Rafe first saw Y/N when it was a hot summer day, He was lounging by the his familes private dock, nursing a hangover. He spotted John B. coming in from a day of work on the Cameron's yacht. With him was a her, She was carrying a basket of freshly washed towels for the boat, her face flushed from the heat. Rafe found himself captivated by her innocence and purity, so different from the usual crowd he hung out with. He was drawn to her kindness and empathy, characteristics that were starkly absent in his own personality.

°. *࿐ ━ 𝗮𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘀

°. *࿐ ━ 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗢𝗡𝗘..... 1 2

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗧𝗪𝗢.....

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘....

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!

○○○ Strong language, sexual/suggestive content, angst, violence, dubcon, underaged drinking, substance abuse, toxic relationship, age gap, verbal abuse, obsession and stalking.

𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓!

○○○ Copyright ⓒ 2023 / All Rights Reserved. This work may not be duplicated, translated, or copied in any way. Please do not steal.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐑!

○○○ I do not own Rafe Cameron or any of the OBX characters. I don't own the plot of this series since it follows the plot of outer banks.

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐒!

○○○ Unless so stated, all of the graphics in the series were made by myself. Please don't try to steal or plagiarize my story or the graphics

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄!

○○○ Hi... So, you may have noticed that I have a new story brewing after you've been left to tenderly babysit the last one for a few months. You're probably thinking, "Really? Another one? Doesn't this author know the definition of 'focus'?"

But I don't so...

Stay tuned, and stay patient.