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noor of my eyes

Suguru always knew she loved the softness. The feel of women's skin against hers, the gentle brush of their hair and the loveliness of their eyes. Suguru always knew she would love to have a child. Just... not with her husband. But with his second wife.

.𖥔 ݁ ִֶָ࣪☾. ˖pairing: ꒰ Fem!Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader ꒱

.𖥔 ݁ ִֶָ࣪☾. ˖content/warnings: ꒰ inspired by the true story : WLW : forced marriage : age gap (reader in early 20s, Suguru in late 20s) : secret relationship : polygamy : lesbian love : fluff : a bit of smut : gentle sex : mentions of pregnancy : forbidden love : tooth-rooting fluff : 2.8k words ꒱

.𖥔 ݁ ִֶָ࣪☾. ˖notes: Because of Pride Month, I wanted to write a story about women who, because of the cultural and religious environment in which they live, need to keep their sexuality secret. This story is inspired by a relationship between two Omani wives of the same man, which I read about in a non-fiction book about the lives of Omani women. I am not Muslim, nor do I live in a Muslim country, but (as you may've noticed) I am interested in Arab countries and have tried my best to keep this story as respectful as possible.

Noor (نور) - light, brightness

art by @/_rinren_ on X dividers by @strangergraphics

Suguru always knew that she preferred softness.

From the moment her deep, young eyes saw the heavy beard needling the man’s face, the long, curly hair coating her uncle’s back, her father’s calloused palms gripping her wrist, and the muscles bulging under the hard skin of his cousins' shoulders. Everything seemed too rough, almost aggressive, spiking an unpleasant flavour that spilt on her tongue.

Suguru could name the feelings bubbling beneath her chest whenever the boys at her school tried to tug at her long braids. Complimented a purple abaya that matched the depth of her almond-shaped eyes, circled by a fan of thick lashes. When they waited for her after school, under the shadow of a date palm, kicking little stones along the gravelly road. She always passed them by with indifference, and their coffee-coloured eyes followed her with misery.

As she was feeling irritation, anger, sometimes even disgust.

With two brothers at home, she should be used to this boyish foolishness they also beamed with, yet whenever a classmate taller than her was tried to brush a strand of her hair, she would slap his hand without hesitation.

Suguru knew that treating boys that way was no good. Her mother, her father, and the cousins reminded her of this, yet she simply couldn't force herself to like it. The depth of their voices and the brutal strength that filled their bodies.

She somehow couldn't understand the lovely chirping of her female friends whenever they spotted a boy whose shoulders filled his dishdasha and hair, black as the night, brushed the handsome crease of his forehead. And whenever his eyes spotted her small group of friends, they somehow always, always, would land on her.

With a deep wrinkle on her usually smooth face and eyes alluring like wild lavender, tugging at the young boys' hearts.

"Suguru, I think he wants to talk," her friend would say, while trying to pull herself away from her embrace.

But in such moments, Suguru would usually clasp their fingers more tightly and brush the silky skin of their friend's palm.

Much like in middle school, when everyone's hormones buzzed like crickets on a hot night, Suguru quickly realised how much she cherished the company of women. Their gentle fingers braiding her hair, skin always scented with flowers, eyes filled with sugary sweetness that melted on her tongue, mingling like tiny stars.

She liked whenever they cuddled into her chest, wrapping delicate arms around her waist. She loved when they decorated her skin with soft henna brushes, marking it with bending and curling patterns. She blushed when they cherished kohl kissing her waterlines, looking deep, deep, into her lavender eyes.

Suguru was always one of the tallest girls in class, and thus she loved how all her friends treated her like a big sister. Cuddling, tugging, and gripping her body in an always-so-innocent way, unaware that her heart melted whenever their fingers brushed.

Suguru had a few crushes in middle and high school, but she never made a move. She simply couldn't, for she had heard of long sentences and punishments for the love she somehow couldn't weed out of her soul. She knew that each of her friends would need to get a husband, have children and live a blissful life.

What was worse, Suguru knew she would also need to fulfil this tradition, even though she tried to put it off as long as she could.

After high school came university, and after university, a well-paid job; she didn't plan to resign solely for the sake of marriage. Born into a wealthy and rather understanding family, she could drag her feet for a long, long time, although her parents' dissatisfaction was slowly rising.

She could spend her own money on her own wishes and travel far and long, trying to ignore the ache blooming in her heart whenever she thought of what awaited her back home. In the evenings, she met her friends at lavish restaurants and cafes, where they chittered like fair birdies about the joys of their lives. They would talk about the marriage – Suguru would tell them about the latest trips.

But life in a country where being a woman sometimes still felt like being a dog on a leash, at its owner's hand, didn't pay off.

After she returned from one of her trips, Suguru's father made it clear that unless she found herself a husband, he would no longer, as her guardian, allow her to frill. Although by law she could travel alone, permission from a guardian was sometimes, rarely, required to show officials so she could cross the border without trouble.

On that night, for the first time in a long, long while, Suguru cried herself to sleep. With heart swelling with pain and disgust rising in her throat. The sole thought of having a husband and fulfilling marital duties filled her with uncontrollable rage. The sole thought of feeling those rough, heavy hands on her silky skin, of smelling the rich, heavy oil coating their necks and of a harsh beard brushing the soft petals of her cheeks – made her sick.

Her father, fortunately, allowed her to choose the husband herself, and thus he searched far and wide for the man who would be pleasing to the eye and of a personality easy to tame.

So when the neighbouring merchant came into her sight, Suguru stated that she would only marry him. A man of influence and wealth who would easily afford all her wishes. One with strangely delicate hands and kind eyes, who looked at her as if she were one of the long-forgotten Arabian goddesses.

With skin shimmering gold in the crisp sun, and those deep, almond-shaped eyes looking down at him with a slight annoyance. But he didn't mind, for he truly believed there was no one more beautiful than the Suguru herself, and so he married her on the spot.

He… felt that she was different. Slightly cold and mean. She refused to share a bed with him and forced to awkwardly explain why, after months of marriage, their child still wasn't on the way. She talked to him like a friend but avoided any closer contact, let alone the pleasure he wished to seek.

Looking with a furrowed brow at how she laughed and chittered with their maids, while treating her husband as nothing better than a dog. Sometimes, a nasty jealousy would bubble in his heart, for he truly prayed to see a child who would match Suguru's beauty.

He would watch her stroll through the garden of their home, with olive trees matching her silky skin and deep crimson abaya disappearing behind the corners of creamy columns. Sometimes, while Suguru enjoyed her time in the late nights, with the scorching sun long hidden behind the pale houses and stars mingling high over the city, slowly coming alive, he would invite himself to join.

And talk as if with a friend, while cherishing the softness of her voice and eyes that, after a few months, stopped looking at him like a pest.

On one such night, she offered something. Something he wasn't expecting to come directly from her, although he had thought about it for a while.

"Why won't we take the second wife?"

He froze, looking at her with a slight frown. "I thought you wouldn't like it."

"I know you wait for a child, and I cannot make your dream come true. Let's take a second wife, then. I will take care of her," she slipped in a promise, her sly gaze meeting his. "But I have one wish."

His spine straightened, as Suguru rarely had any of them. "Let me hear it, my wife."

Something bubbled beneath the soft skin of her forehead, and a few strands of crimson hair slipped from the loosely wrapped abaya, falling onto her cheeks. The deep plum of the material matched her dark lips as she curled them into a smile and narrowed her lavender eyes.

"Let me choose her."

A gentle wind suddenly stirred the still, burning air as he stared at her, his eyebrows almost brushing hairline. Men of his wealth often took more than one wife, but stories of nasty jealousy between the women and secret fights behind the husband's back were often the subject of female gossip.

And thus a warmth spread all over his chest, knowing that Suguru was not only eager to allow another woman to enter their household, but also offered to seek her out himself.

So he could only nod and smile, letting his wife play a matchmaker.

He didn't, however, know the reason for it.

That Suguru already had someone in her mind.

A woman of beauty far surpassing hers, with eyes of utmost kindness and a sweet laughter that made her heart skip a beat. With silky hands that brushed Suguru's cheeks with gentleness and a cheeky cheerfulness dancing in the corners of her eyes.

Suguru met you two months ago, accidentally bumping into you at a cafe. It was a late evening, as you sat with your aunt and uncle in the centre of the city. The scorching, crimson sun was long gone, and a slight freshness was creeping between the murmuring alleys. Suguru knew your aunt and uncle, as one of the neighbours living not that far from her, and thus when her eyes fell on their niece… oh.

"Hello," you said, giving her a gentle nod.

Suguru forgot how to breathe and needed a moment to welcome you with the same gesture.

"Ah, Suguru, please join us," your aunt said, inviting her to your table. "And meet our niece. She has just finished university and, you know, is looking for a husband," she laughed, gently patting your arm.

A hidden awkwardness shone in your eyes. Fingers gripped the pinkish abaya a little tighter, and lips curled into a faint smile. "With no luck so far."

Your voice slipped into Suguru's ears like the sweetest melody, and she found herself leaning a little closer. As if trying to drink in, hear, and taste every detail of your lovely face and deep eyes fixed on… her.

On Suguru herself.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Suguru murmured, in fact not sorry at all. "I know how difficult it is to find a good husband."

Your auntie scoffed, sipping her tea slowly. "Oh, but it isn't! You see, it's just that this little angel here spent too much time frolicking with her friends. She barely spends time with men!" Suguru's eyes glimmered, and her heart swelled with sudden pain as she remembered that she, too, used to cut herself off from any of the boys trying to win her hand. "She has so many suitors and rejects them one by one!"

Suguru glanced your way, seeing your eyes fixed on her soft hands. Golden bracelets hugging her wrists, and a crimson abaya wrapped around arms. A silky headscarf fell loosely over her head and around shoulders, allowing raven locks to smooch the lean cheeks.

Your throat bobbed as you watched her deep red lips curve into a rather cheeky smile. When your gazes met, you looked away, feeling a sudden warmth creep up your neck.

"I see," she hummed, following your delicate hands playing with a pinkish robe. "I'm sure she will find someone good one day. If you don't mind, I may have some suitors in mind."

Your aunt clasped her hands, then gave Suguru's elegant palm a gentle squeeze. "Could you? She'll be staying here till the end of the summer, so take as much of her time as you want," she chirped, before turning your way. "What do you say, sweetie? Do you want Suguru to help you?"

And with a warmth spilling into your heart and a deep flush rising on your cheeks, you nodded.

So Suguru… took great care of you. The best, maybe, taking you out on "dates" and spending time in local cafés. Enjoying the strolls around the markets and stuffing you with figs, dates, and warm bread, until you couldn't walk without holding her arm.

Your aunt was over the moon whenever she picked you up early in the morning, promising that you would surely love the boy Suguru had carefully picked for you. But instead, she would take you for another stroll around the city, another "date", while learning every single detail about your life.

It's not that you didn't want a husband, for having a big family wasn't a dream you'd chased for a long, long time, but… well. You loved men. Or at least, you didn't mind them.

But nothing ever brought you more joy than the softness of a woman's body. Plush lips kissing yours, fingers brushing your wet thighs, and the sweet scent of skin wrapping around your senses.

Loving men felt natural, but loving women was something sacred.

Something always taking place behind the closed doors. With Suguru's fingers gently unwrapping your scarf and palms slipping under the long robes. Her soft kisses tracing down your neck, and lavender eyes drinking in every grimace of pleasure twisting your face.

You soon learnt to love the softness of Suguru's body. The calming feeling of lying on her chest and nuzzling between her heavy breasts, as if nothing in this world mattered.

The slightly dominant air she exuded around herself, and a mature, gentle guidance whenever you were the one slipping under her robes. Peppering her spread thighs and hips and mould of her warmth with kisses, before letting yourself get drunk on honeyed sweetness spilling on your tongue.

You loved the feeling of her body under yours, and yours beneath hers, with soft moans filling the rooms of one of Suguru's husband's many houses, you soon started to come to. With naked bodies tangled under the soft sheets, and always crossing gazes.

You both simply needed two months to fall madly and endlessly in love with each other, with your eyes always seeking out Suguru's lavender warmth and her fingers always finding yours.

So when she offered to enter her marriage – not for him, for us – you immediately agreed.

"I want us to have a child," she whispered one night, while brushing your cheeks softly.

The crimson sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, and an evening's ambient filled the warm corridors of the house. She would soon need to bring you back to the aunt, but for now, for this slippery second, she still wished to embrace you. Kiss your cheeks, and chin, and lips, while begging to marry him.

To marry her.

For you were…

"The noor of my eyes," she whispered, kissing your eyelids. "And Sultan of my heart."

And you nuzzled closer into her palm, kissing the soft, velvety skin and moving up, and up, along the forearm to the shoulder and neck, before pressing your lips to hers. She tasted of dates and coffee, leaving a lovely fragrance on your tongue.

Your fingers slipped down her chest, rolling the hard nipples, squeezing a fat of her breasts. A soft moan escaped her lips, and you drank it right away, before pulling her closer. With your legs hooked over her hip and fingers sliding down her belly, till the wetness of her pussy.

Rubbing swollen clit, you kissed the curve of her nose, and chin, and eyes, reciting quietly all the love letters hidden deep in your heart.

"I want to give you a child," you said, once again capturing her lips. "And I want to love you till the skin of your cheeks wrinkles like dates," she giggled, and you joined her, gently biting her lower lip. "I'll give you family, for your love makes my nights longer and days a bit sweeter."

And so, a month later, you were officially married.

And on the night your marriage was officially consummated, you slipped away from your husband's embrace and went to do it again.

But this time, fulfilling the union with the one your soul was bonded to. Lying beneath the soft body of your Suguru, with her lips tracing down your belly and hands already spreading your thighs.

"Beautiful," Suguru murmured, digging her fingers into your skin. With tongue giving you a wet, sweet lick, making your feet curl in pleasure. "My beautiful wife."

And she made sure your wedding night was as memorable as possible. With the gentle thrusts of her fingers and lips smooching your swelling clit with gentle sucking. Deep, kohl-lined eyes looking up from between your thighs and your fingers brushing through her hair. Your juices spilling sweetly on her tongue, and you sucking on her heavy breast, when the time to give pleasure back finally came.

And so you made love all night long, with a deepest love and most pristine devotion weighing your fluttering hearts.

As on a paper, you were married to your shared husband.

But in heart, from the beginning till the end, to her.

Quote "She is the noor of my eyes and the sultan of my heart" comes from the book A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.

Okay, my first take on Femguru... what do we think? Also, I love when Suguru is shown on fanarts with slightly darker skin!

As queer stories have rather low engagement and my taglist for them is short, I will be tagging you for them!

permanent taglist 1/2:

@mellyrally @1cckedheart @indom-itus @satorupied @msheds0519 @man1cslut @naxinomi @getopilleds @shittypunkbarbeque @mariaflor873 @wiishies @d34dg1rl101 @thelovelynayah @yailuxe @palanggaaa @valberryboos @sapph22 @magicalpeenpoo @nanadexth @iluvgetosuguru1 @bokenessa @puppyminnnie @tojiswifeyugh @nonchalantnova @sufferingarousal @gentlemonstersworld @tojiswifeforlife @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @ambsbr @millyrossa @cookispark @emotionalasf @adaslvr @colderbookworm @holynachobird @animelover597546 @waltzinthe19s @kingraspberry12-blog @savetimewithlime @theyluvchanel @mimicosmos8 @shunosu @bbydllgothic99

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